judgementor | [Aefenglom IC Inbox]

[ Like Red Wine didn't always know that.

But his lips capture Steak's and Steak makes a soft, barely audible noise as he sinks back against him, hands sliding across Red Wine's shoulders and slipping down his spine, soft and warm as they curl into the fabric of Red Wine's shirt.

See? How could anything which feels so right be the wrong decision. It takes little more than a moment, little more than Red Wine's hand in his hair to make him forget everything but what he feels right now. ]

[It's fine. It's... good. He drapes his free arm over Steak's shoulder and grips gently against his back, his eyes shut and his entire frame leaning up against Steak's broader one. Any tentativeness evaporates as his lips part and he urges the kiss deeper, his fingernails scratching gently against the other Soul's scalp.

His body feels like it's buzzing. Vibrating like a plucked string, but not in a way that makes him want to lash out.

He steps back, drawing Steak along with him, the movement almost imperceptible until he's turning them around and pushing Steak down to sit on the edge of his bed.]

[ It was a curiosity, something driven by constant thoughts and irritation at the tension in the air. Steak tried to ignore it, to pretend everything was normal, but he's never been good at that.

It's simpler to confront things, after all. To see whether that time was a fluke or something more, to understand the fire burning in his chest every time he sees Red Wine, brighter and unlike anything he's felt about the bastard before.

And, admittedly, Red Wine is a very good kisser. Not that he plans on telling the jerk that ever. His ego is already large enough, and likely only inflated further by the way his touches tilt Steak's head back, teeth nipping at Red Wine's lower lip between brief gasps for air. Steak follows the motions without question, too distracted by the exploration of his hands across the expanse of Red Wine's back and wrestling with the kiss to push against any of it.

He stumbles into sitting on the bed rather than anything graceful and fingers curl tight into Red Wine's hips, dragging him forward onto his lap. ]

[A benefit, he thinks, to not actually needing to breathe at all. The pit of his stomach flutters up into his throat as he's pulled abruptly down onto Steak's lap and he lets out a soft sound of almost-complaint, giving the bright red hair in his grip a light tug.

But he doesn't move like he's a stranger to this kind of manhandling. There's the smallest smirk on his face - one that could even be called gentle - while he settles his position and slides his hips forwards, and while he trails the lightest of touches to two of Steak's extra appendages as a subtle instruction to curl them up behind him.]

Make yourself useful.

[He mutters, though the usual sting to the barb is missing.]

Bastard.

[ Bickering is more reflexive than anything between them, the words said filling space as Steak's tentacles twitch against the touches before, finally, moving.

And sliding up Red Wine's sides rather than around the back, gentle and teasing as they linger on his waist. Fingers find their way into Red Wine's hair, cupping the back of his head and pulling him into one more kiss, a wordless order to not utter another word.

Not for a while, anyway. ]

[It's almost imperceptible at first, but he's sure that Steak must be noticing it - the way his lips curve into a smile against the kiss. The way he leans into the touch and warmth presented to him with all the eagerness of a moth to a flame.

And it's strange... but this doesn't feel as if it's a bad thing. Maybe it's the bond between them flooding his head with pleasant sensations, or perhaps it's something more than that- something he isn't willing to put a name to.

He runs his fingers through Steak's hair, trails a fingertip around one of those oddly shaped horns, and pointedly pulls him back into another kiss every time he breaks for air.]

[ It's easiest to assign blame to the bond, how feelings curl pleasantly and namelessly in his gut, how Red Wine's smile sparks one of his own, brief and as warm as the rest of his body. Each time a hand pulls him back in, he can only acquiesce, following Red Wine's instructions, sinking further into the pool of him with each kiss.

Lost in the depths of dark hair and soft lips which dish out sharper, firmer kisses, Steak presses further, tentacles tight around Red Wine's waist as he slips back until he's lying on the bed, dragging Red Wine down with him. ]

[He makes a soft sound - huffy, undignified - and softens his own descent with one hand thrown out. It hits the bed beside Steak's head as he's pulled down, not quite resting against Steak's chest, and there's a shadow of that startled, ready-to-bolt look in his face again.

