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kingdomsofrain2019-05-24 05:05 pm
loyalless) wrote in kingdomsofrain2019-05-24 05:05 pmOPEN RP POST
send a prompt, a starter, images, words, music, whatever you like.
loyalless) wrote in kingdomsofrain2019-05-24 05:05 pm
no subject
He does. He gets a reward. He cut Daddy, he rewrote the world for Daddy, and now there's blood seeping into his clothes and streaked across his cheek. It's on his tongue, mingling with whiskey and honey and love. He gets a reward because he was a good Puppy, and has been all night. (Mostly.)
He earned it. (He's going to suffer otherwise. He'll be aching and Daddy will drag out this visit for every moment he can until Enri loses his mind, because Enri isn't allowed to touch himself -) (Visit.) (They're visiting people.)
His breathing quickens with the thought that Sen and Rin are nearby, and can probably hear. Probably heard Daddy shouting in pain/pleasure. Heard Daddy shout Enri and not Puppy.
(They'll hear how Enri can make him come.)
His eyes fix on Daddy again, intently focused, his hand a fist around the belt, the waistband of the pants, a promise of rending.
And then Daddy clicks his tongue and the hand is gone, it's fucking gone, at his lips instead while Daddy warns him about his tone.
He stares, a faint tremor passing through him. (He stares at Daddy's tongue. He thinks about the first night, about that lip caught between Daddy's teeth, and how he left Enri burning.
For a night. For a week. For hours on a plane. For hours after.
He can't.
He can't -
There's a sound like snarling, an animal clawing itself out of a trap; a jarring motion and he isn't careful anymore. (Frantic.) His hands tear, jerk a smaller (fickle) (bloodied) god from the floor, Enri kneeling, Enri teaching a god to kneel. His fingers dug into hips until his nails leave crescent wounds where clothes have been shoved away. His hand a fist in Daddy's hair.
He forgets everything but what's needed, readies only enough for an unhindered thrust, growling yes (yes it is a way to speak to god, yes he gets a reward, yes this and yes now and yes they can fucking hear him, the whole bar can probably hear him and yes, good puppy -)
They can hear him.
They could hear Daddy shouting his name.
He's a good Puppy, he's Daddy's perfect monster, he's shouting and he hopes they're listening because his god is a good Daddy, his god is bleeding across their nice floor and Puppy gets a reward for all that blood.
(He's never shouted 'Daddy' while fucking before.)
(He shouts it now and hopes they hear.) ]
no subject
He has welcome this monster; waited and wound toward this monster.
And when the monster appears - a wild god snarling, rising with the force of uncaught storms - Darius gazes in euphoric wonder.
He’s beautiful.
Enri is beautiful, an onslaught of motion and force, tearing toward his goal, his want, and if Darius has little time to watch this god in transformation, still he feels the refulgent gleam in all the air around, still he hears the vicious growl the could-be-feral yes-that’s-feral ragged hush of breath, still he feels the world tilt as the wild god jerks him, jars him breathless in exquisite motions that bring Darius to his knees, he’s on his knees and laughing, shocked into a gasp that climbs to raucous, violent merriment, Darius tearing his head to the side to find the thrilling jolt of Enri’s hold, to jerk his head again and feel himself held tangled, interlaced and joined as he should be with Puppy, as he must always - brilliant, oh beautiful fate of the gods - be with Enri, and when Enri brings them to joining and the wild god thrusts, when the wild god growls and reverberates in a profundity of bass exclamation, exaltation, claim and worship, Darius hazes brilliant, feels nothing of the floor at his knees the fabric in his hands, this, this is a careen into resplendent and crawling abyss, the wild god drawing reaching one clawed hand to draw him in, ecstatic welcome, and oh, he loves this man.
This man whose shout convulses though his bones. This man who could pry him open, vein by vein. The man whose havoc (and whose obedience) (and whose insubordination) (and whose tenderness) spikes the world more brilliant than Darius has known. And what the wild god shouts is ‘Daddy,’ drawing from Darius another bright laugh that turns into a strangled moan as his body tenses, bucks, as his breath hitches and he moves one hand to grasp for Enri for the wild god, fingers clamping sharp and holding tight where he finds flesh.
