Lion Head Mesa [sc] [M] Diamonds Under my Eyes

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izaiah did as was asked of him, mindlessly shuffling beside the fellahin as if he, too, were only a lowly servant. he was certainly beginning to feel like one. the stuffiness of the room was beginning to make him feel clammy, heat rising to his features and lingering there upon his cheeks.
the berries from before were, too, beginning to make him feel uncomfortably uncoordinated; just enough to where he was somewhat afraid of tripping over the tall man beside him. he only half-listens as he's introduced to yet another fermented fruit — and if he was to answer honestly, no, he did not want it;
but then his gaze trails down the slender arm that is raised toward him, the visible tendons, the flexing muscles. he lingers there before he feels the iridescent eyes boring into him, and he realizes he's never quite been this close to — anyone.
and he crumbles. or perhaps it was more of a snap.
defiance hardens his stare. he dips his head down, enclosing his lips around the digits and stealing the berry away with his tongue. a hum vibrates in his throat; heat, simmering, coiling like a viper in his belly. when he pulls back, one slender limb wraps around the pale neck, nails pressed to skin, and he presses his mouth to machiavelli's, offering the berry between his teeth.
hooded eyes, coy smile; wordless, smug.