This is still strange, and that strangeness rises up like a wave when he allows too much time to think about what he's doing. He brushes Steak's hair out of his face, a soft touch of two fingertips against his forehead nudging a few red locks aside, then his expression softens, eases around the edges...]

... I see. [He says, the words coming out on a sigh of air.] ... I suppose it's alright, then.

[ Red eyes linger on a pale face, following the twitches and shifts of expression, the moment's hesitation which should, by all logic, be more than enough time for Steak to come to his senses and realise that the only time he and Red Wine should be this close to one another is when they're about to start swinging.

But he's already made his choice, has always promised himself he would follow the things which feel right — and this does. He doesn't need to question why that is, nor does he want to.

(That way lies too many things he's worked too hard to avoid thinking about.) ]

—Come here.

[ There's a pink tinge to his cheeks, one which is barely visible in the instant between Steak grumbling those words and his hand pulling Red Wine's head forward for another kiss. ]

Alright-- [He murmurs. Soft-- so soft while he allows the pressure against the back of his head and drops back into the kiss. One hand pushes deep into Steak's hair, his fingernails scratching lightly against the scalp, and in his acceptance of it sheds any doubt that had been holding him back before.

It's more than just the bond. Hate and love are so close to one another and it isn't such a difficult step to cross the line between them. He rests his free hand against Steak's chest, feeling his heart beating through his ribs, and he smiles again as he presses in closer.

Gingerbread would laugh herself sick if she knew, he's sure of it.]

[ Steak would like to place a blanket ban on thoughts of Gingerbread right now, but he can't disagree that she'd be laughing. Well, that's fine, she'll never get married anyway if she keeps using that shield on guys.

(Shh, don't tell him about Cheese.)

But it doesn't matter right now, nothing does. Not even their usual fighting or desires to come out on top. Red Wine is firm and real against him, weighing down on him in a way Steak, for once, considers pleasant. Tentacles loop around thighs, weaving into firm support against them, and Steak's hand lingers in dark hair a while too long, not entirely sure how or where to move when its owner's mind is so thoroughly distracted by parting lips and tongue, sharp teeth and the rush of blood as his heart beats all too quickly. ]

[Steak doesn't need to know about Cheese. It would be too difficult to explain it.

Red Wine shifts a little against that peculiar contact around his thighs, winding around him and holding him in place. He glances down, just for a moment, but only needs that moment to decide that this - like many other things right now - is... fine.

He buries his hands deep into Steak's hair, runs the pads of his thumbs around the base of each horn and plants kiss after kiss on his lips. It isn't long at all before a different warmth begins to flush through him and he hums quietly, pausing in his kisses to brush Steak's hair back off his forehead and look down at him.]

I do think... you really have grown too fond of me.

[ Ah. That touch to the base of his horns... Goosebumps erupt across Steak's skin as his neck tingles from that simple motion, and he makes a soft noise into the kiss as they continue. It's strange, foreign to feel a hand other than his own so close to the base of his horns, but it isn't unpleasant.

Not if it's someone he knows as well as he knows Red Wine ]

Don't get confused, I still hate you. [ He murmurs that against Red Wine's mouth, not allowing time for a comeback as he nips Red Wine's lip with his teeth.

Steak? Fond of Red Wine? What a ridiculous notion. ]

Yes, yes, I hate you too.

[Of course he does.

The fact he despises Steak has absolutely nothing to do with the way he's settled warmly against him, the way he's tracing the shape of one horn as it slowly moves more into the realm of 'familiar'. It has nothing at all to do with the way he keeps kissing him, and the way he's enjoying it.]

But you waltzed in here and kissed me.

And?

[ Does he need to like Red Wine to kiss him? Don't humans talk about hatesex in their literature a lot? ]

I was — [ And here, Steak takes a breath and grips Red Wine hard, rolling him onto his back in one swift motion. ] — curious.