Who else would ruin the world for him. Who else would bring to him and bring him to such sheer devastation?
There is nothing that this man doesn’t give him. How often has Enri driven past the bounds of everything that was, there are no rules beyond their own, there are no laws beyond what their divinities create, and mold, remold, the world turned vibrant, red and Darius’s vision is an eruption of colors in carnage, of fire that creates no ash, fire burning infinite, and can’t they be two flames entwined, eternal, and aren’t they, and aren’t they, and the air Darius breathes sings with honey, and the world at his eyes coils red and silvered, sharp and endless.
He smells his own blood. He feels the air cut sharp with intention. He feels the blood still dropping from his wound, feels Enri near and in and all around him, a threatening and fond and devastating force, another perfect form of worship.
(‘Daddy’ was the word Enri shouted, and within the abyss Daius recognizes, dimly, the newness of that shout and comprehends its meaning, that Enri’s playing to their setting, to their hosts, that this god is Darius’s perfect brat, and again Darius grins sharp in adoration, in appreciation. Enri, yes Enri, Enri, Enri is so perfectly his own.)
One hand has Enri and on hand clutches into Rin’s very nice not-quite-a-chair, fingers marking plush fabric red, Darius lowering his head shoulders quaking quaking through to skull to throat to spine. The wild god the monstrous Puppy the Puppy-eyed wolf growls, or was growling, or that’s Darius now, a rumble in his chest as he shudders, as he’s stricken with the voice and brilliant force of Enri, and his throat finds words, finds ’Yes, Puppy,’ and ’Good, my good Puppy,’ and 'Yes, Love,' in growled and gasping cries. And Darius’s hand at Enri clutches a sharp press of pleasure, of pride, of communion.
You can love a monster like this. Darius loves a monster like this, loves this monster (this man) (this boy) (the Puppy) (his one and his only) past the furthest vibrations of himself. Enri, Enri, oh Enri brings him pleasure and to pleasure and torn out from every atom of himself in countless, vicious ways. In worship toned soft and worship toned fierce, worship tuned chaotic. God to god; monster to monster; Puppy to Daddy; Enri to Darius. ]
no subject
Everything is his to take when he wants. The world around him feels blood-soaked and shaken and sprawling for him. Where he can put a hand and leave a mark, teeth leave trenches, he shouts rapture and another god rears, laughs, blesses his name.
(This is.) (This is how Darius feels.) (When he calls himself a god (he is a god), he means the crush of his own power, he means the world answers, he means everything is simple, or he sees the complex workings of the universe and knows one touch of his bloody hand is simple, is destruction-)
(He is.
Kind of drunk.)
(He feels so fucking good. Coming down off that high feels just as good as the high. He feels like he -)
(Just got the fuck of his life.)
(Hm. In...Mx. Renault's apartment.)
(Oops.)
He tilts his head back with a throaty laugh, eyes closed, his hand massaging Daddy's hip. And then he's easing back to sit on his heels, tugging Daddy with him -]
Got you. Got- I got you.
[ He does. (He always. Always has Darius after.) (Weird. He rarely feels like he needs comfort, care - even after something like this. Even after the most violent games. Any more than usual, anyhow. Darius always makes sure he has water, food, shit like that - but every time, Enri needs to make sure Darius is okay. He can't settle himself until he knows Darius is okay.) ]
I got- Fuh- Fuck -
[ His sit becomes ungainly, half-toppled because he is slightly drunk and hungry and Jesus that felt so good, it felt so good, right down to his fucking soul, and he didn't count on Darius weighing anything at all when pulling him into his lap. There's laughter and it's issuing helplessly from Enri, there's warmth and it's in his arms, under his lips, someone living and always and all his own. There's wet and it's coming from a wound he cut, so he reaches for the nearest thing that seems like it'd be good to staunch the flow and holds it there at Daddy's chest, putting pressure until he can gather himself enough to think any kind of straight.
