bolderfell | Prismatica Inbox

You mean when I'm not this? I'm not sure I know how to put it into words.

[Says the world's most eloquent man, with a turn of phrase for every occasion.]

When Cordis takes you — does it ever feel like it's...its own beast? Part of you, but also a separate creature in its own right?

[He frowns silently for a while, long enough that it seems the answer must be no. As he opens his mouth to say so, though, the thought hits a sudden swerve.]

Oh, do you mean... I'll want things, suddenly. Things that don't make any damn sense at all to the rest of me. Most of the time, Cordis just feels like me but more stupid, but that's... different.

As I said, it's not the easiest thing in the world to describe.

[His ears twitch, despite himself. Maybe they've gone too long unpetted, and now he's silently demanding.]

Try it this way. You, Therion, the person you are. You exist without Cordis. You're a whole person, a discrete identity. But when it is Cordis, there's that same identity, but a little bit more. Something that's part of you, but still...separate. Only it's not separate enough to be an individual in its own right; it's just an extra something of you added in.

Youko existed in his entirety long before humanity ever attached. But who I am normally...has never existed without Youko being a part of him. Youko is not a separate entity, exactly, he's me, but...I'm something more than just him, and I'm referring to him as his own thing only to make the analogy easier. I'm everything he was, but also something else. And that side of me, that fully-formed Spirit Fox...it knows full well that it once existed without humanity latched on.

[Whether Therion gets the hint or the movement's enough to tweak his feline interest, his fingers absently find their way to the base of Kurama's ears, where they dig in deeply and thoughtfully.]

...So it's more like the years since you started living as a human have been one long mooncycle. And when you're more like this, maybe being human... is what feels like you, but more stupid. [He shakes his head.] Or different, or whatever. Less satisfying and superior. More... who you are additionally, since then.

[He pushes his thumb into the thick fur behind Kurama's ears and rubs there slowly, then exhales.]

Don't have much of a vocabulary for this. Sorry. I don't think much about what I am as a rule, and your situation's a lot more complicated than mine ever gets.

It's all right. I'd be annoyed with you if it came to you easily; I've been living this way for years and it has yet to come to me easily.

[The noise he makes is a satisfied one, deep in his throat — almost a groan, but not quite, and with the same rich fullness of someone feeling knots of muscle begin to loosen beneath the skilled, firm hands of a particularly deft masseuse.]

Being human feels very stupid, when I'm like this. I loathe it a little, how useless and weak it makes me.

[He laughs under his breath.]

Rather like a moonblessing, indeed.

Weak's the last thing I'd ever call you, whatever form you're in.

[Might well literally be the last thing. Kurama could end him in a heartbeat or less, he's sure. Anyway, that answer comes easy enough; the follow-up takes more time to settle into words.]

Not that it's worth much, but I like that you're you now. Feel like it makes you more interesting than being just one thing in either direction.

[The tip of his tail moves lightly, idly.]

But I'm biased.

Oh, are you. What makes you so biased toward the usual me?

[He turns over onto his back, letting his eyes slide open for the first time to reveal their golden hue.

Less golden than usual, though, not that Therion would know the difference. But with a distinct echo of green to them that isn't often there in this particular form.]

I hope it's something more than just that it's what you're used to.

[Therion's own eyes, as unchangingly, singly green as always--Cordis changes or no--half-close a moment before he shuts them completely and shakes his head.]

You know how I feel about getting used to things.

['Not so easy, is it.' He turns away, placing one hand behind to support himself.]

Could just be that I'm human. All those things you talk about as being part of it--what'd you call it. The human element? Even if I don't agree it's always there, it doesn't stop me from liking it when I see it. ...Or wanting it.

[A beat. Then he huffs a quiet little laugh through his nose and glances back down at Kurama in his lap, ears soft and relaxed.]

But really, it's that you look damn good with red hair.

Oh, of course that's it. The red hair.

[His chest rises as he draws in a breath, and as he releases it again his form refracts and flickers for a fraction of a second, until he's back as he used to be, red hair and green eyes and no additional appendages to speak of — at least, not for another few days, until Iris comes along and hits.]

You've got me grown accustomed to your playing with it, I hope you realize. I was rather offended when the rain kept you away, and I couldn't have you over to run your fingers through it at my pleasure.

At your pleasure, huh.

[Silver and gold, or ruby and emerald. Nothing Kurama is lacks luster, and without pause, Therion's hand is up in his bangs again, fingers sliding again through red locks.]

