#moonbxse

What can Corvo do for him. Skills, talents, (left hand moved behind his back). Past, history, scratch that, who needs history, the future is where it’s at; Corvo is staring, lips parted in confusion, a silent question underneath his mask. 

"Well?"

Well, what, Corvo thinks.

A comment about redheads, about fantasies, and that’s something, isn’t it — Corvo’s expression is one of dumbfounded bafflement as he speaks, as the man continues, absolutely casual and flippant as can be. 

He doesn’t ask Corvo to take the mask off, anyway. Just the hood. 

Corvo obliges, and there’s a sigh as the man peers closer, at first in anticipation and then in disappointment. His hair isn’t red; it’s dark, very dark, he knows. Serkonos bears a great variety of peoples, but as for Corvo he is just raven-haired and dusky-skinned. A strip of skin from underneath the mask shows, just beside his jawline, and his ear; the other man is still peering close, closer, closing in. 

Lips almost on Corvo’s ear. It’s a shift in the mood, less casual, more tension, but of what kind he can’t be sure, and Corvo stiffens, hands hovering on either side of the man as if to — what. 

          Not push him away. But…

               But.

Then there are lips on his ear, teeth, and Corvo’s breath comes out of his nose in a brief, shocked huff, not backing away but just standing absolutely still, the mask feeling like a weight instead of the assurance that it normally brings.

After a suspended moment, he moves away; Corvo brings his left hand up from being hidden away behind his back to touch at his earlobe, perplexed, and the man’s eyes light up, apparently pleased with the reaction. Corvo does not miss the way the other’s gaze lingers for a second on the mark that is dark against his hand. He speaks, watching Corvo, and Corvo watches back, brows curving down at the words.