[Truly, the longer this goes on...the more difficult it feels, to let common sense take hold as it perhaps ought to. Blade isn't the only one to find it intoxicating, this exchange between them--to steal a taste, between soft lips, as the coaxing is so readily rewarded. It's a fascinating contrast, Luocha finds, between the solid warmth of Blade's body and how deliciously pliant he is to physical encouragement. (Would there be any resistance, if it were any less gentle? What would happen, past a certain point? Curious, terribly curious...) It's riveting, this reciprocating heat of a living person--a person who has never known true death--will never know true death, seemingly, supposedly... (Isn't there quite an irony, buried somewhere here?)
Luocha has no doubt that half the problem at present lies in...just how long it's been, since he last held another close like this. Let alone shared a kiss like this. It's simultaneously like a wound reopened and yet just a little salve applied, to an emptiness that had grown comfortably numb--and now it's as if he can hardly get enough. ...He wants more, too. More than this--
And, once more, it's Blade who manages to break away, pull back just a bit. No small feat...certainly one that Luocha has now failed to act upon himself, twice over. It might do little to abate the craving that has ignited now, against all better judgment, but there's a part of Luocha that does appreciate it a great deal as well. That rises to surface, before it's entirely drowned in the heady warmth. Listening, and smiling, at the suggestion murmured between them at length.
A moment's pause, to savor the closeness just a little longer. Then, a soft huff of a laugh, and a musing hum, breathed over Blade's lips in turn.]
...Mm. We probably should, hm? A place like this...
[Right. A place like this. The closet they're still inside--probably now unlocked. But, for how long? And, besides...
It really would be crowded quarters for anything more, wouldn't it? --Luocha would like to see, too. If they shall--if this progresses--as it likely will, eventually, inevitably. Now that they've both seemingly mutually compromised the more professional nature of their arrangement, for better or worse. ...He wants to study Blade's features properly, at the least. It's a thought that settles heated, prompts a flicker of something nearly possessive--in the way his embrace tightens and his fingertips curl into Blade's back--in the way he can't help but press one more kiss to the man's mouth for himself, now, hot but feather-light--
--Before his arms loosen, and fall away from Blade's frame. Breaking away in turn this time, and drawing a step back properly. Rendering them finally separate, once again.
The air is immediately cooler, in the absence of another body.]
...Yes. We had best step out, before the door locks again. [Luocha's tone is almost impressively even, but in the narrow space, there's probably just a touch of audible breathlessness underneath it all the same...]
[ It's true: a place like this is hardly the best location for where they were both going after that one kiss, and then the next. Blade is already thinking about the what if's and should have's, not the should not's and would not's. It's a dangerous train of thought, because the more he lingers on this path, the more he feels like he's spiralling. He doesn't know what he would do if they were to keep going with this. Doesn't know what it's going to mean for the two of them if they didn't stop right here and now. But it's not like he wants to stop, and he's sure neither does Luocha.
And yet— He couldn't be more relieved when the other finally pulled away. The breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding onto is finally released, and his shoulders gradually relax. In the darkness of the closet, he's sure the flush on his face is barely visible, but he knows that the other man must be aware of it, given how close they are to one another. The warmth is obvious enough, after all. And he knows that it isn't just because of their shared body heat.
Fuck. There's no turning back now, he thinks. They've cracked open the dam, and now they're about to live through the flood.
But he fumbles for the door first. His hands reach for where the closet opens so that he can push it forward, finally allowing the light to greet them. The air is much cooler now that they aren't pressed together, even more so when Blade leaves first and allows Luocha to follow. He can only hope that the reddish hue on his face is gone by the time things are more visible, but he can't help the smirk that nearly shows itself when he notices the slight bruising on the other man's lips. At least he can take that as a win for himself, no matter what else happens.
... And then comes the inevitable: now what?
What do they do now that they're finally free from the curio's grasp? The heat hasn't left him, and he's sure that it hasn't left Luocha too, but they're somewhere far away from their accommodations, and this is hardly the best place for an escalation. Hardly, and yet he finds himself not caring enough. He finds it much easier to reach for the other man until he can crowd him against the wall, his red gaze as intense and piercing as ever. ]
Push me away if you don't want this.
