[ Even when Gold finishes, he does so with care, though there is a slight tremor to his movements as he (for lack of a better word) tidies, keeping one hand on him, an assuring caress to continue contact rather than just suddenly leave him without. A subtle brush at the corner of his mouth -- to address a mess or just the feeling that there might be one.
His face falls -- some internal part of him always thinks first to retreat, at least in some small way; once outside the moment where he controls everything has passed, the same power does not remain, in his eyes. But while it still wanes he can still savor the contact; he nuzzles his cheek against Carver's hand. ]
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His face falls -- some internal part of him always thinks first to retreat, at least in some small way; once outside the moment where he controls everything has passed, the same power does not remain, in his eyes. But while it still wanes he can still savor the contact; he nuzzles his cheek against Carver's hand. ]
Are you --? [ Satisfied? All right? ]