exitiabile | wearing a warning sign;

wearing a warning sign;

𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕠𝕥/𝕡𝕚𝕖𝕥𝕣𝕠

ɪ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ

ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ

ᴏᴡɴ ᴍᴇ, I'ʟʟ ʟᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏʟᴇ

ɪ'ʟʟ ʙᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀɴɪᴍᴀʟ

ᴍʏ ᴍᴏᴍᴍʏ ʟɪᴋᴇs ᴛᴏ sɪɴɢ ᴀʟᴏɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ

ʙᴜᴛ sʜᴇ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ sɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪs sᴏɴɢ

ɪғ sʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅs ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʟʏʀɪᴄs

sʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴘɪᴛʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇɴ I ᴋɴᴏᴡ

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[ the tug on his tongue, the biting kisses, the pull in his hair - all of it creates a pretty, warm storm that roils deep in his belly. he wants to stay like this, pressed into eliot's front, the man's long legs wrapped around him. that soon eliot will leave and the warm spot left behind in his sheets will be all that remains is difficult to consider.

so for now, he doesn't. instead he laughs softly against one of those biting kisses, nudging their noses together and sliding his hands up eliot's side, to his chest, where he cradles his face between two palms. ]

But I do not want you to shut up. I want the whole compound to hear you. That wouldn't be so bad.

[ he kisses him again, this time hungry and sloppy and rough, if only so that when he parts, his mouth finds that spot on eliot's jaw and worries it red, laves his tongue and sucks. yes, eliot, he wants everyone to know that their pretty former king has been utterly debauched, ravished by a boy unworthy of him.

his hands slide down eliot's chest, nails pressing, and his mouth soon follows, tongue sliding over the nipple left unabused from earlier, then to bite at his pec, the rise of his ribs. he slides further down between eliot's legs, using one arm to hook a pretty thigh, set its back on his shoulder all the while he peppers eliot's abs and stomach. he avoids the defined cock that rests proudly, but glances up at eliot with a mischievous little grin as he blows a hot breath over the tip of him.

it's unfortunate that he cannot swallow him up here, that he cannot taste the sweetness waiting there. instead, he turns his head into eliot's hip, biting down hard on the bone there, his freed hand coming to grip his ass from underneath. ]

And you are sure you won't want to be touched? [ he smiles into the skin of his lip, softly licking the angry little bite he's left behind, all the while the grip of he man's ass is firm still, strong. the way he tilts his head means some errant, silver hairs might even brush eliots cock, but that's not pietro's fault of course! he turns his head, dragging the stubble of his beard over the bite, if only so his pale eyes can look up eliot's body into the greening hazels that wait. ]

I don't need nectarines today anyway. [ said on a singsong, against the soft skin of eliot's inner thigh where he spends time worrying a spot into the pale flesh, nosing and tender. ] Sometimes I prefer peaches, ano?

{ it’s nice. far nicer than he could have imagined. he’d been there before with lovers. it’s different when he has pietro’s hands holding him. he takes in the ocean blue of his eyes. they have a sparkle to them, able to be seen more clearly with how much lighter they are compared to his. he’s been infatuated, and maybe he thought he’d been in love or knew what it was to fall deeply into its jaws. it becomes apparent why it’s different as he gently holds pietro’s wrist if only to keep him there for a moment longer. he might be is falling for real. his heart beats in the ribcage of his body and he has to gulp. }

I can hit high notes if I’m motivated enough.

{ his hands move along with the heated kisses, soon following pietro as he explores upon his skin. eliot ends up pushing on his shoulder, keeping him close with his fingernails marking where he can dig more throughly. }

You’re such a— { he doesn’t get to finish since the sensation of pietro’s hairs brushing his cock is insufferable. he reconsiders coming untouched. he says what slips in the heat of the moment to keep the other continuously entrapped with him. even if pietro might not love him in how he’s beginning to discover, raw to the core, he at least wants the infatuation to last. he hopes it lasts. if pietro decides he’s had his fill and moves on to someone else, he’ll still know his scent, his touch, and his bite. it’ll hurt, but eliot will accept it regardless. he always does.

the hand on his ass is an allure. he wants to rub against the friction of heat there, but he resists by using pietro’s hair as a calming factor. }

You can have both nectarines and peaches if you so wish it. Be selfish with me. What do you want, mon Pietro?

{ it’s not like he’s against being ravished. he wants to try it all with pietro, even if he has his own personal preferences. it still won’t diminish the desire he knows lives within him; it ignites when he’s around pietro. being away only makes it more intense. eliot keeps a hand on top of pietro, gripping his hair as his thighs take to the mouth there and he lets them open further. he’ll stare at the marks there tomorrow when he’s in the bath and think they are only prettier the more they darken. }

Give me you, { comes out in a breathy quiver of need. a hebrew addition of make love to me is a feverish confession in-between he’ll fully realize later on, } as if I were in your dreams.

[ the way eliot moves and breathes under his mouth makes his whole body sing with heat, makes the dull ache in his groin turn into something more persistent. they turn the tables on another quite often, and it's difficult to resist doing everything he wants and more, rushing into the height of heat and white-hot pleasure. he wants to take it slow, even if he does eventually succumb to his wants, to eliot's needs.

what do you want he asks and pietro huffs softly against the bend of eliot's knee where he presses a reverent kiss. the hand in his hair encourages him and the quivering need in eliot's voice is something to be revered. ]

How can I give you something you already have? That is very silly. [ he knows what eliot means, he knows the need on his voice, but he finds he's so wrapped up in this man that he can't imagine anyone else in this bed. that he dreams and it's as if eliot has always been there, as if no one else before ever existed. and in a way, they haven't.

pietro's adorations go soft, his lips tender and sweet as they press a path of kisses into eliot's skin. not long now, before he leaves. it's difficult to shake, difficult to imagine the warmth of the man beneath him suddenly gone, his sheets cold. when he looks back up at him, pietro's eyes might briefly appear glassy before the sparkle diminishes as quickly as it came. ]

But this is not about me today. I want what you want. That is what is in my dreams. [ he slides his hands around to eliot's hips suddenly and his strength is in full display as he tugs eliot down the bed a little, if only so he can lay himself fully over the man again and kiss him deeply, his hands gripping eliot's hips. it's shameless (and breaking the rules) but he grinds his hips down against the other's once, their shameless cocks brushing together.

it makes pietro shudder, but the kiss is fleeting as he speaks again, hot against his mouth, his voice husky and low. ] Turn over, hm? Or would you like me to do it for you? [ another little butterfly kiss, then in Sokovian: let me love you, that's all i want. he grins. ] You understand?

