[ Childe isn't aware of the rosey-scent, at first, too caught in the press of lips against his own, how Shell wraps arms around him and oozes into him with acceptance. His own hands wander, nails lightly scratching over the thin fabric hiding Shell from view, palms sliding over his stomach to around his hips and tugging him forward by the hold insistently, maneuvering the blond's body effortlessly into his lap.
Childe doesn't stop kissing him and, if anything, Shell's response only fuels him on. The kiss shifts from something soft and sweet and placating to a more aggressive, dominating thing; Childe pries his mouth open, lapping at the sharp point of fang before he devours him utterly, hands on his hips sliding up to grip the back of his head and tangle his fingers into blond strands in the process.
He's not particularly fond of his own flavor on Shell's lips, not the blood, at least; but it'd be hard to tell given how he's kissing him. ]
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Childe doesn't stop kissing him and, if anything, Shell's response only fuels him on. The kiss shifts from something soft and sweet and placating to a more aggressive, dominating thing; Childe pries his mouth open, lapping at the sharp point of fang before he devours him utterly, hands on his hips sliding up to grip the back of his head and tangle his fingers into blond strands in the process.
He's not particularly fond of his own flavor on Shell's lips, not the blood, at least; but it'd be hard to tell given how he's kissing him. ]