Maybe get their clothes on straight, too.
Whatever. Later.
In between each thrilled little laugh, he nuzzles, prays his love. ]
no subject
There’s a jarring that startles him, briefly, but resolves to find his head where he desired it, Enri’s heart beating just against Darius’s hearing, and Enri’s arms still holding him, and Darius drawing his own arms closer still. Enri’s laughter trilling resplendence through his thought, Darius smiling and nuzzling, nuzzling against Enri’s warm-glowing skin.
There’s a pressure at his chest; Enri tending to Darius’s blood. Enri looking after, taking care of Darius, and yes Enri had said ’I’ve go you’ and yes Darius knows, a certitude that runs within his marrow. Yes, Enri’s there (Enri’s here, always here) through and at the end of every ecstasy. Enri, the source of every joy and raucous ascension. Puppy, the boy kneeling before him and the god who hand-in-hand climbed up above the world.
Enri takes such good care of him. In ruin and in mending.
Darius’s body hums. His breath shivers hitched, slowing gradually, and he reaches for Enri’s cheek, exhaling a pleased sound when he finds contact, the form of this beautiful god. His thumb begins a slow, a shuddered caress, and his eyes speak wonder, his eyes speak thrall and adoration.
He could stay here forever.
He will stay here, with Enri, forever. After all, the world is what and where they make it. The world blooms where Darius and Enri are, together.
Smiling softly, voice hushed, dazzled, unwavered, Darius speaks— ]
How is it that the world can hold you?
My Love, my god.
[ He leans upward, feeling heaviness in his limbs, feeling a pleasant burn at his chest, at his hips, his lip, everywhere his Puppy in worship bit or caught. And there’s a kiss for Enri’s other cheek before Darius rests his head again, looking up, eyes caught with Enri’s (what else, oh what else could he wish to hold in gazing?). ]
You are incomparably brilliant.
And that—
[ His smile sharpens to a smirk, and he nudges Enri with just a little force, sets a kiss to his chest with a momentary graze of teeth. ]
Ah, Love. That was beautifully done.
no subject
His heart's thundering slows, takes a sharp spike in rhythm at the sensation of teeth and slows again. There's a hummed noise of chiding when Daddy moves against the cloth at his chest - stubborn fuck, squirrely fuck, trying to get more pain out of it or trying to kiss his Puppy.
It's not too deep, he thinks. It won't need stitches. (It would benefit from stitches.) (He knows how to stitch up a wound, but the original didn't have the marks from stitches, so. So. Let it knit.) (He'll keep an eye on it, though. Patch it up properly at home.) (Ah, fuck, home. He glows warmer with the thought.)
His arm tightens around Daddy and his mercilessly vicious smile softens to tenderness. (Happiness.)
He is, though. He's happy.
This is the happiest he's been. Does Daddy -
Does Darius know that, he wonders? Does Darius have any idea how, before he came along, everything seemed so fucking pointless, everything was a mess of complications and loss, and now it's not complicated. Now there's no loss, there's one honest, concrete fact of his existence, and it is that he found home.
In a low, intimate drawl, he answers. ]
The world doesn't hold me. You do - and every day you hold me is the happiest of my life.
You're my home.
[ Sure. He just fucked home within an inch of home's life (after running a knife along Daddy's skin and splitting him like a seam) (Enri's vision swims and he exhales a sound of pleasure) (Daddy's blood welled up and he can still taste it, fuck, he can still taste the honey, too, and all he needs -)
(He could just dip a finger -)
(Not here.) (It's for their bedroom, or Daddy's altar, or.)
(Fuck, definitely not here.) (But.)
But. He's putting that idea in Daddy's head; they both have to live with it. Suffering. So he lowers his voice and whispers with an edge of laughter - and an edge of regret: ]
Got the honey and blood. A little bit of Daddy and it'd be holy.
Next time.
