armwriostle | peacockstop Overflow

[He blinks owlishly for a moment before he can't help but bark out a laugh. Well, this stranger certainly has quite the sense of humour.] I see. Well, I think between us, I'm the only one who can by the sounds of it.

[He makes his way over to the other. They can probably smell the cocktail of scents exuding from the boxer get stronger as he stops in front of them.] Well, well, well. Is there anything that we can do to help you then? I would hate to walk away and for you to not be satisfied.

So it is. A light in the darkness, no?

[they're too old to be boring, that's what they think. it would be easy to be pensive and earnest, but consider: gremlin. and hey, it tends to end in things like this, where another approaches out of amusement or curiosity. or bravado.

actually, there are a lot of reasons, aren't there.

he's relatively tall, they think. at least about their height, were they to stand—and much broader by the weight of him. light steps, seemingly unbothered, loud in the small area. interesting.]

That's rather up to your comfort, I think. You could always just describe yourself, of course. [but it's interesting, someone leaning in to their 'satisfaction.' it speaks a lot of his personality, though without the hint of reasoning behind it.] The air does keep everything somewhat fuzzy, in here, so the easiest option is, of course, touch. Appropriately to your preference, of course.

[in truth, it isn't normally their favourite option. even leaning into the play of this "game" enough that they sound whimsical, there's something... invasive about memorising someone by hand alone. sometimes it really is the most reasonable option, though—with someone who's up for it.

and if it slips further along? that's not a problem either. not when that intriguing cocktail of scents really does just draw them in, more than it has any right to do. the House's way of loading the dice, perhaps...]

Before any of that, though, I'm no savage. I'm Nimah, and you?

Mm, I don't know about that.

[He rests one of his hands on his hips as he tilts his head. His hair is still dripping wet, the drops either rolling down his back or dripping onto the floor.]

Who's to say I wouldn't just make things up? [It's said in such a way that makes it obvious he wouldn't actually do so. Wriothesley might tease a bit and make a few details up for shits and giggles, but he had no reason not to mostly be honest to the man in front of him.] How can I not offer when you are so polite, monsieur? I like to think myself openminded and to work with the person I am communicating with. If it is the easiest course of action, then I do not mind.

[He smiles easily, even if Nimah can't see it.] If I am bothered, I can always tell you to stop.

Wriothesley.

As it so happens, neither would I.

[Nimah I swear to god. they can hear the dripping, at least, a good enough idea of where he is and all. the question just earns a laugh.]

No one, of course. I'm sure some of those who've met me have lied about any number of things. [and it's clear from their answer that... well, it doesn't bother them. part of being blind is that there's nothing to recognise, and you don't usually describe someone to another in their experience. still, Wriothesley himself is quite... adaptable, at their guess.] It seems I'm quite lucky, then, that politeness runs in my veins. And lucky to find myself with such an amicable partner.

[because he is right, after all. though there are those who can't handle it, the reality is that the option is always there in their hands.]

Nimah. A pleasure, Wriothesley. [ah. they do trip over that a little bit, the roll of certain syllables picking up in the face of how they're arranged.] If it isn't a problem, I'll let you come to me, though.

[you know, so they don't just crash into him. which wouldn't happen, but that's not the point. a hand rises in sort of beckoning, and they do shift to brush their hair back and out of the way, bent leg dropping down to support weight again.]

Well, even if you weren't so polite, I'd probably be amiable. [Wriothesley is an easy guy in many senses of the words. He doesn't really have any reason to deny the other.

He chuckles a little.] Don't worry. You aren't the first person who has tripped over my name a bit. [Nimah would certainly not be the last either. Maybe he should have chosen an easier name, but it really is too late for that. He has grown fond of the name, besides.

A devious grin spreads on his lips as the other asks him to approach them. Well, if Nimah was going to ask so politely for him to come closer...] Of course, it is no problem.

[He takes a few confident steps forward and...promptly sits on the man's lap.] Is this close enough, monsieur?

Mm, it isn't often I hear a name with so many consonants near one another.