[ Another kiss, brief and firm before Steak's mouth finds Red Wine's jaw, trailing kisses across bone. ]

Ah--

[Steak is stronger now than he remembers him ever being and being pulled around like that is far too easily done. Red Wine's back hits the bed and he doesn't make a sound, no startled exhale of breath, then as a warm kiss falls to his neck--

He laughs.

Red Wine laughs and gives Steak's shoulders a half-hearted shove.]

I'm not some plaything for you to test your curiosity on.

[ His chimera form seems to have exaggerated all his strengths in a way that could be terrifying if Steak didn't spend so much time working with his body, fighting things in the Wilde or lifting boxes at DiplomaTea. Now, everything's easier.

It's one of the few things he likes about this curse.

But that's besides the point right now, as his mouth continues to explore exposed bits of skin, teeth grazing lightly against Red Wine's neck when his shoulder is shoved. ]

Then why did you kiss me?! [ Despite the grumbles, despite anything their traditions and his pride may dictate, Steak's kisses don't stop their path down Red Wine's neck until they meet the fabric of a collar and he breaks contact to, very maturely, glower at the inanimate object blocking his path. ]

You kissed me. [He points out immediately, tilting his head slightly and then pulling Steak lightly away from his neck with one hand fisted gently in his hair when he reaches his collar.

He wants to look at him while he talks.]

Then you insisted when I said 'no', and you're still doing it.

[Red Wine's eyebrows raise slightly.]

So what, exactly, do you want?

[ A soft gasp leaves Steak's lips as Red Wine pulls him back, surprise written on his face at the hand in his hair. ]

I meant the first time.

[ He was perfectly fine having minimal curiosity about kisses or Red Wine but then he had to go and kiss him, had to go and make Steak feel as though he's been missing something for those last two centuries of living.

Had to make him think about something other than his duty of being a warrior. ]

Ah... mhn.

[He isn't tense this time. His grip in Steak's hair loosens and he combs through it instead, his eyes half-lidding as he watches the dense curls fall through his fingers. It's a long few moments before he looks at Steak again, meeting his eyes with a brief thinning of his lips and a faintly furrowed brow.]

I suppose I did. [Red Wine mutters, huffing out a little chuckle.]

But you were the one who made it mean something.

[ Steak, on the other hand, is, and the tension comes with the too-sharp realisation that it's easier when they don't talk about things. Like in battle together, it's better when they simply flow in and out of what the other is doing without question or worry. He doesn't have to question anything, doesn't have to look at Red Wine and sit with the knot heavy in his stomach, the one which leaves his heartbeat drumming a rhythm all wrong for it.

He ducks his head out from Red Wine's grip, cheeks distinctly pink, and seats himself on the bed, tentacles draped over thighs like armour, a barricade between the two. ]

A-and? What about it?

[ God of Beginnings, this would be easier if it was anyone else on Tierra or in Aefenglom. But with Red Wine, every admission, every step closer to uncovering the true name of the knot in his stomach, feels like accepting a loss in their neverending battles. ]

[There's a distinctly chilly sensation over him the moment he doesn't have Steak's body pressing against him anymore, and Red Wine doesn't move right away. He presses both hands to his face and lets out a loud, aggravated-sounding groan against his palms.

This. This is why he said they shouldn't do this. That it couldn't happen. His restraint briefly falters and a flash of annoyance and stinging disappointment escapes into the bond between them.]

Alright.

[Fucking-- damn it. He sits up and scrapes his hand through his hair.]

Is this a game for you, Steak? Just something to pass the time? I don't appreciate being toyed with. Either it means something or it doesn't, and you're going to decide right now.

[Because this isn't them. It isn't how they are... but maybe it could be, and maybe Red Wine would like that.]

[ He feels that. Through the confusion, the pride, the thing that has him retreating from everything beneath it.

Fear. A cloud of it which keeps that knot and the ache in his heart from getting names, because maybe it's just better for them to stay the way they always were. A wordless, nameless something. More than enemies, rivals, friends but refusing to be family.

