unbending.

nasty stinky little men. sideblog to rockheadcd. minors dni.

[sunyshcr3d]

"How am I supposed to not enjoy myself when I'm around you?" Now that they've come down from the high enough to be normal again, it's back to being the bastard Roark fell in love with first, huh? Volkner really doesn't hesitate, grin in full display, fingers tracing his love's skin where his hands linger, quite happy watching him stumble over his own words and just about bluescreen entirely the moment they fully sink into his mind. It's not his fault Roark looks so cute when he's turning as red as his own hair! Roark should really know this by now!

"Come ooooon, can you blame me? I'm basically your model there, I need to know if I did things right!" He really can't help himself with the teasing, hands reaching for his phone, fingers wiggling while waiting to finally receive it the moment Roark seriously starts looking for it, considers his request, and dies some more actually seeing what's now saved to his device. And when it's finally in his own hands, Volkner is quite shameless too, happily looking and swiping through the newly made gallery, the faintest hint of pink on his cheeks the only indication that he's not entirely unaffected. ( damn, if he wasn't already so exhausted after such a long round he'd be maybe a little too eager to go at it again. it's not his fault his love is good at this after all! ) "Well, if it makes you feel any better, you're pretty good at holding the camera while I'm sucking the life out of you." As if that won't hit Roark where it's going to kill him a little more—

Finally, Volkner is satisfied enough to hand the phone back with a hum and a chuckle, every picture reviewed and approved. "You did great! And I sure hope you'll be enjoying these in a few days, I'd be a terrible boyfriend if I didn't leave you with a good enough gift, huh?" And he waits for Roark to lay back down to plant another kiss on his cheek, the bastard he is. If it wasn't for the intensity of everything they just did, he might enjoy the teasing of the aftermath more than the act itself. Almost. "Just remember to keep them safe, I trust you." Quite the proof of how much and how openly he loves Roark, isn't it? A luxury no one else in the world would ever be afford from the mighty Thunderfang. ( as if it's thunderfang the one giving his love so freely, here. )

"Are you alive enough to get up for a bath now? I think I'm okay enough to want to cuddle with a little less sweat now." Not to mention everything else.

[undrgrnded]

At least he can happily accept that their relationship is as strong as it is if Volkner feels like he can banter like this—it's still no secret that these kinds of things are risky, even if it wasn't Roark's intent to share them. It'll just be easier to stuff all these photos in a secure photo under an inconspicuous name, then he'll feel less worried about anyone finding Thunderfang of all musicians willingly in all kinds of compromising positions. "At least it counts for something, right? Damn, I should have asked for an autograph," he chuckles a little, at least relieved with Volkner's approval, even if his cheeks burn scarlet thinking about how much a blindfold turned his love into somewhat of a lovesick puppy.

Still, the affection doesn't go without acknowledgment, Roark smiling some and reaching to caress his cheek, fingertips delving under bangs. Of course, he'll keep them safe, even after they're free to be openly in love every day. Knowing them, though, they'll find a way to add more than just this single night. They're both stupid, and Volkner has been finding ways to get Roark to be less composed and gentle than he usually would be.

"Mm, yeah... we got a bit of a mess to clean up, don't we?" he laughs, very much aware the mess is mostly his fault, but the idea of cuddling in a nice warm bath sounded far more appealing than a bed at the moment. "As long as I don't have to squat, I shouldn't be falling over, eheh.." Talk about leg day. Roark rolls out of bed, thankfully passing the test of gravity, and saunters over to the bathroom—now that he gets to admire it proper, it really can fit a couple quite comfortably, and it looks like there's some jets as well. Maybe this is more of a hot tub than the average bath, but... it definitely makes a better recovery. Ah, the staff even stocked up things in here, too, with bath bombs and other after care in a bundle on the sink where much of the counter space was. Towels and washclothes were neatly stacked on a shelf nearby, rod iron and sturdy. Well, at least for the moment, Roark only worries about the bath tub, tweaking the temperature and allowing it to fill in the meantime. When he returns, he comes around to Volkner with the intent to just carry him, as it's the least he could do for the amount of torment he just put him through.

"Here, you don't need to hobble over, I gotta treat you a little better than that," he laughs softly, content to pick him up as if he weighed so little. The short trek to the bathroom is easily accomplished, even with Roark still a little winded after their activities. He sets his love down carefully and takes his hand as leverage, only sitting down once he's safely in. Already, the water is nice and warm, just faintly steaming on the surface, and once the water level is high enough, he pokes around to find the jet setting and turn off the main faucet. "Dang. This kinda makes me want to move to a place with those private onsens. This would be amazing after work—" Hold on, he needs to marinate before he gets to the washing part.

[sunyshcr3d]

When Volkner finally comes down from the high, he's just as disheveled as he feels, struggling to catch his breath, one deep inhale after the other just trying to get air back in his lungs, too out of it to really think about the mess left to clean up, simply reveling in the aftermath of such intensity. What air is left in his lungs leaves him with a mildly inconvenienced huff when Roark gives up and drops down right on top of him, neither of them having much energy left for anything— he gets it, really, but Roark is bigger and heavier than him, after all he just allowed him to do the least he needs is some room to breathe—

( not that he was going to bring it up, just a little too happy when roark lets himself go and folds him to complain about this— )

... Ah, right, the cuffs, almost forgotten in the aftermath, and Volkner is relieved that Roark remembers before he has to remind him, still finding his voice as it is. He only squirms a tiny bit when Roark pulls back just enough to let his own heat free, a relieved sigh when his wrists are free and his trembling arms can drop down and rest, at least for a little bit. He just waits for Roark to finally settle down and hold him, a content hum feeling his arms around him, not hesitating to nuzzle him, smile pressed against his hair, a hand resting on his arm and a kiss pressed against soft locks of hair.

"You actually lost it if you think I can get up right now. Or push you around, now or ever, really." Still, he chuckles, knowing full well it's going to take a while before either of them actually clean up. "I think I love you more than that." He just... really can't help himself, can he? This is what Roark signed up for, though, he should know to expect this. For now, Volkner will just settle down a little more, and press himself against his love a little further. He needs his warmth.

"Yeah... That was amazing." Most definitely an understatement, but he isn't exactly prone to come up with the most poetic strings of words after, well. Everything they just did. Maybe he'll be able to voice his thoughts a little better when they're both cozy in a nice and hot bath. "You were amazing, you know— I'm glad I asked." He's certainly taking mental notes to rile his love up again next time—

For now, Volkner grins, eyes wandering and searching the bed. Now, where did his love leave the phone?

"Are you gonna show me the pics you took, or are those for your eyes only? I need to know if they're any good—"

[undrgrnded]

"Ehe... I'm just happy you enjoyed yourself," Roark hums into his skin, adjusting to let Volkner settle as he sees fit, and lazily tangling their legs together. "I wasn't sure what to expect with the blindfold, but I think we'll need to bring one home if this is the kind of show I get." An understatement, really, but he had no right to look so hot with one on! Being a secretly huge fan did not help in the least, there, either—he'd never consciously think about Volkner like that before, but a couple of intrusive thoughts here and there didn't escape him, either.