[ Turning his attention to the not-chair beside him, he presses the cloth carefully to Daddy's wound and then reaches up, brushing a thumb along the red prints left by their hands - and pulls a theatric grimace. His voice turns almost-lilting now, as though they're both going to be in trouble, but at least they're sharing their fate. ]
Mx. Renault's gonna be piiiiissed
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(If Darius were given to questioning himself, he might ask how it’s possible that he could be a force of happiness for anyone, let alone this brilliant man, young and bright and dazzling. Might wonder how it’s possible that he’s found anyone who can exist in consonance with him so perfectly, who draws from him such fascination and such adoration. Might wonder how it’s possible that he, who has never found fondness with anyone, let alone love (oh, love, he does love this man, a thought that warms Darius all over again), could at last come into this ecstasy of adoration.
But he’s a god, and Enri is a god, so of course they found one another; so of course they exist in perfect consonance, and Darius doesn’t wonder.)
(Still, it thrills him. Still, it flutters beyond explanation, beyond probability, beyond the containment of any earthly reason.)
(Still, he knows a humming gratitude in every moment; knows his fortune in the depths and in the lingering of amber eyes, the trace of Enri’s touch along his skin.)
The warmth is tripped into electric sparking and a catching in his lungs when Enri speaks of next time, Darius biting his lip without intention, Darius aching his next against the thought, one hand flying to cover Enri’s at his chest, at his blood.
And when Enri grimaces, when Enri gives the not-chair a theatric assessment, Darius huffs a laugh and cuddles closer against Enri, reaching up to run a hand along his jaw. As if coaxing his attention back toward Darius. As if to say - his half-smile bright, toned with mischief and with adoration - ’There’s more important business here, Love, my love, the source of every fondness.’ ]
Insatiable tease.
How fortunate we have a weekend ahead of us, hm? I promised you salvation; I’m certain we can find holiness along the way, as well.
Holiness and further holding.
[ He shifts to better wrap his own arm around Enri’s back, pressing Enri’s back and nuzzling against Enri’s chest to draw himself nearer, nearer, as close against Enri’s warmth as he can. ]
Love. There is nothing better than seeing to your happiness. Than sharing in our home.
And I do love to hold you. I’m afraid I won’t ever let you go; you’ll simply have to resign yourself to being happy forever.
As will I, Love.
[ There’s a kiss for Enri’s cheek, for Enri’s jaw, then for Enri’s lips, gentle and persistent, a set of lingering brushing presses that ends in a gentle tug of the man’s lower lip.
Glancing at the not-chair and back at Enri, raising an eyebrow— ]
Renault’s typically pissed about something. I expect they’ll survive.
[ Again he sets a hand to Enri’s cheek. Bracing, as if to guard the world away. ]
Daddy will take care of it, Puppy; don’t you trouble yourself.
Only know that Daddy love you. That you are all my adoration.
[ Then, voice softening, smile turning conspiratorial, smile promising tender, devotional catastrophe— ]
And I have fresh honey waiting for us at home.
no subject
He's not worried about Rin. He's not worried about anything. He's warm and disheveled and covered in blood, and so is Daddy, and there's nothing to worry about at all.
(...Is that true?) (A niggling thought, a very distant alarm.)
There's honey at home. (Fresh?) (He can just imagine Darius going to that farmer's market three blocks down and fucking with the middle-aged couple that sells it.) His smile turns dreamy, and he leans his forehead against Daddy's with a little nudge.
They have so much weekend ahead of them. Daddy's probably got plans - a thought that thrills him through, sends a shiver of excitement along his spine. ]
I love you so much, Daddy. I'm so lucky. You take such good care of me.
[ His voice is an easy, happy drawl, slow and intimately warm like the honey waiting for him.
He thinks he ought to get them cleaned up, and this thought leads to a contented, if resigned sigh. And then to the step-by-steps - which aren't in order. They never are.
Gotta clean the blood off the chair. Gotta find a first aid kit. Gotta see about some clothes. Gotta get these clothes back on, first. Should go clean up before that, though. Wash off the blood, get the condom off -
He freezes.
