No apologies necessary. He hums contentedly as the man rubs against his hairy stomach, arm repositioning to find a comfortable spot along his hip. Not too tightly this time, though.
"Chaotic enough to what, stick it in the wrong spot? Mistake your hands for grapes?"
"Chaotic enough to make me want to impose some control on you," he repeats, very deliberately being a bit of (snuggly) dick about it. Pay attention, Mid.
Okay, he actually does know what the question was, but still.
Also: "I'm a guy. What wrong hole, are you going to try to shove your dick in my ear?"
"Uh huh." That's not a good enough answer for him, but he would prefer holding Scott quietly than starting a pedantic meaning fight.
"Maybe. I'll try anything once. Probably twice." And just to be the perfect definition of a brat, Midnighter sticks his tongue in Scott's ear, then worries the shell between his teeth.
The sound that comes out of Scott at the tongue in his ear is absolutely not a happy one. Teeth on his ear? Better and relaxes him before he turns around to thwack Midnighter on top of the head, but also just. Just.
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