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exitiabile2022-02-19 01:06 am
hastening) wrote in exitiabile2022-02-19 01:06 am
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
no subject
eliot with his hand holding pietro’s chin while he looks at him with his endless blue eyes, eager, cocky, and ready to —
well, damn. instead of giving a usual cheeky response, he places a kiss underneath an ear, the tight hold of his enough to indicate the effect the other has on him just by words alone. that, and he might have had to lean back a bit to allow his pants to become less tight or else he’d be obvious. he’s trying not to be filth all the time, but goodness does pietro make it difficult. eliot resists the urge to ravish him somehow, be it only by hand. his hand even falters into a slight twitch of fingers scratching against the shirt’s fabric. he can behave.
he calmly leans back close upon pietro’s back, quietly hearing his gasps and peaking over at the telescope. he keeps one arm over pietro’s waist, tentatively caressing underneath the shirt he fiddled with to gently brush upon skin. his other caresses along pietro’s upper arm, down the dip of the shoulder. he notes the minimal shift.
it’s something they’ve been able to do often, easily go from one topic to another. sometimes he wonders if it’s too easy and it’s too good to be true. so far it’s only been smooth with pietro, even the stumbles. }
Huh. It usually… Must be you. Powerful memories, emotions. Depends. I’d go with it. { he’s a bit in awe, considering he didn’t expect a sokovian sky. the formulas are there, but it can be tricky. this is not one of those tricks, it’s responding and eliot can feel the magic taking to it. strangely intimate. eliot stays silent for a brief moment.
he did hear about the fallen city. everyone did. }
You could be a little magic.
{ the telescope is large enough that he’s able to see it. a winter sky with stars out to play. their twinkle intact. he can almost feel the fresh cold it would be. it’s like time is suspended. in a way it is in the illusion of it. his mouth is close enough that when his lips brush upon the top of an earlobe, his words could lightly vibrate. }
It’s beautiful. What was your favorite season to see these stars?
no subject
My sister is the magic twin. I am not so much.
[ he's never been remarkable, even with his speed. wanda, however, had been a dazzling star the moment she'd screamed her way into the world. the brat that she is. pietro sighs, turning his head to meet eliot's eyes, despite the odd angle. he noses his jaw, presses a soft kiss there. ]
Spring. The fire bugs would come out and you couldn't tell which was a bug or a star. It could be very beautiful.
[ his parents would take them to the little hills for the city wide holidays where bonfires would burn or music would play. he would lay on his back and watch the fireflies drift lazy into the sky, with the sound of wanda and his father laughing as they tried to catch some in their palms.
one hand drops to eliot's, with its fingers beneath his shirt and he presses his palm atop his beneath the fabric. he's quiet, the tension dissolving from his shoulders, letting the silence of the tower and the rustle of wind outside be enough. he does not want such sad memories to ruin this evening - though it isn't too terribly sad. eliot has given him something he never thought he'd see again. ]
You put on a good party, but I think I like this more. I forgot what the skies looked like. So it is you who are a little magic. Very magic.
[ he enjoys the warmth, the nearness, and he gives a soft push to the hand beneath his shirt, letting eliot's palm settle past the waistband of his jeans and onto the flat plane of his stomach. ]
no subject
usually he does not make bottles explode. pietro keeps being his exception. }
My favorite season. Makes you think you can have another chance. New beginnings. I would chase the lightning bugs on the farm when I was younger. They only ever went to places like the one outside. Were you just as much a troublemaker even back then, under that sky of yours?
{ they had different upbringings. eliot sought to find places where he can be safe and feel less ugly. usually when others talk of family, eliot becomes uninterested. what an anomaly to be fascinated and want to know more of what made the pietro he's lucky enough to have stumbled upon. his palm rests on his stomach and he's well-aware of each and every muscle underneath the pads of his fingers. he presses upon skin so his touch is felt more. he's left leaning over and with their angle, eliot lightly kisses pietro's temple.
