bakerstreet | the bj meme

[Giving and Receiving, though giving might be tricky with his teeth...]

[so, we seem to have two different takes on this character, and I think that could be fun to play off of. what say you to cross-world hijinks and copious amounts of alcohol?

[That could potentially be horrible and yet wonderful. I'm playing him in Eudio right now and he's just been told there's a furry version of him out there. So curious.]

[I'm game to find out if you are! I've been looking at Eudio for a couple of characters, one of which amusingly enough is Kurt Darkholme from the Age of Apocolypse comics.]

[I am, sadly, not comic savvy beyond a few bits of information like his parentage and a little about his upbringing, but hey, come join the game. It's been fun for me so far. =)

And yes, I would love to play something here. Alcohol is as good an incentive as any and if you'd like an explanation, we can always use the game setting as a reason.]

[If you ever have the chance/inclination, I highly recommend picking up Nightcrawler's second solo series. It really delves into his past and relationship with his foster family, and doesn't require a lot of comic book knowledge to follow the story.

I was thinking villain fight gone very wrong, but Eudio setting works great too! Lemme know know if I need to change anything or if you'd rather write the starter.]

"That sounds like very old magic," Kurt muses, the German words feeling slightly awkward on his tongue. A little much to drink, perhaps, which is not saying that he intends to stop. In the old stories to meet one's doppelganger was a portent of death at worst, and highly disturbing at the very least.

But for himself Kurt finds it pleasant to sit and speak with a man so similar to himself. Seeing his own face moving independently was jarring at first, but the introduction of alcohol has made that a memory. Kurt knocks back another drink, his tail gesturing vaguely as though punctuation a thought he hasn't voiced yet. "Like the old stories of the fairy mounds. Did you hear those stories, growing up in Germany?"

"I did, yes," Kurt answers, still more than a little intrigued at the other version of himself. He'd had a bit of a warning from Remy, told that there were other versions, other worlds out there where he was not as he was now, but to see it with his own eyes... it was fantastic.

Slightly unnerving, yes, but still quite wonderful. And to watch another with the same appendages as him use them in the same way he would... well, if he happened to giggle just a touch, it was hardly his fault, was it?

No, it was the alcohol, of course. The drinks that tasted of candy and had him feeling as if everything was warm and very okay. "And yet... here we are. The offer made and accepted and I cannot find myself very upset about it."

This Kurt had no such warning--or any such Remy, for that matter. The X-Men to him are still kind strangers who have graciously allowed him to stay in their home until his circus finished it's circuit of North America. Some of them are very kind, and he's grown quite fond of a couple in particular, but.

He flashes a grin at his other self, relaxed and intoxicated enough not to hide the sharps of his teeth as is his normal custom. "Nein, and for now neither can I. It will be a while yet for me until I return home, but what of you? Before you came here, were you also waiting for the circus, or perhaps had left it?"

Kurt's tail waved in a sort of off-hand gesture, like he was waving concerns away. "I had left it awhile ago, though-- I do miss it. The thrill, the noise, the smells... It was home." He sighed, almost forlornly as he lifted his glass to drink from, looking up at the man who looked so much like him, but clearly wasn't.

"Are you... happy?" That was the thing weighing most on his mind. He could somehow manage to cope with multiple versions of himself, but he hoped that those versions had found their own kind of peace. "I know it can always be better, but... are you content in life?"

He nods, the corners of his mouth turning up in a wistful smile. "I understand. The circus was home--but for me it was becoming a cloister to hide in, not a stage to show the world the beauty in how I am. Perhaps I will go back in a few months, or perhaps not until I am old and the circus children think I am Krampus." He chuckles at that, which is more the motions and exhalation than actual sound with it.

The humor dies when his other self asks as to his happiness, his gaze falling down to the drink in his hands. Above all he'd love to tell the other man yes, that he is blissfully happy and describe for him how to grasp that own happiness for himself. But even were he not trying to adhere to some of the tenants of the faith, Kurt can't find it in himself to lie to himself. "I have had in recent years many tragedies that I hope you have not. And there are things I want that I do not think I will have; but, I have lived a wonderful life. I will be happy again, this I know."

The tail that had been gesticulating before moved to curl around the shoulder of the other mutant in comfort, a knowing look on his face. "I understand. It is... hard to find joy when merely existing seems to bother so many, but... I try. I hope you do as well. It may not be ideal, no, but we only have as much troubles as He thinks we can manage, yes? It is our test and our testament and it is not meant to be easy all of the time. But...," he smiled, tail giving one last squeeze before he took it back and nudged the other with his shoulder, "life moves on. As do we. We will find our place and our happiness, even if we must make it."

That melancholy didn't last long. Though he's not all smiles, he has a genuinely warm one to offer in return for the comfort offered in words and gestures (and how natural it feels to be embraced by a tail should probably be disconcerting, and yet.)

"It would not surprise you to know that I needed to hear that, would it?" He rests his hand over one coil of the other man's tail, squeezing briefly before moving said hand away. "It can be difficult to find joy, and more still not to be bitter. How is it said; sometimes I wish the Lord did not have so much faith in me?" He laughs softly, shaking his head.

"Ach, I'm getting maudlin. Tell me, what is Jima--Amanda, she wants to be called Amanda now." And this would be the face of Kurt barely managing not to roll his eyes. Really there's nothing wrong with the name, other than he liked her birth name better. "Tell me, what is she like in your world? Are the two of you together?"

And this would be where their selves diverged again, Kurt's brow lifting curiously as he cocked his head at the other blue mutant. "Amanda? I do not believe I have had the pleasure of meeting one of that name. So I suppose that answers that question. Though, I am curious what you mean by... together? Do you have a traveling companion or is there something more, mm?" Kurt had been found and adopted and brought into the circus, yes, but unfortunately, he'd not gone through any of the similar experiences his other self had had, including having foster siblings.

Which was a shame, really, because he would have loved that.

Somehow, even knowing the worlds they come from have significant differences, the idea that any version of himself would have never met her completely blind-sides him. Dumbfounded, he simply stares at his other self for a moment.

With a shake of his head, Kurt finds enough of his voice to murmur apologies, before explaining, "She was--she and a man named Stefan were my closest friends, from the beginning. When we became old enough, she and I became involved, and so remained for many years. On and off; we were a little wild in our younger years, and sometimes we came to desire time away.

"We never were married, though. I suppose some part of us knew it would not last."

There is a moment of jealousy in him, knowing that somewhere, he'd had friends that close. That he'd loved like that. Smiling almost sadly, he shook his head. "Nein. I was not without friends in the circus, but... no one like that, I am afraid. I had not become close to anyone until coming here, actually. Though, that isn't to say that I did not have affection for others."

Ororo. His eye and mind had certainly been caught by her and had things worked out differently...

But that was neither here nor there. "I am glad you had that, though. It must have been nice."

"It was," he answers softly, studying the face so like his own. "While it lasted."

His tail loops around the other man's waist first, tugging gently to encourage him closer. Or perhaps just for the sake of being there, as his next motion is to scoot close enough to wrap an arm around Kurt's shoulders.

"Ach, look at us. We're both of us miracles of God, meeting in a place of old magic, and we are being maudlin! Come, fill your glass and tell me about the friends you have made here." Kurt punctuates by taking a gulp of his own drink, reminding himself to ask what in the world they're drinking. It's sweeter than his normal taste, but perhaps his normal taste could be improved.

The tuck of a tail around himself that wasn't his own was a surprise, but one he could quickly get used to, smiling back at his own face as he patted him on the back. "This is very true. Wise words, my friend. We are supposed to be celebrating, and what better to celebrate than finding oneself, yes?"

He found his own joke quite hilarious, proven by the chuckling, then he joined Kurt in tipping back his drink, finishing it and signalling for another. "I have met some very strange, yet very wonderful people here. I'm certain they'll be just as kind to you as they have to me."

That makes two of them who find it amusing, if the echoing chuckle from Kurt (softer, he's beginning to notice that he's a little quieter in this) is any indication. He's also drunker than his clarity of speech lets on, and it shows in the languidness of his movements when he waves for the tend to make it two drinks.

"One can only hope, but tell me about them!" Already close, Kurt tilts his head to speak into the other mutant's ear, lowering his voice to keep his words from carrying. "Are you being so circumvent because you have found a companion here already?"

He shrugged, eyes sliding to the side to see blue skin close to his own. "Yes and no. I have met those here I would happily call friend and those who seem to be from my home, though there are... timeline discrepancies. There are also those here from other worlds, ones without mutants, and they are interesting to talk to in all the differences they have. There is one that is... more than a friend, though it is certainly not someone I would have expected if asked before coming here."

That glance is enough to have Kurt leaning away slightly, murmuring a preemptive apology. In the next breath he continues their conversation, one of his eyebrows raising at the mention of timelines. "Perhaps I was wrong to call this a place of old magic; it sounds more like a science fiction book! Are any of them from the future?"

A smile crosses his face, bright and warm--and then he bursts into giggling before drawing more than a breath to speak. The tail still around his friend (that's as good enough a word as any for his other self, isn't it?) unwinds to gesture for a moment. Or two, though the cheerful laughter dies down enough for him to speak after that. "Sorry, sorry. I simply--I have drank very much, I think. I am being very silly.

"Why, why would you have not expected them? Perhaps it is prideful to say and may God forgive me if it is, we are both very handsome men. It does not surprise me that you would have found someone to keep you company here."

It wasn't the proximity that bothered Kurt as much as the question had. It had taken him a couple days of searching within himself to find his own answer to the question of how comfortable he was with his arrangement and while he didn't expect his other self to judge too harshly, he couldn't be certain that his opinion would match his own. "I think our experiences have been very different. I am comfortable being the way I am and I know He made me with His own ideas in mind, ones I would never question, but... I was not expecting to be so readily welcomed here."

Sipping his drink, he gave his other self a sly grin, shaking his head. "I had thought that my first... well, anything really, would be with a lovely young woman. Instead, I found myself with an interesting man. I would not have thought of that before coming here, to be honest. But it has happened and I do not regret it. I am... happy with how it turned out."

His tail came up to tap at his other self's drink. "Be careful not to drink them too quickly. The candy ones always hit harder than they taste like they will."

"No, no. Yes, but--" Momentarily at a loss for words, he begins gesturing with his hands as though trying to grab them out of the air. After a few seconds of this, his tail joins the motions in a surprisingly intricate series of gestures. When the words finally form, his tail jabs at the air in triumph. "I would not have expected to be welcomed here either, had I not seen proof in you."

The sly grin is met with a bright one, and a slight darkening of his cheeks. Why the latter, even he couldn't say for certain. "He is kind to you, then? And good in bed? This is important too!"

A blink later and Kurt seems to realize the words that came out of his mouth. The purple hue in his cheeks spreads, and he lays his face in both large hands. "I think your warning is a little late," he grumbles, voice muffled.

Kurt laughed. It was so strange to recognize the motions he'd made himself and understand what they meant, but see it on another and not in a mirror. And the embarrassment his other self felt was hard not to smile at, though Kurt found himself blushing for his own reasons. "He is... very kind. We have only-- well, I would not say we've entirely, ah, consummated our relationship, such as it is, but I have enjoyed what we've done so far, yes."

He took a slow sip of his own drink, a practical precaution considering how loquacious he seemed to get on them. And energetic. Ah, the blessing of sugar. "There is nothing wrong with enjoying yourself while you are here. I believe it best to... consider yourself on pause, as it were. It seems not much applies here, the rules all being bent in every which way. Drink, eat, be merry. Just do not regret your actions, yes?"

It's a domino effect. He sees his other self blushing and his own cheeks turn darker. This time his amusement, albeit soft, is actually audible as he begins to laugh at how ridiculous he's being. "Yes, well, perhaps I will ask you for tips if you should? That, I have not done with a man. The tail seems it would make it awkward, and I have never--well."

Kurt punctuates with a shake of his head and a vague gesture somehow meant to encompass all the reasons he can't quite put into words. It ends with an arm propped on the bar and his head resting against the hand, listening to his other self's words. Humming thoughtfully, his eyes flicker down and back up to the other man's face in little more than a blink. "Is that what you think of this place? That we are in a very pleasant Purgatory, of a kind?"

As he speaks, he slides his drink over to his companion, quietly requesting a water from the tender as they pass by.

"Ah, neither have I, though," his voice dropped, cheeks darkening even further, eyes looking down at his drink as he toyed with it, "I will admit to being more than a little curious about it. I have certainly enjoyed what we have done so far."

He finishes his own drink, looking at the one being slid over to him before shrugging and deciding he may as well. "Mm, something of a sort. We are here out of time in regards to our own world, yes? Though, we are not here indefinitely, thankfully. We are to pay a debt and then be returned, hopefully for the better. The agreement we make entails we might... enjoy ourselves while doing so. I do not see the reason to make it such a hardship."

"I wonder how a man could not be. Curious, that is," he clarifies in a low voice, glancing away long enough to make certain no one's listening to their conversation. He is nowhere near drunk enough that someone overhearing would be less than humiliating. "But, well. We have some unique considerations in this, yes?"

Pressing his lips together, Kurt swallows a smile when his other self takes the drink. Good; at least now he won't be the only one drunk as a lord. "No, no, I didn't--My words are not coming well. I hardly see it as a hardship to be given free reign for displaying love and affection. Never did I expect this extent of it while I was alive. It is just also a little strange, to be told 'do as thou wilt' and it be the whole of the law. Well, not the whole, but close enough."

"Do we?" He looked over at his other self, curiosity certainly clear as he wondered which aspects were unique. Other than the tail and different number of digits, he'd not seen much difference between himself and any other. Well, okay, the coloring too and the little differences. It made him wonder what his other self meant.

"Ah, well," he nodded, trying to clarify, "we are here, are we not? Certainly He has a plan for us and perhaps the opportunity to change some aspects of our lives is that plan. I'm certain we are not out of His purview, so I do not think He would expect us not to use the free will He has given us for our benefit, as well as the benefit of others."

"The teeth," he answers sotto voce, his own eyes firmly on the glass of water in front of him. Of all the things to make him blush so deeply, it's this that has the heat crawling up the back of his neck. He rubs at the area in question, twitching almost imperceptibly when his fingers run over the circular scar there.

It's a relief to concentrate on a more philosophical question, even if he's drunk enough that mulling over the other man's words feels a little like walking through syrup. "I would hope that we would know if this place were somehow beyond His reach. Perhaps you are right; I would like to think so. Certainly I can understand why He would put us in a place where we are accepted without qualm, so that we would know it is possible where we are from."

"Ah, well... yes. I have... found ways around that." And there was his own blush creeping up to match his twin's, remembering his encounters with Newt and what had occurred then.

The acceptance of his own thoughts has him smiling, nodding as he played idly with the glass in front of him. "That is what I was thinking, yes. This is what it could be like. It is certainly what I wish it was like, and if this is but a glimpse of what we can have with this opportunity... I am willing to play along to get it."

Kurt's eyebrows nearly hit his hairline at that admission, surprise writ clear on his face. And jealousy, though it's much faster to leave his expression. "Your--companion is an adventurous man," he marvels softly, resting his temple against a softly-curled fist. "I, well. The sight is off-putting to the attempt, I've found.

"And the rest of it is not bad either," he mutters, voice shaking with repressed laughter because it's funny. It's funny to compare the gods his mother worshiped with the one he bends knee to and think perhaps in this they have more similar views than he'd been told. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You are right, and it is a wondrous thing; but it is also funny!"

"He is, though he's also as drawn to the differences as most are repelled by them. I have found him to be... very receptive. Though, I seemed to be more worried about the potential for harm than he." Ah, yes, that night still rang clear in his mind and the smile he wore now was one of fond remembrance.

His tail found its way to his other self's shoulder, patting him consolingly as he smiled. "It is okay to find humor in it. It is a strange situation, though I would much rather find myself here than in some other straits. It is certain more... well." He ducked his head down, hand waving as if he didn't really need to finish that.

Oh yes, that would be envy. Good-natured of course, Kurt doesn't begrudge his other self this happiness, and would never dream of taking it. But there are still certain things he's never done, and longed to. "Perhaps I should be asking you for advice," he jokes, washing the words down with a gulp of water.

Kurt reaches up to gently squeeze the spade of his doppelganger's tail, much as he would a hand. His own tail waves vaguely, as if to say 'yes, but--' "Very strange situation, and I fear I am not clear headed enough to give the philosophical questions the correct consideration. I am not Greek, yes? I do not think better with wine in me--or whatever it is we've been drinking."

He laughed, finding the idea of anyone, let alone another version of himself, coming to him for romantic advice to be... well, it was rather funny. His tail wrapped briefly around Kurt's hand, returning the squeeze as his other self went on.

"I still have not figured out what it is called, but it tastes like candy and makes everything feel like feathers falling from the sky. I do not mind them at all. But we will save the serious discussions for another time. I am more interested in seeing how you are doing here and that you fit in. I know it can be... new. Perhaps a little daunting?"

"Feathers falling from the sky. That is a good way to describe it," he murmurs, idly running his thumb along the ridges on his other self's tail. With his other hand, he reaches out to tap the other man's nose, tsking softly.

"Don't laugh about it, you know more about this than I! I was in a relationship before this, yes, but she was a woman! Very different."

There's a shiver that runs up his spine, one he can't quite suppress from the gentle caress of his tail. He let out a soft hum, relaxing against the bar and propping his head up on a hand, nose wrinkling at the tap. "See? And there you have me at a disadvantage, for I have not had that. Perhaps we should exchange all information about the other's... experiences. I am certain there are interesting differences between the two, mm?"

Well he's certainly not going to stop, despite a distant part of his mind telling him that might be a good idea. It feels nice, and if his other self doesn't mind, then.

"That is a conversation I would love to have." He leans forward, almost close enough to whisper. It's a little more than he'd intended, and his free hand shoots out to steady himself against the bar. "Perhaps not here though, yes? I do not need to drink more, and it would be rude for us to brag of our exploits in public."

His hand came out to steady the other mutant, though not to push him away. Merely make certain they didn't wind up sprawled out on the floor in an ignominious heap. "Perhaps that is best. There is my place, if you would prefer privacy. Or yours. Or we could find a spot on the grass to lie in and look up at the stars. I'm amenable to either."

He was actually pretty open to a lot right now, that light stroking feeling very, very good.

Perhaps a little too good.

A warm smile and a muttered 'thanks' are offered in return. He would never live it down in his own mind if he were to end up on the floor his first night drinking here.

"I don't remember where mine is," he confesses with a giggle, head bowing. "Oh, your place sounds wonderful but so does looking at the stars. A mix, maybe? Do you have a roof flat enough to lay on?"

"It so happens I do. The building I am in has a lovely roof that I've spent many a night looking up at the stars from. I suppose the question I should next ask is do you trust me to get us there?" He didn't see why not. If the shoe was on the other foot, he would have allowed his other self to bring them somewhere. Truthfully, it would be interesting to see what teleportation was like when he was not the one doing it.

"I will have to, you are the one who knows where we are going!" Laughing, he shakes his head. "Of course, of course. Why wouldn't I, you haven't given the slightest hint of meaning me harm. And I think you are more sober, too. Bad of you, getting me drunk."

Getting him drunk? He was more than a willing participant in that endeavor, and is quite enjoying the warmth. Even if he is having to remind himself not to curl up around his other self. Someone is a touchy-feely drunk.

Kurt grins, arm sliding around the other Kurt and moving to slide them both off the stools. "Fine, fine. I am a terrible influence here. But I will get us to my place, safely, and then we can stare at the stars and talk of things best kept in private."

Making sure he had a good hold on him with both arm and tail, there was a familiar sense of shifting, then both of them were atop the building Kurt lived at, the teleportation going as easily with a double as it did with himself. Curious.

"Horrible." That should probably not have come out like a purr, and if he were any less drunk Kurt would be apologizing profusely and blushing to his roots. As is, he simply snickers to himself, because they both know otherwise.

There's enough time for him to wind his tail safely around his double's waist and draw in a breath before they're elsewhere. Very strange in that it's not strange at all; he'd expected nausea, such as his passengers sometimes complain of.

"That wasn't so bad," he says, pulling back enough to check the other man's expression.

"Not at all. Perhaps we are better equipped to handle such things as others are not." Smiling, he gestured to the roof, moving to find a place he'd sprawled out on before. "This is what I suppose I would call 'my spot', though I do not own it. Would you care to join me?"

"Well, we have been doing it for a while. I cannot speak for you, but in the very beginning it was a little rough. I would try to breathe, and so on." With a nod Kurt moves to follow, his steps nearly a dance. Slipping off his jacket, he starts folding it to use as a pillow. "One thing, before we speak of things not suited to the public. If you never knew--Amanda, when was it you discovered you could teleport?"

Kurt looked up, surprised at his other self and the question he'd posed. "I believe there is a story there I would like to hear. It was as you might expect, I suppose. A wire frayed and snapped while I was practicing and I fell. Only suddenly I was not falling from so high and was over a safer spot. I am to take it by that question your... discovery was not the same?"

Silent, he shakes his head. It isn't until he's sitting by the other man, eyes firmly on the stars, that he answers. "It was not me who fell. It--Amanda had just begun to perform without the net, and it was on a night that I was not performing with her. The wire snapped, and I was across the tent watching."

Even with years of distance and the knowledge that Amanda is perfectly fine, the memory of her scream and his terror in the second before he teleported still roughens his throat.

He looks over, seeing remembered fear on the other man's face, hand resting on his shoulder in comfort. "But you aided her, did you not? And all is well? Do not let yourself be drawn into the fear of the past. We move on for a reason."

The hand draws his attention, and he looks away from the stars to offer a reassuring smile. "Yes, and yes. I swooped in like out of a movie and saved the girl, and all was well. We made it look like part of the performance! But, well. Sometimes, especially now with all that has happened before I came here, that old fear feels very new."

Drawing in a deep, slow breath, Kurt rests a hand on the other man's. "I will be alright. The stars are too beautiful and the company too pleasant for me to fall into a dark mood for long."

A soft chuckle to go with the soft squeeze he gives Kurt, then he is moving to lay out on his back, eyes up at the stars. "I suppose one could say something about narcissism and preferring one's own company in this instance, but... I do not think too many get to meet other versions of themselves. I believe we may be allowed this mild transgression of vanity, yes?"

"One could also make many horrible jokes! But yes, under the circumstances I think all should be forgiven. As you said, how often does one meet one's doppelganger?" For himself Kurt stays sitting, looking up at the stars while his tail sets his folded jacket behind him. "Oh, it is beautiful here, thank you. Being up in a high place like this has always been.. comfortable. Is it that way for you, this preference?"

He nodded, pillowing his head with his hands as he looked skyward. "In that, we are very similar. Even before the ability to teleport, I always felt... safer up high. As if it was more my domain than the ground."

"Yes, exactly! In the trees and on the roofs are where I feel the most belonging. Belong the most. Such memories I have of walking home in the early, early hours, with my friends on the sidewalk and I on the rooftops. Berlin is beautiful from that vantage point."

He sighs, a fond smile crossing his face. "Also good when you can convince a lover to join you in the trees, or the rafters. Tricky, though; always the chance of dropping them at a delicate moment. To be honest with you, I don't know how well that would work with someone who was not also an acrobat."

That had his head tilting from the sky to his mirror image, brows lifting. "Do go on. I had not thought that... well. I know that the one I am currently... seeing?" Was that even the right descriptor? Who knew. "He would be adventurous enough to try, though he might squeak and scream." It was rather adorable. "I admit to being curious about that, now."

"It--well it is hard to describe. Normally we would do this in the rafters or the scaffolding of the main show tent when everyone was a sleeping; more secure than tree branches. I would.. try to find a place where the beams met in a V shape, with beams for us to rest our feet on and for her to grab. I normally would plant my feet and put my back against where everything joined, and I would have an arm and my tail around her. She would lean forward, either with her feet right in front of mine or sort of hooked.. behind. And she would brace her hands against the higher beams."

Despite the casual tone in which he's relayed all that information, the back of his neck is flushed dark, and half-way through he'd lowered his head from the stars to look at his hands. Yes, he really could not even look the stars in the face, so silly. "I really don't know how well it would work with your young man; Amanda was the only one I did that with. And there are bad parts; you cannot move very hard or quickly, and always you have to think of your footing and theirs. On a roof is easier, but much more likely to get caught."

Edited (clarification) 2015-05-08 22:44 (UTC)

He could imagine that easily enough, nodding along as he gathered a picture in his head. Trying to replace Newt as the face of it had him smirking. Yes, the position could work, but it would require shifting. Or he could have the other man merely... turn around?

His grin said it all as he looked back up at the stars. "I'm certain you enjoyed yourself, potential for being caught or not."

Turning around could work. They'd tried that too, but Amanda had sworn she felt like she was about to fall the entire time. Always a little bit of a control freak, she.

Kurt glances at the other man, a quip ready on the tongue. On seeing that expression on his face, the retort dissolves in a sudden fit of giggles. "You look like you have some ideas in mind already!"

"Do I?" He didn't stop smiling, looking more satisfied, if that were even possible. "Perhaps I do. It is an interesting possibility, nonetheless." His tail moved a little, swaying as he lay there. "I am glad, you know. That you had that growing up. It must have helped."

"If you do it, you have to tell me how well it works with a man. You have to."

Finally he stretches out beside the other man, resting his head on his folded jacket. His own tail snakes over to loop around Kurt's, the tip of it tracing where his finger had, back in the bar.

"In some ways. It was--I do not think our wolds are that different. I simply had two wonderful people to love me and find the hidden places where I could go and not be chased away. Clubs and such for the strangely formed, though I always was the most strange of all."

"If it is done, I will gladly tell you the results."

There was a moment where his eyes closed as he felt the soft touch against his tail, the concept of playing with the tail of another completely foreign to him, though something that came almost as naturally as anything else had that had to do with his doppelganger. There was a comfort level there that was immediate and Kurt happily leaned into it, the tip of his own tail returning those fond little strokes.

"Yes, that is always how it is, though. And I have made peace with it, as I expect you have. Being the strangest is not always so bad. We are certainly memorable, are we not?"

"Good, good. You know more about being with men than I do--well, you more in areas that I don't, yes? Like I said, I've never had the luck of meeting a man who was adventurous enough to get past the teeth. Which reminds me, you already have a story to tell me!"

It does feel comfortable, completely natural and yet wholly new, like the first time he'd stepped onto the high wire. It occurs dimly that this could also be construed as inappropriate, but even here they are unique unto themselves, so who else is to say aside from each other? And it just feels nice, especially when the other man began to recipocate. Kurt sighs softly, the corners of his mouth tugging upward.

"That we are. You know, when they came to me and said I could have anything I wanted, it didn't occur to me until afterward that I could have asked to look like everyone else? And when it did, the thought was--repulsive. Horrifying."

"Aha, yes. The story. It is not much of one, I assure you." Not that he hadn't partaken of and enjoyed his night with Newt, but regaling others with his sexual exploits wasn't something he was going to be very loquacious about. Even to himself. "I can say that leaving one's jaw wide is a good idea. As are the ample use of lips." He'd used them to cover his teeth, though he hadn't been able to do too much after that. They were sharp, after all.

