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MULTI-MUSE blog for proton! if you would like to rp, check out my muses page & message me.

[bodtmarco]

Evening was always a somewhat relaxing time of day, since titan activity dwindled as the sun set behind the walls that protected their society. All the soldiers were able to go home to their barracks and release the tension brought about by the fighting during the day. That day had been like any other; a dozen or so titans had invaded the destroyed town, and the Scouting Legion had been called on to control the attack. Luckily, there had been no deviant types, so it had been an off-day of sorts for the Legion, if it could even be called that.

Normal.

Is that what their lives had been reduced to? Losing a few members in battle daily, is what they called normal? Sure, they were lost in bravery and for the sake of humanity, but…  It was all they knew. Only the strong survived in their world, and often it was the titans that prevailed.

Anyways, Mikasa exited the girl’s barracks, her gear already stored away in her room. That way, she was left with simply her uniform. She decided to remain on the veranda, resting her arms on the railing. It gave her a chance to think, to refresh her mind and clear it of the day’s events. It was becoming a routine for her, aside from worrying over Eren and his survival. So she could remain sane.

[leremita-blog]

Today had been too... plain, too boring for his tastes. It was no secret that Rivaille far exceeded the expectations of what constituted a good soldier long ago; the game had grown old, and praises fell deaf on his ears, worn from hearing the same shit over and over.

After turning in a day's worth of report papers to Irvin's desk (all written out perfectly; today, he had no need for shorthand), Rivaille finds himself with a rare bit of free time. So he does what he always does— opts for a cup of black coffee. He's in his mid-20's— there's no way that getting sleep and abstaining from caffeine could help him now.

Filled cup in hand, it's when he crosses the general commongrounds that he finds Mikasa, staring off into the distance. Upon seeing her, a puzzled expression— complete with its usual levels of sourness— crosses his face for the briefest second, his feet already guiding him towards her direction.

He comes to stand on the veranda with her, with his elbows placed on the metallic railing. Initially, he keeps silent— sighing into his drink, slowly taking a sip, listening to the chatter of unnameable individuals, and feeling the cool, evening breeze blow through his hair. As he sets his mug down, he angles his glare towards her, gauging her state of being.

"Tch."

Lifting and lowering his head once, as a form of informal greeting, he clicks his tongue once, disapprovingly.

"Don't tell me this place's getting to you."

[interimbossarcher-blog-deactiva]

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[leremita-blog]

"Alright, if you say so..." he murmurs, offhandedly. He doesn't understand the sudden mood shift-- why choose to be so docile /now/? But asking would probably just complicate the situation altogether, and really, that's the last thing he wants.

Pressing a flat palm against the other's stomach, he slowly pulls himself up several inches, then lowers himself back down, failing to cut back an uncomfortable whine. He continues moving at a slow pace, until he feels himself loosen up considerably, and until gravity can drag him down from tip to base without him expressing severe discomfort.

His inexperience in bottoming from the top probably shows, or so he thinks, but he doesn't want to apologize-- doling out one apology a month is his maximum quota, and he's exhausted his amount today; he's got to cling onto what pride he has left. (Really, he wouldn't succumb to such a position with anyone other than you.)

So he persists, in quiet moans and soft grunts of effort, pressing themselves together faster, through half-lidded eyes and a mouth that gasped for air as if it were a drug. A rush of pleasure courses through his veins when he manages to push down at the exact point when the other presses up, rousing from within him an instinctive, drawn-out groan. 

Admist his movement, he lurches forward unexpectedly, and wide, green eyes express his initial surprise. But he snatches up the opportunity to cup Archer's face between his hands, to lean down to kiss him, rough and sloppy and open-mouthed and /needy/; but there's a desire that overrides any need for cleanliness, that makes him voice every ounce of pleasure directly into Archer's mouth every time he manages to hit that /spot/ within himself, and he almost shuts his eyes entirely, to let pure euphoria wash over him; the intensity with which he thrusts his hips /down/ to prolong the feeling would inevitably leave bruises along his inner thighs, but he doesn't care-- he can deal with those in the morning.

But he's wearing himself too thin too fast-- he's already panting slightly from light exhaustion, more than anything else, and his shoulders rise and fall, complementary to his labored breathing, and as much as he would have loved to keep going, we do not believe that exhaustion this quickly is the proper way to black out on a night like this. 

