[ Emet-Selch should not ask questions he does not want to know the answer to, and yet. Far too curious and far too eager to prepare for the worst, it is, Viktor thinks, a lesson he will likely never learn. And if he is honest, it would be dreadful to find a version of Hades laid so low that even he had given up asking, urging inquiry, planning for an eventual future, no matter how grim.
Rather he ruminate than decide there's no use planning at all.
Viktor undoes another button as he ponders how best to answer, eases back fabric with splayed fingers to feel the shape of Hades's chest beneath his flattened palms. This touch is indulgent, studious, entirely for himself. Once he has touched his fill, Viktor undoes another button. Pushes fabric. Leans in and brushes lips against the V between Hades's clavicles.
There are other paths than this, but Viktor is not given to planning. ]
'Tis so much more satisfying to have someone else manage buttons and bangles. [ He says to fill silence, undoing another button.
Viktor is not given to planning, no. Not for lack of ideas, but for a mislike of the ones that pop into his head.
Another button, and another. Not quite so achingly slow as Hades had been to disrobe him. He seeks fewer barriers between them. More warmth, more skin.
If Meteion is a creation of Hermes, then could they not crack open the soul of Amon and wrest out a thread of what he had been? Take that and tug, like a leash, like a noose. Cruel, cruel, cruel, but effective.
Two more buttons. Viktor traces the dips of muscles, presses fingers to soft skin, certain he will never tire of feeling Hades's body.
The short answer, the worst answer, (and, if he is honest, the most likely one) he knows, is that he will burn the candle of his life to a stub to power magic he only partially understands, so long as it is their best chance of saving their star.
But that is the thing about the Warrior of Light. His responsibility is to know the short answer, the worst answer, and come up with something better. ]
If we cannot make that connection, we will f-find another way. All legends must start somewhere. If I cannot tap into what I was to s-see this through, then we will access what we are. [ Viktor undoes the last button on Hades's shirt, pushes fabric out of the way. ] Venat thinned our aether when she sundered the star, but it granted us a closer connection with dynamis. [ A breath. Viktor lifts his gaze, meeting Hades's eyes with a ferocious certainty in his own. ] I will learn to wield it. Make what needs must be done reality.
[ Still staring, one corner of his mouth tugs up. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of Hades's fine silk pants, at the delectable point where his hipbones jut and nudges the fabric down half an ilm. ]
Will you be doing the fancy flourish trick with your r-robe, as well, then?
no subject
Rather he ruminate than decide there's no use planning at all.
Viktor undoes another button as he ponders how best to answer, eases back fabric with splayed fingers to feel the shape of Hades's chest beneath his flattened palms. This touch is indulgent, studious, entirely for himself. Once he has touched his fill, Viktor undoes another button. Pushes fabric. Leans in and brushes lips against the V between Hades's clavicles.
There are other paths than this, but Viktor is not given to planning. ]
'Tis so much more satisfying to have someone else manage buttons and bangles. [ He says to fill silence, undoing another button.
Viktor is not given to planning, no. Not for lack of ideas, but for a mislike of the ones that pop into his head.
Another button, and another. Not quite so achingly slow as Hades had been to disrobe him. He seeks fewer barriers between them. More warmth, more skin.
If Meteion is a creation of Hermes, then could they not crack open the soul of Amon and wrest out a thread of what he had been? Take that and tug, like a leash, like a noose. Cruel, cruel, cruel, but effective.
Two more buttons. Viktor traces the dips of muscles, presses fingers to soft skin, certain he will never tire of feeling Hades's body.
The short answer, the worst answer, (and, if he is honest, the most likely one) he knows, is that he will burn the candle of his life to a stub to power magic he only partially understands, so long as it is their best chance of saving their star.
But that is the thing about the Warrior of Light. His responsibility is to know the short answer, the worst answer, and come up with something better. ]
If we cannot make that connection, we will f-find another way. All legends must start somewhere. If I cannot tap into what I was to s-see this through, then we will access what we are. [ Viktor undoes the last button on Hades's shirt, pushes fabric out of the way. ] Venat thinned our aether when she sundered the star, but it granted us a closer connection with dynamis. [ A breath. Viktor lifts his gaze, meeting Hades's eyes with a ferocious certainty in his own. ] I will learn to wield it. Make what needs must be done reality.
[ Still staring, one corner of his mouth tugs up. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of Hades's fine silk pants, at the delectable point where his hipbones jut and nudges the fabric down half an ilm. ]
Will you be doing the fancy flourish trick with your r-robe, as well, then?