bolderfell | Prismatica Inbox

To go between your skin and the rope. So it won't leave marks.

[Among other things. Of course he's got ideas, but he also knows better than to push his luck — or Therion's tolerance — too far all at once.]

You'll feel the pressure of it, of course, but it won't bite. I thought you'd prefer it that way.

Well, yeah.

[Thoughtful of him to consider rope marks as different from other marks Kurama's left on him, from the marks of nails and teeth or other, subtler things. Scents. Changes more indelible that are nonetheless harder to make out.

Even with an apothecary caring for it the whole time, the weal from wearing the Fool's Bangle took a long time to fade. This isn't for other people to see, Kurama's promising, and that's. Gracious of him, really.

Therion has his own clothes, is the thing. Not many, maybe, but enough to protect himself from rope. He thinks about saying something, about pointing out he's wearing clothes right now, but in the end his appreciation for the thought wins out over the unformed question and he nods.]

...Did you bring rope?

I brought vines. Again, with your...comfort in mind. If we had to stop in a hurry, I would need to cut you out of the ropes — which, believe me, I could do quickly. But a plant under my power, I could do instantly.

[He's quiet a minute, before moving to sit on the edge of the bed and offering his hand, palm-up, to Therion.]

I wouldn't leave you bound for even a moment longer than you wanted it.

...If I didn't believe that, we wouldn't even be talking about this.

[When he puts his hand in Kurama's, he makes sure he offers the first careful squeeze.]

I said all right, Kurama. I'll hang up the robe and we can get started.

...Come here first, will you?

[He doesn't let go of Therion's hand; quite the contrary, he uses it to tug him closer, trying to get him to sit down with him.]

Let's start like this. Come sit down.

Pushy.

[But he doesn't mean it. He sits and he lets Kurama keep his hand, side by side on his bed, knee by knee.]

...What is it?

It's not a heist.

[He angles his body slightly, turning in toward Therion, enough so that he can lean over and in to nuzzle against his hair.]

If I'd let you go, you would've come back and stood there, not knowing how to begin, and you would've said, "Okay, what do we do first?" Plotting every detail and obstacle.

[He rumbles a soft laugh against the shell of his ear.]

Let's try something a little more organic.

[The answering chuckle puffs quietly along Kurama's cheek. Therion draws their joined hands close to his chest, leans further into Kurama's space.]

Anticipating my next move, are you.

[This may not be a heist, but his pulse has quickened like it might be. He breathes in, filling his lungs with the now-familiar, flowery scent of Kurama's hair, and fails to stop thinking.]

Mean to take the edge off before we get serious? [He brings Kurama's knuckles up until, speaking, his lips brush against them.] The way I see it, there won't be much for us to do past a certain point.

It's a habit I can't easily turn off.

[But there's something unmistakable in the way he proceeds, a quality about his conduct that slowly becomes apparent: his commitment to spontaneity wasn't just lip service. He may have an idea where he wants this to end up, but this time there's no meticulous plan for getting there.

It's there in the way he holds still and lets Therion indulge as he likes, nuzzling back against him, touching lips to his hand. It's there in how he doesn't seem to have an immediate response prepared for that, and waits a little while before running his hand down Therion's shoulder and over his chest in return.]

If you'd like that, I'm not opposed. My notion is what brought me here, but that doesn't mean it has to be the only thing.

[He nibbles at the shell of Therion's ear.]

You're allowed to have notions, too.

[A soft noise. Eyes closed, he exhales across Kurama's fingers, tightens his own in the bedspread between them.]

Mm... No. I think...

[Of course Kurama's suggestion is untread territory for cagey little Therion, that's beyond a shred of a doubt. So, too, is this: putting real effort into conveying a thought, sharing something internal and soft on purpose when vulnerability's already pulled so many defenses down.]

I agreed because I--because it's you. Just need some time like this-- [Nuzzling and nibbling and kissing and all that naturally follows, wrapping themselves up in each other and only that.] --to remind me it is you. Just you.