[ It's the only warning Luocha gets before Blade dives right back in, kissing him fervently with teeth and tongue. His hands roam up the other man's sides, feeling the fabric against his own palms, as though he's mapping things out, slowly caressing him. He's testing the waters like this, to see just how far Luocha will let him go. ]
:') well look......they're both just so thirsty ur honor,
["Now what" had assuredly been the question of the moment, as soon as the closet door was finally pushed open. It's a relief and a bit of a vulnerability all at once, in a way, to move from the confines of the curio and back to 'reality' in some semblance--the tattered shroud of necessary excuses now thoroughly done away with, in the dim but brighter lighting of the empty bedroom outside. One of the many, in this abandoned building. Where they had been searching for...something, now quite obviously not here, and now as far away from Luocha's current thoughts as it could possibly be. --The closet remains as dangerously innocuous a sight as it had been before they were shoved inside. His coffin is also still exactly where he'd left it, propped against a wall across the room, impassive and inert. And then there's...Blade, of course, stepped out before him, traces of flush still painted upon his cheeks. Unsurprising, indeed, but still novel to finally observe in proper lighting like this. Luocha might have been more prudent about letting his glance linger on Blade's features, drinking in this rare sight, if not for the fact that Blade's so clearly simultaneously looking at him too. The color likely still faint in his own face...the slight reddening still on his lips. The smirk might not rise to surface over there, no, but there's an impression of satisfaction that strikes Luocha rather more amused than self-conscious. Admiring his handiwork already, is he?
...Hm. Now what. In the lingering moment or two in which they stand outside the closet mutually uncertain, Luocha's thoughts are already reaching for the next steps--because the situation might be new, but it's not exactly the most difficult one he's ever encountered. A course of action can always be plotted. ...Perhaps they could proceed in this new context now as if nothing is amiss. Perhaps they could at least work their way out of this building, and back the way they came. Perhaps they'll return, to those accommodations, further away but surely not unreachable. And perhaps once there, finally, they might...address this shift properly. Or--perhaps--
--perhaps Blade could already draw close again, and--
It shouldn't feel half as exhilarating as it does, to find himself moved so easily. To discover the wall now pressing against his back, as he's pinned in place by the scrutiny of those crimson eyes. To barely register the warning given, and open his mouth with a response half-formed, only to find it captured by Blade's lips once more. Words consumed and forgotten along with his breath, as his tongue is instead overtaken by the heat and taste of him, and hands wander so deliberately up his sides, heavy even through the layers of his clothing. --Goodness. This is almost unfair. It's...overwhelming, already, in a way Luocha is not so accustomed to, as carefully in control of the things around him as he usually is. It ought to be disconcerting. ...With just about anyone else, in any other circumstance, it would be. And yet, and yet...
When Luocha raises his hands it's not to push Blade away. Not when he could be closing one of them over the man's hip, clutching greedily, tugging the warmth of that body closer to him once more. Not when he could be reaching for one of Blade's wrists with the other, guiding one of those roaming hands to the gold button fastening his outer coat over his abdomen, a wordless invitation to tug it undone. ...Bring him undone, if Blade desires so. (There will probably be at least two other layers of clothing to open past that, but--) Such impatience...why, it'd just be cruel of him, to deny the man at this point. Now wouldn't it?
Not as if there's anyone else in this building anyhow. Not as if they don't have the time. And Luocha does--want this--far more than he ought to--]
[ And Blade wants this just as much, which is a terrifying realization all on its own. When was the last time he ever felt this towards something? Someone? Centuries by now, he thinks, at least seven hundred years more, but even then— that feeling had only been intense towards one person and one person alone. When it used to be his salvation, it's now the very same thing that damns him. What led him right into the flames of the sun with wax wings, but who's to say that he wouldn't just do it again and again? Just like he is now, as he kisses Luocha with a nearly feverish want and desire to devour him whole. Their teeth clash with how aggressive he's being, but he makes it up by licking at him slowly, soothing the bruises as he enjoys how he tastes.
The other man hasn't pushed him away at all by this point. It only emboldens him to keep going, to take more and more and more than what he's being given. When hands guide him to work through golden buttons, he tries to be careful, delicate. Faint memories of being so meticulous when it comes to working with iron and metal has taught him how to navigate such complicated fastenings quite deftly— or rather, they're only complicated to someone as impatient as he is, already wanting to move onto the next part without getting through the beginning stages first. But he's sure Luocha won't appreciate it if he comes out of here with his clothes ruined, so the swordsman takes his time. It's excruciating, but he knows they'll get where they both want to be eventually.
The first layer is peeled off, finally, discarded on the floor right by their feet. He works at the vest soon enough, sliding it off Luocha's arms while he pulls away from the kiss, breathing nice and slow. His breath is likely hot against Luocha's skin, and he makes it known as he worries the delicate skin of the man's neck, wanting to leave a pretty bruise behind once he's done with it. And somewhere, in the back of his mind, he wonders what's going to become of them after this is all said and done. Will they go back to how things were?
Can they go back to how things were? And pretend all this never happened?
He's not even sure that's possible at this point, given how eager he is to tear into the last layer of Luocha's upper clothes. Already, his fingers are sneaking underneath the fabric, wanting to feel the warmth of muscle waiting for him underneath. ]
[Pretending this never happened? No...no, that likely won't be possible in any sense of the word. Even if Blade does manage to so prudently leave his clothes intact, and even if any manner of bruising he might leave could be easily mended into invisibility later. The mark this exchange is bound to leave, now that they're both mutually sinking into its grasp, is going to pass well beyond the physical--of that, Luocha is already certain. ...Or at least he will be, when such thoughts have the proper room to form once more. When the hungry persistence of Blade's kiss isn't robbing him of enough breath to leave him lightheaded, tongue sensuously exchanged with tongue, heavy and biting to such a degree that it's a bit surprising to not taste copper. --Not that he'd mind, even if there was. Just the sting and ache of lips already abused is more addictive than painful, in all honesty...
