[Sir, please, save your flirting he's barely gotten past the door.
Sesa sighs slowly, stepping inside and pulling the door shut behind him. He doesn't immediately sit down though, instead wandering over near to one of Passenger's walls so he can sort of hover there awkwardly.]
I came to bring you this, but to also speak with you.
[Passenger will also awkwardly hover, standing some feet away from Sesa but not sitting down at his desk or on the bed. They're having a conversation, it's fine.]
...Passenger. I need you to speak plainly with me.
[Sesa turns face him now, folding his arms firmly across his chest. The figure he cuts framed by Passenger's inn room window is mighty impressive...or it would be, if he'd opted instead to not open his mouth afterwards.]
What is your aim with me, here? I have no justice to pursue in this place. My goals are aimless and my destiny as unclear as a desert mirage. You are going to find little entertainment in my endeavors, so why do you insist on continuing to use me as your plaything?
[Passenger merely stands there with his head tilted like he's confused by the questioning. What is his aim? What a question to ask, because as far as "his aim here" goes, it's merely...]
I like you, Sesa. [Oh okay coming right out with it.] I have already found great entertainment in your endeavours here, even though I have yet to witness what I imagine are most of them. I wish to see the "real" you beneath that veneer you once called Bridge, beneath the mask you don for your own comfort. I wish to pull away the layers until the only thing lying underneath is the face you try to hide from the world. I want to see your claws and fangs biting into flesh until there's naught remaining but blood and viscera.
[With that being said, Passenger takes a breath, then continues:]
You need but say the word, and I would leave and not bother you any longer, for idle comforts in the freezing cold nor for simple favours at our place of employment... but you have not. You do not. So, tell me: when I saved your life, did you believe it was because I wished to toy with you longer? Or did you, perhaps, see something deeper in the way our lips locked?
[Sesa asked for this. He came to Passenger's room and asked for this with his whole chest, so he only has himself to blame. Yet, as the Liberi calmly explains his reasoning, Sesa's facial expressions go on a journey. It's hard to say what exactly they go through, other than a little bit of pretty much everything. He tries to keep it in check, of course, but that just results in him visibly gritting his teeth. In the end, it instead channels into his tail, which whips around behind him like it has a mind of its own.
Part of him expected it. This kind of response is expected for Passenger. He's not exactly the most hinged person Sesa knows, after all, and to hear that he wants to see Sesa rip apart his enemies makes perfect sense for him. He is one of the few who understands implicitly just how fake Sesa is, and how he puts on an act to hide his true problems, his true identity. Maybe that's what really gets to him more than anything. That Passenger understands him too well.
Or...perhaps it's the way he so easily picks him apart, delving into the cracks and prying them open to expose him for what he truly is. The fact that he hasn't kicked Passenger out at every turn speaks volumes. You have not. You do not. The words bite into him because they're true, and his eyes dart to look away as if he doesn't want to hear it.
Then...he asks him that. And Sesa finds that he cannot immediately produce the answer he wants.
He swallows hard, his mouth dry and a lump in his throat, his hands shifting up to grip at his upper arms.]
You are your own man, above my manipulations, for if you were as weak-willed as any other, you may have already pulled the trigger. I simply wish for your success in your endeavours, be it... finding who killed your brother, taking revenge, or otherwise. You have told me you will go as far as it takes in the past, yet that distance is nebulous as fog over the ocean.
[Passenger opts to sit down, on the corner of his bed, legs crossed prim and proper. He's dressed down, not wearing his overcoat today, and it gives a certain level of casualness to what is an otherwise extremely dark conversation.]
Aside from your success, I want to see what happens. I have no control over the outcome... not as much as you do, anyhow. [Then, he taps his fingers over his lips, because Sesa is not allowed to leave this room without further acknowledgement of that, thank you.] This was not so shallow a gesture as your paranoia may have you believe.
[What Passenger says, all of it...at least in regards to how he feels about him and his motives, his desire for revenge, justice, all of it...Sesa believes it all. Passenger, manipulative and willing to play the long con though he may be, has no reason really to lie about him about any of that. It follows along with what he's been doing ever since the two met, after all.
But this, deep down, is less about that than Sesa wants to admit. In fact, Passenger seems able to pinpoint the truth pretty much immediately as he points out the kiss they shared in the castle, which once again leaves Sesa looking anywhere but at the Liberi directly. Hard to do, when there's nothing else of interest in the room to look at.
For a long moment, he says nothing. He simply stays put, turning over his options in his head. He could just turn around and leave, but...
Eventually, he moves away from the wall, stepping quietly across the floor over to where Passenger is sitting. He doesn't come any closer just yet, like he's addressing a particularly dangerous viper.]
...it is true that you saved my life. And from what I understand- [What he gleaned from Gnosis and Silverash, anyway] -the act with which one was saved from an icy prison is...not delivered lightly.
"An act of affection", as I have been made to understand it. I have heard, aside from our Kjeragi friends, that we were not the only ones.
