[ it has been a while since anyone has gotten a footjob. they've forgotten their roots.
thorns is actually surprised at this though, considering he wasn't paying attention to any of the marks that elysium had left. sometimes you are so used to things being rough that it does not hit you that things were rougher than usual. ]
[ his hands slide over the marks with delicate care, pausing to press the faintest amount pressure onto a crescent that's already scabbed. he watches it with a trace of morbid fascination. ]
[ his hand wraps around elysium's, and he forcefully makes him press the spot even harder, causing some of the scab to peel away to reveal the skin underneath. ]
[ that's really his only real reservation. even so, he lets thorns do as he pleases, watching with a kind of quiet focus as the skin breaks, almost instinctively leaning in.
for a second, it almost looks as if he's going to kiss the wound, or lick it—something. instead, he swipes at the blood and brings it to his lips, tasting it thoughtfully. ]
[ the way that the only thing stopping you from developing a new kink is your horrible disease
thorns watches this, before he wraps his arms around elysium and pulls him closer against him. hi. he is ignoring the blood that is going to get smeared a bit. ]
What are you thinking?
[ what deranged thought is going through his head... ]
It looks a lot sexier than how it actually feels in practice… [ a snort. ] Would I be hotter to you if I were a vampire?
[ he gives his honest assessment, lips quirking at the corners with equal parts disappointment and amusement. obsession doesn't equal appetite, and he hasn't suddenly developed a craving for thorns' blood. still, there's the tiniest bit of regret that reality never quite lives up to the thrill of imagination…
at least this thought experiment is somewhat more normal than if they were slugs. okay.
but he exhales softly, giving in to habit as he folds himself into thorns' arms, sliding down until the tilt of his head lets him drink in the sight of thorn' face. ]
But it's mine all the same. Just like everything else of yours already is.
[ this is funny because the vampires he does know thorns does not find hot. however if it is elysium then it would be extremely attractive forever, but that's more because of the elysium bias than anything to do with vampirism.
he kisses him, something light and sweet in spite of their actions. ]
[ wonders how closure and warfarin feel while midnight is out here sexualising himself. anyway. don't just find a slug sexy even if that slug is him??
too bad elysium only finds this romantic. he does, however, snort a laugh. ]
That's a given. [ he hooks his arms loosely around thorns' neck, bracing his weight against his shoulders. ] But you were supposed to say you like this version of me best? I wouldn't be able to give you feathers otherwise.
[ also. this is a lie. thorns did not like him very much when he was seaborn. hmmm ]
but it is true, nowadays they usually just go along with whatever the other says... they really only put their foot down on certain things (hair dye, butt plug incident...) ]
[ the way these two incidents are on the same level
he tugs his cheek… thorns continues to be the most adorable in the world. if anything, these little moments prove that thorns is still himself, no matter how many changes he might go through. ]
without thinking too much about it, he slips his hand into thorns', guiding it down and threading their fingers together. he considers this… ]
Not really. Felt like my choice was either white or black from the get-go. Wouldn't I look way too striking in red? The other colours are what pulls everything together. [ he'd be the talk of every town, clearly… ] That, and the other options were cheaper and easier.
[ and for pushing thorns away earlier, he leans right back into his space like he never had. ]
Why? Wanna see me try? I'll give it a shot just to see you fall in love with me again.
no subject
What? No. [ … ] Aren't you roasting under there?
[ thorns isn't even wearing a jacket, so elysium just starts tugging at his shirt instead. there's a point to this, trust. ]
… Should I get ointment?
[ there are so many claw marks and bruises scattered across his skin. okay. ]
no subject
thorns is actually surprised at this though, considering he wasn't paying attention to any of the marks that elysium had left. sometimes you are so used to things being rough that it does not hit you that things were rougher than usual. ]
It's not that bad.
no subject
It shows you belong to someone.
[ his hands slide over the marks with delicate care, pausing to press the faintest amount pressure onto a crescent that's already scabbed. he watches it with a trace of morbid fascination. ]
Should I replace all the ones that came before?