Truthfully, he hadn't thought about any other sort of implication of playing with his doppelganger. It was... comfortable. Unexpectedly easy to merely lay there and touch and be touched by someone so familiar.

"I had thought about it. Only for a moment, though it seemed far too... selfish. Coming here and being touched, having others let me be happy, only to change the world for myself? Hardly worth it. But to make it so others like us are tolerated? That... seems worth the effort."

"Like any of them are? I've already told you my most interesting one." He turns his head to look at the other man, nodding now and then. "That doesn't sound as though you'd be able to do much else. Maybe I'm not picturing it right, but it sounds as though you'd have to more use your hands anyway?"

Nor would he have, but Kurt is far too used to being scolded by Stefan for being overly affectionate when he's been drinking; everyone is his friend and Kurt tends to drape all over them. Hence the bar, his affection there and his pulling away at the first sign of making the other man uncomfortable.

The smile on his face broadens, warm despite the sharp teeth gleaming in the light. "I think we may have asked for similar things in the end. My first thought was of--something else. But what sort of man would I be if I had the chance to make the world better and didn't take it? Not the kind I want to be."

"Or tail. He seems to enjoy that." Truthfully, Newt was fascinated with every non-human aspect of Kurt, so it was a pleasure to be able to use them as he pleased against him.

This version of Kurt had never really had that problem, not having grown up with anyone he would have considered himself that close to. Pity. That sounds much more fun.

"There are times to be selfish and I would not say even I am not allowed certain things, but... there are also times when we have to think of others. An opportunity like this does not come along very often, I would think, and I am always able to be selfish at other times."

He doesn't quite manage to smother his grin at that bit of information. "Well, I imagine you're as experienced as I am with it. More so, now, but--" He waves a hand, motioning away the unnessisary words about why they would have been good with their tails. Though he had a girlfriend where his alternate self did not, Kurt was also once a teenager with needs he wasn't ready to fulfill with another person.

It was, and yet knowing how it ended for him keeps him from giving the other Kurt encouragement to seek them out in his world. Amanda's tendency to keep secrets and lie about the ones she couldn't, that he could warn the other man about, but Stefan. How could he inflict the pain of watching Stefan's illness consume him on anyone?

"Yes. And--what I would have asked, were I to be a selfish man, would have been fatherhood. That is something I do regret of my life, that I have never had children. But what kind of father would bring children into a world without doing all he can to make that world good to them? And--if the Lord is willing, there will be opportunities yet."

It seemed there were a few places their lives diverged. The subject of children was one. While Kurt adored those at the school and enjoyed nothing more than to entertain and amuse them as well as keep them safe, potentially passing along the stigma he'd suffered his entire life had never been something he'd consciously thought of. He smiled at his other self, tail tapping along the edge of the other Kurt's and sighing. "I have not thought of children. Though, it could be that I have never had one to think of children with. But a safer world for them... for all of us... yes. That is what I would wish for most of all. Not so much that we would be loved, but that we could be tolerated."

[ooc: so, that whole rp thing? works a lot better when you remember to hit post comment.]

"Yes. That my people should be accepted as any other, that is what I asked for. Though," he continues, the corners of his mouth turning down in contemplation. "I do not know which people I was thinking of when I said it. The word mutant is new to me, for so long my people were the Rroma. So, I cannot say which it will be." Which he regrets, not having clarified; rather, not being able to make the choice that clarification entails.

"As for children, perhaps you will never and will look fresh as a daisy when I have wrinkles and circles under my eyes." The thought makes him chuckle, the sound tapering off into a murmur. Glancing at the other mutant with a distinct impish look around his eyes, he does his best to keep from snickering outright. "Though, I think I will not be the first to go grey; I believe I saw a silver hair or three back in the bar."

So mean, Kurt. Isn't there a rule against teasing yourself (kind of?)

"You did not!" Kurt's hand raised to his head, the mutant sitting upright as he brushed it over hair he couldn't see. It was the smile that clued him in and he unwound his tail to jab it in the shoulder of his twin. "Ach. That is horrible. Clearly you are much more cruel in your world than I am in mine." Though the smile was teasing around the corners of his own lips, showing he meant nothing by it.

Even through laughter, Kurt tries to keep up the lie. "No, no, I did! Right here!" He too sits up, reaching out to ghost fingers over the hair at his other self's temples. Which, yes in the moonlight does look like it has a shimmer. So also does his own hair, and he knows very well he has no grey in it yet. (His facial hair is a different story; there's more than one reason he hasn't revisited the goatee he had in his early twenties.) "Come now, would I deceive you? I'm hurt." He's full of shit, and a terrible liar.

There's a snort and Kurt's hand slaps at his twin's, teeth shining in the night as he smiles. "You are a terrible person. Clearly if there is any truth in good and evil twins, we know which one you are."

Humphing, he lay back on the roof, narrowed eyes watching the other Kurt. "At least I have a sense of humor, in any way. Even if it is terrible."

He takes it in good humor, with a laugh that folds wrinkles around his mouth and eyes. "Oh, yes. So horrible am I, I should paint myself red and grow a goatee! Although, to be serious, you might have an unpleasant surprise the next time you try to grow a beard."

With a look like that being aimed at him, he can do nothing other than sit and look innocent. Attempt innocence and look like he's just gotten his hand caught in the cookie jar, complete with his tail curling into the shape of a question mark behind him. "My sense of humor is perfectly fine. You're just saying this because you fell for it!"

"The next time? I have never tried." It seemed the smallest things about them were different, along with much larger ones. Strangely, it was comforting. Knowing that this wasn't a complete copy of himself. That another version of him had completely different experiences. It seemed... right.

"Nein. You are horrible and I am quite certain that you have been called out for it before. Likely reprimanded. It seems likely."

By now, he's taking the differences in stride. It's a little jarring when he mentions people who shaped his life only to get confusion in return, but he's getting used to it. "Well, if you are anything like me then should you, you will have grey hair--"

In a fluid motion he moves to lean over his twin, legs slipping out from under him to kneel as he braces himself up with one arm on the roof. With his free hand he traces down from the corners of the other man's mouth to his chin, not quite touching the skin. "--Scattered here and here. And I will have you know that I have never been reprimanded in my entire life." The latter statement is delivered with a smirk and a glance up at his twin's eyes, mischief gleaming in his own.

He looks up as his duplicate is suddenly over him, eyes widening just a tad at the intrusion. Though, the touch he almost expects doesn't come and he looks up to see the grin on his other self's face. His tail comes up to tap at the other Kurt's nose. "Then consider it a first time for everything. Grey in my hair. Ach. You are terrible. There is no such thing."

"I might be terrible, but you are vain," he teases, in this moment completely unrepentant. His tail comes up to wrap around the other man's, the coils shifting in what might be some kind of massage, or maybe just simple desire to touch.

Kurt himself glances down for a moment, and moves the arm he'd been leaning his weight on from other the other man's shoulder to somewhere near his side. When he looks back up his face is soft, a little thoughtful. "Is that something that worries you? Getting older? Or is it that you just don't like the idea of grey hair yet?"

"I am not the one growing beards." There's a small hitch in his breath when he feels a familiar grip on his tail. It's strange being touched so familiarly, but then, it is just himself doing it. Surely that is not so strange?

Between the drinks, the night, and the relaxed feeling of being around someone he trusts, Kurt is feeling... good. He listens as the other man shifts, as he changes positions to something more comfortable before he answers. "No. Not entirely. We are only mortal, after all. I suppose... I just wished to see more of the world, to see more change in it before I am too old to do so."

"The scars make it a little patchy, but once it's long enough it's not that noticeable. It's helpful against the cold." His tail stills when he catches that hitch, eyes flickering over his twin's expression, the set of his shoulders. Apparently finding (or not finding) what he was looking for, his tail begins to shift again.

In this they are alike; though his circus traveled, so much of his time crossing borders was spent hiding in vented boxes while one of the other men pretended to be him. And once they were there, most of their time was spent setting up, practicing; even if he could get away, it was far too dangerous to leave the grounds without several of the others with him. "I understand. This is the longest I have been away from the circus. There is so much I would see with my own eyes, the thought of growing too infirm before I can is frightening. But, who is to say you and I will be so old as quickly? We are not twenty anymore, but what man at twenty can do the things we can now?"

It's a strange sensation, but not unpleasant. It doesn't quite cross his mind to suggest he stop, but then, he's happily buzzed and everything is lovely at the moment.

"We are not like those around us, yes, but I do not think we are close to being as ageless as Logan. If there are greys, as you say, then it is likely we are just spry for our age." Of course, now he was trying to picture himself older. Much, much older. He had to laugh.

"Ach, says you! I intend to outlive that grumpy old man," he retorts with a giggle because Logan doesn't look that much older. And because his pseudo-twin is laughing too, and would it be this infectious if he weren't quite nicely intoxicated himself?

Which leads to the question: "What is so funny that you are laughing," he asks, poking the other man in the side with his free hand. The motion makes Kurt sway a little over him, an aborted curse hissing through his teeth just before he stabilizes. And then more giggling.

"The image of us old. Wrinkled blue skin and hopping around trying to pretend we are not old. Not to mention," he said, squirming a bit at the poke until he reached up and grabbed at Kurt's arm, tugging it as the other seemed to lose his balance, "that you are acting quite ridiculous at the moment."

"Ach, don't--" And then he looses his balance completely, hand slipping completely off the ground and then down he goes. Face first, on top of the other Kurt unless the man has the reaction time (and sobriety) to teleport away in time.

Of course he doesn't. He's buzzed as well and didn't entirely think that through. He lets out an 'oof' as his own weight lands on top of him, ruing his life choices for the moment. "Sorry," he manages to wheeze out.

"Alright," is his breathless reply, half question and just as much answer. The second he has air in his lungs again Kurt props himself up on his elbows, concern whit all over his face. "I am so sorry, my balance is--gone. My balance is gone."

It takes him a second to actually process what his other self is saying, but then he's back to laughing breathlessly, tears slipping down the sides of his face. "It is. It has left the building."

That laughter has him grinning in an instant, his fears vanishing like smoke on a windy night. "If this keeps up, you'll have to carry me. Like a bride!" And now he's cracking up, bent enough that his face ends up buried in the other man's shirt collar.

"Pff," he snorts, patting his other self on the back, "why carry when we can just be at home on the bed or the couch in a thought? Though, I suppose that would not be the argument to make to any prospective bride, yes?"

"That depends on the bride!" Yes he's still going to need a minute to giggle like a loon, because the image of himself in one of those ridiculously lacy gowns he's seen in magazines has set up shop and will not leave. "Whatever would I do with my hair?"

"Flowers, obviously." It was almost said without him continuing to giggle, shaking his head and looking up at the night sky. "You are ridiculous when you are drunk, do you know that?"

"Yes. I'm silly and in love with everyone." And apparently the appropriate punctuation for that is to press a kiss against the underside of the other man's jaw. Because that's closer than his cheek or mouth and now that he has his breath back Kurt is comfortable.

"Even yourself? Ach, you are vain." He felt... good. Certainly, the shock of seeing a twin of himself had dimmed and he was now content to lay there, feeling the warmth of another body that was his as much as it wasn't. "I believe Freud would have a field day with this one."

"Both you and the doctor can bite me." Didn't he learn last time that poking his other side in the side doesn't end well? Apparently not, because that's what he does.

He huffs, squirming again at the poke and grabbing for his other self's hand. And since the offer was made...

Well, Kurt's sense of humor had grown a little bit since coming to Eudio, particularly in the naughty direction. So with that in mind, he thought nothing of twisting a bit to lightly bite at the shoulder in front of him. "Don't mind if I do."

He's too busy playing keep-away with his hand to keep track of what else the other man's doing. Ergo his reaction to feeling teeth close on his shoulder is completely unreserved; his breath catches in his throat as he stiffens, still all over for a second. And then his face floods with heat, and he tries to hide his face in his doppelganger's shoulder.

"Horrible. Horrible, horrible."

He notices the reaction; it's hard not to when the other body is lying on top of him, and he laughs. Now the teasing tables have turned. "I do not think it was as bad as all that. You did not seem to mind it. In fact, if I were to make a bet, I would think you liked it."

Oh look, the tips of his ears are turning purple, and yet a grin, albeit hidden, spreads across his face. "You would bet, yes? Would you bet that I liked it more or less than this?" This being the tip of his tail running down his other self's, from the tip down to just below the spade.

Well... that was just highly unfair. He shivered, feeling a tickling tingle crawl up his spine, only to zing back down and curl around his belly -- and perhaps a bit lower. "I... would say less, because that is... yes."

His shoulders begin to shake a second before Kurt raises his head, revealing the grin splitting his face. And then there'd be the smugness plain as day in his expression and voice when he speaks. "Perhaps you are right in calling me the bad one. You have been very polite with the knowledge you have. Perhaps I should do as you." Or he could trace the point of one of the other man's ears, smugness giving way to a faint curiosity.

He was beginning to think the other version of himself was evil. He had the same body parts. Certainly he knew how sensitive his tail was. Or his ears. Damn, his ears. His hand grabbed at the other Kurt's arm, tongue coming out to wet dry lips as he tried to speak. "And what was it I did again?"

Oh, he knows. Very well he knows, and could tell tales of being reduced to an embarrassing state by skilled mouths on either. If he were so inclined; for now, he seems inclined to nothing more than playing the imp. "Have been ever a gentleman, and very kind to me. Even when I am indulging a wicked curiosity."

"Ah... is that what you are doing now?" He forced his eyes open, trying to think past the ripples of pleasure those light touches were causing. He was a little drunk, sure, but he wasn't fall down black out drunk. He could say no.

Or yes.

He nods, humming a wordless agreement. "A little. And also to repay your kindness in a way I think we would both enjoy, because the night is beautiful and so are you." He shrugs, a movement that involves one arm and his tail. "You are different enough to me that I see.. not a mirror. A who could have been. It's difficult to explain."

"Not so difficult to understand, perhaps." He did, anyway. This Kurt was like him in some ways, but there were enough differences that made him his own person, his own entity outside of Kurt himself. It made it less like talking to himself and more like... a twin, perhaps. Born of the same cells, but with different life experiences. "I think perhaps you are more of a flirt as well."

Chuckling, he ducks his head slightly. "Ah, well. Perhaps a little. A small part is being here; in this place, it is safer here to be as I would." Kind as they are, Kurt walks on eggshells at the institute for fear of offending or frightening someone should he show interest (see: Ororo.) "But the most of it is that I feel safe with you--and that I am drunk," he admits with a giggle. "But not so much that I don't know what I'm doing."

"Who better than to feel safe with than yourself, yes?" He smiled back, tail giving his other self's a reassuring squeeze. "I am glad. I would feel very bad if you were upset tomorrow because of a little candy drink."

"No, not upset. A little astounded at myself, but well, I am the incredible Nightcrawler. Surely I must amaze myself now and then." Amazing would have been if he'd gotten that out without giggling; alas no, his words start shaking around calling himself incredible. "What, what of you? Too much to drink, or just enough to consider?" He leaves the subject hanging unspoken, the pad of his thumb tracing over the point of the other Kurt's ear.

His lips twitch as he looks up at the giggling twin, considering the implication there. "Possibly the latter. I believe I would be giggling much more if I'd had too much to drink." And that was said. Which meant now his mind was trying to traverse down those paths of potential playtime, wondering indeed what it would be like...

"It would be fun, I think. To be with someone so like ourselves, but different enough to not be ourselves. We have had different life experiences, perhaps there are things we could teach each other." He grins, bright and impish. "I know I would like very much to practice your tips on how to give a blowjob with these teeth."

"Is that something that keeps you up at night, mm? How to give good oral without causing any damage?" He had to tease, truly. He might be the more stoic one here, but that didn't make him immune to amusement.

"You don't know that it isn't!" He really is better at keeping a straight face when he's sober. On impulse Kurt leans in to press a quick kiss against the other man's mouth, still chuckling despite the sudden nervous tensing of his tail.

"Well, I have been well and truly told, haven't I? You have deep fears of doing genital damage. Quite a shame. But tell me, have you... attempted anything with the opposite gender? Do you have those same fears?" The kiss was surprising, but Kurt didn't mind so much. No tensing from him. If anything his tail wound around the other, twining and flexing along it almost enticingly.

"I did have a girlfriend for many years," he reminds his doppelganger gently, his breath hitching when he feels the other man's tail winding around his own. His own relaxes in the wake of the shiver that runs up his spine, and again his head dips to steal another kiss. This one he doesn't end so quickly, though his movements are still hesitant as though expecting to be pushed away.

He feels the shiver, remembers his own and smiles as lips touch against his. He's careful as he kisses, though there's a touch of tongue that comes out to wet his lips -- and perhaps graze against Kurt's. "So you said. You will have to tell me about that..."

"She would have loved to meet you," he answers in a murmur, an impish smile curving his lips. His voice is very steady in spite of the way his stomach tightens at that little graze of tongue. That carefulness is familiar to him as his own tail; his lips part slightly in a silent invitation he hopes will be understood.

"Would she?" He idly thought about some unknown woman who didn't mind blue skin and a tail with the pair of them and a small little sigh left him. There was a tingle in his stomach, spreading lower as his hand gripped the jacket of his twin more tightly, the tip of his tongue skimming over lips that weren't his. It felt both wrong and right, that forbidden air mingling in with his rising curiosity and need.

A low chuckle rumbles in his chest. "Oh yes. She would cart us both to bed and not let us out until the sun rose." For a brief moment, he misses Amanda strongly enough that he feels it as a jab between his ribs. But their time is done, and he is here with a man who is making wonderful promises with that tongue.

"Inside, perhaps," he asks, careful not to accidentally nip the tip of that tongue. Kurt isn't quite certain what will happen, only what he wants and that he's not nearly sober enough to be circumvent if they're on the roof much longer.

"I find that idea very... enticing." His tail wound higher up the other's, snaking closer to where it disappeared into his pants and toying the tip against the base. "Inside would be best," he replied, taking a moment to visualize the spot just over his bed before --

They were there, a light fall onto the mattress that had him letting out a huff.

The knowing (and approving) grin melts into a soft gasp when he feels those touches against one of the most sensitive areas of his tail. Slightly distracted, Kurt only nods and curls his hands in the collar of the other man's jacket.

Kurt rolls to the side the moment his knees hit mattress, letting go of the other man long enough to slither out of his coat. It gets haphazardly shoved off the side of the bed right before he reaches for his other self, thick fingers curling in the man's belt loops. "Come here?"

This Kurt moved to crawl to his knees, shrugging out of his own coat, tail leaving the other to flick open the buttons on his waistcoat before he followed the demand, kneeling closer to his alternate self, tail gone back around to torment him since yes, he'd noticed that reaction. It was much the same as he'd had at those infrequent touches and it pleased him to be able to cause it in someone else. "I am not going anywhere."

"Gut," he murmurs, freeing his hands to slip them under the open waistcoat. Kurt himself rises up to kiss the other man again, still careful of his teeth but much less tentative now. His reaction to the teasing is more obvious now as well, soft sounds that aren't quite audible enough to be groans and little involuntary twitches of in his tail. One of his hands slides up to cup the back of his other self's head, nails scratching lightly where the hair is short.

Good. Yes, it was good. Strange, yes, but in a way that only made him that much more curious. He felt his waistcoat lifted, a hand sliding under it and he was torn between trying to get more of his clothes undone and trying to do the same to his other self. He wanted to see if the other Kurt had the same markings in the same places as he did, and if they'd feel the same when a finger or tail ran over them.

He kisses back, teeth catching on the other's lower lip and nipping -- not hard enough to hurt or draw blood, but enough that the man would feel it. His tongue soothed after, pink over blue as he decided on tryign to get the other Kurt's clothes off before his own.

Probably best that his other self took the initiative, because for the moment Kurt was caught up in the opportunity to feel and touch. He's also been accused of taking his sweet time before, and not always in a complimentary manner. Another accusation has been a masochistic streak, which he denies categorically but still reacts to the nip with a sharp breath, his fingers curling for a second.

Unlike his counterpart's, Kurt's vest has a zipper in lieu of buttons, and comes open easily. He pulls his hands away to help in the removal of clothing, breaking away to pull his shirt over his head. Under the shirt his torso and arms are covered in scarification, though not all of them are in the angelic language Enochian. Scattered over his ribs and upper arms are runes, alchemical symbols; remnants of a faith before his conversion to Catholicism. Kurt pauses after tossing his shirt aside, glancing at the other man to gauge his reaction.

This Kurt smiled, hand coming up to touch at scars, tracing around familiar and unfamiliar lines.

"It seems we are not so incredibly identical after all. That is not so bad." His tail moved to the button of Kurt's pants, nose dragging along the man's jaw down to his neck, breath tickling along blue skin before his tongue teased over it. His neck always had been sensitive, but... so had his ears. Perhaps he should go there next.

Something in his posture relaxes when his doppelganger smiles; silly to be insecure in front of himself, but yet. Foolishness.

"We won't need worry about being bored," he answers with a chuckle at the thought, the sound fading into a sigh. Kurt tilts his chin up, silent invitation to please keep doing what he is. His own hands start moving again, working at the buttons of his other self's shirt. The vest and shirt can surely come off at the same time, and now that it's been mentioned Kurt is intrigued to see how their scars differ.

He moves his arms to help his other self get this self undressed, mouth still dragging along skin the same color as his own. It was mostly kisses, ones left at the bend of his neck as he trailed up towards his ear, but there were a few light nips interspersed to add to the sensation. "I am certainly not bored."

After getting that shirt off, Kurt's fingers move to trace the raised scars on his doppelganger's chest. Most of them are familiar, and he silently mouths the sins he recognizes. His fingers stutter each time the other Kurt nips at the smooth skin of his neck, nearly slipping off whichever scar he happens to have a finger on. "I would have to try a bit harder if you were," he murmurs, his tail mirroring his other self's actions in moving to work at the button and zipper of the other man's pants.

"Now you have me curious," he said with a small smile, tongue running along the edge of one ear up to the pointed tip. He felt the touches over his scars and the tail at his pants, the prospect of where this was leading making his skin pebble for a moment before his hands went to slide along Kurt's thighs.

"I didn't bef-" he interrupts his own question with an inarticulate sound, feeling the wet stroke of that tongue up his ear. His hands slide down over the other man's stomach and hips to push at the last of his clothing, anxious to have him naked.

There's a thrill of arousal that goes through him at the sound, his hands grabbing at Kurt's pants and trying to tug them down as his own tail snakes down to jerk at the fastenings. Cool air touches his skin as his clothes are removed and he's pushing the other body, trying to get him down on his back, wanting to explore it with hands, tail, and mouth.

Many years of quick changes between acts has made Kurt an expert of getting out of clothing quickly (when he wants to be). His skin is bare within seconds, Kurt himself reaching to pull the other man close even as he lays back, reacting a second before consciously realizing that he's being urged onto his back. That's certainly one way to ease his nagging doubts about whether his other self truly wants this (and yes, he has been told he overthinks.) His tail wraps around the other man's leg, tracing along the curves of it to see if there are scars there, unlike his own smooth legs.

There are a few, traced against the outside of his thighs and stopping around the height of his knees. Not that he thinks of that at the moment, kneeling over the other Kurt, hand sliding down the front of his chest before he meets his gaze. "You did say you were curious about oral, yes?"

"I did." Not that he could deny it if he wanted to, with his body making that a difficult lie. Kurt shift, setting his lips with his tongue as he props himself up on his elbows. "You were thinking a practical demonstration?"

"I was," he admitted, tail moving to tickle up his twin's thigh, then coil around the other man's cock, undulating over it in an attempt to stimulate and to tease. "Unless you'd rather not risk it..."

Kurt hisses a breath through his teeth when he feels that tail around his cock, face twisting as he resists the urge to roll his hips up. "I think I'm willing to risk a great deal right now," he jokes, voice breathy.

Kurt's answer was to smile, crawling further down the other man's body until he was near his groin. Tail still wound around it, he looked up at that familiar face as he lowered his head. "It's all about keeping your teeth to yourself..."

His tongue came out, pink against the blue as he flicked it out over the head of the trapped cock, tail slithering again as he did.

His teeth rake his bottom lip, the muscles in his thighs flexing against the urge to move. This is a learning experience, not just a very pleasant night; which means keeping his eyes on the other man instead of closing them. Part of him distantly thinks he should really do some soul-searching as to why he finds this erotic rather than disconcerting, but not right now.

"Oh, is that the trick? I think there could be argument made that the tail could be considered." His own tail, still wrapped around his doppelganger's leg, starts to slither up, the tip of his spade tracing the curve of muscle on his inner thigh.

"The tail is a lovely benefit, yes," he agreed, his own still wound around his twin's, curling and uncurling in a sort of slow, constricting massage. His tongue licked along the underside of Kurt's shaft, licking up to the head and sealing his lips around it, keeping the cock in his mouth on the outside of his teeth as he sucked.

He's absolutely no stranger to what their tail can do, nor is this the first time he's received a blow job. Combining the two, however, is a completely new experience. Hissing in a slow breath through his teeth, the air is let out in a soft, short groan when his twin starts to suck. Kurt's hands shift on the bed, looking for something to grab other than the other man.

Kurt's out of luck for something to grab, the other version taking his time letting his tongue circle around the head. He did to Kurt what Newt seemed to like having done, Kurt himself not exactly a connoisseur enough to have any type of favorites.

His hands end up spread flat on the mattress, twisting into fists whenever the other Kurt does something that feels particularly good--which is often. "I am beginning to disbelieve your claims," he mumbles haltingly, interrupting himself every second word with a gasp, or low strangled noises that sometimes make it out of his mouth as moans. His tail sneaks up his twin's leg, slipping forward and running the tip lightly over the underside of his cock; at least, what little he can reach of it.

He draws back, looking up at the other Kurt long enough to ask, "About what?" Then he's back to widening his jaw, opening his mouth enough so he could start to suck Kurt's length further in without risking contact with his teeth. He can feel the tip of that other tail tickling over his cock and he lets out a low hum of appreciation.

The danger of those teeth is the only thing keeping his hips mostly still. This is certainly different than the few blow jobs he's gotten in the past, but more than pleasurable enough that he completely forgets to answer. One of his hands moves despite himself to rest on the other man's shoulder, near the crook of his neck. "Gott. Lift your hips." Because his tail is a miracle of God and nature but it needs a little more room to move if he's going to reciprocate the way he intends to.

He almost growled, not wanting to be interrupted from what he was doing, but the functioning part of his brain that wasn't focused on the cock in his mouth and the body he was teasing reminded him that there was more fun to be had here. Tongue licking up along the underside of Kurt's shaft, he levered himself up, mouth moving lower until he had the other man's balls in his mouth, treating them just as carefully as he had the dick.

Judging by the startled moan that came out of his mouth, Kurt wasn't expecting that. Nor can he keep his head from falling back onto the mattress, legs spreading to give his twin the room to move. Kurt forgets for a moment why he'd asked his other self to move, but when he remembers the tail comes slithering in, winding around the other man's cock and writhing.

A pleased sound is muffled by a blue sac, tongue licking over it and the vibrations running along it before he lets it slide free, moving his mouth back up to the more sensitive glans around the head of the cock by his face. He feels the tail wrap around his and grins as he counters it with his own around his twin's cock, moving at whatever pace the other sets.