[Mizuki and Add... and, well, he's not aware of the Vash Situation. There were possibly others, too, but Passenger didn't pay them much mind.]
They've already taken their vows, of course. [Passenger—] Had I known that it would save you, I would have done so sooner. For me, it was a "goodbye" as much as it was...
[There is a question Sesa has to ask himself, along with this.
Does he want to find out? Or is he scared to?
Yet again, he stays put where he is for what feels like a long time, yet in reality it's just a few seconds. Eventually though, he finally closes the gap between them, moving to sit on the bed next to Passenger. There's still a little bit of a gap between them though, a sort of buffer in place because his nerves are through the roof and he's pretty sure if Passenger touched him right now, he'd realize Sesa was trembling.
He doesn't understand why Passenger gets him this worked up, but he does. He can't help it.]
[He's here. He didn't die, they won't be seeing each other in their next lives yet, and hopefully not for a long time. Not until Passenger's Oripathy kills him for real, anyhow.
He doesn't close the gap between him. His legs stay crossed, his posture stays nearly perfect, and he only casually glances at Sesa out of the corner of his eye. Let the Vouivre come to him this time, he thinks; he wants to see what he'll do, if he'll leave or if he'll stay, if he'll close the gap or flee.]
You are here, [he repeats,] at my side, just where I like you to be. Truly, I could not ask for a greater boon.
[Sesa feels his heart hammering painfully in his chest. Each and every time Passenger says something to him he thinks is meant to actually be sincere...it could very well just be another manipulation tactic, of course, but that would be a huge leap to make, wouldn't it? Even for the man who spent so long building up a market just to burn it all down. He's...not so sure that his dealings with the Vouivre are quite the same.
If they were, he would have let Sesa die back in the castle. Plain and simple.
So, Sesa sort of anxiously tangles his own claws together, looking down at the floorboards between his knees. His tail tip audibly thumps at the bedsheets, like a nervous perro's tail wagging.]
...I wish this didn't feel so...terrifying. [He looks at his hands, the tips of his claws shaking.] This feeling.
Is it terror you feel, or anticipation? Both, perhaps, but what is it you fear? What is it that you anticipate? What makes your heart stir so?
[Passenger can't just ask "what's wrong" apparently, oh no, he has to go on these long-winded tirades that lead to nothing but branching pathways of questions.
No longer looking at Sesa out of the corner of his eye, he leans back slightly, breaking that proper posture and tilting his head at his companion. The tail-thump is noted. He longs to run his fingers against the thick scales, feel each individual spine travelling along the length of it, but he stays his hand. He waits with the patience of a man who, historically, spent twenty years on a revenge plot.
He waits. He'll keep waiting, as long as it takes for Sesa to make a decision.]
[Both. It's definitely both. What he fears is a little bit more complicated, yet the answer still can't help but rest on the tip of his tongue.
Passenger can tell him he's being sincere all day long, but his own word only goes so far. Sesa knows Passenger is a master manipulator. He's sharp with his tongue and knows how to twist words into what people want to hear, even if he personally doesn't believe what he's saying. Yet, as much as Sesa would like to lean on that as proof, he has action to back up what Passenger claims. He need only think back to the castle.
Still, he worries. How couldn't he? Not only is he worried about making a terrible mistake he can't take back, he knows he's potentially dipping his toes into uncharted waters. Sesa is not, after all, well versed in relationships when it comes to this aspect of them, at least not ones that exist outside of a videogame. He can't help but feel as if there's a gulf of experience between them a mile wide. Passenger must find it all amusing. Perhaps endearing.
Sesa finally glances at Passenger out of the corner of his eye, through that long curtain of crimson hair. It does not help that the Liberi seems so relaxed and at ease, while Sesa feels like his head might explode at any moment.]
...you irritate me. You somehow manage to...to delve into the very depths of my being in a way that no one else can. You've picked me apart and examined my every flaw and trauma, yet you have yet to abandon what you've found there. [He's found a kindred spirit, perhaps. Someone worth examining further.] I know well that you want to see me snap beneath the weight of it all. If I were to only follow in your footsteps, I imagine you think, my path to the revenge I seek would be obtainable, and not as sand flowing through my fingers such as it is now...
[He looks back down at his hands, now held palm-up in front of him.]
Yet...for all of your atrocities, your dedication...your drive inspires me. And that...is terrifying.
[His claws ball into loose fists.]
I admire you. I wish to attain the heights you have reached, and that terrifies me. And I wish...to be closer.
[As he says that, his tail does what he is too nervous to. The tip of it reaches out, brushing against the back of Passenger's hand.]
[Ah, there it is. Everything lain out on the table for Passenger to pick apart as he wishes. His desires, his thoughts about the man himself, all things that Passenger records in his memory with the ease of a practised scribe. Yes, he expected most of this. He expected Sesa's ire (and the chirping voice in his head is too happy to remind him of that, is that what you wanted?). He expected Sesa's analysis of his behaviour to be spot-on, too. He almost expected Sesa's admiration, even, but Passenger would be lying to himself if he said he knew it would come to light now. It was obvious to him that Sesa wanted to stick around for one reason or another, be it that he's genuinely a soft person who likely doesn't want to burn this bridge yet, or that they have a shared interest in machinery and building things — but he surely doesn't expect admiration to come from it.
