【 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 parking garage for all new arrivals. We aim to have all guests moved into their reserved rooms as soon as possible. We deeply apologize for any inconvenience!
All are invited to There Is No Tomorrow, a Phoenix Casino soiree to celebrate our beloved guests. The festivities will begin at 1800 hours on January 20th and end at 1800 hours on January 27th. Please look forward to 168 hours of delight.
In an effort to raise happiness and encourage better guest relationships, attendance is required. The house will assist guests that are too shy to appear of their own accord. Please note that black tie attire is mandatory. As always, we hope you enjoy your stay! 】
PARKING GARAGE
ANY CAR IN A STORM
PHOENIX CASINO HALL
WELCOME TO THE NEXT 168 HOURS
Phoenix Casino is a-flutter with activity and packed to the beak with guests. As a famously ever-changing space, the staff would be remiss if they didn't deck the crown jewel of the Golden Peacock out. The casino glitters from top to bottom, shining brighter than diamonds, rubies, sapphires, opals! Party-goers are shiny and glamorous with picture perfect makeup, fluttering gowns, and sharp suits. Card tables are packed and the slot machines are a-ringing as guests play, play, play! Prizes, luxury, booze, attractive people, it's the place that everyone wants to be at.
Those people being dragged inside by some invisible force...? Silly, they were so excited to come that their bodies moved before they realized what was happening. Those are struggles of joy and definitely not the casino's infamous ghost hands dragging unwilling guests to the party at the behest of the house. Look, they're literally hurling their bodies at the card tables with unrestrained glee!
All clocks indicating day hours and night hours have been removed from the casino. Once a guest has entered, their Watch will jam, making it impossible to keep track of the time. You don't need to worry about that tonight.
▶ 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 January event.
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▶ 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. This month we also have an ongoing ATP / EMP where players can connect. Please feel free to utilize this for all of your peafowl needs!
▶ 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!
▶ 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.
[ What a measured answer. Lighter's shoulders slope a little, as if he's wise to the fact that she'd been holding all of that in but chose instead to share it with him after all. It makes him less keen on leaving, even though it's presumably morning — even though he can't, also presumably, stay here with her forever. ]
That makes sense. Luxury's pretty glaring when there's not much of it to go around. All of this must seem in pretty bad taste to you.
[ Hanging on that peripheral, he lifts his opposite hand. ]
Medic? [ He guesses. He runs his fingertips over his brow where his head had been pounding, now soothed to a near memory. ] If this was anything to go by.
[ she hums in agreement—bad taste is one way of putting it. admittedly, she would say the same; it would be a cold day in hell before mercedes actually says she hates something out loud, but it's close enough.
her gaze follows the path of his fingertips and her expression softens. ]
Yes. [ wryly, ] They'd tried to teach me swordsmanship, but I'm very clumsy. I'd sooner hurt myself before anyone else.
[ A long exhale sighs through his nose, amused by the tone she takes. Even without knowing her for long, he thinks he understands the sentiment well enough to glean meaning from its softness. Which means this whole situation might be a little worse than he thought, actually. ]
I... [ He pauses, the words slow and ashy in his throat. ] Yeah, I don't like it one bit. It's sketchy, what's happening. No matter how much I tried to grasp at what was really going on, it's like it all just kept slipping through my fingers.
[ And there's so few things that can really escape him, when he puts his focus on it. ]
Is playing the game to find out really the right choice?
[ that makes the two of them. she's not a scholar or a scientist by any means, she's far from capable of coming up with some kind of reason or explanation for their appearance here aside from some type of magic, maybe. a summoning spell, of sorts. why it saw fit to summon them specifically, she can't say either. ]
There's no reason why we can't search for a different path while playing it. If there's a way in, there must be a way out.
[ it's clear that she'd rather not play at all, but she has a feeling drawing more attention to them would be more detrimental. ]
[ He appreciates how astute that statement is. There's something about this that's a little like being in a Hollow — there are approximations of things he knows, but the environment has been tainted by corruption. That it's all gilt and gorgeous is almost more unnerving, though. In a Hollow, it's easier to tell where the monsters are, silhouettes against his fires raging in the kaleidoscopic dark. Regardless, she's right. ]
Despite how I look, [ scarred, well-loved by violence. ] I'd like to think I know when to fight my way out and when to hang back to get a better idea of what I'm up against. If it was just me, playing would be an easier sell.