( he's determined to exchange each kiss pietro hands him — one for one. hades forbid the day it stops. )
it's so simple it really shouldn't startle eliot the way it does. pietro calls him magic and it's a fact, but also there's more to it that makes him swell with pride. it causes the pain he keeps surrounding his every magic to simmer for once and allow the beauty of it to shine through. sure, he has his fun with it. he also misuses it to his advantage some days, but above all he has forgotten the wonderment of it all. here is pietro reminding him. how quaint.
eliot holds his tongue on asking if pietro might be magical by proxy. if one twin has magic, shouldn't the other hold a sliver of it? he knows it does not work that way. even so, his speed is undeniably unique on its own. eliot knows he's currently gazing down towards pietro the same way he's staring at his sokovian stars. he's mesmerized. }
I wasn't sure you would come. I'm glad you did.
no subject
[ bringing wanda here would be dangerous, he realizes, but he trusts eliot. trusts that should he take his sister's hand and guide her here, she would be welcomed. so much of their magic reminds him of her, reminds him of how she struggles to learn the power she holds. some days, he wishes he could trade her, could take away the uncertainties and the hurt it brings her.
he's failed, so far. and it's everything he can do to keep her safe.
but eliot moves on, makes a joke and pietro snorts a little, eyes focused on the stars even as the man's kiss falls against his temple. he's surrounded by warmth, with the man at his back and the strange fondness he has for the icy stars in the telescope. ]
I used to steal dresses for girls. Or, ah. Marbles, for the boys. No one knew about the boys, not in Sokovia. But there were boys.
[ a little smirk. ] They are not as pretty as you.
[ he presses eliot's hand further, cheeky and sly, like the troublemaker he is before he releases it altogether and tears his eyes away from the stars. it's hard, though - it feels like if he looks a little longer, Sokovia might blossom under that night sky. that the fallen city might rise from the rubble and come back teeming with life.
it is a stupid dream.
he turns in eliot's hold, if only so his arms can reach and tug eliot down by the back of his neck for a kiss, slow and hungry before he settles back on his heels, nose crinkled as he stares up at the dark haired beauty. ]
You are too tall, pretty magic man. I like it.
no subject
he considers the lips on his, instantly reaching up to steady the side of pietro’s face and keeps them lip-locked for a second longer. even a few more makes the taste effectively linger. then his hand moves back down to caress along a chest, then stomach, lower until he’s slithering close to his jeans. eliot settles his arm back around his waist.
pietro has a fascination with pretty. eliot meanwhile seeks to only be seen in shades of pretty. it can’t be a good match, can it? it’s where eliot is probably selfish, enabling tendencies ready to bubble. he’s certainly not letting go. being with pietro feels too good to let go. }
Being tall has its benefits. For example, I get the best view. { he uses the hand on pietro’s shoulder to move it up and gently take his chin between his fingers, angling him to look up at eliot. he moves his upward body a bit to the side so he can get a better view. } You look gorgeous from up here.
{ there’s stars on the telescope, but eliot has never cared for them much. they remind him too much of his own self-made illusion. he’d rather see the glimmer within pietro’s eyes and get pulled into his shine. he considers being serious, letting the way he’s sure his chest is going to burst come through, but then he doesn’t. doing it all again — to be a fool for someone — hesitates him. he also continues to go against his thoughts. his fascination for pietro is too strong.
he brushes his thumb upon a bottom lip. there’s no denying the soft gaze he holds. it neutralizes into his usual charm shortly after, an attempted guise to keep it light. }
How sad for everyone else. We’re too pretty. I bet you still break all the girls and boys’ hearts. You ever played marbles? I would play sleight games at school to hustle money. Had to stop after a while, but I’ve always been good at games. You’re not so bad yourself.
no subject
the lingering kiss makes a tiny smile pull at his lips, the sharp bite of wit lost from his expression briefly as he blinks up at eliot, slow and a little dumbstruck at the tenderness. it's so different from their stolen kisses at the game, the burning of his hands on his thighs, the dare across the bottle. he hums, the little smile dissolving into a cheeky smirk as eliot's hands wander.
he doesn't mind those hands wandering, and almost pouts when the arm settles at his waist. he tilts his head into the touch of eliot's fingers, the way his chin is tilted up and their eyes meet. he no longer sees the sokovian stars, but he sees something of them reflected in the hazel gazing down at him. sokovia in summer, marshy and green and lush with life.
