[ Clear thought turns slippery, dreamlike, as Viktor drifts back down from climax. He is aware, passingly, of the shaking of his own legs, hiking up to a quiver when Hades, insatiable, presses mouth and tongue and nose against them once again. He grasps for the echo of that low growl of pleasure slipping from Hades's mouth, muffled by the steady grind of Viktor's hips; that will be a heady distraction for moons to come. How will he see to anything successfully now, knowing he could be doing this, instead? His every want welcomed, relished with such greed. And with the veil lifted, with certainty making a sun of him in Emet-Selch's eyes, not even his buzzing bees can sow their usual doubt and fear.
It almost beggars belief, not merely being wanted, but feeling addictive. Not as the Warrior of Light, not as Azem - just Viktor. So fervently desired that the man who'd spent ten thousand years touching nothing cannot keep his hands off of him. A little deliriously, Viktor snickers at the realization that the Sharlayan's many planning meetings will no longer be such an unbearable bore. And in the next second, he decides that the only way he will ever be productive again is to run them both ragged tonight.
And then Hades's teeth sink into soft, warm skin, stealing another sharp sound - as much a laugh as a moan - from him, and everything is promptly forgotten. He lets the hand tangled in Hades's hair slip down to cup his face. Viktor tips Hades's chin back, taking a long, slow moment to admire the length of his neck, the wet shine around his perfect mouth. Delicious, that faint quirk at the corners of his lips. Just enough of an angle to be impossibly smug, made more delectable for the fog of Hades's own gratification hanging on the edges of Viktor's awareness.
He makes no effort to hide his own emotions, nor the way his awareness creeps right up to the barrier, searching. There's nothing sour in that admission of difficulty, and while Viktor can't quite hide his own hot, hungry impatience, there is an immeasurable relief there, too. No need to reassure - it is a certainty, an inevitability. And there's plenty else they can do in the meantime. ]
I want you. [ He shivers again at the working of Hades's fingers, slips his own over Hades's lips, nudging them into his mouth, lighting on his tongue. ] S-something of your aether, I mean. I want to f-feel you.
[ The aether of Emet-Selch, permeating, cold, yes. He still remembers the feel of being surrounded, filled by it, wrenched back into his body after spending too much of his own aether. He near aches for it. ]
But first- [ Viktor draws away from Hades's mouth. Uses the hand to brace himself against a bedpost. ] -bite me again.
no subject
It almost beggars belief, not merely being wanted, but feeling addictive. Not as the Warrior of Light, not as Azem - just Viktor. So fervently desired that the man who'd spent ten thousand years touching nothing cannot keep his hands off of him. A little deliriously, Viktor snickers at the realization that the Sharlayan's many planning meetings will no longer be such an unbearable bore. And in the next second, he decides that the only way he will ever be productive again is to run them both ragged tonight.
And then Hades's teeth sink into soft, warm skin, stealing another sharp sound - as much a laugh as a moan - from him, and everything is promptly forgotten. He lets the hand tangled in Hades's hair slip down to cup his face. Viktor tips Hades's chin back, taking a long, slow moment to admire the length of his neck, the wet shine around his perfect mouth. Delicious, that faint quirk at the corners of his lips. Just enough of an angle to be impossibly smug, made more delectable for the fog of Hades's own gratification hanging on the edges of Viktor's awareness.
He makes no effort to hide his own emotions, nor the way his awareness creeps right up to the barrier, searching. There's nothing sour in that admission of difficulty, and while Viktor can't quite hide his own hot, hungry impatience, there is an immeasurable relief there, too. No need to reassure - it is a certainty, an inevitability. And there's plenty else they can do in the meantime. ]
I want you. [ He shivers again at the working of Hades's fingers, slips his own over Hades's lips, nudging them into his mouth, lighting on his tongue. ] S-something of your aether, I mean. I want to f-feel you.
[ The aether of Emet-Selch, permeating, cold, yes. He still remembers the feel of being surrounded, filled by it, wrenched back into his body after spending too much of his own aether. He near aches for it. ]
But first- [ Viktor draws away from Hades's mouth. Uses the hand to brace himself against a bedpost. ] -bite me again.