Yet, he's still more than happy to hold him as closely as possible, far too content after being spent like this. If it weren't for the sheer amount of exertion, he'd pass out right there, but he feels stinky enough to stay awake to get through to the nice bathroom that was actually big enough for two lovers. "I'm just so lucky that you like me so much to let me try new things with you... Although, I guess your average person doesn't have to make every night count, huh? Heh." He can't help but trace his fingers up and down his back, savoring the sensations to remember later on. There's plenty of aftercare to indulge in, and he can't help himself. Rarely does Volkner feel so warm to the touch, he has to take advantage of the poor guy actually having some circulation before the post-coital bliss wears off. "This sure taught us something about ourselves, that's for sure—wh—you want to what—?!"

He wants to see them?! Roark is pink all over again, honestly not even sure if any of them are even in focus at all, and he has to pull himself from his love's neck to confirm that's what he's asking about. The shit-eating grin doesn't lie, unfortunately, and Roark is baffled at how quickly Volkner has managed to bounce back. "I—It's... somewhere on the bed," he cautiously states, looking around himself and eventually finding his phone hiding between the folds of blankets and towels. Suddenly, the whole ordeal is a lot more embarrassing than it was a few minutes ago.

He hesitates to look at the gallery, sitting up and covering his mouth and gnawing on his lip—what exactly did Volkner do to him to be so willing? "Post-nut me is convinced I committed a crime," he groans, muffled. After another moment of deliberation, he finally picks something, and immediately burns up to a crisp right then and there. He's incredibly thankful that he's so spent that he couldn't even think of getting hard again, seeing Volkner tied up like that and being to willing... "Talk about one for the spank bank... here, you be the judge—" he puts the phone right into his hands, embarrassed enough to go float facedown in the bath. He really just has Volkner in compromising positions now. That really happened. He really took him up on the offer. "I don't think I'm gonna be normal when I see them in...a few days." Down horrendous.

[sunyshcr3d]

Unsurprisingly, Roark does follow through, and if possible, Volkner turns even redder once the pants slip off and get pushed aside without much thought or words. His man is very much committed to getting things done and getting them now, and unfortunately that's just enough effort for Volkner to already be riled up with so little despite the exhaustion. There really is no backing down now, is there? Damn Roark and his stupid cute face when he's just—

Volkner doesn't really get any time to think, though, Roark already shifting to have both of them in position, and Volkner lets out an undignified yelp as he scrambles to pull the blanket a little closer and try to hold them in place with one hand— he's still cold, damnit, this isn't helping!

And then Roark's hands land on his hips, and Volkner is now so red it reaches the tips of his ears. He's a little too ready, isn't he—

"Wait, you idiot—" Volkner is practically hissing. Roark is too excited, actually, ready to skip over a very important step in his half-asleep state, and Volkner is not about to deal with those consequences. "Get the damn lube first—!" And now he's scrambling to reach the nightstand's drawer instead. The things he does for love—

[undrgrnded]

Huh...? Did he forget something...? Oh, maybe he did, the dream universe didn't have to think about physical limitations like preparations. His hands slip to let Volkner scramble to the nightstand to their most used assets. "Oh.. right... Sorry, love," he mumbles, reaching over himself to paw open the top drawer so it's easier for his love to reach.

If he needs the moment, then surely he could lend a very lazy hand, somehow the sudden yelping not disturbing him from his dream ( he could genuinely be sleeptalking, and roark most certainly wouldn't answer if he was or not if asked right now ), going with the flow of events as if it was all intended. He can't hurt his love like that, after all.

"Lemme suck you off for a little.. gotta give you time to stretch," he mumbles in a sigh, at least still convincingly sleepy. Even the grabbing motions he's making with his hands is lazy, asking for the lube despite most certainly not being able to accurately pour any out. He really thinks he has it all covered, huh!

[sunyshcr3d]

( maybe just good is an understatement with everything roark is doing to him with this alone... )

Somehow, even when he was the one giving Roark explicit permission, even demanding to a certain extent to be serviced like this, it still catches Volkner completely off guard to see his love happily give up any attempt at teasing and tormenting to immediately get to work. Whatever she stuffed her honey with was too effective— and the moment Roark's hands find their way around his thighs, Volkner might as well be gone.

He's half expecting a sly remark, a complete stop, anything along those lines, but maybe unsurprisingly by now, he's met with silence instead, a greedy, hazy stare and Roark picking up the work at his own pace— and that's enough, really, Volkner feels himself shiver, parting his legs a little bit, just enough to ensure he keeps his balance now that Roark is fully committed to sucking the soul out of him— and he's already working pretty well on getting there, more intense than anything Volkner remembers him trying before, another sharp inhale before he finds himself forced to let go of his love's horn to cover his mouth, whatever noises manage to escape at least muffled enough to be kept between the two of them, his hand still tangled in his love's hair gripping tighter without thinking, trying to find some. Roark certainly has him fighting for his life now, and if he could think, he might spare a thought for what will come next.

( he might need to sleep for a day after this. )

From then on, it really doesn't take much longer, soft swears the only noise spilling out into the silence, and it's all downwards from there for Volkner— he doesn't know how long it's been, but he feels it, he's close, he's so close already—

"Hey— I-I'm going to—" it's barely muttered between fingers and gasps, and he doesn't get to finish his shaky sentence, a noise slightly louder than he would've liked cutting him off, holding Roark's head right where it is with his heat in his mouth as he hits his high, all of his release contained to his love's mouth. Volkner gasps, takes one deep breath after the other, and finally comes back to the present, looking down at his love with a flush that refuses to fade, pulling him away from his heat with a shiver and a gasp, hoping against all odds that this action alone won't do anything else to him, sensitive as he is right now. He needs a moment to breathe and compose himself after all that, or else he might die for real here—

"S-sorry, I wasn't thinking—" as if Roark had any more thoughts left in him than he does. "Are you okay? How are you feeling?" He doesn't look that much different, and frankly, Volkner doubts that was enough to get him out of his fog, but... "Do you... need anything else?" Just in case. ( he knows he will, he knows damn well this is not gonna be enough after what they do on normal nights. well, his own survival is still up in the air, but so long as his love will be okay... )

[undrgrnded]

He remembers well enough how Volkner is with his antics, somewhere obscured by all of that haze of pheromones clouding practically all else—it would take more denial to feel him shaking and gasping, but—maybe he really is doing that much of a good job, right? The extra effort would be worth it, worthy even, of a reward, he hopes. Roark keeps his eyes shut, focused purely on the task at hand, narrowly navigating a pesky gag reflex in order to give heat a consistent, warm welcome. The hand in his hair pulls with much more insistence than before, and Roark grows all too excited about the signs he can feel and hear. It's harder and harder to ignore himself, the habitual throbs painful as he finds himself gripping thighs tighter to hold his pace. It's too cute and just too good to know he's making him sound desperate like this, swearing behind a hand as he tries to keep his voice down—a shame, really, but he shouldn't be asking for so much, should he?