(Don't worry, we're well-acquainted with stamina; we're /more/ than experienced there, and to be honest, we probably have more than you do, sitting in your office all day, ho hum. But this is the sort of weariness you acquire when, oh, I don't know-- when you give it your all for the gratification of someone you love.)

Pulling back (and breathing deeply, winding down), he slows down briefly to ask a single question, continuing to rotate his hips at a slower rate while locking his wrists behind the other's neck. 

"Say..." Cocking his head to oneside, he tries not to fumble for words; he ends up doing it anyway. "Does this, y'know... feel /good/ for you? I mean, I want to know if it's as good for you as it is for me." In between averted gazes and an attempted straight expression, he checks for response, heart hammering from both breathlessness and nervousness.

[interimbossarcher-blog-deactiva]

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[leremita-blog]

"I /pleasantly/ hope that I will," he countered in return, the response fueling his drive. "If I can actually get /up/ at all tomorrow, you haven't done your job." What was left unsaid was that Archer would probably have to accommodate for his every wish and want tomorrow, but Proton figured that he could come to that conclusion without help.

When the other reached similarly for the bottle, he almost sighed in relief, since twisting his arm back at such an angle had been causing it to ache a little. But what he /hadn't/ expecting was for Archer to slip his fingers in along next to his own. 

The shock caused him to tense up, opening his mouth to blurt something, perhaps a snarky comment or two, but with his forehead now pressed down against Archer's shoulder, he let out soft, vocal sighs that signalled his initial discomfort. Reluctant to do any more of the work, he lifted his head and kept still while the other prodded around inside of him with his fingertips, moving his own occassionally to follow. When Archer pressed against a certain /spot/, however, he almost /yelped/ out loud, managing to stifle the noise somewhat by biting his lip, color rising to his face at the sudden stimulation. The reaction didn't go unnoticed, however, and he moaned loudly and on purpose, in response.

After a few more seconds, he shifted impatiently. "Okay, I think that's enough," he said, withdrawing his own hand and abruptly shoving the other's arm away. He took a deep breath and himself up with his knees, steadying himself for a moment before angling his gaze downwards to align the head of Archer's cock with his hole.

He could feel his hand trembling slightly, his grip shaky as he tried to position it, belying what tough facade he had paraded previously. He almost cursed under his breath for being so nervous, but it /had/ been a while since he'd last been on the receiving end of this-- give or take a decade or two. With an apprehensive wince and breath held, he pressed the tip into himself, eyes narrowing in concentration-- and perhaps something else altogether. 

At first, the intrusive sensation just felt /weird/, since he'd already taken the time to stretch himself, managing to insert a few inches with relative ease. He snuck a few glances back up at Archer's face, wondering if he was proceeding at a pace too slow.

But as he sank further down, a sharp pain shot up his spine, causing him to grit his teeth and throw his head back, until his mouth parted to cry out in pain, before turning cries into strings of curse words. The pain almost felt as if it had paralyzed him to the spot, with his mind swimming and him unable to move for a few seconds. When it subsided, he pulled his head forward again, letting his bangs fall in front of his face, feeling moisture prick at the corners of his eyes.

"F-Fuck, sorry about that," was what he managed to say before he brushed his hair out of his face and continued, breathing in and out to relax his muscles. He tried to speed up the process, ignoring additional pain with soft hisses every time he felt it push inside him faster than his body wanted him to.

Finally, with his thighs quivering, his face flushed and a slight sheen of sweat coating his forehead, he shakily nodded. "There, it's all the way in," he murmured, taking this time to adjust, rocking his hips slowly.

"Now..." Placing his hands back on their respective places on the other's shoulders, he glanced back up. "You can either let me do all the work on top of you, or you can push me over backwards and fuck me the way /you/ want to. I'm okay with whatever you... want..."

[interimbossarcher-blog-deactiva]

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[leremita-blog]

The words sent shivers down his spine; he was entirely unaccustomed to hearing such language, especially strung together in that order, coming out of the the other's mouth-- and discovered that he secretly enjoyed every second of it. He bit his lip to suppress little gasps from the light administrations he was receiving, but they slipped out nonetheless.

"I'd like to see you try," he whispered in return, eyeing the other slowly, deciding to test out how far he could take this dirty talk.

"Wouldn't you like to press me down into the mattress, to make me grovel and cry and beg for what I want, to make me forget how to say /anything/ but your name, to make me moan and scream your name until I lose my voice, and to fuck me senseless, until I can't walk for an entire week...