[He lets go of the bed covers to sink his fingers into Kurama's hair instead, guide it back from his face.

It can only be Kurama, here, now. His past isn't invited. The edge can stay on, besides that.]

[Therion's breath is warm. His body is, too. His hands, when they reach to touch, when they comb through his hair and push it away for a better look into his eyes.]

...I won't let you forget.

[He leans into the hand in his hair; it's so easy to do it. Letting go isn't, he knows, but falling is.

Therion knows about falling all too well.

Small wonder he needs time, really.]

I won't let you get lost — any more than you want to be.

All right.

[He frees his hand from Kurama's to stroke it down the side of his neck--to free Kurama, too, to do as he will two-handed. On his own part, Therion draws himself up and in for kisses, soft and light, one more act he associates mainly with Kurama. With all the strange good that's come out of their arrangement.

There's no moon out. Neither Cordis nor Iris holds any sway over them today. The request came from Kurama alone; the only influence that can push Therion to say all right is his own trust in him. The reassurances Kurama voices remind him of that, like ripples thrown into a still, still pond. The touching, the closeness, the mingling of their breath reminds him why. Why he trusts. Why that seedling trust was able to take root at all.

In all the time he's known Kurama, Kurama's been careful with him, even before he'd given him any reason to care. Not only has he offered his own vulnerability when neither of them like to give themselves away, but he's protected Therion's. Though it's only been months, he's had opportunities to take things Therion didn't want to give.

But Kurama hasn't once yet betrayed him. It's just that. And that's everything.

The fluttering in Therion's belly remains, his heartbeat keeps up its nervous pace, but as he presses kisses to Kurama's mouth and face, as he slides his arm around to hold him properly, as the scent of his hair overcomes the scent of wood shavings in the room, the defensive tightness of his neck and shoulders melts gradually away.]

Mmmn. That box you picked up earlier...

[He lets himself go pliant when Therion's arm curls around him, like he's melting into the touch and allowing himself to be supported. This isn't really about him, and so maybe he shouldn't, but — it feels right, and easy, and all things considered he's trying hard not to think too hard about all this as it unfolds.

It's nice to be kissed. Nice to be held. Nice to listen to the sound of Therion's jackrabbit heart and taste his scent on his palate.]

What was it for?

[Faintly surprised--he'd forgotten about it, and forgotten his own flash of anxiety about having turned it on--Therion huffs a laugh against Kurama's skin. His own warms around the face.]

So no one can hear us.

[He slides his nose down to nuzzle into the crook of Kurama's neck.]

Four people currently live here, including me. Fifth's got a room she could use if she wanted. They're all already nosy enough.

Oh, well then.

[He gets his hands up between them, as best he can, digging his fingers into Therion's shoulders while his head lists to the side to make room for him. Almost experimentally, he lets out a soft moan, and hums afterward like he's found the sound of it to his own liking.]

I won't try nearly so hard to be quiet.

Ah--

[He inhales it more than says it as Kurama's fingers find their purchase, bites Kurama's shoulder like an automatic retort. When he looks up, it's to lick his lips.]

Should've known you'd like that, you damn show-off.

Half the fun is seeing the result of your efforts. Or hearing...mmm.

[His back arches, eyes falling closed as he hisses approval at the sting of the bite.]

It's not so bad, is it...?

No. You know me, though. I'm usually quiet.

[And for the first time in a while, being so known doesn't fill him with dread. Since he's there anyway, he trails a series of small nips down the column of Kurama's throat.]

Huh. I wonder, does that make me more of a challenge for you?

[That's why he thieves, he relishes the challenge of it even more than the results. Is that in play here, too, with them?]

Tonight isn't about winning. But other times we've done this? Yes, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

[He murmurs his wordless approval right along with the caress of Therion's teeth, holding him more tightly even as he lets the tension pour out of his own muscles in return.]

