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Summary
Ratio tilts his head. “What did you have in mind?” he asks.
“Probably easier if I show you,” Aventurine says.
He wraps his fingers around the back of Ratio’s hand. Pulls it up from where it was on the mattress; Ratio doesn’t resist, perhaps curious where Aventurine is going with this. He moves it past his chest, past his collarbone, landing it softly on his neck. Palm lightly pressed against his throat, fingers in position to wrap around it.
(They've been occasionally sleeping together for a while now. Aventurine's having a day, and wants to try something to clear his head. Ratio has opinions.)