Wouldn't you?" His voice was a low murmur now, alluring, a smirk spreading across his face as he awaited a reaction.

"We can always make that happen." 

He reached across the nightstand, tugging open the drawer and grasping the bottle of lube. After squirting some out onto his palm, he rubbed it evenly across his fingers, coating them liberally with the fluid.

He then arched his back to give himself easier access, and turned his head to look behind himself, one hand on Archer's shoulder for balance, watching carefully as he slid his index finger inside himself. 

He didn't expect the first one to hurt-- and it didn't. But when he inserted a second finger alongside the first, he hissed quietly in pain, clenching his teeth until he managed to work it all the way in. He kept his fingers still, taking a considerable amount of time to adjust to the new width, before he began spreading his fingers in a scissorlike motion. Sighs turned into drawn-out, involuntary moans of both pleasure and mild discomfort as he drew in breath more sharply than he had before.

"T-This is going to take too long if I continue doing it," he pointed  out between pants, forcing himself to jerk his head towards the other's face, despite the flustered heat that had risen to his cheeks-- for more reasons than one. His gaze was imploring, pleading, asking an unspoken request.

[interimbossarcher-blog-deactiva]

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[leremita-blog]

He drew his head back about midway, catching some of it in his mouth and feeling the rest shoot down his throat before he could mentally process it happening. The sensation of having something hot slide down and settle in his stomach in such a manner was strange to him, and he shifted slightly as it traveled through him, belying his mild surprise; but that was to be expected.

He didn't have time to ponder over the issue further as cum began leaking down the corners of his mouth and running down his neck, causing him to pull off entirely and gasp for air. As he paused to breathe, he weakly pressed the tip against the side of his face, catching any excess drops on his skin.

When he recovered, he looked up and stuck out his tongue, exposing the filmy white that laid on its surface, before retracting it and swallowing the content that had been on top. Adjusting himself so that he was now sitting up, he then took his hand and wiped away what remained on his cheeks-- slowly, and making sure he was being watched, taking deliberate care to drag out the process, coating his fingers evenly. Once he had finished, he spread out his fingers, revealing substance that strung each digit with the next.

First taking his index finger into his mouth, (and moving onto the next after he was done), he proceeded to lick it clean, alternating between simply sucking on it and allowing his tongue to wrap around it in the most intricate of ways. With his head tilted at the right angles and his eyes half-lidded, he purposefully let out soft moans and breathy sighs, small tricks that he hoped would add to the show. If he were to be honest, he wasn't sure why he was going to such far lengths in the first place; but he wouldn't have done it for anyone else.

This would take no longer than a few minutes, and afterwards, he smacked his lips together, a thoughtful finger resting on his bottom lip. His gaze flicked down, then up, and then down again, waiting for a concluding response out of the other-- a comment, an overall reaction-- and a course of direction as for what to do next.

[interimbossarcher-blog-deactiva]

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[leremita-blog]

(You know, after having had it done to you countless times, you sort of pick up a thing or two!!!)

Judging from the varying pressure from the fingertips pressing against the back of his head, he figured that he's doing /something/ correctly, so he continued, looking up for eye contact as he moved his head. The unstifled moans he picks up from above elicited a feeling of resolute satisfaction within him, and he would have smiled smugly if he could.

At a certain point, he had to draw himself back to breathe deeply, and to wipe excess saliva trailing down from his chin with the back of his hand. He let out a few sputtering coughs, feeling the sudden, jerky tremors that ran through his body, that caused his shoulders to instinctively hunch together every other second, as his gag reflex tried to undo all the suppression he had put it through.

His other hand remained wrapped around the other's cock, slowly pumping it up and down, as if to make up for the absence of his mouth. His thumb strayed towards the tip, rubbing across the slit at the top.

He would angle his gaze off to the side, while muttering, with his cheeks flushed a dark pink color-- partly from effort, partly from emotion, "You can... uh... you know, in my mouth f you want..." A wave of embarrassment would ripple through him upon saying that out loud, so his eyes would close shut for a few moments, until it subsided.

"Also, you don't have to be so gentle." Blankets shifted noisily as he resumed his earlier position, the breaths of his words  now puffing against the surface next to his curved fingers.

