magicalglowstick | Ryslig Inbox

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, SHARTAN. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 018.07.154.55 * SHARTAN has joined 018.07.154.55 <SHARTAN>** speak

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

chardismastic

Trust me with what?

[ Processing.

Processing.

Processing... ]

...Sex?

[ Don't mind him, this is just the inevitable confusion that comes of not giving two shits about who he sleeps with. ]

Edited (so i didn't want to double my prepositions sue me) Date: 2020-10-11 07:03 am (UTC)

From:

magicalglowstick

[Fenris averts his gaze again, leaning back into the nest of pillows he made for his back and draping one arm over a bent knee.]

It's not just that. [He shouldn't have said that to begin with.] I'm a slave. It is inappropriate for me to make such a pass at you, or anyone. It would have been different had it actually come from you and not a misunderstanding.

From:

chardismastic

Jesus Chr-

[ This again. At least the confusion is easily left behind for this old chestnut, his own potent self-loathing redirected towards the snaking hedge-maze of programming Fenris can't seem to find the out of even now. ]

You're not a fucking slave! You want to make a pass at any man, woman, tree, sewer grate, whatever — you can and piss off to the bullshit in your head telling you otherwise.

From:

magicalglowstick

[Fenris doesn't want to even think about navigating out of said hedge-maze, so he redirects his focus, even if it's on the subject that initially caused him embarrassment, shame, and a fear that he truly messed up.]

I did.

[He means you, you jackass.]

From:

chardismastic

[ His eyes flare brighter in expectation of whatever bullshit roundabout you don't understand Fenris will inevitably throw back in his face, but their glow dims considerably when instead he's met with just those two small words. ]

You were drunk, [ he can't help but reiterate. ] Hopped up on tranqs. I'm talking about an actual pass based on actual interest.

[ Even with Fenris's now repeated statements to the contrary, it's still impossible for Rafe to wrap his head around it. Not when he knows this one simple fact and the disconnect is beginning to show in the knitting of his brows, the uncertainty instead of calculation in his glowing eyes. ]

From:

magicalglowstick

It was.

[There's an underlying of frustration in his words as he tries to reiterate what he's been saying this whole time. Or trying to.]

The only thing being out of sorts did was make me act on my interest instead of keeping it inside where it belongs.

From:

chardismastic

[ Mouth pressed into a thin line, he stares down that frustration. He's some of his own, to be honest, if only because this is just sex and since when has he ever had to do this much talking for it? When has it ever been awkward like this? ]

The reason I stopped you was because you were off your ass and I didn't want you making some bonehead mistake you'd regret. But that was the only reason I stopped you.

[ He doesn't stress that that was, again, the only reason he assumes Fenris acted that way to begin with, but it's a near thing. Restraint is found in the fact that he's said too much already and while he's full aware that he's...what he is, he doesn't want to say it aloud any more than he has to. But there. It's said.

The ball is back squarely in Fenris's court and in Rafe's experience, it can stay there. It's easy enough to say a thing after the fact, what would've been done if only— Whole different ballgame to back it up when presented the chance. ]

From:

magicalglowstick

[The look of surprise Fenris gives Rafe is half from the fact that what Rafe is saying means that, had Fenris not been drunk, he wouldn't have pulled back from the kiss. Even though he's covered in scales like an overgrown lizard, even though his tongue is literally split down the middle — even more so than it had been at the party, admittedly, even though he has horns sticking out of his head...the one thing that stopped him was that Fenris was drunk. That Rafe was considering his well being, which is not something the elf is used to at all. That's the other half of the surprise.

Back in Tevinter, it didn't matter what he thought or felt.

Even when he expressed doubts to Hawke about some of the choices he made, Hawke heard his peace but did he listen? He certainly heard him when he first said the last place he wanted to enter was the young mage's nightmare, and yet Hawke chose him as one of the lucky few to go anyway. But that's normal. Who is Fenris, exactly? Danarius is a powerful and respected magister, Hawke is the Champion of Kirkwall — he knows considerably less about Rafe, he realizes, but there's something about him and what he does know that makes Fenris realize he's yet again lucky to be considered a partner to such a man.

And this man just told him — has been telling him — that what he thinks matters.

Fenris pushes himself to his feet, clawed hand holding onto a wooden beam as he's still getting used to moving around on his talon-feet. He takes a step towards Rafe but stops, his markings emitting a subtle glow in the darkness of the attic, leaving the room only illuminated by him and a couple of strategically placed lamps (he doesn't like it too bright in here).

His voice is quiet, thoughtful, but there's something barely restrained about the way he speaks.]