It's easier to tell Bloody Mary that Red Wine is the Soul he will always stand by than it is to tell Red Wine himself, and why is that? ]

You...

[ For once, the word is a quiet breath, head bowed and hands digging into the flesh of his tentacles. Gods, Red Wine makes him so angry. It's a switch that flips, each and every time; his demands, his needless flourishes and touches, his complaints and insistences.

And, for once, he remembers his Master Attendant in a moment of his youth, a moment's downtime in all their work, glowering at the retreating back of his fiancée and complaining to Steak. She infuriates me! She's so reckless, so stupid. Why am I to wed her?

Steak had simply shook his head and pointed out that they were still on the clock, that this wasn't the time for his Attendant's personal problems. Because his Master Attendant was an idiot, unable to see the obvious truth of the way his cheeks flushed every time he began complaining, or to understand that he worried about his fiancée in ways he worried about no one else — not his men, nor his Food Soul.

And Steak's always been so much like his Attendant, hasn't he?

His shoulders tremble, fingers curling into his tentacles until the limbs ache, and Steak huffs out a laugh despite himself.

He's an idiot. ]

Fine. [ There was only ever one real answer, wasn't there? The one which was buried under two centuries of bickering, the one which necessitated his journey back to the Countess' palace, his suggestion that they bond, all of it.

It's just been easier to leave it unsaid. ]

—You mean more to me than just a promise I made to my Master Attendant. You always have. [ You better appreciate this, Red Wine, because this is hard, this has every time-ingrained instinct of what they are screaming in protest.

He'll take the loss here. For once. ]

Why would I waste my time on something meaningless? [ Just saying. He has so many other things he could be doing instead of kissing someone he doesn't care to be kissing. ]

[This isn't them, this isn't how they are, but Steak had pressed it and insisted and now he could reap the rewards of that insistence. Red Wine grips the edge of the bed while he narrows his attention down onto Steak's face, onto what he can feel from him, waiting for him to trip up and say something stupid enough that he can call this entire thing off and draw a line beneath it.

Because isn't it easier to simply go on as they were? He could kick himself for every time he'd let Steak get that close. For kissing him.

But Steak has been there for him from the very beginning of all this. From the first changes that were pressed upon them and through every attempt of Red Wine's to push him away. And he had tried, even after they had linked themselves together in a way that made it impossible.

He hears exactly what he wants to hear, only realising it's what he needs to hear when the words leave Steak's mouth. He looks down at his hands, twisting pale fingers together before one hand holds the other own to stop the fidgeting. His eyes half-lid, a wry smile coming to his lips.]

You wouldn't, would you. [That is something he will grudgingly concede.] And you know--... I wouldn't have stayed for so long just because of a promise.

[Not if he really hated him. Not if he really couldn't stand to be around him.]

... I am glad you're here, Steak. I want you to know that.

[ It has always been easier like that, when they had nothing else to worry about but whatever work they were doing. They could create their own problems and arguments and never worry about what it meant for who they were together.

They liked fighting, whether it was evil or each other. But now, here in Aefenglom, Steak watches Red Wine turn into the one thing Steak had always assured him would be impossible, watches him splinter and fracture as each month something new and terrible befalls him.

Their fights, nowadays, come with venom and broken spirits, and even Steak is forced to look within at what all of it means.

And, perhaps, it means the same thing his Master Attendant's anger did when Madame tried to offer herself as bait to a murderer.

He scowls as Red Wine replies, not because he hates those words but because they're new. Raw. Unfamiliar. They're nothing he's accustomed to hearing from the bastard, and his face doesn't know what to do.

(But, if he's honest with himself, his heart lightens, just a touch.) ]

Come here.

[ He unwinds his hands from his tentacles and lifts his head from where it had steadfastly been glowering at his lap, reaching out to wrap an arm around Red Wine's shoulder and yank him flush against his side.

It isn't gentle, but then, they are still themselves, after all. ]

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judgementor - 2020-06-14 21:19 (UTC) - Expand

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battlebound - 2020-06-15 14:19 (UTC) - Expand