As have you, [ he agrees, his smile warm as her hands settle in his. If she is inexperienced, it is not something he registers as odd. She seems younger than him, for one, and for another he is used to women of aristocratic background being deeply careful with their attentions.
He does notice the hand on his neck, and that the stiff formality of it softens some. She is comfortable, and he is glad. His own mouth was set to stay even, but he finds his lips shifting softly to meet hers in the breath before she pulls back, his own face lingering near hers as he still supports her hands.
He would be glad to see her again, he realized. Whether she wished to kiss him or simply to walk beside someone to pass the uneasy time. ]
[ Her expression softens, her face still somewhat warm, and the smile she gives him now is much closer to genuine than most smiles that have crossed her face today. ]
You may call me Edelgard. I am under the distinct impression that titles matter little here.
[ Just a bit belatedly, she frees his hand. ]
If you are as aimless as I am now that this game is over, would you like to accompany me for a while?
[ Having allies in this place is necessary, she thinks, and he has just proven himself the best candidate she has met so far. ]
[ He also suspects she has a much loftier title, but he understands the desire to meet as people and not as duties for the pockets that life allows, and so he neither presses it noroffes his own rank.
She releases his hand and his smile wavers; alas, he will miss her company.
Or -- not? Is it a mistake to join her, in the event this place pushes them to stronger intimacy? Perhaps it is already working, for the idea of pleasant company provided and received has a greater pull than staying wary. That, or his time with the pirate's ragtag crew made him weaker than he had been before his journey. ]
I would gladly join you, L-- Edelgard.
[ The device at his wrist chimes and buzzes. He glances at it, a small number appearing. ]
Basch. [ Her smile, though small, lingers. ] I am pleased to have met you.
[ As the band around his wrist chimes she looks down first at it and then at her own, which quickly echoes his. It's somehow both reassuring and vaguely uncomfortable to know that their effort paid off quickly. ]
We are monitored well, aren't we.
[ Leading the way to the door, she steps through it and holds it open for him to follow her. She lowers her voice slightly, not certain of how serious to be this: ]
I suppose we should be careful in this corridor. We may risk being ushered into another room and another game.
[ At least here they know it. He has, more than once, found some new magic or technology has been being used to spy, and it is always an uncomfortable feeling.
Still. It is good to be wary that his activities are likely logged somewhere. There is no real privacy here.
She must be thinking along the same lines, and he nods. ]
I think it best we decline any invitation and insist we have a destination. There are private spaces near fires that seem safe, and I saw no foolery in the dining area.
[ Unbeknownst to him, the latter often sent people seeking private space after. He still does not know how any of this works. ]
An excellent idea. If we seem to have purpose we may not be accosted.
[ She glances sideways at him, a quick assessment. ]
If we join hands on our way through perhaps we would be more convincing.
[ She would like to say that after the abrupt intimacy of their game this practical proposal of briefly holding hands in order to use each other as a shield doesn't make her blush but it does, faintly. Fortunately blushing has never stopped her before. ]
I saw an elaborate buffet in one of the larger rooms. Have you eaten? Food has been an afterthought for me today.
[ Her point is a fair one, and he finds himself smiling and ducking his head. It's such an innocent request, one that means nothing, especially after what they've already done. But it's also a level of quiet intimacy he hasn't had with anyone -- not in public -- in well over a decade. ]
I think that is a wise stratagem.
[ He holds his hand out to her, large and calloused, and is more than happy to be used as a deterrent for others' attentions, so long as she does not want them. ]
I have not. Food is often an afterthought, but I think fortifying ourselves would be wise.
[ No matter he normally has to be cajoled into eating, and even then, he goes for the simple and the leftover. He would sometimes eat with Penelo, so that the girl would eat, and he feels like that now. Except Penelo was still a child; Edelgard is not. ]
[ Clasping his hand, she nods in his direction and starts to walk with purpose down the hallway, as though the two of them have something urgent, possibly each other, that they must see to immediately, and it's odd to try to take advantage of that potential assumption without spending too much time thinking about it but she's boldly making the attempt.
The backs of her hands are softer and smoother than the palms and undersides of her fingers, any pampering she gives them tempered by her frequent training. Her war may be a bit... stalled, but she must remain ready for battle at a moment's notice. It isn't unpleasant to have her hand in his.
Not entirely necessary but not unpleasant and if they make it to the opposite end of the hallway without getting ushered into another room perhaps it pays off. ]
I agree. I saw an extravagant buffet laid out in one of the larger rooms nearby. A friend of mine would no doubt advise me to eat nothing I haven't seen others enjoy without incident. That amount of caution feels like a lofty goal here and I don't think someone who brought us here to play a larger game would get much out of harming us immediately.
[ It's easy to match her pace. He's spent a lifetime keeping his own wants and desires so far under lock and key that even he does not notice them. Which is why it's surprising that thoughts of how nice her hand feels, or that he wouldn't mind kissing her again cross his mind.
They ought to remain vigilant. Those must be more of this place's work. ]
This place must belong to a wealthy nation, to have so much excess so readily available for so many.
[ It makes him wary; such things were often produced on the backs of those without. ]
But I agree; I do not think poisoning us is the goal, and we will be able to see what others have eaten.
[ He knew basic remedies for poisons, but there was so little access to flora or magick here. Still, he suspected that she was right; it did not seem anyone here fell ill, and he found this many people unlikely to be able to keep that under wraps.
Still, nothing prepares him for how immense the buffet is. He's been at royal feasts that this puts to shame. His hand tightens slight in hers, the only sign of his discomfort that slips. ]
[ She nods, momentarily distracted by the fact that the oysters seem to be displayed on a bed of diamonds. Surely they can't be real diamonds - that's a level of excess beyond what she had previously thought. ]
Not just wealthy but so advanced that they can somehow bring us here from such a variety of different places. [ Without assistance or permission. ] They seem a powerful enemy.
[ It's somewhat surreal to make that acknowledgement after everything that has happened today. His hand seems to tighten around hers for a moment and she can't be certain if it's intentional or not but she impulsively gives his hand an answering squeeze, a rallying cry in tactile form. When she lets go, it's so she can take a plate and pluck some fruit and slices of bread and cheese from the buffet. Having a powerful enemy is an excellent reason to want to keep her strength up; they are at a disadvantage here and no amount of decadence distracts from that thought.
(Even if she does slyly snag the last exquisitely decorated tiny cake from a dish spotted with flecks of gold. It looks like the perfect mouthful.) ]
I have the impression that you would be useful if we needed to fight our way out of this place.
[ He asks it while his own eyes sweep the buffet. Opulent food, for one, but he also notices the diamond ice, and the costly inlays on the sides of the serving boards, and the gold on the edges of the plates. Just what is this place? And who is laboring to make this happen?
He does not realize that his hand tightens in Edelgard -- in protection or in a plea for rootedness, he does not know. Whatever this is, it is not normal, even for the wealthy.
She goes for food, though, and he knows there is wisdom of it. His plate, though, takes rice, simple roasted root vegetables. He indulges in spooning a bit of the juice from a roast chicken over these. The portions are, perhaps, too small for his frame and how busy his day has been. Food is still touch and go on his stomach, and he doesn't with Edelgard to see him despondent the way fresh fruit can sometimes overwhelm him.
That said, he does hide a smile at her plucking a single small cake. ]
I am honored, Lady. I would gladly be of assistance. You seem a commander with a good head and some experience.
[ Even-keeled, observant, kind but not loose, firm but not cruel, realistic but not unwilling to take risks. All traits he respected and worked well under. ]
[ Basch lets out a sound that's equal parts surprise and undeniable pleasure, his body going rigid for a moment before he melts into the warm touch at his jaw and welcoming kiss that is in no way strictly polite. His hands graze Tighnari's sides before settling a little more firmly, letting the other guide how long he'd like this interaction to last.
Regardless, his already heightened pulse quickens.]
[ tighnari can't help the way his mouth curves in a little smile, but he's sure to try not to overstay his welcome - after a few moments spent enjoying the kiss, tighnari breaks away from it with a soft breath. ]
[ Tighnari may apologize, but Basch gets the distinct impression he is not sorry at all. ]
No apology needed. I have enjoyed our time together. I am glad you have too.
[ Which is...about as flirty as this knight is capable of, even as he stares a little breathlessly. When he was young, others enjoyed teasing or flustering him, and he suspects that is all this is. It does not make him uncomfortable as it did then, perhaps because there is no victory in it, just companionable warmth. ]
[ Basch's glance darts to the ground, but he's smiling too. He's not quite bold enough to put a hand over the other's, but he also doesn't make any effort to dislodge them. Losing count is as much an endorsement as anything, and he's glad. He's not sure he has any right to be, but if it makes Tighnari happy, then, it is not remiss. ]
[ all right then, one final roll it is. tighnari tosses the dice and their last endeavor shall be.. bite mouth. not bad.
glancing upward again, once basch is ready, tighnari will tip his head up to brush their mouths together again, though this time he nips at basch's lower lip, lightly at first, before he sinks his fangs in a little more deeply. he doesn't bite hard enough to harm or draw bloow, just firmly enough to enjoy the soft plushness of his lip, giving a gentle tug.
gods, he feels warm all over. is it the air in this place, that makes him feel so at ease with this.. ? whatever it is, he's content, and comfortable. ]
[ Basch isn't sure what to expect after Tighnari's increased teasing, but he does let his hands drift back to the other's waist as they step together again. When his sharp teeth brush gently over his lips, Basch thinks that's all there will be. Perhaps some selfish part of him is disappointed, but he's contented too, ready to step back and thank the other fora pleasant evening.
Then the bite tightens, tugging at his lip, and a low sound -- surprised and pleased -- vibrates in his throat down to his chest.
The kiss ends, but their bodies remain close, his hands lingering. ]
You are more mischievous than you first appear. [ His voice is a little breathless. It's been...a long time, since he felt this at ease with someone. He doesn't want it to be because of this cursed place. ]
[ tighnari can't help himself - he soon offers basch a cheeky little wink, one ear flicking. ]
I've been told that. Usually it takes a bit longer for people to pry out that side of me, but.. this place seems to expedite the process. it pushes people close together very quickly, coaxes them to lower their guards a bit more than they would normally, under average circumstances. it helps that basch seems very kind and gentle. ]
Now.. we should go get that payout, hmm? And after that -
[ That ear flicks and Basch finds himself wondering what they'd feel like. Which is wildly inappropriate. It must be this place, after all his odd experiences today, but it makes him uneasy. He's no magick theorist, and in Ivalice it seems more contained to physical phenomena, not -- this.
But he also isn't upset about feeling relaxed with Tighnari. Blushes, even, at having put the other at ease.
And at the invite for wine. ]
I would be amenable to that.
[ And, as if on cue, their watches beep, a number flashing. ]
[ ah, and that's that. tighnari checks his watch to find that they've received the payout, and nods soon after. ]
Excellent. Wine it is. I'd like to know more about you.
[ they just spent the better part of a half hour touching and kissing, after all, and while tighnari has enjoyed a few casual flings in the past, he'd rather get to know this one. so they're off, out of the game rooms and toward the red cardinal. ]
[ Ah. That sinks his warm mood a little. There was nothing worth knowing about him, and while he would not lie, he cannot fathom that Tighnari will think as well of him with the truth.
Not that he deserves to outrun it. This was all inevitable.
Still, he knows it's a kindness, and he isn't going to turn that down. ]
You as well [ he says as they cross the space. It feels shorter, less foreboding with someone pleasant at his side.] Shall we take turns? [ He gives a small smile, teasing after their game. ]
[ tighnari's smile is warm and inviting, his arm in basch's giving a little tug as they near the red cardinal, leading him into the bar. at the very least, the atmosphere here seems calm and relaxed, a blessing really, given tighnari's sensitive ears. a raucous sports bar is the last thing he needs.
they find two seats at the bar, and tighnari slides into one, his warm, padded fingers giving basch's knuckles a squeeze as he looks over the drink menu. ]
[ He still hasn't entirely wrapped his head around the arm in his. He's surprised by Tighnari's enthusiasm and...something else.
Charmed?
He does glance to Tighnari's ears as they grow close. Fran's ears were sensitive. He imagines Tighnari's are too, but it's not his place to decide for someone he hardly knows. But he doesn't falter, so Basch follows him to the bar. He startles again when Tighnari squeezes his hand, but he doesn't pull away.
Perhaps he shouldn't be surprised, but without the clear confines of the game, he feels adrift. ]
I...have no palette to speak of. [ Maybe he had once but his stomach is still adjusting to food outside the prison. ] I'll try what you like.
[ He always flirts better when he doesn't realize he is doing it. ]
[ It's almost surreal to be in a public gathering place like this with no worry that someone will recognize him or his companion, no danger of one of his team being kidnapped (though he supposes they've all been kidnapped). Balthier had dragged him into a tavern or cafe when the opportunity had arisen, but both had been vigilant. He doesn't even know when the last time he was in a restaurant with no work obligations was.
Which means he almost doesn't know what to do. ]
Wine, then.
[ He doesn't think whatever cheap but filling house beer is even available here. The second question is more difficult. Does he? It's been such a long time since food and drink itself wasn't a pleasant luxury. The opulence of sugar often makes him uncomfortable, and lately anything rich hurts his stomach. But he isn't going to particularly enjoy it either way. Why share his preference? Except he doesn't like to lie. ]
I did once, but my stomach is not used to them again yet. I think for wines it makes little difference though; I am happy with both.
he has option paralysis.. thankfully tighnari is very decisive!!
[ tighnari looks thoughtful, gazing over the wines - he certainly doesn't want basch to get an upset stomach because tighnari gave him something too sweet, so the osmanthus is off the list. he taps the menu. ]
Perhaps the chilled nut, then. It seems more mild, and mint is good on the stomach.
[ glancing up toward basch again, he smiles, then leans onto the bar to ask the bartender for two glasses of chilled nut, as well as some water. they should probably hydrate! ]
[ Basch squirms inside. He'd rather not be held to their order, something he does not know enough about to execute well, and so he's glad Tighnari makes a decision. He's interested, as well, in something that's safer territory. ]
You know something of herbs' effects on the stomach?
[ The bartender returns with all four glasses. What a luxury, still, the be hydrated at all times. It has done wonders on his skin an hair, and he glancingly has the odd thought that he's glad he didn't arrive in this place entirely fresh out of prison. ]
To kindness in such a harsh place [ he murmurs, lifting his glass. ]
[ tighnari lifts his glass, clinking it gently to basch's before he takes a long sip. it's good, refreshing as expected, and tighnari hums his pleasure, and nods. ]
I do. I'm a botanist and a medic, so I'm well acquainted on the effects of plants and fungi on the body.
[ To him the beverage is simply non-offensive, some twinge of guilt panging that he's here sipping alcohol when so many in Dalmasca are under occupation due to his actions, but there is little to be done for it right now.
Tighnari, at least, seems satisfied and that is something. ]
I tend to get along with medics [ He says with a small smile. ] I have been a solider for a long time.
[ he's reminded briefly of cyno, and all that he goes through, all the times that tighnari has needed to patch him up again and again. has it been the same for basch, he wonders..? ]
Well, with any hope you won't need my services here..
Sorry for the delay! I was waiting to hear back on Basch -- he is in!
Understandable. Medics are a necessity on the battlefield. I've never worked under conditions like that, but my best friend is a soldier, and I've had to patch him up more times than I could count.
[ smiling, he leans one elbow onto the bar. ]
I hope you'll do your best not to worry me quite as much.
[ Basch shudders as that thigh presses up between his legs, his moan hardly tempered, even as he knows others will hear. Maybe because of it. There's some level of guilt still gripping him, until the undeniable press of an equally eager arousal digs into his hip.
Ah, well, that changes things. He sighs out relief and deep, longing want, even as Sylvain's breath reaches his ear. It's -- so much to try to hold at once, too many feelings, too much that he wants and should not want so openly.
It's so much easier, though, to be presented clearly with options that the other likes. He licks his lip, swallowing as he nods. ]
Ask me again after.
[ Easier, than being too eager. And should whatever this is subside with the leash, it is an out for him. But -- much as he wants to deny it, he knows the leash has not brought this on. Greased the wheels, loosed his tongue, given him a push of boldness, but this is rooted in him, and now that someone clearly wants him, that shame turns to pure desirous heat. Especially because Sylvain has done this before and wants him for it now.
Still pinned, he bites the inside of his cheek -- gods forgive him -- and lets himself grind back against Sylvain's leg, hip catching that rigid heat. ]
[ There’s a smile in hive voice, underlying the quiet praise, and that curve of his lips deepens when Basch rocks against his thigh, chasing the friction offered there. The hand not gripping the leash and still holding it taut, lifts so he can tangle fingers in the man’s hair, tipping his head towards him and a moment later, he leans in to capture his lips in a rough, demanding kiss.
He knows what he’s doing, is accustomed to controlling the situation unfolding around him and he hardly minds it. Not when he’d felt the way Basch had relaxed against him when he’d narrowed down those choices. When he’d shown him that he could have what he wanted and Sylvain would happily give it. And he’d have to be blind to not be enjoying this back, watching the flush spread along the man’s skin as he hesitantly starts chasing what he wants. Or asking for it, in some cases.
In Sylvain’s mind, there’s nothing to be ashamed of here in the first place, so there’s no hesitation in him as he plunders Basch’s mouth with a hungry kiss, keeping him pinned in place while his fingers tighten their grip in the man’s hair. Positioning him just how he wanted, so the man would get the most out of the sensations created by it. The demand to surrender, and the freedom that came with such an act. ]
[ O-oh. He had not anticipated how much he wanted to please his keeper. He hardly has time to savor the odd sensation, because there's blissful tension in his hair and that mouth is absolutely plundering his.
He moans deeper, one of his hands splaying across Sylvain's back to encourage the pressure of his arousal to grind against him, Even as his hips shudder. He can hardly move, pinned and overwhelmed like this, and finally, finally it lets his mind short out into blissful surrender.
This isn't the first time he's done this either, but it's always been in secret, with someone he ought not partner with given their duties. It's freeing, too, that this costs them nothing.
The fingers tighten in his hair, sending shivers through him. He lets his want channel into his kiss, far hungrier than he's let his voice betray. The pressure at his neck only makes it richer, a reminder he is both wanted and at his partner's mercy. ]
[ For some, it is far easier to admit what they want without having to say the words, give their hidden desires voice. Maybe it's because it's taboo or maybe it's just something they think they shouldn't want. Either way, Sylvain can read these subtle pleas as clearly as if Basch had begged for them audibly and he gives him exactly what he wants.
From what he'd said earlier, he was okay with Sylvain being rough and with giving him commands, as well as a little humiliation, as long as Sylvain didn't break skin. Which wasn't really his thing anyway, so that wouldn't be an issue. But otherwise that gave him plenty to work with, he just had to figure out where to start.
Hmm. Maybe he should have picked up some of those toys on his way past, just in case. Oh well, he could make do without them.
Still keeping the pressure on Basch's cock as he keeps his thigh pressed firmly against him, he breaks away from the rough kiss to nip his way back the man's stubbled jaw, smiling faintly against his skin as he slides down his throat. His fingers remain clasped in his hair for the moment, tipping his head back to expose more vulnerable skin to him. ]
Tell me, Basch, have you ever sucked a man's cock before?
[ He has no idea how much experience the other man might have had, or what might or might not be acceptable in the world he comes from. Better to ask than accidentally cross a taboo line he didn't realize was there. ]
[ His breathing is already heavy, his body taught as he tries to resist the overwhelming pull of want. Those lips move down his jaw to his neck and turn to teeth, and he clasps against Sylvain's sides, a plea for more already bubbling in his throat. Unvoiced now, but he wants to be coaxed to give it, to slide even farther into release. It's clear Sylvain is the kind of person who can do that, and it's all the encouragement he needs to stay.
The question comes, and he nods once. ]
Yes [ he gasps, some part of him wondering if that is a boon or a disappointment, if this man comes from a place where that is open or private or taboo. Truth be told, he's not entirely sure of his own world's rules, just that of the men and women he came up with, and it was always done behind closed doors, and that the men he liked tended to like to see him on his knees with their cock down his throat.
He liked it too. He knew he wasn't supposed to, especially as he climbed in rank -- another thing he had no interest in. He liked to do his job, follow orders, take care of others. He liked to be of use.
And, traitorously, he liked to be coveted by better men and women. Sylvain's attention has him as hot and helpless as the sensations themselves. ]
[ The quick smile that curves against his skin should tell Basch all he needs to know about how much Sylvain likes that answer, that it's not a disappointment at all.
He pulls back, giving a light tug on the leash he holds, stepping back - if a bit reluctant to relinquish the way he'd had him pinned against the wall, but there was only so much he could do in that position. There were other things he wanted to try. ]
Good. Let me see you on your knees for me, Basch. You already look so good in the leash and collar, I want to enjoy the entire picture of it.
[ he nearly protests the space between them, not that it would have been much more than a muffled sound, but it’s not hard to put together the question, the pleased grin, and the new order.
He’d forgotten, though, how he must look, or that that may be part of the appeal. The embarrassment at this ridiculous outfit and being kept like some pet washes through him again, this time with something more acidic: that he likes it.
It takes no further prodding for him to sink to his knees, head bowed even as his eyes rake in how equally eager Sylvain is and how strong his legs are. Feeling uncharacteristically bold, he spreads his hands around those legs, pressing his forehead to that rigid bulge even as the collar pulls at his neck. His voice comes out low and dazed. ]
[ He makes a low, strained sound when Basch presses his face against his own straining erection, because the way the other man had been grinding against him earlier had ensured that he was fully hard now. Not that that would have been difficult to achieve here promptly anyway. His pants might not be quite as tight as Basch’s, but they still don’t leave much to the imagination in his current state.
And with Basch now on his knees before him, he makes sure the leash has enough slack to not cut off his airway before tangling the fingers of that hand in the man’s hair to take a guiding grip once more. ]
Oh, with pleasure. Is there anything else you’d like to request I do - or don’t do - before we start? And if not, you can start unfastening my trousers. Especially since you’re so eager.
[ It’s said with fond amusement, rather than letting the words become a cutting taunt. Sylvain’s well capable of both, but he much prefers praise to humiliation, if he has a say in it. ]
[ That sound is beautiful, making his chest tighten. It's as good as being praised, and he wants more of it. He doesn't miss, either, the knowing way the other can adjust the pressure at his neck. He's so grateful; it's so easy to trust and sink into this, to feel like his partner has their role adequately covered.
That, and he loves the tight grip in his hair. ]
None that I can think of [ He murmurs after a moment of real thought. The encouraging praise makes his breath catch again. ] I -- like the balance you are striking.
[ It's difficult for him to ask for things, but this much he can muster, especially seeing that Sylvain wants the feedback. That said, it is easier to have a task than to sit in these feelings, and so he straightens, smoothing a hand down Sylvain's front before beginning to work the fastening. His own cock throbs in anticipation, and for a moment, he lets himself enjoy it. ]
Balance usually makes something like this go smoother. Although I usually don’t start something like this without first being aware of what my partner likes and doesn’t, so you’ll have to forgive me if I stop to check now and then.
[ He combs long, agile fingers through Basch’s hair in silent encouragement as he watches him work from beneath thick lashes, his eyes dark and half-lidded with pleasure. A smile lingers about the corner of his lips as he lets the man unfasten his pants, making another soft sound of satisfaction when they loosen and he rocks shallowly against Basch’s fingers. ]
No forgiveness necessary. [ His voice his low, a little pained. He respects that immensely. It speaks to a good man, which is hard for him to grapple with, given they both also like this. But he's thankful all the same; they both are aware he'd be unable to speak up on his own.
Then there are fingers in his hair. His eyelids flutter shut, hands tightening on those legs as he leans blissfully against his heat for a moment. This is -- this is almost too decadent to withstand. But it could turn to cruelty, withholding what they're both after. He sits back, continuing his effort, breath shaky as Sylvain begins to rock.
Pants free, he loops his fingers in the waistband of those and the undergarment, working them down until he reaches in to guide Sylvain out. His cock is hard and ready, striving toward Basch's face. He nearly forgets to breathe, adjusting the undergarments so they are at a comfortable height before leaning his face against the hot shaft of skin, one set of fingers tracing lightly against his length a few times. Then the hand slides back, cupping his sack as he turns his lips to kiss slowly, widening his mouth to leave gentle wet circles all around him before he drags his tongue down the entire length to circle the tip.
He's teasing himself too, cock throbbing as he years to take the other in his mouth. He's happy to be fucked like this. ]
[ Sylvain’s voice is low and husky, pleasure purred in his tone as his fingers tighten slightly in Basch’s hair in reaction. He’s long and thick, fortunately proportionate to his broad build, which is part of what made his reputation back home so easy to maintain.
Basch’s fingers and mouth against the sensitive skin of his cock has him twitching slightly, making a soft sound when the man’s tongue traces the length of him. He smiles as he shifts, pressing against the open seam of the man’s lips. ]
[ That praise earns a deep, pleased hum from him, as much from his own enjoyment as his desire to fully stimulate. He may be ashamed of his tastes, but it didn’t mean he hadn’t learned what use to put them to. It’s been awhile, and he’s pleased to still be so effective.
Sylvain doesn’t let him tease long, and the order coupled with the demanding press of his cock sets him moaning again, obediently working his mouth around the admittedly thick cock. This is going to wear him out, and he’s so ready for it. One hand stays to hold him straight, the other sneaking around to firmly grip his ass cheek.
Starting to bob, his tongue keeps working Sylvain’s head, savoring the taste as he takes him deeper into his mouth. Another low groan, knowing it will go straight through his shaft. ]
[ Sylvain gives a low curse when he feels that vibration slide down his length - more than once, because Basch is not only skilled, he’s clearly very into this. The enjoyment is shared, Sylvain’s eyes dark and locked on the movements as he watches Basch take him deeper. He doesn’t move - not yet, wanting to let the man set a pace he’s comfortable with first.
And also give him a chance to see how far Basch can take him. He’s not someone who actually finds choking someone on his cock to be all that sexy. Not unless that was the game, anyway.
So he keeps his fingers tangled in the man’s hair, guiding but not forcing. Enjoying the feel of the hold more than pushing him. ]
Good. Just like that. How much of me can you take?
[ Oh, he's pleased at that cursing, digging his hand deeper into the other man's ass in response. Bless Sylvain's expressive nature and easy praise; Basch is entirely at ease now, determined, even, to complete his task well.
The hold in his hair is perfect. He is open to being guided more forcibly, but this is his favorite. Wanted, but trusted. It's a position he can accept care in, too, warmed by Sylvain checking his limits, warmed by that praise. With his shame set aside, he basks in it, feeling worthy in a way he so rarely does.
He hums in response, working more of himself around Sylvain, pulling back and going forward again until he reaches discomfort. He bobs a few more times, to make sure, then brings his hand to make a ring around the man's girth. Here, maybe half or two-thirds down. No matter. His hand can cover the rest comfortably. ]
[ He watches as the man tests himself. Can feel, almost as soon as Basch does, where his throat starts to close too tightly about the tip of him, and is relieved when the man recognizes his own limits rather than trying to push past them just for the sake of impressing.
It has his gaze warming, pleased smile curling across his lips again as watches him. When Basch curls his fingers around the base of his cock to cover the rest, he nods in appreciation before tugging lightly on his hair again. His praise isn’t verbal this time, but he hopes it’s evident all the same as he rocks his hips forward, pressing in once more - going only so far as Basch had been able to take and no more. But it was plenty in itself, more than enough to chase his own pleasure. And the beautiful man on his knees had asked him to use him. He hardly wanted to disappoint, either. ]
[ It's been a long time since Basch was young and foolish enough to push past his limits to impress, whether a handsome man in a dark closet or a general on the battlefield. It's still a pleasant surprise, however, to have someone else who steps with that realistic limit so smoothly, appreciatively even.
Basch moans at the way that gaze stirs something in him, not shy with his sounds now that they've already committed to this. He'll worry about having been heard later, when he's not so full of Sylvain and his gorgeous cock. The fingers in his hair are wonderful, easier to accept than words, and he moans again as Sylvain begins to rock, switch from giving head to letting himself be fucked.
He slackens his jaw, tongue welcoming the intrusion as he braces against the other man's height and strength, hand not guiding his cock straight reaching to the other asscheek for greater balance. His breathing increases, heavy through his nose, and the need to keep somewhat rigid while Sylvain pleasures himself is enough to make his head spin. He doesn't notice the way his grip gets tighter on ass or cock, but he certainly appreciates the way Sylvain's sack bounces against him, moans increasing as their pace does. ]
[ Sylvain hisses out another soft curse when that grip on him tightens - not in displeasure. Quite the opposite, in fact, because the sight of Basch losing himself in the pleasure of this is a beautiful thing in itself. And he enjoys the touch of roughness in return as he rocks into that sinful wet heat.
Careful, always, not to push too far. But he might push just shy of it. He never crosses over that limit that Basch had set, but he takes him to the very edge of it, again and again. Fingers still gripping his hair, eyes dark and half-lidded with pleasure as his own breath comes in more ragged pants for air now. ]
Goddess, you're a beautiful sight like this.
[ There's a strain in his own voice, because he doesn't even bother attempting to hide how deeply he's affected by this. His rhythm occasionally stutters, but he's holding himself back as well. Dragging this out. Because no matter how they'd ended up in this scenario, he wants the other man to feel savored. ]
[ Oh, glory, Sylvain knows how to work him right at his edge of discomfort, forcing him to brace with just the tiniest echo of it being too much, but always eases right when it begins to tip. That control is appreciated, and alluring. For both of them, it seems, Basch casting his eyes up as much as he can to dreamily take in how Sylvain basks.
The compliment, though, catches him by surprise, causing him to slip just enough to sputter. He's been told he's a sight, in mocking or in victory, but not in this sweetness, and certainly not giving him a word like beautiful. (Perhaps because those who knew him knew he'd spook, and those who did not were not there to be kind).
He rights himself, though, feeling the way Sylvain is starting to stutter. He digs his grip tighter, working his hand and mouth to give the other more stimulation. He lets his moan drag out, knowing the vibration is all the better, and his own hips rock in want, threatening to topple them both if he loses his grip. He wants to be worthy of the respect he's being given, wants to be a good memory.
And, truth be told, he wants his mouth properly fucked. Sylvain is taking such good care of him. ]
[ Sylvain means the words genuinely, realizing only after he said it - and feeling that stutter of movement - that it might have crossed a line in a different way. His fingers tighten slightly, gaze sharpening to make sure Basch was still okay. He holds his gaze for a moment before moving again, maintaining that same speed as before, returning right to the edge of that limit again.
That moan is delicious around his length and his breath hisses out again before he gives his own strained moan, body shuddering with a wave of pleasure.
He tips Basch’s head slightly back, eyes dark as he holds his gaze again. ]
I’m getting close. Do you want me to pull you off?
[ Sylvain is sweet, far sweeter than Basch is used to. And more observant; he likely has a better read on Basch than the man himself. Which means Basch often doesn't know what is unwelcome and what is just unfamiliar.
He, for his part, misreads that Sylvain is perhaps irritated at the slip. Basch is; he should not be affected by someone he's only just met. But they find their rhythm again, and the uncomfortable disruption is past. Easy to leave it there with the way Sylvain shudders and moans back for him. Clearly the disruption was not too deep.
And then he's tipping Basch's head again, caring for him. Basch almost wants to push back down, just take Sylvain without saying anything, but that would not show proper respect for this much appreciate communication. He pulls his mouth off, hand still working the other, and meets his gaze steadily. ]
No. I would take all of you, if it pleases.
[ What he wants to say is, please cum against my mouth, but that's beyond his reach. ]
If my posture does not hold, press me back against the wall.
[ He can feel the strain in some of these still-weak muscles, and he'll do his best to endure, but he'd rather not lose their position with Sylvain so close. He dips his head again, taking Sylvain back in his mouth as his heart flutters, tongue seeking out his tip. The briny tang of precum greets him, and he moans again, bobbing his head encouragingly before Sylvain gets rocking again. ]
[ Another soft curse when Basch leans forward to take him deep once more, his own hold not restricting the movement in the least. Enjoying Basch taking what he wants and showing that initiative despite being the one on his knees, mouth around Sylvain’s cock.
He takes the words as the permission they are and increases his own speed now. Fucking into that wet heat as he chases his pleasure. Using him, as Basch had requested. He doesn’t push hard enough to unsettle Basch’s position because he doesn’t need to, bringing the other man to him instead, guiding with the firm grip in his hair. Absolute control, without ever leaking over into pain, or pushing those limits too far. It speaks to a well-honed control that Sylvain has spent a long time perfecting. ]
Just like that. And you’re going to swallow every drop for me, aren’t you?
[ His voice is low and husky, the strain showing more now as his hips stutter, pick up again, pleasure building from the constant friction, the delicious slide of lips and tongue, and the feeling of those moans vibrating around his cock.
He won’t mind if Basch can’t but having it to focus on, and then to be praised or rewarded for after is something he can offer even while he’s about to tip over into his own pleasure.
The orgasm hits him a few thrusts after, sharp and swift. He spills across the man’s tongue, although he manages to push deep just before, just shy of that limit once more. The breathy groan that accompanies it is genuine and husky, choked out as his eyes clench shut and his legs tremble for a moment. He manages to hold, however, long enough that his knees won’t buckle, and then gives a gentle tug to pull the man back to breathe again. ]
[ The control is so beautiful. If pressed, Basch would suspect this had not been random pairing. How could they be so compatible otherwise? It took a rare soul to relax Basch, even when they knew something of one another. Never in his life has a new situation gone this smoothly.
And it's clear much of that is Sylvain's experience, which is all the more attractive -- both that he knows how to care for Basch, and that whatever his tastes are, Basch finds himself squarely in him. Perhaps that is why he forgets himself enough to take some initiative. He barely notices in the heat of things.
What he does notice is how husky Sylvain's voice is, how controlled the balance of want and restraint are. He hums again that question, purred as an order he's allowed to refuse. He doesn't want to, though. Especially not with the information that Sylvain wishes to see him do so, and -- shameful as it is -- there's likely to be praise behind pleasing them both.
Basch is just starting to think his endurance may dip as something changes in Sylvain, and a moment later the man is rigid, hot liquid pulsing into Basch's mouth. He chokes a little, struggling to swallow with his mouth still full, but he moans at the way Sylvain trembles. Again, that knowing hand guides him back, and he gasps deeply, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and swallowing a few times. He tips back a little too far, the collar pulling on him, and has no objections to his face coming back near Sylvain's spent but still-hard cock. He leans his face lightly against it, squeezing the other's ass again as he takes a moment to catch his breath. ]
[ That grip in Basch’s hair turns to gentle strokes instead, long fingers carding through his locks as Sylvain tries to catch his breath. His body shudders a few more times as he gives a husky chuckle, gazing down at the man on his knees before him.
He holds back the automatic compliment he might have given, because Basch on his knees, skin flushed and eyes dark with need, lips swollen - it is a beautiful sight. But recalling the reaction he’d gotten to that in the midst of things, he bites back the words for now. ]
I do believe that that, [ he pants out the words with a fond chuckle, but meaning every one of them. ] made everything else here today entirely worth it. You’ve done wonderfully for me, Basch. And…
[ He interrupts himself to crouch down before the man, bringing him to eye level again. And maybe giving his trembling knees a momentary break. His fingers slide back along the collar, where he’d heard a faint click a moment ago. ]
As I thought. You’re unlocked now. But I don’t have to remove it, if you’re not ready.
It's a lot harder to remain relaxed as Sylvain pets his hair, crouching down glowing with praise and contentment. It's not that he dislikes it, at all, but he has no idea what to do with himself, head dipping and gaze averting.
He draws back momentarily, surprised at the fingers on his neck. Ah, of course. Released. He should be relieved.
He shouldn't be surprised at the choice Sylvain is giving him, the one he asked for.
It's fortunate, perhaps, that he's still clouded with want, because he doesn't have quite enough mental clarity to talk himself out of his feelings. ]
I...quite enjoyed that. I am in no hurry to leave your company.
[ All true. But what did he want? To take this off? To ask Sylvain to keep it taught and relieve him? To ask Sylvain not to relieve him, to leave him wanting and desperate all evening, until he couldn't stand it and was humiliated into asking? Where were all these ideas even coming from?
The confusion is plainer on his face than he realizes, and perhaps so is the way, when he looks up, his gaze falls to Sylvain's lips, the temptation to kiss them again blindsiding him entirely. ]
[ Sylvain's lips quirk as he takes in the man's dazed expression, the way he ducks his head, gaze averted. He also doesn't miss the way the man's gaze drifts to his mouth a moment later. ]
Neither am I. So we'll leave it where it is for now.
[ Tugging on the leash, he draws Basch closer until he can reach him to kiss him, slow and lazy. At the same time, he lets his other hand drop from the man's throat to press against the very obvious erection beneath his clothing. Grinding the heel of his palm against him, he pushes into Basch's personal space, murmuring the words against his lips. ]
[ bless him for making a decision where Basch cannot. And the one Basch had hoped for.
His breath catches as the leash pulls, his reward a slow, comfortable kiss. Feeling bolder than before, he brings one hand to Sylvain's side and the other to cradle his neck. It takes nothing to get him moaning again, and that's before Sylvain is quite assertively teasing his bulge. Basch's head snaps back, a sharp sound as his grip tightens. ]
I -- want your touch [ he admits, as if that weren't overtly obvious. ] But I could be made to wait. [ Or...dare he ask....? ] Or both, if your hunger is not yet sated.
Oh, I have a feeling my hunger isn't going to be sated anytime soon.
[ The words are a low, pleased purr as he strokes Basch through his pants, still leaning close so he can kiss his way back the man's jaw now that his head has fallen back. He crowds into him, pressing him backwards, since they're both already on the floor anyway. He doesn't care, they don't have far to go this way. ]
And I will almost always choose 'both' if it is an option. Maybe I'm just greedy. Why don't we do this. We'll take the edge off for now and then, after you've made it through the evening wearing this for me, I'll reward you with something... a little more in-depth.
[ Basch is nearly paralyzed with the attention, his ragged breathing punctuated by an occasional whimper of both pleasure and the very real impulse to bolt. He appreciates Sylvain cornering him, physically and emotionally, because he wants to be here, he just doesn't know how.
The kisses against his jaw are good. So his the hand on his pants. And he finally moans, shoulders relaxing as Sylvain spins how the evening can go. A plan is safe, is something he can attach to, and glory this one sounds beautiful. ]
You take good care of me. Thank you. [ He lets his hands stray to Sylvain's chest, wanting something to grip as his hips struggle with touch. He can't think too hard about the fact that they're on the floor of a stall in a shop or he'll lose his nerve. Pleasuring someone else is always so much easier than being treated gently. But -- gods help him, he wants both. ]
[ Sylvain can feel the man beneath him occasionally tensing, wavering back and forth between distraction and something else. He can't tell if it's because of his arousal or if there's something else going on behind the lust-dazed eyes.
It has him treading carefully, keeping track of every reaction as fingers deftly flick the fastenings of the man's pants open, sliding the fabric out of the way to free the man's cock. Calloused fingers quickly encircle it, stroking him with deliberate slowness as his lips continue to trail along Basch's jaw and throat. Keeping him breathless, dragging out more of those delicious moans and whimpers. ]
Oh, trust me. It is entirely my pleasure. Especially if you keep making noises like that.
[ The more crowded he becomes, the easier it is to focus on just enjoying this. His back presses against the stall wall, and Sylvain's head obscures his vision. His stomach flips at the hands knowingly parting his pants, but its the touch to his cock that finally has him moaning and shuddering.
Slow. Knowing. Playing with him. It's excruciating to have to sit in so much pleasure, his breath ragged. His hands cling to whatever they can find, like a life raft. ]
I am...helpless not to... [ he admits, groaning again. Sylvain knows exactly what he is doing, playing Basch like an instrument. The shame bubbles again. Was he so easy, so transparent? But he cannot be angry. It is a strange thing, to be so seen and -- if he dare admit -- savored, even as it makes him so powerless. Some part of him is afraid, sure there is something cruel coming after this. It turns him on as much as it makes him weak, but he cannot stop. He's too far in, and his release has begun to build. ]
[ Sylvain trails back up to kiss him again, because he's figuring out Basch does better when he doesn't have to think about things. His fingers curl around the man's arousal a little more firmly, stroking him with deliberate intent now. Not pushing him too far too fast, though.
Yes, he said he'd take the edge off, but he's also enjoying the sight of the man unraveling in pleasure. ]
[ Basch doesn't point out that that balance only exists because Sylvain maintains it. If he wanted to push past Basch's preferences, he would not stop it. It eludes him that this is still balance; Sylvain would not do that, and that is why this is happening at all.
A man can only fight so many of his tendencies at once.
And enduring how knowing and -- dare he think it -- sweet Sylvain is takes so much from him. He almost wants to ask the man to be rougher, faster, but it doesn't quite meet his tongue, because this is so good and Sylvain is clearly pleased. If the man wants to watch Basch whimper and squirm, well, the thought makes his hips cant against the other, his grip on his chest and shoulder becoming more needy.
He doesn't know what to say, and so he doesn't, just meeting that kiss with a desperate want he doesn't otherwise betray, a whimpering moan as his arousal starts to tip to need. He tries to hold back, but it's not long before he's rocking against Sylvain's hand, braced against the other man's weight pinning him to the dressing room wall. ]
[ Watching him whimper and squirm is a delicious sight, and one that Sylvain is enjoying immensely. But he can also feel the shift as that need deepens, Basch pushed closer and closer to that precipice.
Which he has every intention of shoving him over, but it would be a shame to ruin this very flattering outfit he wears, especially when Sylvain wants to spend more time admiring how tight those pants are.
Which is why he breaks away from the kiss after a moment and slides down the man's body without warning. Only to cast him a smirk and wink before bending his head and swirling his tongue around the tip of his arousal.
He doesn't linger there - although he's tempted to, because he's always had a bit of an oral fetish he enjoys indulging. But he suspects Basch might be too far gone for that and he wants to make sure he enjoys this fully as well. So he doesn't linger before letting his head bob down to suck the man deep, taking as much of him as he can and wetting his skin along the way as his tongue teases along the underside of it. It's a hint of the rougher and definitely the faster as fingers curl around the base of his cock, stroking him as he lets his head bob downwards again. ]
[ It had been nowhere on Basch's mind that Sylvain may do this, and he hardly has time to process the cheeky wink before he lets out a cry so loud that the entire shop has likely heard him. He bites his cheek, trying to clamp it down, but he's trembling with the stimulation of Sylvain on his cock.
It shouldn't surprise him that the other is just as skilled at this as everything else, nor how deep Sylvain takes him, but it does. He hardly lasts before he buries his hands in Sylvain's hair, thighs pressing against him. ]
Please [ Basch gasps. Mercy. Don't stop. Then he's whimpering again, eyes closing, and he loses his last bit of restraint, body moving hungrily against Sylvain and his mind blissfully empty. ]
[ The plea brings a smile to his lips, as do the hands gripping in his hair. He hums his satisfaction around the cock in his mouth, thoroughly enjoying how quickly and ultimately Basch had lost himself.
Hands grip the man's hips tightly as Sylvain turns his full focus on the man beneath him, working him deeper with each bob of his head. He feels him nudge against the back of his throat and slows slightly, relaxing the muscles there so he can swallow around him, knowing that will feel even more intense.
He loves how responsive he is. How beautiful he is when he gets lost in chasing his pleasure. Sylvain's eyes are dark as he watches up the length of Basch's body, gaze locked on his face so he can catch every expression that flashes across it. ]
[ A good thing it isn't noted, because he would feel shame, too, for not lasting longer, no matter how long he served Sylvain first.
He hits the back of Sylvain's throat and cries out, shuddering against him. He wants to say the other doesn't need to, but Sylvain is in control for one, and for another he's already adjusting himself, and gods it's almost too much to handle.
Which means he's rocking, near thoughtless, chasing the release his body has been promised even if he has to deaden his mind to get there. Two years with no touch save the lash or rough hands changing shackles, and now he's so inundated with it that he's dazed and hungry all at once. Gods help him or gods bless him that this person is enjoying the show.
Basch's breath becomes labored, jutting faster and more eratically as he clings to the form that thankfully holds steady against the brunt of his movement. It's not long before his breath catches, resumes, then catches entirely. Release washes through him, paralyzing him as the sensation becomes too much.
And then he's gasping, absolutely trembling as he goes slack, barely able to find words. His too-senstive cock sits in Sylvain's mouth as the other swallows. He whimpers, hips titling on their own, chasing more when he absolutely cannot handle it. ]
[ He can tell Basch is about to come maybe before the man even realizes it himself. It has him pulling back just enough that he can take it all, tongue coaxing him over that last ledge, and then swallowing around him as he spills down his throat. He hums his satisfaction at that and then Basch is tipping down the other side, shuddering and slumping against the all and he pulls off of him for now with one last slide of his tongue.
Lips slightly swollen now, he props himself on one elbow, only to smile up the line of Basch's body now, drinking in the sight of him gasping for breath, skin flushed and muscles still trembling. His gaze is clearly appreciative. ]
Was that enough to ease the ache for now, or shall we go again? [ He's gently teasing him, warm humor in amber eyes as he soothes a hand against Basch's thigh, giving him a moment to catch his breath and recover from his orgasm. ]
[ His vision is clearing enough to take Sylvain in, and it sends a wholly other shiver through him to be looked at like that, approving and still hungry, but in a deeper, slower way. A way that says he's going to be pursued again. He isn't...entirely sure how he feels about that, past it sending a final throb through his slackening cock. ]
I fear I'm thoroughly spent my -- sir. [ He says it apologetically, before his brain catches up that he's being teased, and so he attempts a weak smile. The hand on his thigh was ... affectionate, not an attempt to use him further, and that was difficult for his mind to accept.
He isn't sure if the lead's magic still works, or it's simply Sylvain's charm, but he does manage to make himself say [ ] Was the experience satisfactory enough that you'll be keeping me? [ His heart skips. He knows it was, but asking is something else entirely.
[ Sylvain cocks his head to the side at that question, still considering him before he pushes up and then draws the man in closer by the leash once more so he can kiss him. And likely taste himself on his lips, but he doesn't want Basch questioning his answer, either. ]
You're perfect. 'Satisfactory' is a very grave understatement. So yes, I'll be keeping you. For at least as long as you want to be kept.
[ He's thinking about that mostly tonight, but he wouldn't be opposed to more past that, should Basch end up wanting to do this again. Sylvain doesn't normally allow that, but even he's been known to make exceptions every once in a while.
Basch already feels like one of those notable few. Or maybe that's a protective, indulgent side of him rising up in response to what he's picking up from this man's reactions. There's a story here, one he's not going to prod at, but he wants to help where he can. ]
[ His eyes widen, the sound he makes at being kissed almost pained before he succumbs to it, kissing back with the full force of whatever this mess of feeling is.
Perfect. He doesn't think so, knows it could not be father from the truth, but he fully believes Sylvain means it. He meets the other's gaze steadily, but with surprise and confusion and relief clear on his face. ]
I ... would like that.
[ A strange admission. What did it matter what he liked? Except it did to Sylvain, and so he could be honest.
And for just a moment, he considers what it would be to willingly be kept past a single night, particularly when they had been seen together. It's not something he's allowed in years, not something he's sure he's capable of anymore, and yet --
There's something about Sylvain, and something about the way they fit together. He is not Balthier; he does not understand the complexities of how people work and what they want from each other, but he thinks...he thinks this fits in a way that he is giving Sylvain something the other craves, too, something rare, and it makes his breath catch that that may be mutual.
Gods help him, he is as reckless as a boy tonight. ]
[ The emotions are writ plain on the man's face but Sylvain just holds his gaze, steady and sure, letting him see whatever he needs to. He lets his free hand lift to cup at the nape of the man's neck as he rests his forehead against his, resting there for a moment. ]
Then that's what we'll do. You can stay by my side tonight at the masquerade, for as long as you wish. Or you can wander and mingle and find your way back after, if you prefer. We can find somewhere more... comfortable, afterwards. And hopefully more private.
[ Although this had worked well enough, in a pinch. ]
[ He stares at Sylvain for maybe too long, eyes searching, but nothing changes, and then the man holds his neck, presses their foreheads together.
Basch breathes out, nodding. ]
I -- I'll wear the collar but not the lead. [ A little more privacy, a little more freedom. ] Come what may, we can leave together. [ His stomach flips, some part of him whispering that a curse like him does not deserve to be taking what he wants. He finds that gaze again, though. It helps keep him stable. ] If you wish to claim me in front of others, it is welcome, but not required.
[ As both their breathing evens, they disentangle. The lead comes off, abandoned in the dressing room. It's difficult for him not to deflate entirely as they step out. One of the saleswomen winks at him, the other making a lewd gesture and a thumbs up, and a few customers either look away or nod at them.
But it stirs something in him too. Shame, yes, but something else he can't put his finger on. He does his best to square his shoulders, walk beside Sylvain rather than behind. The collar still rubs at his neck, but it is a pleasant weight. A reminder of the agreement they've made, but also one he's free to leave if he wishes.
They make their way to the masquerade, donning simple masks as they enter. It is overwhelming in its opulence, but the mask and the collar help Basch to wander, talking politely as he practices being more comfortable. He rediscovers Sylvain from time to time, enjoying the odd thrill of watching others flirt with the beautiful man, but his gaze return to Basch. He has no idea the situation is likely reciprocal, as he declines interested party all night. When their paths do cross, he is oddly eager for any sign Sylvain gives of having claimed him, heart pounding at the knowledge that people see them interacting that way.
By the time the evening comes to an end, he has settled considerably, but his anticipation has grown, and with it, nerves creep back. Whatever the lead had been doing to egg him on is gone, and so the doubt creeps in as well. But Sylvain still looks keen to have him, and gods help him, for once he does not want to give up what he's had. Nor does he want to disappoint. And so Sylvain murmurs the roof, and Basch follows him to the elevators. It will be a long ride; the building is enormously tall, like those in Archades.
The doors shut and he hesitates, then silently loops his arm through the other man's, his hand lighting on his forearm. A silent acknowledgement he's still eager for this. ]
[ Sylvain accepts that arrangement without protest, relieved that Basch feels comfortable enough now to voice what he wants. He leans in to reward him, brushing a kiss against his lips as he clips the lead free, leaving the collar still in place for now.
The Masquerade is a whirl of sights and sounds and new experiences to be had at every turn. He's content to let Basch wander - ends up discovering a few familiar faces of his own in the meantime, but each time their paths cross over the span of the evening, he pauses to leave a touch, whether it's a light brush of fingertips, or a possessive hand on his back or shoulder, or the occasional tease of his lips murmuring words against the man's ear. He knows how to build anticipation, knows how to entice with a tease and a promise, even if it's no more than a knowing look. So no matter where the evening takes him, he returns again and again to this.
Until the hour grows late and the party shows no sign of stopping, but Sylvain is growing tired of strangers and socializing and his own impatience gets the better of him. He'd heard rumors and whispers of other places in this resort to be enjoyed - since he had no place of his own yet - and one of these is murmured in Basch's ear on his way past.
The elevators are far different from the arcane teleporters he's used to, but he doesn't mind that much. Takes in the mirrored walls with a faint smirk, already thinking of how best to use that as Basch steps in behind him. As the door slides shut and Basch steps close, he winds an arm around the man's waist, tugging him closer still as he leans in to kiss him in greeting. ]
[ Basch's eyes widen slightly, raking in the reflected golden image of Sylvain pulling him close and kissing him. It is one thing to experience this possessive warmth, and another entirely to see it.
That, and to see the nonsense he's still dressed in, the collar still snug on his neck. He's surprised yet again at the hunger in the way he returns that kiss. ]
More than I expected. [ Heat to his cheeks, though not quite flushed. An honest answer. Some part of him had expected Sylvain to play with him, or go back on his word, or wind him up only to chastise him. No, instead it had been a series of well-timed affirmations, each one stoking a growing desire to be reclaimed. ]
[ His smile is warm and pleased as he draws back back from the kiss to study the man’s face. HIs fingers trail along that collar still snug about his throat, enjoying the sight of it there, as well as the faint flush he can see trying to creep up.
He had no intention of going back on his word. Not when the evening had only whetted his appetite further.
He brushes his thumb over Basch’s lower lip as he gives him a faint smirk. ]
Not enough to lure you away, however. I wondered, for a moment, if you would follow. Or if you’d changed your mind. I’m pleased you didn’t. I’ve been imagining what I wanted to do to you for most of the evening.
[ It had been a long time since anyone he admired looked at him with anything but disgust or grief. This wasn't the same; he hadn't known Sylvain when they were young, hadn't fought alongside him or harbored love and affection and something else for months or years before it blossomed. But it's still overwhelming to see that approval and want.
More than once, with the effects of the lead worn off, he'd wondered what he was doing here, felt like a plains hare ready to bolt back to safety, and then Sylvain had caught his shoulder or his face and so, unbelievably, here he was.
The way the other man so quickly brushes the collar, cups his face and strokes his lip like he's some favored object, has that fear bubbling in his chest again. Danger. Impropriety.
But -- ]
As have I.
[ He couldn't help it, not after how magical it had been, and not after seeing Sylvain so pleased and wanting. Gods, he wanted to be kept. He had always wanted to be kept, by country or by lover. ]
I wondered if I would change my mind, but I wish to be here.
[ Magic or no, Sylvain was different than the others. Here, in Ivalice. Something had caught him, and at least today, he wasn't able to turn away. It was like being a boy enamored again. ]
[ He tips his head to the side slightly, considering those words. The meaning lurking behind them, because there was so much he could see flickering in the man's gaze. Trying to unravel him was a puzzle, but Sylvain had always been fond of those. ]
Not having second thoughts, then?
[ He murmurs the words as a low question a moment before he leans in. That hand slides to the nape of Basch's neck, drawing him in closer, even as he captures his lips in a slow, teasing kiss. Taking his time, because he can sense that urge to flee back to where it's safe. The last thing he wants is to give that fear cause, so he moves with deliberation, lets Basch see what he's doing and what's coming. ]
Or maybe that's third, fourth, and fifth thoughts by now? It has been a very busy night, after all. But you still followed. I don't intent to let you regret that choice.
[ Something about the other man's disposition sets him at ease, his heartbeat calming. Slow, deliberate motion. Eye contact. ]
No. That's what surprises me.
[ A puzzle to him, too, though he's less concerned with solving it. Right now, he's letting himself slip to that place of not thinking. It's easier with the memory of it so fresh. And with the increased privacy of the elevator.
He chuckles lowly at the tease, surprising himself further. Maybe Balthier had been rubbing off on him, all that constant prodding to go to bars, to sit and talk, to enjoy a meal, to laugh. He'd thought it derranged, until he saw that the princess needed it. ]
Yes, two dozen by now, and somehow I still arrived at following. I -- am not usually like this.
[ And it makes him feel warm, dangerously weak even, at someone valuing his choice. Balthier would suss out why in a quarter hour's time. Basch didn't know why these feelings were so strong. ]
Well, it’s a good thing you don’t have to worry about ‘usually’ here then, doesn’t it? That doesn’t apply to anything here. Surprise doesn’t have to be a bad thing, after all.
[ He cards his fingers through the man’s hair and smiles when he feels him relax slightly. Feels him lean into that kiss, and kisses him again to just encourage it. ]
You don’t have to be what you’re usually ‘like’, because somehow, I don’t think that makes you very happy either. And that seems a shame. Besides. There’s no one here except you and me now. I won’t judge. And I won’t spill any of your secrets, either. I’d much prefer to find out what does make you happy instead.
[ He lets his fingers trace over that collar again before he lets his hand drift down the man’s torso, tracing over his ribs. He doesn’t slow as it goes lower still, until he’s sliding a hand over the man’s clothed arousal, teasing him through the fabric. ]
[ That was certainly one way to look at things. No rules applied in this place, no stigma and no consequence to follow him home.
