[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.]
["Sexually repressed in their late 30s" will do that to them, apparently. Elliot is also horny, but maybe he's been that way in a low-key kind of way for longer than he cares to admit. He's dreamed of pulling Sesa close and running his fingers through the Vouivre's hair for a long, long time, even if most of those didn't lead up to this. He didn't picture himself today in Sesa's lap, feeling that stirring in his pants. He most certainly didn't picture Sesa's hands flying to his tailfeathers, nor does he know how obscene the soft sound he lets out at the contact is until well after it's left his lips.
If Sesa wants to feel the race of Elliot's pulse, by God, he will, because it quickens to a fever pitch when Sesa's teeth scrape against his neck. The Vouivre could very well kill him with one poorly-angled bite, and it's that more than anything that has Elliot hot under the collar. He tilts his head back to give Sesa room to work with, eyes fluttering shut...
And then something in his stupid bird brain snaps and he winds up pressing their hips together, harsh, exhaling on a moan. Sesa is not the only person here who's rock solid right now. Say his name like that again, he dares you.]
[HI, hello. Hello, Elliot, Sesa sees you. He hears you, he feels you, he-
He's...
Actively jostling Elliot backwards onto the bed, now. He doesn't lay him down on the mattress so much as he shoves him there (he will apologize for being so rough with him later), managing to still keep their hips and bodies flush even though Elliot is less on his lap now and more being straddled by the Vouivre now crouched above him.
Crouched, and...definitely grinding on him. He would be sorry if he weren't so desperate for contact, his teeth once again finding the Liberi's neck. His fangs nip at his collarbone, leaving a distinctive mark there, actually drawing a bit of blood this time. He laps it off his own lips the moment it reaches them, giving him enough of a distraction to draw back from Elliot just long enough to gauge what to do now.
Elliot...will see his own blood staining the Vouivre's fangs.]
[If and when Sesa says sorry for being rough, Elliot is just going to Look at him and smile. Buddy. Buddy boy he wants this.
There's a brief exhalation of surprise when Sesa flips them, followed by a quiet moan that grows much louder when Sesa's fangs pierce his skin. That's almost certainly a mark he'll have to cover up later. One for him to admire in the mirror, definitely. One that he hopes will be among many.
Sesa will be able to feel the Liberi twitch eagerly in his pants. The sensation of blood and it being lapped off of his skin has him rocking up into Sesa, too eager, almost impatient now that he's been given a taste of the Vouivre's fangs. He almost misses what Sesa says, too busy staring at the blood on them, feeling his brain short-circuit in real time. His pupils are blown wide, hair a mess, and for a moment he finally gets control of himself and reaches behind his head to pull out the ponytail holding it all up.]
Please.
[Yes, please put your hands on him. He's never been so feral in his life.]
[Oh, he feels it. He feels it, and he feels his own body responding eagerly in kind. So while Elliot is busy being horny about the blood clinging to Sesa's teeth, Sesa is...letting Elliot go, because with him laying down, he can more easily place his hands elswhere.
Elliot's been known to wear lots of layers. Flowing fabrics and the like...the same applies here, yet that isn't going to stop Sesa from gingerly laying his hands against his abdomen through the fabric from the outside, his fingertips feeling the hidden planes of his body underneath. He growls again, only this time it's a lot softer under his breath as he maps him out, bringing his hands a bit lower near to where those folds are hiding Elliot's arousal.
He wants to just...rip the fabric away, but he figures that wouldn't gain him much favor if he did. So, instead...he'll dip his toe in a bit more carefully, pressing his hand from abdomen to navel...and then nervously bringing it all the way down until he feels the start of that bulge, seemingly white-hot even still clothed. It's enough to snap Sesa out of it just a little, seeing as how this is his first time EVER touching someone else.
Sesa exhales shakily, glancing up to gauge Elliot's expression as he gently palms him through his clothing.]
[Time to remove all those flowing fabrics and decorations, Sesa. Elliot is more than willing to help with that when the time comes.
For now? He's afflicted, terribly so, immediately snapping his hips up into Sesa's palm and biting back a debauched, eager sound. Oh...
He should be patient. He is, normally, but something in him is begging for him to snap. It's lucky that he doesn't want to rush this, then. If they were running on only a few minutes, he might have tried to. Might have hurriedly torn through the buttons on both of their clothing... but they have time. More than enough time to experiment with one another, that's for sure.
Elliot's head lists to the side. The wings shuffle, feathers puffed out, and slightly fold in front of his face, half-obscuring his eyes. Is he embarrassed? Nervous? A combination of them, most likely. He has as much experience as Sesa does, which is to say none.]
Mmn... Sesa...
[His eyes flutter shut, hands gripping the sheets underneath him.]
[Make no mistake, Sesa wants to. He wants to rip off those layers, just as much as he wants to free himself from the confines of his own pants. It’s bad enough when you just have one, but Sesa…both of his cocks are slipping free, and he knows it’s only going to be a matter of time before his hand is forced. Less that he’ll want to pull his pants down, and more that he’ll have no choice but to do so.
