Rawr.

"I'm not frightened of you, John."

"You should be!"

"Tough shit."

Arthur searches the face that's so close to his own, and cups it with gentle hands.

John stiffens. "What... what are you..."

He only has to lift his head an inch to press his lips to John's. The being pressed against Arthur grunts in shock, golden eyes going wide, but he doesn't pull away. Neither does he reciprocate. That's alright. Arthur isn't doing this in order to get anything in return. He just needs to show John his affection -- his *trust*.

He kisses John softly, although John is not soft. He kisses him tenderly, almost chastely, stroking the smooth, hard cheeks with his thumbs as he does. John's many limbs hover around Arthur's body, hesitant. Then one tendril curls over his shoulder and brushes his throat.

It's almost ticklish, and it makes Arthur sigh, tilt his head, and deepen the kiss. John makes a strangled, wounded sound. For a half second, Arthur considers pulling back, checking to see if he's crossed a line. But then John opens his mouth, suddenly ravenous, kissing back. The tendril wraps around to hold Arthur's head like a lover's hand. John's nearly lipless mouth opens, and his tongue emerges, and Arthur opens, too, to welcome it inside. It only takes him a moment to realize -- oh, fuck, the tongue is just another tendril, long and clever.

There's a lightning-quick flash of fear, then, as it hits home how utterly alien is the body he's pressed against, wrapped up in, surrounded by. It's a curious kind of fear, though. It enlivens all his nerves with shivering sensitivity. It makes him *want*.