002 » i don't wanna be alone tonight

[receptacles]

fanart by ta_mozuki.
for luocha at casketeer.

Comments

i can't believe i actually found a meme for this

[receptacles]

[receptacles]

commission by Myst_A.

( click here for hookup 1 )


[ If this were a novel — the heavy-handed, pretentiously-written kind that always seems to top Yinshu's bestsellers list, for no reason that Caelus can understand — the peanut butter and jelly sandwich would be a metaphor for something. Like Caelus's virginity, if one were to be exceptionally blunt and crass. Or maybe just his trust and innocence?

It's still a strange delivery for him to have arranged, and he's a strange person, anyway. Someone who loved something so much that he felt he wasn't worthy of it himself. And instead of giving it to a trusted friend, he went and gave it away to someone he knew wouldn't value it. Wouldn't eat it. Wouldn't even remember it, at the day's end. Has probably left it to rot in the fridge.

Their "relationship" in itself, well — it's basically the same thing. Caelus isn't naive enough that he thinks that Luocha will remember him, when all is said and done. If the man is a merchant — and it says a lot that this is still in question, despite the fact that Luocha's defended himself very adequately several times by now, and Caelus has, you know, gone and had sex with him — but anyway, if the man is a merchant, he probably does this sort of thing a lot. Travels to different worlds, finds handsome, harmless young men. Fucks them, and then doesn't have to think about them later. A year or two from now, if he ever runs into Caelus again, he might not even remember the Trailblazer's name. Or maybe he will, and things will be terribly awkward.

Caelus imagines this, because it's a comfortable type of self-harm to wrap himself up in. If I don't mean anything, then this doesn't have to matter to anyone. But the more he lingers on it, the more he has to admit to himself: Luocha really doesn't seem like the type to sleep around. He doesn't act like a playboy, and he didn't seduce Caelus deliberately.

Which means: maybe Caelus is special.

Thinking about that makes him happy, even though he knows, equally, that he shouldn't delude himself into things that will only hurt him in the end.

Anyway, he does linger on it. Daydreams about it. Salivates. He can't even sleep, when he gets back to the Express. He tries not to touch himself, but then, Luocha didn't say he couldn't touch himself — so, frustrated, Caelus winds up jerking himself to completion, very roughly, another two times before he finally feels exhausted enough to sleep. Even then, he dreams of Luocha again: the man's hands, touching him, gliding over his muscles, soothing his aches and pains. When he opens his mouth, he swears he feels that silky-smooth leather rubbing over his tongue again, stealing his breath.

He doesn't sleep all that well, in other words. And then, in the morning, when he realizes that he has to somehow make it all the way to tonight, he groans.

He tries so hard to be normal, so, so hard, but the annoying thing about the Express is that all of its members are very intelligent and observant. Yes, even March. She looks at him funny as he's leaving the train — Hey, are you okay? — and when Dan Heng says He's been glazed over all morning, Caelus has to sigh and say that he's fine. He's not fine because he's thinking very impatiently about how he wants to feel like putty in Luocha's hands again, like an object to be sculpted and reformed. But he's fine, yeah, he's fine. They do some missions and other odd jobs. He keeps saying he's fine.

(There just isn't a polite way to tell someone that you can't concentrate because you want very badly to be fucked out of your mind.)

He checks his phone for the time, over and over and over again. 11:32. 1:48. 3:21. 5:28. The hours tick by. 6:35. He plays Celestial Jade with Qingque, but he can't concentrate when the smooth, cool tiles under his fingers remind him of Luocha's skin, so he gives up his seat as soon as a better player comes along to complete her table of four. 9:56. He suddenly remembers that he hasn't eaten. 10:10. Still not late enough. He thinks about texting Luocha, but doesn't. Doesn't want to come off desperate or needy, in case that might strike the man as a red flag. 11:45. He goes back to the Express to take a shower, which he wouldn't do, usually, quite that early in the night.

Welt looks at him when he emerges from the showers with wet hair, then asks coolly and crisply: Going out?

Yeah, Caelus answers, after a pause.

It shouldn't be a problem or anything. Himeko has always made it clear that her Trailblazers are allowed to do whatever they want in the seven days that the Express stays docked in one location. And there's nothing like judgment in Welt's too-knowing gaze, but all he says is, It's good to experience new things. Just don't get yourself into trouble.

