#sunlessea

[londonfallen]

𑣲 MR F.IRES & ADRIEN.

yearly xmas gift surprise for my wife @sunlessea feat. the blog favorites <3 there's not a day these two will rest it's their turn for a cute gay painting !!!!

[londonfallen]

♡ MR. NESTS & ELYSIUM

❛ —and i'd have followed you forever into shadows, as shadow creatures must. / c.

another commission snagged for me + @sunlessea !! <3

[londonfallen]

❛ i'll take good care of you, i promise. ❜ / firesluci

this was long overdue, it supposes—for the both of them. beyond the simplicity of intimacy, least of all when it had come to sexual affairs, though it, in what surely was no less than a state of confusion, had repeatedly refused him. not that he had ever been pushy ... it knows what he is, to some lesser extent as it were, and it had paid dearly for his time. so it would be typical proceeding then, had it wanted to undress and demanded whatever it most desired. and it isn't even a matter of it being unwilling, it's certainly no paragon of chastity, its interest in him had just been more. more than just sexual attraction, and more, it thinks, beyond just the romantic, though both were so deeply intertwined. it enjoyed his company. as a friend, and as it had hoped, as a lover too—from their idle banter to how its language fell beautifully on his tongue, and how softly his hands would curl into its own when it'd pull him to his feet from where he'd settled on its floor, just as it had the night they met.

now it's the one sprawled languid on its floor, however awkwardly—though hardly for cause of space, considering! their spires were made to suit their skin, whether the mask they wore was that of man or bat, but that doesn't mean it's particularly ... used to bearing its true face, these days. much less to the softer, more curious attention he spares it, as he throws a leg over its waist to settle just above its lap. to, it notes in quiet regard, some minor difficulty. it has its suspicions he only chooses its waist for fact it is the only place he can sit comfortably, without splaying his thighs too far. like this, he can still press his knees into its sides, and explore it as he'd like.

his hands still feel so soft like this too. careful in how they brush through its fur, for now restrained at least to its chest and rippling of muscle beneath. its candle-aided breaths are slow, steady—and for now, deep, holding them as long as it's able 'tween the quiet and instinctual purr that rumbles deep against its chest. it wants to savor the moment, at least for as long as they can keep it. but it's still laid bare in the end, and it knows they're both aware of that—much as it might for the moment be trying to be anything but. all he'd have to do is reach behind him, or shift his hips ...

" aren't i the one who should be assuring you? " its only somewhat cheeky, one ear flicking in its acknowledgement as its head cocks to one side, watching his movements with pointed interest. he seems happy, at least, and that's what it wants. and if not necessarily happy, then ... comfortable. still, it hesitates to do little more than rest its claws against his hips, no matter how increasingly inappropriate that becomes in their disparity—the tips of its thumbs could brush, how easily its hands take to his waist. " lucius ... " it hums, strikingly well composed despite the circumstances, though even that is a mask to some degree, how it has to pretend it isn't running hot to the tips of its ears! no matter how much its fur takes to hiding its blush, it shows in other ways : quivering, most of all, how even its wings unfurled tremble in open anticipation. " you have your curiosity, dragul meu, but what will you do with it? if you had to choose ... "

and slowly, it indulges in small measure. only one hand at first, barely a few claws at that, but it allows itself the luxury of drawing them carefully along his sides, up, then slowly back down to his waist. the touch is chaste enough, it thinks, to still convey its gentler intentions, the tender feelings he invokes—it has never wanted to suggest anything lesser.

" what do you want most? "

[londonfallen]

"i don't know. i guess i just didn't have anywhere else to go." he lays 'pon the floors of its spire dressed down for the occasion ; jacket discarded, hair sprawled 'round him like a halo. for once, adrien stares up at the flames that flicker 'cross its ceilings instead of snuffing them out to burn his fingertips. he can hear it shuffling to and fro, a blanket pulled from its bed here, windows to its balcony slammed shut there ... it certainly hadn't expected company. he hadn't expected it to be home, though, so he guesses they're even. "this time of year is usually something we humans, or from-kine, spend with our families. but thinking about my family is ... "

dismal, he's sure it can guess. he doesn't talk much about the details, and he doubts it needs him to. it may be dense sometimes, but it's not fucking stupid.

