[A sort of stamina as this...par and parcel indeed, perhaps, for someone young and needy. While it's also just as equally likely to be the Stellaron's influence or some property of Caelus's body, designed as it is to contain the cancer that it does. In the end a combination of all the above might answer best. But either way, even with such likely factors in mind, it's still quite fascinating to observe just how fluidly Caelus seems to draw himself back together. From even this, it seems, an afterglow allegedly better than he's ever felt in his life to date. (Perhaps not a toy so easily broken after all, that ambitiously hungry thing can't help but note,) ...Luocha may not be fully privy to the finer details of just how minimally Caelus's current life memories stretch, no. But in matters of existences that are artificial, such a thing is hardly uncommon, and wouldn't come as much of a surprise. The sincerity of the answer is quite plain, anyhow, more of that simple and forthright sort of honesty--
--That goes on, to make an invitation like that. Obscene in the plainly straightforward phrasing of it--and that really is so terribly novel. Diverted in this way from schemes so intricately layered in their complexity, it really has...been too long, far too long, since Luocha could so easily determine what's being offered to him and what it's likely to cost.
Ah, truly that's the real danger here, isn't it? Something he probably should have foreseen, if only the intriguing riddle of the Stellaron in this boy's chest hadn't turned out to be such an ensnaring temptation. A temptation that persists now, so very appealingly, in the light weight of that palm on his thigh and the earnest flicker still kindled in those golden eyes.
A sort of amusement can't help but curve upon that false smile on Luocha's face.]
My, listen to you. ...The patient shouldn't be expected to ask after the doctor, you know. Though I suppose by now we've shifted a bit past conventional treatment...
[Once is never enough when it comes to a variety of matters in Luocha's life, honestly. But, all the same.
As he speaks, Luocha slowly removes one damp glove, and then the other. Right hand, and then left--though the left ever requires a bit of extra work, to undo the fastenings that keep the corded chain of his cross wrapped secure about his palm there. As soon as that hand is freed, the rosary returns to his bare wrist, re-wrapped with the automatic deftness of deeply ingrained habit. (It cannot be removed long, it must ever be carried.) And in doing so, as the feather-light weight of the charm sets upon his skin once more...
Anyone knows the sensation of being stared at out of sight, of judgment bored hot into one's back. As with pain overall, Luocha has grown accustomed to it--though it's not often that he's so distracted as to truly briefly forget about it. As distracted as he's been these last several minutes, even.
But the coffin is surely still there in its corner. And besides...]
I could fuck you. Of course, that's not all you're thinking about right now, is it? Hm, I wonder if even that would be enough to truly satiate you... [Perhaps he speaks in equal parts to both Caelus and the Stellaron, in saying this. Luocha is not someone to be possessed, no, not without measures first taken to loosen that tight grip he ever endeavors to keep upon his closely guarded control. But that doesn't mean he can't intuit, in turn, that Caelus might desire something more along those lines. Not when sufficient proof still prickles under the crimson marks upon Luocha's neck and chest. Even if the boy has proven just as happy to submit, and offers more of such aloud. ...It really would be satisfyingly easy to play upon that. Tilting his head slightly, Luocha reaches with freed fingertips to brush some errant strands of Caelus's hair from his eyes. He really is a little too versed, probably, in going through the motions of gentle kindness while such unkind things stir within.] These sorts of thoughts won't leave you once they've started, you know. Given time, they'll bloom into quite interesting things. ...So, I want you to wait and keep hold upon them, hm? Until tomorrow, at this same hour.
[Ever gradually, his tone drifts lower to a murmur, but he leans in as it does, the words breathing over Caelus's lips. Not a kiss, not quite...but even now, the scent of pale flowers crowds close.]
Should the shape of those thoughts appeal to you still, by then, you'll return here. And I'll fuck you, if that is what you want. ...Would you indulge me in this selfish request, Caelus?
no subject
(Perhaps not a toy so easily broken after all, that ambitiously hungry thing can't help but note,)...Luocha may not be fully privy to the finer details of just how minimally Caelus's current life memories stretch, no. But in matters of existences that are artificial, such a thing is hardly uncommon, and wouldn't come as much of a surprise. The sincerity of the answer is quite plain, anyhow, more of that simple and forthright sort of honesty----That goes on, to make an invitation like that. Obscene in the plainly straightforward phrasing of it--and that really is so terribly novel. Diverted in this way from schemes so intricately layered in their complexity, it really has...been too long, far too long, since Luocha could so easily determine what's being offered to him and what it's likely to cost.
Ah, truly that's the real danger here, isn't it? Something he probably should have foreseen, if only the intriguing riddle of the Stellaron in this boy's chest hadn't turned out to be such an ensnaring temptation. A temptation that persists now, so very appealingly, in the light weight of that palm on his thigh and the earnest flicker still kindled in those golden eyes.
A sort of amusement can't help but curve upon that false smile on Luocha's face.]
My, listen to you. ...The patient shouldn't be expected to ask after the doctor, you know. Though I suppose by now we've shifted a bit past conventional treatment...
[Once is never enough when it comes to a variety of matters in Luocha's life, honestly. But, all the same.
As he speaks, Luocha slowly removes one damp glove, and then the other. Right hand, and then left--though the left ever requires a bit of extra work, to undo the fastenings that keep the corded chain of his cross wrapped secure about his palm there. As soon as that hand is freed, the rosary returns to his bare wrist, re-wrapped with the automatic deftness of deeply ingrained habit. (It cannot be removed long, it must ever be carried.) And in doing so, as the feather-light weight of the charm sets upon his skin once more...
Anyone knows the sensation of being stared at out of sight, of judgment bored hot into one's back. As with pain overall, Luocha has grown accustomed to it--though it's not often that he's so distracted as to truly briefly forget about it. As distracted as he's been these last several minutes, even.
But the coffin is surely still there in its corner. And besides...]
I could fuck you. Of course, that's not all you're thinking about right now, is it? Hm, I wonder if even that would be enough to truly satiate you... [Perhaps he speaks in equal parts to both Caelus and the Stellaron, in saying this. Luocha is not someone to be possessed, no, not without measures first taken to loosen that tight grip he ever endeavors to keep upon his closely guarded control. But that doesn't mean he can't intuit, in turn, that Caelus might desire something more along those lines. Not when sufficient proof still prickles under the crimson marks upon Luocha's neck and chest. Even if the boy has proven just as happy to submit, and offers more of such aloud. ...It really would be satisfyingly easy to play upon that. Tilting his head slightly, Luocha reaches with freed fingertips to brush some errant strands of Caelus's hair from his eyes. He really is a little too versed, probably, in going through the motions of gentle kindness while such unkind things stir within.] These sorts of thoughts won't leave you once they've started, you know. Given time, they'll bloom into quite interesting things. ...So, I want you to wait and keep hold upon them, hm? Until tomorrow, at this same hour.
[Ever gradually, his tone drifts lower to a murmur, but he leans in as it does, the words breathing over Caelus's lips. Not a kiss, not quite...but even now, the scent of pale flowers crowds close.]
Should the shape of those thoughts appeal to you still, by then, you'll return here. And I'll fuck you, if that is what you want. ...Would you indulge me in this selfish request, Caelus?