daemonized | EL NYSA IC INBOX.

Oh, am I being rude? Just tell me if I'm being too inconsiderate.

[He doesn't seem terribly bothered, because he knows that something as simple as taking off his coat is not a gesture that his friend would be offended by. He just gives his usual lopsided grin, neatly setting the article of clothing aside on the closest place to sit, and gestures at X'rhun.]

At any rate, come here.

[Bossy, isn't he.]

[ He simply shrugs – he’s not offended in the least. For as little as he lives in his own home, once he’s opened his door to someone, they’re free to make themselves at home as much as they like. ]

I wonder, will you burst into flames should word “please” pass your lips?

[ But that doesn’t stop him from walking over. Curiosity is a hell of a thing. ]

[Cats and curiosity, as predictable as ever, Ardyn would say.]

I might. You’ll never know.

[Smug, too, but unlike many facets of his humor, this one is not coated in ill-will. He waits expectantly until X’rhun is closer, the gentle arch of his brow revealing no impatience, betraying nothing but a vague spark of keenness in his eyes.

Until he’s close enough for him to grab at his forearm, that is, bringing him near, and without warning or fanfare, presses his lips rather heatedly against his friend’s. Not a single bone in his body possesses even an ounce of shame, and the contour of his smile can probably be felt in this kiss.

Okay, he might’ve been lying about luring X’rhun indoors to present him with a “gift”. Or, depending on one’s point of view, he might not have been lying at all.]

[ There’s a brief moment, when Ardyn first closes his hand around X’rhun’s arm that he tenses, wondering just where this is going, but he needn’t wonder for long because Ardyn pulls him close and – oh.

Oh.

Whether the talk of a “gift” was a ruse or, in fact, referring to the current situation remains to be seen, but quite frankly that all goes flying out the window rather quickly. He’s not sure what it is exactly about kissing Ardyn, all heat and force and smirks against his lips, that has him giving in so quickly, but give in he does. He brings his free hand up to grasp at the fabric of Ardyn’s shirt and kisses him right back. With the way his tail sets to lashing behind him, it’s easy to tell he’s not exactly bothered by this development. ]

[Encouraging, that response to his kiss. Though he would’ve been surprised if X’rhun didn’t take well to it, as prideful as such a thought might seem.

But Ardyn remembers, quite clearly, his friend’s reaction to the first time he kissed him. The heat and the eagerness that blossomed up in record time, how the look on his face had been left wanting when he finally pulled away. He sees no reason why now should be any different, especially if there is a hotter fire stoked in Ardyn’s chest this time; wrought by various frustrations, all of them recent enough, thoughts mercilessly sticking in his skull. He requires distraction — he’s cashing in on their arrangement.

Obvious by the way he way his fingers press into X’rhun’s clothing, hand still on his arm. Obvious by the way the kiss is hungrier, a little rougher, than what he would remember. And as he pulls away for the first time, breath warm and teeth gently scraping against the man’s lower lip, it is oh-so-obvious by the look in his eyes — something darkly simmering under the surface — that he wants a little more than just simple kissing this time.]

I hope you didn’t think that I had forgotten about our little agreement from before.

[ There’s an edge to this kiss that hasn’t been in any of the others they’ve shared, a sharp sort of hunger from Ardyn’s end that has something in X’rhun feeling danger and excitement in equal measure. How unfair it is, he thinks, that Ardyn does this to him so easily, sets his heart hammering against the back of his ribs with the press of his lips and the scrape of his teeth. Granted, he probably does it because X’rhun has made no secret of the way he reacts when Ardyn kisses him. Of all the people in all the wide world, he has surely had his attentions snared by the very worst, but… well, here they are, regardless.

Whatever it is that shines in Ardyn’s gaze, some shadowy thing that promises more, sends very real anticipation shooting down his spine, but to his credit he keeps it off his face, and instead lets it show in the twitching of his tail. ]

Perish the thought. I figured you would act on it when you were good and ready, and not a moment before. You move as do mountains, Ardyn. As does a dragon. Everything in your own time, and in your own way.

And I cannot decide if you've just called me slow and ponderous, or grand and powerful.

[A huff of amusement, leaning in, eyes tracking across X'rhun's expression. His smile is wickedly sharp, the sense of excitement shared between them. Ardyn's focus has tapered into a sharp, fine point, directly solely towards the other and little else.]

Not that it matters.

[He shifts forward just enough for his breath and words to catch in X'rhun's ear. His other hand presses against his friend's chest, against the material of his uniform, as if to accentuate-]

Now tell me, how long does it take for you to remove all of this?

