[ Enri offers the drink, and if it isn’t what Darius might have expected, he finds it’s precisely what he wants. A brief-flashed smile says as much, and then - eyes on Enri’s - Darius drinks. Tastes honey (tastes Enri) (Darius hadn’t cared much for the stuff before knowing it on Enri’s kiss) and sweet burn, and he taps two fingers against Enri’s chest, still, still watching amber eyes.
(Thinking, somewhere back in his mind, that he’s never let, never trusted anyone to hold a drink for him that way. Thinking how simple it was, how simple it is to simply trust in this man’s mindfulness and composure, to know that Enri won’t let anything turn awry, or leave Darius in a compromised position. It’s new, and somehow it feels natural. It’s new, and Darius finds this trust - that Enri is worthy of it; that Darius can believe it - reassuring, even comforting.)
When Darius speaks, his voice is resonant, loud enough to be heard by clubgoers in the vicinity, a voice speaking both command and tender approval— ]
Good boy.
[ And, his smile conspiratorial, the drink and its honey still fresh on his breath, he leans for another kiss, speaking Enri’s name with relish.
When he moves back just a little - feeling Enri’s arm around him like a badge, like reverence, like fondness and protection and the world sealed in around them - he looks Enri over, pleased with what he sees. This man so near against him; this boy so clearly pleased, and yes, of course, fucking of course Darius would like to see about those body shots, is considering already how they might work this into the salvation he’d promised Enri for the weekend.
At present, though, it strikes Darius that Enri is already feeling the impact of his drink. It’s something that, Darius thinks, he’ll need to better keep in mind: that the bot doesn’t hold liquor especially well; that a little bit can turn Enri tipsy. That maybe Enri’s had enough for the moment, and maybe Darius would do best not to egg him on.
So. Darius sets his hand at Enri’s jaw, head cocked. ]
Bourbon, lemon juice, and your honey.
[ And - because he is an instigator, because he does love to play with his Puppy - before he speaks ‘honey,’ there’s a brief pause, Darius rolling his bottom lips inward and running his tongue over, catching his teeth on the lip’s edge. Afterward, offering a pleased smirk before speaking again— ]
Enough about drinks now, hm? Set it down; I want all of your attention - and both of your hands - on me.
[ Spoken as if it were the only possible way to proceed. Spoken as if, of course, Daddy demands reverence, Daddy demands focus, and it will be given.
And, after taking a drink of his Manhattan (thinking it’s missing something) (thinking, he’d rather like to taste honey once more)— ]
no subject
(Thinking, somewhere back in his mind, that he’s never let, never trusted anyone to hold a drink for him that way. Thinking how simple it was, how simple it is to simply trust in this man’s mindfulness and composure, to know that Enri won’t let anything turn awry, or leave Darius in a compromised position. It’s new, and somehow it feels natural. It’s new, and Darius finds this trust - that Enri is worthy of it; that Darius can believe it - reassuring, even comforting.)
When Darius speaks, his voice is resonant, loud enough to be heard by clubgoers in the vicinity, a voice speaking both command and tender approval— ]
Good boy.
[ And, his smile conspiratorial, the drink and its honey still fresh on his breath, he leans for another kiss, speaking Enri’s name with relish.
When he moves back just a little - feeling Enri’s arm around him like a badge, like reverence, like fondness and protection and the world sealed in around them - he looks Enri over, pleased with what he sees. This man so near against him; this boy so clearly pleased, and yes, of course, fucking of course Darius would like to see about those body shots, is considering already how they might work this into the salvation he’d promised Enri for the weekend.
At present, though, it strikes Darius that Enri is already feeling the impact of his drink. It’s something that, Darius thinks, he’ll need to better keep in mind: that the bot doesn’t hold liquor especially well; that a little bit can turn Enri tipsy. That maybe Enri’s had enough for the moment, and maybe Darius would do best not to egg him on.
So. Darius sets his hand at Enri’s jaw, head cocked. ]
Bourbon, lemon juice, and your honey.
[ And - because he is an instigator, because he does love to play with his Puppy - before he speaks ‘honey,’ there’s a brief pause, Darius rolling his bottom lips inward and running his tongue over, catching his teeth on the lip’s edge. Afterward, offering a pleased smirk before speaking again— ]
Enough about drinks now, hm? Set it down; I want all of your attention - and both of your hands - on me.
[ Spoken as if it were the only possible way to proceed. Spoken as if, of course, Daddy demands reverence, Daddy demands focus, and it will be given.
And, after taking a drink of his Manhattan (thinking it’s missing something) (thinking, he’d rather like to taste honey once more)— ]
Mine as well, Puppy. Your taste is all I need.