"Wishing to be closer" is what his brain catches on, in the end. There's a tail flicking against his hand, and were Passenger brasher, he might've taken that tail into his fingertips like he wants to. He knows better, though, than to so boldly catch a Vouivre by the tail. He'd parsed Sesa's interest in their kiss, naturally. It was difficult not to; were Sesa disinterested, he'd give Passenger a firm no like he tends to do where the offers of murder and arson are concerned.
Still. It's nice to have it confirmed. For what it's worth, it makes Passenger smile, just a little more.]
You wish to be closer, [he echoes, apparently only going to repeat the things Sesa says today.] You do not know how deep the river of my obsession for you runs. I offer you a chance to back out, Sesa, because the moment my true name graces your lips, the moment you close the gap between us, I shall not let you out of my grasp until both of us have breathed our last.
[How do you say "I want to be successful and actually accomplish things without murdering hundreds of people" without making someone offended-
Sesa is watching Passenger, now, which means he doesn't miss the way his smile grows. It makes Sesa's stomach do a little flip, and he wants to curse himself for being so easy. Is it that he's just that desperate to be acknowledged? Because Passenger, other than a select few, is one of the few people in the world to actually take him seriously. Like yes, he has friends...he has acquaintances. But he isn't so naive as to think they take him at face value when he acts the way he does. They probably think him a fool at best, or fake at worse, but he's already in so deep that there's no possible way he could change.
Enter Passenger. A man who has managed to befuddle Sesa at every turn, leaving him feeling helpless and unable to wrangle his wayward emotions into something less insane feeling. A man who has said himself that he is, in no uncertain terms, obsessed with him.
It's alarming. It should bother him. He shouldn't be entertaining this at all. If he were a wise man, he would get up, leave, and demand Passenger never spoke to him again. ...and the thing is, he knows Passenger would be agreeable if he did, no questions asked.
Maybe that's why he's inclined to give him a chance. There is much more to Elliot Glover than what can be seen on the surface, and though he will never condone the murders of so many innocents, he knows they weren't committed for no reason. Not even out of simple malice. In fact, he doubts he enjoyed knowing that so many who didn't deserve it perished just for the sake of erasing one mistake.
It's already too late for him. For both of them. They're hopeless and depraved, and Sesa has lost his desire to be any better, if it means not letting his brother's death be in vain.]
Then I will give you my answer plain.
[His tail slithers away, drawing back from Passenger's hand. It moves to instead rest atop the mattress, looping loosely around where the Liberi sits. Instead, he reaches his claws out carefully to replace where it once was, his bound knuckles very briefly brushing against Passenger's before he tentatively reaches for his hand- soft, he's so soft- with all of the carefulness of handling porcelain.]
[There's a fraction of a second where Passenger's eyes widen, surprised, as though he somehow didn't expect Sesa to so readily agree. To want to break down the one border they had between them so suddenly, despite Passenger's warnings, despite the fact he said loud and clear the moment Sesa said his name, all bets were off. The gap closes ever so slightly between them, with their hands now intertwined, with his real name on Sesa's lips.]
Then, [his voice drops to a murmur, and it's him, this time, that closes the remaining gap between them, bumping their shoulders together with his head tilted,] know me, Sesa, in any way you please, and let me know you in kind.
[There is no turning back. There is no going back from this, Sesa knew that long before he opened his mouth. But, despite the coil of anxiety still very much present deep in his chest, there's a sense of acceptance as well. He's made a tenuous peace with this part of him that has known all along that he's been crushing hard on Passenger for reasons he couldn't fathom, as it's taken this long for him to actually entertain it as a possibility. He had, after all, only fantasized about sharing kisses with him before the incident in the castle.
Now, it's being offered. Expected even, as Passenger closes the distance between them and looks at Sesa with an expression that can only be described as longing.
That's why, with his right hand currently occupied being threaded with Passenger's fingers, he decides to bring his left up instead to very cautiously trace along the Liberi's jaw, as if he's still a bit afraid that the touch might not be wanted. He uses this leverage to turn his head to face him, and in that same movement leans in to lightly brush their lips together. It's a chaste kiss made with the gentlest of intent, all while Sesa feels like his heart may soon explode.]
[What a sweet kiss, compared to the much nastier one that Passenger gave him in the ice castle. Longing either way, truly, but this one is much more shy. It's how Passenger imagines Sesa would have kissed him in the castle, were their roles reversed, or perhaps he would have been too nervous. Perhaps it would have been a hug, or Sesa would have done nothing or not known to do anything at all. After all, he didn't; it was a fluke that melted the ice. All Passenger wanted to do was get one last kiss in.