He leaned forward, giving it a single lick, before going on. "I'm yours to do as you please for the night, so you can be rougher with me-- I'd probably prefer it, actually..."

He ceased his talk then, slowly working on guiding it back down his throat, returning to whar he had been doing before.

[interimbossarcher-blog-deactiva]

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[leremita-blog]

Even so, he's not used to having anything so deeply down his throat, and he has to keep reminding himself to take deep breaths through his nose. His throat tries to expel it the first few times, and the muscles lining his throat convulse and press against the head of the other's member, and he looks up as if in panic, until the initial reactions subside. He takes that opportunity to lower his gaze again and to begin concentrating on moving his head up, and down, almost rhythmically.

With his hand wrapped firmly around the base, he runs his tongue along the underside, turning the muscle this way and that to try to cover as much area as he could. He keeps this up for a few minutes, until he pulls his head back slowly, leaving nothing in his mouth but the circular tip of the shaft. Switching gears to swirl his tongue on the top of the tip, he focuses on applying pressure on the very center. But he suppresses the urge to jerk his head away when a strange liquid starts oozing out from the tip, and at first, he gives it a single, cautious lick. It doesn't take long for him to register what it is, and eagerly, he hurries to cleans it off with the surface of his tongue, swallowing what of it he could, sucking on the tip to see if it would yield more.

He pushes his head forward again, taking all of it into his mouth once more, and he lowers his teeth until they rest lightly upon the surface of the skin, light enough so that it wouldn't hurt. When he bobs his head, they run both up and down, creating a comfortable friction against the other's cock, and he adds an extended moan along with it, the sounds vibrating.

[leremita-blog]

interimbossarcher:

An eyebrow quirked in silent question as Proton extricated himself from the new blanket and set it aside in a little heap. Of course, the little smirk he was graced with was something of a give away, he knew that expression. The blindfold made him stiffen for a moment, hating being deprived up eyesight, but he knew that the other had no reason to attack him. Well not in the more literal sense anyway. When his hand was taken, his fingers curled around the hand holding his, not keen on letting his companion slip away. “Alright…” he murmured, head turning to follow the sound of Proton’s voice.

He was aware that  he was being led through the condo, familiar with the path back to his bedroom. Though when they came to stop, he was a little confused. Archer stared into the blackness of the blindfold at the hesitancy from Proton and gave his fingers a light squeeze in reassurance. If he’d ever had any complaints, they certainly wouldn’t be now. And if he was handing over this much control to the younger man, the least he could do was try to make it so Proton was comfortable again. But the bravado returned on it’s own and he chuckled lowly. This was turning into an interesting turn of events. 

The former executive allowed himself to be guided over to the bed, back against the back rest. He’s got an idea what’s going on if he strains his ears to hear, listening at the sounds of fabric. But he’s sure that the mental image won’t be the same and he looks forward to the reality. Proton’s words caught him off guard, that he hadn't considered before now. It changed things enough that he’d be careful not to hurt him. But if he was honest with himself, there was a large part of him that was terribly flattered by this whole scenario.

The sudden light made him squint for a moment before he had to close them for a few seconds so he could see properly when he reopened his eyes. The sight that greeted him brought a smile to his face, hands reaching out to lightly grip Proton’s hipbones, thumbs petting the spot where the bones stuck out. “Far be it from me to reuse an offer like that…” he murmured, leaning up the slight difference to steal a kiss.

There's a startled sound that leaves him in the brief moments before their lips meet, but his surprise soon fades away and he finds himself enjoying it for what it was worth. Even so, his hands snake underneath Archer's shirt, his fingers deftly gripping the hem of the fabric. He breaks the kiss to breathe and to pull the shirt up and over his head.

"T-That's good to hear," he says in return, as a reply to the earlier statement, drawing back until he's laying stomach-down on the mattress in between Archer's legs. With shaky hands, he undoes the button and tugs down the zipper. afterwards, he sits back on his haunches to tug at the pants until Archer gets up for a second, so that he could pull and push his pant legs down until they were off entirely, shoved off the bed and onto the messy floor.

"I... I'm gonna be doing a lot of shit that /I/ haven't done before, so... I... uh... If any of this is /bad/, or it isn't good enough, please don't get angry..." he prefaces, throwing a disclaimer out there in advance.  Proton drags Archer's and positions it behind his head. "You can uh... grab my hair if you want, and you can... you know..."

