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peacockstop2024-08-15 09:00 pm
goldmods) wrote in peacockstop2024-08-15 09:00 pm
TDM 05
【 Thank you for choosing the Golden Peacock, 5-star resort and casino. You are currently registered as a WILDCARD in our system.
Due to a high volume of check-ins, temporary accommodations have been made in our KING SUITES for all new arrivals. We will endeavor to have all guests moved into their reserved rooms as soon as possible. We deeply apologize for any inconvenience.
As a token of our gratitude for your understanding, front reception has arranged for a GRAND FEAST to welcome our newest guests. The attendance of all guests is required. The house will enforce compliance.
Please note that rank-appropriate attire is mandatory. Guests found breaking social code may be disciplined. We hope you enjoy your stay! 】
ARRIVAL
DIVINE AWAKENING
All King suites have been set to the Heavenly setting for the comfort of these new Wildcards. To call this place a room feels like a misnomer; all of the senses scream that this is a real temple at the top of a crisp oceanside mountain. The only clue that this place isn't what it seems is the door in the distance. It stands dark against light, a stark rectangle distinctly out of place.
New arrivals aren't waking up alone. Reception would never expect their guests to wake up in a cold bed. All new guests will be waking up next to another Wildcard or a current guest snatched up from the hallways. Guests waking up in these heavenly King suites will wake dressed in sheer white tunics and togas that leave very little to the imagination.
GILDED CAGE
AN ENDLESS FEAST
Rugs and cushions have been laid out for low rank guests. All high rank guests have thrones and benches covered in crushed velvet and delicate linens. Wildcards have a seat of honor amongst it all, each fresh new divine lead to the grand dais for their own semi-private tent with daybed and eager servants.
Low ranks are carefully watched by security and wait staff. Some low rank guests may even be dragged in by resort staff to assist serving high rank guests and Wildcards. All high rank guests and Wildcards are revered and catered to during the feast. Low rank guests are expected to feed them, rub their feet, and comply with any whimsical demands. Any low rank guest that defies a higher ranked guest is at risk of being shackled, forced to scrub chamber pots, and other humiliating punishments.
PHOENIX CASINO
ALEA IACTA EST
The game tables are abuzz. Special games have kicked off in honor of the new godlings that are waiting to check in. Even here, those of different ranks are distinct from one another. The lowest ranks wear small slips of clothing. Some are even collared to show they belong to a particular royal or Wildcard. Royals and Wildcards dress luxuriously in thick robes and golden jewelry.
Game managers clap and encourage guests of all ranks to join in on the fun. While there are numerous card games, slot machines, and raffles happening around the casino, staff are promoting three events in particular.
BEAK
ENTERTAIN YOUR BETTERS
Beneath the open arena is a smaller closed arena and the warrior’s bunk. Warriors will find cold showers, rustic wooden benches, and training weapons available for their use. Deep in the earth is a grimy prison where servants who refuse to battle are thrown to wait for their turn. There are also cages where the hungry “animals” wait to go out and entertain the masses.
A long track rings around the perimeter of the arena. Gone is the standard green fuzz and white lines, replaced with stone and dust to elicit the real feeling of running beneath the hot Grecian sun. Foot and chariot races take place throughout the day.
TALON
SHOW OF STRENGTH
Servants that appear too fragile to handle mud wrestling have been conscripted into the oil bearer role. Their job is to slather the warriors in oil from head to toe, and otherwise prepare them for their matches in either the arena or in the pit. This includes styling their hair, tending to their wounds, and wiping the sweat off of their bodies if so desired.
The locker rooms that connect Beak and Talon have been fully stocked with first aid kits and luxury bathing supplies. Warriors that have won their matches get first pick, leaving the dirty towels and shampoo that smells like ass for the losers to sift through. Those sneaky ghost hands are having a field day, snapping rat tails at unsuspecting bathers and locking naked warriors together in the supply closet. Guests lacking vigilance may find their bottoms unexpectedly pinched.
INDULGENCE
DESIRES FROM THE VOID
Things begin to move around the resort. The forgotten and the old exhale a dusty breath. Like the hunger that the Wildcards woke up with upon arrival, as its heart begins to beat quicker, there is a tension in the air of those things hungering to feed. To join in, and indulge. To get what they want.
And they’re coming out.
OOC NOTES
▶ BLANKET CW: Alcohol; aphrodisiacs; battle; blood; bondage; compulsion; costumes; discipline; dominance; drowning; dubcon; fears; fighting; food; hierarchy; humiliation; indulgence; kidnapping; noncon; paranormal; power imbalance; roleplay; servitude; stalking; submission; supernatural; terror; violence; weapons
▶ All characters on the TDM are WILDCARDS, which means they have not yet been assigned a card value. Suits will not manifest until characters are accepted into the game.
▶ All TDMs are game canon. This TDM acts as the game's August event. Changes to the above locations will ICly be present from August 15th - September 1st.
▶ Current characters may top level on the TDM. Any current characters posting to the TDM should note they are current in their subject header.
