[Caelus might not consider it sufficiently funny, and yet there's humor to be had anyhow from that question, in the way its deadpan delivery clashes against the mildly silly title applied. Not quite enough to invoke that same open laugh once more, no, but it does add a touch of amusement to the curve of Luocha's smile when he glances up. (The blush, the nerves under scrutiny...this is all taken note of, yes, much the same way the more blatant instance had been in the lobby. Still unaddressed just as politely, too. Will this be persisting for the entirety of this process, on Caelus's end of things? Goodness, one wonders...)]
Oh, this miracle doctor has plenty of recommendations to spare. Not sure any of them would be enough to overcome that reckless path of the Trailblazer, however. I have a feeling that "be less reckless" might be quite a tall order, for some reason...
[As he speaks, Luocha slowly stands upright once more, hand still extended.]
Still, so far as your myriad immediate aches and pains go--these I could remedy for now. Clear your slate, so to speak, before you fill it anew. Of course, this would mean applying my healing to parts of you beyond your leg, thereby changing the bounds of my initial offer. But if you'd still be receptive to...hm?
[The cross still flickers; gloved fingertips now hover a hair's breadth over Caelus's chest. Where his heart would be--and yes, ostensibly, where that Stellaron of his currently resides. But that's not exactly a novelty in itself at this point, for all that Luocha is still quite interested in investigating it further. No, what prompts a blink from him about now, his own words sidetracked as the odd reading comes to light, is...]
Well now. There was quite a grievous wound here. Yet, the patch that has closed it... [A slight, pensive frown.] ...This was not the work of the Abundance.
Oh. [ Caelus blinks, sighs, adjusts his legs. ] The Preservation did that. I saw them after I was stabbed.
[ He says this very neutrally, like it's only normal for that sort of thing to happen sometimes.
He wants to touch his chest in remembrance, but Luocha's hand is in the way, so the Trailblazer settles for closing his eyes to contemplate everything instead. The lance, the snow, the desperate stand. What he promised the will of the Guardians. Maybe Alisa Rand was in the end only another mournful little girl in a series of mournful little girls driven to insanity by the thought of a dying world. Endurance is like that, Caelus thinks abstractly; it will drive you to madness. But even so. Never waver.
The gaze of the Amber Lord seared itself into his flesh. Maybe he has only deluded himself into thinking that it felt like approval. ]
...I thought I understood... what they would have wanted.
[ This last remark seems meant more for himself than for Luocha — but, after a moment, he wakes himself from his own reverie, golden eyes blinking at the "miracle doctor" with sudden catlike alertness. ]
So — if I say that I'd like a clean slate, what will your new offer cost me?
[ For all that the Trailblazer has bumbled into this, guileless and impulsive and seemingly thinking nothing at all, he has in fact not forgotten that Luocha is supposed to be a merchant. At some point, he figures, he will probably have to pay a price. ]
[The Preservation did that, says Caelus. I saw them after I was stabbed. As if drawing the gaze of an Aeon had been simply one of those mildly rare occurrences that one would remark upon in passing. On par with having a bird land in the palm of your hand, or glimpsing a shooting star in a night sky.
Studying the neutral set of Caelus's features in delivering this news for a long moment, Luocha supposes that perhaps it would indeed seem like such a typical thing. To a person for whom, most likely, life events in general are few but densely steeped in strangeness.]
My, is that so? I see...
[As if there aren't countless people in this universe who would spend their whole lives burning themselves to ashes for the mere illusion of any Aeon's split-second attention. As if the reversal of a mortal wound on behalf of the Preservation wouldn't be considered by some cultures to be an ultimate favor of the Amber Lord, the height of divine providence. ...Still, though the memory does seem to set a pensiveness of some reflection upon Caelus in recalling it, he doesn't address it with overt gravity...and so Luocha opts not to either. Merely this politely intrigued acknowledgment, with slightly arched eyebrows to accompany it...before Luocha's hand is drawn back, health assessment finished, and he moves on from there.
--Well. Almost, moves on,]
Naturally, it would be difficult to determine the true intent behind such an encounter. There are scholars in this world who spend all their days attempting to understand the wants of Aeons, only to find themselves no closer to the truth in the end. But there is no hole in your heart at present, and you breathe among the living still, and this is a result that cannot be argued. Does the reasoning matter so much in the end?
[He knows, of course, that he's responding to a remark that wasn't even directly meant for him. Perhaps it's just...the topic of Aeons always tends to draw something out, like this. It's something about the flat set of Luocha's words, the certainty in that last question, as if it isn't particularly rhetorical in his own opinion.
(To him, the reasoning doesn't matter at all. Not when it's barely human anymore. Not when the end result doesn't change anyhow, regardless of the answer. When all you can do is try to move forward with the fickle cards they've now dealt you. Because you have to. Because there's no choice. As it always is, in matters of Aeons--)
But anyhow. Yes, now they're moving on. It's an almost palpable shift right back, from that brief lapsing pause to something more cordially amiable once more. To business, and all that.]
Hmm, but let's see...for a clean slate of health...well, I hardly think this a sort of thing that would demand a monetary charge. If you'd consider it a favor from me...then perhaps, I could ask a favor from you in return?
[ Was it like that, really? A divine favor? Sometimes Caelus has his doubts. On the one hand, he is not unaware that he has a special existence in this world — that he was chosen to walk a path prescribed to him by the seer the Stellaron Hunters call Elio. On the other hand, the Aeons are at times so inscrutable and unknowable that Qlipoth's intervention could have merely been an exercise in their own inflexible impulse to build.
Saving his life may have really been nothing more than a coincidence. Maybe Caelus attracted the Amber Lord's gaze, and then they saw a hole, and they fixed it. Because they must build. They must fix. They must endure.
(There's another thought that plagues him, sometimes — one that he's never brought up with anyone else, not even Herta, who would be most curious. Maybe the Preservation, in their wordless actions, meant to say: Rise, Akivili, my old friend. Today, as yesterday, your time is not yet come.)
Anyway. At the mention of a favor, Caelus visibly perks up. The Trailblazer is not really like a cat in the ways that matter, but one cannot help but get the feeling, despite his mostly-expressionless mien, that if he had a pair of animal ears (canine or feline or perhaps merely procyonine... well, raccoonish) they would be fully pointed upwards in eager anticipation. His eyes are now wide and awake. There's a liiittle tiny bit of a smile on his face.
Sidequest? Sidequest? He loves sidequests. ]
Of course. What's the favor?
[ (Does he sense that odd atmosphere that sets in when Luocha talks about Aeons? Maybe. But, ostensibly — that's not for him to engage with. At least, not right now.) ]
[There are times and places for proper Aeon discourse, probably...and now is not one of them, not really. In this, at least, they both seem to come to a mutual and unspoken understanding; Caelus pursues the topic no further, and Luocha doesn't either. Not when favors are rules of magnitude easier to navigate. Yes, sidequests, those busy things that make the world go round...
And oh, how promptly the young man perks up, at the mere hint of the prospect. Quite easy to see how the Nameless have developed such a favored reputation aboard the Luofu already, Luocha thinks, when they have someone among their number who draws such evident happiness at the simple idea of doing something for someone. No doubt this one's been running errands for all sorts of people here ever since they arrived, hm? ...This, too, is oddly endearing to learn. Maybe a little too much. --Surely he wouldn't agree to just about anything? One hopes he's at least a little discerning, about the favors he takes up? This sort of thing...really could be a little too easy to get taken advantage of...
Not that Luocha would try, of course. Not...at the moment, anyhow, so early on as things are, so briefly as they've known each other. No, to call it a 'temptation' is too strong a word, but there is an ever so quiet thing shaped somewhat like an intrusive thought, in the back of his head, that observes Caelus's eager anticipation and wants to test just how pliant it might be. How about this, for a favor: would you let me open you up, reach in you, and touch that reticent flame in your core? Just a moment, just for a look. Just to see what work has been done. Just to see what the Preservation saw. It's curious, it's just so very curious. The longer this interaction goes on, the more intriguing Caelus becomes, little hints of such remarkable aspects tucked close underneath such an unassuming and irreverent surface. ...But Luocha has not come this far in his life by being an impatient person. To try prizing apart that surface so bluntly now would be crass, besides. Unbecoming.
And in being close enough to administer healing, he'll have a chance for a fairly close look anyhow...]
It would be nothing much, of course, ideally something that won't be too inconvenient for you... [This is what comes out aloud, the pause before it near imperceptible, and the mild set of Luocha expression hinting nothing at the decidedly Less Mild internal demons currently being smoothed back down.] But it does occur to me that you'd be in an ideal position for this, as one of the ever-transient Nameless.
May I ask, what stop was next scheduled for the Astral Express, before you were all sidelined by the plight of the Luofu? If I recall, the nearest locale of prominent note in this corner of the galaxy would be Penacony...would I be correct, to assume you were heading there?
[ Luocha is correct not to play his hand at this time. For all that Caelus seems to bumble through life agreeing to everything, he is a little more sensitive to scheming and manipulation than most might think, and even he would have to refuse if for any reason he caught even a hint of the open greed that lurks beneath the merchant's placid exterior. Even if Luocha were to hide his interest behind the mask of the well-meaning, ever-helpful man of medicine, whispering convincingly about potential treatments or a scientific interest in his condition, Caelus might still refuse, out of concern for Luocha's safety if not his own. Sorry, but I can't let you do that. You'd be putting yourself in danger, too, if the Stellaron went out of control.
But — let's say, theoretically, there was more time to build the snare, and set up the conditions for Caelus to step in it. Suppose he could be convinced of the necessity of it; suppose he thought of Luocha as a friend. It wouldn't even take very long: after all, even his precious family on the Astral Express are really only strangers he's known for a few months, a few weeks, and when every friend is a stranger then so too is every stranger a friend. There are all sorts of possibilities in this world, and he is so very, very agreeable, when it comes to people he thinks of as his friends.
And he likes Luocha, anyway. Or at least, he thinks he likes Luocha, when he remembers that he doesn't need to feel threatened. ]
Yeah. Himeko said Penacony was going to be our next stop.
[ Apparently quite at ease again, Caelus leans back in his seat, arching his back just slightly, stretching out the (evidently chronic) aches in his spine. He rolls his broad shoulders and his long neck, then settles into a new relaxed position, looking at Luocha with expectant interest. ]
I don't know very much about it, though... I was planning to do some light reading at least, but then the Stellaron at the Luofu appeared.
[There will probably be a day, eventually, when the subtle little hints finally slot into place, and that odd knee-jerk sense of being threatened Caelus keeps having in Luocha's vicinity is at last somewhat validated. Whether or not he'll still think he likes Luocha by that time...well, that will probably be quite an interesting occasion all around.
But that's yet another metaphorical future, among various others--and for now...yes, for now, the atmosphere is not yet chilled. Luocha's placid exterior holds, and Caelus addresses the line of questioning with ease both verbally and physically, and all is well. This remains simply a friendly exchange between a healer and a casually acquainted patient. And so, accordingly--with a faint smile settling anew, on Luocha's part:]
Why, yes. As a matter of fact, I was indeed going to request something from there. Hah, guessing right that promptly...it's actually a bit embarrassing, being quite that transparent. [You know, as if he's ever been transparent about anything ever in his life--] I have never visited Penacony myself, you see. Business has simply never yet aligned...and it's looking as if it won't align in that direction for some time still, either. I will be departing from the Luofu before too long, but it'll be elsewhere, if things pan out as I rather expect--which means our intersecting paths here will also be parting, by that time.
[This is all said with the serene affectation of somebody that Is Not in fact anticipating his own arrest at the hands of the Xianzhou authorities within the month, or anything like that,]
Still, if fortune turns such that we might yet meet again at some point...do you think perhaps you could hold onto some manner of trinket or treat from there, for me to have a look at sometime? Something distinctly unique to Penacony in itself.
There are some things already slotting into place. Not the Stellaron, not the impossible number of legal violations that don't really matter in the end — he has no way of knowing those things about Luocha just yet — but he is beginning to understand why he has such ambivalent feelings about Luocha, despite everything about the man that should point in the opposite direction.
Because there's a lot to like about Luocha on face value, really. He's charming, he's kind, he's intelligent. He goes out of his way to help others; he notices things that others don't. Perhaps these characteristics are ultimately commonplace throughout the universe, but to Caelus, whose first experiences with life have involved at least several temperamental geniuses and dangerous internationally renowned criminals, the rare simplicity of kindness goes a long way. Plus, while it's less important than the good facets of his character, the merchant is — "easy on the eyes" doesn't even begin to encapsulate it. It's not merely that he's handsome. He is ethereally pretty in a way where Caelus just sort of wants to zone out and think about nothing while watching him move about, like the man is a particularly glossy and beautiful specimen of jaguar that can be safely observed through glass.
But. But.
The thing that's been setting off Caelus's sense of danger — besides the creature in the coffin, which is a whole different problem entirely — is the way that Luocha can say several dozen words while seemingly saying nothing at all.