With that said, he wraps a hand around the shaft and gives the tip a tentative lick, finding the taste of it strange, but not entirely unusual. He presses the head past his lips and into his mouth, disliking how wide he had to open. Trying his best to suppress his gag reflex, he keeps slowly sliding inch by inch down his throat, until there's no more left to do so.

[interimbossarcher-blog-deactiva]

His gaze shifted up, blinking in a mild, awed confusion at the sight that greeted him before he filed it away. It was a shame there wasn’t a camera around to take a picture for posterity’s sake, so he’d make do. Especially since he was reasonably sure he’d get to see Proton cuddled up like that fairly regularly until it warmed up again. The laugh only added to the almost soft atmosphere, different compared to how Proton normally laughed that it initially caught him off guard. He had to admit, it had been a long time since he’d put that much forethought into a gift, the number of people he was close enough to get them for definitely small. But none had earned that little extra effort minus the man sitting on his sofa. And even if there hadn't been an exchange, there was the niggling suspicion that Proton’s pleased reaction was reward enough.

He shifted accordingly when Proton scooted closer, making sure that the other could lean against him all he wanted. The weight against his shoulder was somehow comforting in its own right, an arm almost absently coiling around  the slight shoulders. “As do I,” he murmured, glancing down to try and look at his companion. He caught the gesture, quirking an eyebrow since he couldn't see the bright red cheeks. “I can’t imagine anyone else better to spend it with,” he confessed, seeing no harm in admitting that.

[leremita-blog]

He gently frees himself from the large blanket, setting it aside in a messy heap of fabric. Tonight, he had more plans, and he wasn't going to let his effort go to waste.

"That's not all of your present," he says, a curved smirk forming on his face, remniscent of how he usually was. Withdrawing a blindfold from his pocket, he stands up and ties it arounds Archer's head before he can say anything. He then takes Archer's hand in his, pulling him up from his seated position. "Here, just walk wherever I tug you. I promise I won't bump you into anything," he adds, with a chuckle.

But his bravado soon vanishes, as hesitancy replaces its presence in his voice on the way there. "I mean... if you want it. It's not like I'm going to force you to accept the gift or anything..." He pauses, trying to rebuild the same confidence he had before, half-talking to himself. "But I don't know why you /wouldn't/ even want it... I mean, why wouldn't you want--" He shakes his head resolutely, deciding to abandon his silly game of wishywashiness, and lifts his chin. "Whatever, both you and I are going to find out whether you like it or not!!"

With that stated, he pushes open the bedroom door.

He easily leads Archer to the bed and makes him sit down, with his back against the head of the bed. "Wait there!!" he had shouted, he had practically /yelled/, second thoughts racing through his head and his heart pounding in his ears and making him wonder if this was all going to be worthwhile.

Proton knows not to make him wait too long, so he hastens in removing what he has on his body, tossing his black shirt and pants to the side. He runs his thumb along the elastic of his boxers, going through a final internal debate on whether he really was willing to do this or not. He shuts his eyes as he pulls them down and steps out of them, as he affirms his decision.

After climbing back onto the bed, he sits on Archer's lap, facing him with his legs straddling his hips. "Um," he initiates, still as nervous as ever, his fingertips drumming lightly on the other's shoulder. "So, I was thinking... Y-You don't really do this stuff a lot and I don't even /know/ if you like it, but I haven't done it before-- at least, not on bottom, so I kind of wanted you to be my...-- 

Oh, fuck it. What I'm trying to say is that just for today, you can do whatever you want with me, like this, even if it's pretty clear /what/ I want you to do with me."

And with that, he yanks the blindfold off.

[interimbossarcher-blog-deactiva]

Archer took his box with a soft ‘thank you’ and sat down on the sofa again. The box was set in his lap and he went about unwrapping it in a much more methodical fashion than Proton did, taking the wrapping paper off in one piece and folding it up into a little square. The little bow from the top of the box went on the folded paper. 

The former executive pulled open the box, pulling out the thick volume with a soft smile. It wasn’t a novel he had, had been something he’d been looking for for quite some time. He turned it over in his head, marveling at it before a little flash of bright pink caught his eye. He shifted the book into his lap, cracking open the cover to reveal a little book mark, slowpoke tail hanging from the end that hung outside the book. He smiled fondly before closing it and setting the book beside him to watch Proton. 

