[ Caelus catches his breath quickly enough. March always says that the Nameless are more resilient than ordinary people due to the blessing of the Trailblaze, but the thing about that is that Caelus was like this before agreeing to join the Express, which means his preternatural endurance and stamina must stem from something deep inside of him. (The Stellaron? Or some other quirk of his body's?)
Anyway — that's not too important, either. What is important is that Caelus shifts against the armchair, stretching and rolling his shoulders and neck with leonine grace. The post-orgasmic glow looks good on him; he feels comfortably lethargic, though something in his body still throbs greedily for more. (The "cancer," insatiable, all-devouring.) He meets Luocha's gaze, his knowing half-smile.
He finds himself smiling back, as if this has all been a very routine appointment, and Luocha a very attentive doctor, seeing to his needs. ]
Good. [ Another, more noticeable, quirk of his lips. He is trying not to laugh, both at the absurdity of the situation, and at how ragged he sounds. ] Really good. Better than I've ever felt in my life.
[ Which — the stretch of consciousness that Caelus has been "alive" is actually not very long, considering that all of his memories prior to the attack on the Space Station were wiped. But he's pretty sure that Luocha doesn't know that about him, so for all intents and purposes, Caelus does, in fact, feel better than he's ever felt in his life right now.
He's still a little desirous, even though he's satisfied. Still wants to touch Luocha, undress him — maybe even possess him. But Caelus is not so delusional that he doesn't understand the kind of man Luocha is. He's not someone to be possessed. He probably doesn't want to be touched right now — his body language is suggesting as much.
Caelus still spreads his hand a little, stretching his palm out over where it's patiently resting on Luocha's thigh. ]
...But what about you?
[ His golden irises flash a little whenever they catch the light. They flick upward now, taking in the faint hunger behind the merchant's false smile, the dark ambition in his eyes. Perhaps the Trailblazer has intuited that once is not usually enough for a man like Luocha. Maybe he's just a needy young stud, himself and of his own volition. ]
I could give you more. You could fuck me, if you want.
[ Straightforward and obscene. The invitation of a whore, promising a different price to pay. But what is the price here? What is it that Luocha is or is not willing to give up? ]
no subject
Anyway — that's not too important, either. What is important is that Caelus shifts against the armchair, stretching and rolling his shoulders and neck with leonine grace. The post-orgasmic glow looks good on him; he feels comfortably lethargic, though something in his body still throbs greedily for more. (The "cancer," insatiable, all-devouring.) He meets Luocha's gaze, his knowing half-smile.
He finds himself smiling back, as if this has all been a very routine appointment, and Luocha a very attentive doctor, seeing to his needs. ]
Good. [ Another, more noticeable, quirk of his lips. He is trying not to laugh, both at the absurdity of the situation, and at how ragged he sounds. ] Really good. Better than I've ever felt in my life.
[ Which — the stretch of consciousness that Caelus has been "alive" is actually not very long, considering that all of his memories prior to the attack on the Space Station were wiped. But he's pretty sure that Luocha doesn't know that about him, so for all intents and purposes, Caelus does, in fact, feel better than he's ever felt in his life right now.
He's still a little desirous, even though he's satisfied. Still wants to touch Luocha, undress him — maybe even possess him. But Caelus is not so delusional that he doesn't understand the kind of man Luocha is. He's not someone to be possessed. He probably doesn't want to be touched right now — his body language is suggesting as much.
Caelus still spreads his hand a little, stretching his palm out over where it's patiently resting on Luocha's thigh. ]
...But what about you?
[ His golden irises flash a little whenever they catch the light. They flick upward now, taking in the faint hunger behind the merchant's false smile, the dark ambition in his eyes. Perhaps the Trailblazer has intuited that once is not usually enough for a man like Luocha. Maybe he's just a needy young stud, himself and of his own volition. ]
I could give you more. You could fuck me, if you want.
[ Straightforward and obscene. The invitation of a whore, promising a different price to pay. But what is the price here? What is it that Luocha is or is not willing to give up? ]