Golden Peacock TDM Overflow

[bardische]

Original Top Level
Overlfow 2l
Overflow 3

Comments

[philancer]

[ 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.

[bardische]

[ 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. ]

[philancer]

Not helpless.

[ 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.

[bardische]

[ 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. ]

[philancer]

[ 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. ]

[bardische]

[ 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. ]

[philancer]

[ 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. ]

[bardische]

[ 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. ]

[philancer]

[ 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. ]

[bardische]

[ 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.

Being kept is something else entirely. ]

[philancer]

[ 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. ]

[bardische]

[ 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. ]

[philancer]

[ 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. ]

[bardische]

[ 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. ]

[philancer]

[ 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. ]

Have fun tonight?

[bardische]

[ 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. ]

[philancer]

Good.

[ 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.

[bardische]

[ 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. ]

[philancer]

[ 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.

[bardische]

[ 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. ]

Not in years, anyway.

[philancer]

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. ]

[bardische]

[ 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. ]

[philancer]

I think the better question is, why aren't you?

[ 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. ]

[bardische]

[ 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.

[philancer]

[ 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. ]