armwriostle | ♦ [INBOX] ♦

[ There's a part of him that pauses, that suddenly doesn't know what to do with this information despite having asked for it. But caution burns away in the light of memory and something a little stronger, honesty not yet diminished by the house rules. ]

Can I see you?

[He thinks about the feeling that lingers in his chest. The week had been a whirlwind of carnal pleasure and the entanglement of bodies. It had been a week where his mind was in a constant haze of lust and arousal.

Of course he remembers all of it though. A hand runs over the bandages on his neck before he replies.]

Please.

I'll come to you. Give me a few minutes, okay?

[ He doesn't bother to really get changed out of what he'd slept in, the agreement flooding him with relief first and the exigency of the situation second. But as promised, it doesn't take him long to take the elevator down to the lobby, its atmosphere still mellow at these hours. From there, past the smell of new coffee and clean floors, to the stairs, down until he's at the sublevels and finally —

At Wriothesley's door, where he quietly knocks. ]

[He opens the door a crack to see who it is before opening the door fully. Wariness still runs heavy in his veins and it will be awhile before he gets it to something more of a manageable level.

Wriothesley looks like he has seen better days. Bites and bruises linger on his body and weariness settles heavy on the man's shoulders. His usual dress has been abandoned for comfort; sweatpants and t-shirt with no real care to try and uphold a certain image. His knuckles are bandaged along with his neck. The fur is all gone and his body has returned to something completely human. The only remnants of his change is the messy, long hair that settles on his back like a cape.

Kizuna can probably smell the lingering scent of ice and brass intermingled with freshly brewed tea and cigarette smoke. Said cigarette still between his lips.] Hey, sweetheart.

[ Caution greets the pliant reach of his heart despite the open door. It's a type of vigilance that melts against his understanding of why it exists in the first place — Kizuna doesn't fault him for it. They were not each other's first in the game or each other's last. Gaze flickering between his tangible exhaustion and messy skin, the presence of the cigarette, Kizuna still smiles, tension loosening in the lines of his shoulders. He doesn't have to say as much for it to be obvious: he's soothed by this alone. ]

That's a terrible habit. [ Amiable, soft. ] Good morning.

[Kizuna smiles and Wriothesley can't help but feel tension ease out of him. The man really has something over him and he decidedly isn't going to think too much onto what that is. They make his heart flutter and he feels like he's more at peace than he ever has in the last week.

He steps to the side for the other.] I need it for my bad boy look. My room isn't really suitable for guests if you rather go to the lobby or something.

[Wriothesley isn't kidding. The small space is somewhat cramped and his room definitely has seen better days. All sorts of mechanical parts and scraps are shoved in boxes or leaning against the walls. The table has tools scattered alongside tins of tea and an electric kettle.

The bed is broken. Not that it seems to matter as it seems that he had made a giant pile of sheets and pillow similar to what he had done in Kizuna's closet.]

[ A bad boy, Kizuna's gaze seems to say. Sure. ]

No, [ Kizuna answers immediately as he enters. ] I feel fine here. It's yours, isn't it?

[ This space, filled to the brim with the scent of tea and smoke, oil, metal dust. It smells like him, a quality Kizuna is realizing calms him in the same way that it makes his nerves feel light. As if at home, he shrugs off his open-front sweater he'd thrown on over his plain night shirt. When its collar slides away from his neck, there's deep bruising smattered there at his pulse point — his skin is not the same as it was when Wriothesley left his suite.

Kizuna can see him with his own two eyes, but he still asks: ]

How are you feeling?

[Excuse you!! He can definitely be a bad boy. :/ He didn't go to prison just for people to think he is only a soft good boy!!!

He shuts the door behind him before putting his cigarette out in an ash tray propped up on a stack of metal components. Look, he isn't going to force the other to inhale cigarette smoke of his own doing in a small, confined space. He's going to ruin his own health. Not others.

His gaze immediately falls to those bruises and he feels something ugly stir in the pit of his chest. Oh. That's something he definitely does not want to analyze, but he remembers Kizuna's words upon seeing bites upon his body. Well, he's very much understanding the situation now that it has been reversed.

He almost misses Kizuna's question and he snaps his gaze back to the man's face.] I'm...getting by. I'm just a little tired is all. [He leans against one of the walls, letting Kizuna take over his bed if they want to. Thinking about it...he doesn't know what's buried between those sheets because he's pretty sure there's some clothes amongst it all.

Is all of it his own? Probably not.] What about you? Sorry, I wasn't really ever in the best of mind to be checking in on people through the week. [Very quick to change the subject off himself.]

[ It's not lost on him, the sudden spike in Wriothesley's demeanor. Something has plunged itself into his chest and churned, releasing whatever it was that he's harbored there. But Kizuna isn't reaching too far as he seats himself on the edge of his bed, unphased by its ruined state. He didn't come here to lay bare his feelings, knowing that Wriothesley knows he can.

He came here to see him. ]

I'm okay. My suit didn't have it as bad as yours.