what a wonder it would be to dive into eliot and get lost. to breathe him in like he had the morning he first slept with him and find him warm and flushed and gorgeous. to not feel the urgency to run, to get away before those hazel eyes peek him. eliot seems different from all the boys and girls he's tumbled with before, and he can't quite place it. he's exciting. new. passionate. like a wildfire burning ceaselessly.
he presses a little kiss against eliot's thumb as it passes by. he's reminded so easily of the way he'd presses his fingers between his lips before, the way he'd tempted with only the movements of his tongue and teeth. now it feels different. ]
I do not try to break hearts. I am not a cruel person. [ a grin and his hands tug eliot even closer, bringing them flush in the flickering of the tower's torches. enough for one to fall along a bicep, for the other to toy idly with the collar of his shirt. ]
But I like games. I like winning, even if you won this time. It was not fair, your kissing game. [ a little snort, indignant and playful. ] And I do not have money to give you, so what will you ask for your reward, pěkná květina?
no subject
eliot hasn't been the greatest person. he's slept with other people's boyfriends on purpose. he's too judgemental some days, too fussy, too much drama. he's said cruel things at his lowest. there's also the drugs, alcohol, daddy issues. most of all, he's broken hearts without regard. he did feel bad. pietro is not cruel in the way he's been.
there's something about being with pietro that makes him want to do better, to be better. they both come from little broken down rubbles, but there's still an admirable curiosity pietro displays, nearly as if he hasn't completely let anyone take it away no matter how much tragedy he encounters. he wouldn't mind waking up next to pietro more often. he'll probably find excuses to stay longer.
the arm around pietro's waist lowers, his hand brushing along the seam of his jeans. he intentionally swipes lower along the zipper, applying the tenderest touch before he moves back up and drums fingers upon his stomach, letting his fingers play with the beginnings of a happy trail peeking since pietro's jeans fit unfairly snug. }
You're a much better person than me.
{ i'll make sure you’re the one who breaks my heart. you deserve better. it's expressive, the way he looks down at pietro playing with his collar. while he steps more in front his hand moves along his waist until it's settles on a hip. his other pats a cheek. }
We'll have to come up with another game then. And then another after that. Maybe you'll win. I like playing with you. How about this? I have two rewards I want. I’ll let you pick from two. { he lets out a half giggle before pretending to nip the end of pietro's nose to indulge in their ambience. there's fondness hidden in his smirk like the twinkle of a star from afar. }
{ he moves back around and takes a step back, immediately finding the couch behind them. he settles back into its comfort, still enough to reach out and tug onto pietro’s belt loop. he then leans back, outreaching his arms out along his sides. they rest on top of the couch as he looks up. his right foot gently taps the side of pietro’s running shoes. }
Choose a color. Red or purple?
no subject
but his eyes follow the other man's movements, a surprised laugh bubbling up out of his chest as he's pulled in by a beltloop. he has half a mind to perch in the man's lap, to find his place like he had before and lay claim to the heat he knows his hips can stir. instead, he steps close enough for their knees to bump, for their shoes to touch and he cheekily leans with one hand on the arm of the couch, so that he is bent, leaning over eliot, as if they are whispering secrets in a crowded room. ]
I get to choose your rewards? This seems very backwards, no?
[ he grins, his free hand reaching to idly brush an errant curl away from eliot's face. their game is a coy one, always made up of a push and pull that he too finds addictive. eliot is sweet like the candies he would steal from the market, like the little chocolates he could unwrap and savor, letting the taste linger on his tongue. but without it, he craves it. it has only been the better part of a month into their little dalliance, but he finds himself peeking into the corners of the club when eliot is not there, wondering. ]
But hm. Red or purple. [ he pretends to think as he rounds the couch, leaving the space between them to open up, vast and wide. he circles to the spot beside eliot, sitting down against the arm rest, angled toward the man just so he can pluck one hand up into his own and kiss its knuckles. his lips linger, and when he draws away he looks very much like he has gotten a taste of something sweet, finally. ]
Purple. [ his eyes flit up to eliot, and for a brief moment there's something almost shy, almost apprehensive in the look - he doesn't know what to expect. eliot is a man full of surprises. the telescope is one thing on its own, something he finds he feels a pull to return to. to peek the sokovian sky like it might help him cement it in his mind.