Now, Passenger has never had fantastic self-control when it comes to Sesa. "Don't request in a formal letter to be on his squadron during missions, you don't need to follow him wherever he goes, you probably shouldn't be stalking him to the Sargonian black markets and leaving notes for him in bread"... none of that has ever crossed his mind. He can't get enough of the Vouivre, wanting to corrupt and save him all the same, push-and-pull, help in the form of harm. All of it is genuine, yet only half of it comes from a place of goodness in him. Were he truly good, he may understand that he shouldn't be forcing his ideals of revenge on a man who wants nothing to do with it.
That said, that sweet, chaste kiss only lasts for as long as Passenger allows it, a fleeting ten or so seconds before something in his brain snaps like the wires in his machinery. He presses their lips together much more forcefully, pushing that boundary again, crawling right into Sesa's lap while they're still liplocked. Suddenly both arms are around Sesa's neck, pulling him into a full-fledged embrace.
No behaving. Please push him onto the floor he'll be okay—]
Sesa is not really at all prepared to have his bones jumped like they are, and it shows in the way he squeaks against Passenger's lips when their gentle liplock suddenly turns into something a lot more forward. He's helpless but to reach out his free hand not currently cradling Passenger's face, mostly to grab onto his hip out of instinct in the fear he'll just go toppling off the bed entirely. Fortunately, Sesa is a strong as he is built like a brick wall, easily capable of supporting both Passenger's weight and his own as the Liberi clambers up onto his lap with a speed and eagerness only seen behind closed doors.
Now, they're not just kissing. They're kissing. Sesa's heartrate spikes to a level that makes him briefly dizzy as Passenger effectively leaves no more room for Jesus, pressed chest-to-chest as they are. He gasps a little between them, his fangs accidentally catching on Passenger's lips with how forceful he's made their kiss. He may actually cut him by mistake this way, or perhaps their teeth will merely clash uncomfortably, or Sesa's big nose will be smashed into Passenger's because he doesn't quite know how to get it out of the way.
And his hand, once on his cheek, now carefully threads its way up into the side of Passenger's hair, brushing over the braided part without pulling it down. Hi, hello, he feels like he's going to die? He did not sign up for making out but they are making out now, and honestly Sesa can't find the part of him that wants it to stop at all. Leave it to Passenger to get past that boyish shyness that Sesa has been exhibiting this entire time.]
[Sesa's bones are only getting more jumped from here. Passenger swears he was about to step off the gas a bit after he kissed Sesa like they did in the castle — longing if a bit heated, including tongue because yeah — but uh.
Sesa's fangs pierce into his lower lip, sharp enough to draw blood, and something in the Liberi goes feral immediately. It's a jump in his heart and a sudden, clawing need as his tongue brushes over the pinpricks of blood on his own lips. He wants Sesa to taste it, the pain sending signals to his brain that basically amount to oh god yes, and when he parts their lips next it's far more forceful, met with a low groan and the audible ruffling of his tailfeathers as he settles easily into something a lot more carnal.
They can stop at any moment. Either one of them could decide to pump the brakes and say okay, thanks, glad we're boyfriends now, see you later.
Passenger is not going to be that person, though. His fingers thread with Sesa's hair, and his other hand drifts down the Vouivre's back, dangerously close to the base of his tail, like he's asking permission to run his fingertips down those spines.]
[How familiar is Passenger with Vouivre? Draconic races in general? Their temperaments? Their instincts? Because the more he pushes…
He tastes blood between them, and they’re lucky it’s his own blood, not Passenger’s. His brain doesn’t signal prey just yet, even though the sound of the Liberi’s tail feather’s rustling makes his mouth water. Tongues meet in a bloody clash, their kiss is becoming wetter and less coordinated by the second. Sesa’s claws are mere inches away from wandering places they shouldn’t, at least until-]
Rrrrrrrrr.
[Have you ever had a man whole-ass growl at you, Passenger? Because that’s what’s happening now. It’s not an angry growl, necessarily. It sounds more afflicted than anything as his own hands suddenly dip a touch lower, claws pressing lightly into the round curve of Passenger’s ass. Meanwhile, the base of his tail lifts up a little like a cat’s, vying for the contact that Passenger is seeking.]
[About as familiar as any other Terran: They're big, they're strong, they have scales, they can go a long time without eating. Normal stuff. Nothing about the instincts he's making Sesa pop off with here, but that's alright, because Elliot is so deeply into it. That growl sets his blood ablaze, spurns him on, and suddenly their hips are pressed together, closer.
Elliot breathes out a low groan right against Sesa's lips, and since Sesa is all but verbally offering for him to touch the tail... the tail is getting touched. Careful fingertips run down the spines, feeling, memorizing, mapping, up until he can't get much lower because he can't reach. Then, his fingers slide underneath, to the more sensitive area at the base. Instead of concentrating on this game of memorization, though, he's going more for pleasure — light, narrow circles, presses into the underside to see if Sesa is as sensitive there as Elliot is.]