I only regret that I didn't do anything when I first had the chance.

From:

chardismastic

So then do something now.

[ He holds Fenris's gaze and his chin tips up to keep it with Fenris's increasing height, a defiant stare daring him to prove all these declarations true even as his jaw clenches with the ready expectation to be right. Again. As always.

Rafe prides himself on seeing the sense of things, of being able to break down a situation into its base components. Current state, causal factors, individual motive, probable action, likely consequences. It's a skill others used for the boardroom or scoping out a financial quarter as it dipped and soared along to sketch out the Dow, but he uses it for everything. Why not? Time and again it proved correct, proved Rafe correct, with such a minimal margin of error that it oughtn't even be counted.

And so he applies the same precise scalpel to this. To now. To Fenris... And comes up uncertain. On its face it's impossible for any number of reasons: their arrival here in the first place; their disparate species, fiction coming to pointy-eared life before his eyes; their continuing transformations into things best left to that fiction. Yet still the most improbable of all still hangs over everything else: that Rafe is doing all these calculations and predictions and weighing in a dead brain, in a dead body, skin peeling off in patches.

Second most improbable is any truth to Fenris stating that he'd still hold interest in that — and never mind the certainty brimming in the words every time he's said them.

So then why say it? Why walk closer—? Rafe's eyes flash cool and bright as he attempts to build a narrative that fits. Fenris, stubborn to cling to use and control in spite of the alcohol and drugs, but thinking too highly of Rafe's ego to want to disparage him by admitting the disgust he has to feel? Hence the repeated assurances— But aha! A pause. Seemingly ready proof of his theory, that Fenris needs a moment to steel himself to get any closer. Maybe his new nose can smell the decay that must linger around Rafe, has to be in his current state. ]

From:

magicalglowstick

[Rafe is right in that Fenris does need a moment; even when the issue seems to be that Rafe doesn't believe that Fenris can hold an interest, and not that Fenris has this interest, even with Rafe having briefly kissed back, or his willingness to jump into bed the second time they met...many times before Fenris has been told "it's okay" or "go ahead" in many situations, only for it to be a test. And should he succumb he would be struck or denied his meal for the day. It's instinctual for him to behave like an animal being lured into a trap, because many times that's how he's been treated.

That's why when Rafe tells him to do something about it there's a pause, brief enough that it could be easily missed, but it's there...only taking a moment to consider that this may not actually be an invitation. But then he reminds himself that Rafe has been nothing but straightforward with him. No tricks, no beating around the bush, just black and white, plain as day. Fenris may have trouble understanding what gets said, but he's never been misled as far as he can tell.

That's why, when all this clears through his mind in a moment, Fenris is crossing the room as if being let off a leash holding him back all this time. The hesitation ended at that one step, whereas now Fenris is snaking a possessive arm around Rafe's waist with the other coming up to grip his chin before he smashes their lips together with a force even greater than when he was shitfaced off of that pink liquid at the party.]

From:

chardismastic

[ The one time he expects Fenris to falter, white hair to fall in his eyes as he averts them in deference but instead there's—

Oh.

Well.

Shit.

Before Rafe can blink he's wrapped in blue, scales and glow alike coiling around him with Fenris's mouth on his like a man dying of thirst aiming for the bottom of a well. Even odds whether it's the force of the kiss or the shock of being wrong that stuns him still for that first moment, but then the moment passes. It passes and he surges up inside Fenris's grip to meet him, eyes almost shutting as he reaches t- ]

Fen— Fenris! [ The words are muffled until he's able to back up an inch, and for once he's grateful not to breathe. Means there's no shaking inhale, no gasp for air. Just an inquiring eyebrow as he tilts his head to one side where his computer's still tucked under one arm. ] You mind?

[ The laptops were free to get but he's not about to find out how much it costs to repair one. Besides, be a little embarrassing to drop it at the shop—

"Screen's cracked, wholly beyond repair. What happened?" "Oh, wasn't able to get it on a level surface before a gargoyle decided to maul me up against a wall." "Yep, that'll do it." ]

From:

magicalglowstick

[When Rafe pulls away for a second time Fenris can feel his heart drop, immediately beating himself up in his head about thinking Rafe could possibly want some elven slave turned gargoyle to touch him—

—Then his wide, momentarily panicked eyes follow Rafe's indication.]

...Oh. [Oh. A short, relieved laugh escapes Fenris before he cuts it off completely.] Sorry.

[Fenris manages to peel himself off of Rafe so he can put his laptop down...somewhere. Something runs down his lip, but Fenris — having been dealing with this issue for a while now — already knows it's blood. In his excitement he yet again cut his own lips on his fangs. But it's fine. He simply licks it away with his now fully forked tongue, quick and easy.]