Caelus kind of just thought he was stupid, at first. That he was just dumb, that he wasn't catching on. That he'd just let it slide, the way he lets everything slide, because he doesn't know much, and other people seem to know lots of things. But the more time that he spends in Luocha's presence, the more he thinks this is either an intentional or reflexive thing that the man does. That it's not some fault of his understanding, actually.
I have never visited Penacony myself, okay, that's a fact. Business has never aligned — vague, but implies the logical interpretation that his job has just kept him busy with other things. Won't align in that direction for time still could mean a lot of things, probably just that he'll be busy, but is still wildly open to interpretation. I will be departing from the Luofu, okay, fact, but it'll be elsewhere, what does that mean, if things pan out as I expect, what does that mean —
And trinket or treat? It's like he just says things, on purpose, that are open to interpretation, on purpose, but why? ]
A trinket or a treat. [ It just comes out of his mouth before he can stop himself — ] Do you want to be more specific?
[ It comes out sounding so deadpan, flat, and unintentionally judgmental that Caelus actually cringes at himself once it's said. Grimacing, this time not because of his leg, the Trailblazer passes a palm over his face and clarifies: ]
[Intentional or reflexive...perhaps it's both those things at once, really, if such an answer could be considered a valid one. Actions practiced sufficiently long enough are bound to become habit in time--isn't there a proverb along those lines?
A ruse is far easier to maintain, after all, when you delegate at least half the work to the audience. Mention you're a merchant, but never specify what you sell, and the latter party either never thinks much of it or makes up their own list of assumed wares. State, if asked, that the coffin you carry is a tool of your trade--how so? For what reason? Never leave sufficiently polite room for such questions to be asked, and they stay internal, or are resolved in imagination instead. Open-ended details, open-ended answers--to be filled in whatever way seems most fitting, for the man who's so kind and smart and riveting to the eyes, surely too much so to be hiding much of anything.
Still. Every now and then, someone picks up the pattern. And sometimes it's an unexpected someone, now isn't it?
Caelus might be rescinding that first-impulse flatly judgmental question with a proper grimace, but the fact remains that it was quite clearly a first impulse. This prompts a slight but rather distinct pause, on Luocha's part, in which he takes a moment to blink back. To go by the unwavering pleasant set of his expression, no particular offense has been taken, but.]
Well, as I said, I intend for this to be a fairly painless request. I thought it might be easier for you to have a broad range of options, and so in that sense, anything would indeed be fine. But, perhaps in the end that was all rather too vague, hm? [Something knowing tugs at the corner of his pleasant smile, as if they're not just talking about the Penacony favor--even if, aloud, they are.] Let's say, then, to narrow things down...I do tend to particularly enjoy sampling novel foods or drinks in new places. So, perhaps it could be something along those lines. Either packaged or sealed, of course, to accommodate however long the length of time might be before we cross paths again...is this sufficiently specific, you think?
[Idle humor still lilts the last question. Luocha is not specific about much of anything at all when he can help it, no, and it seems he's aware enough of this fact.
...It seems that Caelus is also becoming aware of this fact, though, and rest assured this is something being noted in a mental dossier about now. That he may in fact be more perceptive than even he himself realizes. Hmm...]
[ Perhaps a man like Luocha, so carefully in control all of the time, will appreciate the sense of anxiety that he holds Caelus in up until he speaks — the poor Trailblazer is quite clearly worried that he's offended Luocha for as long as the merchant holds him in that pause, even despite the serene look on the man's pleasant face. Then, at last, he speaks — and just as quickly, Caelus's worries go away. ]
...Wait, so you just want snacks?
[ He's so relieved, both by the fact that his thoughtless impulse didn't offend the mysterious merchant, and by the unexpected simplicity of the request, that Caelus can't help but laugh. The sound that emerges is surprisingly boyish; the smile that overtakes his face makes his eyes curve. ]
Okay, sure. I can get you snacks from Penacony. [ There's a long ribbon on his left sleeve that he fusses with sometimes; unconsciously, he flips it through his fingers now, holding it to his chin as he speaks, still smiling slightly. ] If I see anything else that makes me think of you, I'll pick that up too.
[ What was there to worry about in the end? Maybe Luocha has a point, in that Caelus's little aches and pains are adding up to exhaustion, and exhaustion is making him subconsciously anxious. The man may be slick, a double-talker, insufferably vague — but he's a nice guy, and he's offered to help Caelus, and he hasn't done anything too strange, really. Never mind how Welt feels about him. There's nothing to worry about at all.
(There's another thing here, a way in which Caelus might be like a dog with a new trick: what he has learned from this exchange is that if he's confused about something Luocha said, he can ask the man for clarification. Which might seem simple, even shallow, but people like Herta don't usually give him that luxury — and, also, might be a bit novel on the receiving end, for a man who gets away with everything by basically saying nothing at all.)
Anyway, Caelus is still musing to himself. Thinking about snacks he might pick up in Penacony. ]
...That's so cute.
[ It's not deliberate, not flattery. He just thinks it out loud, that's all; it's like the kind of request that March would make. Cute, like the teddy bears in her room. But March is cute in an annoying way, and Luocha's not annoying at all! ...Confusing, perhaps, but not annoying! ]
[There is always something distinctly satisfying, about being able to guess at reactions and find them validated--to string along a little tension just so, and then graciously allow it to alleviate, observing the expressions that result as anticipated. Caelus is a refreshingly open book, in that sense, so plainly and earnestly as he wears his emotions upon his sleeve. He might be possessed of surprisingly decent perception, yes, but it seems that in the end...
Still quite easy to sideline and assure. Very pliant to work with, isn't he?]
--Hmm. Yes, I suppose that's the simpler phrase. I do like snacks. [Quite wryly aware of how his wandering phrasing has just been unceremoniously boiled down in this way, yes. But no offense still, no, in the face of that relief and that smile. Boyish indeed, to be so relieved as to laugh about it. Caelus continues to invoke the term 'endearing', and it's really almost impressive in how it's likely not deliberate. ...Really, he could do with being more careful. This is a sort of trait people will be tempted to either relentlessly indulge or relentlessly bully...] No need to overdo it, rest assured, one or two items of interest would be more than enough. ...Does it really strike you so, as such a "cute" sort of thing?
[That's a word he doesn't receive too often. It's not that Luocha's particularly put out by it, exactly, but there's something distinctly amusing about how it's so freely given. Will he still be thought of as "cute", Luocha wonders, if he--?
Draws closer once more, now that the terms of the contract have been more or less set. Leaning down, over Caelus where he's seated, the drape of his long flaxen hair spilling artfully over one shoulder to brush at his torso, as Luocha reaches to place his left hand on his thigh.
...The thigh on the injured leg. Of course. That injury they were going to work on from the start, you know.]
What sorts of very different things are you usually asked for? [The question is asked close beside Caelus's head, words casually murmured over the side of his neck. A distinct not-hot-not-cold sort of sensation is likely spreading over his leg, about now, as the cross at Luocha's wrist flickers once more, trailed along the path of his hand as it moves slowly.] Missions of a more challenging sort, I assume?
[ Caelus jolts when Luocha leans closer, laying one hand on his thigh. It's not — it's not unpleasant, he reassures himself quickly. It's just unexpected. He feels his own pulse skyrocket again, loud in his ears, overtaking his senses; not for the first time, he wishes he could just get a hold of himself. Why is he so incredibly nervous —
— no, the other question is, why is Luocha so close? Didn't he say that he didn't need to touch... no, he said that he didn't need to see it... no, wait, Caelus was the one who assumed that he didn't need to see it, and then he — he didn't say much of anything at all. But he just examined me before without touching me, Caelus thinks, a little helplessly. No, wait — didn't Dan Heng say, back then... that he was always healing from a distance...?
He was asked a question. He has to remind himself, as his heart races and all his mind can focus on is the elegant way that Luocha's hair falls, that he was asked a question. ]
A-Ah, well... they're never really... all that challenging. Just...
[ He's not unfamiliar with the sensation of being healed. From Natasha, for example, it tends to feel like being wrapped up in a warm blanket, swathed in softness. From March, though she doesn't really heal, it's chilly and bracing, like being playfully pelted with a little bit of snow to jolt your nerves awake. This — feels like something lukewarm seeping through his muscles, drawing tension like a poison out of his skin. Very pleasurable, and would probably combine nicely with the sense of adrenaline that Caelus usually gets on the battlefield — but at the moment, he just feels sort of dangerously, addictively relaxed. ]
People want things... like their goods delivered, or money, or clothes... or photos of my friends, like Himeko and Dan Heng... one of these days someone's gonna want hot photos of Welt...
[ He closes his eyes. Maybe it's just his imagination, but it's almost as though he can feel the fibers of his muscles being slowly re-knitted into their proper places. ]
I don't hate it. I like people. It's just, most of them... when you ask them what they want, or how you can help them... their problems come down to things like greed and lust.
[It's not as if Dan Heng's wrong, because it's true. Luocha is entirely capable of healing from a distance--and normally favors such, if anything, on the field of battle. He doesn't really...need to be touching Caelus at all, no, for something as simple as mending tissue displaced.
But close contact does bring the thrum of that Stellaron to clear clarity once again. Does it skip once more, in time with that jolt of Caelus's nerves again? Would the frequency more substantially change, in any way, if he were to feel sufficiently unsettled? Just what would it take, to fray at that remarkable stability? ...Ah, the truly ideal sort of test would be some sort of fight wound in fervent emotions, but he can't exactly get into one of those with Caelus for the foreseeable future. So, instead, there's this sort of alternative--playing to nerves, and the way Luocha's noticed that his proximity so thoroughly unbalances the young man, for reasons he can somewhat guess.
Unfair? Quite. Unnecessary? Surely. Truthfully...there isn't an objectively practical reason to be doing this. But it is...hm...what's the word, really. This isn't a feeling he taps upon often anymore, these days. A little window of opportunity to have such absolute but fairly inconsequential control as this, over someone, is rather rare. It's...
Fun? Yes, perhaps it's fun. Interesting and mildly entertaining in equal measures, to idly pluck at these strings and see what results--the Stellaron's responses, and Caelus's as well.
(Honestly, toying with somebody rather the same way a cat might toy with a hapless prey animal is really Not very cute conduct at all, but it seems Caelus is just such a very forgiving soul, and it's really just too accommodating--)]
Mm, such are the vices of all mortal things in this world, no matter where one might go. It sounds as if you take these errands with impressive stride; most people are hardly so generously patient with others. I somehow doubt even Mr. Yang would be too enthused to fulfill that particular hypothetical request there... [Luocha's tone remains warmly even, nigh soothing. It corresponds perhaps a little too well to the sedate effect of the healing. But, for all that the intentions behind it might not be entirely too wholesome, there is genuine mending to be had; muscles soothed to loosen, whatever slight internal damage might have been left within after that fall being gently unwound.] At any rate, that's fair enough--hah, even I am hardly free of sin, believe it or not. [And all the debt therein--] There are probably worse qualities to have than a little cute gluttony...very generous of you, sir.
[Exceedingly so, really. But now here's a pause, and a slight tilt of Luocha's head, his voice just that bit closer to Caelus's ear in result.]
Oh...I beg your pardon, though, I should have warned you sooner. You're likely feeling something similar to an aching or numbing sensation, about now--this is normal. If it ever becomes unpleasant, you should let me know. ...Alright so far?
[The gloved hand still trails along, lightly drawing a line from the top of Caelus's thigh to just over his knee--slowly, very slowly, before starting to draw a circle back up. ...The scent of pale flowers is starting to settle heavy.]
[ The Stellaron is loud, this close. Interestingly enough, it's not quite racing along with Caelus's fluttering heart, now; it's thrumming, the imperceptible bass pulse of its existence vibrating long and loud with each breath that the Trailblazer takes, like some sort of raucous block party thumping along, distant and yet only one inch away. Unlike other Stellarons, it is not characterized by greed — but the emotion in it, the feeling — yes, it is something like desire.
Caelus, for his part, feels a little too sedated. Too exalted. The intense sense of pleasure that has seized him — it's not quite sexual, but it is rather similar to the sort of orgasmic ecstasy that comes from standing under a hot shower on the Express after a long, hard expedition. Not quite sexual, but it's going to get there if Luocha keeps touching feather-light over his thigh like that. Caelus almost wants to warn the man about it — what would he even say? — but when he takes a breath to talk, he smells that sweet, addictive floral scent again, and then he really can't think of anything to say at all. The thread of that mending needle being pulled through his muscles — it's too relieving to push away.
Then Luocha's low voice is practically breathed into his ear, tickling his eardrum, trickling along the back of his skull and down his spine.
Caelus shivers, but only slightly. He likes this, too, more than he wants to let on. It's like being lost in some sort of embarrassingly indulgent Foxian immersia — Luocha ASMR: Mysterious Merchant Heals Your Aches and Pains, Soft Spoken, Personal Attention. (He wants to kick himself for thinking about this. He's spent too much time with Guinafen lately.) ]
...Yeah. I'm alright. [ He nods a little too quickly; there's an element of shame in it. ] Feels good.