it won't. sokovia is gone. he knows that. ]
Did I choose the right one? [ he releases eliot's hand and relaxes into the couch, running that very hand back through his hair to push it from his face. ] What is your purple reward?
no subject
he keeps coming back, and one day he’ll figure out if it’s just for the sex. he likes the games, but also likes getting a view into the pietro outside dark clubs, outside parties. possibly getting a peek into the pietro that has a life out there where he is not.
eliot makes it seem as if he’s reaching out by running his hand along pietro’s chest as he leaves him from behind the couch and sinks near him. he does almost glance at his lap with a sort of silly and silent damn. he instantly reaches out to tug onto the bottom of pietro’s shirt as if he’s incapable of keeping his hands to himself when the other is nearby. it has to be the current fascination he holds. it’ll fizzle out, right? it won’t. }
Still mine. I have many rewards I plan on winning over from you. You’ll have to catch up.
{ he’s also distracted again when he finds lips on his knuckles. eliot will never admit to the pink that is only notable from under his hair where his curls are mostly covering his ears. it would take closer inspection to find the shy that can keep quiet, but not for long. }
Purple, { he repeats as he reaches into the little pocket on his vest. he lets it settle as he takes out a silk ribbon resembling a small scarf of the mentioned color. it’s closer to a lavender. } I’ll spare you my red for now. Yes, you’d look good tied up, but at last.
{ it’s a wishful tease. eliot has a way of making every word sound alluring with bite size charm that shifts the conversation between topics. it’s easy for him to reach over and wrap the scarf around pietro’s neck as if he’s talking about going to the market to pick up oranges and not speaking his dirty thoughts openly. he ties a little knot, smoothing it out.
there could be other people with them, but he also wouldn’t be bold in getting so intimately touchy. maybe there is a slight difference. he brushes his knuckles against the underside of pietro’s jaw, having traveling from the thinly fashionable scarf to skin. he idly presses a thumb on the tip of his chin, nearly holding from underneath. }
There’s no wrong answer. Except when it’s dull. Bambi has access to many beach houses. Come with me if you’re around for a few days? I’m due for a sun soak. It’s that or Encanto Oculto. I’m thinking of skipping this year for once. It’s a magic festival. Time stops, reality bends, and everyone fucks plentiful.
no subject
he holds his breath and tilts his head to allow for easier tying, his eyes on eliot's the whole time. the breath comes out on a little amused huff. ]
I would like to see you tie me up. I am very strong, so your knots would have to be perfect. [ he smirks, letting his eyes fall to the fingers beneath his chin, until he's guided to look up again. his skin burns under eliot's touch and he finds himself inexplicably drawn to the curly haired man.
he keeps coming back, like moth to a flame that doesn't burn, but pietro hasn't had fun like this in a long time. he hasn't been able to relax, and even here when eliot has him at full attention in so many other ways, he finds he's as pliable as the waves lapping at the shore. being with eliot is deceptively easy, full of taunts and coy touches, and he tells himself he lingers for the way eliot makes his blood simmer southerly and otherwise.
the dancing had been good. the sex had been unreal. and this? this rests somewhere in that taunting grey area - the ambiguousness of it all wildly intriguing and drawing him in. ]
Mm. [ a thoughtful noise, his fingers falling to rest against eliot's thigh, just sitting, letting the the heat soak the fabric there, this thumb idly stroking. ]
I have a few days. Beaches or festivals, it is your choice, ano? You won. Fair and square. [ he plucks at eliot's hand, draws it up to press a kiss into the soft of his palm, then the inside of his wrist. blue eyes stay locked on those mirroring hazels the whole time. ]
You are the little King, hm? You make the rules. [ though the way he smirks against eliot's wrist, nips at he soft skin, and darts away says he knows that the power struggle between them is an ever changing one. ]
no subject
You tempt me so. I’ll make a present of you one of these days. { his hazel eyes have darken from the given freedom that continues to unfurl between them. they challenge one another so sweetly it has become something eliot continues to look forward to encountering. they could be in the streets of new york and he’d be able to only notice pietro — and not because of his inability to blend. he choses to ignore everyone else.
