[ Is it noticeable? When one little rub isn't enough to satisfy whatever it is Tidus is looking to indulge - his desires, sexual or childish. But it's definitely leaning towards the former as their tongues graze against one another, solid and warm, and his grip around Inigo's backside doesn't relent, doesn't give Inigo any space to be than to bump and grind into him.
It just so happens to be that he's not the only one searching for this. Chests already pressing, but Tidus can't help but to lean into Inigo even more, bringing them closer, embracing the parts of him he can't otherwise with his hands where they are. The pair of them humping through clothing, the small gasps it starts to elicit from Tidus. Even that of Inigo's name, but it comes out as nothing but the vibration of a word lost in his throat for a kiss he doesn't want to give up.
There's clothes he should be considering, but when Tidus finally moves one of his hands from around Inigo's ass, it's up his side that Tidus moves it to; bumping into the belt that points outward, but he finds skin, finds his shirt, running it up under his small jacket and bringing it near his chest, but that's already pre-occupied.
So he holds his back, properly embracing him. But either of them are being anything but still, anything other than frantic, desperate; between kissing and grinding, between wanting more and more. ]
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It just so happens to be that he's not the only one searching for this. Chests already pressing, but Tidus can't help but to lean into Inigo even more, bringing them closer, embracing the parts of him he can't otherwise with his hands where they are. The pair of them humping through clothing, the small gasps it starts to elicit from Tidus. Even that of Inigo's name, but it comes out as nothing but the vibration of a word lost in his throat for a kiss he doesn't want to give up.
There's clothes he should be considering, but when Tidus finally moves one of his hands from around Inigo's ass, it's up his side that Tidus moves it to; bumping into the belt that points outward, but he finds skin, finds his shirt, running it up under his small jacket and bringing it near his chest, but that's already pre-occupied.
So he holds his back, properly embracing him. But either of them are being anything but still, anything other than frantic, desperate; between kissing and grinding, between wanting more and more. ]