As long as he's servicing him well, that's all that he can really come back to in his head. As long as his mouth is wet enough and his tongue is pressing hard enough to feel tight, he's more than happy to bear the fatigue—and a stuggled declaration almost goes unheard, nearly missing the moment to prepare for his reward. His head is held in place as his love finally reaches his limit, the telltale twitches so much stronger in mere moments, and Roark holds his breath, nose nearly pressing against pale skin as he feels seed spill down his throat. It's surprisingly more difficult to stay put when his instincts tell him to breathe—he can't fail his husband right at the end, though! Still, he can't help the way his body reacts to the sudden move, finding the rare moment of his husbandbeing obectively commanding a little too hot to bear—a blend of a groan and a purr erupt, blocked by spasming heat and trapping it in the back of his throat with the rest of the seed that's there, too.

Even if the corners of his eyes prick slightly with a pair of stray tears, brows furrowed, he takes every last drop Volkner has for him, unable to help but pant for air when he's finally pulled away and allowed to breathe again. Lips hang partially open, wet with a trail of drool and the tail end of an orgasm, connected to his love's heat until gravity takes over. Burgundy is as hazy as it was before, not entirely there—Roark is flushed, but he feels hot all over now that his own body has been in such a state of overstimulation and denial. Still, the entire encounter can only be described as incredibly attractive, with Volkner's reactions spurring him on ( his body hates him for not letting go ). All he can taste is his love, parched but unconsciously looking for more—maybe it's gotten worse with his own needs so strongly influenced like this, but Volkner is correct in his assumption that they couldn't possibly be done here.

He's barely able to even process the questions that come after a much-needed break on Volkner's part, slowly blinking when it comes to what he needs. Is he serious? Does... he want to reward him even more...? His poor heat is spent, what else could he ask of him...? "Y...You," comes an expected response after a beat, finally easing up on his grip so he can hang his head down for a moment, resting against his thigh—his heart feels like it's beating too fast, too much blood circulating around with that potent side effect of getting nearly drenched in honey. He still wanted more to do for him, but when he sounds so concerned.. Roark can't help his honesty, finally bringing his head back up to gaze at Volkner once more, holding lightly onto his leg for support. "I need you so badly it hurts," he admits quietly, "My head...so foggy...it's so warm—can we go to the shower..? I want to—I need to do more for you, please.."

How bad are the pheromones for him to feel so comfortable begging like this? He just can't help it, needing the release so badly he can't hold back the desperation. Denial would make him unpredictable and put strength behind his hands, long since twisting his beloved cat into a pretzel like he enjoyed. But this... this is a level he's lost in, the words tumbling out of his mouth with no filter, a daring hand crawling up the back of his love's thigh, coming to squeeze the soft, small curve of his ass. The other soon joins to grope at the other half, savoring the silkiness that he can barely keep his hands off of on a normal day. "...Did I do good? Did that feel good? Please tell me if I did good enough to be inside you—I promise I can be even better use.. Please—" At least he keeps his voice down, but it's clear he might benefit from a shower not only for what he's begging for, but to get the rest of that sticky honey off of his skin. "I need to be inside you—" He might need to be put down.

[sunyshcr3d]

Ah, Roark is most definitely thinking about it, his devious little idea planted in his mind and already taking root. Volkner is just a little too proud of himself, evil, shit-eating grin on his face, legs swinging over the edge of the bed to bounce back on his feet and rummage around what little stuff he could safely keep in his hotel room— ah, there it is, a handy little tripod for phones, easily set up and ready in the middle of the room. "You never know when you need one of these for some social media stuff or videos, y'know?" And now it'll certainly come in handy in another way. Maybe the idea in Volkner's head wasn't entirely unprompted.

And when the next question comes, Volkner does stop to think about it for a moment— and that's all it takes before turning around to face Roark, grin in full display and stepping closer, arms around his neck and staring directly at him. "Weeell... depends. What do you want to do to me? I hope it's something special if you're going to have it on tape to watch whenever you want~" Their last night together in a hotel room is certainly a memory still replaying itself in his mind, no matter how little he could actually see during it. "I dunno... you could just tie me to the bed and tease me all night, or get me on your dick to prep you until you want to go in? Or maybe you just want to go at it the old fashioned way?" The ideas certainly aren't lacking, that's for sure. "Did you buy some new stuff after our last time? We did like some of it." Perhaps an understatement.

While there is no lack of good ideas, however, Volkner waits for Roark's answer, what's maybe the most important thing to him here. Grin softens up into a gentler smiler, leaning in to steal a peck from Roark's lips, then nuzzling right into his neck. Even just being together like this is more than he could ever ask for, after all.

"The decision is up to you— you know I love what you do, and I trust you to pick. I know I will like whatever you come up with." But before he's simply done talking, that devious grin of his is back in full force. "Besides, we can always just record another one if this one doesn't work out, riiiight?" Oh boy.

[undrgrnded]

The ease in which Volkner finds a tripod in his luggage is almost too convenient, Roark scoffing in disbelief as he sets it up oh so casually in the middle of the room. "You've been daydreaming about this for awhile, haven't you?" Roark can't help but laugh a little—if that was the case, he still sometimes can't believe his favorite celebrity is there imagining him doing all these activities with. The amount of fans that would do anything to have that kind of privilege, to be in his position... it still baffles him that not too long ago, he was there curled up on his couch, wounds carefully bandaged, trying to catch a few hours of sleep in a quiet home that wasn't his own. How that turned into this, he still wasn't all that sure—it was just a surprise kiss at first that he wanted to return, after all, well before he realized who Volkner was. He wouldn't trade it for the world, of course, but it wouldn't be the first or last time he'd lay in bed thinking about everything that lead up to them finally living the life they wanted. A video or two couldn't hurt, right?

Volkner doesn't make it easy to think rationally like this, in his space and casually draping his arms around him and wearing the feral little grin he's known for sporting as a rebellious and surprisingly risqué performer. The way it still skips his heartbeat reminds him that he may never get away from his roots as a mere fanboy, especially when he's the only one the idol could possibly be addressing at the current moment. Still, Roark can't help himself, unfolding his legs and spreading so his boyfriend could come closer, hands idly sneaking under an oversized hoodie ( his own, actually, it was plain enough not to attract attention compared to the stuff his agency kept trying to put him in outside of the concerts, and it worked out as a perfect excuse for volkner to keep with him ), tracing contours he had memorized in a repeated pattern, thumbs pressing gently into the crest of his hips like Volkner was his personal worry rock.

The suggestions hang as Roark hums in thought, deliberating on how to best make use of their room. He doesn't quite have an answer yet before Volkner's expression softens, kissing him so easily in return before he moves his lips to escape under his messy hair, a cold nose tickling against his neck as he's nuzzled affectionately like an excited cat. His hands slide up so he can wrap his arms around him instead, canting his cheek into fluffy blond and inhaling. He missed him, more than anything.