And yet. He can’t quite believe it. It seems strange he is the one here from his home, unless it is a punishment. Or perhaps it is entirely random.
Regardless, he does not think one night’s actions will doom him any worse than he is. It’s a calculation he’s made many times before, as much comfort as he has ever dared to take.
And gods he wants it right now. He moans against Sylvain’s touch and the easy way the other man commands the situation. It’s so easy to lean into the way he chases a kiss with a kiss. But it’s the forceful protectiveness in those words that makes him stagger. Was he so easy to read? Was this some sort of trick he was too foolish and eager to see through? ]
Why are you so invested in my happiness?
[ He only just clamps off the follow up. I don’t deserve it. ]
[ It's a deceptively mild question, but Sylvain's gaze is knowing as he nips playfully at Basch's lower lip. It feels a little hypocritical of him, actually, because he knows how little value can be placed on personal happiness. Especially when living a life that leaves so little choice in your own hands. Maybe it's why he still bucks against it whenever he can. Does the same now, when he sees Basch not striving for it himself.
There's a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye and it draws his gaze away from the man for the briefest of moments. Only to blink at the reflection in the mirrored walls around them.
Which... wasn't quite a reflection anymore. Or maybe it was, but not of the physical. He wondered if it was reflecting something else, though?
Lips curving, his hands shift in an abrupt movement, turning Basch around in the other direction so he faced the elevator and at least three reflective walls. All of which showed a different image on them now. Tugging him back, he presses in snug against Basch's back, his own arousal nudging in against the curve of his ass while he keeps his own hand over the man's tucked-away cock. Stroking him through his clothes as lips press against the back of his neck. Warm breath teasing there as he scrapes teeth lightly against the skin just above his collar. ]
I think this room is magicked to tell on one of us. Or both of us. What do you see?
[ Because the reflections in front of them are certainly playing out things he's imagined doing to the man all night, but he wonders if Basch sees the same. ]
[ His expression darkens. Yes that he doesn’t deserve it. That’s easy to reach for. He set out to protect two countries and failed both.
But before that, he’d made a promise to protect those places, to restart his life when safety was reached. That had turned into weeks, months, decades. Even if — in the gold gleam of this private box and the arms of a man who bore him no threat — he admitted to wanting happiness, considered for a moment he was allowed to, how would he even go about finding it? He had not lived without a purpose and a team since he was a child.
He’s spared an answer by Sylvain flipping him around, his breath catching at the forceful steering of his body and the cock pressed against his ass. His eyes reel, taking in the question a moment later.
Sylvain having him shoved against the wall, one arm pinned behind his back and taking him from behind is certainly something that’s crossed his mind. So is the one where they’re both nude, Basch’s wrists tied above his head and Sylvain buried inside him, hand on his cock simultaneously.
The third is not his fantasy, but it makes him blush, because he wants all of them.
Are they welcome to Sylvain? Will he disappoint? But much as it makes him feel small, this part of the game also makes his cock throb in what. ]
I see you having restrained me before having me ride you while you stroke my cock. I still wear your collar.
[ Sylvain gives a throaty purr of approval from behind him, the palm of his hand pressing against the outline of Basch's cock now. His gaze drifts between the images, before fixating on the one Basch had described. ]
I did say I like how you looked in the collar, so I'm unsurprised by that one. But I like how you look in each of those. [ His other hand slips around to slide up Basch's toned torso, flicking a button or two open as he goes. Teasing against warm flesh as he can, but working his way back up towards where that collar rests snugly. Splaying fingers there against the line of his throat, just letting the man feel the touch of his hand there, holding him in place. ]
Do you like what you see? Is that what you're craving, Basch? To feel like that? [ The reflections play the scenes out in front of them, each of them caught in long moments of intense pleasure. His eyes pick up on the little details hinted in the postures, making note of it. ] Look at you, so caught up in pleasure. It's written in every line of your body, how much you want. How much you ache.
Can you imagine how good you'd feel wrapped around my cock like that, your body stretched taut for me, held in place to use at my leisure. How long could I drag it out for you, do you think? Filling you over and over again, keeping you right on that blissful edge without tipping you over? How prettily would you beg me for more, Basch? [ His teeth scrape against the pulse point under his lips, at the curve of the man's throat. ]
[ In less of a haze than the first time, he does not fail to notice the way Sylvain avoids volunteering information about his own motivations or private thoughts. Some part of that makes the sense of danger flare again, even as it simultaneously soothes; the man does not press him outside the bounds of this game, and clearly does not wish to be himself. Basch understands how that works, even if he wonders if this man craves closeness the way the sky pirate did. People were never his skill; it’s not worth guessing.
Especially not with more pressing matters filling his mind. He cannot worry his answer was unsatisfactory with a sound like that in his ear. His body goes rigid at the pressure on his cock, his weight shifting back against the other man as his other hand begins to explore and undress.
He likes it, yes. That much is obvious. But what is it he’s craving? He considers it, even as Sylvain guides his gaze to the image of himself, taught, surrendered. The sense of danger and shame is there again, but something sits under it. Something he has little experience teasing out or naming.
But Sylvain keeps spinning the fantasy, and he moans, his body remaining rigid out of years of restraining his own want. When the man bites his neck, he cries out so sharply it stings his own ears, his knees buckling and a hand going back to grip the other’s neck. ]
I — I want to be at your mercy. To resist you as long as I can and then beg you when I have broken. I want to be exhausted and spent, and to see you the same.
[ It’s closer to the truth and as much as he knows how to say. There’s something else here, something about Sylvain and how skilled he is, how in control, how the game feels like a mutually beneficial game and not a power struggle brought to the bedroom.
And as he admits that, the him in the reflection shifts, his lips moving in pleading words, his gaze trained on Sylvain as he pulls on the restraints, trying to reach the other man. A thing he often wants and so rarely musters. ]
[ He’s braced for when the man’s knees buckle, arms steady and secure around him to support him. One still at his throat, the other abandoning his cock for a moment to twine about his waist. He pins him against his own body, holding him there until he finds his feet again, even if that visceral reaction has him smiling against the reddening skin he’d just marked.
The breathless words get another sort of smile from him, something warmer as he presses a kiss to that spot now, still holding Basch against him. His eyes dart over the man’s shoulder to watch how the image changes, and then the third reflection alters too. Matching it, in a way, or perhaps following it.
Sylvain, on his back with his hands braced on Basch’s hips. Both of them naked, bodies on display, littered with lovebites and flushed with arousal. Basch is unbound again, wearing only that collar now, as he rises and falls above Sylvain, riding his cock, taking him deep with each rocking motion of his hips. His head fallen back as he moves, fucking himself on Sylvain’s cock, his expression one of exquisite pleasure and desperate need. He can almost hear the moans as reddened lips part, watches as his hand slides in to stroke Basch’s cock in time to the roll of his hips. How it makes the man’s body arch - so close, but not yet tipping over that edge. As if the reflection itself were aiding with the teasing of what was to come.
He bends forward to murmur in Basch’s ear again, teeth scraping lightly along the curve beneath his lips. ]
I think we can arrange all of that. Shall we start now?
[ Once again, he gives no warning. One moment he holds Basch there against his front, watching the scenes play out in front of both of them. The next he’s moving, pressing Basch roughly against one of the mirrored walls of the elevator, pinning his arm behind his back as he holds him in place. It’s no accident that Basch is now pressed against the very same wall he’d been watching this scene a moment before. His legs are kicked apart as his other hand slides in around Basch’s front once more, finding his cock beneath his clothing. ]
Although we do need to get rid of this, if I am to fuck you like we both want.
[ How does this man seem to anticipate his every move, even when he does not? That roaring chasm of danger opens again, threatening to swallow him, but so does that other, wilder feeling. Basch doesn't feel scared, not below the anxiety. Not with the way Sylvain catches him, holds him firm even, giving him time to recover, pressing his limits but not his boundaries.
There's something softer in the way Sylvain kisses him this time. Or maybe it's wishful thinking. But it unnerves him as much as the bite had.
His gaze, too, drifts to that shifting third vision. It's harder now to ignore it. They're both marked and flushed, utterly lost in each other, and he's seeking his own pleasure. It's enough to make his chest seize, his lips parting as his eyes dilating, like this place has dredged up a hidden thought even he dared not acknowledge.
And Sylvain wants all of it.
He doesn't even have time to roll around how that makes him feel. The next thing he knows, he's being forced against the wall, choking out a moan as Sylvain kicks his legs apart and pins his arm. It doesn't escape him this was the wall they watched together, or that the reality of feeling it is a thousand times more intense than whatever had crossed his mind.
Like we both want.
He moans again, breath jagged, but nods, fighting against himself to give Sylvain the affirmation he can. ]
I want you to. Here. Now.
[ It isn't the first time he's wished he had more skill with words, but it's something. So is the way he rocks himself against Sylvain's hand, whimpering as he does. He doesn't expect to be allowed to come for a good long while, and that makes teasing himself all the more enticing. ]
[ He murmurs the words against Basch's lips, his grip tightening against the man's arousal for a moment, firm and solid as he feels those hips try to rock into his touch. Those moans and whimpers are like music to his ears and he smiles as he lets his teeth rake against the back of the man's throat as he holds him pinned in place, using his own upper body strength to hold him right where he wants him.
But then fingers are shifting, loosening the fastenings of Basch's pants, dragging the fabric out of the way enough for his fingers to find warm, sensitive flesh. Curling his fingers just under the tip of the man as he strokes him once, twice, just enough to give him a taste of friction...
Before he releases him. Entirely, even. Steps back, so that sudden loss will leave the ache of its absence and lack of heat behind, even as he props his hands on broad hips and lets his lips curve in a knowing smile as he surveys the man before him, already flushed and breathless with want. Beautiful, he thinks again, though he doesn't voice the words. Not wanting to ruin the moment with whatever issues those words had caused Basch before. ]
Strip for me, Basch. All of it, off. I want you naked for me, so I can see every delicious inch of you. Except for the collar. That I expect you to keep on, but only that.
[ Gods, how does this man know exactly how much to give him to edge him further but leave him aching for more? He almost wants to protest, almost wants to be made to protest, but he's too good a dog, too amazed to be getting this attention twice in one day to even dream about asking for more.
That, and he's sure he'll be made to.
He's not expecting to be released to abruptly, though, and he lands against the wall with an audible thud, panting heavily as he does. come back threatens its way to his lips. did I do something to displease you?
No. An order. He rights himself, turning around so Sylvain can see, his pants already a mess and his face flushed. He holds the other man's gaze, steady, as his hands go first to his remaining shirt buttons. ]
You should know I am not beautiful. [ He was in those reflections, but it was just this place. He'd seen himself in a mirror. Too thin, a patchwork of scars. ] If you find the sight unappealing, I will redress.
[ His heart hammers, and he loses what conviction he had, but he undresses steadily, tossing the shirt to the ground. Sure enough, scars. But golden hair, freckles and moles, the shape of ribs and muscle, too -- the history of a soldier.
He crouches down, buying himself a moment while he removes his shoes, then he stands again to remove the too-tight breeches, all but peeling them off himself.
And so here he is. The only one naked, save that collar clearly marking him. Scarred and aroused and cold and completely at Sylvain's mercy. Aware he's going to be led through the garden like this.
And aching for when the other man undresses, and their skin touches, and they are both marked and wanting. It's so huge, so strong. How does anyone tolerate this much want filling them up? ]
[ That is something that's going to have to be dealt with at some point. Although he very much doubts that such a thing will be changed quickly. Mindsets like that... it's something Sylvain is all too familiar with. If for different reasons.
But for now, he does what he can without moving, without words. Instead, he lets Basch see the appreciation and hunger that fills his dark gaze as the man strips away his clothing, layer by layer. Reveals his body - scarred, yes, but toned and telling countless stories with the marks left behind. He smiles faintly at the sight of freckles, knowing he has more than a few on his own pale skin. he takes in every exposed inch of him and there's not a single moment where that hunger falters.
It's only when he stops, stripped and exposed and naked except for that last remaining claim about his throat, that Sylvain moves. Steps in close once more and slides his hand against the man's jaw, tilting his face towards him and holding him there as he lets his other hand trail down over the man's bared torso, tracing his ribs, or scars alike. There's no flinching there, and the lust never fades from his dark eyes. ]
You're wrong, you know. You are beautiful. Your body tells a story - it might be a dark one, but it is yours and one you are still here to tell. The scars do nothing to diminish you. If anything, they do the opposite - they speak to a strength and a willpower deeper than most can ever imagine. And that you choose to bend to me, possessing that strength? Is a beauty all its own. One I do not take for granted.
[ He holds the man's gaze for a moment, earnest and solemn, wanting him to understand Sylvain means every word, before his lips quirk faintly and he steps back again, hands going to his own shirt as he starts to unbutton it and cast it aside.
It reveals a toned, muscular torso - one scattered with its own collection of scars. The long slash from a blade down his ribs, the jagged remnants of where he'd taken a spear in the side. The nasty slash of wyvern's claws on the back of one shoulder, and countless other smaller ones scattered over his skin. He doesn't flinch from the sight of them, either, the vulnerability of exposing himself. If he wants Basch to believe him, he doesn't want to falter here, either. He drops his shirt to the ground with little care before going to unfasten his pants as well. Stripping away each layer the same way Basch had. ]
[ He waits for the flick of an eye, the betrayal of a scowl, a flinch. But there's none of that. Just intense, approving, wanting observation. But Sylvain has good control. This could be habit, could be calculating for something else, could be --
The space between them is gone, and Sylvain directs his gaze, hand roving just as wanting as it had before. His eyes widen as the man speaks, every word hitting that same tender, raw space that has been buried under scar tissue for so long. Does he mean that? That the appeal is someone of strength offering to bend, not wielding power over a man who ought to be powerful?
But he's wary. Balthier showed him how words could be twisted to lure in wanting onlookers, and he'd been victim to it before himself. This was a game. This was a game.
So why was his heart beating so fast? Why is Balthier's same voice echoing that he's a right idiot who can't see what's in front of him?
Sylvain steps back abruptly, and this time Basch is glad for the moment of space. His gaze holds just as steady, just as hungry as Sylvain's had, but a strange wave of hot and cold rolls through him, his blood roaring in his ears as he takes in the figure before him.
Scarred. Muscled. A solider.
He understands. He--
Basch's fists clench, and he waits obediently, but the moment Sylvain stills he closes the space between them, kissing the man hard, teeth scraping his lip as his hands rove unabashedly over that skin, one on the torso and one splayed across his back. He's not sure for a moment if he's going to cry, which is odd, because he also feels like he hasn't felt so light in years. This is going to come crashing down, somehow, soon, but right now he doesn't care. ]
[ He doesn't have to wait long, although even he's a little surprised at the force of it. Hands come up to catch the man against him as Basch's teeth click against his own but he doesn't mind. A hand lifts, fisting in the man's hair as he holds him there, devours is mouth in a hungry kiss that holds very little restraint now. Basch's body is a hot line pressed against his own and he works a thigh between his legs again as he feels those hands roam over his skin.
He hears that hitched breath, the shudder of things the man's not voicing, but he understands that, too. Holds him there against him as he kisses him, lets him touch, lets him vent whatever's risen up in him so violently. Or maybe it's more he seeks to channel it into something they can both use, as his other hand slides over skin that's not hot to the touch. Open and exposed for him to explore, to touch, to taste, at will. And he wants to.
But he has a fantasy to fulfill first. ]
I've got you. [ He murmurs the words into the kiss as he tugs Basch's head back finally - reluctant, even, on his own part. A promise, not a threat. His lips move down to kiss and nip their way along the line of the man's throat as his grip remains tight in his hair, tipping his head back for him. Exposing his throat. ] And I very much still want you. All of you. Will you bend for me, Basch?
[ Whatever fear there was that this was too much, that he'd overstepped the invisible bounds of their arrangement, dies readily when Sylvain grips his hair and holds him there. Yes. You are welcome. All of this is welcome.
He cries out as Sylvain's naked thigh slides between his legs, strong and covered in soft, thick hair, but even that doesn't dislodge him from his hungry kissing, torso working to close any space between them even as he's rocked from between his legs. The heat of want and touch and closeness tangle together, and for a moment, he really does lose himself entirely, safe in this hold, safe in this moment. When Sylvain says I've got you, he whimpers, his grip tightening. He knows. He knows.
He's almost relieved when Sylvain tugs his head back. That touch grounds him, puts him back in his body, and more importantly, stalls the rush. He doesn't want this to be quick. He nods, his breath jagged, his voice a gurgling moan as Sylvain returns to the slow caressing tease of his neck. ]
With pleasure [ he whispers, knowing Sylvain will heed the word choice. ]
[ Sylvain's voice is a low purr as he smiles against Basch's throat a moment before teeth press down, just above the stretch of that collar. Worrying redness into the skin there, heated and visible. He keeps his thigh pressed against the man's arousal for one more long moment before he pulls Basch off him, only long enough to turn him around and pin him to the wall once more, as he'd been holding him before.
One arm is tugged back behind him to pin him in place as he holds him there, leaning in against the lithe line of his back to murmur in his ears. ]
It was like this, I believe, was it not? You, pinned in place for me, while I sank deep into you?
[ This time the moan at Sylvain's bite is longer, slower. He dares to cup a hand around the other man's neck, giving in to a single rock against his leg before Sylvain flips him around again. It's...so much sweeter, almost too intense with all this skin against him, the distinct feel of body hair rubbing against his back. That and Sylvain's cock hot and bare against his ass.
And going to be inside shortly. ]
Just like this [ he rasps. ] I was -- hngh -- thinking about this one all night -- after I saw others trying to catch your eye.
[ More that he hasn't voiced in a long time, but it's part of the game, and it's true. The fantasy of being wanted and kept when he wasn't the only or easiest choice. ]
[ He gives a soft hum as he nudges Basch’s legs apart for him again, sliding hands down over his ribs, his hips. He rocks his hips inward, the hard length of his cock pressed against the curve of Basch’s ass in a tease. ]
Were you worried? I’d say you have no reason to be, but I suspect you wouldn’t believe me.
[ He’s already debating on how best to start this. There’s a vial of oil down in the pocket of his discarded pants - something he’d lifted from one of the back rooms in his brief time there, since he knew that would likely be necessary before the night was out.
But with how delicious responsive Basch was, he’s tempted to try something else first. ]
[ He's not shy giving a low, slow sound of approval. This one isn't coaxed from him; he chooses to act on the impulse, and that sends its own strange tingle through him. ]
I was. [ Truth, and he thinks it will please. ] You could have had near anyone in that room, I think. Why settle for me? [ Bracing himself on the wall, still deliciously pinned, he rocks back against Sylvain's cock and sturdy torso. ] But now, I believe you. [ It's more of a whisper than he means, but he believes it, at least for tonight. He still doesn't know why, but he knows when men lie, when their convictions are fabricated, more often than not. Sylvain's hunger and approval are, for now, real.
Why this confidence usually reserved for battle is visiting him now, he does not know or question. ]
[ It does please, even more so that the answer is volunteered beyond what Sylvain expected in response. Even that last part, low as it was.
He bends down, not releasing Basch from the wall, never fully removing contact so he doesn’t think he’s letting him go again. He’s not, he’s just retrieving the oil for now, spilling some out into his palm and slicking his fingers with it. Setting it beside them on the rail that runs around the inside of the elevator in case he needs it again, he lets his slicked fingers trace their way down from the base of the man’s spine. With his legs kicked apart as they are, it leaves him open and exposed and Sylvain just smiles as those fingers trail low enough to playfully circle around that tight ring of muscle. Sliding his thumb over it as he coats Basch’s skin with the oil. Teasing with the anticipation of being penetrated without yet following through. ]
Because I definitely do not see this as ‘settling’. The idea of having you here, like this, had me distracted the entire evening. Trust me when I say that entire casino could have been stark naked all night and my eyes still would have been on you.
[ He shudders out a breathy moan as fingers trail down his spine. The gentle touch on a usually private part of his body feels entirely aflame. He could have basked in that a good long while (if he didn't inevitably become uncomfortable with the soft attention), but it's no surprise Sylvain delves lower. The oil is warm and slick on Sylvain's knowing hands, and Basch exhales sharply, ass clenching. Anticipation indeed. He'll be a little sore tomorrow, and he'll treasure the reminder that this happened.
Gods, though. He doesn't know what to do with having his ass teased like he's the night's entertainment while being told he's-- he's--
He can't even get the thought out. He just breaths shallowly, leaning his forehead against the cool wall. He doesn't believe Sylvain, but he doesn't think him a liar either. It's two truths he can't reconcile, and so his mind wants to be somewhere else. All he can conclude is that he's strange, a diversion, already retreating from the very real approval he's seen again and again in Sylvain. But that's alright. He's hungry to be used like this, and Sylvain is pleased by it. That is enough. ]
You were patient, then [ he says. ] Those who decided to partake from me in the past never suffered waiting. [ Or risking sharing. Even as he says it, though, his body shudders again at the slow but constant pace of teasing his backside, and the memory of Sylvain's cock in his mouth is bright in his mind. ]
Oh, I've been told I'm maddeningly patient, sorry to say.
[ There's a chuckle in his voice as he leans in to press against Basch's back once more. While one hand keeps him pinned, he uses his weight to help, even as the other finally presses a finger into him, testing how tight he is, testing the pace he needs to go here to prepare the man's body for what is to come.
If the man takes it easily, he'll add a second finger almost right away, but if it feels like he needs a slower approach in stretching these muscles, Sylvain doesn't mind taking his time either. Working his fingers deep, letting the oil ease his way as he works those muscles loose and relaxed for him. Sylvain is not a small man and he wants to make sure there's no pain when he does finally slide into Basch's eager body.
And if his fingers seek out and purposefully brush over a sensitive bundle of nerves in the process, all the better. ]
I don't think this counts as maddening or patient.
[ His voice is low, breathy, but that he's talking this much at all is a testament to that constant something that has him off kilter with Sylvain.
It's true as ever; he's poor enough at lying when he can focus, and gods help him if he needed to now. His whimpering groan is languid, relaxed even. It's been a long time since he's done this, but there's an undeniable trust here that makes it easy just listen to his body and bask in the intensity of sensation. Fortunate, because he remembers quite well that Sylvain was damn near too much for his throat. Not that that's going to stop him.
Some of those sounds become sharper, muscles clenching and releasing as Sylvain finds more sensitive purchase. He gasps out the other's name, pinned hand reaching for the other as his other fist clenches. It feels oddly intimate to call for him, no title and no plea. ]
[ It's not, and he knows that. Can tell how in how Basch's body responds to him, relaxes and then clenches whenever he brushes over his prostate. The sound of his name gasped, the feeling of the hand pinned behind the man's back scrabbling for purchase. ]
Or should we try for more?
[ Really, that had been a rhetorical question because, having decided the two digits were now moving easily enough, he adds a third to stretching wider still. Scissoring them within him, crooking them slightly as he drags them back out again. While he's not exactly taking his time, he is certainly being thorough. ]
[ His moan is louder, body contorting against that onslaught of feeling. He has to widen his stance, shift his weight on his arm so he doesn't crumple. It's so much, and some visceral, animal part of his brain wants to pull away to safety, even as the rest of him craves more of it. He's glad he's pinned. It's easier to relax into it like this. And -- it's bliss. With his head clear, with every step of this his choosing, he's...enjoying himself.
Still. Something in him balks. He knows Sylvain could hurt him, knows this person is a stranger, knows there's danger. ]
What if -- I had said it was too much?
[ It's not. It's slow and measured and knowing and that's why he's having such an easy time of this. But asking brushes up against that muddle of fear and desire to be overpowered, and -- that other thing. Whatever it is he keeps brushing up against but cannot name. ]
[ Sylvain's lips press hot but somehow reassuring against the back of his neck as he works those fingers deeper again. ]
I would have known you were lying. Your body was already telling me the answer I needed to hear. If it was too much, you wouldn't be chasing my fingers, reluctant to release me. Those pretty moans of yours would hold a different note - but no, all they hold is pleasure. Hunger.
Mouths lie. [ A scrape of teeth now, the tease of a brief bite before he soothes over the spot with his tongue again. ] Bodies rarely do. They hold a language all their own.
[ neither of them can deny the effect Sylvain’s words and steady touch continue to have on him, that rigidness he carries melting into something much more pliable and accommodating.
He’s getting more accustomed to the heady mix of shame and breathlessness at being so accurately read and closely observed. It’s a strange thing, to be kept by someone else. Sexually, yes, but to be held in some level of accurate image in their eyes, their vantage point showing them pieces a man might not know of himself. Perhaps it’s that he keeps brushing up against.
He has no idea who he is these days.
But the thoughts are thick and fleeting. He moans again, bracing harder, and there’s a whine in his voice. He could finish like this, if Sylvain wanted him to, but the capable way he keeps adding more, winding everything together in a way Basch knows he could never pull off in return. He thinks he can read what Sylvain wants too. ]
You are…going to know every inch of me…better than I know myself—Sylvain.
[ His weight shifts forward, straining against the others hold as he scrabbles again to for the other, gasping. Precum wets his head, and his breathing is hitched. ]
[ He smiles against the back of Basch's shoulder before he lets his teeth nip lightly at the skin there. Letting him feel the edge of it. Still working his fingers deep, he stretches him until he's confident Basch will be able to take him. It will still be a stretch, but it's as much as his fingers can do for now. ]
I am fairly fluent, it's true. Don't worry, I have no intention of stopping until you paint that mirror with proof of your pleasure.
[ He withdraws his fingers from the man's body, sparing a moment to generously slick his own aching cock before shifting his pose. Hand wrapped around the base of his own cock to maneuver easier, he lets the thick head rub over that hole, still tight and clenching at the teasing. Or maybe the emptiness, now that his fingers aren't buried deep. He gives Basch a moment to realize that's not his fingers anymore for himself, before shifting forward and starting to press into his tight body with a strained sound muffled against the back of the man's shoulder. ]
I guess we'll see how well I can read you until then.
[ He feels oddly reprimanded. Had he misunderstood what he was supposed to say? Or was Sylvain still teasing? This was why he usually didn’t bother speaking.
The odd feeling is overshadowed with the promise of making him cum in a public place like this, leaving a mess too. The only reason he doesn’t protest is the nature of the hotel; he’s sure they’re meant to be doing this, based on the reflections, and the fact that Sylvain could now easily make him, even with his reservations holding him back, is enough to make him moan. The sound turns to protest as the fingers slip away, and he’s tempted to reach down and touch his aching cock.
Again Sylvain shows his mastery of this, pressing against him and waiting, letting him adjust and anticipate. He’s awed at the way the other man keeps the pace without ever making him feel rushed.
It’s the sound that undoes him, the vulnerability and want in it, the way Sylvain muffles it into his shoulder. Basch has to concentrate to try to stay loose. Sylvain is large, and even with warming up, this will be a challenge. That makes him want, though, even when he thinks he can’t want more. Has he ever been this attracted to someone? It’s been so long… ]
[ It had definitely still been a tease, but he supposes it’s easier for him not to be as clear when he’s a little distracted by the feel of Basch’s body so tight around his cock. He gives him a moment to adjust - both of them, if he’s honest, his breathing a touch ragged where his lips press to the back of the man’s shoulder still. But he doesn’t drag it out too long. Needs to move, needs to feel Basch’s tight heat as he rocks his hips, sinking deeper into the way the man’s body shudders and grips him greedily.
At that invitation, he chuckles, sucking redness into the flesh beneath his lips. Another visible claim left in Basch’s skin as he works his way deeper with deliberate persistence. One hand still grips the man’s hips to hold him right where he wants him while the other still has fingers curled around his wrist, keeping that arm pinned and his torso pressed to the cool reflection of the mirrored wall.
He doesn’t touch Basch’s cock, not yet. He might not even have to, but he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it. ]
That could be a very long time, Basch. [ The man’s name is a soft purr on his tongue, smile audible in his voice. His hips rock a little sharper, changing the angle, hoping to rub up against his prostate on that next thrust. ] I’ll likely want to play with you as long as you want to be played with. And I think you very much enjoyed being played with like this. You’re still so tight for me, even after taking my fingers. But I can feel how much you want it.
[ Basch’s knees threaten to buckle and he finds himself having to focus on bracing to keep them both upright. He whimpers in needy pleasure as he gives in to the onslaught of sensation, not the least of which is the hitch in Sylvain’s breathing or the way the man steers them both to a beneficial angle.
His words, though, send an odd pricking through him. He almost throws them off, the automatic whisper that this is just what people say, that circumstances will change so at the ready. But…
But he doesn’t want that to be the case. He wants Sylvain to keep him a good long while, and to feel confident in the arrangement, and he moans at the thought and moans at the fresh mark on his skin because it certainly seems like that’s an option in a way it never was at home. He doesn’t know why it’s so much easier to admit here. Was it the time in prison? The fact that he could not cause harm to Sylvain’s status? This place’s tricks? He didn’t know, but in that moment, he felt incredibly grateful that this could even be happening. He doesn’t understand what Sylvain is drawn to, but he understands that he is, and that’s more than enough. ]
I want…you. I don’t want to — ngh — stop wanting you. Fuck. [ His voice cracks, entire body shuddering and tryin to slump forward as Sylvain hits his prostate. The precum on his head smears the spotless cold wall, and already the early shudder of imminent release pulses through him, making him dizzy. ]
[ His chuckle is purred against Basch’s ear as he speeds his pace, feeling the way the other man has started to shudder. He’s tightening around Sylvain’s cock, which makes the friction all the more delicious. He knows he won’t be far behind, not with how good he feels, and Sylvain rocks into him, deep and rough. Not quite a brutal pace, but pointed enough as he chases his pleasure.
His hand releases Basch’s hip to wind around his front, wrapping calloused fingers around the man’s cock, stroking him in time to the thrust of his hips. Giving him something to rut into as Sylvain fucks into him behind. It’s fast and rough and tantalizing and while it has all the appearance of Sylvain taking, just like the reflection had shown, he makes sure to drag Basch right along with him. ]
Let me feel you come undone, Basch. Let me feel you tight and trembling around me before I fill you up.
Yes, yes [ equal parts obedience and the affirmation of how much he’s enjoying this. he’s completely lost to whimpering moans now, a plea of Sylvain’s name peppered throughout. The rough stinging pace of the other inside him is more than enough to send waves of heat through him, but with those words and Sylvain’s hand coming to meet him, he’s helpless to do anything other than whine and rut needily, chasing the overwhelming combination of sensations.
It’s not long before his breath catches as a tightening whimper, body jerking and going rigid until he stops breathing, flat back against Sylvain and crying out as his seed pumps from him, dripping down the wall panel as he gasps and struggles to stay upright. It still feels so good though, and he grunts, shifting to hold himself agains the bar and bend so Sylvain’s angle is even smoother, expecting the other man needs a little more speed to finish. The thought of both their cum running down him is enough to make him moan again, still s’enrichir cock twitching as though it could go again so soon. ]
[ The sound Sylvain makes as Basch clenches tight around him and comes is lost somewhere between a strained moan and a breathless cry. He’s so tight, and then the angle changes, and his own pace speeds as a result.
It only takes a few more sharp thrusts into the man’s trembling body before his own pleasure crests and he tenses and spills inside of him with a low curse hissed out between his teeth, hands clenching at Basch’s hips to hold him right there, because he was perfect.
Gasping for air, he slumps forward against Basch’s back slightly, one hand going to brace his weight against the wall, just to make sure he didn’t put it all on the other man, who seemed just as breathless and unsteady as he felt. ]
Goddess, you’re fucking perfect.
[ He murmurs the words against Basch’s back, even as he wraps his arms around him, keeps him warm against his chest as he tries to catch his breath. Slow his racing pulse. Make sure his legs don’t give out beneath him, because that would just be inconvenient. And more than a little embarrassing. ]
[ climaxing under his touch was beautiful, but hearing the man hiss and curse and slacken against him with his orgasm is even headier. Between his gasping breaths and struggles to stay up right, he tilts his head back, resting it against Sylvain’s. He’s rewarded with arms around him, and he brings his up to rest gently across the other’s, fingers curling around his wrist as his thumb absently strokes the back of a hand.
He might not agree he’s perfect, but right now, he believes that Sylvain thinks he is, and that knowledge fills him with something at once buoyant as air and grounding as roots. ]
[ Sylvain smiles against the back of his shoulder, holding him close as they both catch their breaths.
Which is, of course, when the elevator door dings and slides open behind them, prompting a chuckle from the redhead as he glances over his shoulder.
Luckily, the gardens up here look pretty empty right now - he’d assumed everyone would be at the masquerade and it looked as if he were right. ]
Come on. Let’s see if we can go find a quiet corner somewhere before someone else needs to use the elevator.
[ Even if that back wall… is very telling of what they’d been up to. He just smirks, however, as he straightens and releases his grip on Basch’s arm. ]
[ Basch privately suspects the elevator somehow knew to wait until they’d finished, but he is not opposed to its choice and so he says nothing. If anything, he hopes it somehow cleans itself before someone else steps in. But the thrill it might now is still a thrill.
He’s reluctant to leave Sylvain’s hold, but there’s no protest; he trusts this night isn’t finished, and he would rather enjoy it more comfortably. The gardens smell sweet and earthy and that puts him at ease, even if walking naked in semi public is still enough to make him shy. But there’s no real use getting dressed again, and this place is full of oddness. So he uses his discarded shirt to clean himself off, then is following after Sylvain, the odd desire to take the other’s hand skimming across his mind. He doesn’t act on it, but he does tuck it away, something strange and unfathomable and oddly precious. ]
[ Sylvain had bent to scoop up his own clothes and had turned to offer something to Basch to help clean up when he saw he was already too late. Grinning sheepishly, he just tucks them under one arm instead and steps out into the massive stretch of gardens that extend under a domed skiy. At least he thinks that’s the sky. With the magic in this place, who knows? ]]
It is. It’s also much larger than I thought it would be. Although I guess that shouldn’t surprise me, considering this place. Everything here seems designed to be big and flashy.
[ He glances back over his shoulder at Basch and then grins before holding out his free hand in invitation. ]
Shall we go explore for a bit? It’s quiet enough that we might have the whole place to ourselves right now.
[ Basch does rescue the pants, if only because he will have to return through the hotel at some point, but the shirt only comes with him to be a further cleaning aid.
He looks up, unsure what to make of Sylvain’s sheepish grin. He hasn’t connected it to the desire to offer aid, and so he wonders if he’s done something odd; he hasn’t seen anything remotely like shyness on the other man. Puzzled, but loathe to make it worse, he just follows Sylvain out. The other man’s comment draws his attention to the sky dome. Beautiful. But something in him still feels wrong. Trapped. A prison is a prison, and the air doesn’t move right. He won’t say it though. What he does say is ]
The building is enormous across, so it follows the gardens would be large.
[ And then he’s glancing back at Sylvain, more interested in that view, and his brow is twisting, lips parting. He looks at Sylvain’s hand in confusion, gaze darting back to his face in question. There’s just a smile there.
Were the rules just different where Sylvain was from? Or — he realizes his heart is beating faster — was whatever that deeper, messier thing he was feeling…mutual?
He wants to shake his head, write it off, hide from the vulnerability that if he accepts, he can be so much more hurt. But—
But he doesn’t. Almost like someone else is reaching in and steering, he sets his hand in Sylvain’s. His smile, though, small and sheepish as it is, is all his. It takes all his not-small a line of self restraint not to say anything stupid, which essentially means limiting himself in words altogether. ]
[ Sylvain just waits, hand outstretched as Basch struggles with the decision to take it or not. He’s patient about it, though, not wanting to put too much pressure on the other man. Although he wonders if that was a step too far.
Which seems a silly thing to wonder when he’d been buried in the man’s ass a minute ago.
The rules are slightly different where he comes from. While it’s not as common, it’s also not unheard of. Although he, being of the noble class and a Crest bearer to boot, might incite scandal over preferences leaning that way. At least until he safely had an heir to secure his lineage. Then he was pretty sure no one gave a damn about anything past that. It was yet one more way those lucky enough to be born without a Crest had a freedom he could rarely dream of, and one they so often took for granted.
But he doesn’t dwell on it now. Not when Basch finally comes to a decision and slips his hand into Sylvain’s He gives the man’s fingers a light squeeze before tugging him closer, falling into step at his side and keeping their fingers entwined for now.
He lets his gaze drift around them as they wander - aimlessly for the moment, although that’s mostly because he’s never been here before and has no idea where they’re going. But while he thinks he sees a glimpse of a familiar piece of greenery every now and then, many of the plants here seem foreign to him. ]
Are the plants in your world like this? [ he wonders aloud after a moment, glancing over as he gestures to the greenery around them. ]
[ it’s that sensitivity to what Basch may or may not be ready for that’s making this possible, even if Basch hasn’t put his finger on it yet. He is not so skittish he will run regardless, but he is skittish enough to spook. Time to make his own decision without pressure is a godsend. Because thus far, this has been worth every discomfort and risk.
He’s further surprised as Sylvain squeezes his hand and slides in close beside him, but he manages to simply squeeze back and fall in step. If pressed, Basch wouldn’t know how common or uncommon this was at home. He just knew members of his rank were not to fraternize with each other, and so everything was secret, always someone asking him to bend so they could keep from breaking. And he always did. They had to win their battles, win the war so they could have peace. This was…different.
The question is a relief. Safe. ]
Some species seem familiar, at least in family. But I have traveled desert, tundra, jungle, plains, and forest. I wonder if certain climates don’t produce certain form, regardless of world.
[ He gives a thoughtful hum as he glances over to study Basch curiously at that answer. ]
That might be true enough, I suppose. I haven’t seen nearly as much of the other regions in my world as I have my own territory, and those neighboring it. [ Excluding his time at the Academy, anyway. And the war had kept him too occupied to travel much for pleasure for the past several years. ] You’ve traveled extensively, from the sound of it?
[ His voice and expression are strained, hand tightening without his realizing. Then his actions catch up with him, and he tries to smile. ]
My country was conquered when I was still a youth. I moved to an allied territory, but the war was still on, and I often served on sensitive missions. My latest duty had sent me even farther afield. I am not sure I’d consider myself well traveled; cultural differences elude me, and I am a man of simple tastes.
[ He looks around them, feeling his spirit ease in the presence of nature. It’s something he’s always sought solace in. ] I do enjoy the landscape, and I know the basics of medicinal herbs.
[ Sylvain’s pace pauses, hesitates as he glances over at Basch, understanding in his gaze. But he continues on, not wanting to stop, not wanting to drag out a painful moment if Basch doesn’t wish to dwell. This doesn’t seem the time, not after they night they've had together. He doesn’t want to drag shadows into it now. ]
I’m sorry. [ His voice is sincere - both over what Basch had endured for most of his life, and the fact that he’d accidentally reminded him of darker times in the first place. ] My own realm has been caught up in war for the past half-decade or so and I’ve spent most of it keeping the Empire from invading our lands, even as they encroached ever further. Any dreams I’d had for seeing more of the world after my days at the Academy got stomped underfoot like so much of our Kingdom.
[ An explanation - not to keep the topic dark, but to show he understood, in a way. Maybe not to the extent that Basch had endured, but war was terrible, no matter what.
But he smiles a bit at the mention of herbs, something he was familiar with as well. ] I had a friend who was very knowledgable about plants and gardening. Things that were used for cooking, for spices, for medicines. I used to escape there to hide, back in our Academy days, because it was always quiet, and he would sometimes tell me about them while I worked beside him.
[ Dedue’s quiet strength had been a lifesaver in and of itself. Basch reminded Sylvain of him, a little. ]
[ It isn't your fault is a useless dismissal, especially when he sees how sincere Sylvain's offering is. He has no more desire to cast a shadow on their evening than the other man. He listens though, his hand coming to briefly squeeze the other's arm. ]
You understand, then. It consumes you; how can it not? I wish you peace and travels upon your return.
[ It's out before he thinks better, leaving an odd taste. He means it, of course, but if he does, then it wishes whatever this is to either run its course, or to be a painful loss. Was that not the fate of all trysts, though? Basch had said he would consider love and family and home when the Empire was defeated, and that was twenty years ago.
Sylvain, thankfully, is more facile with conversation than he is, and seizes an opportunity to adjust. ] Funny how those of us who like plants and rocks have a tendency for quiet. Something you enjoy, though do not share, it would seem.
[ His return. He doesn’t want to think about that. What or who might be waiting for him when he gets back. And who might not. As much as the shadow of Gronder still hangs over his presence here… he’s in no hurry to find out. Or return.
Who knew that getting kidnapped might have possibly saved his life? Or the lives of people he had no desire to end. He only hoped it hadn’t cost those most important to him, too.
He was trying not to let it consume him. With varying success, depending on the moment. Sometimes it was easier to fake than others. Although coming face to face with Edelgard and Hubert had certainly been a test of his control. And acting skills.
But he latches onto that teasing comment for the distraction it is, happily letting the conversation steer away into a new direction. They’re still meandering through the gardens, although the greenery seems to be growing a little wilder here, not quit as structured and controlled. He finds he likes that better, he thinks.
But for now he gasps and clutches his free hand over his chest like he’s been mortally offended, even though his eyes are warm and dancing with laughter. ]
Did you just imply I talk too much?? I would never… [ he stops abruptly, as if to rethink whatever he’d been about to say, and then just gives a nonchalant shrug with a wink aimed in Basch’s direction. ] Nah, you’re right, on second thought. I absolutely talk too much. Feel free to shut me up again whenever you like.
[ Basch laughs, bright and open. He's not sure he remembers laughing like that. And before he can think better of it, he stills his walk, tugging Sylvain to him so he can catch the other's face and kiss his temple. ]
I did not say too much.
[ He'll make good on shutting him up though, lips moving to lip and kissing deeply, enjoying the soft heat of their skin pressing together under the fresh air of the gardens. He'd like to fuck Sylvain outdoors, he passingly notes. Near a waterfall and go swimming; in the warm sun on a big slab of sandstone; in a soft meadow. And then hear him talk too much as one or both of them dozes.
He doesn't know who this person is, who wants companionship and intimacy, who wants so freely, but in this moment, he's happy to be him, and happy to be here. ]
[ Sylvain’s gaze brightens at the sound of that laughter. It looks good on him, he thinks, and it has his own expression softening with warmth as he winds his arms around the man’s waist, drawing him in close.
He leans in to meet him for that kiss, still smiling as he slides a hand gently down Basch’s spine. He lingers there, drawing it out, warm and teasing. It’s quieter, not holding the frenzy and impatience of earlier, but just as good, just as enjoyable. Maybe even more so.
But after a long moment, he pulls back, although he steals one more kiss before doing so, as if reluctant to stop. He does tug on the man’s hand again with a fond smile. ]
Come on. I think I see a rope bridge up there. Shall we see where it leads? It seems an odd choice, for the type of garden we walked into.
[ Basch's eyes close, and he just lets himself get lost in the warmth of lips on his, the hand around his waist, the feeling deep in his belly. Balthier had been on about this, just being in the moment and in the body and turning off that damn head, and Basch had always thought he was talking more to himself, but this, he thinks, is what the other meant. And he'd been right.
Sylvain pulls back -- only after teasing wonderfully -- and Basch has the urge to cradle his face, like he could touch the brightness and warmth coming off it. He's relieved to be diverted and led, because he doesn't know what to do with this feeling. ]
This whole place is odd choices. They have not steered me poorly tonight, though. [ He squeezes Sylvain's hand. ] Let's see where it leads.
[ Basch relaxes further as the gardens give way to more natural, wilder growth. This was a good suggestion.
The question pulls him back a little, and he looks down, shy and disoriented. Was that really just an hour ago? But a glance at Sylvain reminds him it's not to mock or to judge. He could say anything, or nothing. ]
I mostly observed. [ And...maybe was guiltily tantalized by some things, repulsed by others. ] I was certainly given offers for other couplings. It was a strange thing to express I was spoken for. This helped. [ He touches the collar at his neck, having near forgotten it. But it had been a pleasant shield and promise when he was otherwise overwhelmed. ] I think that made me more desirable to a few.
It would. [ He chuckles a little at that, giving Basch’s hand a light squeeze. He hoped he hadn’t embarrassed him by asking, but he’s relieved when the man answers. ] Not being allowed to have something - or someone - makes them crave it even more. Or sometimes it’s just that being desired by someone makes others take a second look and seek out what it is that might draw them, too.
Were there any that tempted you? [ He glances back at him again, and then deliberately slows his pace enough that they’re side by side instead of him leading the way. ]
And don’t worry, I’m not going to be upset at your answer. You’re still here, after all. I’m just curious.
[ He'd done alright with the first question, but not he flushes. These were always the sorts of exchanges where he was honest, but inevitably said something that annoyed the other, either in his being too simple or his attaching when he was not supposed to.
But he's been honest this far, and he is a terrible liar. So breathes out a little more deeply. ]
That would explain my popularity over the years, though I wonder at no one putting it so succinctly for me. In honesty, no. Keeping one of my wants centered this long was a feat itself, and why would I want something unknown when I had something good waiting? I did, a few times, talk myself out of seeing you again, but then you would claim me again, and I decided to stay a little longer.
[ This feels like the most he's said at once in years. ]
You're not a jealous man then, even though you like to mark? [ He surprises himself with his smile, affectionate, and even teasing. He could respect that, really. Someone who could indulge but also didn't try to restrict others. ]
I'm not. [ He can confirm that easily enough, even if... well. ] Not over things like this, anyway. People getting jealous over my attentions, my affections, was something that happened a lot, back home, and that's not something I would want to put anyone else through.
Besides. I tend to believe people's hearts can hold enough room for more than one person. I've seen families do it, parents, friends. Why should this be different?
[ He might not have experienced many of those firsthand, but he had seen it in others. And it was what he wanted to perpetuate. Maybe the world wouldn't be so fucked up if that were more normal. ]
But I do enjoy having your attention all to myself like this. And that I was on your mind so much tonight. I may have sought you out on purpose a few of those times, just to catch your eye again. Considering that apparently helped talk you back into seeing me again, I'm glad I did.
And, [ he adds, tugging Basch closer as he smiles at that very obvious mark he'd left on the man's flesh. ] I like knowing that every time you see that in your reflection, or every time you catch someone's eyes landing on it, you'll think of me all over again. And when I gave it to you.
[ Basch nods thoughtfully. He'd seen that sort of stress and infighting over some of those he served beside. It was why it was easy to agree to keep things secret. He wasn't sure how he felt about the idea of many or one; he loved those he worked with, and he served whoever needed it, but he suspected that was different somehow.
The idea that people's hearts can hold space for many makes sense to him, even if some part of him balks at taking so much space. Is not one meal enough? For him. For Sylvain, he wants the world.
It's not until Sylvain says he likes having Basch's attention that he realizes there was some sadness vying in him too. It's not something he can untangle now, but the relief he's willing to hold onto. ]
Mmm, not jealous, but certainly possessive. [ He closes the space between them to kiss again, a little firm, a little teasing, pleased to be wanted and wanting it to continue. ] I'll think of you with or without memory on my skin, but I cannot deny I enjoy it.
And you? Your reflection suggested your wish to be equally claimed in this way. [ Teasing, beginning to wind up for their inevitable next round, but genuinely asking too. He wanted to give Sylvain what he would enjoy, to the greatest extent of his ability. He wanted to be thought of fondly, whether they met again or not. ]
[ His lips curve into a crooked smile at that, something Basch will no doubt be able to feel against his lips as he leans into that kiss, chasing the brush of the other man’s mouth against his own. ]
Possessive is probably a good word for it. [ A playful nip to Basch’s lower lip before he pulls back enough to see his face. Amber eyes warm and lit with teasing now. ]
Was that your subtle way of expressing you wanted to leave your marks on me, too, Basch? Because I assure you I’ve got no objections to that. That’s not an offer I’d make to many, but it seems you’re my exception to a lot of things today.
[ Then again, people being possessive of him back home rarely had good connotations. Or dire consequences. ]
[ he thinks, perhaps for the first time, he can see how people become addicted to another. It is a strange thing for his mouth to run so loosely and have another meet it with grins and teases.
He’s been possessed, marked, kept before — but always as a sort of game, a joy in the scandal of it. It wasn’t that he’d never cared for those he laid with. Quite the opposite. It was just clear that care was not meant to be spoken of, and certainly not detectable outside the privacy of those engagements.
That Slyvain wanted him marked was heady enough. That he invited it back, and when it wasn’t his custom, makes Basch’s breath catch. ]
And here I was congratulating myself for being so direct. I do not know what it is I have done to charm you so, but I pray it continues. And if you look at the marks on your skin and think fondly of me, I will be quite satisfied.
[ All spoken close to Sylvain’s lips, so that it is easy to lean in and nip back. He can feel his cock beginning to stir; it had been enough time to recover, and the anticipation of what else they’ll get up to has him taut with anticipation. ]
Oh, I intend to make you much more than just satisfied. [ A cheeky grin accompanies the words as he chuckles, lingering in that kiss. He can feel the stir of arousal against his hip - with neither of them wearing clothes still, there’s little enough to disguise it.
Which is yet another reminder that they’ve yet to find a place that’s private enough for them to spent the next few hours. Or the night, at this rate.
So it’s reluctance in his movements as he draws back again, but only to lead the way across the swaying rope bridge they’d been headed towards. The gardens on the other side are more wild jungle than garden, in his mind, with massive trees with what looks like treehouses and rope netting strung up between many of them. There are soft lanterns lighting their path and moss that grows on the trees with a strange glow to it, giving their surroundings an otherworldly glow. A quiet river runs beside the path, winding away into the underbrush and then back again, the current slow and lazy.
It’s not until they come to a small side path that splits off that Sylvain pauses, taking a few steps down it until he sees where it leads. And then he just laughs, glancing back over his shoulder at Basch with an impish grin. ]
Now I see why the trail split so many ways, if something like this was down them.
[ Because the path has led to a small, cozy clearing, surrounded by vibrant plants and trees. There’s a massive nest of cushions set among soft moss, waiting invitingly to be lounged on. Something that looks like a wide hammock - or a swing, maybe? - is suspended from a nearby tree. The netting drapes overhead with the occasional ladder, or the occasional lose strands of rope dangling conveniently downwards, in case someone below had need of it. And the river had carved out a small shallow pool here before meandering on, making the private little glade the perfect place to stop and relax and enjoy… well, what most people probably came to these gardens for in the first place. ]
It seems we have it to ourselves tonight. What do you think? Comfortable enough?
[ Basch notices the change too, and recognizes some of this from how he woke up here. It reminds him some of Golmore, but is still so clearly pleasure garden; the air is not so thick, and the heat is not oppressive. That's fine. Preferable even.
It's also...beautiful. Peaceful. Lights aglow and little quiet places to tuck away. It moves him, for some reason. Perhaps just the sense of a natural space -- false or no -- that knows no war. So he follows silently, eyes taking it in, anchored by the hand in his as his mind tries to reject any of this as real.
Sylvain's laugh brings him back. It's beautiful, and if he could catch it up, he would. But his words guide Basch's attention back to the scenery. He would never have designed this for himself but -- in a flash of honesty he could see himself coming back to this place and enjoying all of it, if Sylvain were with him, and that's a dizzying thought.
He just nods, tightening his grip in Sylvain's hand for a flash. ]
Significantly more comfortable than we're used to, at this point.
I hope it works! feel free to add whatever you want or what might useful/fun ;)
[ Sylvain’s smile is bright and warm as he tugs Basch closer and bends to press a kiss against his lips, pleased with their discovery. ]
I don’t think it would have been hard to outdo the dressing room. The mirrored lift was nice, however. [ He winks, teasing the man still as he steals another kiss.
Then he leans back and gives a thoughtful hum as he surveys the little clearing they’ve found for themselves. ]
So. [ He leans close to murmur in the man’s ear, almost as if confessing a secret. ] What would you like to try first?
[ He shouldn't be surprised by how easy the kisses come, but he still is, chest tight as Sylvain teases and soothes in quick succession.
And then he's whispering in his ear, asking him to confess desire, and the bite of embarrassment -- the kind that makes his cock stir -- flares in him, in no small part at the connotations of first. He likes this game though, likes where Sylvain takes it, likes trusting him, so he surveys, forcing himself to note what his mind skirts over.
He nods over, aware there's a flush in his cheeks. ]
[ The corners of Sylvain’s lips quirk upwards as he follows the direction of that nod, grinning at the sight. He hums, sliding a hand down Basch’s spine again as he draws him over in that direction. ]
I’ve never used it in quite this way either. Shall we try it out?
[ He huffs a small, indignant laugh of protest against Sylvain's shoulder, eyes falling heavy-lidded at the hand on his spine. This is so much better without clothing between them. ]
Are you going to make me ask so directly?
[ Not that he minds being pushed like that. Which is very clear, from how easily he follows. And it makes him warm in an entirely different way that this is something he and Sylvain will try together. A space he will hold regardless of what happens after tonight, like a mark they will both keep. ]
[ Sylvain’s grin is impish and full of mischief but absolutely no remorse. ]
Maybe I like seeing that flush creep up the back of your neck and across your cheeks and know I put it there. Besides. I’m sure there’s more than one way to use this thing. You could always ask to fuck me on it, after all. Maybe I just wanted to make sure I understood what you had in mind, or what you were craving.
some day he'll make a decision off the bat. not today.
[ He'd long been teased for how easily he flushed, and he knew it was something partners enjoyed eliciting. But this was...softer. Possessive in a warm way. ]
I would gladly fuck you. I wasn't sure if that was something you enjoyed.
[ Which skirts around the actual question of preference. It's not that he has none; it's that truly, anything would be appealing. Both of them on the swing, having to struggle with the moving center of gravity, or one of them on it, more easily slid back and forth. ]
[ Sylvain’s grin only warms as they stop beside the swing and he tugs Basch more fully into his arms again, leaning in to kiss him once more. ]
I enjoy a lot of things. I’m actually pretty sure there’s very little you could suggest that I wouldn’t want to try with you, honestly. Of course, that just gives us a very long list of options to explore…
[ That last part is chuckled against Basch’s lips as his hands trail down his spine to tease over the curve of his ass once more, dragging his hips close as he playfully grinds against him. ]
[ He finds himself a lot more speechless at this than he was in either the elevator or the changing room. He's no idea what's expected of him. But he hums wantingly at the promise of an endless more, turning into a groan as Sylvain fondles his ass and pulls them together.
What he does know he wants is to make good on the vision of them both being marked. He turns his head to bury his face in Sylvain's neck, sucking hard as their fronts grind together, nails dragging firmly down the other's back. ]
[ He lets his head fall back with a soft groan, a soft chuckle as well, as he feels Basch’s mouth on his throat. The rough, heated suction, knowing exactly what Basch is doing. His body arches into the other man as those nails rake down his back, leaving reddened lines of their own and he shivers in delight at the feel of it.
One hand lifts, tangling in the man’s hair as he holds him there, encouraging him to leave as many marks as he likes. Teasing with the slide of his body, his own arousal already stirring with interest and starting to harden against the man’s hip. ]
Gonna leave your mark on my skin for everyone to see, too, hmm?
[ It's both a relief and deeply arousing to feel Sylvain yielding under that touch. And even more wonderful the way the other man holds firmly in his hair and teases right back. Damn him for being so good at this; damn him for being so welcoming.
He shifts his hip to grind up against Sylvain's growing need, shivering at how incredible it is to feel that want in real time, even as he keeps working that first mark, nails alternating between light strokes and deeper scratches, raising the skin but not breaking it. ]
Yes [ he murmurs, breaking to kiss tenderly where Sylvain's jaw meats his neck. ] And then when you lie with someone else, they can wonder if I was better. [ His heart skips, and a weird feeling of want and pride and fear washes through him. He's never said anything like that before, even if he has on occasion thought it.