It's equal parts a relief and a dismay, then, when their mouths do part. Though at the least, there's plenty enough other diversions to focus upon in the interim. Luocha's hands had been distractedly following alongside Blade's in dismantling first the coat, and then the vest, muscle memory guiding to the according buttons and ties--but now they falter, as hot breath fans over skin, and then...there's that press of lips and teeth, against the side of his neck. A very sensitive spot, as Blade would likely be pleased to discover by way of the breathless sound that finally escapes Luocha's throat and the reflexive shudder that accompanies it. Without a second thought he's tilting his head to allow better access, as the spark of heat is sent straight to a coiling in his gut--]
--Hah. So eager now, are we? My, what am I to do with you...
[Blade has a lot of nerve, really, to be breathing so evenly while Luocha already has to pant for air he's just catching back up on...but at least when they're this close, he hardly needs to raise his voice over a murmur. The remark tapers into a low hum as his last shirt is tugged open, heated fingertips skimming over sensitive skin underneath; anyone less privy to Luocha's occasional foray into sword work in combat might have been surprised to discover the fairly toned definition to the slender build underneath the many layers of clothing, but perhaps for Blade it wouldn't be so startling. Either way, direct contact there is novel--it's been so long...even just this initial taste prompts another sigh of sound, with Luocha arching a little into the touch already, as if his entire frame were already seeking more of its own volition.
He wants--but his own hands--still covered, though Luocha does raise one of them to his mouth now that it's briefly freed, tugging off the black glove with his teeth before it's dropped to join the clothing pooled upon the floor. (Only the right hand for now, and not the left, where his charm remains wrapped--not enough time to maneuver that one out just yet...) Fingertips freed in this fashion, he can reach up for the red clasp of Blade's own collar, trace that infuriating little window over his chest.] Won't you at least let me touch you too?
[...There's already a sense of vulnerability, after all, in having this much of himself bared in this particular sort of way. So quickly and eagerly, no less, despite Blade's efforts at care. Luocha can only imagine the sight he must be at the moment, upper clothing dismantled and his general person thoroughly disheveled, far too much color probably creeping upon his features by now. A far cry from the general poise he tends to prefer, to say the least. Under Blade's eyes and roaming hands there's an excitement to it, and...that's novel, too...which is perhaps why Luocha reflexively reaches for something he can control, even if Blade does seem more than content to push right along in taking him apart...]
[ Luocha's words are only met with silence for the time being. Blade is too focused on the task at hand, determined to unwrap the present that was given to him on a pretty silver platter. Or golden in this case, given the lustrous shine of Luocha's hair. It's true that there is little to no chance that the two of them could go back to how things were given how far things have escalated, and by now, Blade is even beginning to think that he wouldn't want to. This is one of the very few things that he could say is something (someone) he wanted, and he wouldn't give that up for anything.
Not even if Luocha tries to move past this, but he doubts the other man would do such a thing, given the way he looks.
When a finger makes its way into that tiny window, he pulls back just enough to give the other more space. This way, too, he has a better look at how dishevelled the other man is, another pleasing sight considering it's all because of him. That's not to say that he isn't affected either; despite how steady his breathing remains, the flush on his face lingers still. The light bruising on his lips mirrors the other, and so will the state of his clothes once he gives the man permission to do what he wants. ]
You don't even need to ask.
[ Those words tumble out of his mouth in almost a low growl, a slow drawl that's barely holding back the desire that simmers within. Now it's his turn to guide Luocha's hands to where he wants them to be, helping him unclasp every button and fasten holding his own coat together. Between the two, his body is more defined, every muscle prominent even underneath the layer of fabric and bandages hiding them. His lips part open when warm fingers ghost over now-exposed skin, causing his eyes to flicker towards the charm still wrapped around that gloved wrist.
