armwriostle | peacockstop Overflow

[ And Lon’qu’s just…confused. It’s clear that Wriothesley’s flirting with him, that touch of his sending shivers down his spine.

Listen, he’s not great at flirting, all right? He needs things straightforwardly spelled out, or he’s going to blurt out something dangerously stupid— ]

Does it matter? It’s just a match.

[He blinks once. Twice. Wriothesley can't help but laugh after a moment. He doesn't mean to laugh at the other. It's just...well it's cute. The man is really quite cute despite their curt personality.]

Sorry, sorry. I guess I should be more clear. Do you want a proper rematch or do you want sex? Perhaps I read too much into your words.

[Is that straightforward enough for you, Lon'qu?]

[ Even if Wriothesley doesn’t mean it, the laugh does feel a little insulting, Lon’qu bristling visibly at the response.

At least before Wriothesley gives him a proper one.

Which promptly reignites that blush— ]

What? I…I…

[ Just give him a moment to process this, because this kind of thing has never happened to him before and he doesn’t know the first thing of how to respond— ]

[Wriothesley chuckles softly. He finally moves to get off the other. Maybe it's time to stop flustering them. It's not like he actually expect the other to agree nor did it seem like something they'd proposition in the first place.]

Don't think too much on it. It was my mistake for making certain assumptions based on how this place works. [He almost feels a little like he's a bad influence for the guy. Oops.

He holds his hand out to the other with the intent of helping them to their feet.] Here.

[ He’d have shoved that hand aside and gotten up on his own—his ego’s bruised enough that he’s tempted to do it anyway.

But…

With a sigh, he reaches out to accept Wriothesley’s hand instead. ]

…My thanks.

[ This kind of thing is routine, so why is he blushing furiously anyway? And why does he feel a certain iciness in that big, strong hand… ]

Where I come from, people have no qualms about…indulging themselves. I should have been better prepared.

[Wriothesley helps him up with no issue. He even helps pat sand off Lon'qu's back once they're both standing.]

I don't think it's a bad thing. Some people are more used to those things than others. If it's not something you're attuned to, it's not bad. This place has a tendency to bring that side of others out. Sometimes, not really because they want it.

[He smiles a little.] Please don't think much on it. I believe that I can finish my scavenger hunt though, so thank you. I think I have taken up enough of your time.

…Right.

[ He doesn’t know what else to say.

Honestly, this good-natured acceptance of Wriothesley’s is also so aggravatingly, charmingly Feroxi of him. Is he really not one of Basilio’s men…? He shakes his head once they part, to get the lay of the land and…

…Eventually make his way to the Talon some time later on, having found little recourse but to get away from the strangeness of the resort by commandeering some small corner of the fitness area to thwack at a training dummy with a wooden sword.

He has yet to indulge in this world’s imperatives, but his own deadline is looming, and he doesn’t like it one bit. But for now? All he can do is put all his frustrations into his strikes, resulting in the dummy’s head snapping off and rolling away from a particularly vicious strike, finally coming to a stop at Wriothesley’s feet.

Lon’qu looks up at him. ]

You, again.

Me.

[Wriothesley is a common face at Talon. Always wanting to be at his best if a fight might come his way, the man rarely skips on training. It's why it's no surprise that he has ended up at the gym, though he isn't exactly expecting to have the poor head of the dummy Lon'qu was whaling against roll at his feet.

He leans down to pick it up.] Feeling a little frustrated? I don't think the dummy was quite ready to meet its untimely end to such a strong fighter like this.

Strength is nothing without technique. Destroying it was sloppy of me.

[ He knows that’s not what Wriothesley meant, but he does take some comfort in his bluntness, in this talk of fighting rather than of the other thing that’s made their relationship just…weird to him.

He still doesn’t know how to process attraction. His face flushes; his fingers twitch….

A rematch seems like the best and only recourse.

…At least this one doesn’t look half as dumb as Vaike. ]

You need to blow steam or something then?

[He studies the other for a moment. The flushed face to the man's seemingly agitated body language. He quirks his mouth into a lopsided grin before tossing the towel draped around his neck off to the side.]

Well? Come on, now. You look like you want to vent a little. That's what you want, right? A rematch. I'll let you release all that pent up frustration so don't hold back on my account.