But he does want Sylvain to think of him, and he does want some mark left that, at least for this night, he was Sylvain's, and Sylvain's was his, and he satisfied in a way that would be hard to replicate. ]
[ It would be hard to replicate. Impossible, in fact, because Sylvain was often a different person with everyone he partnered with. Now was no exception, even if the version of Sylvain Basch was getting was far more real than most of the masks he wore. Ever since that moment they’d locked eyes in the store earlier, Sylvain had dropped that pretext, letting Basch see the reality beneath, knowing he needed that to cling to.
He suspected the man would see through anything else, and he’d never have reached him like that.
Basch’s confession gets a crooked grin and a soft chuckle from him as he slides a hand up and down the man’s spine, letting his mouth moved where it liked as he felt him linger over the marks he left in his flesh. ]
I like this possessiveness in you. I suppose that means I don’t have to feel guilty over claiming your attention so many times today and effectively hoarding you all to myself the rest of the night. Because I intend to have you, again and again, until we’re both too spent and sated to do anything but curl up in those cushions together and sleep.
Because I intend to make sure that when you sleep with the others, you’ll remember for yourself that this was better. Have you craving me, coming back for more.
[ Which is when he tips the man back towards the swing, lowering him into the mesh contraption suspended from a branch high overhead. Leaning over him with a grin. ] Shall we try this thing out?
[ Sylvain...isn't the first person here to encourage his possessiveness or want. Not even the first at home. But he may be the first person Basch actually hears it from, at least in years and years, without the bile of shame dampening it, or the dismissal that that desire will be gone with the morning. It is difficult to keep writing off Sylvain's interest when they are about to couple for the third time in one evening, and right now, Basch wants to revel in the warmth of being kept and wanted and touched. ]
I truly cannot fathom what about this should make you feel guilty. [ So hypocritical even he knows it, but maybe that is what is easing his own typical feelings of guilt and selfishness. His breath comes as a sharp hiss as Sylvain continues his threats, a low moan at the promise of not just exhaustion, but being kept even after.
He's so caught up in his senses and that fantasy that he barely notices being maneuvered until it's already happening. He clings to Sylvain for a moment, the change too quick for him, but then he eases. He's starting to become familiar with the bubbling heat Sylvain's tricks provide. Not shame, not guilt; anticipation. Discomfort at the unknown.
His hand trails up to Sylvain's face, cupping it gently as he smiles, dazed and hungry, and repeats his plea from their meeting. ]
Use me. And if you'll allow me, I shall use you in turn, claim and exhaust you, and coax you to sleep heavy against me until you are ready to depart.
[ Sylvain just gives a laugh at that first comment, chuckling at himself as he shakes his head. ]
I’m Faerghan. It’s sort of in our natures. But I don’t think I could actually feel guilty for any of this, even if I tried. That would require regrets and I have none. Not over this.
[ But he bends over the other man as he lowers him down into the swing, the netting mesh of it swaying at the new weight on it now. Leaning down to soothe with a kiss when he feels the momentary tension in the other man’s form at being toppled back. ]
That, [ He murmurs into the kiss, a smile on his lips as his hands slide up over Basch’s chest. ] sounds perfect, actually.
I've a-- [ Colleague? Friend? Fellow rebel? ] who'd disagree with you on natures. [ But--is it too dangerous, to toy with the idea of seeing Sylvain again? He knows better, but the longer this goes on, the harder it is to listen to his better judgement. ] I would listen, if you wished to share more of your past some other time. I might even talk about myself, for you.
[ A strange thing, to have someone he just met understand the weight of that better than people who had known him for years. It's inevitable for him, though, with the way Sylvain makes him feel so treasured, so important with those admissions. He has always been weak for them, but it has been a long while since any were served his way.
They're almost as sweet as the tenderness of that kiss, given the moment he tenses. He squeezes Sylvain's arms, as much in assurance as thanks. And this time, dreamy eyed, he gives a breathless sigh of a laugh. ]
It is a rare thing I can offer perfection. Let us not squander it. [ He leans forward to kiss again, hungrier, his weight shifting the swing and causing him to hold to one of the straps. A little fear worms in. He will be entirely at Sylvain's mercy. And he's alright with that. ]
[ Faerghus isn’t something he wants overshadowing the night’s pleasures.
But he bends his head to kiss the man again so Basch doesn’t get the wrong idea, or wonder if he misspoke. ]
The only thing I want to focus on tonight is you.
[ He smiles when he sees that hand grab for the straps, the swing shifting beneath the man’s weight. He reaches up, seeing how the strands of rope are purposefully twined with loops, and tugs that arm higher, until he can slide Basch’s hand through one of the openings, letting the strap wind about his wrist and hold it there.
He can still work himself free - it’s not a true restraint - but it will mimic the feeling of it anyway. And he remembers the sight of him buried deep in Basch’s body with the man’s hands bounds above him. Not quite the same, but a good adaptation of mimicry, considering the setting. And, as long as Basch has no objection to it, he’ll lift his other hand to fasten it the same way for the time being. ]
[ How Sylvain already reads him so well is a mystery that threatens to shake him if he looks at it too squarely. He does indeed worry he's misspoken, but the kiss and the reassuring words banish it nearly before he's even acknowledged it, keeping him from shifting elsewhere.
That Sylvain is guiding him, and to restraints no less, offers his mind that blissful retreat to only the here and now. It is different than before, because his trust is higher, and there is no audience for their sounds. He still flushes, embarrassed by the way this set up makes his arousal grow, for no other reason than he was sure, for so long, that wanting things like this was something to be hidden and suppressed.
He cannot consider that there seems, in fact, to be no danger, no consequence, especially not with a willing partner, because if that is true, a good deal of the fabric he's used to hold himself together the past twenty years will topple, and so again he focuses only on the sensation of Sylvain's hands and the suspensions that dig gently into him. ]
I have no objections to that. I find your attention desirable and exhilarating. [ Not much of a confession, but a constant use of a muscle that has near atrophied for him. And he hopes that Sylvain likes to hear it, even if he can clearly see it. ]
[ He can see it, and it makes him smile as he drinks in the sight of Basch reclined for him, suspended in the swing. His hands bound up in the ropes that hold his weight and everything else exposed and on display for him.
He lets calloused fingertips slide down over Basch’s torso, his touch teasing but confident. Tweaking and tugging the man’s nipples till they darkened, hardened, sensitivity drawn to the surface. And then he lets his touch drift lower, fingers curling around his cock and giving him a slow stroke, but one that made the swing sway slightly all the same. ]
[ He feels exposed, and the gut instinct to struggle, to hide, is there beneath the surface. That makes it all the more arousing as he keeps himself still, vying with himself that this is what he wants, and that he trusts the other not only to make this wonderful, but that there will be no malice, no use of this against him.
It's hardly a moment before those rough hands are on him, and his breathy moan comes easy even before the attention shifts to his nipples. This alone is bliss, but Sylvain is not one to let him rest. The touch to his cock earns a sharper sound, body tensing in response to the swing's motion. ]
Surprisingly. [ He admits. Physically and emotionally. ] Is the view to your liking?
[ The words are a dark purr as he watches Basch’s reactions with an appreciative gaze. Letting the man see just how much he liked the view, as his gaze trails over the man’s exposed form. His bound wrists. The way his muscles pull taut when he tested the strength of the bindings, or when the swing shifts and sways beneath him. ]
I think your legs could probably be hooked up here, as well. [ He slides his hand up the lower set of ropes, where more hoops in the suspension were visible. It would clearly keep the man spread and suspended within the swing entirely, but it was also a far more vulnerable position. ] But we don’t have to use those if you’re not comfortable with it. This already gives us plenty to work with. What do you think?
[ Basch's face searches his openly, lips parted and brow furrowed, because he still can't quite wrap his mind around the way Sylvain anticipates and checks areas of potential distress. It doesn't occur to him that that speaks poorly for his past experiences.
He does take the question in, rolling it around in his mind for a few silent moments before he nods once.
He -- likes the idea of being vulnerable, and the trust is there. So far every leap he's taken with Sylvain has been a positive one. ]
I think that you are very gentle with me. I will try it.
[ One eyebrow arches upwards in faint surprise at that - he hadn’t though Basch would be comfortable with that sort of vulnerability, although maybe he shouldn’t have been so surprised. The man seemed to go deep when he decided to surrender to something.
So he leans forward to steal another kiss from him, this one deeper, hungrier. Letting Basch taste his pleasure at that decision. At the trust he so obviously placed there between them. A reward in its own right as he slides his hands against the man’s torso, tracing over his ribs. Teasing against his nipples again as he enjoys the sounds that draws from the other man.
When he finally pulls back - more for air than anything else - he’s still smiling, warm and pleased. And then kissing his way along the inside of Basch’s thigh as he lifts his leg. ]
Alright, we’ll try it this way. Or maybe compromise. Because I think if you bend your leg for me, I can use this loop here under your knees to prop them up in the bindings instead.
[ The way this swing was set up, he was pretty sure you could secure a body in just about any pose imaginable. Maybe they’d play with that more later. Right now, he was maneuvering the looped rope into place so he could spread Basch’s legs and bind them that way, spreading him wide open for him and keeping him completely held and suspended within the cradle of the swing.
Only once that was done does he go back to kissing his way down the inside of one of the man’s thighs, his eyes locked on Basch’s face. ]
[ The clear surprise on Sylvain's face makes him chuckle. It hides the discomfort that perhaps he has somehow chosen wrong, been too much too quickly. It is a criticism that has been raised at him many times. All or nothing. Too intense. Too shy. Not normal. ]
Not sure what to make of me, are you?
[ But he's silenced -- and calmed -- by the way Sylvain closes the space between them, kissing with a fervor that feels different than what they've done before. Reassuring, appreciative. Basch's trust means something to him, and that has Basch moaning even before the resumed assault on his nipples.
Sylvain's smile is stunning. Not the grin he gives so easily, but this look of bliss. Basch is so lost in it that he doesn't quite process the other dipping, until there are lips at his thigh. He shudders, balance shifting and the swing rocking lightly, his stomach dropping at the sensation.
He lets Sylvain guide him, shown again and again how considerate and gentle the other is to his comfort. Even so, it's an odd sensation, his legs spread, his knees bound in place, his hands above him. When Sylvain returns to his thigh, the sensation feels increased, and he whimpers. ]
Remarkably, though I think -- I almost regret not being able to touch you back. [ His breath is airy, almost hoarse, but he holds the other's gaze, flushed with want and not embarrassment this time. ] I shall wait my turn.
In only the best ways. It’s a good thing, to be surprised. At least in my opinion.
[ He murmurs the words against Basch’s lips as he kisses him, but then goes back to finishing his task of securing the bindings. He’s still admiring the results of his handwork when Basch answers him and he lets his gaze travel back to meet his. Taking in that flush and letting his smile curve a little wider at the sight of it.
He hums, playful, as he continues kissing his way down the inside of Basch’s thigh, letting the swing sway with his weight a little as he lowers down to one knee. ]
Maybe I’ll just have to touch you twice as much to make up for it instead.
[ He lets his gaze travel up the line of Basch’s body from this viewpoint - especially with his legs spread, leaving him open and exposed and vulnerable. Sylvain trails a finger along the underside of his cock, still hardening visibly under the weight of his gaze now. And then lets his touch continue down until he can circle the tight ring of muscle, still slightly stretched from their coupling earlier, skin still slick with oil and probably Sylvain’s own seed within him]
Goddess, you’re such a gorgeous sight like this. I could watch you for hours.
[ That assertion rolls through him, warm and slow like honey. He ought not be doing this, catching warm feelings like a boy fresh to the Academy, basking in the pretty words of a man he's only just met.
But he's also had 20 years of life since then. He knows he is not the sort to feel at ease with very many, let alone buoyant with the knowledge they find him surprising or good or attractive. He still expects this to wilt with the morning, and if not with that, then with a few weeks. He knows what he is: a stick in the mud, an odd outsider, a broken, possibly cursed old soldier. He was not built for pleasure or companionship. And normally he let that steer.
But for some reason, this place, or this night, or perhaps just Sylvain, he's having a harder time worrying about the inevitable end and instead just...enjoying what he has while he has it. He kisses back warmly, sighing as Sylvain breaks off to turn his attention to his knee and inner thigh. He does not stem the languid hum of pleasure it pulls from him, nor does he struggle away from the growing arousal being so prone and so...doted on is stirring up in him. ]
I am not sure I can handle twice as much touching.
[ It's a warm tease, not a warning, his breath catching as he catched Sylvain looking. That touch makes him groan, his abs contorting and the swing swaying lightly, making his stomach bubble. He bites his lip, head tilting back as Sylvain's finger trails down and starts to tease his still-slick entrance. Stuck like this, all he can do is enjoy it. It's such a relief.
Even the compliment sticks a little better. He does not flinch or protest it, and he thinks he believes Sylvain. ]
Oh, I never said I would give up the touching. Especially if you keep making those noises.
[ The smile is audible in Sylvain’s voice as his hands tease and stroke. But it’s not long before touching isn’t enough either and he sways the swing a little closer to bring Basch within reach and bends his head to swipe his tongue up the underside of the man’s cock, only to swirl it teasingly about the tip. Enjoying the opportunity to turn the tables on him now. ]
Then I won't, [ Basch manages to breathe out before his voice is swallowed in a whimpering moan. Already, it's so much stimulation, heightened by how difficult it is for him to move and how the swing sways.
He curses softly as Sylvain drags his tongue up his cock, leaving it wet and wanting, teasing at his head. His sounds turn to a whine, hips trying to move, body swaying, helpless to do anything but receive and wait.
[ His hands come to grasp the swing and he decides to try something different. He lets the movement of the swing - and Basch in it - guide how deep he takes the man’s cock. Letting the motion of it drag the man close and away. It’s not perfect, but it’s just different enough to make the sensations stand out as unique.
And if he had to get a little creative to do this, then that was fine. Besides. Those noises the man made as he teased him, worked him deep and released him again, made the entire thing worth it.
At least his skill - and his oral fixation - means that this is as much fun for him, and he enjoys taking the man deep enough that his throat works around the tip, taking him deep enough that he has to relax his throat to take him deeper into it.
And through it all, he watches up the line of the man’s body, not wanting to miss any of those blissful expressions or the noises he makes. ]
[ He's not quite sure what Sylvain is doing, and it takes him a swing or two to realize. He breathes in sharply, worried about the depth, worried that any movement he makes will disturb the way this is set up, and then he exhales in absolute pleasure, surrendering to having to hold still as Sylvain orchestrates this.
How Sylvain takes him so well and keeps an eye is beyond Basch, and the combination of it all means he's groaning, lowly breathing the other's name, aware he's going to get louder before this is through. ]
How are you...this remarkable? [ he asks, breathless, near whimpering, before hissing his name. He's not going to last, not with all this sensation and delicious need to control his own movement. ]
[ A chuckle vibrates around the man’s length a moment before he sways back again, pulling him away from that wet heat enough for Sylvain to smirk up the length of Basch’s body. ]
You know, we’ve tried a lot of different things, but I hadn’t yet gotten to sate my own oral fetish for getting a taste of you. I may have spent far too much time thinking about exploring every inch of your skin with my tongue. Leaving marks in your flesh with my teeth.
Oh, and getting to do this…
[ Hands tug the swing back in his direction again, but this time, instead of aiming for Basch’s cock, Sylvain lets his mouth move lower. Swiping his tongue over that tight ring of muscle instead, tasting a mix of seed and the sweet tang of the oil they’d used earlier. But his real purpose is to grip the man’s hips and hold him in place now as he delves in to tease the man with his tongue, knowing he’ll still be more sensitive than normal here, after having been fucked so recently. ]
[ Basch’s eyes widen as Sylvia’s speaks, breath jagged from how deep Sylvain had taken him, stimulating even without the suspension and relinquishing of control.
But now he’s having to adjust his calculations, because he hadn’t accounted for the other man liking to give as well as he got — better, arguably, as he was much more creative and teasing than Basch. But he really hadn’t considered that any thought spent on him would be so thorough, and it makes him feel weak and untethered, like he wants to run and insist he isn’t worthy of that, but be it this place or the binds of the swing keeping him in place, he manages to set that aside and instead lock gazes, sitting in the odd feeling of being so desired.
Which he’s trying to process when Sylvain’s hands guide him back and his mouth moves down. He cries out, body trying to spread wider, completely overwhelmed. This is not a sensation he’s experienced before, and it’s hardly a moment before his abdomen is shuddering, body unsure how to take the wonderful feeling, mind unsure how to take this man who pushed him around so easily also wanting to put his tongue up his ass. An odd thing to feel sentimental for, but he did, some ring of trust growing tighter and deeper.
He whines, hands clenching. ]
I…want to pull your hair and wrap my legs around you.
[ A chuckle, as he teases that tight ring of muscle with his tongue, delving deeper inside before withdrawing again. Relishing the way Basch's body reacts, as if he didn't know which way to pull. He's sure the swing only emphasizes that feeling more. ]
Ahh, but then you wouldn't feel so deliciously helpless as I had my way with your body. Finding all those places that draw those needy little noises from you. Has anyone ever had you this way before, Basch? I think not, which is truly a shame. Does it feel good?
[ he doesn't bother waiting for an answer before he delves back in to repeat the torment. And lets his fingers join as his tongue spears into the other man once more. He stretches so easily now, after Sylvain had fucked him so thoroughly earlier, but his body still reacts so deliciously to all the attention. ]
[ The break is welcome, as is Sylvain’s warm chuckle. He’s right, too. Basch knows he’s enjoying this more for being so helpless and surrendered. The sensation, too, of the sway, the restraints, knowing Sylvia’s could guide him any way he wanted. ]
You…read me like I am obvious.
[ Not a complaint, and less shame in it than their first meeting. Sylvain clearly enjoys having him in this surrender, and that sends heat through his already flushed body, arching again at Sylvain’s tongue and fingers, sending himself bobbing and swaying. ]
No. Only you. I — [ He moans, the muscles in his abdomen clenching and jutting, cock throbbing. He’s so sensitive still, and never has he felt a tongue like this. ] You feel amazing. Every time. I don’t —
[ Sylvain corrects him gently as he presses open-mouthed kisses to Basch’s flushed skin. Feeling every tremble, every clench, every shudder that sweeps through the other man in his pleasure. He hums, pleased that this little venture was so well-received. He’d have to remember that for next time. He likes making Basch speechless with want. ]
But I like that you don’t try and hide it. Or fake any of it. You are open, and that is refreshing all in itself. Let yourself feel, Basch, all of it, let it wash over you. Trust me, I take every sound and shudder and cry you make as encouragement to keep giving you more. Something I doubt you have objections to.
[ He slides his fingers a little deeper into the man’s eager body, scissoring them within him. He’s still open from earlier so there’s much less resistance this time, and he finds that sensitive bundle of nerves easily as he brushes calloused fingertips over it. ]
[ Somehow that’s comforting. He doesn’t know why. He just…wants to be interesting. Wants to be enough to come back to.
And that’s before Sylvia’s starts listing off what he likes. Basch would protest if there were any way to, but he’s trapped, shuddering under open kisses and the onslaught of praise, speechless with the fingers in his sensitive ass. It’s so much easier to just succumb to the orders, even if they are orders that go against every habit he’s ever had.
The result is a strangled moan, embarrassment at his ever-growing want soothed only by Sylvain’s promise that he enjoys it. His stomach contracts again, knees and wrists fighting against the swing.
[ He smiles as he tongues and sucks at Basch’s balls before dipping low again to slide his tongue into the man’s body alongside his fingers, continuing the stimulations.
He, too, is very glad they decided to try this, because Basch is gorgeous like this, expression lost in the pleasure he feels, body struggling against the restraints of the swing but not truly trying to pull free. Just needing that feeling of being held back, something Sylvain understands all too well.
And when he needs to use his fingers more, to get deeper, he turns his head slightly, teeth working against the inside of the man’s thigh, leaving red crescents as he presses down into the soft flesh, still grinning all the while. ]
[ he shudders and moans against the sensations assaulting his sack, pulling harder against the restraints and melting into bliss at getting no farther than a light bob in the swing. It’s like so much he has to keep carefully restrained flows into the tightness at his limbs instead, leaving him helpless and free to just enjoy the sensations.
And Sylvain is just…so good at this. He whimpers against the mix of tongue and finger, hips rocking and thighs clenching, and when those teeth turn to that delicate inner flesh he curses, gasping Sylvain’s name. His muscles are getting sore from contracting, and he can feel the heat threatening to spill, his body tighter and tighter as he pants and moans, wanting more, needing more, and aware he will be useless as soon as he comes. This is dizzying, and he’s already been spent so many times today. ]
Mmm, as tempted as I am to keep you right on that edge and play a while longer… I’m not feeling that cruel tonight. Come for me then, Basch. Let me watch you come without me even having to touch your pretty cock.
[ And he’ll lean forward to let his tongue delve deep again, giving him that wet heat in pleasure and stimulation as he crooks his fingers, purposefully aiming for the man’s prostate as he takes in the way he clenches and shudders around him.
He hadn;t been lying when he said he found him beautiful like this, and he didn’t want to miss even a moment of Basch’s pleasure. ]
[ While Basch wouldn't have found that cruel, per say, he did think it would exhaust him entirely from any other activities, and so he does not protest. This one, he thinks, has no shame to it; Sylvain is again careful for his comforts. Soft, even under that teasing and pushing.
He does let out a startled sound of shame, however, at the reminder he is going to come without being touched. Well, he corrects, as his mind struggles to wrap around the sensation at his ass, not his cock anyway. His mind's too full to settle on it though, other than the way is gives his arousal an added bite, and between that and Sylvain finding that sensitive spot so masterfully, that new warm, wet sensation added to the mix, it's hardly a few more moments before his breathing changes, the pitch higher as his body goes taught, desperately fighting against the swing and comforted by the way it holds him, the way Sylvain holds him.
He gasps like a dying man reborn as his orgasm hits, entire body golden and shuddering. His cock waggles oddly, bobbing as he seed pumps out, his stomach ripples, his thighs tense.
And then he collapses entirely, hoarse and unable to find his words, whimpering and moaning against the aftershock and Sylvain still inside him. That, and he finds himself wanting to hold and gently kiss that mischievous face. Worse, lie against him and give in to sleep.
that is a dangerous want, even when it has been offered, but right now he's too pleased and dazed to care, closing his eyes to catch his breath, glad for where Slyvain still holds him. He wants that tether. ]
[ Sylvain works him through it with a satisfied smile, fingers rubbing over that spot within him to keep him awash in pleasure until his body arches with the force of his orgasm. Only then does he ease up, those teasing strokes and the press of his tongue turning instead to soothing touches as he withdraws his fingers. Whisper-light kisses as his lips trail along the inside of the man’s thigh instead. ]
Just like that. So gorgeous in your pleasure, Basch. And knowing that it was my hand and mouth that made you unravel like this.
[ Another kiss, as he moves up on his knees between the man’s spread and still-bound legs, but this one is pressed against the base of the man’s cock. The next, at his tip, as his tongue swirls against heated skin and gathers the last drops of his pleasure lingering there. He grins, slow and sated, his eyes dark, as he takes in Basch’s debauched form. Enjoying the results of his efforts. ]
[ He's surprised yet again, when the main act finishes and Sylvain's touch is still there, gentle and teasing and pleased. His eyes fall shut, panting as he revels in it and tries to catch his breath.
He's unsure about the compliment, but he does not fight it. He does fully believe Sylvain's pride, though. ]
I had no chance.
[ It's found, but cut off with another cry as a kiss crosses to his cock, and then there is a tongue again, one he knows is seeking his seed. Never has he had someone order and direct who also so deeply wishes to enjoy him like this. He opens his eyes, looking down to that warm, sated gaze, his cock in that mouth again. ]
I do not understand why you are drawn enough to me to linger so, but I am humbled and glad to see you so pleased. I think...there is little I wouldn't do if I knew it would earn that look.
[ It makes his stomach twist, being that honest while being so physically vulnerable. Or perhaps that what gives him the chance to say it. ]
You don’t have to understand it, just accept that I do. And I am very pleased with you, Basch.
[ One more light kiss to the tip of his cock before Sylvain pushes upright once more. With careful hands, he frees the man’s wrists and ankles from the swing before offering him a hand to help him up. ]
Why don’t we go try out those cushions for a bit. See if they’re as comfy as they look? I think we’ve both earned a bit of a reprieve.
[ Basch is too spent and too speechless for words, so he just nods. He fully expects Sylvain will be gone come morning, but it does not dampen the magic of company enjoyed. He waits patiently, eyes closed and head pressed against Sylvain's chest as the man undoes his bounds, taking the offered hand.
Even when he stands, he is weak on his knees. ]
I was beginning to think your stamina had no end.
[ He lets Sylvain lead the way, hiding winces with practiced ease. He is still not healed from prison, and their activity has strained him. Not that he regrets it. ]
[ He very nearly scoops Basch up and carries him over to the pile of cushions awaiting them, but he didn’t think the other man would appreciate that and he doesn’t know him as well as some of his other friends yet, who he would have embarrassed in good fun or just to make them grump at him.
But he doesn’t miss that wince, or the unsteadiness, so the arm that twines about the man’s waist is casual and disguised as merely a need to continue touching him and not at all to help steady his balance, nope. ]
Technically, it was your stamina we were testing that last time.
[ he points this out with a wink as he guides him towards the cushions, and then carefully drags him down with him. Stretching out on his back, he tucks Basch in against his side, letting the man find a position he was comfortable with, although Sylvain still kept an arm twined about him, fingers skating against his skin. ]
[ And Basch does not miss a supportive gesture hidden behind camaraderie; a trick he himself used often, though he doesn't protest it. It just makes him discount the affection in it.
It's harder to dismiss it when Sylvain, true to his word, pulls Basch down against his side, arm still around him, fingers still tracing his skin. ]
It's not what it used to be [ Basch admits, tentatively settling his head on Sylvain's chest. He can feel his heart gaining speed again. This -- he has little experience with. It's been such a long time, it almost feels fake. ] Though a good deal stronger than I expected.
[ Even so, he can feel the ragged edges of sleep pressing at the back of his mind. ]
[ Sylvain gives a chuckle that rumbles through his chest, beneath Basch’s cheek. Turning his head, he presses a light kiss to the top of the man’s head, even as his hand soothes along the line of his spine. They were both naked still, but the temperature in here was tropical and warm and it wasn’t uncomfortable. Although if anyone wandered into the clearing, they’d get quite the view. Not that he had the energy to care about that right now.
He could feel how exhausted the other man was, and with good reason. ]
You did good, Basch. All of it. Rest now. I’ve got you.
[ It might be a foolish, naive thing to believe, but right now he's too tired to fight his own mind. And with an arm around him and a heart beating under his cheek, he very much feels like Sylvain has him, and for now, he can just enjoy that. ]
I would gladly serve you again. [ His voice is already nearly a grumble, and in another few breaths, he's fallen asleep. ]
[ He's glad his simple act of deferential respect pleases her. He, too, knows the desire to help and fill, but he's so unused to it being turned on him, even after weeks with the unending attempts by his odd companions at home. Her soft touch almost stings, a mounting debt he wants to pay back tenfold.
And she is so beautiful. Her hand on his face is gentle but firm, giving him permission and command to look. If that is how he can serve her, so be it, and he lets the awe show on his face, his breathing coming more heavily. The idea of her climbing into his lap and having her way with him flits across his mind, but he barely has time to consider it before she's draping her thigh across his, warm and strong, her weight balanced on him and gods he wants more, wants to have to support both of them as she makes it harder and harder for him.
Again she teases him, asking him to choose. He's thankful for the suggestions of what she likes, wanting to make this good for her. His hands come more firmly to the thick flesh of her thighs, tracing over her skin and up against the dips of the harness on her skin, then come to trace the warm, heavy flesh of her breasts, skating over the floral appliqués before he cups each in a large hand, gently but firmly massaging her around the straps, his hips jutting slightly in want.
He could lift her so easily, place her somewhere and take her however she wished. That makes it that much hotter that she has him utterly pinned with little more than a thigh and a few fingers. And of course, the collar, reminding him he is, for now, her charge. ]
[It was getting to be a struggle to keep her expression gentle and calm. The way he looked at her made her want to melt into him and kiss him breathless, it had been so, so long since anyone had looked at her like that. Basch was heartbreakingly handsome in that moment, and she wanted more. To see whatever lay beneath the hurt and the guilt flourish into what he must have been, once. Whatever it took to see him confident and commanding, a proper flame instead of this weak flicker as he struggled.
So she allows herself to be noisy, where she was used to stifling any emotional outbursts aside from her laughter. When he brings himself to touch her she croons encouragement, shifting to meet his hands wherever he let them roam. A little shiver went through her as his hands settle on her thighs, her mind happily giving her what it might feel like to have him grip her by the hips and pull her down. The warmth of his palms against her breasts draws out a happy moan as she gets a better look at how big his hands actually are.
Maybe she can convince him to lift her off her feet, press her into the bedding as if she weighed nothing. Where these wild thoughts of being tossed around by him were coming from she wasn't sure, but she was absolutely going to save them for later. Once she saw how confident he could be.]
It does, Basch, thank you. You're doing so well for me.
[The hand under his chin shifted, no longer needing to force his gaze up, but now she cradled his face, thumb gently stroking his cheekbone. Sighing happily, her next words came out as something close to a purr.]
You can pinch them a little, I won't mind. I'll probably like it, you know.
[ He isn't expecting the sounds, and his eyes widen slightly, sound catching in his own throat, as if his body remembers he is supposed to match in this, even if his heart is guarded. He wants more of it, especially as that pleased look grows increasingly less guarded and more wanting. It feels...good to give her that. And shamefully good to feel worthy of that, even as he feels guilty that he's somehow tricked her, or that he doesn't deserve this reprieve.
you're doing so well for me
A sob bubbles in his throat but he clamps it down. That's a thing people say in these situations. And he will not put his burden on her. Even if it's been years since someone touched his cheek so tenderly.
What he will do is take that suggestion, on of his hands shifting to trace closer to her nipple, applying firmer pressure there. The other grips and massages more firmly. If he weren't already hard as a sword, the mix of praise and the perfect way her breasts fit in his palms would be contributing. ]
You could sit across my leg, Lady, or I could give you my hand.
[ She'll need increased pressure soon, to keep her heat escalating, and the idea of feeling her cunt fluttering with want is enough to make him ache for her. If she didn't have these appliques, he'd put her breast in his mouth, but as it is, he isn't sure what to do with them. ]
Mmm, your hands are so warm...here, let me help a little.
[The hand holding his leash rose, the loop of his leash hanging loose around her forearm, as she hooked a thumb under two of the straps crossing her chest. It only took the faintest tug at the elastic for the lace flowers to shift just enough for Basch to easily slip his hands underneath to tease her exposed nipples which were already stiff and aching for more attention.]
You can suck on them if you'd like. It stretches, so it's easy to move to the side.
[Just the thought of his mouth on her has her licking her lips, the growing need to be touched making it harder to ignore. Which is why his question immediately got her attention, her smile wide.]
Oh? And what exactly were you planning if I asked you to give me your hand?
[ He's not familiar with this material, but his eyes watch, lips parting, as the straps bend and shift so easily at her touch.
And below the thing covering, her nipples are lush and hard, sending another wave of heat through him. Her suggestion mirroring his own makes him feel at once exposed, but also emboldened.
And also makes him blush at her question. Had he misread...? ]
To press it between your legs, Lady, and inside if you wished.
[ He makes an effort to keep her gaze. The boldness, the risk of disappointing her sends heat through him again, and the possibility of pleasing her balloons even larger. ]
[Her wide smile turns into a grin, he was rewarded with her stroking his cheek with the back of her knuckles.]
That's what I thought you'd meant, I'd like that very much. After all, we'll both enjoy it, and then I'll be ready for more of you later.
[Like this it's too easy to hold his face and press another kiss to his brow, letting herself indulge in the impulsive thoughts that watching him inspired.
So she rocked her hips towards him, offering herself as she gave his leash a playful tug.]
Go on then, my handsome soldier. Let me see what those hands and mouth can do. I think you'll find I'm more than ready to find out.
[ His breath catches again. She'd just wanted him to say it, and something about that level of control makes him hot. That, and her so plainly saying she wants him multiple ways.
He hasn't had much experience with people being both demanding and sweet. He's almost not sure what to do with it, but he wants so deeply to please her. Breathing in sharply, he kisses her stomach before tipping his head up, finding her breast with his mouth before sliding his other hand up her thigh and between her legs. There's more harness there, which is no problem now. Still, he starts with his hand broad and flat, pressing up against her opening and up to her clit. He wants to feel her rock and moan as his other hand works her breast, digging his fingers in more sharply and tugging on her other nipple with his teeth.
He's going to be desperate for her by the time she wants his cock, and the thought makes him moan against her flesh, sucking hard. He tips his thighs against her, and he knows she can see the way his hips cant toward her. ]
[Aerith practically purred at the feel of his lips on her skin, his hair was so easy to bury her fingers in, her hands cradling the back of his head to keep him from pulling away. There was really no sense in being quiet or holding back her squirming, so the heat of his wet mouth and his calloused palm against her wet folds had her hips bucking towards him, a ragged sigh dragged from her as her eyes fell shut.]
Your hands and your mouth feel so good, Basch. You're being so good for me, your hands feel so big...
[The urge to let her head fall back as she rocked against his fingers was almost unbearably strong, but she kept watching him as she ground her hips into his hand. The lace was already soaked through, watching and listening to him ever since the leash had ended up in her hands had been almost unbearable. Which actually gave her an idea...
Licking her lips, she left one hand at the back of his neck, keeping him close to her breast, while the other made sure his hair was swept back from his face so he could meet her gaze if he looked up.]
My handsome soldier...I've been wanting to touch you this whole time, Basch. To feel you hold me, wondering what it would be like to have you push me into the mattress and take me. Feeling your fingers inside me is going to be well worth the wait, I'm really looking forward to it.
[ Basch would not pull away, not now that he was so engrossed in pleasing her. Still, there's something undeniably pleasant about the way she cradles him to her. It's not a trapping of him here, like some of the other people he's been with. There's still a hierarchy, with her still in charge, but it's soft, inviting. He wouldn't want to leave even if he could.
And hearing her sigh like that only makes the desire to stay and finish what he's started stronger. He gives a shuddering gasp of his own as she rides his hand, the wetness dampening both lace and his fingers. There's something that makes his eyes prickle, the way she tells him how good he is. He isn't, he isn't, but he's so glad to be good for her, that his large hands and scarred soldier's body please her.
And he nearly shudders at the request she's spinning. He pulls back from her breast, looking up at her only to ask ] Do you wish my fingers here and my cock on the bed, my Lady, or to stick to only my hand on mouth?
[ He kneads her breast as he talks, hand not letting up, his words against warm against her flesh. Perhaps it's how kind she's been, perhaps it's the arousal finally taking over, but he sighs, reaching up to cup her face instead. ]
Gods you are precious. I would see your every desire satisfied that I can.
[His hand felt really good, to the point where she'd bitten her lip and was finding a good rhythm against his fingers when he spoke, breaking her from her warm haze to focus on his face again. For a moment she simply shuddered from the feeling of one of his fingers having slipped beneath the lace from her rocking, but she was still quick to nuzzle against his hand. Pressing a kiss to the heel of his palm, Aerith covered his hand with her own.]
Let's start with just your mouth and hands, Basch. Then after I've gotten used to it, we'll settle onto the bed properly and I'll happily take your cock. It'll be my first, so take good care of me, okay?
[She kisses his hand again, each of his callouses from holding his weapons, then another to the pad of his thumb.]
I want to take care of you too, you know. Don't think you aren't getting out of this without letting me make you happy too, mister!
[The smile she gave him kept the sting from her words, though it did take a turn for the mischievous as she took his thumb into her mouth to give it a suck.]
[ His eyes widen, lips parting. He oughtn't be gifted with something so precious, and some part of him wishes to argue.
But -- he also knows what this place can do, and she deserves to be taken care of, for her first to be safe and pleasant. He's more than willing to do that for her, even if it bewilders him why she's chosen him. ]
I only ask to keep you comfortable, Lady. It will be my honor.
[ His breath comes as a shudder as she turns to delicately kiss his callouses. Perhaps he is a good choice for this, a gentle old dog with no agenda of his own, someone she can explore and tease with no risk. That makes him...content. Perhaps he is uniquely good for something, and something precious at that.
But his face turns to surprise. ] I am extremely happy, Lady. [ This is more than enough. Seeing her so pleased is a high even orgasm does not touch. ] But I will gladly receive what you wish to give. [ She deserved exploring that too.
For now, he brushes her face again before returning his hand and lips to her breast, purposely sliding the lace away so she can feel his skin against her.
And promptly moans, because she is so slick and warm and swollen already. He slides one finger up, stroking her clit. The force of her thrusting means his flattened fingers threaten to slip into her, and his cock throbs. ]
Turn around for me [ he says gently. It's easier to lead knowing his experience is something to benefit her. ] Lean against me or sit on my lap. Are you alright with my fingers inside, or would you prefer I keep like this?
[Aerith would've laughed to hear his confusion over choosing him, if it wasn't so sad to begin with that he even had to ask. She didn't trust this place, didn't trust the nasty whispers that crawled across her skin and filled her with dread in the halls. Didn't trust the way the local patrons watched the Wildcards.
It felt too much like the worst parts of Wall Market. Or worse, like the way that Hojo watched her.
But Basch was warm and sweet, gentle and tender as if he was afraid she'd shatter like brittle glass at the slightest touch. Yes, he wanted her, that much was obvious, but there was a huge difference in the way he looked at her as if she was the most powerful creature in the world, unlike the locals who watched her like hungry beasts in a meat market.
That and she was rather enjoying how he made her feel like a princess in a spicy romance with her most trusted knight. Not the sort of story she'd ever admitted she enjoyed, but a girl could have fantasies of her own.]
I promise I'll tell you if I need you to hold back a little.
[She even seals it with a kiss to his palm, rubbing her cheek against it afterwards before he pulls his hand away. Instead she practically purrs as he lifts the lace out of the way, her hips twitching at the jolt his touch sent through her.]
Mmm?
[Focusing on his face took a moment, but she did manage a nod, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.]
Inside is fine, your hands feel so good, Basch.
[This time she didn't resist the urge to kiss him again, pressing it to his scarred cheek before settling into his lap. The dress was tossed aside for later, and she felt incredibly exposed like this. While she might not be naked, it felt more intense than when she'd been in the mixed baths. Like this she could feel his warmth through his clothes, his broad chest pressed against her back, and his obvious erection rubbing insistently against her through his trousers. True, she missed the feeling of his lips against her skin, but leaning back against him with her legs spread almost made her giggle from the anticipation.]
[ It's a little easier to believe her compliments, if only because her inexperience rearranges his understanding of her expectations. He remembers how much stronger the sensations were early on for their novelty. He suspects, though, that hers is not entirely due to youth; he is certain that she is not so young. A passing curiosity, then, that she has not lain with a man before but is so eager now.
Whatever the thought is slips away quickly, because -- in addition to kissing his scarred body once again like it is precious -- she has resettled herself in his lap, her ass spreading over his erection in a way that even he cannot think straight.
He wraps one arm across her torso, resuming its kneading of her warm breast while bracing her firmly against his chest. The other goes back to her opening, easing against her a few times before he presses one finger inside her. He expects her to buck, with how strongly she's been reacting, and he wants her to feel free to ride whatever sensations her body provides; he'll hold her steady.
She needn't miss his mouth, though. He dips his head forward, kissing slowly against her shoulder to the swell of her neck, where he gently applies pressure with her teeth, testing what she may like. He's breathless himself, wishing he had another hand to wrap around the thick flesh of her stunning thighs. The fantasy of her riding his cock in his lap like this comes again, and he doesn't fight it quite as hard. ]
You can pull the lead if you wish [ he murmurs, surprising himself, but not regretting the words. ]
[It's so easy to sink back into his warmth, her head nestled in the curve where his neck and shoulder meet. To relax with a happy sigh on her lips because she's caged in by his arms. Because she wants to be. To e here, in his arms, with his gentle touch pulling a happy moan from her as she lets her eyes fall shut and just feel.
His battle-worn hands feel wonderful, just rough enough that her thighs tremble slightly at the feel of his fingers spreading her, her hips twitching towards his hand as he sank a finger inside.]
So good...
[For him she'd let herself be noisy, so used to keeping as quiet as possible when she'd had her private fun time, but not this time. This time she let herself moan happily, loving the feel of his finger inside her. Trying not to be embarrassed by the slick sounds of his fingers rubbing against her soaked folds. Though his teeth did earn him a gasped moan, a flinch going through her but it was the way her body squeezed his finger and her knees jerked up, one hand immediately moving to hang on to the back of his neck as his leash hung forgotten, that gave away how much she enjoyed it.]
Gaia, Basch, please. Please do that again.
[The lead? She cracks an eye open, and once the shivers ease up a little the leash pulls taut again, panting as she wraps it around her hand, the other buried in his hair, rubbing his scalp with a needy sort of affection.]
[ He'd have been confident in his choices based on how readily she opens herself to this, but his breath catches as she tells him so openly. The reaction only grows as she moans so openly, and when he bites her and she reacts so wholly, he can't help moaning back, clutching her tighter and rolling his hips against her.
He's almost sorry he reminded her of the lead, missing the hand on his neck, but this was the game she had engaged with him, and really, how can he speak negatively of any of this? It is magic beyond what he deserves, and his deepest wish is that it is good for her. As she tightens the lead though, keeping his neck close to her as her hand combs through his hair, he flushes in brief shame. This is wonderful too. ]
Let me know if anything is too much [ He reminds her gently, and then he presses a second finger into her, giving her a few strokes to grow used to the thicker intrusion before he bites her neck again, this time moaning as he does. Her movement constantly catches his near-painful erection, and the lack of control of when he'll be stimulated is maddening and -- easier to allow himself to enjoy than if she was giving him direct attention. ]
[For a moment she can only nod, her hand sliding back down to grip the back of his neck for a better hold as the other hung on to the leash in a tight grip as her hips rock towards his hand. Harder when he bites, and her moan is nothing less than delighted. The fact that he's allowing himself to enjoy this, feeling the shift from shame to something else warms her as she kneads his neck above the collar.]
Thank you, Basch. You're being so good for me...
[It feels a little silly to say, but she thinks she's getting the hang of this. True she gets the faintest hint from how his feelings shift, but that always feels like cheating somehow. Better to hear him use his words than to go snooping. Even better was the sound of his moan so close, the feel of it against her skin paired with the dull ache of his teeth against her skin that had her clenching around his fingers.]
My handsome soldier...
[Being pinned between the heat of his erection and his fingers didn't hurt, as no matter which way she rolled her hips, it left her purring happily.]
Your knight [ he corrects gently, voice a gravelly whisper as he very carefully slips a third finger inside her. ] I am here to serve you, sweet Lady, so you are safe to fully relax.
[ Which she very clearly is. He holds firm to brace her as his hand speeds back up, his hips pulsing much as he tries to keep them steady. It's impossible to keep down the grunts of exertion and desire, his hand entirely absorbed with her, the sounds of them filling the room, and her body trembling so thoroughly against the stimulation. He's not proud of it, but he can't help giving way to chasing the stimulation of her ass against his erection, clutching her tight against him and sucking on her neck, occasionally biting. She has to be close, and he wants to hear her scream, feel her buck against him until she collapses. The lead and collar no longer matter. He's entirely dedicated to her, at least until this meeting ends, for however long she still wants to be satisfied, and that makes him hard with want and purpose.
A-ah, my sweet and gentle knight, then. M-maybe I'll get you the shining armor for next time, to complete the look.
[Her words caught in her throat for a moment, his fingers and the roughness of his voice in her ear leave her sucking hard on her bottom lip. With the way he works her open, all she has the strength to do is lay against him, kept upright by his embrace and the leash wrapped around her hand. A nervous laugh slips from her as her thighs shudder, it was so hard to focus when she could feel how hot and hard he was even as the stretch to fit his fingers made her hips rock to meet them.]
Your fingers feel so good, Basch. They feel so big, I...I... ah—!
[The bite catches her by surprise and she arches, almost sobbing his name. The leash yanks taut and the hand on the back of his neck grips tight as Aerith tries to pull him closer, unable to escape his fingers or the way her body fights her. She's always kept herself quiet when her emotions were high, forcing herself to mask anything that wasnt her laughter. To hide any kind of weakness.
But Basch held her, his mouth at her throat made her moan, safe and secure in his arms even as her knees tried to clap shut as his fingers and mouth dragged her closer to the edge. She never cried in front of others, tried to mask any pain, always afraid someone would see and use it against her, but Basch was safe, and the weakness he punished only had her pressing harder into him, her body chasing the feeling.
So for the first time Aerith didn't bite down on the noises she made, didn't take the leash between her teeth to stifle her cries. Instead she sobbed his name, clinging to him as she came hard enough to slump against him when the tremors finally eased.]
I would not have been so uncomfortable in armor. [ There’s a rumble to his voice — a chuckle. But the thought is gone as quick as it comes. He’s too focused on the way she’s moaning, and when she sobs his name the first time, he inhales sharply, his kiss turning tender.
It shouldn’t make him that weak and warm to hear his name like this, but it does. He gently offers her name back, cooed between “radiant lady”, and doesn’t let up from his task, using his thick arms to keep her knees from closing and her torso back against him.
her climax builds and gods it sends gasps through him to hear her moan and sob his name. He latches his mouth to her neck, encompassing her entirely as he guides her through it, but his head snaps back and he moans sharply as the lead pulls tight and her arm scrabbles for him. That want, that praise, it just drives him to make this as good for her as he can, and when she finally slumps in his hold, he pulls her tight, stroking her hair and kissing gently against the crown of her head ]
You were radiant, my lady.
not me suckerpunching myself first thing in the morning
[How is she supposed to keep up the act when he keeps calling her such sweet names? It wasn't that she was embarrassed really, but she was still shaking a little and the not-quite-nervous laughter bubbled out of her as she hid behind her hand. The warm glow after her first orgasm had her feeling incredibly open and vulnerable.]
Basch, if you keep saying things like that I'm going to have a really hard time after this.
[He was so sweet, so sincere, it made her chest ache in a way she hadn't felt since...
Not for a very long time, that was for sure. It hurt in a good way, and it made her realize a part of her wanted to be selfish. Wanted to be greedy. She'd given and given and given until there'd been nothing left to give but still she'd found new ways to make things work out for her friends as she'd had to watch them move on without her. It had been satisfying at the time, she'd been more than glad to do it even when it scared her. She'd loved them as deeply as she could all while doing her best not to let them get close enough that they'd get hurt by her, but she'd never allowed herself to take what she wanted.
And Aerith hated to admit that she wanted a lot. So much that it was a little frightening. She wanted this, she wanted to be told nice things, wanted it so badly it felt like she was starving. Ached to be held longer, to be spoiled and treated like a real princess. There'd only been one person who'd ever treated her close to this and she'd long since accepted that loss and thought the wound closed and scarred over.
Now she was having to come face to face with the fact that it most certainly wasn't, and she wanted.
This was far more than she'd wanted or expected to learn about herself when she'd teased him in the shop. So she smiles, though it's wobbly still, and she laughs, breathless and flustered.]
How am I supposed to let you go if you're so sweet to me?
[ that laugh is not joy, and something in her voice changes. For a moment, his grip slackens and he nearly pulls away. What line had he crossed, what cue had he missed…? ]
If I’ve acted out of line, I sincerely apologize—
[ Then her words catch up with him, the attempt to make herself sound happy or at least carefree. His chest aches, because he remembers feeling that, when he was much younger. He knows there’s a chance he is going to make this worse for her, but if this is where she’s at, she is the only one who will be able to get herself from drowning to the surface. At least he can be a safe place to catch her breath.
And if that is the case, expecting her to take the lead is cruel. So, with her body still trembling with something more than an orgasm, he gets an arm up under her legs, twisting her so she’s cradled in his lap. ]
You’re safe, my lady. It’s alright. I’m not planning on leaving until you dismiss me, and if you wish my company again, it’s yours.
[ He tucks her into his hold, resting his head against her, acting like a shield to anything but this moment. Something in him aches, happy to sit like this indefinitely. She’s so soft and firm and warm, and to be touched with such kindness — he will cherish it long after they part. ]
send help she's not used to having to deal with her ACTUAL feelings
[The moment she feels his arms start to loosen she clutches him close, a little more desperately than she'd meant to, but she didn't want to be alone. Not right now. Heart pounding at the idea alone, she shook her head. Anything but that. So she gently cups his jaw, keeping him close enough that she can kiss his cheek.]
No, no, it's not you, you're fine. You're wonderful.
[When he turns her there's a moment where it's easy to see the nervous flush to her face, the way her gaze immediately drops to hide her moment of weakness from him though it's easy to see how young she looks in that moment. The fear of a hunted thing whose sense of safety has been torn away too many times haunting her even when she thought she was free of that feeling. So when he holds her she clings to him like a lifeline, hugging him tighter than she means to, soaking up the feeling of him holding her.]
Sorry, I didn't mean to sound like I didn't want you here. I'd love it if you stayed. I really want you to stay, if you'd like to.
[No, she wanted to be greedy. To soak up this warmth as long as she could. As long as he'd let her.]
[ he knows the way she clings to him. He’s done it before, always without meaning to. It’s the clutch of someone who has lost too much, held it back but had it shaken loose for whatever reason.
He strokes her hair with one hand, kissing her head and keeping her secure with the other. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t doing something for him to be held this intensely. It’s not about him, he knows, but it’s such a kind and intimate touch.
When he speaks it’s low and gentle. ]
I’ll stay, Aerith. I’d like to. We can sit like this as long as you wish, and when you’re ready, why don’t we take all these things off, and I’ll lie with you? Like this again if you want, or just to sleep. It makes me no difference.
[The touch to her hair surprises her, but it's not long before she seems to melt from the touch, sighing softly in contentment. It feels so good, she can't remember being held like this, and the kiss leaves her with a smile on her face. This was really nice. A gentler warmth than what had her melting before, this was warm and comforting and left her practically purring against him in quiet happiness.]
Mmm, that sounds good.
[She nods, burying her face into the safe place between his neck and shoulder. A hand finds its way back to the nape of his neck, rubbing small circles above his collar when she wasn't combing her fingers through his hair.]
Thank you, Basch. You're really good at making a girl feel special, you know that? You do look great in those pants, but they really don't look very comfortable.
[ she settles so readily into his hold, sighing and cuddling against him, and he can’t help the gentle smile it puts on his face. She’s so young, and so sweet and strong. He really is honored to help shelter her and show her some respite. She’ll be alright; she has a fighter’s spirit and a taste for warmth. But it’s a hard path to walk.
And then she shifts, wrapping around him and stroking his neck and it’s his turn to purr, hand wide on her skin and nose in her hair. He shouldn’t be this weak to being held, but she’s so warm and soft, so sweet without asking anything of him.
Her comment reminds him that he’s still extremely hard and wearing nonsense. He chuckles, stroking her hair one more time before he moves his arms under her, standing with her still in his arms. He maneuvers them so he can set her lightly on the bed, kissing her forehead as he sets her down, one arm still around her as he starts working on loosening the pants. He’s not letting her go, just moving to get more comfortable. ]
I do want to be clear that I have no expectation for you to take care of me. I am more than happy with this evening.
[She was comfortable and warm and in that moment would have loved to simply cuddle so she could enjoy the sweet noises he made, so he catches her by surprise enough that her grip tightens instinctively around his shoulders when he lifts her. Not that she minded, as knowing he could easily scoop her into his arms and carry her was thrilling, and his chuckle had left her feeling warm all over and she wished to hear more of it. But it ends too quickly and she only manages to make a token whine of protest when he deposits her on the bed.
Her pout is clearly for show from how dramatic it is, disapproving of seemingly being separated from his warm embrace and it's dropped just as quickly as she put it on when he placates her with a kiss.]
Oh? You thought you were getting out of finishing what we started?
[Her brows arch and she smiles up at him, at least until she notices what he's doing with his hand. Then her smile grows wider, and it's playful and lighthearted again as she rests her head on his shoulder.]
Because I don't remember saying I was done, you know. Your fingers felt amazing but I think I'm more than ready for more. Do you want help with that?
[It was so easy to slide a hand into the wide opening of his shirt, her fingers splayed across his chest to feel the beat of his heart beneath her palm as she watched him work his trousers open one-handed.]
I think that it is worth checking in when circumstances change.
[ He says it evenly but not unkindly; if it’s a thing no one has told her, then he will be the one to say it. She always has a right to change her mind. ]
But so long as you wish for more, I will do my best to satisfy.
[ Her exaggerated expressions and bright eyes do get a gentle smile from him, though. Something about this is new for her. She’s not in control of expressing her wants or feelings directly. Youth, yes, but something else. And that’s perfectly alright. He’s honored to have gotten a glimpse.
As to what he wants, well. ]
I wish to see and hear you so lost in pleasure and adequately exhausted to sleep deeply, my lady.
[ He closes his eyes, I taking deeply at the feeling of her hand on his chest as he gets his cock free, disentangling only enough to work his pants off the the floor. ]
You said it would be your first; you are welcome to explore as you wish. You will not cause me discomfort. Now, how do I help remove this garment from you? It is my first.
i am so sorry for taking forever and then leaving you with one of the least serious things...
Hmmmm, makes sense to me. As long as everyone's still having a good time that's the important part.
[Yet his next words leave her flustered, and she ends up hiding her face in one of the frilly ruffles at the collar of his shirt. There was just something about the way he said it that lit her up on the inside with the giddy, fluttery feeling that she couldn't remember when the last time was that she'd felt it. Unconsciously squeezing him tighter as she giggled from the rush before he pulled away. Aerith let her hand trail across bare skin before he was out of reach, but only for a moment.
Biting her lip, her finger wound into a loose curl of hair, wrapping it tight before letting the curl spring free again. Basch might not be at his peak of health, but that didn't stop him from being handsome. Battered and scarred, and worn thin at the edges in a way that good meals and peaceful rest would surely solve in time, but she still ran her hands over his thighs, up his hips and under his shirt to grip his waist before leaning in to plant a gentle kiss at the lowest point of the plunging neckline.
Only to lean back and peer down at her own excuse of an outfit with open bafflement.]
You know, that's a great question. Um...
[A twist, peering at the overlapping straps before finding the most obvious gaps.]
Oh! It's a top and a bottom, okay, that's not so bad. I think if you just...hook your hands under this bit it can be lifted off? And the bottom bit can just be slid off like normal from what I can tell. It just looks extra complicated, I think.
[Not that it stops her from letting out a faint yip when a strap she'd tugged experimentally slipped from her grasp to snap back into place and catching her right on a tender spot, leaving her with a hand clapped over her abused nipple with a wince.]
Ow....
Edited (the one typo....) 2024-01-23 10:46 (UTC)
seriously no worries on either. i love chaos for him
[ Had he said something wrong? Her face is buried in his shirt, clinging like a startled youth.
He's only left hesitating for a moment, because her hand trails up his leg, across his thigh and torso, and if he weren't already hard, he'd be there now. Her touch is so assertive, but warm. It makes he breath catch. No one has touched him like that in...a very long time.
And the way she kisses makes his stomach twist and flutter. She puts such value on him.
He wishes to live up to it.
And he smiles a little, that she doesn't know how the garment works any better than he does. It eases the discomfort of what he's wearing. Though his brows knit as she makes a sound of pain. This will prove more challenging than he expected. ]
Slow and gentle then.
[ His hands come tot he bottom portion first, tugging her up she he can get his hands under it, a barrier between the tight straps and her skin. It cuts against him, but he doesn't mind, likes the sting even. It's easy enough, to work the tight contraption down her legs, but it leaves him close to her, breath hot against her shoulders and neck, suddenly very aware of his naked arousal so close to her now bare lower body. ]
There -- now the top.
