bajamutblast | Inbox/Notes

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I won't make this prettier what are you talking about.

Notes:

- Gigaflare (March) = 3x Remaining

[Dion would gladly do so, if given the opportunity. Joshua already wears a mark of Dion's favor, but it couldn't hurt to leave more. A true necklace was a dangerous thing in combat, considering the way it might bounce to and fro. But one made solely of pulsing suckles and the occasional bite? The only thing it might harm would be their discretion.

However, there is one slight problem to Dion's plan. Joshua's touch seems to have zapped every inch of Dion's being with a fresh bolt of levin. Instead of continuing his ministrations, Dion tucks his head against Joshua's neck, barely biting back a noise that might have come close to a whimper. In his mind, it only now seems to become apparent that it's been a terribly long time since he's been touched like this. He had never been desperate enough to put two and two together until this moment.

And desperate he now is. His hips buck into Joshua's hand before Dion can stop himself. He knows Joshua has asked a question, just as he also knows that he's hardly in a position to simply nod and be noticed. Nevertheless, he has to briefly bob his head frantically, his mouth still parted around a noise that he refuses to let out.

He loses track of the heartbeats that pass before he can respond. It wouldn't be a good metric anyway, considering how it frantically slams against his ribs.]

Y-yes. More than. [He clears his throat, briefly flustered by the fact that he has been so thoroughly unraveled. He tries to resume his effort, moving to the front of Joshua's throat and pressing his teeth just so against the tender skin. His efforts seem distracted though. Who could blame him!]

Your hands, my Phoenix. They - [He lets out a breath, one close to an exasperated laugh.] They are divine.

[ Oh, Founder. The desperate way that Dion responds to his touch is... exhilarating, and it also makes his heart ache something fierce. How long has it been, for Dion? Everything that happened back at home feels as though it happened so quickly, but Dion has been here for a month now, and Joshua frankly has no idea how long it had been since Dion had last seen his beloved prior to coming here. It had not been his business to pry.

But the desperation in Dion's actions and sounds just makes Joshua all the more eager to shower him with affection. He deserves it just as much as any of them do, if not more. The way that Dion can't even respond to his question immediately makes him smile, makes him want to pull back and press the man into the mattress and kiss him until they're both breathless, but Dion seems to be intent on grazing his neck, and he is loath to stop him.

So, instead, he huffs out a warm laugh, arching his neck for Dion just a little bit. My Phoenix. Flames take him, he's never felt so struck by levin as he does right now, hearing those words from Dion's lips. ]

If my hands are divine, then your lips are the very firmament.

[ And if Dion is so enamored by his hands, he will give them to him. He shifts his weight, just a little, enough to pull himself forward on Dion's lap to the point that they can rut up against each other. The feeling of even just that light amount of pressure makes Joshua groan, but he can't proceed just yet. He had gone into this admittedly a little impulsively, and proper preparations had not been made, so he is highly aware that there is no oil within reach. And yet, he is hesitant to get up to find any.

Pardon him for being a little... uncouth. Saliva has ever been a quick and easy method of lubricating for times when he's needed to relieve a little pressure and had a short time to do so. Turning his head just enough, he spits into his palm, then shifts down to take both of them together in his hand, sliding his slicked hand along the heated flesh to ease its passage momentarily.

And then he moves with his free hand, finding Dion's, and bringing it between them to rest on the back of the hand currently encircling both of their arousals. ]

Move with me, my Bahamut.

[ An echo from the motorcycle ride earlier, with a heartfelt additional touch.]

[Dion suspects that Joshua could have been a poet in another life. Briefly he entertains that reality, one in which he's bare against the sheets, reclined in the summer sun through a window as Joshua recites syrupy words. It would end much in the way this is going, hands against sacred places, kisses against delicate skin. Joshua would wear a necklace of bruises, just like the one Dion fashions now. The purple would suit him well.

In this, reality, though, he is commanded into motion. He argues not. There is precious little that Joshua could ever ask for that Dion would not give. And this, this is far too easy to comply with. He ruts his hips forward, feeling his length shift both against palm and arousal alike. The movement staggers at the end, disrupted by the fierce and bodily shudder that works through Dion.

This time, he doesn't hesitate to groan. His head shifts, preferring instead now to press their foreheads together. They are sharing so very much of themselves with one another, so why not their shaking breaths as well.]

Greagor, [His voice is low, already ragged with desire.] I -

[Whatever he plans to say is lost just as quickly as he thinks to speak it.]

[ In another life, perhaps that could have been the case. Perhaps, had his mother never betrayed Rosaria, he and Dion may have grown up as friends. They might have visited each other, spent afternoons just like this. Fallen for each other far sooner than they did. Joshua has thought about it many times, but their reality is what they must live with, and the fact that Dion is here pressed against him is enough for him.

Dion ruts his hips, and the resulting friction makes Joshua groan, his free hand shifting up to slide his fingers into the hair at the back of his partner's head. Their foreheads pressing together is a pleasant continuation of that, and he lets his eyes slip closed, focusing on trying to breathe for just a second.

And then his hand slides along the end of the rutting motion, bringing Dion's with it, and oh, it feels like heaven. ]

Founder, Dion. [ He breathes out the words, the hint of a whine on the edge of his words. ] Like that, just like that.

[ By the Flames, the anticipation and excitement of it all might get him harder than any of the physical stimulation. ]

[Their reality isn't without its perks. They have suffered, died for this intimate moment, but it had all been worth it. Peace, and the chance to live his life as he wished. With who he wished. They might have been secretive in their efforts, but it was only ever for their own sake. No one here would look twice if they shared a kiss in the center of town.

If the world had any way of knowing what they were up to, they wouldn't have cared. At least not as long as they kept it down.

Not that Dion is doing that at all. As they slide against one another, he doesn't shy away from vocalizing his pleasure. It's a groan low in his throat, one that might even taper into a growl. The praise does little to quell that animalistic calling in his mind.

Greed pumps through him, and he doesn't hesitate to plunge forward once more, stealing Joshua's mouth in an almost desperate kiss. As if he might pry further praise from his lips just like this.]

[ Unfortunately, further praise is impossible with one's tongue so thoroughly preoccupied. But Joshua won't complain, much as he is sure that Dion also won't complain. The desperation of that kiss is mirrored nigh instantaneously, soft noises spilling into Dion's mouth as his free hand scrapes blunted nails across exposed skin. Between them, the hand combined with the prince's tightens just slightly, so that on the next stroke there will be a slight bit more pressure than before.

But it's getting difficult for Joshua to control himself. His hips, too, rut up into the touch, a shaky and jagged movement that isn't at all elegant, but it gets the job done. This time, the sound he looses against Dion's lips is a heady moan, and between them, he throbs just so beneath their combined touch.

But after a moment, he finds that he has to pull back quicker than he'd desired simply to breathe. When he does break the kiss finally, it's with a soft whine, and he remains in proximity with their foreheads pressed together, the tips of their noses bumping with each motion of hips and hands. ]

Founder, I--

[ --can't find the words to finish his sentence, ragged-sounding as it is, because they're caught up in a hitched breath. Perhaps the anticipation and the tension in the air has been building on him since their departure from the motorcycle, because there is a very familiar tension building inside of him now, threatening to spiral out of control. He isn't certain how long he'll be able to last. But, frankly, chasing down completion with Dion is such an enticing promise that he doesn't want to prolong it. If he can push Dion to that edge, he will happily fall over it alongside him. ]

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