Hm. [ It is a tired, noncommittal rumble in acknowledgement of what was said rather than agreement necessarily. His attempt works, not that he expected anything else. Viktor is distracted from the prior subject nearly entirely it seems, and Emet-Selch allows himself a moment to be pleased. He isn't entirely wound around Viktor's finger. Not yet at least. ]
I could have, but that would have been a lie and those are tiresome.
[ Viktor returns to his task and Emet-Selch watches him with a predator's intent, half-heartedly reaching for his own teacup to take a drink but far more interested in Viktor than the contents of the glass. He wants to ask if Viktor would rather they pretend those imaginations were predominantly inappropriate, but he doesn't think the answer is yes. If he had to make a guess, he'd assume the real novelty is the idea that one might not want a quick tumble, but instead the thousand quiet intimacies between those moments that one might take for granted without the threat of losing them ]
...Do you normally sleep nude when alone and simply acquiesce to clothing when joining me in my quarters?
[ Emet-Selch doesn't answer the latter question instantly, finally winding his fingers around the teacup after pat-searching for it, and brings it to his mouth while Viktor soaps the washcloth anew. By now the heat has left the dredges; Emet-Selch silently spells it full and hot again, pleasantly warm and soft around the edges. It is not often he indulges in alcohol enough to feel something, but so long as he doesn't take another glass he thinks he comfortably straddles the line of enjoyable. ]
I am not opposed to physical contact in bed. You will be cautious, though.
[ It's not so long ago Emet-Selch had mistaken him for an assassin; it didn't matter there was no real threat, he'd prefer not to accidentally injure Viktor because in a half-awake state already jarred by the malms of bare skin, he'd forgotten where, when he was. ]
no subject
I could have, but that would have been a lie and those are tiresome.
[ Viktor returns to his task and Emet-Selch watches him with a predator's intent, half-heartedly reaching for his own teacup to take a drink but far more interested in Viktor than the contents of the glass. He wants to ask if Viktor would rather they pretend those imaginations were predominantly inappropriate, but he doesn't think the answer is yes. If he had to make a guess, he'd assume the real novelty is the idea that one might not want a quick tumble, but instead the thousand quiet intimacies between those moments that one might take for granted without the threat of losing them ]
...Do you normally sleep nude when alone and simply acquiesce to clothing when joining me in my quarters?
[ Emet-Selch doesn't answer the latter question instantly, finally winding his fingers around the teacup after pat-searching for it, and brings it to his mouth while Viktor soaps the washcloth anew. By now the heat has left the dredges; Emet-Selch silently spells it full and hot again, pleasantly warm and soft around the edges. It is not often he indulges in alcohol enough to feel something, but so long as he doesn't take another glass he thinks he comfortably straddles the line of enjoyable. ]
I am not opposed to physical contact in bed. You will be cautious, though.
[ It's not so long ago Emet-Selch had mistaken him for an assassin; it didn't matter there was no real threat, he'd prefer not to accidentally injure Viktor because in a half-awake state already jarred by the malms of bare skin, he'd forgotten where, when he was. ]