[ He sizes Wriothesley up for a moment, before realizing just how bad of an idea it actually is. The way he’s flushed from exertion, the sweat running down his neck, the towel hanging off of one broad shoulder, the flex of those arms…

Some part of him does realize what this all means to him, yet the more rational part of him refuses to acknowledge it. It’s…something that other people get to enjoy, not the likes of him. He only ever had to focus on one thing in his life since that day, and…

He swallows.

It feels like he's sinking. ]

You don’t use weapons.

[ It wouldn’t be a fair fight to him if Wriothesley’s just using his fists. ]

[For what it's worth, Wriothesley is very much focused on the idea of a match than what Lon'qu might be troubled with. The thrill of a good fight or something.

He folds his arms over his chest and tilts his head.] Oh? These are weapons though? [His fists were his weapons were they not? Was the other worried he's at a disadvantage.]

Fighting with my hands is what I do best. Wouldn't it make sense for you to fight at your best? If that means a sword, then that means we would both be fighting with what we know best. I don't see it as a disadvantage. [The Pankration Ring hosted fights filled with all sort of fighters and all sort of tactics utilized. He knew how to hold his own against person, meka, and everything inbetween.]

Besides, it's just a friendly match. Are you planning to kill me or something?

[ With those arms crossed, Lon’qu finds himself with more of an eyeful of Wriothesley’s chest than he’d cared to experience in a lifetime… ]

…I’m not planning on holding back.

[ And that’s about his best answer as he desperately runs through various scenarios in his head. Wriothesley’s good; he’ll give him that. But is he good enough to get inside Lon’qu’s guard a second time when he’s now armed? Doubtful.

Then again, he knows better by now that underestimating his opponents is never a good idea…

He can just keep on convincing himself that that’s all there is to it, and that his thoughts of battle tactics have nothing to do at all with him avoiding the muscular elephant in the room— ]

Good, good. I rather lose to an opponent giving it their all than to win because they weren't operating at their best.

[Which is to say, he isn't sure if Lon'qu was operating at their best. They seemed fairly distracted to say the least... And well-] Mora for your thoughts? You seem distracted. [And he can't help but be a little concerned. Was something ailing them?]

Is something wrong?

[He takes a few steps forward.]

[ Years of strict discipline has just barely managed to keep him from taking an instinctive step back—not so much out of repulsion as it is fear of his own attraction toward the man. It’s inconvenient at best and…and…. ]

I’m fine.

[ Said a little too hastily. ]

My sword arm hasn’t been as steady from the lack of training. That’s all.

[ He’s finally conscious of just how tense and firm his grip on that practice sword is, and he forces himself to ease up on his grip, revealing the pointed tip of a spade tattoo placed over his wrist, its color inky black.

He still hasn’t indulged since the moment he got here. ]

[Wriothesley is much too sharp to miss the dark mark against fairer skin. His hand instinctively moves to grab their arm so that he can get a good look at it. It's not as though wrist was uncommon for the tattoo. Wriothesley's own diamond was on his inner right wrist, the pinkish symbol decorated against inky black "handcuffs" that decorate his wrists.]

Hey...

[His brows furrow as he looks at the spade before looking at the other. Sparring completely forgotten to fret over Lon'qu's health.] Not to get into your business, but you haven't slept with anyone recently?

[It doesn't have to be him, but...] It's important for you to at least have a regular partner if you aren't interested in sleeping around. Holding off on this isn't good for you. When was the last time you had sex? This is pretty dark.

[ His breath catches when Wriothesley grabs him, the surge of heat shooting straight to his groin at that.

Damn…he hadn’t realized it could get this bad. But then, he’s been struggling to focus for some time, hasn’t he? He can’t even remember what these marks on their bodies mean now—not his spade, nor the more elaborate pattern on Wriothesley’s wrists, so mesmerizing that he realizes he hadn’t looked up until that question. ]

What?

[ He swallows, hard, trying not to let panic set in as the full brunt of his inaction has finally settled in—the one thing he’d been trying to deny by forcing himself through training and discipline when he should’ve tried to reach out to someone before it was too late.

…He’d been a fool. ]

I’ve never… There isn’t anyone I could…

[He studies the other for a moment, taking in the flush of their face and anything else he can notice about the other man's physical state.