"Mm... I don't want to block the view the whole time, y'know? I was wonder if you'd like to see the view of the skyline at some point, too. That'd be kinda mean to have you blindfolded so you can't see all the people who don't even know you're in a secret relationship, getting totally railed right after a concert, I think," he teases, certainly considering not staying in one place with how nice this room is. "...Maybe we can face the camera together..? There's a whole mirror right there to look at. There is also the balcony, if you're feeling really bold. No one knows what your moans sound like, technically—" That would be a surprise even for him, especially with how much Volkner likes to vocalize his pleasure. But... there's a whole suite for them to choose from. He's perhaps encumbered by choices here!

"I did get some of the stuff we liked from last time, though. There's cuffs and a vibrator, and uh... those rings that worked a little too well, too. There is a blindfold, of course. I just don't want to waste your money after when we have such a nice view to admire while we're all wrapped up in each other, y'know?" Well, there's a solution to that, technically. "Maybe we do have to record a few videos after all.. there's so many places we could do it.." He's surprising himself with how much thought he's putting into this—maybe all of the nice views are making it more difficult than it needed to be compared to the privacy of a big bed in a love hotel with no windows. "..I know we have evidence from the last time, but do you want to see how you look blindfolded from start to finish, maybe?" he asks, cheeks flushing a healthy scarlet remembering the photos he still had saved. "...I do look at them a lot when you get me all riled up.. I can't put my finger on why you look so hot with your hands tied up like that.. we could do that, too, if you'd like."

[sunyshcr3d]

Ah, Roark really doesn't hesitate the moment he's given the permission he so desperately wanted— Volkner does feel like he should've seen this coming, but unfortunately all the thoughts and rational thinking have tumbled right out of his brain the moment Roark practically leapt to fiddling with his belt and exposing him entirely, face burning brighter and heat suddenly much more alive than mere moments ago. Some part of his mind that is still kind of there squeezes out a stray thought about how cute Roark looks in such whiny, desperate need, and Volkner is just as quick to stomp it out and shove it right back where the light doesn't shine, lest he forgets where they are and what's exactly going on here.

... Not that it gets any easier the moment Roark finds heat, usual slow, almost painful teasing thrown out the window and forgotten entirely, hands and lips alike already finding heat with that selfsame desperation, not at all slowing down just because he's been given free reign to do whatever he wants, as usual. Now Volkner has to fear for his own life, really— Roark as he normally is already takes his soul out of his body with all of his bastard behavior, the slow, methodical teasing and riling up intended to torment him and drag out the wait for as long as he can, but this? This is... something else entirely, really, for better or worse. And here he thought he wouldn't find himself as riled up if Roark just got to it, oh how wrong he was. The quick promise of silence is hardly reassuring by now, honestly, not sure if Roark even is capable of keeping to it in his desperate need for Volkner.

He bites his lower lip the moment hands start tracing very excited heat, a sharp inhale when something twists in the bottom of his stomach at the motion alone, scrambling to compose himself when he wasn't prepared for any of this to happen to begin with— he woke up that morning with nothing but thrilling matches on the ring in mind, there weren't any thoughts crossing it about an aftermath like this so soon! Well, he kind of did hope for it at some point in his more stupid thoughts— but that was reserved for when they actually returned to their own lodging! Not the locker room they were borrowing!

... Ah, maybe Roark has retained some of his usual bastard behavior, what with the way his lips barely graze the tip despite so much begging, his hands doing all the work in driving Volkner insane already... there's a snappy remark almost slipping out the more this goes on, right before Volkner reminds himself that this is not the place nor the time for that— and it dies out in his throat entirely the moment Roark speaks up again. He'll keep him... oh no, he's so screwed. "I—" words fail him entirely, a moment that feels far too long to collect himself. Well, just how is he supposed to be normal with Roark down there looking at him with such pleading eyes, talking like that and— oh, Volkner isn't surviving this one after all.

Another deep inhale, taking that brief moment to wait for Roark to... well, do anything beyond stare at him while holding his heat hostage, really, and when it really sinks in that he's not going to move on his own despite his desperation... well, forgive Volkner for losing his soul so easily in a moment like this. ( he really, really is not used to being in this position, huh. )

"... Alright, if you're asking so nicely..." don't mind him fighting to keep his voice from cracking for a moment there. Finally, his other hand moves, resting on what's left of his horn. One grips hair, as carefully as he can, while the other grasps the remains of his horn for leverage. "Don't stop, okay?" And that's all he says before guiding Roark's head and movements, what inches of heat weren't covered by his mouth taken care of by Roark's hands, and it doesn't take long for Volkner to be fighting himself to keep a steady pace— how is he supposed to, when Roark is servicing him like this, allowing him what basically amounts to free use? ( no wonder roark is always so stupid when he's the one doing this kinda stuff— )

"Y-you're doing good..." Some small encouragement in between his own occasional gasps and inhales, just as Roark deserves. No matter the situation, it would feel wrong to just leave him hanging without a word.

Eventually, it's been long enough that Volkner can feel the build up, that familiar burn and need for release, the rise inside begging him to let himself go and finish, and Volkner looks down at his love, still just as busy as when they started— and he has a thought, as evil as it feels.

"You can finish me off now, right?" It's not really a question, Volkner looking at him almost as expectantly as Roark did. If this is how they'll get all that stuff out of his system, maybe he does need to loosen up a little, right?

[undrgrnded]

There's a conflicting notion of greedy joy and downright starstruck awe as Volkner goes through the five stages of grief, the flush on his cheeks spreading and his resolve to be remotely normal about the situation crumbling. Something about him being flustered hits differently, despite this being Roark's consistent objective when doing things like this to him. It's almost like feeling hopeful, anticipation to give him more, anything he wanted, really.

His heat has long since felt trapped, each reaction a monumental surge that shoots right down through his stomach—if he let himself, he could make a mess right there and Volkner didn't need to do anything but let Roark be at his whims. He certainly wasn't kidding when he told him that he wanted to do nasty things to him, but the pheromones have created such a different beast that Roark can't tell if they're even close to wearing off, thoughts far too hazy to find his logical train of thought and inevitably coming back to wanting that heat in his mouth instead. He stares, waiting for anything from his love, hopeful when he finally takes a breath to compose himself. Really, anything to make him happy works for him, but he receives even better—lids fluttering shut when he feels the hands carefully curl into his hair and the remains of half of a horn. The tightness in the pit of his stomach is near painful as he's far too excited about what comes next, the anticipation too much to bear, unable to help but press his legs together. The validation is all he needs to survive, Volkner doesn't need to deal with such pesky side effects, no?

He gives a quiet noise of agreement, relaxing what he can to make his breathing quiet as possible, working explicitly with the pace Volkner sets for him—he rides his tongue against the underside of his heat, enchanted by the sensation of feeling his love's pulse when he follows along a vein. It adjusts with the volume, curling against the tip as he pulls out, sucking against the motion until Volkner pulls his head back in as far as is comfortable. He must be doing something right as he hears Volkner struggle to keep himself quiet—each gasp and inhale adding another hit of addicting pleasure. His efforts are even verbally acknowledged, and Roark just feels giddy down to the heat he's desperately trying to keep contained, painfully hard, doubling his efforts to give Volkner every reason to use him as he sees fit, just because he can. There's a slight shift in his pace as he continues, Roark keenly aware he must certainly be feeling the rise to get himself off using him freely—the throbs and twitches are impossible to hide from someone as hyperfocused as he is. Such a compounding of signs is almost too much to bear, a certain wetness leaking from the overstimulation the pheromones are adding to an already lewd favor, even for them. He can't help himself, though, trying to take a little more as his thumbs massage the underside of what he couldn't take without making too much noise against his love's will.

