[ OPEN ]

[swordhardy]

Who ⬤ Rokurou & you! Totally OTA.
What ⬤ August 2022 Event — Tanabata.
When ⬤ All throughout the event & afterward.
Where ⬤ Sai no Kawara; various locations.
Content Warnings ⬤ Fighting, violence, alcohol, blood, wounds, sex, language... will update as necessary.


〈〈〈 GAMBLING PROBLEM 〉〉〉
⓵ ― GET UP, COME ON, GET DOWN WITH THE SICKNESS
FIGHTING, VIOLENCE, BLOOD, WOUNDS; CAN LEAD TO NSFW BECAUSE HE'S FIGHTHORNY

[ The crowd cheers, jeers, and stomp their feet as fighters stretch along the outside of the arena. Bets come in rapidfire, with money slapped across the table as eager observers eye up the fighters and make snap judgements before every paired up fight begins. More and more cash flashes as people surge in from the card tables, winners high off beating the house and more than willing to relish in a little bloodlust. The unfortunate losers, they're just as eager, and more trusting of their judgement when sizing up fighters and throwing in their very last dollar to try to earn it all back in what feels like a safer bet.

The rules are simple for this set. No weapons, and the match ends when someone gives up or when one's pinned flat on their back for ten seconds. You can fight however you like within those parameters. It favors the brawny and those who specialize in hand to hand combat, but that doesn't stop Rokurou from hopping into the ring eagerly and cracking his knuckles when his number's chosen from the pool. He might be a swordsman with a heavy preference for fighting with swords ... but it's been a while since he let loose. A little skin on skin contact don't sound bad.

Clad in only a pair of trousers, the daemon rolls his neck and pulls his hair back before pointing at his pool-chosen (or maybe you knocked that loser aside and hopped in because you wanted to) opponent. With a vicious smile that shares his teeth and a predator's gaze, ]

I'm not interested in weaklings. If you break easy, you better just get out of the arena right now.

⓶ ― SKIN TO SKIN, BLOOD AND BONE, YOU'RE BY YOURSELF BUT NOT ALONE
BLOOD, AFTERCARE, CAN ALSO GO SPICY WHY NOT IT'S MANSLUT SUNDAY

[ Off to the side of the area is another stretch of bar, space a little quieter than the ones amongst the casino. Rokurou's perched on one of the stools with a dewy glass of ice water beside him and a mess of red-stained tissues scattered behind his elbow. His nose is a mess, blood smeared across his upper lip, and a shiner hues around the circle of his visible eye. Mottled purple and blue blend across his skin; shirtless, a couple of angry scratches crisscross with old faded scars, some white, some pink. Crusting brown dries beneath his fingernails, leading to scratched up knuckles.

Clumsily, he dunks a fresh napkin into the cup and wipes down his abdomen to wipe the scratches focused around his hipbones. Water smears red into diluted pink, edges of the cuts smoothed down and eased by the cold. ]

Scratching during a match ... cheap move. [ the water tints pink with another dunk of the napkin, then slaps his skin again closer to his belly button with just the slightest shudder of breath against the muttering, ] Like fighting a damn cat.

[ The daemon rolls his neck and looks up, catching the eye of someone who's come to the bar—and with a lopsided smile, asks, ]

Hey, how's my back look? I think they got me there too.

[ Rokurou leans, drawing forward his thick mane of dark hair to share broad shoulders and sharp shoulderblades ... and yes, more irritated tallies along the handsome slope of his spine and ribs. More blunt patches of green and yellow bloom across tanned skin and muscle, some fresh, some fading, not all from today. He's a wild artist's canvas, with beads of red dripping down from wounds over the smudging of bruises. ]

⓷ ― FIRE IN MY LUNGS, CAN'T BITE THE DEVIL ON MY TONGUE
ALCOHOL

[ The night's dragged on and plenty of people have already lost their cash to the house. Rokurou's among those numbers, having spent enough for the night that he's no longer looking to wager more money ... but adrenaline is high and the fun isn't over yet. A group of people have set up a makeshift game of their own closer to the bar; it's a corner where the drinks are flowing and the games are less structured, and all of the betting is everything but cash. Anything goes. Hell, once some people get drunk enough, they even go back to the tables to gamble away what's left of their money anyway—it's a win/win for the house, ain't it?