He really can't leave Lon'qu in their current state.

Wriothesley tugs them towards him, starting to pull them with him towards the changing rooms. He imagines that this isn't ideal for them, but he also imagines that they don't want to suffer the consequences of leaving his suit to ravage their mental and physical state.]

Come on. Let's handle it now.

[It doesn't have to be anything intense. A blowjob or a handjob would suffice. Lon'qu seemed to be pretty hesitant to get himself involved with others in such a way, so something quick was probably ideal.]

Wait—

[ …This man is aggravatingly strong, he realizes again to his consternation as he stumbles along after Wriothesley, his mind desperately racing to catch up to what’s happening in the here and now.

Wriothesley’s offering.

The only person in this resort that he’d felt any genuine attraction to, and he’s… ]

You—You don’t have to do this. It’s my fault. I should’ve…

I don't have to, you're right. You make it sound like I'm unwilling though.

[He drags the other to the changing rooms where he basically pushes the other to sit on one of the benches before settling onto his knees in front of them.] If you don't want to with me, then you can say so and I'll stop.

[Hands rest on Lon'qu's knees as he looks up at the other.] But I'll have you know that I'm very much willing. You can imagine it's someone else if that makes it easier for you, but let me help you.

[ …This is not how he’d expected to bring an opponent to his knees.

In fact, just the mere sight of Wriothesley between his legs like this might just make him explode— ]

“Imagine”?

[ Somehow hearing that irks him. ~~Because what imagination—~~ He tries to take deep breaths, to compose himself, before looking Wriothesley square in the eyes— ]

I don’t need to indulge in such things. Not when you’re the—the only…

[ DON’T MAKE HIM SAY IT OUT LOUD… ]

[Is this not the best way to bring an opponent to their knees?

Wriothesley's eyes crinkle at the corners with mirth and he gives the other a pleased smile as he starts to undo the fastenings of their pants. Lon'qu wasn't stopping him nor did they refuse him, so he imagines this is fine to do.]

Not when I'm? [A coy tilt of his head. Sorry, sir. You're going to have to finish that sentence.]

I'm not sure what you're implying.

[ Sir, despite all of Ferox’s best attempts, he’s still a virgin— ]

It’s—It’s not important.

[ He’s not even sure he should risk speaking at all when Wriothesley’s already—gods, they’re really going to do this, aren’t they? And on some level he’s excited for it, feels an odd thrill that’s so markedly different from how he feels in a fight, yet something about it is warm and familiar and comforting and thrilling all the same.

Just…how does anyone sort through their feelings in the midst of all this? He’s afraid he’s going to blurt out something he’s going to regret if Wriothesley keeps him talking. ]

Just…you should enjoy yourself?

[ That’s a thing people do with sex, right? He’s not even sure where to begin beyond gaping awkwardly down as Wriothesley undoes his pants. ]

[There's a low hum as he slowly frees the man's length from their trousers, wrapping a calloused hand around the length to stroke it. It's almost curious as he looks up to study Lon'qu's expression.]

You don't think I won't? [He grins something wicked.]

Don't worry about me and just enjoy the ride, won't you? I happen to be rather fond of having things like this in my mouth. [As though to indicate his claim, he leans forward to press a kiss at the head and down the length.]

So I want you to enjoy yourself too. And don't hold back. Aches after a fight feels good and this is no different. [He's basically implying the man can be as rough as they want to be. He thinks he can certainly handle it.]

[ Despite being told not to hold back, he immediately makes a strangled noise the moment that mouth touches at the tip of his cock.

Gods...even if he’s used to being around shameless types, something about the way Wriothesley’s messing with him in particular is just...so... ]

I—I only know how to fight...

[ All this is entirely new territory for him and it’s thrilling and exhilarating and also deeply, supremely embarrassing, because Lon’qu has not experienced true intimacy in any shape or form since childhood. Everyone had always been kept at arms’ length, emotionally and physically, and even when he’s finally getting one desire gratified he can’t help that strange roiling in his gut, the creeping feeling up his spine. The nagging notion that he doesn’t deserve this, shouldn’t even try to enjoy this, even if every part of his body and soul screams otherwise. ]

And...And this...feels almost like admitting defeat...

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aaand scene change!

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