"well, anyways. i thought of home, and then i thought of you." he doesn't elaborate, because he intends not to think of it too deeply. he's the bravest man in london, how often he's trekked up to its spires. also the most suicidal, and perhaps the most pathetic. "how has your holiday been, mr fires? has it been a celebration or a burden?"

it would be nothing short of generous to suggest it was ' only ' caught off guard ... not that it ever anticipates the simple luxury of company—certainly less among its own—but even with his visits becoming more frequent, it isn't as if it makes a particular habit of lingering at home, when there's so much else it could be doing. but then, that makes each time their paths cross outside of those it treads alongside him pure coincidence. chance, that it would be home at all ; luck, that it was not in one of its moods—whether seething or sulking, and at this time of year, for it not to be kept away spreading festive cheer through their winding streets! but that just makes every visit all the more special, when given his time and attention so willingly.

still, it's left in a bit of a tizzy.

catching his coat before its tossed across the floor just to hang it, its own cloaks fluttering in its wake as it darts in and out of every room, arms full of miscellany. they're small comforts, whatever it could provide, even had that be strikingly little. it isn't equipped for this!

" had you asked the same no more than five minutes prior, i would say it was an even mix. but now ... " it snorts, nose crinkling with the slight quirk to its lips. burdensome is true, but only for what all else it's left needing to busy itself with—little it actually cares much to give thought to, beyond what its obligations take away. its companions, even he, might call it lazy, how oft it's wont to shrug off its duties—but it honestly has more pressing matters to attend. like now, the matter of its paramour sprawled out across its floor. there's little time it wastes, when it can carry no more, crossing back the short distance it needs to return to his side. however precariously, it shifts to kneel next to him, and slowly starts to lay out all its collected. " i find there to be plenty of reason for celebration as of late. "

blankets, of course, to sprawl over him. pillows, too. it tucks him in without asking, lifting his body to tug them beneath him too. it's not uncommon for it to touch him so sweetly, without any sense of obligation—it's even less so for its hands to linger. when it tugs the blankets up to his arms, its hand lifts higher, cradling his cheek gently 'gainst its palm and letting its thumb stroke 'cross its surface. " it brings me no small amount of happiness to know you find comfort here, let alone that you thought of me so warmly. " its gaze softens, where it lingers on his distant one—but just as quickly darts away, as it tugs its hand back and continues to unravel, " you'll know i feel just the same towards you, of course. "

a few more candles, unlit. just in case, if their personal warmth was anything either one of them craved. and a handful of blood bags, however little it personally minds them, he might make good use of them anyway. all the while, it chirps and tuts—as it shuffles its small hoard about, its brow starts to furrow. " but i didn't have a gift prepared ... " it's frustration only for itself, and even then, it lasts so little before it seems to come to some satisfactory conclusion. in a matter of seconds, it goes from quiet, aggravated huffs to perking upright ... and then flopping over onto its side, to watch him more closely, lips curled in their more familiar, playful manner. ever volatile, it is. " —well! in lieu of one, how about this? we could make a game of mutual confessions. wishes, secrets, what all it is you've wanted to know ... surely there's something you've been curious about? "

[londonfallen]

TANGLED: [adrien's] neck is grabbed and pulled into a kiss by [mr fires].

this is hardly the first time things have gotten so ... heated. much less is it the first time either one of they two were prey to a mutually overwhelming tension—nor is it even the first time it has taken action to resolve it. but the context therein ...