The two top game choices are arm wrestling and drinking contests. The daemon's set up for the latter, grabbing freshly washed glasses from the waitresses's tray, slamming them down onto the table with relish. Two bottles of amber whiskey come along with it. Cheap stuff, but it'll get the job done.]

Whoever falls off their chair first is the loser. [ he slides the second bottle forward with a flick of his fingers; they probably didn't even need the cups when they each get their own. ] As for what we're betting... how about a secret? A good one. Something we haven't told people around here.

〈〈〈 PLEASURE PALACE 〉〉〉
⓸ ― YOU LET ME VIOLATE YOU, YOU LET ME DESECRATE YOU
NSFW (16+); APHRO

[ The palace drips decadence. More than Rokurou's used to, more than suits his taste, and he can't afford any of the expensive drinks lining the gilded sidecars. But the atmosphere of the palace is easy and pleasant in spite of its incredible richness, and there are drinks that are a little cheaper than Tenkohime's specialty. Incense lofts through the woodpanel rooms, a soothing scent laced with an undercurrent that settles deep into the bones and belly. Heat begins as a slow simmer, though Rokurou can't tell the difference between what's in the air and what's in his glass—his drink goes down smooth, honeyed warmth that coats his throat. His naturally olive tone doesn't share color or flush easily, but he's feeling the tingle of tipsiness along his fingers and toes. A lightweight that enjoys the feeling, the daemon leans into the sensation with a pleased sigh.

The cushions of the couches and chairs are plush and draped with velvet blankets. Pillows glint, lined with gems. Voices are hushed, glasses tink, soft laughter echoes down long hallways. Gaze lidded, the daemon smiles at someone nearby (Tamamo or not) with a slight squint. A friendly look as he rests his chin in his hand, pinky and index finger toying with his bottom lip idly. ]

Aah, sorry. I'm staring. [ though he doesn't sound very apologetic about it— ] You're just really cute.

⓹ ― YOU LET ME PENETRATE YOU, YOU LET ME COMPLICATE YOU
NSFW (16+); INSTASMUT OPTION, WE HORNY

[ The night drags on. Sake stains Rokurou's lips, warms his tongue. The bruises from his earlier bouts in the area throb and his cuts sting, bones ache, a beat that urges on the restlessness that tremors along the mapline of his veins. Blood rushes through his body, a crescendo of urgency from the half of him that lacks humanity, a beast hungering for carnage. Alcohol dulls his hard-kept reason; everything becomes overwhelming to a creature with heightened senses. He craves the painpleasure of stimulation. The dig of nails into his flesh or teeth into his skin. Gentle, rough, the hard clench of thighs or tickle of tossed hair. The restless itch stirring knows but one word: more, more, more, more.

Instinctually, he follows after a scent of strong desire. Something that calls out to him, a taste in the air that draws in a hungry monster like a bug to a flame. There's no hesitation when he winds his arms around a figure, pressing his strong chest up against another's back. He inhales that delicious scent, tilting his head against the back of their neck while the palms of his hands slide forward to tease along the other's stomach in a slide of flirtatious fingers already threatening to go south. His sharp teeth graze over skin but don't bite yet, though the urge to pinch flesh between his canines and print a heavy red mark spikes.

Predator wanting to trap its prey, he rasps against the shell of an ear. ]

Shit ... I really wanna devour you.

〈〈〈 GOSSIP 〉〉〉
⓺ ― A SUNNY PLACE FOR SHADY PEOPLE, A CROWDED ROOM WHERE NOBODY GOES
HOT GOSS, LOOSE LIPS

[ The band plays and people are relaxed, chattering amongst themselves ... a little louder than they might normally. Ruddy cheeks and bright eyes, it's easy to catch wind of something interesting even when you're not trying to. Rokurou tips his glass to his mouth and takes a swig of sake while overhearing someone who looks rather rich talking about how he's started seeing some really popular courtesan on the side, something about how they're deeply in love now ... and catches a glance of the person he's speaking to's incredulous expression. Guess someone's got the wrong idea about what paying for company means.

