( He's bound to make a fool of himself with any attempts at dirty talk honestly.

The shimmery piercing languidly making its way against the tip of his finger do offer his gaze to widen slightly. He's not expecting it, that's all, and he's fascinated by the added value. Sunday rolls his fingers around his tongue to seek it again, rubbing it before he delves two fingers deeper down his tongue. He's testing how far he could go or what type of treatment Olivine likes. The sight alone is enough to make him even more self-aware of his cock twitching in his pants. He swallows dryly. )

You haven't given me any impressions of being overbearing. I like your company thus far.

And, heh. You're the one worrying.