[ He can almost - almost - hide the flicker of interest in his expression at that tone, at the finger curling around his collar. God damn, this party's been boring, but now he gets to go play?
And that's all it's going to be, he'd pretty sure. A light punishment just to remind him who's boss (as though he could ever forget!) and put on an act for everyone else. That latter's more about him than Darius, though. He never wants anyone getting the idea that even though he's Daddy's equal, he can get away with anything. He wants them to know he chooses to be Puppy.
He chooses to be punished, too.
(And he definitely wants those two fuckers to know Daddy punishes him and it's so good, every fucking time. Not like they ever got.)
Setting his drink down, he schools his expression to one of subtle contrition, maybe faint fear. Oh, no, he's really in for it now! his expression acknowledges. (The thing is, he's not really all that contrite (yet) or fearful (yet.)) He follows Darius's lead to the door, noting that by the time they pass through it, they've lost most of the party's attention.
The door exits into a hall; once it closes behind him, he slides his hand down into Darius's and begins to swing them as they walk, his contrition and fear replaced with a cheerful smile. He might as well be humming and skipping, he feels so happy.
The smile turns to a grin if Darius looks at him, and really, he can't resist chirping: ]
[ How easy it is to breathe now, be now, so swiftly after upset, so quickly, smoothly in the wake prying, puling would-be-puppies and a harrowing ex-wife.
It’s as if none of the rest existed. As if the trifling partygoers have been vanquished, banished— And why should it be otherwise? When all the world is here, and swinging Darius’s hand in innocent (ah, ‘innocent,’ his perfect brat and lover pleased in the wake of discarded foes, and why shouldn’t he be? Enri, Puppy, Lovely played so well with intruders who sought to sow their senseless discord) joy.
Joy, what Darius wants for his Enri always.
And peace, surety of his place with Darius, with Daddy, who is his in every name and every light.
He leads them onward through the hall, toward the stairs. Having decided on the room they’ll make their own. Esma’s in name and current claim, but all that Daddy and Puppy touch becomes their own, and it’s only right, it’s only apt to give his husband the utmost comfort, the mansion’s primary bedroom.
It’s theirs now; Esma as good as signed it to them when she chose to entertain this party.
That chirp in Enri’s voice thrills him, turns the hall’s harsh-soft light a honeyed gold, and that smile, ah, he could like a hundred year upon his Puppy’s smile. ]
Then it ought to be excruciating, hm?
For my very, very nearly husband, Daddy inflicts only the best.
Utmost pleasure. Utmost torment.
[ A turn toward Enri brings a pause in their step, and Darius draws nearer, voice lowering to a velvet purr. ]
Oh no, Puppy.
[ Now leaning inward, upward, to tent a hand to Enri’s chest - feeling, savoring the beat of his love’s heart - and grin, crooked with a flash of teeth. Then to speak softer still, and breathy, half-hissed and full of promise— ]
Oh no.
[ Another subtle shifting upward, as if he means to steal a kiss, to draw Puppy’s lip between his teeth—
Then he winds away, tugging Enri’s hand with a playful grin and a wink, a riant little laugh, as he draws them onward, upward toward their bedroom. ]
[ An echo of words, cheerfully toned to suggest he'd like nothing better in all the world.
Enri laughs at the feint, at the way Darius spins away from him; the sound comes free and untroubled, as though nothing can touch him. Nothing can steal between them, not even hopeful would-have-beens like Joyce and Preston.
Those two, Enri thinks, don't know what they've really lost because they never knew it in the first place. They never saw Darius this way, playful and loving and deadly. They got to know the terror and pain, the momentary flickers of thrill like lights in the dark, but they never knew the fullness it could be with him. They never felt themselves cherished or held safe at the heart of all that destruction. If they had experienced that euphoria even for a moment, they'd have fought harder. They'd have stayed there and let Enri rip them apart just to show Darius how badly they needed him.
Their loss.
Never mind them. Darius is leading him into a bedroom that is their bedroom - because all bedrooms are theirs. All rooms, anywhere, belong to him and Daddy, as long as Daddy says.