[His clothes, he means.]

[ Maybe a bit of both, though Ardyn is more like a dragon over anything else. Slow to forget and even slower to forgive, the wrongs of lifetimes ago are as fresh wounds to them. It's almost poetic, how that reminds him of the man before him.

However, that little piece of poetry he keeps to himself, because Ardyn's breath is warm in his ear, tickling through his fur in an altogether pleasant way. And, well, there is the matter of- ]

My uniform? It takes a small bit of effort - [ effort that he is now more than motivated to put forth ] - but not half as long as one might expect. I am something of a professional, by now.

Was that a request or just an idle bit of curiosity?

[ As if he doesn't know. ]

[Oh, as if X'rhun even has to ask. To label anything Ardyn suggests as a request is almost too kind, but thus far it lacks the force of a command. So perhaps somewhere in-between.

Fingers curl slightly into the fabric as he replies.]

You already know the answer to that.

[Don't play coy, X'rhun. Ardyn's already removed his coat, and while there are still layers beneath that, the rest of him wears clothing that fits his body a bit better. Easier to see the broadness of shoulders and the sharp cut of his form, when down to his rather ornate waistcoat and white shirt.]

Aye, I suppose I do.

[ As if there’s any mistaking where this is going. With one arm still clasped by Ardyn’s hand – and maybe because he enjoys being a tease, just a small bit – he’s left to tug the glove on his free hand off with his teeth.

He needs his arm back if he’s to begin shedding more layers, however, and he tugs it from Ardyn’s grip as he steps back just a small bit. The other glove comes away first, then he sets to the many clasps and buttons the make up the front of his jacket. There are a lot of them, but his movements are well-practiced and quick enough.

Beneath the complicated, ornate mess that is his Duelist’s coat he wears a simple white shirt – more buttons but extremely straightforward ones. The jacket he drapes over the back of a nearby chair, and he spreads his hands. ]

Ta-da.

[ Those boots might take some doing, but the rest of his wardrobe is fairly simple. ]

[A gesture like that, teeth to pull away at his glove, can be mistaken as nothing more than teasing. Ardyn knows it, and he appreciatively arches a brow, remaining patient (for now). He can wait, detaching himself from X’rhun long enough to watch him discard the Duelist’s coat with impressively deft hands. Watching those fingers work sends a subtle thrill up his spine.]

You can’t ta-da me, when you’ve only stripped away the first layer.

[He chuckles, because he’s well-aware he’s done the same. But he shall dictate the removal of his own clothing, not the other way around, and so Ardyn just steps forward to work at the buttons on the man’s shirt with ease. His eyes never leave his friend’s features, his eyes, the curve of his mouth.]

But it’s a start.

Can’t I? It was a lot of buttons. I felt it deserving of a “ta-da”.

[ Ardyn steps in to take over, and X’rhun lets him. His friend has made no secret of his need to be in charge, regardless of the situation, and he expected no different here. That was the point of this agreement, after all: to allow Ardyn to do “whatever he wants”. He keeps a lazy little smirk on his face, his expression belied only by the eager way his tail waves, more visible now with the absence of the many layers of red fabric from his coat.

This wouldn’t be the first time he’s gone without his shirt in the presence of Ardyn, though he’s picked up a few more scars in the relatively short time since their run-in with the chimera, some few marks from stingers and fangs. A grim reminder of the week spent in captivity and his eventual demise. ]

And what of you, hm? I would not be surprised to remove your scarf to find that you had half a dozen more hidden beneath.

[He’s only satisfied when each button is undone, and he’s able to brush a hand against exposed skin. Scars that he had seen before, along with new ones alike, less faded than the rest. A finger idly traces along one of them, and X’rhun’s body warmth is such an appealing sensation, he thinks.]

No. Only the one this time.

[He doesn’t hide his own smirk as his free hand comes up to tug away the scarf. It’s the same one that X’rhun gifted him with months ago, for he is still fond of wearing it; the fabric is quickly discarded to the side, landing near X’rhun’s own red coat. It loosens his shirt collar as a result (the flamboyant thing that it is), more freely exposing the lines of his neck, the way his Adam’s apple moves slightly as he swallows, before leaning in to mark the man’s collarbone with a wanting kiss that teeters just on the edge of eagerness.

This close, Ardyn smells of deep musk and anise, of lingering sunlight from their time spent sitting in the grass together. His messy hair falls across his eyes, leaning forward as he does, and his hands wander up X’rhun’s side, the pressure of his touch teasing.]