[ hm. no ]
no subject
[ his hand wraps around elysium's, and he forcefully makes him press the spot even harder, causing some of the scab to peel away to reveal the skin underneath. ]
You can do it as many times as you like.
no subject
[ that's really his only real reservation. even so, he lets thorns do as he pleases, watching with a kind of quiet focus as the skin breaks, almost instinctively leaning in.
for a second, it almost looks as if he's going to kiss the wound, or lick it—something. instead, he swipes at the blood and brings it to his lips, tasting it thoughtfully. ]
Hm.
[ when oripathy cockblocks your bloodplay ]
no subject
thorns watches this, before he wraps his arms around elysium and pulls him closer against him. hi. he is ignoring the blood that is going to get smeared a bit. ]
What are you thinking?
[ what deranged thought is going through his head... ]
no subject
[ he gives his honest assessment, lips quirking at the corners with equal parts disappointment and amusement. obsession doesn't equal appetite, and he hasn't suddenly developed a craving for thorns' blood. still, there's the tiniest bit of regret that reality never quite lives up to the thrill of imagination…
at least this thought experiment is somewhat more normal than if they were slugs. okay.
but he exhales softly, giving in to habit as he folds himself into thorns' arms, sliding down until the tilt of his head lets him drink in the sight of thorn' face. ]
But it's mine all the same. Just like everything else of yours already is.
no subject
he kisses him, something light and sweet in spite of their actions. ]
There is no version of you that wouldn't be hot.
[ even slug elysium.... cries ]
no subject
too bad elysium only finds this romantic. he does, however, snort a laugh. ]
That's a given. [ he hooks his arms loosely around thorns' neck, bracing his weight against his shoulders. ] But you were supposed to say you like this version of me best? I wouldn't be able to give you feathers otherwise.
[ also. this is a lie. thorns did not like him very much when he was seaborn. hmmm ]
no subject
he frowns, and then leans in to kiss a feather. ]
You have to. I love your feathers.
no subject
he wedges a hand between thorns' mouth and his feathers, pushing him back just enough to make a point. ]
Uh huh. How do I know you aren't just trying to cover for yourself? I'll remember this.
no subject
bites his hand in protest. ]
no subject
okay. there is only one appropriate response here and it's to shove his hand further. ]
no subject
he grabs onto the hand with his hand and tries to pry it away from his face. ]
Let me get close.
no subject
Why should I?
no subject
[ this is not an actual reason or anything.
they are pvping while elysium has a sore h*le.... ]
no subject
he retracts his hand only to replace it with a single finger to thorns' mouth. ]
You're cute when you're annoyed with me. [ hehe. ] I haven't seen this in a while.
no subject
[ he says, annoyed.
but it is true, nowadays they usually just go along with whatever the other says... they really only put their foot down on certain things (hair dye, butt plug incident...) ]
no subject
he tugs his cheek… thorns continues to be the most adorable in the world. if anything, these little moments prove that thorns is still himself, no matter how many changes he might go through. ]
What are you, then? Huh?
no subject
I'm being very gracious.
[ okay.
... ]
Have you considered dyeing your hair red...?
no subject
without thinking too much about it, he slips his hand into thorns', guiding it down and threading their fingers together. he considers this… ]
Not really. Felt like my choice was either white or black from the get-go. Wouldn't I look way too striking in red? The other colours are what pulls everything together. [ he'd be the talk of every town, clearly… ] That, and the other options were cheaper and easier.
[ and for pushing thorns away earlier, he leans right back into his space like he never had. ]
Why? Wanna see me try? I'll give it a shot just to see you fall in love with me again.
[ nudges thorns with his elbow. annoying. ]
no subject
[ you could make him look like childe...
thorns gives him a light smooch, and then another. his annoyance level is already going down quickly because of how cute he is... ]
At least we didn't have to shave it.
no subject
they could've kept being cute, but no. with his hand trapped in thorns', he just glowers. ]
We'd have to change our cover story to aspiring monks. You wouldn't last a day.
[ they* would not survive a day ]
no subject
[ there is no basis for this but thorns refuses to lose in his imaginary scenario where they have to pretend to be celibate monks.
he stares into his eyes... ]
I have self-restraint.
no subject
Oh, so you wouldn't love me however I looked.
[ looks at their relationship
love is not having restraint, apparently ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...