armwriostle | ♦ [INBOX] ♦

[ Oh, a mastermind, is he? He's going to have to watch for this one. Not that he isn't gratefully accepting the water bottle anyway, taking a sip as he watches Wriothesley rummage around for his discarded clothes. When the jewellike object comes into view, his gaze brightens in interest. With his free hand, he reaches to touch the other man's wrist instead of the trinket itself, fingers poised delicately on his skin. ]

So you were chosen to have it? [ He observes its luminance quietly. ] I do like it. It suits you.

[There is a flutter in his chest, the way the other doesn't reach out to his Vision, merely content with having their touch linger on his skin instead. It's a certain care and respect, especially from someone who doesn't even know what a Vision is.

The gesture was...it was a kindness that has him somewhat flabbergasted honestly.

He smiles a little and there is something warm about it, yet so sad and bitter.] It's said that those who receive Visions are favored by the gods. It is said one can even ascend to become gods themselves.

[His eyes train on the bauble as it gently sways in the air. No one knows, except himself and the secretary he never saw again, when he had received his. He never mentioned it before.] I happen to receive mine the day I entered prison. It came out of my pocket with my registration papers.

[ Without knowing what it is, there is still something precious about it intrinsically tied to him. It's as if it's a conduit for his sense of self, a trait of his that runs through him fast and strong and unforgiving. Kizuna wouldn't need his senses to know that, though he's glad to experience the weight of it in this moment. Even though the mention of it, prison, makes his eyes shut briefly, he's still relaxed, body full of trust. Laying his head on Wriothesley's shoulder, his eyes open again, also focusing on the Vision. ]

It feels like you had the strength of your heart acknowledged.

[He gently grabs Kizuna's wrist to tug it away from his. He gently places his Vision in the other's palm, closing their fingers gently over the cool, smooth surface.] Well, who knows what or why they do what they do. The whims of the gods is lost to me.

[And it wasn't like it had did him favors. He might as not had been favored at all with how he had to carefully protect the item; hiding it away as his own little secret. Worry that the item he had been gifted would be stolen from his still-too-young hands.] It's said these are basically physical manifestations of our ambitions and desires. [Wriothesley had only recently started keeping his out in the open again, though, he often still hid it away out of habit.]

[ Kizuna startles when grabbed, not expecting it even with his feelings so attuned to Wriothesley's in the moment. But when he reveals the reason for it, his Vision exchanging hands, Kizuna flushes in a completely different way. There's a sort of instinctual reverence that he has for it, a natural response to being shown this amount of trust. ]

Whatever those whims were, I don't think they intended for you to use it in bed.

[ A gentle rib, so fond he almost doesn't know what to do with himself for a moment. Fingers curled over the bauble's cool surface, he brings his arm in, holding it to his chest for a moment. ]

Like I thought... it yours, so it feels good to hold.

[He barks out a laugh, playfully leaving a few nips on Kizuna's neck. Not enough to leave a mark, but the other can definitely feel the graze of sharp canines against delicate skin.]

They never said we couldn't. Should I not use what I'm given to its fullest extent?

[He gently laces their fingers together, his Vision held so lovingly and protectively against Kizuna's bare chest.] When you say stuff like that, it's exactly why I won't let you out of my bed. You're asking for it.

Better to ask for forgiveness than permission? [ Kizuna tilts into the draw of teeth against his skin, thoughtful and yielding. ] I'll keep asking for it too, if that's the case.

[ Not that this sounds unpleasant in any way. In fact, there's a deep and powerful lull to it: like having a piece of Wriothesley's heart pressed to his own beneath the clasp of hands. ]

I'm prepared for that. Are you?

[He presses kisses to Kizuna's neck, sucking on the skin to leave new marks for the other. There's no way the empath was going to leave the next morning without being littered in countless marks. Wriothesley can't help himself.] You know I'll forgive everytime. [He's so weak for them after all.]

Hah. Darling, you know I'm about going to make a mess of you, don't you? [He flips the other onto their stomach before pressing his chest against Kizuna's back, cool breath against their neck as he nuzzles against it. The grind of hips and the press of something hard sliding against the other's cheeks.] Hold onto that for me in the meantime, alright?

[He presses a kiss to Kizuna's neck.] I'm prepared to spend my entire day with you.

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