[hannibal lecter probably never had to worry about erectile dysfunction. just whether the eggplant shade of purple of his tie will match his shirt and his shoes. kavinsky coasts around on the surf of his own uncertainty. thanks to the fact he's seven shades of psychopath now, it isn't a crushing tsunami building up; he's less emotional than he used to be, in all those awful drowning ways.
but maybe
maybe right now this is a different feeling. kavinsky's wondering if his junk is working when he feels his dick begin to fill, and it's-- a relief, actually. relief floods his veins— he's grateful, suddenly, to remember what it feels like to want someone this way. without a plastic cap fitted over his cock or an arm bar shoving him facedown in the mat, screaming agony down his spine. murphy is sweet and eager pulling his pants down, as if he wants to suck dick. no pretense, or only the right kind. kavinsky risks a glance down, sees his eyelashes drown dark over his cheekbones.
it's the furthest thing from his hospital bed.]
Psst, [he says.] It won't come off if you try to bite it, but please don't.
no subject
but maybe
maybe right now this is a different feeling. kavinsky's wondering if his junk is working when he feels his dick begin to fill, and it's-- a relief, actually. relief floods his veins— he's grateful, suddenly, to remember what it feels like to want someone this way. without a plastic cap fitted over his cock or an arm bar shoving him facedown in the mat, screaming agony down his spine. murphy is sweet and eager pulling his pants down, as if he wants to suck dick. no pretense, or only the right kind. kavinsky risks a glance down, sees his eyelashes drown dark over his cheekbones.
it's the furthest thing from his hospital bed.]
Psst, [he says.] It won't come off if you try to bite it, but please don't.