[There's no shortage of those. His ears lie flat against his head and his tail twitches under the attention, but that's about where the agitated body language ends. Diarmuid melts into him immediately, yielding and even a little submissive in the way he allows Berserker to set the pace. That isn't to say that he's passive; rather, he's quick to slip both hands up under his shirt, nails- they're more like claws now, though he's not sure when it happened- drawing lines in his skin. Ah, now there's a foreign sensation: he wants to mark him. Make sure everyone knows-
Gasping, he draws back.]
We can't do this here... [There's a hint of reluctance in his voice. The last thing he wants to do is pull away; he barely even registers that he should be embarrassed about the speed with which his body's reacting.] We're not animals.
no subject
Gasping, he draws back.]
We can't do this here... [There's a hint of reluctance in his voice. The last thing he wants to do is pull away; he barely even registers that he should be embarrassed about the speed with which his body's reacting.] We're not animals.
[Damn well feels like it, though.]