When Roark hears him speak again, he finds cobalt staring right back, acknowledgment working far too well in making him feel absolutely lovesick. Finish him off on his own... he's giving him the permission to do this by his own efforts.. Roark looks like he'd just won something incredible, hopeful and determined. He doesn't even stop to verbally reply, unwilling to let Volkner suffer the interference of not having the attention he deserves, and his hands instead move from the base of heat to curl around the back of his thighs, holding onto them for leverage. In a moment, he gets to work, pulling him just a little closer to keep another bit of heat in his mouth at all times, a pace just a little faster to help him get closer to release. Some jaw soreness and swollen lips were an easy price to pay to let his love have access to dumping his reward down his throat, not a single drop of evidence allowed to escape as this wasn't their personal space. He tries his best to make the rhythm consistent, sucking harshly at the tip that feeds him a lick of precum every so often, trying to milk another, and another. The taste in his mouth has shifted entirely, wholly Volkner's now, as he eggs on that release. Being used like this feels like an honor of the highest magnitude in exchange for the ways in which Volkner can't help himself to him. Whatever overriding motion he does is obeyed without resistance—when the inevitability of release comes, he's far too ready for whatever his love wants him to do to take it.

[sunyshcr3d]

Well. Maybe Volkner should really just be shutting up by now, huh— no amount of speculation or remotely scientific interest in the situation at hand is really helping with the fact that Roark is actively fighting for his life. Metaphorically speaking, at least. ( hopefully it's just metaphorical, but looking at him right now? volkner isn't so sure, actually. that's not good— )

Honestly, the attention he is giving him right now doesn't seem to be helping either, brow scrunching up in open concern as Roark gets progressively more desperate and needy, some part of him concerned that the touch might be actively hurting him instead, even with something as gentle and careful as a habitual kiss, but— spinning thoughts come to a screeching halt when Roark pulls him closer, holds onto clothes and keeps his face dangerously close to his own heat, Volkner quite easily matching the lovely shades on his cheeks now. There is a brief moment where Volkner effectively short-circuits, mind going blank at the unexpected request, almost denying him, but. He takes some measure of breath and hesitantly glances around. Sure enough, double checking from where he's standing, the door is closed and locked, a shower is readily available, no one has come knocking looking for them, likely won't for a while. It's as safe as it can get.

( he refuses to admit out loud to his heat suddenly being very awake, or else he's never seeing the light again. )

"F-fine— go on—" truly, anything for his man, huh? His hand returns to the top of Roark's head, fingers gently running through hair, giving him all the access he needs. "Just— try to not be too loud, okay? We don't know how thick the walls are around here—" Roark may be unable to care in his haze, but Volkner knows damn well neither of them are gonna be able to show their faces around again if anyone catches them—

[undrgrnded]

He's hopeful, now, especially when he feels a shift where he's pressed his cheek, something familiar taking up just a little more space than before. Maybe he's a little hungrier with the anticipation, more than happy to do as he pleased so long as Volkner gave him permission. It's a short moment as Volkner glances at their surroundings first, before giving in and relenting. Roark is much less of a lizard and closer to a wolfpup, gentle caresses along his scalp giving him that same strangely intense comfort, pressing against the edge of a growing bulge and nuzzling his nose against it. A sane train of thought comes and goes, a sign of light had he not so quickly indulged in seducing his husband so shamelessly—he really could have used this kind of sensation when they were on the First, he could have been fixed in a single night if head scritches felt like this.

It goes away the moment he finds what he needs to untangle—just the belt, really, and the rest is pulled down enough along thighs to scrunch against itself, excited heat freed from clothing and resting against scales. Roark would save some of these activities for after a relaxing bath, save for the moments they were so invigorated after a long battle they weren't thinking at all, but he didn't care at all, lips against a pale shaft and nearly worshipping—this is hardly the kind of behavior he would usually exhibit, typically more teasing and talkative. But the pheromones have him in some type of way, handling his love like an antique, fingertips caressing and maneuvering with gentle pressure, lips lingering at the base, even dipping lower to carefully trace looser skin with the tip of his tongue. The flush on his cheeks emanates heat, but he doesn't appear to be bothered by the subconscious level of embarrassment for behaving like this purely at just the opportunity to do something that's essentially a weekly habit between the two of them.

For some reason, it was like he didn't deserve such a privilege, his love just that far out of reach for someone like him, and he was lucky enough to even turn his way—damn, no wonder people surrounded the idol. He felt helpless to the surge of sheer endorphins as Volkner continues to gift him affection and access, even nodding quietly as he's warned. "I promise I won't," he responds quietly, clearly taking the simple notion to heart as if commanded, though he can't help but fear he could be despite being the one to have a muffle between the two. Fingers finally glide along heat in a back and forth motion, staring longingly at a flushed tip as it suffers the with Roark's attention to detail, ensuring every dip and curve feels contact with his hands.

Despite the obvious craving, he's yet to go further, pressing the warmth against his lips to kiss at best. Burgundy stares up, and it doesn't take a genius to know what he's thinking behind those head empty eyes. "You'll.. keep me quiet with this, won't you?" On a normal day, it would instigate a competition, an intentional threat to rile up his beloved Miqote. But right now, it's almost sounds like he's begging for Volkner to use his mouth like a sleeve. Quite literally anything Volkner could think of doing to him could be treated as a reward, it seems. He leaves a last kiss against the tip of his heat, taking a small bead of precum with, lips loosely apart and letting his love's heat rest there, fingers gliding against the rest of his length.

[sunyshcr3d]

If he was red before, Volkner is positively burning now, the gesture alone of Roark so suddenly pulling him close like that ensuring his tail's fur is not smoothing out any time soon, a moment of not knowing what to do with himself and his frantic heartbeat before he finally settles for resting his hands on top of his love's head and gently stroking his hair, hoping likely in vain that it would do something to help him in his current state.

And then Roark speaks up and Volkner can feel his heart skip a beat.

( nasty things— )

... He's definitely not getting out of this room to go look for some help or ask around on this. He won't live with himself if he does.

"I... my best guess is that without her here whatever is left in your system has to focus on something..." Volkner is trying to think, he really is. It's just a little hard with his dear husband still nuzzling into his stomach in what he can only compare to a very lovesick, desperate puppy. "It... should fade, I think...? You took a lot of hits there, so I don't think that helps, but..." theories don't help much right now, do they?

... He just feels terrible leaving him wanting like this, pheromones or not.