He lets out a soft sound of protest when the other Kurt moves away, lifting his head just in time to feel those lips wrap around the head of his cock again. The next thing out of his mouth is a groan, not very well stifled. "Cheating," he mutters in their native German, the coils of his tail stroking the shaft of his doppelganger's cock. The tip of his tail comes up to slide over the head, delicate and hesitant for all that the owner currently has a one-track mind.

There's another muffled sound, this one of protest as Kurt looks up at the other version of himself, eyes almost glowing with the intensity of the reaction to the tail teasing him. Hardly cheating, Kurt. Just because he happened to be a little more experienced at this...

In answer he chuckles, a low rumble followed in short order by Kurt lifting his head to meet the other man's eyes. The intensity he finds there, and the seeing the movements he's been content to only feel for the last few moments, hits Kurt in the gut. Tensing, he draws in a quick breath. "Unless you.. Want me to end quickly. Best you come up here." Three cheers for Kurt finding enough brain cells to form a sentence.

It's tempting... to stay here and draw an orgasm from the other man. He likes the idea enough that he lingers for another moment before his lips slide off the swollen cock head, tongue licking at them as he moves to crawl up towards his other self. "And what shall I do up here?"

"Me." He meant to say 'kiss me,' but, well. Freudian slip. Kurt himself doesn't really notice, being preoccupied with practically winding himself around the other man, arms and legs. His tail stays right where it is, twisting and stroking the other man's cock while Kurt himself bends down to draw him into a kiss. It's probably a good thing that watching his teeth is second nature.

Well, that was certainly provocative. He felt the tail around him, returning the favor with his own, the pair of them joined in some strange mirroring masturbation. Kissing the other man was easy enough, even with the care taken for the sharper teeth. He was careful when he used them to tease the inside of Kurt's lip, tongue soothing afterward as he shifted a little, pressing closer to his twin.

At this point Kurt wouldn't care a bit about coming away with a few nicks. His tongue seeks out his twin's, teasing along the sides with little flicking motions. The same spirit is mirrored in the movements of his tail over his cock, little teasing strokes that contrast with the firm ones further down the shaft. He's going to pay for every bit of that probably, but he feels too good to care.

Kurt's hips shift, stuttering as he feels the urge to rock, to thrust into that touch of those delicious coils. He lets out a muffled groan, tail moving to wind the middle of it around his twin's cock while the adroit tip moved lower, sliding under his sac and teasing around the other mutant's ass. It was a bold move on his part, but it was also a start.

He grins against the other man's mouth, proud at the reactions he's getting out of Kurt. The movement of his tail changes, coils sliding down the shaft as though his twin had started thrusting after all. Kurt himself pulls his mouth away when he feels that first touch, drawing in a quick breath. "Feeling ambitious," he asks, breathy and surprised but not enough of the latter to shift away.

"Yes," he murmured, though he didn't move it any farther than it was. It was a tease. A promise, if the other Kurt wished it fulfilled, but definitely not something he would press. It was incredibly hard to think around the pleasure crawling through him in bursts because of the other's tail, but he was intent on giving Kurt the same sort of pleasure, if he could.

It is difficult to think--well, straight. Right now Kurt's all too inclined to say yes to anything that means feeling more of this, particularly when he pictures what his other self's promising. The low groan, not quite muffled in time, is probably answer enough without his further vocalizing, "Alright." His mouth moves down, playfully nipping at his jaw.

Even with the permission given, Kurt is slow. Careful. Teasing. The tip of his tail doesn't do more than dance round the outside of the other's ass, tapping or sliding over it, the length of the teasing tail still coiling around a blue cock.

For the best that he does, because they're skirting the edges of this Kurt's experience with other men; not that any amount could really prepare him for pulling his own doppelganger into bed. ~~How many Hail Marys is that again?~~ He seems to be enjoying himself if the soft noises he makes are any indication, most of them muffled because he's too in the habit of keeping quiet. His mouth rises, his breath ghosting against the tip of his twin's ear just before he draws it between his lips, tongue flicking along the point. The coils of his tail slow but still move, not quite in a regular rhythm.

Using his fingers doesn't seem as optimal seeing as they're larger than the tip of his tail. So he's gentle as he moves closer to the center of Kurt's hole, tickling more than pressing until he can prod the tip in. He makes a soft sound when his ear is mouthed, hips shifting against the tail still coiled around it. "I... ah, would like to make you feel pleasure."

No, it's all perfectly logical, so much logic in this bed considering the rapidly dwindling brain power of at least one man in it. Said Kurt squirms minutely against the teasing sensation, stilling with a catch in his breath when the other mutant starts to press inside.

"You weren't.. already?" He chuckles, more air than sound as he presses an open kiss to his doppelganger's jaw, just near the ear. He draws in a breath through his nose, his hips jerking down instinctively. "Won't we, ah, need some.. slick?" Apparently his twin's doing something right if Kurt can't remember the word for lube.

A soft laugh, head turning to catch at another pair of blue lips. "I mean, I would like to make you... reach your full enjoyment. That can be as we are going, or we can do something that you are more certain of. I want you to be... comfortable. And yes," he said with a smirk, "we would need lubrication, of which there is some in the nightstand."

He hums approvingly, following those lips for a second when the other man moves away to talk. When those words sink in Kurt groans, leaning his forehead against his twin's. "You are asking me to make choices now? Ach, so cruel. I.. think if you would want to, then who better to trust with something you've never done before? Since you are apparently prepared for the eventuality." He should know better than to tease by this point.

He felt himself blushing at the not-quite accusation, head ducking down as he hid it against a blue chest. "I was hopeful and I would rather be prepared than have to cancel if things are going... a certain way." Like now. Kurt, don't make him feel like a letch.

"No, no--" Kurt interrupts himself by pressing his lips against the top of his other self's head. "That wasn't a complaint. You think you were the only one who was hopeful, as you say? Who was it that encouraged things in this direction?" His hands start to move, skimming over his twin's back in a motion meant to be either soothing or distracting. "I tease too much, sometimes, when I am nervous."

"I would not want you to be nervous. Though, it is terrible of me to say that as I find myself a little as well. We are quite a pair, yes?" He slid a hand up along a scarred chest, tapping fingers lightly over where his other self's heart was. "I would move only as much as you are comfortable with."

"I think for once we are both being fairly average. So much as you can be in this situation," he adds with a soft chuckle, because how can anything about this be normal? Kurt's eyes drift down when he feels a hand sliding up his chest, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "I think--at the risk of being narcissistic--the prospect is far too appealing to let a little case of nerves get in the way."

"It does feel a little bit like an ego thing, yes? I thought it was just me." He chuckled, lifting his head to look up at the face so like his. "Yet, I still find appeal in it. What do you think that says?"

"Could say a few things, really. We are so unique in the world, perhaps it is nothing more than being drawn to someone who looks--familiar. Like most people, but we have not so many who do. Or perhaps the draw is that it is us, and there lies an entire host of reasons why that appeals."

Tilting his head down, Kurt rests his forehead against his other self's. "You know, not to discourage the conversation, but I have thought of something perhaps that will help in our concern about my comfort? What do you think of a slight change in position? You sitting on the bed, und me sitting on you. That should allow me a little more control and take a little of the responsibility off you, hm?"

His eyes closed for a moment, enjoying the closeness before he gave a small nod, looking up at his twin. "You are right. In both things, I think. I am not as... experienced as I would like to be when having to initiate another and I fear there is some... anxiety about causing you harm."

That--something about the combination of the other man's physical reactions and his concern about Kurt's comfort warms his heart. Not quite having the words to express that, he instead tilts his head to steal a swift kiss.

"Then we will do that. Why don't I get the lubrication while you move," he suggests in a murmur, the coils of his tail sliding along and off his twin's cock in preparation, albeit reluctantly.

( probably receiving )

(( how would you feel about them? ))

[ totally giving; characters over 21 only please. ]

(reply from suspended user)

[Giving or receiving.]

[Giving, obvs.]

[giving or receiving]

[giving or receiving~]

[bit late and your PM is off so just poking here--if you're cool i'd be down with Mondo working for Riddler and giving his boss some help or just as much Mondo teaching the supervillain that the title doesn't mean he's stronger than a ~common gang member~ or just about anything else.]

[ can be one or two brothers, but whoever takes on both has to share! ]

[Giving or receiving]

( giving/receiving. the fox is.. optional... )

(maybe keep your fox, it can praise me too but say yaaaaaa yaaaaaaaaa kanesama ;))

[ Kanesada has too much pride when it comes to things such as this, so this is why he enjoys to indulge into them. Having people listen to him and do as he says, he's sure he can probably tempt fate when it comes to the caged fox either way. A smirk plays along the tachi's features as he runs his fingers through white locks of hair, naturally it's soft and something he should have seen coming from someone like a fox. ]

I contemplated and I believe that you'd look pretty graceful if you were down on your knees before me?

[ The question posed as sapphire stare into the other's own light eyes, a chuckle leaves from his lips and quickly does he grip at the hair he had praised to himself. It's only done so he can slowly bring Nakigitsune down to his knees, his free hand hooks to the top of the uchigatana's mouth guard and slowly pulls it down so he can see his lips. The same ones that will do as much work as possible. ]

You know.. I never really heard you talk much, how about you say how grateful you are that you can be able to do something like this to someone like me? I guess the God's are in your favor, huh?

[ His index finger now trails along the other's bottom lip. ]

I'm waiting.

[Kanesada is pride through and through, and it's almost disconcerting how different they are in that aspect. Where Nakigitsune would prefer to remain silent, fiercely indignant, letting his slowly refined skills seep through in the way that he commands himself in battle and tends to his chores without a word, Kanesada would rather boast and pace around, proclaim every inch of his vanity until he's out of breath to do it with.

Nakigitsune has never been one for disobeying authority, though, and so he lowers himself to his knees before the elder tachi easily, his own golden eyes fixed on the elaborate fabric of hakama before him. Meeting those eyes seems almost impossible, for someone like him. As those smooth fingers urge his mask down, he inclines his head, giving enough to let it slide over his chin with ease.

"The Gods are in his favour," huh. Nakigitsune's lips part against the other's finger, eyes fixed on the wooden floorboards beneath them.]

... Yes.

[It isn't an answer to any one of Kanesada's questions as much as it is affirmation that he'll do as he's told, the uchigatana nodding once as gloved hands tentatively raise to move the fabric of the man's clothing out of the way. His unfamiliarity with -- all of this, everything, is clear in the way that he treats the task as though he's handling glass.]

( yes? I'm terrible? )

[ sure! you wanna start? ]

( yes I can! unless you'd like to, switch it up a bit? )

( some sort of human!100!au? i'll start if you're down? )

[ That would be awesome, I'm definitely down ]

[this shouldn't be happening. she should be turning right around and going to her own tent, her own space. this is probably a terrible idea. people might hear, people might know (not that bellamy isn't totally hot, nor is he a source of embarrassment). it's just, maybe she should be focusing on more important things, like, you know, surviving this place, the grounders, everything else. not sex. not her raging teenage hormones.

but that doesn't seem to matter to caroline now as she pushes the makeshift door aside and comes right in like she owns the place. she feels empowered, emboldened as she does so. she doesn't stop for greetings or to be invited in (although later she'll be grateful he's alone). she just goes in, goes in and pulls bellamy away from whatever he's doing.

she pushes him towards his bed until she's straddling his lap as he's seated on it, her dress riding up to expose her thighs.]

If I see one smug smirk from you, I'm leaving. [ and before he can agree or disagree, her mouth was on his for a kiss that left no doubt what she is here for.]

Edited 2015-04-29 00:36 (UTC)

[ Usually an intrusion into his tent would be met with more choice words from Bellamy; they’re just on the tip of his tongue, ready to come out, when he turns to see who the intruder is. The protest dies right there; he doesn’t even mind being pulled away from rifle he has disassembled in his tent, one they raided earlier, he’s caught a little off guard by how there’s no hesitation from her...in a good way. The way his pulse quickens as Caroline pushes him towards the makeshift bed is telling of that.

He’s already shirtless, usually is when he’s in his tent, and as he falls back, his hands were already on her hips, lightly squeezing. Bellamy isn’t good at subtle; something it looks like they have in common. He wouldn’t deny that he’s always thought of her as being incredibly hot; other things get in the way, mostly surviving, when there’s no guarantee a next day is going to come for any of them, and clashing personalities.

Her dress, ridden up just enough to give him a glimpse of her thighs, and it’s enough to make his heart start thumping wildly. ] I’ll keep that in mind. [ The smile on his lips is genuine, at least...borderline arrogant, but Bellamy’s trying to keep it in check. Not that he has to worry about it for long. As she leans in, he knows what’s coming next, and he sits up slightly to meet her.

One hand leaves her hip and immediately moves into her blond hair as he returns the kiss; fierce and hungry, catching her bottom lip between his teeth. ]

[ She'd be lying if she said she didn't get a shiver of satisfaction from his compliance, from the way he didn't even question the oh-so-forward action she was taking now. They'd been dancing around this for a while, there had been the usual tension between them as they alternated between butting heads and flirting. But as they sat on the edge of some new danger, she didn't want to hold off on doing this.

Maybe it was cliche but she just wanted to do something for herself, something she could control, something that would make them both feel good, distract them from the war constantly waging around them, outside the walls of their makeshift fort.

And yeah, it doesn't hurt that he looks really hot without a shirt on. The thought earning him a flicker of a smile before they start kissing. He doesn't hesitate and that makes it easier for her to get into it, arching into him as he bites her lip, the soft sound she makes muffled by their eager, heated kiss.

Her hands move too, they slide down his chest, along his sides then to his arms, pulling him flush, closer to her. She only pulls back once she guides his other hand to slide beneath the skirt of her dress, speaking softly against his lips--] Off. Take it off. [ Yeah, she's going to be a little bossy right now.]

[ooc: Sooo. How bad would this be? >_> ]

[ dnfjkffn bring it on ]

[ooc: just remember you didn't tell me no!]

[Fuck. Stacker would kill them if he knew. He would absolutely kill them for what they're about to do. This is usually what happens when they're not able to get out and get some tail - or when they just feel the need to fool around with one another. Raleigh practically throws Yancy against the jaeger's visor, dropping to his his knees and has Yancy's pants around his ankles even faster, somehow. And fuck. There he is, just as hard as he promised and that's all the admiration he gets before Raleigh takes him in his mouth hungrily, greedily even.

The younger Becket hums around him. The heavy taste, the heady scent. Christ. They really should do this more often if Stacker isn't going to allow them any real free time anymore. But why here, you wonder? Why not their bunk? Well, that's simple: because of the risk, the rush of blowing his fucking brother in Gipsy's head suspended several dozen stories in the air - it's a thrill.]

[ Fuck yeah Stacker would kill them, screwing around in the jaeger like that are. Never mind that they're fucking siblings, they're desecrating Gipsy.

His hands instantly drop to thread in messy blond hair, groan stuck in his throat as he rolls his hips forward, encouraging him to take him deeper. Cmon baby bro, you can do it. He knows you can. ]

[Well crap, when you put it that way. Poor baby girl. They'll make sure not to make too big of a mess. And they owe her a good wipe down anyway. In the conn-podd at least...

How can Raleigh refuse him when he's making all the lovely sounds and touching his hair all sweet? Raleigh steadies himself and does allow Yancy more access, letting him slide back as far as he wants with a muffled groan of his own.]

[ They'll clean her up. Yancy's not really thinking about that right now though, he's got far better things to concern himself with, like his hands gripping at Raleigh's hair, head tossing back, a low moan sticking in his throat. How can he resist it when Raleigh gets all aggressive and throws him around and sucks his dick? Tight, wet heat around his cock is a sure way to make his brain stop working. ]

[Yancy not thinking is a good thing. It means lets words come flying out of his mouth and Raleigh's eyes aren't aching from all of the rolling they have to do. They're often closed now, sometimes glancing up at his big bro, watching the pleasurable shifts of expressions on his face. And then he swallows. When he has Yancy in his throat, he swallows him hard.]

Fuck--

[ He swears like a sailor, hands clenching in Raleigh's hair because Jesus Christ he's died and gone to heaven. Tight, wet heat around his dick renders him speechless and he has to really resist the urge to lose himself because he'll end up fucking his brothers face stupid and that's just rude. ]

[Apparently rude is a thing that Raleigh doesn't mind, grabbing at his brother's firm ass and giving a squeeze in return for the rough hands in his hair. He needs air and only pulls back enough to keep Yancy's tip in his mouth - makes it easier to breath through his nose - tonguing his slit and teasing to bring the older Becket to edge only to deny him.]

[ the world tilts around him as blood roars in his ears and his grip tightens. Godammit, kid. Changing a look down, Yancy cracks his eyes open to peer at the top of Raleigh's head, moaning at the sight. ]

Ah, don't stop-

[ Giving or receiving. ]

(( feel free to ignore me if you're not into this ship or pm me for an edit. ))

[ Stockholm isn't a city in Thedas, and psychology isn't exactly a known science, so Samson doesn't have a name for the process he's undergone during his days as a captive of the Inquisition. At first the elf's so-called mercy made him want to spit, but now, after weeks with his own shit rooms and all, he's started to appreciate getting to keep his life. The main reason for the change is Rutherford.

It's not that they're friends, and honestly he's not sure if he'd say they ever were. Rutherford sees the possibility of his own future in Samson, and Samson knows it. But the reverse is true too. Rutherford's life with the Inquisition is like a third path, one Samson had never even thought was open to him, not even when he was begging for skag in the lowest parts of Lowtown and wishing for a better life. He finds he wants Cullen to succeed in overcoming the way life drags at him, at them all.

Plus, he's started to think that Rutherford is the only one who understands him. He might have no sympathy for the way desperate need stacks Samson each day he goes without the red, no tolerance for his tantrums or crazed clawing at his own face, but he was charged with a responsibility and when he carries it out it's obvious he knows exactly what Samson is going through.

So that's probably a little how they got here, pressed close in the dark. ]

Keep breathing. Nice and easy, Commander, that's the way.

[ It's just a gruff croak, his skeletal hand locked so tight with Cullen's that the knuckles have blanched. Doesn't seem like much, but it stopped the screaming. They'd been yelling for a while, and no one came to let them out, so it's better to save their breath. Quite literally: he doesn't think the door is so sealed that they have limited air, but he doesn't know for sure. If whoever through them in here forgets to mention it, well. This oppressively small space already has them knocking up against each other, there's not much room for oxygen.

Samson presses closer, weight bodily over Cullen like an anchor. They shared a room once: he knows the sort of nightmares that live behind those cool blue eyes. ]

[ His personal feelings about Samson and his choices notwithstanding, the Inquisitor had seen to making the man’s continued well-being, such as it can be, Cullen’s responsibility, and while it isn’t his fault that they’re trapped in here, there’s still a healthy dose of guilt over it preying on his mind. It’s going to be a failure if they die down here. His failure. And considering what happened to Samson back in Kirkwall, he thinks he’s failed him enough to last a lifetime. But it’s not just the guilt. Might be easier to handle if it were.

There’s a strange, contradictory cocktail of emotions churning in Cullen's gut. Irrational fear, certainly, and anxiety, even though he knows this isn't Kinloch and there's still air in the small space. He can feel it with every shaky, irregular breath he takes, though there's the very real concern that he might be using up what little supply they have with his reaction to the oppressive sense of panic that's currently trying to strangle him. But there's a bizarre sense of relief too, that it's Samson here to witness the weakness and not anyone else. Even if it burns at him to have it in the first place, Samson knows this, has had to listen to him fight and scream his way through one nightmare-ridden night after another. And confusion too, mixed with gratitude, that he's not mocking him for it. ]

I'm trying. [ It comes out a little breathless, a faint bit forced through clenched teeth as Cullen tries to get himself under control. He turns his head, feels his nose bump warm skin and doesn’t flinch away from it. ] Though I wonder if we shouldn’t be wasting it.

[ The weight of him pressed against him like this probably ought to be stifling, making it worse, but it's not. Samson's familiar, an anchor against the old horrors he cannot seem to banish from his mind. Cullen wonders, in a distant, distracted way, if the grip he's got on his hand is hurting him, though he doesn't let go. Isn't entirely certain he could pry his fingers open if he wanted to. His other hand fists in the cloth covering Samson's shoulder, hanging onto him, keeping him there. ]

Can—Is it... [ ...just me who can't breathe or are you struggling too? He can't get the words out of his throat, doesn't want to make it that real. Something safer, then. Debatably. ] Are you all right?

It'll last as long as it lasts,

[ Is Samson's somewhat philosophical view of the available air. Either they've got more coming in somewhere, or they won't have enough, and there's not much they can do either way. His dry tone seems to indicate he's not interested in arguing about taking shallower breaths, isn't panicked about it. He's faced down worse things. So has Cullen.

Probably it's easier for the man to look death in the eye if he's got a sword in his hand, though. He's not going to judge the man for his fears, not going to laugh at them, not when he knows exactly where they came from. ]

I'm all right.

[ Echoing it back low, a little dismissive, more of his own wellbeing than Cullen inquiring about it. He pulls in a slow breath like an example, hisses it out between his teeth. ]

Besides the obvious. No man likes being trapped. It'd be worse if I was by meself.

[ Alone in the dark. Keeping Cullen calm is a welcome distraction, as is the knowledge that they're far more likely to come looking for him than if it were just Samson alone. ]

[ It would be infinitely easier to face death in battle. Cullen’s long since made peace with the likelihood of that being how it finds him. It makes sense, gives it meaning where otherwise it might not have any. Certainly there is none to be found here in the dark, suffocated and forgotten.

He hears that breath and though he doesn’t say as much, he’s grateful for the sound of it. As long as one of them continues to breathe without difficulty, he knows that it’s all in his head. It doesn’t necessarily make the panic go away, but knowing it’s without cause gives him leave to ignore the worst of it. Or try to, anyway. He isn’t entirely successful.

The conversation is a welcome distraction, one that perhaps he should not encourage, given the potentially limited quantity of their air supply. But it gives Cullen something else to concentrate on. Possibly, it does the same for Samson. ]

Worse than being trapped with me? [ He tries to make it a joke, but his sense of humor’s a little too strained and the lightness he wants to inject into his voice just isn’t there. ] There are other places I would rather be with you right now, if I’m being honest, but I would not want you to be in here alone either.

[ He takes a deep breath, holds it for a moment, then slowly lets it out. It doesn’t quite calm his racing heart, but it doesn’t hurt, either. This time, when he tries for levity, he’s a little closer to the mark. ]

Let’s try not to make a habit of this in the future though.

[ If he was honest, he wouldn't have ever expected to wind up in Skyhold helping the Inquisition at all. While the Breach in the sky certainly concerned him, he had no means of closing it himself and the very fact there were Tevinters just running amok and doing as they please... Well, it was more important to put them down than to do much else.

While he was in Jader, he'd received word from Varric that Hawke had been through some ordeal and was on his way to Weisshaupt to help with the Wardens. Hawke's familiar scrawl was on the bottom, asking him to come to Skyhold to help and swearing there were even more "Tevinter bastards" to help put down. As much as he preferred to keep to his own agenda, Fenris found himself making his way to Skyhold all the same. Even in writing, it was difficult to say no to Hawke.

There's an interesting host of problems in getting there, but Varric assures him the mage from Tevinter isn't a magister and he's not terrible. Fenris doesn't buy it, but keeps his distance all the same. When he's not dispatched on his own to take down various wandering Venatori, he splits his time between Varric, sometimes going on random missions and subsequently drinking in the tavern afterward with Bull and his Chargers, and Cullen. He remembers him from Kirkwall and it's enough to know he doesn't hate him. Granted, his opinions might have changed from a year ago, but he's no fool.

And works too much. Varric is gone with the Inquisitor and that mage is in the tavern, so Fenris has little else to do. Josephine had given him a bottle of excellent wine and he means to drink it, but just before he pops the cork, he realizes he doesn't feel like sitting alone in the quarters he'd been given here. So, he winds his way through the maze of a keep to Cullen's office. And, as expected, once he just barges through the door, he's hunched over his desk scribbling away on some report or something. It's late, he can take a break.

The bottle thunks as he sets it heavily on the desk, his tone brokers no argument. ]

Enough. Join me for a drink.

[ In retrospect, Cullen should have realized that Fenris would come to Skyhold. Hawke already had, and where Hawke goes, the rest of his merry—a term used loosely in this particular instance—band inevitably seems to follow. The Inquisitor and Cassandra, diehard fan of Varric’s novels that she is, had been thrilled to have him on board, another one of the vaunted Champion’s companions to add a bit more luck to the Inquisition’s side. And with Corypheus searching out old magics to aid his cause, and his blasted dragon, they are sorely in need of luck.

For his part, Cullen is optimistic, if a little wary. He remembers Fenris from their encounters at Kirkwall, and though he’s never had a problem with him, he recalls quite clearly his opinion of mages. There are many mages within the Inquisition now. And there is a magister’s son among the most trusted members. The last thing they need is for a misplaced attack on Dorian. Or anyone else, for that matter.

But it goes remarkably well, all things considered. Fenris and Dorian don’t kill each other, or send one another to the infirmary every time anyone else turns around. And Cullen finds another friend amidst a veritable sea of allies and comrades. He thinks that they’re friends, anyway. With Fenris, it can be difficult to tell.

Though, perhaps not tonight, when he barges into Cullen’s office with a bottle of wine and demands a drinking companion. Somewhat guiltily, Cullen eyes the stack of reports that aren’t going to get done if he partakes, but he is tired and the words are beginning to swim on the page. Shuffling it all into a pile to tackle later, he clears a space on the desk and offers Fenris a tired, though friendly, smile. ]

Would you care to sit? [ Standing, he gestures to his chair, the only one in the office, and perches on the edge of the desk. ] I’m afraid I haven’t any glasses, but I could have someone fetch a pair if you’d like.

[ It is difficult to tell where one stands with Fenris. He doesn't always mean to be, but cultivating friendships for himself is still a new thing. The ones he has, he can count on one hand and he trusts them implicitly. Cullen is one he counts on the opposite hand, but with time could move onto the other one. It took over a year to gain what he has, he's not spent nearly enough time with Cullen to consider him worthy of Fenris punching through someone's heart for him.

But, with time, the greatest expression of friendship may just be bestowed upon him.

He blinks at Cullen as if he just spoke to him in some foreign language he doesn't understand—which is saying quite a bit, since he holds two others under his belt. Then he sniffs a bit disdainfully as he brushes the shaggy fringe out of his eyes. ]

I am not so dainty I need a glass to drink from.

[ It was meant as a joke, but it still sounded slightly aggressive to his ears. He doesn't mean to, not all the time. But, it does happen. He sighs, far more irritated at himself that attempting interpersonal relationships is such a difficult task to complete, before snatching up the bottle and pulling a knife out of seemingly nowhere. (No, he's not magic; promise. There is just a thin pocket on the back of his belt.) He edges around the wax seal, uncaring that he's making a mess all over his legs and feet. The bottle is treated carefully, in direct contrast of his usual prickly demeanor.