From:

chardismastic

Apologize again.

[ It's an idle threat, as little teeth to it as there are fangs in Fenris's mouth, made as Rafe glances around for a free spot — which of course there isn't. Not with all the shit Fenris has collected the last couple months. Certainly nothing within reach, thus Rafe makes a split second decision and stoops down to lay the computer on the floor. Straightening up, he nudges it (hopefully) safe and out the way and then turns back to catch that tongue as it snicks back behind those fangs. ]

Huh.

[ Naturally Rafe has seen it before, the accidental bites and the tongue, but it's a brand new context now. He'd been so caught up in loathing himself, in all the reasons he'd been ruled out, that he'd never considered the flip side: was it possible to be into somebody else who'd changed? But even as the thought crosses his mind, it's just as quickly answered: ]

What the hell. [ Always figured he'd try most things once, hadn't he? Never mind that "scales and horns" hadn't ever slid into "most things" prior to Ryslig. They're here now. Besides if Fenris can stomach him as he is, least he can do is return the favor. ] Just... Try and watch the fangs, huh?

[ It's the only warning he offers before his fingers find a grip at the nape of Fenris's neck to pull him down— damn jackass, getting so tall —into another kiss. ]

From:

magicalglowstick

S—[Whether or not Fenris almost said it again because Rafe "told him to" or because he was about to give a sorry for his sorry isn't important.]

[He tries not to focus on his newest realization (thanks partner) and how embarrassing it is that every surface is covered in shiny parts and bottles, which seems to be his favorite, leaving no usable surface. Luckily Rafe doesn't stretch out this moment and settles for the floor to place his laptop.

His heart beats heavy again at that look. Whatever look it is. Is he reconsidering? Is he realizing that putting up with Fenris's everything on top of being touched by such a creature has zero benefits? Fenris can barely pay attention to what Rafe is saying, lost in his own dark cloud of thoughts, before he's being yanked down into another kiss.

Oh.

Okay.

Good, good.

Even if he hadn't heard Rafe just now he still tries to be mindful of his fangs. He still gets them caught against the inside of his lips, against his tongue, but as long as he's not cutting Rafe then he doesn't care. His arm yet again reclaims its possessive hold around Rafe's waist, soon joined by the other one, just above the gauntlets his partner now wears at his waist. The gauntlets that were once his, part of him, now part of Rafe — not in the same way, of course. They hold history for Fenris; they clawed at many faces, reached into many chests, and crushed many hearts. But the thought that they were now to be worn by Rafe to gather its own bit of history with him...something that bridges a connection between the two that Fenris has been feeling for a while now.

A connection that's been making Fenris want to just...take him. Keep him away from everyone else. He knows it's crazy. He knows not to act on these strong impulses. But the feelings grow stronger each day. The more he changes.

Even the way Fenris's tongue dances and wraps around Rafe's is like he's laying claim to him. He's not. He knows he's not. Rafe isn't his. But he wants him to be.

His clawed grip around Rafe grows more firm, shifting to press him against the nearest wall — which happens to be a bit too close to yet another table. Bottles clatter to the floor but Fenris doesn't care about them right now.]

From:

chardismastic

[ Rafe would care slightly more, at least for the potential of anything breaking and shattering (especially with some people being so aggressively anti-shoe) but there's a factor that's suddenly absorbed all his attention. Said factor being—

Well. Tongue. That's a lot of tongue curling around his own with inhuman dexterity and it's. Shit. Wow. He's been around, screwed plenty, figured he'd seen it all; even with actual factual monsters added to the mix Rafe had just written it off as same shit, new skin. And now Fenris has proven that assumption wrong in approximately eight seconds of making out.

The surprise leaves him reeling for a long minute, only able to react until he gathers his wits again and grabs back for that initiative. What little he can, anyway. Fenris practically has him on his tiptoes which isn't great for leverage, or...anything save arching up against the scorching bulk of Fenris pinning him to the wall. At least the elf hasn't grown so broad that Rafe can't reach his free hand around to grab at Fenris's ass. ]

From:

magicalglowstick

[Fenris is very near the point of wanting to actually lift Rafe against the wall and pin him there with his own body, but Rafe's hand distracts him and elicits a raspy huff — but a pleased one. His markings still hurt but he'll be damned if that bothers him in the least.

As much as Fenris tries to be careful it's still difficult for him to remember just how much "being careful" he actually has to do. His hands, for example, now clawed and sharp, tighten their grip on Rafe's sides as he goes through with his first instinct to press their bodies together in a needy response to Rafe's initiative.]