Edited 2022-05-22 20:41 (UTC)

{ there's a magnetic pull between them that is whimsical, and for eliot it's apparent he would try anything to see if it works. right now the very press of pietro's heat is enough to uncurl more of his searing devotion. it's in his inability to keep his hands off the other. it's in the way pietro tugs him and he finds the display of masculinity more than exhilarating. it's water clashing against the shore when pietro rubs their cocks together. his is straining through the friction, causing another noise. the betrayal of his body is already giving pietro those noises he sought and they've only been making out.

he carries how can i give you something you already have in each and every kiss. he's more than silly. pietro had to go ahead and say that and move on as if he didn't just strike something within eliot. eliot who has been to more sex festivals than he can count, has done and tried a whole lot in his decade. he's here wondering if he can handle what pietro is giving him. eliot lightly lines the outer part of pietro's ear before he lets his touch move down until he's brushing his knuckles against his jaw. the hairs tickle his skin. he can feel his hot breath on him as if it were his own. }

Pietro. { for a second he does understand. pietro here with him. he knows he won't be able to come back from this if it were also another mike, another lie. yet, here he is. he's rather have pietro break his already fractured heart than to not have had him at all. he leans into another kiss, gently pushing on his chest so he can shift as he moves upwards. }

I've spoiled you in my dreams many times. You let me spoil you here. I suppose I fair is fair. { it's a featherlight statement, but it means more than he can convey. he wants to believe that when he looks into pietro's eyes, he will see how much he means to him reflected there. he might as well feel it. eliot lets out a small laugh, pushing pietro even more so he can turn around.

once he's turned around, he crosses his wrists over one another and lays his head on his arms while still aiming to look over at pietro from the side. the ease of laying on his stomach is akin to when he's gotten a massage. his curls are more unruly, having fallen in his face, but even through them he can perceive pietro's delectable frame. }

Spoil me, neshama sheli.

[ if he could bottle the little noises eliot makes he would - and savor them for the days he is without him. when they'd first started on this little adventure they'd been messy friends in bars and parties, and he can't place when they stopped being friend who fuck and turned into... whatever this is. where they're people with aching chests and long texts and miss yous involved somewhere between the lines.

pietro takes every kiss, every touch, and laughs into the little push on his chest. he sits back to make room for eliot to move and for a few seconds he simply takes in the sight of him, all long limbed and wild curls, flushed cheeks and the peek of a hickey on the curve of his shoulder. ]

Did you know you are beautiful?

[ it comes out without thought and pietro actually flushes at the comment, moving to touch eliot's curls and brush them delicately away from his eyes. then he shifts on the bed, strong thighs straddling the dip of his waist. he keeps his weight up enough, but it won't deny the way his attentive cock settles against his lower back. it's the best position to start, however, as his hands work the man's back like before, letting his fingers slide into his hair and press his scalp and back down.

he doesn't spend as much time working the muscles but instead dips to press his lips between his shoulder blades, along his spine. his fingers press into the man's sides as he travels down, moving easily until his cock nestles against eliot's ass. he stays there at first, sliding his hands beneath eliot so the flat of his palms can slide up his chest, over sensitive nipples as he mouths little sokovian i love yous against his nape. ]

I will spoil you until you cannot even say neshama sheli anymore, kochav.

[ he bites at one shoulder blade before he wriggles down, hands following underneath eliot and his dick sadly leaving the curve of his pretty ass. his fingers slide their way back round to grip the tender muscle and he licks a delicate line along the curve of eliot's lower back. he gives one cheek a playful slap before his mouth replaces one hand, tongue laving at the blushing sting he's made there. ]

Do you believe me? [ murmured as he bites at the tender flesh once. ] I could have savored your pretty peach the way you were before, but I think it will be more fun if you cannot see me, ano? Let you wonder where I will go next.

[ the heat of his breath travels to the other pert globe, where he presses a kiss just where it meets the back of his thigh. ] What do you think?

{ pietro speaks and eliot clings to his every word. the weight on his back is an assurance and it’s familiar in the sense that he has mesmerized it despite having it this way for the first time. he can’t forget each new pietro gives him. eliot likes him pressed on top, likes him on his lap, likes any way he can feel the man as a weighted blanket; it’s comfort he didn’t know he needed until he can’t have it every day. he'll like to have the weight of the man in anyway he's able to have it.

he tries to look behind him, but it only gets him so far when he is essentially able to just feel pietro move and not get a visual to it. there is something appealing about it, one he’s nearly had before. eliot isn’t able to shake the laugh. it’s soft, meant to carry into a huff and a seductive little teasing lilt. }

I made it so I am. I only care if you think I'm beautiful. { the tiny confession is bare and honest. he has no shame in admitting to it despite how much closer it gets to the i love you that is held captive at the tip of his tongue. before a flush can overcome, he adds on. } Hm, I can talk a lot. You’ll have to truly give it to me.

{ sometimes he enjoys tugging on that competitiveness within pietro. this time he's not pushing too much, just luring it out with a featherlight call and response. anywhere pietro touches only reminds him of the heat he holds, the needy that is accumulating and how difficult it's becoming to just give into the feral. except he also wants to savor it. he tries not to think too much of the weight of pietro's cock on him or that he can recall the way it felt last time it was in his hand. he can picture the black hairs, some silver to them. it's both amusing and also alluring since it makes it uniquely pietro. the thought alone brings his own weighted down cock to harden even more.

eliot brushes his hands over the ones that tease his sensitive nipples and instead of catching them, he resists the urge to press back before they are gone. there's a lot of resistance at play. his reflex is to push his behind in motion to the bite, to the licks of that tongue. which reminds him with the banter very much still in him — }

You might have to blindfold me if you intend to keep me from seeing you. I always find a way. I think your silver tongue can be used in more than just a bratty expression. I'll get you to understand why I call you this.

{ to make his point, he does finally manage to turn his head if only slightly to be able to look at pietro from the side as he uses an arm to lift him, but there's no mistaking the way his other hand drags some of the sheets. it's a loose hold that vouches a promise to the anticipation curling next to the heat where the pit of his belly lives. }

Edited 2022-05-28 01:19 (UTC)

You were beautiful the day I met you in that club. You are even prettier now.