he’s grateful for pietro’s mouth at his palm. it unintentionally eases him back from his mind reeling as he considers a new challenge. could he effectively keep pietro’s attention in a crowd of captivating magic users? ibiza will be filled with walking temptations and distractions to dazzle the mind at every corner. it’s color coded regions to indicate interests and layered kinks to just friendly chats.
he could do better than exploding bottles. he has to do better. second chances to do this over, but try another approach. part of him knows it’ll test them and he continues to sway from what directly would probably benefit him. he might be a bit foolish. }
Every king requires companionship. Let’s go to Ibiza. You’ll still get a beach. I bet I could build a better sand castle. If you win, I’ll abide to you. Any request.
{ he'd die if anyone else heard him, but somehow pietro makes him feel as if he could slowly let down his guard and be silly. pietro has been the most stability in his life in the wild of magic as of late no matter if it’s just been about a solid month. he's going to take advantage when he can have him nearby.
eliot leans in closer, his nose nearly touching pietro’s hair as he’s nipping on his wrist. he almost looks at him as if he’s projecting; bite me. let me remember you were here. he’s sure his pupils are blown if only momentarily. it’s that anticipation that he fortifies as he lets a hand slid onto pietro’s thigh and rests it there. }
I can also find us a place to practice those knots. We can break as many as we want.
no subject
[ muttered against the wrist of his skin, even as eliot leans closer to him, closing the gap between them. he likes these little moments as much as they are infuriating, soaking up the intimate quiet they have now created. it's different from the party, less chaos and less challenge, and yet something still crackles on their between them, electric and white-hot.
I think I will build a better sandcastle. But you cannot use magic and I cannot use my speed.
[ his tongue slips out, a little kittenish lick swiping along his pulse before he releases the hand, a knowing look in his eyes that challenges the darkening of those pretty hazels. he could have pressed his teeth into the soft skin, could have sucked and nipped a mark into the slope of his forearm, but there's power in the retreat, too. instead that hand reaches up to tangle in those curls, gripping them to gently tug pietro down, their noses touching, lips brushing as he speaks. ]
If I win, I want to tie you up. And if you win? Do you want to tie me up?
[ he presses a soft, fleeting kiss to his lips - chaste and sweet. ] Your bed could be very good for it. I will use blue scarves, to match your sheets. I think you would be very sexy laid out for me. What do you think? Or do we do this in Ibiza? I heard from the pretty blond boy earlier about Ibiza, about all the things that happen there.
[ he grins, nipping at the swell of his bottom lip this time before drawing back. ] He invited me, but I told him I was very, very busy.
no subject
Yes. Tie you up. Make you squirm a little and only leave you to beg for me. Although, being tied up is better with a treat on my lap, so we’ll see… I’d let you do a lot, if you can earn it. { he flicks out his tongue to lick his bottom lip, still feeling the tingle from the near bite. } And did you? Encanto Oculto is exclusive. I got invited my first year. Unheard of. I think you can handle it.
{ eliot is another matter entirely. he finally acknowledges the remark about the blond boy and perhaps before he removed it, his hand gives pietro’s thigh a rougher applied squeeze to throughly feel the muscle. he trails it upwards until he’s caressing along his stomach and to his chest. he finally reaches the side of his neck to secure a hold for what could be a kiss. except he moves past his lips, brushes his mouth against his ear and then lightly tugs on his earlobe playfully. close enough that he can be heard crisply. }
You’ll get one last chance to back out. Bambi will want to take you shopping beforehand. It’s a thing.
{ it’s always a delight to have pietro’s hand in his hair, so he leans back into it, enough that they’re looking at one another once more. this time he casually tangles his leg over pietro’s, keeping them hooked in their closeness. }
I’ll let you pick our next venture after that. Only fair.
no subject
pietro laughs softly, turning against eliot and pressing his mouth against his neck where he leans. the bite to his own earlobe makes him squirm, one hand rising to steady eliot at his hip, the other still twined in the rich curls he'd sought out earlier. ]
Do you really think I'll back out?