From:

chardismastic

[ Bright pinpricks of pain lance up from the small of his back, above his hip, making him grunt into Fenris's mouth— But not more than that. The sensation is almost...dulled, a calculating and rational corner of Rafe's mind pointing out that it ought to hurt more and wondering why it doesn't. Another side effect of the transformation? Deadened nerves to match a deadened body?

A thought that Rafe immediately shoves away, a willful refusal as he squeezes tighter and kisses harder and chases after every other sensation he knows he can feel, has to feel just the same as he did before, won't allow this to be taken from him again now that he's gotten hold of it. Even as Fenris leans closer for that press and ends up, yes, with that size and momentum leading him to indeed pin Rafe against the wall, it's all more sensation for him to cling to.

Better to focus on every inch of contact and the heat scorching off of Fenris's scales, the simple annoyance at the realized lack of leverage, of control due to this blue idiot's damn height. ]

From:

magicalglowstick

[Heat builds up inside of Fenris's gut, which is normal enough, but it becomes so intense he finds himself a little too aware of it. It doesn't stop him from dragging his claws up Rafe's sides, or continuing to press his body against Rafe's until he's up against the wall, but after a moment he has to pull back for air — a strong huff escaping his lips but mostly through his nose — oddly hot air, funnily enough.

Fenris's chest heaves and his green eyes fleck with bits of blue glow like his markings. It's then when one of his hands change course and he hooks a long claw on to the hem of Rafe's pants, tugging him forward as he walks back towards...well, he has no bed. But he wants to get comfortable. A pile of soft things on the floor is good enough, right? Right.]

From:

chardismastic

[ Again, the sensation that isn't— Rafe can feel the skin tearing beneath those talons, thinks he can even hear it shred past the... the lack of blood rushing in his ears. No. No, no, not that, focus on something else. Fenris's weight pushes him backward, up, no practically about it because he's on his tiptoes like some schlocky made-for-TV romcom. The indignation at that thought is as good as anything else to carry him through the haze of wrong that kicks in at the worst time.

Which means he has the wherewithal to bite down on Fenris's lip as hard as possible as he pulls away, bright white teeth adding to the abuse suffered by his own fangs. (Much better than getting caught in the stark contrast of Fenris panting like a furnace bellows and himself who's— not.) But he releases once he realizes where Fenris is set to go. ]

About fucking time,

[ Rafe mutters darkly, but sure as hell not unhappy. In fact, he plants a hand square against Fenris's chest to nudge him along faster and then shove him down into the jumble of whatever shit he's made this nest out of.

Yeah. Definitely need to get a bed up here.

His hands twitch towards his shirt but then. Stop. Habit had Rafe ready to yank his shirt up and off, have it out of the way now rather than be a hindrance later, but...but that was before. No. No reason it can't stay on a while longer. To cover the hesitation (barely half a minute but still) he quickly follows Fenris down, straddling him in one easy motion before getting back to that kiss. ]

From:

magicalglowstick

[That bite earns a grunt, but other than that Fenris's only reaction is for his tongue to slide out and swipe at the blood returning from his previous self inflicted bite. He's far more focused on keeping the pace Rafe sets as he nudges him closer towards the "bed". When he's shoved his heart pounds wildly as if behind him wasn't a mess of blankets and pillows but a cliff face or a pit of snakes.

The moment of genuine fear takes him aback some, but he pushes it away, at most looking more surprised by the shove. He forces his mind to quickly move on and focus on the moment. He wants to grab at Rafe's shirt, barely noticing the hesitation (he doesn't even notice the torn flesh under his claws), and takes the opportunity when his partner is back on top of him to grab at Rafe's shirt to get it off.]

From:

chardismastic

[ It doesn't take much to make it happen— Fenris had already torn up the sides in his earlier excitement and even if he hadn't? It's simple cotton against monstrous strength. Rafe is soon left with nothing but what cloth hangs from his back and the only consolation is how dim Fenris keeps it up here. True, there's the glow from all those tattoos but the blue and the shadows combine for gentler illumination than they might otherwise have: what necrotic skin still clinging on is only barely distinguishable from the darker dermis beneath it.

He sits up again, a palm splayed against Fenris's chest as his shoulders curl in on himself in some half-assed attempt to... To hide. Fuck. His eyes flicker down at himself, jaw clenching against embarrassment before cold implacable logic creeps to the fore. Fenris had said this was what he wanted, hadn't he. May as well let him see the whole of what he's signing up for.