[ This is even more intimate, hands sliding up over her waist and under the straps, brushing her breasts. ]
Arms up, mm, there--
[ He works it up, careful to use his own hands to ease the straps over breast and nipple, breathing growing more ragged as he caresses her skin. It takes slow going, to get the tight pieces over her shoulders and head without disturbing her hair too badly, but then it's tossed aside, and they are near flush, both naked.
He places his hands on her sides, roaming them over her stomach and then around to her ass, testing, enjoying. Fascinated by the light discoloration and bumps left by the harness. ]
You said this would be your first cock. You are welcome to touch and explore as you desire.
[ Basch wouldn't disagree. His life had been so full of hollowness; anything else was a luxury, and that's not what he was built for. ]
One needs hope to survive, but too much can be as poisonous as none.
[ His gaze is far away, his fists tightening. But it passes. He's always been soothed by those who can live that way; that's the world he fights for, the people he wants to protect.
Olivine may be less naive than he appears; Basch is more. Years in prison and on the run have eroded already weak social awareness, and so he is unabashedly surprised when Olivine so earnestly accepts his offer. ]
Privacy would not be remiss.
[ He doesn't really want to don the terrible t-shirt he's been provided with, but clean clothing and a quiet space are some of the luxuries he has come to cherish, and there is no doubt he's growing hungry. ]
Basch. [ That name is not a danger here, an odd thing to consider. ] Good to meet you.
[ah, but those words say more than not, and Olivine can't help but commiserate the feeling. an abundance of hope is a poison, true... but he doesn't need to lecture this man about it. not here and now, in the middle of the baths at least.]
We're in agreement, then.
[privacy shouldn't be too hard to find, at least—he's sure his erstwhile bedmate is long gone, so there's always the room he woke up in if they can't find anywhere else.]
A pleasure, Basch. Even under the circumstances. [with all other thoughts summarily thrown out, Olivine approaches the taller man, slow and unobtrusive.] Do you have a place in mind? We can stop to redress our clothes on the way, of course, but beyond that...
[ Olivine is...beautiful. It strikes Basch more in the way he carries himself. Someone confident and at ease. Balthier has that, when he's not showing off. But Olivine is softer, inviting. It makes him easy to look at, easy to talk to. ]
I'd meant to get new clothing after this. Perhaps after, one of the fireplaces they have set up across the building?
[ They were private, cozy, not so unsettling for him as some of the more futuristic materials and styles. ]
[soft, certainly... but if Olivine knew he was seen as confident, he would probably laugh at his own expense. sure, he's come leaps and bounds from where he was, but he's still a person who masks his pain behind helping others.
of course, he'd also be relieved to be someone Basch feels some sense of calm with.]
That sounds like a wonderful plan. I could use something a little less... awkward to wear, myself. [he smiles broadly then, at the thought of the fireplaces.] And if we're lucky, perhaps they'll have some cocoa to enjoy while we sit. It was always one of my favourite things about the holidays, spending time around the fires, drinking sweet drinks and watching the children open gifts.
[he is just too soft, sometimes. but now he can step away from the mirror, its terrible omens all but forgotten, and stand proudly with his new conversation partner.]
[ Was knowing who one was and how to engage with others not confidence? Privacy had nothing to do with it in Basch's eyes.
and Olivine absolutely glows as he talks about fireplaces and holidays. ]
We shall have to hope there are no children here, but the comfort of a sweet drink and a fire are the most agreeable suggestions I've heard today.
[ No matter he'll abstain from something as indulgent as cocoa, but a fire...that he'll allow.
Basch nods, and, retrieving the terrible shirts and undergarments they'd been given, does his best not to appear as flustered as he feels walking to the shops like this. It's...easier that so many are in similar situations, or wearing things that are much more revealing.
They split up to find clothes, and it takes him some time to find anything...plain. But he does, and that is a victory. He slips into a dressing room, uneasy at the large holes, and does his best to change quickly. He's about to step out and pay when there's an odd buzzing sensation, not unlike reaching into the Mist, and a flash across his vision. When it clears, he's red near to his navel, which is now exposed. His top, scarred and muscled and gleaming with small golden hairs, bears only a harness of dark leather and metal, obviously meant to tantalize. The bottom is worse, a strappy thing that covers his manhood and little else, his ass bare save a strap down the middle and two garters encircling his massive thighs, connecting to the strap at his waist.
He felt less exposed in the baths.
Neither set of actual clothing are anywhere to be found, which leaves him in the predicament that he'd have to leave like this to solve the problem. ]
Olivine?
[ He calls, a little hoarse. Maybe he can get the other man to hand him...literally anything to get out of this stall and this store. ]
Haha, certainly not! Sorry, I just got caught up in memory.
[His horror when he realises how young people can be... will be its own thing. Until then, he walks with Basch, just piping up whenever he thinks of something or the other man speaks in turn. After all, he figures that keeping the man's attention on something other than the plainly awkward shirts they have to wear should be... at least a little helpful.
He's almost reluctant to leave Basch on his own to find clothes, but of course that's silly. The man can clearly handle himself, and... well, they're both looking for very different things. Olivine can already feel himself getting antsy with his gemstone brushing his shirt, after all.
Finding something that looks good together is actually his difficulty, though Olivine isn't so picky as to struggle too much. He has a few vouchers and such, so it's easy to pick up a few options (that will inevitably be too tight in the chest, because honestly how is he built this way) and had toward the changing rooms with.
... hearing his name is a little surprising.]
Is everything alright, Basch?
[It takes a moment to find the right stall, and he waits for an answer even after, before he'll go to slip inside at all. Privacy and all, even in the face of those holes. He's curious, but the blond's comfort comes first.]
[ it was not alright but he wasn’t going to share that. He’s trying to avoid his own reflection but the mirrors on three sides of the room make that exceedingly difficult. ]
I, ah, could you toss me and large shirt and trousers? There was an issue with these.
[Basch... somehow, that sounds even more concerning. Probably because he should have clothes in there, shouldn't he?]
... did something happen to the other clothes? [was it to do with the holes?] Ah—sorry, I'll see what I can find. I have some shirts you can try, but I don't think the trousers would fit you.
[they're both remarkably built, but Olivine's body slims down around the waist. In any case, he starts by at least holding out one of the shirts, simple but... definitely short. It won't cover Olivine's stomach, and that's kind of the point.]
He sees the shirt enter the stall, grasps at it long enough to process that it's cropped, but the moment it leaves Olivine's hands, it simply disappears.
He makes a strangled, defeated noise. Is this this place's commentary that he hasn't selected acceptable clothing? ]
Would you...find an attendant?
[ Olivine doesn't get a chance, though, because a length of leather loops around his neck, snapping shut as the lead pulls him into the stall, the handle sliding into Basch's hand. There is absolutely nowhere to hide, and his eyes are wide, equal parts embarrassed out of his mind and staring at what Olivine has dressed himself in.
That's before he realizes that he's holding a lead now attached to the other man's neck. ]
I --
[ He's so red. ]
Is there someone who can assist us? [ he calls, hoarse. He'd rather one person see them than...walk out like this. ]
[It's concerning, of course. The defeated noise says something about it, and his brows furrow lightly at his distress.]
Right, I'll—
[He's cut off with an undignified yelp as a collar wraps itself around his throat, looking for someone nearby in the instant before the leash itself just pulls him into the changing room. It's not the leash or the fact that it's in Basch's hand that catches his attention, but the outfit he's been unfortunately stuffed into.
Unfortunate for Basch, that is; Olivine's eyes drift over him as politely as they can, and it takes a moment of control to prevent himself from saying anything about how he looks (which is fantastic, honestly). He himself is dressed in another of those cropped shirts, the muscle of his abs on display as much as the pretty green gem attached to his navel. His pants are maybe a little tight too, certainly fitted nicely.]
I... don't think there was anyone around... [Olivine is apologetic, brows furrowing further. He's ignoring his own flushed cheeks now.] We may need to grab something on the way out for you. Ah—not that this looks bad on you, but I assume something made it change.
[There is no doubt in his mind that someone like Basch didn't choose something like this, then got it all the way on before realising.]
[ He squirms as Olivine looks him over, but the face doesn't change from sympathetic, except the red in his cheeks. Basch is doing alright, until Olivine all but compliments him.
He closes his eyes, nodding. Something on the way out. Just...get back to their rooms. ]
Let's get this off of you first. [ He steps closer, body flushed, trying not to think about the fact that their stomachs could easily brush like this. But his fingers scrabble around it, and there is no clasp. What's more, when he tries to hand the lead to Olivine, it will not release his hand. ]
It...seems we have to keep this for now too. Is that alright? [ As if he could do anything if it wasn't.
On Olivine's confirmation -- with his knees nearly jelly -- they emerge from the booth. No one is around the immediate vicinity, and he'll pull on a pair of pants and boots that thankfully stay put. It's...awkward, having to hold Olivine close on the lead. And worse, something about the sight of it threatens to excite him.
Curse this entire place.
And, unable to face the cashier, he slides a mask off a display. At check-out, the clerk apologizes, confirming what he feared. The rogue item needs its purpose met to release, otherwise it could be anywhere from a few hours to a few days before it does so on its own. ]
I...suppose we should take care of this then [ Basch murmurs as they walk out, trying to keep the lead comfortably between them so they can walk with ease. ]
[Basch steps closer and this time, Olivine has to pause and take in a breath. he's doing better than the blond, sure, but that doesn't mean everything is just perfect. the collar feels comfortable around his neck, after all, and his eyes close briefly at the scrabble of fingers, careful but not terribly delicate.
he only just manages to hide his shiver when they reach the realisation that the leash just... won't let him give it away.]
It's alright. I... don't dislike the feeling that much. If it would help, I can walk first so you don't have to worry about being so exposed.
[either way, they make it out to the cashier, and Olivine murmurs a soft thanks to them for the confirmation. at least they're done here, and the leash itself will likely let Basch go if he does seem completely unwilling (which probably says something that it's still holding on tight).]
Right... should we go to the rooms? I... don't mind somewhere else, but those would be the most private, of course. [he's finding it a little harder to keep Basch's own intricacies in mind when having a leash makes him want, makes him think about what it would feel like if he was a little less gentle, if he pulled just so.]
[ It...occurred to him too. That the leash would let go if they weren't both on some level wanting this. It flusters him so badly that he can't meet Olivine's eye.
Olivine, who is being so sweet about this. Interested even. That was right -- he liked this sort of thing. Which Basch admires, really. It's just...
The emotions make his stomach twist, barely able to even name them. ]
I -- yes. That seems reasonable.
[ Reasonable. None of this is reasonable. He adjusts the mask on his face with his free hand. It's not like his hair and build aren't recognizable, but it gives him some comfort to have his face hidden.
The hall becomes crowded at a junction, and he steps left to avoid it, Olivine right, causing the rope to lead to tug tighter. His head snaps up, immediately wanting to check on the other, only to be met with at least four or five gazes on them. Even in passing they are approving, hungry, one disgusted.
A strange heat rolls through him, and the urge to stand taller, to tug the lead more intentionally whispers in his mind. ]
Are you alright? [ he asks instead, closing the space between them so the lead goes slack. This time his eyes wander more slowly across Olivine. He is -- beautiful, and confident. Basch would never have the comfort with himself to wear something like that. ]
[for a moment, Olivine can only smile, reaching to take Basch's free hand in his own in a moment of reassurance.]
Just breathe. No one will be looking too hard at you, Basch. I'll make sure of it.
[it's perhaps a strange thing to say, an offering to make... but Olivine is into this. he's into the idea of being noticed, of being coveted just outside of someone else's reach. it's even easier here, where no one really knows who or what he is.
he's not exaggerating to say no one is going to be paying attention to Basch's face, either, or anything else that would immediately ID him. sure, he's not openly out in a mess of straps and clasps, but people are always more interested in the show, the gossip of it.
... in any case, the going is easy until it's absolutely not, and a moment of confusion sees them both pulling in opposite directions, leash going taut and tugging Olivine along both in response and out of necessity to not trip someone else. it could be forgiven if Basch didn't hear the absolutely lascivious noise it rips out of the priest, catching the ear (and eyes) of a few passersby.
not so long ago, it would have made him want to die. to just wither away into the dark never to be seen again, even in this crowd of strangers. it's really because of that that he can understand Basch's own hesitation, and it would have probably stamped out his embarrassment even were it still stronger. the blond steps in to him, and in turn Olivine's gaze tilts up just the slightest bit.]
... I'm fine. [softly, and as eyes wander his body, utterly unaware that Basch finds it even the slightest bit salacious, he can't help it. he promised, after all, and so he reaches up to gently cradle the blond's jaw, eyes closing briefly. then, a little louder:] You're my master, and I should be able to follow you anywhere. Please forgive me, but I can't help but like it when you make it hard on me. It reminds me that you're not looking at anyone else.
[the words are... only half improvised. it's easy to speak from the depths of what he's been thinking for the last—God, however long it's been since they'd stepped out of the baths. moreover, when he presses in close enough that their chests press together, bulky arms cover his face when he leans in to whisper, with a little more kindness and honesty:]
You won't hurt me, Basch. I've... been hoping you would pull a little since we left the store. I'll take whatever you're willing to give.
[it's going to be a lot to take in all at once, but while they're here in public, things happen fast. just like him stepping back to bow down, ever the picture of a penitent man.
he just... hopes it isn't too much all at once. he'd meant to take it a little slower, at least until they were properly in private.]
[ Further shame curls in his stomach that this stranger has to care for him. But it's appreciated, which only makes the shame heavier.
But nothing could prepare him for Olivine's strategy in doing so, his eyes going wide and his mouth parting, a sinking embarrassment at the truth of the words. He' not looking at anyone else, and furthermore, he very much was looking at Olivine.
And it had not even occurred to him, even with the leash, even with the clerk's explanation and Olivine's offer, that the other had been interested before that.
His breath comes as a shallow rasp, too shocked to move but aching at how close Olivine is. He nods once. If...if that's what Olivine wants, he can provide. ]
Alright.
[ The bow, though, makes his stomach twist. He isn't someone who deserves deference, has no desire for power. The shame of that, though, the pressure to keep character, that does do something for him, as horrible as it is. And he has a duty to this man.
Heart pounding, he twists the lead in his hand, pulling (if gently) tighter so that Olivine can feel it. ]
Come [ How does this even work? ] ...servant.
[ He has to very deliberately turn and walk, even if his ears are straining for sound of pain or discomfort, even if he wants to just fall to his own knees and ask what Olivine wishes. He does his best to put his shoulders back, act the confident faceless guard. Olivine is right that eyes will be on the beautiful, leashed prince of a man. He's thankful, even as he wants to protect the other from the degrading, hungry gazes that follow them.
Usually even keeled, something is off, and that anger flares. ] He is mine [ he nearly snarls, and a wave of anticipation and terror washes through him at realizing that is true, until the lead relinquishes them. ]
[it had been a gambit, in part, to get Basch to focus on everyone else. to draw his thoughts in close, closer, until the world falls away—a tactic Eiden has used on him to great success too. he's certainly learned from every encounter they've had. he's also glad it works, even if he regrets having to cause more embarrassment, more shame.
they'll talk about it later, when they're not in public anymore. shame isn't something he deserves, and while he's sure that conversation won't go yet, he can at least offer him some comfort in private. hopefully.]
Yes, master. I will try to match your pace.
[in some way, it's a reciprocal thing, hearkening back to the letters etched in fog on glass. Olivine technically less so than Basch, but in ignoring his plain discomforts, there's something a little dehumanising in the moment.
before Basch begins moving, Olivine shifts to gently wrap some of the length of the lead around his hand, shortening the length. a reminder, a promise. that this is what he wants, what he's agreed to. shortening the leash only means it's easier to get little tugs in, even though the priest can more or less keep up.
he'll find no pain or discomfort in his voice though—quite the opposite. and though Olivine's heart pounds at the sensation of gazes on him, hungry and wanting, that too is not displeasure. he likes it. really likes it, in fact. being seen is usually such a fear, but no one knows him. no one is looking at a priest of Klein, just a young man in a leash, dutifully following his "master."]
... do you want to show them, Master?
[the sensation of anger is perhaps too real, and Olivine almost slips back into soothing. it's difficult to ask it as a question, rather than to reassure him that he's allowed to do it, that Olivine wants it. he's stepped up next to the taller man where he's paused, fingers subtly finding their way to cling to Basch's shirt to hopefully soothe.]
They can't have me, no matter how desperately they try. I know you'll protect me. But if you want to make them see, I trust you with all of me.
[he is... a pretty decent actor, really; all that idol training definitely paid off. it's not helping with dissuading the eyes on him, but that wasn't what he was trying to do anyway.]
[ Something is off. Because the more this ticks on, the more he finds his eyes flitting around, some strangled mix of wanting to protect Olivine's honor and absolutely ruin it in front of these cloying heathens burns through his veins. Below it, though, is a desperate voice telling him no, restraint, honor. Do not do this.
Olivine's suggestions are not helping, making his breath come heavy. Trusts him. As a protector. Willing to be claimed.
Basch has never wanted to claim anything in his life.
Or has he? Has it just been so pushed down? What is serving a commander or a charge, if not claiming them. They are mine. I am closest to them. I protect and serve them. I am theirs, and thus they are mine.
His eyes are slightly dilated, his usually submissive movement rigid. His eyes search, a soldier's eyes taking in the terrain.
Not so far up is one of the alcoves with a fireplace and furniture, partially hidden but not private by any stretch. ]
Yes [ he growls. ] We will show them. Come. [ This time he does not hesitate to pull the lead taught as he strides toward the glowing niche. Someone tries to reach out and touch Olivine, giggling, and he growls, swatting their hand before it reaches. ] He is under my protection. Only mine.
[something is off, and it reminds Olivine of essence fluctuations. Not the same, of course—if it was, it would be affecting him just as strongly, wouldn't it? But then... maybe he is more affected than not.
It's a belated occurrence, even after their long talk, that this is... fairly unlike him. He'd chalk it up to Eiden's influence in a pinch, but who really knows?
Basch—shifts, his eyes turning to the surroundings before he speaks. Accepts the offer, to Olivine's surprise.
come, he says, and Olivine gives another soft moan when the lead tugs at his neck. Legs press into motion and he keeps up as best he can, gently squeezing a hand in reassurance when he stops to swat a bystander's hand away. There, it's alright... this time he doesn't soothe with words, just follows the short pathway to the seats at the end. At least he seems close enough to prevent others from grabbing for him again. Soon, there's the added warmth from the fire crackling,]
[ Whatever in Basch is still concerned eases every time Olivine moans, something more strangled and ashamed when the man squeezes his hand in reassurance. It's not unwelcome though.
They pull into the little niche. The fire crackles, and there's a high backed wooden chair, a loveseat whose back is not enough to shield them from view, and a thick rug. A drawered end table stands between the furniture.
He turns abruptly as they get inside, pulling the lead tight as his mouth roughly takes Olivine's, his other hand snaking down to the man's ass. That was how he liked to be treated in this dynamic. His mind is spinning though; even with the unknown magic running through him, this isn't a role he has experience with.
So it's entirely him when he asks gently ] How can I make this good for you?
[Oh, Olivine practically melts when Basch captures his mouth, lead pulled tight and a hand at his ass. Lashes flutter and droop, and it's a miracle his eyes don't close.
They're sure to have an audience, by now. Olivine is both thrilled and terrified, and so—he keeps his focus ahead, on the blonde in front of him. Softly, without a hint of that aggression, he asks how to make this good for him, and Olivine chuckles softly, tongue flicking across Basch's lips.]
Just focus on how you'd like this to be done to you. [He cradles the other's jaw then.] ... I'll try to point you to what I want, but you won't hurt me no matter how rough you are. If it goes too far... I'll say a word. Let's go with... "seahorse." Okay? If you hear that, then you stop.
So please don't hesitate to hurt me a little. Pull my hair, bite me, bruise me. I'm still in control. You're doing what I want. Don't stop unless you hear that word.
[He is, after all. With a safe word in place, that's even more true; it implies the idea that if Olivine doesn't say that word, he's expressly consenting to whatever happens. ]
I finally return to my computer and YAY HE'S IN more of their messes to come
[ He's nodding, eyes dilated but a calm settling over him. Orders. He can do orders. He can focus on what the rules are, what Olivine wants, and knowing the other has a word to tell him to stop. That helps. Even if he doesn't believe he won't hurt the man. Still, for once, he's alright with his full strength not being back. Hurting a little, though, that he can do. He understands the joy of that. ]
Alright. Remove my shirt.
[ He assumes he was put in that harness for a reason, hopefully one that was Olivine's taste.
He jerks the lead, almost hesitating, but turns to bite the soft curve of Olivine's neck, waiting only until he hears the other react to pull back. A tease. Is he...doing this right? He can't ask. That isn't his role. ]
[Basch may never know just how deeply depraved Olivine is, but that's fine. not everyone needs to, after all.]
Yes, master.
[Olivine exhales it as a soft, pleasant sigh; he doesn't know why the game chose to do what it did, but he's certainly not displeased with it. warm fingers find the edge of Basch's shirt, curling there to start pulling it up—an act that pauses when teeth press down against his neck. Ah...
he's not hard to read, by any means. the pressure sees him pressing in closer, a soft whine of a moan escaping parted lips. not long enough, probably to satisfy Olivine—but that's what teases are for, aren't they. the priest has a job to do, and right now that job is dutifully working Basch's shirt off, his gaze falling shyly, hungrily, on the harness still left underneath.]
Please don't tease me so, master...♥
[there is not a single word in the sentence that makes it sound the slightest bit earnest, at least, nor does Olivine's expression suggest he's the least bit bothered. it's the first time, in fact, that he's been able to make up a reason to pause but not... push himself to do so, to let himself descend into true debauchery for once. are people looking? they must be, he's sure, and the idea only excites him more.]
[ He's...not certain at all he likes that title, but he does like the way Olivine sighs. Likes the whining moan even more, his cock reacting more readily than his heart is willing to. And this time, he does see Olivine's eyes take him in. Well, this thing is alright, if it's making the other man so desirous. This should be good for him. ]
I will tease you until you beg. [ It's a low growl, as much because he is still uncertain of himself as because he thinks that's what he would want. And that odd sensation in him is bubbling up. He wants people to hear, to know, to watch, even as some other part of him is terrified of that kind of observation. He reaches out, running his fingers delicately through Olivine's hair once, then tightening his grip, pulling his head back so that they look at each other. ]
And I want you to beg loud enough that this entire floor knows you are mine.
[ He flushes as he says it, face twisting for a moment as the urge to apologize rises up. But the real panic is the way he likes it, likes that Olivine likes it, likes the absolutely humiliating feeling of being seen like this and someone...commenting on it later. Asking for him to be this again. ]
Why did you stop undressing me? [ But he jerks Olivine's head to the side, biting the other side of his neck, harder. ] I thought you wanted to be taken.
[He's losing a lot more of his sense than Olivine wants to admit, every time Basch speaks. It's the growling, the surety of it... for a moment, he almost forgets how awkward Basch had been.]
Ah... haah... mnngh—!
[a pull of hair and Olivine squirms, every inch of him practically on fire. His lips part for soft, panting breaths, fondness in his pleasure-dulled gaze.]
My... haah... my apologies...
[heat pools deeper as his fingers stall, lost for a moment in the sensation—but then Basch bites down on his neck, harder still, and he could swoon if he wasn't still aware.]
Nngh! I do... I do. [panting, his hands lose their gentleness, pulling abruptly and impatiently at fabric until it's out of the way.] Please give me more. ♡
[He's already so hard under everything he's wearing, and as he finishes stripping away Basch's clothing he leans in a bit more.]
How much can I take off of mine...? I don't how which sounds best... there are so many options to show off for you... hehe. I can't pull off my shirt, but I'll do anything else you want me to...
[ despite his reservations, it’s so clear that Olivine is melting into the pleasure of this. His own breath hitches, cock responding to the eroticism of making another hungry. It turns into a genuine moan as Olivine’s touch gets more impatient, the cool hair suddenly biting his hot skin. For once, he isn’t worried about his body being seen. There’s no flinching, no attempt to skirt his gaze away. ]
You’re quite ready, but I am not. How will you tempt me to give you what you want, you needy thing?
[ He keeps his voice a low growl, tugging the lead right to jerk Olivine’s face to his. A kiss. Gentle, first, checking if the other is alright, reminding them both this is an act. And then he bits his lip, shoves his tongue against the other’s and skims his hand down his front to oh so briefly palm his impressive erection.
And then he brings it around Olivine’s backside, smacking his ass hard enough to make an audible sound. If people weren’t aware, they likely are now. ]
[if he's honest, Olivine has half-forgotten this is an act. not the fact that Basch is handling him this way—distantly, he hasn't forgotten their words or the fact that he needs to keep some sense of control here (insomuch as he's enjoying having "none," as is his wont), but the actual act...
well, it heats him up more than the blond could really know.]
Ah—I'll... mmh...
[lids lilt downward as Basch pulls him closer, lips meeting in sweet comfort first, a reminder. Olivine is definitely deeply buried in the moment, all the pleasure of it threatening to strip him of sense here and there... but even as teeth connect with the soft flesh of his lip, as a tongue dives between them to meet his own, he manages to keep hold of a thread of it.
it's just for Basch, probably. he certainly doesn't need it. a hand palms him and the priest rises up into it, sighing into his partner's lips, only to jolt and yelp sweetly at the smack of his ass. fuck.
shuddering, he ignores the aching squeeze of his body to focus on the task. what he's been asked. what Basch needs, really.]
Haah... haaaah... should I tell you... how needy I am? [his arms skim up over the other's shoulders, still trembling with want. usually, it would take a little longer to break this way, he supposes... but it's necessary, and he wants to. his voice drops to a heady whisper, something kept strictly between them, unworthy of anyone else.] Would that be enough?
How I keep thinking about being pressed—face first into the furniture, squirming while you work me open on your fingers...? [face-first is a soft little concession for himself, granted. being seen is... God, it's enough to get him off, but he's still not sure how he feels about the actual idea of feeling it, at least with a bunch of onlookers.] My arms held behind my back, unable to do anything but beg you to fill me. And when you do, to feel it so deep, hotter than my skin with every slap... ah.
[ah. just thinking about it has him squirming again, an excellent sign really.]
I want so many things... nngh... but these people aren't worthy of seeing them all.
[ It certainly helps to see how thoroughly Olivine is being overtaken by want. Was this what it was like for his own partners, watching him become overwhelmed with need? He was sure he was never so enthusiastic, and it almost makes him embarrassed to see how open Olivine is. Embarrassed, and envious.
He doesn’t know what he needs now, though, and he appreciates Olivine trying, even if being told how wanted he is turns out to be a big icy pour or cold water. Olivine doesn’t want him. He wants whatever this act is, and while Basch can give that, it does nothing to get him ready. It shouldn’t matter. He shouldn’t need to be put in a position that allows him to do this, especially when Olivine is the more vulnerable. Why can’t his just will himself to it?
But Olivine keeps going, and that fantasy pulls a real rasping groan from Basch. That he can understand the appeal of, and it’s something he can provide.
He keeps his voice low, that deep grumble, pulling the lead tight and cupping Olivine in the palm of his hand, applying just enough pressure to his sack to make it rougher than a tease.
These people aren’t worthy of seeing any of your pleasure, but I want it clear you are mine. If you perform well enough, maybe I will give you more later, where only I can see. Now, strip down and get your ass up where I can reach it comfortably.
[ He loathes himself for what he’s saying, but he keeps his gaze steady on Olivine, watching the squirms of pleasure. It can’t be so bad if the other is so happy, and what does it matter to him? His own pleasure certainly doesn’t. ]
[Basch... is an idiot. Olivine hasn't registered it, just how deeply that self-scorn runs, though he no doubt will eventually. and it's true—what acts he speaks are factors unrelated to the blond himself—the green-haired priest has no shortage of fantasies he's indulged in over his time. whether or not they fit with Basch... well.
this is about a lot of things. mostly about shredding away the anxiety of the situation as best he can, the gentle consideration easily forgotten beneath vulgar words and vulnerable actions. this isn't Basch, and it isn't fair, he thinks, to him either. picking at whatever's affected him is...
... he'll apologise for it later.
but they share some things, at least. enough to keep him in it, and enough to give him more than enough words to say. maybe it's better that Olivine slips so hard into this role, right now.]
Mmnh... yes, sir.
[he can't help but pause briefly, a terribly fond motion in the way he cradles Basch's face amid all the carnal pleasure of it. breaking from him after that moment, Olivine moves to do as he's told, stripping off the cropped shirt he'd been wearing, then the pants and underwear, revealing a remarkably muscular form beneath.
the play at confidence is a little harder now, knowing there's doubtless people actually watching (and mostly watching him), but he takes a quiet breath and buries that anxiety, knowing it will fade once he's not alone in the space anymore. it's not hard to find a space to lift himself up, braced on the nearest bit of furniture, hips tilted up and back, glancing sweetly over his shoulder. true, he can't keep the flush from his cheeks, but that's already been there since the beginning. it's fine.]
[ he would not argue with that assessment. But he’s grateful for what little information he has about Olivine and that the other so thoroughly enjoys this, because it gives him a role and a task, and he can find comfort and direction in that.
But his eyes widen, face suddenly soft and vulnerable as Olivine cradles his face in unbridled affection and approval. Even through this odd haze, that makes Basch’s chest tight. He’d do anything Olivine wanted to get more of that look, he knows, and gods help him because he knows what a liability it is.
He doesn’t have to do anything for the time being, because Olivine slips away to undress. Basch has been around a thousand naked muscled soldiers, but his eyes still rove, catching on broad shoulders and a jewel glistening in his midriff, a strong ass. It occurs to him again he has no idea what a man like Olivine would be attracted to in him, but this place has its ways, and the thought is gone again, because Olivine is positioning himself and looking back wantingly.
Heart thundering, Basch closed the space between them, trained enough in suppressing his emotions to keep the shake from his hands. He splays his rough hands over Olivine’s back, feeling the ridges of muscle and bone, before letting one slide across his hip to palm his sack briefly, teasingly. ]
Very good, my pet. Now let’s hear you sing.
[ his mind reels looking for what he’d want if their positions were reversed, trying to ignore how public this is. He bends down, placing a kiss on Olivine’s back, then another, then taking the soft swell of flesh in his mouth and biting hard while his fingers dig into the man’s thighs. ]
[lucky for Basch, he'll find that Olivine is fairly reasonable person. Take care of himself and that'll be enough—
Olivine half-watches the approach, noting him more by the soft warmth that comes to hover just behind him. The feeling of rough hands on his back is enough to get his heart pumping more still, hips jolting at the squeeze of one at his sack. It earns a needy little groan, and Olivine lets his head dip down a little.]
As—you wish...
[His voice is a little breathy, eyes closing as warm lips caress his back, drifting over strong muscles until—
Until Basch bites down, digging fingers into his thighs and (perhaps accidentally) drawing Olivine to arch and shift, legs spread a little obscenely wide.]
Ah—haah... like that...
[fingers grip the cushion he's perched over, eyes closing as his lower body leans into the rough sensations. The thought that people are still watching is there, but it fades into something more distant as his thoughts turn toward making this at least a little pleasurable for them both.]
[ O-oh. Olivine arches, legs spreading, and heat jolts through Basch so intensely that he momentarily forgets his role. He'd always wondered why that turned on partners so thoroughly, but he thinks he understands now. It doesn't hurt that Olivine is giving him that gentle, delighted encouragement. He's relaxing a little, even if he's failed to notice.
And it's...really attractive, the way Olivine grips the couch, body taut and trembling. It's pleasing to see that. He can focus on that. He can do this.
But he also doesn't want to hurt him, not in ways that aren't intentional. ]
Be patient [ he admonishes, even though he thinks the other is extremely patient, given the circumstances. He gives his ass another bite, a slap on the other cheek before he pulls away, hoping the sudden lack of feeling will be teasing and not just awkward. But he opens the drawers in the tables, assuming--
Yes. There's lubricant, thankfully sealed. He twists it open, rolling some in his hands to warm it. As he does, he stands close enough Olivine can feel his heat but not so close they are touching.
Gods he feels so awkward. He has no idea if this is right, or if he should do more, or less, ask more feedback, give more commands. All he can do is try to muddle through. ]
You look so flushed and pretty, with your ass up waiting for me. Should I be kind, or should I make you wait?
[ Talking helps. Gives him a character, reminds him who he's supposed to be. Hands lubed, he steps forward, slotting one arm through Olivine's legs to drag a single finger down his legs and across his sack. ]
[be patient, he says, and really, it's perfectly in character isn't it? he might laugh if he weren't so worried about keeping Basch focused on him, on... anything but the outside. it's unfair to him, but what else can he do?]
I'm try—nngh!
[God, but it makes him ache for more, the sting of each bite and slap more enticing than the blond could really know. similarly, more than he knows, there may be no need to worry about hurting him, but that's also neither here nor there, buried in the way his insides ache for more.
the return of heat so close to his bare skin is a boon, his words drawing up little shivers as Basch speaks them. Olivine... has to wonder how many times he's been in this position, given their earlier conversation. but he has to focus, too.]
Haah... ah... I've been waiting so long... I don't know how much longer I can wait. Won't you please be kind to me?
[there is enough of a sly undertone to that that Basch could pick up the option there, though taking it at face value is certainly easy enough. Olivine won't mind either path, in the end.
he does shiver when an arm slips between his legs to draw a finger over them, slick with lube and hot against his neglected skin. a little whine escapes in turn, hips shifting impatiently at the teasing.]
[ There's a low chuckle to his voice, a genuine warmth at how wound up Olivine is. ]
If you make a mess early, I shall have to walk you upstairs naked like this, with everyone to see the shame of my still being hard.
[ A threat he'd enjoy, and that's all he has to go off. But he doesn't intend to withhold. Even with this pressure, he wants to satisfy, and Olivine gave him a clear map. He brings his hand back up, finger circling the other's entrance a few times as he leans forward, dragging the bulge in his undergarments against Olivine's leg. He considers his position, then, with no warning, slides a finger deep into the other man, free arm going to sling around his waist and pull him close, body curling over him so he can bite his neck.
His goal is to see how loud he can get him, and maybe some begging, and then he will gladly give him what he wants. And if he comes before that, well, it's not matter to Basch, really. ]
[Olivine can't find it in himself to be embarrassed by the chuckle, the words. they're not wrong, per se—the priest's evident abundance of stamina notwithstanding.]
I won't... haaah. Wouldn't... do that to you... mm.
[though really, that's up to Basch in the end. Olivine has a decent thread of self-control, but it has a limit. the other feels hot against his leg, even through cloth, and it's almost worse than the brush of a finger against his entrance. almost.
and Basch is in for a treat, by the first noise Olivine makes when his finger slides in, deep and insistent, weight pulled back into the warmth of another body. it's made louder still by another bite, fingers curling in the fabric beneath them, burying into it. immediately, it's not enough, but when is it ever?
for a moment he just waits, in spite of the way his whole body twitches and seems to beg for more all on its own, hazy gaze turned up to watch the blond as much as he can. he wants to ask for more, though. it won't be long before impatience hits, he knows.]
[ Perhaps if he were really this sort of person, he'd take some joy in proving Olivine wrong or trying to embarrass him, but he's not. He's already decided on a path and here's no reason to stray from it.
He's not expecting how vocal Olivine is, perhaps because he is so used to needing to be quiet, or being the one coaxed to loudness. There's no resistance, just sheer pleasure.
He's surprised, too, that Olivine waits. Perhaps that's part of the game for him, what with the way he's looking back so expectantly.
Basch slowly slides his finger out and back in. ]
How is that, pet? Do I keep you well?
[ He knows it is not enough; it shouldn't be, if he wishes to be fucked into the sofa, but it is good to build tension. ]
[truthfully, he's being a little quiet. Olivine is... just... really bad at it. he's also a person who feels things deeply (heh) and doesn't really see a reason to hide that unless he absolutely must.
to be honest, it surprises him too, though. whatever the case, his gaze hazes over once Basch's finger starts to move, easing out and back in.]
Haah... [agonising. it's agonising to wait when he knows what he wants, but he likes this.] I think you're trying—to make me lose my mind... master.
[of course it's not enough, not by a long shot, but at least the other is so close, bent so sweetly over him. he can work with that.]
[ Basch's lips twitch, but the expression is soft. Yes, that was the idea, and he appreciates the confirmation he's moving in the right direction. He knows what it is, to have that want built up before it is released. ]
What would you do if I gave no more? [ he growls, slowing his hand and leaning away from Olivine, decreasing contact but standing close enough the other can still sense him. ] Would you wait, patiently, or would you fuck yourself against my hand?
[ Still, it pangs something in him to hear Olivine ask. So direct, so sweet. He's never been on this end of things, not like this, and it feels like getting an entirely new angle on himself, even if their preferences aren't perfectly aligned.
He won't be withholding that strongly, in the end, but he hopes the threat of it is pleasing. ]
[close, not close enough. his hand slows and Olivine struggles not to squirm immediately.]
Ah... haah... I would try... to wait, of course. But I don't know if I could stop myself.
[he neither suspects not expects Basch to hold out too long—honestly, he's really just following the blond's lead here in the grand scheme of it. picking up what feels good, of course, and firmly keeping everything in the context of here and now, the roles they've chosen—but he wants to be careful not to overstep, even if he's not been warned of any possibility of that.]
I want to be a good pet... but I'm only so strong. [there's a soft purr to it, almost a promise really.]
[ It would be difficult to overstep, which is why Basch has said little on the subject. Still, the impulse is implicitly helping him ease into this. ]
You are an excellent pet, even if you are weak. [ He strokes his knuckles down Olivine's back, admiring the musculature and beautiful skin, such a soft contrast to his own. Then he slaps his ass again, hard, before leaning back to bite the other cheek again, encouraging the other to squirm against his unmoving hand. ]
It is a beautiful weakness [ he murmurs against his skin, free hand moving to cup his sack, knowing he's not providing enough stimulation. The weaker Olivine gets to his own desire, the more he'll enjoy being fucked. ]
[it's an interesting push and pull, every time. Basch teases gentleness over soft skin and follows it with the harsh slap of a palm, the press of teeth, and Olivine only just bites his sound down to a manageable level. staying still? he'd have to be forced, nearly, especially as his body clenches down in his want.]
Haaah... thank you... master... [for the compliment, clearly. and less clearly, for the rough treatment, as his hips jolt and shift against that unmoving hand, rocking between it and the gentle hold over his sack. not enough, no—the priest can take more than most, in fact—but that's the point. a shiver slides down his spine, lip worried between teeth. only a moment, really, before he breaks.]
Please... I need more of you... I still feel so empty...
[ What an...odd thing to be complimented for withholding like this, but he hopes it just means Olivine is enjoying himself. That and his movements.
So Basch slips in a second finger, roughly, and quickly after a third, switching to moving his hand much more quickly as he digs nails into Olivine's tender sack and returns to biting at his ass.
He's going to give him more, but he's going to let him react and squirm and beg a little more first. ]
[He has his word for if it all gets too much—which it won't, of course. Basch will understand... eventually. It'll be a long process.
But the press of fingers pulls more sound from the priest, hips rising up into his hand in little shuddery movements. A sharp groan escapes him at the feeling of nails digging carefully against sensitive skin, teeth against his ass. His body, at the very least, is almost impossible to misread. He's active and sensitive, jolting and pressing roughly back into Basch's movements.
And he manages a brief time, at least, under the onslaught of sensation and want. It's not even all that intentional, but Olivine gets lost in the treatment so easily, until his body feels like an absolute mass of beautiful, awful need. A hand shifts, wanting to touch himself for a little more sensation—pauses instead and finds purchase elsewhere, making way for the shudder that runs through him.]
Hnngh... ah... please... harder, more... Basch...
[that... isn't really related to the role he's in, not in the end. There's no hesitation to it, and almost no shame at all in his pleasure from it; just that little slip with his name, and he hasn't even quite noticed it slipped out.]
[ This is admittedly past where he'd usually tarry, at least as the one in charge, and the more unknown it gets, the more he doubts himself.
But Olivine shows no signs of discomfort. Immense desire, even. He catches that shift and redirect of a hand. Good.
If the name is a slip up, then it is a fortunate one. Something about it grounds him, reminds him that he isn't just this role -- one he isn't particularly good at. It's the delivery, really, not something he thinks about, but something he craves. Being wanted, being good.
Maybe it's not the rules of this game, but he pulls his hand out before discarding his meager undergarment. It's...odd, feeling exposed like this. For a moment he tenses, ears straining for the sound of people in the hall. But he shakes his head to clear it, reaching for the lubricant. They won't be free if they don't finish with this, and it would be rude to leave Olivine in this situation without relief.
He doesn't even notice how his mind skirts around and consideration of his own want or need, even as he lathers his hardened cock in slick oil.
It's too bad, he realizes, that the harness he wears is not on Olivine. It would give him something to pull on and guide. Alas. He'll make do with the leash, pulling it taught so that Olivine's neck is cut into lightly.
He then takes Olivine's hips firmly, lining himself up and easing in. He can be rough in a moment; he isn't going to risk this doing damage, and he wants the other to adjust to him before he moves harder. ]
Will you be able to handle me until I've finished, Olivine?
[ Perhaps the first real question he's asked, though his finishing is no concern to him. Still, he holds the leash taught with one hand, the other digging into Olivine's flesh as he starts to rock, harder, faster. ]
[the mind discomforts Olivine still feels are, quite honestly, thoroughly masked by the situation. It's rather unlike what he's used to with Eiden, softer and gentler but no less hot; absent the tormenting whispers and teases, he can keep Basch better in his focus.
That helps keep his mind from wandering too far, too. It hazes over when the other pulls taut at the leash and his insides twitch, breath exhaled on a warm moan. He likes that just fine, if the way his cock twitches is to be believed.
But then, cock wet with lube, the blond slides in—it's a remarkably easy glide, even for having stretched him. Olivine is definitely tight around his cock, but there's no painful struggle to relax or more.]
Nngh... abso... absolutely. I'll take it all... Basch.
[It feels better, actually, calling him this way. Basch grips the leash and his hip—the latter, digging and rough, draws a particularly pleasant groan from him, hips jolting back into each thrust and head tilted up to keep Basch at least somewhat in view.]
Nngh... I don't think I could... stay quiet even if I wanted to...
[That's probably accurate. Olivine is capable when it's absolutely necessary—this doesn't feel necessary right now.]
[ Basch passingly notices how easily he slides into Olivine. A mystery for later, because he has a task to complete, and someone to keep safe. He tests a few times, getting only moans of pleasure.
So he grunts, pressing Olivine down into the couch, pulling his arms up onto his back. He pauses for a moment, letting the other adjust, giving him time to change his mind. When he doesn’t, Basch holds his wrists tight, the hand with he leash wrapping it taught before going back to his hip, and now, finally, he fucks him hard, over and over, no pause, his own grunts quickly turning to a whine. ]
Sing…for me.
[ Because Basch isn’t going to be able to come until he feels Olivine’s absolute pleasure. And finally, finally he wants to. ]
[there's something that always makes him feel so... alive, in this position. it's easy to forget everything else when Basch presses him into the couch, pulls his arms back in a brief moment of not-quite-alarm. warm insistence fills him instead, heavy and deep.
fabric winds around his wrists and he bears no complaint, already gasping, groaning aloud as hips rock into his, over and over, hard enough to be addictive. his pleasure is obvious in everything he does, every twist of his hands and buck of hips, every sound that escapes him so sweetly, so easily.]
Ah—haah... Ba...sch...
[he's definitely not going to find much in the way of words, but it's easy to fall into a sort of slurred speech, a measure of his name mixed with pleading words, all melted together into a molten, searing mess of pleasure.
and it's not long, then, before his body tenses up, pressed back into the blond's grip as much as he can, the sharp cry signifying his orgasm at least muffled into the couch. ah, it's enough to leave him dizzy and hot, every nerve on fire with sensitivity, and still he pleads for a little more, for Basch to fill him, to give him everything.]
[ It's so clear Olivine enjoys this, and that makes it easy to relax and focus on serving.
The pleading, he does not know what to do with. He knows he enjoys being in a place where it comes from his mouth, but now he has to remind himself he is not hurting, is not failing. This is what he was asked for, and every sign is one of pleasure. He should not stop.
It helps, that the friction is strangely light. He can go harder than he normally would, skin against skin pleasant and slick. Soon enough, Olivine's body is scrunching, his breathing changing before he cries out.
That...does something for him. Even before Olivine begs for more; having served well, his own need grows. Or manifests itself, perhaps, no longer waiting for the other. It's new, and odd, and perhaps the leash fans it on. He finds a deeper reserve, grip tightening as he throws his head back and ruts against Olivine, near bounding him as he chases his own pleasure.
A thing that makes him shameful, and so he masks it. ]
You...have been so good, Olivine. I will...grant this last request.
[ It's the permission he needs, and in another moment he's crying out himself, gasping as his seed fills the other in hot pulses. He has to plant his feet, folding over Olivine, trying not to let both of them collapse. That would be unbecoming, and he's quite certain his role includes ensuring Olivine's comedown and comfort, including seeing him safely back to his room. ]
[he has his safeword if he needs, of course. it's more than enough, when he's enjoying every second of this. and honestly, he'd like to give more encouragement, more reminders that this is good, it's what he wants—but he really can't. it's a good thing Basch continues on the path of intuiting it, probably.
it's notable, at least, the little shifts that get Basch going. a little hard to pull into proper context, but they're things he'll try to remember should anything happen in the future. certainly nothing like this, most likely, but he always wants to help.
much like he would soothe Basch, if he knew the depths of his thoughts, the fact that he finds something like this shameful even when Olivine asked for it. his pleasure is important, after all.
chasing it gives something to Olivine, too, the heat of his orgasm soothing something in him. Basch folds over him in the immediate aftermath, and the priest already regrets not being able to put his arms down to hold them both up. his hands tug lightly at the leash wrapping them behind his back at this regret, but it's still easy to melt into the heady, sweet feeling of afterglow starting to settle in. he's still breathing a little hard, slowly catching up to the time and space again.]
[ That Basch doesn't trust that safety valve to be used, if needed, is likely something he needs to address. But not today. Nor is today for explaining the shame...is pleasurable, in its own way. If handled right. It's complicated when he's also leading, something he has less familiarity with.
But Olivine is nothing but glowing, and that thanks pulls the last of the concern from him. ]
I hope you are pleased, Olivine.
[ A low, gentle comment, role entirely forgotten. And he sits there for a few moments, dazed by afterglow, trying to catch his breath, straining to hear Olivine's comfortable sighs, before he straightens himself, undoing the tie from his wrists and gently guiding his arms down, pulling out from inside him, easing his body onto the couch as his fingers go to search for the clasp on the collar. He finds it this time. ]
Shall I take this off, or do you wish me to continue until you are returned to your rooms?
[it always takes him a good moment to come down from it all, comforted in the weight of someone against him, warm and real. the gentle statement, role shed completely, earns a soft, vibrant laugh from the priest that probably answers long before he does.]
Immensely... thank you, Basch.
[sliding out of his own space is easier than expected, arms coming to hold himself up with again. fingers slide over the collar and he exhales a soft sigh, eyes half-lidded.]
Mm, you can take it off. We... shouldn't have any need for it anymore.
[once they're past here, it should be much quieter, so there'll be no attention on either of them anymore; all of it seems to have been diverted elsewhere, perhaps for similar acts starting up amid their own. which... he realises rather belatedly exactly what just happened, and how public it was. he'll process that later, from the fact that he actually went through with it to the fact that he didn't dislike it.]
[ He's almost startled by the laugh, but it's impossible to deny that Olivine is not in anyway put out by their activities. That helps, even if it leaves him feeling confused in the wake of the leash's pull fading.
At least he has a task, as he works to free the collar and toss it aside. He grabs behind him, handing Olivine the clothing he shed and pulling on his own. It's hard to not stare at the floor, the self-consciousness flooding in as what they've done starts to hit. At least, as Olivine noticed, the crowd has found attention elsewhere. ]
I would walk you to your room, if you like, otherwise I will...see you some other time.
[ He leaves it vague, not asking for a commitment so much as trying to slip away so he can try to calm his erratic nerves. ]
[as he takes his clothes, Olivine offers a small, thankful smile. it's easier than he'd worried, dressing back up, and he pauses only briefly at the offer. really, he'd like the company, but...]
Ah... I won't keep you... but if you'd like, I wouldn't mind the company. We can talk anytime, of course.
[there's a lot he just... did, here, and even if Basch was willing, it still feels wrong to ask him for anything more now. even with the sense of being seen rising, he doesn't feel comfortable asking to lean on the other man for any longer. so he doesn't; reaching out to take the blond's hands lightly in his, squeezing another brief moment of thanks, he offers a warm and gentle smile before breaking away again.
whether Basch walks with him or not, the walk back is quiet, maybe a little lonely. he'll worry about how to apologise later, how to talk to him again. it doesn't really reach his face much anyway, and then... well, then there's his room. he has a lot to think about when he gets there, to be sure.]
[ He supposes that's true. Balthier and Fran had said something similar.
He's startled as Eiden moves closer. If anything, he ought to be serving the other. But -- there's something he recognized in that set gaze. A need to be of service, and so he nods, once, willing himself to stay relaxed. ]
I suppose that's a fair way to look at it. And returning rested would be a boon.
[ There's so much ahead of him, and his body could use the time to keep healing. Eiden may notice that, despite his physique, he's laced with scars and is thinner than his bone structure suggests. He could do to eat more and sleep more. ]
You're skilled at this. [ An observation, more than a complimet. Was Eiden someone this was easy for? It never had been for Basch. ]
[ he does indeed take notice of this, letting his eyes rove his body for a moment and then nudges him softly. ]
C'mon, turn around and rest your arms on the edge of the bath, let me try and work some of this tension out of you... okay? And if you don't like it, you tell me. I'll stop right away.
[ his hands guide, gently, reading for any discomfort, but trying to give him his most open expression. eiden isn't disingenuous, rather, he just... has a big heart. there's something in basch's eyes that reminds eiden a bit of, well, that's a story for another time. he shakes his head a little to clear himself of his thoughts that are getting in the way of focusing his actions on him. basche is an incredibly good-looking guy, though he could perhaps use a few good meals. ]
I've just had a lot of practice. I like taking care of other people when I can. There's not much else I'm really good at otherwise.
[ his hands sweep downwards slowly, along his spine, knuckles pressing in against muscles with care, trying to find any particularly tense knots, passing over him with his palms with heated bath water to make sure he stays warm. ]
[ He feels himself being observed. Shame turns his head. Normally, he does not care, not past wanting to escape someone thrusting food on him or shrinking from his wounds. But now he feels...tired. Worn past his expiration date.
Disappointing.
But he still, deeply, wants to please Eiden, wants to be of some use. That's easier to think about than how kind and disarming the younger man is. So he obliges, bracing himself over the edge. ]
Taking care of others is always an undervalued skill [ Basch rumbles, eye-lids heavy despite himself. Eiden is good a this, or perhaps its just been years since anyone touched him with any kindness. He shifts a little, wincing at old pains, but he can feel the tension melting away in the warmth of Eiden and the bath. ]
Were that more of our leaders had it, more kingdoms and households would prosper. They are always the people most important to protect if you wish to rebuild a community.
[ He's going to protest -- he wants to touch her more than he wants to be touched, except she's climbing over him with so much confidence that he moans, cock jerking. His hands come to trace her sides, breathing in sharply as she raises her ass up in his face. ]
Hilda--
[ But he's rendered speechless as the sensation driving him mad is joined by her tongue. His whole body arches, fingers digging into her, and he cries out louder than he means. Gods he wants her, her calloused hands, her gorgeous, strong body, her strangely luscious hair. His hands move to her ass, meaning to massage and tease her, but his next moan turns to a whimper, trying to keep his hips from bucking up into her. ]
[ If she could preen the moment his body reacts to her, she would have. But as it stands her mouth is a little too preoccupied and there was no desire or trace of a thought in her mind that she'd stop from pleasuring him now. Not when he sounded so good and so sweet. The feeling of strong hands digging into her ass earns her own muffled keen around his length. Her back arches and her hips buck up slightly into them apparently possessing zero restraint to do the thing Basch is trying to stop himself from doing.
Her cheeks hollow out as she continues to bob up and down working him with her tongue and her hands keeping her pace steady as she savours the taste of him It's not hard to figure out that he's trying to stop himself from using her mouth the way she wants him to. The miniscule twitches of his thighs that she has a front row seat to are a clear indication of that. A hand dances lightly down, cupping his sack as his shaft leaves her mouth with a pop. Her lips hover just above his head, tongue teasing him and wondering what exactly it would take. Maybe it would be more teasing. Or maybe it would be slowly taking the length of him until he hit the back of her throat. ]
[ Whatever notion he'd had that she wasn't experienced is gone. She's incredible, and it's taking all of his restraint not to fuck into her. He gasps as she arches back into his hands, as worked up by that pleasure at his own touch as he is at the mouth at his cock.
Her hand comes around his sack, her mouth retreating to tease his head, and he whimpers, finally letting himself rock. ]
Please. I want to take you. I want to finish inside you and feel you around me.
[ Have their fluids and scents mixed up, know she's his and he is hers and that they are a mated pair. ]
If you...keep going like that...I'm going to fuck you back. [ It's a plea as much as a warning, hips jerking as he suggests it, his hands still kneading her ass.
[ Basch's words and actions have her lips curling into a smile as her tongue continues to lavish him when he finally does as she'd hoped. Replacing her mouth with her hands to keep the friction and the need growing she turns, giving him a cheeky glance over her shoulder. The colour flushing over his cheeks softens the strong lines of his face. Layer it with his need for her and she may as well have melted right then and there. ]
You say that like that's a bad thing. Maybe I want you to fuck my mouth and use it however you want.
[ It's punctuated by a slow languid lick but she relents. Next time. His cock leaves her mouth with a wet pop as falls onto her back, pink hair fanning around her. One hand reaches between her to spread her folds apart from him, the other hand held out towards him. A warm smile spreads onto her face, unaware about how laid bare she is for him. Not just her legs but the scar marring her chest and her arms. None of it matters. All that matters is having him close and hearing their heartbeats fall in time together. ]
Come here. Fill me up, Basch.
[ The teasing air from before fades, left behind with a breathless tone that can only be need. ]
I will follow any order you give, and gladly. [ There's a pant to his voice, an unmistakable want as he gives her that truth. Even if all he wants is to see her overwhelmed with pleasure and satisfaction, and feels frustrated he doesn't know better what will get her there.
Which is hard to even try to calculate, with her hand and her tongue driving him wild. Then she's rolling off of him, and he's watching awe as her body moves, every inch of her strong and perfect. His eyes only widen as she parts herself for him, inviting him to look, to touch. He may have just been there with his tongue, but this is still different, being invited in, told to fill her.
He doesn't hesitate, climbing over her, his hands running tenderly down her legs as he lines his head up to her folds. She's so wet, that even on his first thrust he slides easily into that warm tension, breathless and adoring as he does. ]
I want to please you, Hilda. Anything you like -- tell me and it's yours.
[ Her voice lilts with an obvious joy, an exhilaration though it has less to do with the idea of giving him orders and everything to do with how much his voice is awash in need. The flush grows a little rosier on her cheeks, her eyes gleaming brighter as she watches position himself between her legs.
A needy gasp flutters as she feels him slip into her like he was made for her. She grasps at him, pulling his lips down to meet hers. ]
Fuck my cunt. Fill it up with you until I'm dripping. I want your fingers to mark me so that everyone knows who my mate is.