And you? Do you like knowing that you've got me all to yourself, where no one can hear?

...For a bit of a different reason.

[While he gathers his words, he licks at the base of Kurama's throat and straightens, loosening his hand from Kurama's hair to trace the line of his jaw with the backs of his fingers instead.]

I like it because whatever I hear, if I'm the only one that hears it... will be safe.

You want to keep my secrets.

[What a tantalizing offer that is. He knows all too well how cathartic it can be to simply let such things spill from his lips, and even moreso when they come tumbling out amid passion. But there's more to it than that, for Therion, and if he were thinking more clearly, he might be tempted to press after it. As it is, he's awfully content with the way things are going, and not feeling any particular pressure to do anything about it.]

And worship me, I think. To offer up your devotion at a shrine only you know about...

[Worship's a strong word, Therion opens his mouth to tell Kurama, but he did say that. The reality rushes in, too, as he thinks about it. What else is he doing tonight, agreeing to Kurama's proposal in this private space he's staked out?

As aware as he is that Kurama's powers and skills, the long, long skein of the life he's lived, far outstrip his own, Therion doesn't consider him a god or anything. If anything, he's dangerously close to considering him a--peer, of sorts. Someone to whom he can say something and expect to be understood, thanks to both similar experiences and those they've chosen to share. They haven't gone out to work together, only have this arrangement of theirs as a matter of mutual business, but with Kurama, Therion's fallen back on other patterns he remembers. Patterns of assurance offered and taken. Patterns of trust.

Kurama is beautiful. Skilled. He demands attention, admiration, attraction, with his flamecatcher hair and eyes that flash between emerald and precious gold. He asks for faith like a god would.

But gods aren't the only ones that seek that of a man.

Hand still curled at the side of Kurama's face, Therion's gaze flickers down, then back up, softer and shyer without shrinking away.]

Remind me to show you something. After we're done here tonight, I mean. Another thing in that drawer.

[He slides his knuckles up the line of Kurama's jaw again, then opens his hand around a hank of his hair, draw it to his nose and lips.]

You're not wrong, I guess.

You're not in a hurry to be done with it, are you?

[Truthfully, he's not overly concerned about that; it's more a question of Therion's phrasing than anything else. But still, it pays to be certain.

Normally, he reflects, it wouldn't bother him, something so minor as phrasing. But they're both raw tonight, both vulnerable in their respective ways, and he wants — needs — to be sure.

Tonight isn't just an exchange of services, not to him. It would help to know if he's the only one who feels that way.]

The last thing I want is to be deified. Don't put me on a pedestal or an altar, not tonight.

It's not that. I don't do that. It's one of my failings.

[If he hadn't presumed all those years to think of Darius as a comrade, a partner, a brother--if he'd been what Darius wanted all along, a debased, obedient creature like his replacement, Gareth, with no pretensions to partnership--the Cliftlands wouldn't have torn their gnarled souvenir out of his back. He'd never have known what it was to lie broken at the foot of the ravine, abjectly alone.]

It's just something I've wanted to show you, and I... wouldn't want to forget.

[Flower petals and butterflies. If he's distracted now, how much more so once they actually begin? How much more so after? Even in the quiet guaranteed by the privacy box, Therion lowers his voice.]

You know what you're asking of me. [A pause, then quieter:] You should know I wouldn't say yes just to please you.

All right. I won't let you forget.

[He's so quiet. Every decrease in volume feels like another wall crumbling to the ground, a passageway narrowing until it finally reaches the small cramped spot where a hiding thief huddles. He reaches to catch Therion's hand, bringing it back to his cheek, and when he does he holds it there, covering over it with his own.]

I do, you know. Want to please you.

[His other hand moves to the back of Therion's neck, playing with the hair at his nape.]

I don't care about the chroma.

[He ends the sentence there, without clarifying what he does care about. Leave it to Therion, to finish the thought in whatever fashion he deems fit.]

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