Volkner debates on it for a moment, then finally pulls away, just enough to be able to lean in and kiss him right on the lips, hands on his love's cheeks, letting it linger before he continues. If there's one thing he does know, at least, is that from what he saw in the battle feeding into... whatever this was, would eventually snap him out of it, so maybe it would work now that he still has some of that stuff in him, right...? ( at least he hopes so— there was a lot going on in that arena to remember all the details clearly! )

"... I guess right now that's the only thing I can think of to help get it out of your system... and hopefully that should do it." Anything to help his love, right? And hopefully no one will come knocking on the locked door any time soon—

[undrgrnded]

He tries his best to listen—really, really tries to make sense of Volkner's speculation—but he's sighing into just even the most simplest of affection. For some reason, even the simple motions of drawing clawed digits through his hair and along his scalp feot more intense—a motion that was effective at relaxing him left him with resounding shivers as if Volkner stroked something much more sensitive instead. It feels too good to be getting approval—maybe he's right. The idol wasn't there for him to be seduced by, but maybe the love of his life was simply substituted right in, between the aether used in battle and their tendencies to be somewhat stupid after an exhilarating fight...?

The warrior's hazy, slow thoughts are quickly cut off, a pathetic whine leaves him as his husband pulls away just for a moment. At least it's short lived, and Roark eagerly returns the kiss, feeling weak and sedated by the contact alone, the rush of endorphins making him feel dizzy ( they did this all the time, and yet it feels so much more intense than their first kiss... ) When Volkner pulls away, Roark's expression looks more desperate than before, heavy color tinting his cheeks. That... may have made it worse, huh. Maybe he couldn't dispel the pheromones leftover since he wasn't the one who laced them to begin with, but their bond could certainly make his feelings much, much worse.

There is a vague understanding of the situation given Volkner's attempt didn't work as he had hoped it to. "I think... I'm gonna be stuck like this until my body breaks it down," he manages, but his gaze isn't particularly fixated on speaking to him—it's much lower, now, approval seeking and some level of servitude clouding most of his thoughts in the meantime. He just needs him so badly it hurts, and perhaps he needs the affirmations he knows well when he's doing something that pleases the feline.

When he reaches out, he pulls him closer again by the hips, only to curl his fingers into the hem of his pants, gently tugging for permission. His nuzzling returns again, just this time precariously close to familiar heat—whatever is driving his impulsive thoughts clearly wants to please in whatever way he can. Even the thought of being interrupted doesn't bother him in the least—who cares if anyone waltzed in? It wasn't a secret to the Arcadion that they were married, after all. People should know better, anyway. Besides, they would be lucky to see the warriors of light giving head, now wouldn't they! Roark looks up, fingers fiddling with his belt, impatient to give him attention he deserves. "Please... can I...?" Well. Volkner can't tell him no, right? He might cry.

[undrgrnded]

@sunyshcr3d said: It isn't rare for sleep to evade him entirely, just another unfortunate result forced upon him by the augmentation, awake like a machine, faint ringing in his ears, alert and waiting to activate combat mode. Maybe in a different situation, Volkner would've simply given in and started looking at available sorties, but right now? Right now, he's sort of trapped, stuck sharing the bed with Roark for the night, leaving him with little options beyond staring at the ceiling and waiting. A very unfortunate situation.

He sighs, stares some more, then looks over to the man at his side instead, vaguely wondering once again how he's managed to find himself in this situation. Someone dragging him this close, enough to share the bed and then some? It might've sounded just absurd enough to spark the coral in his augmentation to life just a couple years ago.

Volkner can't really help himself, a huff and quietly turning over to stare at Roark instead of finding sleep himself, looking more content in his sleep than Volkner himself ever found himself to be and… ah. Hold on. His heat is awake, unlike him. What is he dreaming about, now?

( maybe he should be leaving it alone, but... he's here, and he can help, so he should be helping, right? )

Without thinking much, Volkner just... reaches over with his hand, a moment to think about how to do this before figuring that it would be just a little annoying to try anything through layers of fabric, and finally decides to stick his hand right under pants and underwear, Roark's heat now in his hand, fingertips tentatively stroking. He does deserve some help after all he's done for him—

The mental fatigue that comes with piloting is probably more demanding than the physical fatigue—not that unaugmented pilots don't exist, of course, but the gap between capability is more often than not nigh impossible to cross. Very few can keep up with the constant stream of information that an AC can provide, complex systems practically creating such a precise environment that it feels like a different reality entirely. It's perfect for Roark, but it does come at the cost of truly passing out after a string of sorties to recover from exercising his brain so much. Augmentation would help much, much more, in this regard, but... he's used to it. He wouldn't know what to do with the extra energy, anyway.

Needless to say, he's unaware of Volkner's habitual insomnia taking place, unaware of what his body is doing—there's nothing particularly exciting going on in the vast darkness of his mind's eye, at least, not that he's visually experiencing. For now.

The touch around his heat doesn't wake him, nor surprise him—there's just a tentative breath, a reflexive indication something has acknowledged he's experiencing some level of pleasure. While it could have settled on it's own, heat eagerly responds, a simple thing, firming fully under Volkner's touch ( maybe his body has already recognized him after this long—not that anyone could really match the abormalities and naivete volkner had to begin with ). The longer the encounter, though, the more his unconscious attention shifts to craft something to match his body's present experience—someone, something, has certainly got a hold of him, trying to wear him down, maybe. Wet dreams are few and far between with him, between the exhaustion and the occasional tango with a stranger—with Volkner around so consistently though, he really hasn't considered the idea ever since that coral explosion incident. Whatever happened thereafter was with him specifically... maybe he's just being impulsive as usual, no?

Clearly, whatever Volkner is actually doing to him in the land of the living is working.

[sunyshcr3d]

Of course it's exactly what he wanted, the absolute bastard his love is. Volkner huffs and grumbles to himself, muttered words under his breath while his hands keeps him busy. 'Just ignore him there'? Like it really is that easy? How is he supposed to just pretend the stupid, stupid man he unfortunately loves isn't sitting right there staring at him and taking in every movement—

Ah, his breath hitches for a moment. His heat is feeling just a little more stiff now, isn't it? This is all Roark's fault.

Well. Something tells him that as much as Roark loves him to the moon and back, after such a request he would still be just enough of a little shit to not help him if he suddenly backed out. Or at least not immediately. They both thrive too damn well on these kind of games spicing up their life. Might as well get himself to commit and finish, even when it feels more awkward and he's struggling to focus. ( it's not an excuse to pleasure himself, no, not at all— )

Whatever scenario is in his head right now, though... letting his mind wander does make it easier to keep up the pace without focusing too much on the vouyerism, fingers tracing heat at a steady enough pace to make the tint on his cheeks seem permanent by now. And a wandering mind inevitably finds all sorts of fantasies to latch onto in a moment like this, especially one that tends to be as hyperactive as Volkner's.

( they haven't really gotten wilder in a while, have they? a shame, with all the stupid, head empty purchases they have made. and after this there is no way in hell he won't make roark work his ass off to wrangle him into giving him pleasure in return, when volkner is already in this kind of position! he keeps being as much of a little shit as he can be, even with his hands restrained and secured behind his back, his lips are sealed and smirking, roark will have to find another way to get him to open up, maybe some new surprise, he can handle the incessant buzzing after all, it's nothing by now— )

Ah, a sudden, sharp inhale, stumbling over his own pace again. Maybe his mind did start wandering a little too far, if the sliver of precum is anything to go by. He's getting really carried away in his own head over things he's not even sure Roark would want to do— the fantasy part of this is working a little too well, isn't it?