[Like any race with a tail, it's going to be sensitive. That's just a given. But the places they're the most sensitive, well...Elliot would know those intimately. The way he touches the spines and drags gentle fingertips along the length of it makes Sesa quiver against his will, his tail occasionally twitching and arching upward against the pressure, as if seeking out more of it. He exhales harshly against his ear, breathing onto one of those little headwings, just before Elliot gets the idea to start rubbing little circles into the underside of his tail.
Well. If Elliot wanted to feel claws biting into the flesh of his ass, then that's exactly what is happening right now. Sesa doesn't mean to, it just sort of...happens, because not only is that touch a pleasuring one, it is arousing. He exhales on a whine, pitched in the back of his throat as his back arches again until they're pressed together entirely flush, chest-to-chest, hip-to-hip.
Underneath Sesa's slacks, something powerful stirs. Elliot will be able to feel it against his thigh.]
[Elliot is winning. "What is he winning" he's winning at Sesa, a thing that is both normal to want and possible to achieve.
While he's in less of dire straits than Sesa currently is, he'll say, he's still hopelessly aroused by all of this; the claws digging into his ass through the fabric of his pants has him letting out a sound almost akin to a whine, needy and not at all the image of the put-together man he often wants people to think he is. Debased, primal. He keeps his hand on that tail, repeating the same motions, the circles and firm presses with the pads of his fingers.]
How beautiful...
[Ooh. He is so detrimentally obsessed with Sesa. The man could tear him apart, and Elliot would thank him.]
Come, now. With such a chorus, that cannot be all you want.
[Elliot, like he is with most things, is correct. This is not all Sesa wants. But Sesa...is new to this sort of thing. All of it. Both of them are, but this is the sort of situation where you kiss with your crush for the first time and your hormones go so wild about it that you pop a boner immediately. That is...what is happening here, and Sesa is pretty sure it's too late to stop it.
Take it one step at a time, Sesa. It's likely he's either already noticed, or he will given the fact he's literally straddling your hips currently. It's not...going to be hard to feel a bulge moving against his privates. It also doesn't help that he hasn't stopped touching him, which only makes the sensation grow with each passing second.
Now that they're no longer kissing, Sesa is at a loss for what to do with himself. It's why he tilts his head to one side, pressing his face against the soft skin of Elliot's neck. He mouths there idly, his tongue briefly darting out to feel the race of his pulse just beneath the skin. The motion will bring with it Sesa's teeth, sharp and serrated, yet kept carefully angled so that he doesn't cut something vital.
Sesa is, uhhhhh. Horny.]
Nnhh...Elliot...
[His hands shift. Though Elliot may be briefly disappointed he's no longer clutching at his ass, they move instead to find those tailfeathers he loves so much, their rustle setting off every predatory instinct he has as his claws tentatively reach to try and stroke them, similarly to the way Elliot has been stroking his own tail.]
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Sesa sighs slowly, stepping inside and pulling the door shut behind him. He doesn't immediately sit down though, instead wandering over near to one of Passenger's walls so he can sort of hover there awkwardly.]
I came to bring you this, but to also speak with you.
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Very well. Then...
[Speak, boy, speak.]
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[Sesa turns face him now, folding his arms firmly across his chest. The figure he cuts framed by Passenger's inn room window is mighty impressive...or it would be, if he'd opted instead to not open his mouth afterwards.]
What is your aim with me, here? I have no justice to pursue in this place. My goals are aimless and my destiny as unclear as a desert mirage. You are going to find little entertainment in my endeavors, so why do you insist on continuing to use me as your plaything?
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I like you, Sesa. [Oh okay coming right out with it.] I have already found great entertainment in your endeavours here, even though I have yet to witness what I imagine are most of them. I wish to see the "real" you beneath that veneer you once called Bridge, beneath the mask you don for your own comfort. I wish to pull away the layers until the only thing lying underneath is the face you try to hide from the world. I want to see your claws and fangs biting into flesh until there's naught remaining but blood and viscera.
[With that being said, Passenger takes a breath, then continues:]
You need but say the word, and I would leave and not bother you any longer, for idle comforts in the freezing cold nor for simple favours at our place of employment... but you have not. You do not. So, tell me: when I saved your life, did you believe it was because I wished to toy with you longer? Or did you, perhaps, see something deeper in the way our lips locked?
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Part of him expected it. This kind of response is expected for Passenger. He's not exactly the most hinged person Sesa knows, after all, and to hear that he wants to see Sesa rip apart his enemies makes perfect sense for him. He is one of the few who understands implicitly just how fake Sesa is, and how he puts on an act to hide his true problems, his true identity. Maybe that's what really gets to him more than anything. That Passenger understands him too well.
Or...perhaps it's the way he so easily picks him apart, delving into the cracks and prying them open to expose him for what he truly is. The fact that he hasn't kicked Passenger out at every turn speaks volumes. You have not. You do not. The words bite into him because they're true, and his eyes dart to look away as if he doesn't want to hear it.
Then...he asks him that. And Sesa finds that he cannot immediately produce the answer he wants.
He swallows hard, his mouth dry and a lump in his throat, his hands shifting up to grip at his upper arms.]
