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

he wasn't quite sure what he'd expected machiavelli's response to be. anger, perhaps, or boredom, or offense; but, in fact, it was none of those things.
so much had happened so quickly. the sesh felt the strong blaze of want deep in his gut still, and yet he — could not allow himself to entertain it any longer. not like this, not here, not while the fruit churned his innards to mush and his nerves to static, and not — without sanctimony.
overwhelmed and suddenly feeling far too vulnerable for his liking, the boy felt the hot prick of tears beginning to form in his eyes until the words being spoken to him finally began to register. machi was not mad, not disappointed, only kind; possibly the first true gesture of kindness he'd seen from the man thus far, and it sent izaiah reeling for a good long moment.
oh, he croons, voice still meek and breathy, the heave of his chest only now beginning to lessen. oh. y-- yes, yeah, okay. i'd-- i'd really like that, i think.
he eases back into the touch, the warmth of their palms pressed together. it's gonna take me a hot minute to gather myself enough to think about medicine again, he laughs, letting his gaze linger upon the marble-carved cheekbones, the curve of the long lashes. but-- fair warning, once you get me started, i'll never shut up.