As Elliot hides behind his wings, Sesa reflexively leans in to try to look past them, pressing another feather-light kiss to the Liberi’s feathers. It is…something of a power trip to have Elliot Glover of all people prone and wanting underneath him, able to control the sounds he makes with a simple shift of his hand.
Yet, it’s killing Sesa as much as it is killing Elliot.]
Don’t hide. [He almost whines that, like please, don’t.] I want to see you…
[He rocks the heel of his hand up into Elliot with purpose, the same way he figures he’d like it if he were doing it to himself. He kisses him all the while, swallowing up every soft moan and exhale that escapes. It’s becoming rapidly clear that this…is not enough. It is simply not enough.
…Sesa is going to try to figure out how to get up underneath these robes. Pull them aside?? He has no idea what he’s working with, but he’s trying.]
[The wings move just slightly out of the way, at least while Sesa remains in Elliot's face, kissing him and whispering against his lips. Sesa will feel the brush of wingtips over his cheeks.
His outfit is... well, there are a lot of buttons and internal zippers. It's meant to not come off too easily, whether he's in combat or a sandstorm, and Sesa might struggle to find some of the hidden snaps. For what it's worth, Elliot thinks the attempt is extremely endearing. There's a chuckle against his lips, interrupted halfway through by a low groan.
God. He's never felt so horny in his life.]
Would you like some help?
[Elliot's hands move to overlap with Sesa's, slowly guiding his fingers to each button or snap or zipper, whatever needs to be undone bit by bit, until that first layer of his is off. From there, it's just a simple undershirt, and his pants as well, equally simple.]
[Sesa nods weakly, like yes he needs help desperately, why do you have so many buttons and zippers. He could sit here for a half hour and figure it out for himself, but that is more embarrassing than it is sexy, and he isn't sure they'd survive that long anyway. So, he'll gratefully allow it, though he's a little surprised when Elliot guides his own hands, rather than simply do it himself. He blushes fiercely at the feeling of lithe fingers guiding his own, until finally they've gotten down past the folds to where Sesa can do the rest on his own.
With his hands trembling uncontrollably, of course.]
Thank you...
[He murmurs- is he thanking him for the help, or for existing and being so hot?- as he very gently smooths a hand down the hem of his slacks, nudging up the bottom edge of the undershirt so he can touch his bare skin. Fingertips brush feather-light along his hips and abdomen, until Sesa feels that feral urge to bite overtake him again and he has to stop long enough to sit back and loosen his own belt. Elliot may have noticed he is sporting quite a tent, like...an alarmingly. Huge one.]
...do you mind, if I...
[He needs to pull himself out, he is fucking Dying.]
[Elliot is showing Sesa how to undo those for next time. :) Except knowing him he'll be in a different outfit next time so whoops.
Elliot's skin is soft. Probably expectedly so, considering. There's the thin line of a scar on one of his hips, trailing around to his back and unseen from there. Sesa's claws tracing his skin almost tickle, and he shudders, brief and fleeting, if only because Sesa has backed up.
...
Yeah, uh, that seems unnaturally huge, but who is Elliot to complain? No, in fact, he feels some amount of sympathy, sitting up to help. His fingers stray to the buttons on those pants to undo them, then the zipper... maybe he's a little impatient.]
I don't mind at all.
[He is, in fact, pulling Sesa's pants down as they speak. And if Sesa doesn't stop him, the shirt is coming off too. Elliot has been good for too long.]
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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.
no subject
[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.]
no subject
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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If Sesa wants to feel the race of Elliot's pulse, by God, he will, because it quickens to a fever pitch when Sesa's teeth scrape against his neck. The Vouivre could very well kill him with one poorly-angled bite, and it's that more than anything that has Elliot hot under the collar. He tilts his head back to give Sesa room to work with, eyes fluttering shut...
And then something in his stupid bird brain snaps and he winds up pressing their hips together, harsh, exhaling on a moan. Sesa is not the only person here who's rock solid right now. Say his name like that again, he dares you.]
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[HI, hello. Hello, Elliot, Sesa sees you. He hears you, he feels you, he-
He's...
Actively jostling Elliot backwards onto the bed, now. He doesn't lay him down on the mattress so much as he shoves him there (he will apologize for being so rough with him later), managing to still keep their hips and bodies flush even though Elliot is less on his lap now and more being straddled by the Vouivre now crouched above him.
Crouched, and...definitely grinding on him. He would be sorry if he weren't so desperate for contact, his teeth once again finding the Liberi's neck. His fangs nip at his collarbone, leaving a distinctive mark there, actually drawing a bit of blood this time. He laps it off his own lips the moment it reaches them, giving him enough of a distraction to draw back from Elliot just long enough to gauge what to do now.
Elliot...will see his own blood staining the Vouivre's fangs.]
Let...let me touch you. Please.