Without being asked, Enri locks the door behind him - and then, on second thought, grins and unlocks it again. He holds Darius's hand still in his other and gives it a squeeze.]
no subject
And that's all it's going to be, he'd pretty sure. A light punishment just to remind him who's boss (as though he could ever forget!) and put on an act for everyone else. That latter's more about him than Darius, though. He never wants anyone getting the idea that even though he's Daddy's equal, he can get away with anything. He wants them to know he chooses to be Puppy.
He chooses to be punished, too.
(And he definitely wants those two fuckers to know Daddy punishes him and it's so good, every fucking time. Not like they ever got.)
Setting his drink down, he schools his expression to one of subtle contrition, maybe faint fear. Oh, no, he's really in for it now! his expression acknowledges. (The thing is, he's not really all that contrite (yet) or fearful (yet.)) He follows Darius's lead to the door, noting that by the time they pass through it, they've lost most of the party's attention.
The door exits into a hall; once it closes behind him, he slides his hand down into Darius's and begins to swing them as they walk, his contrition and fear replaced with a cheerful smile. He might as well be humming and skipping, he feels so happy.
The smile turns to a grin if Darius looks at him, and really, he can't resist chirping: ]
Last punishment before I'm your husband.
[ "Lethal". Sure. ]
no subject
It’s as if none of the rest existed. As if the trifling partygoers have been vanquished, banished— And why should it be otherwise? When all the world is here, and swinging Darius’s hand in innocent (ah, ‘innocent,’ his perfect brat and lover pleased in the wake of discarded foes, and why shouldn’t he be? Enri, Puppy, Lovely played so well with intruders who sought to sow their senseless discord) joy.
Joy, what Darius wants for his Enri always.
And peace, surety of his place with Darius, with Daddy, who is his in every name and every light.
He leads them onward through the hall, toward the stairs. Having decided on the room they’ll make their own. Esma’s in name and current claim, but all that Daddy and Puppy touch becomes their own, and it’s only right, it’s only apt to give his husband the utmost comfort, the mansion’s primary bedroom.
It’s theirs now; Esma as good as signed it to them when she chose to entertain this party.
That chirp in Enri’s voice thrills him, turns the hall’s harsh-soft light a honeyed gold, and that smile, ah, he could like a hundred year upon his Puppy’s smile. ]
Then it ought to be excruciating, hm?
For my very, very nearly husband, Daddy inflicts only the best.
Utmost pleasure. Utmost torment.
[ A turn toward Enri brings a pause in their step, and Darius draws nearer, voice lowering to a velvet purr. ]
Oh no, Puppy.
[ Now leaning inward, upward, to tent a hand to Enri’s chest - feeling, savoring the beat of his love’s heart - and grin, crooked with a flash of teeth. Then to speak softer still, and breathy, half-hissed and full of promise— ]
Oh no.
[ Another subtle shifting upward, as if he means to steal a kiss, to draw Puppy’s lip between his teeth—
Then he winds away, tugging Enri’s hand with a playful grin and a wink, a riant little laugh, as he draws them onward, upward toward their bedroom. ]
no subject
[ An echo of words, cheerfully toned to suggest he'd like nothing better in all the world.
Enri laughs at the feint, at the way Darius spins away from him; the sound comes free and untroubled, as though nothing can touch him. Nothing can steal between them, not even hopeful would-have-beens like Joyce and Preston.
Those two, Enri thinks, don't know what they've really lost because they never knew it in the first place. They never saw Darius this way, playful and loving and deadly. They got to know the terror and pain, the momentary flickers of thrill like lights in the dark, but they never knew the fullness it could be with him. They never felt themselves cherished or held safe at the heart of all that destruction. If they had experienced that euphoria even for a moment, they'd have fought harder. They'd have stayed there and let Enri rip them apart just to show Darius how badly they needed him.
Their loss.
Never mind them. Darius is leading him into a bedroom that is their bedroom - because all bedrooms are theirs. All rooms, anywhere, belong to him and Daddy, as long as Daddy says.
Without being asked, Enri locks the door behind him - and then, on second thought, grins and unlocks it again. He holds Darius's hand still in his other and gives it a squeeze.]