[ Or so he thinks. In the clutch of her hands, his fingers wind through hers. ]
[ what a question. it's silly—despite knowing what's expected of them here, her stomach drops a little, seized momentarily by something a bit like dread; not quite shame, but close to it. she's thankful for the warm grasp of his fingers, and she considers if she should continue to impose on him more than she likely already has. he's been so kind, so generous with his time that even though she knows he has better things to concern himself with than someone like her, she can't help but maintain her hold of his hand anyway. ]
... Could I tell you something?
[ like she hasn't been doing so this whole time. ]
I've never done this before. What this game expects of us, I mean. I'm not sure I... [ she trails off, trying to find the right words, but eventually gives up. she laughs at herself, soft and brief. ] Have you?
[ Easier to talk about, to craft out of hypothesis and hope, than to put into practice. He's no different, even if he's always just done what he's needed to in a bid to see a situation through. It's not always perfect.
Gaze cutting over, there's a wider and more pronounced sheen of red, quickly subdued by the cant of his head downwards again. He doesn't want to be dishonest, but he doesn't want to bring more attention to the confession than what's due. He swallows that information down, tucks it close to the hollow of his heart. At his shoulder, the subtle weight of her presence seems more pronounced despite the way his thoughts suspend, weightless between his ears. ]
Yeah. [ A tightness wound about the truth of it like a tether, even though his hand is still prone in hers. ] I can't say I've had a lot of good experiences, mind you. But I'm not completely in the dark.
[ He shifts his shoulders against the headboard. ]
[ his answer doesn't surprise her very much, even if the curve of her eyes soften with concern. not pity, but a shared understanding of what it's like to... be taken from without a choice; to have your hand forced, maybe, while the hits just keep coming. she can't fix it, she can't change his past to prevent him from happening, but she wishes she could.
her fingers squeeze his briefly. ]
I'm sorry you had to experience that.
[ at the very least, he has more to work with than she does. ]
It's alright. Most of it happened a long time ago.
[ It hasn't faded the scars, but the ache of it all has lessened with time, with more reasons given to him to keep going. Pressed, red and resplendent, into his hands. At least until he isn't needed anymore — and therein lies the selfishness, a reason again pressed so gently into his grasp. Concern loosens his expression rather than furrows it, matched in that moment. ]
If you're having trouble, I want you to come find me.
[ her lips part in surprise before it melts down into something more tender, caught off guard by such a kind request. there's a curious ache in her chest—is it from the fact that he still considers her even now, despite everything around them? or the fact that he considers this to be selfish at all? ]
That doesn't seem very selfish to me. [ her laugh is light, a little more fond. ] But are you sure you want to offer that to me? I may end up wanting to find you more often than not.
[ He levels a look at her before he can consciously stop himself, slightly bewildered by the nature of her agreement. Of course it's selfish — why should it be him? Right now, despite the way they'd woken up, he can see they have their faculties about them. After the last however many days of revelry, of booze and smoke and preternatural heat so unlike the fires or fevers he knows, he can't guarantee that'll always be the case. ]
I just don't want you to think you don't have a choice in all this. It's selfish, asking you to choose me.
Why shouldn't I choose you? [ and before he can rattle off a whole laundry list of reasons why she really shouldn't (because she knows his type): ] Tell me, why is it that you want me to find you?
[ she has an idea. it's easy to look at his scars and see the lifetime of violence and pain and think that's all it is. but she knows scars, and she recognizes the patterns they make over his body. sometimes, you have to hurt the things you love to protect them. ]
If you told me that, I'd say... [ He knows he's caught. He walked right into her hands. ] that I don't argue with a lady.
[ Deflective, but not uncharacteristic of him.
And still, with the scant time spent here, listening to her share things with him that feel like gossamer sunlight cutting through thick grey, he thinks he knows why she hadn't let him answer the first question, instead saddling him with the second and third. Exhaling, he lifts her hand again, this time to press the flats of her knuckles to his lips. ]
I wouldn't regret you.
[ Lighter isn't familiar with the taste of defeat, but like this, he thinks he could get used to it. ]
[ it's the second time he's held her hand so closely, but this time feels completely new, if only for the sensation of his lips pressed against her skin. she can't stop the tremble this time, full-bodied rather than just in her fingers; her cheeks flush with a warmth that rivals his own, but she doesn't pull away.
it's strange—she's barely moved at all in the past few minutes, but her heart is beating so quickly. ]
I hope not. [ she's teasing a little bit; the fondness has yet to leave her expression. ] I wouldn't regret you either. I know I won't.