[ He needs. He needs he needs he needs. He needs to think. About what, he's not yet sure, but there is something in him that is embarrassingly eager to impress Luocha, and he doesn't think that the man will be very impressed if he goes and falls asleep on his couch during this healing.
(The Stellaron flickers, as if thinking alongside Caelus. It helps him. The Stellaron will fulfill any wish of yours, it whispers, sometimes, before everything goes dark.)
He reaches out. Blindly, at first, but then his hand settles lightly on the crook of Luocha's elbow. It's not to stop him, but maybe to — to what? To invite him. To guide him. To pull him in.
Caelus looks up, and for a moment, his gaze is startlingly clear.
(The Stellaron purrs, when Caelus's eyes fall on Luocha, perhaps because it knows more about desire than he does.) ]
...I know you're not innocent. But that's why I think... it's cute that you didn't ask for more.
[ What is he trying to say, really? That he knows, deep down, what kind of person Luocha probably is? That he doesn't care. That it was enough, for Caelus, that Luocha didn't ask for more. Because everyone comes to him wanting something, and he's never hated that, would never judge someone for that —
— and yet, on some level, and despite everyone he knows, he is just lonely and friendless enough to think I know you could have been more cruel to me with genuine gratitude. ]
luocha asmr...........im dying. lbr it would def be too popular tho--
Luocha wasn't expecting to be quite this surprised.
There's a combination of multiple factors here, all emerging in rapid succession, all rather more than anticipated. The stirring of the Stellaron's intent, for one, crystal clear to perceive this close--intriguingly, something that now emerges somewhat separate from Caelus's own responses. There's now, finally, a slightly characteristic sort of hunger being exerted...and yet still not in the conventional fashion. Not in the way it seems to turn its metaphorical eye upon him, purring with a desire in tandem with the sharpening of Caelus's attention. It doesn't strike as...alarming necessarily, though perhaps it probably should. Luocha instead finds himself reminded of the first time he sought to handle a flame somewhat like this one, the precaution and delicacy required therein. The heady adrenaline that accompanies such caution, unknown as the results of the slightest misstep might be. No, it seems he hasn't quite frayed that stability just yet...but to have piqued its active interest in turn instead--is this better? Worse? (Something that could be used?) New ground is being tread upon here. Perhaps ill-advised in method, but...
If second thoughts about this are to be had, it seems a bit too late for them anyhow. Because now there's a new factor emerging, isn't there? In the way Caelus reaches out like that. In the way Caelus looks at him like that. It had been noted moments earlier, of course, the too-quick nod and the stifled shiver, the way his body warms and eases under both the influence of the healing and the closeness of his presence, his voice. Things that had intended to fluster the young man, yes, and ply some more of those terribly honest responses from him. --Yet again, though, it seems Luocha has underestimated just how terribly honest Caelus can actually be. To say such a thing in such a forthright fashion. To acknowledge so very openly, that he's aware of exactly what this exchange likely actually is.
Yet still, he seeks to hold Luocha in place, instead of pushing him away. Encouragement, of this unkind toying, simply because--it's not worse?
Is he truly so confident, that Luocha wouldn't be any crueler later?
--This was supposed to be a diversion of little consequence. And it still is of little consequence, Luocha reminds himself, or at least...it ought to be. So long as he keeps it that way, within his own perception. Caelus's earnest admission here and now might be giving him just a moment's pause, and might be invoking the briefest unseen flicker of something like--no, not pity. Not quite. But oh, he thinks, you really haven't seen much of this world at all yet, have you? What terribly bitter things will Caelus find himself learning later? Someone probably ought to warn him. ...But that someone won't be Luocha, who already has too many other obligations upon his plate. Too many other debts to settle. He's hardly fit to be a teacher...but he can be a lesson learned, he supposes, whenever that time might finally arrive.
And this...is still fun, after all. Isn't it? Even despite the surprises, the renewed tangibility of the fire he's now playing with. All else aside, it's still terribly amusing how Caelus keeps bandying a term like "cute" about...when he's also all but embodying that description himself, somehow. Hazard and innocence so strangely juxtaposed.
(Luocha probably won't realize until later, how odd it is for this thought to emerge from what he'd thought to be a self-imposed indifference. He invited this meeting with the objective curiosity of a scientist examining a vessel, and now...)]
Hm. ...You know, sir, most people don't point out a ruse to call it cute. You really do say such interesting things.
[Tone still soft and even and warm, despite the pause preceding it. Luocha doesn't move away, though his hand does still over Caelus's thigh, as the tingle of the healing gently dissipates. Because the damage has been repaired, there, and Caelus will no longer be walking with that particular sort of limp by the time he leaves this room. ...But there's still the matter of the rest of his body, now isn't there? As had been discussed. It hasn't been forgotten.
But there's something else to acknowledge now, too, if Caelus is going to be so very forthright like this. (...Even if the temptation is still strong, to forego any remaining semblance of politeness altogether. Even if it would be so very easy, now, to simply take and take to curiosity's content.) No, no, at the very least...he ought to be repaid for his honesty. For being such a nicely pliable subject. So, even in having the mask pointed out, Luocha does not take it off; his smile is still kind, his manner gentle, as his left hand moves up to splay fingertips over Caelus's chest. Palm lightly settling right over the sultry pulse of the Stellaron within; half an appeal, half a provocation. Still leaning close enough for their faces to be mere inches apart, as Luocha shifts to meet the scrutiny of those gold eyes evenly.]
You must not be very used to having this asked, in that case...but I do wonder. Is there something that you want, right now?
i don't want to admit what's in my search history now...
[ The Stellaron's movements are fascinating. Luocha wasn't wrong, in a way: setting Caelus's nerves aflutter did disturb the fragile balance between the Stellaron and its host, sent them spinning in different directions. What's fascinating about the current situation is that it's the Stellaron pulling Caelus back into sync, and not the other way around. It is telling him what to do; it is soothing him. Those long slow pulses of its astral core seem to be stabilizing his racing pulse. The Cancer of All Worlds is normally a disease which has no cure, and then here is this young man, using it as a shield for his own fragile heart.
Is the host himself aware of this? Not particularly, and that's fascinating, too. He can hear its voice sometimes, when it decides to speak to him — but in the moment, what it wants is indistinguishable from his own impulses. He looks at Luocha; he takes a breath. The man's lashes are so very long, his lovely green gaze so very soft and gentle and understanding. The touch to his chest is so patient, even though it could rip his heart out. And even if it's all a lie, even if this is only one of a thousand sour lessons he'll need to learn to swallow...
The Stellaron sings in his blood, rejoicing. Exultant in its purpose. Yes. Good. Desire — covet — claim. I will grant you what you wish. ]
...I want to kiss you.
[ Yes. Yes, that's right, isn't it? That's what he's wanted, this whole time. It feels so much better to have said it. So much better, even though the color in his face is heating his cheeks, and his blood feels like it's surging through every part of his body. It's on the table now, and he can't take it back. He's spoken it out loud. He's never felt more alive.
His face is tipped upward in humble supplication, like that of a parishioner at worship, but even so, Caelus reaches out. With the sort of hubris that would strike him down if he were the hero of a fable in which his foolishness rouses the gods, he places his other hand on the back of Luocha's knee, pulling him — gently, it won't work if the man refuses to budge — into his lap where he sits in the armchair. The cushion he was holding tumbles to the ground. ]
I want to touch you. [ Breathed like a prayer into the night, the low rasp of Caelus's voice hot against the shell of his ear. ] I think — I might want too much.
[ ...It occurs to the Trailblazer, much too late, that as pretty as Luocha is, and as coarse and thick and common as Caelus thinks himself — the man has a good few inches on him, both in terms of height and general physical build. The realization that Luocha is much heavier than he was actually braced for sends a jolt of irrational arousal going straight between his legs.
You know, I don't think I'm going to win, he thinks vaguely to himself, if this comes down to a fight — and this is a terribly funny thing to think, after begging for a kiss. ]
Edited (i try to stop editing, and yet,) 2023-12-31 23:35 (UTC)
grips your shoulder....make that both our search histories tbf,
[There's something to be noted for a fact, about the way the influence of wills between the Stellaron and its container seems to be somehow inverting, in these insecure matters of the heart. The way Caelus's pulse only seems to settle under the guide of the Stellaron's steady thrum; the way his nerves somewhat ease into a boldness that seems almost drawn from another source, liquid courage of a different kind. At this proximity Luocha can hear it easily, that peculiar shift in frequency and the thrall it seems to be exerting upon this host, but...
In this moment, for once, these are notes to be reviewed at a later time. Because even Luocha's own considerable command of focus is not, entirely enough, to resist the distraction of those hands that tug--of the voice that reaches his ear, weighed heavy with desire as those requests are spoken. So plainly, so plaintively. Why, look at him, already flushing just bringing these thoughts to surface. Cute indeed.
It's not surprising, at least, not this particular thing. Not when it had been fairly obvious from the moment they'd clasped hands back in the lobby, if not perhaps in little cues and lingering glances even before that. Luocha is well aware of the physical appeal he can carry, yet another tool among many to be utilized towards his own ends; Caelus is hardly the first to express something like this to him, and he's quite unlikely to be the last. ...But there's novelty in the circumstances, in this particular case. And he's being so very good, answering the question so promptly, even taking a little initiative for himself--
Yes, it'd be easy enough for Luocha to simply decline to move. But there's no resistance at all, against the gentle pull of Caelus's hands; Luocha settles over the young man's lap slowly but easily, almost languidly, their torsos pressing close, straddling over his thighs such that his weight quite promptly pins Caelus in place, eases him subtly but firmly against the back of the armchair. --Indeed, it'd be a bad time for him to be having any misgivings about the position. Caelus won't be moving elsewhere anytime particularly soon like this, until Luocha should see fit to free him. ...It's fairly easy to pass himself off as a mildly hapless and vulnerable healer in combat, yes, with a face like this. But the illusion likely doesn't hold up half as well on occasions like this one--where there's a subtle impression of core strength that keeps the merchant's posture fairly prim and balanced even despite this position, and permits only the most gentle roll of pressure against Caelus's pelvis as he settles--doubtless just enough, and just too little, to be intentionally frustrating.
The contrast in their body languages couldn't be more clear like this, eagerness now shored up against a near immaculate-seeming sort of composure. Luocha's own complexion doesn't yet flush; his breathing remains slow and even. Cues will have to be taken from more subtle tells, should Caelus be seeking them: the edge that curves ever so slightly upon his smile, the sharpening intent that flickers behind that veneer of patience in his half-lidded gaze. Luocha sighs, softly, in equal parts at the contact and the tone at his ear. The hand on Caelus's chest remains there, between them...and the pressure of his palm increases just slightly, as a flare of that healing flickers anew, seeps into those residual aches of earlier.]
Too much, you think so? My, but to me, that hardly sounds like too much at all. ...Take anything you'd like. It'll help you feel better.
[Isn't that why Caelus came in here in the first place?
The permission is a low murmur; there's just a bit of a shift, somewhere in there, from the warm affect Luocha normally favors. A rather interesting contrast, perhaps, between the illusion of choice still offered by the words...and the darker note of demand folded underneath the tone. Just the slightest bit of a hint, of the truth just below the honeyed surface. Luocha's other hand reaches to trace up the column of Caelus's throat, raise his head--tip his chin, with a gloved fingertip. The better to lean close, and press a kiss to his lips--sweetly, infuriatingly chaste.]
somehow easy to imagine him with a fluffy brush and a microphone
[ His gloves are so soft, Caelus thinks, one last time — and that's the last really coherent thought he has before he surrenders to instinct.
It's not his first time doing this sort of thing. Well, clarification: it is his first time doing this sort of thing, but it's not his first time turning his brain off, sinking into his impulses. Caelus thinks he's good at turning his brain off because he's just stupid that way; he's never really thought about how the Stellaron might be making it easier for him.
Luocha's lips are even warmer and softer than he thought they'd be, and he's not even disappointed that the kiss is chaste. It feels sweet, and good, and clean. He can't help but crave more, when it's over. The low whine that emerges from the back of his throat when their lips part — that's an implicit plea for more.
Even if this ends in tragedy, even if this ends in regret — even though Caelus knows, deep down, that he'll have to see the disappointment in everyone's eyes, and none of them might look at him the same way, if this ever gets back to them — he still can't help but feel that he couldn't have asked for a more perfect first kiss.
He feels so euphoric off pure comfort alone. It feels so good to be sitting with his back against the armchair, thank you, Xianzhou ergonomics; feels so good to have Luocha in his lap, the most gorgeous thing that Caelus thinks he's ever handled, soft and firm and pleasantly heavy, pinning him down, like a weighted blanket. (It doesn't occur to him that he's being trapped — after all, didn't he ask for this himself?) Luocha moves the hand on his chest and does something to him again, and it makes relaxation seep like hot water into his bones, easing his old aches. Warmed from the inside out in that odd not-cold-not-hot way, Caelus groans with relief; this time, unburdened by guilt, he freely lets that sense of building pleasure sink between his legs.