Why? So eager to have me undressed, with you writhing beneath me?

[Everything about Ardyn to start will be teasing, he’ll soon learn.]

“This time”, he says.

[ For all the time he has known Ardyn, at most he’s only ever seen the man without his coat, and occasionally devoid of his hat. As Ardyn tugs the (familiar, he notes) length of fabric away, revealing the line of his throat, X’rhun can’t help but feel that even the man’s wardrobe is out to tease him, to say nothing of the man himself.

X’rhun’s whole body practically buzzes with eagerness, but Ardyn seems content to walk that line as his mouth finds his collar bone. He angles his head, something low and rumbling working its way from his belly and out past his lips as Ardyn marks him – a growl, or near enough to it. So nice of him to bend down to X’rhun’s level, since he’s able to slide his fingers into wine-colored locks. ]

Mm, well, you do paint a pretty picture.

[ But it won’t be so easy, he knows. They’ve all the time in the world, and Ardyn is taking dear, sweet time enough that even the seconds drag. ]

[He will skirt that line for as long as his own patience lasts, drawing X’rhun along a tenuous thread of desire and sensation only partly fulfilled. Ardyn is something of an expert when it comes to lazy, languid touches, accentuated with the occasional spark of fire (teeth against skin, a play bite, leaving red marks on X’rhun as he straightens to look at him again), always the promise of more. Such is the way his hands explore the miqo'te’s exposed skin, enjoying the hills and dales of muscle that make up his form. He tilts his head, leaning into the touch of X’rhun’s fingers in his windswept hair — it would almost be a fond gesture, if not for the way amber eyes are clouded with a burgeoning lust that cannot be described as affectionate.]

If you ask me nicely, perhaps I can do more than just a paint a picture.

[Voice low, almost a growl to reflect his friend’s own. The quiet intonation of amusement that never seems to leave him, still living in every uttered syllable.

Fingernails press into his skin, not painful, but certainly not gentle. There’s a guiding force from Ardyn's hands, pushing a little, in the direction of the bed.]

And to think you asked if I could give this to you outside, there in the grass for all wandering by to see. How salacious.

[ He knows better than to see this as something other than what it is, even without the notable lack of affection in Ardyn’s gaze making it all the more obvious. They are not characters in some pretty love story. This is practical, animal, a release and a distraction and naught else. He quite honestly suspects there is more animal in Ardyn Izunia than there is in himself, despite what he looks like. ]

Ah, I see. It falls to me to say “please” since you won’t.

[ Already he’s gone a bit breathless. He’d be embarrassed if he had it in him to care, but as it is, Ardyn keeps stringing him right along and he just goes where pulled. To say he’s not enjoying the languid pace would be a lie. Every press of Ardyn’s fingers is enough to send ripples of heat along his skin, left to thrum just beneath the surface as he quietly wants for more.

Or pushed, as the case may be. Ardyn guides him backwards, and X’rhun goes with careful strides across the room to where the bed sits. He knows his own home well enough that with his own periphery and Ardyn’s guidance, he manages to avoid colliding with anything, even with Ardyn being as gods damned distracting as he pleases. ]

In my defense, you were extremely vague about your aim.

[He’s the right of it. It is an animalistic hunger, this shameless want to feel X’rhun under him. His heat and breath and heartbeat, all of it, under the press of his own control (it’s nigh always about control), practically drowning him in slow sensations until he’s just on the edge of bursting. That would be ideal — beyond just quelling his own carnal needs, to see someone undone, manipulated by the careful application of his touch, will always be favorable. At its core, there is nothing affectionate about any of this. Their agreement, from its conception, was something born out of convenience and logic. His friend enjoyed his touch, and Ardyn would therefore be willing to give it when he needed the outlet.

And now, eyes raking over X’rhun’s form as they stand next to the bed, it’s quite obvious that he needs this outlet, lest it remerge in less harmless ways.]

True, but don’t think with enough pressing, I wouldn’t have taken it into consideration. We could’ve found a way to be cunning about it, avoiding too many wayward looks. Creativity, in all things — as long as you didn’t make too much noise.

[Whether or not this is true, or he’s just saying that to rile his friend up, tossing raunchy ideas into his head, is anyone’s guess. But he removes his touch, if only so that he might work to finally undo his waistcoat, shrugging it off, then at the plain buttons of his white, long-sleeved shirt.]

Do you make a lot of noise, my friend?