▶ The top level directory is for new characters only. We want to make sure new characters are prioritized and receive attention! If you would be interested in a game invitation, you can note that in your comment header.
▶ If you aren't satisfied with these prompts, please feel free to check out our LOCATIONS to explore more of the resort!
▶ Smut threads that take place on this TDM can be used for rewards. If both parties in the smut thread join the game, you may retroactively apply the character's initial card values to your 52 bank. If one character does not join the game the thread will not be applicable toward rewards (as that character would not have a card value). The character that does join would still receive a small payout for the encounter. Hopefully it was a fun thread regardless!
▶ Wildcard tokens from the GILDED CAGE prompt may be redeemed even if the newbie(s) in question do not join the game, but only for the small item reward; the token does not carry over to Game 52.
▶ We ask you to kindly add content warnings to your threads as appropriate.
▶ If you do not currently have permissions and kinks listed in your character’s journal we suggest leaving a note in your top level of any limits or boundaries for other players to reference.
▶ Don't forget to relax and enjoy the end of your summer! ♥
▶ All characters on the TDM are WILDCARDS, which means they have not yet been assigned a card value. Suits will not manifest until characters are accepted into the game.
▶ All TDMs are game canon. This TDM acts as the game's August event. Changes to the above locations will ICly be present from August 15th - September 1st.
▶ Current characters may top level on the TDM. Any current characters posting to the TDM should note they are current in their subject header.
▶ The top level directory is for new characters only. We want to make sure new characters are prioritized and receive attention! If you would be interested in a game invitation, you can note that in your comment header.
▶ If you aren't satisfied with these prompts, please feel free to check out our LOCATIONS to explore more of the resort!
▶ Smut threads that take place on this TDM can be used for rewards. If both parties in the smut thread join the game, you may retroactively apply the character's initial card values to your 52 bank. If one character does not join the game the thread will not be applicable toward rewards (as that character would not have a card value). The character that does join would still receive a small payout for the encounter. Hopefully it was a fun thread regardless!
▶ Wildcard tokens from the GILDED CAGE prompt may be redeemed even if the newbie(s) in question do not join the game, but only for the small item reward; the token does not carry over to Game 52.
▶ We ask you to kindly add content warnings to your threads as appropriate.
▶ If you do not currently have permissions and kinks listed in your character’s journal we suggest leaving a note in your top level of any limits or boundaries for other players to reference.
▶ Don't forget to relax and enjoy the end of your summer! ♥
— fuuta
Whatever it is, it's not hard to see who is the center of the attention from the moment he steps through the viewing entrance. Red hair like that stands out, especially against the stone and dirt of the created arena, against too-visible pale skin and white cloth. As his steps bring him further into the arena and past the lower viewing seats, Esikko has a number of strange feelings. There's a part of him that would like to see this stranger continue to beat on Fuuta while the crowd watches and pause for cheering in between with how little he can do in return. That's the part he's used to, a bitter, jealous, lonely part that sees Fuuta as an obstacle, as someone not worth what he has. The strange part is that that usual part of himself is currently so dim compared to the strange tightness in his chest he can only describe as worry, as anger mixed with pity, as a frustration that's quickly mounting into something he feels he has to do something about. Stupid, stupid. It does feel stupid. But his legs still carry him across the paved ring around the arena, up past the edge of it itself. The crowd notices only now that he steps into this "spotlight," but there's only murmurs of interest mixed with the usual cheers, and the man is so currently focused on shoving Fuuta to the ground that he doesn't notice Esikko's approach from behind. Doesn't notice until the smash of a smaller glass bottle shattering against the back of his head, the liquid inside immediately hissing and bubbling against hair and skin.
While he screams and stumbles back, tries to deal with the burning of something like acid leaking from the back of his head down his shoulders and back, Esikko rushes to Fuuta's side with a puff, bending over just enough to offer his hand. His eyes scan briefly to see how bad he's bleeding, where his biggest injuries are, but he can only afford so much time before he has to start worrying about his own wellbeing, too. )
Get up, there wasn't much in that vial.
no subject
And what does he get in return? Some drunk, high-rank asshole grabbing him when he'd been shuffling around with a mop, whooping that 'we should give those tigers and lions something to play with!'
From the very moment he'd been pushed, stumbling, shaking, into the spotlight, it hadn't been much of a fight. His stuttered attempt to convince the 'tiger' that this wasn't necessary, that he wasn't supposed to be here, had been answered with a swift punch to the face, and it had only gone further downhill from there. Even the two or three times he'd tried to swing back -- equal parts furious and panicked -- had been swiftly dodged or parried, then answered with shoves and kicks. Truly the equivalent of a cat toying with its prey, egged on by cheers and suggestions from the delighted crowd.