[ he huffs and pulls his head back, leaning it against the back of the couch to better see eliot. it's then he gives him a gentle nudge, but under his strength? he all but tugs eliot into his lap proper, a perfect mirror of their positions before. he lets their legs tangle, and keeps one hand firm at eliot's side, steadying him. ]
I do not mind shopping, or this Bambi. She is a very good kisser. Almost better than you.
[ he grins, reaching again to twirl a curl between his fingers. ] So I'll go with you to your party. Maybe I will like it, maybe I will not, but I lost the game. Who knows, maybe the reward will be good for both of us if it is a party like you say it is. I like pretty things.
[ he keeps his eyes on eliot's, on his face, merely watching him from where he sits beneath him, the fingers at his side lightly tracing patterns. he looks deep in thought as he considers the other man, one side of his mouth pulling up, crinkling his nose, dimpling his cheek. ]
We did not have parties like that in Sokovia, or very many pretty things. The stars - the ones you saw? They were the prettiest. It was good to see them again.
no subject
If you did, I’d question if my favorite has lost his bite. Would be disappointing.
{ he manages to hook his fingers into pietro’s shirt with a swiftness, making a ball of it in the palm of his hand when he gets caught off guard. pietro is strong and sometimes he forgets just how much until he’s reminded. each and every time there’s been a thrill that travels along his spine in the form of a delighted tingle. he casually steadies onto the lap below him while an arm hooks around a shoulder to properly level their newfound position. even like this, he’s found he’s a tall menace that takes advantage of their angle so he can study the dimples up close. more parts of pietro he’ll obsess about. }
Hm. She is. Who else was I going to kiss when everyone one was dull as shit? Although, much more interesting having you around at parties. Ibiza is the biggest one of them all.
{ his grin is almost devilish as he leans in, securing the shift of his thighs in a comfortable manner as his knees keep together, his legs hitting pietro’s lightly. he figures why not make a proper seat of him and trap him for a moment longer. mercy is not for the misfits and he’s made to keep people guessing.
eliot loosens his hold on the shirt, instead smoothing down his palm into the firm chest, letting his fingers brush against a nipple before behaving and settling to tread upwards along a collarbone. it’s the sort of touch one indulges when a thought settles in, sinking into a quiet contemplation. }
Good. I can give you pretty things. Just ask. I am capable of plenty with my magic. I want to show you more than dark corners.
no subject
a soft intake of air, the rise of his chest, indicates he can feel every brush of the man's fingertips, over a nipple and the taut muscle of his chest, to his collar bone. he wonders what they could get up to, how many different places they could fumble and feel and touch and kiss. that is their way, after all, and yet this feels different, somehow.
his fingers slide from eliot's hip to his side, pressing into the soft just above his hip bone, feeling the line of his lowest rib. the touch itself is gentle, almost reverent in the way he discovers eliot here and now.
he tips his head back to look at the tall man perched in his lap, letting his free hand rise to touch his cheek, then fall to rest on the wrist near his chest. ]
I do not need any pretty things. [ he says finally, genuinely, giving a little shrug of one shoulder, his lips pulling into a lazy grin. ] I do not think there are many things that will be prettier than you.
[ not that eliot is really truly pretty in the sparkling, feminine way it sounds, no - but eliot admires the color of his eyes, the dark hair in looping curls, the surety in the way he speaks, the confidence in the way he moves. he's captivating, handsome, alluring. pretty in all the way a diamond is pretty, and an enigma in as much as the galaxy full of stars itself. ]
What do you want to show me with your magic? The stars were beautiful. I want to look again before I go.
[ to see if he can sear the image into his mind, enough for wanda to peek and see it herself second hand. ]
no subject
yet, he'd dropped by more than others and he's sure that it'll continue to be such a deal. the blur of lines makes his head fuzzy, but he likes it. right now the line is more defined than ever as in he can only see pietro and he's soaking in his company like he's never done before. every new venture they take only continues to intrigue him further.
he can feel the rise of pietro's shrug as he keeps his touch along a collarbone. }
Flattery will get you far. { he moves his hand off the collarbone, nudges it against the one on his wrist and manages to capture his hand seemingly by interlacing their fingers and then bringing it up to his mouth. he returns the kiss given to him earlier, makes sure to linger as a warmth overtakes his chest. } I just like showing you things. Even if it's my colorful sheets. Your smile is one of my favorite sights.