Does he see the danger in Luocha's gaze? Perhaps — but then the second question is, does he care?
...It's all better than Caelus deserves. Or rather, it's better than he thinks he deserves. Caelus's opinion of himself is a little at odds with reality; although he, himself, can't possibly imagine why Luocha is indulging him, he paints an objectively alluring picture, blushing deep pink with his chest heaving as he looks up at the merchant from where he's splayed out against the armchair in a slightly drugged-up daze. The Trailblazer is very handsome, really, just in a different sort of flavor from his more attention-grabbing friends — clean jawline, soft lips, slim, angular eyes. A little too symmetrical, like his features were generated off training data that only comprised clean-cut athletes. But very approachable, all in all. Very corruptible.
His Adam's apple, quite prominent, bobs attractively in his throat when he swallows. When he licks his reddened lips, there's something in his gaze that speaks of a hunger that isn't quite his own. ]
Then... can I...?
[ His voice lapses, and then he tries again, lower and darker and deeper than before: ]
I want more.
[ With a slightly shaky hand, he reaches up — hooks his index finger in the collar of Luocha's black shirt, where the fasteners pop loose with a little fussing. Once he has Luocha's collar loosened, his neck bared, Caelus noses closer, sort of nuzzling, like a cat; he presses a warm kiss to the column of the merchant's throat, taking a long, deep breath, as if trying to engrave the scent of the man's skin into his memory. ]
You smell so good. [ Another kiss, and then another, between mumbled words of praise — ] Just so damn good...
[Caelus does have a few things working in his favor at this particular moment, for all that his self-perception might fail to realize it. He's indeed aesthetically pleasant enough, for one thing--moreso right now, in the way he eases and unfolds so appealingly under the gentlest positive stimuli, already thoroughly flushed with a heady pleasure from just these simplest gestures. One wonders just what the architect behind this vessel was intending, exactly, in designing this particular body...apparently someone with a weather eye for conventional attraction, who opted for a face that would be pleasant to look at and easy to relate with. The impulses wired within it are also clearly very human, and just as sensitive, regardless of the otherworldly cancer it also happens to be housing.
But, pleasing physicality aside, there's also--how very easy Caelus continues to make this whole turn of events. ...It has been awhile, Luocha thinks, since he last really indulged like this--without concern of repercussion, and without any need to account for any number of ulterior motives. For here...there are so clearly none, on the Trailblazer's part, aside from perhaps the most base motive of them all--burgeoning physical desire, and the need to fulfill it. There's a simplicity to this, to savoring the enthralled warmth of the body underneath him, to drawing out responses even from the action of healing. ...Goodness, will the Trailblazer always associate this sort of healing with these sorts of sensations now, going forward? Even when he's healed by others--will his thoughts ever stray back, to this? Luocha rather hopes so. There's nothing so satisfying as marks left long afterwards, for all that such might normally juxtapose against the gifts the Abundance has set upon him...and Caelus just makes for such an appealingly blank sort of slate to work with--]
Why thank you, sir. You flatter me far too much already... ["Sir", as if Caelus is still a client and this is still a transaction--and maybe it is, of sorts. There's probably some kind of irony here, now, looking back on certain third-person impressions left in the lobby earlier. Head tipping to accommodate access to his throat as it's bared, the words ease out over Caelus's ear in a humming fashion that's practically a purr in its own right, trailing off to a soft chuckle that reverberates between them this close. Flattery objectively doesn't move Luocha much these days, but there's something charming in the way the praises spill so haphazardly from the young man--between those equally haphazard kisses--clearly stream of thought, mingled in the quickened breaths painting warmly over his throat. Whose thought stream it might be, of course, might be a matter of more debate...the darkening of his tone isn't missed. Luocha ghosts his lips over the shell of Caelus's ear in turn; he nips lightly.] What else do you want more of, hm? Should I kiss you again? Or perhaps, there's more besides that...?
[It'll be interesting in its own right, to observe how the Stellaron's wishes might end up translating to Caelus's evident earnest inexperience...
The healing hand upon his chest has been trailing down, lower and lower, until fingertips are curling under the hem of his shirt, slipping underneath to ghost over the skin of his abdomen. Still gloved, and doubtless a distinct sensation in itself as a result. His other hand, in the meanwhile, had released Caelus's chin shortly after the kiss...but now reaches to take one of Caelus's hands in turn, the same one that had undone his collar. Guiding it idly lower, to the gold button that fastens his vest over his chest, the layers of fabric and additional fastenings underneath. There's a few layers to contend with; will he? In this sort of position there will be few articles actually coming off, really, but...]
[ 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. ]
[There will almost certainly be some form of regret about this later, on Caelus's side of things, considering just how likely it is that Luocha's goals will be falling well at odds with nearly every other alliance the Nameless might form in the future. To say nothing of regret on the more personal level, as well, depending on just how thoroughly Luocha ends up taking advantage of that trust of the young man's. (Any moreso than he already is right now, for that matter--)
And that is the price for this, really, when all is said and done. The debt accrued, to be withdrawn should the full extent of realization finally sink in later. Questionable as his actual merchant credentials may or may not be in reality, it's a role he pulls on for a reason. Luocha does tend to weigh near all things in terms of exchange, whether it's an aspect of his beliefs or simply a more personal sort of philosophy. That which is seized must be repaid. He wanted to learn more about how Caelus and his Stellaron tick, hands-on, and so slips into this role of offering pleasure since it so easily facilitates that curiosity; in turn, Caelus asks for touch and response, seeks to sate a hunger of desire, and so this encounter and all its inevitable later implications has now cemented. As difficult to undo as it would be for the young man to vacate this chair, at this point, pinioned in place now by a body he'd invited himself.
Luocha did agree to engage in the first place, though; for him it'd be quite easier to extricate, if he did not, and so this particular distress that's befallen Caelus's thoughts would be an amusing one to hear aloud. Indeed, he wants this--it's a very appealing position--Caelus is a fascinatingly delicious study like this--and there's a pleasure to surely derive, from the endearing little buck of his hips, from the eager hands that tug apart clothing and smooth over bared skin with such greed. From the warring desperation written so clearly on the young man's features, as he struggles to articulate both the craving clearly driving him and the need he feels in turn. ...It admittedly isn't very helpful to Caelus, though, that Luocha also just tends to prefer keeping his own reactions under such meticulously measured control. Another sort of habit-turned-reflex, a necessity in daily life conduct that's seeped even into exchanges like this by now. He never flushes easily to begin with, rarely allows himself sounds unbidden or responses too overt...
But there is something of a slight quickening in his breath, as Caelus's touch wanders and sinks in. The slightest bit more tension, in the set of the hand over Caelus's belly, a twitch of fingertips as he speaks his thoughts. Luocha's smile curves anew; palm slipping up once more, under the layers of the Trailblazer's shirts, a thumb rubs over one of his nipples, promptly less gentle than his other touches have been up to this point. An intentional contrast.]
Is that so, Caelus? [Call him by name, very well, if he so desires such intimacy on that front too. One more potential vulnerability for potential future review--but yes, Luocha will indulge this. Since they're being so very indulgent already...] Well, that may be something of a mess...but I suppose you'd like to see that, wouldn't you? Pleasing sights can be such beneficial things, for the heart...
[A doctor's angle really is almost too easy to incorporate, into this sort of thing. Luocha languidly rolls his hips over Caelus's, a delayed reward of that friction he'd been seeking earlier, the sensation drawing a low hum from his own chest. The movement brings him close once more, alongside the hand at his back; the guiding hand of earlier trails back up to cup at Caelus's cheek, and he's drawn into another kiss.
Less chaste this time. Heavier. Demanding, in how his mouth is coaxed open with a press of tongue, seeking out a taste.]
[ A touch to his chest, a deeper kiss... Caelus feels like a dog chasing crumbs, desperately lapping at little treats dribbled out to him from between Luocha's gloved fingers. The sensation of the merchant's tongue teasing the sensitive insides of his mouth mingles with the scent of white lilies caught at the back of his throat. A fresh rush of euphoria seizes him when Luocha calls him by name, making sensation buzz at the back of his brain like a thrill down his spine. The man's hips roll against the firm promise of his hard cock, making pleasure tingle through his belly to his throat, and he can't help but think one more time — not even for the first time this evening — that he's never felt better in his life.
Ache, the Stellaron whispers, and Caelus lets the last of his self-doubt crumble into dust. ]
...That's okay. I like mess.
[ His voice is low, like before — deep from the chest, with a hint of the Stellaron's throaty purr from earlier.
He does like mess. He likes destruction. He likes breaking things and wallowing in the filth of what he himself has wrought. There's a little bit of saliva clinging to his bottom lip when their tongues part, because he's such a messy, messy boy, sometimes; he laps it up with catlike grace, his predatory, pleading gaze still lingering on Luocha's mouth. ]
I want to make a mess with you. Make a mess out of you. I want —
[ Is there a limit to that patience, that infuriating sense of eternal serenity he always projects in his outward calm? Caelus wants to know. He wants to take Luocha apart — or at least see what attempting to take him apart will bring him.
So: he doesn't quite yank. He's not that ill-mannered. But he does take a handful of Luocha's long, lovely blond hair, pulling firmly back to make him bare his neck again, and when he sees that beautiful stretch of alabaster skin, he bites, hard enough to draw blood. ]
[Make a mess of him, is that right? The Stellaron may be speaking about as much as Caelus is, about now, the mimic of its intensity ever so intriguing in how it seeps into his tone the longer this goes on...but it's a bold desire put forth either way. --Luocha knows exactly what sort of stillness he tends to project, as painstaking as he is about maintaining it; objectively, it's easy enough to understand the appeal of puncturing it. I wonder if you could manage it, he thinks, and nearly says--wonders what the Trailblazer might see fit to try, what lengths he might go. Kind and well-meaning as the young man's natural disposition seems to be...just how much might that be superseded by lust, now, and the Stellaron's encouragement? He'd like to see it, Luocha muses, in that breath of a moment after the kiss breaks, the taste of it still lingering on his tongue. He'd like to--
--There's a hand in his hair, pulling, baring his throat. And the press of Caelus's mouth upon it, biting--
Enough to draw blood, yes. Enough that it should be painful...and it is, in a sense, a keen sharp note mingling with the heat of it. (Still, nowhere near so painful as other things have been and will be. How many thorns have pierced this body far deeper, by now?) Luocha's entire frame shudders, the hand on Caelus's chest pressing and curling almost as if it would scratch were it not for gloved fingertips; the other sets heavily behind the Trailblazer's head, half in his hair and half upon the nape of his neck...but not to pull him away. No, not with how Luocha's breath stammers, a sound low and soft and nearly something like a whine slipping free unbidden--perhaps only a moment, only a few moments. But the lapse is distinct, as the sting of Caelus's teeth darts electric upon nerve endings, sends heat coiling to the bottom of his gut. A desire that had already been kindling in its own right, in unwinding and degrading more and more of Caelus's uncertain restraint with sweet indulgences, but now...
The mask slips, with a drop in Luocha's voice, with a darkening in his eyes.] Mm--there. Just like that. Don't hold back...you're a greedy boy, aren't you? Wanting such things...I'll allow it, if you're good like this--
[Breathed into his ear, through lips just a bit more flushed. Luocha's hips shift once more, grinding against that hard cock this time, hard as he's grown in turn.
Wounds never linger long, not in this current contract. Caelus has seen it for himself now, in how entirely unblemished and pristine Luocha's body is, despite the lean muscle built for sword-work frequently engaged; the Abundance does not permit so much as a trace of any past injury, over time. This new mark, too, will be gone before the next day arrives...and maybe that's why Luocha's body savors it so, while it still burns here and now. Seems Caelus has found something quite sensitive here.]
[ Caelus pulls his fangs loose; blood stains the corner of his lips, making him look like a beast with prey in its mouth. He liked that reaction, the sweet whine, the more earnest shift of Luocha's hips, the way the merchant's mask is finally dropping, revealing the monster beneath. Yes, this is all so, so much better, for a simple boy like Caelus. No more lies, no more games. Just raw carnality, and the sweet indignity of succumbing to lust. ]
You're the greedy one here. You like that?
[ It's not a question that he needs an answer to. The shiver that went through Luocha's spine was potent enough that Caelus could feel it too, and the way he's grinding now, greedy and eager, answers more honestly than his pretty mouth probably ever could.
Impatient, and now feeling, irrationally, like he's winning, Caelus suckles hard against Luocha's skin, hard enough to leave a bruise over that neat bite-mark he just left — indulging himself in the thrill of having discovered Luocha's more masochistic tendencies, he repeats the gesture over one of Luocha's peaked nipples, the Trailblazer's hot tongue flicking over one of those sweet rosebuds before his lips come down hard on it with bruising brutality. ]
I'll give you more. [ And another nip, another bite — ] As much as you want...