By the time Esikko intervenes, Fuuta's crumpled to the ground, reflexively cowering as he tries to shield his head. Even the movement of that offered hand earns a sharp flinch at first, and it's only when that nearby presence doesn't immediately hurt him again that he realizes he hears screaming a short distance away, and dares to look up. ]
Who -- ... [ A stupid question, of course. But to be fair, there's a gash opened at his forehead, bleeding heavily in the way that head wounds tend to do; with blood dripping into his good eye, his entire field of vision is blurry and dyed red, forcing him to squint nervously at Esikko. His panicked brain needs a second to process the familiar voice, and Fuuta flinches again when the 'tiger' gives another pained howl. ] ... why the hell ...
[ At least he doesn't just whine. Fuuta does take the offered hand, clutching at it desperately as he starts stumbling to his feet. But it's also obvious that his thoughts are fried from panic and pain at the moment. He thoughtlessly clings to Esikko, his voice a frantic mumble between rasping breaths. ]
-- why -- why do I gotta deal with this ... why again ...
cw for mild blood/gore descriptions for this fight ig
( Esikko's voice snaps through Fuuta's muttering, stern but with an intention to direct, rather than scold. The injuries look like ones he can deal with, when they're in a better spot to, maybe. Ones that won't get in the way of an escape, not entirely— even if they might hinder it. His own body is no better, frail and weak, with a heart that works overtime, and unusual blood that makes his hand cold to the touch even as he's in this tense situation. He pulls Fuuta up in a rush, his eyes focused ahead on the "tiger" as the plant-based potion begins to dry up. He's now missing an ugly section of hair, of some skin, making for a bloodied mess that only seems to excite the crowd further. )
Let's focus on getting out of here right now, shall we? Save the energy from your words and—
( There, the "tiger" begins to run at them, and Esikko clicks his tongue in annoyance that he hadn't been able to buy them more time. Keeping his grip on Fuuta's hand, he yanks him back, his second arm coming to try and make sure that he doesn't just tumble right back down. It means that it's a stumbling duck out of the way of the first punch thrown for both of them, a scramble that creates louder excitement. In the mess of it, Esikko is forced to release Fuuta's hand, balling it into a fist to drive up and into the attacker's stomach with a hiss of his own effort. How do people punch so easily, when it hurts his knuckles? But it buys them another quick second or so, as Esikko turns, gesturing for Fuuta to run. )
Go, move! ( He hisses it out, moving to do the same before a hand grabs clumsily at his longer pink hair, stopping him short. )
additional cw for a little eye damage
The jerking movements of Esikko getting yanked back by his hair has him screeching to such an abrupt halt he's almost sent bowling over his own feet.
-- and for one moment, he does seriously consider just running by himself. Saving his own hide, because it's not like he owes Esikko anything? This rescue would only make them even at best? And it's not like he can even do anything in a situation like this? But ...
For Esikko, it must feel like a terribly long moment that he's left to fend for himself, dealing with that enormous hand tangling through his hair and pulling with a vengeance, the 'tiger' breathing a furious threat into his face. "Let's see how you like it when I pluck your hair out and rip half your face off, you little -- " Then that low rumble cuts off with a sharp snarl as the 'tiger' recoils, fingers abruptly untangling from Esikko's hair with a violent jerk back.
Because Fuuta's clumsily attacked him from behind, slapping a blood-soaked hand into the man's eyes, and clawing the other into the tender, acid-burnt portion of his scalp. He doesn't cling long to the 'tiger's' back, only digging his nails in once to confirm he's dealt some damage before scrambling away, wincing as he feels the swipe of a hand against the back of his head, the thump of an elbow into his side. Just the impact of landing back on his own feet has his knees folding beneath him, but sheer adrenaline drives him to grab at Esikko's wrist and start running for the perimeter of the ring, each breath coming panicked and wheezing. ]
no subject
Esikko isn't injured from this fight, but his heart is already working overtime, uneven beats causing the occasional stagger. He catches himself each time, eyes darting wildly from side to side just ahead of them, attempting to map out the correct route. When he finds one, a path through the crowds towards the exit, he shifts his grabbed wrist to grab back at Fuuta all the same, a joined link that he hopes will prove stronger. )
Hold on—
( Because, as he expects, the crowds and guards begin to lunge for them and grab at them as they pass. It's slow, somewhat, for them all to get up, to try and push around others to be the one to stop the escapees— but they're able to yank free in short bursts. The guard at the door, one of the ones that's largely for show, still tries to make an attempt to stop them by grabbing at Fuuta's other arm, but when Esikko yanks Fuuta to himself and bites down hard at the offending outstretched arm of the stranger, he howls in pain and releases near immediately, allowing them both to stumble out. The force and the position means he nearly topples over on top of Fuuta, but thankfully, his free hand catches himself on the arch of the doorway on the way out, using it to launch them both out in their wheezing, less-than-graceful escape. )
no subject
It's only for a split second that he dares to look over his shoulder, at the throngs that are still watching them. And somewhere at the very back of his mind, he registers the sight of the guard pointing in their direction, shouting something about their suits, but -- he'll deal with it later. Later, when he's caught his breath, and can hear more than just his pulse, and can actually think.
