As You Like It

Minoth has never had this thought before. He's really not sure where it comes from, to what body part it owes its impetus. He's never been able to observe what it is that drives people to be attracted to such actions, impulses that jump with an essential electric surge of connection.

Wanting to reach out and touch someone, hug them and kiss them and hold them tight. That's what he doesn't understand, directly, and what makes the greatest gulf between him and Addam, sometimes.

Now, Minoth doesn't strictly mind being touched, by people he knows well. In fact, he'd usually cherish such a gesture and the thought that counted it. But wanting to do it himself? Wanting to be the instigator, the attribute of impression?

It strikes him so suddenly he hardly has time to overthink, except that of course he does, because self-reflection is all he does, all the time, all the space, everywhere and nowhere all at once.

He shoves all that aside now, though.

There, right in front of him, close enough to feel the aftereffect of his breath, is Addam Origo, the first and only person to which Minoth owes his absolute loyalty and his impoliteness openly bared.

Addam is beautiful. Everything from the tip of his nose to the points of his shoes is picture-perfect pristine, so maximally attractive that Minoth feels he could burst if he doesn't...get his hands on the prince right this instant.

Is that affection? Maybe it's just lust. Minoth's too spoiled of opportunities to want to stop and consider.

Girding himself up not to spare another second, Minoth extends one arm to wrap around Addam's near shoulder, then the other in turn. Addam leans obligingly to the touch, having nothing to make objection, but then he keeps leaning, and all of him goes.

The end result is pointy chin meeting pointy Core Crystal while Minoth's own chin drives itself squarely into the center of Addam's forehead.

Well. It's nice having him close.