[ Embraced, surrounded, Viktor exhales pure pleasure, soft little sing-song sounds drawn out of him each time Emet-Selch shifts the two of them, dithering into a hum when his arms wrap around him. No hesitation, in spite of their earlier argument. No worry, no dread, just the two of them pressed close, the stead beat of Emet-Selch's heart against his back, palms at his stomach coaxing desire ever so slowly, deliciously, toward a crackling bonfire.
Even half a turn ago, it would have been unthinkable - not just this, the two of them tangled up, luxuriating in the largest bath Viktor has ever seen, but, more precisely, the absence of guilt, of anxiety. Short though his life has been, both in the grand scheme of things and even for a viera, Viktor had never known much in the way of security. Has never - not with anyone - been comfortable enough to argue, to resist, and know, without a doubt, that he would still be kept, still be loved, not be punished or cast out.
Never, not with anyone - until now.
Emet-Selch dances fingers over his shoulders, inventing constellations of goosebumps and freckles, and Viktor tips his head to give him space to explore. One hand drifts down to his thigh, running fingers along the length of it, the other leaves the water, reaching up to cup his face, tipping it to get a better look at him. The breath he exhales is hot with want, but when he speaks, it is only gentle, adoring. ]
Good. You should not h-hide yourself. Not for anyone. [ Viktor stares up at him, expression serious. ] And I do not think it foolish. Scars are stories. And that story- well- [ His expression smooths, grin easing across his features, fingers pressing at Emet-Selch's thigh. ] -quite the harrowing tale, but it tells of how you came to be mine. And so, I am f-fond.
no subject
Even half a turn ago, it would have been unthinkable - not just this, the two of them tangled up, luxuriating in the largest bath Viktor has ever seen, but, more precisely, the absence of guilt, of anxiety. Short though his life has been, both in the grand scheme of things and even for a viera, Viktor had never known much in the way of security. Has never - not with anyone - been comfortable enough to argue, to resist, and know, without a doubt, that he would still be kept, still be loved, not be punished or cast out.
Never, not with anyone - until now.
Emet-Selch dances fingers over his shoulders, inventing constellations of goosebumps and freckles, and Viktor tips his head to give him space to explore. One hand drifts down to his thigh, running fingers along the length of it, the other leaves the water, reaching up to cup his face, tipping it to get a better look at him. The breath he exhales is hot with want, but when he speaks, it is only gentle, adoring. ]
Good. You should not h-hide yourself. Not for anyone. [ Viktor stares up at him, expression serious. ] And I do not think it foolish. Scars are stories. And that story- well- [ His expression smooths, grin easing across his features, fingers pressing at Emet-Selch's thigh. ] -quite the harrowing tale, but it tells of how you came to be mine. And so, I am f-fond.