[When Gansey shoots him a questioning look, Noah folds in on himself a bit guiltily and mouths, 'sorry.' So that's that. He's got nothing.
He keeps his eyes on the floor as he undresses, away from Gansey and the rope guy and the room full of strangers—trying both to give Gansey a smidgen of privacy and to put off the moment where he has to really deal with what's happening. One thing at a time. He tugs off his sweater and then his fingers fumble on the buttons of his dress shirt. It takes him a few tries to get them through the holes. Under the uniform he's as pale as, well, a ghost. Thin in frame, sharp elbows, a surprising hint of definition in his stomach left over from his long-ago days on the swim team.
As he unbuckles his belt, it jingles in a way that reminds him of someone tapping a spoon on a glass before a speech. Clink-clink. Attention please, Noah Czerny has no pants on. He might be in danger of expiring from sheer awkwardness were he not already dead.
By the time his underwear joins the rest of his clothes on the floor, the Dominant with the ropes has picked out several dark blue bundles and is waiting with them in hand. He takes Noah by the shoulders and turns him, repositions him closer to Gansey. Not quite shoving, but firm in a way that discourages resistance. The man gives simple, short instructions and Noah soon finds his arms bound securely behind him, more ropes crisscrossing his torso. Throughout the process he stays very still, moving only when moved, but his gaze keeps flicking to Gansey's face and his attention is drawn somewhat helplessly toward his thoughts.]
no subject
He keeps his eyes on the floor as he undresses, away from Gansey and the rope guy and the room full of strangers—trying both to give Gansey a smidgen of privacy and to put off the moment where he has to really deal with what's happening. One thing at a time. He tugs off his sweater and then his fingers fumble on the buttons of his dress shirt. It takes him a few tries to get them through the holes. Under the uniform he's as pale as, well, a ghost. Thin in frame, sharp elbows, a surprising hint of definition in his stomach left over from his long-ago days on the swim team.
As he unbuckles his belt, it jingles in a way that reminds him of someone tapping a spoon on a glass before a speech. Clink-clink. Attention please, Noah Czerny has no pants on. He might be in danger of expiring from sheer awkwardness were he not already dead.
By the time his underwear joins the rest of his clothes on the floor, the Dominant with the ropes has picked out several dark blue bundles and is waiting with them in hand. He takes Noah by the shoulders and turns him, repositions him closer to Gansey. Not quite shoving, but firm in a way that discourages resistance. The man gives simple, short instructions and Noah soon finds his arms bound securely behind him, more ropes crisscrossing his torso. Throughout the process he stays very still, moving only when moved, but his gaze keeps flicking to Gansey's face and his attention is drawn somewhat helplessly toward his thoughts.]