[ another bite delivered to the dip where his thigh meets his ass and pietro laughs softly, glancing up to see eliot straining to watch. a tiny part of him is reminded of those fingers over his eyes in the shower and he thinks now eliot would be just as pretty blindfolded. but the thought of leaving him now to seek something out feels impossible.

he wants to be sure he leaves eliot tired and aching and sore, wants the man to think of him in the days that follow, wherever it is he's going. (he wishes he could ask to join him, wishes that he could pry the location from his mind and run there to surprise him, but he knows that where eliot goes, magic is required for passage. he envies wanda, having heard her stories of visiting with margo. but if it is a beautiful place bursting with life, then that is where wanda needs to be.

pietro doesn't deserve places like that. he would give up anything so long as wanda always had warmth and love waiting for her, wherever she goes. one day, they'll know peace - at least wanda will).

glancing pack up at eliot, he smiles, the expression genuine and true before his eyes flicker away, back to the tasty treat at hand.

his hands leave eliot's hips and each palms the very meat of eliot's ass, squeezing first, testing the muscle under his fingers before he easily spreads the man apart, letting first his breath linger hot and damp over his hole, his stubble grazing the innermost slopes of him. ]

But you may watch this time. I think I would like to see your face while I enjoy the peach, hm? So you can see how much I enjoy its taste.

[ he dips his head, letting his tongue unfurl and follow a stripe from eliot's sack to his puckered hole, delivering little kitten licks first, painstakingly slow before he presses in to give a gentle suck, humming against the sensitive skin and drawing away with a wet pop. his mouth stays close, teeth sinking into the warm inner-most slope of one pert globe, swiping his tongue once, twice over it before he returns to eliot's core, pressing his tongue against the tight ring of muscle. ]

{ beautiful. his vanity is struck but also it means more coming from pietro. he speaks as if he means more than just physical and something in him becomes affectionately warm. it’s not fair. there’s a thirst hitting his throat that causes a little gulp and then parted lips. the sight of pietro is enough to shake his core if only since he can sense the absolute honesty radiating from him. most people around him keep their masks well adjusted, eliot even more. pietro has only ever given him a startling honesty to his bites, his straightforward attitude, and eagerness that cannot be contained. what is he do with this?

eliot is completely speechless. he simply nods to what pietro is teasing. all the noise around him has reduced to a tunnel. his focus is intensified to the feeling of his body aching, wanting, weakened to the licks of desires that can only be true if they come from pietro’s mouth on him. the hot air pietro blows into him beckons him to embrace each clench of muscle adjusting. he takes to the first licks despite having been a long time since he’s allowed anyone to unwrap him in this manner.

his thighs keep a steady hold so he won’t push back against pietro right away. his control will cave if pietro keeps tasting him like the finest ice-cream, golden flakes meant to be licked off to discover the mouthwatering flavor underneath. he lets out a hybrid of a whimper and enlightened noise. he knows even with the slightly obscured view form his hair falling further to the front of his face and the way his neck wants to snap forward that he won’t be able to keep looking soon. eliot looks to enjoy the sight for how long he’s able to indulge. from here he can appreciate pietro from a newfound angle, just as irresistible as any other.

the combination of stubble against the skin on his ass cheek, teeth ready to mark, and tongue delving into his depths instantly causes another pleased noise to leave him. it won’t be long before his noises become words, wanton wrapped around pietro’s name. he tries, but his ardent speedster has caused knuckles readymade to strain from the tight hold. his back greedily arches into a charming lick when he feels the wetness of it right away. }

[ they have done many things together in many different places, but something about feeling eliot squirm and arch beneath him now above any other time feels strangely important. perhaps it's the odd finality of it, the strange feeling of time passing between their messages and their sloppy shower sex, but pietro wants this to last as long as he is able to.

whatever fog they're in, driven by the lazy warmth of affection and the press of time running out is precious.

he laves at eliot's tender spot, humming and chuckling low in his throat when he greedily arches into his touches. it's good - he wants the man to take what he wants, to have his way in any frenzy he might need. so pietro's tongue circles the tight ring before he presses, slowly, breaching with just the tip before he draws it back out again, teasing, only to repeat the process.

one palm grips his ass cheek, but the other arm presses beneath eliot, a strong arm bracketing his hips and hauling his knees higher on the bed. the better the angle, after all. ]

I should have asked first, for this, I am sorry. [ the words are murmured briefly against the slope of eliot's tailbone before his tongue goes back to its tricksy work, pressing in, in, in, farther each time, slow and torturous. after a few passes he pauses again, pressing butterfly kisses against one cheek, biting at a spot from earlier to make it purple. the hand on the same cheek wanders, and its with his thumb this time that he circles that tight ring, applying the minutest of pressures. ]

But I will ask this, yes? How shall I fuck you, pretty flower? Should I sit under the peach tree and eat my fill, hm? Or maybe I will pick the fruits? Or maybe it is a new tree we need to find?

[ another bite, and his thumb presses, just so, crooking in to the first knuckle. ] What do you think?

{ the flush on his skin has traveled. it maps rosy pink out on his fair skin, going all the way to his ears. eliot manages to meet pietro’s gaze in-between. he’s sure he can see a thousands suns meant to fuel the heat of deeply rooted want in the pools of blue eyes. at least that’s how eliot’s skin is feeling and thus he has to look away. if he keeps looking, it’ll be the end of him sooner than he’d like.

pietro has a way with his gaze alone. it reminds him of the first time he caught the cheeky determination from across the club room, his attention absolutely secured. if there’s something that eliot can admire, among many other aspects, is that pietro has been bold from the very start. it’s a loud, colorful sureness that is compatible with his tactful daring nature. it’s the most attractive turn-on he’s encountered. it made him cross the dance floor.

he’s letting his body relax to the beat of a new experience at the mercy of a electrifying passion overcoming and possessing him. hearing pietro speak instantly drags out a compulsive shutter throughout his body. }

No. Don’t apologize. You can have me a thousand ways and nights just as I’ll have you on a field of flowers if you let me.

{ be it the moment or that he’s lost his concentration, but he lets the confession get close enough into an intimacy beyond what they’ve usually had. eliot looks down at his hands dragging the sheets and the contrast of a darker color compared to the vibrant ones back at brakebills. the ones in fillory are even brighter and he wishes to show them to pietro one day.

eliot licks his lips, body leaning back into the intrusion of a mere thumb. his insides crave to swallow more, muscles expanding to receive a deeper stretch by encouragement of the tongue having worked him so good. }

You’ll gorge yourself with just a peach. You’re— { a pause, a flare of nostrils, and his heart leaping to his throat as he manages to respond while pushing further into the finger, welcoming it into golden gates awaiting. his cock is already wetting the fabric underneath him. } You’re making it difficult to talk, Neshama. Have me at the root. I’ll soil your sheets with my stench and you will fuck me silly against them until your name is also mine. I’m not asking, love.