[they have no opinions on the name anyway—there's always the option of just giving him a nickname, if it comes down to it. for Nimah, it's more likely they'll just work at it until it works out, if the two get along well (and it doesn't seem they won't, really).

... they can hear him moving, without the context of his devious grin, and it's abrupt in the moments before they'd intended to stand—]

... Ah. [weight thunks down over Nimah's lap and they can't help but be glad to have moved their hair. not that there's anything wrong with a little pinch, but being able to lift their head is more helpful than not. his muscle settles nicely over the leaner muscle of their thighs, a tangle of strength on strength.] Are you expecting something more, settling so abruptly?

[it's asked with a laugh, though now that he's here, they can hardly escape the almost overwhelming sense of something. it'd been there in the air in fits and starts, but here nestled amid the boxer's scent... something specific to this room, they think.

ah, but that's not why they're here, is it.]

I am quite stubborn, so you may have to be clear with me what you want... if you enjoy the idea that I was propositioning you. But yes. This is more than close enough for me to get an idea.

[they're about the same height, Nimah thinks, based on how soundly his feet settle in the space between them. much more heavily muscled, though. this is confirmed as their hands glide over his thighs, following the curve of the muscle up and to the outside of his waist. every movement is... carefully polite, mostly because they do find they want to have an idea of what he looks like. those hands are delicate in their motions, heavily callused though they are.

and yes, if they were to be honest, there's selfishness in that curiosity. Nimah isn't a saint, and Wriothesley is very confident and very naked in their lap, cool water still dripping down from soaked hair.]

... Are you a fistfighter of some kind? [an absent question, when their hands draw up over a shoulder and down along the swell and curve of his arms. the muscles are too evenly developed for other heavy weapons, they think... but it will really be up to him how much he wants to talk about. it still doesn't answer where some muscles are built for just fighting and others seem to be able to hold something, but it's a start.]

[Wriothesley just lets out a content hum as he runs his fingers through the abundance of hair Nimah has.]

Hm? Does it seem like I'm expecting something more? You wanted to feel me right? Is this not good? [Despite being settled on the man's lap, Wriothesley doesn't seem to be trying to do anything too suggestive. At least not at the moment. His actions are pretty benign and innocent for the time being.

He has no idea what the cocktail of smells exuding from him might be doing to the other though.

He lets the other touch him as they please, taking note that they're touching him as politely as possible. Nothing feels sexually charged and only feels like curiosity. Wriothesley does shift every so often, not exactly the type who can sit and do nothing.

Maybe it's why he ends up running his fingers through Nimah's hair, combing it out, before he starts braiding it.]

A boxer. You're very knowledgeable about physiques, aren't you? That's impressive. [He guesses that its something they just learn with time, but even the average person can't normally tell, so he thinks it is impressive regardless.]

Mm. An old habit, you might say. Even a standing offer. I am far too old to be too coy.

[they're quite expressive without their eye coverings, brows furrowing or eyes squinting amid contemplation. He seems restless, so it's just as well that they're efficient about it all.

Not that his occasional movements do anything to stop them from their work, though they do bring a little pause here and there. The scent is itself intoxicating too, cool and heavy as it is, but... that's just an endurance test, right?]

A boxer. [The repetition comes with both acknowledgement and understanding, and it puts most of Wriothesley's physique into perspective. The rest... the scars are notably glanced over, taken in but assumed better to not talk about with a stranger.

... even if that stranger is braiding their hair, or more importantly combing through it. That is enough to pull little shivers from Nimah, a thoughtful hum on their lips.]

I'm sure there are many body types I would fail to guess, but thank you. [Their fingers work their way up over his shoulders and neck now, tracing along his jaw. said fingers twitch slightly as his fingers run through their hair, a shiver that cuts through much of their relative calm. it's so sensitive, they can't help it.] One of my duties entails weapon training for newly Awakened humans... so I have some experience with various body types. But thank you, it's taken a few decades.

[so it's more practical, but still. he's... younger, they think, than they first thought. just a little, based on his brash confidence.]

Well, I can respect someone who can get to the point. [It's too bad that Wriothesley loves to play coy.] You could say that I just like to go to with the flow. I'm not opposed, but I'm not going to act like we have to either. [But maybe he'll tease the other a little bit to see how they respond.

