Hard work he may have given up on if the circumstances were just a little different. But he can't exactly back out now, and even if he's the type of person to cut off his bodyguard's hand, he's somehow not the type to only half cut it off. It's strange, how Kirma's guttural cry sends something close to a shiver up his spine. He can't shudder while working so hard at sawing through bone, and he doubts it would help, anyway— the more this goes on, the more heat pools in the pit of his stomach and spreads down, excitement showing itself with a growing strain in his pants.
Not that he expects Kirma to pick up on this, with what he's dealing with right now. It's dizzying, and he can't quite put his finger on what it is about this— the trust? The intimacy? It's everything all at once, and the comment is enough to get Esi to release some of his tension with a soft laugh, almost tender in tone. )
Worry more about yourself, right now. The knife can be replaced.
( You can't, is the underlying message there, which is a rare thing for Esi to hint at or admit in any form. But there's fondness in his eyes that's rarely seen, and as he pulls the knife down through layers of bone and hits hollow marrow, he breathes heavier, leaning in to grant Kirma with one more kiss.
Then it's back to focusing, his grip readjusting on Kirma's hand and his body moving to put more force into the cuts. He wants to hurry up and be done— not for Kirma's sake, but for his own restlessness. )
:)?
Hard work he may have given up on if the circumstances were just a little different. But he can't exactly back out now, and even if he's the type of person to cut off his bodyguard's hand, he's somehow not the type to only half cut it off. It's strange, how Kirma's guttural cry sends something close to a shiver up his spine. He can't shudder while working so hard at sawing through bone, and he doubts it would help, anyway— the more this goes on, the more heat pools in the pit of his stomach and spreads down, excitement showing itself with a growing strain in his pants.
Not that he expects Kirma to pick up on this, with what he's dealing with right now. It's dizzying, and he can't quite put his finger on what it is about this— the trust? The intimacy? It's everything all at once, and the comment is enough to get Esi to release some of his tension with a soft laugh, almost tender in tone. )
Worry more about yourself, right now. The knife can be replaced.
( You can't, is the underlying message there, which is a rare thing for Esi to hint at or admit in any form. But there's fondness in his eyes that's rarely seen, and as he pulls the knife down through layers of bone and hits hollow marrow, he breathes heavier, leaning in to grant Kirma with one more kiss.
Then it's back to focusing, his grip readjusting on Kirma's hand and his body moving to put more force into the cuts. He wants to hurry up and be done— not for Kirma's sake, but for his own restlessness. )