He looks at Darius, feeling panic rise fleetingly, sitting in his throat alongside guilt. He forgot. He fucking - forgot. (Darius trusted him. Darius trusted him and he forgot.) He fucking forgot, how the fuck could he forget?! ]
Fuck.
[ This, followed by a thousand worries about catching something, giving something, ruining everything for both of them. He was going to wait and talk about this with Darius, he was going to do everything right and safely.
And then another, calmer thought: it doesn't matter.
It - actually doesn't.
If there's anything to catch from Darius, he got it weeks ago. Vice versa. They've been licking and sucking and everything short of drinking each other's blood. What the fuck was a condom going to protect them from? Pregnancy?
Still.
Still. Darius trusted him to do it. He slumps a little, his head falling to Darius's shoulder, and he whines another soft 'fuck' before raising his head again, drawing his hand to his mouth in frustration with himself. His fingers curl into a loose fist, and two rest at his lips; around these, he confesses miserably - ]
I forgot.
I forgot the condom.
[ Of all the fucking things for his screwy brainy to forget. Of all the things to be irresponsible about.
He breathes out a helpless, lost sound and unfurls his hand, rests his forehead in his palm. ]
Sorry. Shit, I'm so sorry.
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Oh, Puppy.
[ Gently, fingers curling, he takes hold of Enri’s hand, draws it from Enri’s forehead. Catches the boy’s eyes before nudging him forehead-to-forehead, speaking in a near-whisper— ]
You don’t have to worry about any of that.
[ A moment, another nudge, and Darius draws back to find Enri’s eyes, to brush his hand through Enri’s hair, then set the back of his fingers at Enri’s cheek in subtle pressure. ]
Puppy.
Love, you’ve done nothing wrong.
[ His arm winds close around Enri’s back, drawing Darius nearer still, and he squeezes, holds the pressure. ]
Look at me Puppy, hm? Daddy’s got you.
[ It isn’t Enri’s responsibility to worry over these things. The boy’s endured enough doubt and upsets tonight without believing he’s— What, let Darius down? Failed Darius.
Nothing of the kind. Enri’s done nothing of the kind, and Darius tilts Puppy’s hand to kiss his palm. Keeps hold of Enri’s wrist and strokes his thumb evenly, steadily along a staggered pulse.
If there’s fault here - there is fault here - it lies with Darius. Darius, who has years of experience, who ought to be capable of keeping a clear head and looking better after his Puppy. (Who ought to have saved Enri this turmoil.) (Who ought to have called for a pause, however brief, however much he’d wanted only to bring Enri to euphoric wildness, and to share in that wildness, himself.) (Who ought to have noted the way they sped past the chance for a condom, and ought to have seen the potential trouble to follow. He was a fool, wrapped up in pursuit and in a care that bore within it thoughtlessness toward practicalities.)
Darius should have brought up the matter of transmission weeks ago. Should have mentioned it as soon as he knew that blood would be commonplace between them, that they both hold near-chaotic capacities toward impulse, toward falling into one another’s arms and roiling attentions. And he should have let the boy know there was no cause for alarm. That Darius was careful with the would-be-Puppies he’d chosen before meeting Enri. That he’d checked in on their records beforehand, and had himself tested after.
Really, they might have abandoned the condom shortly after Enri’s return. (As far as he knows, Enri’s clean. Hadn’t Darius sought through the boy’s records early on, and found nothing astray?) (And even if he isn’t— Well. He hadn’t precisely considered it with Enri, but what’s done is done.) (He ought to be tested again. They both ought to. Darius will take care of it.) They ought to have had this talk, then counted themselves free of the necessity of a few extra steps, extra care. It’s something Darius has considered, something he’d intended to bring up several times, but always there had always been other topics more appealing, games to play, and a dearth of hours in which to enjoy themselves, and Darius had let the matter slip away.