For now, he simply keeps running. Maintains that two-handed death grip on Esikko, dragging him along by the sheer force of panicked adrenaline, down the dark hallway leading away from the ring, taking a left, then a right, backing off when he hears sounds in the distance. It's the open door of some sort of quiet recovery room in a lonely corner that eventually beckons to him, and Fuuta wastes no time dragging the two of them inside and locking the door behind them.
And even then, as his legs buckle beneath him and he slowly crumples to sit on the ground, he's still clutching hard at Esikko, dragging the other down with him. It's painfully obvious that his brain's just about shut down, his gaze directed off at nothing as he breathes in shallow, whistling rasps, shaking a little as he continues to squeeze at Esikko like his life depends on it. ]
no subject
The edges of his vision are dark right now. Even without injury, it's difficult to push his body like this. It doesn't click with him that there's an added softness in the way that he looks at Fuuta's pathetic form right now, that there's a flush spreading through his body from the now bright red mark on the side of his arm. His chest pangs with sympathy, with the way he can relate to that terrified, weak figure right in front of him.
But he doesn't know how to comfort someone. Doesn't know how to do anything for someone else if it's not finding a way to be useful, somehow. That's why he brings his free hand up to his mouth, bites briefly, enough to draw a small bit of blood— why he reaches cautiously, slowly, gently, and swipes that thumb across the bleeding gash across Fuuta's forehead with quiet whispered words that sound foreign even with translation in place.
To his dismay, he's not good enough to make the wound disappear entirely. But it's smaller, thinner now, a faint line of what it used to be— and on his own forehead, a matching gash splits beneath his fluffy bangs, only noticeable when it drips his own icy blood, filling the room with the scent of lavender and chrysanthemum. It's strange, how dizzying it feels to transfer and share pain like this. But it still wasn't enough, and the activated flush of his suit is only making that sting deeper. )
no subject
Nnh, what -- [ Fuuta reflexively jerks his head back, finally untangling a hand from Esikko's clothes to gingerly touch at the wound. It ... feels smaller? ] What the hell did you ... [ -- oh. And the guy's bleeding instead. Great. Fuuta frowns at the sight of blood beading down Esikko's face. ] -- wh -- did you ... don't do that, dumbass. [ Oh, his chest still hurts too much to be talking like this, and his words peter off into a round of shallow coughs and wheezes before he can speak again. ] -- doesn't help anyone if you just move who's hurting around.
[ Well, at least that baffling action's helped jolt him back to his senses, if nothing else. Fuuta finally releases his other hand from Esikko as well, but only so he can carefully swipe a forearm across his face. To wipe away the half-dried blood, ostensibly, though Esikko might also hear a muffled sniffle; Fuuta's eyes are still a little damp when he lowers his arm. ]
... m'fine. [ He is not fine. His limbs feel like they've been reduced to jelly, now that the adrenaline rush is starting to subside, and his chest aches. He feels hot, too, a weird heat tingling through his veins, boiling in the pit of his stomach; stress-related, he figures. Though he isn't conscious of it, Fuuta automatically winds a hand back into Esikko's clothes to anchor him close once more; it feels right, and that body heat helps soothe his still-frazzled nerves a touch. ] Just ... need a little time. To catch my breath. And stuff. Whatever. [ A hard swallow, and one more sniffle. ] ... idiot. You shouldn't've jumped into this if you were just gonna get your ass beat, too.
no subject
( Esikko still manages to be a little defensive as he huffs that out, but he feels distracted, foggy, his chest swelling with emotions that normally creep up more gradually than this. Concern, care— it had been creeping up, he supposes, against his will. Care for Fuuta, concern for him, relating to him, understanding. But right now, it feels like it's making his chest ache, like the uneven beating of his weak heart is secondary.
It feels hard to part his hand from Fuuta, even as he shifts to wipe at himself, to come closer only moments later. His fingers hover near his cheek, resisting the urge to swipe over his good eye with a thumb, and instead touching featherlight there, at the cheek, before dropping away. Though he's capable of body heat, and the flush and heat between them now shows as much, his skin is icy to the touch, and his fingers just the same. )
I'm not the one who got hurt. My body is just— ( There's a breath, a sigh really, and he's ducking his head to try and peer at Fuuta closer, leaning to get a better look. Adrenaline is mixing with the rush of his hearts mark, and along with the almost sickening mash of feelings, of emotions balling up in his stomach, there's the heavy desire to be close. As if reaching out and pulling Fuuta closer might help them both, even if it normally would do the opposite. As if those hands clinging o him are telling him half as much. ) I'm fine. You're not hurt anywhere else? That asshole wasn't stopping, as if beating on someone weaker than you has any bearing towards your own strength...
no subject
[ Thankfully for Esikko, though, his chest still feels a little too tight to keep bitching. Fuuta cuts himself off with a deep inhale, feeling an oddly familiar heat fluttering through the pit of his stomach when Esikko leans in closer. And then, thoughtlessly -- ]
Your hand's real cold.
