[ The blushing is cute, and it's probably the only saving grace Styx actually has at the moment because Cain honestly can't tell if he'd been born this stupid or is just having a moment. He allows for the slight push, moving only slightly, and when it dies down again, he doesn't bother gracing that question with an answer.
What's so hard to figure out, he wants to say. He's coming onto him—and quite strongly. Or maybe not strong enough, letting the touch to Styx's mouth slip away to press along the shape of his jaw and behind his ear so he can force him forward. Cain exhales and leans, using the hold in the other's hair to yank him into him so he can press their mouths together. The kiss itself doesn't last more than a few seconds, a taste of roughness in the graze of their lips, but it gives Cain a chance to test the waters a little. (Not that he's ever cared much about boundaries or consent or anything similar until recently.)
Good? Bad?
Honestly, he doesn't give a fuck.
He guides with the hand fisted in Styx's shirt and leans to slot their mouths together even harder this time. Probably with tongue, at least a little teeth because Cain's biting into his lower lip for leverage, and all talk of pumpkins is out because he knows in that instant that he's going to fuck this guy one way or another. The fingers in his hair tighten, pushing all the way to the scalp to force his head still as he kisses him and then says against his lips, ]
either his day is about to get better or become totally ruined l o l
What's so hard to figure out, he wants to say. He's coming onto him—and quite strongly. Or maybe not strong enough, letting the touch to Styx's mouth slip away to press along the shape of his jaw and behind his ear so he can force him forward. Cain exhales and leans, using the hold in the other's hair to yank him into him so he can press their mouths together. The kiss itself doesn't last more than a few seconds, a taste of roughness in the graze of their lips, but it gives Cain a chance to test the waters a little. (Not that he's ever cared much about boundaries or consent or anything similar until recently.)
Good? Bad?
Honestly, he doesn't give a fuck.
He guides with the hand fisted in Styx's shirt and leans to slot their mouths together even harder this time. Probably with tongue, at least a little teeth because Cain's biting into his lower lip for leverage, and all talk of pumpkins is out because he knows in that instant that he's going to fuck this guy one way or another. The fingers in his hair tighten, pushing all the way to the scalp to force his head still as he kisses him and then says against his lips, ]
I don't see a problem.