I. ...I don't know.
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[Passenger opts to sit down, on the corner of his bed, legs crossed prim and proper. He's dressed down, not wearing his overcoat today, and it gives a certain level of casualness to what is an otherwise extremely dark conversation.]
Aside from your success, I want to see what happens. I have no control over the outcome... not as much as you do, anyhow. [Then, he taps his fingers over his lips, because Sesa is not allowed to leave this room without further acknowledgement of that, thank you.] This was not so shallow a gesture as your paranoia may have you believe.
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But this, deep down, is less about that than Sesa wants to admit. In fact, Passenger seems able to pinpoint the truth pretty much immediately as he points out the kiss they shared in the castle, which once again leaves Sesa looking anywhere but at the Liberi directly. Hard to do, when there's nothing else of interest in the room to look at.
For a long moment, he says nothing. He simply stays put, turning over his options in his head. He could just turn around and leave, but...
Eventually, he moves away from the wall, stepping quietly across the floor over to where Passenger is sitting. He doesn't come any closer just yet, like he's addressing a particularly dangerous viper.]
...it is true that you saved my life. And from what I understand- [What he gleaned from Gnosis and Silverash, anyway] -the act with which one was saved from an icy prison is...not delivered lightly.
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[Mizuki and Add... and, well, he's not aware of the Vash Situation. There were possibly others, too, but Passenger didn't pay them much mind.]
They've already taken their vows, of course. [Passenger—] Had I known that it would save you, I would have done so sooner. For me, it was a "goodbye" as much as it was...
Well, would you care to find out?
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Does he want to find out? Or is he scared to?
Yet again, he stays put where he is for what feels like a long time, yet in reality it's just a few seconds. Eventually though, he finally closes the gap between them, moving to sit on the bed next to Passenger. There's still a little bit of a gap between them though, a sort of buffer in place because his nerves are through the roof and he's pretty sure if Passenger touched him right now, he'd realize Sesa was trembling.
He doesn't understand why Passenger gets him this worked up, but he does. He can't help it.]
...I'm here, now.
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[He's here. He didn't die, they won't be seeing each other in their next lives yet, and hopefully not for a long time. Not until Passenger's Oripathy kills him for real, anyhow.
He doesn't close the gap between him. His legs stay crossed, his posture stays nearly perfect, and he only casually glances at Sesa out of the corner of his eye. Let the Vouivre come to him this time, he thinks; he wants to see what he'll do, if he'll leave or if he'll stay, if he'll close the gap or flee.]
You are here, [he repeats,] at my side, just where I like you to be. Truly, I could not ask for a greater boon.
...
Is there something you desire, Sesa?
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If they were, he would have let Sesa die back in the castle. Plain and simple.
So, Sesa sort of anxiously tangles his own claws together, looking down at the floorboards between his knees. His tail tip audibly thumps at the bedsheets, like a nervous perro's tail wagging.]
...I wish this didn't feel so...terrifying. [He looks at his hands, the tips of his claws shaking.] This feeling.
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[Passenger can't just ask "what's wrong" apparently, oh no, he has to go on these long-winded tirades that lead to nothing but branching pathways of questions.
No longer looking at Sesa out of the corner of his eye, he leans back slightly, breaking that proper posture and tilting his head at his companion. The tail-thump is noted. He longs to run his fingers against the thick scales, feel each individual spine travelling along the length of it, but he stays his hand. He waits with the patience of a man who, historically, spent twenty years on a revenge plot.
He waits. He'll keep waiting, as long as it takes for Sesa to make a decision.]
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Passenger can tell him he's being sincere all day long, but his own word only goes so far. Sesa knows Passenger is a master manipulator. He's sharp with his tongue and knows how to twist words into what people want to hear, even if he personally doesn't believe what he's saying. Yet, as much as Sesa would like to lean on that as proof, he has action to back up what Passenger claims. He need only think back to the castle.
Still, he worries. How couldn't he? Not only is he worried about making a terrible mistake he can't take back, he knows he's potentially dipping his toes into uncharted waters. Sesa is not, after all, well versed in relationships when it comes to this aspect of them, at least not ones that exist outside of a videogame. He can't help but feel as if there's a gulf of experience between them a mile wide. Passenger must find it all amusing. Perhaps endearing.
Sesa finally glances at Passenger out of the corner of his eye, through that long curtain of crimson hair. It does not help that the Liberi seems so relaxed and at ease, while Sesa feels like his head might explode at any moment.]
...you irritate me. You somehow manage to...to delve into the very depths of my being in a way that no one else can. You've picked me apart and examined my every flaw and trauma, yet you have yet to abandon what you've found there. [He's found a kindred spirit, perhaps. Someone worth examining further.] I know well that you want to see me snap beneath the weight of it all. If I were to only follow in your footsteps, I imagine you think, my path to the revenge I seek would be obtainable, and not as sand flowing through my fingers such as it is now...
[He looks back down at his hands, now held palm-up in front of him.]
