judgementor | [Aefenglom IC Inbox]

[This is... good. He doesn't want to break whatever spell is between them now by letting Steak leave the room, knowing full well that things would feel different even if he only left for twenty minutes. He huffs softly as he's pushed back again but he doesn't speak this time, doesn't ruin it...

Red Wine slides his knee up the side of Steak's thigh and wraps both arms around his shoulders to pull those kisses in harder, deeper. His lips part, a quiet sound rising up in the back of his throat.

God, he's so warm. It's intoxicating all by itself.]

[ this is something entirely different, something which burns hotter and more dangerously than any of their fights. Something more terrifying than the worst of Fallen Angels, and yet Steak falls into what Red Wine offers again and again, deepening the kiss as his hand claws into the mattress to keep his balance.

Red Wine's leg brushes against the slick skin of his thigh and pulls forward a quiet growl from Steak, something deep and primal sparking in the depths of his belly as his tongue slips between Red Wine's lips.

One step further, one step deeper into something they can't take back. ]

[It isn't something that is going to be easily pushed aside, and the closer they get the harder it will be to ignore. There's something undeniably electric about the contact, the kisses, the firm searching hands in his hair and the warm weight pressing him down into the bed.

He mumbles something that comes out as little more than a soft 'mnh' of surprise before he's sliding his tongue alongside Steak's and digging his nails firmly into broad shoulders.

It still isn't enough.]

[ he's so used to Red Wine's touch, but only ever in anger. Even after months of being bonded, and the calmness that comes with it, the gentleness is unfamiliar and disorienting.

The nails in his shoulder are almost familiar in their sharpness, but with Red Wine pressed beneath him, their tongues dancing against one another, they take on a completely different context, one which sends a shiver down Steak's spine, and drives his lips away from Red Wine's only long enough to gasp his name, breathless and reverent. ]

Ssh-ssh.

[Don't ruin it.

God.

Don't say anything.

He surges up to capture Steak's lips again and pulls him in, his chilled skin somehow feeling warmer as the answer to his question grows all the clearer. Did it mean something?

It feels like it means something.]

[ Maybe so, but Steak doesn't know how to vocalise any of it right now, how to express the restlessness inside him but to gasp Red Wine's name and kiss him again, to run the hand not on the bed through loose dark hair and down Red Wine's side, guided by little more than instinct and desire as fingertips glide over ribs and muscle and find themselves at the waistband of trousers.

They freeze there, reality striking like lightning, and Steak's teeth catch Red Wine's lower lip and nip before he pulls back once more, breath coming heavy and eyes still closed as his forehead rests lightly against cool, pale skin.

It means something, but something Steak doesn't know how to say. ]

[He'd do anything he was asked in that moment, he's almost sure of it, but then Steak... stops.

It stops, and Red Wine draws slowly back into himself. He's suddenly all too aware of the weight of the body leaning over him, of the position of hands and knees and hips, of the way every inch of skin is tingling--

Oh.]

... unexpected. [He murmurs, combing his fingers slowly through Steak's hair.]

[ They're tangled up in each other in ways that Steak would have scoffed at even minutes ago, and red eyes slowly open as Steak raises his head back a fraction of an inch.

That--

Ah. His head rocks slightly in accordance to the motions of Red Wine's hand at it combs through his hair.

He clears his throat and realises he's staring at the curve of Red Wine's lips a moment too late, realises that his fingers still hover at the waist of Red Wine's trousers.

And that the kisses seem to linger on his lips like the afterburn of alcohol on the tongue. ]

... Uh.

[ Eloquent. ]

[Steak has always been attractive, and Red Wine has always known that in an objective kind of way - as one can know that anything is aesthetically pleasing without finding it personally appealing - but he's never taken time to see just how rich the colour of his eyes is, or... anything else about him that is now so very close.

He presses his lips together slightly, then lets them part.]

... shut up. [Red Wine mutters, and he pulls Steak down into another firm kiss. A soft nip to his lip has him tasting copper and he almost groans, the sound held in his throat as a low keening hum.

Shut up. Just shut up and don't speak.]

[ Whatever Steak might have wanted to say — and, in all honesty, he doesn't even know — is kicked right out of the window by Red Wine's teeth, painfully sharp against his lip, cutting through all the noise and uncertainty and dragging him back to a world where there's nothing more than bodies pressed warm against one another, tongues clashing as his hand strays under the line of Red Wine's trousers.

Perhaps, for once, he can follow Red Wine's instructions, shutting up in favour of dragging his teeth across Red Wine's lower lip, an echo of what Red Wine put him through only moments ago. In favour of fingers tracing the line of Red Wine's hip bone, thumb smooth against cool skin, a flutter of some indescribable emotion flitting through his chest as the tips of his fingers graze the curve of Red Wine's thigh, slow and gentle exploring against soft skin. ]

[He makes another noise, a soft 'mn' of what is undeniably pleasure as he shifts his body subtly to the touches sliding under his clothes. Even an hour ago he would never have even entertained the notion of ending up in a position like this with Steak of all people--

(though the position itself is not an altogether novel one)

--yet as it happens, and the shared sensations filter through the bond linking them, he can't imagine he would want to be doing it with anyone else.