perhaps it'd be more apt to say it'd snatched him away, than anything else. but even that would be a poor description for how quickly it's composure cracked. a furious flurry of its robes enveloping them both, how swiftly its claws had shot out from 'neath its sleeve and curled hard against his neck, and no sooner did it watch shock overcome him than did it pull him forward the same it fell back. and here they are again : with only a hint of privacy, with metal door slamming only half as hard as it all but throws its back up against the shelves that nearly come toppling from the force of how brutally it pulls him up hard to its chest, and pushes its lips to his.

there is no permission, no request—there's hardly so much as a grunt in acknowledgement for the force it meets his lips with. but there is a growl fitting how its ears fall back and its hands clamor to grasp at him, desperate and hungry. for such a mild tease, its reaction comes extreme : like it'd been looking for an excuse for just this, as if it hadn't become nearly routine. but habits have done nothing for its patience, and its hands still fumble, slipping from his neck to slide along his jaw, or tangle in his hair as it demands his lips part and let its tongue drag heavy 'cross his own—it wants him closer. this isn't close enough.

[londonfallen]

"what you and i have... it's special. it's more than special." / zeespices

it doesn't know what to do with itself. hardly ever, as it were, let alone when it comes to matters of the heart it was supposed to lack. and here they are, ever playing the part of prince charming, how mr zees sits across from it, expression a little too tender to be entirely insincere, chest puffed in what it can almost delude itself into believing is some sort of sick sense of pride ... meanwhile, it's no better than the mess it often looks. curled up in on itself quite uncomfortably, knees pressed tight 'gainst its chest, practically gnawing the ends of its claws to steady its anxious nerves. little avail, that.

they've been stuck together in close company for far too long, it thinks. it is at least, the most realistic conclusion ... but even if that were the case, it has been stuck with the other masters for much longer a period, and none of those brutes ever had its chest constrict so distinctly. not even wines, who it'd lamented over their lack of attentions for years 'pon bitter years, left it feeling like its heart settled in its throat, a knot it'd have to swallow around. even its glowering, the deep crease 'tween its brow, eyes sharp, seem a little less like its actually angry with it ... and more like it's pouting.

" you little flatterer—! " it moves suddenly, with rather surprising swiftness with the ball it bundled itself into, lurching forward with a loud, piercing hiss for purpose of pinning it. all the strength it could manage, kindred and stranger than; zees had always been an oddity among them, with softer ears and bushier tail, and more strength than a fair lot of them combined—but that doesn't stop it from trying its best to press it flat onto its back despite its considerably frail outward appearance, in masquerade. " what is it exactly that we have? "

it's hard to look it in the eyes. it manages, but only barely—its lip is quivering, grip tightening 'gainst its shoulders to steady the way it feels tension creep 'cross its body, knees pressing into their hips solely to keep itself from shaking. " what makes this special? tell me! " its an unmistakable desperation : do they feel it too? hear the unsteady fluttering of its heart when it deigns light a candle to beg life to flood its cheeks? do they have the same uncomfortable ache between their ribs, the same sense of yearning? its grip tightens further, shoulders tense even as it slouches forward, hair falling over the both of them in floral cascade. its body may not shake, but its voice certainly does : a high-pitched, quiet whimper. " tell me ... "

[londonfallen]

it almost mourns the image lost, when it stirs him. how peacefully he'd wrapped itself around it, leg neatly tucked 'tween its own, and head nestled into the bulk of its chest until at last its shallow breaths came to pause, as its candle finally waned, and its flame snuffed. though, it thinks it mimicked the motion even longer; surprising only to itself, it figures, given his lack of consciousness to note the peculiarity ... it is strange to it, solely because it saw no reason playing 'pon masquerade, and even in the depths of their intimacy, it had taken long to even light a candle at all. human mimicry still, that had been at his request—even if it can't, wouldn't, complain for the added warmth and wet that it'd felt wash over it mere moments time. no, the oddity came in the fact it continued its false breaths for him : comforted by how his nearly came in sync, and charmed by each soft sound he'd make as he nestled closer.

still. it disturbs his peace with little hesitation.

