[It's... nice. He wasn't expecting it, maybe, not like this. He thought he would have to yell, and scream, and holler all night to get Adra to pay attention. And now he's offering himself, freely of his own will, and maybe Gilgamesh didn't expect it. Maybe he expected something harsher, instead. Forceful hands and bent bodies and cries of stop, please. Tears and sobbing and mistakes that couldn't be undone, except they weren't mistakes, not to him.
He would've gone that far, if he had to. He would've broken him, if it was required. That's just the sort of person Gilgamesh was and would always be: a man after the "bottom line" of his own relationships. Sorting people, categorizing people. Thinking of them as things, as treasures, rather than what they are.
Gilgamesh's form of love of special, because Gilgamesh's form of love simply wasn't love at all. It was obsession.]
Is it enough?
[He's really asking, are you ready? Kissing him back on the cheek, looking at him expectantly.]
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He would've gone that far, if he had to. He would've broken him, if it was required. That's just the sort of person Gilgamesh was and would always be: a man after the "bottom line" of his own relationships. Sorting people, categorizing people. Thinking of them as things, as treasures, rather than what they are.
Gilgamesh's form of love of special, because Gilgamesh's form of love simply wasn't love at all. It was obsession.]
Is it enough?
[He's really asking, are you ready? Kissing him back on the cheek, looking at him expectantly.]