[He pauses for a second, and then can't help snickering just a little. Not maliciously, just a sort of amused little shake of his head.]
You don't really knead pastry dough, Noctis. It doesn't have to prove. It's not like bread.
[Now his whole hand is running along the soft skin of Noct's back, up and down in soothing swipes. His fingers trail along his spine, silently counting and worshiping each bump.]
no subject
You don't really knead pastry dough, Noctis. It doesn't have to prove. It's not like bread.
[Now his whole hand is running along the soft skin of Noct's back, up and down in soothing swipes. His fingers trail along his spine, silently counting and worshiping each bump.]
I'll teach you.