His fingers push into soft red hair, trace up the unfamiliar shape of Steak's horns, and he keeps his eyes closed as he seeks out another kiss each time Steak needs to pull back for breath.]

[ Steak can't say he's even slightly certain of what he's doing, or why, given everything that's hung between them for centuries, but the noise Red Wine makes emboldens his hand, roughens the kiss with teeth tweaking at Red Wine's lip. The tips of his fingers brush against the length of Red Wine's cock, a brief stumble across flesh as he gasps for breath and opens his eyes, distracted, momentarily, by the lines for Red Wine's face.

Something in his chest flutters, and his lips find the corner of Red Wine's mouth, the line of his jaw, before he catches Red Wine in another kiss, one which stutters only as hands find the curve of his horns.

He could complain, but he doesn't. Instead, new appendages twitch and curl and finally find the cool skin of Red Wine's stomach. ]

Ah--

[It's surprise that forces that sound out of him, carried on a gasp punched out of his chest as he twitches and opens his eyes, meeting Steak's in the moment he opens his own.

And-- Gods, for that moment he could just drown in the rich colour of those eyes.

There's something alien and wholly unnatural about the limbs that brush against his stomach and he makes another of those noises, an uncertain murmur into a kiss as he brings one hand down and touches one of those appendages, letting the tip of it wind around his fingers in the middle of its explorations.

No, no... it's okay. It's fine. His other hand tightens in Steak's hair.]

If you stop I'll kill you. [He whispers breathily, pushing himself up to claim another kiss.]

[ How many times has Red Wine threatened to kill Steak before? The words are so often shot between them that they're all but meaningless most of the time, and right now they make Steak laugh into the kiss, fingers lingering against the head of his cock as he presses back against Red Wine's lips, as tentacles curl further up Red Wine's hand and chest. ]

As if you could.

[ He breaks from the kiss to speak, to shift hands and appendages to the fabric of Red Wine's trousers, guided by nothing but natural progression and some sort of instinct. Is it just what human, and human-like, beings know to do? Or what?

He supposes that doesn't matter. What matters is taking off Red Wine's pyjama bottoms, and resolutely burying the little, persistent thought that he's only here, only willing to go this far because it's Red Wine on the receiving end of each kiss and touch.

Bury that far, far away under a pile of thoughts about how it's simply one-upmanship.

Nothing else. ]

You know I could. And you'd let me. [Just because he never has... It would have never benefited him to kill Steak, despite how much he claimed to hate him.

His body is still cool to the touch from lack of blood, but he can feel the heat stirring up between his hips as a warning of what's to come. Red Wine catches a soft hiss of air between his teeth, a lurching sensation in his chest as he grips Steak's wrist and stops him - again - from going any further.

But this time, the movements that gently pull eager fingers away from his clothes and skin are deliberate and measured. He looks up at Steak with a dizzy swirling in his head and a faint flush to his cheekbones and the tops of his ears.]

We-- This can't happen.

[It feels so good. It feels so good, but they can't. It's not right. If he has to lose this time, then so be it.]

It can't.

[ He'd argue, because the idea of Red Wine killing him — no matter how logically possible it might be — grates at his pride regardless, but the spell has been broken. Red Wine's hands, his words, wash over Steak like ice water, shocking him back out of whatever they were doing, his cheeks turning several shades of red as he scrambles off the bastard and shifts to cover... uh. Somewhat obvious signs of what their actions were doing to him.

He exhales, a huff, a noise of agreement and indigence all at the same time, unable to quite look in Red Wine's direction as he speaks. ]

Nothing happened.

[ They can just forget this, right? He'll just... grab his clothes. It'll be fine. ]

... No.

[God of Beginnings, he feels so cold suddenly. He sits up as Steak moves away and looks down at his knees, the colour draining out of him in stark opposition to the red flush on Steak's face.

He laces his hands together firmly to still the minute tremble he can feel in his fingers, and has to firmly convince himself that he needed to say what he'd said.]

No... nothing happened.

[ They're terrible liars, but Steak doesn't plan on calling Red Wine out on it, doesn't plan on crumbling this shoddy facade constructed to hide away everything that just happened. Instead, he busies himself pulling his armour back on, ducking his head away from seeing Red Wine even out of the corner of his eyes, locking back the lurch of something he can't unknot as he catches a glimpse of the unusually — even for here, where the bastard is undead — ashen pallor of Red Wine's face. ]

I'm going. [ He stumbles over the words rather than simply stating them, nervous more than his usual brusque, stuck on unfamiliar ground and trying desperately to claw his way back to normalcy.

Or at least to place where his mind doesn't linger on the feeling of Red Wine beneath him. ]

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