armwriostle | ♦️ [OVERFLOW FOR @THISCLOCKWORKHEART] ♦️

[He can feel his suit still itch under his skin, but for the moment, it's quite sated.

Wriothesley looks at Pinocchio with a lazy stare, before swallowing the rest of the other's spend and licking his lips. He doesn't linger too much on his thoughts, but he does tuck a few details away to the back of his mind. The taste, the smell, little things that he notes that aren't quite human.

Well, it doesn't matter to him.

He finally catches his breath though that he can finally piece his mind together. Damn, he really did just grab a stranger and went to town on them. There's something akin to some guilt, but his suit is still too unstable for him to spend the time talking about it. For now, he should help clean up the other.] Hey, sweetness, let's move a bit and get you cleaned up. [He reaches with his other hand to brush some hair out of Pinocchio's face.]

Can you get up or do you need another minute?

[ When he comes down from the fever that had gripped him, when the jolts of lingering sensation stop making him tremble, questions pile up in the hazy calm he finds in its wake. Wriothesley is a comforting weight against him, warm and... kind of damp, and when he moves, Pinocchio's eyes track him in initially wordless curiosity.

Are you all right? he opens his mouth to say. Wriothesley beats him there. He nods, smoothly rising to his feet (albeit with a soft, purring chatter — chk-chk-chk — coming from somewhere), possibly pulling the man up along with him, unless he offers resistance. Still taking stock of what had occurred between them, benign curiosity sharpens to distant concern when he speaks. ]

You're not hurt, are you?

[He doesn't need to be a Fontaine engineer to feel the ease in which Pinocchio lifts him back up with them. The small man was certainly strong. Just something to tuck away about the other now that his mind is just a little more clear.]

Hurt? Well, a little bit of ache isn't so bad. [His voice is a little raspy and he won't pretend he isn't feeling an ache in his jaw and throat. It's the kind of ache that he likes though.] It's nothing you have to worry about, if that's your concern. It's the kind of pain I like.

[He gently tugs the other towards the shower. They don't need a full blown shower (and he knows he wouldn't be able to endure one without wanting to jump Pinocchio's bones), but they can at least wipe down.]

[ The kind of pain he likes. He... understands that. It's a concept that lines up with his own experience, he supposes. There are kinds of pain that help him focus. That cleanse him of worries and narrow his thoughts down to the here and now. He supposes finding them useful is close enough to liking them.

Nodding with a furrowing of his brow, he permits himself to be pulled along, hand awkwardly held out as though concerned about getting them messier than they already are. He's distracted, deep in his own head as he goes through the motions of wiping clean. The shower drowns out the telltale sounds of his thinking, the tick-tick-tick of persistent clockwork.

He feels... not unpleasant, but strange, with too many questions brewing and a head still spinning from orgasm to properly process them. He's growing keenly aware that there's a stark difference between how he feels and how the other man acts, a familiarity, he thinks. If he were to begin unpacking his curiosity, would that expose the differences between them, as people? Would he question if he's a person at all? ]

I'm sorry— [ he draws back, starting to put his clothing back in some semblance of order, ] I can't linger. [ Let him risk being rude than risk exposure as someone who wasn't born human. ] I should go.

[The shower is only a temporary relief to the hedonistic thoughts that slowly want to crawl back into his thoughts. The diamond on his wrist is still a deep red and his body is reminding him that it has not been sated. Wriothesley doesn't know why. Doesn't know that his avoidance of the mingle as an experiment is truly why it hasn't been abated.

One wouldn't realize it's the growing hunger that has him still slightly flushed and not because of the activities from before.

He's a little surprised at the man's suddenness to leave, but he also doesn't fault them either. He did kind of just jump the guy's bones. Them wanting space seemed logical. He'd also want more to make sure they're on the same page if he wasn't so damn cumbrained. He tucks it away to remind himself to reach out another time to check on Pinocchio. For now, he knows a man who wants space and he shouldn't force his company on them longer.]

Oh. Please, go ahead. You don't have to apologize. Don't let me slow you down.

♦️ [OVERFLOW FOR @THISCLOCKWORKHEART] ♦️

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