Volkner doesn't even notice when he starts picking up the pace, and he certainly isn't thinking about his excited spectator anymore, the hand that started this with careful strokes now getting almost desperate as it traces the length of heat, breath turned into panting, hitching, little whines escaping when he's thinking even less. He doesn't know how long it's been, and he most definitely doesn't care, the build up at the bottom of his stomach really starting to push him over the edge, just a little louder, just a little more desperate until—

The gasp is just as loud as the noise that follows, sheets now just as messy as Volkner himself is, a quiet whimper as he lets go of relieved heat and tries to catch his breath. He's not really sure it compares to his love handling all of him in all the right ways, some part of him just a tiny bit disappointed that Roark didn't stop him to jump in, but well. He did what he was asked to, right? ... Right, he did what he was asked to. Which means Roark caught all of that. Right. ( don't mind him turning even redder, he's fine, he's so fine— )

"Y-you— happy now—?" Turns out, it's hard to look all pouty and upset coming down from such a high. ( ... he does hope roark is happy, though. he didn't tell him to not finish, so... )

[undrgrnded]

He watches eagerly, the way Volkner inevitably getting sucked into his head becoming visible with the way he relaxes, focusing on touching himself to whatever that imagination of his could come up with. Really, whatever it is, it's bound to be more risqué than what Roark proposed now, especially with the small collection of toys they've gathered out of curiosity and competition. Most of them are Volkner's ideas anyway, aren't they? He deserves a little appreciation for his efforts, and whatever deep dark thought is trying to turn the stronger of the two into a beast in bed. It's funny how that shifted from innocent, nerve-wracking romance to consensual handcuffs and some forceful folding, eh?

Not that the lovemaking side of their bedroom antics ever stopped, of course. As much as Volkner has grown more comfortable and confident within himself, surrounded by an environment that didn't actively hurt him and options besides withdrawing into himself, he wasn't free from his lows. They were less frequent—much less so after Hisui—but Roark learned they weren't his fault, nor Volkner's. He just needed a reminder to break out of the loop of bad thoughts his mind was stuck repeating.

Still, he may love those moments of work more as they reminded him of their first few times—much like now, even, with Volkner flushed and gaze hazy, distracted with his thoughts. The body doesn't lie, however, and Roark happily eats up the little noises his love makes, each twitch of his heat in his hand, fine-tuned shifts in expression and position. Now he really wants to know if he's done this before—a little bit out of the satisfaction and mostly to sate his curiosity. Eagerly, he watches, his own heat reacting to the way Volkner slowly ramps up his pace and his reactions, knowing full well he's jerking off to the thought of him ( he's never going to come off the high of this, probably ), every moment savored until Volkner finally pushes himself over the edge, such a cute gasp coming out that he hasn't heard in quite awhile, especially when they keep going at it like they weren't going to survive otherwise.

Roark can't help but laugh a little—he's so cute when he's breathless like that, blushing deeply, and it makes him want to take over from there and make it worse. Instead, he holds himself back, wanting something else after making Volkner expose himself like that for his own selfish desire. He stands up, though, gesturing at the stiff bulge in his pants, casual athletic wear leaving little room for imagination. "I think that's an understatement, ehe... You have to take responsibility, I think," he hums, soon crawling into bed so he can hover over Volkner, soon leaning down to kiss him, greedily even, to sate the need to touch for just a moment. "You're way too adorable getting lost in your head like that.. Actually, walk me through it—what were you fantasizing about?" A daring hand comes to hug a warmed shaft, softened from just ejaculating a moment ago. Roark has that devious little look, unmistakable. "If you share, we can live out that fantasy right now—you got me all excited after all."

[undrgrnded]

@sunyshcr3d said: "Do you want to record a video?" Volkner just keeps saying things just like that, huh? The limited time he can share with his love in between performances may or may not be making him bolder like that, just a little too eager to give him souvenirs to survive the wait. Sure, there isn't that much time left in his contract, but still. The time grows shorter and the tours turn longer while it lasts, maybe the higher ups are getting a little nervous in their once hoped renewal.

"Consider it VIP pass treatment~" Roark has certainly bought enough of those to qualify— / more idol, waiter.

The question doesn't register for a few seconds, the option not even fathomed as somewhere in this reality. Granted, even with the risqué images taken, sent, and saved ( and boy, does he often look at them, be it in a feverish state or a yearning one, or both ), it felt excitingly dangerous. Perhaps Roark was being influenced, but he was most certain the danger was primarily in Volkner's situation, especially when he was given little privacy between travel on tours to sleep and take care of himself. With the time slowly counting down to freedom, he can't really blame him for being so daring, going as far as gifting him his voice when they were both awake at wee hours, missing one another. Still, Roark was surprised at his own willingness, and easily his own confidence in being so lewd—wanting to, even, and wanting to make Volkner down bad enough he couldn't function the next time he saw him.

Well, realistically, it went both ways, for Volkner never shied away from tempting him constantly, and knowing how deep the love ran, knew well how much Roark had him on his mind, one way or another, in his arms or in cuffs, or whatever head-empty plan they had thought about most recently.

Knowing how Volkner was under that showman personality that was crafted for the record label and the audience, Roark still had a hard time believing this was something he could bring out of him naturally, from simply caring and loving him unconditionally as a person before a performer.

And yet, Roark sits there with a deep flush, the nice hotel room high up on a skyrise—these tours were getting longer with the destinations reaching out for the largest crowds they could cram into the biggest cities. He was starting to sightsee in places he rarely went to in Japan, which was somewhat concerning while they had to be increasingly careful in public in urban areas like these... but hey, Tokyo was pretty nice. The view from here was surely something, curtains wide open to view the city skyline and the nightlife below. He could press him against the glass and not a soul would know, but the rush of 'what if?' was still there.

...his imagination was not helping him stay normal, and he can't help but cross his legs in an effort to keep some semblance of sanity.

"A whole video...? Isn't that risky, though?" he can't help but fumble out, contradicting his own thoughts. Of course it is, that's why they didn't bother to proclaim their love after Volkner had officially gone independent, and found themselves rutting like dogs the second they had more than a couple of hours together in person. The notion of watching back the delirium they put themselves through from another perspective felt like voyeurism at it's finest, even if it was a contained audience of two. "...Although, I am... pretty curious to see what we look like together.. Is there something to prop up a phone somewhere?" he continues on sheepishly, wondering just what Volkner was picturing, here. There were several ways they could go about this, but he knew how handsy they couldn't help being when seeing one another was so hard when Volkner was too many prefectures away. Holding a phone wasn't ideal, especially when Volkner's hands were tied above him or behind him upon his request.