[ The hand that's not in Luocha's hair dives down between their legs, fumbling with buttons and zippers. Clumsily, Caelus gets his own cock out first, and then the merchant's. The friction between them — it's so much more potent and mind-numbing without clothes in the way. He groans in utmost gratitude as he sinks into the rhythm of stroking their cocks together, haphazard and graceless in his movements. ]
Edited (will i ever not edit a tag) 2024-01-03 12:32 (UTC)
[This wasn't--supposed to become something so raw, so singular. For someone with whom lies and one-sided games are as habitually natural as breathing, this encounter was not intended to be any sort of exception. ...Which is to say, that Luocha was not actually expecting to find his own grasp on his self-control loosening quite like this, quite this soon. Not entirely relinquished, not yet, but.
It really has been too long, since someone last tread upon his particular relationship with pain quite like this. ...Too long in general, since he last felt like this. Caelus is both a quick study and an intent one, as it turns out--now that doubt no longer holds him back, and all that remains is a clear single-minded pursuit of a weakness discovered, an eagerness to tear it open and savor how it yields. A beast with prey indeed. --As Luocha had encouraged, he knows. It's simultaneously thrilling and infuriating, how deliciously that bruise at his throat sears. How promptly that spark of pain-pleasure leaps under the harsh mouth working over his chest, driving an instinctive craving that has him arching into the heat of those wandering lips with another gasp of sound. No doubt it's quite a sight--no doubt Luocha's quite a different sight in general, about now--as restraint frays, and crimson marks bloom on pale skin under Caelus's teeth, hair tugged loose and messier over his shoulders, vest and layers still half-worn but askew. A further and further cry from the immaculate, untouchable image he carries by default...
And that's before Caelus is reaching down, tugging buttons and zippers apart, tugging them both out--
The stroking is haphazard and graceless, yes, and that only adds to the intensity. The sudden well of sensation that crests under the curl of those fingers sends another jolt up Luocha's spine, hips bucking of their own accord before inexorably, irresistibly, rocking into the erratic rhythm the young man sets. Long eyelashes flutter, and Luocha's breath catches on half a moan. --Too quick. Not quick enough. There's still some semblance of coherent thought attempting to rally despite the onslaught of multiple pleasurable stimuli at once, but it's tenuous. ...This isn't a sort of thing a person wins, necessarily, but it could be said there's a balance of control tipping back and forth here--and it's becoming more of a challenge than Luocha had anticipated.
There's, constraints, to this position. It's a pity that Caelus's shirts cannot be pulled open as Luocha's layers are, and he has no patience for tugging them up at this point. Satisfying as it's been to touch his chest, and draw out sweet responses with strokes of healing, it's no longer enough. So, instead--Luocha's left hand and the cross upon that wrist slip out from there, fingertips raising to ghost along the side of his throat. (For the briefest moment, it might almost seem as if they were tempted to close over his windpipe, but--) They drift from there to the crook of his neck, and the exposed stretch of his shoulders over his shirt's neckline. Following Luocha's mouth, as he presses in to nip marks of his own into the young man's skin, in time to the pumping of that grip over both their cocks. ...Only for his healing to soothe the marks promptly away, as he goes, contrasting sensations of stinging and mending...
Before he's lifting his head at length. There's a hunger of a different sort in the still-darkened intent of Luocha's eyes, as he focuses on Caelus's features anew. Tugs against the grip upon his hair--too arousingly restrictive in its own right--to lean in close again, take Caelus's chin in his other hand again. This third kiss is rough, biting--perhaps enough to draw blood in its own right--then, not yet healing this time, instead laves at the coppery traces upon the Trailblazer's lips and tongue, strives to rob him of breath.
I'll give you more, Caelus says, as much as you want. As if he truly could. As if he has any idea.]
--Careful. Promises like that... [Low and rough, panted against his mouth.] You don't know what you're offering.
[After all. Caelus isn't the only one here that so very much craves, to take something apart...]
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trailblazers2023-12-03 11:23 am
no subject
Oh, this miracle doctor has plenty of recommendations to spare. Not sure any of them would be enough to overcome that reckless path of the Trailblazer, however. I have a feeling that "be less reckless" might be quite a tall order, for some reason...
[As he speaks, Luocha slowly stands upright once more, hand still extended.]
Still, so far as your myriad immediate aches and pains go--these I could remedy for now. Clear your slate, so to speak, before you fill it anew. Of course, this would mean applying my healing to parts of you beyond your leg, thereby changing the bounds of my initial offer. But if you'd still be receptive to...hm?
[The cross still flickers; gloved fingertips now hover a hair's breadth over Caelus's chest. Where his heart would be--and yes, ostensibly, where that Stellaron of his currently resides. But that's not exactly a novelty in itself at this point, for all that Luocha is still quite interested in investigating it further. No, what prompts a blink from him about now, his own words sidetracked as the odd reading comes to light, is...]
Well now. There was quite a grievous wound here. Yet, the patch that has closed it... [A slight, pensive frown.] ...This was not the work of the Abundance.
no subject
[ He says this very neutrally, like it's only normal for that sort of thing to happen sometimes.
He wants to touch his chest in remembrance, but Luocha's hand is in the way, so the Trailblazer settles for closing his eyes to contemplate everything instead. The lance, the snow, the desperate stand. What he promised the will of the Guardians. Maybe Alisa Rand was in the end only another mournful little girl in a series of mournful little girls driven to insanity by the thought of a dying world. Endurance is like that, Caelus thinks abstractly; it will drive you to madness. But even so. Never waver.
The gaze of the Amber Lord seared itself into his flesh. Maybe he has only deluded himself into thinking that it felt like approval. ]
...I thought I understood... what they would have wanted.
[ This last remark seems meant more for himself than for Luocha — but, after a moment, he wakes himself from his own reverie, golden eyes blinking at the "miracle doctor" with sudden catlike alertness. ]
So — if I say that I'd like a clean slate, what will your new offer cost me?
[ For all that the Trailblazer has bumbled into this, guileless and impulsive and seemingly thinking nothing at all, he has in fact not forgotten that Luocha is supposed to be a merchant. At some point, he figures, he will probably have to pay a price. ]
no subject
Studying the neutral set of Caelus's features in delivering this news for a long moment, Luocha supposes that perhaps it would indeed seem like such a typical thing. To a person for whom, most likely, life events in general are few but densely steeped in strangeness.]
My, is that so? I see...
[As if there aren't countless people in this universe who would spend their whole lives burning themselves to ashes for the mere illusion of any Aeon's split-second attention. As if the reversal of a mortal wound on behalf of the Preservation wouldn't be considered by some cultures to be an ultimate favor of the Amber Lord, the height of divine providence. ...Still, though the memory does seem to set a pensiveness of some reflection upon Caelus in recalling it, he doesn't address it with overt gravity...and so Luocha opts not to either. Merely this politely intrigued acknowledgment, with slightly arched eyebrows to accompany it...before Luocha's hand is drawn back, health assessment finished, and he moves on from there.
--Well. Almost, moves on,]
Naturally, it would be difficult to determine the true intent behind such an encounter. There are scholars in this world who spend all their days attempting to understand the wants of Aeons, only to find themselves no closer to the truth in the end. But there is no hole in your heart at present, and you breathe among the living still, and this is a result that cannot be argued. Does the reasoning matter so much in the end?
[He knows, of course, that he's responding to a remark that wasn't even directly meant for him. Perhaps it's just...the topic of Aeons always tends to draw something out, like this. It's something about the flat set of Luocha's words, the certainty in that last question, as if it isn't particularly rhetorical in his own opinion.
(To him, the reasoning doesn't matter at all. Not when it's barely human anymore. Not when the end result doesn't change anyhow, regardless of the answer. When all you can do is try to move forward with the fickle cards they've now dealt you. Because you have to. Because there's no choice. As it always is, in matters of Aeons--)
But anyhow. Yes, now they're moving on. It's an almost palpable shift right back, from that brief lapsing pause to something more cordially amiable once more. To business, and all that.]
Hmm, but let's see...for a clean slate of health...well, I hardly think this a sort of thing that would demand a monetary charge. If you'd consider it a favor from me...then perhaps, I could ask a favor from you in return?
no subject
Saving his life may have really been nothing more than a coincidence. Maybe Caelus attracted the Amber Lord's gaze, and then they saw a hole, and they fixed it. Because they must build. They must fix. They must endure.
(There's another thought that plagues him, sometimes — one that he's never brought up with anyone else, not even Herta, who would be most curious. Maybe the Preservation, in their wordless actions, meant to say: Rise, Akivili, my old friend. Today, as yesterday, your time is not yet come.)
Anyway. At the mention of a favor, Caelus visibly perks up. The Trailblazer is not really like a cat in the ways that matter, but one cannot help but get the feeling, despite his mostly-expressionless mien, that if he had a pair of animal ears (canine or feline or perhaps merely procyonine... well, raccoonish) they would be fully pointed upwards in eager anticipation. His eyes are now wide and awake. There's a liiittle tiny bit of a smile on his face.
Sidequest? Sidequest? He loves sidequests. ]
Of course. What's the favor?
[ (Does he sense that odd atmosphere that sets in when Luocha talks about Aeons? Maybe. But, ostensibly — that's not for him to engage with. At least, not right now.) ]
no subject
And oh, how promptly the young man perks up, at the mere hint of the prospect. Quite easy to see how the Nameless have developed such a favored reputation aboard the Luofu already, Luocha thinks, when they have someone among their number who draws such evident happiness at the simple idea of doing something for someone. No doubt this one's been running errands for all sorts of people here ever since they arrived, hm? ...This, too, is oddly endearing to learn. Maybe a little too much. --Surely he wouldn't agree to just about anything? One hopes he's at least a little discerning, about the favors he takes up? This sort of thing...really could be a little too easy to get taken advantage of...
Not that Luocha would try, of course. Not...at the moment, anyhow, so early on as things are, so briefly as they've known each other. No, to call it a 'temptation' is too strong a word, but there is an ever so quiet thing shaped somewhat like an intrusive thought, in the back of his head, that observes Caelus's eager anticipation and wants to test just how pliant it might be. How about this, for a favor: would you let me open you up, reach in you, and touch that reticent flame in your core? Just a moment, just for a look. Just to see what work has been done. Just to see what the Preservation saw. It's curious, it's just so very curious. The longer this interaction goes on, the more intriguing Caelus becomes, little hints of such remarkable aspects tucked close underneath such an unassuming and irreverent surface. ...But Luocha has not come this far in his life by being an impatient person. To try prizing apart that surface so bluntly now would be crass, besides. Unbecoming.
And in being close enough to administer healing, he'll have a chance for a fairly close look anyhow...]
It would be nothing much, of course, ideally something that won't be too inconvenient for you... [This is what comes out aloud, the pause before it near imperceptible, and the mild set of Luocha expression hinting nothing at the decidedly Less Mild internal demons currently being smoothed back down.] But it does occur to me that you'd be in an ideal position for this, as one of the ever-transient Nameless.
May I ask, what stop was next scheduled for the Astral Express, before you were all sidelined by the plight of the Luofu? If I recall, the nearest locale of prominent note in this corner of the galaxy would be Penacony...would I be correct, to assume you were heading there?
no subject
But — let's say, theoretically, there was more time to build the snare, and set up the conditions for Caelus to step in it. Suppose he could be convinced of the necessity of it; suppose he thought of Luocha as a friend. It wouldn't even take very long: after all, even his precious family on the Astral Express are really only strangers he's known for a few months, a few weeks, and when every friend is a stranger then so too is every stranger a friend. There are all sorts of possibilities in this world, and he is so very, very agreeable, when it comes to people he thinks of as his friends.
And he likes Luocha, anyway. Or at least, he thinks he likes Luocha, when he remembers that he doesn't need to feel threatened. ]
Yeah. Himeko said Penacony was going to be our next stop.
[ Apparently quite at ease again, Caelus leans back in his seat, arching his back just slightly, stretching out the (evidently chronic) aches in his spine. He rolls his broad shoulders and his long neck, then settles into a new relaxed position, looking at Luocha with expectant interest. ]
I don't know very much about it, though... I was planning to do some light reading at least, but then the Stellaron at the Luofu appeared.
[ ...As Luocha would know, very intimately. ]
Do you need something there? In Penacony.
no subject
But that's yet another metaphorical future, among various others--and for now...yes, for now, the atmosphere is not yet chilled. Luocha's placid exterior holds, and Caelus addresses the line of questioning with ease both verbally and physically, and all is well. This remains simply a friendly exchange between a healer and a casually acquainted patient. And so, accordingly--with a faint smile settling anew, on Luocha's part:]
Why, yes. As a matter of fact, I was indeed going to request something from there. Hah, guessing right that promptly...it's actually a bit embarrassing, being quite that transparent. [You know, as if he's ever been transparent about anything ever in his life--] I have never visited Penacony myself, you see. Business has simply never yet aligned...and it's looking as if it won't align in that direction for some time still, either. I will be departing from the Luofu before too long, but it'll be elsewhere, if things pan out as I rather expect--which means our intersecting paths here will also be parting, by that time.
