sonder spring 1711

only fangs and sweet beguiling


Major

from Rionnach
age
5 years old
gender
Male
size
Extra Large
scent
Ash and Pepper
supporting
Undecided
home
Maiden's Braid
threadlog
encounters
writer
Lyk
Spoil? But of course... everything he had would be of little value if he couldn't use it to dazzle another. Despite his surface finery, Nicharion was a scoundrel at heart - wealth was only means to an end in his eyes. He couldn't gorge himself on luxuries mindlessly like the nobles who were born knowing nothing else. But he had a vice of his own, the need for company to distract his restless mind and drown out his thoughts with the sound of racing hearts and strained breaths. "Ah, but that risk is yours to disregard, is it not?" he replied lightly, unconcerned. If he's to play the role of a dealer, then he shouldn't be concerned with the possibility of a prospective addict making some bad choices.

The touch of the other male's nose against his back was nothing short of intoxicating, quickly eroding the restraint he has mustered over the course of the Savard-focused interlude. The playfully threatening words that accompanied it like an appetizer only served to elicit a chuckle. "..and this one is mine." There was a time when this risk, pointed out so openly, would have given him pause. Entire years that he spent always carefully considering every decision, beholden to his self-preservation instinct. Not anymore. Maybe survival wasn't worth not reaching out for what he wanted. Maybe he had nothing worth surviving for. Either way, he only reassured himself with the thought that even if he was choking on his own blood, he'd spare no effort in returning the favor should someone be foolish enough to attempt to kill him. "What would he do, indeed.. a few things come to mind." He purred, shifting to press his lower back more firmly against Crow's body provocatively, eager to feel more than just the softness of his fur.

It was becoming clear that this little inquiry would be the final tangent for the moment, as the pull between their bodies inevitably reached critical levels. His criminal friend offered little in his answer, but as always, it wasn't nothing. Another stroke of brush for the collection, to try to arrange into a full picture once he has enough. He could press for more now, but.. that would be so inelegant. "Negotiation is not his strong suit, to be sure." Nicharion snorted, recalling how his own attempts at reaching an agreement with Savard have gone.

With that out of the way, the red brute rolled to his other side so that he would face his lover, a gasp tense with anticipation falling past his lips when the other's nose made contact with his throat instead of the back of his neck. "Go on.." he urged in a low rumble, one of his paws finding its way to Crow's head to gently pull him in even closer. "Have a taste." Excitement was obvious in his voice, as well as the lascivious musk that permeated whatever little empty air that remained between them. If his lovely bird would so generously tease him with danger... then he couldn't help but demand it is used to sate their shared dark temptations.
manip + code: clae
02-28-2024, 12:38 PM

Mercenary

from Saora
age
4 years old
gender
Male
size
Extra Large
scent
mulled cider
supporting
Jacobite
home
Tir Na Nog
threadlog
crow
writer
alz
so we'll run to the sea—
The whimsical words of warning served only to evoke the dormant fantasies that their last tryst illuminated, scenes that Bastien could imagine skipping through his lover’s mind like an old film. He couldn’t think of any better setting to enjoy a movie than entwined in each other, their combined warmth, and ambient firelight, and he was both quick to possessively sling his arm across the other’s back, inviting Nicharion as close as he wanted to get, and sideline the conversation now that he’d relayed the information he’d come bearing. It wasn’t in his nature to entertain more than one man at a time, anyway. He was a much more generous lover when his attention was singularly focused.

But it wouldn’t have taken long to reroute if it were it divided. As swiftly as if a sudden gust had just blown through them, when his nose came to a halt hovering so tantalizingly close to the hollow in his lover’s throat, his thoughts dispersed. They all shared the same intention, burning in the desperate fire of his eyes, when they reconvened. Go on. Have a taste. Not that Bastien needed much verbal encouragement, but the words sent a shiver of anticipation, want, need through him that made every individual hair raise and bristle, like it took considerable effort to maintain control. An effort that did not decrease in difficulty, amplified by each pulse of a racing heart he could feel.

“Twist my arm,” he whined, whether sarcastic rhetoric or truly a breathless plea open to his crimson companion’s interpretation. He didn't quite care what Nicharion chose to make of it, interested instead in the open invitation to indulge in succulent sin. Fortunately, his lover wasn't a priest, and the windows were too clouded by the building heat for the heavens to see.

fade
—and find no captain waiting
code // art
04-23-2024, 04:17 PM
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