[ and she'll continue to tell him that, even if she has to do so for the entirety of their stay here. ]
[ Despite himself, he laughs quietly, reveling in the sensation of her skin and how it's so dissimilar from his own. ]
Now I've really gotta put my money where my mouth is. [ A little puncture mark made by well-worn grit, just to let some of the tension he'd felt breathe out. It's easier then, for some of that confidence to well into its place. His mouth follows suit, up to tender knuckles, the back of her hand. All the way to her wrist, the underside of which thrums with her pulse. It's a good feel, he thinks. ] Since you're so kindly accepting my terms.
[ Maybe he's not the best person to draw close to, but the idea of someone else wresting something so important from her for cards or money makes his gut burn.
Even loathe to make a decision, sometimes he does so. And sometimes, it changes his life. ]
[ there's a hitch of breath in her throat as her eyes follow the path of his lips over her hand, fingers twitching gently in his grasp. her skin pebbles with gooseflesh, unused to this kind of attention but welcoming it anyway, if the flutter of her pulse beneath the delicate skin of her wrist is any indication. anticipation makes the flush on her cheeks darken, makes the ache in her chest sharper, and she finds herself thinking if she had spent less time in the cathedral back at the academy, would she have experienced this then? would she still feel like her heart is ready to burst from her chest; craving for more of his attention, even when she's already had it?
she has not known this kind of touch from a man who didn't want something from her—her body, her blood, or both. lighter can't know the significance of it, how freeing it is to be touched as she is herself and nothing more. ]
I think you already have, [ is what she shakily manages, swallowing down a soft sound when his lips inevitably find her pulse. she reaches out with her other hand to gently brush his hair away from his face, fingertips brushing along his jaw. ] But you won't hear any complaints from me if you feel it's not enough.
[ It's easy to feel in his grasp, how sensitive she is. Lighter isn't — he's long been dulled to most finer sensations by scars and violence, by throwing those possibilities away in exchange for strength enough to guide him through hell. But gentleness was nourished by the ashes of what burned after his footsteps, and in its wake his strength is soft and measured. If he's to use it for anything, it's to protect.
Such a faint noise and it's already sticking in his ears and coalescing, the sound of it sweeping his nerves. Her touch along the line of his face has him pulling back to deliver a final kiss to the heel of her palm, leading it along to cup the other side of his jaw. Toughened fingers loosely curled over her hand, he leans his weight into her palms, breath sighing long and slow from the bottom of his chest. His thumb brushes over the back of her hand once, twice, tracing fragile bone as if ensuring the weight of him isn't too heavy for her to bear. No matter how profound it feels. ]
Do you feel like it's not enough? [ An earnest question. He's seeing the signs, but still... Lighter's gaze rises, giving her the benefit of its presence. ] Do you want me to show you?
[ his touch is so gentle despite the scars and roughed fingers; she burns wherever he lingers, warmth suffusing through her skin and settling there, until she can't distinguish her temperature from his own. faerghan winters have always been brutal, the kind of cold that chills you down to the bone, and even down south, the summers are mild and temperate. but he's warmer than anything she's ever felt this close, like cupping sunlight between her palms.
there's a lump in her throat, heart stuttering in her chest. he turns the question on her and her next inhale is tremulous, delicate; is it possible to feel like it's not enough and too much at the same time? suddenly, she's both too aware of their proximity and how much closer they could be. surely, he could hear how her heart is determined to punch its way out of her ribs. ]
... Yes. [ she meets the green gold of his gaze but can't hold it for too long, eyes fluttering shut as she leans in closer to press her forehead against his. she can feel his breath against her cheek, her mouth; unwilling to have him mistake her hesitation for fear, she leans the rest of the way in, her lips brushing gently against his. ] Please.
[ For once, he's not the first to look away, and it fortifies his decision in his heart. Light shapes dance across the backs of his eyelids, like he's looked at something too bright for a little too long. But the quality of light is different than the one he knows, newer and less harsh. He captures her lips in a proper kiss, shallow and easy. If it's now, in this comfortable liminality, he can forget that there are less kind motivations waiting at the door for them — no suit, no rank. Lighter doesn't know everything about the game, but he knows enough. ]
Okay. [ A contented rasp, hot in the hollow of his throat. When he pulls back a little, there's some humor in his gaze, the low pulse of red deeper, more vibrant. ] I may look calm, but the fact that you agreed makes me want to pass out.