Don't know about that. I'm the one who gets to get my hands all over you, Mr. I'm-So-Gorgeous, There's-a-Mountain-Named-After-Me. Think the pleasure's mine by default.

Edited 2020-09-15 12:47 (UTC)

And I warned you early on what would happen to those pretty hands should I find myself displeased with their clever work, didn't I.

[It's not from a lack of pleasure that he decides to sit up just then, though; quite the contrary, in fact. Once he's upright again, he turns until he's facing Therion head-on, knees bumping together, his face pushed into his personal space until he's just inches away from a kiss and the sliver of space left between them quickly fills with the heat from each breath.]

...It wasn't named for me because of my looks, you know.

[That close, it's natural to exhale more softly, to hold his breath like it's the moment before pocketing a prize, not after--to step lightly. It's natural, and still, he reaches up instead, cradles the side of Kurama's face in his palm, insistently there.]

Like anything else would make it less of a pleasure.

[Like his exploits, like his cunning, like his superiority make him less beautiful. Even those things Kurama's been careful to avoid mentioning, that Therion's only guessed at by the spaces they leave in their conversation--

Well, the Cliftlands aren't any less breathtaking for all they nearly killed him.]

Mean to tell me a story, or...

[He leans in, bumps their lips together, and then presses up and into the kiss.

He's human. If he can make things easier, why shouldn't he?]

Edited 2020-09-15 14:09 (UTC)

[It's the first time they've kissed since Therion arrived. Maybe that's a new record for personal restraint; maybe it's early indicia that this transactional relationship of theirs is turning out less and less about business with each new day that passes.

It doesn't matter. The moonlacing feels good, as it always does, and kissing is more potent a way of generating it than petting fingers. Maybe that's why one kiss so quickly turns into two, three, four. Maybe that's why he keeps getting closer and closer still, until he'd have to climb straight into Therion's lap to continue the trajectory any further.]

I scared some humans.

[He says it breathlessly, half from the kisses and half from suppressed mirth.]

There's more to it than that, but that's the gist of it.

Edited (phrasing...) 2020-09-15 14:38 (UTC)

[Kurama breaking to speak means Therion gets a chance to chuckle, tail curling pleasurably around himself.]

Look at that. Still enjoyable. I get to do this-- [And he shoves both his hands up Kurama's shirt, skimming greedily over as much of his skin as he can reach.] --with someone who scared people so much, they named a mountain after him.

[Silly for Kurama to be the one crawling into laps when he's already too damn tall. Using his grip on Kurama for leverage, Therion sits up on his knees and scoots right into him, drawing them together like jigsaw pieces.]

I think it went — more of, terror, legend, legend, even more exaggerated legend, mountain. Something like that. I made trouble —

[It's hard to say whether he's deliberately offering up fragments and half-sentences because he's actually getting distracted by what Therion is doing, or if he's playing it up for dramatic effect. Either way, does it really matter? The outcome is the same — breathy words and syncopated syllables.]

— one thing led to another —

[Not unlike the way his arm is wrapping around Therion's waist, encouraging him, keeping him close.]

— and it all rather rolled into one, a mountain where demons reside. Who keeps residence there has changed over time, but the name and associations haven't.

[This time, he doesn't bother warning Kurama to mind the knives strapped on between his sash and the jeans living modernly has forced on him, hard shapes hidden under his pillowy hoodie. He just drags his nails back up Kurama's back and nips at him in the breaks between thoughts: neck, jawline, collarbone, corner of his mouth.]

Hmm. Sounds fun.

[Does he mean visiting a mountain storied to house demons, or visiting a mountain where demons actually live? He draws back slightly, smirking.]

And whom should I expect to see there while I wait for you to notice me?

Whom will you see? Am I rubbing off on you?

[It shouldn't be so easy. This shouldn't be so easy, to just settle into this familiar rhythm and let himself be touched, to unwind beneath Therion's nails and lips and let go of everything else for a little while.

It shouldn't be so easy, to let the tension and frustration built up for the sake of one human he's deeply attached to be coaxed away by the soft attention of another one.]

You shall see naught but a few shrines. No demons live on the mountains in the human world anymore; most of us aren't permitted to cross over into it to begin with.

Then I won't stock up extra on knives. Should be fine with the ones I have.

[As efficiently as he pulled Kurama's braid together the first time, Therion pulls him out of his shirt. Less teasing means more mouth and hands on muscle, on shoulder, on a spot below his ear now easily accessed, with his hair drawn out of the way. He works his knuckles deep into the muscle of Kurama's lower back, presses up and down to unlock the tension.

