[When Neuvillette says he's wearing too much, Wriothesley finds he couldn't agree more. Really, he thought they were both wearing far too much, and as one of his hands is guided to the front of the robes of the other's station his other draws forward as well. He can't quite resist the brush of his fingers against Neuvillette's jaw with the motion, though he doesn't delay long -- one layer at a time, beginning with the other's cravat.
He'd seen Neuvillette dressed down once before... and the thought of seeing him that way again -- seeing more of him draws a shiver of anticipation down his spine.]
How much would you like me to undo? [For all his breathing is still somewhat unsteady -- each idle shift in Neuvillette's lap creating friction that shoots waves of pleasure up his spine -- his breathless, murmured words are clear as his lips move against the other's cheek.
As he finishes with the cravat and his hands trail lower, a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth -- he turns just slightly, eyes only half open and lips brushing against Neuvillette's as he murmurs just one question.] Or should I ask... how much of you will I get to see...?
[For all the clasps were unfamiliar, Wriothesley doesn't find himself having too much trouble as he dutifully works his way through each layer. He would stop if Neuvillette told him -- if he made him stop... but he couldn't shake the desire to feel bare skin against his hands... against the rest of him.
... once he was able, he would have to see about removing his gloves -- removing the wraps that obscured his scarred arms. If Neuvillette didn't do so first, at the least.]
[ For once, Neuvillette doesn't have a real answer. He's caught by the feel of Wriothesley's skin peeking between his open waistcoat and shirt, caught by the warmth of him and how difficult it is to pull away when he has him so near, so exposed.
His voice is lower, rough around the edges: ] However much you can manage before I find it impossible to resist you.
[ ...a point that's rapidly approaching, he finds, as he shrugs the layers of his own clothing off and allows himself to really look at Wriothesley in the middle of it.
There is some aesthetic quality to it, he's sure. Wriothesley's a lovely human, with bright eyes and pretty lips and a build typically associated with the heroic athletes and warriors of any tale. But to Neuvillette, whose perception of aesthetic beauty is a bit more skewed away from human physicality, the darkening of his irises happens more because Wriothesley is exposing himself to him.
From his bare chest to his belly, all these spots just full of sensitive human organs-- the things used to sustain life, even-- Wriothesley shows himself without shame. Neuvillette follows every scar, hungry and wanting, and some unspeakable instinct in him (untouched for hundreds of years now) has him gripping Wriothesley's middle and turning him over until his back lands on the discarded robes of the Iudex below.
Like this, he really is offered to him: prey caught in the hunt, heart beating fast. Without thought, Neuvillette's teeth catch the end of his glove at his index finger and pull, leaving his right hand exposed and the shining sign of his Sovereignty on his palm in clear view. He wants to touch him, to feel Wriothesley's skin against his own, and as he looms over him with the open sides of his shirt hanging off his torso, he presses his palm to his belly (he could rip Wriothesley apart, and yet Wriothesley trusts him--) and exhales quietly as his touch leads up to his heart.
Bare, callused fingers come up Wriothesley's neck, brushing the swollen petals of his lips. Neuvillette's other hand finds Wriothesley's thigh, guiding him to wrap it around him as he bends lower to bite lightly at his ear. ]
You said you wanted to taste more of me. [ His index finger teases at the bottom of Wriothesley's lip. ]
...show me.
[ And, demanding and gentle all at once, he slips his bare fingers into his mouth. ]
[As Neuvillette shrugs off the layers of clothing that Wriothesley has already finished unfastening, he takes the moment to do the same. His upper body is bare this way, save for the leather wrapped on his neck and arms -- save for his gloves. His hands resume unfastening the last layer of Neuvillette's shirt.
With his torso bared to the other man, Wriothesley spares the briefest thought for the scars only seen by Sigewinne as she patched him up each time. She had seen most of them back when they were fresh injuries -- several of them in quite dangerous places. He's been hurt many times, had people attempt to kill him in the Pankration ring back before the fights had any rules. By all rights, even though he isn't self-conscious about how he appears, Wriothesley shouldn't be willing to let himself be this vulnerable. And yet, he is. If Neuvillette wanted to cause him serious harm, he is incredibly aware of how easily it could be done. Aware of just how much trust he had given the Iudex without question.