[ Ardyn looks at him as would a predator, wondering where best to strike as though X’rhun had not already placed himself at the other’s mercy. Indeed, this is a far cry from romance, but that much was clear from the outset. No reason he can’t enjoy himself, regardless. As much as Ardyn’s attentions feel like torture, the slow stoking of a flame that threatens to burn him from the inside out, they certainly strike the right chord. There’s a flush to his skin, and he seems unsure if he wishes for his gaze to linger on the curve of Ardyn’s lips or the motions of his fingers as he works at the buttons of his shirt.

The latter wins out, but only just. Parted for only a moment or two, and already he misses the press of those digits on his skin, and it’s made no better by the mental image Ardyn so neatly slots into his head. Gods, he hadn’t been lying when he said Ardyn could paint a pretty picture, and there’s no doubt that the smug bastard knew that going in.

If Ardyn was looking for the advantage, he has it – has had it from the word go. ]

An excellent question, but I trust you’re more than capable of ascertaining the answer yourself.

[ But of course, because he is who he is, he has to bite back just a little.

In the space that it takes Ardyn to work loose his own buttons, X’rhun finally lets his open shirt slide from his shoulders, tossing it aside to be forgotten for the time being. He sits, then, on the edge of the bed to work his boots loose. Might as well, right? ]

[He likes that reply, as good as an invitation, as if it weren't already in the cards from the moment he kissed X'rhun.]

Is that a challenge?

[The shirt is easily worked open, though he doesn't take the time to shrug it off. It merely hangs open, revealing Ardyn's bare front of toned muscle and ugly, long-faded scars. There are many of them (there are more on his back, too), vicious long trails against his skin, and a meeting of several of them above where his heart beats.

Souvenirs from that other life of his, long ago. But he cares not for them right now, he doesn't even think of them being there; he only approaches X'rhun after he's worked off his boots, removing his own in an apparently very practiced way, and they lay behind him like dead creatures as he moves forward, hand pressed against his friend's shoulder.

A playful shove, encouraging him to get on the bed properly, as his own knee presses into the mattress.]

[ Nice to know that banter is still appreciated, even in the bedroom. Granted, it wouldn’t be them without it. ]

It very well could be.

[ Said in a tone that confirms that, yes, it absolutely is.

Ardyn may pay his own scars no mind, but X’rhun can’t help but look them over. He had assumed that, given Ardyn’s immortality, he couldn’t scar. Mayhap that is the case, and these marks are from the time before Ardyn took in the Starscourge. Either way, there are a lot of questions there, at least one for every line marred across Ardyn’s skin, though he knows that it would be foolish to ask them now. The other man dodges his questions as easy as breathing on the best of days, with the added… distraction at current, he’d have no reason to answer at all. Later, then.

Much later, he amends, as Ardyn presses a hand to his shoulder and nudges him back onto the mattress. He obliges easily, settling back onto the bed properly, Ardyn trailing after. His tail thumps against the mattress, now betraying his eagerness audibly, so it’s a good thing that he’s far beyond shame as he reaches up to grab Ardyn by the lapels of his now open shirt, tugging his down to claim his lips again. ]

[Good that X'rhun makes no mention of the old scars, for Ardyn is hardly in the mood to speak of them now. His mind has wandered elsewhere, of course, made obvious by the heat of his touch as the man tugs him down to meet his lips. Hands trailing up his side, to his shoulders, pressing into skin. His kiss is heated flame, deepening it with his tongue, hair tousled downwards by gravity itself.

He hums with satisfaction into the other's mouth, a low, animalistic rumbling from his throat. Eventually his own hands slide up to X'rhun's wrists, fingers clasping around them and pushing them down, next to the pillows just above his head. He holds them there as he rises just enough to look down at him, eyes trailing across flushed skin and now slightly swollen lips.

His look is indeed predatory, and the sound of the other's eager tail hitting the mattress does not go unnoticed.]

I think my goal for today is to make you say 'please.' Since you never did before.

[He presses his body close, uttering languidly:]

'Please, Ardyn, touch me. Kiss me. Please, ravish me until I'm spent and useless, and then do it again.'

[ Of all the great many things that are dangerous about Ardyn, that voice of his has got to be the most dangerous of all. That low, rolling timbre hums through X'rhun's skin to settle in his very bones, darkly tempting words made electricity with nowhere to go. There is only slight satisfaction to be found in the warmth of Ardyn pressed against him, and if it seems that he arches against the other man in search of more, it's only because he does. ]

Now, now. You and I both know that if you do your job correctly, not even I would be able to string together that many words.

[ But for now it seems he's still possessed of his faculties enough to tease. Given the track they're on, however, he doesn't expect that to last. ]

We'll see then, won't we?