Edited 2022-06-02 09:45 (UTC)

[ if pietro could exist in a world where days like this were the norm, where he could wrap up in eliot and stay there, he might consider his existence a happy one. but their every meeting is always prefaced with a goodbye - knowing that each one will burn hot and bright, but fizzle out as soon as the door to the real world opens up again.

he's irrationally angry at the idea of fillory now, at how it takes this man from him for weeks and weeks sometimes. but he supposes eliot could be just as angry at his missions. to even think eliot was interested in him beyond that feels impossible, despite the pet names, the murmurings of love and more.

but maybe.

pietro moans softly against the skin of eliot's back when he arches against his plucking thumb, the way it sinks into the heat of him. ]

If it is flowers you want, then it is flowers. I think of you when I see sunflowers, now. Did you know this?

[ from that one evening beneath the moon when the flowers came to life under eliot's magic.

pietro pulls his hand away, thumb sliding free of those blissful gates, and he shifts, leaning to his bedside table to draw out a bottle of lube, but not without dropping wet, open-mouthed kisses against eliot's hip, his back, his shoulder. he's already impossibly hard, and eliot's wanton demand does little to assist - it just makes his blood boil hotter, faster.

he sits back, admiring the pretty flush, the pretty ass presented to him and he grins, dipping to press his mouth over that pretty hole all the while he slicks up his fingers. as much as he wishes to wreck him now, it would be unfair, would it not, to pluck a pretty melody from the man and make all speech incoherent before he has him as he wishes? (though waiting too long feels just as impossible, considering the way his cock twitches at just the swipe of his own tongue). ]

I cannot deny you anything, love. It is very frustrating. [ there's a smile on his voice and then the press of one finger, breaching tight muscle slowly, soothed only by pietro's mouth on his lower back as he leans over him, giving him leverage to draw the finger out, then in again. ]

{ his muscles are already working into what will be a sore state and he's looking forward to it. the more he can feel it, the more he'll have a reminder of pietro. the longer he can make it last, it'll be a print he’ll have in his very dreams. it's silly to think that once he's gone, pietro might have more of an opportunity to forget him. part of him is afraid of that, that fillory will take all his time and he'd have to leave behind the silver-haired strands he likes to dig his hand into. waking up next to him has always been his favorite.

he makes sure to have his soft exhales be less shakey and more mellowed when he speaks, despite how much he's burning up on the inside. }

Sunflowers? You should keep telling me what I inspire in you. Good for my ego.

{ he says this, but it’s a thin parchment meant to cover up the softness that wants to burst right out. from mouth to finger, there’s a moment where he’s left aching and he can’t contain a needy sound. eliot reaches back to attempt to find pietro’s hand (to grab onto any part of him), but he instead brushes upon a forearm before his own hand firmly presses upon the mattress.

there's an edge of desperation to the way his body languidly moves against the flow of pietro's fingers now slicked up. even the slight of one alone is a promise. he wants to feel his love just as desperate for him. eliot is used to endearments from his end, but when pietro says them back it’s incredibly intimate. it’s precious in ways he can only physically express right now. he throws his head back just to let out a genuine little laugh. }

All I hear is that I need to spoil you more. I’ll just have to come by until you find me suffocating, then you won’t truly be able to deny yourself to me.

{ he plays, but he’s also serious. be it the mouth on his back or that he wants to tangle pietro impossibly close that they will be forced to let their heat get used to only one another. all he knows as he moans into the way he takes pietro and more of a stretch, to find the depth of him within, it’s that he’ll find a way to be with pietro far more than time has allowed. he can’t keep splitting his life, he knows he has to make choices soon enough. the one he’s sure of right now is evident— }

Please, stay close. I want you near.

Who says I want to deny you, Kochav?

[ there's the huff of a laugh against eliot's skin, proceeded only by a second slicked finger stretching and seeking the depths of him with patient, slow movements. he is not nearly so heavily laden as eliot, but to hurt eliot would be beyond anything pietro could ever consider. so his fingers move diligently, steadily, pumping and scissoring where necessary and the room is nothing but slick sounds and the soft moans he finds impossibly heating from eliot. his own cock weeps needily, and it's when he adds a third finger that he crooks them in search of that sweet spot, brushing deep against it once before retreating.

it's eliot's words, not the temptation of his ripe, plump peach that give him pause.

please stay close. i want you near.

his mouth finds the delicate spot between eliot's shoulder blades, his hand abandoning its post in eliot's depths so his whole body can lean over him, so that his chest can mold to eliot's back, so that his dick presses against those slickened cheeks, hard and wanting. he doesn't make a move to have him yet, but instead lets one hand slide over eliots against the mattress, lets his tongue swipe over the slope of a shoulder, then against eliot's nape.

he speaks in soft sokovian: "I would stay close forever if I could. If you would let me near enough." ]

Turn over, hm? I want to kiss you.

[ his fingers slide up eliot's arm to his side, to give it a little pat as he draws back enough to make room, to reach and even help eliot over with a firm palm on his thigh, guiding eliot's legs round his waist again. ]

So you know that I will stay.

[ and he closes all space between them, laying his body over eliot's heavily, if only so that he can kiss him while he ruts his cock against the cleft of his ass - soon, he will have him - but not before the nectar of his kiss. ]

Pietro, I’m not going to break. But, oh, that’s it. { his labored breathing splits his responses, back arching into the meddling fingers. eliot ends up more absorbed with an instant mind blank when the rambunctious spot inside him is brushed upon. it’s not nearly enough, but it drags another moan from him.

he has no opportunity to sink into the lack of fingers leaving him with a sudden clench that is a dulling pleasurable ache. it’s soothed by the warmth of pietro against his back and the prickle of his facial hair grazing his skin. that laugh, too. he’ll never grow tired of the combination, has even anticipated it. pietro shaving would make him silently mourn over it, but he thinks he’d look just as lovely.

he thinks this as he moves his body in a fluid motion until he’s on his back, his legs hitching around pietro’s waist more securely. it makes his cock brush against his waist. he’s sticky, heavy and maddeningly hard. }

You make everything sound dreamy. { I’d keep you tangled with me if I could, is said softly in hebrew as he squeezes their hands, giving into the way their bodies shamelessly grind. he then whispers, more open than he ever intended, but here they are, } I’ll catch up. Capture you too.