But all the rationality in the world is enough to make him sit up and put it on display so instead he remains as he is. Hunched over on top of a crystalline croc in severe need of a manicure, still expecting Fenris to come to his senses. ]

You're going to be hell on my wardrobe.

[ Course it'll take more than that for him to stop running his mouth. Or to stop from rolling his hips down in a rough and filthy grind against Fenris's crotch. If he's told to get off, he'll get off but until then he's here. ]

From:

magicalglowstick

[His heart pounds against his chest again. Not from excitement but something else — he ignores it of course, being far too used to his mind trying to psyche him out or hold him back. He spent years ignoring his gut and listening only to what others told him, so it's not a difficult feat to push these thoughts away.

Luckily Rafe gives Fenris something else to think about when he rolls their hips together. He sucks in a breath, this time feeling a more familiar heat as opposed to the one that makes his scales warm to the touch. His fangs bare and he yet again greedily decides he hasn't had enough. Rafe is hunching over him and the room is barely lit, he can't see enough. His eyes are alight with both glow and hunger (not that kind of hunger, thankfully) as he attempts to sit up — not to push Rafe off of him, but just to get closer. To see more. To take in his body, uncaring about whatever it has become. He's not sure when he stopped caring about the gruesome appearance of an undead. Sloughing skin, gaunt features, eerily stillness from a lack of a need to breathe...all of those things should bother him. But somewhere along the line Fenris stopped caring.

Or maybe because he started, and therein lies the crux of his undead blindness? The reason he can look at Rafe now like he wasn't turning into a monster. The reason Fenris feels more like he is the one who would be self conscious about his descent into beasthood. Because he has spent his entire life around people who didn't see him as a person but an animal, and now that was coming true, and it fills him with an odd sense of shame. A shame Rafe hasn't once made him feel. Maybe that's why he can reach desperately for his partner without a second thought as he tries to rise and get closer.]

From:

chardismastic

[ Fenris rears up like a striking cobra, causing Rafe to sit back heavily in his lap only partly to keep his balance. Much more than that is the surprise that leaves him reeling because while Fenris hasn't shown one ounce of hesitation since first laying hands on him, it's still impossible to wrap his head around. He's spent three months staring down his reflection in disgust, itching to peel off his skin until he found himself again, yet here Fenris is. Eager. Hungry. Barely able to keep his claws off of him.

It doesn't make sense and the disconnect leaves him staring in blank surprise before again, that clenched jaw, that determination sharpens his features. He can dissect this all later, tear it apart and piece it back together in a way that he can but right now—

Control. He's had almost none since washing up in this place; now that he's faced with an opportunity for it, he won't let it slip through his fingers. It's as heady a sensation as anything physical and he chases headlong after it, one hand curling at the nape of Fenris's neck to pull him into another demanding kiss while he continues that unforgiving grind. ]

From:

magicalglowstick

[Fenris feels a wave of relief wash over him when the fear abates and gratification moves in. His legs instinctively wrap around Rafe's waist like a lifeline, mouth opening to invite the demanding kiss — and it's the feel of that demand that makes his heart skip a few beats while his body responds like an eruption from the aggressive friction. It's good. It feels good. The way Rafe's hand curls around the back of his neck like he needs this kiss, and the way their hips desperately press together—

—his heart doesn't stop pounding. It almost hurts. It feels so familiar and he wants to yell at himself, at his mind, to not do this now. But he can't stop the flashes from coming; memories from the past, once buried, choosing now to resurface as a reminder that Fenris is a broken, unworthy, mess of a man. His arms which had wrapped around Rafe to hold onto go rigid, as well as his legs, his body stiffening as he tries to will these thoughts away. Instinctively, he focuses on continuing, not wanting to ruin a moment he's not sure he'll get back. He counteracts the images flooding in his mind with Rafe, with what they're doing, with any and everything leading up to this point, even.

As is habit, he deals with it.]

From:

chardismastic

[ Even without the hyperawareness, the overanalyzing scrutiny of every little detail and what it could mean and how to react, it'd be pretty goddamn difficult to miss the sudden shift in Fenris's everything. Rafe lets the kiss ride another moment before withdrawing, leaning back best he's able considering the rigor mortis hold keeping him in place.

In a way, it's a relief. A return to the order Rafe has come to understand here in Ryslig. Fenris had a good run, kept up the act a fair while but there's only so far a dry spell's desperation could take him when he's staring down a dead body in his bed. ...Nest. Whatever. ]

Thought I made it clear. [ His expression is closed off, eyes hard and words clipped and casual. ] If you're not into it, you're not into it.