(closed) January catch-all

[futhark]

Who: Cú and Soren, Cú and Elidibus
When: second half of the month when the kidnappings starts
Where: Aefenglom (Inkchanted, around docks)
What: dealing with kidnappings redux
Warnings: everyone involved had some Really Bad time a year ago, so going mentally into dark places, memories of torture might happen

starters shall be in comments

Comments

[futhark]

Some call it flattering oneself, he calls it pride and confidence. But he's glad to hear that nonetheless, jealousy is such a tiring, pointless feeling. Good to joke about, but bringing problems and complications should it arise.

"That's right, you get to enjoy my warmth all for yourself." Cú prefers teasing and keeping things light, especially with threats looming behind the door. Threats he'd very much want to challenge but has gained enough wisdom to know when it is not the time to attempt such folly. "And your wish is my command, I shall make it as pleasant as possible."

It doesn't require much effort to channel the magic through the evocation spells, enchanted into the tattoos. Activating only of them to raise the body heat only a little. So that's what he does. Rising the coziness level.

[silentsavant]

Soren sighs as he relaxes into the heat and against Cú. He never loses sight of the need to remain alert in the eye of an unknown storm should it come battering their doors down. If that woman were smart, she should expect that her targets have assumed a defensive stance, no longer in a position to be ambushed. With each blink, traces of the dim light and color slips into the void that his vision had become. The potion is doing its job. When his sight has improved sufficiently, he makes a note to inform Ranulf why he hasn't come home and that he's doing just fine now, though he sends that sentiment across their connection. He's fine. Safe. In the clear.

"Not the worst way to spend the night," he remarks, adjusting the blanket around himself for fuller coverage while he surreptitiously snuggles up closer to his heat source, linking their arms loosely in the process while his head falls to his shoulder. His tail also scoots along the cushions to press against his calf, the spikes at the end folded close to his tapered tip to render them harmless. With his free hand, he starts working at his boots, eager to peel them off for Maximum Coze.

[futhark]

Oh, that's a smart move. Getting rid of the boots makes it possible to bring the legs up to the couch, lie on it even.

"Shame we don't have more pillows. You can always use my lap as one though" Because that's the perfect time to offer that, right? But Cú knows he's too tense, too high-strung even though creating this loop of calm and level-headedness across the Bond to tap for each other is helping— he won't be able to fall asleep anytime soon. It's a vigil hour, like one lifetime ago, somewhere else— at least it's warmer, more comfortable, and the company is better.

His hand finds its way into Soren's hair, testing. An answer to the tail around his calf. Something in his chest coils, almost stealing his breath, and then sinks.

[silentsavant]

Soren's breath halts as well, the same feeling threading with Cú's. This is excitement, a thrill that couples almost seamlessly with the pervading danger outside of their fortress, that spikes his pulse. It taps perfectly into his draconic hormones. They won't be sleeping anytime soon — there's no way they can submit to the level of relaxation necessary to slip into unconsciousness. This potent combination, this subdued anxiety mixing with the suspense of limbs encroaching and the electric sensation of his hair parting by another's fingers, all while trying to find calm and comfort in each other's presence. Someone new, but not so new that he's pushed on edge. They're Bonded. He's already accepted him, become an extension of him. Beneath the sheets in the dark, Soren seeks the bright eyes of his partner and finally finds them, locks his gaze, curls his tail about his ankle in silent reply to Cú's body language and shifts his weight further atop his lap, tilts his head into the touch.

"...Maybe not as a pillow," he murmurs with a sweep of his tongue over his lips, his eyes over the Child of Light who breaks through the retreating darkness of his healing blindness. He settles his hand on the shoulder opposite his. "My sight is swiftly returning, and I'm quite glad for it."

The contours of his collarbone, the stray wisps of blue hair falling over them, the wild comeliness of his features mingling suitably with the smoky and piquant woodsy scent of him. There can be no denying the appeal he has, how he must cause so many women (and men) to swoon... including a queen who obsessed over him to the point of his death. Sure, he could have observed his charms objectively. Soren had never been one to fall for the charms of anyone but Ike for the longest time, but wrapped up in this moment here with Cú, the swelter of heat that pulses low hits him rather personally. He cannot shake the notion that grips him now, to lay claim to the catch that is already "his", give his other dragon another one to detect a little more strongly on him.