[ At least he's being honest. He can feel the thrum of her pulse as it nears the surface of her skin, the way she's become so warm. Not going back on what he'd offered, he shifts beneath the sheets, leaning forward on a broad palm that divots the mattress. ]
We can go slow.
[ A brush of his nose across her cheek, idle presses of his lips here and there. ]
[ she's taken by the easy way he kisses her, the firmer press of his lips against hers; their warmth and texture. something cracks open in her chest, fledging and delicate, emotion surging up to make the lump in her throat worse. she feels tears threaten to well up behind her closed eyes and she takes another shaky, steadying breath, slipping her fingers into his hair just for something to hold on to. just this is already so much—it's silly, how overwhelming it is, but she doesn't want him to stop. ]
It's okay, [ she laughs sheepishly, a little watery. ] I feel like I might, too.
[ does it make it better knowing that he isn't the only one? she doesn't know. but his honesty does provide some comfort, calming the staccato beat of her pulse momentarily before he shifts forward. ]
You don't have to. [ she swallows, melting a little beneath his kisses, tipping her face up to them like a flower to the sun. ] I'll be all right.
[ her head tilts, catching his lips with hers briefly once he gets close enough. ]
[ He wonders, briefly, if she shouldn't trust him, but the upwards turn of her face into the draw of his lip feels so sweet that it silences the thought before it really solidifies. Doubt tends to splinter his thoughts, but faith in him is enough to lessen its influence. He wouldn't be who he is without it: a creature wreathed in flame, a warning, a protector without equal. In her hands and with nowhere else to go, he finds peace enough among all of it for tenderness. ]
You can trust me. [ — is finally what he decides on, quietly sweeping his free hand up to her cheek to steady her trembling. It's a little for himself too. ] Which is exactly why I think we should go slow.
[ His lips meet hers again, once, twice, growing hot and pliant at the seams but not pressing past that boundary just yet. When he pulls away, just scant enough to still feel the buzz of her warmth, nose to nose, he gazes thoughtfully at the pretty downturn of her lashes, the color of his heat on her skin. ]
If I'm getting to be the one to touch you, I want to know the places you like. So you're gonna have to tell me...
[ Tucking pale locks behind her ear, he angles in to offer her parted lips and a faint brush of his tongue in return. ]
[ the flush on her cheeks has spread down her throat by now, pooling in her chest within the confines of her robe. it's strange—she feels almost too warm, but rather than pull away, she only craves more of it: more of his proximity, his heat, his gentle touches. she wonders idly if the desire for it has always been there, gone dormant because of her past or the war, only to be awakened by tenderness.
or maybe it's him and the safety she can feel in the warmth of his hands.
the lump in her throat has faded, now that the newness of it is replaced by the desire to pull him even closer. the kisses settle her, eager to reciprocate despite her inexperience; another sound gets lost between the blur of one kiss to the next, soft and halfway to a moan, as she tries to separate the meaning of his words from the way they feel. ]
... Okay. [ she doesn't know the places she likes—she wouldn't know before this. but she wants to find out, and it's without hesitation that she takes one of his hands, guiding it to the knot where her robe is secured. before she lets go of his hand, she finds his gaze again, the haze clearing from her eyes momentarily. ] Will you tell me, too? The places that you like.
[ He's easily lead, fingers slipping between the knot of her robe to loosen it in soft loops of fabric. It's radiant, the way heat pours between them, melting trepidation, sweetening desires that would otherwise seem too frightening to accept, too good to be true. Whatever instinct he has to shy back quiets and lays back down at the bottom of his soul, domesticated. What wells up in its place is a likewise desire to be touched, to be closer. ]
Of course. [ His blood's loud in his ears, but a glimpse upwards into the pacific blue of her eyes calms him. With a brush of noses, he breathes out a half-chuckle — he realizes he doesn't really know, either. ] We'll figure it out together.