Yet...for all of your atrocities, your dedication...your drive inspires me. And that...is terrifying.
[His claws ball into loose fists.]
I admire you. I wish to attain the heights you have reached, and that terrifies me. And I wish...to be closer.
[As he says that, his tail does what he is too nervous to. The tip of it reaches out, brushing against the back of Passenger's hand.]
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"Wishing to be closer" is what his brain catches on, in the end. There's a tail flicking against his hand, and were Passenger brasher, he might've taken that tail into his fingertips like he wants to. He knows better, though, than to so boldly catch a Vouivre by the tail. He'd parsed Sesa's interest in their kiss, naturally. It was difficult not to; were Sesa disinterested, he'd give Passenger a firm no like he tends to do where the offers of murder and arson are concerned.
Still. It's nice to have it confirmed. For what it's worth, it makes Passenger smile, just a little more.]
You wish to be closer, [he echoes, apparently only going to repeat the things Sesa says today.] You do not know how deep the river of my obsession for you runs. I offer you a chance to back out, Sesa, because the moment my true name graces your lips, the moment you close the gap between us, I shall not let you out of my grasp until both of us have breathed our last.
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Sesa is watching Passenger, now, which means he doesn't miss the way his smile grows. It makes Sesa's stomach do a little flip, and he wants to curse himself for being so easy. Is it that he's just that desperate to be acknowledged? Because Passenger, other than a select few, is one of the few people in the world to actually take him seriously. Like yes, he has friends...he has acquaintances. But he isn't so naive as to think they take him at face value when he acts the way he does. They probably think him a fool at best, or fake at worse, but he's already in so deep that there's no possible way he could change.
Enter Passenger. A man who has managed to befuddle Sesa at every turn, leaving him feeling helpless and unable to wrangle his wayward emotions into something less insane feeling. A man who has said himself that he is, in no uncertain terms, obsessed with him.
It's alarming. It should bother him. He shouldn't be entertaining this at all. If he were a wise man, he would get up, leave, and demand Passenger never spoke to him again. ...and the thing is, he knows Passenger would be agreeable if he did, no questions asked.
Maybe that's why he's inclined to give him a chance. There is much more to Elliot Glover than what can be seen on the surface, and though he will never condone the murders of so many innocents, he knows they weren't committed for no reason. Not even out of simple malice. In fact, he doubts he enjoyed knowing that so many who didn't deserve it perished just for the sake of erasing one mistake.
It's already too late for him. For both of them. They're hopeless and depraved, and Sesa has lost his desire to be any better, if it means not letting his brother's death be in vain.]
Then I will give you my answer plain.
[His tail slithers away, drawing back from Passenger's hand. It moves to instead rest atop the mattress, looping loosely around where the Liberi sits. Instead, he reaches his claws out carefully to replace where it once was, his bound knuckles very briefly brushing against Passenger's before he tentatively reaches for his hand- soft, he's so soft- with all of the carefulness of handling porcelain.]
I wish to know you, Elliot.
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Then, [his voice drops to a murmur, and it's him, this time, that closes the remaining gap between them, bumping their shoulders together with his head tilted,] know me, Sesa, in any way you please, and let me know you in kind.
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Now, it's being offered. Expected even, as Passenger closes the distance between them and looks at Sesa with an expression that can only be described as longing.
That's why, with his right hand currently occupied being threaded with Passenger's fingers, he decides to bring his left up instead to very cautiously trace along the Liberi's jaw, as if he's still a bit afraid that the touch might not be wanted. He uses this leverage to turn his head to face him, and in that same movement leans in to lightly brush their lips together. It's a chaste kiss made with the gentlest of intent, all while Sesa feels like his heart may soon explode.]
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Now, Passenger has never had fantastic self-control when it comes to Sesa. "Don't request in a formal letter to be on his squadron during missions, you don't need to follow him wherever he goes, you probably shouldn't be stalking him to the Sargonian black markets and leaving notes for him in bread"... none of that has ever crossed his mind. He can't get enough of the Vouivre, wanting to corrupt and save him all the same, push-and-pull, help in the form of harm. All of it is genuine, yet only half of it comes from a place of goodness in him. Were he truly good, he may understand that he shouldn't be forcing his ideals of revenge on a man who wants nothing to do with it.
That said, that sweet, chaste kiss only lasts for as long as Passenger allows it, a fleeting ten or so seconds before something in his brain snaps like the wires in his machinery. He presses their lips together much more forcefully, pushing that boundary again, crawling right into Sesa's lap while they're still liplocked. Suddenly both arms are around Sesa's neck, pulling him into a full-fledged embrace.
No behaving. Please push him onto the floor he'll be okay—]
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Sesa is not really at all prepared to have his bones jumped like they are, and it shows in the way he squeaks against Passenger's lips when their gentle liplock suddenly turns into something a lot more forward. He's helpless but to reach out his free hand not currently cradling Passenger's face, mostly to grab onto his hip out of instinct in the fear he'll just go toppling off the bed entirely. Fortunately, Sesa is a strong as he is built like a brick wall, easily capable of supporting both Passenger's weight and his own as the Liberi clambers up onto his lap with a speed and eagerness only seen behind closed doors.
