Finally, some recognition from the little serpent beneath his touch; claws just barely sinking into flesh to prove his point. He’s secretly proud of himself for pulling all the fight from the demigod, and while he usually preferred to not force worshipers to their heels before him, this would be one of the few situations he’d truly enjoy it. After all, betrayal does not come to pass without proper punishment for such an act. And to try and win over the favor of the dawnbringers in order to unburden himself from the being of Chaos? Well, that was an act worthy of death.
But as it still stands, Chaos was much kinder than Order.
He doesn’t seem to mind the hand on his chest, in fact, it seems he rather enjoys it. There’s a look of pride in his eyes as he rises up in order to view his serpent properly, and he doesn’t dare reach up to move their touch from his skin, his chest rising and falling with each calm breath. There’s an alien warmth to his flesh, unnatural yet at the same time unlike any warm hearth ever seen. The same heat that comes from when Chaos touches Talon’s own flesh, appears to occur when done in return - though not to chaos himself.
The demon cracks a wicked smile upon witnessing the baring of Talon’s throat, a monstrous hum radiating from his chest, hungry eyes watching every subtle movement he made beneath him. Absolute submission is what he sees - a demigod pulled from their mighty throne, only to be tossed unto Yasuo’s feet. A much deserved change, and one that would surely teach his man a bigger lesson than the one Irelia ever could, especially once he’s done with him.
“Repentance does sound nice,” he chuckled, the tips of his claws dancing along Talon’s skin gingerly, slowly going about stripping his chest entirely of fabric and metal alike. Yasuo leaned down again, smiling against the exposed flesh of his neck. “I’m willing to hear what you have in mind, in order to achieve the repentance you suggest. Otherwise…” the nightbringer paused, baring his fangs seconds later and quickly puncturing the delicate expanse of Talon’s neck. The slide of his teeth into flesh was impossibly smooth, and his teeth remained buried inside for a short moment, the demon seemingly drinking the lifeblood from the demigod under him. He rose once more, fresh blood clinging to his tongue, teeth, and lips, leftovers slowly cascading down his chin as he grinned. With a few swipes of his tongue, he cleaned his teeth, eagerly consuming the remnants of the sweet liquid red that remained. Bringing one hand up, he swiped over the fresh wound in Talon’s neck, forcing it to heal with one simple touch. But only partially - as he wanted Talon to feel the ghost of his teeth practically devouring him as it healed. “Otherwise, I might just eat you up.”
Another chuckle left the demon, his claws once more coming down to rest along the Brand that clung to the demigod’s skin, all too eager to intensify the heat that coursed through his small body. He moved away from him after a moment, coming to sit cross legged in front of Talon as he lay prone on the ground. Yasuo slouched forward, propping his head up in one hand with one elbow planted on his knee. Still … he wore that cheeky, wicked grin.
“Or perhaps, you should simply show me?”
HE IS UTTERLY PROSTRATE TO THE DEMON BEFORE him, vulnerable to every inch and mechanism of his touch. Even if Talon wanted to move, wanted to run (he didn’t), he couldn’t have. The brand that burned upon his flash, radiated warmth between them... it demanded his attention. It demanded he obey. The Nightbringer’s voice is like silk and honey, mixed with raw embers and volcanic ash. It combs over his flesh in smooth waves, beckoning his responses, his commitment, until he can not think beyond this demon... this God that has chosen to throw his lot in with Talon... for better or for worse. Oh, what trouble had he gotten himself into with this one?
Truly, he had transgressed when he had set about his foolish mission to unburden himself from Chaos. Transgressed even further when Order had decided he was not fit to serve them. Tainted goods after all. But the Nightbringer... Talon’s ocean hues fix on him now with that quiet, chastised reverence, his palm splays against that strong chest, drinking in the tangible warmth, the power, that thrummed in Yasuo’s veins. For a long, long moment, Talon simply stares up at him through thick eyelashes, quiet and contemplative.
He wants more. He does not protest when his slim chest is bare, utterly perfect aside from the brand that now marred his flesh. His breath stutters only slightly when that mouth finds his neck, but the noise soon devolves into a soft yelp of surprise at the sudden pain. The tang of his own blood fills the air and Talon finds his wince turning into a shudder, especially when the Nightbringer pulls away and he sees that blood, his blood, leaking so messily down his patron’s skin. He feels his nostrils flaring, feels the way his pupils dilate and a hand raises to rest lightly at the juncture that Yasuo had bitten. Decorum demands he be outraged. He was a King after all. But lust and now ingrained submission accepted the mark without much thought.
A frown permeates his features the second Yasuo leans away from him, and he finds himself sitting up further... openly displeased by the distance between them. He is moving towards the Nightbringer without a second thought, as if his body is on autopilot and he is simply there to obey the command. And obey he does, drawing to his knees before him. Hesitation seeds across his face as he raises a hand, but it finds the Nightbringer’s cheek without much thought. The other settles itself on his shoulder, and slowly, very slowly, he pulls himself into that lap, knees settled on either side of his hips to straddle him. It’s brazen, but he does it anyway, quite enjoying the way he has to look down at Yasuo.
A smirk splits his features, and he is clearly pleased with himself. “ Careful, Nightbringer. ” Voice deep with warning, a thumb dips along the corner of the elder’s mouth, wiping away a bit of his own blood. He raises it then, to his own lips, and lets his tongue dip along the pad of the digit, slow and lascivious, never once separating their heated gazes. “ Never know when I might bite back. ”
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