His gaze then turns to watch Luocha carefully, as if questioning. Does he want to keep that on? The call of Abundance is both alluring and terrifying, so having it this close when Blade is about to expose himself to another person is enough to make him falter, but at the same time— he can't help but plant a kiss over that wrist, right where the Abyss Flower is closest. ]
[...Blade wears fewer layers by comparison. Far, fewer, as it turns out with the opening of his coat--and there's something a bit funny about the contrast, probably, but Luocha's surely far too distracted to dwell upon finer details like that at this particular moment. It's a testament to the gradual fraying of his own composure, that he barely manages to tug that coat properly off of Blade's shoulders before his hands are already drifting to the skin newly revealed beneath. The one still gloved cupping at the man's cheek and running a thumb along his jawline, while the bare fingertips of the other...trace over the myriad scars unhindered by bandaging. Painstakingly light, but mapping. Curious. Someone had killed him a thousand times, Blade once said...to say nothing of any deaths that might have transpired after that. Are each of these marks a record, then? ...His own body doesn't carry a single one. (As if such a thing would be permitted, under his own current contract with the Abundance--) But this contrast, too, doesn't seem to off-put Luocha in the least--
--although. The glance that questions, after flickering to the charm...and the warm brush of lips all the same, over his wrist, where it sits. These are gestures entirely quiet, on Blade's part--and the kiss is startlingly gentle, against the heat that has been building up to this moment--and the message imparted altogether is a rather startling thing. Luocha pauses a beat in turn, his wandering hand stilling over Blade's chest; his own eyes meet the question in that look, and then shift to his wrist in turn, before a very strange expression passes over his features. Simultaneously unguarded and caught off-guard, in this perfect storm of lapsing caution...
It's something equal parts pensive and...wistful? Perhaps. (Or maybe it's something slightly less wistful, and slightly more mournful,)]
--Hm. This...does it trouble you? I apologize. ...I can't...
[Another soft murmur trailing off, though it's for a rather different sort of distraction this time. No, to remove this rosary entirely--even now, even with someone like Blade, and even with these feelings stirring in his chest after what feels like an age...
(The coffin's still sitting against the wall across the room. Luocha will not look at it, in this moment, and yet.)
A soft sigh, after a moment. His freer hand splays flat upon blade's chest, over that faint thrum of his heart. His other hand, burdened as it is, falls away from Blade's features after another moment; but Luocha draws closer, encircling that arm around Blade's torso instead, gloved palm settling over the middle of his back. Out of sight.]
I won't use it...not here. If that would suit, as a compromise...you have my word. [Not to ease the bruising upon both their lips, nor the marks they might inevitably leave upon each other. --Those aren't objectionable things in the least, after all. Matters that could certainly wait until far later.] ...But if you'd rather not...
[Rather not tolerate that proximity in general, ultimately--then, well. ...Well, that will simply call for another compromise too. But at the least, in the breath's wait for an answer, Luocha can't help but indulge in the diminished distance between them once more: head dipping, lashes flickering shut, he presses a kiss to Blade's collarbone, and then to his pulse at his throat. Whose turn is it to half-expect being pushed away now? At least, even if things must be cut off at the pass here--there was still this intimacy, enjoyed while it was stolen. (Though it's still not enough, barely a scratch upon the surface. Not in the least...)]
[ There's something visceral about this moment between the two of them. What started as a heated passion set alight by a silly curio that locked them in a closet is now blossoming into something else entirely— something Blade isn't sure either of them is ready for. Like dominoes, the motion has already been set, and he's far from the one who wants to put an end to this just because they're hovering above uncharted territory. The vulnerabilities that have been unearthed are not enough to stop him, even though a part of him is terrified of what Luocha might discover.
There are pieces of him that he'd rather leave buried, after all. Pieces that should have been long forgotten about because seven hundred years ago is a long time to move on from a broken tragedy, and yet—
And yet.
He wants to know what caused the sadness in Luocha's eyes. Wants to know why he looks at the Abyss Flower as though it'll suffocate him if he were to take it off, as though he can't live without it wrapped around his wrist where a steady pulse beats in time with his heart. He wants to know why the other man doesn't want to take it off. How important it must be that he'd rather keep the memory tied to it close to his heart even though he's in the presence of someone who wants him just as much.
Maybe it should piss him off, to think that there's a hidden secret he can't uncover. But it's not like he's revealing all his cards to the other man, either. Hypocrite.
(He knows, he knows—) ]
... It's fine. Keep it.
[ Keep it close, if you must.
He continues where he's left off, peeling the remaining layers of Luocha's clothes now that the fragile moment has come and gone between them. The withering look that he might have once worn is now replaced by an intensity that's difficult to be rid of, both hands carefully removing the fabric to reveal the unmarred skin it's been hiding. He leans in to press a soft kiss to the man's neck, mapping out where his pulse beats the strongest before planting more kisses there, trailing lower.
His hands move downwards too, memorizing every dip and curve of muscle he can reach. He starts teasing one of Luocha's nipples by rolling circles around the nub, coaxing it to harden under his touch before he gives the other the same treatment. It's a slow exploration to find out what it is will make Luocha react in the way he wants him to. ]
[Perhaps it should have been expected, that a vulnerability would inevitably arise from something like this--when it's happening between the two of them, men burdened with strange hangings as they both are. But it's one thing to objectively know this, and rather another thing entirely to discover this, as they mutually do now. --This is not a sort of hesitation Luocha has ever had need to exercise before, and in this moment he's still...not sure, if it's right. That the answers Blade so clearly seeks, in that glance, should remain unspoken in the end--by that part of him that still, even now, cannot yet bear to bring them to surface. Not to anyone--not even to Blade. Not here, not yet.