[ Maybe another person would have meant that statement as a show of concern. Worried for Esikko's wellbeing, if his skin's feeling so icy. But too bad for him, Fuuta is both inherently a little self-centered, and also still too frazzled to show even a pretense at such kindness. The comment about the chill to Esikko's hand is simply an observation, and the setup for what he does next: blearily tugging at Esikko's wrist, guiding it down to touch at his side, where he's tugged up the hem of his ragged servant-clothes, to press against his skin. (It gives Esikko a peek at some deeper, uglier bruises lashed down Fuuta's right side, but he doesn't need to worry about those.) ]
Nnh ... [ His breath escapes in a hoarse sigh; Fuuta closes his eye as he slumps back against the wall, some of the horrible tension in his limbs easing off. That feels nice. It's the spot where the 'tiger' had elbowed him during the escape attempt, a bruise sure to well up there over the next few days, but the chill of Esikko's palm sort of acts like an icepack; it soothes the dull ache there, replacing it with a faint, pleasant tingle that seeps through his nerves. -- it's just 'cause he was hurt that it feels so nice, right? Surely that's all. ] Just ... stay like that for a bit, okay.
no subject
( That's what he puffs out, an air of amusement carrying the words as his hand settles by guidance against Fuuta's side. He notices those marks, and something in his sense of magic feels slightly off about them, something familiar, even— but he's distracted, exhausted, it could be a fluke. And whether or not it is, he knows not to bring up things like that without being prompted. Unlike so many people in this place, he supposes. )
If you're sore in that spot, I could split it, too. If you want.
( The words are soft, maybe too soft compared to the tone that normally comes out of his mouth while aimed at Fuuta. His fingers splay across the tender area slowly, spreading the ice-like touch, before his second hand joins just a moment later. Just as cold, though spaced a little further, and inching the slightest bit further up and beneath his shirt. Just a tad, something he can get away with, he thinks, as he finds himself holding his breath. )
no subject
No ... you don't gotta do anything like that. [ Fuuta groans as he tugs at Esikko's wrist, pulling his arm up to nudge the touch just a little closer up to his chest. ] This is helping enough.
[ -- honestly, by this point, he should probably cotton onto what's going on. It's hardly the first time that Fuuta's been subject to his suit acting up, after all. He should probably recognize that heady, all-permeating heat seeping through his nerves for what it is. Should probably realize that it's out of the norm for him to feel so soothed by this physical contact, like that's all he needs to forget his injuries, as opposed to wanting proper medical help.
But also, it's hard caring about technicalities like that when his mind is so eager to focus on the fact that somebody is touching him. Even the slightest shift of Esikko's hand against his side feels delicious, pleasant sparks pinging through his nerves, and Fuuta gives a breathy groan as he slouches down just a little further, nudging Esikko to touch him just a little further up. ]
no subject
It's a sickening sort of thing that would normally fill him with anger, would mount rage in a way that was too dangerous. Instead, he wants to chase it even more, wants to feel it for himself, to cling to the closeness that anyone could give him like it might be his last. He exhales a little shakily, his eyes feeling fuzzy as he scans Fuuta, as he finds himself turning into him more, leaning over him. )
...Kajiyama. ( His voice is soft, exhaustion mixed with this overwhelming rush of every feeling imaginable. He's realizing, now, that this must be full suit activation. It's the first time he's had to deal with it to this extreme. Before he realizes what he's doing, his lips are at Fuuta's forehead, pressing a too-gentle kiss as his hands continue to hike his shirt up, to dance his cool fingers over warm skin. )
I think— ( No, it's stupid, stupid to bring it up, to say the obvious. His eyes dart down, to Fuuta's chest, watching his own hand tracing idle patterns. )
...Is this still helping?
no subject
The closeness is good. The intimacy, even better. But that little kiss, that soft point of contact -- gentle, almost chaste, but even so, an explicit hint of what more can come -- is enough to push him over some sort of edge. Whatever sliver of self-control he'd maintained promptly unravels, and almost before Esikko can get out that last word, Fuuta reaches up with both hands. It's hardly gentle when he tangles one into the front of Esikko's clothes, grabbing the other at the back of his neck, then yanks -- pulling the other in close for another kiss.
This one's a far cry from the one Esikko had offered, greedy and ravenous and almost obscene. Fuuta kisses like he's trying to claim something, letting their lips clash hot and hard, dragging his tongue against Esikko's lower lip, pulling back a sliver just to breathe, then nipping at him with jagged teeth, chasing it with a brief pull of suction. Even when he does let the kiss break, coming up panting for air, he doesn't relinquish that grip on him, keeping them pulled close as he blurts out, ]
Don't stop. [ It almost sounds desperate. ] Keep touching me.
[ And if he glances down, Esikko will get the confirmation that, yes, full suit activation is at play. With his shirt now hiked up to his collarbone, Fuuta's chest displays a bright red diamond right at his sternum, standing stark even against a backdrop of lurid, purple bruises. And while Fuuta, too, is vaguely aware that his suit must be acting up ... does it really matter why he's feeling so worked up? All that matters now is that he feels like he's going to die if Esikko stops touching him.