Which is sweet. And kind. Sort of fatherly. It curdles like guilt in Caelus's chest as he exits the Express, his long-legged steps halting oddly on the descent as he moves down each rung of the staircase. It's not like there are rules against what he's doing. It's not like he owes the Express any explanations. But still.

On some level, he knows that what he's doing is bad.

But whatever, right? Who cares if he gets himself hurt? He's the only one that's going to be harmed, if this turns into anything, and so, in the end —

By the time Caelus finally, finally shows up at the Petrichor Inn, at the appointed time of their meeting, he is keyed up, aroused beyond belief, and aching to be fucked. He's imagined it already, in a thousand different configurations, thighs shifting and pressing against each other each time he needed to hide his arousal — he keeps wondering what it will be like, how good Luocha will make him feel this time.

The Trailblazer looks normal enough when he finds Luocha in the lobby, but when he finally sets his eyes on the man's face, he can't think of a single word to say. ]

...Hey.

[ That's all he says. Great opener. He's kicking himself. He wants to be as smooth as he was when he bit into Luocha's lip at the end of their last meeting. The taste of iron in his mouth had somehow made it so much easier to think of charismatic things to say. ]

Did you wait long?

god there rly is a meme for everything...also ty for the setup!!

[casketeer]

[One could say it's really quite unkind, the way Luocha has set this up. Leaving Caelus just shy of completely satisfied that night, and tasking him to go through the motions of an entire day before they can meet again. Just as the fate of that perfect peanut butter sandwich could stand in as some sort of metaphor in an overwrought romantic novel, though, this unkindness could probably hold up as yet another metaphor in its own right--perfect microcosm that it is, of how Luocha tends to conduct his business on the whole. Unkind requests, actions, goals, but all so very meticulously wrapped in soft hangings of appeal--so very reasonable, so very rewarding, at least in the moment. A moment just long enough for the victim to all but forget that they even are one. ...But generally, of course, such transgressions tend to be part of a far larger overarching plan...which already makes this whole matter just a bit of an exception.

No, Luocha isn't particularly a type to sleep around. And he genuinely hadn't been intending to seduce Caelus, when he had agreed to that meeting in person at the start. ...Hard to pinpoint where things had precisely shifted. Perhaps it was the moment they clasped hands, and that Stellaron's tune became so very fascinatingly clear from within its vessel. Or perhaps it was somewhat later, when healing touches subtly meant to unbalance had instead become...something invited, by Caelus's own request. One thing leading to another, as that sort of cliche goes. And tempting as it might be to lay the overall onus of that encounter's lascivious conclusion on Caelus's encouragement--on the fact that he never pulled away--on the fact that he agreed even to an agonizing day's wait afterwards--still, even still.

Perhaps it could be said that Caelus is special, in one less wholesome sense of the word. There are surely several very interesting qualities about him, that have caught Luocha's attention in a way few others do. As a "vessel", yes, it can't be denied that his body is intriguing in ways well beyond (but including) his conventionally approachable looks...but then, as well, there's that forthright honesty on the oddest occasions, and the myriad contradictions that he seems to hold. Externally guileless, and yet surprisingly perceptive. Shamelessly greedy, and yet so very eager to please. A sort of person who drinks in perceived kindness and affection with the desperation of someone still trying to determine what those things even should look like. Which may well be the case, depending on just how convoluted his origins might actually be...

There's simultaneously the appeal of unraveling a new puzzle and toying with a very temptingly blank slate. ...Luocha shouldn't have time for this. He still doesn't, really, and the ideal that this will be temporary remains. Yet he retired that last night with the phantom taste of copper still on his tongue, and the memory of the boy's body splayed so sweetly pliant underneath him still lingering in thought...and all during the next day--

Well, the next day's actually not an unusually terrible one for Luocha. Highly versed as he is in playing long games, and numb as he's long since grown to the impatience of waiting for things as a result. He's usually kept up most nights being plagued by all manner of thoughts not even exclusively horny anyway--and on top of that, he doesn't need to worry half so much about concealing strange deviations in conduct and habit from cherished but sharply prying eyes. No, the coffin is the only one to remain coolly judgmental over his shoulder throughout the day--possibly still somewhat upset by last night, and the intentions of this incoming night--and that's already an expected source. In all other matters, Luocha goes about as he always has, in his wanderings about the Luofu's more populated locales.