(So when will he, then? He doesn't know. When one gets accustomed to keeping an iron grip upon something--your fingers freeze, eventually. You forget how to open them again.)
No, it really shouldn't be as much of a relief as it is. When Blade doesn't object after all, in the end, and doesn't pull away either. A kindness he certainly didn't have to exercise--or perhaps it is more of a compromise. Either way...]
Thank you. [Softly sighed, over Blade's shoulder, as the latter man draws close once more and those hands resume paring away at the rest of his clothes. --There is a debt that will need repayment now, here. And if it could be at least partially repaid with this--with rendering himself pliant, under Blade's hands, and giving him that which he's clearly seeking--then Luocha is more than content to offer him at least that much. Head tilting to give those wandering lips further access to his neck once more, frame shifting to press up into the trailing heat of Blade's palms. When callused fingertips start playing over his nipples--it's an electric jolt of sensation, tantalizingly just short of not enough; Luocha shudders, the hand on Blade's back lightly digging nails into skin, while the other curves over his hip, curling into the hem of his pants.
It's not quite a moan that leaves his lips over the shell of Blade's ear. Yet. But there's surely a tremble in his breath, and a huskier undertone of something like need, in the words that follow in barely over a murmur.]
You don't...need to be gentle. If you're holding back. I want--mm-- [Another slow circle rubbed, another jolt of sensation, another soft gasp of sound. Luocha arches into the touch, the heat, and like this he can already almost forget the heavy pause of earlier. In lieu of the need to have Blade closer, in every way possible--]
[ It is a compromise for the time being, but at the end of the day, Luocha owes him nothing. Neither of them owes the other anything. Blade is more than okay with what they decide to share, which will happen at whatever pace they prefer. It's the same courtesy that he expects from the other man, and he's sure that Luocha wouldn't have any protests regarding it. He knows this, and yet a part of him can't help but wonder anyway. It's the only downside to this arrangement. When curiousity has been sparked, it's difficult to smother the flames, even more so when you have nothing to turn it into ash.
But the murmured gratitude is all he needs to know that he did the right thing.
He continues to lavish the perky nub with so much attention, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the one he'd already been stimulating to feel how it grows hard under his touch. The noises coming from Luocha are doing things to him, too; he isn't coming out of this entirely unaffected even while he remains uninterrupted with what his ministrations. Maybe it isn't fair, but it takes way more than how delicious Luocha sounds to perturb him. He's sure the other man might see that as a challenge, and that alone is exciting enough. ]
I'll be as rough as you want.
[ His voice is low, murmured against heated skin. He moves his mouth lower from where he's left marks all over Luocha's neck to have his tongue lick at the hard nub. A tentative action that's more teasing than curious, because he can already tell just by what he did earlier how sensitive Luocha is. ]
But going slow is driving you crazier, isn't it?
[ He's not playing fair anymore, not with how slowly he starts to suck. His teeth nibbles lightly, testing which actions will draw out those pretty sounds once again. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
he'll try his best huffs
Luocha has no doubt that half the problem at present lies in...just how long it's been, since he last held another close like this. Let alone shared a kiss like this. It's simultaneously like a wound reopened and yet just a little salve applied, to an emptiness that had grown comfortably numb--and now it's as if he can hardly get enough. ...He wants more, too. More than this--
And, once more, it's Blade who manages to break away, pull back just a bit. No small feat...certainly one that Luocha has now failed to act upon himself, twice over. It might do little to abate the craving that has ignited now, against all better judgment, but there's a part of Luocha that does appreciate it a great deal as well. That rises to surface, before it's entirely drowned in the heady warmth. Listening, and smiling, at the suggestion murmured between them at length.
A moment's pause, to savor the closeness just a little longer. Then, a soft huff of a laugh, and a musing hum, breathed over Blade's lips in turn.]
...Mm. We probably should, hm? A place like this...
[Right. A place like this. The closet they're still inside--probably now unlocked. But, for how long? And, besides...
It really would be crowded quarters for anything more, wouldn't it? --Luocha would like to see, too. If they shall--if this progresses--as it likely will, eventually, inevitably. Now that they've both seemingly mutually compromised the more professional nature of their arrangement, for better or worse. ...He wants to study Blade's features properly, at the least. It's a thought that settles heated, prompts a flicker of something nearly possessive--in the way his embrace tightens and his fingertips curl into Blade's back--in the way he can't help but press one more kiss to the man's mouth for himself, now, hot but feather-light--
--Before his arms loosen, and fall away from Blade's frame. Breaking away in turn this time, and drawing a step back properly. Rendering them finally separate, once again.
The air is immediately cooler, in the absence of another body.]
