[ Well-- this was certainly a surprise and suddenly the air became tense and loaded. Emet-Selch was not dumb, nor did he miss the very subtle clues. He reasoned that there were certain cues that were as ancient as time itself and certain 'mating' instincts reigned supreme, they reached beyond class, beyond race, beyond species. They were vital to the re-population of the human race-- but also there were certain comfort to it as well, a way of reaffirming life. He'd known many who had used their bodies to 'feel' something, be it desire, be it hope-- a reminder.
Let it not be said that Emet-Selch wasn't intrigued by Sigr-- he'd never been with a Hrothgar before and in his long path, there was always a urge to the new and the inventive that made the path less tedious. He knew that this would be where he would have to draw the line. He wondered vaugely if Sigr even wanted that-- and right now in this position, the dominating presence was Sigr.
His move--
Slowly, Emet-Selch lifted his hand however he did not move to touch Sigr just yet, instead-- he brought the gloved finger to his teeth and then he slowly and using his teeth, tugged the glove off his hand. The unspoken gesture being 'the gloves were off now'-- challenge was most assuredly accepted. Oh he wanted to see how far this was going to go-- he wouldn't call chicken whatsoever and he had a feeling that Sigr wouldn't either.
Once the glove was off-- he pressed a now naked palm to the furred chest, his hand would feel so decadently warm-- much warmer then what a normal mortal's hands would feel like, degrees warmer due to the creation magick that all but surged from the nerves therein-- and then he started a slow rub back and forth.
And that challenging, quirking smirk-- yes that was still there as well ]
Challenge probably accepted
Let it not be said that Emet-Selch wasn't intrigued by Sigr-- he'd never been with a Hrothgar before and in his long path, there was always a urge to the new and the inventive that made the path less tedious. He knew that this would be where he would have to draw the line. He wondered vaugely if Sigr even wanted that-- and right now in this position, the dominating presence was Sigr.
His move--
Slowly, Emet-Selch lifted his hand however he did not move to touch Sigr just yet, instead-- he brought the gloved finger to his teeth and then he slowly and using his teeth, tugged the glove off his hand. The unspoken gesture being 'the gloves were off now'-- challenge was most assuredly accepted. Oh he wanted to see how far this was going to go-- he wouldn't call chicken whatsoever and he had a feeling that Sigr wouldn't either.
Once the glove was off-- he pressed a now naked palm to the furred chest, his hand would feel so decadently warm-- much warmer then what a normal mortal's hands would feel like, degrees warmer due to the creation magick that all but surged from the nerves therein-- and then he started a slow rub back and forth.
And that challenging, quirking smirk-- yes that was still there as well ]