Browsing the bookstore for any more obscure copies of Xianzhou history. Observing the shape of the Ambrosial Arbor on the horizon of Exalting Sanctum, where it now gleams picturesque, thriving still despite the neutralization of the plot that had nurtured it. Visiting Aurum Alley to browse the trinkets, and commiserate with "fellow" merchants while he still never moves to sell anything himself. (It's also become a bit of a daily novelty, learning about what alien creature they've slaughtered for today's special at Spices Supreme this time.) Stopping by the teahouse, on his way back to the inn later in the evening; Mr. Xiyan has long since grown more familiar than not with his face. "Tell me, sir, have you any tales today regaling the feats of that other Xianzhou ship, the Xuling?" The man will spin far too elaborate yarns beyond an hour, if the audience lets him. Sometimes there are even kernels of useful truth, buried under the flagrant exaggerations.

Evening closes in. There is a message on his phone that is not from Caelus. Security is now truly loosened. They're clearly stretched thin, from processing all those Sanctus Medicus arrests of late. Perhaps now is the time.

Not yet, Luocha replies, after a pause that would have been imperceptible in person and is invisible in text, not tonight. I've a few last things to square away. But the time is indeed quite soon now. I will let you know.

And then he dresses down, and drifts into the lobby with a book in hand for the wait. --Dresses down, yes, which is to say that when Caelus steps inside he'll find Luocha seated exactly where he was last time...but bereft, of both the customary white vest and even the jacquard lapels normally immediately underneath it. Only the singular sleeved black shirt with its high collar remains, somehow further emphasizing his slender waist. ...Luocha's hair now falls entirely loose over his shoulders and down his back, too, without the gold ornament normally holding it gathered somewhat in place--though this probably isn't as obvious until he's rising to his feet, book tugged shut between gloved hands. He smiles at Caelus, as if that greeting wasn't at all awkward and halting, as if he's happy to see him.]

Not at all, sir. You're practically on the dot, it seems, according to the time...quite appreciated. I suppose you're ready to have your followup checkup, then? Whenever you're ready...

[Veiled humor lilts his tone. The receptionist is on break again at this hour, yes, and so this is more for the benefit of the camera eyes in the lobby--though the footage will probably be a bit compromising anyway. Still, for the principle--and the fun of the game, too--Luocha's pace is a perfectly idle one, as they start down the hall to that familiar door of his suite. As if there weren't any urgency to easily glean, from the anticipating tension in Caelus's shoulders, and the hum that must almost certainly be emanating from the Stellaron about now...]

luocha postponing deicide and terrorism to get laid..... living the dream

[receptacles]

Yes, sir. Thank you for your time.

[ Oh, it's bad. Caelus knows it's bad. He's got it bad, the way all of his anxiety seems to melt away the moment Luocha smiles at him and addresses him in that soft, unruffled voice. He has such a lovely, soothing voice. The way he seems so thoroughly unperturbed by everything around him makes the Trailblazer feel safe, and somehow at ease.

(It also makes him want to see the man unravel. He wonders what Luocha would look like with that sweet, pleasant demeanor stripped bare to reveal the beast within. What he'd look like, with his hair seized in Caelus's hands, that slender waist arched into his lap — )

He's not thinking about how the footage will look when it's reviewed. Why would he? They're just two men walking down the hall. (Meeting in the same place for the second time now, a hotel suite in the dead of the night, seemingly timed so that the receptionist wouldn't be around to witness it.) Not even touching. Not even looking at each other. That's how Caelus knows that this is all a mistake: someone who cared about him would probably look him in the eyes. But who cares? He makes a lot of mistakes. This can just be one more of them.

The Stellaron beats quietly to the flutter of Caelus's earnest heart. Each pulse is strong and uncharacteristically deep, like a thirst that has been stoked to the point of evolution.

As they walk up the stairs and into Luocha's suite, Caelus can't help but murmur, as his eyes flick greedily over the merchant's immaculately tailored black shirt: ]

...You look so hot like that. [ A quiet laugh. ] I mean, you'd look hot in anything, but still.