[ Her joy catches in him, making him flush and grin. Gods, she is perfect. And that's before she gasps in a way that makes him so hungry for more that he can hardly think. It's a blessing she pulls him down -- and wildly attractive, being steered like this. ]
Yes [ he gasps against her lips the moment she tells him to fuck her. ] You as well -- fingers, or mouth. I want to be marked in turn.
[ His hips rock, and wet as she is, it's barely a few strokes before he's filled her entirely, moaning with how good she feels. His grip on her breast and side deepen, harder and harder as he presses for bruising, his hips beginning to rock of their own accord.
He bends his head down, taking her nipple in his teeth again and nipping harder, regretting he can't touch all of her at once. ]
[ Everything about him is perfect. The thought rings so bright and clear in her mind as she gazes up at him with adoration she doesn't bother to hide. The way he smiles making his face light up from the inside out, the press of his fingers into her curves adding to the myriad of scars some faded and some fresher than others; the sharp bite of his teeth to her nipples, a delicious contrast to the warmth that pools between them - all of them are marks she's proud to wear if only because it's proof that he's claimed her.
Her strong thighs frame and press into his hips like they were always meant to fit there and her walls clench tightly around his length as if there was a risk of him leaving her. At his behest she does what he asks, wanting to make him feel as good as she does. Crescent moons from where she clings onto him appear on his shoulders and his back, not hard enough to draw blood but certainly enough to ensure that there will be traces of her in the morning.
As he rocks into her they settle into an easy rhythm, the sound of how wet she is for him fueling the desire in her belly. A hand buries in his hair, tugging tight as she keens. ]
[ That adoration just makes him want to be more for her. Stronger, kinder, more in charge, more submissive. Whatever it is she wants, he wants to fulfill it, wants her to bask in how pleased she is with her mate.
It's clear she's pleased, by how wet she is, by the way she immediately claws back at his skin, by how smooth but intense their rhythm is. When she gives him another order, though, he's all too happy to follow, keening back at that pressure on his hair.
He guides her ankles up to his shoulders, shifting onto his knees. His hold his bruising on her hips, his mouth wandering from her breasts to her neck. Like this, he can pump faster, deeper, breathless and aching as he does. ]
Gods, Hilda, you feel...perfect...
[ She's already come once, but he still wants her first. His face tenses, heat in his belly threatening dizziness as the early pangs of orgasm start to radiated from him. He's not even away of the sweat breaking on him, or the increasing need in his moans. He wants to fill her, to feel her constrict so tight around him in pleasure he can't breathe, to see these marks on her in the morning light... ]
[ When he moves her ankles to his shoulders she can't help the moan that slips out of her. The angle means he can strike her with more weight all while sinking deliciously deep as she needs to feel every inch of him.
It's not so much his praise that sets her skin aflame as it is his eagerness. His honeyed words make her feel aglow, and how hard he feels inside of her arouses her beyond belief. But it's more than that. It's the rhythm she needs, the pressure that he applies is everything that she desires making her cunt ache and throb.
She can tell from his breathing, from the sounds that are so sweet to her ears, that he's close too. Her hands find his face, pulling him from the crook of her neck so that his lips can capture hers instead. She kisses him like a woman parched as her climax begins to build like an inevitable force. She shatters without warning save for a cry of his name. Muscles clench around him as she gasps and shudders, nails clawing up the length of his back as a means of grounding herself. ]
[ Every time she encourages him, he meets her with renewed need. Eagerness is an understatement, and what little thought makes it through the burning dive to please her is in utter disbelief that she's his, that she's so deeply happy with him. It only makes him want to satisfy her more.
His movements are intense, rapid, but still rhythmic, fucking her with experience and purpose. But it's her pulling his face back to hers that does him in. He kisses back just as desperately, and the moment her walls start to shudder around him, he's gasping her name back, buckling over her and clinging to her as his seed spends deep and hot. Every shudder she gives reverberates through him, causing his body to shift between the freeze of climax and the tremble of afterglow, shaking at the pleasure of her sounds and the nails down his back.
As soon as he's able -- still panting, so dizzy he can hardly keep his balance -- he's nuzzling against her, drunkenly finding her lips as he tugs her down to lay beside him, careful to keep from dislodging just yet. His legs wrap around her, arms cradling her, and the same passion that had drive their coupling drives a need to dote, to stroke, to protect. He's still shaking, gasping every time she shifts and his sensitive cock sends heat through him again, and he's only sorry he's too spent to have her again. ]
[ Hilda's entire body feels like warm liquid, pliable and easily molding against Basch's chest as he pulls her into him. There's a languid contentedness to her expression and how she pulls his arms tight around her relishing the feeling of his cock inside of her. There had been plenty of times in the past where she had pushed her partners off, discontent with the thought of more sweat on her. As much as she was a cuddler she would rather not have to do it while they were both in various states of disarray.
There's nothing like that here though. Not when every nerve inside of her hums in pleasure and her hips press teasingly into him drawing out those little shudders that made her want him want him all the more despite her cunt still filled with his cum. So much of her still yearns for more, the little rabbit inside of her not satisfied with just this. But the small part of her that still remains unaffected by the food they had shared is content for now as they catch their breaths.
Because in his arms she feels a sense of security that she had seemingly left Fodlan without. She had woken up here scared and confused, uncertain of what to expect while she had been here or if any of this was real in the first place. But with her heart hammering against her chest in time with his, she feels tethered and grounded in a way that she hadn't before.
With that lingering thought of safety in her her eyelids flutter as she twines their fingers together and brings them up to her lips to kiss. ]
[ That gets a genuine chuckle from Basch. He...should have put that together sooner. ] Then I will remind you that I appreciate your efforts more often. And what you have naturally.
[ Somehow, Basch had not connected that Olivine was going to connect their talking to their play, and as his brain processes that the scenario Olivine spins is accompanied by the sound of disrobing, his breath grows audibly shallower, body eagerly remembering their many times together.
He's right; Basch is sitting straight as a timber tree, shifting now that is body is starting to react. And he's not expecting Olivine's words at all, nearly speechless with them. ]
I ... have never worn anything like that by intention, but I'd enjoy exploring it with you. [ He takes a breath, pushing the edges of his discomfort. ] Let's...pretend I'm wearing one now. And that while my vines delicately unwrapped you, I got close enough for you to touch, and you only discovered them when your hands slid under my shirt.
[ His voice has dropped to little more than a whisper, slow and deep. Like when he reads. He's better at this than he thinks, maybe because of the thousands of pages of romances he's read out loud. ] Would you leave them unseen, or would you try to disrobe me for a better view?
[He really isn't expecting the change in Basch's voice. All of the awkwardness filters out, and he's abruptly sure that this was a fine idea for them both. Leading and following, one step at a time.]
Ah—I would want to see them. You would have worn them just for me, after all, right? And while I tried, your vines would find that I'm wearing delicate chains and thick rings today, and maybe more when they get to my pants...
[as strange as it feels to describe it all, moving to catch his fingers in his chains as his sweater slides up, he finds it surprisingly easy to do. he's aware enough to be cognizant of Basch's reactions, after all, so he can stop if it seems to be getting too uncomfortable for the man.]
[ He laughs warmly. ] I would have absolutely worn them just for you -- and no one else, ever. It would be a first, on purpose. And I would also absolutely let you see them, until I remembered you probably wanted me to make it harder or punish you, and I'd overcompensate by slapping your hand away or pinning your hands with the vines.
[ Alright maybe that isn't sexy talk, but it's warm and its earnest and the smile is on his voice. ]
How would you want me to tease you? I still am learning that piece.
[a first, on purpose. it makes his heart jump more than he expected, earnest and honest as Basch always is. and it may not be sexy talk exactly, but the spirit is there and these two have always been like this, haven't they?]
You wouldn't be overcompensating, if you wanted to do that. I would be surprised, probably squirm against all of the vines because you really are so good at working me up... and happy that you wanted to punish me, at least a little.
[that smile is there in his voice, too. it's followed by a soft hum, thoughtful.]
It would depend on the situation, I think. If you pinned my hands... [his voice drifts for a moment, considering.] maybe you would ask me what I think I'm doing. Why I think I'm allowed, when you have control of me.
[warm, breathy. Basch will recall from their encounter with the statue just how well Olivine responds to that kind of humiliation, especially given with confidence. also, he might notice (later) just how easily Olivine calms down when he's talking to the older man.]
And... I would tell you that I just wanted to see you, that I love seeing you. Beg you to let me touch, even though it's exciting when I can't. And then maybe... you would just laugh and hold me up, so that you could keep stripping me. Get my pants open and pushed down, and find out I'm wearing transparent underwear, with lace edging and thin straps around my thighs and hips.
[ he laughs again, at himself, at how much more comfortable he is. ] I often lose track of any sense of what I want, besides wanting to please you. But -- I think that's why I think of the vines so fondly. I know you enjoyed it, and I did too.
[ The ideas help and he listens thoughtfully, his hum turning to a surprised moan when Olivine adds the detail about his undergarments. ]
I -- would enjoy that. The surprise, and pinning you with the vines so you had something to struggle against, telling you to wait but teasing you to not want to. [ that's a game he understands. ]
I would get you the rest of the way stripped, compliment how pretty you are in your piercings and your lace. Touch you lightly -- not enough. And...ask you what you'd do for me, so that I could reward you with stripping too.
[ He doesn't think that's much of a reward -- but Olivine suggested it was something he'd want, so it must hold some value. ]
Maybe a game. See if you could resist getting hard, or stay silent, while I touched you. Or maybe make you watch me while I stripped. Tell you not to get excited or flushed. [ Was that too close to shame for his desire? Basch isn't sure. It's...so good they're talking through these hypotheticals, honestly. It's easier for him to take risks. ]
Hehe. That's how I felt, too. I'd love to do it again, sometime.
[his breath catches then, listening to Basch hypothesise. the suggestions leave him aching, faintly frustrated by the partition between them, squirming at the thought of being touched just so. not a rarity, exactly, and yet...]
I would... have to suggest trying to stay silent, or not get excited, because I don't think I could do the others at all. [he admits, biting his lip thoughtfully. there's a familiar breathiness to his voice, as he presses his fingers into his knees, to keep them steady and not reaching for himself like he wants to.] And as much as I wanted to be rewarded... what if I failed? I'd be completely at your mercy, to punish me however you wanted...
[it isn't hard to hear how much he would like that, just as much as having a reward. honestly, he's almost forgotten about where they are—especially the time limits and the like.]
You wouldn't be able to do any of it [ he chuckles fondly. ] Isn't that the point? But yes staying silent or not getting excited too quickly feel reasonable for a game.
[ He bites his lip too, hearing the want in Olivine's voice. This is...always where he gets stuck. ] In truth, Olivine, I never want to punish you. I adore you and want to give you whatever you want. Except, I know you want to be punished.
[ He shakes his head, like he can clear the confusion. Maybe he just is getting stuck on the word. He's played with Sylvain like this and enjoyed it. ] But if I was going to keep teasing you and working you up, and not giving you what you asked for, maybe I could go behind you, take away getting to see me. Make you tell me exactly what you wanted, get you begging.
Well—yes, but it would be no fun if I lost right away, would it? [rude, Basch!!! He laughs softly in turn though.
And when the blond continues... Olivine's expression softens behind the partition, humming softly.]
It's true, I like the way it feels, but... it isn't a true punishment, after all, when I'm being for it. I just enjoy being... less in control.
[He doesn't know if that will help, but it's at least another way to think about it. The word, or the lingering uncertainty with Olivine specifically—but it's definitely less prominent than before. And that makes it easier to latch on, to close his eyes and just imagine—]
Mm. You could use your vines to position me, wrap them around my thighs to pull them apart so you had a good position to see all of me. I'd make you hold on tight so I couldn't squirm and shake too much. Try to look over my shoulder at you to plead for more, knowing you could see me twitching with how badly I want more. Spank me for being "impatient..."
[It definitely sounds like this is something he's done before, voice being breathier by the moment. Fingers graze the lust button just for a moment, almost at the same time as a wave of want rakes through him.]
Like right now. How badly I want to see you, to feel your hands on my body. I'm tempted to try out one of the toys while we talk.
Oh. [ Clearly, something has finally clicked for him. ] I'm entirely happy to take control if that allows you to enjoy your tastes.
[ This...shifts a lot for him. That's something he entirely understands. And feels confident in. It helps that he hears Olivine's interest, his own breath coming sharper at the picture Olivine paints. ]
I would strip whatever was left on me except the pretty straps you like, surprise you with our skin together, press into you without warning -- I remember how much you liked that at the Gilded Cage.
[ Then he blinks, suddenly aware of his body -- and his arousal -- now. Like he's been slammed back into it. He licks his lips, self-conscious, but... ]
Is...is there anything remote, so I could take control for you? Or, you could try a toy while we talk, try to hold out until we can get the partition down. If you last, I can take care of you and if not...you can watch me take care of myself. [ Which is not actually what he wants, but he thinks it's very much the kind of game Olivine would enjoy. ]
[There's still the temptation to remind Basch that his tastes are anything that has them together—but the combination of everything stays the words on his tongue. A familiar dizziness finds him, skin hot where his suit mark lays. It's only made worse by the hypothetical, the memory of that night at the Gilded Cage stirring every bit of him.]
There—I think there are. Let me look... [He's rummaging through the box of toys thusly, thighs pressed together like it will help in the slightest as the blond makes his suggestions. A soft noise escapes him as heat claws at his senses, fully aware that he's going to want so much more than a toy can really give. Eventually, he finds something suitable enough for him, textured and thick and accompanied by a small remote. Even more conveniently, there's a little slot he can push the remote through to hand it over.]
We... I can press the button on my side before we start... I already want to touch you. And then... then you can decide when it's been long enough and press yours. I'll accept whatever you decide for the outcome. [It's such a strange flux of desire, even for someone already as insatiable as he can be. Fingers graze that button again, and this time he does depress it, barely paying attention to the way it lights up or makes noise.] mmn. Should I describe it, or what I do with it...? You can give me orders how to use it, too...
[ He's inclined to just push it now, to give Olivine what he wants but -- is this not a perfect set up for helping control and surprise the other?
His own pulse quickens, arousal growing as he retrieves the little remote, the sounds of Olivine's lust button echoing over the mic.
He can do this. He can do this well enough they'll both have fun.
He settles back in his chair, deciding he isn't going to touch himself. That when he feels like he can't bear it, he'll push the button, and he'll enjoy himself with Olivine. Still, he licks his lips, taking a breath to prepare himself. ]
Yes. You should describe it and what you do, and how you feel, until the partition is down. Now, what does it look like, and what does it make you want to do? Don't do it until I tell you that you may.
[it's almost purred, and Basch will no doubt be able to guess the way Olivine's face has flushed with the orders. as impatient as he is, he really does enjoy this struggle. the prospect of succeeding or failing is just a backdrop to the shared intimacy, and with his partner unable to see any of it...
to that end, his fingers trace over the surface of the toy, feeling over the surface.]
It's a little longer than I am, and thick. The surface has little bulbs molded into it, like water droplets, wavy ridges down the length... and I can feel something like beads under the head of it. That's flared, almost triangular at the tip. And it has a little suction cup, so I could secure it. [he knows full well how sensitive he is, too...] Ah... it's hard to behave and stay sitting here when I want to slide it between my cheeks. Even though I know it'll just make me want to sink down on it when they're all rubbing my entrance, and I'll have to wait for your approval for that too...♥
[ Basch isn't expecting just how good at describing Olivine will be, and so there's absolutely no control to the breathless moan that escapes him, the image so visceral.
It takes him a second to get control back, but he manages, voice mostly even. ]
Has our talk already gotten you so worked up? Well, find where you're going to place your toy, and describe that to me too.
[ While Olivine gets to work on that-- ]
Tell me, Olivine, do you think of me when you use toys on yourself? Is this something you've done before without my knowing? How does it feel, getting caught?
[ There's warmth to it, though. Basch thinks Olivine probably has throught of him and touched himself, and that makes him feel valued, wanted. Special. ]
I couldn't help it. [he laughs softly, so that the other knows he's not feeling any real shame over it.] Just thinking about you playing with me is exciting. But, where I want to place it...
[he glances around his little pod, considering. before he can respond though, Basch's words bring him back to the question of now. the warmth is... well, not entirely surprising, but it warms him too in turn.]
I... I have thought of you, before. [though he won't be able to see it, he'll hear the shy little smile in that.] It's a little exciting, telling you about it, if it doesn't bother you. You already knew I wear plugs sometimes, but that's not quite the same, right?
Mm, but I think this one... there's an angled edge on the seat's handrails. It would give me something to hold onto while I rubbed against it, to start with.
Of course it doesn't bother me [ He says, gentle but firm. ] I am quite pleased to hear it, and now you will have another way to think of me. You will work yourself up between times we are together, until you have to beg me to touch you again. [ Part of the game, but a real offer too.
He lets out a small moan of approval, biting his lip again. Olivine does nothing by halves. ] Good. You may place the toy, and you may begin to tease yourself with it, but you may not penetrate yet.
Describe to me how it feels against your body, and how you are positioning yourself.
[ He isn't going to last significantly longer without pressing that button, but he'll hold out as long as he can. ]
[part of the game, but it also makes his heart flutter wonderfully. every time Basch steps out of that discomfort and leans into this, it's been all the more comfortable for them both. a funny thing, if he stops to think about it.
which, of course, he's currently not thinking about at all.]
Then I'll keep it in mind in the future, too.
[that soft breathiness creeps into his tone again, quiet shuffling the only indication that anything is happening on the other side of the partition. after all, it's a little hard to choose... teasing himself, there are so many options. in the end he decides on shuffling his pants down around his knees, breath catching as he slides into place.]
It's a little cold... the tip almost slid in on its own when I put it between my legs, so I had to push it downward a little and hold it in place to move. Mmnh... rubbing against it so it presses through my thighs, those little bumps feel like they're massaging me, both my hole and—nngh—and my sack. My legs are a little wobbly, so I have a hand braced on the arm of the seat behind me.
[it's almost torturous, and he already wants to rub himself harder over it, and more desperately still wants to let it slide between his cheeks and bury deep.]
Good boy [ Basch purrs, even as he gets to his feet. His own arousal is getting hard to ignore. He shifts his pants, wanting the tenting to be clear when he does let Olivine see him.
Because the other's narration is driving him mad in a way he didn't expect. It's like reading those erotica novels, but so much stronger because it's someone real, someone he can have who he very much cares about, who needs him to come help. ]
Don't you dare take it in yet. You're not nearly needy enough. [ He's doing a valiant job of keeping the pant and whine out of his own voice. He clenches and unclenches his hands, calculating his next few moves. ] Keep rubbing, and tell me what you're thinking about while you do.
[He's not expecting the way it makes him twitch when Basch tells him not to take it in yet. Even compared to the praise, it has him pausing for a second to just work through that sensation. His breaths feel shaky too, barely audible in his little whine. Hips press down a little harder, eyes closing as he obeys.]
I—mmnh. I'm thinking about how good it will feel inside... how it'll stretch me open and all those textures will rake along my insides. What it might do when you press the button and turn it on. I think it will vibrate, but if it has other functions...
[on Basch's side... well, if he looks at that remote, he'll certainly find a button for vibration strength... and ones with icons indicating thrusting and turning, for that matter.]
Haah... I want to put it in, Basch... it's not enough to have it between my legs...
Not thinking about me? I'm not doing a good enough job then.
[ There's a tease to his voice, and warmth. Even if Olivine's descriptions are continuing to make his own breath hitch. Maybe one of the times they play, he'll put his own cock between Olivine's legs, see how long the other can resist Basch sliding it inside him.
He does look at the remote now, hoping he understands the settings, and turns the vibration on to medium. ]
Tell me, Olivine, does it turn you on more to imagine that toy is me, or to imagine me watching you play with yourself. Maybe when you didn't realize it, getting hard from those sounds you make, from watching you tug at your own chains, seeing how needy and naughty you are when you think no one is looking. I've touched myself to that thought, you know.
[ He's curious, honestly, if he can break Olivine before he fucks him properly. He's certainly going to break himself. ]
[It's not an immediate reaction to the teasing words, a soft chuckle on his lips. He hadn't even considered that might be worth mentioning, since it was so obvious to him—but it's not hard to figure out what makes it hot to talk about.
The sudden vibration catches him off guard, pulling a deeper groan from his lips as it stimulates every inch of him it's touching.]
I— [He has to hitch a breath then as Basch speaks, squeezing his legs tighter around the toy like it'll help at all.] I like the latter. To think you were watching from somewhere while I played with myself... maybe with something like this, so when you turned it on I would know. I would touch myself more, then. Pull my chains until my chest is red and swollen, grind myself just like this—the toy is vibrating against my hole and my balls right now, and I wish you could see it.
[Honestly, as close as he is to breaking, it's somehow even more exciting to just keep this up. Maybe they're both trying to break each other.]
But—mmnh. It's kind of exciting knowing you can't, too. That if I don't tell you I'm lifting my hips more, pressing the tip against my hole so the vibration drives me crazy, you would have no idea. You'd have to guess—haaugh—from the sounds I make, just when the tip slips off and past my taint... nngh. It's pressing at the base of my sack now, making everything feel tingly.
[He's definitely going to break before long.]
Can I put it in yet, Basch...? Or are you going to make me wait until you can watch it slide in, inch by inch... I don't know how much longer I can be a good boy and wait.
[ He doesn't answer, instead presses the lust button. The partition lowers at a painfully slow rate. As it does, he gets his own cock out, resting his hand on it for Olivine's surprise.
As soon as he can see the other, he lets himself groan, beginning to stroke himself as he turns up the vibration setting for Olivine. ]
I didn't tell you you could put it in yet, Olivine. Are you going to disobey me?
[The sound of the partition moving, and the subsequent removal of their time limit, is even more exciting than anything else for that first moment. It's slower than he expected... but he can at least see the blond before too long.
It does take him a second to realise how he's positioned though—even with the priest bracing a hand on the little table in front of him, most of his effort is in keeping himself in place over the toy.]
I haven't—nngh!!
[He squirms as the vibrating intensifies, leaving his balls and shaft tingling with the sensation. The other won't be able to see it just yet, just like Olivine can only guess based on the shift of Basch's arm how he's stroking himself. God, it's so tempting... so tempting that he can't help but shift a little, grinding his hips back until the tip nearly sinks into him, only to pull back and let his hole squeeze tight again.]
I'm not letting it go all the way in... I just want to know what the punishment is for disobeying. Or do I have to be a bad boy to find out...?
[ Basch...really hopes he's giving Olivine what he wants. He's so wildly out of his element. He keeps his voice steady at least, using the slow deep one that Sylvain always likes. ]
The choice is yours, Olivine. If you cave to the toy, then you'll have to watch me take care of myself instead of having my cock in your ass.
You're more than enough of a sight to finish me.
[ It's true. Even now, he feels the heat of it, wanting to tug harder at his cock. If he pretends he isn't supposed to be watching Olivine, it won't take long at all, not with how debauched he looks, hungry and self-pleasing. Basch has never played with toys alone like that. ]
[he certainly has the benefit of Olivine being extremely easy to read. as Basch speaks, there's a brief widening of eyes and a shiver that runs visibly through him at the warning.
it isn't hard to pick what he wants, after all. despite the comfortable buzz of the toy, how good it would feel to slide it in and ride it—]
I'll behave. [it's a breathy response, as he leans forward to brace himself on the bar in front of him. largely still dressed, the effort only gives a vague view of the curve of his chest.] Maybe—mmnh—if I'm good enough, I can show you what I'd do with it while you touch yourself, later.
[it's for himself too, giving incentive to stay strong for longer.]
If you're good enough [ he repeats. He manages not to laugh. He wants Olivine to do that so badly he could beg. ] Impress me with this performance and I will gladly ask for more.
[ Basch goes to the chest, settling himself on it, cock at attention. ] Come here. Straddle me, but don't get on yet. I want you to strip and tease me until I say you can ride me.
[He can't put words to the relief he feels, once the partition is down and they can share space again. Pants around his knees, cock achingly hard against his panties thanks to the teasing, he has to convince his body to move.]
Mmnh... how should I tease you?
[As he asks it, Olivine slips those pants the rest of the way off, leaving himself in just those panties from the waist down and that fluffy, loose sweater with his open vest still hanging over it. It's a little awkward to position himself over Basch's thighs on the chest, hands using him for balance while he does.
And if his wet thighs brush over the tip of his cock? Surely, that's an accident.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
For Edelgard
As have you, [ he agrees, his smile warm as her hands settle in his. If she is inexperienced, it is not something he registers as odd. She seems younger than him, for one, and for another he is used to women of aristocratic background being deeply careful with their attentions.
He does notice the hand on his neck, and that the stiff formality of it softens some. She is comfortable, and he is glad. His own mouth was set to stay even, but he finds his lips shifting softly to meet hers in the breath before she pulls back, his own face lingering near hers as he still supports her hands.
He would be glad to see her again, he realized. Whether she wished to kiss him or simply to walk beside someone to pass the uneasy time. ]
It has genuinely been a delight, my Lady.
no subject
You may call me Edelgard. I am under the distinct impression that titles matter little here.
[ Just a bit belatedly, she frees his hand. ]
If you are as aimless as I am now that this game is over, would you like to accompany me for a while?
[ Having allies in this place is necessary, she thinks, and he has just proven himself the best candidate she has met so far. ]
no subject
[ He also suspects she has a much loftier title, but he understands the desire to meet as people and not as duties for the pockets that life allows, and so he neither presses it noroffes his own rank.
She releases his hand and his smile wavers; alas, he will miss her company.
Or -- not? Is it a mistake to join her, in the event this place pushes them to stronger intimacy? Perhaps it is already working, for the idea of pleasant company provided and received has a greater pull than staying wary. That, or his time with the pirate's ragtag crew made him weaker than he had been before his journey. ]
I would gladly join you, L-- Edelgard.
[ The device at his wrist chimes and buzzes. He glances at it, a small number appearing. ]
The house agrees we have finished here.
no subject
[ As the band around his wrist chimes she looks down first at it and then at her own, which quickly echoes his. It's somehow both reassuring and vaguely uncomfortable to know that their effort paid off quickly. ]
We are monitored well, aren't we.
[ Leading the way to the door, she steps through it and holds it open for him to follow her. She lowers her voice slightly, not certain of how serious to be this: ]
I suppose we should be careful in this corridor. We may risk being ushered into another room and another game.
happy to go whatever direction you want from here
[ At least here they know it. He has, more than once, found some new magic or technology has been being used to spy, and it is always an uncomfortable feeling.
Still. It is good to be wary that his activities are likely logged somewhere. There is no real privacy here.
She must be thinking along the same lines, and he nods. ]
I think it best we decline any invitation and insist we have a destination. There are private spaces near fires that seem safe, and I saw no foolery in the dining area.
[ Unbeknownst to him, the latter often sent people seeking private space after. He still does not know how any of this works. ]
how about some suspicious food and drink?
[ She glances sideways at him, a quick assessment. ]
If we join hands on our way through perhaps we would be more convincing.
[ She would like to say that after the abrupt intimacy of their game this practical proposal of briefly holding hands in order to use each other as a shield doesn't make her blush but it does, faintly. Fortunately blushing has never stopped her before. ]
I saw an elaborate buffet in one of the larger rooms. Have you eaten? Food has been an afterthought for me today.
sounds good to me!
I think that is a wise stratagem.
[ He holds his hand out to her, large and calloused, and is more than happy to be used as a deterrent for others' attentions, so long as she does not want them. ]
I have not. Food is often an afterthought, but I think fortifying ourselves would be wise.
[ No matter he normally has to be cajoled into eating, and even then, he goes for the simple and the leftover. He would sometimes eat with Penelo, so that the girl would eat, and he feels like that now. Except Penelo was still a child; Edelgard is not. ]
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The backs of her hands are softer and smoother than the palms and undersides of her fingers, any pampering she gives them tempered by her frequent training. Her war may be a bit... stalled, but she must remain ready for battle at a moment's notice. It isn't unpleasant to have her hand in his.
Not entirely necessary but not unpleasant and if they make it to the opposite end of the hallway without getting ushered into another room perhaps it pays off. ]
I agree. I saw an extravagant buffet laid out in one of the larger rooms nearby. A friend of mine would no doubt advise me to eat nothing I haven't seen others enjoy without incident. That amount of caution feels like a lofty goal here and I don't think someone who brought us here to play a larger game would get much out of harming us immediately.
no subject
They ought to remain vigilant. Those must be more of this place's work. ]
This place must belong to a wealthy nation, to have so much excess so readily available for so many.
[ It makes him wary; such things were often produced on the backs of those without. ]
But I agree; I do not think poisoning us is the goal, and we will be able to see what others have eaten.
[ He knew basic remedies for poisons, but there was so little access to flora or magick here. Still, he suspected that she was right; it did not seem anyone here fell ill, and he found this many people unlikely to be able to keep that under wraps.
Still, nothing prepares him for how immense the buffet is. He's been at royal feasts that this puts to shame. His hand tightens slight in hers, the only sign of his discomfort that slips. ]
A gluttony of choices. After you.
no subject
Not just wealthy but so advanced that they can somehow bring us here from such a variety of different places. [ Without assistance or permission. ] They seem a powerful enemy.
[ It's somewhat surreal to make that acknowledgement after everything that has happened today. His hand seems to tighten around hers for a moment and she can't be certain if it's intentional or not but she impulsively gives his hand an answering squeeze, a rallying cry in tactile form. When she lets go, it's so she can take a plate and pluck some fruit and slices of bread and cheese from the buffet. Having a powerful enemy is an excellent reason to want to keep her strength up; they are at a disadvantage here and no amount of decadence distracts from that thought.
(Even if she does slyly snag the last exquisitely decorated tiny cake from a dish spotted with flecks of gold. It looks like the perfect mouthful.) ]
I have the impression that you would be useful if we needed to fight our way out of this place.
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[ He asks it while his own eyes sweep the buffet. Opulent food, for one, but he also notices the diamond ice, and the costly inlays on the sides of the serving boards, and the gold on the edges of the plates. Just what is this place? And who is laboring to make this happen?
He does not realize that his hand tightens in Edelgard -- in protection or in a plea for rootedness, he does not know. Whatever this is, it is not normal, even for the wealthy.
She goes for food, though, and he knows there is wisdom of it. His plate, though, takes rice, simple roasted root vegetables. He indulges in spooning a bit of the juice from a roast chicken over these. The portions are, perhaps, too small for his frame and how busy his day has been. Food is still touch and go on his stomach, and he doesn't with Edelgard to see him despondent the way fresh fruit can sometimes overwhelm him.
That said, he does hide a smile at her plucking a single small cake. ]
I am honored, Lady. I would gladly be of assistance. You seem a commander with a good head and some experience.
[ Even-keeled, observant, kind but not loose, firm but not cruel, realistic but not unwilling to take risks. All traits he respected and worked well under. ]
for Tighnari
[ Basch lets out a sound that's equal parts surprise and undeniable pleasure, his body going rigid for a moment before he melts into the warm touch at his jaw and welcoming kiss that is in no way strictly polite. His hands graze Tighnari's sides before settling a little more firmly, letting the other guide how long he'd like this interaction to last.
Regardless, his already heightened pulse quickens.]
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Apologies.
[ he murmurs, his face warm. ]
I suppose I got a little carried away.
no subject
No apology needed. I have enjoyed our time together. I am glad you have too.
[ Which is...about as flirty as this knight is capable of, even as he stares a little breathlessly. When he was young, others enjoyed teasing or flustering him, and he suspects that is all this is. It does not make him uncomfortable as it did then, perhaps because there is no victory in it, just companionable warmth. ]
no subject
I have. I've.. also lost count.
[ he admits, with a light laugh, though his hands remain resting comfortably on basch's chest. this is nice. this is good. ]
I think that makes four for you. Shall I roll one last time?
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Please.
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glancing upward again, once basch is ready, tighnari will tip his head up to brush their mouths together again, though this time he nips at basch's lower lip, lightly at first, before he sinks his fangs in a little more deeply. he doesn't bite hard enough to harm or draw bloow, just firmly enough to enjoy the soft plushness of his lip, giving a gentle tug.
gods, he feels warm all over. is it the air in this place, that makes him feel so at ease with this.. ? whatever it is, he's content, and comfortable. ]
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Then the bite tightens, tugging at his lip, and a low sound -- surprised and pleased -- vibrates in his throat down to his chest.
The kiss ends, but their bodies remain close, his hands lingering. ]
You are more mischievous than you first appear. [ His voice is a little breathless. It's been...a long time, since he felt this at ease with someone. He doesn't want it to be because of this cursed place. ]
no subject
I've been told that. Usually it takes a bit longer for people to pry out that side of me, but.. this place seems to expedite the process. it pushes people close together very quickly, coaxes them to lower their guards a bit more than they would normally, under average circumstances. it helps that basch seems very kind and gentle. ]
Now.. we should go get that payout, hmm? And after that -
[ a beat. ]
- maybe some wine?
no subject
But he also isn't upset about feeling relaxed with Tighnari. Blushes, even, at having put the other at ease.
And at the invite for wine. ]
I would be amenable to that.
[ And, as if on cue, their watches beep, a number flashing. ]
no subject
Excellent. Wine it is. I'd like to know more about you.
[ they just spent the better part of a half hour touching and kissing, after all, and while tighnari has enjoyed a few casual flings in the past, he'd rather get to know this one. so they're off, out of the game rooms and toward the red cardinal. ]
Who you are, where you're from..
i'm cool with whatever wine/drink shenanigans
Not that he deserves to outrun it. This was all inevitable.
Still, he knows it's a kindness, and he isn't going to turn that down. ]
You as well [ he says as they cross the space. It feels shorter, less foreboding with someone pleasant at his side.] Shall we take turns? [ He gives a small smile, teasing after their game. ]
sounds excellent! :3
[ tighnari's smile is warm and inviting, his arm in basch's giving a little tug as they near the red cardinal, leading him into the bar. at the very least, the atmosphere here seems calm and relaxed, a blessing really, given tighnari's sensitive ears. a raucous sports bar is the last thing he needs.
they find two seats at the bar, and tighnari slides into one, his warm, padded fingers giving basch's knuckles a squeeze as he looks over the drink menu. ]
Any of these interest you?
no subject
Charmed?
He does glance to Tighnari's ears as they grow close. Fran's ears were sensitive. He imagines Tighnari's are too, but it's not his place to decide for someone he hardly knows. But he doesn't falter, so Basch follows him to the bar. He startles again when Tighnari squeezes his hand, but he doesn't pull away.
Perhaps he shouldn't be surprised, but without the clear confines of the game, he feels adrift. ]
I...have no palette to speak of. [ Maybe he had once but his stomach is still adjusting to food outside the prison. ] I'll try what you like.
[ He always flirts better when he doesn't realize he is doing it. ]
no subject
[ crossing his legs, tighnari withdraws his hand to flip through the beverage menu, his brown-green eyes scanning the many wines and brews. ]
Wine or beer.. I tend to lean more toward wine, myself, most of the time.
[ beer has its place, but perhaps not at a place and time like this. ]
And usually I like a bold red.. but this sweet osmanthus sounds tempting as well. Do you enjoy sweet things?
lmao getting this man to make a decision when it doesn't matter
Which means he almost doesn't know what to do. ]
Wine, then.
[ He doesn't think whatever cheap but filling house beer is even available here. The second question is more difficult. Does he? It's been such a long time since food and drink itself wasn't a pleasant luxury. The opulence of sugar often makes him uncomfortable, and lately anything rich hurts his stomach. But he isn't going to particularly enjoy it either way. Why share his preference? Except he doesn't like to lie. ]
I did once, but my stomach is not used to them again yet. I think for wines it makes little difference though; I am happy with both.
he has option paralysis.. thankfully tighnari is very decisive!!
[ tighnari looks thoughtful, gazing over the wines - he certainly doesn't want basch to get an upset stomach because tighnari gave him something too sweet, so the osmanthus is off the list. he taps the menu. ]
Perhaps the chilled nut, then. It seems more mild, and mint is good on the stomach.
[ glancing up toward basch again, he smiles, then leans onto the bar to ask the bartender for two glasses of chilled nut, as well as some water. they should probably hydrate! ]
no subject
You know something of herbs' effects on the stomach?
[ The bartender returns with all four glasses. What a luxury, still, the be hydrated at all times. It has done wonders on his skin an hair, and he glancingly has the odd thought that he's glad he didn't arrive in this place entirely fresh out of prison. ]
To kindness in such a harsh place [ he murmurs, lifting his glass. ]
no subject
[ tighnari lifts his glass, clinking it gently to basch's before he takes a long sip. it's good, refreshing as expected, and tighnari hums his pleasure, and nods. ]
I do. I'm a botanist and a medic, so I'm well acquainted on the effects of plants and fungi on the body.
slow for travel for a few more days
Tighnari, at least, seems satisfied and that is something. ]
I tend to get along with medics [ He says with a small smile. ] I have been a solider for a long time.
no worries!
[ he's reminded briefly of cyno, and all that he goes through, all the times that tighnari has needed to patch him up again and again. has it been the same for basch, he wonders..? ]
Well, with any hope you won't need my services here..
Sorry for the delay! I was waiting to hear back on Basch -- he is in!
[ he sips too. The beverage makes no real difference to him, just drinking to be polite. ]
I know a little, but I preferred to have someone more seasoned with my troops when I could.
no problem, congratulations!! :D
[ smiling, he leans one elbow onto the bar. ]
I hope you'll do your best not to worry me quite as much.
for Sylvain
[ Basch shudders as that thigh presses up between his legs, his moan hardly tempered, even as he knows others will hear. Maybe because of it. There's some level of guilt still gripping him, until the undeniable press of an equally eager arousal digs into his hip.
Ah, well, that changes things. He sighs out relief and deep, longing want, even as Sylvain's breath reaches his ear. It's -- so much to try to hold at once, too many feelings, too much that he wants and should not want so openly.
It's so much easier, though, to be presented clearly with options that the other likes. He licks his lip, swallowing as he nods. ]
Ask me again after.
[ Easier, than being too eager. And should whatever this is subside with the leash, it is an out for him. But -- much as he wants to deny it, he knows the leash has not brought this on. Greased the wheels, loosed his tongue, given him a push of boldness, but this is rooted in him, and now that someone clearly wants him, that shame turns to pure desirous heat. Especially because Sylvain has done this before and wants him for it now.
Still pinned, he bites the inside of his cheek -- gods forgive him -- and lets himself grind back against Sylvain's leg, hip catching that rigid heat. ]
Thanks for the move!
[ There’s a smile in hive voice, underlying the quiet praise, and that curve of his lips deepens when Basch rocks against his thigh, chasing the friction offered there. The hand not gripping the leash and still holding it taut, lifts so he can tangle fingers in the man’s hair, tipping his head towards him and a moment later, he leans in to capture his lips in a rough, demanding kiss.
He knows what he’s doing, is accustomed to controlling the situation unfolding around him and he hardly minds it. Not when he’d felt the way Basch had relaxed against him when he’d narrowed down those choices. When he’d shown him that he could have what he wanted and Sylvain would happily give it. And he’d have to be blind to not be enjoying this back, watching the flush spread along the man’s skin as he hesitantly starts chasing what he wants. Or asking for it, in some cases.
In Sylvain’s mind, there’s nothing to be ashamed of here in the first place, so there’s no hesitation in him as he plunders Basch’s mouth with a hungry kiss, keeping him pinned in place while his fingers tighten their grip in the man’s hair. Positioning him just how he wanted, so the man would get the most out of the sensations created by it. The demand to surrender, and the freedom that came with such an act. ]
Re: Thanks for the move!
He moans deeper, one of his hands splaying across Sylvain's back to encourage the pressure of his arousal to grind against him, Even as his hips shudder. He can hardly move, pinned and overwhelmed like this, and finally, finally it lets his mind short out into blissful surrender.
This isn't the first time he's done this either, but it's always been in secret, with someone he ought not partner with given their duties. It's freeing, too, that this costs them nothing.
The fingers tighten in his hair, sending shivers through him. He lets his want channel into his kiss, far hungrier than he's let his voice betray. The pressure at his neck only makes it richer, a reminder he is both wanted and at his partner's mercy. ]
no subject
From what he'd said earlier, he was okay with Sylvain being rough and with giving him commands, as well as a little humiliation, as long as Sylvain didn't break skin. Which wasn't really his thing anyway, so that wouldn't be an issue. But otherwise that gave him plenty to work with, he just had to figure out where to start.
Hmm. Maybe he should have picked up some of those toys on his way past, just in case. Oh well, he could make do without them.
Still keeping the pressure on Basch's cock as he keeps his thigh pressed firmly against him, he breaks away from the rough kiss to nip his way back the man's stubbled jaw, smiling faintly against his skin as he slides down his throat. His fingers remain clasped in his hair for the moment, tipping his head back to expose more vulnerable skin to him. ]
Tell me, Basch, have you ever sucked a man's cock before?
[ He has no idea how much experience the other man might have had, or what might or might not be acceptable in the world he comes from. Better to ask than accidentally cross a taboo line he didn't realize was there. ]
no subject
The question comes, and he nods once. ]
Yes [ he gasps, some part of him wondering if that is a boon or a disappointment, if this man comes from a place where that is open or private or taboo. Truth be told, he's not entirely sure of his own world's rules, just that of the men and women he came up with, and it was always done behind closed doors, and that the men he liked tended to like to see him on his knees with their cock down his throat.
He liked it too. He knew he wasn't supposed to, especially as he climbed in rank -- another thing he had no interest in. He liked to do his job, follow orders, take care of others. He liked to be of use.
And, traitorously, he liked to be coveted by better men and women. Sylvain's attention has him as hot and helpless as the sensations themselves. ]
no subject
He pulls back, giving a light tug on the leash he holds, stepping back - if a bit reluctant to relinquish the way he'd had him pinned against the wall, but there was only so much he could do in that position. There were other things he wanted to try. ]
Good. Let me see you on your knees for me, Basch. You already look so good in the leash and collar, I want to enjoy the entire picture of it.
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He’d forgotten, though, how he must look, or that that may be part of the appeal. The embarrassment at this ridiculous outfit and being kept like some pet washes through him again, this time with something more acidic: that he likes it.
It takes no further prodding for him to sink to his knees, head bowed even as his eyes rake in how equally eager Sylvain is and how strong his legs are. Feeling uncharacteristically bold, he spreads his hands around those legs, pressing his forehead to that rigid bulge even as the collar pulls at his neck. His voice comes out low and dazed. ]
Use me.
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And with Basch now on his knees before him, he makes sure the leash has enough slack to not cut off his airway before tangling the fingers of that hand in the man’s hair to take a guiding grip once more. ]
Oh, with pleasure. Is there anything else you’d like to request I do - or don’t do - before we start? And if not, you can start unfastening my trousers. Especially since you’re so eager.
[ It’s said with fond amusement, rather than letting the words become a cutting taunt. Sylvain’s well capable of both, but he much prefers praise to humiliation, if he has a say in it. ]
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That, and he loves the tight grip in his hair. ]
None that I can think of [ He murmurs after a moment of real thought. The encouraging praise makes his breath catch again. ] I -- like the balance you are striking.
[ It's difficult for him to ask for things, but this much he can muster, especially seeing that Sylvain wants the feedback. That said, it is easier to have a task than to sit in these feelings, and so he straightens, smoothing a hand down Sylvain's front before beginning to work the fastening. His own cock throbs in anticipation, and for a moment, he lets himself enjoy it. ]
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[ He combs long, agile fingers through Basch’s hair in silent encouragement as he watches him work from beneath thick lashes, his eyes dark and half-lidded with pleasure. A smile lingers about the corner of his lips as he lets the man unfasten his pants, making another soft sound of satisfaction when they loosen and he rocks shallowly against Basch’s fingers. ]
You’re doing perfectly so far.
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Then there are fingers in his hair. His eyelids flutter shut, hands tightening on those legs as he leans blissfully against his heat for a moment. This is -- this is almost too decadent to withstand. But it could turn to cruelty, withholding what they're both after. He sits back, continuing his effort, breath shaky as Sylvain begins to rock.
Pants free, he loops his fingers in the waistband of those and the undergarment, working them down until he reaches in to guide Sylvain out. His cock is hard and ready, striving toward Basch's face. He nearly forgets to breathe, adjusting the undergarments so they are at a comfortable height before leaning his face against the hot shaft of skin, one set of fingers tracing lightly against his length a few times. Then the hand slides back, cupping his sack as he turns his lips to kiss slowly, widening his mouth to leave gentle wet circles all around him before he drags his tongue down the entire length to circle the tip.
He's teasing himself too, cock throbbing as he years to take the other in his mouth. He's happy to be fucked like this. ]
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[ Sylvain’s voice is low and husky, pleasure purred in his tone as his fingers tighten slightly in Basch’s hair in reaction. He’s long and thick, fortunately proportionate to his broad build, which is part of what made his reputation back home so easy to maintain.
Basch’s fingers and mouth against the sensitive skin of his cock has him twitching slightly, making a soft sound when the man’s tongue traces the length of him. He smiles as he shifts, pressing against the open seam of the man’s lips. ]
Open for me.
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Sylvain doesn’t let him tease long, and the order coupled with the demanding press of his cock sets him moaning again, obediently working his mouth around the admittedly thick cock. This is going to wear him out, and he’s so ready for it. One hand stays to hold him straight, the other sneaking around to firmly grip his ass cheek.
Starting to bob, his tongue keeps working Sylvain’s head, savoring the taste as he takes him deeper into his mouth. Another low groan, knowing it will go straight through his shaft. ]
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And also give him a chance to see how far Basch can take him. He’s not someone who actually finds choking someone on his cock to be all that sexy. Not unless that was the game, anyway.
So he keeps his fingers tangled in the man’s hair, guiding but not forcing. Enjoying the feel of the hold more than pushing him. ]
Good. Just like that. How much of me can you take?
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The hold in his hair is perfect. He is open to being guided more forcibly, but this is his favorite. Wanted, but trusted. It's a position he can accept care in, too, warmed by Sylvain checking his limits, warmed by that praise. With his shame set aside, he basks in it, feeling worthy in a way he so rarely does.
He hums in response, working more of himself around Sylvain, pulling back and going forward again until he reaches discomfort. He bobs a few more times, to make sure, then brings his hand to make a ring around the man's girth. Here, maybe half or two-thirds down. No matter. His hand can cover the rest comfortably. ]
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It has his gaze warming, pleased smile curling across his lips again as watches him. When Basch curls his fingers around the base of his cock to cover the rest, he nods in appreciation before tugging lightly on his hair again. His praise isn’t verbal this time, but he hopes it’s evident all the same as he rocks his hips forward, pressing in once more - going only so far as Basch had been able to take and no more. But it was plenty in itself, more than enough to chase his own pleasure. And the beautiful man on his knees had asked him to use him. He hardly wanted to disappoint, either. ]
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Basch moans at the way that gaze stirs something in him, not shy with his sounds now that they've already committed to this. He'll worry about having been heard later, when he's not so full of Sylvain and his gorgeous cock. The fingers in his hair are wonderful, easier to accept than words, and he moans again as Sylvain begins to rock, switch from giving head to letting himself be fucked.
He slackens his jaw, tongue welcoming the intrusion as he braces against the other man's height and strength, hand not guiding his cock straight reaching to the other asscheek for greater balance. His breathing increases, heavy through his nose, and the need to keep somewhat rigid while Sylvain pleasures himself is enough to make his head spin. He doesn't notice the way his grip gets tighter on ass or cock, but he certainly appreciates the way Sylvain's sack bounces against him, moans increasing as their pace does. ]
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Careful, always, not to push too far. But he might push just shy of it. He never crosses over that limit that Basch had set, but he takes him to the very edge of it, again and again. Fingers still gripping his hair, eyes dark and half-lidded with pleasure as his own breath comes in more ragged pants for air now. ]
Goddess, you're a beautiful sight like this.
[ There's a strain in his own voice, because he doesn't even bother attempting to hide how deeply he's affected by this. His rhythm occasionally stutters, but he's holding himself back as well. Dragging this out. Because no matter how they'd ended up in this scenario, he wants the other man to feel savored. ]
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The compliment, though, catches him by surprise, causing him to slip just enough to sputter. He's been told he's a sight, in mocking or in victory, but not in this sweetness, and certainly not giving him a word like beautiful. (Perhaps because those who knew him knew he'd spook, and those who did not were not there to be kind).
He rights himself, though, feeling the way Sylvain is starting to stutter. He digs his grip tighter, working his hand and mouth to give the other more stimulation. He lets his moan drag out, knowing the vibration is all the better, and his own hips rock in want, threatening to topple them both if he loses his grip. He wants to be worthy of the respect he's being given, wants to be a good memory.
And, truth be told, he wants his mouth properly fucked. Sylvain is taking such good care of him. ]
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That moan is delicious around his length and his breath hisses out again before he gives his own strained moan, body shuddering with a wave of pleasure.
He tips Basch’s head slightly back, eyes dark as he holds his gaze again. ]
I’m getting close. Do you want me to pull you off?
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He, for his part, misreads that Sylvain is perhaps irritated at the slip. Basch is; he should not be affected by someone he's only just met. But they find their rhythm again, and the uncomfortable disruption is past. Easy to leave it there with the way Sylvain shudders and moans back for him. Clearly the disruption was not too deep.
And then he's tipping Basch's head again, caring for him. Basch almost wants to push back down, just take Sylvain without saying anything, but that would not show proper respect for this much appreciate communication. He pulls his mouth off, hand still working the other, and meets his gaze steadily. ]
No. I would take all of you, if it pleases.
[ What he wants to say is, please cum against my mouth, but that's beyond his reach. ]
If my posture does not hold, press me back against the wall.
[ He can feel the strain in some of these still-weak muscles, and he'll do his best to endure, but he'd rather not lose their position with Sylvain so close. He dips his head again, taking Sylvain back in his mouth as his heart flutters, tongue seeking out his tip. The briny tang of precum greets him, and he moans again, bobbing his head encouragingly before Sylvain gets rocking again. ]
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He takes the words as the permission they are and increases his own speed now. Fucking into that wet heat as he chases his pleasure. Using him, as Basch had requested. He doesn’t push hard enough to unsettle Basch’s position because he doesn’t need to, bringing the other man to him instead, guiding with the firm grip in his hair. Absolute control, without ever leaking over into pain, or pushing those limits too far. It speaks to a well-honed control that Sylvain has spent a long time perfecting. ]
Just like that. And you’re going to swallow every drop for me, aren’t you?
[ His voice is low and husky, the strain showing more now as his hips stutter, pick up again, pleasure building from the constant friction, the delicious slide of lips and tongue, and the feeling of those moans vibrating around his cock.
He won’t mind if Basch can’t but having it to focus on, and then to be praised or rewarded for after is something he can offer even while he’s about to tip over into his own pleasure.
The orgasm hits him a few thrusts after, sharp and swift. He spills across the man’s tongue, although he manages to push deep just before, just shy of that limit once more. The breathy groan that accompanies it is genuine and husky, choked out as his eyes clench shut and his legs tremble for a moment. He manages to hold, however, long enough that his knees won’t buckle, and then gives a gentle tug to pull the man back to breathe again. ]
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And it's clear much of that is Sylvain's experience, which is all the more attractive -- both that he knows how to care for Basch, and that whatever his tastes are, Basch finds himself squarely in him. Perhaps that is why he forgets himself enough to take some initiative. He barely notices in the heat of things.
What he does notice is how husky Sylvain's voice is, how controlled the balance of want and restraint are. He hums again that question, purred as an order he's allowed to refuse. He doesn't want to, though. Especially not with the information that Sylvain wishes to see him do so, and -- shameful as it is -- there's likely to be praise behind pleasing them both.
Basch is just starting to think his endurance may dip as something changes in Sylvain, and a moment later the man is rigid, hot liquid pulsing into Basch's mouth. He chokes a little, struggling to swallow with his mouth still full, but he moans at the way Sylvain trembles. Again, that knowing hand guides him back, and he gasps deeply, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and swallowing a few times. He tips back a little too far, the collar pulling on him, and has no objections to his face coming back near Sylvain's spent but still-hard cock. He leans his face lightly against it, squeezing the other's ass again as he takes a moment to catch his breath. ]
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He holds back the automatic compliment he might have given, because Basch on his knees, skin flushed and eyes dark with need, lips swollen - it is a beautiful sight. But recalling the reaction he’d gotten to that in the midst of things, he bites back the words for now. ]
I do believe that that, [ he pants out the words with a fond chuckle, but meaning every one of them. ] made everything else here today entirely worth it. You’ve done wonderfully for me, Basch. And…
[ He interrupts himself to crouch down before the man, bringing him to eye level again. And maybe giving his trembling knees a momentary break. His fingers slide back along the collar, where he’d heard a faint click a moment ago. ]
As I thought. You’re unlocked now. But I don’t have to remove it, if you’re not ready.
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It's a lot harder to remain relaxed as Sylvain pets his hair, crouching down glowing with praise and contentment. It's not that he dislikes it, at all, but he has no idea what to do with himself, head dipping and gaze averting.
He draws back momentarily, surprised at the fingers on his neck. Ah, of course. Released. He should be relieved.
He shouldn't be surprised at the choice Sylvain is giving him, the one he asked for.
It's fortunate, perhaps, that he's still clouded with want, because he doesn't have quite enough mental clarity to talk himself out of his feelings. ]
I...quite enjoyed that. I am in no hurry to leave your company.
[ All true. But what did he want? To take this off? To ask Sylvain to keep it taught and relieve him? To ask Sylvain not to relieve him, to leave him wanting and desperate all evening, until he couldn't stand it and was humiliated into asking? Where were all these ideas even coming from?
The confusion is plainer on his face than he realizes, and perhaps so is the way, when he looks up, his gaze falls to Sylvain's lips, the temptation to kiss them again blindsiding him entirely. ]
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Neither am I. So we'll leave it where it is for now.
[ Tugging on the leash, he draws Basch closer until he can reach him to kiss him, slow and lazy. At the same time, he lets his other hand drop from the man's throat to press against the very obvious erection beneath his clothing. Grinding the heel of his palm against him, he pushes into Basch's personal space, murmuring the words against his lips. ]
And as for this...?
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His breath catches as the leash pulls, his reward a slow, comfortable kiss. Feeling bolder than before, he brings one hand to Sylvain's side and the other to cradle his neck. It takes nothing to get him moaning again, and that's before Sylvain is quite assertively teasing his bulge. Basch's head snaps back, a sharp sound as his grip tightens. ]
I -- want your touch [ he admits, as if that weren't overtly obvious. ] But I could be made to wait. [ Or...dare he ask....? ] Or both, if your hunger is not yet sated.
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[ The words are a low, pleased purr as he strokes Basch through his pants, still leaning close so he can kiss his way back the man's jaw now that his head has fallen back. He crowds into him, pressing him backwards, since they're both already on the floor anyway. He doesn't care, they don't have far to go this way. ]
And I will almost always choose 'both' if it is an option. Maybe I'm just greedy. Why don't we do this. We'll take the edge off for now and then, after you've made it through the evening wearing this for me, I'll reward you with something... a little more in-depth.
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The kisses against his jaw are good. So his the hand on his pants. And he finally moans, shoulders relaxing as Sylvain spins how the evening can go. A plan is safe, is something he can attach to, and glory this one sounds beautiful. ]
You take good care of me. Thank you. [ He lets his hands stray to Sylvain's chest, wanting something to grip as his hips struggle with touch. He can't think too hard about the fact that they're on the floor of a stall in a shop or he'll lose his nerve. Pleasuring someone else is always so much easier than being treated gently. But -- gods help him, he wants both. ]
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It has him treading carefully, keeping track of every reaction as fingers deftly flick the fastenings of the man's pants open, sliding the fabric out of the way to free the man's cock. Calloused fingers quickly encircle it, stroking him with deliberate slowness as his lips continue to trail along Basch's jaw and throat. Keeping him breathless, dragging out more of those delicious moans and whimpers. ]
Oh, trust me. It is entirely my pleasure. Especially if you keep making noises like that.