The reaction was better than he’d hoped for and he nodded in acknowledgement. “I’m glad, and you’re quite welcome. Thank you as well. I didn't have this one before, and the bookmark was a lovely touch.”

[leremita-blog]

After unwrapping and shoving the now-useless wrapping paper aside, he peered over in Archer's direction, watching silently as the other unwrapped his gift. He kept running his tongue over his lips, his fingers fidgeting over one another, as he anxiously hoped that Archer would like what he had gotten him, especially the surprise he tucked in behind the hardcover flap of the book.

Subconsciously, a soft grin, partly hidden behind the hems of blanket edges, formed on his face when Archer smiled, taking that for an expression of approval. Unknown to the other, Proton had actually worked in finding out what genres pleased him, and then had gone about digging through Archer's massive bookshelf, trying to figure out which one would suit his interests and was also one that he didn't have.  His appreciative laughter was soft, a sound rare in frequency, and feelings that he didn't know how to deal with were welling up; it felt as if someone were tickling him, but at the same time, it felt so awfully pleasant, that made him feel weightless and surreal. The very concept of gift-giving, picking out the right thing for the right person, and knowing them well enough to succeed, was a thing that was all but too new to him, for he wasn't usually disposed to such generous acts, but he liked the brief surge of success that ran through him upon seeing Archer's smile, and he figured, maybe this was what love really is all about.

He shifted closer, so that he sat next to him again. His head leaned against Archer's shoulder, and without looking up, he murmured something, softly. "I... really like spending Christmas with you, and just you, like this..." He pressed the back of his hand against his own face, and not to his surprise, he found his cheeks hot, with red emotion fading in across his face.

[bodtmarco]

“Hm. Think of it this way— my hat to me is like your sword to you. Besides, I have plenty of hair outside of my hat.” And her tongue was stuck out at him, nose wrinkling slightly. Her hair wasn’t the only feature she was proud of— and therefore it had never been a worry for it to be covered.

“No problem. And you get used to it, of course.” Now it was her turn to feel rather strange, without the comfort of her magician’s hat atop her head. Really, it almost felt as if she was missing an important piece of her; but her purposes would have been to no avail if she had given Sharrkan her hat only to take it back a moment later. Hoping to compensate for the lack of coverage from the snow, she grasped her arms, hugging her coat closer to her. “Ah, I need warmer clothes…”

Suddenly, she remembered the necklace she had bought just before Sharrkan had arrived, still safely tucked away in her palm. Yamuraiha brushed her hair aside in order to make room for her to place the chain around her neck, fastening it. She lifted the aquamarine pendant for the other general to see. “Isn't it pretty?”

[leremita-blog]

"Huh, but if your hat were truly like my sword, then what about your magic staff? A hat isn't a weapon, Yamuraiha." It's alright, magic-user, the entire island knows that your hair isn't the only luscious body part you're proud of.........

Noticing her try to tug her coat closer to her as snow scattered over her head and shoulders, he clicked his tongue, his lips turning down in a dissatisfied, slight frown.

"Hey, I don't need you shivering while you're out here; If you get sick, Sinbad's gonna kill one of the two of us, and I'm not gonna be that person!!" He mulled over any viable actions, until he decided on one with a soft ah. "Hmm... Here, wear this." And in exchange for the hat (an 'exchange', that was the only way Sharrkan could justify helping out his rival) he removed his trenchcoat and draped it over her shoulders. The length had been a bit short on him anyway, so when he fully closed the jewel cinch, securing it tightly around her frame, the lowest part of the coat fell up to her ankles, but still hovered right above the snow. 

In other words, a perfect fit.

When she opened her palm and lifted her hands to clasp a necklace around her neck, he watched, as all sorts of thoughts began to run through his head, although he found himself contradicting those same thoughts as well. After all, back in his home country, outrageously large triangle earrings were expected to be worn of the royal family, and he was grateful that he wasn't required to wear them anymore.

He nodded, acknowledging her new necklace. "I'll have to say, you make decent choice in jewelry. The aquamarine brings out your eyes, and matches your hair..."

"But," he continued, "It's not as pretty as me." He placed his arms behind his head, careful not to disturb the position of her hat on his head, and pulled a self-satisfied, egotistical face, to match his words.

