[ if mon could read his mind, he'd be self conscious in the way one gets when one is also flattered but feels like maybe they shouldn't be - a recurring quality of mon's: but i shouldn't. which of course does not mean he doesn't do it anyway. off and on, monday has had enough years to idle time between his stories and his work and once upon a time his stories and his schooling, what the difference between angels and demons is beyond what they know, and also humans. he thinks if he uses those he knows as reference, he can find the 'human' in all of them.
but the reverse can't necessarily be true, or at least mon isn't sure. because with noiz he doesn't really find himself either searching for or finding the demon or angel in him. he's just noiz. it's strangely refreshing and that thought in and of itself feels along the lines of a sin but of course demons and angels can't sin; only humans can do that.
he feels noiz's tongue against his lower lip and mon is almost as good at his physical response as he is bad at asking for or admitting what he wants. he opens his mouth and the hand at the side of noiz's face slips back, his fingers pushing through noiz's hair, curling at the back of his head. his other hand still tangled in the bedding, flexes absently. mon has always been sensitive; he gets overwhelmed entirely too easily, and can be read just as effortlessly. red in his cheeks, the tips of his ears, anywhere a blush sees fit to bloom, even the tiniest of motions teems with warmth. it's just a kiss and mon is dizzy, the soft huff of air when the kiss finally breaks for a second is that fine line of something soft and something else more wanting.
some of it, he almost dares to recognize, as feeling sort of...happy.
later he'll probably feel guilty about it again, but these things take time and nothing will change if nothing happens at all. ]
no subject
but the reverse can't necessarily be true, or at least mon isn't sure. because with noiz he doesn't really find himself either searching for or finding the demon or angel in him. he's just noiz. it's strangely refreshing and that thought in and of itself feels along the lines of a sin but of course demons and angels can't sin; only humans can do that.
he feels noiz's tongue against his lower lip and mon is almost as good at his physical response as he is bad at asking for or admitting what he wants. he opens his mouth and the hand at the side of noiz's face slips back, his fingers pushing through noiz's hair, curling at the back of his head. his other hand still tangled in the bedding, flexes absently. mon has always been sensitive; he gets overwhelmed entirely too easily, and can be read just as effortlessly. red in his cheeks, the tips of his ears, anywhere a blush sees fit to bloom, even the tiniest of motions teems with warmth. it's just a kiss and mon is dizzy, the soft huff of air when the kiss finally breaks for a second is that fine line of something soft and something else more wanting.
some of it, he almost dares to recognize, as feeling sort of...happy.
later he'll probably feel guilty about it again, but these things take time and nothing will change if nothing happens at all. ]