In the meantime, he'll watch the other's face carefully. He gauges their expression with interest.]

Mhmm. [There's a wolfish grin on his face when the other shivers. How cute. He drags his nails over Nimah's scalp as he lets out a hum.] Most people would only be able to make guesses. I don't think I would have been able to make any sort of guess like that. [Actually, this is probably not true. If he were to take a moment to observe others, he could probably make educated guesses.

What was more interesting was Nimah's words.] I'm going to be honest, but I'm not quite sure I follow what your words mean.

I see. Then I'll adjust my expectations.

[it doesn't seem teasing them will go badly, at least. they're not too hard to read either, especially with nothing covering their eyes.

there's a lightness to their expression, a flicker of pleasant hunger at the drag of nails over their scalp, echoed by a faint rumble. rude, Wriothesley. it's not enough that it slows them from answering his admission, though there's enough of a pause there to consider what he means and how to clarify in turn.]

Ah... yes. People seem to be from entirely different worlds here, don't they? [satisfied with their explorations and the general feel of Wriothesley's form, Nimah's hands trail downward, making no effort to avoid tracing over muscle and curve on their way down. if he's so amiable, then it's harmless to touch and feel a little.] Where I'm from, some humans are... born with innate talents. The ability to conjure fire or manipulate the wind, for example.

These people find that, sometime after adulthood, they "awaken" to these abilities; usually in a fit of danger or emotional turmoil. Though... I suppose I should ask if you'd like the short version or the long before I continue. [a beat.] I am not opposed to either, but I think I would rather a more comfortable seat if I'm going to explain it all. The steam in here is beginning to feel troublesome, anyway.

[If people didn't have such fun reactions, then he would tease them a little less!!! He leans in so that the other can feel his hot breath against the skin of their neck. He's acting as though he merely shifted so that he can continue braiding Nimah's hair. This is not the reason why and he moved on purpose with the sole reason to breath against the other's neck.]

From the few people I've spoken to, the names they have said to me are not familiar. [He has heard a few different names that sounded so very foreign on his tongue. Different worlds is not such a surprising thing to hear though. He's lucky the Traveler exists so he could be more mentally prepared for the idea of it.

He does listen to the other talk with interest. It didn't sound so dissimilar to people being granted Visions in a way. It was different, yet similar.]

I am amiable to either. [A huff of a laugh, his lips just barely ghosting over skin.] Oh? Does the steam bother you? I didn't realize it would be an issue.

That is fine. They're not so important, and even others in my world wouldn't recognise a number of city names if I gave them.

[they can't help but laugh, even beneath the soft rumble of breath as Wriothesley leans in, breath ghosting over their neck. he's intriguing, just going his own way—an admirable ideal, in their very biased opinion.]

Mm... perhaps the longer version, as it will hopefully answer further questions for you. [the circumstance isn't entirely dissimilar from Visions, of course, even down to the popular idea that Awakened are "god touched," but Nimah has no concept of this yet. besides, they can't help but be a little distracted, another shiver as lips ghost over their neck.] It is not my favourite addition to the air, as it feels heavy and thick. It's also liable to make my hair take forever to dry... since you seem enamoured with braiding it while you test my resolve.

[this time, there's no attempt at coyness or calm, rational thought. Nimah is not stupid, after all, and they've gotten enough of a read on him to guess his intent. even if he may enjoy the process of braiding it, the older man's hair is most assuredly a means to his end... they just have to decide where they'd like to let him win that particular "contest."]

How accommodating for a complete stranger. [Especially a stranger who is very obvious causing just a little trouble for the other. Wriothesley is not ignorant to the reactions he is getting out of the other. One can practically hear the smirk in his voice.]

Test your resolve, monsieur? [His voice is filled with saccharine innocence.] I am just braiding your hair. Is there something about your hair being touched so innocently that would test your resolve?

[Wriothesley knows exactly what he's doing.] I have no reason to cause problems for a man who has only been so very polite with me.

Is it? I find it efficient to move beyond things that only cause confusion and waste time.