[interimbossarcher-blog-deactiva]

He stared in shock at the swat, the move always catching him off guard when they happened even though he should expect them by now. He opted not to call the other not it, realizing the reasoning behind it and he certainly didn't feel like getting into an argument about something he agreed with. So he let Proton be, knowing he’ll sort himself out and that he’s not really upset about it. He keeps up the petting when Proton’s back is turned, seeing no reason to stop since it’s calming for both of them. 

Archer moved once Proton sat up, padding over to the DVD player to remove the disc and put it back in it’s normal casing. Putting discs where they don’t belong is just awful. The soft voice made him pause, curious since he rarely heard such a tone from his companion. So when he heard it, it was usually prudent to pay attention since it was probably important. Of course, once Proton explained, he scampered off before Archer could tell him that he had something for him too. The former executive sighed, waiting for the younger man to come back. “I've got something for you as well. Wait here,” he told him, going off to where he’d hidden the gift in case Proton decided to hunt for his present. He returned with a good sized package, precisely wrapped in an iridescent paper and one of the big wired ribbon bows. 

[leremita-blog]

"Hmm?" He handed his present to the other, while accepting the present with his other hand, in a brief exchange. Sitting down and putting the box between his legs, he sat down to open it. After sliding the ribbon bow off, he tore off the wrapping, yanking at it whenever it refused to budge, eager to see what was inside.

First, he pulled out a blanket-- large and soft, and he instantly draped that around his shoulders, feeling its texture between his fingers. Next, he found a pair of fuzzy slippers, and they soon went around his feet. Still sitting, he tapped his feet against the ground a few times, testing them out, and with a smile, decided he liked them. He then saw a scarf and a mug, and finding that he had no room for a scarf around his neck, with the blanket occupying the space, he simply wrapped it around the mug and tucked the remaining corner back into the scarf; he would use them later on.

"I... I really like it," he began, rubbing the blanket against his cheek, sighing happily. His next words were quieter than before, barely audible, and he glanced towards the ground.

"Thank you."

[leremita-blog]

kagaweed:

And she snickered in response— not very lady-like, but who cared? “I’ll bet they’d like to be as far away from you as possible. I’d know, I’m a girl too.” So he was going to play that way, was he? Well, she was very much prepared to counter, not much more mature herself when it came to Sharrkan. “Don’t over-exaggerate. It’s not like your hair wasn’t messed up already.” And this was her way of saying ‘you’re welcome’, without using the obligatory words of kindness.

A sigh of her own slipped past her lips at the inquiry, materializing in the frosty air. “It doesn't work like that. I can manipulate the weather, not make it disappear altogether.” Of course he’d say that— someone like him wouldn't understand, she added mentally. But instead of continuing the problem, she decided rather hesitantly to take her magician’s hat and set it lightly on top of the general’s head, burying her arms in her robes soon after for warmth. “Here, now you don’t have to worry about the snow hitting your pretty little head.” An angelic smile was directed at Sharrkan, already having fun with the fact that the snow had somewhat affected his pride.

Oh, Sharrkan was always playing, whether it be with swords or with the ladies. He was the epitome of laziness, even if he was from the royal family of Sindria. There was little he took seriously, but he knew when it was needed, and thus, always was on top of things. He sent a scowl in her direction, shooting back at her, "At least I don't keep all my nice hair under a hat."

His words would quickly be countered by her actions, as she plopped her great big magician's hat over his head, probably to silence his endless complaining. He blinked in surprise, but he had to admit, it was wide enough to shield his neck and shoulders from the strange white precipitate that fell from the sky.

"Mmn, thanks," he said, glancing up and adjusting the great hat over his head. It was weird, having something large over his head, and having to balance it, at that. Fingers clasped onto the brim, trying to fix it before leaving it there and resigning with a frustrated huff. "How do you wear this thing all day?"

[interimbossarcher-blog-deactiva]

Archer hmm'ed softly at the admission, his fingertips occasionally scritching at his scalp. He barely paid the movie any mind and was a little surprised that Proton was, but then he’d been a decent multitasker in the past there was no reason for that to change now. “Good to hear,” he murmured.

Blue eyes widened a little in surprise at the cheesy line and he chuckled at Proton’s reaction. It was rather endearing, if he thought about it, the embarrassed little blush and the grin he was undoubtedly trying to hide behind his hand. “A little bit,” he admitted, offering a soothing pet across his forehead, “But I find it doesn't bother me as much as it should.” 

