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.
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. 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. 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. |
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 |