[ Through the fading smoke and the feeling of the other man's eyes on him, Kizuna gazes upwards at him. Slowly, his arm raises, beckoning for him with a curl of his fingers. ]

Were you still trying to sleep it off? I know it's early.

[Wriothesley's body really moves before he even thinks. He pushes away from the wall and walks the few steps over to the man beckoning him over. Instead of sitting next to the other though, he drops to his knees on the floor to rest his arms on the other's lap, his head atop. Like a dog who wants attention.

He looks up at the other with a shake of his head.]

No. I was up when you texted me. I couldn't sleep. [Wriothesley was already a terribly light sleeper, but he could admit that the amount of sleep he got this week was abysmal. Every little sound outside his door could spook him to alertness and he found that even when he did fall asleep, it was far from restful.] I only made a single cup of tea, but you can have it if you want.

[He gestures with his head towards the desk where a mug is resting on the flat surface.]

[ How is his heart supposed to not skip a beat when he does things like that?

As if equally on instinct, Kizuna reaches out to run his fingers through the long mottled waves, easing bangs back from his forehead and tucking strands behind his ears. Slow, soothing, his actions no longer pressurized by the commands of his suit and the way it'd reacted to the boxer's. His pulse is in his throat, but it feels as though it'll simply settle there and suffuse him with warmth rather than lead him astray. Even now, he likes the feeling of his weight, both in body and in his heart. ]

We can share it.

[ Kizuna meets him halfway, thinking a single cup will go fast between them. He just doesn't want to go retrieve it, not yet. ]

You don't have to sleep. [ Kizuna offers, knowing he won't. ] But why don't you rest a while longer?

[Eyelashes flutter as he feels long fingers sink into his hair and it's like watching the man turn into putty in real time. Wriothesley is so weak to soft affection. He swallows it like a starved man who has been denied it all his life and finally being given so much of it.

He's relaxed and pliant as he basically curls up against the other.]

You came all the way here to see me. What type of host would I be? [He doesn't make an attempt to get up though.] I would hate to bore you if there is something you would like to do with your time instead.

[ Kizuna listens, attentions quiet and meandering. In response, he leans in, fitting his arms around Wriothesley and burying his face in his crown. His sense of smell is no where near as provoked as it was before, but he still draws comfort from it in a way that makes his chest feel like it might buckle. Simply because it's familiar to him now.

I asked to be here, didn't I? [ Breathing out as if it'll press more of the space between them down, he shakes his head a little. ] Don't host. Just be here with me.

[There is something so soft and indulgent about the moment. Lingering emotions that settle in the air not so dissimilar to the first night they had met. It lacks the heated charge of their suits entwining into something heavy like it was last week, but there is something more raw to this.

The genuine feelings that neither seem to want to say out loud settles over them less like shackles trying to weight them down but a blanket that encompasses something sweet. Something he isn't sure he can have but still finds himself called to.

Wriothesley moves to get up, but only to drag himself onto the bed and pull the other with him. There is the sounds of creaking and the groan of the frame that's already in shambles, but there is something enjoyable about being in a mass of sheets, pillows, clothes, and the boxer's hair as he curls up with the other.] Alright. I can't say no to you even if I wanted to.

[ It all lightens in the moment Kizuna gets dragged onto the bed alongside him, a short laugh dispelling whatever tension he had left. What remains is a gentle tangle of limbs, the ambient scent of him in the ruins of his bed among the others. But it's fine, he thinks, pulling in close enough to touch his brow to his bandaged throat, lashes fluttering against it. It's still him. Because of that, he finds himself leaning into that sweetness, eager for its presence in the wake of so much carnality. ]

Should I ask what you did to break your bed? [ Kizuna mentions with a playful click of his tongue. ] It's impressive that it's still so comfortable.

[ Kizuna loops an arm over Wriothesley's waist, one leg bending slightly at the knee to press between the boxer's. He rubs calves for the warmth and contentment of it. ]

[Kizuna's laughter rings in his ears like it is the sweetest sound he has heard and he can't help but laugh in return. He merely pulls the sheets around them, wrinkled shirts and all, coming to surround the pair (if Kizuna notices a shirt or two that had definitely gone missing from their closet is now mixed with the sheets, no he didn't).

His hand finds one of Kizuna's so that he can entwine their fingers together.]

Isn't it rude to talk about people you've slept with in the presence of another? [It was sex, of course. When you're both rabbits with really good compatibility, it becomes a really bad feedback loop. His bed was merely the victim.] I stole a bunch of sheets and pillows from room service or I think my back wouldn't have any of it.

[He shivers in delight, soaking in the other's breath, warmth, and weight like it was really all he needed all along.]

[ He wouldn't dare break the spell by pointing out there is a shirt that smells suspiciously like his cologne in this mess. ]

Ehh? What if I'm curious?