Now, they're not just kissing. They're kissing. Sesa's heartrate spikes to a level that makes him briefly dizzy as Passenger effectively leaves no more room for Jesus, pressed chest-to-chest as they are. He gasps a little between them, his fangs accidentally catching on Passenger's lips with how forceful he's made their kiss. He may actually cut him by mistake this way, or perhaps their teeth will merely clash uncomfortably, or Sesa's big nose will be smashed into Passenger's because he doesn't quite know how to get it out of the way.
And his hand, once on his cheek, now carefully threads its way up into the side of Passenger's hair, brushing over the braided part without pulling it down. Hi, hello, he feels like he's going to die? He did not sign up for making out but they are making out now, and honestly Sesa can't find the part of him that wants it to stop at all. Leave it to Passenger to get past that boyish shyness that Sesa has been exhibiting this entire time.]
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Sesa's fangs pierce into his lower lip, sharp enough to draw blood, and something in the Liberi goes feral immediately. It's a jump in his heart and a sudden, clawing need as his tongue brushes over the pinpricks of blood on his own lips. He wants Sesa to taste it, the pain sending signals to his brain that basically amount to oh god yes, and when he parts their lips next it's far more forceful, met with a low groan and the audible ruffling of his tailfeathers as he settles easily into something a lot more carnal.
They can stop at any moment. Either one of them could decide to pump the brakes and say okay, thanks, glad we're boyfriends now, see you later.
Passenger is not going to be that person, though. His fingers thread with Sesa's hair, and his other hand drifts down the Vouivre's back, dangerously close to the base of his tail, like he's asking permission to run his fingertips down those spines.]
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He tastes blood between them, and they’re lucky it’s his own blood, not Passenger’s. His brain doesn’t signal prey just yet, even though the sound of the Liberi’s tail feather’s rustling makes his mouth water. Tongues meet in a bloody clash, their kiss is becoming wetter and less coordinated by the second. Sesa’s claws are mere inches away from wandering places they shouldn’t, at least until-]
Rrrrrrrrr.
[Have you ever had a man whole-ass growl at you, Passenger? Because that’s what’s happening now. It’s not an angry growl, necessarily. It sounds more afflicted than anything as his own hands suddenly dip a touch lower, claws pressing lightly into the round curve of Passenger’s ass. Meanwhile, the base of his tail lifts up a little like a cat’s, vying for the contact that Passenger is seeking.]
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Elliot breathes out a low groan right against Sesa's lips, and since Sesa is all but verbally offering for him to touch the tail... the tail is getting touched. Careful fingertips run down the spines, feeling, memorizing, mapping, up until he can't get much lower because he can't reach. Then, his fingers slide underneath, to the more sensitive area at the base. Instead of concentrating on this game of memorization, though, he's going more for pleasure — light, narrow circles, presses into the underside to see if Sesa is as sensitive there as Elliot is.]
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Well. If Elliot wanted to feel claws biting into the flesh of his ass, then that's exactly what is happening right now. Sesa doesn't mean to, it just sort of...happens, because not only is that touch a pleasuring one, it is arousing. He exhales on a whine, pitched in the back of his throat as his back arches again until they're pressed together entirely flush, chest-to-chest, hip-to-hip.
Underneath Sesa's slacks, something powerful stirs. Elliot will be able to feel it against his thigh.]
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While he's in less of dire straits than Sesa currently is, he'll say, he's still hopelessly aroused by all of this; the claws digging into his ass through the fabric of his pants has him letting out a sound almost akin to a whine, needy and not at all the image of the put-together man he often wants people to think he is. Debased, primal. He keeps his hand on that tail, repeating the same motions, the circles and firm presses with the pads of his fingers.]
How beautiful...
[Ooh. He is so detrimentally obsessed with Sesa. The man could tear him apart, and Elliot would thank him.]
Come, now. With such a chorus, that cannot be all you want.
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Take it one step at a time, Sesa. It's likely he's either already noticed, or he will given the fact he's literally straddling your hips currently. It's not...going to be hard to feel a bulge moving against his privates. It also doesn't help that he hasn't stopped touching him, which only makes the sensation grow with each passing second.
Now that they're no longer kissing, Sesa is at a loss for what to do with himself. It's why he tilts his head to one side, pressing his face against the soft skin of Elliot's neck. He mouths there idly, his tongue briefly darting out to feel the race of his pulse just beneath the skin. The motion will bring with it Sesa's teeth, sharp and serrated, yet kept carefully angled so that he doesn't cut something vital.
Sesa is, uhhhhh. Horny.]
Nnhh...Elliot...
[His hands shift. Though Elliot may be briefly disappointed he's no longer clutching at his ass, they move instead to find those tailfeathers he loves so much, their rustle setting off every predatory instinct he has as his claws tentatively reach to try and stroke them, similarly to the way Elliot has been stroking his own tail.]
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