[This is all said with the serene affectation of somebody that Is Not in fact anticipating his own arrest at the hands of the Xianzhou authorities within the month, or anything like that,]
Still, if fortune turns such that we might yet meet again at some point...do you think perhaps you could hold onto some manner of trinket or treat from there, for me to have a look at sometime? Something distinctly unique to Penacony in itself.
no subject
There are some things already slotting into place. Not the Stellaron, not the impossible number of legal violations that don't really matter in the end — he has no way of knowing those things about Luocha just yet — but he is beginning to understand why he has such ambivalent feelings about Luocha, despite everything about the man that should point in the opposite direction.
Because there's a lot to like about Luocha on face value, really. He's charming, he's kind, he's intelligent. He goes out of his way to help others; he notices things that others don't. Perhaps these characteristics are ultimately commonplace throughout the universe, but to Caelus, whose first experiences with life have involved at least several temperamental geniuses and dangerous internationally renowned criminals, the rare simplicity of kindness goes a long way. Plus, while it's less important than the good facets of his character, the merchant is — "easy on the eyes" doesn't even begin to encapsulate it. It's not merely that he's handsome. He is ethereally pretty in a way where Caelus just sort of wants to zone out and think about nothing while watching him move about, like the man is a particularly glossy and beautiful specimen of jaguar that can be safely observed through glass.
But. But.
The thing that's been setting off Caelus's sense of danger — besides the creature in the coffin, which is a whole different problem entirely — is the way that Luocha can say several dozen words while seemingly saying nothing at all.
Caelus kind of just thought he was stupid, at first. That he was just dumb, that he wasn't catching on. That he'd just let it slide, the way he lets everything slide, because he doesn't know much, and other people seem to know lots of things. But the more time that he spends in Luocha's presence, the more he thinks this is either an intentional or reflexive thing that the man does. That it's not some fault of his understanding, actually.
I have never visited Penacony myself, okay, that's a fact. Business has never aligned — vague, but implies the logical interpretation that his job has just kept him busy with other things. Won't align in that direction for time still could mean a lot of things, probably just that he'll be busy, but is still wildly open to interpretation. I will be departing from the Luofu, okay, fact, but it'll be elsewhere, what does that mean, if things pan out as I expect, what does that mean —
And trinket or treat? It's like he just says things, on purpose, that are open to interpretation, on purpose, but why? ]
A trinket or a treat. [ It just comes out of his mouth before he can stop himself — ] Do you want to be more specific?
[ It comes out sounding so deadpan, flat, and unintentionally judgmental that Caelus actually cringes at himself once it's said. Grimacing, this time not because of his leg, the Trailblazer passes a palm over his face and clarifies: ]
I mean — sorry. I mean, uh... is anything fine?
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A ruse is far easier to maintain, after all, when you delegate at least half the work to the audience. Mention you're a merchant, but never specify what you sell, and the latter party either never thinks much of it or makes up their own list of assumed wares. State, if asked, that the coffin you carry is a tool of your trade--how so? For what reason? Never leave sufficiently polite room for such questions to be asked, and they stay internal, or are resolved in imagination instead. Open-ended details, open-ended answers--to be filled in whatever way seems most fitting, for the man who's so kind and smart and riveting to the eyes, surely too much so to be hiding much of anything.
Still. Every now and then, someone picks up the pattern. And sometimes it's an unexpected someone, now isn't it?
Caelus might be rescinding that first-impulse flatly judgmental question with a proper grimace, but the fact remains that it was quite clearly a first impulse. This prompts a slight but rather distinct pause, on Luocha's part, in which he takes a moment to blink back. To go by the unwavering pleasant set of his expression, no particular offense has been taken, but.]
Well, as I said, I intend for this to be a fairly painless request. I thought it might be easier for you to have a broad range of options, and so in that sense, anything would indeed be fine. But, perhaps in the end that was all rather too vague, hm? [Something knowing tugs at the corner of his pleasant smile, as if they're not just talking about the Penacony favor--even if, aloud, they are.] Let's say, then, to narrow things down...I do tend to particularly enjoy sampling novel foods or drinks in new places. So, perhaps it could be something along those lines. Either packaged or sealed, of course, to accommodate however long the length of time might be before we cross paths again...is this sufficiently specific, you think?
[Idle humor still lilts the last question. Luocha is not specific about much of anything at all when he can help it, no, and it seems he's aware enough of this fact.
...It seems that Caelus is also becoming aware of this fact, though, and rest assured this is something being noted in a mental dossier about now. That he may in fact be more perceptive than even he himself realizes. Hmm...]
no subject
...Wait, so you just want snacks?
[ He's so relieved, both by the fact that his thoughtless impulse didn't offend the mysterious merchant, and by the unexpected simplicity of the request, that Caelus can't help but laugh. The sound that emerges is surprisingly boyish; the smile that overtakes his face makes his eyes curve. ]
Okay, sure. I can get you snacks from Penacony. [ There's a long ribbon on his left sleeve that he fusses with sometimes; unconsciously, he flips it through his fingers now, holding it to his chin as he speaks, still smiling slightly. ] If I see anything else that makes me think of you, I'll pick that up too.
[ What was there to worry about in the end? Maybe Luocha has a point, in that Caelus's little aches and pains are adding up to exhaustion, and exhaustion is making him subconsciously anxious. The man may be slick, a double-talker, insufferably vague — but he's a nice guy, and he's offered to help Caelus, and he hasn't done anything too strange, really. Never mind how Welt feels about him. There's nothing to worry about at all.
(There's another thing here, a way in which Caelus might be like a dog with a new trick: what he has learned from this exchange is that if he's confused about something Luocha said, he can ask the man for clarification. Which might seem simple, even shallow, but people like Herta don't usually give him that luxury — and, also, might be a bit novel on the receiving end, for a man who gets away with everything by basically saying nothing at all.)
Anyway, Caelus is still musing to himself. Thinking about snacks he might pick up in Penacony. ]
...That's so cute.
[ It's not deliberate, not flattery. He just thinks it out loud, that's all; it's like the kind of request that March would make. Cute, like the teddy bears in her room. But March is cute in an annoying way, and Luocha's not annoying at all! ...Confusing, perhaps, but not annoying! ]
Normally people ask me for very different things.
no subject
Still quite easy to sideline and assure. Very pliant to work with, isn't he?]
--Hmm. Yes, I suppose that's the simpler phrase. I do like snacks. [Quite wryly aware of how his wandering phrasing has just been unceremoniously boiled down in this way, yes. But no offense still, no, in the face of that relief and that smile. Boyish indeed, to be so relieved as to laugh about it. Caelus continues to invoke the term 'endearing', and it's really almost impressive in how it's likely not deliberate. ...Really, he could do with being more careful. This is a sort of trait people will be tempted to either relentlessly indulge or relentlessly bully...] No need to overdo it, rest assured, one or two items of interest would be more than enough. ...Does it really strike you so, as such a "cute" sort of thing?
[That's a word he doesn't receive too often. It's not that Luocha's particularly put out by it, exactly, but there's something distinctly amusing about how it's so freely given. Will he still be thought of as "cute", Luocha wonders, if he--?
Draws closer once more, now that the terms of the contract have been more or less set. Leaning down, over Caelus where he's seated, the drape of his long flaxen hair spilling artfully over one shoulder to brush at his torso, as Luocha reaches to place his left hand on his thigh.
...The thigh on the injured leg. Of course. That injury they were going to work on from the start, you know.]
What sorts of very different things are you usually asked for? [The question is asked close beside Caelus's head, words casually murmured over the side of his neck. A distinct not-hot-not-cold sort of sensation is likely spreading over his leg, about now, as the cross at Luocha's wrist flickers once more, trailed along the path of his hand as it moves slowly.] Missions of a more challenging sort, I assume?
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— no, the other question is, why is Luocha so close? Didn't he say that he didn't need to touch... no, he said that he didn't need to see it... no, wait, Caelus was the one who assumed that he didn't need to see it, and then he — he didn't say much of anything at all. But he just examined me before without touching me, Caelus thinks, a little helplessly. No, wait — didn't Dan Heng say, back then... that he was always healing from a distance...?
He was asked a question. He has to remind himself, as his heart races and all his mind can focus on is the elegant way that Luocha's hair falls, that he was asked a question. ]
A-Ah, well... they're never really... all that challenging. Just...
[ He's not unfamiliar with the sensation of being healed. From Natasha, for example, it tends to feel like being wrapped up in a warm blanket, swathed in softness. From March, though she doesn't really heal, it's chilly and bracing, like being playfully pelted with a little bit of snow to jolt your nerves awake. This — feels like something lukewarm seeping through his muscles, drawing tension like a poison out of his skin. Very pleasurable, and would probably combine nicely with the sense of adrenaline that Caelus usually gets on the battlefield — but at the moment, he just feels sort of dangerously, addictively relaxed. ]
People want things... like their goods delivered, or money, or clothes... or photos of my friends, like Himeko and Dan Heng... one of these days someone's gonna want hot photos of Welt...
[ He closes his eyes. Maybe it's just his imagination, but it's almost as though he can feel the fibers of his muscles being slowly re-knitted into their proper places. ]
I don't hate it. I like people. It's just, most of them... when you ask them what they want, or how you can help them... their problems come down to things like greed and lust.
[ A little laugh. ]
Guess yours is gluttony. That's why it's cute.
no subject
But close contact does bring the thrum of that Stellaron to clear clarity once again. Does it skip once more, in time with that jolt of Caelus's nerves again? Would the frequency more substantially change, in any way, if he were to feel sufficiently unsettled? Just what would it take, to fray at that remarkable stability? ...Ah, the truly ideal sort of test would be some sort of fight wound in fervent emotions, but he can't exactly get into one of those with Caelus for the foreseeable future. So, instead, there's this sort of alternative--playing to nerves, and the way Luocha's noticed that his proximity so thoroughly unbalances the young man, for reasons he can somewhat guess.
Unfair? Quite. Unnecessary? Surely. Truthfully...there isn't an objectively practical reason to be doing this. But it is...hm...what's the word, really. This isn't a feeling he taps upon often anymore, these days. A little window of opportunity to have such absolute but fairly inconsequential control as this, over someone, is rather rare. It's...
Fun? Yes, perhaps it's fun. Interesting and mildly entertaining in equal measures, to idly pluck at these strings and see what results--the Stellaron's responses, and Caelus's as well.
(Honestly, toying with somebody rather the same way a cat might toy with a hapless prey animal is really Not very cute conduct at all, but it seems Caelus is just such a very forgiving soul, and it's really just too accommodating--)]
Mm, such are the vices of all mortal things in this world, no matter where one might go. It sounds as if you take these errands with impressive stride; most people are hardly so generously patient with others. I somehow doubt even Mr. Yang would be too enthused to fulfill that particular hypothetical request there... [Luocha's tone remains warmly even, nigh soothing. It corresponds perhaps a little too well to the sedate effect of the healing. But, for all that the intentions behind it might not be entirely too wholesome, there is genuine mending to be had; muscles soothed to loosen, whatever slight internal damage might have been left within after that fall being gently unwound.] At any rate, that's fair enough--hah, even I am hardly free of sin, believe it or not. [And all the debt therein--] There are probably worse qualities to have than a little cute gluttony...very generous of you, sir.
[Exceedingly so, really. But now here's a pause, and a slight tilt of Luocha's head, his voice just that bit closer to Caelus's ear in result.]
Oh...I beg your pardon, though, I should have warned you sooner. You're likely feeling something similar to an aching or numbing sensation, about now--this is normal. If it ever becomes unpleasant, you should let me know. ...Alright so far?
[The gloved hand still trails along, lightly drawing a line from the top of Caelus's thigh to just over his knee--slowly, very slowly, before starting to draw a circle back up. ...The scent of pale flowers is starting to settle heavy.]
no subject
Caelus, for his part, feels a little too sedated. Too exalted. The intense sense of pleasure that has seized him — it's not quite sexual, but it is rather similar to the sort of orgasmic ecstasy that comes from standing under a hot shower on the Express after a long, hard expedition. Not quite sexual, but it's going to get there if Luocha keeps touching feather-light over his thigh like that. Caelus almost wants to warn the man about it — what would he even say? — but when he takes a breath to talk, he smells that sweet, addictive floral scent again, and then he really can't think of anything to say at all. The thread of that mending needle being pulled through his muscles — it's too relieving to push away.
Then Luocha's low voice is practically breathed into his ear, tickling his eardrum, trickling along the back of his skull and down his spine.