{ it melts right into their mouths kissing as if he didn’t say it, as if he let his subconscious speak for once. would someone who can outrun the world and have all the freedom if he so wishes, want to be caught? better yet, remain? he won’t fret, not when he has the heat of an ardent mouth on him.

eliot uses his free hand to run them onto the back of pietro’s neck, briefly holding while he kisses with a feverish desire that matches his lined need and want morphing into one another. he could float away like this, and he lets it be that so he can enjoy it all; the shape of pietro’s mouth, his taste, the flicker of a tongue, their little nips in-between that open them up for a deeper kiss. }

[ pietro hums against eliot's mouth, finding it is easy to settle his weight into the warmth of eliot, though every movement and hitch of eliot's thighs makes something burn hot and desperate low in his belly. the kiss is enough, he could be content to only kiss this man for the rest of eternity and survive on that alone.

he's so foolish, letting himself sink in this deep, with no hope of coming up for air. he draws back from the kiss just long enough to shift his weight, to reach one hand between them. he lets his palm slide hard and heavy against the man's chest, then over the weeping tip of his cock, palming the maddeningly hard length of him, then giving his balls a soft squeeze until his fingers disappear altogether.

it's then he lines himself up, pressing the blunt head of his cock to eliot's eager opening. ]

I think I am already caught. How you did this, I do not know. I am very fast.

[ his words come out soft, murmured against eliot's lips, little shy butterfly kisses. he wants to commit the taste of him to memory, to soak him up and breathe him in until the next time he sees him.

instead, he presses in, shifting his hips and slowly pressing through those golden gates inch by frustrating inch. with his free hand he reaches for eliot's, pinning it once again to the mattress and linking their fingers, a deep, throaty moan escaping between one as he gets lost in eliot's depths. his breath comes in shuddering as he slowly bottoms out, settling in the heat of him and finding that it's nearly enough to completely undo him altogether.

his kiss becomes openmouthed, searing and desperate, and the familiar sokovian words slip in between the slide of tongue and lips: "i love you" and he's startled that it isn't drawn from the pleasure of the sex, that it isn't a product of heavy petting and compliments.

he's made the mistake of falling, but if he's falling toward eliot it doesn't seem so bad. even if he knows that one day, eliot will leave. ]

Don't... { whatever he was going to say next dissolves just as quick when he gets a swell of pleasure at the pit of his stomach that ceases the very thought. it's an incoherent mumble, but it does not take away that it did at least pulse through him silently: don't say that. don't make me fall in love when you won't ever be mine. eliot believes this, but it also fuels him. all the bits that are him undeniably falling are given to pietro and right now he's giving a part that's purely raw.

the plea edges into a moan that keeps him kissing pietro with the hunger of a man seeking fulfillment. each touch from his chest to his twitching dick is a print, indelible, unforgettable, burning hot within his very core. it causes his hand to move up, his grip tightening onto pietro's hair and fully grasping the strands between his fingers. he pulls on them soon as he finds his thighs loosening from around his waist so he can truly feel the girth of pietro entering him to the brim.

it stings right out, each ring of muscle working to adjust to the stretch. he immediately clenches by reflex alone and allows his knees to bump against pietro's sides, his thighs drawing back in tightly and trapping pietro into his hold once again. the expansion is the start and he'll draw pietro to seek more of his depth until it'll be unbearable for both of them. it's already getting there, but he wants to have pietro here like they are linked for as long as he can. to keep him tangled within him so he'll feel him until they meet again. he voices it. }

It's only fair you think of me the next time you touch yourself. Deeper, love. You fill me beautifully.

{ his thighs push against pietro's sides, urging for the motion to keep forth. it's a gentle sway, reminding him of a ballet meant to be appreciated. once he hears the sokovian between kisses, it breaks him down. his noises are unfiltered, breathy and vibrating against a mouth before the intake of air and his head moving back against the sheets arches his back upwards. it makes the noise contained become even louder.

the weight of their linked fingers causes him give a squeeze as if he's giving pietro his heartbeat back. it's incredibly intimate. for once it does not scare him away. he draws closer to it, lets it envelope him as he manages to indulge in another searing kiss. it's short-lived when his discomfort leaves him and all he's left with is pietro's thickness being exactly what he needed, snug in a way that is the mirage of his wreckage forming. }

Edited 2022-06-06 07:44 (UTC)

[ the fingers twisting in his hair bring out something feral in him, the moan that follows guttural and needy, a rumbling into their kiss. he can taste every bit if eliot on his tongue, licking into his mouth and drinking him in, keeping their bodies close and tight even as his hips fall forward.

it's the tug of the thighs, the pull at his hair, the little sway caused by the lean muscle that makes him gasp, his mouth falling wet and open against his jaw as he finally bottoms out. eliot clenches around him and he's sure he'll come undone right then, fall apart at the sheer want of him, but he doesn't. instead he butts his hips against eliot, using the force of it and his own innate strength to lift eliot's hips just so, to make the angle steeper, to drive into the warmth in completion. ]

And what will you think of when you touch yourself?

[ the words are a husky moan as his lips find eliot's again, kissing him hot and hard, teeth lashing sharply against his bottom lip. ]

My mouth around your cock? The way you fucked me into the shower wall?

[ a soft huff, but he shudders as the movement leaves him buried deep in eliot, not moving and letting them both suffer the tight fullness. ]

Or will you think of this?