[ Pulling the robe's knot loose, he places a kiss to the corner of her mouth while his palm smooths beneath its hem. He curls his fingers over the slope of her waist, squeezing lightly as he pulls himself closer to her, urging her to slough the material off of her shoulders. ]
I should probably apologize, though. [ The words sit lightly in his throat for the way his voice has gritted over; he ducks to kiss her shoulder, once, twice. ] I've got a lot of places that aren't all that pleasant to touch.
[ He doesn't imagine so, anyway, scarred as he is. ]
[ the knot loosens and the fabric sags down over her shoulders without anything holding it in place. her breath stutters on the exhale, just managing to push down the instinct to cover herself up again as his hand slips beneath. it's a gentle touch but she finds herself unprepared for it—the heat of his hand smoothing against her cooler, paler skin. should his hand wander further, he'll find her own collection of scars from both magic and weaponry: a large burn stretching diagonally across her back beginning from her right shoulder; a gash along her left bicep from a sword; smaller wounds littered here and there from arrows and lances. war is not kind to anyone, even to one who chooses tenderness in the face of destruction.
with his head against her shoulder, he misses the way her expression softens as she trails her palm along the nearest scar she can reach, the raised skin dragging along her fingertips. ]
Don't apologize. I understand.
[ he's been through so much, she thinks. each battle won, but hard-fought; a piece of himself given away that he can't get back. she presses her nose to his crown, pressing a soft kiss there as she lets the robe fall away entirely. ]
[ A smile flashed against the pretty divot of her shoulder, dispersed by the exploratory press of his lips across her skin. ]
So you do. [ Still balanced on one arm, he wraps his other around her, coarse thumb smoothing over her own constellate scars as they fall across her back. They feel like a map he doesn't yet know how to read, but he can still marvel at the sensation of it — the paths that years of violence have drawn on her. Not for the first time, he thinks... it's tenderness that scars most prominently. ] Seems like we're even more well-matched than you'd think, aren't we?
[ It'd be easy to think of their benefactors playing matchmaker, aligning these scars like the flourish of a lucky hand, but Lighter doesn't. He's going to weave this encounter with his own hands. He's choosing it because it matters.
Pulling back, Lighter shifts in a twist of the sheets, nudging her back. ]
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peacockstop2025-01-15 09:00 pm
no subject
That makes sense. Luxury's pretty glaring when there's not much of it to go around. All of this must seem in pretty bad taste to you.
[ Hanging on that peripheral, he lifts his opposite hand. ]
Medic? [ He guesses. He runs his fingertips over his brow where his head had been pounding, now soothed to a near memory. ] If this was anything to go by.
no subject
her gaze follows the path of his fingertips and her expression softens. ]
Yes. [ wryly, ] They'd tried to teach me swordsmanship, but I'm very clumsy. I'd sooner hurt myself before anyone else.
[ but anyway. ]
What about you? What do you think of this place?
no subject
I... [ He pauses, the words slow and ashy in his throat. ] Yeah, I don't like it one bit. It's sketchy, what's happening. No matter how much I tried to grasp at what was really going on, it's like it all just kept slipping through my fingers.
[ And there's so few things that can really escape him, when he puts his focus on it. ]
Is playing the game to find out really the right choice?
no subject
There's no reason why we can't search for a different path while playing it. If there's a way in, there must be a way out.
[ it's clear that she'd rather not play at all, but she has a feeling drawing more attention to them would be more detrimental. ]
no subject
Despite how I look, [ scarred, well-loved by violence. ] I'd like to think I know when to fight my way out and when to hang back to get a better idea of what I'm up against. If it was just me, playing would be an easier sell.
[ Or so he thinks. In the clutch of her hands, his fingers wind through hers. ]
How do you feel about it?
no subject
... Could I tell you something?
[ like she hasn't been doing so this whole time. ]
I've never done this before. What this game expects of us, I mean. I'm not sure I... [ she trails off, trying to find the right words, but eventually gives up. she laughs at herself, soft and brief. ] Have you?
no subject
Gaze cutting over, there's a wider and more pronounced sheen of red, quickly subdued by the cant of his head downwards again. He doesn't want to be dishonest, but he doesn't want to bring more attention to the confession than what's due. He swallows that information down, tucks it close to the hollow of his heart. At his shoulder, the subtle weight of her presence seems more pronounced despite the way his thoughts suspend, weightless between his ears. ]
Yeah. [ A tightness wound about the truth of it like a tether, even though his hand is still prone in hers. ] I can't say I've had a lot of good experiences, mind you. But I'm not completely in the dark.