[He really is too whimsical about this. At least no one is as unhinged as Muchi—they really don't want to throw someone into a wall without any enjoyable reason anytime soon.]

Is this the part where I'm supposed to fluster and confess how nice it feels to have hands in my hair and your breath on my neck, how you can't possibly be unaware of what you're doing...?

[They exhale a chuckle then and let a hand trail up his back, short nails pressing into the defined curve and swell of muscles.]

Or perhaps you're hoping I'll give in and hold you down, express my fascination with how sweet you smell, listen to you pretend to want for escape...

[Sure, a lot of that is baseless on the second half. Nimah is absolutely, for certain, falling on personal experience (or their own personality, more likely) to bolster the expectation they speak of. It's an educated guess where, in the scheme of enjoyment, the older man can't lose, and their veneer of patience will remain unshattered. And if he continues to hold on to his whimsy of "not doing anything," well, they can last a while longer.]

You could not bother in the first place and I would have easily accepted that too.

[How funny. This man really was amusing. He continues to play dumb, merely because he can. Wriothesley was obviously caught with what he was doing, but he hasn't been stopped.] No one said anything about flustering. Monsieur, you're the one putting words in my mouth.

[He shudders pleasantly into Nimah's touch. One could practically hear the smirk in Wriothesley's voice as he speaks again though.]

Is that what you think I want or is that what you want to do? [He drags his hands through Nimah's hair again.] I didn't realize that my scent has you so enamored though. I forgotten about how this all started, actually.

That would imply that I have a problem with sharing the information. I've heard most of the questions time and again, as a weapons trainer.

[it clearly doesn't bother them at all, sharing information about themselves. if you knew what an Awakened was back home, it's not like they're all that inconspicuous.]

Hardly. I simply asked which role I should play, didn't I? You're keeping all your cards quite close to your chest, after all. [they're too similar, probably. Nimah only exhales a laugh as they continue to just... needle one another. a war of attrition, jeez.]

I'm presenting options, nothing more. You said you like to go with the flow, and I'm not so different there. [some of which are made worlds less effective as Wriothesley drags hands through their hair. it's just such a pleasant feeling and they'd really like to just bask in it for a while.] Ah. I had forgotten, as well... though I don't think my thoughts would have changed significantly under the circumstances. If anything, they perhaps lean away from the lattermost ideals.

[maybe less so if not for the whole playing with their hair thing. that's his own fault.]

Well, you don't have to have a problem sharing information to not feel like it. After all, I think the particulars of our worlds isn't probably on the top of anyone's minds now that we're all here.

[Not that Wriothesley would be opposed to talk about Teyvat. He just also doesn't think people care as much about these things like he does. He finds himself endlessly curious. Knowing the particulars about what is part of Nimah's world also helps him understand the person he's seated upon after all.]

Which role do you want to play? [Wriothesley does not comment on the latter. He knows that they're correct. Wriothesley is a man who loves to omit information and keep things to himself. He would reveal things when he wanted to.

The boxer busies himself with scratching at Nimah's scalp with his nails. He seemed more than happy to give the other as much attention as they wanted. He was the type to make sure the other person was enjoying themselves as much as possible.] Hmm, well I'm content with what my partner enjoys.

[A huff of a laugh.] Does that mean you're satisfied with what you accessed? Is this becoming something more personal now? [Like a careful game of cat and mouse.]

I am of the opinion that camaraderie grows with learning. Being from different worlds, and understanding those differences besides, can be the difference between stumbling in the dark and linking together a plan... or in understanding how to avoid missteps and culture clashes.

[among other things. it's safe to say, at least, that Wriothesley isn't alone in those thoughts and curiosities. granted, it was probably pretty clear before then too.]

Which role... hmm. Well, if I am honest, I'm less apt to lean into that aggression... but I'm not sure if I'm much good at pretending to fluster, either.

[they exhale a little laugh there, fingers reaching up to gently cup Wriothesley's chin.]

I feel like you're holding back, and my preference is to see that control unravel. [an irony, what with their own significant concentration.] If you think it personal, I have no complaints with calling it so.

[just not too personal, thanks.]