[ slowly, agonizingly slowly, he swings his hips, his low back arching as he draws away from that ever enveloping heat, letting just the blunt tip of his cock sit nestled within. he sighs at the loss, his lips pressing little sokovian endearments into his skin before he thrusts back in hard, the sound of their skin slapping only percussion to their loud, sweet music.

he repeats the motion, slow and deliberate, but his thrusts hard enough to make the headboard clatter against the wall once, then again at the next. his rhythm stays slow, deliberate, but there's power in the movement of his hips, in the flex of his thighs as he pumps in and out. ]

Your people will see these marks... [ he breathes over the purple mark he's made at eliot's throat and bites at it. ] And you will feel me here. I think all of your Fillory will know me then, milenec. [ lover. ]

{ he remains in a pit of desire burying into itself. it’s traveling from his toes to his thighs and upwards until the blood of his body rushes to his cock begging to be touched. he flaps to their rhythm. between the lube and the streaks of precum, there’s no denying the slapping sounds becoming louder. it’s rough and soft all at once when their grunts are mixed together. the pressure heightening is delightful.

suddenly he’s reminded of pietro’s superhuman strength. the fact that he probably holds back on more occasions and has most likely allowed eliot to pin him down to his whim — it’s undeniably attractive. he can anticipate how sore he’ll become. eliot is currently at its mercy, surrendering to the stretch becoming a catalyst for the way pietro moves in and out with a vigor might.

the bruise on his throat is pain he likes searing into his pleasures as he moves his head forward to get a better look. a needy little sound erupts when he’s meant to feel the size and thickness in the halt while taking in the sheen of pietro’s sweat. he’s rabid to the combination. he keeps still to throughly feel it until he squeezes down. }

They’ll just have to keep wondering who keeps me so finely satisfied.

{ he makes sure to tug on the thick hair strands once more before he lets his hand fall onto the muscled back, nails scrapping along until he’s meeting his other hand to aid in gripping pietro’s ass cheeks. he pushes against them in his kneading grip to keep the man nestled deep until the bundles of nerves inside become further sensitive. }

I’ll think about the thousand ways we can undo one another. { a dragged out low sound. } Last time I had you on my bed, I didn’t wash the sheets until I touched myself on them shortly after you left. Your scent is delicious. I’ll leave mine here. You’ll be turned on by yours as I was with mine.

{ the headboard clatters and his thighs near damn quiver, but he steadies the heel of his feet onto the mattress so he can angle better. his nose bumps against pietro’s and eliot pulls him into another kiss. it’s messy in a foolishly sentimental way before he has to let his head fall back, eyes briefly closing to the sensation. his lips are tingling too. }

Didn’t you say the whole compound will know your name from my mouth? Fuck me until they do.

{ it’s debauchery, but he’s only focused on milenec. he has no idea what it means, but it’s making him rut back harder onto pietro’s girth. additionally his pulse rises. }

[ the noises that tumble out of eliot's mouth are sweeter than any tune he's ever heard. sweeter than any voice he's had come whispering out beneath him and eliot is the prettiest sight of them all. it will be difficult to let him go after this, and he presses his own body close to make up for the yearning already. as if the closeness now can eliminate the distance of later.

there's the squeeze, though - the way eliot tightens around the girth of him and it makes stars burst behind pietro's eyes, a throaty moan pouring out into the curve of the man's neck. ]

Shit, that's -

[ he hums, choking on his words as his hips buck, his cock twitches, and the immensity of the pleasure is only made more by the hands pulling through his hair and down to his ass. the muscle beneath eliot's hands flexes as he grinds his hips into him, as if the motion could bring them even closer, though it can't. ]

Mm, did you miss me so much when I left? [ a smirk and he captures his mouth in a searching kiss as his hips begin their motions, slow at first but strong in the delivery. the kisses take away from the steady and rough pushpull of his hips that threaten to drive him mad. but if eliot wishes to be fucked well enough that the whole compound knows, well... ]

As you wish, your majesty.

[ a huff and pietro shifts beneath eliot just enough to get his knees under him enough to begin to pump steady, to let his hips seek out the golden heat that does nothing but turn his blood molten, makes his mind go empty save for the image of eliot's tipped head and exposed throat. he reaches a hand to slide along that pretty throat, then up to his lips, where he swipes a thumb upon a swollen lip before it joins his other hand at eliot's hips, gripping tight and dragging him back to meet every hard thrust, the bed groaning at the intensity of the movements.

there's care to the touch - enough to bruise in a way to be remembered, but not to hurt - not really. he doens't use all of his speed or power, but keeps a generous pace with each passing second, eyes fluttering and monitoring and feeling the man in a way he hasn't.

with each second he picks up speed, a sheen of sweat starting on his skin, making his cheeks dewy pink, a fan of dark lashes falling to them as pietro moans at one particularly well angled thrust. his mouth wanders the plane of eliot's collar bone, to his throat, to his mouth until his hands leave those hips to grip the headboard, torso extended and stretched over him, and blue eyes watching the rosy pink of eliot's face. ]

Yes. I did, you egotistical beautiful man. { the irony is not lost on him, but it certainly is not registered when he feels the muscles flex underneath his hands. eliot lets out a gasp and his hold tightens. pietro has a far more plump ass, squeezable and firm in a way that makes it easier to push needily against him until his legs have to jut and he's left with his nails digging into flesh.

their breaths mingle when he opens his eyes and rocks foward so he can mouth against pietro's jaw, his curls wetter from his own sweat threatening to soak him. he can already smell the way their musks are mingling from their sex. it's particular, unique, fresh. }

Good boy. { it's a tease that is evident in the way he manages to huff out a laugh before it turns into another shameless moan, one with a higher pitch. depsite having had many experiences, he's never been able to align it all. he'd either had to be sexy, sensual, or even rough. then there's the kinks. he knows how to attune to people, fiddle with them until they're at his whim. now he does not have to overthink and be overly focused. he craves it occasionally. eliot has always been someone who falls into finding ways to please others so he can be seen in the best light, so they can see past all the grit he rusts.

pietro inspires him. it's what is making the heat rise to his face. he's paler, probably has the flush mapped out on his skin from his chest to his neck and cheeks. he can feel the difference in the thrusts, wildly passionate, meant to drive the soreness from his buckling hips to the burn of his thighs rubbing against pietro's hips. he has to release his ass cheeks then, letting his fingers slip and move back up. one palm lands onto the middle of pietro's back while the other travels back to silver, loose strands of hair.

they both move, the bed creaks, and with the added pressure, he's sure the bed has to be sturdy. it's amusing to think they could break a bed if they were determined enough. eliot aids their angle with his easy way of keeping his movements unable to strain. when muscles should, they don’t. his telekinetic ability keeps him locked into a slight levitation that’s not too obvious. pietro's cock pusles and with his clenching and girth making slippage easier than the start, the curve of the head ends up hitting upon the sweetest spot. it's the angle and he's sure it'll end him. he's going to come.

it's a pattern now and pietro's name becomes a repeated mantra. over and over it's on beat to every hit. it's the way the air whistles between his teeth before his noises become ever fruitful in the friction. his mind begins to blank, especially with the added weight of pietro flushed against him, trapping him with each sure thrust. }

I'm— Piiietro, { drawls out in a purr. he tried to hold on, but the build up was too intense. eliot’s cock throbs and his next sound is a halfway sob as he holds onto pietro's hair with a hearty grip and he arches forward into his nirvana. he paints between them the mess from his aching cock. his full unraveling. eliot is close enough for pietro to hear the guttural moan near his ear. he practically sings out his name. but, also— } Keep going. I want all of you.