The cork is popped and he can't help himself from breathing in, just to smell it first. It's a nice, dark red. His favorite. He takes a long pull of it, notes the floral undertones and knows it's likely Orlesian. The bottle is held out to Cullen as he just sits on an empty spot at the corner of his desk. ]

You've done well for yourself; Varric speaks highly of you. [ A split second of a glance is given at the top of Cullen's head. ] At least, I assumed you to be Curly.

[ To Cullen’s ears, it sounds like a rebuke. Perhaps one that Fenris has had to deliver more than once to those too blinded by his elven heritage and slight build to realize how dangerous and strong he really is. It isn’t necessary here. He’s seen Fenris fight: in the streets of Kirkwall and against horrors in the Gallows. He’s heard the reports that Leliana’s people bring to Skyhold these days and the stories that Varric still tells around the fire at night. Cullen might call him graceful, but never dainty.

And now it seems his attempt to be hospitable has given offense, though he doesn’t know how to apologize without doing more damage. He opens his mouth to try as Fenris sets about working open the bottle, then thinks better of the idea and closes it again, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck and hoping vainly that inspiration will strike.

It doesn’t. But Fenris at least provides a distraction, both in the offer of the bottle and in the comment he makes about his nickname. ]

I—Yes. [ Grimacing slightly, Cullen takes a rather long drink, more accustomed to drinking ale than wine. It tastes good, though, infinitely better than the usual cheap stuff he contents himself with, and after the one mouthful, he passes the bottle back. ] No matter what I do with it now, he seems determined to dwell on the way I was in Kirkwall.

[ His hair is the least of his problems with the man he used to be, but it’s a small symbol of a larger problem and Cullen would be happier focusing on the man he is now, complete with his daily attempt at straighter hair, than the disappointing one he used to be. ]

I believe he only speaks highly of me because he takes all my coin every time he talks me into playing Wicked Grace with him. I’m terrible at it but I never learn my lesson. [ A slightly hopeful look crosses his face. ] I don’t suppose that he’ll leave me be now that you’re here?

[ The bottle is taken back and he takes another drink from it. Not too long, not too short, but just right. Once he's satisfied with just that, he sets the bottle on the desk between them. Depending on how long he's meant to be here, it's likely Cullen will learn Fenris' ways. He's not easy to navigate around. And truthfully, he doesn't wish he was. Maybe a little more, but often he doesn't see the point. He's comfortable enough being alone.

Glancing Cullen's way again, he takes his time studying from head to toe. So, all right, more than a simple glance. It's a heavy weight as Fenris looks, knowing what he's capable of and wondering if his skill has improved since they last saw one another. Perhaps it might be worth it to seek him out to spar during his down time. ]

It's better this way.

[ It's not so much a compliment, but an observation. Men are given to fits of vanity just as anyone else. Even Fenris.

Then, a small smile pulls up the corner of his lips, partly due to Varric's ways and another because Cullen doesn't seem to learn. While Fenris didn't always play cards with everyone back in Kirkwall, he did watch from time to time. It's not a difficult thing to learn the habits of someone when he was so accustomed to being a silent, watchful entity. ]

No, it is doubtful he will. Varric enjoys to be entertained as much as he enjoys to do the entertaining. [ Among other things. He also knows why Varric does certain things, but he's not comfortable just yet in sharing his own observations about those he calls friend. ] Especially when there is coin involved.

[Cullen navigates the Orlesian court much like a druffalo attempting--quite valiantly--to swim upstream whilst being circled by hungry wyverns. It's charming, in a way, how quickly he turns the color of his formalwear as a noblewoman's lips curve close to his ear, excusing himself nearly as soon as she's finished her sentence.

Pity the acoustics where Dorian's standing aren't good enough to hear what she says to illicit such a response.

Dorian makes a bit of a show of taking Cullen by the elbow, declaring just loudly enough that he must sample the cheese platter, and once Dorian's guided him out of the ballroom he takes an easy turn down a deserted--completely off-limits--hallway, looking both ways before reaching behind him to twist an ornate door handle and tug Cullen into an empty bedroom.]

You have approximately ten minutes to breathe before you're considered exceedingly rude for disappearing. [Dorian clasps his hands behind his back as he surveys the room, a fairly typical display of Orlesian wealth and excess. The canopy bed's nearly big enough for half the court, and Dorian won't be surprised if that's exactly who ends up in it when the evening draws to a close.

He stops in front of a bookshelf, running his fingers along the spine of a gold-leafed copy of The Tale of Madame Snappy-Snips. Fascinating.]

You're welcome, by the way.

[ When Dorian appears to pull him away, Cullen’s sure that something’s gone wrong. That there’s some catastrophe occurring just beyond the ballroom and they’re going to need to make a quick, unremarkable exit to go deal with it before too many people die or the country’s plunged into war. The excuse about the cheese platter is too flimsy for anyone with a brain not to see straight through, but of course the Orlesians believe it. How could they not? The world might very well be ending, yet the precise flavor of the night’s appetizers and whether Countess Haughty and Duke Full of Himself are wearing coordinating attire is simply much more important.

Even though they aren’t met by the Inquisitor or any of the rest of the Inquisition upon successfully escaping the ballroom, he’s still not convinced there isn’t some dire emergency awaiting just around the next corner. So it’s with no small amount of confusion that he blinks after he’s tugged into the bedroom, looking around for the rest of the bad news that… isn’t there.

It’s just Dorian. And him. And some ridiculously over-decorated eyesore of a room that makes his own quarters back at Skyhold look even more dilapidated than everyone keeps telling him they are. ]

I don’t care. [ He blurts it out before he really thinks it through and hastens to correct himself. ] About being rude. I’ve been rude all night and it’s not working. They won’t leave me alone.

[ He tried being polite at first. That just encouraged them. But as he’s discovered, getting progressively ruder only encourages them more. There’s just no winning. Sighing, he steps up beside Dorian and lays a hand on his arm, letting the frustration bleed out of his voice. ]

Thank you. For rescuing me and for preventing whatever diplomatic incident I was about to cause.

[Dorian's lips twitch at Cullen's honesty, offering a theatrical arch of his brow.]

How scandalous, Commander.

[In the Orlesian court, rudeness is tantamount to scandal. The upper circles of Tevinter were close enough to the Grand Game that Dorian's largely unfazed by the antics of the nobles, though to someone like Cullen--who's more comfortable in armor than formalwear--he imagines it must be a bit of culture shock.

And the Orlesians, of course, love him. Who wouldn't? The handsome Fereldan commander of the Inquisition, all wrapped up in finery like a present.

Dorian presses a hand warm over Cullen's before gently removing it, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the bookcase.]

As tempting as it is to encourage your scandalous behavior, I don't know that you're prepared for the sort of rumors this would start. [Dorian's brows knit slightly, his smile more rueful.] The Inquisition's commander disappearing from the ball with a mage from Tevinter.

[ It's his turn to fold his arms across his chest, lips thinning in a frown that isn't directed Dorian's way, as he considers what, precisely, might be bandied about by the empty-headed nobles packed like rats in the palace's corridors and ante-chambers. No doubt it will be less pleasant than some of things he's caught, and disciplined, his own soldiers for saying. ]

I suspect the rumors won't be any worse than what people will say when I hit the next person who suggests that there's something wrong with our Tevinter mage. [ He smiles, sharp and, for a brief instant, dangerous. ] I'm a Fereldan soldier. Our methods of rumor-control are always so much simpler and direct than everyone else's. [ A twitch of his shoulder stands in for a shrug. ] Or so they say.

[ Barbarians, he's heard Fereldans called, and while he doesn't agree with the term, he's more than willing to play the part just this once. And not merely because he can't stomach the Orlesians either. Dorian has proven himself time and again to be a valuable, trustworthy part of the Inquisition. It grates on Cullen that that isn't widely recognized. ]

I don't care what a pack of fools think. Obviously. I didn't think you did either. [ But he's not an arse and he doesn't want to make Dorian's life harder just because he wants to stir up the hornet's nest. Relaxing his arms back to his sides, Cullen takes a step back and gestures at the door. ] But I don't want you to have to deal with more idiotic nonsense either. You can go back, tell anyone who asks that you lost me to some fancy cheese or something, and I'll turn up in a bit. No one can blame you for that.

Our spymaster may kill you herself if you hit someone useful.

[Though Dorian sounds far more amused than concerned, something softening in the line of his shoulders with Cullen's response. They are an odd group of misfits, the Inquisition, but Dorian wouldn't want to cause them undue grief just because of who--or what--he is.

He straightens, waving a hand at his offer as he strides back toward the door, locking it with an easy flick of his wrist before turning to lean back against it.]

I suppose it wouldn't hurt to give them a little something to talk about, hm? I only wish I'd nicked us some of that lovely sparkling wine.

[ No doubt his legion of minders-- pardon, advisors--would have plenty to say about this. Their opinions about everything else he does are many and varied and offered at every conceivable opportunity whether he wants to hear them or not. But he's the blighted king, isn't he? He can do what he likes, and all the fussy old busy-bodies can complain until the goats, sheep, and other assorted farm animals come home. And since this is Denerim, it's unlikely to turn into an agriculture center any time soon.

Which is why Alistair has no compunction about dragging his newest advisor, though he uses the term loosely since he actually likes this one, into the throne room long after everyone else has likely gone to sleep. He may have had a few too many glasses of wine, but heavy is the head that wears the crown. Or is it heavy is the crown that sits upon the... whatever, it doesn't matter. He doesn't need to be philosophical about it. He hated the whole king business back during the Blight and he hates it now. Sometimes, the wine helps. So does the company, when it's pleasant.

Tonight, it's pleasant. And it can probably set the whole place on fire. ]

You know what would really make them mad? [ Alistair waves a hand at the throne, glancing over at Dorian with a grin remarkably close to those he used to wear so easily. ] If we burned it down.

[ Although now that he's looking at him, a better idea swims up through the pleasant wash of alcohol overlaying his brain. ]

Or if you sat on it.

[ When he'd first arrived in Ferelden, he'd hated it. Yes he understood what a fantastic opportunity it was. And yes he knew what great lengths Alexius had gone through in order to secure such a position for an altus from Tevinter to be a magical adviser to the king of Ferelden. But, he didn't bloody well care. Ferelden is nothing like home and he has been so drastically out of place.

The king is an odd man, Dorian hadn't known how to handle him at first and he had given a less than stellar opinion on Fereldans on the whole. But, time had passed (slowly at first, Dorian dreaded many days) and he had settled into somewhat of a routine. And, to be rather frank, Dorian enjoyed that he could impart his magical wisdom on a vast range of topics. Eventually, even, people started listening to him. They didn't particularly grow to like him, but they listened. Alistair seems to have grown to trust him, if even only a little, and that's more than Dorian ever imagined he'd get here.

So, his opinion of the idiot king had changed for the better. Dorian finds himself charmed by his bluntness of not wanting to be king, even after all this time, and the way he smiles sometimes as if there is still a man underneath the kingly guise and the burden of being a Warden that still seeks to have fun and be carefree. True it happens when a copious amount of wine is involved, but this is Dorian complaining. Note that he is not.

Tonight had him a bottle and a half deep, the warmth of the wine settling in his belly and making him feel rather pleasant. He'd been on the way to his chambers when he found himself headed in the opposite direction with none other than the king dragging him along.

He blinks owlishly at the throne—it's so dreadful, all wood and velvet cushion and furs and carvings of dogs. It's so vastly different from what he's used to seeing, but fits in the... quaintness of the south. Because he's had enough to drink that his mind is a bit loose and his lips are looser, he snorts a very undignified laugh. ]

I'd been of the same mind when I first laid eyes on that horrendous excuse for a throne. [ His head tips to the side as he considers it, rubbing the side of his finger against his chin. ] To be fair, I still hold the same thought. It's terribly ugly, Alistair.

[ Another laugh, an airy chortle, as he gently lays his hand against Alistair's arm. ]

I realize you are the king here, but even I don't think you've enough gold to convince me to sit upon that. Besides, with no one to bear witness, it would hardly infuriate anyone.

So we'll burn it down now and you can sit on it tomorrow in full Tevinter regalia when all those stuffy arseholes are here. [ It's as he's making a great, swooping gesture with his other arm, because Dorian's clothes are still something of a fascination for him and he likes to exaggerate how exotic they are when they're not paying lip service to the dictates of court decorum, that he realizes that he's gotten the order of that idea all mixed up. His nose wrinkles as he stares at the throne, like it's pulled one over on him. ] Wait, no, that's not right. I think I've gotten it backwards. Blast.

Or just burn it down now and advise me on a replacement tomorrow. We can concoct a brilliant story how it came to pass. Possibly with a dragon. Everybody loves those stories.

[ A hint of darkness creeps into his tone at that. The fact that he's king provides a buffer to a lot of the curiosity, but there are still plenty of people who don't feel the least bit awkward pestering him with questions about the archdemon. Nobility, mostly. Merchants. Minor lords and ladies and visiting dignitaries who think it's all a bit of a lark, pressing him to reminisce. Now he's getting maudlin. That won't do at all.

Alistair shakes his head, dispelling the dark thoughts before they can go too far and ruin his buzz. It's a nice buzz. He'd like to keep it for a while longer yet. ]

Oooooooor... [ He draws the word out entirely too long and takes the plunge and tosses the flirtation out there. Because he may have gotten older, arguably wiser, but he's still downright terrible at flirting. There's an eyebrow waggle. It's embarrassing. Thank the Maker he's too soused to care. ] I could persuade you to sit down.

[ In all fairness, compared to the drab affairs Fereldans call clothing, Tevinter fashion is exotic. Try as he might to make all attempts to fit in, Dorian just get let go of his expensive and quality made wardrobe. There's no way on this blessed earth he's trading in silks for that blighted plaidweave. That is offensive even to a blind man.

The look on his face softens at the mention of dragons. True, the archdemon and the Blight had held Dorian's interest. Purely in the scholarly way, of course. The south was a novelty to him while tucked away in the seemingly untouchable Tevinter. Everyone operates on a wholly different scale. There's Wardens and the Templar Order so different from the one he knows. He'd wanted to ask, but had seen the change in Alistair when questioned. Dorian knows what it's like to put on airs, parade around like nothing's wrong. So, he hadn't ever asked, just read the books in the library recounting it in better detail than the ones in Tevinter. He sees this might be happening now, so he gently gives his arm a squeeze before dropping his hand back down to his side. ]

Quite frankly, I enjoy stories more when there isn't a dragon involved. [ Nose upturned, he takes on a hauteur air. ] I prefer to be the one around with the pure, raw power, thank you.

[ But, he rights himself and gives Alistair a look. It's colored by flirtation and barely veiled interest. His arms cross low over his torso and he turns to face Alistair completely with one brow raised in question. ]

Now, that all depends on how you'd like to persuade me. Go on. I'm listening.

[ That’s the nice thing about Dorian. Well, one of the nice things about him. There’s rather a lot of nice things, despite all that rubbish about being a Tevinter magister out to steal the kingdom in the name of the Imperium or whatever the latest whisper of doom and gloom happens to be. Alistair used to keep track when Dorian came to the palace. It’d been entertaining, watching the nobles get their fancy knickers in a twist. But it got old after a while and now he only pays attention to the really juicy bits.

He gets it, is the thing. He gets that there are things Alistair doesn’t want to talk about and he just lets them alone. Not many people know how to do that. Or if they do, they aren’t living in Denerim. And he’s smart too. Probably too smart.

Alistair watches him suspiciously as he denounces stories of dragons—the man’s got dragons and snakes on his clothes, for Andraste’s sake, of course he likes dragons!—but there’s no true wariness there. His advisors call him a fool for it, like they call him a fool for so many other things, but he trusts him. Because Alistair’s never actually been a fool, and he knows the rumors aren’t true.

Opening his mouth, Alistair’s suddenly recalls a much younger version of himself making a comment about licking lampposts in winter in a ham-fisted attempt at innuendo and can’t help a chuckle. He’s almost tempted to try it again, but something tells him a man of Dorian’s refined taste won’t find it nearly as amusing as he does. ]

Well, I thought maybe I could show you how a king ought to be treated. [ Not his best work, but no doubt significantly better if he just left it there. He doesn’t. ] None of this fancy party business and hard to pronounce little pieces of fluff some cook somewhere swears is edible. No, I’m talking about making you feel like a king. [ He takes a step closer, not quite crowding him. ] You just have to take the throne first.

[ It's true, really, Alistair isn't a fool, no matter how much he might act like one at times. There is a world weariness and wariness about him due to everything he's been through over the past ten years. He's heard visitors say what he used to be light—eyes bright and always some sort of joke at the ready with him. But, time—as it is so wont to do—has changed Alistair. Dorian has no idea if it was for the better or worse, however, in spite of it all he finds he does like the man.

Even his poor attempts at flirting.

He's been on the receiving end of it enough to know when he's making the attempt and Dorian tends to entertain him through it. It's so poor, all the time, but somehow it had charmed him enough once or twice or thrice before. They've done little more than share a few furtive kisses in an abandoned hallway of the castle; one time things had gotten a little too heated in the study, but Dorian doesn't regret it.

His lids lower as Alistair comes closer—he smells like wine and metal, woodsy from spending too long sitting in chairs made of pine. He doesn't move to give more space, instead relishes in the magnetic draw between them. There's much he could do or say in this moment, a few lines that would wrest control away into his hands. Except, he's far too curious about where Alistair is going with this. Even if he's starting to get a good inkling he knows exactly where it's headed. A low, amused hum rolls in his throat. ]

Trying to tell me how you'd like to be serviced, my lord? [ There's a sharper glitter in his eyes, as if he's cottoned on to what Alistair intends; he wets his lips. ] I'm afraid I'm not too interested in land disputes or relations with Orlais.

[ One hand shifts to smooth out a few wrinkles in the gaudy red monstrosity Alistair has on. Distantly, Dorian makes a mental note to have some proper regal robes commissioned for him tomorrow. ]

However, if we've means to discuss relations between Fereldan and Tevinter, I might be far more inclined to offer a treaty of sorts.

[ No one ever asks his opinion on the matter, but Alistair isn’t sure whether he likes the man he’s become now or not. He leans toward no out of some faint, misbegotten sense of loyalty to nostalgia, though it wouldn’t be true to say that he misses the person he used to be either. Always so ready with a smile and a joke, always the butt of every joke. Not so much has changed with that, really, he knows he’s still a joke to so many people, but his memories of who he was often annoy him.

Though, if that’s because he regrets losing that part of himself to war and death and a duty he never wanted, he doesn’t look too deeply to find out.

Alistair takes Dorian’s lack of retreat at his advance as a sign to continue. This thing they do, the flirtations, the little moments stolen when the flirtations get a little out of control, he doesn’t really know where it’s going, if Dorian’s humoring him because he’s the king and his employer or if he actually likes him. The former seems more likely, the latter rather preposterous. But a man can dream and Alistair’s always been full of dreams. ]

What? No. Relations with Orlais are terrible. [ He shakes his head, maybe a little too vigorously. ] I hate them, they hate me, there isn’t really much of anything to discuss there.

[ Waving talk of Orlais away, he lets the arc of his hand arrest itself against Dorian’s hip. Quite by accident. How did that get there? The wine makes him think that it’s a smooth move. If he was sober… he probably would think it smooth too. Or at least smooth by his standards. ]

I’m much more interested in relations between Ferelden and Tevinter. Close relations. The sort they write books about. [ He’s starting to lose the thread of this analogy and angles himself a little closer, dipping his head in not quite close enough to actually kiss him. ] What kind of treaty are you offering?

[ Though it might be a strange thing for someone like Dorian to admit, but the fact that Alistair is always ready with a smile or some outstandingly ridiculous joke is something he appreciates. After being here as long as he has been, it's refreshing to see at least someone will still welcome him with positivity rather than spit at him behind his back. Or to his face. If he were to be further truthful, he could say it's that smile that has charmed Alistair further into his heart than even he realizes.

So, he's not that far off in thinking Dorian does these things because he truly does care for him. It's more that than it is because he's king (though, to be sure, that is a perk; even Dorian isn't impervious to the allure of royalty). There's nothing wrong with dreams, even Dorian has some outlandish ones of his own—quite possibly involving the man right in front of him. But, dreams are dreams. Foolish flights of fancy to have during idle moments. Nothing can come of this, Dorian knows that. And yet he lets himself get carried away all the same.

It's hard not to when the wine tells him this is fine. Just as it's fine that his hand slips up to curl around the side of Alistair's neck—not bringing him closer, or pushing him further away. Just there. His nose bumps against Alistair's lightly. ]

You'll discover them in due time.

[ He hovers a moment, breath fanning warm and soft over Alistair's lips as if he'll close that last small gap and kiss him. But, he pulls away with a smirk on his lips as he slowly backs toward the throne. His hand does slip, but only to circle around Alistair's wrist, urging him to follow along. ]

Tell me, though, I'm quite interested. What sort of books would they be?

[ The perk with being the king, really the only perk as far as Alistair sees it, is that he can do whatever he wants. Hare off on a quest with scoundrels to find his father with his kingdom none-the-wiser? Not a problem. Take anyone he wants to his bed? Possibly a problem but no one can actually stop him. If he wanted to, he could give Dorian lands and a title in Ferelden. He could have anyone who looked at him funny hanged.

Dreams aren’t so far out of reach, when there’s a king involved.

He just hopes that it isn’t the crown that’s got Dorian reaching out to touch him. It’s neither a pull toward nor a push away, but it’s not a push away and Alistair takes what he can get. And then he stops thinking about what it is and isn’t when Dorian leans in, his breath is warm against Alistair’s mouth. His eyelids grow heavy, not quite closing but starting to, and he licks his lips ever so briefly. Waiting for it. Waiting… ]

Sorry, books?

[ Alistair blinks at him, confused, as he emphatically doesn’t kiss him. In fact, he’s pulling away now, walking away, leaving, and Alistair’s only recourse is to half-stumble after him, belatedly realizing he’s got a hand on his wrist, tugging him along. It takes his brain a moment to catch up. ]

Oh, right. Books. Yes, little things with covers and pages and words written in the middle.

[ That still doesn’t explain why they’re talking about books right now and not kissing. They should be kissing. Alistair thought they were going to be kissing and he’s not pouting, no, he’s the king and kings don’t pout. Why are they talking about blasted books at this—Oh. ]

History books. You know, very officious. In the year such and such, Ferelden and Tevinter were united by the… [ He trails off, shaking his head. ] Actually, no. I think I drank too much to try to make this a clever analogy. Something outrageously smutty. One of those scandalous romance novels all the courtiers like to pretend they’re too highborn to read and spend every party giggling about in whispers.

[ Dreams are incredibly far out of reach when he's basically an exiled scion of his house. Not in so many words, of course, but Dorian knows his standing with his father. So, he will indulge in his whimsical dreams and what ifs as a reprieve from the truths of his life. There's no harm in it. No harm in thinking he might actually mean something to someone instead of just a pleasant tumble in the sheets.

But, it's a role he's played many times before and one he can easily slip into again. Dorian can be the wanton tease, the sanctimonious lover, the lecherous little secret. The thicker he lays it all on, the better it fills all the cracks of wanting. It becomes easier to convince himself this is all just a game. Eventually the pieces will clear the board for checkmate and the game will be over.

Might as well enjoy what he's got while he's got it.

Dorian laughs softly, unable to help himself. The wine makes it harder to repress his initial responses. No matter how much he'd like to—at least to upkeep his own game, anyway. Tipping his head to the side, he hums thoughtfully and regards Alistair with a curious look. ]

Smutty literature, is it? [ There's a knife edge to his smile, sharp and cunning. ] Then perhaps we ought to work on the smutty part.

[ There's no hesitation as he sits on the throne, no second thought crosses his mind. Now is the time for boldness. Dorian slips easily into this particular role, takes to it like a fish to water. It's not difficult to affect a hauteur attitude (he carries it most days as it is), his legs lazily spread and he leans against one gaudy armrest of the throne to cradle his chin in the palm of his hand. His eyes are dark, yet catch the glittering of the fires that light the room. A wide gesture is given with his other hand to encompass the space in front of him; when he next speaks the tease is gone from his voice and carries a demanding presence. ]

Kneel before your king and swear fealty. Prove your worth.

[ giving or receiving! ]

Mm... Say, Makoto...

[How exactly Makoto came to have an overly-affectionate ball of ~~fur~~ fluffy white hair laying belly-down between his legs is of significantly less importance to Kogitsunemaru than nuzzling the still-clothed abdomen of the poor teenager, understandably enough. It's been a lazy enough day that he'd skulked into Makoto's room and flopped down in front of him, initially doing nothing more than making himself comfortable in the other's lap. Now, though, as he presses his nose against the fabric of Makoto's shirt, he's making it clear that just sitting around isn't exciting enough for an insatiable creature like himself.

Idly swaying his legs up and down, the tachi brings out the smoothest smile he can manage, just for the occassion.]

I've been behaving exceptionally well lately, haven't I? [Leering up with narrowed eyes, Kogitsunemaru's fingers rub small circles against the curve of the boy's hips. He's always well behaved; saying it now is entirely deliberate.] Foxes are quite fond of treats now and then, you know.

[Not to be subtle about it or anything.]

Hmm?

[ Makoto was zoning out a bit, relaxing contently even with the large tachi laying across his legs. From time to time he would absentmindedly run his fingers through Kogitsunemaru's hair. He looks down at him and cocks his head. His breath hitches when the tachi's nose presses against him unexpectedly.

Makoto may appear to be completely untainted and innocent, but he knew Kogitsunemaru wanted to do more than just laze around the rest of the day. ]

Yeah, you've b-been good. [ His softly gasps in the middle of his sentence when he felt Kogitsunemaru's fingers massage his hips. He licks his lips, looking at him straight in the eye now. ] What...kind of treat do you want, Kogi?

( preference for receiving )

[m/f preferred, m/m for cast or gamemates]

[Ahem. I sadly want to make this drunkenly happen so they can both regret it after.]

[No sad, only oral bliss. I'm cool to either give or receive!]

[I'm going to be a selfish poop for him and go receive because wow, alien dicks are just too weird, man. =| Where is it? There's nothing there, plate boy.

Drunken party at the oasis?]

[Use your imagination you ding dong.

And that works for me! But you get to start.]

[But of course...]

Orgy oasis had opened, though Fernando kept telling him it was a terrible name. Damon disagreed. It said exactly what it meant on the tin. Wasn't that the point? Either way, he'd given out invitations to every Unseelie that had a shard, and a few without. The people whose names he actually remembered got specialized invites, ones with passes for free lodging for their stay and drink passes and all the bells and whistles of a VIP. First impressions were important and even Damon knew the benefit of making sure that someone enjoyed their first visit enough to want to come back again.

Javik happened to be on the list of VIPs, so the alien would receive the full package through the mail, along with a handwritten note that basically dared him to come and enjoy himself, if he was even capable.

Yes, Damon could act like a twelve year old. Prove him wrong, Javik.

The two of them were well past first impressions by now. The invitation almost went ignored, but it had been more than a few months since he'd last gone out that way. As an active captain the Unseelie army, he technically had a duty to make his rounds. Whether or not they officially included that spire was irrelevant. VIP 'pass' and challenging note in hand, Javik stepped through the fairy ring to whatever nightmare Damon had concocted for them.