...Yes. We had best step out, before the door locks again. [Luocha's tone is almost impressively even, but in the narrow space, there's probably just a touch of audible breathlessness underneath it all the same...]
he's already doing it
And yet— He couldn't be more relieved when the other finally pulled away. The breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding onto is finally released, and his shoulders gradually relax. In the darkness of the closet, he's sure the flush on his face is barely visible, but he knows that the other man must be aware of it, given how close they are to one another. The warmth is obvious enough, after all. And he knows that it isn't just because of their shared body heat.
Fuck. There's no turning back now, he thinks. They've cracked open the dam, and now they're about to live through the flood.
But he fumbles for the door first. His hands reach for where the closet opens so that he can push it forward, finally allowing the light to greet them. The air is much cooler now that they aren't pressed together, even more so when Blade leaves first and allows Luocha to follow. He can only hope that the reddish hue on his face is gone by the time things are more visible, but he can't help the smirk that nearly shows itself when he notices the slight bruising on the other man's lips. At least he can take that as a win for himself, no matter what else happens.
... And then comes the inevitable: now what?
What do they do now that they're finally free from the curio's grasp? The heat hasn't left him, and he's sure that it hasn't left Luocha too, but they're somewhere far away from their accommodations, and this is hardly the best place for an escalation. Hardly, and yet he finds himself not caring enough. He finds it much easier to reach for the other man until he can crowd him against the wall, his red gaze as intense and piercing as ever. ]
Push me away if you don't want this.
[ It's the only warning Luocha gets before Blade dives right back in, kissing him fervently with teeth and tongue. His hands roam up the other man's sides, feeling the fabric against his own palms, as though he's mapping things out, slowly caressing him. He's testing the waters like this, to see just how far Luocha will let him go. ]
:') well look......they're both just so thirsty ur honor,
...Hm. Now what. In the lingering moment or two in which they stand outside the closet mutually uncertain, Luocha's thoughts are already reaching for the next steps--because the situation might be new, but it's not exactly the most difficult one he's ever encountered. A course of action can always be plotted. ...Perhaps they could proceed in this new context now as if nothing is amiss. Perhaps they could at least work their way out of this building, and back the way they came. Perhaps they'll return, to those accommodations, further away but surely not unreachable. And perhaps once there, finally, they might...address this shift properly. Or--perhaps--
--perhaps Blade could already draw close again, and--
It shouldn't feel half as exhilarating as it does, to find himself moved so easily. To discover the wall now pressing against his back, as he's pinned in place by the scrutiny of those crimson eyes. To barely register the warning given, and open his mouth with a response half-formed, only to find it captured by Blade's lips once more. Words consumed and forgotten along with his breath, as his tongue is instead overtaken by the heat and taste of him, and hands wander so deliberately up his sides, heavy even through the layers of his clothing. --Goodness. This is almost unfair. It's...overwhelming, already, in a way Luocha is not so accustomed to, as carefully in control of the things around him as he usually is. It ought to be disconcerting. ...With just about anyone else, in any other circumstance, it would be. And yet, and yet...
When Luocha raises his hands it's not to push Blade away. Not when he could be closing one of them over the man's hip, clutching greedily, tugging the warmth of that body closer to him once more. Not when he could be reaching for one of Blade's wrists with the other, guiding one of those roaming hands to the gold button fastening his outer coat over his abdomen, a wordless invitation to tug it undone. ...Bring him undone, if Blade desires so. (There will probably be at least two other layers of clothing to open past that, but--) Such impatience...why, it'd just be cruel of him, to deny the man at this point. Now wouldn't it?
Not as if there's anyone else in this building anyhow. Not as if they don't have the time. And Luocha does--want this--far more than he ought to--]
the thirst continues...
The other man hasn't pushed him away at all by this point. It only emboldens him to keep going, to take more and more and more than what he's being given. When hands guide him to work through golden buttons, he tries to be careful, delicate. Faint memories of being so meticulous when it comes to working with iron and metal has taught him how to navigate such complicated fastenings quite deftly— or rather, they're only complicated to someone as impatient as he is, already wanting to move onto the next part without getting through the beginning stages first. But he's sure Luocha won't appreciate it if he comes out of here with his clothes ruined, so the swordsman takes his time. It's excruciating, but he knows they'll get where they both want to be eventually.
The first layer is peeled off, finally, discarded on the floor right by their feet. He works at the vest soon enough, sliding it off Luocha's arms while he pulls away from the kiss, breathing nice and slow. His breath is likely hot against Luocha's skin, and he makes it known as he worries the delicate skin of the man's neck, wanting to leave a pretty bruise behind once he's done with it. And somewhere, in the back of his mind, he wonders what's going to become of them after this is all said and done. Will they go back to how things were?
Can they go back to how things were? And pretend all this never happened?