[ It's a little juvenile, but whatever. They don't seem all that far apart in age, but still, some part of Luocha always seems a little amused by Caelus's youthful exuberance. ]

LOOK his priorities are immaculate ok. also pls just imagine jingliu frysquinting at his text w/me,

[casketeer]

[Not touching, no, and not looking, like a pair of men walking down the hall who are either about to have a perfectly innocent and businesslike transaction--or about to have another sort of transaction altogether, the kind that needs hiding. ...To be sure, a person less inclined to games--less inclined to secrecy--less inclined to reasons for being ever aware of security cameras to begin with--would not be going through such motions. Would likely have greeted Caelus far more affectionately in that lobby, perhaps as an actual friend, perhaps as a perfectly normal and decent person that Luocha is very much not.

Yet Caelus follows along anyhow, doesn't he? Pursuing that mistake to its end. As they'd mutually confirmed last night, after all...the thrill of the illicit can be a strong lure indeed. Assuming that thrill is even the only reason Caelus has, for playing along to this...

Far be it from Luocha to question it aloud, regardless of the answer. There's no need, really, when the result is the same in the end.

Luocha remains seemingly entirely unruffled as they approach the suite door, and Caelus makes his murmured remark--as if he isn't perfectly contentedly aware of the hungry eyes tracing over the lines of his shirt. No waver in his steps, no flush of self-consciousness, not even a particularly overtly salacious glance returned...but his smile does curve knowingly. He chuckles, a soft and brief moment's sound, as he keys open the door's lock and steps inside first.]

Mm, I'm glad to hear it, all the same. I had hoped that perhaps you'd appreciate it, considering the less formal nature of our business this evening...

[A little juvenile, yes, that remark of Caelus's in its blunt flattery. But he isn't wrong, that there is a certain charm to the air of youth in the way he approaches even matters like this. Physically they might not be very far apart in age at all, perhaps, but Luocha does still suspect that Caelus is rather inexperienced in all manner of things, for reasons likely not entirely conventional. ...It really is a little too appealing, probably, the idea of potentially being able to effortlessly shape the Trailblazer's proclivities in all sorts of ways--

Once Caelus steps through the doorway, he won't be able to move further into the suite just yet.

The door is shut behind his back, and then he's being crowded right up against it, as Luocha turns back to him instead of moving forward. Steps evenly right into his personal space and well past it, hands closing over Caelus's hips, leaning in, lips brushing over the shell of his ear.]

I'm sure it's been such a long day for you, after all. Hm. [He's still smiling, even as his tone drops, a heated purr. In another moment, one of those gloved hands shifts from the boy's hip to trace fingertips feather-light over his waistline underneath the hem of his shirt, before dipping lower, between his legs. Pressing in, over the fabric of his pants, and the arousal Caelus has been trying to hide all day.] My, look at you...were you able to think of anything else at all today, Caelus?

[receptacles]

[ He's thought about it all damn day long, in the way that people new to their bodies become envious of other bodies: in the area of arousal, at least, it must be so much easier to be a girl. No one needs to care very much or even know if a woman is wet in her panties, but Caelus has had to curse his traitorous cock this whole time, for standing flushed and at attention every time he let his mind wander to how deliciously conquered and ecstatic he felt with Luocha's weight pinning him to the chair. No, he hasn't been obscene about it; it wasn't the sort of thing where people would have noticed anything wrong if they weren't deliberately looking there. But yeah. He's been packing, at about half-mast. All day. Bulge straining the fly of his trousers, sort of warm and soft and deliciously weighty between his legs.

Now, at last, is finally the time that his suffering will mean something — maybe, anyway, if Luocha isn't cruel to him, and maybe even if he is. Half-mast turns to full-mast very quickly as Caelus gives in to the strange, muffled sensation of Luocha's gloved hands cupping and fondling him over his pants. Even this much friction feels like relief after a full day of trying not to give in to his daydreams; it's going to turn into a torturous ache soon enough if Luocha edges him even more than this, but for the moment, at least, the Trailblazer lets out a pleased, gratified groan. ]

No... I couldn't, I — couldn't think of anything but you.