[leremita-blog]

!!!! His face scrunches up and a furious swat at Archer's face is his only response, as he flips over and faces the TV screen for the remainder of the movie to hide his expression, although he steals occasional glances at his face throughout the hours, and he does like the sensation of someone petting him overall. Occasionally, he reaches for some popcorn and for several minutes, he sits up to finish the small chocolate cake he had brought with him, but he lays back down after he finishes it.

When the movie finishes, he lazily pulls himself back up, continuing to make himself comfortable on the couch while he waits for Archer to pop out the DVD and to put it away. "Um--" He instantly hesitates, and proceeds more cautiously, voice low, soft. "I got you something..." Hopping off the couch, he dashes to his room and returns with a rectangular present, shiny and wrapped neatly with a bow.

[interimbossarcher-blog-deactiva]

Archer kept up the soft, almost absent pets, his fingertips lightly massaging against his scalp. He was startled a little out of the haze he’d fallen into when Proton shifted, the fingertips along his jaw something he found himself nuzzling into just a little bit. “It’s alright. I've seen it, so I don’t have to pay as much attention,” he admitted, willingly falling back into that warm fuzzy sensation that surrounded them. “Are you?” he asked curiously, wondering if he’d made a decent choice.

He reaches for the bowl as best he can without jostling Proton, opting to just keep a handful in the palm not petting his companion’s hair. He’s only paying a quarter of attention to the movie, far more focused on the current task.

[leremita-blog]

He sighs, but in a good way, enjoying the light touches to his hair. "I like it." He nods, looking back at the screen, staring momentarily at the movie before turning towards him again. "But I like you even better."

He then pauses, the back of his free hand pressed against his mouth to hide a quiet grin and the small bit of color that had spread across his cheeks, embarrassed that he had said something so cliche, but at the same time, proud of himself for coming up with it in the first place. Eyes glance left and right, anywhere but at him, as he mutters, "Ah, that was cheesy, huh..."

[leremita-blog]

interimbossarcher:

Archer snorted a little at the little huff, slipping away to go and make popcorn. It was one of those staples he kept in the condo, both as a snack for when he was working and didn't feel like cooking as well as movie watching with the other man. Not that he minded any of how this was going, he mused to himself, getting a large bowl for the snack before heading back out to the living room. He settled back onto the couch, letting Proton get comfortable against him before the other’s head inevitably slid to rest in his lap. 

This was fairly normal and he readjusted one of the blankets to cover Proton, his other hand moving to absently pet the other’s head, fingers combing through his hair. The movie was engaging, though nothing that really had all of his attention at the moment given the way that he was slowly being lulled into a warm little domestic bubble that he couldn't help but sit back and enjoy.

He hums softly as Archer runs his fingers through his hair, eyes half-shut as he enjoys the odd sensation, lightly pressing back against his hand with the back of his head. Rolling onto his back and reaching up, he brushes a fingertip against the outline of Archer's jaw. "Enjoying the movie?" he whispers, a slight smile framing his face. There's something that feels strange, warm, fuzzy right now, and he likes the feeling, allowing it to permeate the air. 

He reaches for the popcorn bowl, snagging a piece and popping it into his mouth, his eyes briefly glancing at the movie, and then on him, as if his gaze were fixed.

[interimbossarcher-blog-deactiva]

And that’s why we got up.

“Alright, just a moment,” he murmured, mostly to himself. Archer nodded, opening the tray and slipping the disk inside before he changed the channel on the television. He stepped back, grabbing the DVD player remote off the top of the television, opting to skip the nonsense for the previews. This was an order film, so the movies it advertised were long since out.

He turned around, prepared to asked if his companion wanted popcorn when he noticed the cake on table. Well, that answered that unspoken question, he mused, bringing the remote over and resettling in his previous spot in Proton’s little nest.

[leremita-blog]

"You know, if you want popcorn or anything, you should really bring some. Maybe cheese would be nice-- Because this is mine, and I'm not sharing it with you." With a disdainful sniff, he lifted his nose in the air, peeking from the corner of his eye to see if Archer was off, smiling slightly and lightening up when he saw that he was.

Once Archer returned and settled down with the popcorn bowl, Proton lifted the other's arm and slung it over his shoulder, leaning against his chest for a while before allowing his head to fall onto Archer's lap. Cake long-forgotten on the table in front of him, he dropped into a reclining position, using Archer's leg as a pillow for his head, face turned towards the TV to watch it-- sideways.