[ there is a smile there at the way Gil reacts, while Rook's own wings were never all that sensitive before (now they are something else and he is still learning to deal with that), he knew that they were sensitive on many others. Gil was clearly one of them. so Rook lets his fingertips continue to trail along the curve, never pressing very hard, making sure that his claws (gold and sharp) never catch, that it is teasing teasing teasing.

even when Gil crawls properly into his lap, Rook moves to keep that slow, teasing brush of his fingertips, curls his other hand easily around his leg, just above his knee. ]

I demand your enjoyment then, can you give me that?

[ will he ever really be comfortable with the power he wields? probably not. and the discomfort he still has shows when Gil asks to call him master, nearly flinches at it. remembers how often Belial demanded that of him, and it was always on the sharper days, when pain overruled pleasure.

it takes a breath, a heartbeat for his fingers to resume moving slowly, for him to open his eyes and look at Gil again instead of the jagged memories behind closed eyes.]

Just Rook, no Sir or master. Are you alright with pet, or would you prefer something else?

[ he hadn't thought about it when he said it, it just slipped out, but now-- well, he refuses to be like the first prince. ]