Caelus shivers, but only slightly. He likes this, too, more than he wants to let on. It's like being lost in some sort of embarrassingly indulgent Foxian immersia — Luocha ASMR: Mysterious Merchant Heals Your Aches and Pains, Soft Spoken, Personal Attention. (He wants to kick himself for thinking about this. He's spent too much time with Guinafen lately.) ]
...Yeah. I'm alright. [ He nods a little too quickly; there's an element of shame in it. ] Feels good.
[ He needs. He needs he needs he needs. He needs to think. About what, he's not yet sure, but there is something in him that is embarrassingly eager to impress Luocha, and he doesn't think that the man will be very impressed if he goes and falls asleep on his couch during this healing.
(The Stellaron flickers, as if thinking alongside Caelus. It helps him. The Stellaron will fulfill any wish of yours, it whispers, sometimes, before everything goes dark.)
He reaches out. Blindly, at first, but then his hand settles lightly on the crook of Luocha's elbow. It's not to stop him, but maybe to — to what? To invite him. To guide him. To pull him in.
Caelus looks up, and for a moment, his gaze is startlingly clear.
(The Stellaron purrs, when Caelus's eyes fall on Luocha, perhaps because it knows more about desire than he does.) ]
...I know you're not innocent. But that's why I think... it's cute that you didn't ask for more.
[ What is he trying to say, really? That he knows, deep down, what kind of person Luocha probably is? That he doesn't care. That it was enough, for Caelus, that Luocha didn't ask for more. Because everyone comes to him wanting something, and he's never hated that, would never judge someone for that —
— and yet, on some level, and despite everyone he knows, he is just lonely and friendless enough to think I know you could have been more cruel to me with genuine gratitude. ]
luocha asmr...........im dying. lbr it would def be too popular tho--
...Well now...
Luocha wasn't expecting to be quite this surprised.
There's a combination of multiple factors here, all emerging in rapid succession, all rather more than anticipated. The stirring of the Stellaron's intent, for one, crystal clear to perceive this close--intriguingly, something that now emerges somewhat separate from Caelus's own responses. There's now, finally, a slightly characteristic sort of hunger being exerted...and yet still not in the conventional fashion. Not in the way it seems to turn its metaphorical eye upon him, purring with a desire in tandem with the sharpening of Caelus's attention. It doesn't strike as...alarming necessarily, though perhaps it probably should. Luocha instead finds himself reminded of the first time he sought to handle a flame somewhat like this one, the precaution and delicacy required therein. The heady adrenaline that accompanies such caution, unknown as the results of the slightest misstep might be. No, it seems he hasn't quite frayed that stability just yet...but to have piqued its active interest in turn instead--is this better? Worse? (Something that could be used?) New ground is being tread upon here. Perhaps ill-advised in method, but...
If second thoughts about this are to be had, it seems a bit too late for them anyhow. Because now there's a new factor emerging, isn't there? In the way Caelus reaches out like that. In the way Caelus looks at him like that. It had been noted moments earlier, of course, the too-quick nod and the stifled shiver, the way his body warms and eases under both the influence of the healing and the closeness of his presence, his voice. Things that had intended to fluster the young man, yes, and ply some more of those terribly honest responses from him. --Yet again, though, it seems Luocha has underestimated just how terribly honest Caelus can actually be. To say such a thing in such a forthright fashion. To acknowledge so very openly, that he's aware of exactly what this exchange likely actually is.
Yet still, he seeks to hold Luocha in place, instead of pushing him away. Encouragement, of this unkind toying, simply because--it's not worse?
Is he truly so confident, that Luocha wouldn't be any crueler later?
--This was supposed to be a diversion of little consequence. And it still is of little consequence, Luocha reminds himself, or at least...it ought to be. So long as he keeps it that way, within his own perception. Caelus's earnest admission here and now might be giving him just a moment's pause, and might be invoking the briefest unseen flicker of something like--no, not pity. Not quite. But oh, he thinks, you really haven't seen much of this world at all yet, have you? What terribly bitter things will Caelus find himself learning later? Someone probably ought to warn him. ...But that someone won't be Luocha, who already has too many other obligations upon his plate. Too many other debts to settle. He's hardly fit to be a teacher...but he can be a lesson learned, he supposes, whenever that time might finally arrive.
And this...is still fun, after all. Isn't it? Even despite the surprises, the renewed tangibility of the fire he's now playing with. All else aside, it's still terribly amusing how Caelus keeps bandying a term like "cute" about...when he's also all but embodying that description himself, somehow. Hazard and innocence so strangely juxtaposed.
(Luocha probably won't realize until later, how odd it is for this thought to emerge from what he'd thought to be a self-imposed indifference. He invited this meeting with the objective curiosity of a scientist examining a vessel, and now...)]
Hm. ...You know, sir, most people don't point out a ruse to call it cute. You really do say such interesting things.
[Tone still soft and even and warm, despite the pause preceding it. Luocha doesn't move away, though his hand does still over Caelus's thigh, as the tingle of the healing gently dissipates. Because the damage has been repaired, there, and Caelus will no longer be walking with that particular sort of limp by the time he leaves this room. ...But there's still the matter of the rest of his body, now isn't there? As had been discussed. It hasn't been forgotten.
But there's something else to acknowledge now, too, if Caelus is going to be so very forthright like this. (...Even if the temptation is still strong, to forego any remaining semblance of politeness altogether. Even if it would be so very easy, now, to simply take and take to curiosity's content.) No, no, at the very least...he ought to be repaid for his honesty. For being such a nicely pliable subject. So, even in having the mask pointed out, Luocha does not take it off; his smile is still kind, his manner gentle, as his left hand moves up to splay fingertips over Caelus's chest. Palm lightly settling right over the sultry pulse of the Stellaron within; half an appeal, half a provocation. Still leaning close enough for their faces to be mere inches apart, as Luocha shifts to meet the scrutiny of those gold eyes evenly.]
You must not be very used to having this asked, in that case...but I do wonder. Is there something that you want, right now?
i don't want to admit what's in my search history now...
Is the host himself aware of this? Not particularly, and that's fascinating, too. He can hear its voice sometimes, when it decides to speak to him — but in the moment, what it wants is indistinguishable from his own impulses. He looks at Luocha; he takes a breath. The man's lashes are so very long, his lovely green gaze so very soft and gentle and understanding. The touch to his chest is so patient, even though it could rip his heart out. And even if it's all a lie, even if this is only one of a thousand sour lessons he'll need to learn to swallow...
The Stellaron sings in his blood, rejoicing. Exultant in its purpose. Yes. Good. Desire — covet — claim. I will grant you what you wish. ]
...I want to kiss you.
[ Yes. Yes, that's right, isn't it? That's what he's wanted, this whole time. It feels so much better to have said it. So much better, even though the color in his face is heating his cheeks, and his blood feels like it's surging through every part of his body. It's on the table now, and he can't take it back. He's spoken it out loud. He's never felt more alive.
His face is tipped upward in humble supplication, like that of a parishioner at worship, but even so, Caelus reaches out. With the sort of hubris that would strike him down if he were the hero of a fable in which his foolishness rouses the gods, he places his other hand on the back of Luocha's knee, pulling him — gently, it won't work if the man refuses to budge — into his lap where he sits in the armchair. The cushion he was holding tumbles to the ground. ]
I want to touch you. [ Breathed like a prayer into the night, the low rasp of Caelus's voice hot against the shell of his ear. ] I think — I might want too much.
[ ...It occurs to the Trailblazer, much too late, that as pretty as Luocha is, and as coarse and thick and common as Caelus thinks himself — the man has a good few inches on him, both in terms of height and general physical build. The realization that Luocha is much heavier than he was actually braced for sends a jolt of irrational arousal going straight between his legs.
You know, I don't think I'm going to win, he thinks vaguely to himself, if this comes down to a fight — and this is a terribly funny thing to think, after begging for a kiss. ]
grips your shoulder....make that both our search histories tbf,
In this moment, for once, these are notes to be reviewed at a later time. Because even Luocha's own considerable command of focus is not, entirely enough, to resist the distraction of those hands that tug--of the voice that reaches his ear, weighed heavy with desire as those requests are spoken. So plainly, so plaintively. Why, look at him, already flushing just bringing these thoughts to surface. Cute indeed.
It's not surprising, at least, not this particular thing. Not when it had been fairly obvious from the moment they'd clasped hands back in the lobby, if not perhaps in little cues and lingering glances even before that. Luocha is well aware of the physical appeal he can carry, yet another tool among many to be utilized towards his own ends; Caelus is hardly the first to express something like this to him, and he's quite unlikely to be the last. ...But there's novelty in the circumstances, in this particular case. And he's being so very good, answering the question so promptly, even taking a little initiative for himself--
Yes, it'd be easy enough for Luocha to simply decline to move. But there's no resistance at all, against the gentle pull of Caelus's hands; Luocha settles over the young man's lap slowly but easily, almost languidly, their torsos pressing close, straddling over his thighs such that his weight quite promptly pins Caelus in place, eases him subtly but firmly against the back of the armchair. --Indeed, it'd be a bad time for him to be having any misgivings about the position. Caelus won't be moving elsewhere anytime particularly soon like this, until Luocha should see fit to free him. ...It's fairly easy to pass himself off as a mildly hapless and vulnerable healer in combat, yes, with a face like this. But the illusion likely doesn't hold up half as well on occasions like this one--where there's a subtle impression of core strength that keeps the merchant's posture fairly prim and balanced even despite this position, and permits only the most gentle roll of pressure against Caelus's pelvis as he settles--doubtless just enough, and just too little, to be intentionally frustrating.
The contrast in their body languages couldn't be more clear like this, eagerness now shored up against a near immaculate-seeming sort of composure. Luocha's own complexion doesn't yet flush; his breathing remains slow and even. Cues will have to be taken from more subtle tells, should Caelus be seeking them: the edge that curves ever so slightly upon his smile, the sharpening intent that flickers behind that veneer of patience in his half-lidded gaze. Luocha sighs, softly, in equal parts at the contact and the tone at his ear. The hand on Caelus's chest remains there, between them...and the pressure of his palm increases just slightly, as a flare of that healing flickers anew, seeps into those residual aches of earlier.]
Too much, you think so? My, but to me, that hardly sounds like too much at all. ...Take anything you'd like. It'll help you feel better.
[Isn't that why Caelus came in here in the first place?
The permission is a low murmur; there's just a bit of a shift, somewhere in there, from the warm affect Luocha normally favors. A rather interesting contrast, perhaps, between the illusion of choice still offered by the words...and the darker note of demand folded underneath the tone. Just the slightest bit of a hint, of the truth just below the honeyed surface. Luocha's other hand reaches to trace up the column of Caelus's throat, raise his head--tip his chin, with a gloved fingertip. The better to lean close, and press a kiss to his lips--sweetly, infuriatingly chaste.]
somehow easy to imagine him with a fluffy brush and a microphone
It's not his first time doing this sort of thing. Well, clarification: it is his first time doing this sort of thing, but it's not his first time turning his brain off, sinking into his impulses. Caelus thinks he's good at turning his brain off because he's just stupid that way; he's never really thought about how the Stellaron might be making it easier for him.
Luocha's lips are even warmer and softer than he thought they'd be, and he's not even disappointed that the kiss is chaste. It feels sweet, and good, and clean. He can't help but crave more, when it's over. The low whine that emerges from the back of his throat when their lips part — that's an implicit plea for more.
Even if this ends in tragedy, even if this ends in regret — even though Caelus knows, deep down, that he'll have to see the disappointment in everyone's eyes, and none of them might look at him the same way, if this ever gets back to them — he still can't help but feel that he couldn't have asked for a more perfect first kiss.
He feels so euphoric off pure comfort alone. It feels so good to be sitting with his back against the armchair, thank you, Xianzhou ergonomics; feels so good to have Luocha in his lap, the most gorgeous thing that Caelus thinks he's ever handled, soft and firm and pleasantly heavy, pinning him down, like a weighted blanket. (It doesn't occur to him that he's being trapped — after all, didn't he ask for this himself?) Luocha moves the hand on his chest and does something to him again, and it makes relaxation seep like hot water into his bones, easing his old aches. Warmed from the inside out in that odd not-cold-not-hot way, Caelus groans with relief; this time, unburdened by guilt, he freely lets that sense of building pleasure sink between his legs.
Does he see the danger in Luocha's gaze? Perhaps — but then the second question is, does he care?
...It's all better than Caelus deserves. Or rather, it's better than he thinks he deserves. Caelus's opinion of himself is a little at odds with reality; although he, himself, can't possibly imagine why Luocha is indulging him, he paints an objectively alluring picture, blushing deep pink with his chest heaving as he looks up at the merchant from where he's splayed out against the armchair in a slightly drugged-up daze. The Trailblazer is very handsome, really, just in a different sort of flavor from his more attention-grabbing friends — clean jawline, soft lips, slim, angular eyes. A little too symmetrical, like his features were generated off training data that only comprised clean-cut athletes. But very approachable, all in all. Very corruptible.