A mistake. A series of mistakes. And the result of his neglect is Enri’s worry, Enri’s frustration. Enri’s self-punishing thoughts, when the boy ought to be shining brilliant, lolling without care in afterglow. Darius left Enri in a lurch once again, and there’s a sour feeling in his stomach, and an urge to grit his teeth that he just manages to restrain.
There’s no need to let his irritation with himself bleed outward and infect Enri. Enri has indeed done nothing in error. Enri has already taken on too much blame. (Any blame would be too much. Poor Puppy; he cares so well, and takes perceived mistakes so far to heart.) The least Darius can do is speak with ease, give the boy grounds less fractured to stand on. So when Darius brushes back at Enri’s hair, his smile is smile soft, assuring. ]
Who was the instigator here, hm?
You’re not alone here, Love. I neglected caution. And I ought to have broached the subject weeks ago.
[ He thinks, forgive me, Puppy.
He thinks, I’ve left you to falter again.
These words remain unspoken; the point here isn’t a matter of spreading blame. The point here is to show that there’s no cause to think of blame, certainly not regarding Enri. The point is to draw his Enri from helplessness, from believing he’s erred, or— ]
You’ve brought me ecstasy, and you’ve brought me care. I’m not upset or disappointed in the least, my love. Please; you’ve given Daddy a perfectly divine evening.
[ Here he darts inward, upward. Brushes a kiss to Enri’s forehead, then cups his boyfriend’s cheek. ]
You don’t have anything to worry about, Enri.
Much as I don’t care for doctors, I make a habit of attending to particular necessities. There’s nothing to fear from me; I’m perfectly clean.
And I fear nothing from you.
[ His fingers stroke light along Enri’s cheek, and he holds the sight of pained amber, willing, willing the boy to be well, to be easy. ]
You, my Puppy, my Only One. You who alone will have me. You who are the only man I want, and the only man I’ll have.
I’ll get us tested, hm? For caution's sake.
But you've nothing to apologize for.
You've done no harm.
[ Another kiss for Enri's palm, while Darius's eyes hold fixed on Enri's. ]
And you were very, very good.
no subject
But that's not true. Daddy makes all the decisions, and he could have stopped everything. One word from Darius and Enri would have fallen back obediently, would have followed any command given to him no matter how drunk or aroused he'd been. Darius hadn't made that call.
Which means it wasn't needed.
(Of course it wasn't needed. He knows Darius has been careful. He knows Darius keeps track of all of that with his partners. Keeps careful with them. With himself.) (With Enri.)
He's smiling by the time the final kiss falls against his palm; getting tested is another step towards forever, isn't it? Even if it's just a formality, even if it's just to show willingness to get tested together, so that they can stop with the condoms and just have fun. (It's commitment. That's the word floating dimly to the surface of his thoughts. It's a commitment to be -
Monogamous.
Darius's one and only and always.)
(How many times can he think I'm so goddamned lucky in a night? A week? A lifetime?)
He thinks about telling Darius he's been tested. He gets tested annually for HIV - the only blood test the military runs on all its soldiers. He could give Darius the medical records from right after his return from the Bahamas, the ones that show he's free of STDs and dutifully took PEP even if it made him sick as a goddamn dog now and then while he was overseas.
But that's not the point. The point is the gesture. The point is they're going to be together, stay together, and this is what people do. (Before.) (It doesn't matter 'before what'.) (But deep in the recesses of his brain, a hopeful, if formless, light has begun to spark.)
Nevermind that they're sitting here in a mess of body fluids and disheveled clothes. Nevermind it's not even their apartment. He feels as though this moment in this place is another subtle change in his own world. He feels wonderful. He draws Darius into another kiss, breaking off to murmur love before diving breathlessly in again - careful not to shift his hand from the pressure of the blanket against the knife wound.
When he does ease back, his smile lingers still. ]
It's probably not even for caution's sake by now.
But I like what it means.
[ Something real. Something tangible, to show he and Darius are together for good.
He huffs a little laugh and ducks his head so he can cock an eye at his boyfriend, his love, adding softly - ]
I like what it shows.