Aware as he is of these things though, they're far from what's on his mind. Especially when Neuvillette grabs him -- when he turns them and Wriothesley's back comes to rest against the recently discarded soft robes. Being trapped like this sends such a thrill down his spine that Wriothesley's breath catches audibly, eyes dark with clear desire. His gaze -- that had shifted to the expanse of bare skin he could see beyond the remaining layer Neuvillette still wore -- is caught by the raise of the man's hand. The breath he takes is shaky when Neuvillette removes the one glove with his teeth -- teeth that Wriothesley wanted to feel more of on his skin. He does take notice of the shining mark on Neuvillette's palm... but his focus is entirely elsewhere.
The muscles in his stomach flex briefly -- involuntarily -- at the unfamiliar feeling of skin on skin, at the way it felt to be touched like this. Without thought as the touch trails up his body, as he feels his back slightly arch into the touch, his own hands lift -- rest on Neuvillette's waist beneath the fabric of his shirt. He had to touch him -- wanted so badly to feel more of him -- and callused hands wander idly.
There's a shiver to his breath as Neuvillette's touch brushes his neck, brushes his lips. The feeling was so remarkably different from every touch previous, callused skin instead of smooth gloves, and Wriothesley found he wanted more. Not just this night, no, but any time they could be alone together. When Neuvillette's other hand finds his thigh, Wriothesley is as cooperative and quick as back when he'd been guided into the Iudex's lap, leg wrapped securely around him -- shifting against the other man's clothes as he settles.
'Piercings dull sensation', someone had told him once... but oh how wrong they had been. Neuvillette's teeth on his ear is easily enough to pull a faltering gasp from him, to cause his hands which had trailed to the middle of Neuvillette's back to flex, fingernails pressing into skin. Wriothesley's lips part only just at the touch to his lips, and he has enough time to understand what Neuvillette demands of him.
Easily his mouth opens enough to allow callused fingers to slip inside, eyelids fluttering only half open. The taste of him then draws a low sound from his chest, pleased as he shifts -- as he slowly works Neuvillette's fingers deeper into his mouth with an ease that would've surprised even him if he were capable of thinking about that right now. He's rather content to start off slowly with the whole thing, sucking gently enough for now -- tongue caressing the length of the other man's fingers. He pauses to focus briefly on his fingertips as he pulls back before he once again takes him fully into his mouth once more.
There's a sly glint to his eyes as he moves. He would slowly get faster as he moved... but he wanted to build anticipation -- to indicate just what Neuvillette could look forward to, if he desired.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[When Neuvillette says he's wearing too much, Wriothesley finds he couldn't agree more. Really, he thought they were both wearing far too much, and as one of his hands is guided to the front of the robes of the other's station his other draws forward as well. He can't quite resist the brush of his fingers against Neuvillette's jaw with the motion, though he doesn't delay long -- one layer at a time, beginning with the other's cravat.
He'd seen Neuvillette dressed down once before... and the thought of seeing him that way again -- seeing more of him draws a shiver of anticipation down his spine.]
How much would you like me to undo? [For all his breathing is still somewhat unsteady -- each idle shift in Neuvillette's lap creating friction that shoots waves of pleasure up his spine -- his breathless, murmured words are clear as his lips move against the other's cheek.
As he finishes with the cravat and his hands trail lower, a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth -- he turns just slightly, eyes only half open and lips brushing against Neuvillette's as he murmurs just one question.] Or should I ask... how much of you will I get to see...?
[For all the clasps were unfamiliar, Wriothesley doesn't find himself having too much trouble as he dutifully works his way through each layer. He would stop if Neuvillette told him -- if he made him stop... but he couldn't shake the desire to feel bare skin against his hands... against the rest of him.
... once he was able, he would have to see about removing his gloves -- removing the wraps that obscured his scarred arms. If Neuvillette didn't do so first, at the least.]
no subject
His voice is lower, rough around the edges: ] However much you can manage before I find it impossible to resist you.
[ ...a point that's rapidly approaching, he finds, as he shrugs the layers of his own clothing off and allows himself to really look at Wriothesley in the middle of it.
There is some aesthetic quality to it, he's sure. Wriothesley's a lovely human, with bright eyes and pretty lips and a build typically associated with the heroic athletes and warriors of any tale. But to Neuvillette, whose perception of aesthetic beauty is a bit more skewed away from human physicality, the darkening of his irises happens more because Wriothesley is exposing himself to him.
From his bare chest to his belly, all these spots just full of sensitive human organs-- the things used to sustain life, even-- Wriothesley shows himself without shame. Neuvillette follows every scar, hungry and wanting, and some unspeakable instinct in him (untouched for hundreds of years now) has him gripping Wriothesley's middle and turning him over until his back lands on the discarded robes of the Iudex below.