He's not even sure that's possible at this point, given how eager he is to tear into the last layer of Luocha's upper clothes. Already, his fingers are sneaking underneath the fabric, wanting to feel the warmth of muscle waiting for him underneath. ]
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It's equal parts a relief and a dismay, then, when their mouths do part. Though at the least, there's plenty enough other diversions to focus upon in the interim. Luocha's hands had been distractedly following alongside Blade's in dismantling first the coat, and then the vest, muscle memory guiding to the according buttons and ties--but now they falter, as hot breath fans over skin, and then...there's that press of lips and teeth, against the side of his neck. A very sensitive spot, as Blade would likely be pleased to discover by way of the breathless sound that finally escapes Luocha's throat and the reflexive shudder that accompanies it. Without a second thought he's tilting his head to allow better access, as the spark of heat is sent straight to a coiling in his gut--]
--Hah. So eager now, are we? My, what am I to do with you...
[Blade has a lot of nerve, really, to be breathing so evenly while Luocha already has to pant for air he's just catching back up on...but at least when they're this close, he hardly needs to raise his voice over a murmur. The remark tapers into a low hum as his last shirt is tugged open, heated fingertips skimming over sensitive skin underneath; anyone less privy to Luocha's occasional foray into sword work in combat might have been surprised to discover the fairly toned definition to the slender build underneath the many layers of clothing, but perhaps for Blade it wouldn't be so startling. Either way, direct contact there is novel--it's been so long...even just this initial taste prompts another sigh of sound, with Luocha arching a little into the touch already, as if his entire frame were already seeking more of its own volition.
He wants--but his own hands--still covered, though Luocha does raise one of them to his mouth now that it's briefly freed, tugging off the black glove with his teeth before it's dropped to join the clothing pooled upon the floor. (Only the right hand for now, and not the left, where his charm remains wrapped--not enough time to maneuver that one out just yet...) Fingertips freed in this fashion, he can reach up for the red clasp of Blade's own collar, trace that infuriating little window over his chest.] Won't you at least let me touch you too?
[...There's already a sense of vulnerability, after all, in having this much of himself bared in this particular sort of way. So quickly and eagerly, no less, despite Blade's efforts at care. Luocha can only imagine the sight he must be at the moment, upper clothing dismantled and his general person thoroughly disheveled, far too much color probably creeping upon his features by now. A far cry from the general poise he tends to prefer, to say the least. Under Blade's eyes and roaming hands there's an excitement to it, and...that's novel, too...which is perhaps why Luocha reflexively reaches for something he can control, even if Blade does seem more than content to push right along in taking him apart...]
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Not even if Luocha tries to move past this, but he doubts the other man would do such a thing, given the way he looks.
When a finger makes its way into that tiny window, he pulls back just enough to give the other more space. This way, too, he has a better look at how dishevelled the other man is, another pleasing sight considering it's all because of him. That's not to say that he isn't affected either; despite how steady his breathing remains, the flush on his face lingers still. The light bruising on his lips mirrors the other, and so will the state of his clothes once he gives the man permission to do what he wants. ]
You don't even need to ask.
[ Those words tumble out of his mouth in almost a low growl, a slow drawl that's barely holding back the desire that simmers within. Now it's his turn to guide Luocha's hands to where he wants them to be, helping him unclasp every button and fasten holding his own coat together. Between the two, his body is more defined, every muscle prominent even underneath the layer of fabric and bandages hiding them. His lips part open when warm fingers ghost over now-exposed skin, causing his eyes to flicker towards the charm still wrapped around that gloved wrist.
His gaze then turns to watch Luocha carefully, as if questioning. Does he want to keep that on? The call of Abundance is both alluring and terrifying, so having it this close when Blade is about to expose himself to another person is enough to make him falter, but at the same time— he can't help but plant a kiss over that wrist, right where the Abyss Flower is closest. ]
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--although. The glance that questions, after flickering to the charm...and the warm brush of lips all the same, over his wrist, where it sits. These are gestures entirely quiet, on Blade's part--and the kiss is startlingly gentle, against the heat that has been building up to this moment--and the message imparted altogether is a rather startling thing. Luocha pauses a beat in turn, his wandering hand stilling over Blade's chest; his own eyes meet the question in that look, and then shift to his wrist in turn, before a very strange expression passes over his features. Simultaneously unguarded and caught off-guard, in this perfect storm of lapsing caution...
It's something equal parts pensive and...wistful? Perhaps. (Or maybe it's something slightly less wistful, and slightly more mournful,)]
--Hm. This...does it trouble you? I apologize. ...I can't...
[Another soft murmur trailing off, though it's for a rather different sort of distraction this time. No, to remove this rosary entirely--even now, even with someone like Blade, and even with these feelings stirring in his chest after what feels like an age...
(The coffin's still sitting against the wall across the room. Luocha will not look at it, in this moment, and yet.)
A soft sigh, after a moment. His freer hand splays flat upon blade's chest, over that faint thrum of his heart. His other hand, burdened as it is, falls away from Blade's features after another moment; but Luocha draws closer, encircling that arm around Blade's torso instead, gloved palm settling over the middle of his back. Out of sight.]