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There's a brief exhalation of surprise when Sesa flips them, followed by a quiet moan that grows much louder when Sesa's fangs pierce his skin. That's almost certainly a mark he'll have to cover up later. One for him to admire in the mirror, definitely. One that he hopes will be among many.
Sesa will be able to feel the Liberi twitch eagerly in his pants. The sensation of blood and it being lapped off of his skin has him rocking up into Sesa, too eager, almost impatient now that he's been given a taste of the Vouivre's fangs. He almost misses what Sesa says, too busy staring at the blood on them, feeling his brain short-circuit in real time. His pupils are blown wide, hair a mess, and for a moment he finally gets control of himself and reaches behind his head to pull out the ponytail holding it all up.]
Please.
[Yes, please put your hands on him. He's never been so feral in his life.]
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Elliot's been known to wear lots of layers. Flowing fabrics and the like...the same applies here, yet that isn't going to stop Sesa from gingerly laying his hands against his abdomen through the fabric from the outside, his fingertips feeling the hidden planes of his body underneath. He growls again, only this time it's a lot softer under his breath as he maps him out, bringing his hands a bit lower near to where those folds are hiding Elliot's arousal.
He wants to just...rip the fabric away, but he figures that wouldn't gain him much favor if he did. So, instead...he'll dip his toe in a bit more carefully, pressing his hand from abdomen to navel...and then nervously bringing it all the way down until he feels the start of that bulge, seemingly white-hot even still clothed. It's enough to snap Sesa out of it just a little, seeing as how this is his first time EVER touching someone else.
Sesa exhales shakily, glancing up to gauge Elliot's expression as he gently palms him through his clothing.]
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For now? He's afflicted, terribly so, immediately snapping his hips up into Sesa's palm and biting back a debauched, eager sound. Oh...
He should be patient. He is, normally, but something in him is begging for him to snap. It's lucky that he doesn't want to rush this, then. If they were running on only a few minutes, he might have tried to. Might have hurriedly torn through the buttons on both of their clothing... but they have time. More than enough time to experiment with one another, that's for sure.
Elliot's head lists to the side. The wings shuffle, feathers puffed out, and slightly fold in front of his face, half-obscuring his eyes. Is he embarrassed? Nervous? A combination of them, most likely. He has as much experience as Sesa does, which is to say none.]
Mmn... Sesa...
[His eyes flutter shut, hands gripping the sheets underneath him.]
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As Elliot hides behind his wings, Sesa reflexively leans in to try to look past them, pressing another feather-light kiss to the Liberi’s feathers. It is…something of a power trip to have Elliot Glover of all people prone and wanting underneath him, able to control the sounds he makes with a simple shift of his hand.
Yet, it’s killing Sesa as much as it is killing Elliot.]
Don’t hide. [He almost whines that, like please, don’t.] I want to see you…
[He rocks the heel of his hand up into Elliot with purpose, the same way he figures he’d like it if he were doing it to himself. He kisses him all the while, swallowing up every soft moan and exhale that escapes. It’s becoming rapidly clear that this…is not enough. It is simply not enough.
…Sesa is going to try to figure out how to get up underneath these robes. Pull them aside?? He has no idea what he’s working with, but he’s trying.]
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His outfit is... well, there are a lot of buttons and internal zippers. It's meant to not come off too easily, whether he's in combat or a sandstorm, and Sesa might struggle to find some of the hidden snaps. For what it's worth, Elliot thinks the attempt is extremely endearing. There's a chuckle against his lips, interrupted halfway through by a low groan.
God. He's never felt so horny in his life.]
Would you like some help?
[Elliot's hands move to overlap with Sesa's, slowly guiding his fingers to each button or snap or zipper, whatever needs to be undone bit by bit, until that first layer of his is off. From there, it's just a simple undershirt, and his pants as well, equally simple.]
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With his hands trembling uncontrollably, of course.]
Thank you...
[He murmurs- is he thanking him for the help, or for existing and being so hot?- as he very gently smooths a hand down the hem of his slacks, nudging up the bottom edge of the undershirt so he can touch his bare skin. Fingertips brush feather-light along his hips and abdomen, until Sesa feels that feral urge to bite overtake him again and he has to stop long enough to sit back and loosen his own belt. Elliot may have noticed he is sporting quite a tent, like...an alarmingly. Huge one.]
...do you mind, if I...
[He needs to pull himself out, he is fucking Dying.]
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Elliot's skin is soft. Probably expectedly so, considering. There's the thin line of a scar on one of his hips, trailing around to his back and unseen from there. Sesa's claws tracing his skin almost tickle, and he shudders, brief and fleeting, if only because Sesa has backed up.
...
Yeah, uh, that seems unnaturally huge, but who is Elliot to complain? No, in fact, he feels some amount of sympathy, sitting up to help. His fingers stray to the buttons on those pants to undo them, then the zipper... maybe he's a little impatient.]
I don't mind at all.
[He is, in fact, pulling Sesa's pants down as they speak. And if Sesa doesn't stop him, the shirt is coming off too. Elliot has been good for too long.]
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