[kaiba pauses when set touches his face.

he's not afraid. not even nervous, not exactly. but gentleness of it catches him off guard. how the man admires him, appreciates him, and it's an odd sort of feeling. it dysregulates him a bit, causes him to look up and assess set as well. he leans into his grip, the way he threads fingers through his hair. and naturally, he purrs when he skims over his horns, a notorious weak spot. he hasn't forgotten what set wants, they'll get to it, but for now... for now, he wants to feel a little less ugly. like something desirable.]

Have you heard the tale of Narcissus?

[probably not. kaiba relays it softly to set, between the kisses he peppers over skin.]

He was the son of a god and a nymph. He was so beautiful that his mother warned him never to look upon himself. But he did, and he fell in love with his reflection. He loved it so much he withered away to nothing because he knew he could never have it. He was reborn as a flower.

[kaiba stops again, meets those entrancing eyes again. beautiful didn't even begin to cover it. he might outpace even his beloved blue-eyes.]

You fell in love with a dragon, right? And then you became one yourself.