[ The Stellaron's bass soon turns erratic in his chest, flickering and fluttering, trying to keep sync with his now rapidly racing heartbeat. Something in it seems like it's awakening — as if Luocha could reach out, and sink his fingers behind the Trailblazer's ribs, and pull that flaming core out of his body. But that won't happen, of course. The Stellaron is much too stable. It's only rising to the surface, like a playful fox peeking out of its den to see what fun might be happening outside.

Caelus isn't sure where to put his hands. He settles for putting them where he wants to have them: resting on Luocha's hips, one hand on his lower back, pulling him in. Reciprocating the way that he himself is being held. It feels so, so addictively gratifying to have the man in his arms again, whispering sweet seduction into his ear once more. ]

All day... I needed you.

[casketeer]

[To be wanted, to be needed. To haunt another's thoughts an entire day long. It's not as if Luocha's some sort of perpetually lovesick person, constantly in search of a way to have that permanent sort of place in someone's life--(because in reality his problems are almost certainly far more unseemly and complex than that)--but instead it's more of an extension of the control he's ever seeking, this darkly pleased thing that ripples through him. At Caelus's earnest answer, and at the way that tension between the boy's legs already hardens to full attention under such simple touches. This is the satisfaction of planting a seed and watching it bloom exactly as expected, of making a demand and seeing it fulfilled...and for him, it's just as arousing as the sounds Caelus is already making and the hands pressing over his hip and back.]

...Good...you've been very good. I really must thank you, for taking that trouble and coming here like this...

[The sound that sighs from Luocha in turn is a soft and gratified sort of hum; there's no resistance as Caelus pulls him close. Pressed near as their bodies are, the Stellaron's hum is more felt than heard, that pulse of a second heart rousing from its sleep. Certainly, almost, close enough and tangible enough to touch--and though it's far too stable to manipulate from here, the curiosity still tugs at Luocha for a fact, wondering just what this one would be like to hold in his palm. Just what it is that's so very strangely different, here, from its kindred forms across other worlds. ...Yet that same scientist's temptation to reach and find and prize it out...is a duller thing, this time, next to the sweet warmth of the rest of Caelus's body, the way it responds so readily to his touch.]

You're very lovely like this. [A light kiss is pressed against the side of Caelus's throat; then, an equally light kiss to his lips.] I suppose you've no other aches and pains today except this one, then? [Another, heavier kiss, alongside a heavier palming touch, stroking Caelus's length through fabric. Turning that ache from pleasurable to torturous seems an intentional aim, here; Luocha pulls away soon after, drawing a step back. Though a gloved hand does close about one of Caelus's wrists, as he does, lightly pulling him away from the door.] ...Let's treat you somewhere more comfortable.

back from my vacation to penacony, i hope u love it too ✨

[receptacles]

[ Being kissed so sweetly, touched so lightly. Having someone look him in his eyes and call him lovely. These are all things that Caelus knows he doesn't deserve and hasn't earned, but it's only human nature to crave this kind of affection, and if the people who created him didn't want him to make these mistakes, they shouldn't have given him such a woefully, painfully human heart.

So: he agrees. Steps deeper into the lion's den, as if to present himself as a gift to be devoured. He's aching, but he lets the doctor-merchant take him by the wrist, and he follows Luocha obediently towards the bedroom of the suite where things look — again — mysteriously untouched.

This isn't as surprising as it was last time; he knows by now that Luocha doesn't return to his bed, some nights. (Selling trinkets, a likely story, but whatever, Caelus doesn't care.) The coffin isn't in the room, either, which Caelus finds something of a relief; he still doesn't know what's inside of it, but he has the vague suspicion that whatever it was did not approve of him invading its space.

It probably doesn't approve of any of this, either. Not Caelus being here; not Luocha tumbling into bed with him. But the nature of sinners is that they turn a blind eye to their impending judgment. They either forget what it means to sin, or they do it knowingly, and fully embrace the consequences.

It's the same with Caelus. Forget the issues that this might cause later, with the Express, or maybe even with the Luofu. Right now, at least, what he wants is Luocha's absolution. Luocha's forgiveness.