[ He shifts his shoulders against the headboard. ]
Can I make a selfish request this time?
no subject
her fingers squeeze his briefly. ]
I'm sorry you had to experience that.
[ at the very least, he has more to work with than she does. ]
Of course you can. What is it?
no subject
[ It hasn't faded the scars, but the ache of it all has lessened with time, with more reasons given to him to keep going. Pressed, red and resplendent, into his hands. At least until he isn't needed anymore — and therein lies the selfishness, a reason again pressed so gently into his grasp. Concern loosens his expression rather than furrows it, matched in that moment. ]
If you're having trouble, I want you to come find me.
no subject
That doesn't seem very selfish to me. [ her laugh is light, a little more fond. ] But are you sure you want to offer that to me? I may end up wanting to find you more often than not.
no subject
I just don't want you to think you don't have a choice in all this. It's selfish, asking you to choose me.
[ But he's not going back on it. ]
no subject
Why shouldn't I choose you? [ and before he can rattle off a whole laundry list of reasons why she really shouldn't (because she knows his type): ] Tell me, why is it that you want me to find you?
[ she has an idea. it's easy to look at his scars and see the lifetime of violence and pain and think that's all it is. but she knows scars, and she recognizes the patterns they make over his body. sometimes, you have to hurt the things you love to protect them. ]
What if I told you I had already made up my mind?
no subject
[ Deflective, but not uncharacteristic of him.
And still, with the scant time spent here, listening to her share things with him that feel like gossamer sunlight cutting through thick grey, he thinks he knows why she hadn't let him answer the first question, instead saddling him with the second and third. Exhaling, he lifts her hand again, this time to press the flats of her knuckles to his lips. ]
I wouldn't regret you.
[ Lighter isn't familiar with the taste of defeat, but like this, he thinks he could get used to it. ]
no subject
it's strange—she's barely moved at all in the past few minutes, but her heart is beating so quickly. ]
I hope not. [ she's teasing a little bit; the fondness has yet to leave her expression. ] I wouldn't regret you either. I know I won't.
[ and she'll continue to tell him that, even if she has to do so for the entirety of their stay here. ]
no subject
Now I've really gotta put my money where my mouth is. [ A little puncture mark made by well-worn grit, just to let some of the tension he'd felt breathe out. It's easier then, for some of that confidence to well into its place. His mouth follows suit, up to tender knuckles, the back of her hand. All the way to her wrist, the underside of which thrums with her pulse. It's a good feel, he thinks. ] Since you're so kindly accepting my terms.
[ Maybe he's not the best person to draw close to, but the idea of someone else wresting something so important from her for cards or money makes his gut burn.
Even loathe to make a decision, sometimes he does so. And sometimes, it changes his life. ]
no subject
she has not known this kind of touch from a man who didn't want something from her—her body, her blood, or both. lighter can't know the significance of it, how freeing it is to be touched as she is herself and nothing more. ]
I think you already have, [ is what she shakily manages, swallowing down a soft sound when his lips inevitably find her pulse. she reaches out with her other hand to gently brush his hair away from his face, fingertips brushing along his jaw. ] But you won't hear any complaints from me if you feel it's not enough.
no subject
Such a faint noise and it's already sticking in his ears and coalescing, the sound of it sweeping his nerves. Her touch along the line of his face has him pulling back to deliver a final kiss to the heel of her palm, leading it along to cup the other side of his jaw. Toughened fingers loosely curled over her hand, he leans his weight into her palms, breath sighing long and slow from the bottom of his chest. His thumb brushes over the back of her hand once, twice, tracing fragile bone as if ensuring the weight of him isn't too heavy for her to bear. No matter how profound it feels. ]
Do you feel like it's not enough? [ An earnest question. He's seeing the signs, but still... Lighter's gaze rises, giving her the benefit of its presence. ] Do you want me to show you?
no subject
there's a lump in her throat, heart stuttering in her chest. he turns the question on her and her next inhale is tremulous, delicate; is it possible to feel like it's not enough and too much at the same time? suddenly, she's both too aware of their proximity and how much closer they could be. surely, he could hear how her heart is determined to punch its way out of her ribs. ]
... Yes. [ she meets the green gold of his gaze but can't hold it for too long, eyes fluttering shut as she leans in closer to press her forehead against his. she can feel his breath against her cheek, her mouth; unwilling to have him mistake her hesitation for fear, she leans the rest of the way in, her lips brushing gently against his. ] Please.
no subject
Okay. [ A contented rasp, hot in the hollow of his throat. When he pulls back a little, there's some humor in his gaze, the low pulse of red deeper, more vibrant. ] I may look calm, but the fact that you agreed makes me want to pass out.