The baron was, of course, otherwise occupied when he arrived. Fernando was very regretful, etc., so Javik took the opportunity to find the alcohol and pass the time on his own. The spire hadn't changed much, save for the amount of drunk and/or naked people hanging about. Not too much different from certain wards on the Citadel, actually.

By the time Damon found him, he'd already passed his limit on the number of drinks he'd allowed himself.

The spire might not have changed, but if Javik hadn't found his way to the actual waterfall and oasis, Damon was going to have to drag him there -- especially since the vampire remembered how much the little buggy had enjoyed soaking in the pool of souls.

But that was possibly for later and it was with a smirk that Damon came upon Javik, his own drink in hand and well into the double digits for the evening. "Oh, look. You came. And here I thought you'd send the invite back covered in crap and set on fire."

That was Damon for 'Hi, nice to see you.'

His trip to the Pool of Souls had been meant to be private, but Damon had a lovely way of ruining things for him. So, as nice as the oasis probably was, he'd hate it on principle.

Javik frowned, and when he blinked, all four eyes were totally out of sync. The vampire reeked of blood and alcohol, as usual. "I would not even go through the trouble."

He hadn't bothered to RSVP, anyways. Poor Fernando.

The quadruple blink effect had him lifting both brows, wondering exactly what that was a sign of. He'd figure it out. "Yet here you are. Which one was worth more trouble, I wonder?"

Hey, he hadn't done the intrusion on purpose. Blame the Black Shuck, okay?

Inebriation, mostly.

"Both. Neither." Javik snorted, waving one hand. The motion just about tipped him over, but he kept himself upright by sheer determination. "Regardless, here I am."

Damon narrowed his eyes, picking up the whiff of alcohol that lingered around the prothean. Then he smiled. "Why, my little buggy boy... are you drunk?" Because that? That was worth the attitude.

Javik's frown, somehow, deepened.

"No," he said, then thought better of it: "I have had too much to drink, yes."

Having too much and being drunk were too entirely different things in his mind.

He laughed, moving to slide an arm around Javik's shoulder, watching those multiple eyes with a casual sort of curiosity. "Are you actually enjoying yourself? Be still my slow-beating heart. I'm shocked. Though, I knew it had to happen eventually."

Javik tensed at the contact, simply out reflex and habit than anything else. He made no move to get away from the vampire.

"Do I look as though I am enjoying myself?" He bared his teeth, inclining his head towards Damon's. Given his expression and general disposition, most people would say no to that question.

"Honestly? I can't tell with you. One expression looks a lot like the next. You could be laughing your ass off half the time and I wouldn't know it. But, come on," he said, giving him a bit of a tug. "Your glass is empty and clearly you need more."

At that, Javik actually did smile, and it was almost unpleasant on his face.

"I spend a great deal of time laughing at the antics of primitive," he said. Looking down at his glass, and finding that it was as Damon said, he didn't resist as the vampire pulled him along.

"Just a pointer, but when you refer to the people around you like they're a dirty word? They might usually have a problem with that. I don't, of course, because I really don't care, but... a tip for later. In case you find that special someone you want to woo."

There was a bar off to the side and Damon headed them over that way. Grabbing a bottle of something handed out to him, he filled Javik's glass, then set his own down to do the same. "Unless you can't woo. Or don't have-- well. I have seen it all and I don't really think there's much to woo there with."

"I already told you I am not here to make friends." And yet, people kept trying to be his friend, or change his mind. He needed to start telling them about how he cut the throats of the last batch of friends he had, but that thought sent him down darker roads. As soon as the glass was filled, he drained it in one shot, setting it down a little too hard on the table. "Why would I want to... woo anyone?"

At the moment, he didn't really care that Damon doubted the existence of whatever equipment he had to offer.

"Why wouldn't you? Or does your kind not actually do anything for pleasure? I mean, I can't procreate, which is sort of the whole legitimate purpose of sex, but... I sure as hell enjoy the practice. Do buggy aliens not enjoy sex? Or do you just... lay eggs? Maybe you're actually a hermaphrodite? Whatever. There has to be something you actually like doing."

Guess whose glass is getting refilled?

Javik scoffed, and the drink was back up to his lips without him really even looking at it. "We always found it to be quaint when a species found they could have intercourse for pleasure, and not solely reproduction. Aliens can be so limited in what they experience, so... numb to one another. We were always a very connected people."

A few words slurred here and there, and he was starting to use his hands for emphasis. Alcohol appeared to have stripped him of the barrier he kept up between the two of them.

An interesting fact for the vampire to observe and one he might have to try to duplicate at another time. For now, he merely enjoyed the fact that not only was Javik drunk, but he was downright genial at the moment. Smiling, he sipped his own drink, watching as hands moved expansively while he chatted.

"Mm, and are you saying that you have more intimate ways of doing... whatever it is you do that primitives don't?"

"Of course it is more intimate." Javik looked positively insulted at the prospect that it wasn't. "Humans, turians - they all lack the sensory ability that allows us to read another on the deepest level. Genetics, memory --"

His lips peeled back in another long-toothed grin. "-- erogenous zones."

When you knew instantly what it would take to get your partner off, not a whole lot could go wrong.

"So you're telling me that genetic memory makes you better lovers? I'm disappointed. I thought it would be more... well, more. With the right attention to detail, humans, and vampires, can easily find the right places to get the party started. I thought you'd have better tricks."

"Clumsy and time consuming." Javik waved it off. Maybe to others it sounded like it took out the mystery and thrill of exploration, but not to him. Being born and raised in war, the culture he'd lived in had been robbed of such luxurious love-making. Quick and heated had its place in the universe. "And more how? What did you expect?"

"I don't know. Something... alien-y. Way more fun than just 'All the other buggys like it when I press here, so you will too'. Feels awfully... primitive."

Was that a dig? Totally a dig.

"At what point did I say we all felt exactly the same?" The look of absolute hate that passed over his face could have peeled paint from the walls. It was a successful dig. "You do not even know what biotics can do for intercourse."

"Oh, please, enlighten me." He gestured with his hand, drink barely staying in the glass as he smirked over at Javik. Ah, he did so love getting a reaction from him.

And a reaction was what he got - Javik's hand shot out faster and more precisely than it should have, grabbing Damon's collar and hauling him forward. Gripping both his shoulders, Javik pushed his face into Damon's neck, dragging his tongue up his jawline. That part might not have been entirely necessary, but the more senses he exposed to Damon, the easier it was to read him. The smell of blood always clung to him, and Javik's sensory pits practically burned at the proximity to alien skin.

Of all the things he expected from the prothean, that was the last on his list. Surprise flashed across his face, drink sloshing as his hands moved up. The tongue over his skin was... definitely not on the list of things he would have thought Javik would ever do. The look he gave him was a medley of 'what the fuck'? "You lick each other? That's how aliens mate? I almost feel sorry for you guys now."

Javik growled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. There were a number of ways he could shut the vampire up, so he started with the most obvious. If the lick was unexpected, the kiss was probably inconceivable, even if it was mostly teeth. One hand pressed at the back of Damon's neck, intending to push him closer, while the other went straight south.

He didn't go right for the obvious choice this time, though, hand curving down his back to the base of his spine. The smell and taste of the vampire filled his senses, flooding him with endorphins and hormones and adrenaline. Prolonged contact allowed him to read Damon like a map, and he wasn't going to give him the benefit of taking it slow.

Note to self: Drunk Javik was an unpredictable Javik. He hadn't quite decided whether he liked this version of the alien or not, though the hand moving lower was questionable -- until it found that place low on his back that sent a small thrill through him.

The hand with the drink moved away until he could set it down on the bar, the free hand moving to rest somewhere on the alien's shoulder, fingers tapping there as he felt lips that didn't feel like lips pressing against his own.

Javik's lips were wide, the texture rougher than what Damon was used to but familiar enough. When he didn't pull back, Javik's tongue swept over the vampire's lower lip. He ducked his head lower, long teeth stopping at his adam's apple and biting just shy of too hard. He dropped his hand to join the other, using the leverage to push them flush together. It wasn't entirely comfortable, considering the armor Javik always wore, but he didn't hear Damon complaining just yet.

Damon was a creature of indulgences. He was a hedonist, immersing himself in sensational excesses; too much blood, sex, drink... It didn't matter. He just liked to feel. And right now, he was feeling pretty good. He had more than just a buzz on and the hands at his back and rear were on a sensitive spot. The teeth at his neck, though not fangs and not piercing flesh, were enough to have his eyes closing and his body to start to stir itself awake. "Is this an alien thing? Give you a few drinks and you get all... friendly?"

Damn, he'd started talking again. His tone, at least, was just another indicator that Javik was winning, as Damon became more and more receptive to what he was doing. He went lower again, nudging past cloth to work his teeth and lips over his collarbone.

"Most species experience impaired inhibitions when consuming alcohol," he stopped long enough to respond. "And regret what they do later."

Later was a long ways off. Without pausing in what he was doing, he took quick stock of the room around them, spotting what he was looking for. Fingers kneading deeper into Damon's back, he pushed forward, steering him towards a couch.

It was the kneading that melted him a little. Touches were one thing, but he rarely had more than a skim of fingers or the brush of lips over him. The kneading went deeper, sending a pulse of pleasure through him that had his body reacting in kind, both in his docility and his physical reactions. He let Javik steer him back, his own fingers toying with what the prothean was wearing. Not quite as malleable as clothes. "Is that what this is? Well, so far, I think I like you impaired."

Javik simply hummed in response, deciding against dignifying that with an answer. He stopped when Damon was right in front of the furniture, hands moving to his hips to force him to sit down. For the moment, he remained standing, though there were a number of things threatening to bring him down. Thanks to the alcohol, looking down at Damon nearly gave him vertigo.

Fighting it off, Javik attempted to remove the upper portion of his armor, which was easier said than done after who-knew how many drinks.

Pushed down, Damon leaned back, sprawling over the couch and grinning up at Javik. It was the actual difficulty the alien seemed to be having with his own armor that had him chuckling. "Do you want a hand with that? I'm almost enjoying myself here and I'd hate for the party to end early because you fell and broke something."

Damon received another nonverbal answer in the form of a growl. Leaving his mouth unoccupied had undesirable results, so he was going to have to plan this out a little better. Maybe this would be easier if he weren't so drunk, but - there was a good chance he wouldn't be doing this sober.

After a few agonizing seconds, the armor came loose, and he let it drop to the floor. Javik didn't bother removing anything else, since that was the most awkward part of the equipment. Nudging it out of the way, Javik turned his attention back to Damon and promptly dropped to his knees in front of him. Normally he looked vaguely offended or insulted in Damon's presence, but at the moment he looked downright predatory.

Insulted. Damon would go with insulted most of the time, like he'd caught scent of something foul. But now? Well, there was something a little dangerous about an unknown element kneeling between his legs and looking at him like that. He might not be able to read the prothean as well as he could humans, but he had senses of his own to use and there was a different tilt to his head, a different set to his shoulders like he had a purpose. "Is your buggy language all grunts and growls? Because I don't speak that."

"A pity," Javik rumbled, hands sliding on the cushion alongside Damon's legs. He leaned forward, all four eyes hard on Damon's face, and made another one of those 'grunts and growls'.

This one Damon hadn't heard before, and it was distinctly alien. A grinding sort of buzz resonated deep in Javik's chest, moving up his throat as the pitch changed. It was a physical sound, and the vibrations traveled straight to Damon's groin. He'd positioned himself over the vampire like this for that exact reason.

Damon narrowed his eyes as Javik moved closer, wondering if the cute little intimacies would continue or if he'd decided he wanted to change it to something more lethal. Then that sound happened. At first he wasn't exactly sure what it was, or what exactly was happening. Then he felt the resonance in his body, the sound seeming to localize physically towards his crotch. He shifted a little, cock going from the waking stir of before to fully erect, quickly enough to almost be painful. He let out a sigh, licking his lips as he leveled Javik with a gaze. "Seems you've got some tricks up your sleeve after all. Color me curious. What else can you do?" His hand came up to trace along Javik's jaw, wondering if he could feel the pitch if he moved his hand lower.

The sound trailed off, and Javik hesitated when Damon's hand came close to his throat. Old reflexes welled up in him, and the urge to bat him away was nearly overpowering. He hadn't survived a war of extinction by being careless, even when he was intimate.

Common sense, and alcohol, eventually won, and he tipped his chin up briefly to give Damon more access. It was short lived, as his answer to Damon's question was to drop his head again, sinking his teeth into his inner thigh. One of his hands pulled up over Damon's hip, palming his cock though the fabric of his pants.

There was that brief moment of acquiescence, the baring of his throat something that even a 'primitive' could understand. Then teeth were in his thigh and a hand was pressed over him and his head fell back, hips lifting up off the couch in response, body jerking with the sudden rush of pleasure he hadn't expected. "Jesus..."

His hand trailed along the spotted blue of Javik's neck, feeling the difference in texture between that and the red below. It was an noticeable change and he found his finger playing over a line between one and the other as he focused on the sting of Javik's teeth, his gums aching as his fangs begged to be released.

He bit harder than necessary, mostly to get through the fabric, but Damon's reaction told him it had been just right. He relented, briefly, to correct him: "Javik."

Not Jesus. He turned his head to bite the other thigh, much closer to his groin this time. His hand continued to work Damon, getting a feel for the shape and size of him. Damon's fingers managed to elicit another sound from him, though it was closer to a hum than the vibration from before. That was bug-language for 'keep doing that.'

Without lifting his head, Javik moved both hands to start the frustrating process of opening Damon's pants. Fine motor control had left with his inhibitions, unfortunately.

Damon's hadn't, and it was easy enough to flick the button open and unzip his pants one-handed as his other kept playing over the parts that made Javik do his version of a purr. He felt the wounds heal up before Javik had time to sink teeth in again and his thighs spread wider, giving him ample room to play in. "You know, this is kind of unfair since I don't even know where what is on you. Or if you even have... well, I'm not an entomologist."

What were bug genitals, Javik?

Javik moved his hands to let Damon do that part for him, stopping short of diving back in when the vampire insisted on opening his mouth again. The first response was a flat, uncomprehending look, as if didn't believe what Damon was asking.

"Reciprocation is unnecessary." That wasn't to say Javik was entirely selfless, just... a bit too focused on one aspect to consider another. His hands tugged at the fabric of his pants, pulling them down just an inch or two, and then reached in to pull Damon's cock free, three-fingered hand stroking up the length of it.

"Tru--ue..." That game out as a groaning sigh, head falling back again as his hips lifted up once he felt long fingers slide over sensitive skin. "Doesn't mean I'm not curious about what reciprocation would be like. Or if it's even possible."

Don't tell Damon what he can't or shouldn't do, because then he'll damnwell do it.

"We would be compatible." That was really all he had to say on the matter, for the time being at least. At present, he was more concerned with Damon's anatomy, as reading one's nervous system wasn't quite the same actually handling them. He squeezed as he stroked, testing the firmness, pausing briefly to roll his thumb over the head. With his free hand, he reached in to grip the baron's balls, seemingly confused by their presence. He avoided coming in contact with any pubic hair, which was easier said than done.

His exploration bordered on being a little to clinical, until he leaned forward, tongue rolling out to rake up the underside of Damon's cock.

Damon kept himself trimmed, though he wasn't in the practice of complete hair removal. That was just gauche. He was an adult male, not a prepubescent teenager. But he did like it so that it looked appealing, and a little trim here and there did the trick. Fortunately for Javik, Damon's testicles weren't of the overly hairy variety, so he didn't have to be too bothered by it.

But that comment did have him lifting his head, looking down at Javik and sliding his fingers down over the red skin that seemed to get the better reaction from him. "Would we? I might like to see that."

And then a tongue was dragging over him and he felt himself tense briefly before that shudder of pleasure ripped through him.

The less hair, the better, and if Javik knew that Damon actually groomed on a regular basis, he might actually thank him for it. The hand on his throat distracted him for a moment, and he considered the wisdom of exposing his neck to a vampire. Instead of repulsing him, the thought alone sent a rush of arousal hammering through his veins. He looked up at Damon, four eyes half-lidded and lips parted as he was caught between thinking about what he was doing, and what he was about to do.

His tongue, sharply pointed and longer than it had any right to be, lashed out and wound itself around Damon's cock. Angling his head down, his lips closed around the head, free hand stroking what wasn't covered by his tongue or mouth.

That tongue was definitely something that Damon felt was a bit above what humans had, and it reminded him a little of Aly. His finger caught in the shirt Javik was still wearing, tugging at it as he wondered just how far down all that red skin went.

Of course, it was hard to think when there was heat around the head of his cock again, that tongue doing wonders that made him wish he'd thought to do this before. Maybe he should get the prothean drunk more often. As he lifted his hand up, trailing it along Javik's throat and up over his jaw, his fingers might have skimmed over those nostril-looking things on his face.

Very far down, so long as Damon was willing to accept the chitinous plating that interrupted it.

Given his state of inebriation, and waking arousal, his sensory pits were already tingling from the smell of sex. So when Damon touched one, even by accident, he inhaled sharply through his nostrils, lips and tongue tightening simply out of reflex. Instead of putting him off, however, it seemed to encourage him, and Javik pulled his tongue up at the same time he pushed more of Damon's length into his mouth.

Damon bit his lip, feeling his cock get pulled further into Javik's mouth and pretty much willing to go along with it.

But... there was that whole jab at his ego thing that had to be seen to and he moved his finger around the outside of Javik's lips that were wrapped around him, inadvertently touching the sensory pits again. "I think there should be less clothes. For both of us. It's not every day I get to play and I didn't get that good of a look at you before."

Javik's eyelids fluttered at the second touch to the pits, making a noise that might have been a bit louder if not for the cock in his mouth. But then Damon was talking again - always goddamn talking. He had to be the nosiest partner he'd ever had, and they'd barely even started.

He released Damon's dick and let his tongue roll over his bottom lip, before settling into a half-hearted sneer. While he didn't dare attempt to stand, he straightened up, pushing away from Damon and tugging at the collar of his undersuit with one hand. Some unseen seam loosened under his fingers, and he pulled his hand down, splitting the suit open down the front, collarbone to crotch. It was skin tight, and had to be peeled off of his arms and torso. The material was designed to protect him from the extremes of vacuum and intense environments. Bit by bit, he exposed hard chitin spotted blue flesh and sinuous red skin stretched over hard muscle to Damon.

And Damon was happy to watch, moving as Javik did to pull off first his tshirt, then to shuck down the trousers and underwear that would only get in the way. Being nude didn't bother him in the slightest and it was nude that Damon leaned back against the couch, eyes skimming over all those different colors and textures, marking the red spots that he knew to be more sensitive than others. "Much better. Now... where exactly do aliens like to be touched?"

It took Javik a bit longer to be fully disrobed, well aware that he was being watched by the vampire. The entire affair frustrasted him, not understanding why Damon couldn't have just let him keep doing what he'd been doing. He was, of course, judging it against what he'd known in his old life. Any intimacy was a stolen moment, rushed and desperate and passionate. There was only so much time to spare between bouts of fighting for their lives.

The fact that he had the time and opportunity to do this differently with an alien was mercifully lost on him at present. He balanced on his knees again once he was naked, frowning at Damon. Much like the first time he'd gotten a full frontal, there was nothing but smooth plating between Javik's legs.

"Where do you think?" A challenge - Damon had no prothean sensory ability to make it a simple task.

Again, his gaze narrowed as he looked Javik over. The obvious spot seemed not so obvious as his eyes went to Javik's crotch to see just the smooth plating, but Damon didn't give up that easily.

What he would do would be to move, quicker than Javik might be able to track to have the pair of them switching places, lifting, turning and placing Javik on the couch and crouching down between his legs as he looked up at him. Challenge accepted, buggy. "I think I'm going to have to take a little time to find out."

Luckily for both of them, the sudden switch wasn't so jarring as to cost Javik the contents of his stomach. The best he could do was grip the couch cushions, eyes wide as his heart hammered up in his throat. That he hadn't been expecting.

"As you say," he finally managed, unconsciously spreading his thighs. His hips were wide, set out further from his torso than a human's, and lined with that same red skin. Whatever else he had to offer was kept safely behind layers of chitin.

It was about time he could turn the surprise tables on the alien, leaning in and seeking out those red bits of skin. He dragged his mouth up one leg, moving all the way up to where red peeked through, then, with a smile, he let his fangs slide free. He licked a line over the thinner, softer area first before the kiss turned into a bite, fangs sliding in to see what it was aliens tasted like for the first time.

A shiver ran through Javik's body at the contact, tension easing right up until the point Damon sank his fangs into an area that was already more sensitive than it ought to be. He let out a strangled shout, rolling his hips as the pain and pleasure jolted through him. One hand grabbed at Damon's head, but he didn't seem capable of deciding between tearing him away or encouraging him. The latter won out, as he felt his groin tighten, cock swelling within the confines of his body but not pushing out just yet.

His blood shared that coppery taste of a human's, though sharper and tinged with a bit of ozone and spice.

He wasn't biting to feed as much as he was to return the nips of earlier, so he pulled free fairly early and didn't pull as much blood into his mouth as he would otherwise. But the taste was there and he rolled it around. It was different. Not in a bad way, but definitely something that he probably wouldn't want to have to survive off of forever.

But it would make a nice snack now and then. Licking the blood off his lips, he licked over the tiny little holes, then nosed over Javik's crotch before sliding his mouth over to another patch of red on the other side of his body, licking and nipping at that, fangs put away for now.

Javik's leg twitched at the licking, fighting to keep his hips from bucking or his thighs from closing around Damon's head. The punctures throbbed, but the pain was dulled by everything else that was happening. Even if he didn't count the fifty thousand years in stasis, his body was still responding to attention it hadn't had in a long time. It wasn't long before Damon's persistence, and curiosity, were rewarded. The ventral plating between Javik's legs split, and his erection slid free, slick and red to match the rest of him. The skin was still loose near the crown, but there was no missing the rigid sub-dermal plating that lined the underside of his cock. Teeth bared, Javik watched Damon with a dazed sort of intensity.

Well.

That was unexpected. Again, Javik seemed intent on surprising the hell out of him and he turned his head to watch the alien's cock slide free, licking at the edge of the red skin under his mouth as he eyed the new member. Curious, he brought his hand up to drag a finger up along the side of his length, wondering just how sensitive it was and what the reaction would be.

And at least he knew now Javik was male for certain. Good for him.

Plenty sensitive. Javik's fingers dug into the couch, threatening to tear the fabric as he struggled to restrain himself. Damon would be able to feel him shaking, before he gained control again and actually remembered to breath. It had been too long, he'd had too much to drink, and the vampire was dragging this out for far too long.

"Satisfied?" He ground out, pupils dilated in unmistakable desire.

"Not entirely, but it's good to know you've got something hiding under there." He grinned, leaning in and returning the favor of earlier, licking along the underside of Javik's cock, feeling the difference in texture and heat for himself. He wondered if the skin around the tip was like that of the uncircumcised male penis, tongue sliding up to flick around the looser skin before he dragged it up over the crown.

Honestly, he hadn't expected Damon to be satisfied. The vampire wanted to talk over getting a blow job, so nothing should surprise him anymore.

Javik hissed at the contact, thighs tensing again. The stimulation sent another throb of arousal through him, and wetness seeped from the red-ribbed skin under his crown. Alien cock was, apparently, self-lubricating.

The real question was; what did alien cock taste like?

Earthy, shy of spicy with a sharp sort of sweetness thanks to the coital fluid. Tinged with that same ozone as his blood, thanks to the element zero infused in his body.

Damon dragged his tongue over the slickness, tasting it like he had the blood. Again, not bad, but not something he'd want to have to survive on. And because he was enjoying seeing Javik a little out of his element, he fixed his mouth over the cap of his cock, sucking at it lightly and letting the broad flat part of his tongue lick over the top before he began to draw more of it into his mouth.

Javik grit his teeth, lips pursed and fingers dragging at the fabric of the couch, and then he finally relented. His head tipped back, throat opening as he moaned, hips rolling up towards Damon's mouth. The uncertain, resistant tension bled out of his body, replaced with an acceptance and eagerness a hedonist would recognize from a mile away.

His cock throbbed, seeming to grow harder under the attention. The plating was stiff, but still flexible.

His hand came up to wrap around near the base, squeezing almost gently as he dragged it up to where his mouth was, then back down, mouth trying to follow after until he'd taken Javik in as far as he could. He slowly pulled back up, sucking harder until he reached the cap, teeth grazing against the cap as he tested just what sort of sensations Javik could handle.

Once upon a time, Javik had a high tolerance for this sort of thing, but he reacted to most of what Damon did as if it were the first time he was experiencing it. Time had sharpened a number of his senses, but he'd left these feelings by the wayside for far too long.

He tried to speak, to communicate in something other than the growl that thrummed in his chest, eventually managing a strained 'uunngh.' The message was fairly clear, at least: more of that, please.

Javik seemed to be taciturn by nature, but that didn't stop Damon from doing exactly what he wanted to do, enjoying having what he considered the upper hand at the moment. His free hand went to Javiks' thigh, finding its way up the carapace to the gaps of more sensitive skin and gripping him as he continued to drag his mouth up and down along the ridged shaft.

His leg twitched at every touch, sending more twinges of pleasure and stimulation through him than he knew how to handle. There was a pressure in his sternum, a building tension that signaled his coming orgasm. Sooner than he'd like, of course, but there was nothing for it. Both hands scrambled to grab Damon's head, to urge him on, but the vampire's head was too... round. Too small. He settled for linking his fingers together on the back of his neck, holding him in place without forcing him down.

Javik's legs were spread as far they could go, hips rocking to meet Damon's mouth. He was so fucking close -

There was a moment where Damon had a decision to make -- to keep doing what Javik so desperately seemed to want him to do, or to pause and drag it out more.

Guess which one he chose?

He pulled up off the prothean, moving his mouth over to where his fingers played, then crawling up to all but sit in his lap. "I think I like you like this, even if you still can't manage to actually say anything nice."

The sudden loss was almost painful, and Javik reeled at the sudden, infinitely cruel deprivation. With Damon crawling into his lap, he couldn't even reach down to finish the job himself, leaving his cock throbbing so hard he swore he saw stars.

Once the shock wore off, pure rage flashed across his face. His hands dropped down to grip Damon's arms, a little too tightly to be friendly. "You should not have stopped."

"Consider it a pause. You're wound too tightly and I think you need to learn the benefit of a little downtime. Which means taking your time. You'll get there, Buggy. Just not right this second. It always feels better when you take your time with it." He moved his mouth to that red patch at Javik's throat, licking before he bit at him. No fangs still, but enough that he could feel the promise behind his teeth.

Javik didn't look convinced at all. He hated this, he hated Damon, and he hated the notion of being told to take his time. This wasn't what he wanted at all, and yet here they were. Why the vampire hadn't just accepted what he'd been giving him earlier, he'd never know.

He didn't dignify that with a response, either, scowl etched on his face again. Despite his obvious displeasure, on all levels, his chin still tipped up at the lick and nip.

Because the vampire liked to be in control and liked to do more then just lay there. And because he was a bit of a dick.

But when Javik tilted his chin up and gave him more access, Damon took it, teeth fastening around the thinner skin as he gave a low growl, body moving so that his cock brushed up against Javik's, feeling the slick of both his own saliva and Javik's lubrication.

