[Another soft, almost plaintive sound escapes Proko's open mouth as Kavinsky grabs at his chest, rough and familiar. He tries to focus on words but half the time they feel just beyond his grasp. Shit, what did Kav give him? Does it even matter?]
No? Bummer. [He's not about to grab John by the head to haul him into one. Proko reaches, managing to catch John's shirt or his pants, not really noticing the difference in fabric. He tugs on him like he wants him closer. He does. He wants everything.]
no subject
No? Bummer. [He's not about to grab John by the head to haul him into one. Proko reaches, managing to catch John's shirt or his pants, not really noticing the difference in fabric. He tugs on him like he wants him closer. He does. He wants everything.]
What do you like?