He can't help but shift his legs some, that reactive imagination of his sabotaging his expression and lighting up his cheeks to match his eyes. "...I've never recorded anything like that but I've seen people do a few ways... what do you want to see?" There's no way he wants to just be looking at himself getting railed the whole time, right? Maybe a profile view? The offer itself is still hanging, and Roark can't help but laugh a little—damn, Volkner really short-circuited his brain with this one, didn't he?

"...I could use the momento after all the VIP you got a whole two thousand yen out of in royalties, ehe.. but you deserve a copy, too."

[sunyshcr3d]

@undrgrnded asked : "Hey, love, I got an idea." Well, that's never a good sign, and with Roark slinking off the side of the bed, perching his chin on folded arms, there is certainly nothing normal about to come out of his mouth. The color in his cheeks is not helping. "What if you... jerked off? And I get to watch?" he asks, just a little coy, a little embarrassed to even say it aloud—but seriously, he's never seen the guy touch himself. He's curious. What does he do? Does he get lost in whatever he's fantasizing? He wants to know what he'd do if he isn't there to help!

"Mh?" Honestly, Volkner should've known better than to believe anything remotely good would come out of Roark's mouth the moment he announces having an idea. Has he not loved this absolute jester of a man for long enough to know better than to wait and let him speak? Maybe even more so, after seeing him almost brace himself for it, settling down, staring with those stupid eyes of his pretending to be innocent, already turning red at whatever evil idea he's cooked up. And then Roark finally does speak up— "... W-what—?!"

He really should've known better.

The reaction is instinctive, Volkner already feeling his face on fire up to the tip of his ears, reaching for the closest pillow to clock Roark over the head with for daring to come up with this. ( not hard, of course, he would never want to hurt him. not that the sheer amount of emotions he's feeling right now help throw it any harder. )

"What the hell is going on through your head—?!" no, seriously, how does he just come up with this kinda stuff! And then brings it up too!! Volkner is just... completely at a loss for words after that, quiet, staring back at Roark, seemingly not even thinking for a moment about entertaining his incredibly stupid idea. Really, of all the things... if he wanted to start something he should just be touching him instead—

... but the thought has, unfortunately, been planted right into Volkner's mind now, hasn't it? All Roark needed to ever do was say something and just. Wait. Inevitably, Volkner's own equally stupid head provides the rest, thoughts becoming a little too easy to picture—

"... Fine..." Well. Clearly the words alone made him think about something, if the sudden bulge hiding under his pants is anything to go by. They have done all sorts of things in the privacy of their rooms already, a few strokes in front of his love are tame by comparison, right? Not like he hasn't done that in the past already, when he didn't have the luxury of just bothering and tormenting the love of his life whenever he just felt like it, this isn't any different, is it? ( as if roark's expectant stare isn't doing things to him— )

Finally, Volkner lets out a heavy sigh, still in some amount of disbelief at his idiot of a man just... coming out and asking this sort of stuff. And then he's tugging on pants and underwear, enough to expose heat already excited, and Volkner feels himself burning up maybe more than he already was. His love's touch always makes him melt without fail, trying to imitate it could never compare to Roark's hands and his voice in his ear, he would know— just trying to go back to riling himself up like that shouldn't be that good anymore, right? Not when he's here, and yet...

( nope, roark really did mean it when he said he wanted to watch, did he? still settled at the edge of the bed like that, waiting— he's just going to kill him at this rate! )

A little whine escapes him when he finally wills his own hands to move and reach for his heat, some thought at the back of his mind almost surprised at the fact that he hasn't actually combusted and half died at the scene now taking place. For a while, Volkner's gaze is very clearly avoiding Roark's, looking down at his hands busy slowly stroking his own heat, the vague picture of his love in his mind's eye already helpful on its own to build up a pace, slow yet steady. Another heavy exhale, and without thinking, Volkner looks up at his audience, stumbling for a moment finding him watching every bit as curious as he voiced already. Oh, he doesn't know how he's making it out of this one alive, really—

"I-is this what you wanted...?"

( he's absolutely going to need some help after this— )

[undrgrnded]

"Hey—!" A laugh can't be helped, even when Volkner pelts him with a pillow. Roark sheepishly comes back up to stare expectantly, a rather comfortable voyeur sitting on his knees as if attending a ceremony. Not quite far from the truth, but, he can't help but scratch at the back of his neck. Where does he come up with these ideas? He's not sure, admittedly, they're just intrusive thoughts that come up once in awhile when he gets the opportunity to gaze and admire his love, really. Maybe that just comes with the package of being in the kind of relationship they had, with unequivocal trust. Thus far, nothing has really overstepped their boundaries, assuming they even had any. "I guess I just want to see what you'd do if I wasn't around and all you had was your imagination, ehe... Y'know, like before you moved in, even. I've kinda wondered." Maybe an understatement, knowing how Volkner is now, surprisingly expressive when Roark is involved. Surely, he couldn't help himself by his lonesome, no?

..oh? He's actually willing? Roark visibly perks up at Volkner's resigned sigh, eyes drawn to the bulge that's decided to wake up—well, he is watching after all, so surely that will motivate his love in ways that he can't entirely control. Of course, Roark has to keep himself still, fighting down the urge to act on his own accord and help as he usually would—but it is, admittedly, both insanely hot and adorable to watch Volkner handle himself like this, furiously blushing as his heat stands proudly despite his love's efforts to dissuade himself. The instinctual hunger must be obvious coming from Roark, having easily found the kinds of touch that have Volkner melt in his hands, but he has to resist, dealing with the erection that was far too happy to make itself known out of sight.

He really is cute like this, he can't help but think, watching from the edge and having a nice view of his love's heat, his expressions only barely able to hide behind his own need. He just has to ignore that his love is right there, paying attention, and everything will be fine!

( but that embarrassed gaze deliberately trying not to look at him is so sweet... roark didn't account for wanting to leap at him over just seeing him touch himself like this... )

Almost enchanted, Roark nearly misses Volkner finally staring at him instead, fumbling at the realization that he was being completely serious about watching. Roark can't help a sheepish smile, flushed with Volkner staring at him like that. "Yup, just ignore that I'm here and focus on whatever scenario you got going on in there. Don't tell me right now, of course—" How much can he make himself whine and squirm? Roark had always had such a question in his mind, whether or not Volkner had always been fully capable of being so vulnerable, or if he had surprised the both of them being so smitten after even so much as a caress from Roark. How many times would he have given in? Well. Maybe that assumed Volkner had fantasized about Roark before they realized their feelings for one another—that was another question for another day. "I'm surprised you're indulging me, though, I can't lie... I also can't lie about how good the view is from here. Take all the time you want, love, I'm as happy as I can be." And hard. But he doesn't need distractions.

[koinwnika-ade3ia]

soft kisses on his tummy and thighs before I take him whole in my mouth

[daniesworldds-deactivated202604]

Maturbation tip: Let me see.

[please-let-me-be-horny-for-real]

Snuggle fucking is my favourite because like mmmm warm and cozy and lots of smooches and cuddles and oops now my dick is inside you but it's ok because mmmm snuggles 🥰🥰🥰

[bratcasket]

thinking about dry humping in these terrible times

[8nin]

y’all ever sent a risky text and you so scared you start doing chores