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Slow. Knowing. Playing with him. It's excruciating to have to sit in so much pleasure, his breath ragged. His hands cling to whatever they can find, like a life raft. ]
I am...helpless not to... [ he admits, groaning again. Sylvain knows exactly what he is doing, playing Basch like an instrument. The shame bubbles again. Was he so easy, so transparent? But he cannot be angry. It is a strange thing, to be so seen and -- if he dare admit -- savored, even as it makes him so powerless. Some part of him is afraid, sure there is something cruel coming after this. It turns him on as much as it makes him weak, but he cannot stop. He's too far in, and his release has begun to build. ]
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[ Sylvain trails back up to kiss him again, because he's figuring out Basch does better when he doesn't have to think about things. His fingers curl around the man's arousal a little more firmly, stroking him with deliberate intent now. Not pushing him too far too fast, though.
Yes, he said he'd take the edge off, but he's also enjoying the sight of the man unraveling in pleasure. ]
There's a balance in this, too.
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A man can only fight so many of his tendencies at once.
And enduring how knowing and -- dare he think it -- sweet Sylvain is takes so much from him. He almost wants to ask the man to be rougher, faster, but it doesn't quite meet his tongue, because this is so good and Sylvain is clearly pleased. If the man wants to watch Basch whimper and squirm, well, the thought makes his hips cant against the other, his grip on his chest and shoulder becoming more needy.
He doesn't know what to say, and so he doesn't, just meeting that kiss with a desperate want he doesn't otherwise betray, a whimpering moan as his arousal starts to tip to need. He tries to hold back, but it's not long before he's rocking against Sylvain's hand, braced against the other man's weight pinning him to the dressing room wall. ]
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Which he has every intention of shoving him over, but it would be a shame to ruin this very flattering outfit he wears, especially when Sylvain wants to spend more time admiring how tight those pants are.
Which is why he breaks away from the kiss after a moment and slides down the man's body without warning. Only to cast him a smirk and wink before bending his head and swirling his tongue around the tip of his arousal.
He doesn't linger there - although he's tempted to, because he's always had a bit of an oral fetish he enjoys indulging. But he suspects Basch might be too far gone for that and he wants to make sure he enjoys this fully as well. So he doesn't linger before letting his head bob down to suck the man deep, taking as much of him as he can and wetting his skin along the way as his tongue teases along the underside of it. It's a hint of the rougher and definitely the faster as fingers curl around the base of his cock, stroking him as he lets his head bob downwards again. ]
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It shouldn't surprise him that the other is just as skilled at this as everything else, nor how deep Sylvain takes him, but it does. He hardly lasts before he buries his hands in Sylvain's hair, thighs pressing against him. ]
Please [ Basch gasps. Mercy. Don't stop. Then he's whimpering again, eyes closing, and he loses his last bit of restraint, body moving hungrily against Sylvain and his mind blissfully empty. ]
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Hands grip the man's hips tightly as Sylvain turns his full focus on the man beneath him, working him deeper with each bob of his head. He feels him nudge against the back of his throat and slows slightly, relaxing the muscles there so he can swallow around him, knowing that will feel even more intense.
He loves how responsive he is. How beautiful he is when he gets lost in chasing his pleasure. Sylvain's eyes are dark as he watches up the length of Basch's body, gaze locked on his face so he can catch every expression that flashes across it. ]
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He hits the back of Sylvain's throat and cries out, shuddering against him. He wants to say the other doesn't need to, but Sylvain is in control for one, and for another he's already adjusting himself, and gods it's almost too much to handle.
Which means he's rocking, near thoughtless, chasing the release his body has been promised even if he has to deaden his mind to get there. Two years with no touch save the lash or rough hands changing shackles, and now he's so inundated with it that he's dazed and hungry all at once. Gods help him or gods bless him that this person is enjoying the show.
Basch's breath becomes labored, jutting faster and more eratically as he clings to the form that thankfully holds steady against the brunt of his movement. It's not long before his breath catches, resumes, then catches entirely. Release washes through him, paralyzing him as the sensation becomes too much.
And then he's gasping, absolutely trembling as he goes slack, barely able to find words. His too-senstive cock sits in Sylvain's mouth as the other swallows. He whimpers, hips titling on their own, chasing more when he absolutely cannot handle it. ]
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Lips slightly swollen now, he props himself on one elbow, only to smile up the line of Basch's body now, drinking in the sight of him gasping for breath, skin flushed and muscles still trembling. His gaze is clearly appreciative. ]
Was that enough to ease the ache for now, or shall we go again? [ He's gently teasing him, warm humor in amber eyes as he soothes a hand against Basch's thigh, giving him a moment to catch his breath and recover from his orgasm. ]
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I fear I'm thoroughly spent my -- sir. [ He says it apologetically, before his brain catches up that he's being teased, and so he attempts a weak smile. The hand on his thigh was ... affectionate, not an attempt to use him further, and that was difficult for his mind to accept.
He isn't sure if the lead's magic still works, or it's simply Sylvain's charm, but he does manage to make himself say [ ] Was the experience satisfactory enough that you'll be keeping me? [ His heart skips. He knows it was, but asking is something else entirely.
Being kept is something else entirely. ]
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You're perfect. 'Satisfactory' is a very grave understatement. So yes, I'll be keeping you. For at least as long as you want to be kept.
[ He's thinking about that mostly tonight, but he wouldn't be opposed to more past that, should Basch end up wanting to do this again. Sylvain doesn't normally allow that, but even he's been known to make exceptions every once in a while.
Basch already feels like one of those notable few. Or maybe that's a protective, indulgent side of him rising up in response to what he's picking up from this man's reactions. There's a story here, one he's not going to prod at, but he wants to help where he can. ]
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Perfect. He doesn't think so, knows it could not be father from the truth, but he fully believes Sylvain means it. He meets the other's gaze steadily, but with surprise and confusion and relief clear on his face. ]
I ... would like that.
[ A strange admission. What did it matter what he liked? Except it did to Sylvain, and so he could be honest.
And for just a moment, he considers what it would be to willingly be kept past a single night, particularly when they had been seen together. It's not something he's allowed in years, not something he's sure he's capable of anymore, and yet --
There's something about Sylvain, and something about the way they fit together. He is not Balthier; he does not understand the complexities of how people work and what they want from each other, but he thinks...he thinks this fits in a way that he is giving Sylvain something the other craves, too, something rare, and it makes his breath catch that that may be mutual.
Gods help him, he is as reckless as a boy tonight. ]
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Then that's what we'll do. You can stay by my side tonight at the masquerade, for as long as you wish. Or you can wander and mingle and find your way back after, if you prefer. We can find somewhere more... comfortable, afterwards. And hopefully more private.
[ Although this had worked well enough, in a pinch. ]
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Basch breathes out, nodding. ]
I -- I'll wear the collar but not the lead. [ A little more privacy, a little more freedom. ] Come what may, we can leave together. [ His stomach flips, some part of him whispering that a curse like him does not deserve to be taking what he wants. He finds that gaze again, though. It helps keep him stable. ] If you wish to claim me in front of others, it is welcome, but not required.
[ As both their breathing evens, they disentangle. The lead comes off, abandoned in the dressing room. It's difficult for him not to deflate entirely as they step out. One of the saleswomen winks at him, the other making a lewd gesture and a thumbs up, and a few customers either look away or nod at them.
But it stirs something in him too. Shame, yes, but something else he can't put his finger on. He does his best to square his shoulders, walk beside Sylvain rather than behind. The collar still rubs at his neck, but it is a pleasant weight. A reminder of the agreement they've made, but also one he's free to leave if he wishes.
They make their way to the masquerade, donning simple masks as they enter. It is overwhelming in its opulence, but the mask and the collar help Basch to wander, talking politely as he practices being more comfortable. He rediscovers Sylvain from time to time, enjoying the odd thrill of watching others flirt with the beautiful man, but his gaze return to Basch. He has no idea the situation is likely reciprocal, as he declines interested party all night. When their paths do cross, he is oddly eager for any sign Sylvain gives of having claimed him, heart pounding at the knowledge that people see them interacting that way.
By the time the evening comes to an end, he has settled considerably, but his anticipation has grown, and with it, nerves creep back. Whatever the lead had been doing to egg him on is gone, and so the doubt creeps in as well. But Sylvain still looks keen to have him, and gods help him, for once he does not want to give up what he's had. Nor does he want to disappoint. And so Sylvain murmurs the roof, and Basch follows him to the elevators. It will be a long ride; the building is enormously tall, like those in Archades.
The doors shut and he hesitates, then silently loops his arm through the other man's, his hand lighting on his forearm. A silent acknowledgement he's still eager for this. ]
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The Masquerade is a whirl of sights and sounds and new experiences to be had at every turn. He's content to let Basch wander - ends up discovering a few familiar faces of his own in the meantime, but each time their paths cross over the span of the evening, he pauses to leave a touch, whether it's a light brush of fingertips, or a possessive hand on his back or shoulder, or the occasional tease of his lips murmuring words against the man's ear. He knows how to build anticipation, knows how to entice with a tease and a promise, even if it's no more than a knowing look. So no matter where the evening takes him, he returns again and again to this.
Until the hour grows late and the party shows no sign of stopping, but Sylvain is growing tired of strangers and socializing and his own impatience gets the better of him. He'd heard rumors and whispers of other places in this resort to be enjoyed - since he had no place of his own yet - and one of these is murmured in Basch's ear on his way past.
The elevators are far different from the arcane teleporters he's used to, but he doesn't mind that much. Takes in the mirrored walls with a faint smirk, already thinking of how best to use that as Basch steps in behind him. As the door slides shut and Basch steps close, he winds an arm around the man's waist, tugging him closer still as he leans in to kiss him in greeting. ]
Have fun tonight?
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That, and to see the nonsense he's still dressed in, the collar still snug on his neck. He's surprised yet again at the hunger in the way he returns that kiss. ]
More than I expected. [ Heat to his cheeks, though not quite flushed. An honest answer. Some part of him had expected Sylvain to play with him, or go back on his word, or wind him up only to chastise him. No, instead it had been a series of well-timed affirmations, each one stoking a growing desire to be reclaimed. ]
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[ His smile is warm and pleased as he draws back back from the kiss to study the man’s face. HIs fingers trail along that collar still snug about his throat, enjoying the sight of it there, as well as the faint flush he can see trying to creep up.
He had no intention of going back on his word. Not when the evening had only whetted his appetite further.
He brushes his thumb over Basch’s lower lip as he gives him a faint smirk. ]
Not enough to lure you away, however. I wondered, for a moment, if you would follow. Or if you’d changed your mind. I’m pleased you didn’t. I’ve been imagining what I wanted to do to you for most of the evening.
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More than once, with the effects of the lead worn off, he'd wondered what he was doing here, felt like a plains hare ready to bolt back to safety, and then Sylvain had caught his shoulder or his face and so, unbelievably, here he was.
The way the other man so quickly brushes the collar, cups his face and strokes his lip like he's some favored object, has that fear bubbling in his chest again. Danger. Impropriety.
But -- ]
As have I.
[ He couldn't help it, not after how magical it had been, and not after seeing Sylvain so pleased and wanting. Gods, he wanted to be kept. He had always wanted to be kept, by country or by lover. ]
I wondered if I would change my mind, but I wish to be here.
[ Magic or no, Sylvain was different than the others. Here, in Ivalice. Something had caught him, and at least today, he wasn't able to turn away. It was like being a boy enamored again. ]
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Not having second thoughts, then?
[ He murmurs the words as a low question a moment before he leans in. That hand slides to the nape of Basch's neck, drawing him in closer, even as he captures his lips in a slow, teasing kiss. Taking his time, because he can sense that urge to flee back to where it's safe. The last thing he wants is to give that fear cause, so he moves with deliberation, lets Basch see what he's doing and what's coming. ]
Or maybe that's third, fourth, and fifth thoughts by now? It has been a very busy night, after all. But you still followed. I don't intent to let you regret that choice.
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No. That's what surprises me.
[ A puzzle to him, too, though he's less concerned with solving it. Right now, he's letting himself slip to that place of not thinking. It's easier with the memory of it so fresh. And with the increased privacy of the elevator.
He chuckles lowly at the tease, surprising himself further. Maybe Balthier had been rubbing off on him, all that constant prodding to go to bars, to sit and talk, to enjoy a meal, to laugh. He'd thought it derranged, until he saw that the princess needed it. ]
Yes, two dozen by now, and somehow I still arrived at following. I -- am not usually like this.
[ And it makes him feel warm, dangerously weak even, at someone valuing his choice. Balthier would suss out why in a quarter hour's time. Basch didn't know why these feelings were so strong. ]
Not in years, anyway.
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[ He cards his fingers through the man’s hair and smiles when he feels him relax slightly. Feels him lean into that kiss, and kisses him again to just encourage it. ]
You don’t have to be what you’re usually ‘like’, because somehow, I don’t think that makes you very happy either. And that seems a shame. Besides. There’s no one here except you and me now. I won’t judge. And I won’t spill any of your secrets, either. I’d much prefer to find out what does make you happy instead.
[ He lets his fingers trace over that collar again before he lets his hand drift down the man’s torso, tracing over his ribs. He doesn’t slow as it goes lower still, until he’s sliding a hand over the man’s clothed arousal, teasing him through the fabric. ]
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And yet. He can’t quite believe it. It seems strange he is the one here from his home, unless it is a punishment. Or perhaps it is entirely random.
Regardless, he does not think one night’s actions will doom him any worse than he is. It’s a calculation he’s made many times before, as much comfort as he has ever dared to take.
And gods he wants it right now. He moans against Sylvain’s touch and the easy way the other man commands the situation. It’s so easy to lean into the way he chases a kiss with a kiss. But it’s the forceful protectiveness in those words that makes him stagger. Was he so easy to read? Was this some sort of trick he was too foolish and eager to see through? ]
Why are you so invested in my happiness?
[ He only just clamps off the follow up. I don’t deserve it. ]
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[ It's a deceptively mild question, but Sylvain's gaze is knowing as he nips playfully at Basch's lower lip. It feels a little hypocritical of him, actually, because he knows how little value can be placed on personal happiness. Especially when living a life that leaves so little choice in your own hands. Maybe it's why he still bucks against it whenever he can. Does the same now, when he sees Basch not striving for it himself.
There's a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye and it draws his gaze away from the man for the briefest of moments. Only to blink at the reflection in the mirrored walls around them.
Which... wasn't quite a reflection anymore. Or maybe it was, but not of the physical. He wondered if it was reflecting something else, though?
Lips curving, his hands shift in an abrupt movement, turning Basch around in the other direction so he faced the elevator and at least three reflective walls. All of which showed a different image on them now. Tugging him back, he presses in snug against Basch's back, his own arousal nudging in against the curve of his ass while he keeps his own hand over the man's tucked-away cock. Stroking him through his clothes as lips press against the back of his neck. Warm breath teasing there as he scrapes teeth lightly against the skin just above his collar. ]
I think this room is magicked to tell on one of us. Or both of us. What do you see?
[ Because the reflections in front of them are certainly playing out things he's imagined doing to the man all night, but he wonders if Basch sees the same. ]
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But before that, he’d made a promise to protect those places, to restart his life when safety was reached. That had turned into weeks, months, decades. Even if — in the gold gleam of this private box and the arms of a man who bore him no threat — he admitted to wanting happiness, considered for a moment he was allowed to, how would he even go about finding it? He had not lived without a purpose and a team since he was a child.
He’s spared an answer by Sylvain flipping him around, his breath catching at the forceful steering of his body and the cock pressed against his ass. His eyes reel, taking in the question a moment later.
Sylvain having him shoved against the wall, one arm pinned behind his back and taking him from behind is certainly something that’s crossed his mind. So is the one where they’re both nude, Basch’s wrists tied above his head and Sylvain buried inside him, hand on his cock simultaneously.
The third is not his fantasy, but it makes him blush, because he wants all of them.
Are they welcome to Sylvain? Will he disappoint? But much as it makes him feel small, this part of the game also makes his cock throb in what. ]
I see you having restrained me before having me ride you while you stroke my cock. I still wear your collar.
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I did say I like how you looked in the collar, so I'm unsurprised by that one. But I like how you look in each of those. [ His other hand slips around to slide up Basch's toned torso, flicking a button or two open as he goes. Teasing against warm flesh as he can, but working his way back up towards where that collar rests snugly. Splaying fingers there against the line of his throat, just letting the man feel the touch of his hand there, holding him in place. ]
Do you like what you see? Is that what you're craving, Basch? To feel like that? [ The reflections play the scenes out in front of them, each of them caught in long moments of intense pleasure. His eyes pick up on the little details hinted in the postures, making note of it. ] Look at you, so caught up in pleasure. It's written in every line of your body, how much you want. How much you ache.
Can you imagine how good you'd feel wrapped around my cock like that, your body stretched taut for me, held in place to use at my leisure. How long could I drag it out for you, do you think? Filling you over and over again, keeping you right on that blissful edge without tipping you over? How prettily would you beg me for more, Basch? [ His teeth scrape against the pulse point under his lips, at the curve of the man's throat. ]
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Especially not with more pressing matters filling his mind. He cannot worry his answer was unsatisfactory with a sound like that in his ear. His body goes rigid at the pressure on his cock, his weight shifting back against the other man as his other hand begins to explore and undress.
He likes it, yes. That much is obvious. But what is it he’s craving? He considers it, even as Sylvain guides his gaze to the image of himself, taught, surrendered. The sense of danger and shame is there again, but something sits under it. Something he has little experience teasing out or naming.
But Sylvain keeps spinning the fantasy, and he moans, his body remaining rigid out of years of restraining his own want. When the man bites his neck, he cries out so sharply it stings his own ears, his knees buckling and a hand going back to grip the other’s neck. ]
I — I want to be at your mercy. To resist you as long as I can and then beg you when I have broken. I want to be exhausted and spent, and to see you the same.
[ It’s closer to the truth and as much as he knows how to say. There’s something else here, something about Sylvain and how skilled he is, how in control, how the game feels like a mutually beneficial game and not a power struggle brought to the bedroom.
And as he admits that, the him in the reflection shifts, his lips moving in pleading words, his gaze trained on Sylvain as he pulls on the restraints, trying to reach the other man. A thing he often wants and so rarely musters. ]
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The breathless words get another sort of smile from him, something warmer as he presses a kiss to that spot now, still holding Basch against him. His eyes dart over the man’s shoulder to watch how the image changes, and then the third reflection alters too. Matching it, in a way, or perhaps following it.
Sylvain, on his back with his hands braced on Basch’s hips. Both of them naked, bodies on display, littered with lovebites and flushed with arousal. Basch is unbound again, wearing only that collar now, as he rises and falls above Sylvain, riding his cock, taking him deep with each rocking motion of his hips. His head fallen back as he moves, fucking himself on Sylvain’s cock, his expression one of exquisite pleasure and desperate need. He can almost hear the moans as reddened lips part, watches as his hand slides in to stroke Basch’s cock in time to the roll of his hips. How it makes the man’s body arch - so close, but not yet tipping over that edge. As if the reflection itself were aiding with the teasing of what was to come.
He bends forward to murmur in Basch’s ear again, teeth scraping lightly along the curve beneath his lips. ]
I think we can arrange all of that. Shall we start now?
[ Once again, he gives no warning. One moment he holds Basch there against his front, watching the scenes play out in front of both of them. The next he’s moving, pressing Basch roughly against one of the mirrored walls of the elevator, pinning his arm behind his back as he holds him in place. It’s no accident that Basch is now pressed against the very same wall he’d been watching this scene a moment before. His legs are kicked apart as his other hand slides in around Basch’s front once more, finding his cock beneath his clothing. ]
Although we do need to get rid of this, if I am to fuck you like we both want.
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There's something softer in the way Sylvain kisses him this time. Or maybe it's wishful thinking. But it unnerves him as much as the bite had.
His gaze, too, drifts to that shifting third vision. It's harder now to ignore it. They're both marked and flushed, utterly lost in each other, and he's seeking his own pleasure. It's enough to make his chest seize, his lips parting as his eyes dilating, like this place has dredged up a hidden thought even he dared not acknowledge.
And Sylvain wants all of it.
He doesn't even have time to roll around how that makes him feel. The next thing he knows, he's being forced against the wall, choking out a moan as Sylvain kicks his legs apart and pins his arm. It doesn't escape him this was the wall they watched together, or that the reality of feeling it is a thousand times more intense than whatever had crossed his mind.
Like we both want.
He moans again, breath jagged, but nods, fighting against himself to give Sylvain the affirmation he can. ]
I want you to. Here. Now.
[ It isn't the first time he's wished he had more skill with words, but it's something. So is the way he rocks himself against Sylvain's hand, whimpering as he does. He doesn't expect to be allowed to come for a good long while, and that makes teasing himself all the more enticing. ]
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[ He murmurs the words against Basch's lips, his grip tightening against the man's arousal for a moment, firm and solid as he feels those hips try to rock into his touch. Those moans and whimpers are like music to his ears and he smiles as he lets his teeth rake against the back of the man's throat as he holds him pinned in place, using his own upper body strength to hold him right where he wants him.
But then fingers are shifting, loosening the fastenings of Basch's pants, dragging the fabric out of the way enough for his fingers to find warm, sensitive flesh. Curling his fingers just under the tip of the man as he strokes him once, twice, just enough to give him a taste of friction...
Before he releases him. Entirely, even. Steps back, so that sudden loss will leave the ache of its absence and lack of heat behind, even as he props his hands on broad hips and lets his lips curve in a knowing smile as he surveys the man before him, already flushed and breathless with want. Beautiful, he thinks again, though he doesn't voice the words. Not wanting to ruin the moment with whatever issues those words had caused Basch before. ]
Strip for me, Basch. All of it, off. I want you naked for me, so I can see every delicious inch of you. Except for the collar. That I expect you to keep on, but only that.
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That, and he's sure he'll be made to.
He's not expecting to be released to abruptly, though, and he lands against the wall with an audible thud, panting heavily as he does. come back threatens its way to his lips. did I do something to displease you?
No. An order. He rights himself, turning around so Sylvain can see, his pants already a mess and his face flushed. He holds the other man's gaze, steady, as his hands go first to his remaining shirt buttons. ]
You should know I am not beautiful. [ He was in those reflections, but it was just this place. He'd seen himself in a mirror. Too thin, a patchwork of scars. ] If you find the sight unappealing, I will redress.
[ His heart hammers, and he loses what conviction he had, but he undresses steadily, tossing the shirt to the ground. Sure enough, scars. But golden hair, freckles and moles, the shape of ribs and muscle, too -- the history of a soldier.
He crouches down, buying himself a moment while he removes his shoes, then he stands again to remove the too-tight breeches, all but peeling them off himself.
And so here he is. The only one naked, save that collar clearly marking him. Scarred and aroused and cold and completely at Sylvain's mercy. Aware he's going to be led through the garden like this.
And aching for when the other man undresses, and their skin touches, and they are both marked and wanting. It's so huge, so strong. How does anyone tolerate this much want filling them up? ]
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But for now, he does what he can without moving, without words. Instead, he lets Basch see the appreciation and hunger that fills his dark gaze as the man strips away his clothing, layer by layer. Reveals his body - scarred, yes, but toned and telling countless stories with the marks left behind. He smiles faintly at the sight of freckles, knowing he has more than a few on his own pale skin. he takes in every exposed inch of him and there's not a single moment where that hunger falters.
It's only when he stops, stripped and exposed and naked except for that last remaining claim about his throat, that Sylvain moves. Steps in close once more and slides his hand against the man's jaw, tilting his face towards him and holding him there as he lets his other hand trail down over the man's bared torso, tracing his ribs, or scars alike. There's no flinching there, and the lust never fades from his dark eyes. ]
You're wrong, you know. You are beautiful. Your body tells a story - it might be a dark one, but it is yours and one you are still here to tell. The scars do nothing to diminish you. If anything, they do the opposite - they speak to a strength and a willpower deeper than most can ever imagine. And that you choose to bend to me, possessing that strength? Is a beauty all its own. One I do not take for granted.
[ He holds the man's gaze for a moment, earnest and solemn, wanting him to understand Sylvain means every word, before his lips quirk faintly and he steps back again, hands going to his own shirt as he starts to unbutton it and cast it aside.
It reveals a toned, muscular torso - one scattered with its own collection of scars. The long slash from a blade down his ribs, the jagged remnants of where he'd taken a spear in the side. The nasty slash of wyvern's claws on the back of one shoulder, and countless other smaller ones scattered over his skin. He doesn't flinch from the sight of them, either, the vulnerability of exposing himself. If he wants Basch to believe him, he doesn't want to falter here, either. He drops his shirt to the ground with little care before going to unfasten his pants as well. Stripping away each layer the same way Basch had. ]
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The space between them is gone, and Sylvain directs his gaze, hand roving just as wanting as it had before. His eyes widen as the man speaks, every word hitting that same tender, raw space that has been buried under scar tissue for so long. Does he mean that? That the appeal is someone of strength offering to bend, not wielding power over a man who ought to be powerful?
But he's wary. Balthier showed him how words could be twisted to lure in wanting onlookers, and he'd been victim to it before himself. This was a game. This was a game.
So why was his heart beating so fast? Why is Balthier's same voice echoing that he's a right idiot who can't see what's in front of him?
Sylvain steps back abruptly, and this time Basch is glad for the moment of space. His gaze holds just as steady, just as hungry as Sylvain's had, but a strange wave of hot and cold rolls through him, his blood roaring in his ears as he takes in the figure before him.
Scarred. Muscled. A solider.
He understands. He--
Basch's fists clench, and he waits obediently, but the moment Sylvain stills he closes the space between them, kissing the man hard, teeth scraping his lip as his hands rove unabashedly over that skin, one on the torso and one splayed across his back. He's not sure for a moment if he's going to cry, which is odd, because he also feels like he hasn't felt so light in years. This is going to come crashing down, somehow, soon, but right now he doesn't care. ]
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He hears that hitched breath, the shudder of things the man's not voicing, but he understands that, too. Holds him there against him as he kisses him, lets him touch, lets him vent whatever's risen up in him so violently. Or maybe it's more he seeks to channel it into something they can both use, as his other hand slides over skin that's not hot to the touch. Open and exposed for him to explore, to touch, to taste, at will. And he wants to.
But he has a fantasy to fulfill first. ]
I've got you. [ He murmurs the words into the kiss as he tugs Basch's head back finally - reluctant, even, on his own part. A promise, not a threat. His lips move down to kiss and nip their way along the line of the man's throat as his grip remains tight in his hair, tipping his head back for him. Exposing his throat. ] And I very much still want you. All of you. Will you bend for me, Basch?
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He cries out as Sylvain's naked thigh slides between his legs, strong and covered in soft, thick hair, but even that doesn't dislodge him from his hungry kissing, torso working to close any space between them even as he's rocked from between his legs. The heat of want and touch and closeness tangle together, and for a moment, he really does lose himself entirely, safe in this hold, safe in this moment. When Sylvain says I've got you, he whimpers, his grip tightening. He knows. He knows.
He's almost relieved when Sylvain tugs his head back. That touch grounds him, puts him back in his body, and more importantly, stalls the rush. He doesn't want this to be quick. He nods, his breath jagged, his voice a gurgling moan as Sylvain returns to the slow caressing tease of his neck. ]
With pleasure [ he whispers, knowing Sylvain will heed the word choice. ]
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[ Sylvain's voice is a low purr as he smiles against Basch's throat a moment before teeth press down, just above the stretch of that collar. Worrying redness into the skin there, heated and visible. He keeps his thigh pressed against the man's arousal for one more long moment before he pulls Basch off him, only long enough to turn him around and pin him to the wall once more, as he'd been holding him before.
One arm is tugged back behind him to pin him in place as he holds him there, leaning in against the lithe line of his back to murmur in his ears. ]
It was like this, I believe, was it not? You, pinned in place for me, while I sank deep into you?
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And going to be inside shortly. ]
Just like this [ he rasps. ] I was -- hngh -- thinking about this one all night -- after I saw others trying to catch your eye.
[ More that he hasn't voiced in a long time, but it's part of the game, and it's true. The fantasy of being wanted and kept when he wasn't the only or easiest choice. ]
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Were you worried? I’d say you have no reason to be, but I suspect you wouldn’t believe me.
[ He’s already debating on how best to start this. There’s a vial of oil down in the pocket of his discarded pants - something he’d lifted from one of the back rooms in his brief time there, since he knew that would likely be necessary before the night was out.
But with how delicious responsive Basch was, he’s tempted to try something else first. ]
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I was. [ Truth, and he thinks it will please. ] You could have had near anyone in that room, I think. Why settle for me? [ Bracing himself on the wall, still deliciously pinned, he rocks back against Sylvain's cock and sturdy torso. ] But now, I believe you. [ It's more of a whisper than he means, but he believes it, at least for tonight. He still doesn't know why, but he knows when men lie, when their convictions are fabricated, more often than not. Sylvain's hunger and approval are, for now, real.
Why this confidence usually reserved for battle is visiting him now, he does not know or question. ]
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[ It does please, even more so that the answer is volunteered beyond what Sylvain expected in response. Even that last part, low as it was.
He bends down, not releasing Basch from the wall, never fully removing contact so he doesn’t think he’s letting him go again. He’s not, he’s just retrieving the oil for now, spilling some out into his palm and slicking his fingers with it. Setting it beside them on the rail that runs around the inside of the elevator in case he needs it again, he lets his slicked fingers trace their way down from the base of the man’s spine. With his legs kicked apart as they are, it leaves him open and exposed and Sylvain just smiles as those fingers trail low enough to playfully circle around that tight ring of muscle. Sliding his thumb over it as he coats Basch’s skin with the oil. Teasing with the anticipation of being penetrated without yet following through. ]
Because I definitely do not see this as ‘settling’. The idea of having you here, like this, had me distracted the entire evening. Trust me when I say that entire casino could have been stark naked all night and my eyes still would have been on you.
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Gods, though. He doesn't know what to do with having his ass teased like he's the night's entertainment while being told he's-- he's--
He can't even get the thought out. He just breaths shallowly, leaning his forehead against the cool wall. He doesn't believe Sylvain, but he doesn't think him a liar either. It's two truths he can't reconcile, and so his mind wants to be somewhere else. All he can conclude is that he's strange, a diversion, already retreating from the very real approval he's seen again and again in Sylvain. But that's alright. He's hungry to be used like this, and Sylvain is pleased by it. That is enough. ]
You were patient, then [ he says. ] Those who decided to partake from me in the past never suffered waiting. [ Or risking sharing. Even as he says it, though, his body shudders again at the slow but constant pace of teasing his backside, and the memory of Sylvain's cock in his mouth is bright in his mind. ]
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[ There's a chuckle in his voice as he leans in to press against Basch's back once more. While one hand keeps him pinned, he uses his weight to help, even as the other finally presses a finger into him, testing how tight he is, testing the pace he needs to go here to prepare the man's body for what is to come.
If the man takes it easily, he'll add a second finger almost right away, but if it feels like he needs a slower approach in stretching these muscles, Sylvain doesn't mind taking his time either. Working his fingers deep, letting the oil ease his way as he works those muscles loose and relaxed for him. Sylvain is not a small man and he wants to make sure there's no pain when he does finally slide into Basch's eager body.
And if his fingers seek out and purposefully brush over a sensitive bundle of nerves in the process, all the better. ]
And you've never taken someone like me before.
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[ His voice is low, breathy, but that he's talking this much at all is a testament to that constant something that has him off kilter with Sylvain.
It's true as ever; he's poor enough at lying when he can focus, and gods help him if he needed to now. His whimpering groan is languid, relaxed even. It's been a long time since he's done this, but there's an undeniable trust here that makes it easy just listen to his body and bask in the intensity of sensation. Fortunate, because he remembers quite well that Sylvain was damn near too much for his throat. Not that that's going to stop him.
Some of those sounds become sharper, muscles clenching and releasing as Sylvain finds more sensitive purchase. He gasps out the other's name, pinned hand reaching for the other as his other fist clenches. It feels oddly intimate to call for him, no title and no plea. ]
No. I -- hngh -- certainly have not.
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[ It's not, and he knows that. Can tell how in how Basch's body responds to him, relaxes and then clenches whenever he brushes over his prostate. The sound of his name gasped, the feeling of the hand pinned behind the man's back scrabbling for purchase. ]
Or should we try for more?
[ Really, that had been a rhetorical question because, having decided the two digits were now moving easily enough, he adds a third to stretching wider still. Scissoring them within him, crooking them slightly as he drags them back out again. While he's not exactly taking his time, he is certainly being thorough. ]
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Still. Something in him balks. He knows Sylvain could hurt him, knows this person is a stranger, knows there's danger. ]
What if -- I had said it was too much?
[ It's not. It's slow and measured and knowing and that's why he's having such an easy time of this. But asking brushes up against that muddle of fear and desire to be overpowered, and -- that other thing. Whatever it is he keeps brushing up against but cannot name. ]
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I would have known you were lying. Your body was already telling me the answer I needed to hear. If it was too much, you wouldn't be chasing my fingers, reluctant to release me. Those pretty moans of yours would hold a different note - but no, all they hold is pleasure. Hunger.
Mouths lie. [ A scrape of teeth now, the tease of a brief bite before he soothes over the spot with his tongue again. ] Bodies rarely do. They hold a language all their own.
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[ neither of them can deny the effect Sylvain’s words and steady touch continue to have on him, that rigidness he carries melting into something much more pliable and accommodating.
He’s getting more accustomed to the heady mix of shame and breathlessness at being so accurately read and closely observed. It’s a strange thing, to be kept by someone else. Sexually, yes, but to be held in some level of accurate image in their eyes, their vantage point showing them pieces a man might not know of himself. Perhaps it’s that he keeps brushing up against.
He has no idea who he is these days.
But the thoughts are thick and fleeting. He moans again, bracing harder, and there’s a whine in his voice. He could finish like this, if Sylvain wanted him to, but the capable way he keeps adding more, winding everything together in a way Basch knows he could never pull off in return. He thinks he can read what Sylvain wants too. ]
You are…going to know every inch of me…better than I know myself—Sylvain.
[ His weight shifts forward, straining against the others hold as he scrabbles again to for the other, gasping. Precum wets his head, and his breathing is hitched. ]
Don’t stop.
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I am fairly fluent, it's true. Don't worry, I have no intention of stopping until you paint that mirror with proof of your pleasure.
[ He withdraws his fingers from the man's body, sparing a moment to generously slick his own aching cock before shifting his pose. Hand wrapped around the base of his own cock to maneuver easier, he lets the thick head rub over that hole, still tight and clenching at the teasing. Or maybe the emptiness, now that his fingers aren't buried deep. He gives Basch a moment to realize that's not his fingers anymore for himself, before shifting forward and starting to press into his tight body with a strained sound muffled against the back of the man's shoulder. ]
I guess we'll see how well I can read you until then.
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The odd feeling is overshadowed with the promise of making him cum in a public place like this, leaving a mess too. The only reason he doesn’t protest is the nature of the hotel; he’s sure they’re meant to be doing this, based on the reflections, and the fact that Sylvain could now easily make him, even with his reservations holding him back, is enough to make him moan. The sound turns to protest as the fingers slip away, and he’s tempted to reach down and touch his aching cock.
Again Sylvain shows his mastery of this, pressing against him and waiting, letting him adjust and anticipate. He’s awed at the way the other man keeps the pace without ever making him feel rushed.
It’s the sound that undoes him, the vulnerability and want in it, the way Sylvain muffles it into his shoulder. Basch has to concentrate to try to stay loose. Sylvain is large, and even with warming up, this will be a challenge. That makes him want, though, even when he thinks he can’t want more. Has he ever been this attracted to someone? It’s been so long… ]
I’m yours to play with as long as you’ll have me.
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At that invitation, he chuckles, sucking redness into the flesh beneath his lips. Another visible claim left in Basch’s skin as he works his way deeper with deliberate persistence. One hand still grips the man’s hips to hold him right where he wants him while the other still has fingers curled around his wrist, keeping that arm pinned and his torso pressed to the cool reflection of the mirrored wall.
He doesn’t touch Basch’s cock, not yet. He might not even have to, but he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it. ]
That could be a very long time, Basch. [ The man’s name is a soft purr on his tongue, smile audible in his voice. His hips rock a little sharper, changing the angle, hoping to rub up against his prostate on that next thrust. ] I’ll likely want to play with you as long as you want to be played with. And I think you very much enjoyed being played with like this. You’re still so tight for me, even after taking my fingers. But I can feel how much you want it.
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His words, though, send an odd pricking through him. He almost throws them off, the automatic whisper that this is just what people say, that circumstances will change so at the ready. But…
But he doesn’t want that to be the case. He wants Sylvain to keep him a good long while, and to feel confident in the arrangement, and he moans at the thought and moans at the fresh mark on his skin because it certainly seems like that’s an option in a way it never was at home. He doesn’t know why it’s so much easier to admit here. Was it the time in prison? The fact that he could not cause harm to Sylvain’s status? This place’s tricks? He didn’t know, but in that moment, he felt incredibly grateful that this could even be happening. He doesn’t understand what Sylvain is drawn to, but he understands that he is, and that’s more than enough. ]
I want…you. I don’t want to — ngh — stop wanting you. Fuck. [ His voice cracks, entire body shuddering and tryin to slump forward as Sylvain hits his prostate. The precum on his head smears the spotless cold wall, and already the early shudder of imminent release pulses through him, making him dizzy. ]
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[ His chuckle is purred against Basch’s ear as he speeds his pace, feeling the way the other man has started to shudder. He’s tightening around Sylvain’s cock, which makes the friction all the more delicious. He knows he won’t be far behind, not with how good he feels, and Sylvain rocks into him, deep and rough. Not quite a brutal pace, but pointed enough as he chases his pleasure.
His hand releases Basch’s hip to wind around his front, wrapping calloused fingers around the man’s cock, stroking him in time to the thrust of his hips. Giving him something to rut into as Sylvain fucks into him behind. It’s fast and rough and tantalizing and while it has all the appearance of Sylvain taking, just like the reflection had shown, he makes sure to drag Basch right along with him. ]
Let me feel you come undone, Basch. Let me feel you tight and trembling around me before I fill you up.
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It’s not long before his breath catches as a tightening whimper, body jerking and going rigid until he stops breathing, flat back against Sylvain and crying out as his seed pumps from him, dripping down the wall panel as he gasps and struggles to stay upright. It still feels so good though, and he grunts, shifting to hold himself agains the bar and bend so Sylvain’s angle is even smoother, expecting the other man needs a little more speed to finish. The thought of both their cum running down him is enough to make him moan again, still s’enrichir cock twitching as though it could go again so soon. ]
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It only takes a few more sharp thrusts into the man’s trembling body before his own pleasure crests and he tenses and spills inside of him with a low curse hissed out between his teeth, hands clenching at Basch’s hips to hold him right there, because he was perfect.
Gasping for air, he slumps forward against Basch’s back slightly, one hand going to brace his weight against the wall, just to make sure he didn’t put it all on the other man, who seemed just as breathless and unsteady as he felt. ]
Goddess, you’re fucking perfect.
[ He murmurs the words against Basch’s back, even as he wraps his arms around him, keeps him warm against his chest as he tries to catch his breath. Slow his racing pulse. Make sure his legs don’t give out beneath him, because that would just be inconvenient. And more than a little embarrassing. ]
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He might not agree he’s perfect, but right now, he believes that Sylvain thinks he is, and that knowledge fills him with something at once buoyant as air and grounding as roots. ]
I would say the same of you.
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Which is, of course, when the elevator door dings and slides open behind them, prompting a chuckle from the redhead as he glances over his shoulder.
Luckily, the gardens up here look pretty empty right now - he’d assumed everyone would be at the masquerade and it looked as if he were right. ]
Come on. Let’s see if we can go find a quiet corner somewhere before someone else needs to use the elevator.
[ Even if that back wall… is very telling of what they’d been up to. He just smirks, however, as he straightens and releases his grip on Basch’s arm. ]
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He’s reluctant to leave Sylvain’s hold, but there’s no protest; he trusts this night isn’t finished, and he would rather enjoy it more comfortably. The gardens smell sweet and earthy and that puts him at ease, even if walking naked in semi public is still enough to make him shy. But there’s no real use getting dressed again, and this place is full of oddness. So he uses his discarded shirt to clean himself off, then is following after Sylvain, the odd desire to take the other’s hand skimming across his mind. He doesn’t act on it, but he does tuck it away, something strange and unfathomable and oddly precious. ]
It’s beautiful up here. Quiet.
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It is. It’s also much larger than I thought it would be. Although I guess that shouldn’t surprise me, considering this place. Everything here seems designed to be big and flashy.
[ He glances back over his shoulder at Basch and then grins before holding out his free hand in invitation. ]
Shall we go explore for a bit? It’s quiet enough that we might have the whole place to ourselves right now.
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He looks up, unsure what to make of Sylvain’s sheepish grin. He hasn’t connected it to the desire to offer aid, and so he wonders if he’s done something odd; he hasn’t seen anything remotely like shyness on the other man. Puzzled, but loathe to make it worse, he just follows Sylvain out. The other man’s comment draws his attention to the sky dome. Beautiful. But something in him still feels wrong. Trapped. A prison is a prison, and the air doesn’t move right. He won’t say it though. What he does say is ]
The building is enormous across, so it follows the gardens would be large.
[ And then he’s glancing back at Sylvain, more interested in that view, and his brow is twisting, lips parting. He looks at Sylvain’s hand in confusion, gaze darting back to his face in question. There’s just a smile there.
Were the rules just different where Sylvain was from? Or — he realizes his heart is beating faster — was whatever that deeper, messier thing he was feeling…mutual?
He wants to shake his head, write it off, hide from the vulnerability that if he accepts, he can be so much more hurt. But—
But he doesn’t. Almost like someone else is reaching in and steering, he sets his hand in Sylvain’s. His smile, though, small and sheepish as it is, is all his. It takes all his not-small a line of self restraint not to say anything stupid, which essentially means limiting himself in words altogether. ]
Yes. I’d like that.
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Which seems a silly thing to wonder when he’d been buried in the man’s ass a minute ago.
The rules are slightly different where he comes from. While it’s not as common, it’s also not unheard of. Although he, being of the noble class and a Crest bearer to boot, might incite scandal over preferences leaning that way. At least until he safely had an heir to secure his lineage. Then he was pretty sure no one gave a damn about anything past that. It was yet one more way those lucky enough to be born without a Crest had a freedom he could rarely dream of, and one they so often took for granted.
But he doesn’t dwell on it now. Not when Basch finally comes to a decision and slips his hand into Sylvain’s He gives the man’s fingers a light squeeze before tugging him closer, falling into step at his side and keeping their fingers entwined for now.
He lets his gaze drift around them as they wander - aimlessly for the moment, although that’s mostly because he’s never been here before and has no idea where they’re going. But while he thinks he sees a glimpse of a familiar piece of greenery every now and then, many of the plants here seem foreign to him. ]
Are the plants in your world like this? [ he wonders aloud after a moment, glancing over as he gestures to the greenery around them. ]
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He’s further surprised as Sylvain squeezes his hand and slides in close beside him, but he manages to simply squeeze back and fall in step. If pressed, Basch wouldn’t know how common or uncommon this was at home. He just knew members of his rank were not to fraternize with each other, and so everything was secret, always someone asking him to bend so they could keep from breaking. And he always did. They had to win their battles, win the war so they could have peace. This was…different.
The question is a relief. Safe. ]
Some species seem familiar, at least in family. But I have traveled desert, tundra, jungle, plains, and forest. I wonder if certain climates don’t produce certain form, regardless of world.
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That might be true enough, I suppose. I haven’t seen nearly as much of the other regions in my world as I have my own territory, and those neighboring it. [ Excluding his time at the Academy, anyway. And the war had kept him too occupied to travel much for pleasure for the past several years. ] You’ve traveled extensively, from the sound of it?
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[ His voice and expression are strained, hand tightening without his realizing. Then his actions catch up with him, and he tries to smile. ]
My country was conquered when I was still a youth. I moved to an allied territory, but the war was still on, and I often served on sensitive missions. My latest duty had sent me even farther afield. I am not sure I’d consider myself well traveled; cultural differences elude me, and I am a man of simple tastes.
[ He looks around them, feeling his spirit ease in the presence of nature. It’s something he’s always sought solace in. ] I do enjoy the landscape, and I know the basics of medicinal herbs.
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I’m sorry. [ His voice is sincere - both over what Basch had endured for most of his life, and the fact that he’d accidentally reminded him of darker times in the first place. ] My own realm has been caught up in war for the past half-decade or so and I’ve spent most of it keeping the Empire from invading our lands, even as they encroached ever further. Any dreams I’d had for seeing more of the world after my days at the Academy got stomped underfoot like so much of our Kingdom.
[ An explanation - not to keep the topic dark, but to show he understood, in a way. Maybe not to the extent that Basch had endured, but war was terrible, no matter what.
But he smiles a bit at the mention of herbs, something he was familiar with as well. ] I had a friend who was very knowledgable about plants and gardening. Things that were used for cooking, for spices, for medicines. I used to escape there to hide, back in our Academy days, because it was always quiet, and he would sometimes tell me about them while I worked beside him.
[ Dedue’s quiet strength had been a lifesaver in and of itself. Basch reminded Sylvain of him, a little. ]
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You understand, then. It consumes you; how can it not? I wish you peace and travels upon your return.
[ It's out before he thinks better, leaving an odd taste. He means it, of course, but if he does, then it wishes whatever this is to either run its course, or to be a painful loss. Was that not the fate of all trysts, though? Basch had said he would consider love and family and home when the Empire was defeated, and that was twenty years ago.
Sylvain, thankfully, is more facile with conversation than he is, and seizes an opportunity to adjust. ] Funny how those of us who like plants and rocks have a tendency for quiet. Something you enjoy, though do not share, it would seem.
[ It's a warm observation, teasing even. ]
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Who knew that getting kidnapped might have possibly saved his life? Or the lives of people he had no desire to end. He only hoped it hadn’t cost those most important to him, too.
He was trying not to let it consume him. With varying success, depending on the moment. Sometimes it was easier to fake than others. Although coming face to face with Edelgard and Hubert had certainly been a test of his control. And acting skills.
But he latches onto that teasing comment for the distraction it is, happily letting the conversation steer away into a new direction. They’re still meandering through the gardens, although the greenery seems to be growing a little wilder here, not quit as structured and controlled. He finds he likes that better, he thinks.
But for now he gasps and clutches his free hand over his chest like he’s been mortally offended, even though his eyes are warm and dancing with laughter. ]
Did you just imply I talk too much?? I would never… [ he stops abruptly, as if to rethink whatever he’d been about to say, and then just gives a nonchalant shrug with a wink aimed in Basch’s direction. ] Nah, you’re right, on second thought. I absolutely talk too much. Feel free to shut me up again whenever you like.
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I did not say too much.
[ He'll make good on shutting him up though, lips moving to lip and kissing deeply, enjoying the soft heat of their skin pressing together under the fresh air of the gardens. He'd like to fuck Sylvain outdoors, he passingly notes. Near a waterfall and go swimming; in the warm sun on a big slab of sandstone; in a soft meadow. And then hear him talk too much as one or both of them dozes.
He doesn't know who this person is, who wants companionship and intimacy, who wants so freely, but in this moment, he's happy to be him, and happy to be here. ]
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He leans in to meet him for that kiss, still smiling as he slides a hand gently down Basch’s spine. He lingers there, drawing it out, warm and teasing. It’s quieter, not holding the frenzy and impatience of earlier, but just as good, just as enjoyable. Maybe even more so.
But after a long moment, he pulls back, although he steals one more kiss before doing so, as if reluctant to stop. He does tug on the man’s hand again with a fond smile. ]
Come on. I think I see a rope bridge up there. Shall we see where it leads? It seems an odd choice, for the type of garden we walked into.
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Sylvain pulls back -- only after teasing wonderfully -- and Basch has the urge to cradle his face, like he could touch the brightness and warmth coming off it. He's relieved to be diverted and led, because he doesn't know what to do with this feeling. ]
This whole place is odd choices. They have not steered me poorly tonight, though. [ He squeezes Sylvain's hand. ] Let's see where it leads.
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So. What adventures did you find tonight at their little masquerade? Anything fun?
[ He tosses a playful wink over his shoulder at Basch, grin playful and curious. And maybe holding a faint hint of teasing mischief.
Although he was curious. There had been a lot to experience, after all. ]
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The question pulls him back a little, and he looks down, shy and disoriented. Was that really just an hour ago? But a glance at Sylvain reminds him it's not to mock or to judge. He could say anything, or nothing. ]
I mostly observed. [ And...maybe was guiltily tantalized by some things, repulsed by others. ] I was certainly given offers for other couplings. It was a strange thing to express I was spoken for. This helped. [ He touches the collar at his neck, having near forgotten it. But it had been a pleasant shield and promise when he was otherwise overwhelmed. ] I think that made me more desirable to a few.
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Were there any that tempted you? [ He glances back at him again, and then deliberately slows his pace enough that they’re side by side instead of him leading the way. ]
And don’t worry, I’m not going to be upset at your answer. You’re still here, after all. I’m just curious.
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But he's been honest this far, and he is a terrible liar. So breathes out a little more deeply. ]
That would explain my popularity over the years, though I wonder at no one putting it so succinctly for me. In honesty, no. Keeping one of my wants centered this long was a feat itself, and why would I want something unknown when I had something good waiting? I did, a few times, talk myself out of seeing you again, but then you would claim me again, and I decided to stay a little longer.
[ This feels like the most he's said at once in years. ]
You're not a jealous man then, even though you like to mark? [ He surprises himself with his smile, affectionate, and even teasing. He could respect that, really. Someone who could indulge but also didn't try to restrict others. ]
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Besides. I tend to believe people's hearts can hold enough room for more than one person. I've seen families do it, parents, friends. Why should this be different?
[ He might not have experienced many of those firsthand, but he had seen it in others. And it was what he wanted to perpetuate. Maybe the world wouldn't be so fucked up if that were more normal. ]
But I do enjoy having your attention all to myself like this. And that I was on your mind so much tonight. I may have sought you out on purpose a few of those times, just to catch your eye again. Considering that apparently helped talk you back into seeing me again, I'm glad I did.
And, [ he adds, tugging Basch closer as he smiles at that very obvious mark he'd left on the man's flesh. ] I like knowing that every time you see that in your reflection, or every time you catch someone's eyes landing on it, you'll think of me all over again. And when I gave it to you.
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The idea that people's hearts can hold space for many makes sense to him, even if some part of him balks at taking so much space. Is not one meal enough? For him. For Sylvain, he wants the world.
It's not until Sylvain says he likes having Basch's attention that he realizes there was some sadness vying in him too. It's not something he can untangle now, but the relief he's willing to hold onto. ]
Mmm, not jealous, but certainly possessive. [ He closes the space between them to kiss again, a little firm, a little teasing, pleased to be wanted and wanting it to continue. ] I'll think of you with or without memory on my skin, but I cannot deny I enjoy it.
And you? Your reflection suggested your wish to be equally claimed in this way. [ Teasing, beginning to wind up for their inevitable next round, but genuinely asking too. He wanted to give Sylvain what he would enjoy, to the greatest extent of his ability. He wanted to be thought of fondly, whether they met again or not. ]
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Possessive is probably a good word for it. [ A playful nip to Basch’s lower lip before he pulls back enough to see his face. Amber eyes warm and lit with teasing now. ]
Was that your subtle way of expressing you wanted to leave your marks on me, too, Basch? Because I assure you I’ve got no objections to that. That’s not an offer I’d make to many, but it seems you’re my exception to a lot of things today.
[ Then again, people being possessive of him back home rarely had good connotations. Or dire consequences. ]
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He’s been possessed, marked, kept before — but always as a sort of game, a joy in the scandal of it. It wasn’t that he’d never cared for those he laid with. Quite the opposite. It was just clear that care was not meant to be spoken of, and certainly not detectable outside the privacy of those engagements.
That Slyvain wanted him marked was heady enough. That he invited it back, and when it wasn’t his custom, makes Basch’s breath catch. ]
And here I was congratulating myself for being so direct. I do not know what it is I have done to charm you so, but I pray it continues. And if you look at the marks on your skin and think fondly of me, I will be quite satisfied.
[ All spoken close to Sylvain’s lips, so that it is easy to lean in and nip back. He can feel his cock beginning to stir; it had been enough time to recover, and the anticipation of what else they’ll get up to has him taut with anticipation. ]
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Which is yet another reminder that they’ve yet to find a place that’s private enough for them to spent the next few hours. Or the night, at this rate.
So it’s reluctance in his movements as he draws back again, but only to lead the way across the swaying rope bridge they’d been headed towards. The gardens on the other side are more wild jungle than garden, in his mind, with massive trees with what looks like treehouses and rope netting strung up between many of them. There are soft lanterns lighting their path and moss that grows on the trees with a strange glow to it, giving their surroundings an otherworldly glow. A quiet river runs beside the path, winding away into the underbrush and then back again, the current slow and lazy.
It’s not until they come to a small side path that splits off that Sylvain pauses, taking a few steps down it until he sees where it leads. And then he just laughs, glancing back over his shoulder at Basch with an impish grin. ]
Now I see why the trail split so many ways, if something like this was down them.
[ Because the path has led to a small, cozy clearing, surrounded by vibrant plants and trees. There’s a massive nest of cushions set among soft moss, waiting invitingly to be lounged on. Something that looks like a wide hammock - or a swing, maybe? - is suspended from a nearby tree. The netting drapes overhead with the occasional ladder, or the occasional lose strands of rope dangling conveniently downwards, in case someone below had need of it. And the river had carved out a small shallow pool here before meandering on, making the private little glade the perfect place to stop and relax and enjoy… well, what most people probably came to these gardens for in the first place. ]
It seems we have it to ourselves tonight. What do you think? Comfortable enough?
ty for the beautiful setting description
It's also...beautiful. Peaceful. Lights aglow and little quiet places to tuck away. It moves him, for some reason. Perhaps just the sense of a natural space -- false or no -- that knows no war. So he follows silently, eyes taking it in, anchored by the hand in his as his mind tries to reject any of this as real.
Sylvain's laugh brings him back. It's beautiful, and if he could catch it up, he would. But his words guide Basch's attention back to the scenery. He would never have designed this for himself but -- in a flash of honesty he could see himself coming back to this place and enjoying all of it, if Sylvain were with him, and that's a dizzying thought.
He just nods, tightening his grip in Sylvain's hand for a flash. ]
Significantly more comfortable than we're used to, at this point.
I hope it works! feel free to add whatever you want or what might useful/fun ;)
I don’t think it would have been hard to outdo the dressing room. The mirrored lift was nice, however. [ He winks, teasing the man still as he steals another kiss.
Then he leans back and gives a thoughtful hum as he surveys the little clearing they’ve found for themselves. ]
So. [ He leans close to murmur in the man’s ear, almost as if confessing a secret. ] What would you like to try first?
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And then he's whispering in his ear, asking him to confess desire, and the bite of embarrassment -- the kind that makes his cock stir -- flares in him, in no small part at the connotations of first. He likes this game though, likes where Sylvain takes it, likes trusting him, so he surveys, forcing himself to note what his mind skirts over.
He nods over, aware there's a flush in his cheeks. ]
I've never used a swing for this purpose.
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I’ve never used it in quite this way either. Shall we try it out?
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Are you going to make me ask so directly?