What a thoughtful reply. [He means that honestly.] Though, I will say that no amount of differences is enough of a wall to rally people together depending the situation.

[He knows that acutely well. Prisoners of varying sentences were all willing to come together. It didn't matter how serious or how petty the crime. When thrust into such an unforgiving world and the threat that a corrupt man can take away what they earned with pure hard work was more than enough to have people band together. Differences aside.] Comradery of sorts.

[He laughs as he leans into Nimah's hand.] I don't think the use of aggression is right here. I can be plenty aggressive in whatever I want. In the end, isn't this a mutual give and take? [He tilts his head just enough to run his tongue over one of those fingers.]

Mm, you would have to try harder for that though, monsieur. [Wriothesley held onto control with an iron grip.] Consider it a challenge.

Not at all. It only makes it a little easier to move forward swiftly, and less exhausting in the long run.

[there's really nothing worse than dealing with a bunch of people who are squabbling, even when they're working together. still, they don't really correct anything; there doesn't seem much point.]

Ah, but I never said you were being aggressive. [a huff of laughter, the shake of their head.] I said that I was less apt to lean into the aggression I myself suggested. [they rather thought they were clear on it, but communication is a difficulty. as to control... well, in the ways that matter, they're not dissimilar to one another.]

A challenge to get you to act how you want... hm. [hm. it's harder to take that challenge right now, sitting under him and with their scalp pleasantly tingling from all the attention to their hair.] Well, I suppose there's no rush either way. May as well just start and see where things go, no?

[they suppose. and, uncomfortable seat be damned, they finally give in to the instinct to lean in, fingers pulled just out of the way to brush his lips, provided he has no other plans.]

Hmm, what if I want you to be aggressive? Would you? Or is it just not possible? [Not that he would make the other. Encourage? Yes. Make? No. The other seems pretty calm and grounded that seeing them push a little more would be exciting for him to see.]

Going with the flow hmm? [Wriothesley would probably give in before the other did. He could be patient, but there also didn’t feel like they needed to be.

Nimah was so pliant in his hands though that he can’t help but spoil the man a bit longer. Even if he catches those fingers in his mouth to suck on them. Maybe a little teasing while he continues to drag blunt nails against Nimah’s scalp.]

Oh, it's possible. [there's a soft laugh there, warmth suffusing through them. he really does smell pleasant, and assuredly, it's becoming far more distracting than it needs to be.]

Mmm. That's the intent. And—for the record, [the words are spoken absently, as fingers shift in his mouth, teasing along his tongue where he sucks, a rumbled purr on their lips at his continued drag of nails against their scalp] if you'd like aggression, then you perhaps shouldn't have started with my hair.

[it's very difficult, as it turns out, for them to go back to being an utter gremlin (not that they're not being one at all now) after they just want to melt against him and behave. oops.]

[He pulls off Nimah’s fingers with a wet pop, a string of saliva still connected between the now wet fingers and his lips. Wriothesley chuckles, seemingly comfortable where he is. Well, almost. He shifts a little and it would seem innocent if he didn’t seem to grind against Nimah’s lap.

He’s acting as though he is merely getting comfortable.] I didn’t realize it would be easy to take you with just some innocent touching of your hair. I’ll keep it in mind.

[It's an alluring little stretch of saliva they can't see, but at least there's some sensation to it, melted sweetly into the shift of hips over their own.

He continues to treat it as idle movement, and at least this time he's rewarded with the throb of their cock, pressed firmly between them both. Their other hand moves to trace over Wriothesley's front, fingers dipping in to memorize its shape and form.]

Haha. It does depend on the circumstance, but in general.. I am too old to be shy and embarrassed. Being a docile kitten is fun too, with the right partner. Or a playful one.

[He arches his back with a breathy groan as Nimah’s hands wander over his body. Wriothesley yanks at their hair a little harder. Not enough to hurt, but it’s firm and a far cry from the gentle petting before.]

Should I start calling you kitten instead? [His tone is teasing as one hand stays tangled in Nimah’s hair and the other one travels down to grind his palm against the man’s crotch.]

peacockstop Overflow

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