#this absolute buffoon

Emmanellain does well to give off the persona of being a suave charmer in most situations. He talks a sweet game through-and-through, though it’s not that difficult to break past the fragile ploy if you were but wanting to try. Though one might call it a mask, you’re hard-pressed to see Emmanellain’s attempts at assertion as anything other than honest. Perhaps a little easily swayed and cowed, but honest regardless–and this is quite certainly the case when he and a partner are behind closed doors.

It is not that the Elezen is either dominant or submissive when in the arms of a partner, but rather that he is rarely confident enough to decide. While he may speak tall tales of countless bedmates, Emmanellain is actually rather wanting for experience. He can but recount a small handful of times that he had so much as shared a kiss with someone, let alone charmed them into his bedroom–this much he has told you in utmost confidence.

If your relationship is yet new with the man, Emmanellain is surprisingly gentle; one may even describe his actions as nervous. Though he is quick to force upon a mask in defense of his shame and dignity, all it takes is but a gentle press for him to understand what you want and what you’re alright with. In that way, the young Elezen lord is spectacularly observant; where he may lack in experience or confidence, Emmanellain more than makes up for it in his willingness to learn, provided that you are a lover who can be patient with him. To tell him where you yearn to be touched, where you want for his lips to press, the words to spill from his mouth.

He is very perceptive of you in intimate regard, especially as he gains familiarity with your body–but the true tell of Emmanellain’s genuine feelings come from the way he regards you. How he teases with sweet words, lacking the hollow charm he had once used upon you and filled instead with honest mirth and amusement. It’s not merely that he wants to bed you anymore–by the time you first had the man in your arms, he had long-since lost the fleeting assumption that your time together would be so shallow.

He all but lavishes you in pet names, especially when close to orgasm. Whether you are beneath him or he beneath you, Emmanellain has little filter over the words that spill from his lips in the breathless moments before cresting over the edge. How he’ll clutch you tight against his body, whispering a litany of words, and over half of them in Old Ishgardian. He’ll murmur and moan and make no effort to hide the noises of his pleasure–that comes afterwards, when the fires of orgasm are but an ember in your bellies and your limbs are strewn about the bed.

HOLD HIS DAMN HAND . / @crowara

       𝙷𝙴 𝙷𝙾𝙿𝙴𝚂 𝚂𝚄𝙶𝙰 𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂𝙽'𝚃 𝚂𝙴𝙴 ,  but is well aware that the other most likely has already done so, what with how less than subtle he is,    the flush of PINK across cheeks to bridge of nose, a stark contrast to the pure white of his hair, pale skin one, grey eyes.  it’s color , and the more he can feel his face heat with said color, the less sure he is that he hates it.

                   after all,   suga is looking at him with that smile,   and the fluttering in his heart sure as HELL makes it seem as though he certainly doesn’t.

     suga’s hand feels nice in his - as if it belongs there, threaded through his fingers, with a not too tight, but firm grip between them - strong enough that the other won’t be able to pull just quite away yet, unless he’s really determined to.   he can feel the clamminess of his own between them, and another shock of PINK dashes through face, this time in embarrassment - and he laughs,   free hand reaching to rub the back of his neck as he tries to think of some lame excuse to save him from drowning in the open pit of calamity that is his awkwardness.