[ Not that he minds being pushed like that. Which is very clear, from how easily he follows. And it makes him warm in an entirely different way that this is something he and Sylvain will try together. A space he will hold regardless of what happens after tonight, like a mark they will both keep. ]
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Maybe I like seeing that flush creep up the back of your neck and across your cheeks and know I put it there. Besides. I’m sure there’s more than one way to use this thing. You could always ask to fuck me on it, after all. Maybe I just wanted to make sure I understood what you had in mind, or what you were craving.
some day he'll make a decision off the bat. not today.
I would gladly fuck you. I wasn't sure if that was something you enjoyed.
[ Which skirts around the actual question of preference. It's not that he has none; it's that truly, anything would be appealing. Both of them on the swing, having to struggle with the moving center of gravity, or one of them on it, more easily slid back and forth. ]
It’s a work in progress ;)
I enjoy a lot of things. I’m actually pretty sure there’s very little you could suggest that I wouldn’t want to try with you, honestly. Of course, that just gives us a very long list of options to explore…
[ That last part is chuckled against Basch’s lips as his hands trail down his spine to tease over the curve of his ass once more, dragging his hips close as he playfully grinds against him. ]
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What he does know he wants is to make good on the vision of them both being marked. He turns his head to bury his face in Sylvain's neck, sucking hard as their fronts grind together, nails dragging firmly down the other's back. ]
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One hand lifts, tangling in the man’s hair as he holds him there, encouraging him to leave as many marks as he likes. Teasing with the slide of his body, his own arousal already stirring with interest and starting to harden against the man’s hip. ]
Gonna leave your mark on my skin for everyone to see, too, hmm?
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He shifts his hip to grind up against Sylvain's growing need, shivering at how incredible it is to feel that want in real time, even as he keeps working that first mark, nails alternating between light strokes and deeper scratches, raising the skin but not breaking it. ]
Yes [ he murmurs, breaking to kiss tenderly where Sylvain's jaw meats his neck. ] And then when you lie with someone else, they can wonder if I was better. [ His heart skips, and a weird feeling of want and pride and fear washes through him. He's never said anything like that before, even if he has on occasion thought it.
But he does want Sylvain to think of him, and he does want some mark left that, at least for this night, he was Sylvain's, and Sylvain's was his, and he satisfied in a way that would be hard to replicate. ]
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He suspected the man would see through anything else, and he’d never have reached him like that.
Basch’s confession gets a crooked grin and a soft chuckle from him as he slides a hand up and down the man’s spine, letting his mouth moved where it liked as he felt him linger over the marks he left in his flesh. ]
I like this possessiveness in you. I suppose that means I don’t have to feel guilty over claiming your attention so many times today and effectively hoarding you all to myself the rest of the night. Because I intend to have you, again and again, until we’re both too spent and sated to do anything but curl up in those cushions together and sleep.
Because I intend to make sure that when you sleep with the others, you’ll remember for yourself that this was better. Have you craving me, coming back for more.
[ Which is when he tips the man back towards the swing, lowering him into the mesh contraption suspended from a branch high overhead. Leaning over him with a grin. ] Shall we try this thing out?
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I truly cannot fathom what about this should make you feel guilty. [ So hypocritical even he knows it, but maybe that is what is easing his own typical feelings of guilt and selfishness. His breath comes as a sharp hiss as Sylvain continues his threats, a low moan at the promise of not just exhaustion, but being kept even after.
He's so caught up in his senses and that fantasy that he barely notices being maneuvered until it's already happening. He clings to Sylvain for a moment, the change too quick for him, but then he eases. He's starting to become familiar with the bubbling heat Sylvain's tricks provide. Not shame, not guilt; anticipation. Discomfort at the unknown.
His hand trails up to Sylvain's face, cupping it gently as he smiles, dazed and hungry, and repeats his plea from their meeting. ]
Use me. And if you'll allow me, I shall use you in turn, claim and exhaust you, and coax you to sleep heavy against me until you are ready to depart.
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I’m Faerghan. It’s sort of in our natures. But I don’t think I could actually feel guilty for any of this, even if I tried. That would require regrets and I have none. Not over this.
[ But he bends over the other man as he lowers him down into the swing, the netting mesh of it swaying at the new weight on it now. Leaning down to soothe with a kiss when he feels the momentary tension in the other man’s form at being toppled back. ]
That, [ He murmurs into the kiss, a smile on his lips as his hands slide up over Basch’s chest. ] sounds perfect, actually.
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[ A strange thing, to have someone he just met understand the weight of that better than people who had known him for years. It's inevitable for him, though, with the way Sylvain makes him feel so treasured, so important with those admissions. He has always been weak for them, but it has been a long while since any were served his way.
They're almost as sweet as the tenderness of that kiss, given the moment he tenses. He squeezes Sylvain's arms, as much in assurance as thanks. And this time, dreamy eyed, he gives a breathless sigh of a laugh. ]
It is a rare thing I can offer perfection. Let us not squander it. [ He leans forward to kiss again, hungrier, his weight shifting the swing and causing him to hold to one of the straps. A little fear worms in. He will be entirely at Sylvain's mercy. And he's alright with that. ]
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[ Faerghus isn’t something he wants overshadowing the night’s pleasures.
But he bends his head to kiss the man again so Basch doesn’t get the wrong idea, or wonder if he misspoke. ]
The only thing I want to focus on tonight is you.
[ He smiles when he sees that hand grab for the straps, the swing shifting beneath the man’s weight. He reaches up, seeing how the strands of rope are purposefully twined with loops, and tugs that arm higher, until he can slide Basch’s hand through one of the openings, letting the strap wind about his wrist and hold it there.
He can still work himself free - it’s not a true restraint - but it will mimic the feeling of it anyway. And he remembers the sight of him buried deep in Basch’s body with the man’s hands bounds above him. Not quite the same, but a good adaptation of mimicry, considering the setting. And, as long as Basch has no objection to it, he’ll lift his other hand to fasten it the same way for the time being. ]
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That Sylvain is guiding him, and to restraints no less, offers his mind that blissful retreat to only the here and now. It is different than before, because his trust is higher, and there is no audience for their sounds. He still flushes, embarrassed by the way this set up makes his arousal grow, for no other reason than he was sure, for so long, that wanting things like this was something to be hidden and suppressed.
He cannot consider that there seems, in fact, to be no danger, no consequence, especially not with a willing partner, because if that is true, a good deal of the fabric he's used to hold himself together the past twenty years will topple, and so again he focuses only on the sensation of Sylvain's hands and the suspensions that dig gently into him. ]
I have no objections to that. I find your attention desirable and exhilarating. [ Not much of a confession, but a constant use of a muscle that has near atrophied for him. And he hopes that Sylvain likes to hear it, even if he can clearly see it. ]
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He lets calloused fingertips slide down over Basch’s torso, his touch teasing but confident. Tweaking and tugging the man’s nipples till they darkened, hardened, sensitivity drawn to the surface. And then he lets his touch drift lower, fingers curling around his cock and giving him a slow stroke, but one that made the swing sway slightly all the same. ]
Is it comfortable, the swing?
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It's hardly a moment before those rough hands are on him, and his breathy moan comes easy even before the attention shifts to his nipples. This alone is bliss, but Sylvain is not one to let him rest. The touch to his cock earns a sharper sound, body tensing in response to the swing's motion. ]
Surprisingly. [ He admits. Physically and emotionally. ] Is the view to your liking?
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[ The words are a dark purr as he watches Basch’s reactions with an appreciative gaze. Letting the man see just how much he liked the view, as his gaze trails over the man’s exposed form. His bound wrists. The way his muscles pull taut when he tested the strength of the bindings, or when the swing shifts and sways beneath him. ]
I think your legs could probably be hooked up here, as well. [ He slides his hand up the lower set of ropes, where more hoops in the suspension were visible. It would clearly keep the man spread and suspended within the swing entirely, but it was also a far more vulnerable position. ] But we don’t have to use those if you’re not comfortable with it. This already gives us plenty to work with. What do you think?
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He does take the question in, rolling it around in his mind for a few silent moments before he nods once.
He -- likes the idea of being vulnerable, and the trust is there. So far every leap he's taken with Sylvain has been a positive one. ]
I think that you are very gentle with me. I will try it.
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So he leans forward to steal another kiss from him, this one deeper, hungrier. Letting Basch taste his pleasure at that decision. At the trust he so obviously placed there between them. A reward in its own right as he slides his hands against the man’s torso, tracing over his ribs. Teasing against his nipples again as he enjoys the sounds that draws from the other man.
When he finally pulls back - more for air than anything else - he’s still smiling, warm and pleased. And then kissing his way along the inside of Basch’s thigh as he lifts his leg. ]
Alright, we’ll try it this way. Or maybe compromise. Because I think if you bend your leg for me, I can use this loop here under your knees to prop them up in the bindings instead.
[ The way this swing was set up, he was pretty sure you could secure a body in just about any pose imaginable. Maybe they’d play with that more later. Right now, he was maneuvering the looped rope into place so he could spread Basch’s legs and bind them that way, spreading him wide open for him and keeping him completely held and suspended within the cradle of the swing.
Only once that was done does he go back to kissing his way down the inside of one of the man’s thighs, his eyes locked on Basch’s face. ]
What about now? Still comfortable?
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Not sure what to make of me, are you?
[ But he's silenced -- and calmed -- by the way Sylvain closes the space between them, kissing with a fervor that feels different than what they've done before. Reassuring, appreciative. Basch's trust means something to him, and that has Basch moaning even before the resumed assault on his nipples.
Sylvain's smile is stunning. Not the grin he gives so easily, but this look of bliss. Basch is so lost in it that he doesn't quite process the other dipping, until there are lips at his thigh. He shudders, balance shifting and the swing rocking lightly, his stomach dropping at the sensation.
He lets Sylvain guide him, shown again and again how considerate and gentle the other is to his comfort. Even so, it's an odd sensation, his legs spread, his knees bound in place, his hands above him. When Sylvain returns to his thigh, the sensation feels increased, and he whimpers. ]
Remarkably, though I think -- I almost regret not being able to touch you back. [ His breath is airy, almost hoarse, but he holds the other's gaze, flushed with want and not embarrassment this time. ] I shall wait my turn.
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[ He murmurs the words against Basch’s lips as he kisses him, but then goes back to finishing his task of securing the bindings. He’s still admiring the results of his handwork when Basch answers him and he lets his gaze travel back to meet his. Taking in that flush and letting his smile curve a little wider at the sight of it.
He hums, playful, as he continues kissing his way down the inside of Basch’s thigh, letting the swing sway with his weight a little as he lowers down to one knee. ]
Maybe I’ll just have to touch you twice as much to make up for it instead.
[ He lets his gaze travel up the line of Basch’s body from this viewpoint - especially with his legs spread, leaving him open and exposed and vulnerable. Sylvain trails a finger along the underside of his cock, still hardening visibly under the weight of his gaze now. And then lets his touch continue down until he can circle the tight ring of muscle, still slightly stretched from their coupling earlier, skin still slick with oil and probably Sylvain’s own seed within him]
Goddess, you’re such a gorgeous sight like this. I could watch you for hours.
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But he's also had 20 years of life since then. He knows he is not the sort to feel at ease with very many, let alone buoyant with the knowledge they find him surprising or good or attractive. He still expects this to wilt with the morning, and if not with that, then with a few weeks. He knows what he is: a stick in the mud, an odd outsider, a broken, possibly cursed old soldier. He was not built for pleasure or companionship. And normally he let that steer.
But for some reason, this place, or this night, or perhaps just Sylvain, he's having a harder time worrying about the inevitable end and instead just...enjoying what he has while he has it. He kisses back warmly, sighing as Sylvain breaks off to turn his attention to his knee and inner thigh. He does not stem the languid hum of pleasure it pulls from him, nor does he struggle away from the growing arousal being so prone and so...doted on is stirring up in him. ]
I am not sure I can handle twice as much touching.
[ It's a warm tease, not a warning, his breath catching as he catched Sylvain looking. That touch makes him groan, his abs contorting and the swing swaying lightly, making his stomach bubble. He bites his lip, head tilting back as Sylvain's finger trails down and starts to tease his still-slick entrance. Stuck like this, all he can do is enjoy it. It's such a relief.
Even the compliment sticks a little better. He does not flinch or protest it, and he thinks he believes Sylvain. ]
You could not, not without touching.
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[ The smile is audible in Sylvain’s voice as his hands tease and stroke. But it’s not long before touching isn’t enough either and he sways the swing a little closer to bring Basch within reach and bends his head to swipe his tongue up the underside of the man’s cock, only to swirl it teasingly about the tip. Enjoying the opportunity to turn the tables on him now. ]
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He curses softly as Sylvain drags his tongue up his cock, leaving it wet and wanting, teasing at his head. His sounds turn to a whine, hips trying to move, body swaying, helpless to do anything but receive and wait.
He wants, he wants so deeply.</small. ]
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And if he had to get a little creative to do this, then that was fine. Besides. Those noises the man made as he teased him, worked him deep and released him again, made the entire thing worth it.
At least his skill - and his oral fixation - means that this is as much fun for him, and he enjoys taking the man deep enough that his throat works around the tip, taking him deep enough that he has to relax his throat to take him deeper into it.
And through it all, he watches up the line of the man’s body, not wanting to miss any of those blissful expressions or the noises he makes. ]
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How Sylvain takes him so well and keeps an eye is beyond Basch, and the combination of it all means he's groaning, lowly breathing the other's name, aware he's going to get louder before this is through. ]
How are you...this remarkable? [ he asks, breathless, near whimpering, before hissing his name. He's not going to last, not with all this sensation and delicious need to control his own movement. ]
Gods you feel divine.
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You know, we’ve tried a lot of different things, but I hadn’t yet gotten to sate my own oral fetish for getting a taste of you. I may have spent far too much time thinking about exploring every inch of your skin with my tongue. Leaving marks in your flesh with my teeth.
Oh, and getting to do this…
[ Hands tug the swing back in his direction again, but this time, instead of aiming for Basch’s cock, Sylvain lets his mouth move lower. Swiping his tongue over that tight ring of muscle instead, tasting a mix of seed and the sweet tang of the oil they’d used earlier. But his real purpose is to grip the man’s hips and hold him in place now as he delves in to tease the man with his tongue, knowing he’ll still be more sensitive than normal here, after having been fucked so recently. ]
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But now he’s having to adjust his calculations, because he hadn’t accounted for the other man liking to give as well as he got — better, arguably, as he was much more creative and teasing than Basch. But he really hadn’t considered that any thought spent on him would be so thorough, and it makes him feel weak and untethered, like he wants to run and insist he isn’t worthy of that, but be it this place or the binds of the swing keeping him in place, he manages to set that aside and instead lock gazes, sitting in the odd feeling of being so desired.
Which he’s trying to process when Sylvain’s hands guide him back and his mouth moves down. He cries out, body trying to spread wider, completely overwhelmed. This is not a sensation he’s experienced before, and it’s hardly a moment before his abdomen is shuddering, body unsure how to take the wonderful feeling, mind unsure how to take this man who pushed him around so easily also wanting to put his tongue up his ass. An odd thing to feel sentimental for, but he did, some ring of trust growing tighter and deeper.
He whines, hands clenching. ]
I…want to pull your hair and wrap my legs around you.
[ A grunt of effort, then a whimpering moan. ]
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Ahh, but then you wouldn't feel so deliciously helpless as I had my way with your body. Finding all those places that draw those needy little noises from you. Has anyone ever had you this way before, Basch? I think not, which is truly a shame. Does it feel good?
[ he doesn't bother waiting for an answer before he delves back in to repeat the torment. And lets his fingers join as his tongue spears into the other man once more. He stretches so easily now, after Sylvain had fucked him so thoroughly earlier, but his body still reacts so deliciously to all the attention. ]
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You…read me like I am obvious.
[ Not a complaint, and less shame in it than their first meeting. Sylvain clearly enjoys having him in this surrender, and that sends heat through his already flushed body, arching again at Sylvain’s tongue and fingers, sending himself bobbing and swaying. ]
No. Only you. I — [ He moans, the muscles in his abdomen clenching and jutting, cock throbbing. He’s so sensitive still, and never has he felt a tongue like this. ] You feel amazing. Every time. I don’t —
[ It’s lost, and he stops trying to speak. ]
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[ Sylvain corrects him gently as he presses open-mouthed kisses to Basch’s flushed skin. Feeling every tremble, every clench, every shudder that sweeps through the other man in his pleasure. He hums, pleased that this little venture was so well-received. He’d have to remember that for next time. He likes making Basch speechless with want. ]
But I like that you don’t try and hide it. Or fake any of it. You are open, and that is refreshing all in itself. Let yourself feel, Basch, all of it, let it wash over you. Trust me, I take every sound and shudder and cry you make as encouragement to keep giving you more. Something I doubt you have objections to.
[ He slides his fingers a little deeper into the man’s eager body, scissoring them within him. He’s still open from earlier so there’s much less resistance this time, and he finds that sensitive bundle of nerves easily as he brushes calloused fingertips over it. ]
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And that’s before Sylvia’s starts listing off what he likes. Basch would protest if there were any way to, but he’s trapped, shuddering under open kisses and the onslaught of praise, speechless with the fingers in his sensitive ass. It’s so much easier to just succumb to the orders, even if they are orders that go against every habit he’s ever had.
The result is a strangled moan, embarrassment at his ever-growing want soothed only by Sylvain’s promise that he enjoys it. His stomach contracts again, knees and wrists fighting against the swing.
He’s…so glad they did this, this way. ]
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He, too, is very glad they decided to try this, because Basch is gorgeous like this, expression lost in the pleasure he feels, body struggling against the restraints of the swing but not truly trying to pull free. Just needing that feeling of being held back, something Sylvain understands all too well.
And when he needs to use his fingers more, to get deeper, he turns his head slightly, teeth working against the inside of the man’s thigh, leaving red crescents as he presses down into the soft flesh, still grinning all the while. ]
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And Sylvain is just…so good at this. He whimpers against the mix of tongue and finger, hips rocking and thighs clenching, and when those teeth turn to that delicate inner flesh he curses, gasping Sylvain’s name. His muscles are getting sore from contracting, and he can feel the heat threatening to spill, his body tighter and tighter as he pants and moans, wanting more, needing more, and aware he will be useless as soon as he comes. This is dizzying, and he’s already been spent so many times today. ]
I’m — close — fuck, Sylvain, fuck.
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[ And he’ll lean forward to let his tongue delve deep again, giving him that wet heat in pleasure and stimulation as he crooks his fingers, purposefully aiming for the man’s prostate as he takes in the way he clenches and shudders around him.
He hadn;t been lying when he said he found him beautiful like this, and he didn’t want to miss even a moment of Basch’s pleasure. ]
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He does let out a startled sound of shame, however, at the reminder he is going to come without being touched. Well, he corrects, as his mind struggles to wrap around the sensation at his ass, not his cock anyway. His mind's too full to settle on it though, other than the way is gives his arousal an added bite, and between that and Sylvain finding that sensitive spot so masterfully, that new warm, wet sensation added to the mix, it's hardly a few more moments before his breathing changes, the pitch higher as his body goes taught, desperately fighting against the swing and comforted by the way it holds him, the way Sylvain holds him.
He gasps like a dying man reborn as his orgasm hits, entire body golden and shuddering. His cock waggles oddly, bobbing as he seed pumps out, his stomach ripples, his thighs tense.
And then he collapses entirely, hoarse and unable to find his words, whimpering and moaning against the aftershock and Sylvain still inside him. That, and he finds himself wanting to hold and gently kiss that mischievous face. Worse, lie against him and give in to sleep.
that is a dangerous want, even when it has been offered, but right now he's too pleased and dazed to care, closing his eyes to catch his breath, glad for where Slyvain still holds him. He wants that tether. ]
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Just like that. So gorgeous in your pleasure, Basch. And knowing that it was my hand and mouth that made you unravel like this.
[ Another kiss, as he moves up on his knees between the man’s spread and still-bound legs, but this one is pressed against the base of the man’s cock. The next, at his tip, as his tongue swirls against heated skin and gathers the last drops of his pleasure lingering there. He grins, slow and sated, his eyes dark, as he takes in Basch’s debauched form. Enjoying the results of his efforts. ]
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He's unsure about the compliment, but he does not fight it. He does fully believe Sylvain's pride, though. ]
I had no chance.
[ It's found, but cut off with another cry as a kiss crosses to his cock, and then there is a tongue again, one he knows is seeking his seed. Never has he had someone order and direct who also so deeply wishes to enjoy him like this. He opens his eyes, looking down to that warm, sated gaze, his cock in that mouth again. ]
I do not understand why you are drawn enough to me to linger so, but I am humbled and glad to see you so pleased. I think...there is little I wouldn't do if I knew it would earn that look.
[ It makes his stomach twist, being that honest while being so physically vulnerable. Or perhaps that what gives him the chance to say it. ]
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[ One more light kiss to the tip of his cock before Sylvain pushes upright once more. With careful hands, he frees the man’s wrists and ankles from the swing before offering him a hand to help him up. ]
Why don’t we go try out those cushions for a bit. See if they’re as comfy as they look? I think we’ve both earned a bit of a reprieve.
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Even when he stands, he is weak on his knees. ]
I was beginning to think your stamina had no end.
[ He lets Sylvain lead the way, hiding winces with practiced ease. He is still not healed from prison, and their activity has strained him. Not that he regrets it. ]
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But he doesn’t miss that wince, or the unsteadiness, so the arm that twines about the man’s waist is casual and disguised as merely a need to continue touching him and not at all to help steady his balance, nope. ]
Technically, it was your stamina we were testing that last time.
[ he points this out with a wink as he guides him towards the cushions, and then carefully drags him down with him. Stretching out on his back, he tucks Basch in against his side, letting the man find a position he was comfortable with, although Sylvain still kept an arm twined about him, fingers skating against his skin. ]
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It's harder to dismiss it when Sylvain, true to his word, pulls Basch down against his side, arm still around him, fingers still tracing his skin. ]
It's not what it used to be [ Basch admits, tentatively settling his head on Sylvain's chest. He can feel his heart gaining speed again. This -- he has little experience with. It's been such a long time, it almost feels fake. ] Though a good deal stronger than I expected.
[ Even so, he can feel the ragged edges of sleep pressing at the back of his mind. ]
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He could feel how exhausted the other man was, and with good reason. ]
You did good, Basch. All of it. Rest now. I’ve got you.
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I would gladly serve you again. [ His voice is already nearly a grumble, and in another few breaths, he's fallen asleep. ]
for Aerith
[ He's glad his simple act of deferential respect pleases her. He, too, knows the desire to help and fill, but he's so unused to it being turned on him, even after weeks with the unending attempts by his odd companions at home. Her soft touch almost stings, a mounting debt he wants to pay back tenfold.
And she is so beautiful. Her hand on his face is gentle but firm, giving him permission and command to look. If that is how he can serve her, so be it, and he lets the awe show on his face, his breathing coming more heavily. The idea of her climbing into his lap and having her way with him flits across his mind, but he barely has time to consider it before she's draping her thigh across his, warm and strong, her weight balanced on him and gods he wants more, wants to have to support both of them as she makes it harder and harder for him.
Again she teases him, asking him to choose. He's thankful for the suggestions of what she likes, wanting to make this good for her. His hands come more firmly to the thick flesh of her thighs, tracing over her skin and up against the dips of the harness on her skin, then come to trace the warm, heavy flesh of her breasts, skating over the floral appliqués before he cups each in a large hand, gently but firmly massaging her around the straps, his hips jutting slightly in want.
He could lift her so easily, place her somewhere and take her however she wished. That makes it that much hotter that she has him utterly pinned with little more than a thigh and a few fingers. And of course, the collar, reminding him he is, for now, her charge. ]
Does this please, my Lady?
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So she allows herself to be noisy, where she was used to stifling any emotional outbursts aside from her laughter. When he brings himself to touch her she croons encouragement, shifting to meet his hands wherever he let them roam. A little shiver went through her as his hands settle on her thighs, her mind happily giving her what it might feel like to have him grip her by the hips and pull her down. The warmth of his palms against her breasts draws out a happy moan as she gets a better look at how big his hands actually are.
Maybe she can convince him to lift her off her feet, press her into the bedding as if she weighed nothing. Where these wild thoughts of being tossed around by him were coming from she wasn't sure, but she was absolutely going to save them for later. Once she saw how confident he could be.]
It does, Basch, thank you. You're doing so well for me.
[The hand under his chin shifted, no longer needing to force his gaze up, but now she cradled his face, thumb gently stroking his cheekbone. Sighing happily, her next words came out as something close to a purr.]
You can pinch them a little, I won't mind. I'll probably like it, you know.
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you're doing so well for me
A sob bubbles in his throat but he clamps it down. That's a thing people say in these situations. And he will not put his burden on her. Even if it's been years since someone touched his cheek so tenderly.
What he will do is take that suggestion, on of his hands shifting to trace closer to her nipple, applying firmer pressure there. The other grips and massages more firmly. If he weren't already hard as a sword, the mix of praise and the perfect way her breasts fit in his palms would be contributing. ]
You could sit across my leg, Lady, or I could give you my hand.
[ She'll need increased pressure soon, to keep her heat escalating, and the idea of feeling her cunt fluttering with want is enough to make him ache for her. If she didn't have these appliques, he'd put her breast in his mouth, but as it is, he isn't sure what to do with them. ]
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[The hand holding his leash rose, the loop of his leash hanging loose around her forearm, as she hooked a thumb under two of the straps crossing her chest. It only took the faintest tug at the elastic for the lace flowers to shift just enough for Basch to easily slip his hands underneath to tease her exposed nipples which were already stiff and aching for more attention.]
You can suck on them if you'd like. It stretches, so it's easy to move to the side.
[Just the thought of his mouth on her has her licking her lips, the growing need to be touched making it harder to ignore. Which is why his question immediately got her attention, her smile wide.]
Oh? And what exactly were you planning if I asked you to give me your hand?
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And below the thing covering, her nipples are lush and hard, sending another wave of heat through him. Her suggestion mirroring his own makes him feel at once exposed, but also emboldened.
And also makes him blush at her question. Had he misread...? ]
To press it between your legs, Lady, and inside if you wished.
[ He makes an effort to keep her gaze. The boldness, the risk of disappointing her sends heat through him again, and the possibility of pleasing her balloons even larger. ]
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That's what I thought you'd meant, I'd like that very much. After all, we'll both enjoy it, and then I'll be ready for more of you later.
[Like this it's too easy to hold his face and press another kiss to his brow, letting herself indulge in the impulsive thoughts that watching him inspired.
So she rocked her hips towards him, offering herself as she gave his leash a playful tug.]
Go on then, my handsome soldier. Let me see what those hands and mouth can do. I think you'll find I'm more than ready to find out.
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He hasn't had much experience with people being both demanding and sweet. He's almost not sure what to do with it, but he wants so deeply to please her. Breathing in sharply, he kisses her stomach before tipping his head up, finding her breast with his mouth before sliding his other hand up her thigh and between her legs. There's more harness there, which is no problem now. Still, he starts with his hand broad and flat, pressing up against her opening and up to her clit. He wants to feel her rock and moan as his other hand works her breast, digging his fingers in more sharply and tugging on her other nipple with his teeth.
He's going to be desperate for her by the time she wants his cock, and the thought makes him moan against her flesh, sucking hard. He tips his thighs against her, and he knows she can see the way his hips cant toward her. ]
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[Aerith practically purred at the feel of his lips on her skin, his hair was so easy to bury her fingers in, her hands cradling the back of his head to keep him from pulling away. There was really no sense in being quiet or holding back her squirming, so the heat of his wet mouth and his calloused palm against her wet folds had her hips bucking towards him, a ragged sigh dragged from her as her eyes fell shut.]
Your hands and your mouth feel so good, Basch. You're being so good for me, your hands feel so big...
[The urge to let her head fall back as she rocked against his fingers was almost unbearably strong, but she kept watching him as she ground her hips into his hand. The lace was already soaked through, watching and listening to him ever since the leash had ended up in her hands had been almost unbearable. Which actually gave her an idea...
Licking her lips, she left one hand at the back of his neck, keeping him close to her breast, while the other made sure his hair was swept back from his face so he could meet her gaze if he looked up.]
My handsome soldier...I've been wanting to touch you this whole time, Basch. To feel you hold me, wondering what it would be like to have you push me into the mattress and take me. Feeling your fingers inside me is going to be well worth the wait, I'm really looking forward to it.
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And hearing her sigh like that only makes the desire to stay and finish what he's started stronger. He gives a shuddering gasp of his own as she rides his hand, the wetness dampening both lace and his fingers. There's something that makes his eyes prickle, the way she tells him how good he is. He isn't, he isn't, but he's so glad to be good for her, that his large hands and scarred soldier's body please her.
And he nearly shudders at the request she's spinning. He pulls back from her breast, looking up at her only to ask ] Do you wish my fingers here and my cock on the bed, my Lady, or to stick to only my hand on mouth?
[ He kneads her breast as he talks, hand not letting up, his words against warm against her flesh. Perhaps it's how kind she's been, perhaps it's the arousal finally taking over, but he sighs, reaching up to cup her face instead. ]
Gods you are precious. I would see your every desire satisfied that I can.
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Let's start with just your mouth and hands, Basch. Then after I've gotten used to it, we'll settle onto the bed properly and I'll happily take your cock. It'll be my first, so take good care of me, okay?
[She kisses his hand again, each of his callouses from holding his weapons, then another to the pad of his thumb.]
I want to take care of you too, you know. Don't think you aren't getting out of this without letting me make you happy too, mister!
[The smile she gave him kept the sting from her words, though it did take a turn for the mischievous as she took his thumb into her mouth to give it a suck.]
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But -- he also knows what this place can do, and she deserves to be taken care of, for her first to be safe and pleasant. He's more than willing to do that for her, even if it bewilders him why she's chosen him. ]
I only ask to keep you comfortable, Lady. It will be my honor.
[ His breath comes as a shudder as she turns to delicately kiss his callouses. Perhaps he is a good choice for this, a gentle old dog with no agenda of his own, someone she can explore and tease with no risk. That makes him...content. Perhaps he is uniquely good for something, and something precious at that.
But his face turns to surprise. ] I am extremely happy, Lady. [ This is more than enough. Seeing her so pleased is a high even orgasm does not touch. ] But I will gladly receive what you wish to give. [ She deserved exploring that too.
For now, he brushes her face again before returning his hand and lips to her breast, purposely sliding the lace away so she can feel his skin against her.
And promptly moans, because she is so slick and warm and swollen already. He slides one finger up, stroking her clit. The force of her thrusting means his flattened fingers threaten to slip into her, and his cock throbs. ]
Turn around for me [ he says gently. It's easier to lead knowing his experience is something to benefit her. ] Lean against me or sit on my lap. Are you alright with my fingers inside, or would you prefer I keep like this?
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It felt too much like the worst parts of Wall Market. Or worse, like the way that Hojo watched her.
But Basch was warm and sweet, gentle and tender as if he was afraid she'd shatter like brittle glass at the slightest touch. Yes, he wanted her, that much was obvious, but there was a huge difference in the way he looked at her as if she was the most powerful creature in the world, unlike the locals who watched her like hungry beasts in a meat market.
That and she was rather enjoying how he made her feel like a princess in a spicy romance with her most trusted knight. Not the sort of story she'd ever admitted she enjoyed, but a girl could have fantasies of her own.]
I promise I'll tell you if I need you to hold back a little.
[She even seals it with a kiss to his palm, rubbing her cheek against it afterwards before he pulls his hand away. Instead she practically purrs as he lifts the lace out of the way, her hips twitching at the jolt his touch sent through her.]
Mmm?
[Focusing on his face took a moment, but she did manage a nod, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.]
Inside is fine, your hands feel so good, Basch.
[This time she didn't resist the urge to kiss him again, pressing it to his scarred cheek before settling into his lap. The dress was tossed aside for later, and she felt incredibly exposed like this. While she might not be naked, it felt more intense than when she'd been in the mixed baths. Like this she could feel his warmth through his clothes, his broad chest pressed against her back, and his obvious erection rubbing insistently against her through his trousers. True, she missed the feeling of his lips against her skin, but leaning back against him with her legs spread almost made her giggle from the anticipation.]
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Whatever the thought is slips away quickly, because -- in addition to kissing his scarred body once again like it is precious -- she has resettled herself in his lap, her ass spreading over his erection in a way that even he cannot think straight.
He wraps one arm across her torso, resuming its kneading of her warm breast while bracing her firmly against his chest. The other goes back to her opening, easing against her a few times before he presses one finger inside her. He expects her to buck, with how strongly she's been reacting, and he wants her to feel free to ride whatever sensations her body provides; he'll hold her steady.
She needn't miss his mouth, though. He dips his head forward, kissing slowly against her shoulder to the swell of her neck, where he gently applies pressure with her teeth, testing what she may like. He's breathless himself, wishing he had another hand to wrap around the thick flesh of her stunning thighs. The fantasy of her riding his cock in his lap like this comes again, and he doesn't fight it quite as hard. ]
You can pull the lead if you wish [ he murmurs, surprising himself, but not regretting the words. ]
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His battle-worn hands feel wonderful, just rough enough that her thighs tremble slightly at the feel of his fingers spreading her, her hips twitching towards his hand as he sank a finger inside.]
So good...
[For him she'd let herself be noisy, so used to keeping as quiet as possible when she'd had her private fun time, but not this time. This time she let herself moan happily, loving the feel of his finger inside her. Trying not to be embarrassed by the slick sounds of his fingers rubbing against her soaked folds. Though his teeth did earn him a gasped moan, a flinch going through her but it was the way her body squeezed his finger and her knees jerked up, one hand immediately moving to hang on to the back of his neck as his leash hung forgotten, that gave away how much she enjoyed it.]
Gaia, Basch, please. Please do that again.
[The lead? She cracks an eye open, and once the shivers ease up a little the leash pulls taut again, panting as she wraps it around her hand, the other buried in his hair, rubbing his scalp with a needy sort of affection.]
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He's almost sorry he reminded her of the lead, missing the hand on his neck, but this was the game she had engaged with him, and really, how can he speak negatively of any of this? It is magic beyond what he deserves, and his deepest wish is that it is good for her. As she tightens the lead though, keeping his neck close to her as her hand combs through his hair, he flushes in brief shame. This is wonderful too. ]
Let me know if anything is too much [ He reminds her gently, and then he presses a second finger into her, giving her a few strokes to grow used to the thicker intrusion before he bites her neck again, this time moaning as he does. Her movement constantly catches his near-painful erection, and the lack of control of when he'll be stimulated is maddening and -- easier to allow himself to enjoy than if she was giving him direct attention. ]
creeps in here forever late
[For a moment she can only nod, her hand sliding back down to grip the back of his neck for a better hold as the other hung on to the leash in a tight grip as her hips rock towards his hand. Harder when he bites, and her moan is nothing less than delighted. The fact that he's allowing himself to enjoy this, feeling the shift from shame to something else warms her as she kneads his neck above the collar.]
Thank you, Basch. You're being so good for me...
[It feels a little silly to say, but she thinks she's getting the hang of this. True she gets the faintest hint from how his feelings shift, but that always feels like cheating somehow. Better to hear him use his words than to go snooping. Even better was the sound of his moan so close, the feel of it against her skin paired with the dull ache of his teeth against her skin that had her clenching around his fingers.]
My handsome soldier...
[Being pinned between the heat of his erection and his fingers didn't hurt, as no matter which way she rolled her hips, it left her purring happily.]
no worries!
[ Which she very clearly is. He holds firm to brace her as his hand speeds back up, his hips pulsing much as he tries to keep them steady. It's impossible to keep down the grunts of exertion and desire, his hand entirely absorbed with her, the sounds of them filling the room, and her body trembling so thoroughly against the stimulation. He's not proud of it, but he can't help giving way to chasing the stimulation of her ass against his erection, clutching her tight against him and sucking on her neck, occasionally biting. She has to be close, and he wants to hear her scream, feel her buck against him until she collapses. The lead and collar no longer matter. He's entirely dedicated to her, at least until this meeting ends, for however long she still wants to be satisfied, and that makes him hard with want and purpose.
The praise doesn't hurt either. ]
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[Her words caught in her throat for a moment, his fingers and the roughness of his voice in her ear leave her sucking hard on her bottom lip. With the way he works her open, all she has the strength to do is lay against him, kept upright by his embrace and the leash wrapped around her hand. A nervous laugh slips from her as her thighs shudder, it was so hard to focus when she could feel how hot and hard he was even as the stretch to fit his fingers made her hips rock to meet them.]
Your fingers feel so good, Basch. They feel so big, I...I... ah—!
[The bite catches her by surprise and she arches, almost sobbing his name. The leash yanks taut and the hand on the back of his neck grips tight as Aerith tries to pull him closer, unable to escape his fingers or the way her body fights her. She's always kept herself quiet when her emotions were high, forcing herself to mask anything that wasnt her laughter. To hide any kind of weakness.
But Basch held her, his mouth at her throat made her moan, safe and secure in his arms even as her knees tried to clap shut as his fingers and mouth dragged her closer to the edge. She never cried in front of others, tried to mask any pain, always afraid someone would see and use it against her, but Basch was safe, and the weakness he punished only had her pressing harder into him, her body chasing the feeling.
So for the first time Aerith didn't bite down on the noises she made, didn't take the leash between her teeth to stifle her cries. Instead she sobbed his name, clinging to him as she came hard enough to slump against him when the tremors finally eased.]
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It shouldn’t make him that weak and warm to hear his name like this, but it does. He gently offers her name back, cooed between “radiant lady”, and doesn’t let up from his task, using his thick arms to keep her knees from closing and her torso back against him.
her climax builds and gods it sends gasps through him to hear her moan and sob his name. He latches his mouth to her neck, encompassing her entirely as he guides her through it, but his head snaps back and he moans sharply as the lead pulls tight and her arm scrabbles for him. That want, that praise, it just drives him to make this as good for her as he can, and when she finally slumps in his hold, he pulls her tight, stroking her hair and kissing gently against the crown of her head ]
You were radiant, my lady.
not me suckerpunching myself first thing in the morning
Basch, if you keep saying things like that I'm going to have a really hard time after this.
[He was so sweet, so sincere, it made her chest ache in a way she hadn't felt since...
Not for a very long time, that was for sure. It hurt in a good way, and it made her realize a part of her wanted to be selfish. Wanted to be greedy. She'd given and given and given until there'd been nothing left to give but still she'd found new ways to make things work out for her friends as she'd had to watch them move on without her. It had been satisfying at the time, she'd been more than glad to do it even when it scared her. She'd loved them as deeply as she could all while doing her best not to let them get close enough that they'd get hurt by her, but she'd never allowed herself to take what she wanted.
And Aerith hated to admit that she wanted a lot. So much that it was a little frightening. She wanted this, she wanted to be told nice things, wanted it so badly it felt like she was starving. Ached to be held longer, to be spoiled and treated like a real princess. There'd only been one person who'd ever treated her close to this and she'd long since accepted that loss and thought the wound closed and scarred over.
Now she was having to come face to face with the fact that it most certainly wasn't, and she wanted.
This was far more than she'd wanted or expected to learn about herself when she'd teased him in the shop. So she smiles, though it's wobbly still, and she laughs, breathless and flustered.]
How am I supposed to let you go if you're so sweet to me?
Bb girl
If I’ve acted out of line, I sincerely apologize—
[ Then her words catch up with him, the attempt to make herself sound happy or at least carefree. His chest aches, because he remembers feeling that, when he was much younger. He knows there’s a chance he is going to make this worse for her, but if this is where she’s at, she is the only one who will be able to get herself from drowning to the surface. At least he can be a safe place to catch her breath.
And if that is the case, expecting her to take the lead is cruel. So, with her body still trembling with something more than an orgasm, he gets an arm up under her legs, twisting her so she’s cradled in his lap. ]
You’re safe, my lady. It’s alright. I’m not planning on leaving until you dismiss me, and if you wish my company again, it’s yours.
[ He tucks her into his hold, resting his head against her, acting like a shield to anything but this moment. Something in him aches, happy to sit like this indefinitely. She’s so soft and firm and warm, and to be touched with such kindness — he will cherish it long after they part. ]
send help she's not used to having to deal with her ACTUAL feelings
No, no, it's not you, you're fine. You're wonderful.
[When he turns her there's a moment where it's easy to see the nervous flush to her face, the way her gaze immediately drops to hide her moment of weakness from him though it's easy to see how young she looks in that moment. The fear of a hunted thing whose sense of safety has been torn away too many times haunting her even when she thought she was free of that feeling. So when he holds her she clings to him like a lifeline, hugging him tighter than she means to, soaking up the feeling of him holding her.]
Sorry, I didn't mean to sound like I didn't want you here. I'd love it if you stayed. I really want you to stay, if you'd like to.
[No, she wanted to be greedy. To soak up this warmth as long as she could. As long as he'd let her.]
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He strokes her hair with one hand, kissing her head and keeping her secure with the other. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t doing something for him to be held this intensely. It’s not about him, he knows, but it’s such a kind and intimate touch.
When he speaks it’s low and gentle. ]
I’ll stay, Aerith. I’d like to. We can sit like this as long as you wish, and when you’re ready, why don’t we take all these things off, and I’ll lie with you? Like this again if you want, or just to sleep. It makes me no difference.
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Mmm, that sounds good.
[She nods, burying her face into the safe place between his neck and shoulder. A hand finds its way back to the nape of his neck, rubbing small circles above his collar when she wasn't combing her fingers through his hair.]
Thank you, Basch. You're really good at making a girl feel special, you know that? You do look great in those pants, but they really don't look very comfortable.
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And then she shifts, wrapping around him and stroking his neck and it’s his turn to purr, hand wide on her skin and nose in her hair. He shouldn’t be this weak to being held, but she’s so warm and soft, so sweet without asking anything of him.
Her comment reminds him that he’s still extremely hard and wearing nonsense. He chuckles, stroking her hair one more time before he moves his arms under her, standing with her still in his arms. He maneuvers them so he can set her lightly on the bed, kissing her forehead as he sets her down, one arm still around her as he starts working on loosening the pants. He’s not letting her go, just moving to get more comfortable. ]
I do want to be clear that I have no expectation for you to take care of me. I am more than happy with this evening.
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Her pout is clearly for show from how dramatic it is, disapproving of seemingly being separated from his warm embrace and it's dropped just as quickly as she put it on when he placates her with a kiss.]
Oh? You thought you were getting out of finishing what we started?
[Her brows arch and she smiles up at him, at least until she notices what he's doing with his hand. Then her smile grows wider, and it's playful and lighthearted again as she rests her head on his shoulder.]
Because I don't remember saying I was done, you know. Your fingers felt amazing but I think I'm more than ready for more. Do you want help with that?
[It was so easy to slide a hand into the wide opening of his shirt, her fingers splayed across his chest to feel the beat of his heart beneath her palm as she watched him work his trousers open one-handed.]
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[ He says it evenly but not unkindly; if it’s a thing no one has told her, then he will be the one to say it. She always has a right to change her mind. ]
But so long as you wish for more, I will do my best to satisfy.
[ Her exaggerated expressions and bright eyes do get a gentle smile from him, though. Something about this is new for her. She’s not in control of expressing her wants or feelings directly. Youth, yes, but something else. And that’s perfectly alright. He’s honored to have gotten a glimpse.
As to what he wants, well. ]
I wish to see and hear you so lost in pleasure and adequately exhausted to sleep deeply, my lady.
[ He closes his eyes, I taking deeply at the feeling of her hand on his chest as he gets his cock free, disentangling only enough to work his pants off the the floor. ]
You said it would be your first; you are welcome to explore as you wish. You will not cause me discomfort. Now, how do I help remove this garment from you? It is my first.
i am so sorry for taking forever and then leaving you with one of the least serious things...
[Yet his next words leave her flustered, and she ends up hiding her face in one of the frilly ruffles at the collar of his shirt. There was just something about the way he said it that lit her up on the inside with the giddy, fluttery feeling that she couldn't remember when the last time was that she'd felt it. Unconsciously squeezing him tighter as she giggled from the rush before he pulled away. Aerith let her hand trail across bare skin before he was out of reach, but only for a moment.
Biting her lip, her finger wound into a loose curl of hair, wrapping it tight before letting the curl spring free again. Basch might not be at his peak of health, but that didn't stop him from being handsome. Battered and scarred, and worn thin at the edges in a way that good meals and peaceful rest would surely solve in time, but she still ran her hands over his thighs, up his hips and under his shirt to grip his waist before leaning in to plant a gentle kiss at the lowest point of the plunging neckline.
Only to lean back and peer down at her own excuse of an outfit with open bafflement.]
You know, that's a great question. Um...
[A twist, peering at the overlapping straps before finding the most obvious gaps.]
Oh! It's a top and a bottom, okay, that's not so bad. I think if you just...hook your hands under this bit it can be lifted off? And the bottom bit can just be slid off like normal from what I can tell. It just looks extra complicated, I think.
[Not that it stops her from letting out a faint yip when a strap she'd tugged experimentally slipped from her grasp to snap back into place and catching her right on a tender spot, leaving her with a hand clapped over her abused nipple with a wince.]
Ow....
seriously no worries on either. i love chaos for him
He's only left hesitating for a moment, because her hand trails up his leg, across his thigh and torso, and if he weren't already hard, he'd be there now. Her touch is so assertive, but warm. It makes he breath catch. No one has touched him like that in...a very long time.
And the way she kisses makes his stomach twist and flutter. She puts such value on him.
He wishes to live up to it.
And he smiles a little, that she doesn't know how the garment works any better than he does. It eases the discomfort of what he's wearing. Though his brows knit as she makes a sound of pain. This will prove more challenging than he expected. ]
Slow and gentle then.
[ His hands come tot he bottom portion first, tugging her up she he can get his hands under it, a barrier between the tight straps and her skin. It cuts against him, but he doesn't mind, likes the sting even. It's easy enough, to work the tight contraption down her legs, but it leaves him close to her, breath hot against her shoulders and neck, suddenly very aware of his naked arousal so close to her now bare lower body. ]
There -- now the top.
[ This is even more intimate, hands sliding up over her waist and under the straps, brushing her breasts. ]
Arms up, mm, there--
[ He works it up, careful to use his own hands to ease the straps over breast and nipple, breathing growing more ragged as he caresses her skin. It takes slow going, to get the tight pieces over her shoulders and head without disturbing her hair too badly, but then it's tossed aside, and they are near flush, both naked.
He places his hands on her sides, roaming them over her stomach and then around to her ass, testing, enjoying. Fascinated by the light discoloration and bumps left by the harness. ]
You said this would be your first cock. You are welcome to touch and explore as you desire.
for Olivine
[ Basch wouldn't disagree. His life had been so full of hollowness; anything else was a luxury, and that's not what he was built for. ]
One needs hope to survive, but too much can be as poisonous as none.
[ His gaze is far away, his fists tightening. But it passes. He's always been soothed by those who can live that way; that's the world he fights for, the people he wants to protect.
Olivine may be less naive than he appears; Basch is more. Years in prison and on the run have eroded already weak social awareness, and so he is unabashedly surprised when Olivine so earnestly accepts his offer. ]
Privacy would not be remiss.
[ He doesn't really want to don the terrible t-shirt he's been provided with, but clean clothing and a quiet space are some of the luxuries he has come to cherish, and there is no doubt he's growing hungry. ]
Basch. [ That name is not a danger here, an odd thing to consider. ] Good to meet you.
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[ah, but those words say more than not, and Olivine can't help but commiserate the feeling. an abundance of hope is a poison, true... but he doesn't need to lecture this man about it. not here and now, in the middle of the baths at least.]
We're in agreement, then.
[privacy shouldn't be too hard to find, at least—he's sure his erstwhile bedmate is long gone, so there's always the room he woke up in if they can't find anywhere else.]
A pleasure, Basch. Even under the circumstances. [with all other thoughts summarily thrown out, Olivine approaches the taller man, slow and unobtrusive.] Do you have a place in mind? We can stop to redress our clothes on the way, of course, but beyond that...
[beyond that, the choices are many. ]
lmao i changed my mind
I'd meant to get new clothing after this. Perhaps after, one of the fireplaces they have set up across the building?
[ They were private, cozy, not so unsettling for him as some of the more futuristic materials and styles. ]
in the words of the internet: fuck it, we ball
of course, he'd also be relieved to be someone Basch feels some sense of calm with.]
That sounds like a wonderful plan. I could use something a little less... awkward to wear, myself. [he smiles broadly then, at the thought of the fireplaces.] And if we're lucky, perhaps they'll have some cocoa to enjoy while we sit. It was always one of my favourite things about the holidays, spending time around the fires, drinking sweet drinks and watching the children open gifts.
[he is just too soft, sometimes. but now he can step away from the mirror, its terrible omens all but forgotten, and stand proudly with his new conversation partner.]
Shall we, then?
just gonna scoot us forward
and Olivine absolutely glows as he talks about fireplaces and holidays. ]
We shall have to hope there are no children here, but the comfort of a sweet drink and a fire are the most agreeable suggestions I've heard today.
[ No matter he'll abstain from something as indulgent as cocoa, but a fire...that he'll allow.
Basch nods, and, retrieving the terrible shirts and undergarments they'd been given, does his best not to appear as flustered as he feels walking to the shops like this. It's...easier that so many are in similar situations, or wearing things that are much more revealing.
They split up to find clothes, and it takes him some time to find anything...plain. But he does, and that is a victory. He slips into a dressing room, uneasy at the large holes, and does his best to change quickly. He's about to step out and pay when there's an odd buzzing sensation, not unlike reaching into the Mist, and a flash across his vision. When it clears, he's red near to his navel, which is now exposed. His top, scarred and muscled and gleaming with small golden hairs, bears only a harness of dark leather and metal, obviously meant to tantalize. The bottom is worse, a strappy thing that covers his manhood and little else, his ass bare save a strap down the middle and two garters encircling his massive thighs, connecting to the strap at his waist.
He felt less exposed in the baths.
Neither set of actual clothing are anywhere to be found, which leaves him in the predicament that he'd have to leave like this to solve the problem. ]
Olivine?
[ He calls, a little hoarse. Maybe he can get the other man to hand him...literally anything to get out of this stall and this store. ]
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[His horror when he realises how young people can be... will be its own thing. Until then, he walks with Basch, just piping up whenever he thinks of something or the other man speaks in turn. After all, he figures that keeping the man's attention on something other than the plainly awkward shirts they have to wear should be... at least a little helpful.
He's almost reluctant to leave Basch on his own to find clothes, but of course that's silly. The man can clearly handle himself, and... well, they're both looking for very different things. Olivine can already feel himself getting antsy with his gemstone brushing his shirt, after all.
Finding something that looks good together is actually his difficulty, though Olivine isn't so picky as to struggle too much. He has a few vouchers and such, so it's easy to pick up a few options (that will inevitably be too tight in the chest, because honestly how is he built this way) and had toward the changing rooms with.
... hearing his name is a little surprising.]
Is everything alright, Basch?
[It takes a moment to find the right stall, and he waits for an answer even after, before he'll go to slip inside at all. Privacy and all, even in the face of those holes. He's curious, but the blond's comfort comes first.]
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I, ah, could you toss me and large shirt and trousers? There was an issue with these.
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... did something happen to the other clothes? [was it to do with the holes?] Ah—sorry, I'll see what I can find. I have some shirts you can try, but I don't think the trousers would fit you.
[they're both remarkably built, but Olivine's body slims down around the waist. In any case, he starts by at least holding out one of the shirts, simple but... definitely short. It won't cover Olivine's stomach, and that's kind of the point.]
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[ Oh, Basch.
He sees the shirt enter the stall, grasps at it long enough to process that it's cropped, but the moment it leaves Olivine's hands, it simply disappears.
He makes a strangled, defeated noise. Is this this place's commentary that he hasn't selected acceptable clothing? ]
Would you...find an attendant?
[ Olivine doesn't get a chance, though, because a length of leather loops around his neck, snapping shut as the lead pulls him into the stall, the handle sliding into Basch's hand. There is absolutely nowhere to hide, and his eyes are wide, equal parts embarrassed out of his mind and staring at what Olivine has dressed himself in.
That's before he realizes that he's holding a lead now attached to the other man's neck. ]
I --
[ He's so red. ]
Is there someone who can assist us? [ he calls, hoarse. He'd rather one person see them than...walk out like this. ]
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Right, I'll—
[He's cut off with an undignified yelp as a collar wraps itself around his throat, looking for someone nearby in the instant before the leash itself just pulls him into the changing room. It's not the leash or the fact that it's in Basch's hand that catches his attention, but the outfit he's been unfortunately stuffed into.
Unfortunate for Basch, that is; Olivine's eyes drift over him as politely as they can, and it takes a moment of control to prevent himself from saying anything about how he looks (which is fantastic, honestly). He himself is dressed in another of those cropped shirts, the muscle of his abs on display as much as the pretty green gem attached to his navel. His pants are maybe a little tight too, certainly fitted nicely.]
I... don't think there was anyone around... [Olivine is apologetic, brows furrowing further. He's ignoring his own flushed cheeks now.] We may need to grab something on the way out for you. Ah—not that this looks bad on you, but I assume something made it change.
[There is no doubt in his mind that someone like Basch didn't choose something like this, then got it all the way on before realising.]
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He closes his eyes, nodding. Something on the way out. Just...get back to their rooms. ]
Let's get this off of you first. [ He steps closer, body flushed, trying not to think about the fact that their stomachs could easily brush like this. But his fingers scrabble around it, and there is no clasp. What's more, when he tries to hand the lead to Olivine, it will not release his hand. ]
It...seems we have to keep this for now too. Is that alright? [ As if he could do anything if it wasn't.
On Olivine's confirmation -- with his knees nearly jelly -- they emerge from the booth. No one is around the immediate vicinity, and he'll pull on a pair of pants and boots that thankfully stay put. It's...awkward, having to hold Olivine close on the lead. And worse, something about the sight of it threatens to excite him.
Curse this entire place.
And, unable to face the cashier, he slides a mask off a display. At check-out, the clerk apologizes, confirming what he feared. The rogue item needs its purpose met to release, otherwise it could be anywhere from a few hours to a few days before it does so on its own. ]
I...suppose we should take care of this then [ Basch murmurs as they walk out, trying to keep the lead comfortably between them so they can walk with ease. ]
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[Basch steps closer and this time, Olivine has to pause and take in a breath. he's doing better than the blond, sure, but that doesn't mean everything is just perfect. the collar feels comfortable around his neck, after all, and his eyes close briefly at the scrabble of fingers, careful but not terribly delicate.
he only just manages to hide his shiver when they reach the realisation that the leash just... won't let him give it away.]
It's alright. I... don't dislike the feeling that much. If it would help, I can walk first so you don't have to worry about being so exposed.
[either way, they make it out to the cashier, and Olivine murmurs a soft thanks to them for the confirmation. at least they're done here, and the leash itself will likely let Basch go if he does seem completely unwilling (which probably says something that it's still holding on tight).]
Right... should we go to the rooms? I... don't mind somewhere else, but those would be the most private, of course. [he's finding it a little harder to keep Basch's own intricacies in mind when having a leash makes him want, makes him think about what it would feel like if he was a little less gentle, if he pulled just so.]
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Olivine, who is being so sweet about this. Interested even. That was right -- he liked this sort of thing. Which Basch admires, really. It's just...
The emotions make his stomach twist, barely able to even name them. ]
I -- yes. That seems reasonable.
[ Reasonable. None of this is reasonable. He adjusts the mask on his face with his free hand. It's not like his hair and build aren't recognizable, but it gives him some comfort to have his face hidden.
The hall becomes crowded at a junction, and he steps left to avoid it, Olivine right, causing the rope to lead to tug tighter. His head snaps up, immediately wanting to check on the other, only to be met with at least four or five gazes on them. Even in passing they are approving, hungry, one disgusted.