And then he bites Kurama's ear, because he's not that soft a human thing. And it's Cordis. A low chuckle in his voice, he murmurs:]

Shrines are nice. Quiet. I'll wait for you at one of those.

[At a different time, under different circumstances, he might well have been more ruthlessly playful in seeking to distract Therion from his aims, tempting and teasing right back in an attempt to cause his focus to sweetly derail. But there's something very compelling about his enthusiasm right now. It feels good to be wanted, clutched and ravished and explored the way Therion is contending with him now.

So for the most part, he simply lets it. He leans back to open himself up more, arches into each touch as it's given. He hisses satisfaction at the dull throb of his knotted muscle easing beneath the pressure of Therion's knuckles, and frees a hand somehow to run through his hair and hold him by the back of the head. His shirt is gone and he's yet to try to return the favor, and he doesn't care. He doesn't care, he just wants this, just wants to focus on nothing and breathe in the familiar scents of Therion for a little while.]

It's bad luck to steal from them, naughty thief.

[He pulls lightly on Therion's hair, tugging only enough to be stubborn.]

Ah — do more of that.

[More of what, exactly? Everything. The biting, the massage, the laughter. Everything.]

Hey. [Breathing out against the pull on his hair, he bites down a bit harder at the top of Kurama's shoulder, then looks up, temporarily piqued.] I know that. Did I say I'd steal anything?

[Thieves are as subject to Fortune's whims as anyone else, if not more. Ya boy knows his superstitions and he doesn't mess around.

Anyway. Kurama wants more, he gets more. That's why Therion's here; he nearly as much as said so. So even as he stretches his own neck for more of that good, delicious grip on his hair, even as the pleasure of it rumbles in the base of his throat, he swipes a raspy tongue over the skin of Kurama's collarbone and pushes.]

Down already.

Well, I had to come up with something to chastise you about.

[A flash of a cunning grin flickers across his lips, and he absorbs the push without moving for just a second before obligingly lowering himself down, as if to be just enough of a brat as to make it clear he's an accomplice to it, as opposed to being bent beneath Therion's will.

Not that he'd particularly mind that, the more he thinks about it. But it's worth it to be a little difficult anyway.

It's a shame his hair is still braided; it doesn't spill nearly as prettily around his head when it's bound up, even as he winds up flat on his back with his green eyes still fixed on Therion.]

What are you planning, I wonder.

[Too bad, but at least the braid shouldn't be as uncomfortable to lie on as a ponytail. With a little scoff, Therion shifts his weight until he's straddling Kurama more properly.]

'Planning,' he says.

[Starting with his palms light on Kurama's stomach, he runs his hands slowly up his body, eyes fixed on the contrast: his darker-toned fingers, Kurama's unreasonably lovely skin. When he reaches his collarbone again, he smooths his fingertips out from the middle, lets his thumbs draw circles in the center of his chest.]

Hands. Pants. Objections?

Scheming, I should've said.

[He parts his lips slightly, tonguing at the pad of the lower to wet it, and if Therion's fingers were a bit closer to his mouth he might offer his familiar habit of drawing one of them past his lips, but as it is there's merely a suggestion of seduction in the fleeting gesture.]

No objections.

[He closes his eyes again, basking.]

I'll let you toy with me, even, if someday you agree to return the favor.

Huh. Didn't know you needed permission for that.

[Not when, to Therion, it seems Kurama toys with him plenty already. The compliments, the gifts, the indulgences when they agreed on the rules of transaction so long ago--how else should he think of it? He accepts it because Kurama keeps doing it, even though Therion told him he didn't need to go out of his way to romance him, but he already said it: he's only human. He's not immune to charm, let alone to genuine consideration.

Without elaborating, he slides his hands just far enough that the circles he rubs with his thumbs skate around Kurama's nipples, then leans down to Kurama's ear again, to the line of his jaw temptingly laid bare.]

Sure. Fair's fair.

[He can work his way down to pants eventually, when there's so much already open to play with.]

For the things I want to do to you? Oh, yes, I very much need permission...

[Not that he's spending much time thinking about what he wants to do to Therion when he's already pleasantly wrapped up in what's being done to him in return. He gasps a little when thumbs bump up against the sensitive places on his chest, arching prettily into the touch in a way that's purely for himself, and not for show.]

Therion.

[It's almost automatic, the way he turns his head and nuzzles again his jaw, mouthing at the skin, bent on showing his appreciation with lips alone.]

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