{ he thinks he imagines the small vibrations, but it’s just the way he’s still feeling the incredible sensation all over. he wants pietro to blank in mind just as much, so he encases him with his arm, turns their entanglement into an outright embrace and pushes the palm on his back. his other arm is extended over, hand still tangled in hair as he hugs pietro’s head close to him and keeps them locked into their found synchronization. }

I'm glad I can be good for you, ano?

[ he huffs breathless, but it's followed up with a guttural, keening moan as eliot pulls his hair taut. much in the way eliot bends and transforms to the whims of his bedpartner, so does pietro - always the sly or mischievous type who teases and taunts, using his mouth and fingers to make his partner croon their wishes. and he does nothing but bend, taking his fill from their need in as much as he can. but this is different - making eliot cry his name with every hit of their slickened joining, making eliot relax into being kissed and worshipped and utterly memorized, making him hold him the way he is now - it's indescribable.

it's warm, powerful, and yet all at once he wants nothing more than to kiss him through the climax, to press close until they're glued together. when did eliot transgress from fuck buddy to this? to whatever it is they are as he cries out when eliot's walls clench around him, when he paints a pretty picture on their stomachs, when he sings the name against his ear. ]

You're beautiful this way. [ he can hardly breathe or think for the way his hips move frantically, fucking into eliot's heated climax, the pressure coupled with the moan against his ear, all hot breath and want. but it's the way eliot holds him, wraps around him like he could crawl beneath his ribs and stay there that has the white-hot heat in his belly filling full to bursting.

he's slick with sweat, his face burying in against eliot's neck with every shallow push of his hips, the movements faster, rutting against the deep, sweet spot that made eliot absolutely fall apart. it's a beautiful sound, the way he sings his name, but he finds when he closes his eyes, the arms around him, pulling him tight and close make both his heart and abdomen wrench tight.

his voice ratchets up in pitch, his breathing heavy and labored, and words tumble from his lips in broken sokovian: "You have all of me already, love."

The next, harsh and in English: ] Fuck, Eliot, if you do that— [ he cannot work out the next words, not with the way eliot hugs his head close, the way their bodies become molten and meshed together as pietro comes - hot and hard, spilling the heat of his adoration into eliot. he stays there, seated deep in him, his whole body tense and tight and quivering, his voice nothing but pants of heavily accented eliot against his shoulder and neck, where he mouths his way up to kiss him breathy and deep.

he settles his full weight on him, moves his arms to wrap around eliot beneath, to keep him pressed tight and close, to hold him as eliot is holding him, his own fingers digging into the muscle of eliot's back as he relaxes.

stay with me, he wants to say, just like eliot had asked him to stay close, to stay near moments ago. he doesn't have the courage. ]

You are perfect.

{ he’s had his hand around pietro’s cock, has felt and memorized every vein. the way the hairs nestle at the base and have a tinge of silver among dark hairs. from the slit to how it throbs at his palm. it’s infinitely delightful to know it so and then have it inside him like they are now. he wants to have it again, to return it tenfold and have pietro how he had him in the shower under a steam cocooning them into their own world.

back and forth. them. just them. a thousands ways and more. he’s incapable of responding to pietro saying he can be good for him. it causes his most unrestrained reaction, his thighs squeezing pietro’s hips and his muscles clenching down tightly until he has to release. he makes sure to hold him down so they both appreciate the connection for a prolonged moment. his cock may be sore, but he’s still in the high of his nirvana. sure, he’s undeniably into the kink of it and if pietro wasn’t made aware, he certainly can feel it in the trembles of his nails digging into his scalp, hand only tighter on his hair. }

Fucking hell. You are. For me. Pietro—

{ it could addressing both. the potential am I not always doesn’t make it past his mouth or what he would usually play into. he’s too dazzled. he holds him close that all the discomfort from sweat and sticky isn’t there right away. all of it is just their mess meshed into an embrace that eliot doesn't want to let go of just yet. he knows they have to, considering the warmth of pietro in him will only last so long, but he rocks them gently despite it, gives pietro the opportunity to slip from him when he’s ready. eliot is too selfish and will run it until they are in discomfort.

he tugs pietro’s hair back, meets him in their lips nearly touching. he huffs out a laugh that is parts a drawled out little moan. }

That’s it. That’s it. So good, love. { the warmth is pressurized as he buckles his hips, letting the stretch ease into his walls with the most sensitive, sweet aftershocks that can only come from pietro coming inside him. it’s deliciously familiar, how he’s brought pietro to his nirvana when he’s given him many a handjobs. he knows the way he comes all too well by now. too well for someone denying his true feelings from within — but right now he lives in it. possibly even mumbles part of it in hebrew.

( breathe me in, breathe me out. it’s our scent now. )

he languidly nips pietro’s bottom lip and lures him into a slow kiss, easing them from what was a winded marathon. burning thighs and marks are the reminder still present. }

You flatter me, but I did tell you I have fine tastes.

{ more overindulgent phrases to hide what he truly wants to say, what his cowardice won’t allow. he keeps stroking pietro’s hair, finding the depths of his eyes almost too much with the way he’s looking at him — light blue that is darker in hue from the lighting, nearly bashful. eliot thinks he’s imagining it the way he wants to see it. he proceeds to pull pietro into another kiss, one where he has to close his eyes and allow a lasting taste. one that will cement the way they soiled the sheets. how ridiculous to kiss someone as if one of them is going to war and a lover is left behind. it’s too close, yet eliot completely surrenders to it. }

[ the aftershocks of his climax fuzz his vision, make his breathing harsh and desperate as he comes down from the very high that is eliot, and settles into the delightful warmth of the buzz. there's the sharp pull of eliot's fingers in his hair, and he knows there are things they will revisit, with clamping thighs and desperate pulls and a tiny part of him even now wants to murmur that eliot could do as he pleased with him. wreck him and wreak havoc, so long as he stayed close by.

the hebrew doesn't go unnoticed, mirrored instead with a sokovian: i wish you could be mine muttered into the slow, languid kiss. he's since slipped free from eliot's body, his cock sore and burning but losing its fervor with the press of their bodies and their breathless kisses.

they're sticky and warm in a way that will soon feel slick and unpleasant, but having eliot close is the only thing on pietro's mind now. feeling his fingers in his hair, petting and soothing where they bit and pulled before. he doesn't know how to describe the feeling in his gut - the sudden loss, the emptiness, but cocooned in the warmth he knows will fade away soon. he will be left with soiled sheets and the fading heat of eliot's body in the spot where he sleeps. but as he comes down from the bliss of their lovemaking (yes, it was lovemaking wasn't it - not fucking, not wild sex, nothing like they've done before) he finds the affection outweighs the dread. ]

I do not flatter. Sokovians are too stubborn for that. We say what we feel.