Like this, he really is offered to him: prey caught in the hunt, heart beating fast. Without thought, Neuvillette's teeth catch the end of his glove at his index finger and pull, leaving his right hand exposed and the shining sign of his Sovereignty on his palm in clear view. He wants to touch him, to feel Wriothesley's skin against his own, and as he looms over him with the open sides of his shirt hanging off his torso, he presses his palm to his belly (he could rip Wriothesley apart, and yet Wriothesley trusts him--) and exhales quietly as his touch leads up to his heart.
Bare, callused fingers come up Wriothesley's neck, brushing the swollen petals of his lips. Neuvillette's other hand finds Wriothesley's thigh, guiding him to wrap it around him as he bends lower to bite lightly at his ear. ]
You said you wanted to taste more of me. [ His index finger teases at the bottom of Wriothesley's lip. ]
...show me.
[ And, demanding and gentle all at once, he slips his bare fingers into his mouth. ]
no subject
[As Neuvillette shrugs off the layers of clothing that Wriothesley has already finished unfastening, he takes the moment to do the same. His upper body is bare this way, save for the leather wrapped on his neck and arms -- save for his gloves. His hands resume unfastening the last layer of Neuvillette's shirt.
With his torso bared to the other man, Wriothesley spares the briefest thought for the scars only seen by Sigewinne as she patched him up each time. She had seen most of them back when they were fresh injuries -- several of them in quite dangerous places. He's been hurt many times, had people attempt to kill him in the Pankration ring back before the fights had any rules. By all rights, even though he isn't self-conscious about how he appears, Wriothesley shouldn't be willing to let himself be this vulnerable. And yet, he is. If Neuvillette wanted to cause him serious harm, he is incredibly aware of how easily it could be done. Aware of just how much trust he had given the Iudex without question.
Aware as he is of these things though, they're far from what's on his mind. Especially when Neuvillette grabs him -- when he turns them and Wriothesley's back comes to rest against the recently discarded soft robes. Being trapped like this sends such a thrill down his spine that Wriothesley's breath catches audibly, eyes dark with clear desire. His gaze -- that had shifted to the expanse of bare skin he could see beyond the remaining layer Neuvillette still wore -- is caught by the raise of the man's hand. The breath he takes is shaky when Neuvillette removes the one glove with his teeth -- teeth that Wriothesley wanted to feel more of on his skin. He does take notice of the shining mark on Neuvillette's palm... but his focus is entirely elsewhere.
The muscles in his stomach flex briefly -- involuntarily -- at the unfamiliar feeling of skin on skin, at the way it felt to be touched like this. Without thought as the touch trails up his body, as he feels his back slightly arch into the touch, his own hands lift -- rest on Neuvillette's waist beneath the fabric of his shirt. He had to touch him -- wanted so badly to feel more of him -- and callused hands wander idly.
There's a shiver to his breath as Neuvillette's touch brushes his neck, brushes his lips. The feeling was so remarkably different from every touch previous, callused skin instead of smooth gloves, and Wriothesley found he wanted more. Not just this night, no, but any time they could be alone together. When Neuvillette's other hand finds his thigh, Wriothesley is as cooperative and quick as back when he'd been guided into the Iudex's lap, leg wrapped securely around him -- shifting against the other man's clothes as he settles.
'Piercings dull sensation', someone had told him once... but oh how wrong they had been. Neuvillette's teeth on his ear is easily enough to pull a faltering gasp from him, to cause his hands which had trailed to the middle of Neuvillette's back to flex, fingernails pressing into skin. Wriothesley's lips part only just at the touch to his lips, and he has enough time to understand what Neuvillette demands of him.
Easily his mouth opens enough to allow callused fingers to slip inside, eyelids fluttering only half open. The taste of him then draws a low sound from his chest, pleased as he shifts -- as he slowly works Neuvillette's fingers deeper into his mouth with an ease that would've surprised even him if he were capable of thinking about that right now. He's rather content to start off slowly with the whole thing, sucking gently enough for now -- tongue caressing the length of the other man's fingers. He pauses to focus briefly on his fingertips as he pulls back before he once again takes him fully into his mouth once more.
There's a sly glint to his eyes as he moves. He would slowly get faster as he moved... but he wanted to build anticipation -- to indicate just what Neuvillette could look forward to, if he desired.]