His next breath comes as a breathless whine as Fuuta butts his head up into Esikko's shoulder, nuzzling into the column of his throat and fogging up the pale skin there with his breaths as he mumbles, ] It ... doesn't hurt as long as you're touching me.
no subject
It's a sickening twist in his gut, the ecstasy at that feeling and the realization of how wrong it is. Knowing that after this, Fuuta will go back to criticizing him and annoying him at every turn makes some part of him want to dig his fingers into his skin and rip something out— but that instead comes out here as a passionate press into a hungry kiss, a slide of his fingers up and over bruised skin. Emotions sting in his chest, at his heart, when he feels the tingle of hot breath at his throat. His head lifts to welcome it without a thought, his palms dragging over skin, pawing, groping, squeezing and tugging. It's maddening, the intense way his need for more blazes up like a fire out of control— but he's all ice inside, and it hurts in ways he can't explain.
Swallowing hard, his eyes flick down to that bright diamond on his sternum. His breath is shaky, his mind is foggy, but he finds himself moving before he can even think of excuses to stop himself. Tugging free only enough to wiggle himself lower against Fuuta, working against their height difference to press a cool, tender kiss against bruises and the searing red of that mark. His hands continue to run over him as he does, sliding along his hips and up over his ribs, fingers hiking his shirt up with more insistence to rid him of it so that he can roll over shoulders the same. All the while, his mouth moves to plant kisses, slower, sensual, along his body. The soft focus he gives to the purpling of Fuuta's skin makes his own breath hitch, his eyes lidded as he trails fingers back down him again, this time dipping as far as his thighs. )
— still?
( Still good, still wanted, still needed? He wants to hear it so desperately that he can't see straight, can't hear anything beyond the pounding of his own uneven heart in his ears, and the muffled sound of whenever Fuuta's voice breaks through. )
no subject
Because even this, for as good as it is, isn't enough. The diamond on his chest has a pervasive heat boiling in his guts, bubbling so hot that it's almost painful, and this level of touching only barely soothes the ache.
Does Esikko even need a verbal response to that question, when the touch to his thighs has Fuuta giving a hard jolt, feet braced against the floor as his hips buck; given how flimsy his servant's garbs are, it's obvious he's already hard. And there's a wild hunger to the way his own hands reach up, one snaking under Esikko's clothes to grope at his body, the other tangling into his shirtfront and tugging insistently. That grip won't relent until Esikko dips down for another hungry kiss, all teeth and tongue, and Fuuta refuses to let Esikko pull back until he's gasping for air. His words come wet and guttural, his gaze wild as he rasps, ]
Let's have sex?
[ It's uncharacteristically straightforward, as if Esikko needed any further indication of how badly Fuuta's being riled up by his suit's activation. But his desperation is real, as is his singular focus on Esikko at the moment. Fuuta's gaze might be hazy with rabid want, but it doesn't waver an inch from where it's fixed on Esikko's face, even as Fuuta reaches up with both hands to card his fingers through those soft, pink locks; gentle but firm, he pulls the other in for another kiss before pulling back, but only enough that he can speak, still so close that the very air between them feels hot. ]
I need it -- [ no ] -- you. I need you real bad. Right now. [ The details of the arrangement don't even matter. Whether Esikko fucks into him on the floor, or he gets to rail Esikko against the wall, or even if they just jerk each other off -- any of it's fine. He just needs something, or it feels like his heart's going to explode. His hands drag down from Esikko's hair to grope over his body, insistent and demanding, one daring to slide down his stomach, tugging at the waistband of his pants. ] Take this off, okay? Let's do it. C'mon. Quick.
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You too.
( Get undressed, he means, but it should be clear enough— Fuuta should already be moving to do as much, and if he's not, then Esikko's greedy hands will meet to help him do just that. Tugging at thin cloth to get it out of the way, he presses his body over Fuuta's smaller form, his lips seeking out his warmth as soon as he's bare, hands sliding down from his hips to move his legs so that he can nudge himself between them.
Words don't come to him nearly as easily when he's like this, caught in a moment, caught in feelings, caught in the warmth of another body so close to his own. Esikko breathes hard against the delicate skin of Fuuta's neck, reaching to hitch one of his legs up and encourage it to wrap around his waist. His other hand plants flat just to the side of his face, as he pushes him into the ground with a guiding kiss. Quick, he had said, and Esi doesn't want to disappoint. His hand smoothes down the length of Fuuta's bare leg, fingers gripping at his thigh. )
How bad is real bad?
( His words are spun between kisses and deep breaths, and just as the mark on his arm is a bright, vibrant red, his arousal is clear as ever, pressing hard against Fuuta as he rocks into him with a soft little sound. It's hard, not to rush this too, not to go wild without speaking— but he needs more in a few ways, really. )
Tell me.
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Nnh --
[ His voice only emerges in a long, low, breathless whimper at first, petering off only when lips press against his own. Leaning up hungrily into that kiss, Fuuta permits his own hands to roam, palms dragging up from Esikko's hips, over his sides, around his back, tracing every dip and curve of his ribcage and back. Esikko might feel the bite of nails digging into his back when the kiss breaks, especially as Fuuta shudders in response to the squeeze at his thigh. At least it's accompanied by a hard swallow, and an almost feverish murmur back: ]
-- feel like I'm gonna die if I can't have you.
