[ At any given moment, Viktor is aware in the abstract of how much larger Hades is. It's not so unusual. Viktor is decidedly average, perhaps even slight, when compared to the wide breadth of bodies found upon their star. But when Hades shifts his grip, takes Viktor's chin as he kisses him, fingers brushing jaw and throat, that difference is all he can think about. One moment, Viktor thinks he may be in control of the situation, and the next, Hades is directing him, allowing him forgiveness, and then kissing him again.
Hades voice shakes as he grips at the reins, trying to assert some measure of control, and it's frankly absurd how readily the Warrior's will slips. There is something to be said for consciously relenting to a man whose will rivals your own. Viktor opens his mouth to let Hades steal his breath, explore with his tongue, and answers with a soft, wanting sound. Half-mad at the sound that rushes past Hades's lips the very moment he's touched, Viktor lasts just 'til they've parted; as Hades's hot breath warms the skin of his throat, Viktor exhales a heavy shuddered sigh of his own, rocks his hips against Hades's lap, eager and urgent, once, twice, before he gets control of himself.
In the split second before Hades begins to taunt him again, Viktor grips his wrist and blurts, barely louder than a whisper, ] Sh-shite, I love when you do that.
[ Hades sinks low in the bath, and Viktor takes a moment to admire the sight of his most stoic sorcerer stretched out languid beneath him, still struggling to maintain that exacting composure. ]
I think of myself very little, Hades. You know that. [ It feels like something he's said a thousand, thousand times before. He does not realize that, technically, it is. ] Anywhere is elsewhere. [ He flattens his palm on Hades's chest, liking the look of it there. ] The aviary, a garden, the lordling's own tub, for a l-laugh. Though the throne might be most fun. [ He grins wicked, wild. A smile that brightens when he's given direction, however vague, however hesitant, the orders. ]
Very well. Watch your head.
[ Viktor slips back, out of Hades's lap, making room for what he's about to do next. Slipping his head beneath the water, while certainly a novel trick, rather precludes catching glimpses of Hades's face, but neither does Viktor want to risk dampening the heat with cold air and the short walk toward the bed.
So, instead, he flattens his palms on the tub's basin, hooks his fingers into the stone's aether and pulls. With a crunch of stone against stone, the entire bath shifts, the basin beneath Hades lifting into a crude, rocky seat - a throne that lifts him partway out of the water. Viktor uses his foot to force the other edge of the tub out further, easy as molding raw clay, to accommodate displaced water. He slides forward again, taking one of Hades's legs on his shoulder with a low chuckle, staring up at him hungrily. ]
no subject
Hades voice shakes as he grips at the reins, trying to assert some measure of control, and it's frankly absurd how readily the Warrior's will slips. There is something to be said for consciously relenting to a man whose will rivals your own. Viktor opens his mouth to let Hades steal his breath, explore with his tongue, and answers with a soft, wanting sound. Half-mad at the sound that rushes past Hades's lips the very moment he's touched, Viktor lasts just 'til they've parted; as Hades's hot breath warms the skin of his throat, Viktor exhales a heavy shuddered sigh of his own, rocks his hips against Hades's lap, eager and urgent, once, twice, before he gets control of himself.
In the split second before Hades begins to taunt him again, Viktor grips his wrist and blurts, barely louder than a whisper, ] Sh-shite, I love when you do that.
[ Hades sinks low in the bath, and Viktor takes a moment to admire the sight of his most stoic sorcerer stretched out languid beneath him, still struggling to maintain that exacting composure. ]
I think of myself very little, Hades. You know that. [ It feels like something he's said a thousand, thousand times before. He does not realize that, technically, it is. ] Anywhere is elsewhere. [ He flattens his palm on Hades's chest, liking the look of it there. ] The aviary, a garden, the lordling's own tub, for a l-laugh. Though the throne might be most fun. [ He grins wicked, wild. A smile that brightens when he's given direction, however vague, however hesitant, the orders. ]
Very well. Watch your head.
[ Viktor slips back, out of Hades's lap, making room for what he's about to do next. Slipping his head beneath the water, while certainly a novel trick, rather precludes catching glimpses of Hades's face, but neither does Viktor want to risk dampening the heat with cold air and the short walk toward the bed.
So, instead, he flattens his palms on the tub's basin, hooks his fingers into the stone's aether and pulls. With a crunch of stone against stone, the entire bath shifts, the basin beneath Hades lifting into a crude, rocky seat - a throne that lifts him partway out of the water. Viktor uses his foot to force the other edge of the tub out further, easy as molding raw clay, to accommodate displaced water. He slides forward again, taking one of Hades's legs on his shoulder with a low chuckle, staring up at him hungrily. ]
Let us be about it, then.