The daemon snorts, sliding his glance away before dropping himself comfortably down onto one of the couches. He lays his sheathed sword across his lap, resting fingers on the black casing. Rumors of the wolf girl going against her family have been one of the biggest, and it has him tapping his fingers against Stormhowl in quiet contemplation. ]

Families are difficult, huh...?

[ A mutter to himself, but like all of the other murmured voices around, it's easily caught even below the sound of music. ]

〈〈〈 TANABATA 〉〉〉
⓻ ― BABY, WE BUILT THIS HOUSE ON MEMORIES

[ Social butterfly by nature, Rokurou weaves through the crowd of festival-goers with ease. A flutter of purple kimono follows his motions, haori a royal shade draped across his broad shoulders instead of his usual lilac kimono. Eyes scanning, he watches the people that pass and stop; the good feelings in the air are electric, joy stretched across mouths and shining in eyes obvious at every turn. The swordsman sighs, gently endeared, though he doesn't decide to join in with the groups holding hands and happily playing games before heading to write wishes deep in their hearts down to offer up.

He only stops when he sees what seems to be a wallflower—someone else alone, or someone looking out of place. Goodnatured, he approches with a tilt of the head, cascade of black hair falling forward as he offers a friendly grin. Always one with a soft spot for quiet types and out of place introverts, or even those that just look a little lonely in a crowd, he flutters close like a moth drawn to moonlight. ]

Mind if I hang out over here? It's pretty crowded. [ smile lopsided, he offers out his right hand; there's a paper dish with delicious candied sweet potatoes inside, ] If you're hungry, I got an extra dish for free. How about it? Not much better than candied sweet potatoes.

[ He has his own second plate in the other hand; of course, the second dish hadn't been a mistake at all, nor had it been free. But that's a secret he keeps to himself, wanting to spread the good feeling a little bit. It isn't like his words are a lie: there really isn't much better than candied sweet potatoes. ]

⓼ ― IF I CAN'T BE CLOSE TO YOU, I'LL SETTLE FOR THE GHOST OF YOU

[ Underground, lights dapple the earth overhead creating a tapestry of sky. Constellations move, graceful gestures of arced limbs set back against melding purple and blue. The ambiance slows, the din becoming a gentle wash of whispers while papers flutter after being tied to slim bamboo and branches. Lanterns cast a gentle golden glow, stars among the people, weaving between trees and wishes.

A young man stands among them, uncharacteristically reserved as he reaches up to brush the back of a rough knuckle against one of the papers carefully hung among the field of hopes. Inky hair falls around in his shoulders, loose, moving gently as he tilts his head up and studies the false stars overhead. Dropping his hand away, the daemon leaves the wishes alone—in the end, he hadn't written what he really wanted to. Men like him, men who have sinned too greatly, have no right to ask the heavens for anything.

After a slow exhale, he finally smiles. It's a slight tilt, almost tired, not the normal shit-eating teeth gnashing grins he likes to wear. An ache persists in his chest, below blackened ribs and somewhere in a charred heart—a kick, a pulse of something that's long since been turned to smoldering ember and ash. Idly, the hand drawn away from the branches to rub over his chest. Uncomfortable, the feeling furrows a stitch between his brows for a moment before it smooths over. No stranger to restlessness, he tilts his head to find a target of distraction with glittering mismatched eyes. Pinning red and coin-bright gold. ]

Say, what do you think happens to people who've left the city?

〈〈〈 WILDCARD. 〉〉〉
⓽ ― WANT SOMETHING ELSE? WILDCARD ME, OR ASK FOR A CLOSED STARTER.
Rokurou can be found pretty much anywhere around the Palace of Sai. Feel free to mod any of the above prompts if you have an idea (especially for previous CR), or we can toss 'em together in another way. You can hit me up on plurk at bigwoof or PM.

Comments

[perfectdistance]

[Nero takes him in and settles on very handsome. He wouldn't mind spending a little time with this guy. If he's chatty, even better. If he fills the silence, then Nero can just listen to him and not have to talk too much about himself.

Though there are plenty of other activities they could get up to that don't involve much of that. Better to at least get to know this guy a little before pulling him away for a tryst.]

Nero Turner. So far so good. My shift didn't have any major snags. [Besides the guy who was asking for a cleaver.]

[swordhardy]

That so?

[ Taking initiative, the daemon slides over on the couch to close what distance there is between them. His mostly emptied glass is pressed onto one of the small tables to the side, having lost his interest in favor of the pretty young man that’s caught his eye.

He leans forward and rests his elbow on his knee, eyes lidding with the easy smile he keeps, ]

Maybe I can make it even better. [ he pauses, as if contemplating, before giving his brow a playful hook, ] Unless you’re waiting for a date?

[ Unless, he says, as if that would deter him. ]

[perfectdistance]

[Handsome and flirty. He's already has a few drinks of his own. His own smile is playful in return, even if he doesn't lean into Rokurou's space. There's already so little between the two of them now.]

Hmm... [A little show of considering if he's made any plans of the night. Not that he's actually made any, taking things as they come.] Nope, I've got a free evening. Tell me what you're suggesting.

[swordhardy]

Well ... [ he drawls the word, gaze flickering to the curve of Nero's lips to admire their pretty tilt before looking back up at his eyes, ] ... that depends on if what you're looking for is really conversation.

[ Something he can oblige, though the tip of his finger slipping beneath the other map's chin to tilt it up gently doesn't exactly say it's what he's in the mood for. Rokurou's fingertip is a little rough, deft hands wearing the callused marks of someone who uses them often.

It's just a teasing touch; he draws his hand back after a moment, brushing the pad of his finger against mouth to catch the fleeting warmth of Nero's skin. ]

[perfectdistance]

[Damn. If that's not an invitation, he doesn't know what is. He allows the touch, barely stopping himself from trailing after it. Rokurou's hands are inviting, familiar in their roughness.]

Why don't we head to a back room?

[An inviting lilt to his voice. This man is exactly to his tastes, muscular, strong, could probably lift him up without much effort. His gaze drops from his eyes to his mouth.]

[swordhardy]

[ He smiles, mouth crooked with a pleased little smirk. ]

Sounds good to me.

[ The Palace has no lack of nooks and alcoves, with plenty of small private lounges draped in red velvet and thick cushions. Rokurou stands and glances at Nero flirtatiously before finding one such place, an unclaimed intimate space with a sidecart nestled in the corner lined with bottles of all different hues.

Not that he pays them any attention. Much as he loves a good drink, there’s something else on his mind—Rokurou doesn’t waste time in sliding his hands forward again when they’re both hidden by the shadow of that alcove, rough fingers cupping along the shape of the other man’s jaw before leaning in to catch his mouth in a proper kiss. Never let it be said he hesitates when it comes to things he wants. ]

[perfectdistance]

[ Probably for the best they're bypassing the majority of those bottles. He's been selling some of them, and those prices are atrocious for most people's wallets.

Nero's far ore interested in the man before him. Allows himself to be kissed, nipping at his bottom lip as his eyes slip closed. For now, he'll live in the moment. Tells himself he didn't start this, so he can just enjoy the ride, heart thrumming away in his chest.

One hand comes to grip the fabric at Rokurou's shoulder, pulling him close. One thigh slips between his legs and starts rubbing against his cock.]

[swordhardy]

H'ah...

[ That friction earns a gasp, soft noise pressed against Nero's lips as goosebumps flush. Rokurou urgently deepens the kiss in return, chasing after that teasing nip with his tongue, running the tip along the seam of the other man's lips before delving inside.

He presses forward to grind his hardening cock against that invasive leg, shameless in the way he moves his body to close the gaps between them. The motion has him pinning Nero against the wall, using it for support while groping southward. Down down down, he traces his fingertips along the other man's throat, brushes his thumb over his adam's apple, and then grips over his waist. Hungry for touch, he's torn between wanting to move quickly and relishing the body pressed against his.

When the kiss breaks, he tilts his head to nip at Nero's earlobe as his fingers finally sneak beneath the hem of his shirt to rub a scarred palm over bare stomach. ]

[perfectdistance]

[He meets no resistance when it comes to the kiss. With the air heavy and practically perfumed with desire, Nero lets himself take what he wants. It seems for now, their desires are one.

As he's touched so tenderly, his breath wavers. Fingers at his throat, he's put himself in a vulnerable position. A flash of desire, for just the second, the way his body sings for danger.

There's a comfortable surface right there, but there's a thrill to being pinned, as if he's the prey in this encounter. His own cock is pressing into Rokurou's leg, needy. ]

You really know how to treat a guy. [Nero doesn't push him into the bedding, drawing him closer. His hand trails down the other's man's back, down, until he hits the swell of his ass, squeezing.] Want me dressed?

[He's still fully clothed.]

[swordhardy]

[ Ah—he likes being grabbed like that. Another hit of excitement heats his blood; he rocks his hips in again in search of more friction across the front of his trousers. He'd be happy to fool around like this a little more, but if the question now is Nero in clothes or no clothes? ]

No, [ his voice is a low, warm rasp, ] I want it all off.

[ Which unfortunately means disentangling somewhat in order to peel off those layers, but Rokurou is happy to lend a hand ditching them in exchange. Drawing back, he dips his fingers down to cup over Nero's cock, giving it a few teasing rubs before tugging on the fastening of his pants.

He glances down as he does, greedy for a look. He's visual just as much as he's tactile. ]

[perfectdistance]

All?

[Who is he to deny the man?

Nero likes suits because he understands them. They're a piece of clothing he understands from back home, however, right now? He wishes he picked anything else. There's so many layers to get off. Tie, jacket, vest, shirt, undershirt, he strips them away as quickly as he can, but he's still losing more time than he'd like.

Reluctantly, he draws back, away from the warmth of another body. At least he has assistance undressing.

With Rokurou rubbing his dick, Nero can barely manage to hold back his moans. This place may be quiet, but it's not soundproof. His pants drop down, around his ankles. Already his cock is flushed and hard, filling up his hand with a pleasant heft. There's a slight bit of precum at the tip.

Nero clumsily starts taking off his partner's clothing, almost fully distracted by the teasing touches.]

[swordhardy]

[ His gaze flickers when articles of clothing fall and give way to skin. Nero is a good looking guy—Rokurou hadn’t been checking him out for no reason earlier—but as good as he looked in that suit… he looks even better like this.

While fingers ply his own suit, Rokurou steals a moment to cup Nero’s erection and give it a grind. He pumps twice along its length before swiping his thumb across the head, swiping up that bead of precum before pressing that damp fingerpad to his tongue for a taste.

Then, he helps in peeling off his vest and shirt. Fabric ripples over muscular arms, revealing a sculpted chest and abdomen. Sunkissed and with a smattering of old scars and freshly healing bruises, his skin a warrior’s tapestry.

Not that he gives Nero long to look. Patience thin from wanting the other man beneath him, Rokurou grabs him and pushes him down onto those cushions without stripping off his own trousers. His erection tents at the front, a weight he shamelessly grinds down. ]

Can I blow you?

[perfectdistance]

[ In contrast, Nero has no scars on his person. No hint about his past or what he used to be, a blank canvas. His muscles are there, strength is his arms and back.

Whatever thought of it being unfair that he's the only one completely dressed down are halted when he's pumped . If there was any way to put Nero's interest in his mouth, it's that.

When he finally does undress, Nero makes no secret of looking him over, muscles and scars, attractive. Exactly Nero's taste, even if he finds that fact about himself embarrassing.

Distracted as he is, he doesn't even struggle when he's manhandled onto the cushions, grinding back against him for the friction, hands reaching up to squeeze Rokurou's shoulders, to touch the muscles there. ]

Gonna let me suck you off too?

[ He'd feel like a fool to turn him down. He wants to do something in return. ]

[swordhardy]

Yeah.

[ More like hell yeah, but he doesn’t waste time on words. Instead, Rokurou leans forward to press his mouth over Nero’s pretty throat, nipping at his skin while grabbing one of the man’s hands and guiding it from his shoulder and down into the front of his pants.

A blank canvas … the daemon can’t resist sinking biting over Nero’s pale shoulder, grinding his tongue and sucking over the spot to leave a bright red mark with an impression of his teeth behind.

Then another, right over his collarbone. With hands sliding down from Nero’s waist to press over his hipbones, Rokurou sighs, teasing his tongue over a nipple. ]

But I want to taste you first.

[perfectdistance]

Demanding. [Almost like an admonishment as his hand is moved. There's a lilt in his voice that makes it clear how much Nero's enjoying himself.

His hand trails down Rokurou's chest, his pecs, his abs, enjoying the muscle he's touching. Eventually Nero reaches his pants, slipping underneath the fabric and starting to slowly stroke him off. His free hand trails down his back, tracing over the scars and lines he can only feel from this angle.

The bites are a welcome addition to their romp in the sheets. Nero making soft encouraging noises as teeth press into his flesh, marking him. ]

Looks like you've already started. [He mumbles, as he spreads his legs, allowing for better access.] Go on then.

[swordhardy]

[ He chuckles, enjoying that little chiding as his eyelids flutter under Nero's touch. Agreement to the accusation of being demanding comes as a little rumble in his throat, paired with the lash of his tongue over one of those fresh marks. Guilty as charged.

It's a shame to have to draw away from Nero's wandering hands, especially the one stroking over his cock, but that desire to taste wins out. Sliding down, Rokurou presses one of the other man's knees to spread him out wider and moves his between his legs. Eager, the daemon plants his mouth over smooth inner thigh, biting another dark hickey while his free hand begins to stroke Nero's erection. The motion is slow as his teeth works on printing down that possessive mark.

But he doesn't waste too much time before lashing his tongue along the shaft of Nero's erection. Fingers find their way beneath to tease his balls while sucking down on the tip, tongue grinding into that slit to catch more bitter taste. He glances up to gaze at the other man from beneath drooping lashes as he does, wanting to catch Nero's expression as he parts his lips and takes the weight of the head onto his tongue, rubbing it against the softness of his inner cheek with a heavy suck.

This leaves his own cock neglected for now. Rokurou rolls his hips, grinding down into one of those cushions, Nero's flavor only getting him more excited. ]

[perfectdistance]

[At least he knows what he is. Letting Nero touch him for only a moment, before shifting his way down his body. It's a momentary loss, but it makes him long for more touch.

Each bite, each hickey, is accompanied by a soft, enjoying sigh. As if he's Rokurou's for the moment, like he's being claimed. Funny, how much he's enjoying it. These will heal up sooner or later, it's nothing permanent. They barely even know each other beyond an attractive stranger.

Nero's sure this is some aphro induced tryst, but he can still enjoy it for all the touch and pleasure it brings. This man is certainly skilled, with that tongue and that mouth.

He hisses in a breath as his slit is licked, enjoying how tempting Rokurou looks between his legs. A handsome, powerful man, asking to suck him off. The warmth of his mouth and his technique has Nero just barely stopping himself from jerking his hips into his mouth. It's impossible to look away.]

Damn... [-you look good like that," is cut off as he slips his fingers through the other man's hair, just to have something to hold onto, another point of contact.]

[swordhardy]

[ Slender fingers comb into his hair. It's a soothing sensation, one that earns a low groan of pleasure from Rokurou's throat before he glances back down. Gripping a hand over Nero's hip, he exhales slowly from his nose and then sinks down to take more of his erection in.

It's a slow motion as first. Teasing, with tongue grinding beneath the weight of his erection as the head rubs up against the roof of his mouth and then glides to brush against the clutch of his throat. Then quicker and quicker with greedy swallows, lips tight with each draw and dip. Ache builds between his shoulders and neck, but it's a burn that turns him on even more. Again, he ruts his own hips against a cushion, cock throbbing with dry heat. ]

... Nh.

[ Another low echo of pleasure vibrates in his throat as Rokurou presses down again with a hard suck, catching more bitter flavor. When he glances up again there's wetness caught in his lashes from the effort and a flush of satisfaction coloring his features. He doesn't stop, hoping his intention's clear—he wants Nero to finish in his mouth. ]

[perfectdistance]

[Rokurou looks so good and feels so good, there's nothing that could pull Nero's attention away from him in this moment. Pleasure spreads through his whole body, a roiling wave of it. The more he takes in, the more technique he displays, the closer Nero is to his climax.]

I'm coming- [Soft and strained, laced with arousal and satisfaction.

His fingers tangle in Rokurou's hair, something to hold, some kind of purchase as he lets himself go, coming in his mouth. With no indication of wanting to pull away, he makes no move to back off.

For a moment he lies back against the cushions, breathless, boneless, reveling in the moment.]