[ he huffs a little laugh and kisses eliot again, slow and languid and yearning, letting his eyes close and commit the taste of him to memory, to press the very outline of the man into his heart. the kiss remains slow, exploring, nearly loving in the way they move like time is of no consequence. when they part, he draws away slowly, carefully slides away to settle at eliot's side. one arm stays wrapped round him, but the other reaches for a box of tissues at his bedside, where he draws a few. it's with delicate care he cleans the mess spilled between them first. ]

You were telling a funny joke when you said you had to go back, yes? [ there's a little smirk in the way he says it, like he knows the truth of eliot leaving, but it's the only indication he'll give to the other man that he doesn't want him to leave. that their parting feels more like a goodbye than he should like. ]

Tell the little magic people you are being held hostage by a man with a very funny accent. That you will be gone for a very, very long time. [ he grins toothily and bends to kiss him, even as his hand slides to eliot's sore cock, gently cleaning, his touch even now reverent and tender. ]

{ perhaps it is good that eliot cannot understand pietro. he’s a couple words away from letting all his restraint crumble. the sweet offerings are far too enticing despite not being able to understand sokovian. either the language is or pietro just sounds saccharine. he’s moments from letting fillory go, and to think he would? the current fae overtaking a whole castle isn’t ideal, but he also knows he can’t abandon them right now. the old eliot before the beast would. it’s different, this notion that seems to weigh when it hasn’t been anything prior.

eliot knows he can’t keep splitting his life. the dean told him he would have to choose eventually. his poor attempt should have taught him, but here he is. he’s defying it all for one person. his heart is both aching and soothed, the friction of attempting to overtake one another to see who wins out only makes him cling onto pietro’s warmth just a bit longer. his fingers have begun to loosen enough that he’s merely caressing hair with a tenderness he cannot deny.

he lets out a pleased little sound that is muffled by the kisses, his mouth far too eager when responding. the arm still around him lures him back to their reality. he might as well be in a sauna, far too relaxed to leave the steam they’ve engulfed themselves within. }

I don’t know. I do find the accent irresistible. I’m shallow enough to develop Stockholm syndrome. { he studies pietro’s post-bliss look up close while tissues glide upon his calmed down dick. he keeps the pads of a few fingers upon facial hairs framing a jawline. his tongue ends up more impulsive. }

What if I can see you more often? I’ve always wanted a knight to kidnap me from my tower. About time. Weekly, even. I just have to take care of something.

{ he’s not sure how long it’ll take. he can’t be making promises. his reign as high king hasn’t been going well. nothing is certain, but waking up to pietro is. he craves it. he wants to ask how long pietro will wait before he is tired of waiting. he is unable to ask. instead his eyes crinkle as he smiles earnestly and he leans on his side while still keeping close, a hand moving along where pietro’s ribs are located. it is when he’s awaiting, slight nerves to what pietro might say when a noise behind them is akin to a gush of air. from what is a portal drops a bunny native to fillory. it is prone to carrying messages.

he gives pietro an apologetic stare as he hears it speak at the foot of the bed and out of sight on the floor. it says his name once considering it’s a one word system. it has to be margo. he makes sure to keep his hold on a hip to still pietro just in case the rabbit startled him and leans in to steal another kiss. he really thought they had more time. eliot reaches back for his pants, easing them into his hand with flick of the wrist. it takes all his will power to move away.

eliot ends up at the edge of the bed, slipping into his pants with ease. the bunny is far too relaxed on the floor and eliot isn’t all too happy for it to exist here with them. }

They’re so needy. { he’s all dressed except for his shirt and he looks around for it, wondering where he flung it. he’s yet to give pietro room to respond. it’s his way of avoiding the inevitable by replacing it with another statement. the light frustration hinted in his eyebrows is more than being unable to find his shirt. }

Edited 2022-06-22 07:40 (UTC)

[ it's easy to think that they might be able to stay like this, wrapped up in their warmth and the tingling aftershocks of their lovemaking. but neither of them lead normal lives - and eliot seems to have everything in the world. even complex responsibilities. pietro doesn't even own the roof over his head, or his freedom, to some degree. he's committed crimes with HYDRA that he's only paying off in his service to the avengers. paying off crimes that he doesn't mind carrying, but it's for wanda's freedom, mostly.

he hums against eliot's mouth at the kiss that preceeds the question, but doesn't have time to answer. he feels it before he hears or sees it - something about magic gets under his skin, makes him perk up. he's grateful for the hand on his hip, one hand falling to touch eliot's as the bunny speaks.

it's so odd, watching a rabbit talk, watching it sit there pleasantly and wait. he can tell by the look on eliot's face that this isn't a good thing, and that the honeyed haze they'd been existing in has vanished. he stays quiet as eliot sits and dresses, but he leans over the side of the bed himself to snatch up eliot's shirt, turning to sit behind him, letting his lips fall against his shoulder, his nape, murmuring: ]

I would not mind kidnapping you. [ a little huff of a laugh. ] I think I would look good in fancy armor.

[ another open-mouthed kiss against the side of his neck before he gently pulls the shirt over eliot's head, his fingers abandoning the fabric so that eliot can slip his arms in, and his hands come to rest at his waist beneath it. ]

But I can see why they want your attention. I am very jealous they get to have you now. [ he climbs from the bed, uncaring that he's as naked as the day he was born, coming round to face eliot, sliding his hands into his hair to tame the mess he's made of those pretty curls. he is a sight to behold, pink-cheeked and dark haired. he smiles when he's done, the expression crinkling his nose and dimpling his cheeks, a genuine gesture as he offers his hands to help him up. ]

Go, now. The little rabbit is waiting. I will see you again very soon, and I want to hear the stories when the people see all your pretty marks. But one more kiss, ano?

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