A strange heat rolls through him, and the urge to stand taller, to tug the lead more intentionally whispers in his mind. ]
Are you alright? [ he asks instead, closing the space between them so the lead goes slack. This time his eyes wander more slowly across Olivine. He is -- beautiful, and confident. Basch would never have the comfort with himself to wear something like that. ]
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Just breathe. No one will be looking too hard at you, Basch. I'll make sure of it.
[it's perhaps a strange thing to say, an offering to make... but Olivine is into this. he's into the idea of being noticed, of being coveted just outside of someone else's reach. it's even easier here, where no one really knows who or what he is.
he's not exaggerating to say no one is going to be paying attention to Basch's face, either, or anything else that would immediately ID him. sure, he's not openly out in a mess of straps and clasps, but people are always more interested in the show, the gossip of it.
... in any case, the going is easy until it's absolutely not, and a moment of confusion sees them both pulling in opposite directions, leash going taut and tugging Olivine along both in response and out of necessity to not trip someone else. it could be forgiven if Basch didn't hear the absolutely lascivious noise it rips out of the priest, catching the ear (and eyes) of a few passersby.
not so long ago, it would have made him want to die. to just wither away into the dark never to be seen again, even in this crowd of strangers. it's really because of that that he can understand Basch's own hesitation, and it would have probably stamped out his embarrassment even were it still stronger. the blond steps in to him, and in turn Olivine's gaze tilts up just the slightest bit.]
... I'm fine. [softly, and as eyes wander his body, utterly unaware that Basch finds it even the slightest bit salacious, he can't help it. he promised, after all, and so he reaches up to gently cradle the blond's jaw, eyes closing briefly. then, a little louder:] You're my master, and I should be able to follow you anywhere. Please forgive me, but I can't help but like it when you make it hard on me. It reminds me that you're not looking at anyone else.
[the words are... only half improvised. it's easy to speak from the depths of what he's been thinking for the last—God, however long it's been since they'd stepped out of the baths. moreover, when he presses in close enough that their chests press together, bulky arms cover his face when he leans in to whisper, with a little more kindness and honesty:]
You won't hurt me, Basch. I've... been hoping you would pull a little since we left the store. I'll take whatever you're willing to give.
[it's going to be a lot to take in all at once, but while they're here in public, things happen fast. just like him stepping back to bow down, ever the picture of a penitent man.
he just... hopes it isn't too much all at once. he'd meant to take it a little slower, at least until they were properly in private.]
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But nothing could prepare him for Olivine's strategy in doing so, his eyes going wide and his mouth parting, a sinking embarrassment at the truth of the words. He' not looking at anyone else, and furthermore, he very much was looking at Olivine.
And it had not even occurred to him, even with the leash, even with the clerk's explanation and Olivine's offer, that the other had been interested before that.
His breath comes as a shallow rasp, too shocked to move but aching at how close Olivine is. He nods once. If...if that's what Olivine wants, he can provide. ]
Alright.
[ The bow, though, makes his stomach twist. He isn't someone who deserves deference, has no desire for power. The shame of that, though, the pressure to keep character, that does do something for him, as horrible as it is. And he has a duty to this man.
Heart pounding, he twists the lead in his hand, pulling (if gently) tighter so that Olivine can feel it. ]
Come [ How does this even work? ] ...servant.
[ He has to very deliberately turn and walk, even if his ears are straining for sound of pain or discomfort, even if he wants to just fall to his own knees and ask what Olivine wishes. He does his best to put his shoulders back, act the confident faceless guard. Olivine is right that eyes will be on the beautiful, leashed prince of a man. He's thankful, even as he wants to protect the other from the degrading, hungry gazes that follow them.
Usually even keeled, something is off, and that anger flares. ] He is mine [ he nearly snarls, and a wave of anticipation and terror washes through him at realizing that is true, until the lead relinquishes them. ]
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they'll talk about it later, when they're not in public anymore. shame isn't something he deserves, and while he's sure that conversation won't go yet, he can at least offer him some comfort in private. hopefully.]
Yes, master. I will try to match your pace.
[in some way, it's a reciprocal thing, hearkening back to the letters etched in fog on glass. Olivine technically less so than Basch, but in ignoring his plain discomforts, there's something a little dehumanising in the moment.
before Basch begins moving, Olivine shifts to gently wrap some of the length of the lead around his hand, shortening the length. a reminder, a promise. that this is what he wants, what he's agreed to. shortening the leash only means it's easier to get little tugs in, even though the priest can more or less keep up.
he'll find no pain or discomfort in his voice though—quite the opposite. and though Olivine's heart pounds at the sensation of gazes on him, hungry and wanting, that too is not displeasure. he likes it. really likes it, in fact. being seen is usually such a fear, but no one knows him. no one is looking at a priest of Klein, just a young man in a leash, dutifully following his "master."]
... do you want to show them, Master?
[the sensation of anger is perhaps too real, and Olivine almost slips back into soothing. it's difficult to ask it as a question, rather than to reassure him that he's allowed to do it, that Olivine wants it. he's stepped up next to the taller man where he's paused, fingers subtly finding their way to cling to Basch's shirt to hopefully soothe.]
They can't have me, no matter how desperately they try. I know you'll protect me. But if you want to make them see, I trust you with all of me.
[he is... a pretty decent actor, really; all that idol training definitely paid off. it's not helping with dissuading the eyes on him, but that wasn't what he was trying to do anyway.]
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Olivine's suggestions are not helping, making his breath come heavy. Trusts him. As a protector. Willing to be claimed.
Basch has never wanted to claim anything in his life.
Or has he? Has it just been so pushed down? What is serving a commander or a charge, if not claiming them. They are mine. I am closest to them. I protect and serve them. I am theirs, and thus they are mine.
His eyes are slightly dilated, his usually submissive movement rigid. His eyes search, a soldier's eyes taking in the terrain.
Not so far up is one of the alcoves with a fireplace and furniture, partially hidden but not private by any stretch. ]
Yes [ he growls. ] We will show them. Come. [ This time he does not hesitate to pull the lead taught as he strides toward the glowing niche. Someone tries to reach out and touch Olivine, giggling, and he growls, swatting their hand before it reaches. ] He is under my protection. Only mine.
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It's a belated occurrence, even after their long talk, that this is... fairly unlike him. He'd chalk it up to Eiden's influence in a pinch, but who really knows?
Basch—shifts, his eyes turning to the surroundings before he speaks. Accepts the offer, to Olivine's surprise.
come, he says, and Olivine gives another soft moan when the lead tugs at his neck. Legs press into motion and he keeps up as best he can, gently squeezing a hand in reassurance when he stops to swat a bystander's hand away. There, it's alright... this time he doesn't soothe with words, just follows the short pathway to the seats at the end. At least he seems close enough to prevent others from grabbing for him again. Soon, there's the added warmth from the fire crackling,]
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They pull into the little niche. The fire crackles, and there's a high backed wooden chair, a loveseat whose back is not enough to shield them from view, and a thick rug. A drawered end table stands between the furniture.
He turns abruptly as they get inside, pulling the lead tight as his mouth roughly takes Olivine's, his other hand snaking down to the man's ass. That was how he liked to be treated in this dynamic. His mind is spinning though; even with the unknown magic running through him, this isn't a role he has experience with.
So it's entirely him when he asks gently ] How can I make this good for you?
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They're sure to have an audience, by now. Olivine is both thrilled and terrified, and so—he keeps his focus ahead, on the blonde in front of him. Softly, without a hint of that aggression, he asks how to make this good for him, and Olivine chuckles softly, tongue flicking across Basch's lips.]
Just focus on how you'd like this to be done to you. [He cradles the other's jaw then.] ... I'll try to point you to what I want, but you won't hurt me no matter how rough you are. If it goes too far... I'll say a word. Let's go with... "seahorse." Okay? If you hear that, then you stop.
So please don't hesitate to hurt me a little. Pull my hair, bite me, bruise me. I'm still in control. You're doing what I want. Don't stop unless you hear that word.
[He is, after all. With a safe word in place, that's even more true; it implies the idea that if Olivine doesn't say that word, he's expressly consenting to whatever happens. ]
I finally return to my computer and YAY HE'S IN more of their messes to come
Alright. Remove my shirt.
[ He assumes he was put in that harness for a reason, hopefully one that was Olivine's taste.
He jerks the lead, almost hesitating, but turns to bite the soft curve of Olivine's neck, waiting only until he hears the other react to pull back. A tease. Is he...doing this right? He can't ask. That isn't his role. ]
YAY HE'S IN congrats!!!
Yes, master.
[Olivine exhales it as a soft, pleasant sigh; he doesn't know why the game chose to do what it did, but he's certainly not displeased with it. warm fingers find the edge of Basch's shirt, curling there to start pulling it up—an act that pauses when teeth press down against his neck. Ah...
he's not hard to read, by any means. the pressure sees him pressing in closer, a soft whine of a moan escaping parted lips. not long enough, probably to satisfy Olivine—but that's what teases are for, aren't they. the priest has a job to do, and right now that job is dutifully working Basch's shirt off, his gaze falling shyly, hungrily, on the harness still left underneath.]
Please don't tease me so, master...♥
[there is not a single word in the sentence that makes it sound the slightest bit earnest, at least, nor does Olivine's expression suggest he's the least bit bothered. it's the first time, in fact, that he's been able to make up a reason to pause but not... push himself to do so, to let himself descend into true debauchery for once. are people looking? they must be, he's sure, and the idea only excites him more.]
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I will tease you until you beg. [ It's a low growl, as much because he is still uncertain of himself as because he thinks that's what he would want. And that odd sensation in him is bubbling up. He wants people to hear, to know, to watch, even as some other part of him is terrified of that kind of observation. He reaches out, running his fingers delicately through Olivine's hair once, then tightening his grip, pulling his head back so that they look at each other. ]
And I want you to beg loud enough that this entire floor knows you are mine.
[ He flushes as he says it, face twisting for a moment as the urge to apologize rises up. But the real panic is the way he likes it, likes that Olivine likes it, likes the absolutely humiliating feeling of being seen like this and someone...commenting on it later. Asking for him to be this again. ]
Why did you stop undressing me? [ But he jerks Olivine's head to the side, biting the other side of his neck, harder. ] I thought you wanted to be taken.
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Ah... haah... mnngh—!
[a pull of hair and Olivine squirms, every inch of him practically on fire. His lips part for soft, panting breaths, fondness in his pleasure-dulled gaze.]
My... haah... my apologies...
[heat pools deeper as his fingers stall, lost for a moment in the sensation—but then Basch bites down on his neck, harder still, and he could swoon if he wasn't still aware.]
Nngh! I do... I do. [panting, his hands lose their gentleness, pulling abruptly and impatiently at fabric until it's out of the way.] Please give me more. ♡
[He's already so hard under everything he's wearing, and as he finishes stripping away Basch's clothing he leans in a bit more.]
How much can I take off of mine...? I don't how which sounds best... there are so many options to show off for you... hehe. I can't pull off my shirt, but I'll do anything else you want me to...
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You’re quite ready, but I am not. How will you tempt me to give you what you want, you needy thing?
[ He keeps his voice a low growl, tugging the lead right to jerk Olivine’s face to his. A kiss. Gentle, first, checking if the other is alright, reminding them both this is an act. And then he bits his lip, shoves his tongue against the other’s and skims his hand down his front to oh so briefly palm his impressive erection.
And then he brings it around Olivine’s backside, smacking his ass hard enough to make an audible sound. If people weren’t aware, they likely are now. ]
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well, it heats him up more than the blond could really know.]
Ah—I'll... mmh...
[lids lilt downward as Basch pulls him closer, lips meeting in sweet comfort first, a reminder. Olivine is definitely deeply buried in the moment, all the pleasure of it threatening to strip him of sense here and there... but even as teeth connect with the soft flesh of his lip, as a tongue dives between them to meet his own, he manages to keep hold of a thread of it.
it's just for Basch, probably. he certainly doesn't need it. a hand palms him and the priest rises up into it, sighing into his partner's lips, only to jolt and yelp sweetly at the smack of his ass. fuck.
shuddering, he ignores the aching squeeze of his body to focus on the task. what he's been asked. what Basch needs, really.]
Haah... haaaah... should I tell you... how needy I am? [his arms skim up over the other's shoulders, still trembling with want. usually, it would take a little longer to break this way, he supposes... but it's necessary, and he wants to. his voice drops to a heady whisper, something kept strictly between them, unworthy of anyone else.] Would that be enough?
How I keep thinking about being pressed—face first into the furniture, squirming while you work me open on your fingers...? [face-first is a soft little concession for himself, granted. being seen is... God, it's enough to get him off, but he's still not sure how he feels about the actual idea of feeling it, at least with a bunch of onlookers.] My arms held behind my back, unable to do anything but beg you to fill me. And when you do, to feel it so deep, hotter than my skin with every slap... ah.
[ah. just thinking about it has him squirming again, an excellent sign really.]
I want so many things... nngh... but these people aren't worthy of seeing them all.
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He doesn’t know what he needs now, though, and he appreciates Olivine trying, even if being told how wanted he is turns out to be a big icy pour or cold water. Olivine doesn’t want him. He wants whatever this act is, and while Basch can give that, it does nothing to get him ready. It shouldn’t matter. He shouldn’t need to be put in a position that allows him to do this, especially when Olivine is the more vulnerable. Why can’t his just will himself to it?
But Olivine keeps going, and that fantasy pulls a real rasping groan from Basch. That he can understand the appeal of, and it’s something he can provide.
He keeps his voice low, that deep grumble, pulling the lead tight and cupping Olivine in the palm of his hand, applying just enough pressure to his sack to make it rougher than a tease.
These people aren’t worthy of seeing any of your pleasure, but I want it clear you are mine. If you perform well enough, maybe I will give you more later, where only I can see. Now, strip down and get your ass up where I can reach it comfortably.
[ He loathes himself for what he’s saying, but he keeps his gaze steady on Olivine, watching the squirms of pleasure. It can’t be so bad if the other is so happy, and what does it matter to him? His own pleasure certainly doesn’t. ]
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this is about a lot of things. mostly about shredding away the anxiety of the situation as best he can, the gentle consideration easily forgotten beneath vulgar words and vulnerable actions. this isn't Basch, and it isn't fair, he thinks, to him either. picking at whatever's affected him is...
... he'll apologise for it later.
but they share some things, at least. enough to keep him in it, and enough to give him more than enough words to say. maybe it's better that Olivine slips so hard into this role, right now.]
Mmnh... yes, sir.
[he can't help but pause briefly, a terribly fond motion in the way he cradles Basch's face amid all the carnal pleasure of it. breaking from him after that moment, Olivine moves to do as he's told, stripping off the cropped shirt he'd been wearing, then the pants and underwear, revealing a remarkably muscular form beneath.
the play at confidence is a little harder now, knowing there's doubtless people actually watching (and mostly watching him), but he takes a quiet breath and buries that anxiety, knowing it will fade once he's not alone in the space anymore. it's not hard to find a space to lift himself up, braced on the nearest bit of furniture, hips tilted up and back, glancing sweetly over his shoulder. true, he can't keep the flush from his cheeks, but that's already been there since the beginning. it's fine.]
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But his eyes widen, face suddenly soft and vulnerable as Olivine cradles his face in unbridled affection and approval. Even through this odd haze, that makes Basch’s chest tight. He’d do anything Olivine wanted to get more of that look, he knows, and gods help him because he knows what a liability it is.
He doesn’t have to do anything for the time being, because Olivine slips away to undress. Basch has been around a thousand naked muscled soldiers, but his eyes still rove, catching on broad shoulders and a jewel glistening in his midriff, a strong ass. It occurs to him again he has no idea what a man like Olivine would be attracted to in him, but this place has its ways, and the thought is gone again, because Olivine is positioning himself and looking back wantingly.
Heart thundering, Basch closed the space between them, trained enough in suppressing his emotions to keep the shake from his hands. He splays his rough hands over Olivine’s back, feeling the ridges of muscle and bone, before letting one slide across his hip to palm his sack briefly, teasingly. ]
Very good, my pet. Now let’s hear you sing.
[ his mind reels looking for what he’d want if their positions were reversed, trying to ignore how public this is. He bends down, placing a kiss on Olivine’s back, then another, then taking the soft swell of flesh in his mouth and biting hard while his fingers dig into the man’s thighs. ]
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Olivine half-watches the approach, noting him more by the soft warmth that comes to hover just behind him. The feeling of rough hands on his back is enough to get his heart pumping more still, hips jolting at the squeeze of one at his sack. It earns a needy little groan, and Olivine lets his head dip down a little.]
As—you wish...
[His voice is a little breathy, eyes closing as warm lips caress his back, drifting over strong muscles until—
Until Basch bites down, digging fingers into his thighs and (perhaps accidentally) drawing Olivine to arch and shift, legs spread a little obscenely wide.]
Ah—haah... like that...
[fingers grip the cushion he's perched over, eyes closing as his lower body leans into the rough sensations. The thought that people are still watching is there, but it fades into something more distant as his thoughts turn toward making this at least a little pleasurable for them both.]
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And it's...really attractive, the way Olivine grips the couch, body taut and trembling. It's pleasing to see that. He can focus on that. He can do this.
But he also doesn't want to hurt him, not in ways that aren't intentional. ]
Be patient [ he admonishes, even though he thinks the other is extremely patient, given the circumstances. He gives his ass another bite, a slap on the other cheek before he pulls away, hoping the sudden lack of feeling will be teasing and not just awkward. But he opens the drawers in the tables, assuming--
Yes. There's lubricant, thankfully sealed. He twists it open, rolling some in his hands to warm it. As he does, he stands close enough Olivine can feel his heat but not so close they are touching.
Gods he feels so awkward. He has no idea if this is right, or if he should do more, or less, ask more feedback, give more commands. All he can do is try to muddle through. ]
You look so flushed and pretty, with your ass up waiting for me. Should I be kind, or should I make you wait?
[ Talking helps. Gives him a character, reminds him who he's supposed to be. Hands lubed, he steps forward, slotting one arm through Olivine's legs to drag a single finger down his legs and across his sack. ]
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I'm try—nngh!
[God, but it makes him ache for more, the sting of each bite and slap more enticing than the blond could really know. similarly, more than he knows, there may be no need to worry about hurting him, but that's also neither here nor there, buried in the way his insides ache for more.
the return of heat so close to his bare skin is a boon, his words drawing up little shivers as Basch speaks them. Olivine... has to wonder how many times he's been in this position, given their earlier conversation. but he has to focus, too.]
Haah... ah... I've been waiting so long... I don't know how much longer I can wait. Won't you please be kind to me?
[there is enough of a sly undertone to that that Basch could pick up the option there, though taking it at face value is certainly easy enough. Olivine won't mind either path, in the end.
he does shiver when an arm slips between his legs to draw a finger over them, slick with lube and hot against his neglected skin. a little whine escapes in turn, hips shifting impatiently at the teasing.]
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[ There's a low chuckle to his voice, a genuine warmth at how wound up Olivine is. ]
If you make a mess early, I shall have to walk you upstairs naked like this, with everyone to see the shame of my still being hard.
[ A threat he'd enjoy, and that's all he has to go off. But he doesn't intend to withhold. Even with this pressure, he wants to satisfy, and Olivine gave him a clear map. He brings his hand back up, finger circling the other's entrance a few times as he leans forward, dragging the bulge in his undergarments against Olivine's leg. He considers his position, then, with no warning, slides a finger deep into the other man, free arm going to sling around his waist and pull him close, body curling over him so he can bite his neck.
His goal is to see how loud he can get him, and maybe some begging, and then he will gladly give him what he wants. And if he comes before that, well, it's not matter to Basch, really. ]
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I won't... haaah. Wouldn't... do that to you... mm.
[though really, that's up to Basch in the end. Olivine has a decent thread of self-control, but it has a limit. the other feels hot against his leg, even through cloth, and it's almost worse than the brush of a finger against his entrance. almost.
and Basch is in for a treat, by the first noise Olivine makes when his finger slides in, deep and insistent, weight pulled back into the warmth of another body. it's made louder still by another bite, fingers curling in the fabric beneath them, burying into it. immediately, it's not enough, but when is it ever?
for a moment he just waits, in spite of the way his whole body twitches and seems to beg for more all on its own, hazy gaze turned up to watch the blond as much as he can. he wants to ask for more, though. it won't be long before impatience hits, he knows.]
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He's not expecting how vocal Olivine is, perhaps because he is so used to needing to be quiet, or being the one coaxed to loudness. There's no resistance, just sheer pleasure.
He's surprised, too, that Olivine waits. Perhaps that's part of the game for him, what with the way he's looking back so expectantly.
Basch slowly slides his finger out and back in. ]
How is that, pet? Do I keep you well?
[ He knows it is not enough; it shouldn't be, if he wishes to be fucked into the sofa, but it is good to build tension. ]
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to be honest, it surprises him too, though. whatever the case, his gaze hazes over once Basch's finger starts to move, easing out and back in.]
Haah... [agonising. it's agonising to wait when he knows what he wants, but he likes this.] I think you're trying—to make me lose my mind... master.
[of course it's not enough, not by a long shot, but at least the other is so close, bent so sweetly over him. he can work with that.]
I want... more... nngh. Please...
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What would you do if I gave no more? [ he growls, slowing his hand and leaning away from Olivine, decreasing contact but standing close enough the other can still sense him. ] Would you wait, patiently, or would you fuck yourself against my hand?
[ Still, it pangs something in him to hear Olivine ask. So direct, so sweet. He's never been on this end of things, not like this, and it feels like getting an entirely new angle on himself, even if their preferences aren't perfectly aligned.
He won't be withholding that strongly, in the end, but he hopes the threat of it is pleasing. ]
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Ah... haah... I would try... to wait, of course. But I don't know if I could stop myself.
[he neither suspects not expects Basch to hold out too long—honestly, he's really just following the blond's lead here in the grand scheme of it. picking up what feels good, of course, and firmly keeping everything in the context of here and now, the roles they've chosen—but he wants to be careful not to overstep, even if he's not been warned of any possibility of that.]
I want to be a good pet... but I'm only so strong. [there's a soft purr to it, almost a promise really.]
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You are an excellent pet, even if you are weak. [ He strokes his knuckles down Olivine's back, admiring the musculature and beautiful skin, such a soft contrast to his own. Then he slaps his ass again, hard, before leaning back to bite the other cheek again, encouraging the other to squirm against his unmoving hand. ]
It is a beautiful weakness [ he murmurs against his skin, free hand moving to cup his sack, knowing he's not providing enough stimulation. The weaker Olivine gets to his own desire, the more he'll enjoy being fucked. ]
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Haaah... thank you... master... [for the compliment, clearly. and less clearly, for the rough treatment, as his hips jolt and shift against that unmoving hand, rocking between it and the gentle hold over his sack. not enough, no—the priest can take more than most, in fact—but that's the point. a shiver slides down his spine, lip worried between teeth. only a moment, really, before he breaks.]
Please... I need more of you... I still feel so empty...
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So Basch slips in a second finger, roughly, and quickly after a third, switching to moving his hand much more quickly as he digs nails into Olivine's tender sack and returns to biting at his ass.
He's going to give him more, but he's going to let him react and squirm and beg a little more first. ]
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But the press of fingers pulls more sound from the priest, hips rising up into his hand in little shuddery movements. A sharp groan escapes him at the feeling of nails digging carefully against sensitive skin, teeth against his ass. His body, at the very least, is almost impossible to misread. He's active and sensitive, jolting and pressing roughly back into Basch's movements.
And he manages a brief time, at least, under the onslaught of sensation and want. It's not even all that intentional, but Olivine gets lost in the treatment so easily, until his body feels like an absolute mass of beautiful, awful need. A hand shifts, wanting to touch himself for a little more sensation—pauses instead and finds purchase elsewhere, making way for the shudder that runs through him.]
Hnngh... ah... please... harder, more... Basch...
[that... isn't really related to the role he's in, not in the end. There's no hesitation to it, and almost no shame at all in his pleasure from it; just that little slip with his name, and he hasn't even quite noticed it slipped out.]
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But Olivine shows no signs of discomfort. Immense desire, even. He catches that shift and redirect of a hand. Good.
If the name is a slip up, then it is a fortunate one. Something about it grounds him, reminds him that he isn't just this role -- one he isn't particularly good at. It's the delivery, really, not something he thinks about, but something he craves. Being wanted, being good.
Maybe it's not the rules of this game, but he pulls his hand out before discarding his meager undergarment. It's...odd, feeling exposed like this. For a moment he tenses, ears straining for the sound of people in the hall. But he shakes his head to clear it, reaching for the lubricant. They won't be free if they don't finish with this, and it would be rude to leave Olivine in this situation without relief.
He doesn't even notice how his mind skirts around and consideration of his own want or need, even as he lathers his hardened cock in slick oil.
It's too bad, he realizes, that the harness he wears is not on Olivine. It would give him something to pull on and guide. Alas. He'll make do with the leash, pulling it taught so that Olivine's neck is cut into lightly.
He then takes Olivine's hips firmly, lining himself up and easing in. He can be rough in a moment; he isn't going to risk this doing damage, and he wants the other to adjust to him before he moves harder. ]
Will you be able to handle me until I've finished, Olivine?
[ Perhaps the first real question he's asked, though his finishing is no concern to him. Still, he holds the leash taught with one hand, the other digging into Olivine's flesh as he starts to rock, harder, faster. ]
Will you let everyone know how good you feel?
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That helps keep his mind from wandering too far, too. It hazes over when the other pulls taut at the leash and his insides twitch, breath exhaled on a warm moan. He likes that just fine, if the way his cock twitches is to be believed.
But then, cock wet with lube, the blond slides in—it's a remarkably easy glide, even for having stretched him. Olivine is definitely tight around his cock, but there's no painful struggle to relax or more.]
Nngh... abso... absolutely. I'll take it all... Basch.
[It feels better, actually, calling him this way. Basch grips the leash and his hip—the latter, digging and rough, draws a particularly pleasant groan from him, hips jolting back into each thrust and head tilted up to keep Basch at least somewhat in view.]
Nngh... I don't think I could... stay quiet even if I wanted to...
[That's probably accurate. Olivine is capable when it's absolutely necessary—this doesn't feel necessary right now.]
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So he grunts, pressing Olivine down into the couch, pulling his arms up onto his back. He pauses for a moment, letting the other adjust, giving him time to change his mind. When he doesn’t, Basch holds his wrists tight, the hand with he leash wrapping it taught before going back to his hip, and now, finally, he fucks him hard, over and over, no pause, his own grunts quickly turning to a whine. ]
Sing…for me.
[ Because Basch isn’t going to be able to come until he feels Olivine’s absolute pleasure. And finally, finally he wants to. ]
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fabric winds around his wrists and he bears no complaint, already gasping, groaning aloud as hips rock into his, over and over, hard enough to be addictive. his pleasure is obvious in everything he does, every twist of his hands and buck of hips, every sound that escapes him so sweetly, so easily.]
Ah—haah... Ba...sch...
[he's definitely not going to find much in the way of words, but it's easy to fall into a sort of slurred speech, a measure of his name mixed with pleading words, all melted together into a molten, searing mess of pleasure.
and it's not long, then, before his body tenses up, pressed back into the blond's grip as much as he can, the sharp cry signifying his orgasm at least muffled into the couch. ah, it's enough to leave him dizzy and hot, every nerve on fire with sensitivity, and still he pleads for a little more, for Basch to fill him, to give him everything.]
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The pleading, he does not know what to do with. He knows he enjoys being in a place where it comes from his mouth, but now he has to remind himself he is not hurting, is not failing. This is what he was asked for, and every sign is one of pleasure. He should not stop.
It helps, that the friction is strangely light. He can go harder than he normally would, skin against skin pleasant and slick. Soon enough, Olivine's body is scrunching, his breathing changing before he cries out.
That...does something for him. Even before Olivine begs for more; having served well, his own need grows. Or manifests itself, perhaps, no longer waiting for the other. It's new, and odd, and perhaps the leash fans it on. He finds a deeper reserve, grip tightening as he throws his head back and ruts against Olivine, near bounding him as he chases his own pleasure.
A thing that makes him shameful, and so he masks it. ]
You...have been so good, Olivine. I will...grant this last request.
[ It's the permission he needs, and in another moment he's crying out himself, gasping as his seed fills the other in hot pulses. He has to plant his feet, folding over Olivine, trying not to let both of them collapse. That would be unbecoming, and he's quite certain his role includes ensuring Olivine's comedown and comfort, including seeing him safely back to his room. ]
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it's notable, at least, the little shifts that get Basch going. a little hard to pull into proper context, but they're things he'll try to remember should anything happen in the future. certainly nothing like this, most likely, but he always wants to help.
much like he would soothe Basch, if he knew the depths of his thoughts, the fact that he finds something like this shameful even when Olivine asked for it. his pleasure is important, after all.
chasing it gives something to Olivine, too, the heat of his orgasm soothing something in him. Basch folds over him in the immediate aftermath, and the priest already regrets not being able to put his arms down to hold them both up. his hands tug lightly at the leash wrapping them behind his back at this regret, but it's still easy to melt into the heady, sweet feeling of afterglow starting to settle in. he's still breathing a little hard, slowly catching up to the time and space again.]
Ah... haaah... thank you... Basch. Mmn...
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But Olivine is nothing but glowing, and that thanks pulls the last of the concern from him. ]
I hope you are pleased, Olivine.
[ A low, gentle comment, role entirely forgotten. And he sits there for a few moments, dazed by afterglow, trying to catch his breath, straining to hear Olivine's comfortable sighs, before he straightens himself, undoing the tie from his wrists and gently guiding his arms down, pulling out from inside him, easing his body onto the couch as his fingers go to search for the clasp on the collar. He finds it this time. ]
Shall I take this off, or do you wish me to continue until you are returned to your rooms?
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Immensely... thank you, Basch.
[sliding out of his own space is easier than expected, arms coming to hold himself up with again. fingers slide over the collar and he exhales a soft sigh, eyes half-lidded.]
Mm, you can take it off. We... shouldn't have any need for it anymore.
[once they're past here, it should be much quieter, so there'll be no attention on either of them anymore; all of it seems to have been diverted elsewhere, perhaps for similar acts starting up amid their own. which... he realises rather belatedly exactly what just happened, and how public it was. he'll process that later, from the fact that he actually went through with it to the fact that he didn't dislike it.]
Wrap this one?
At least he has a task, as he works to free the collar and toss it aside. He grabs behind him, handing Olivine the clothing he shed and pulling on his own. It's hard to not stare at the floor, the self-consciousness flooding in as what they've done starts to hit. At least, as Olivine noticed, the crowd has found attention elsewhere. ]
I would walk you to your room, if you like, otherwise I will...see you some other time.
[ He leaves it vague, not asking for a commitment so much as trying to slip away so he can try to calm his erratic nerves. ]
sounds good!
Ah... I won't keep you... but if you'd like, I wouldn't mind the company. We can talk anytime, of course.
[there's a lot he just... did, here, and even if Basch was willing, it still feels wrong to ask him for anything more now. even with the sense of being seen rising, he doesn't feel comfortable asking to lean on the other man for any longer. so he doesn't; reaching out to take the blond's hands lightly in his, squeezing another brief moment of thanks, he offers a warm and gentle smile before breaking away again.
whether Basch walks with him or not, the walk back is quiet, maybe a little lonely. he'll worry about how to apologise later, how to talk to him again. it doesn't really reach his face much anyway, and then... well, then there's his room. he has a lot to think about when he gets there, to be sure.]
for Eiden
[ He supposes that's true. Balthier and Fran had said something similar.
He's startled as Eiden moves closer. If anything, he ought to be serving the other. But -- there's something he recognized in that set gaze. A need to be of service, and so he nods, once, willing himself to stay relaxed. ]
I suppose that's a fair way to look at it. And returning rested would be a boon.
[ There's so much ahead of him, and his body could use the time to keep healing. Eiden may notice that, despite his physique, he's laced with scars and is thinner than his bone structure suggests. He could do to eat more and sleep more. ]
You're skilled at this. [ An observation, more than a complimet. Was Eiden someone this was easy for? It never had been for Basch. ]
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C'mon, turn around and rest your arms on the edge of the bath, let me try and work some of this tension out of you... okay? And if you don't like it, you tell me. I'll stop right away.
[ his hands guide, gently, reading for any discomfort, but trying to give him his most open expression. eiden isn't disingenuous, rather, he just... has a big heart. there's something in basch's eyes that reminds eiden a bit of, well, that's a story for another time. he shakes his head a little to clear himself of his thoughts that are getting in the way of focusing his actions on him. basche is an incredibly good-looking guy, though he could perhaps use a few good meals. ]
I've just had a lot of practice. I like taking care of other people when I can. There's not much else I'm really good at otherwise.
[ his hands sweep downwards slowly, along his spine, knuckles pressing in against muscles with care, trying to find any particularly tense knots, passing over him with his palms with heated bath water to make sure he stays warm. ]
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Disappointing.
But he still, deeply, wants to please Eiden, wants to be of some use. That's easier to think about than how kind and disarming the younger man is. So he obliges, bracing himself over the edge. ]
Taking care of others is always an undervalued skill [ Basch rumbles, eye-lids heavy despite himself. Eiden is good a this, or perhaps its just been years since anyone touched him with any kindness. He shifts a little, wincing at old pains, but he can feel the tension melting away in the warmth of Eiden and the bath. ]
Were that more of our leaders had it, more kingdoms and households would prosper. They are always the people most important to protect if you wish to rebuild a community.
@ hilda
[ He's going to protest -- he wants to touch her more than he wants to be touched, except she's climbing over him with so much confidence that he moans, cock jerking. His hands come to trace her sides, breathing in sharply as she raises her ass up in his face. ]
Hilda--
[ But he's rendered speechless as the sensation driving him mad is joined by her tongue. His whole body arches, fingers digging into her, and he cries out louder than he means. Gods he wants her, her calloused hands, her gorgeous, strong body, her strangely luscious hair. His hands move to her ass, meaning to massage and tease her, but his next moan turns to a whimper, trying to keep his hips from bucking up into her. ]
Gods, Hilda, you feel...incredible...
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Her cheeks hollow out as she continues to bob up and down working him with her tongue and her hands keeping her pace steady as she savours the taste of him It's not hard to figure out that he's trying to stop himself from using her mouth the way she wants him to. The miniscule twitches of his thighs that she has a front row seat to are a clear indication of that. A hand dances lightly down, cupping his sack as his shaft leaves her mouth with a pop. Her lips hover just above his head, tongue teasing him and wondering what exactly it would take. Maybe it would be more teasing. Or maybe it would be slowly taking the length of him until he hit the back of her throat. ]
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Her hand comes around his sack, her mouth retreating to tease his head, and he whimpers, finally letting himself rock. ]
Please. I want to take you. I want to finish inside you and feel you around me.
[ Have their fluids and scents mixed up, know she's his and he is hers and that they are a mated pair. ]
If you...keep going like that...I'm going to fuck you back. [ It's a plea as much as a warning, hips jerking as he suggests it, his hands still kneading her ass.
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You say that like that's a bad thing. Maybe I want you to fuck my mouth and use it however you want.
[ It's punctuated by a slow languid lick but she relents. Next time. His cock leaves her mouth with a wet pop as falls onto her back, pink hair fanning around her. One hand reaches between her to spread her folds apart from him, the other hand held out towards him. A warm smile spreads onto her face, unaware about how laid bare she is for him. Not just her legs but the scar marring her chest and her arms. None of it matters. All that matters is having him close and hearing their heartbeats fall in time together. ]
Come here. Fill me up, Basch.
[ The teasing air from before fades, left behind with a breathless tone that can only be need. ]
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Which is hard to even try to calculate, with her hand and her tongue driving him wild. Then she's rolling off of him, and he's watching awe as her body moves, every inch of her strong and perfect. His eyes only widen as she parts herself for him, inviting him to look, to touch. He may have just been there with his tongue, but this is still different, being invited in, told to fill her.
He doesn't hesitate, climbing over her, his hands running tenderly down her legs as he lines his head up to her folds. She's so wet, that even on his first thrust he slides easily into that warm tension, breathless and adoring as he does. ]
I want to please you, Hilda. Anything you like -- tell me and it's yours.
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[ Her voice lilts with an obvious joy, an exhilaration though it has less to do with the idea of giving him orders and everything to do with how much his voice is awash in need. The flush grows a little rosier on her cheeks, her eyes gleaming brighter as she watches position himself between her legs.
A needy gasp flutters as she feels him slip into her like he was made for her. She grasps at him, pulling his lips down to meet hers. ]
Fuck my cunt. Fill it up with you until I'm dripping. I want your fingers to mark me so that everyone knows who my mate is.
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Yes [ he gasps against her lips the moment she tells him to fuck her. ] You as well -- fingers, or mouth. I want to be marked in turn.
[ His hips rock, and wet as she is, it's barely a few strokes before he's filled her entirely, moaning with how good she feels. His grip on her breast and side deepen, harder and harder as he presses for bruising, his hips beginning to rock of their own accord.
He bends his head down, taking her nipple in his teeth again and nipping harder, regretting he can't touch all of her at once. ]
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Her strong thighs frame and press into his hips like they were always meant to fit there and her walls clench tightly around his length as if there was a risk of him leaving her. At his behest she does what he asks, wanting to make him feel as good as she does. Crescent moons from where she clings onto him appear on his shoulders and his back, not hard enough to draw blood but certainly enough to ensure that there will be traces of her in the morning.
As he rocks into her they settle into an easy rhythm, the sound of how wet she is for him fueling the desire in her belly. A hand buries in his hair, tugging tight as she keens. ]
I want you nice and deep, Basch. Don't hold back.
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It's clear she's pleased, by how wet she is, by the way she immediately claws back at his skin, by how smooth but intense their rhythm is. When she gives him another order, though, he's all too happy to follow, keening back at that pressure on his hair.
He guides her ankles up to his shoulders, shifting onto his knees. His hold his bruising on her hips, his mouth wandering from her breasts to her neck. Like this, he can pump faster, deeper, breathless and aching as he does. ]
Gods, Hilda, you feel...perfect...
[ She's already come once, but he still wants her first. His face tenses, heat in his belly threatening dizziness as the early pangs of orgasm start to radiated from him. He's not even away of the sweat breaking on him, or the increasing need in his moans. He wants to fill her, to feel her constrict so tight around him in pleasure he can't breathe, to see these marks on her in the morning light... ]
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It's not so much his praise that sets her skin aflame as it is his eagerness. His honeyed words make her feel aglow, and how hard he feels inside of her arouses her beyond belief. But it's more than that. It's the rhythm she needs, the pressure that he applies is everything that she desires making her cunt ache and throb.
She can tell from his breathing, from the sounds that are so sweet to her ears, that he's close too. Her hands find his face, pulling him from the crook of her neck so that his lips can capture hers instead. She kisses him like a woman parched as her climax begins to build like an inevitable force. She shatters without warning save for a cry of his name. Muscles clench around him as she gasps and shudders, nails clawing up the length of his back as a means of grounding herself. ]
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His movements are intense, rapid, but still rhythmic, fucking her with experience and purpose. But it's her pulling his face back to hers that does him in. He kisses back just as desperately, and the moment her walls start to shudder around him, he's gasping her name back, buckling over her and clinging to her as his seed spends deep and hot. Every shudder she gives reverberates through him, causing his body to shift between the freeze of climax and the tremble of afterglow, shaking at the pleasure of her sounds and the nails down his back.
As soon as he's able -- still panting, so dizzy he can hardly keep his balance -- he's nuzzling against her, drunkenly finding her lips as he tugs her down to lay beside him, careful to keep from dislodging just yet. His legs wrap around her, arms cradling her, and the same passion that had drive their coupling drives a need to dote, to stroke, to protect. He's still shaking, gasping every time she shifts and his sensitive cock sends heat through him again, and he's only sorry he's too spent to have her again. ]
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There's nothing like that here though. Not when every nerve inside of her hums in pleasure and her hips press teasingly into him drawing out those little shudders that made her want him want him all the more despite her cunt still filled with his cum. So much of her still yearns for more, the little rabbit inside of her not satisfied with just this. But the small part of her that still remains unaffected by the food they had shared is content for now as they catch their breaths.
Because in his arms she feels a sense of security that she had seemingly left Fodlan without. She had woken up here scared and confused, uncertain of what to expect while she had been here or if any of this was real in the first place. But with her heart hammering against her chest in time with his, she feels tethered and grounded in a way that she hadn't before.
With that lingering thought of safety in her her eyelids flutter as she twines their fingers together and brings them up to her lips to kiss. ]
You're perfect, Basch. I feel so safe with you.
@ olivine
[ That gets a genuine chuckle from Basch. He...should have put that together sooner. ] Then I will remind you that I appreciate your efforts more often. And what you have naturally.
[ Somehow, Basch had not connected that Olivine was going to connect their talking to their play, and as his brain processes that the scenario Olivine spins is accompanied by the sound of disrobing, his breath grows audibly shallower, body eagerly remembering their many times together.
He's right; Basch is sitting straight as a timber tree, shifting now that is body is starting to react. And he's not expecting Olivine's words at all, nearly speechless with them. ]
I ... have never worn anything like that by intention, but I'd enjoy exploring it with you. [ He takes a breath, pushing the edges of his discomfort. ] Let's...pretend I'm wearing one now. And that while my vines delicately unwrapped you, I got close enough for you to touch, and you only discovered them when your hands slid under my shirt.
[ His voice has dropped to little more than a whisper, slow and deep. Like when he reads. He's better at this than he thinks, maybe because of the thousands of pages of romances he's read out loud. ] Would you leave them unseen, or would you try to disrobe me for a better view?
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Ah—I would want to see them. You would have worn them just for me, after all, right? And while I tried, your vines would find that I'm wearing delicate chains and thick rings today, and maybe more when they get to my pants...
[as strange as it feels to describe it all, moving to catch his fingers in his chains as his sweater slides up, he finds it surprisingly easy to do. he's aware enough to be cognizant of Basch's reactions, after all, so he can stop if it seems to be getting too uncomfortable for the man.]
So... would you let me see them, or stop me?
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[ Alright maybe that isn't sexy talk, but it's warm and its earnest and the smile is on his voice. ]
How would you want me to tease you? I still am learning that piece.
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You wouldn't be overcompensating, if you wanted to do that. I would be surprised, probably squirm against all of the vines because you really are so good at working me up... and happy that you wanted to punish me, at least a little.
[that smile is there in his voice, too. it's followed by a soft hum, thoughtful.]
It would depend on the situation, I think. If you pinned my hands... [his voice drifts for a moment, considering.] maybe you would ask me what I think I'm doing. Why I think I'm allowed, when you have control of me.
[warm, breathy. Basch will recall from their encounter with the statue just how well Olivine responds to that kind of humiliation, especially given with confidence. also, he might notice (later) just how easily Olivine calms down when he's talking to the older man.]
And... I would tell you that I just wanted to see you, that I love seeing you. Beg you to let me touch, even though it's exciting when I can't. And then maybe... you would just laugh and hold me up, so that you could keep stripping me. Get my pants open and pushed down, and find out I'm wearing transparent underwear, with lace edging and thin straps around my thighs and hips.
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[ The ideas help and he listens thoughtfully, his hum turning to a surprised moan when Olivine adds the detail about his undergarments. ]
I -- would enjoy that. The surprise, and pinning you with the vines so you had something to struggle against, telling you to wait but teasing you to not want to. [ that's a game he understands. ]
I would get you the rest of the way stripped, compliment how pretty you are in your piercings and your lace. Touch you lightly -- not enough. And...ask you what you'd do for me, so that I could reward you with stripping too.
[ He doesn't think that's much of a reward -- but Olivine suggested it was something he'd want, so it must hold some value. ]
Maybe a game. See if you could resist getting hard, or stay silent, while I touched you. Or maybe make you watch me while I stripped. Tell you not to get excited or flushed. [ Was that too close to shame for his desire? Basch isn't sure. It's...so good they're talking through these hypotheticals, honestly. It's easier for him to take risks. ]
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[his breath catches then, listening to Basch hypothesise. the suggestions leave him aching, faintly frustrated by the partition between them, squirming at the thought of being touched just so. not a rarity, exactly, and yet...]
I would... have to suggest trying to stay silent, or not get excited, because I don't think I could do the others at all. [he admits, biting his lip thoughtfully. there's a familiar breathiness to his voice, as he presses his fingers into his knees, to keep them steady and not reaching for himself like he wants to.] And as much as I wanted to be rewarded... what if I failed? I'd be completely at your mercy, to punish me however you wanted...
[it isn't hard to hear how much he would like that, just as much as having a reward. honestly, he's almost forgotten about where they are—especially the time limits and the like.]
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[ He bites his lip too, hearing the want in Olivine's voice. This is...always where he gets stuck. ] In truth, Olivine, I never want to punish you. I adore you and want to give you whatever you want. Except, I know you want to be punished.
[ He shakes his head, like he can clear the confusion. Maybe he just is getting stuck on the word. He's played with Sylvain like this and enjoyed it. ] But if I was going to keep teasing you and working you up, and not giving you what you asked for, maybe I could go behind you, take away getting to see me. Make you tell me exactly what you wanted, get you begging.
Mmm, or I could...spank you?
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And when the blond continues... Olivine's expression softens behind the partition, humming softly.]
It's true, I like the way it feels, but... it isn't a true punishment, after all, when I'm being for it. I just enjoy being... less in control.
[He doesn't know if that will help, but it's at least another way to think about it. The word, or the lingering uncertainty with Olivine specifically—but it's definitely less prominent than before. And that makes it easier to latch on, to close his eyes and just imagine—]
Mm. You could use your vines to position me, wrap them around my thighs to pull them apart so you had a good position to see all of me. I'd make you hold on tight so I couldn't squirm and shake too much. Try to look over my shoulder at you to plead for more, knowing you could see me twitching with how badly I want more. Spank me for being "impatient..."
[It definitely sounds like this is something he's done before, voice being breathier by the moment. Fingers graze the lust button just for a moment, almost at the same time as a wave of want rakes through him.]
Like right now. How badly I want to see you, to feel your hands on my body. I'm tempted to try out one of the toys while we talk.
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[ This...shifts a lot for him. That's something he entirely understands. And feels confident in. It helps that he hears Olivine's interest, his own breath coming sharper at the picture Olivine paints. ]
I would strip whatever was left on me except the pretty straps you like, surprise you with our skin together, press into you without warning -- I remember how much you liked that at the Gilded Cage.
[ Then he blinks, suddenly aware of his body -- and his arousal -- now. Like he's been slammed back into it. He licks his lips, self-conscious, but... ]
Is...is there anything remote, so I could take control for you? Or, you could try a toy while we talk, try to hold out until we can get the partition down. If you last, I can take care of you and if not...you can watch me take care of myself. [ Which is not actually what he wants, but he thinks it's very much the kind of game Olivine would enjoy. ]
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There—I think there are. Let me look... [He's rummaging through the box of toys thusly, thighs pressed together like it will help in the slightest as the blond makes his suggestions. A soft noise escapes him as heat claws at his senses, fully aware that he's going to want so much more than a toy can really give. Eventually, he finds something suitable enough for him, textured and thick and accompanied by a small remote. Even more conveniently, there's a little slot he can push the remote through to hand it over.]
We... I can press the button on my side before we start... I already want to touch you. And then... then you can decide when it's been long enough and press yours. I'll accept whatever you decide for the outcome. [It's such a strange flux of desire, even for someone already as insatiable as he can be. Fingers graze that button again, and this time he does depress it, barely paying attention to the way it lights up or makes noise.] mmn. Should I describe it, or what I do with it...? You can give me orders how to use it, too...
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His own pulse quickens, arousal growing as he retrieves the little remote, the sounds of Olivine's lust button echoing over the mic.
He can do this. He can do this well enough they'll both have fun.
He settles back in his chair, deciding he isn't going to touch himself. That when he feels like he can't bear it, he'll push the button, and he'll enjoy himself with Olivine. Still, he licks his lips, taking a breath to prepare himself. ]
Yes. You should describe it and what you do, and how you feel, until the partition is down. Now, what does it look like, and what does it make you want to do? Don't do it until I tell you that you may.
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[it's almost purred, and Basch will no doubt be able to guess the way Olivine's face has flushed with the orders. as impatient as he is, he really does enjoy this struggle. the prospect of succeeding or failing is just a backdrop to the shared intimacy, and with his partner unable to see any of it...
to that end, his fingers trace over the surface of the toy, feeling over the surface.]
It's a little longer than I am, and thick. The surface has little bulbs molded into it, like water droplets, wavy ridges down the length... and I can feel something like beads under the head of it. That's flared, almost triangular at the tip. And it has a little suction cup, so I could secure it. [he knows full well how sensitive he is, too...] Ah... it's hard to behave and stay sitting here when I want to slide it between my cheeks. Even though I know it'll just make me want to sink down on it when they're all rubbing my entrance, and I'll have to wait for your approval for that too...♥
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It takes him a second to get control back, but he manages, voice mostly even. ]
Has our talk already gotten you so worked up? Well, find where you're going to place your toy, and describe that to me too.
[ While Olivine gets to work on that-- ]
Tell me, Olivine, do you think of me when you use toys on yourself? Is this something you've done before without my knowing? How does it feel, getting caught?
[ There's warmth to it, though. Basch thinks Olivine probably has throught of him and touched himself, and that makes him feel valued, wanted. Special. ]
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[he glances around his little pod, considering. before he can respond though, Basch's words bring him back to the question of now. the warmth is... well, not entirely surprising, but it warms him too in turn.]
I... I have thought of you, before. [though he won't be able to see it, he'll hear the shy little smile in that.] It's a little exciting, telling you about it, if it doesn't bother you. You already knew I wear plugs sometimes, but that's not quite the same, right?
Mm, but I think this one... there's an angled edge on the seat's handrails. It would give me something to hold onto while I rubbed against it, to start with.
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He lets out a small moan of approval, biting his lip again. Olivine does nothing by halves. ] Good. You may place the toy, and you may begin to tease yourself with it, but you may not penetrate yet.
Describe to me how it feels against your body, and how you are positioning yourself.
[ He isn't going to last significantly longer without pressing that button, but he'll hold out as long as he can. ]
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which, of course, he's currently not thinking about at all.]
Then I'll keep it in mind in the future, too.
[that soft breathiness creeps into his tone again, quiet shuffling the only indication that anything is happening on the other side of the partition. after all, it's a little hard to choose... teasing himself, there are so many options. in the end he decides on shuffling his pants down around his knees, breath catching as he slides into place.]
It's a little cold... the tip almost slid in on its own when I put it between my legs, so I had to push it downward a little and hold it in place to move. Mmnh... rubbing against it so it presses through my thighs, those little bumps feel like they're massaging me, both my hole and—nngh—and my sack. My legs are a little wobbly, so I have a hand braced on the arm of the seat behind me.
[it's almost torturous, and he already wants to rub himself harder over it, and more desperately still wants to let it slide between his cheeks and bury deep.]
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Because the other's narration is driving him mad in a way he didn't expect. It's like reading those erotica novels, but so much stronger because it's someone real, someone he can have who he very much cares about, who needs him to come help. ]
Don't you dare take it in yet. You're not nearly needy enough. [ He's doing a valiant job of keeping the pant and whine out of his own voice. He clenches and unclenches his hands, calculating his next few moves. ] Keep rubbing, and tell me what you're thinking about while you do.
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I—mmnh. I'm thinking about how good it will feel inside... how it'll stretch me open and all those textures will rake along my insides. What it might do when you press the button and turn it on. I think it will vibrate, but if it has other functions...
[on Basch's side... well, if he looks at that remote, he'll certainly find a button for vibration strength... and ones with icons indicating thrusting and turning, for that matter.]
Haah... I want to put it in, Basch... it's not enough to have it between my legs...
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[ There's a tease to his voice, and warmth. Even if Olivine's descriptions are continuing to make his own breath hitch. Maybe one of the times they play, he'll put his own cock between Olivine's legs, see how long the other can resist Basch sliding it inside him.
He does look at the remote now, hoping he understands the settings, and turns the vibration on to medium. ]
Tell me, Olivine, does it turn you on more to imagine that toy is me, or to imagine me watching you play with yourself. Maybe when you didn't realize it, getting hard from those sounds you make, from watching you tug at your own chains, seeing how needy and naughty you are when you think no one is looking. I've touched myself to that thought, you know.
[ He's curious, honestly, if he can break Olivine before he fucks him properly. He's certainly going to break himself. ]
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[It's not an immediate reaction to the teasing words, a soft chuckle on his lips. He hadn't even considered that might be worth mentioning, since it was so obvious to him—but it's not hard to figure out what makes it hot to talk about.
The sudden vibration catches him off guard, pulling a deeper groan from his lips as it stimulates every inch of him it's touching.]
I— [He has to hitch a breath then as Basch speaks, squeezing his legs tighter around the toy like it'll help at all.] I like the latter. To think you were watching from somewhere while I played with myself... maybe with something like this, so when you turned it on I would know. I would touch myself more, then. Pull my chains until my chest is red and swollen, grind myself just like this—the toy is vibrating against my hole and my balls right now, and I wish you could see it.
[Honestly, as close as he is to breaking, it's somehow even more exciting to just keep this up. Maybe they're both trying to break each other.]
But—mmnh. It's kind of exciting knowing you can't, too. That if I don't tell you I'm lifting my hips more, pressing the tip against my hole so the vibration drives me crazy, you would have no idea. You'd have to guess—haaugh—from the sounds I make, just when the tip slips off and past my taint... nngh. It's pressing at the base of my sack now, making everything feel tingly.
[He's definitely going to break before long.]
Can I put it in yet, Basch...? Or are you going to make me wait until you can watch it slide in, inch by inch... I don't know how much longer I can be a good boy and wait.
What will you do if I slide it in now?
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As soon as he can see the other, he lets himself groan, beginning to stroke himself as he turns up the vibration setting for Olivine. ]
I didn't tell you you could put it in yet, Olivine. Are you going to disobey me?
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It does take him a second to realise how he's positioned though—even with the priest bracing a hand on the little table in front of him, most of his effort is in keeping himself in place over the toy.]
I haven't—nngh!!
[He squirms as the vibrating intensifies, leaving his balls and shaft tingling with the sensation. The other won't be able to see it just yet, just like Olivine can only guess based on the shift of Basch's arm how he's stroking himself. God, it's so tempting... so tempting that he can't help but shift a little, grinding his hips back until the tip nearly sinks into him, only to pull back and let his hole squeeze tight again.]
I'm not letting it go all the way in... I just want to know what the punishment is for disobeying. Or do I have to be a bad boy to find out...?
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The choice is yours, Olivine. If you cave to the toy, then you'll have to watch me take care of myself instead of having my cock in your ass.
You're more than enough of a sight to finish me.
[ It's true. Even now, he feels the heat of it, wanting to tug harder at his cock. If he pretends he isn't supposed to be watching Olivine, it won't take long at all, not with how debauched he looks, hungry and self-pleasing. Basch has never played with toys alone like that. ]
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it isn't hard to pick what he wants, after all. despite the comfortable buzz of the toy, how good it would feel to slide it in and ride it—]
I'll behave. [it's a breathy response, as he leans forward to brace himself on the bar in front of him. largely still dressed, the effort only gives a vague view of the curve of his chest.] Maybe—mmnh—if I'm good enough, I can show you what I'd do with it while you touch yourself, later.
[it's for himself too, giving incentive to stay strong for longer.]
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[ Basch goes to the chest, settling himself on it, cock at attention. ] Come here. Straddle me, but don't get on yet. I want you to strip and tease me until I say you can ride me.
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Mmnh... how should I tease you?
[As he asks it, Olivine slips those pants the rest of the way off, leaving himself in just those panties from the waist down and that fluffy, loose sweater with his open vest still hanging over it. It's a little awkward to position himself over Basch's thighs on the chest, hands using him for balance while he does.
And if his wet thighs brush over the tip of his cock? Surely, that's an accident.]