{ he presses a kiss to pietro's knuckles, then lowers their hands. he keeps a loose hold, still connected as his other hand has made its way to play with the nape of pietro's hair. he does not wish to part with him no matter how late the moon shines, no matter if it intends to let the sun shine. but he understands it's part of it. how many times will he let pietro go for him to keep coming back? it's the sweet gamble of it, so he takes full advantage when he has him here. right now, he conveniently is trapped under his thighs as comfortable seating and eliot leans in close enough that their mouths nearly touch, but not quite. }
The hour isn't up. You'd be able to take the stars with you. I could also hold them within a marble for you. You may not need pretty things, but you deserve them.
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the buzz is nice, even if his speedy metabolism will do away with it soon, but it makes their quiet closeness all the more comfortable. the hand on eliot's side cheekily presses beneath his shirt, letting his fingers trip over warm skin, counting ribs on the way up. ]
Your sheets are a very good sight, yes. Especially with you on them beneath me. [ the grin curls into a smirk, playful and much like a cat who has gotten into (and devoured) the cream. his cheeks burn with what he'll claim is the alcohol later, but something about the way eliot proclaims his smile to be his favorite takes him aback. it's not the lewd quips he's used to, and feels more sincere than their easy banter of sex and their escapades.
their lips nearly touching, he laughs softly, nudging their noses together and breathing eliot in, sweet breath and all. there's the hint of strawberry there, leftover from their drinks, and he's convinced eliot will always remind him of summertime, bright and warm and perfect. he lets his eyes close, lashes a dark fan against his pale skin and nudges forward, letting their lips meet in something slow and sweet, the hand beneath eliot's shirt traveling to the dip of his back, cradling him there.
when he speaks again, it's against eliot's chin, nose nuzzling against his jawline and breathing him in, peppering the skin with little butterfly kisses. ]
Could you do that? Let me take the stars? [ it's a quiet, genuine question and he leans his head back to kiss eliot again, slow and soft and exploring. ]
I do not deserve things like that, but I want to show my sister. She deserves those things. You do, too. But I cannot give you stars or magic. I am very boring, see?
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the rest of the world disappears. }
On you, under you. As long as you’re looking at me. Although, your back muscles are a contender in views I greatly enjoy.
{ shameless is what spills from his mouth, and it’s what pietro captures when he leans into the curve of what he feels is a smile before they’re kissing. these kisses are less frantic, less horny in the way that leads to clothes thrown everywhere. it’s far more intimate than he intends, still ardent, and he loves it.
how long has it been since he’s indulged in someone’s company just for the sake of existing together? it’s simple. he wants more of it, even if he knows he’s not meant to have simple. he shortens a light gasp when they part, becoming a chortle. all the while, he keeps fingers tangled within pietro’s hair. }
I could. I will. Only because you asked. Then maybe your sister will know this magical man you’re sneaking off to see isn’t all that terrible to her brother.
{ he pulls them into another kiss, shorter this time so he can continue before he loses concentration or edges into a more heated state from the way their bodies are pressed against one another. he has to will it to calm down. }
In a minute. Let me enjoy you. { he gently tugs pietro’s hair as if to say look here, but not at all rough. } I don’t bother with boring. You make most of the magicians here fade into their lackluster existence.
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[ wanda is particular and fiery and fiercely protective. he's made passing comments about the magical boy at the club and wanda watches him closely as he comes and goes, but keeps a good distance, waiting for pietro to come to her. and maybe after this, with stars in his palm, he will tell her more about the strange magical boy. ]
I will tell her you are not so bad. And that you like the view of my back almost as much as my smile. She won't believe me.
[ he leans up into the kiss eliot offers, other hand slipping from his grasp to rest against eliot's thigh, fingers at his back curling against the warm skin, the other solid and holding his thigh, keeping him there and close. he hums as the kiss parts, as his hair gathers a little tug. it sends prickling heat down his spine. ]
Mmm, I do not think this is true but I will let you win this once. Next time you will have to fight for it with thousands of kisses and maybe more.