I won't use it...not here. If that would suit, as a compromise...you have my word. [Not to ease the bruising upon both their lips, nor the marks they might inevitably leave upon each other. --Those aren't objectionable things in the least, after all. Matters that could certainly wait until far later.] ...But if you'd rather not...
[Rather not tolerate that proximity in general, ultimately--then, well. ...Well, that will simply call for another compromise too. But at the least, in the breath's wait for an answer, Luocha can't help but indulge in the diminished distance between them once more: head dipping, lashes flickering shut, he presses a kiss to Blade's collarbone, and then to his pulse at his throat. Whose turn is it to half-expect being pushed away now? At least, even if things must be cut off at the pass here--there was still this intimacy, enjoyed while it was stolen. (Though it's still not enough, barely a scratch upon the surface. Not in the least...)]
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There are pieces of him that he'd rather leave buried, after all. Pieces that should have been long forgotten about because seven hundred years ago is a long time to move on from a broken tragedy, and yet—
And yet.
He wants to know what caused the sadness in Luocha's eyes. Wants to know why he looks at the Abyss Flower as though it'll suffocate him if he were to take it off, as though he can't live without it wrapped around his wrist where a steady pulse beats in time with his heart. He wants to know why the other man doesn't want to take it off. How important it must be that he'd rather keep the memory tied to it close to his heart even though he's in the presence of someone who wants him just as much.
Maybe it should piss him off, to think that there's a hidden secret he can't uncover. But it's not like he's revealing all his cards to the other man, either. Hypocrite.
(He knows, he knows—) ]
... It's fine. Keep it.
[ Keep it close, if you must.
He continues where he's left off, peeling the remaining layers of Luocha's clothes now that the fragile moment has come and gone between them. The withering look that he might have once worn is now replaced by an intensity that's difficult to be rid of, both hands carefully removing the fabric to reveal the unmarred skin it's been hiding. He leans in to press a soft kiss to the man's neck, mapping out where his pulse beats the strongest before planting more kisses there, trailing lower.
His hands move downwards too, memorizing every dip and curve of muscle he can reach. He starts teasing one of Luocha's nipples by rolling circles around the nub, coaxing it to harden under his touch before he gives the other the same treatment. It's a slow exploration to find out what it is will make Luocha react in the way he wants him to. ]
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(So when will he, then? He doesn't know. When one gets accustomed to keeping an iron grip upon something--your fingers freeze, eventually. You forget how to open them again.)
No, it really shouldn't be as much of a relief as it is. When Blade doesn't object after all, in the end, and doesn't pull away either. A kindness he certainly didn't have to exercise--or perhaps it is more of a compromise. Either way...]
Thank you. [Softly sighed, over Blade's shoulder, as the latter man draws close once more and those hands resume paring away at the rest of his clothes. --There is a debt that will need repayment now, here. And if it could be at least partially repaid with this--with rendering himself pliant, under Blade's hands, and giving him that which he's clearly seeking--then Luocha is more than content to offer him at least that much. Head tilting to give those wandering lips further access to his neck once more, frame shifting to press up into the trailing heat of Blade's palms. When callused fingertips start playing over his nipples--it's an electric jolt of sensation, tantalizingly just short of not enough; Luocha shudders, the hand on Blade's back lightly digging nails into skin, while the other curves over his hip, curling into the hem of his pants.
It's not quite a moan that leaves his lips over the shell of Blade's ear. Yet. But there's surely a tremble in his breath, and a huskier undertone of something like need, in the words that follow in barely over a murmur.]
You don't...need to be gentle. If you're holding back. I want--mm-- [Another slow circle rubbed, another jolt of sensation, another soft gasp of sound. Luocha arches into the touch, the heat, and like this he can already almost forget the heavy pause of earlier. In lieu of the need to have Blade closer, in every way possible--]
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But the murmured gratitude is all he needs to know that he did the right thing.
He continues to lavish the perky nub with so much attention, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the one he'd already been stimulating to feel how it grows hard under his touch. The noises coming from Luocha are doing things to him, too; he isn't coming out of this entirely unaffected even while he remains uninterrupted with what his ministrations. Maybe it isn't fair, but it takes way more than how delicious Luocha sounds to perturb him. He's sure the other man might see that as a challenge, and that alone is exciting enough. ]
I'll be as rough as you want.
[ His voice is low, murmured against heated skin. He moves his mouth lower from where he's left marks all over Luocha's neck to have his tongue lick at the hard nub. A tentative action that's more teasing than curious, because he can already tell just by what he did earlier how sensitive Luocha is. ]
But going slow is driving you crazier, isn't it?
[ He's not playing fair anymore, not with how slowly he starts to suck. His teeth nibbles lightly, testing which actions will draw out those pretty sounds once again. ]