" elysium ... " its voice comes coarse. rough, not too unlike a growl, but far too tender for anything quite so bestial. he isn't difficult to shift 'pon his back : he doesn't cling to it with the same ferocity he had the night prior, scratches along its back still stinging when it shifts too—every muscle strained, begging the still mostly fresh, albeit shallow wounds, open a little further. an arm taken 'neath its grip, its fingers curl easily around the size of it, as it lifts his arm first off ... then upward, as its weight follows to press loosely overtop of him, nearly the moment it has him on his back.

it isn't as if it's being particularly subtle, how it lays him languid, nor when its growl finally comes the moment it feels him squirm, slowly coming to consciousness beneath its bulk. the progression is hardly gradual, as it settles its knees snug against his hips, its other hand curling underneath him to rest just 'bove the small of his back : just as there is no subtlety when it bows its head forward, to draw its tongue along precious vein. it hardly acts as if it just confessed to such sweet feeling, but the way it holds him still, despite the strength, is notably gentle.

" elysium. " firmer. a quick nip to his neck. it still doesn't seem particularly patient.

@sunlessea — its 4am im eep

[londonfallen]

i love you more than i ever thought i could love anyone. / bathunt. all !

—damn near in unison, the way each of their heads lift. and who could blame any one of them for reacting so, a myriad of soft and inquisitive chirps and trills shared amongst them when for however brief a moment it may be, they can mutually agree on their uncertainty.

what are they supposed to make of it? a confession made for all, when they so frequently spat amongst themselves—but never with them. at least, not towards them ... not a one could have missed it even had they tried, the way sherlock is sprawled 'cross each their bodies, and they, tangled against their own. fires' broad chest makes for a comfortable place to rest, and spices had amused itself to sprawl languid 'cross sherlock's own body to allow their legs to kick and sway while their cloaks bunch up at the lower ends of their thighs ; nests, then, comfortably set somewhat astray, taking up the space at their dear lover's side, arm draped loosely at their hip. this is the perfect occasion for simple romantics, then. so why is it so startling?

... the simplest answer is the most obvious one : they never expected to hear it.

" more than anyone? " it's spices that breaks the lull, crossing its arms firmly cross 'their stomach to sit itself upright, watching them with pointed intrigue. their eyes are hazy, but not unfocused—rather, they're somewhat wide in its regard, watching their expression closely. " that's a rather hefty claim, isn't it? " nests snorts, as its weight presses into its palm—though its claws tap its cheek somewhat anxiously, and it can't seem to bear to look at them, ears flicking where they do not otherwise start to fall flat. of them all, though, only one seems less taken aback ... fires is purring, as it's often wont to do, and it's reaction is thus far the calmest—it bows its head, brushes its lips 'gainst the top of sherlock's own—much to the displeasure of its peers. its hand reaches to cup their jaw gingerly 'gainst its palm, fingertips trailing the line of it and brushing soft blonde locks behind their ear in the process. " of course you do. "

" what do you mean 'of course?' "

" i mean of course. was it not clear to the rest of you? "

" i hadn't really considered ...— " " well that's the problem! "

it's much rarer that any one of them goes a day without finding fault : this is typical, if not nature ... but their newest spark is quickest to fizzle, when their attention is drawn back to that of their paramour's, and the tender expression they wear. it becomes less that their energy fizzles out, but more that their focus shifts, and what tension builds between them is quickly set aside, as one by one, they wilt in their own ways.

" i ... i love you, too. " nests speaks through its fingers, voice coarse despite its sheepishness ; its ears have stayed tucked, but its found the strength to meet their gaze, but its reaction feels so subdued in contrast to how spices sprawls their arms out, hands grasping to cup their cheeks to pull their gaze towards it—the sneer in their words is still well decipherable, even despite the sincerity, " well, i love you more than them! " ... and yet it's still taken aback, hiss muffled behind its teeth as fires brushes its hands from their face, and instead coaxes them to meet its much softer gaze, nary even a furrow 'cross its features. " as the only one who's seemed to not carry any doubt, i feel as if i can safely say that i love you most. "