Javik exhaled loudly, inhaling sharply through his nostrils in turn. The denial had wound up his tension again, but Damon's ministrations threatened to break down those barriers a second time. The result was the occasional shudder that traveled through his body, easily mistaken for shaking.

He hummed as Damon's cock slid against his, and remembering earlier, let both his hands come to rest over the small of his back. Two could play at this game.

His own cock twitched when he felt hands on his lower back, hips rocking to let him rut against Javik as he orally explored all those little pockets of red around the alien's neck.

Though, there was one thing he was curious about...

"Are these scars?" He asked as he lifted his head, finger moving to outline one of the sensory pits that he noticed drew reactions from him.

His hum deepened as Damon pushed against him, thighs tensing so he could meet the contact. This was more like it, and they were getting back on track until the vampire started poking around again.

Javik twitched, head jerking slightly to escape Damon's finger. He was hypersensitive now, thanks to Damon's little trick. It would probably take weeks before the smell and sense of the vampire faded from there. "No. They are sensory pits."

"What, like... snakes?" Well, that was certainly interesting. He wondered what would happen if he just... leaned in and let his tongue drag over one before he brushed his lips over Javik's.

"Like - " he couldn't even finish his retort before Damon's tongue filled the groove, sending a lightning bolt of sensory information and arousal crashing through him. His hands tightened on Damon's back, hips rolling up as he growled in response. Lurching forward, he crushed his lips against Damon's, tongue snaking out to taste him.

That was a reaction he liked, making a small little pleased sound as he let his tongue play with the longer, thinner one that found its way into his mouth. The hands at his back send a pleasurable tingle up his spine, making his body rut in against Javik's again. He was tempted to see what the prothean would do if he just licked and kissed at the grooves alone.

Javik let Damon fall against him, meeting his hips to give his own cock the stimulation it had been starved of for so long. The kiss had a lot less teeth than the first time, and eventually Javik pulled away, trying to enjoy the grind of their hips.

Damon was welcome to find out what would happen.

Damon was going to find out what would happen, lips moving up to one of the longer grooves, tongue dragging along it until it passed that one and moved up to the ones closer to his eyes. He pressed closer to Javik as he did, both cocks trapped between the press of their bodies.

He jerked his head again in response, though not as violently as the first time. Damon had him good and cornered, providing just enough friction between their legs and licking him numb with pleasure. His eyes nearly squeezed shut the longer he teased the pits, and the groan that welled up in his chest deepened quickly.

That same, guttural buzz from before returned, and Javik wrapped his arms around Damon's torso, letting the vibrations go right through him.

It was considerably hard to take control of a situation like this when an alien grabbed you around the waist and used magical sound buzzing that seemed to make a direct line towards his already hard cock. The sound had him letting out a low moan, head resting against Javik's as he took a moment to try to get himself together, cock leaking precome as he felt the vibration touch him in ways he didn't think possible. "That... is a nifty trick," he murmured, tongue darting out to zig zag back and forth over one of the pits before trying to actually lick into the longer one.

Javik smiled briefly, a little too distracted and scattered to let it stick. "I did not know if it would work on an alien or not."

Good to know that it did, really. Humans couldn't hear a turian's subharmonics, after all, but they were still affected. Anything he had over Damon, however, instantly dissolved when he kept toying with his sensory pits. All he could taste, see and smell was the vampire, every sense filled with the man in his lap.

He let out a sharp gasp, hips bucking more forcefully against Damon. If he didn't get off soon, he was going to go mad.

Well, now Javik knew it did, and Damon might just try to get him to do it again at a later point, if only because it was such a new sensation, but such a good one.

Of course, with that going on and the friction to his cock, along with the hands at his back, Damon wanted... well, we all know what Damon wanted. He wanted sex. He wanted to get off in a thousand different ways and he was edging more towards wanting it now than later. For now, he drew his mouth away from those very fun to tease areas, nipping once at Javik's lips before heading back to the pulse at his throat and biting lightly at it as he stilled his hips against the prothean. Again, he wanted to draw it out more, but considering how volatile Javik's initial reaction had been to the pause, he was curious how he'd react to another detour.

Javik's upper lip peeled up over his teeth, but he tilted his head back nonetheless, giving Damon free access. His fingernails dug into Damon's back as he stilled, continuing to roll his hips against him in protest. This was fine. This would work. Damon's mouth had been better, but this would do just as well.

Desperation was turning out to be his reaction, but like hell he was letting the vampire win this round. The sounds he made were somewhere between growls and moans, fighting to maintain pressure against his cock even without the vampire moving against him.

Damon's hands reached back, grabbing for Javik's to pull them away from him for a moment. "Ah, ah. Remember. Take your time. Why not have an intermissionary drink, mm? Then I can figure out exactly how I want to finish this..." Sex itself was tempting him, as was more of the oral stimulation he loved so much.

Either way, he had options and he wanted to see just how far he could push the prothean.

There was a look of rage crossed with that same predatory nature from either, and Javik went very, very still. Apparently, he'd finally pushed just a little too far.

Javik sat up, shoving the vampire off of him, uncaring if he hit the floor or the couch. "If you knew how much time I had lost..."

He didn't finish that sentence, one hand already down and wrapping around his cock. He'd finish this himself, if Damon wanted to be like that.

Damon didn't shove that easily. Kind of a benefit of being a vampire with a ridiculous reserve of strength. He also was speedy, reaching down and halting Javik's hand.

"Look, Buggy. I didn't say we were stopping, I said we were pausing." He stood up, jerking at Javik's hand to pull him up with him. "The past is the past and if we bitched and moaned about all the things we lost, we'd never get anything done. You're here now. We're not going to be interrupted. And if you play your cards right, I can make sure that it's more than just a one-off. How much stamina do aliens have, anyway?"

Javik was nearing his boiling point, working his jaw in frustration as Damon managed to intervene again. He hesitated before answering, considering Damon's words, and then he started laughing. It... wasn't the nicest sound.

"Do you think I can achieve only one orgasm?" Since Damon hadn't moved his hand away, he gave himself a squeeze, just because he could. He leaned his face closer to Damon's. "I could last the entirety of Samhain and lose count. Sex for pleasure is a modern concept among aliens, but not protheans."

Damon smiled, wide and amused as all hell that Javik was bragging to him. "Really? Well, why not come play some of that big bad multi-orgasm alien sexuality over my way? It might be nice to find someone that can keep up with my... needs."

This time Damon did move to pull his hand away, but slowly, still trying to draw Javik up to his feet. Why? Because there was a bed behind a curtain off to the side and that meant more room for... well, everything.

He might have been embellishing a little... or a lot, but he was more than fifty thousand years out of practice. This was as good a place as any to start over, he supposed.

"Your needs," Javik snorted, but it worked. He stood, still a little woozy and uneasy on his feet despite trying to hide it.

"They're very deep." He slid his hands around Javik's waist, taking his turn to lead the alien over towards that curtained alcove. Damon wasn't nearly as drunk, but he was certainly enjoying the benefits of an alien that could turn him on with vibrations of sound. That was a new one and he leaned in, smiling as he nipped at Javik's lower lip. "And let's just say I'm curious about a few things right now."

Namely, how that ridging would feel in certain places...

Javik followed easily, chasing after Damon's lips with his tongue, a brief lick across his chin. He leaned into the vampire, arm reaching across his shoulders. It helped keep him steady, and keep them closer together.

"Such as?"

"I've never had sex with anyone other than a human or vampire. Let's just say this is an opportunity I don't want to waste." The curtain was behind him and he moved an arm back to push it aside, turning them so that he could start to press Javik back against it, encouraging him to sit, then to shuffle back. He licked at the tongue coming out to meet his, sucking briefly at it before he started to crawl onto the bed over the prothean. "I'm not really sure how copulation goes in your species, but let's just say that human, and vampire, males can go both ways."

His sensory ability gave him a hell of an advantage, but Javik had never had a partner that wasn't prothean. The fact that he'd made it this far would probably horrify him in the morning, but he was beyond the point of caring right now. He was easily herded, falling back on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows. His cock jutted up between them, just as hard and wet as it had been.

"As I said, we will be compatible." And whichever way Damon intended to take this, he was more than ready.

"Both ways?" Because not that he'd spread Javik's legs wide and gotten an up close look or anything, but he hadn't exactly seen a... suitable place for anything to be inserted, let's say.

But Damon crawled over him, grinning as he leaned his head down and gave the protruding cock a lick, then a quick suck at the tip before shuffling further up. Maybe he'd have to go for a little ride...

Javik shifted, just shy of squirming at the teasing lick. He was certain he'd suffered enough at Damon's hands (and mouth) tonight. If it was always going to be like this with the vampire, he'd reconsider drinking in his presence.

"Yes," he hissed, tongue darting out to follow the split down his chin.

That or... Javik could just learn to enjoy taking it slow. A little teasing never killed anyone. "Show me." Not necessarily so Damon could use it in that fashion, but because he wanted to know where it was if he wanted to. For later. Maybe. Or just to add to the teasing if it happened to be as sensitive as the rest of Javik's happy spots.

Maybe not killed, but definitely resulted in grievous injury. Javik was fairly certain he was going to try and rip out Damon's throat some point. If the vampire recovered, then he could do it again. Instant gratification.

"I will," he said, pushing himself up to bite Damon's chin. "And then you will show me."

Fair's fair. He dropped back down, pulling his legs up at the same time one hand wrapped around his own dick again. Damon didn't have to worry about stopping him from going to far, as he worked the crown just enough to wet his fingers.

"If that's what you want," he smiled as Javik lay back, watching the alien touch himself, seeing the slick of his own wetness spread over his fingers and finding himself reacting to the sight of it. Well, he was a bit of a voyeur. And an exhibitionist. This could be fun in its own way.

Satisfied his fingers were coated, Javik tilted his hips. Their basic anatomy was similar enough, if not entirely exact. A cursory glance would lead one to wonder where protheans kept their testicles, or if they even had any, though the rest was obvious. His hand followed around the curve of his groin, fingers stopping to circle his entrance.

Javik felt the heat rise to his face, aware of what he was doing and why. He should be repulsed by the entire act, but it just made his blood rush right back down to his dick. Without stopping to think about it too hard, he slid one finger into himself, breath hitching in his throat.

Well well, it seemed that protheans could fuck themselves. Good to know. Damon moved forward, hand sliding down to tease around the finger already inserted, his other hand giving Javik a quick stroke before he let him go. It was nice to watch and kind of a bit of a surprise to see just how receptive to touch Javik really was, considering how abrupt he could be.

As usual, Damon seemed intent on teasing, and nothing else. He was starting to think that was all he really had to offer, and dreading the thought that if he attempted to pleasure himself again, he'd be stopped. It was worth a try.

When Damon let go, Javik's free hand took its place, setting something of a clumsy rhythm between stroking himself and pushing his finger in and out. He waited for Damon to interfere, rather than join him.

Damon didn't disappoint, pulling Javik's hands away from himself, but... he didn't plan on leaving him alone for long. He crawled further up, pinning Javik's hands down beside his head, knees straddling his hips as he grinned down at him. "And now I get to show you mine, right?"

Javik rumbled in his displeasure, hips rocking in the futile attempt to maintain some sort of friction. Still, he didn't resist when Damon rearranged his hands, watching the vampire suspiciously.

"Do it."

Damon pulled Javik's hands up higher, pinning them over his head with one of his own while the other moved down to Javik's cock, fingers sliding around the cap to gather a little of that convenient lubrication. Then he moved those glistening fingers to his ass, sliding one, then two fingers in to prepare himself for his own version of show and tell. Javik likely couldn't see a damn thing he was doing at the moment, but he could feel it.

He'd feel when Damon touched his cock to gather up the fluid and he'd likely very definitely feel when the vampire moved to position Javik's dick against his own hole. "So pushy..." he purred, leaning down to lick over one of those sensory pits again as he slowly started to lower himself onto his first alien cock.

He couldn't see, no, but he could do more than feel it. Direct skin contact let him tap directly into what Damon was experiencing, and the combined anticipation made him shiver. His hands clenched into fists, straining against the super-human hold Damon had on his wrists. Javik would have liked nothing more than to grab his hips, slam him down and fuck him senseless.

Damon insisted on dragging things out, of course, so Javik relegated himself to tilting his pelvis, giving the vampire a better angle to sink onto him. The natural lubrication eased the passage, and one by one his plates slipped inside the vampire. Javik bit his lower lip almost hard enough to draw blood, before letting out a low, throaty moan at the heat enveloping his cock.

Another time, Damon might very well let Javik do that, but right now, he wanted to find out exactly what the entirety of this entailed so he could figure out what he would and wouldn't allow in the future.

He watched those teeth dig into his lips, breath puffing out over the sensitive grooves and Javik's mouth as he lowered himself still slowly down. It felt... well, it felt like a dick in his ass, but the plating gave it a different sensation, more like a fancy dildo than a human cock. Not in a bad way, at least, not yet. He pushed himself down until he was fully seated, swirling his hips once to get used to that full sort of pressure, finally releasing his hold on Javik's wrists so he could move to sit up on top of him, another little rock of his hips making the dick inside him shift and he let out a soft sound. "That's not so bad..."

Javik kept still, at least understanding the need to take this part slowly. The fact that humans (or vampires) lacked the same sort of self-lubricating asset made him wonder how aliens ever comfortably mated.

When his hands were released, he showed enough restraint by only bringing them to rest on Damon's thighs, only lightly dragging his nails across the skin. One hand snaked back up, making a pass on Damon's cock and stroking a few times. He shifted his legs apart, toes curling against the sheets, fighting every damn urge in his body to move.

He rewarded that restraint by lifting up slowly, then falling, glad that at least one of them had some sort of ability to make the passage easier. Then again, human, and vampire males, weren't genetically made to insert into anuses, so... less of a design flaw and more that their biology couldn't keep up with their non-procreative sexuality. Protheans got a check mark point for that.

Settling his knees in on either side of Javik, he started to push up, feeling himself rise up over the not entirely usual cock, then he slid back down, feeling the ridges glide over parts inside of him that sent electric shocks through him.

So long as he was thoroughly and properly stimulated, his cock would continue producing the lubricating coital fluid. He might, however, have to re hydrate himself at some point during the night...

Javik's breathing became more labored, hands finally moving to Damon's hips and gripping there. If nothing else, he could hope to consider it an insurance policy, that this meant Damon was going to let him get off. He should have been more offended that the vampire had managed to control him like that - instead, he rolled his hips experimentally, testing how Damon reacted.

Damon leaned back, stretching his body out and leaning a bit backwards to change the angle, eyes closing as he rose up and down again, feeling the way Javik moved, the three-fingered hands at his hips feeling both similar and strange to other hands he'd had on him.

Considering how their meetings always went, this was the last thing he'd expected from another run in with Javik, so he could be forgiven a laugh, head back as he rose up and down again, grinding at the end, hips circling around to move the cock inside him further. "Much better."

Alien as he was, Javik could appreciate the aesthetic of Damon's body. Lean, yet muscular, flexing and stretching in ways that mesmerized him. It probably had something to do with how that same body was working his dick, but he wasn't in the frame of mind to question it. At the moment, it was one of the most arousing things he'd seen in years, and he intended to enjoy it.

"Yes," Javik gasped, though it was unclear if he was agreeing with Damon, or the situation in general. He rotated his hips against Damon's when he came back down, slowly becoming more insistent as the vampire continued to keep the pace. Already he felt the pressure in his sternum build, denied once already.

In light of that, Javik decided 'much better' wasn't good enough. Pushing himself up, while keeping Damon firmly in his lap, he let that grinding buzz in his chest loose again, biting his collarbone at the same time.

Javik... that was entirely unfair. Being appreciated was one thing and Damon would have preened if he'd known that Javik actually enjoyed the look of him, but the bite and the vibrations that went straight to his dick again had him jerking in surprise, a hand going to Javik's shoulder. He would have gripped the back of his head, but... sort of different shapes to handle and his hand didn't naturally sit anywhere. His breath caught, his body tightening around Javik's inside him, squeezing as pleasure all but thrummed through him. "Fuck..."

Like before, the sound didn't last, gradually fading back into relative silence. Javik released his collarbone, pushing his face into Damon's neck and inhaling deeply. He closed his eyes, taking the time to utilize his sensory ability again and familiarize himself with human anatomy. In particular, what he had to do to illicit a number of responses from the vampire.

Once he was satisfied he knew what to do, Javik leaned back again, adjusting the tilt of his pelvis. When he rolled his hips back into Damon, it sent his cock in at just the right angle, pressing inside the vampire at just the right spot. Getting Damon off would result in him getting off, so he was aiming for a win-win situation here.

For someone that seemed to hate humans and everything to do with them, Javik was unnervingly good at finding those places that drove him crazy. The angle changed and he felt Javik rock up until the hardness inside of him pressed against his prostate in just the right so as to make him squeeze himself around the prothean's cock, coming down harder as pleasure zig zagged through him. He felt Javik at his neck, a flitting thought of those teeth sinking in again had him moving faster, wondering how Javik would feel if the tables were turned and Damon was using vamp speed to fuck him.

Maybe he'd have to find out later...

There was a difference between humans (or vampires) that annoyed him by speaking to him, and those that were currently working his cock. Priorities tended to change, and he was nothing if not adaptable.

Javik matched his tempo, twisting his hips when Damon came back down to ensure they fit together perfectly each time. His fingers tightened on Damon's hips, head tilting back as he slowly lost himself in the squeeze and pull of their fucking. Javik was getting close again, but he wasn't stopping until Damon went over the edge first.

If Javik was as stubborn with seeing to that as he was in keeping his mouth shut, he'd be reaching that soon enough. As it was, Damon wasn't in the mood to drag it out too long. He'd decided he wanted to play in all facets of this little pool while he could, which meant seeing what it was like on the other end of this equation.

He rode the prothean faster, meeting Javik's body in that perfect angle that had shocks vibrating through him with each thrust. Pleasure started to build, pulsing and throbbing around the base of his cock as he felt his orgasm threaten. His hand moved down to circle himself, both to control the pace and the... angle of delivery. Last thing he needed was a mouthful of his own come.

He could sense how Damon was, and the sensation washed over him twofold. A benefit and drawback of his sensory ability, really, being so keenly tuned in to what his partner was feeling. Damon couldn't reciprocate, which left half of the connection oddly empty to Javik. So long as the end result was the same, he could deal with the pit falls of mating with aliens.

The closer he got, the harder it was to focus on what he needed to do. Gasping moans escaped his throat, but try as he might, he couldn't concentrate on forcing out the buzz that so thrilled the vampire. He settled for what he might consider second best, and that was his biotics. Damon had seen it once, during Samhain, a flash of green light that enveloped Javik's body. It was there and gone the next second, but it would make Damon's skin tingle, hairs rising, like a build of pleasant static electricity.

Riding him like this with Javik sitting up instead of lying back, there was a lot more skin pressed close together and when Javik flared green, Damon had a moment of being intensely surprised and wondering if he was going to wind up fried before that melted into his orgasm hitting him, the buzz over his skin along with his body coming down on Javik's being the final push to throw him over. He tensed completely, ass clamping tightly around Javik as his body pulsed with pleasure. He angled his cock away from the pair of them, stroking himself as he came, small spurts leaving him to settle against the wall of the alcove. Oops.

Javik held him in place as he came, upper lip peeling over his teeth as he rode it out, hips still rocking against Damon until he followed suit. Given that it had been... quite a long time since Javik's last coupling, his orgasm was a whole body experience. He thrashed beneath the vampire, back arcing as he shuddered, the release of tension easily felt between the two of them. Gasping when he remember to breath, Javik's body was taunt and coiled, and then all at once he relaxed, falling onto his back on the bed.

It was a moment before he calmed, a dazed, yet satisfied look on his face. Despite the obvious signs of reaching orgasm, he left behind no mess... and his cock was still rock hard inside the vampire.

This was normally the part where Damon got off and lay beside his partner, but it was the feel of something inside him still seemingly fully aroused. He rocked again, hips doing a slow, lazy circle as he felt his body float on that cloud of pleasure. "Is that how it's going to be?"

The best Javik could do was grunt in response, eyes half lidded as Damon moved on top of him. He wanted to ask what he meant, and then his nostrils picked out the salty tang of Damon's ejaculate. Javik turned his head, eyes ticking over the stain, before looking back up at the vampire.

"You... are finished?" He had no other way of putting it, clearly confused and a little disappointed by what had just happened.

"That round, yes. But I did mention my stamina and recuperation time." Vampires had libidos like succubi and it wouldn't be long before he was ready for a second round. Especially not if he kept moving and having that length of Javik inside him pressing against his prostate.

Maybe it was a good thing he'd been denied finishing Damon off with his mouth - he wouldn't have been expecting that. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, a primal response at wondering how it might taste, and a reaction to what Damon was doing.

"It takes more than that for a prothean to ejaculate," he said, moving his fingers slowly over Damon's thighs. "Though it is not necessary at all. Can you not control your own orgasm?"

He said not necessary, but it definitely felt better.

"What exactly does it take for a prothean to ejaculate?" Something he might want to figure out if he happened to keep riding said prothean. The light touch on his thighs was nice, particularly after the grabbing and roughness of earlier. "Depends. There's something called a tantric orgasm, being able to come without, well, coming. But for the most part, men make a mess when they orgasm. For a lot of them, that's the end of the game."

"The correct amount of stimulation." Vague, yes, but he was going to keep it that way for now. Once he hit that point, it was the end of the game for him. Procreation wasn't always the goal or result of two protheans coupling, and Javik had never wanted children... as such, the number of times he'd cum, versus orgasm, was fairly low. "But not you."

It wasn't really a question. His eyes wandered back down, blatantly staring at the sight of his cock still buried deep in the vampire.

"Mm, no. Not me." Vampires were lucky that way -- so were their partners. Moving until he could lay down along Javik's front, he nuzzled against his chest, finding all the different textures there of carapace versus skin. "I suppose the better question is; what do you want to do for round two?"

Javik shifted to accommodate the vampire, hands moving from his thighs to rest on his back. Close as he was, Damon would be able to see the damage Javik's body had suffered throughout his life, practically invisible unless one was actually looking. There were scars hidden between the ripples of red flesh, chips in his chitin and a hairline crack that ran through his left breastplate. He'd taken a hell of a beating over the years, yet came out almost entirely whole.

"Whatever is... desirable." They'd just been rolling with the punches since they'd started, anyways.

"That covers a lot of ground." Fingers moved to trace over the crack in his breastplate, finding those little knicks and dings as he continued to move with Javik in him, his own body starting to stir again. "You feel up to trading places?"

Javik watched him explore, but to be honest, he was more interested in the sudden rise of arousal he sensed from Damon. Good. That didn't take very long at all.

"Acceptable," he finally said, raking his fingernails down the vampire's sides.

Moving wouldn't be hard, Javik was still buried in him and thanks to vamp speed, he could turn and adjust them easily. But it would be up to the prothean to disengage and set himself up for a ride when he was able, though Damon happily used the new position to play with all those stripes of red that seemed to be so sensitive.

The move wasn't as terribly disorienting this time, and Javik recovered quickly. For a moment, he remained poised over the vampire, cock twitching at the thought of fucking him in this position.

Later, though. There was always later. Javik removed his length from Damon, propping himself up on one elbow so his free hand could slick off the fluid that coated his cock. He flicked the excess off, then reached down to massage the head again, encouraging a fresh flow of coital fluid. Damon couldn't do this himself, so Javik would have to provide. He did his best to ignore when and where Damon teased him.

Oh no, Javik. Ignoring him wasn't an option. Damon's mouth would find those sensitive spots, licking at them, murmuring little sounds as he trailed fingers teasingly over red skin, tickling almost while his eyes flicked down to watch Javik touch himself.

His best, unfortunately, was definitely not enough. His body stretched out across Damon's, chin tipping up again to expose more of himself to the vampire. For a moment, it seemed he was forgetting what he was supposed to be doing. His hand closed around his length, eyes drifting shut.

Shaking his head once, Javik moved, sliding on top of Damon and angling his hips to push their cocks together again. The hand that was already down there circled Damon as well, spreading the lubricating fluid between them.

The hand circling his cock and pressing it against Javik's made him hum a low sound, mouth against the skin of Javik's throat as he licked over it, teeth grazing before he nipped at him again. His hands were down to tickle along the stripes at his hips, body rocking up into the touch as pleasure started to skim through him again.

Offering his neck to a vampire was something he'd likely regret, or scold himself for later, but at the moment he just reacted to what felt best. His breath came in hot bursts, hips moving against Damon's eagerly every time the teeth came into play. Javik moved his slick hand to wrap around the vampire's, stroking him back to arousal and prepping him at the same time.

The stroking and the slickness he could feel over him from Javik's own cock was what had his eyes darkening, the fangs sliding free as he moved to slip them carefully past red skin. Javik's blood tasted different, sure, but it was still blood and he was horny and sex and blood just went together for the vampire.

Javik tensed as the skin broke, a pinprick of pain compared to what he was used to, but circumstances were... different. The intensity of the sensation sent a shudder through his body, lightning down his spine, and there was no holding back the moan that welled up in his throat.

He pushed himself forward, spreading his legs to either side of Damon's. He hadn't forgotten what he was supposed to be doing, but he'd rather not stop this, either.

Damon was fine with taking his time, or Javik taking his, sucking out a mouthful of blood before drawing back, leaving the holes dribbling a little that he licked clean. "You know, if you ask nicely, I can make sure those heal up," he said, voice a little strained from the touch to his cock.

Javik practically melted into the vampire when he felt the blood loss, looking dazed for a moment. That shouldn't feel good at all. It should be terrible, and a sign of imminent danger. Unfortunately, instead it felt as though his cock had somehow gotten harder in response.

The offer went unanswered, as Javik pushed himself upright with colossal force of will. He straddled the vampire's hips, watching his face as he returned to the task of stroking Damon's dick.

It could be brought up again later when brains were functional. For now, he licked his lips as that lubed up hand moved over him, a hum leaving him as his cock went from half mast to full, his own hands moving to touch and tease the prothean where he could find spots to do so.

Not one to waste time, (or drag things out unnecessarily), Javik lifted his hips again as soon as Damon was hard. Hand still on the vampire's cock, he guided him towards his entrance, and sank down until he was pushed in to the hilt.

Maybe Damon had the right of it, and he should take his time, but... impatience had its uses. Javik growled, gritting his teeth as blood trickled down his neck.

When it came to sex, Damon generally did have the right of it. He enjoyed it and all the things that came from it, so maybe Javik should just pick up on some of what he was laying down.

Though he certainly wasn't going to complain when he felt the tightness start to envelop his cock. His hands gripped Javik's hips, not to pull him down faster, but just to hold him because the pleasure was too intense, especially since he'd already come once.

He might. Eventually - under protest.

Javik didn't move either, thighs tensing as he adjusted the sensation. Damon's cock was... smooth, but a generous length. Alien, but, as the vampire had learned, not bad. Something he could get used to, which was another thought certain to horrify him in the morning.

Leaning over Damon, Javik braced his hands on either side of him on the bed, rolling his hips once. He didn't intend to give up any depth just yet, simply grinding back down on him.