His Adam's apple, quite prominent, bobs attractively in his throat when he swallows. When he licks his reddened lips, there's something in his gaze that speaks of a hunger that isn't quite his own. ]
Then... can I...?
[ His voice lapses, and then he tries again, lower and darker and deeper than before: ]
I want more.
[ With a slightly shaky hand, he reaches up — hooks his index finger in the collar of Luocha's black shirt, where the fasteners pop loose with a little fussing. Once he has Luocha's collar loosened, his neck bared, Caelus noses closer, sort of nuzzling, like a cat; he presses a warm kiss to the column of the merchant's throat, taking a long, deep breath, as if trying to engrave the scent of the man's skin into his memory. ]
You smell so good. [ Another kiss, and then another, between mumbled words of praise — ] Just so damn good...
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But, pleasing physicality aside, there's also--how very easy Caelus continues to make this whole turn of events. ...It has been awhile, Luocha thinks, since he last really indulged like this--without concern of repercussion, and without any need to account for any number of ulterior motives. For here...there are so clearly none, on the Trailblazer's part, aside from perhaps the most base motive of them all--burgeoning physical desire, and the need to fulfill it. There's a simplicity to this, to savoring the enthralled warmth of the body underneath him, to drawing out responses even from the action of healing. ...Goodness, will the Trailblazer always associate this sort of healing with these sorts of sensations now, going forward? Even when he's healed by others--will his thoughts ever stray back, to this? Luocha rather hopes so. There's nothing so satisfying as marks left long afterwards, for all that such might normally juxtapose against the gifts the Abundance has set upon him...and Caelus just makes for such an appealingly blank sort of slate to work with--]
Why thank you, sir. You flatter me far too much already... ["Sir", as if Caelus is still a client and this is still a transaction--and maybe it is, of sorts. There's probably some kind of irony here, now, looking back on certain third-person impressions left in the lobby earlier. Head tipping to accommodate access to his throat as it's bared, the words ease out over Caelus's ear in a humming fashion that's practically a purr in its own right, trailing off to a soft chuckle that reverberates between them this close. Flattery objectively doesn't move Luocha much these days, but there's something charming in the way the praises spill so haphazardly from the young man--between those equally haphazard kisses--clearly stream of thought, mingled in the quickened breaths painting warmly over his throat. Whose thought stream it might be, of course, might be a matter of more debate...the darkening of his tone isn't missed. Luocha ghosts his lips over the shell of Caelus's ear in turn; he nips lightly.] What else do you want more of, hm? Should I kiss you again? Or perhaps, there's more besides that...?
[It'll be interesting in its own right, to observe how the Stellaron's wishes might end up translating to Caelus's evident earnest inexperience...
The healing hand upon his chest has been trailing down, lower and lower, until fingertips are curling under the hem of his shirt, slipping underneath to ghost over the skin of his abdomen. Still gloved, and doubtless a distinct sensation in itself as a result. His other hand, in the meanwhile, had released Caelus's chin shortly after the kiss...but now reaches to take one of Caelus's hands in turn, the same one that had undone his collar. Guiding it idly lower, to the gold button that fastens his vest over his chest, the layers of fabric and additional fastenings underneath. There's a few layers to contend with; will he? In this sort of position there will be few articles actually coming off, really, but...]
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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. ]
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And that is the price for this, really, when all is said and done. The debt accrued, to be withdrawn should the full extent of realization finally sink in later. Questionable as his actual merchant credentials may or may not be in reality, it's a role he pulls on for a reason. Luocha does tend to weigh near all things in terms of exchange, whether it's an aspect of his beliefs or simply a more personal sort of philosophy. That which is seized must be repaid. He wanted to learn more about how Caelus and his Stellaron tick, hands-on, and so slips into this role of offering pleasure since it so easily facilitates that curiosity; in turn, Caelus asks for touch and response, seeks to sate a hunger of desire, and so this encounter and all its inevitable later implications has now cemented. As difficult to undo as it would be for the young man to vacate this chair, at this point, pinioned in place now by a body he'd invited himself.
Luocha did agree to engage in the first place, though; for him it'd be quite easier to extricate, if he did not, and so this particular distress that's befallen Caelus's thoughts would be an amusing one to hear aloud. Indeed, he wants this--it's a very appealing position--Caelus is a fascinatingly delicious study like this--and there's a pleasure to surely derive, from the endearing little buck of his hips, from the eager hands that tug apart clothing and smooth over bared skin with such greed. From the warring desperation written so clearly on the young man's features, as he struggles to articulate both the craving clearly driving him and the need he feels in turn. ...It admittedly isn't very helpful to Caelus, though, that Luocha also just tends to prefer keeping his own reactions under such meticulously measured control. Another sort of habit-turned-reflex, a necessity in daily life conduct that's seeped even into exchanges like this by now. He never flushes easily to begin with, rarely allows himself sounds unbidden or responses too overt...
But there is something of a slight quickening in his breath, as Caelus's touch wanders and sinks in. The slightest bit more tension, in the set of the hand over Caelus's belly, a twitch of fingertips as he speaks his thoughts. Luocha's smile curves anew; palm slipping up once more, under the layers of the Trailblazer's shirts, a thumb rubs over one of his nipples, promptly less gentle than his other touches have been up to this point. An intentional contrast.]
Is that so, Caelus? [Call him by name, very well, if he so desires such intimacy on that front too. One more potential vulnerability for potential future review--but yes, Luocha will indulge this. Since they're being so very indulgent already...] Well, that may be something of a mess...but I suppose you'd like to see that, wouldn't you? Pleasing sights can be such beneficial things, for the heart...
[A doctor's angle really is almost too easy to incorporate, into this sort of thing. Luocha languidly rolls his hips over Caelus's, a delayed reward of that friction he'd been seeking earlier, the sensation drawing a low hum from his own chest. The movement brings him close once more, alongside the hand at his back; the guiding hand of earlier trails back up to cup at Caelus's cheek, and he's drawn into another kiss.
Less chaste this time. Heavier. Demanding, in how his mouth is coaxed open with a press of tongue, seeking out a taste.]
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Ache, the Stellaron whispers, and Caelus lets the last of his self-doubt crumble into dust. ]
...That's okay. I like mess.
[ His voice is low, like before — deep from the chest, with a hint of the Stellaron's throaty purr from earlier.
He does like mess. He likes destruction. He likes breaking things and wallowing in the filth of what he himself has wrought. There's a little bit of saliva clinging to his bottom lip when their tongues part, because he's such a messy, messy boy, sometimes; he laps it up with catlike grace, his predatory, pleading gaze still lingering on Luocha's mouth. ]
I want to make a mess with you. Make a mess out of you. I want —
[ Is there a limit to that patience, that infuriating sense of eternal serenity he always projects in his outward calm? Caelus wants to know. He wants to take Luocha apart — or at least see what attempting to take him apart will bring him.
So: he doesn't quite yank. He's not that ill-mannered. But he does take a handful of Luocha's long, lovely blond hair, pulling firmly back to make him bare his neck again, and when he sees that beautiful stretch of alabaster skin, he bites, hard enough to draw blood. ]
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--There's a hand in his hair, pulling, baring his throat. And the press of Caelus's mouth upon it, biting--
Enough to draw blood, yes. Enough that it should be painful...and it is, in a sense, a keen sharp note mingling with the heat of it. (Still, nowhere near so painful as other things have been and will be. How many thorns have pierced this body far deeper, by now?) Luocha's entire frame shudders, the hand on Caelus's chest pressing and curling almost as if it would scratch were it not for gloved fingertips; the other sets heavily behind the Trailblazer's head, half in his hair and half upon the nape of his neck...but not to pull him away. No, not with how Luocha's breath stammers, a sound low and soft and nearly something like a whine slipping free unbidden--perhaps only a moment, only a few moments. But the lapse is distinct, as the sting of Caelus's teeth darts electric upon nerve endings, sends heat coiling to the bottom of his gut. A desire that had already been kindling in its own right, in unwinding and degrading more and more of Caelus's uncertain restraint with sweet indulgences, but now...
The mask slips, with a drop in Luocha's voice, with a darkening in his eyes.] Mm--there. Just like that. Don't hold back...you're a greedy boy, aren't you? Wanting such things...I'll allow it, if you're good like this--
[Breathed into his ear, through lips just a bit more flushed. Luocha's hips shift once more, grinding against that hard cock this time, hard as he's grown in turn.
Wounds never linger long, not in this current contract. Caelus has seen it for himself now, in how entirely unblemished and pristine Luocha's body is, despite the lean muscle built for sword-work frequently engaged; the Abundance does not permit so much as a trace of any past injury, over time. This new mark, too, will be gone before the next day arrives...and maybe that's why Luocha's body savors it so, while it still burns here and now. Seems Caelus has found something quite sensitive here.]
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You're the greedy one here. You like that?
[ It's not a question that he needs an answer to. The shiver that went through Luocha's spine was potent enough that Caelus could feel it too, and the way he's grinding now, greedy and eager, answers more honestly than his pretty mouth probably ever could.
Impatient, and now feeling, irrationally, like he's winning, Caelus suckles hard against Luocha's skin, hard enough to leave a bruise over that neat bite-mark he just left — indulging himself in the thrill of having discovered Luocha's more masochistic tendencies, he repeats the gesture over one of Luocha's peaked nipples, the Trailblazer's hot tongue flicking over one of those sweet rosebuds before his lips come down hard on it with bruising brutality. ]
I'll give you more. [ And another nip, another bite — ] As much as you want...
[ The hand that's not in Luocha's hair dives down between their legs, fumbling with buttons and zippers. Clumsily, Caelus gets his own cock out first, and then the merchant's. The friction between them — it's so much more potent and mind-numbing without clothes in the way. He groans in utmost gratitude as he sinks into the rhythm of stroking their cocks together, haphazard and graceless in his movements. ]
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It really has been too long, since someone last tread upon his particular relationship with pain quite like this. ...Too long in general, since he last felt like this. Caelus is both a quick study and an intent one, as it turns out--now that doubt no longer holds him back, and all that remains is a clear single-minded pursuit of a weakness discovered, an eagerness to tear it open and savor how it yields. A beast with prey indeed. --As Luocha had encouraged, he knows. It's simultaneously thrilling and infuriating, how deliciously that bruise at his throat sears. How promptly that spark of pain-pleasure leaps under the harsh mouth working over his chest, driving an instinctive craving that has him arching into the heat of those wandering lips with another gasp of sound. No doubt it's quite a sight--no doubt Luocha's quite a different sight in general, about now--as restraint frays, and crimson marks bloom on pale skin under Caelus's teeth, hair tugged loose and messier over his shoulders, vest and layers still half-worn but askew. A further and further cry from the immaculate, untouchable image he carries by default...
And that's before Caelus is reaching down, tugging buttons and zippers apart, tugging them both out--
The stroking is haphazard and graceless, yes, and that only adds to the intensity. The sudden well of sensation that crests under the curl of those fingers sends another jolt up Luocha's spine, hips bucking of their own accord before inexorably, irresistibly, rocking into the erratic rhythm the young man sets. Long eyelashes flutter, and Luocha's breath catches on half a moan. --Too quick. Not quick enough. There's still some semblance of coherent thought attempting to rally despite the onslaught of multiple pleasurable stimuli at once, but it's tenuous. ...This isn't a sort of thing a person wins, necessarily, but it could be said there's a balance of control tipping back and forth here--and it's becoming more of a challenge than Luocha had anticipated.
There's, constraints, to this position. It's a pity that Caelus's shirts cannot be pulled open as Luocha's layers are, and he has no patience for tugging them up at this point. Satisfying as it's been to touch his chest, and draw out sweet responses with strokes of healing, it's no longer enough. So, instead--Luocha's left hand and the cross upon that wrist slip out from there, fingertips raising to ghost along the side of his throat. (For the briefest moment, it might almost seem as if they were tempted to close over his windpipe, but--) They drift from there to the crook of his neck, and the exposed stretch of his shoulders over his shirt's neckline. Following Luocha's mouth, as he presses in to nip marks of his own into the young man's skin, in time to the pumping of that grip over both their cocks. ...Only for his healing to soothe the marks promptly away, as he goes, contrasting sensations of stinging and mending...
Before he's lifting his head at length. There's a hunger of a different sort in the still-darkened intent of Luocha's eyes, as he focuses on Caelus's features anew. Tugs against the grip upon his hair--too arousingly restrictive in its own right--to lean in close again, take Caelus's chin in his other hand again. This third kiss is rough, biting--perhaps enough to draw blood in its own right--then, not yet healing this time, instead laves at the coppery traces upon the Trailblazer's lips and tongue, strives to rob him of breath.
I'll give you more, Caelus says, as much as you want. As if he truly could. As if he has any idea.]
--Careful. Promises like that... [Low and rough, panted against his mouth.] You don't know what you're offering.
[After all. Caelus isn't the only one here that so very much craves, to take something apart...]
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