Caelus will sink obediently into the bed, as guided — or he can get on his knees with his hands behind his back, or strip himself naked, or any other thing Luocha might want from him. He won't be shy about it. ]

How do you want me? [ He can't help but add: ] Sir?

[ This is — maybe not an intentional consequence of Luocha's playfully drawing that line between them — but it certainly adds a sense of novelty to their relationship. A fresh layer of control, freely given. Caelus knows what he's given up, but still: Luocha seems to like it, and all he wants in the moment is to please the mysterious stranger. ]

me 2 months later, confetti in my hair and unhinged 2.1 lore now in my brain: yea it's pretty neat,

[casketeer]

[A sinner unaware of the judgment they're spurning is no true sinner, after all, simply someone idly wandering off the beaten path to see what happens. Which certainly isn't the case for either man here and now, in this bedroom, knowingly mutually pressing past objections of good sense and the potential of future consequence as they do. ...Luocha is not a person who should be approached for absolution, or forgiveness, as firmly and rather cruelly as he's already plotted out his own course on the horizon--and as likely as it is that this course is almost certainly going to bring some form of grief upon Caelus and all those he's allied with. To say nothing of the consequences these little trysts in themselves might bring, just by association with the sort of person that Luocha is about to very deliberately be in the next few days.

But Caelus seeks out that absolution and forgiveness anyhow, so very earnestly, so very obediently. Following the guiding hand as he does, asking that question as he does--and offering over yet another piece of control, in the form of taking up that mock-formal gap between them. All of these things at once, like this...ah. Truly, what else is there to do but indulge the boy? It's really no wonder, that in the end Luocha couldn't resist the appeal of a second encounter such as this.

It will be the only other night between them, he's certain, but even still...]

Mm. ...Well, if I'm to be thorough in checking you over, I'd like you undressed. Here...let me see...

[In the end Caelus actually isn't directed to the bed just yet, nor ushered to his knees either. Instead he's guided to stand somewhere between the bed and a dresser--where a mirror happens to be sitting--and Luocha's drawing in close once more. Tugging away Caelus's jacket, then the first shirt, then the second. Each article of clothing is prudently laid atop the dresser. The boy can help if he likes. It's a slow and deliberate sort of process; Luocha makes no pretense of hiding the way his eyes drink in Caelus's body as it's gradually revealed--fully, for the first time, in this way--and gloved fingertips can't seem to help but trail across the line of his bared shoulders, down his chest. Tracing muscle and the tender flesh of his sides alike, as if testing all the little reactions each spot might reveal, before actually settling at the waistline of his pants at last.

...It truly is strange. A vessel so appealingly human as this. But the personality that dwells within it, now so willingly pliant in this moment...it's more pleasing still. Luocha's lips find the bared hollow of Caelus's neck yet again, can't seem to keep away, as he leans in and tugs down his pants. Warm breath and warm words hum at his ear.]

How patient do you think you can still be, I wonder? Should I fuck you right this moment? Or...hm...I do recall you were quite clever with your mouth, last night...

[receptacles]

[ Caelus helps, but not in too impatient or hurried a fashion. Luocha seems to be enjoying the process of undressing him slowly, one article of clothing at a time, like he's unwrapping a present. The Trailblazer understands the appeal perfectly well, so he holds himself still at times, lets Luocha's fingers touch and examine him all over.

It's really very fascinating. The way his body looks, the way it was sculpted. Caelus has a handsome face, a perfect jawline, not so ethereal as to arouse suspicion, but he makes for a delicious prize for anyone to win, all the same. It's hard to complain about the sharpness in his golden eyes, his handsome profile, the lines of his throat and neck as they turn to accept Luocha's kisses. Broad shoulders, sculpted arms, Adonis-like in their glory — but then, where his body's creator could have embraced divine athleticism beyond flaw, Caelus boasts instead soft sides, softer thighs, a temptingly healthy balance of muscle and fat. As if to celebrate humanity above gods — or perhaps to create a convincingly human guise for a god.

Caelus shivers. Luocha has kept his hunger buttoned up, thus far, but now it seems to be rearing its head at last, with the breath in his ear, the kiss to his neck. The Trailblazer's pants drop to the floor, crumpling at his ankles. He lets them. He doesn't have anything to hide. He leans his weight ever so slightly into Luocha's arms, playfully heavy, eager to please. ]

I've been thinking all day about how you taste.