[ he steals a biting kiss himself, laughing against eliot's lips as he parts, nosing at his jaw again, pressing a hot kiss against the line of eliot's throat. ] It is a fair fight that way.
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{ he won’t mention he is the same. there’s a reputation eliot once held more strongly and is echoed in the brakebills hallways. he’d garnered enough social fame to be sought after, to have a string of boys that are enthralled if he so much charmed them. it’s been years in the making. margo only amped it up and spiced his life in ways he only wanted from the moment he stepped onto the campus. his fresh face, soft boyish allure became more sharp and kindled the dominant spark he inwardly was meant to have — to be kingly. fillory confirmed it.
he’s always been easy to bore and for a long time he just used people. that part is still with him. pietro has captured more of his true essence buried underneath what he presents. the one that leans into pietro’s kiss, eagerly letting out a purr at the stubble he feels upon his throat. he hums, hands continuing to be exploratory as he drags nails along a defined bicep. }
We agree to disagree. I’ve wrangled thousands of snakes. I can wrangle you, darling boy. To more promises then.
{ he considers, still idly playing with pietro’s hair before he makes up his mind. the hand on his bicep slips between them and splays upon pietro’s chest as he gently shoves him so he can better look at his face. eliot lets it lift and then teasingly traces along his lips. }
Fair fights aside. Do you want to watch me craft your marble?
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[ he could sit here and let eliot play with his hair for hours, he decides. it's soothing and incredibly attractive all at once, making his skin feel a little warm, making him lean into the touch. this feels different than their club hookups, but it's more friendly. and in truth, he likes the familiarity in a way he hadn't thought he would.
it helps that eliot is pleasing to the eye, that his mouth is wicked, and his hands even more so. the sex is good, but it's uniquely surprising that they can be this close and intimate. it's attractive in its own right.
when he's pushed back, he nearly pouts up at him but leans heavy into the couch, gazing up at the man. ]
You will show me? [ there's the prick of interest, a genuine curiosity filtering into his expression. ] I would like to see it. Your magic is incredible, but I think it is more incredible that it is you doing it.
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he replaces his tracing fingers with his lips and ends up pressing a light kiss upon pietro’s mouth before he leans back again and reaches into his shirt pocket to produce the marble. he rolls it between his fingers. }
For you? You know it. You can have my magical energy. What’s left of it.
{ eliot doesn’t elaborate, only smiles as he starts to rub the marble between his palms, then starts making sigils signs with his fingers. it will take massive energy, but he’s at the end of the day and he figured he might as well. the sparks ignite with a containment spell that is going to cross with another one. he hums as the marble starts to become a blank slate as if it’s warming up. }
What do you call your Sokovian sky in your mother tongue? I’m going to need it.
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he has to resist the urge to reach out and touch it, instead wrapping his arms tighter round eliot's waist, fingers of his free hand sliding beneath his shirt to press against the warmth of his skin to join the other. the question takes him aback and he blinks up at eliot, considering. ]
We call it nebesa. Heavens.
[ or so his mother would call it when she would take them out to stargaze. she had more hope for the world than any of them. ]
Your magic is impressive. [ spoken against the curve of eliot's shoulder, his lips pressing there as his curious eyes watch. ]
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he mumbles nebesa in his chant, finding a poetic line to fit into a spell. the secure arm around him is encouragement as he holds the seal into the blankness of the marble. it’s a spark. }
Pretty word. Here.
{ and truthfully he needed that arm around him. his energy is half or what it is when the marble falls into the palm of his hand, simmering the tiniest constellation one can see if they looked close enough. he ends up leaning against pietro just so he can start gathering his strength again. it’s as if ran a marathon, except without the excessive breathing. eliot takes pietro’s free hand and places the marble within it, clasping his hand before pressing a kiss to it and letting go.
he’s used to finding awe in entertaining others, to be creative and the center of attenroon. for some reason, it means more for pietro to truly be marveled by his magic. }
There’s sometimes a trade off. The marble is now linked to you, so the spell will stop its effect the day you die. It’ll be just a marble again. I know, morbid. It’s the only spell I could think of that would work right now. So, don’t. Die, I mean.
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🎀