[At this point, Daan's hand doesn't stop moving, doesn't stop stroking. His shirt and vest are open, as if trying to find a way to relieve himself of the heat running through his body, but it's hardly accomplished a thing.
A part of him wonders if Vergilius is going to actually try to knock him out, with the way his hand is held up. He'd let him do it, Daan thinks. He'd let him do anything.
But instead, the hand falls to his shoulder. Heavy, warm, solid. He wants more.
With Daan's free hand, he's grabbing for the front of Vergilius' jacket, trying to tug him closer.]
Sylvian spell. Pheromones. Just what it sounds like.
[The doctor makes a frustrated grumble -- why the fuck is this man so tall? He tries to pull him down, trying to get Vergilius down a few inches so he can try to kiss him.]
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A part of him wonders if Vergilius is going to actually try to knock him out, with the way his hand is held up. He'd let him do it, Daan thinks. He'd let him do anything.
But instead, the hand falls to his shoulder. Heavy, warm, solid. He wants more.
With Daan's free hand, he's grabbing for the front of Vergilius' jacket, trying to tug him closer.]
Sylvian spell. Pheromones. Just what it sounds like.
[The doctor makes a frustrated grumble -- why the fuck is this man so tall? He tries to pull him down, trying to get Vergilius down a few inches so he can try to kiss him.]