[ At least he's being honest. He can feel the thrum of her pulse as it nears the surface of her skin, the way she's become so warm. Not going back on what he'd offered, he shifts beneath the sheets, leaning forward on a broad palm that divots the mattress. ]
We can go slow.
[ A brush of his nose across her cheek, idle presses of his lips here and there. ]
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It's okay, [ she laughs sheepishly, a little watery. ] I feel like I might, too.
[ does it make it better knowing that he isn't the only one? she doesn't know. but his honesty does provide some comfort, calming the staccato beat of her pulse momentarily before he shifts forward. ]
You don't have to. [ she swallows, melting a little beneath his kisses, tipping her face up to them like a flower to the sun. ] I'll be all right.
[ her head tilts, catching his lips with hers briefly once he gets close enough. ]
I trust you.
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You can trust me. [ — is finally what he decides on, quietly sweeping his free hand up to her cheek to steady her trembling. It's a little for himself too. ] Which is exactly why I think we should go slow.
[ His lips meet hers again, once, twice, growing hot and pliant at the seams but not pressing past that boundary just yet. When he pulls away, just scant enough to still feel the buzz of her warmth, nose to nose, he gazes thoughtfully at the pretty downturn of her lashes, the color of his heat on her skin. ]
If I'm getting to be the one to touch you, I want to know the places you like. So you're gonna have to tell me...
[ Tucking pale locks behind her ear, he angles in to offer her parted lips and a faint brush of his tongue in return. ]
...alright?
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or maybe it's him and the safety she can feel in the warmth of his hands.
the lump in her throat has faded, now that the newness of it is replaced by the desire to pull him even closer. the kisses settle her, eager to reciprocate despite her inexperience; another sound gets lost between the blur of one kiss to the next, soft and halfway to a moan, as she tries to separate the meaning of his words from the way they feel. ]
... Okay. [ she doesn't know the places she likes—she wouldn't know before this. but she wants to find out, and it's without hesitation that she takes one of his hands, guiding it to the knot where her robe is secured. before she lets go of his hand, she finds his gaze again, the haze clearing from her eyes momentarily. ] Will you tell me, too? The places that you like.
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Of course. [ His blood's loud in his ears, but a glimpse upwards into the pacific blue of her eyes calms him. With a brush of noses, he breathes out a half-chuckle — he realizes he doesn't really know, either. ] We'll figure it out together.
[ Pulling the robe's knot loose, he places a kiss to the corner of her mouth while his palm smooths beneath its hem. He curls his fingers over the slope of her waist, squeezing lightly as he pulls himself closer to her, urging her to slough the material off of her shoulders. ]
I should probably apologize, though. [ The words sit lightly in his throat for the way his voice has gritted over; he ducks to kiss her shoulder, once, twice. ] I've got a lot of places that aren't all that pleasant to touch.
[ He doesn't imagine so, anyway, scarred as he is. ]
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with his head against her shoulder, he misses the way her expression softens as she trails her palm along the nearest scar she can reach, the raised skin dragging along her fingertips. ]
Don't apologize. I understand.
[ he's been through so much, she thinks. each battle won, but hard-fought; a piece of himself given away that he can't get back. she presses her nose to his crown, pressing a soft kiss there as she lets the robe fall away entirely. ]
I don't mind.
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So you do. [ Still balanced on one arm, he wraps his other around her, coarse thumb smoothing over her own constellate scars as they fall across her back. They feel like a map he doesn't yet know how to read, but he can still marvel at the sensation of it — the paths that years of violence have drawn on her. Not for the first time, he thinks... it's tenderness that scars most prominently. ] Seems like we're even more well-matched than you'd think, aren't we?
[ It'd be easy to think of their benefactors playing matchmaker, aligning these scars like the flourish of a lucky hand, but Lighter doesn't. He's going to weave this encounter with his own hands. He's choosing it because it matters.
Pulling back, Lighter shifts in a twist of the sheets, nudging her back. ]
How's laying back down sound?
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