[ That Darius is his Only One. That he's wanted. That Enri sees something lasting in the 'us' that began with only a promise of an ending. ]
no subject
How his eyes never stray from Darius’s, and how in them Darius bears witness to a swift-returning hope, to relief, to comfort and assurance.
Darius is accustomed to influencing the minds and moods of others. To marking the precise word and tonal shift required to grip talons at the root of resistance. To urging others toward his aim with subtle-threading charisma or with sharper, blazing assertion. Rhetoric has always been for him a deftly wielded tool, driven with signs of attachment and emotion he never felt to heart, mingling truth and fiction with equal ease, seducing his targets to the precise crossroad at which he would attain his ends: a point won, a negotiation secured, a bit of business sealed, a warning lodged like persistent fire in the target’s soul. It has always been seduction of a sort, in the wake of which he could stroll away and leave the spell to linger, leave the target wondering at how far they’d forgotten their own goals and means, leave the target raw and wounded, bleeding pride or resentment or terror for days.
This isn’t that.
Nothing with Enri is ever like that.
From their first week together, from that first night, it’d been a two-way street with Enri: the boy picking up on Darius’s direction and enhancing it with his own images (’like praying,’ he’d said; red light at Darius’s cheek like blood), imparting thrusts and motifs of his own, turning singularity of pursuit into something shared, something built upon. Something Darius found himself disinclined to shatter or yank wholly from the new-known young man’s grasp.
From that first night, Darius had felt a humming thread wound through himself, attached to Enri. (Hadn’t credited it then with its full power. Hadn’t known how to comprehend or to accept its meaning and the future that it called for.) From that first night - though he hadn’t known it - there had been no question of drifting away unscathed, or of tugging the thread without being pulled in kind.
It’s nothing that he’s ever known before. It’s a force and an aegis he wonders at still, thinks he might glimpse with awe forever: how heartening it is to feel himself drawn with and attached to this man. How much more brilliant the world became when the thread between them struck alight.
When Darius speaks with Enri, it’s in praise, it’s in approval, it’s in shared composition and as a hand caressing invitation. He wants his love to join him; he wants to be joined with this man. And there is place for Enri always in his speaking. And Darius finds heart-rending joy when his words lend Enri buoyancy, when he speaks and finds his Enri revived.
It’s this elation that he feels now, when Enri nods, when Enri smiles, when Enri looks so far from loss and brings Darius into a kiss. (And Darius thinks, it’s all right now. It’s all right; the storm has passed.) (There never should have been a storm, Darius ought to have precluded it’s existence, but if he failed in that regard, he can at least bring Enri back to peace and sureness, and learn better from his own oversight.) It’s this elation that melts him into the kiss and against Enri’s body as he thrills with each inviting touch.
Enri understood him. Enri understands his meaning. (Of course Enri does. Perceptive boy, so capable of knowing his own truths, and of reading every resonance in Darius.)
Enri believes him. Trusts him.
And Darius nuzzles Enri, cheek to cheek. Meets the cocked eye and flickers, grinning, at that little laugh. Traces his fingers slow, down along Enri’s chest, then back up again. A fond and a familiar caress. (He’s going to caress Enri just this way - and in so many others - all the rest of his existence. And that, oh, that too evokes elation.) ]
Clever boy.
Next week; I’ll pick you up and we’ll go over. Take dinner somewhere after.
[ There’s a smirk, an eyebrow raised, and he leans up and in to draw a light lick at Enri’s lip. ]
See how much of an upset we can create, hm?
[ This time, he gives a gentle tug to Enri’s lip, elides into a kiss without bite, without teeth. Soft and brushing light before he moves to seek Enri’s eyes hungry for the sight of beloved amber. Smirking still, though there’s a note of the same awed infatuation that runs dizzy through his veins. ]
We’ll let everyone see how well I love you. How I can keep neither hands nor eyes from my Enri. My Puppy. My adoration.
How you take such care with Daddy. With me.
How I mean to keep you always.