Noctis' glare is met with the impassiveness of Barnabas' stare. If Noctis feels judgment in his gaze, well, he isn't entirely imagining it. He keeps his hand on Noctis' shoulder, the grip firm, though not painfully so. Just enough to show he isn't likely to be shaken off so easily, nor is he done with his own demands. Though, at present, he rubs at a spot with his thumb in a way that almost seems soothing, perhaps encouraging.
"What need you such verbal negotiations when our bodies speak plain what they inexorably yearn for?" He again purrs those words in that accent of his, his free hand placing itself near Noctis' throat, though its his fingers that touch and ghost over the skin there. The touches uncharacteristically light as they trail down hisβRosie'sβform, continuing down and over a breast. Though the descent stops as he takes it in his hand after a pointed press of fingers to the nipple beneath, giving it a full-handed grope. Meanwhile, he leans in again to capture those lips with his before they can voice further protest.
Though that's not all, he slips a knee forward, between Noctis' own legs, pressing it firmly against the aforementioned drenched and dripping gash. An invitation to grind, perhaps, or maybe he's emphasizing his earlier point.
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Noctis' glare is met with the impassiveness of Barnabas' stare. If Noctis feels judgment in his gaze, well, he isn't entirely imagining it. He keeps his hand on Noctis' shoulder, the grip firm, though not painfully so. Just enough to show he isn't likely to be shaken off so easily, nor is he done with his own demands. Though, at present, he rubs at a spot with his thumb in a way that almost seems soothing, perhaps encouraging.
"What need you such verbal negotiations when our bodies speak plain what they inexorably yearn for?" He again purrs those words in that accent of his, his free hand placing itself near Noctis' throat, though its his fingers that touch and ghost over the skin there. The touches uncharacteristically light as they trail down hisβRosie'sβform, continuing down and over a breast. Though the descent stops as he takes it in his hand after a pointed press of fingers to the nipple beneath, giving it a full-handed grope. Meanwhile, he leans in again to capture those lips with his before they can voice further protest.
Though that's not all, he slips a knee forward, between Noctis' own legs, pressing it firmly against the aforementioned drenched and dripping gash. An invitation to grind, perhaps, or maybe he's emphasizing his earlier point.