Robin gives a yelp when Ishiah simply lifts the both of them off of the couch (which Robin had been perfectly happy with) to move them to the bedroom, leaving half of their clothing behind without them. The surprise only lasts until the laughter starts, because Ishiah is ridiculous, and those great, show-off wings of his are out crowding the space around them, all lily-white and barred with gold.
When he hits the bed, it's only a moment before Ishiah's weight is on top of him again, and he snakes his hands artfully out to work on the button and fly of Ishiah's jeans. It is ... nice. It is enviable, the way that Ishiah treats him. He doesn't know how he can be jealous of himself, but he is, as irrational as it might be. Never before this - no, only once before - was Robin ever treated this way by a lover. With respect, but no reverence. Something to be loved, rather than something to be used or enjoyed.
"What else was I going to say?" Robin says, concentration on tugging fabric down over Ishiah's narrow hips. "Stop saying it over and over again, or it will stop sounding like a real word. And then where will you be?"
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When he hits the bed, it's only a moment before Ishiah's weight is on top of him again, and he snakes his hands artfully out to work on the button and fly of Ishiah's jeans. It is ... nice. It is enviable, the way that Ishiah treats him. He doesn't know how he can be jealous of himself, but he is, as irrational as it might be. Never before this - no, only once before - was Robin ever treated this way by a lover. With respect, but no reverence. Something to be loved, rather than something to be used or enjoyed.
"What else was I going to say?" Robin says, concentration on tugging fabric down over Ishiah's narrow hips. "Stop saying it over and over again, or it will stop sounding like a real word. And then where will you be?"