There was something about his growing infatuations with the Keyblade Master which hadn't been sated by merely watching him, listening to him, or merely sitting in his company. He had time to plot and think this through, time to deliberate his approach. So this was not entirely unplanned, and it had taken all but a direct statement of interest, after hours of Riku brushing off his best attempts at cautious flirtation, and the feeling he was the one being wound and seduced in slow circles.

Ienzo's heart had been brimming, mouth quavering close and forming around words, when he told Riku that he hadn't felt this alive since... he couldn't remember.

That was all it took, really. That, and the boldness of closing distance.

But now, his heart racing in his chest and brimming with a momentum spurred on by Riku's hands and Riku's mouth, he wasn't entirely sure if he'd intended to lead things here. To Xehanort's old room.

He inhales, and exhales, and feels already naked under the searching brilliance of those eyes. Ienzo's eyes are searching too, brow knit with bewilderment at how easy and how difficult it is to hold that gaze. His fingers slide at Riku's shoulders and along the backside of his neck, dipping under the collar of his vest to move slowly against warmed skin. He laps at his kiss-bruised lips, and swallows. He doesn't want to entertain the idea of reconsidering. Not now.

"Wouldn't I have stopped, or called for the others, if I wasn't?" Maybe it's only a pretension of control, that he could stop this now, if he really wanted to. Why Riku is asking confounds him...or maybe he's not okay?

"...Are you?" His voice is hushed and breathy with concern that's curiously soft for one called schemer, even if his hips are leaning in again against Riku's front, as if to test if the desire is still there as sorely as his own.