[ He doesn't even mean it as hyperbole. There's a horrendous ache in his chest, radiating out from his suit mark, and it's only the feel of Esikko's body against his own that wards off that breathtaking pressure. But even just by its own merits, everything Esikko is doing feels good. Hooking his leg around a bony hip feels like the most natural thing in the world, and Fuuta doesn't bother trying to stifle the groan that escapes him as he arches his back, grinding up into that tantalizing weight pressing against him. ]
S'just -- it won't feel right if I can't have you. Against me. Inside. [ Even saying that out loud earns another hard jolt, his mind spiraling away imagining the sensations that await him, and Fuuta leans into the next kiss pressed against his lips, nipping hungrily. One of his hands slips from Esikko's back to palm at his length, squeezing at it impatiently when he breaks the kiss, but remains leaned in close enough to breathe his words against sensitive, spit-slick skin: ] You get it, right? You want it, too. As bad as I do.
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( This time, a smile curves at the end of his hum, fingers dancing their way away from Fuuta's thigh and more properly between his legs. He does want it, he wants it more than he can put into words— but he wants this feeling to last forever, too. The feeling of being wanted, of wanting in return, of it being matched. Right now, he doesn't care how this is forced by their suits, or how much either of them might be thinking of someone else in between the motions. Right now, it's just the two of them, trapped in desperation after escaping something that already had their hearts beating fast.
Precum leaks from the tip of his arousal already, the twitch from touch dripping down against Fuuta's palm. Esikko kisses slower against the corner of Fuuta's mouth, his fingers finally palming at his length, trailing down and squeezing at his balls before dipping further still. There, he traces teasingly around his entrance, encouraging him to spread his legs further. )
I want you. But I don't have anything on me, you know.
( His voice has dropped to a heated whisper, one that's not actually bothered so much as checking for Fuuta's acceptance of the idea. No lube, but they can surely get by without it, right? Heart racing harder, he kisses further along, down to Fuuta's jaw, nipping. )
Are you gonna let me in? ( Teasing, drawing this out for what he can, he wants nothing more than for Fuuta to demand it further, to beg for it, to keep asking. )
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Even with the way he’s biting his lip, it’s audible when Fuuta gives a needy little whine, obligingly spreading his legs and tweaking the angle of his hips to rub himself against the teasing touch of fingertip against his entrance. ]
Don’t care. [ The lack of lube is a non-factor in his mind. Obviously so, given how heated and hungry he sounds as he slurs, ] I can take it. So just — do it, okay?
[ Even in his impatience, it falls a bit short of begging. But where he fails in words, at least he makes up for it with actions. Fuuta whines at the next kiss that glosses over his skin before hiking one of his legs up, clumsily hooking his own hand under his knee to better position himself; the other squeezes insistently, spreading the slick of Esikko’s own pre-cum down his length with the a needy jerk of the wrist. Even with how sore his body is bound to feel after all this, once the bruises from the fight begin to bloom, it feels only natural to jerks his hips to better slot his ass against Esikko’s hand, trying to make himself as inviting as possible. Wanting, needing, demanding. ]
Hurry up.
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So the most he manages is a breath of a laugh, his hand slipping back out from between their legs only to lift to their mouths. Here, he presses two fingers between Fuuta's lips just as he pulls back for air from another hurried kiss. )
Shouldn't you say please?
( But again, it's all he can manage. His own cock twitches at the thought of what's to come, his eyes lidded and focused as he presses his fingers down against Fuuta's tongue and then pulls them out slowly. From there, it's another dip of his hand, a careful press of just one of them against Fuuta's entrance before pushing in. With the permission, he doesn't worry much about the resistance, doesn't hesitate to work slowly past it, curving his finger to adjust him to the feeling of it. )
Just keep touching me like that. ( That hand, those strokes, as sloppy as they are, as awkward the angle— he's going to go crazy if he doesn't have constant contact like this. His body presses forward with it, working his finger in a little further before he pulls back, and then adds a second. Slow, careful, but still with a clear rush, a mounting desperation between the two of them that they need to resolve. )
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... why would I stop?
[ True to his word, he's quick to return his hand to Esikko's length, the insistent movements of his wrist pausing only when he feels Esikko's fingers press into him, earning a slight twinge of discomfort. From the way that Fuuta squeezes just a little too tight at him for a moment, Esikko might think that he's about to ask for a pause, but no. It just takes a moment for him to adjust -- squirming, hiking his leg up a little higher, arching his back to tweak the angle of that press into him -- before he's back to jerking Esikko off with disjointed, impatient movements.
It would be hard to call his ministrations graceful, but could he be blamed for it? It's hard keeping his hand steady when he's so distracted by the movements working him open, his stomach abuzz with anticipation for what's coming next, and it's definitely a little hasty when he abruptly declares, ] That's enough.