As Javik moved back on him, Damon concentrated, flexing his length as it filled the prothean. Vampire or not, he couldn't do more than that, but the movement should be something Javik could feel.

Javik leaning over him had the blood dripping from his neck downward, making Damon lift up to lick at the drops, moving in a slow rhythm with him.

If the sudden hitch in his breathing was anything to go by, Javik had certainly felt it. He pushed down against Damon a bit more forcefully, neck stretching out again for the vampire's convenience. Once Damon matched his own rhythm, he picked up the pace, hands fisting in the sheets.

A small smirk at the fact that the little maneuver had worked. Then he was lifting up against the other male, hand sliding up his back to hold him and give him something to lever up against as he sealed his lips around the wound, drawing another small dribble into him. This? This was certainly better than the snarking back and forth.

Javik faltered, another shudder running through his body as he pushed himself against Damon. Ordinarily, if he'd ever been bleeding while having sex, it was because he was fresh off the battlefield and passions were running too high to let it wait. Circumstances were different here, of course, but he wasn't about to deny the thrill of it.

Letting his weight fall down onto Damon, he wrapped his arms around his middle, before turning them over so that he was on his back. One leg he kept pinned around Damon's, in case he got any ideas about going somewhere else.

He moved easily when the prothean decided to switch positions, knees resting on the bed as he settled himself between his legs. The leg to keep him in place wasn't necessary, but it made him smirk as he realized Javik was that insistent on seeing this through. So much for the disgust and disdain he'd shown before. Damon would be sure to rub this in his face at the exact wrong moment -- and likely try to drag him into it again.

Of course he was insistent on seeing it through - Damon had already proven he'd rather play dirty than just knuckle down and get to it. Like right now, actually - the vampire could actually do something after Javik rolled them over, but he wasn't.

So, Javik lifted his hips, moving up against him as he angled his head to bite down on Damon's collarbone again. It wasn't a very hard bite, but there was no missing it.

Learn to go with the flow, Javik. Sometimes it was okay to just take things slow, let the-- goddammit. The bite had him letting out a low groan, hips thrusting in hard and fast as the pleasure tangled up with that small sharp spike of pain. His knees dug in harder, body moving at a sudden and quick pace, going from stillness to a quick fuck.

Likewise, Damon could learn to go with the flow, especially when it wasn't slow. He growled in response to Damon's reaction, back arcing as he spread his legs, opening himself to the vampire. Unable to keep his teeth clamped down, Javik tipped his head back, nails raking down Damon's back. He let out a guttural moan, rolling his hips back into the thrusts whenever he was able. This was more like it.

He hissed at the nails scraping over skin, back flexing as he let his hips continue to thrust. Javik was meeting him at his best attempt and Damon was debating on going into a faster pace, one that he knew the prothean wouldn't be able to match, but that he'd likely enjoy all the same.

Testing, he did so for a few bursts, pleasure tight and aching in his stomach as he watched to see Javik's reactions.

It was more than he was expecting, and nearly more than he could handle. Javik's hands clawed at Damon's skin, back arcing again as his body went rigid in response. Though it didn't last long, that was sort of relief, allowing him a moment to figure out what the hell had just happened.

Javik fell back against the bed, looking up at Damon with a mixture of confusion and intense curiosity. Wetting his lips, he only said: "Again."

A hand sliding under Javik's hip to lift him up, Damon complied, hips moving at a rapid pace as he thrust with vampire speed into the prothean. He kept it to another short burst, though this one was longer than the first.

Javik let out a staggered moan, back arcing again and practically thrashing under the vampire until he slowed. The knot of pleasure was tight in his chest, and he knew he couldn't take much more. Even at this rate, the morning was going be a tough recovery.

But he was too close to let it go now, and one leg hooking around Damon's, he hissed: "Again."

It was easy to smile, to grin down at Javik and nip at his neck as he braced his arms on the bed and gave the prothean exactly what he wanted. He thrust against him, feeling the rougher, thicker carapace skin against him, interspersed with the softer patches as his body slid against Javik's. It was in a blur of speed, but it was definitely an interesting texture experience in comparison to his usual conquests.

That was it - too fast, too much and Javik was over the edge, teeth clenched as he shuddered beneath the vampire. He let out a low, tense hum as the orgasm dwindled, pressing himself up against Damon to prolong contact and sensation. Nothing good ever lasted, of course, and before long he relaxed, sinking back into the bed and sucking in a deep breath of air.

Well, that had sure been something.

He slowed when Javik hit his orgasm, slowing until he stopped, though he didn't withdraw yet. He stay half-leaning over him, watching what a prothean looked like when they came and came down from it. He wasn't sure if he was waiting for another barb or for the orgasm to have 'cleared' his senses or not. What? It was sex with an alien. Not like he had a precedent for this. "I take it that was a good sound...?"

Javik let go of the breath he'd been holding in, looking up at Damon without saying anything for a moment. The relaxed look on his face was rapidly creasing back into his usual scowl. He shifted slightly, but made no move to dislodge the vampire.

"You are quite perceptive." Obviously, it wasn't meant as a compliment.

With a smirk, he gave a slow, shallow thrust of his hips before he finally withdrew, moving to lay on his back beside the now disgruntled alien. "You are such a sweet talker. You're welcome, by the way."

Turning his head to watch him, Javik's scowl deepened. It was, apparently, his default setting, no matter what they'd just done. He tensed slightly at that last thrust, but didn't move otherwise.

"Do aliens always expect gratitude for their services?"

Damon snorted and reached over to find a bottle dragging it up and moving to lean against the headboard as he took a drink. "No, but aliens like to enjoy things with their sex partners if they're not being paid for it."

Javik was not at all surprised to see how easily Damon procured alcohol, though he was certainly not in the mood for anymore of it. Especially if more drinking led to more situations like this one - and he wasn't nearly sober enough to regret it.

"Mutual satisfaction is enough." That might be the problem, though. "You did not finish."

He sipped at his drink, pillowing his head as he got comfy. "Mm, not this time, no. Why, does that bug you?" It wasn't like he had to finish every time. Blueballs weren't a thing for vampires.

"Should it? I do not know your social customs or expectations for sex." Not yet, anyways. Tonight was a bit of a crash course. Besides, one look south would tell Damon that Javik himself was still hard, and not uncomfortable for it. Getting off had taken quite a bit of the tension out of Javik, at least. "Though I assume that means we are not yet finished."

"They vary from person to person. Some say 'no sex outside of marriage', some only do one night stands. There isn't really any... expectation beyond enjoyment." He took another sip, enjoying the heat and the mix of pleasure and that not-quite orgasmic feeling he had going on. "That depends. We can be. Or we can put our pants on and go find other things to do. Or not put our pants on. I'm sure you could attract a few playmates going out like that."

He had the feeling Damon was over-simplifying. He might not have much in the way of expectations, but really, that was for the best in this situation. The face he pulled, in response to that last part, was one of disgust.

"I have no desire to attract any mates." He looked at the bottle Damon was holding a moment, then added: "I would prefer water."

A bath, even. If Damon cleaned up, maybe he'd actually let him finish what he'd started.

"Don't be so literal. Fuck partners, then." He rolled his eyes as he took another sip of his not-water, then looked over at Javik. "There's some in that skin over there. Help yourself." Translation: Damon wasn't your waiter.

Same thing, as far as he was concerned. Languages could be so overly complicated, for no real purpose whatsoever.

Not expecting to be waited on, Javik rolled to the side, and went to retrieve the skin. Already, he could tell where he was going to be sore. He brought one hand up to his neck, and it came back bloody. Unconcerned, he proceeded to drain the skin of its contents. "Better."

"So I have a question," he mused, feet moving from side to side as he lounged naked on the bed. "What do you do in terms of self pleasure? Or is that not a concept where you come from?"

Tossing the skin aside, he looked back at Damon.

"We masturbate, if that is what you are asking." He'd tried to do it earlier, when Damon was having his fun denying him.

"How often do you do the deed? I'm guessing not. As in ever." His hand moved down to rest alongside his cock, fingers randomly stroking along it in a tickling tease.

Slightly more often, when he was younger. But killing his crew, watching his people be slaughtered by the millions and then waking up as the last of his kind had long since dried up most desires he'd ever had.

"What is it like, I wonder, to be a species so thoroughly driven by the need to mate?" He scowled, not reacting to Damon's touches. Well, his cock throbbed, but that was par for the course.

"It's fun. And rewarding. And distracting. You should try giving into those needs more often. You seem to enjoy it well enough when you're doing the do, so to speak."

"I have to wonder, Javik, if you even find my species attractive."

Vanessa has invited Javik over to the Spire, and while a cup of two or two of wine have been exchanged, it isn't anything extravagant. Still, in the darkness of the room, lit only by the fire crackling in the fireplace, she finds herself compelled to ask. Most men, especially those with a past, are drawn to her, like moths to a flame. For better or worse (whether she wants it, or not).

There was, undoubtedly, an attraction to the baroness he could not explain. Perhaps it was that creature that lurked within her, or her familiar drive for vengeance. Women in power were always fierce things, and Vanessa was no exception. Accepting her invitation, and her wine, had been a simple decision.

Her question made him pause, glass halfway to his lips. A fleeting smile crossed his face, and he set the glass down. "You are soft, covered in hair and lack a distressing number of natural defenses. Should I?"

"I don't know. We are often drawn to things inexplicably, without any true explanation." Vanessa chuckles, gesturing to him. "You are incredibly foreign to me, after all. But I have always been drawn to the other." For better or worse. But she is the 'other' in many ways, even if it does not show outwardly, like it does with Javik.

She lets out a breath through her nose, working through her wine, debating when and if she should try her hand at a greater move.

Javik didn't answer right away, finding her line of thinking a lot more interesting than it reasonably should have been. Perhaps it was the wine, or the fact that he could sense any sort of shift in pheromones in most species. Either way, he set the glass down on the table by his chair, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"You have a very strange way of saying you are attracted to me, baroness."

"And when have you ever known me to do things conventionally?" Vanessa quirks an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across her face. She leans forward as well, taking complimentary body language.

"The world is infinitely better when we do things differently, Javik." She uses his name because she can; letting the 'K' hold a bit longer, letting her teeth linger on her lower lip.

It was an insignificant little detail, but the way she said his name made him smile. His eyes narrowed slightly, almost predatory, flicking down to her teeth briefly.

"I assume you intend to court me just as unconventionally. Or will I be disappointed?"

"A woman courting a man in my time is highly unconventional, within itself." Vanessa does, however, move to stand, crossing the small distance between their chairs, standing before him.

"But no, I doubt you will be disappointed. If you are, it will be a fault with you, not myself."

He didn't particularly care if it was strange where she was from, or even if it was common where he was from. All that mattered was where they were right now... an impossible, frustrating and hostile fairy world. Anything went.

Javik sat up, but didn't stand when she approached, looking up at her a moment before lowering his head again. Many species, he'd learned, interpreted that as a show of supplication. Among his kind, however, it was a show of aggression and a challenge. "Then proceed."

"Planning on being an observer?" She doubts he is; but when she allows this side of her out, there is an aggression she doesn't let out, elsewhere. Reaching lean fingers out, she brushes along the ridges of his head, testing out the reaction, tracking down along the side of his face.

"I assume you will be vocal enough to let me know what you like? Or shall I have to merely guess at it?" A quirk of an eyebrow, and then she is moving to press herself into his lap.

Javik simply hummed in response to her first question, head lifting only slightly when she laid her hand on him. Touch, even when intimate, always put him on edge at first. It was a byproduct of being born and raised in war, but given time and alcohol he'd relax.

Luckily for Vanessa, she'd given him both.

He leaned back to accommodate her, hands moving the armrests rather than her. "That depends entirely upon your performance."

"Most would call that poor form, you know." Vanessa smirks, but doesn't stop what she is doing, her fingers sliding along his shoulders, down his chest. He is more alien than most she has ever been with--but then again, she rarely attempts seduction. The creature inside of her rarely wants that, rarely allows for her to do much more than to claim, and demand and change.

"But I doubt you care what 'most' say." She closes the distance between them, pressing her lips to his, shifting her hips, rolling them against his.

"You would be correct." Anything else he had to say on the matter was stopped when she kissed him, finally prompting his hands into action. Ordinarily he might show more restraint, make her work harder for it, but - for once, he'd rather indulge just a little.

For now, he placed his hands on her sides, just above her hips, while returning her kiss. His tongue slid out across her lower lip, before retreating again. She was, after all, supposed to be seducing him.

It is different, kissing him; she has not kissed many people in her life. For all she may appear, she does not have the most experience--especially when un-possessed. But she knows what it means to have a kiss returned, and regardless if his lips are different, his tongue as well, she accepts it happily. Letting out a soft sound, she opens her mouth, sliding her tongue into his mouth, more than willing to taste his depths.

Her hands move to slide over his chest, fingers working to open his shirt. Seduction is one thing, but patience is another.

Javik accepted her advance, tongue meeting hers without hesitation. He could taste the wine they'd share, and more than that, her. His own tongue was a rougher texture, sharply pointed, but otherwise just as agile.

He didn't often dress in anything aside from his armor and undersuit, rarely wanting to expose himself to anything. Even during Samhain, he wore his undersuit beneath whatever costume he resigned himself to, a safe layer between himself and alien contact. At the moment, he was thankful he'd dressed down, so to speak. Vanessa would not find skin under his shirt, but hard chitin to match the crest of his head.

Once the chitin is revealed, Vanessa hesitates for a brief second. The feeling reminds her the creature that had perused her, with it's protective layer over hieroglyphics. But Javik is not he, so she presses her palms flat against his chest, moving her hands down, interested in his reaction.

There are breaks in the natural armor, red skin to match his throat, where the rest matched his face. He reacted only when she touched those parts of him, as the chitin provided very little feedback for him. Sitting up a little straighter, he removed his shirt entirely, placing his hands back down on her hips.

Whatever the reason for her hesitation, Javik didn't question it. He tilted his head slightly to kiss her chin, her jaw, her throat.

Vanessa notices the difference, letting her fingers longer at this breaks, thumbs pressing into the skin, rolling, raking nails slightly. She lets out a soft sound when he starts to press his lips to her neck; he didn't ask. He knows what he wants, and has the confident to try without asking. It sets something rolling in her, something dark and needful.

With the shirt off, Vanessa lets one hand trail lower, pressing between them, towards the front of his pants; this is part exploration, of course, for he isn't human. The differences are what make this better.

He focused on her neck, teeth grazing across skin occasionally before being replaced by his lips again. His breath was hot, and came quicker the more her fingers worked past his armor, physical or otherwise.

Javik paused when her hand went south, giving a brief smile against her throat and a low rumble of consent. That chitin went all the waydown, and even through the fabric Vanessa would be able to tell that... something was missing. At least, compared to a human, he appeared to be lacking a key component to this encounter.

Vanessa blinks for a moment, her voice coming out breathless when she does feel indeed...nothing. There is a hint of amusement in her voice, despite the difference. "You have either been emasculated," which she very much doubts the case, "Or you are a puzzle box that I must solve." She moves her hands up to his shoulders, and starts to push off.

"Luckily for you, I've always enjoyed such things."

Dropping to give him another kiss, she lets it linger for a moment, before slipping to her knees between his legs, looking up. "I suppose I will simply have to see, won't I?"

Javik tipped his chin up to follow her kiss, lowering it again to watch her movement. No matter his haughty words and challenges, the moment she went to her knees he felt the quick stab of desire, heat flooding between his legs. He didn't even want to consider how long it had been, but, he might not be that difficult of a puzzle box for her.

It was a moment before he found the words to speak, fingers curling on the arm rests. "The solution depends entirely on how clever you are, baroness."

Despite the obvious ache in his chest and groin, he still kept his voice steady, and one hand as it came undo the first of the buttons to his pants.

"If you doubt my cleverness, my dear, then you don't know me well at all."

Vanessa, for her part, feels her heart racing; she has not done this, before. For all her seemingly worldliness, she had never come close to such a thing. Too many times sex has been quick, abortive, or ruled by things within her, not herself. Let her first act of pure control be one focused on another, and not herself.

When his hand moves to open his pants, she moves her hands to help, deft fingers undoing the fastens before peeling them away. Hands press against hip bones, thumbs dipping underneath the material, pushing it down.

Her eyes stay focused on the revealing skin, teeth biting on her own lower lip in anticipation.

He didn't bother gracing that with a response. Partly because he felt it unnecessary, but mostly because he was certain he was rapidly losing the ability to speak coherently.

Javik's hips were alien, wide and sharply angled away from his torso. The plating that covered his chest went straight down between his legs, framed by the same red flesh that lined his throat. Just as she'd felt nothing, there was still nothing to see, unless she traced the vertical break in his plating at the groin.

He was well aware of how clever she was, so he kept his hands to himself, waiting for her to puzzle it out. For the moment, his body was tense, but that would fade with time.

Once Vanessa got the pants open, she tugged them down not wishing for them to get in her way. Perhaps it was better that she had never done this before; there was no comparing between any experience before. She wondered, absently, if Javik felt odd, being the only one naked, here. But with his armor, she somehow doubted it.

Glancing up at him, her pale eyes watched his face for any reaction as she placed a palm against the smooth front of him. She could feel the slit, then, and with a thumb ran along the seam, teasing at it, interested to see if that would illicit a reaction, or if she should dip her fingers inside, knowing ery well hat is what she was looking for.

He felt more than a little exposed, though that had nothing to do with what she was or wasn't wearing. Against the chair, his sensory pits could pick out every detail - everyone that had sat here, what they'd had to drink - but none of it mattered. Every one of his senses honed in on Vanessa.

The reaction wasn't very grand, but it was telling. His lips parted, inhaling a bit more sharply than before, and his thighs tensed, toes curling against the carpet. What she was doing was fine - trying to go in after it would be painful, and unwise. To encourage her, though, he tilted his hips, keeping friction against her palm. Trying to do that without looking desperate probably wasn't possible.

"Ah..." It was the only word she said, under her breath, as she sorted it all out. Due to her nature, she could sense things, as well, the changes in him, desire, especially. The draw, the tug and pull. But for once, it didn't feel so heady and dangerous. It felt--

--she didn't know. She had never known what it should feel like, in a normal creature.

Still, she dropped her eyes down once more, and on a whim, leaned forward, and removed her hand, only to slide her tongue along the slit in a long lick.

All of the air rushed out of his lungs, and for half a moment he felt ready to pass out, as if every last drop of blood in his body went rushing between his legs. He spread his thighs, trying to alleviate the pressure in his groin as he swelled, eager for her tongue.

Javik hissed when he inhaled, and Vanessa's bold whim was rewarded. The plating parted, and his cock slid free, slick and growing harder by the second.

He watched her, eyes heavily lidded, still keeping his hands firmly in place on the armrests.

Vanessa pulled back, eyes widening slightly when she saw Javik's cock finally come into view. She wondered if the alien knew that she had never done this before--with anyone. Still, she is a creature that delves to the bottom of all things. So the nuances of this should not be difficult for her, hopefully.

"You can touch me, you know."

The words are spoken quietly, even as she wrapped a hand around his length, giving it one firm stroke, thumb sliding along the bottom vein.

He didn't know - not yet. Her invitation to touch her would put an end to any guesses he might have about her experience, or lack thereof. Javik hesitated, thighs tensing again as she stroked him, taking a moment to recover from that surge of pleasure through his body. The underside of his cock was lined with subdermal plating, just under the crown down to the base. It was flexible still, but noticeably different.

Wordlessly, he finally moved his hands, first to her arms and then up her neck, fingers smoothing over her jaw. While he touched her, he read her, mapping out her nervous system, her impulses, her past experiences - and it made him still. Amunet was a different creature within her, not active now, but definitely had been in... certain situations.

"You do not have to do this." Possibly the most ridiculous thing anyone could ever say with a woman like Vanessa kneeling between their legs, but there it was. She should be with another human, perhaps. Something familiar and safe, and not slightly drunk and challenging.

"I don't, no." Vanessa glances up at him, leaning into his touch slightly. She can tell that he knows, now. But he should also know that she wants to have an experience that isn't touched by Amunet, for once. Something pure; something she chooses, away from the twisted desires of that creature. She wants to not feel guilty over something, for once in her life.

Let Javik be that choice. For all their differences, something within him calls to her, in a way that the men who call to Amunet, do not.

"But I wish to."

It is her choice, with no other's behind it.

She is nervous, but there is a strange sort of confidence bolstering her, as well. If she fails, at least she tried. Leaning forward, she runs her tongue along the head of his cock, savoring the strange new taste, the sensation. After a moment, she finally takes the tip within her mouth, slowly working her way down.

While he couldn't pick up on her exact thoughts, the emotion was still there, her intentions easy to parse. Relationships, physical or otherwise, had always seemed strange to him, and he never understood how it could be a choice like this. But there was no denying what she wanted, and it was her choice.

If he'd had a verbal reply, it evaporated when he felt her tongue on his cock, then her lips. The hesitation and nervousness radiated from her, but they were easily dismissed. Javik's jaw clenched for a moment, before he let himself relax, fingers tangling her hair so he didn't wind up squeezing her throat. He let her go at her own pace, watching her closely and ready to guide her if need be.

He doubted very much he'd have to give much input - the deep groan that welled up in his chest ought be encouragement enough.

It is still a very strange sensation; but the encouragement of the hand in her hair, and the sound from his throat spurred her on. It took her a moment, but eventually she gained a sort of rhythm, with her hand moving in time with her mouth upon his cock.

There was a sort of power in this, in truth. It wasn't the same as the way Amunet dominated the men she slept with--this was something more mutual. She controlled the pace, while giving him pleasure. She...liked it. To be selfless, and somehow selfish, in turn.

The inexperience hardly mattered. His list of partners had been short, back home, and there was always fumbling at the start. Luckily for protheans, their ability to learn concepts through touch wound up accelerating certain skills.

But mutual satisfaction was the name of the game, and Javik was well aware that she wasn't doing this out of guilt or pressure or anything like that. She wanted to please him, which would please her, and that was true satisfaction. He sagged into the chair, thighs tensing when her mouth came down on him at just the right combination of pace and pressure. He kept as still as he possible could, but every now and again his hips would roll, trying to follow her tongue.

Vanessa could sense when she's found the right tactic, and continues, placing a bit more pressure, a different swipe of the tongue, occasionally sucking more, humming, trying out different things. His subtle thrusts didn't bother her, and she learned to anticipate them, moving with them, instead, learning what he enjoyed. Occasionally she glanced up, but otherwise kept her eyes down, focusing on him in a singular way. Her other hand stroked over his hip, gripping to urge him on.

Given the alien angle of his hips, she had more of a handhold than she would on a human. The red skin the lined the gaps in his carapace was sensitive, more so now thanks to his state of arousal.

Which was rapidly approaching a climax - if his body hadn't slept for fifty thousand years, maybe he could've lasted longer. He wanted this to last longer, but the building pressure in his chest, the heat between his legs, was too much to be denied. Pressing his cheek against the back of the chair, he let his fingers tighten in her hair, as much of a warning as it was a reaction.

His hips jerked, body tightening and then relaxing with a long, satisfied groan, a shudder running through him. Those were, oddly enough, the only telltale signs of his orgasm. Even as he settled into the chair, looking half-dazed, his cock was still hard.

Vanessa knew what the hand in her hair must mean, so she doubled her efforts, thumb rolling along the red skin of his hip, while her other hand and mouth kept work on his cock. Her jaw ached, slightly, but in a good way--the way one's muscles feel after a workout.

When he groaned, she prepared herself for the spurt of liquid, but realized, after a moment, that whatever his biology is, it seems a different sort than what she would expect from a human. Not a surprise, truly.

Pulling back, her hand still moved slowly along his cock, unsure if it would be too sensitive.

Licking her lips, which must be red by now, she tried to find the proper words to ask what now. About his biology and refractory period; though she suspected he would tell her, soon enough.

Words were a bit too difficult at the moment, and he inhaled deeply, letting his fingers relax and hands drop back down to her shoulders. He didn't twitch or pull away from her hand, though his hips did rock against her stroking, just a bit. Riding the high, as it were.

Eventually, he came back to himself, looking down at her and realizing that yes, something else did have to happen now.

"Your performance," he started, trying miserably to regain that haughty air from earlier. "Was acceptable."

She knew it was more than that.

Vanessa's lips quirk up, as if she wanted to laugh, but won't. "I'm glad that I could prove to be acceptable to you. High praise to a human." She shoots back, teasing. Still, given it was her first time (on anyone, let alone an alien), she was pleased with herself. Giving him one final stroke, she moved to stand, unsure what to do next. For as much as Vanessa always seemed to be wholly confident and assured, there were times she still felt like the inexperienced young woman she truly was.

She took it in stride, and that was enough to bring a smile to his face. For a moment, he considered following after her, grabbing her to haul her over his shoulder and find whatever passed for a bedroom around here. Instead, he leaned back, eyes moving and down her body.

"Remove your dress." It was only fair.

Vanessa blinked for a moment, processing his words. In truth, she had never been naked for any sexual act. Each act she had been clothed, in some form or fashion. There was something utterly raw in the idea of fully undressing. And since she was not wearing the same sort of underclothing that she would worn at home, it very nearly was as if he was asking her to strip nude.

"...why?"

She spoke the word carefully, softly, as her eyes dropped down to the ground, as her slender fingers worked deftly to undo the lacing of her gown. Within time, she slipped the dress down, leaving her only in a simple chemise. She had not expected anything from him, in this.

Why? Javik's face pulled down into a frown, but he didn't answer right away seeing as she had begun undressing anyways. Why else would he ask her to remove her dress? Did she think he wouldn't reciprocate? Was that normal among humans? If so, no wonder their women were so angry.

"So I can see you," he finally said, standing up once the dress was down. He took a moment to kick off his pants, then approached her, hands coming up under her jaw. "So I can touch you."

He leaned forward to kiss her, touching her only with his fingertips and mouth.

Vanessa brought her eyes back up to him, pressing her lips together as she watched him approach her, now fully naked himself. And yet, for some reason, she still felt the more vulnerable one. It was silly, truly; she had experienced much, in her life.

But how much had ever been her choice, and how much had been Amunet? His words were sweet, genuine. They were not what she was used to. Letting her eyes slide closed, she kissed him back, a hand coming up to rest against his arm. She knew that her emotions, why she said as she did, her hesitation, would transfer.

Cultural differences, he realized, and expectations were bound to confuse things eventually. Amunet made it worse, and what her body had been through hadn't particularly been her choice. Again, he had the thought that this shouldn't be him. There had to be someone more suited to her, more human, but... when he touched Vanessa, when he kissed her, Amunet did not respond. Vanessa did.

His palms pressed against her skin, trailing down her neck and her shoulders. They went lower, skimming her sides, her hips and stopping where the fabric of the chemise stopped.

He could taste her emotion, and understood her hesitation, pushing a brief flash of a memory into her mind. Quick, breathless laughter and the feel of lips on skin. The warmth of a lover's embrace, Javik's body against that of another one of his kind. There were good, happy moments in past, as few as they'd been and he meant it to reassure her.

Fingers catching on the hem of the chemise, he began to pull it up.

