“And when? You know what I would have, and what would you have of me now? I wished your offense, and you would not. Give truth, and do what you will, Harry; I care no longer. You can hardly offend me more.” Kris looked Harry straight in the eye.
“Then,” Henry sought out words, finding himself having a lack of it, he’d resort to an action though he had not thought it fitting. “I will not offend you, or will I try.” He murmured quietly. Anger was something he had received often, be it his own words that frustrated people or anyone else. He reached out for his hands, kissing his palm gently, but moving from it just a few moments after.
He felt jerked around, utterly confused by the other man’s attitude. Trying to provoke anger brought apologies, trying to be cutting brought … a kiss. The rush of someone’s kiss remained the same, regardless of body, Kris discovered when Harry’s mouth met his hand. Words fled his head, and all he could manage was a strangled groan of Harry’s name.
His words had always brought himself nothing but trouble, he knew that well enough. Even when he had seen nothing wrong with his deeds, he could not see anywhere where his words or doings were ultimately flawed. Henry had always seemed to be clouded with some sort of predicament here and there; big and small, his eyes flickered up to the sound of his name groaned out.
“Don’t, Harry, don’t … be a … tease,” Kris pleaded, locking green eyes with blue. Twisting his wrists, he grabbed for Harry’s hands, holding tight and pulling.