[ The hand around Esikko's cock pulls back only so he can shove at Esikko's chest, urging him to scoot back. Is this a little stupid? Probably. Almost definitely. But also, he feels like his veins are going to burst if he has to wait much longer; other hand braced against the floor to keep himself steady, Fuuta looks up at Esikko with a desperately hungry stare as he keeps his legs obligingly spread. ]
I can take it, so. Just fuck me already.
[ His own voice sounds foreign to his ears; he's pretty sure it's the sort of stuff he'd never dare say. But what else is he supposed to say right now? All that matters in the moment is that he gets to feel Esikko as intimately as possible, as soon as possible. ]
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It's why, when Fuuta demands more, he doesn't take any more convincing. Sure, he could relax him more, could work him until he can't help but plead for it, maybe until he's crying for more— but the impatience is shared. Not only that, but there's a strange feeling of being caught off guard surrounding Esikko's every move. He's normally more in control than this, normally not so lost to the wills of his suit, so affected by every look and gesture that screams Fuuta wants him closer.
His fingers slip out of him, his hand brushing along the inner side of the smaller man's thigh to settle near his knee, keeping his legs spread as he lines himself up. Even the initial press of his throbbing cock against Fuuta is too much— he lets out a breath, soft and airy, and eases himself in. It's not as slow as he should be, not as careful, but there's something so thrilling about that, too. When he's inside of him as far as he can be, when he can feel the warmth of Fuuta's skin against his own that much more, it feels like he's going to lose his mind. How's he supposed to last like this?
He doesn't have words, only the noises and pants of breath that come with the satisfaction of pulling back only to rock into him again. Feeling him tight around him, he reaches suddenly to find Fuuta's hand, the ache in his chest demanding the lacing of their fingers as he finds a steady rhythm. His lack of words really speaks more than not. He can't find any of them on his tongue, all of them twisting and crashing and fumbling before they even get there. The look in his eyes is too complex, too needy, too... too everything. Too out of his own control. )
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Like now, even when the slow push of Esikko's cock into him makes an uncomfortable twinge work through his nerves, his next breath coming halting at the back of his throat, he can't bring himself to care about that. The fact that he's going to be aching afterwards is something he refuses to spare a single thought towards at the moment, because what's important is that they're going to fuck.
His body squeezes insistent and tight around that hard length, clenching tighter when Fuuta arches his back to adjust the way it sits inside him; when he settles down on his back once more, it feels like the most natural thing in the world to hook a leg over Esikko's hips to pull him closer. And when Esikko's hips finally press against the backs of his thights, seating that warmth completely inside him, his voice escapes in a low moan, that sweet, syrupy noise a fair cry from his usual hostile growl.
-- fuck, it feels good. It feels so good. Inside, his body clenches and pulses sweetly with each breath he takes, squeezing like he never wants to let go. Even that first rock of Esikko's weight has him squirming as a saccharine heat warms through the pit of his stomach, blooming upwards to ease the unbearable heat emanating from that diamond tattooed on his chest. Even better is when Esikko's hand reaches for his own. Fuuta immediately lets their fingers entwine squeezing tight as he looks up, his expression dizzied with pleasure and words coming sloppy as he slurs, ]
Lean down. [ Maybe the demanding wording is at odds with the way he reaches up with his free hand, sliding up Esikko's arm to grip at his shoulder and tug gently. And just in case his intentions aren't clear enough, he mumbles, ] I wanna kiss you again.
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It doesn't take more than the demand and a tug; Esikko leans down with the next roll of his hips, lips meeting Fuuta's like he's been longing for the same himself. He has, somehow. Somehow, somehow— his mind is flooded with thoughts that he can't explain, can't add logic to, but it doesn't matter, does it? This sort of desire is something he's always wanted, and this sort of need being mutual is something he deeply needs, too.
His heart throbs hard in his chest as he kisses him with all of the feeling overflowing from it. His tongue presses in, searching, greedily taking up space in Fuuta's mouth with curls that savor the taste of him and drags that are reluctant to part. But he has to line his kisses with little gasps for air, buried moans accentuating the way he presses himself into him further each time, as if nothing can be as close as he wants it to. )
Kajiyama— ( His name comes in a hushed breath, cut off by the desperate way he kisses him again, humming at the way his whole body seems to light up with every bit of contact. More, more, more— he's greedy, he's needy, he wants to feel this want, wants to draw out as much of it as he can, and so he paces himself until it's almost excruciating, one hand snaking down to touch tenderly at the bruises lining his chest. Each trace of fingers is a kiss on its own, sending a message of longing, of care, of want and of need, and he forgets what he'd been saying with his actual words. His lips are too busy for it, anyway, refusing to part from Fuuta's for more than a second or two at a time, and only ever to crash back into him hungrily. One hand still linked firmly with Fuuta's, the other still drawing the shape of his feelings across the injured body beneath him, he shifts the angle of his hips to try and reach deeper still, to see just how much he can make him cry out in pleasure. )
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