[ 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. ]
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no subject
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. ]
no subject
--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...)]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
(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--]
no subject
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. ]