[ A blink, a laugh. Viktor stares down at familiar shorts, there and gone too fast to even remark upon their presence. As Emet-Selch repositions him, Viktor attempts to soldier on, more laughter shaking his shoulders at the delightful absurdity of it all. He wriggles, thinking to help scoot into better place, but mostly just making a momentary nuisance of himself. ]
-I s-suppose it will- [ Teeth sink into soft skin. Viktor gasps, his laughter lowering, a dark, pleased little sound, turning into something not unlike a setting sun. The first of what will be several more bruises rises to blush his ochre skin, and he gets a little distracted admiring it, admiring the look of concentration on Hades's face as he leans in to mark him again. Viktor's voice thins, distant, too focused on watching Emet-Selch brand his skin with more nipping kisses. ] -have to be- oh -just for the t-two of- fuck, Hades.
[ With diligent application of rough fingers and softer mouth, Emet-Selch shakes his will. Viktor dips his head, ears falling forward as he breathes through another bite and then another. It will be impossible to pull on his trousers tomorrow, impossible to walk around this foolish fortress, without thinking of - feeling - Hades's signature upon his thigh, without daydreaming about what he will demand of the most eminent Emet-Selch tomorrow night and the night after that.
He grasps, urgent, thinking to forego anything fancier than pressing Hades's mouth against him until he's eaten both their fill again. Before he can commit to giving up the greater prize, though, the hearth roars to life anew. There is a snap, and Viktor's position has changed again.
He presses a palm against Emet-Selch's chest to steady himself, grinning like mad at the easy show of magic, but before he can do more, before he can even compute just how warm the room has grown, he is embraced by familiar, permeating cold. Across back and shoulders, down his arms and legs, his skin prickles to gooseflesh. The soft, fine fur on his arms and stomach stands as Viktor quakes, a whole body shiver that shakes a shuddering sigh out of him.
Instinct makes him resist. Just a flare of tensed muscles and fear, riding the flicker of remembered feeling - this selfsame shadow wreathing and binding him, meaning to press the life and Light from his lungs until that incandescence spilled out. Now, what had been meant to harm holds, and he relaxes into the chilling embrace. Something dangerous made darkly sweet, decadent as bitter chocolate.
Viktor stills, shuts his eyes, and tries something he's never done before - grasps the thread of his own memory and pulls, passing dreamlike through what must be a thousand bodies, 'til he catches glimpses of feeling, of thought and taste and smell, far too fragmented to be memories properly. Sun and moon, entangled. A densely freckled body, wreathed in darkness, pressing lines into fair skin with golden thread. Just a taste of the twining of shadow and light, and even these slivers, matched to Hades's aether enveloping him, feel like fitting something lost back into place. Icy indigo used to heal the broken parts of his kintsugi soul.
Opening his eyes only just, Viktor looks through lashes at Hades laid out beneath him. ]
Far be it from me to j-judge a Sorcerer of Eld for finding creative ways to use his m-magic. [ One corner of Viktor's mouth tugs up. ] I thought I told you to fill me, Hades, not t-torment me from two fulms away. Or shall we test Light and Dark again?
[ He could, he thinks, have a go at conjuring those glowing braids. Lasso his sorcerer in to close the distance between them, perhaps. That would take considerable effort, though. And he finds he rather likes being leashed by the most eminent Emet-Selch - far more than he'd thought he would, all those many, many moons ago upon the First, at least. ]
no subject
[ A blink, a laugh. Viktor stares down at familiar shorts, there and gone too fast to even remark upon their presence. As Emet-Selch repositions him, Viktor attempts to soldier on, more laughter shaking his shoulders at the delightful absurdity of it all. He wriggles, thinking to help scoot into better place, but mostly just making a momentary nuisance of himself. ]
-I s-suppose it will- [ Teeth sink into soft skin. Viktor gasps, his laughter lowering, a dark, pleased little sound, turning into something not unlike a setting sun. The first of what will be several more bruises rises to blush his ochre skin, and he gets a little distracted admiring it, admiring the look of concentration on Hades's face as he leans in to mark him again. Viktor's voice thins, distant, too focused on watching Emet-Selch brand his skin with more nipping kisses. ] -have to be- oh -just for the t-two of- fuck, Hades.
[ With diligent application of rough fingers and softer mouth, Emet-Selch shakes his will. Viktor dips his head, ears falling forward as he breathes through another bite and then another. It will be impossible to pull on his trousers tomorrow, impossible to walk around this foolish fortress, without thinking of - feeling - Hades's signature upon his thigh, without daydreaming about what he will demand of the most eminent Emet-Selch tomorrow night and the night after that.
He grasps, urgent, thinking to forego anything fancier than pressing Hades's mouth against him until he's eaten both their fill again. Before he can commit to giving up the greater prize, though, the hearth roars to life anew. There is a snap, and Viktor's position has changed again.
He presses a palm against Emet-Selch's chest to steady himself, grinning like mad at the easy show of magic, but before he can do more, before he can even compute just how warm the room has grown, he is embraced by familiar, permeating cold. Across back and shoulders, down his arms and legs, his skin prickles to gooseflesh. The soft, fine fur on his arms and stomach stands as Viktor quakes, a whole body shiver that shakes a shuddering sigh out of him.
Instinct makes him resist. Just a flare of tensed muscles and fear, riding the flicker of remembered feeling - this selfsame shadow wreathing and binding him, meaning to press the life and Light from his lungs until that incandescence spilled out. Now, what had been meant to harm holds, and he relaxes into the chilling embrace. Something dangerous made darkly sweet, decadent as bitter chocolate.
Viktor stills, shuts his eyes, and tries something he's never done before - grasps the thread of his own memory and pulls, passing dreamlike through what must be a thousand bodies, 'til he catches glimpses of feeling, of thought and taste and smell, far too fragmented to be memories properly. Sun and moon, entangled. A densely freckled body, wreathed in darkness, pressing lines into fair skin with golden thread. Just a taste of the twining of shadow and light, and even these slivers, matched to Hades's aether enveloping him, feel like fitting something lost back into place. Icy indigo used to heal the broken parts of his kintsugi soul.
Opening his eyes only just, Viktor looks through lashes at Hades laid out beneath him. ]
Far be it from me to j-judge a Sorcerer of Eld for finding creative ways to use his m-magic. [ One corner of Viktor's mouth tugs up. ] I thought I told you to fill me, Hades, not t-torment me from two fulms away. Or shall we test Light and Dark again?
[ He could, he thinks, have a go at conjuring those glowing braids. Lasso his sorcerer in to close the distance between them, perhaps. That would take considerable effort, though. And he finds he rather likes being leashed by the most eminent Emet-Selch - far more than he'd thought he would, all those many, many moons ago upon the First, at least. ]