[And with that, he grants him another kiss, cutting off any retort his friend might have in return.

Like this, it's easy to tease X'rhun, with the careful application of both words and touch. Here and there, delicate kisses, or the scrape of teeth. The low rumbling of his voice pressed into his ear, the touch of heated skin on skin. The careless, subtle promise of friction against each other, with slow and indolent movements. Long and drawn out, frustratingly so, all of it done with a smile. Creating impatience in the other (and no small amount of it in himself, his own desire stoked from embers to flame) so that the man might moan and mewl and ask for more, so that he might say please just like Ardyn had said. He’s good at it, and perhaps even more effective at teasing when he knows he held the advantage since the beginning. Stringing lust along until the man beneath him is flushed and wracked with wanting more — that’s what he wishes to see.

And if he achieves that much, it’s only then does he ask-]

Tell me what you want. How many words can you string together now?

[ He’s played right into Ardyn’s hand, and he knows that. He knew that weeks ago in an alley somewhere when he curled his fingers around the scarf at Ardyn’s neck and pulled him down to claim his lips. This was always to be Ardyn’s game, with him the cat, and X’rhun the mouse.

It’s a slow and wonderful torture that Ardyn puts him through now, always giving just enough to keep him wanting but never enough to leave him satisfied. That desperate humming beneath his skin grows almost unbearable with every fleeting touch, every low word and careful movement. All of it designed to set him spiraling into heat and want, and it works. Oh, does it work. By the time Ardyn feels the need to ask his question, X’rhun feels an ilm away from snapping, a rubber band pulled too taut.

His eyes lock onto Ardyn’s, slit pupils blown wide with desire. Gods, this man is unfair. Everything about him from his oh-so-treacherous mouth to his infuriating well of patience. Ardyn knows well what X’rhun wants, as though it were not made obvious every time he chased after Ardyn’s touch, arched against him for the slightest bit of relief, but of course he wants to hear it. He’d said as much earlier, didn’t he?

It’s not terribly eloquent, but neither did he expect it to be. His words come out rough and breathless and altogether desperate when he finally pushes through the haze enough to give them form. ]

You, Ardyn. I want you. Please.

[It’s exactly what he wants to hear. The words might be inelegant and hurriedly put together, but there is desperation in them, there is a rugged desire that only Ardyn can fulfill. This is the sort of influence that he thrives on, that he wishes to exert over X’rhun’s mind and body. That he might unravel him thoroughly with a single word, or just the right grinding touch, to make him moan and writhe and beg for more. Coupled with the physicality of it all, this is what sets his nerves on fire, thrumming through every inch of buzzing skin. And while he is a seemingly endless well of self-control, Ardyn rests upon a precipice nearly as much as his friend does — the look in his eyes betrays it, half-lidded yet predatory, a wound spring just ready to release all of its tension on command.

The press of his touch gains the subtle sting of nails, and Ardyn can feel beat of his heart in his ribcage, set quick with expectation. He leans in hastily to kiss at X’rhun’s neck, his jawline, his lips, none of it enough, something having snapped, the true floodgates beginning to groan as they open, and a free hand works to remove the miqo'te from whatever garments he still has uselessly clinging to him. He grinds against him, rutting shamelessly, a groan in his throat from the welcome sensation of electricity it invites. And then in the midst of it all comes a sorry attempt to discard only what is absolutely necessary of his own attire — in the end, he’s still practically half-clothed, and he could honestly care less as long as he can still be sated. Hair mussed, white shirt still hanging open, his trousers only having fallen to bunch up just below his knees. Hasty in how he situates X’rhun under him, claiming him without preamble.

He isn’t particularly gentle, but it would be foolish to have expected otherwise. Rough in movement and what touch he affords him, there are no more kisses, no more banter to be had between them now. His focus is building up that wonderful fire within him, his jaw set, his back arched, yet his eyes never leaving X’rhun’s form. He needed this, he knows that now, every single atom in his body screaming for the release of choking frustration. It becomes crystallized in these exact moments, greedily ravishing X’rhun for all he’s worth, tending to his own needs only by fulfilling his own.

There’s nothing at all romantic about it, but romance was never in the cards, anyway.

Ardyn doesn’t stop until he’s completely spent, after that shock of pleasure rakes over every singular nerve in his body. Until he’s practically hunched over the other man, breath ragged and hair clinging to the sides of his face, his grip still steady on X’rhun’s body, but slowly loosening. Silence finally hangs over them, punctuated only by the sound of their breathing.]

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