[ But the list of things he wouldn't dare do (or ask) is short, it seems. Still, the question comes alongside a playful press of his mouth to the bandages, a kiss just long enough to leave warmth and dampness in its wake. Unlike the feeling that the bitemarks evoked in him, simmering and hot with jealousy, Kizuna is more right-minded now, more comfortable. And as if he was just being rhetorical, he squeezes their interlaced fingers. ]

I'd like your back to stay in good condition, you know. [ For reasons. ] Don't wait too long to replace it.

[That's his shirt now. His shirt that doesn't fit him.]

If you insist. I just happen to get along with my neighbor across the hall and he has a knack for ending up within the vicinity when I apparently am out of my mind the most. [This is the second time Sylvain has ended up finding him trying to get to his room when he's just too horny to be contained apparently.] My bed ended up an unfortunate casualty. I guess both of us being Diamonds became a bit of an issue.

[When you're both Diamonds drunk on pheromones and your suit's affect...

He chuckles a little as he threads fingers into the man's hair gently. He much prefer the press of those lips against his own or skin instead of the bandages wrapped around his neck, honestly speaking, but the action is sweet. He finds himself fond of the interaction.]

Hey, I don't have a choice. The staff either ignore me or they forget I even asked about it. It's like this not because a lack of trying. [His expression is mischievous though.] Though, I'm under the impression you're the one aiming to ruin my back instead.

[ It's not so surprising a thing to hear, especially knowing how deep and instinctual the effects of Diamonds had been. ]

There was no limiting what Diamonds were capable of, hm... [ A quiet pause. ] But it's good. That it was someone you enjoy being around.

[ Genuinely — Kizuna finds himself placated by the knowledge of it rather than it being someone who might've caused the wariness and upset he'd witnessed that night in his suite. Free hand roving about Wriothesley's lower back through his shirt, his thumb presses into the divot of his spine in accusation of his mischievousness. Lifting his head, Kizuna looks him in the eye, gold on steel. ]

Me? [ His nose wrinkles. ] No, no, there's no way. Forget what my suit did, okay? My strength isn't that good at all.

[ Because, like. He's touching it right now? There is so much muscle there. ]

Well, I got that bad because I was stubborn who I laid with. [Sheer determination and will really got you far when you're as stubborn as Wriothesley. Of course, that probably lead to why his bed is ruined. It also meant that Wriothesley had went to Kizuna with deliberate choice.

He makes a small sound as he arches his back, chest pressing against the other.]

You can go to the gym with me then. It's not like you can't build your strength up and I'm never opposed to a work out buddy. [His gaze doesn't seem completely convinced by Kizuna's words even if he ends up not calling them out on it.]

[ That's the double-edged sword his empathy so often likes to bring down squarely on his head. Kizuna can tell Wriothesley doesn't believe him, but it plays in his favor when his answer is something that instills fondness and amusement instead. Even worse is the knowledge imparted by his inclination towards stubbornness — that coming to him was a conscious choice, something he sees clearer now in hindsight.

Curling into the arc of his chest, Kizuna presses a chaste and overly-serious kiss to his mouth. ]

Okay, but I'll definitely die.

[Wriothesley immediately returns the kiss, a pleased sigh against Kizuna's lips. Without the burning need poisoning his veins, he can easily amuse the press of their bodies in a more affectionate manner.

He laughs against Kizuna's lips.] You can start off slow. I'm not going to make you fight at my level, though, I'll never say no to more sparring buddies. [He rubs his nose against Kizuna's. His hands have left Kizuna's hair to wander.]

This isn't a body that lacks some physical activity, you know.

[ Wandering hands makes him wriggle — he's ticklish. ]

It's just how my body looks!

[ Takes one to know one... Kizuna wonders in what universe could he possible measure up to Wriothesley's level before a little signal goes off in his head. He's having a hard time not dappling kisses against his mouth, but at least this time he can think through them, breathing in the comfort and laughter. ]

You could link with me. [ He already knows one facet of it, after all. ] If you ever wondered what it would be like to fight your mirror image.

[There is something very dangerous about that grin on Wriothesley's face when they squirm under his touch. A man who very much takes advantage of a weakness sighted. He digs his fingers into Kizuna's sides.]

Uh huh, of course. [He's not listening as he lets fingers sneak under the other's shirt to drags nails against skin. He pauses at Kizuna's words. The man's eyes light up with something akin to wonder and excitement.]

I do. [Absolutely. Wriothesley isn't an advocate for violence, but when it comes to a good fight and spar, he's very much interested.]

[ Kizuna's eyes blow wide; he does not need empathy to realize he's in peril. ]

— ah, hah, wait! [ A pathetic noise middling somewhere between a squeak and a gasp whuffs out of him as nails meet skin. Kizuna's snapped out to grasp at Wriothesley's arms to attempt to halt his path, and therein proves that he is quite strong, actually, even if he's valiantly attempting to swallow back ill-begotten laughter. Congratulations on your two-for-one win, warden. ] Don't play unfair!

[ Is he pouting? Yes. ]

I can't tell you if you do that.

no subject

no subject

ᴛᴇxᴛ → ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject