Drabble for @daemonczar ♡ - Word Prompt: Gold.
It has always been that one distinctive glimmer of opulence tainting in an impetuous shine his very perception. Whenever just walking halls and occupying walls. Whenever just he had deigned it to be of any sort of interest to finally meet this very man again. And right now and for the first time they knew each other, he would make his 'disdain' for it openly clear. It was a simple set of words, strung together like a finely thought-out response to no one in particular. " Such a bland display. " Yet brought forth with a dispassionate soft sing-song, a polar opposite to the man's 'heavy' abhor.
At least as such, many would feel it like the gravest of insolence.
If not for who he was. If not for who they were.
" My, I have to punish you for this show of 'disobedience'~ "
" I would like to see you try. “
To call into attention, into consideration, all one might represent, before attentive eyes and even more buzzing ears, the very quaint, yet all the more detailed, the ebullience of a simple line of words had set a humming undertone throughout every nook and cranny. Filling the halls. Reverberating from the walls. It is near laughable if not attention had been forcefully attained by the smallest of movements, demanding it all for himself in the aftermath of a demonstration none other would even dare to execute.
Closer. Ever closer - had they come to each other, the grip on his wrist firm and tight, near crushing would it be for everybody below their stand, below their powers. He could feel the discipline bestowed where customs may demand it. As it was in the courts, was it not? The subtlety of a subject 'mouthing' towards the ruler in a dire wish to be laid to rest, unwillingly, unwittingly, losing everything, every single bit of precious body and soul to the might and want of the King or Queen. It was not different here. [ And lead to nothing it would for sure. ]
The Emperor, after all, had to uphold a facade. [ Cracking. Smashed and broken. Porcelain structure with its fine and - gold-filled - trails ].
" You do know about the customs here, don't you~? "
" Yes. And tedious is what they are. "
It was a test of patience worth a reward. Slowly, gradually, dragging a free hand down and further down, as if to see when the cornered animal, the perpetrator of the evening, would retaliate and bite. Would show the true strength now cradled so carefully and gingerly. It was a game between them both and neither of them was winning, neither of them even tried.
With the repetition of derision, that loathed little proclamation nearly drowned out by that growl placed too close to his face. To his lips. A wave of anger well contained he was able to taste if not for the bitter sting of blood, the burning blaze of gold. Was this man not all he loathed and yet wanted all the same? The control over governance, the representation of the despised, was so close in his grasp.
For those moments, heartbeats, ticking clock had he given up the reigns completely [ freely? ], within the privacy of abundance and splendour, the very tone of it was the glaring and crashing symphony of this fine and vibrant surrounding. Every nuance and partaken glance would lighten up his eyes with these very tones. He hated it all; it was enough to make him smile.
" Hm~ Did something happen today? Or why are you that rough to me~? "
" Nothing did. Is that boring for you? "
How many pulses had passed after this? [ Too few? Too many? ] How many had been traced and followed along? Over his chest. Over the inside of his arm, now pure and bare and so easy to cut into, if only the monarch wanted to spill forth something even more delightful, bright and far more tempting than the discardable grandeur of gold and gilded covers, placed everywhere at once.
Would he be the one to protest upon adornment with the undesired? Would he be the one to say words of deriding chide yet once more, drawing out ever more wicked forms of ire? [ Oh, mayhap he would ]. All of him had near slowed down to nought else but a soft drum chased and wanted and desired as it was, the solution to this teasing engagement was the deprivation of all that the other wanted. How long, exactly, would this go on? Had they even begun their deprived back and forth beyond those shallow exclamations and hollow touches?
What even had brought on this dancing eloquence? The need for him to announce his displeasure about a rich display for a ball housed and hosted by the man he does entertain [ covet? ] at least once in a while?
" Mayhap it does. What makes you draw my anger so~? "
" Do you think this is a challenge or warning? "
Drenched in red. Burning. Boiling. The very opulence of said display far outshines all riches and wealth and coin. Beyond it was what those whispering in the halls may very well assume to happen, for they know the wrath of their ruler. The very undoing that would befall him should his desires take over and once clear thoughts blur and breathe within the margin of sanity that was left between them.
Within the second it took for him to taste his own blood, being cut open and torn apart like he was, the pain itself had barely registered [ for there was none at all ] when the other had craved and wanted. Had destroyed and torn into the one reminder that had marked the soldier not as his own. How quaint to think that this scar was at the forefront of his mind, now viciously pried open. Fine, tender skin, flared to let his partner lab up the hotness spilt forth in pulses, over and over and over again.
With each drag of a hot sweeping tongue. With each touch placed on edges tenderly plucked apart like as if it was fine art. What a ludicrous facade just underlined with continuous disobedience to not follow the 'offering' given to him.
Would not so many think that the Emperor should be carried on hands? Prayed to? Begged for mercy? For compassion? For aid? All bequeathed to him [ and only him? ] in this hot and heavy display of pure adoration and fervour.
" It would be so dull otherwise~ "
Not relented. Not allowed. Within all their engagements and plays and games, it was quite so rare [ nonexistent? ] that the warrior had allowed any form of superiority brought over and down upon him. Nothing else here, whiling away the seconds into minutes; the small motions, twitches, into fluid movements. Their positions switched and brought to a halt, he would find himself above his partner, staring down, a searing, near burning fire behind faraway eyes.
Slow? Fast? How had it all happened? How would it be perceived? For the moment's notice that all he wanted to achieve, had been denied by nought but subtlety of force. Of course, one might want to say, there had never been the chance for change between them, but only today there was a margin of a victory, within the reaches and touches while Mateus would drag his hands up from split skin, higher and higher, leaving the path of blood in its wake. Over muscles moving, contracting, as if being teased and chased by a burning touch, up to the soldier's chest and even higher [ when exactly had clothes been lost to time? ].
Stop. During the bated breath taken in and released shakingly. Trembling. For the next taken had been brought forth far too late, released to sting so deeply in the depths of his lung. Had he said something? [ Had orders been given? ]. Within the bloodied handprint left along pulse on Sephiroth's neck, as if tenderly comforting - where he should grasp and tear and turn.
" And here, your punishment is still surprisingly bland. "
" And I would not want to see you any other way--- "
When composure slowly waned. Certainly. Certainly. Another deep breath under the gold-tinted fire in his lover's eyes inviting to more and more. When the pressure sheer became unbearable, the desires purely become insufferable. Oh, if he could, he would want to be devoured right here and now. Perhaps, if he thought about it clearly: this was the greatest punishment for them both to receive. Knows the Emperor not that the General was untameable? That there was a different form of anger, of ire, of wrath to be found - in that smouldering vision, crowned by his own hubris - by the golden halo crafted by everything around?