[ That nip to his ear elicits a pleasant sound, a low noise of encouragement. Caelus seems to like that sort of thing. Curiously, though, as the Trailblazer lets Luocha's gloved fingers slide up his belly, teasing the hem of the cropped black top he wears beneath his white shirt, he exhales sharply; his breath shakes on the exhale. It's not quite a growl, but he seems a little displeased — ]
Please just call me Caelus...
[ He doesn't like it, the strange sense that this is some kind of deal — doesn't like it because he hasn't forgotten that Luocha is a merchant, or at least he's supposed to be, and Caelus can't, for the life of him, figure out what price he's paying. Which, for a more cautious sort of person, would be good cause to get up and leave — but it's much too late for the Trailblazer to back out now, isn't it? Not when Luocha's thighs are bracketed around his, pinning him where he sits. Not when the heavy weight on top of him promises so much more danger and sleek muscle than he thought he'd fallen into.
Whatever. Whether Luocha indulges him or not, Caelus can lean into the kinky pleasure of taking doctor's orders. His clever fingers find and identify the curves of that button once they're guided to it. Caelus is good at solving puzzles, even the considerably difficult riddle of however-the-fuck Luocha puts on his clothes. It's not so hard when you know what to look for. The button on his thick outer vest gets undone first, followed by the ties on the silk shirt with the jacquard lapels underneath. His dark undershirt — the snaps on it get pulled apart too.
Caelus can't quite pull the merchant's clothes off his shoulders, in this particular position, but once the man's shirts are hanging loose and open, he can place his palms on Luocha's thick thighs and slowly slide them up, past the smooth waistband of his pants up towards his bared body. He isn't wearing gloves himself, so he can feel every sensuous variation in texture as his fingers slide upward; everything feels so rich against his skin. The Trailblazer's hands carefully push everything out of the way — when he does, the gorgeous sight of Luocha's chiseled chest, deliciously creamy beneath his fingers, makes him involuntarily buck his hips into the merchant's, desperately and somewhat ineffectually trying to get friction between both of their legs. One greedy hand sinks into his pec; the other holds him close, resting on his lower back.
Caelus's eyes are warm. Hungry, but pleading, too. ]
Kiss me again. Touch me.
[ How did he wind up like this? He both feels and sounds strangely desperate. If he's the one moving and touching, why is he also the one begging and pleading?
There is something so discomfiting, he realizes, about being the only person sliding out of control here; there is something so uncomfortable about realizing that he has very little sway over what he does and what's being done to him. Even if it's only an act, he needs Luocha to at least pretend to want this too.
(It hasn't quite occurred to him that for the "doctor" to permit this at all must mean that he wants it perfectly well —) ]
I wanna make you come...
[ He will probably learn to regret this later — months from now, when every healing touch and every whispered word reminds him of the weight of Luocha's body in his lap, warming him through to his core. ]
no subject
Please just call me Caelus...
[ He doesn't like it, the strange sense that this is some kind of deal — doesn't like it because he hasn't forgotten that Luocha is a merchant, or at least he's supposed to be, and Caelus can't, for the life of him, figure out what price he's paying. Which, for a more cautious sort of person, would be good cause to get up and leave — but it's much too late for the Trailblazer to back out now, isn't it? Not when Luocha's thighs are bracketed around his, pinning him where he sits. Not when the heavy weight on top of him promises so much more danger and sleek muscle than he thought he'd fallen into.
Whatever. Whether Luocha indulges him or not, Caelus can lean into the kinky pleasure of taking doctor's orders. His clever fingers find and identify the curves of that button once they're guided to it. Caelus is good at solving puzzles, even the considerably difficult riddle of however-the-fuck Luocha puts on his clothes. It's not so hard when you know what to look for. The button on his thick outer vest gets undone first, followed by the ties on the silk shirt with the jacquard lapels underneath. His dark undershirt — the snaps on it get pulled apart too.
Caelus can't quite pull the merchant's clothes off his shoulders, in this particular position, but once the man's shirts are hanging loose and open, he can place his palms on Luocha's thick thighs and slowly slide them up, past the smooth waistband of his pants up towards his bared body. He isn't wearing gloves himself, so he can feel every sensuous variation in texture as his fingers slide upward; everything feels so rich against his skin. The Trailblazer's hands carefully push everything out of the way — when he does, the gorgeous sight of Luocha's chiseled chest, deliciously creamy beneath his fingers, makes him involuntarily buck his hips into the merchant's, desperately and somewhat ineffectually trying to get friction between both of their legs. One greedy hand sinks into his pec; the other holds him close, resting on his lower back.
Caelus's eyes are warm. Hungry, but pleading, too. ]
Kiss me again. Touch me.
[ How did he wind up like this? He both feels and sounds strangely desperate. If he's the one moving and touching, why is he also the one begging and pleading?
There is something so discomfiting, he realizes, about being the only person sliding out of control here; there is something so uncomfortable about realizing that he has very little sway over what he does and what's being done to him. Even if it's only an act, he needs Luocha to at least pretend to want this too.
(It hasn't quite occurred to him that for the "doctor" to permit this at all must mean that he wants it perfectly well —) ]
I wanna make you come...
[ He will probably learn to regret this later — months from now, when every healing touch and every whispered word reminds him of the weight of Luocha's body in his lap, warming him through to his core. ]