[swordhardy]

[ Nero's grip tightens in his hair and Rokurou shudders, eyelids fluttering as his scalp burns. That erection thrusts into his throat and he swallows around it, more tears matting into his lashes from the force of it. It feels so fucking good—he groans again, holding on tighter, forcing his body to relax and take it all.

Cum hits his tongue. Thick, bitter—he coughs quietly but sucks down harder, greedy as he swallows. Not perfectly, with some smearing across his lip and trickling from the corner of his mouth. After he finally draws off of Nero's cock with a wet pop he sits up onto his knees, own cock dripping precum as he wipes white from the corner of his mouth with his thumb. Tongue flicking out, he catches the rest, chest a heavy rise and fall as he catches his breath.

His gaze falls on the man blissed out beneath him. A delicious sight, one he relishes with lust as he licks his lips clean. The taste of semen remains heavily in his mouth, sensation still burning in his throat. ]

Haa ... you taste good.

[perfectdistance]

[Nero looks down at him, cum messy and feels his breath hitch. There's no going around it, Rokurou looks incredibly sexy. Nero licks his own lips as as Rokurou licks the cum from his thumb, a not-quite mirror. His gaze is, for the moment, fixated on his mouth.]

You were amazing.

[His face is flushed, his breathing is deep. There's no lie in his voice, this was definitely up there on the list of most enjoyable fucks he's had in a few centuries.

He doesn't make a move to get up, enjoying the feeling of having Rokurou above him. Instead, he gently tugs on his hair, coaxing him face-to-face, to kiss him and taste himself in his mouth.]

's my turn.

[swordhardy]

—mnn.

[ He presses his weight over Nero, resting an arm beside the man's head as he leans down into that kiss. Dark hair falls as a curtain over the both of them, leaving them in their own little world as Rokurou leans down to print another kiss against his pretty mouth. One with a flick of tongue and gentle nip to Nero's bottom lip. And then another, this time a bit off-center as he kisses against the corner of his mouth. ]

I'm all yours. [ another kiss, brief between words, ] Whatever you want to do with me.

[ But he doesn't seem to be in a rush despite how turned on and hard up he is. Kissing Nero feels so good, so the lazy kisses keep coming as the other man enjoys his afterglow. The next is slower, a little deeper and lingering. ]

[perfectdistance]

All mine.

[ He repeats back, soft, possessive.

The kisses Rokurou gets back match his lazy languid ones. It's nice to break up the pace, enjoying the intimacy of it, a curl of a smile between the press of their lips.

He does, eventually, slide down, biting at his shoulder, making his own mark. Teeth and tongue working at the spot to leave behind proof they spent time together.

His hand trails down Rokurou's front, thumbing over a nipple before stroking his cock. There's no rush to any action, drawing every touch out. A strong stroke from base to tip, finger sliding over the slit. ]

[swordhardy]

[ Slow, searching touch—Rokurou relishes it, leans into Nero's hand as it moves. A gasp into that kiss, and then another against his ear when that bite digs into the curve of his shoulder. Soft, guttural sounds of pleasure break as his lashes flutter. F-fuck ... it's good. Feels good.

Beads of precum smear beneath Nero's finger as he fondles along the head of his erection; Rokurou's adam's apple rolls with another heavy swallow, taste of cum still thick on his tongue. Wanting a place for his own mouth, he kisses against the shell of Nero's ear. Nips at his earlobe. After pressing another nuzzling kiss beneath it, Rokurou breathes in his scent, nosing against the man's hairline. ]

Tease ...

[ It's a lust-dazed accusation as he languidly rolls his hips in a taut stretch of muscle, thrusting his erection against Nero's hand. ]

[perfectdistance]

[ The heat on his belly is soothed for the moment. His appetite was satisfied. Nero's not in any rush.

A low laugh against Rokurou's skin, the ghost of a smile as he speaks. ]

You did say whatever I wanted.

[ A reminder. And this is what he wants. Pure, lazy indulgence. Clever, skilled fingers continue stroking off Rokurou's cock, staying at the same speed, no matter how quickly his hips move. ]

So... Why don't you tell me exactly what you want? Want me to ride you?

[ There's lube here, Nero knows the bottle. ]