[ His voice is hoarse and throaty, laced with husky need. He licks his lips with exaggerated greed; unmistakably, he knows what he wants. ]

I bet it's good. I bet you're gonna like what I can do for you.

[casketeer]

[There is a present here, after all, one being given freely--it just wouldn't do, to not treat it accordingly. This novel, fascinating little puzzle of a present--so evidently fabricated with the intention of something closer to humanity than perfection, despite the terrible flame within--so very satisfying to claim, even as it so easily gives itself over. Just as he'd been drinking in the handsome sight of the disrobed body before him with his eyes, Luocha's drinking in Caelus's every little shiver and breath in turn too...made so much pleasingly easier by the way the boy leans a bit into his arms like that, all warm and willing eagerness.

It's tempting already, of course, to reach for that lovely cock--finally freed from the confines of pants, and doubtless already at attention after the long wait of the day. But it's just too easy to incline towards savoring the occasion at hand slowly, to play upon the need so clear in the tone of Caelus's voice, draw it out just slightly longer. Luocha pulls his body a bit closer for just a moment instead: arms circling his waist in a brief facsimile of something almost like a hug, a gloved fingertip drawing a feather-light line down his spine to the small of his back. Phantom pale flowers crowding close upon the senses once more; blond hair drapes and spills silky over the bared skin of Caelus's chest. The boy licks his lips like that, and naturally Luocha's turning his head to properly kiss that shameless mouth, tongue ever so briefly flicking in for a taste (to speak of tastes--)

Then, the kiss is broken and he's drawing back, arms loosening, palms smoothing the rest of the way down Caelus's soft sides to rest on his hips. The slight smile on Luocha's features is somehow benevolent and predatory in equal measure--or maybe it's just the intent in the half-lidded eyes that lift to study Caelus's face once more. Noting that greed; basking in it.]

My, with a confidence like that, how could I not take you at your word? You do seem so very eager to prove yourself... [And who is he, then, to deny such an offer? He gently takes Caelus's hands, though this time they're guided first to the fastening of his pants instead of the buttons on his shirt. Permission for Caelus to unwrap this much in turn, at least to start.]

[receptacles]

[ Should he let himself think that Luocha cares? No, of course not; that would be stupid. But he lets himself fantasize about it, at least. Lets himself imagine how sweet it would be, if there was real warmth behind those arms gently holding his waist, or if that brief but hungry kiss to his soft mouth meant anything at all beyond a bit of fun and the guarantee that he might want this too.

But fantasies are just fantasies, and Caelus is under no illusions about what kind of meeting this is as Luocha gently guides his hands to the waistband of his pants. The Trailblazer doesn't hesitate to unbutton and unzip those pristine white trousers, falling to his knees despite the hot weight of his own cock standing proudly erect between his legs. It's fine; he's held his arousal this long. He can hold it for longer, if it means he can get his mouth on the cock he's been thinking about all damn day.

He takes his time with it, though most might expect Caelus to be impatient. Savors it. The pleasure of having a beautiful man waiting for his attention isn't something that he gets to enjoy every day, and Caelus is raw and innocent in a lot of ways but fully and utterly desecrated in others. He presses his lips to Luocha through his undergarments, just to savor the weight of it, the feeling of the fabric against his lips, the shape of his bulge. He's kissing Luocha's cock even as he pulls the man's underwear to his thighs — doesn't hesitate to take a long, slow breath, as if carving the scent of Luocha's skin into his senses. ]

You know, you smell good here, too...

[ The kitten licks he gives Luocha's shaft are curious, but not unskilled. No, not in the least. He laps his way up to Luocha's tip with an enthusiasm that almost suggests he's done this a hundred or a thousand times before, swirls that clever tongue slow around the flare of it, fast and hard into the slit of it.

But this isn't satisfying, he knows. It's just teasing. Quick little lashes of wet heat to stoke a man's appetite for more.

Caelus doesn't have particularly long lashes, not compared to Luocha himself, but they're dense enough, and he flutters what he has in a pretty way anyway. His gold eyes flash with smug devotion as he finally, finally closes his lips around the tip of Luocha's clock, and starts throating him in earnest. ]