Vanessa had rarely been open with anyone. Allowing Javik to see her past, to help him understand, showed how much trust she had in him. It was a step into the open ocean she loved so much, not knowing if she would drown. But trust...trust would keep her afloat. Leaning into his touch, her breath hitched, fingers gripping a bit tighter at his shoulders.

She took what he showed her, in return, feeling it settle in her. There was a tiny shift in Amunet, one of possessive, but it dissipated quickly. Vanessa was not a fool; she knew some of their emotions overlapped. And Vanessa coveted. She always had--always wanted to grip onto the things she had gained tightly. But the happy memories--knowing that Javik even had them, felt good.

Once he started to pull up the final layer, her hands met his, and she helped him remove it, her dark hair cascading down her bare back once it was finally free from the clothing. She tossed it to the ground, and stood before him, completely naked, and vulnerable, the firelight casting shadows around her.

"And there we are. Equal."

Vanessa had been right to wonder if he found her species attractive. Overall, he would have to say no. Too much hair, too many toes and fingers, not enough eyes... They were soft and vulnerable and smelled just on the side of a little too alien.

Looking at her, though, made him realize how incredibly attracted he was to Vanessa. She was what he wanted to touch and taste and smell and look at all day, and it didn't matter how alien her body was to him. After all, how strange was he and yet here she stood?

"Not entirely," he said, something resembling a mischievous grin passing over his face. "Not yet. Take me to your bedroom. Your bed."

And there he could even the score.

"And here I thought it was I who gave the orders, Commander." But still, she smiled, knowing that there was a blush on her cheeks. She slid a hand down to find his, lacing their fingers together, before she started to lead him towards her bedroom.

Her heart was beating quicker--with anticipation, excitement. There was no true turning back from this moment, but she found she did not want to. She trusted him, trusted in this.

Once within her bedroom, she closed the door, and gestured absently to the bed. It was made of dark wood, four-posted, a dark red canopy hanging above it, satin sheets on the mattress.

"And here you are. The first to ever make it this far."

Javik did not even grace that with an answer, but instead with a smile full of long, sharp teeth. Old habits died hard, certainly, but he knew without a doubt that she wouldn't have refused him. He opened his palm, entwining his three fingers to her five, and followed.

He was surprised that he felt a pang of sadness at what she said. She was a beautiful woman, for a human, and strong and resilient and fierce. That no one else had ever pleased her, or that she hadn't be allowed such pleasures, was... wrong. Normally he didn't think of such things as an injustice, but when it came to her, his thoughts were of a different caliber.

The bed he didn't even glance at, his eyes only fixed on her. "This is not nearly far enough."

When he approached, it wasn't quick or overbearing, just guiding her towards the bed and motioning for her to sit. The excitement he could smell, and arousal was not far behind, filling his senses entirely.

Vanessa knew how vulnerable such confessions made her. It spoke of her limitations, of what Amunet's power had placed on her. That the fear of pleasure had always kept her from what she wished, and when she had reached out for it, any pleasure had been taken from her, and placed within the hands of Amunet.

But still, the beast stayed quiet, with Javik. So she wished to take what she could, now, and share in something she had been unable to do, until now.

She allowed him to lead her backwards, her hands sliding along his arms, dipping to play against any red flesh that presented itself. Once she felt the bed against the back of her legs, she sat, feeling the curl of anticipation starting to swell within her.

"Is this far enough, then?"

He was, at least, in the unique position of being able to sense when Vanessa was not herself. Whether or not he had the power to keep her that way remained to be seen.

At the moment, he was of course concerned with another sort of position. He kept his arms open, allowing her to tease him there, before dropping to his knees on the floor in front of her.

"No." Javik angled his head up to kiss her briefly, as his arms went under her legs, hands coming around to rest on the top of her thighs. It gave her the option of putting her legs over his shoulders, which ought to be more comfortable for her. When he dropped his head, he pressed his lips to her stomach and that unusual dip right in the middle. He assumed it had to do with being a mammal, but didn't concern himself with it. Glancing up at her, he said: "Lie back."

Vanessa watched him move to his knees; a hand moved to brush over the ridge of his head, breathing in deep. She could honestly say she had never seen a man in this position before.

She shifted her legs up onto his shoulders, as his movements suggested, still feeling a slight bit nervous at what Javik was about to do. But still, the press of his lips against her stomach made her muscles tighten, the heat pool within her.

"And what if I wish to watch?"

But even as she said that, she moved to lay herself back on the bed, closing her eyes as her back hit the silky sheets.

She could, with hope, look forward to seeing at least Javik in this position more than once.

He gave her another light kiss, under the belly button, trying to ease her nervousness. "You may watch if you wish, but this will be more comfortable," he murmured into her skin, kisses trailing lower. "Perhaps next time."

It was an honest promise, and he knew more than one way to position them to make it comfortable and visible. Right now, though, he concentrated on the simple method as his lips went straight south, tongue darting out to taste her. The hair was - different. Something to get used to, but he didn't let it slow him down, lips following his tongue a moment later to kiss her labia.

"...next time." Vanessa said the words as if she was simply agreeing with him, but it struck a calm within her, as well. That for whatever reason, Javik wished to continue this. That this wasn't a mere dalliance that would be ended when the sun rose. He could be lying, of course, but he was oe of the few people she trusted not to do such a thing to her.

The moment his mouth found purchase, Vanessa let out a breathy sound, fingers moving to tangle into the sheets. It felt odd, in some ways, but amazing, as well. As a child she had seen this act, it was one of the things that had set amunet's hold within her--but the circumstances now were entirely different. There was no sin in this--only pleasure.

There were very few times in his life where he instilled calm, or happiness, in anyone else. It had always been such a fleeting thing, tainted by war, and he'd never pursued it beyond his handful of relationships, such as they were. Feeling it from Vanessa, coupled with her own pleasure, made him want to rethink that aversion.

He kissed her again, and again, each time moving lower, then higher. His tongue was quick when it came out, licking here or probing there, always just shy of too rough or even too close to where he knew he could make her squirm. Eventually, though, after getting used to the taste of her and letting her relax into this, that was his next target.

His tongue swept up, exposing and then flattening against her clit before he pursed his lips around her. His hands tightened on her thighs while his tongue stroked her, watching while waiting for her reaction.

Vanessa's teeth worried at her lip, too used to having to be quiet. But as Javik continued, she became louder, more wanton in her sounds. A hand let go of the sheets to rest on top of Javik's head; not to push him away, but to encourage him. She had no idea that it could feel this good; the wet heat of his mouth, the drag of his tongue, driving her higher.

When his tongue slid across her clit, though, she gasped, head arching off the bed slightly. "Javik--" This certainly was something she wouldn't want to go without, now that she's had it.

Javik suppressed a smile when he heard his name, hands tightening their grip on her slightly. She felt good - both physically and what he could sense from her emotionally - and he didn't let up for a good while.

When he did back off, his pressed his lips to her clit in a mock kiss, before letting his tongue slid down further, tasting her again. Alien physiology or not, she was wet and that was good. More than good, really, that simple fact sending a rush of arousal down to his still hard cock. That was for later, though.

He moved one arm up, keeping her thigh trapped in the crook of his elbow, so his hand was free to travel between her legs. His thumb continued stroking her clit, slowly, while his tongue went back to the rest of her, carefully settling against her entrance.

"I might--ah--mention you are entirely too good at this." With her, at least. It is said in jest, something to break her own tension, trying not to lose herself too quickly. She could easily be pushed off the edge, so new to this as she was. Every stroke, every wet slide of his tongue, pressure of a finger, sends small tremors through her nerves, until everything feels electric. Hips shifting downward, she wordlessly asks for more.

His tongue retreated, eyes looking back up at her when she spoke. "I am out of practice."

Her jest, and his boast, but it didn't matter. The point was to make her feel good, and he could use every ounce of his sensory ability to find just that right place or bit of pressure to make her toes curl. They might as well make this last.

When her hips moved against him, he went back to work. His thumb had never stopped, but now his tongue teased at her a few times, before sliding into her. His tongue was sharp and thin, not quite like a human's, but long - longer than it had any right to be, anyways. He didn't go deep, stroking slowly to gauge her acceptance.

Vanessa let out a low sound in her throat, her breath coming out in harsh pants now. SHe was reactive, fingers gripping into the sheets, twisting and tugging as she tried to gain some purchase. Her heels dug into his back, muscles flexing as she felt him push his tongue into her. "I'll give you practice..." She isn't sure if she is even making sense, now. Vanessa is one who has always attempted to keep her control--for to lose it, especially in this situation, would mean the loss of her very self.

But the safety she feels in this, the pleasure, strikes her at her core.

She is closer, closer than she wants to be--but she feels she could let herself go, and trust Javik to take the control and guide her through it.

Without being able to give her scattered thought a verbal reply, he simply hummed in response, lips pressed against hers as his tongue sank in. Her heels didn't bother him in the least, digging into chitin rather than flesh. He kept a steady pace, constantly rolling her clit under his thumb, and held her at that peak for as long as it felt right to both of them.

When she was ready, when everything about her body told him she was ready, he pulled back his tongue far enough to be able to curl it just so inside of her. His thumb pressed down on her clit, aiming to tip her over the edge without ever letting go of her.

It is the curl of his tongue that finally does it. Letting out a sharp cry, Vanessa feels herself let go, the tightness curled within her finally exploding as she saw stars. She could feel her muscles spasm, a reaction to the ecstasy she felt.

Her breath caught in her throat, heart pounding as she started to come down, her limbs trembling from the exertion. "God..."

He held her in that position as he felt the orgasm build and release, waiting until it started to subside before removing his hand and his tongue. One last kiss was placed on her lips, one last pass of the tongue, before he lifted his head to look at her.

Really, he looked rather pleased with himself. "Your deity has nothing to do with this."

Credit where credit was due, Vanessa.

Vanessa can't help but let out a breathless laugh as she looked down at Javik, a hand brushing along his head with some tenderness. "No, I suppose he does not. That was all you. As I am sure you are well aware." She looks well sated and amused.

He tipped his chin up to kiss her hand, and then pushed himself to his feet. Leaning over her, Javik looped one arm under her breasts, pulling her up further onto the bed and then laying down at her side.

"So long as there is no confusion on the matter," he said, easily pushing his face against her neck and shoulder. Apparently a little oral pleasure loosened him up more than alcohol.

"No, there isn't." Vanessa smiles softly, turning her body so that she can curl around him, a hand moving to brush along his back, dipping into the more sensitive areas. Her body still tingling, and well sated, she still felt a bit astonished over her contentment. That nothing had gone wrong; that she had been allowed this happiness, and it might still continue.

Javik hummed into her neck, pressing a few kisses into her skin. He lay still against her, equally content even with his erection still rock hard. That didn't seem to concern him, at least, simply glad to have their arms around one another. This night hadn't quite gone the way he'd thought, and for once, that was a good thing.

Vanessa doesn't ask about his erection; she has no doubt that he would say something, if she wished for him to do something about it, or if he wished to continue. Until then, this is what she wanted. Like many things tonight, she has never been able to simply enjoy touching someone after sex; to just enjoy the closeness with one another.

Smiling softly at the kisses, she pressed her lips to the top of his head, just above his eyes. "I hope you will stay, tonight."

He stilled against her at those words, stopping, for the first time, to consider the reality of what they were doing. Well, not so much what they were doing, but what they were going to do after this.

It had never really been an option to him. Spending more time with an individual like this was a rare occurrence, and for a moment he didn't know if he admired or resented it.

He decided, rather quickly, to go for the former. "There are places I could be, right now," he said, planting a kiss on her collarbone. "But I prefer here."

"There are places I could be, as well." She smirks, moving to press a hand along the back of his neck, humming slightly. "But I prefer you here, as well. With me." She could always kick him out, or attempt to demand him to stay. But she wants him here, of his own volition.

She never could have expected this, with him. But many things in her life were unexpected. And for once, this was unexpected, but not unwanted.

Javik wasn't an easy one to kick out - he'd endured a spire full of flying furniture to get at her, once. She could throw whatever she wanted at him, but he was staying.

"The world will suffer for our desires." It was a joke, mostly, even if the both of them really did have matters that needed attention. Selfishness like this didn't win wars, but at the moment he didn't care. Rather than talk about it, he tilted his head up to kiss her, one hand moving up her neck.

"I think the world can forgive us this transgression." For they both give so much in service of the cause. Let them have this, now; she doesn't care if the world attempts to damn them. She is too tired of not having something of her own.

She gives into the kiss easily, melting against his lips. She dipped her tongue into his mouth, enjoying the taste of herself upon his lips.

He opened his mouth to meet her tongue, glad for this kind of contact, this simple sort of conversation two people could have with their bodies. His free hand slid down to the small of her back, pushing just enough to press them together. Well, more than they already were. He angled his hips, at least, to prevent his cock from being too much of a nuisance.

Vanessa is well aware of his still hard cock, but doesn't make any move towards it. She knows Javik will most likely mention if he wants more; she doesn't understand his biology, and how it works. So she trusts him enough to tell her. At the hand on her back, she pulls in closer, wrapping one of her legs around his hips, slotting her in as close as she can be. Despite his angles, and her soft curves, they seem to fit together, well, still.

What he wanted, he'd learned in the long run, hardly mattered. Javik would accept what she gave him, but his body had been denied for thousands of years. Still, Amunet lingered in the back of his thoughts, even if she hadn't surfaced yet.

Breaking the kiss, he brought his lips back to her neck, practically squeezing her against him. "Tell me your limit, Vanessa," he said, growling into her throat. "So that I know where to stop."

"I have none." Vanessa knows the statement to be true; for better or worse, she has always struggled to stop herself from what she's wanted. But this time, there is no glimmer of Amunet. This is her, entirely. Nothing from the other side, her other self.

She bared her neck to him, wrapping her leg around him more tightly, pulling him in closer, a physical display of her words.

If there had been any hint of a lie, or whisper of Amunet, he would have pushed her away immediately. More than her words, the feeling of her convinced him of that truth, and that was all he needed.

He responded with another growl, which trailed off into a grinding buzz, vibrating from somewhere in his sternum. Against her bare skin, it would likely feel wonderful, but he was moving before it ended. With their legs tangled, he rolled them over easily, propping himself up on his elbows to lift up off of her. He was denser, heavier than a human male, and his carapace would chafe her eventually.

With his legs settled between hers and his cock pressed between them, he didn't go for the obvious route just yet. One hand slid back down to her sex, fingers testing her wetness and sensitivity.

Vanessa allowed herself to be placed on her back, shifting her legs open for him easily. Her fingers moved to brush along the back of his head, sliding to his shoulders. When his fingers pressed against her, he would find her still wet from her own orgasm, and his mouth. She breathed out, arching into his hand, demanding more.

"Still unsure, my dear?"

Unsure might not have been the word for it, but certainty was a deciding factor. He'd hurt her if she wanted to be hurt, and his tongue was not his cock, so he pressed a bit further, one finger sliding into her.

She couldn't lie to him, either, if any of this bothered her. You couldn't maintain this much skin contact with a prothan and lie. He inclined his head when her hands moved over him, stroking her and in absolutely no hurry whatsoever.

Vanessa let out a low huff of impatiences when he slid his finger and not his cock into her. She knew he was just trying to do what he thought was best for her, but she wanted this. Still, she slid her hands down to his neck, fingers squeezing gently at his tender flesh there.

"And now torture..."

He knew she was impatient, with or without her comments or her huffing. He didn't care - with his own kind, there was no doubt. It could be as quick or slow as they wanted, all communicated with a touch, but Vanessa was still too alien.

"Hardly," he growled into her ear. A dark promise, again, of the future. He took his time, but he didn't exactly make her wait, either, pulling his hand back before too long. After that it took him a moment to puzzle out a few anatomical details - namely, her legs didn't bend like a protheans would - and finally settled for pulling her thighs up over the sharp rise of his hips.

Propping himself up on his elbows again, weight between their legs, he twisted his hips and pushed inside of her.

Vanessa shifts so that her hips are closer to his, ankles hooking around one another behind his back. Once he pushes inside of her, she arches into him, fingers falling back to tangle into the sheets. It feels entirely alien and amazing--better than any sex she has had before. But no other sex had been fully chosen by her, without Amunet ghosting at her heels.

He was slow to start, each roll of his hips pushing in a little deeper, acclimating them to one another. Once he was fully seated, Javik stopped, breathing out while he lay his forehead against her shoulder. She felt right, alien but herself, and his own hands fisted in the sheets when he started moving again.

A rhythm was set fairly quickly, and adjusted based on what he felt from her, with his face still buried in the crook of her neck.

When he starts to move, Vanessa moves her hands to wrap around his shoulders, one hand splaying over his back, while the other rests at his neck, keeping him close. It felt so much more intimate than any sex she had ever had in her life, her body instinctively moving with him, not willing to give more leverage, as it would mean he would have to pull away.

Javik grunted with each roll of his hips, a deep, low sound in his chest. He thought it almost a pity that she wasn't prothean, that she couldn't fully share what he was feeling. The nature of their relationship, whatever it was, reminded him that it was just as well he could sense her so keenly. This was more about her than it was him, and that was fine.

He kissed her neck, her shoulder, her jaw every chance he got, that familiar heat pooling in his stomach again.

This what she always imagined it to be like; perhaps not with an alien...but something enjoyed by both, not ruled by the things within her. Hitching her legs up a bit higher, she lets out a soft sound when the angle changes enough to hit something within her.

Grasping at him a bit more tightly, she closes her eyes, and simply lets herself get lost in the sensations. If she comes or not, she doesn't care. This is more about the act, more than the finish itself.

He slowed when she shifted, following her lead both physically and whatever he could pick up on, whatever felt good or better to her, and chased after that. Shifting his balance to one arm, his other hand caught her thigh, holding her tight and high against his torso. Each stroke became more deliberate, a slower tempo but no less steady.

She was lost to it, and he wasn't much better off. His entire body tightened when his orgasm came, fingers gripping her hard until the tension released entirely. If she didn't follow, that was fine - he was always good for more.

She wanted to make sure he found his own pleasure. She knew that she was not as well experienced as some; Amunet had always given her passion and skill in the act, but this was her, alone.

Arching her back, she rocked harder into him, fingers gripping at him. She was vaguely aware that he had come, and if he stopped, that would be fine. His anatomy is still very unfamiliar to her, but it felt amazing just the same.

Javik caught himself from falling on top of her, inhaling sharply as he came down from his high. He knew she hadn't come, and he knew the both of them were... content with however this ended. It was disorienting, in a way. Without a complementary sensory ability, they were more in tune than he anticipated.

His hips still worked against her, slowly, as he dropped his head to kiss her shoulder. "I can," he said, between kisses and deep breaths. "Keep going."

Vanessa brushed her fingers along the most sensitive parts of his skin, trailing up the sides. "Mmm...I'm content." Meaning she didn't need for him to keep going. She had found her pleasure, even if it wasn't in another completion. She pressed her lips against his in return, slowly letting her legs fall away from his hips.

A shudder went down his spine in response to her trailing hands, his body still too sensitive and hyper-aware. When she relaxed under him, he acquiesced, pulling his hips back and shifting his weight to the bed by her side. A human male might think her a liar, or feel inadequate that she hadn't climaxed as well. He knew better, though it was nearly unthinkable that he, for all his faults and sins, had made her happy.

He settled around her, pulling her tight against him. She'd hoped for him to stay, tonight, and there was no where else in the world than here.

Vanessa couldn't help but smile once more, settling against him. She was happy, genuinely so. Brushing her lips against his shoulder, she shifted so that she could lay comfortably against him, one of her legs slipped over his. A hand came up to brush along the top of his head.

"Thank you."

For what, she isn't saying. It isn't something of pity just...happiness. For allowing her this. For staying.

Once they were both as comfortable as they were going to get, Javik lay very still, arms still around her. Possibly because he had no idea what to do after this (relax), so it was best to just do nothing (which was relaxing). He'd get the hang of it someday.

He didn't reply, either, beyond dropping a brief kiss on her forehead. These weren't feelings he could put into words, so he settled for wrapping himself around her and with her, letting touch speak for his intentions and connection.

[Giving or receiving, as long as he gets to control it.]

[Interested in a possibly somewhat defiant mortal?]

[Absolutely! Any particular plot/canon point you'd be interested in?]

[Catherine has some interesting abilities. Maybe he successfully conquered Midgard and took some personal servants for errands and... other purposes?]

[I feel that could work, yes. Would you mind starting?]

Despite the efforts of The Avengers and armies around the world, Loki had succeeded in taking Midgard. All had been forced into submission, and those who defied the god were often sentenced to death. Rebel groups remained, of course, but the lacked the power to confront Loki. Regardless, that was where people like Catherine came in.

When Earth had fallen to its knees Loki sought out those with unique abilities and dubious morals to serve him. She fit the bill, even if he did have to keep a competent scientist around to produce her serums. Loki often called on Catherine to gather intel or assassinate a problem individual. Or multiple individuals. He had far more important matters to attend to personally. Thus far Catherine had served him well. She never failed to deliver when assigned a task.

She still didn't know what to think of the man, but her position was better than the alternative.

It was late one evening when she was told he had summoned for her. Not too unusual since she usually kept a nocturnal schedule. She made her way to his study - he was working, she supposed - and knocked, only entering when given permission.

"You called for me, King Loki?" she asked when she reached the center of the room. Catherine bowed but did not kneel. She never kneeled of her own will and doubted she ever would.

[If you want anything changed just let me know!]

Being King, Loki thought as he sat in his study, poring over a complex treaty he sought to conclude with Alfheim, was a lot less fun than he'd thought it would be. Granted, when he had fantasied about this and envied both Odin and Thor, he had imagined the generalities of it, the power, the respect, the satisfaction of being valued at least, not the petty day to day affairs, the endless diplomatic exchanges and complaining from the mortals. He had little patience for these anymore, delegating to his ministers and devoting himself to higher matters.

There had been amusing moments, mischief-wrecking on unsuspecting citizens, confusing the ministers on purpose or being blatantly unfair and pig-headed as Odin had sometimes been on small matters.

But still, he often found himself inescapably bored. Upholding the law was a lot less entertaining than breaking it and even the illusion of power he held was beginning to wear thin. Usurped respect rang hollow, he had found fairly soon, as those who bowed to him would immediately denounce him should he lose any inch of his power.

He arched an eyebrow when a guard informed him that Catherine was there, gesturing for them to let her in and dismissing them. “Leave us,” he ordered commandingly, knowing this discussion would be better held in private. Loki was unsure of what to make of her just yet. She was efficient, ruthlessly so, but he knew her allegiance was only circumstantial, at best, not born out of respect.

"Yes," he confirmed, setting his pen down and motioning for her to come closer. He did not overtly mind her not bowing. As long as he did what he asked for, he could dispense with the simpering. "I have a matter you may attend to, for me."

Catherine did not envy Loki's position in the slightest. Being in charge of everything seemed glamorous in theory, but when put to practice she knew there were too many mundane tasks involved. It didn't help that most people hated Loki and his rule. He had his share of loyal followers, but far more loathed him and would see him fall.

She tilted her head to one side, but obeyed his silent command to move closer, hoping he wasn't feeling moody. If he was, there were better people to take it out on.

"Another assassination?" she asked thoughtfully. Gathering information could be boring, but killings were usually quick and easy for her.

Loki did not seem particularly moody or annoyed, his face remaining impassively cool as he motioned for her to come closer. He selected a file from the pile on his desk and flipped it open, ignoring the confidential stamped in angry red letters on the cover.

“Yes,” he confirmed, skimming through the first pages with furrowed eyebrows. “And information gathering, first.” He arched an eyebrow. “I am given to understand that seduction would work better than torture, in this particular case.” He watched her closely, handing her the file.

Great. Gathering information. That was always such a bore. Catherine almost yawned at the thought. Almost. She kept herself in check as she followed him to his desk, her pale eyes skimming over the sheer amount of files and papers there. No, she didn't envy him at all.

"Wait, wait," she said as he explained further. "Seduction? I have a nice resume, but that is definitely not on it."

Was he kidding? Even if she'd had the skills, Catherine didn't consider herself attractive enough for such things. That, and she really didn't want to do it.

"Don't you have someone else for this kind of thing?"

Loki arched an eyebrow at her, his eyes unkind. "That was not a request," he stated, his tone measured but with underlying steel. Loki did not ask, did not offer missions. He ordered, commanded, and would brook no denial.

He steepled his fingers in front of his mouth, watching her coolly. "Seduction is the easiest form of manipulation. You have proved yourself efficient at manipulating your target into doing your bidding. This will be no different."

He gave her a flat look as she asked whether someone else could do this instead of her. "Do you want me to have someone else for this kind of thing?" he challenged, clearly implying that she could lose her position, if she refused, her secure status in the new hierarchy of her realm.

She hummed in thought, clasping her hands behind her back as she glanced up at the ceiling. Not that the issue required much thought.

"Yes. Yes, I do," she replied as she returned her gaze to his. Challenge met. Did he really want to get rid of someone who had been of so much use to him? Even if he did, she felt confident that she could get by on her own. A bit arrogant, maybe, but she wasn't going to cower and beg.

"Like I said, seduction's not on my resume."

He needed someone a bit more feminine and a lot more attractive for this.

Loki arched an eyebrow at her, his eyes narrowing minutely. He did not truly wish to dispose of her but his pride would not allow for such insubordination. After all, if he couldn't even have the respect of those who had sworn allegiance to him, how could he hope to conquer the others'? He would have to remind her, then, and unpleasantly so, that she was, along with her entire realm, in his power.

“I think you'll regret that,” he answered coolly, an unmasked threat. His lips stretched into a thin grin and he leaned up on his chair, the glint in his eyes between contemptuous and malevolent. Loki would have to disagree. Being feminine or even attractive had very little to do with seduction. “Well, let's put it there, then.”

To be perfectly honest, Catherine hadn't minded serving Loki thus far. He could always find interesting uses for her skill set, and it was nice having the opportunity to be what she was. He didn't seem to care as long as she got the job done.

His threat was met with casual indifference. At least until he suggested - no, demanded - that seduction be added to her list of skills. This couldn't lead anywhere good.

"I'd rather not," she replied, maintaining a cool facade. "But for the sake of argument, how would you suggest I do that?"

“That's assuming I would give you a choice,” Loki pointed out, his magic flaring a little around them, a cool, metallic hum. He was beginning to suspect that he would not, indeed, give her a choice. She was too rash, too insolent, and he it would be too fun to put her back in her place for him to miss the opportunity to exert his power.

“I rather think I shall have you start with me, for practice,” he taunted, the glint in his eyes growing wicked. “I am a master of lies. If you can lie to me, you can lie to anyone.”

Catherine huffed indignantly, but the feel of his magic surrounding them was enough to raise goosebumps all over her. Loki was powerful. If he wanted to end her right now he wouldn't even break a sweat. It was probably a good time to kneel, but she found his suggestion ridiculous.

"You've been with gods, and you expect me to seduce you?" Still a bit defiant, but her tone was softer. "I'm pretty sure I can't live up to those standards."

Though it wouldn't necessarily be a lie. Catherine found Loki very attractive, and not just due to his power. He was intelligent, articulate, handsome... what wasn't to like? Except maybe that abusive tendency. Fine if taken out on someone else, but not her.

the bj meme

Kurt Wagner | X-Men: X-2 | OTA

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