( hmm. suspicious. he can only assume esi means to use it on something dire, behind closed doors, something well outside the scope of a cutesy exchange. on the other paw, he's still not being thrown off or lectured for being handsy... )
... Fine.
( mild disappointment leaks through, his usual barriers already weakening under the influence of alcohol. let's be lightweights together. the second drink arrives, and, after a moment's consideration, downs it just as quickly as the first.
it does not help his pawsy status. without a drink to hold onto, his free hand settles for gripping esi's thigh instead, as his tail sways. given another ten minutes or so as the second drink truly takes hold and... let's just say horses. )
( So grabby... It's incredibly distracting. The drinks here are, of course, prone to causing arousal or heightened sensitivity, and so Esikko is hyper aware of every touch, grab and lean.
His face, a little flushed from his own drink, ducks down slightly as Kirma downs that second one. )
You're going to get trashed like that. You're even worse than me, aren't you? Drink some water.
( Kirma is not "worse" than him... they even out, height vs muscle, probably. )
( all the drinks in all the worlds are at their disposal, and esi thinks he should drink water? hardly. instead, his hand lifts to tap on the menu, drawing esi's attention back towards it. )
Pick out something else for me.
( demanding, pushy dog. four months ago, he wouldn't have dreamed of making a request of him at all; funny, how much one little incident can change a man's outlook forever. he hasn't said no to esi since, of course— but the option is always there, now. the vindictive part of him might be buried deep now, but it still hopes esi recognizes that fact, too. )
( He's pushing it. But after a brief pause, Esikko decides he's feeling too relaxed to focus on it for long. He'd rather not invite any touchiness, and so... )
You've gotten bossy.
( He leaves it at that comment, eyes skimming down the list again. He's finished one drink, is now well into another, and he points out the classic Sazerac, ordering it for him. )
For the record, I won't be helping you if you grow ill from this.
( not in so many words, anyway. how many years has he spent alone, even after being in esi’s company? enough that it’s hard to envision anything else, no matter how much he’d want it, to be in his care— the earnest kind, without knives or twisted words. an impossible dream, to be sure. too many thoughts in rapid succession has the fingers in esi’s pocket curling, digging in at his hip. a sign of things to come… maybe. )
The point of this place is to enjoy ourselves, right? So—
( a small interruption, at being served, again. a new drink means a new round of sniffs, as if to try and piece together what’s in the glass with his meager knowledge of foreign spirits. hmm… )
— That’s all I’m doing.
( and maybe, being bossy is part of that, a little. surely esi can understand the appeal of acting in such a manner, given that it’s practically his default state of being. )
( he isn't so put off by the terminology as to add any emphasis to his correction, but the drinks do a long way towards blunting the edge to his feelings. the slight pull to his hair makes him turn, head tilting towards esi— towards the touch. )
( ...Hm. Lots of things to think about coming from this conversation alone. Piecing them with previous conversations? Should be a giant red flag.
But he ignores those. )
I'm aware that you share your space with me, but...
( Letting Kirma's hair slip away from his fingers, and therefore bringing his touch back so that he can finish off his second drink, he offers a smile. )
I don't have a key. And so many others seem to make it their home away from home, too, don't they?
Not that I mind what you do with your own space, of course. ( He does. ) But it is difficult to think of it as mine, so won't you humor me and invite me over?
( immediate and defensive. the people, the person esi obliquely refers to has also been a point of silence since—
kirma shifts in his seat again, pulling his hand free from esi's pocket. he doesn't withdraw completely; his chin ends up on esi's shoulder, staring, no, gazing up at him. the sazerac sits on the bar, forgotten, condensation collecting on the surface of the glass. it doesn't have to be difficult. that's all on esi, he thinks. again: if they actually worked together instead of always being at odds, maybe that problem wouldn't have to be so prominent, either. convincing him of that fact, though?
the plan is already in motion, one way or another. )
... Stay over. ( plink. ) The staff finally fixed the bathtub.
( it seems as part of righting all of clubs' efforts, a few other unintentional fixes were caught in the ripples of energy and electricity. while kirma is none too happy about it, the ghosts have also left him alone enough that he's willing to try and see if it stays that way without his little "offerings." )
( Oh... So he won't have to run to Kizuna's after anything happens? Esikko lifts his chin a little, clearly interested, before reaching out to lightly boop Kirma's nose. It's the alcohol hitting him, too, surely. )
Hehe. I suppose I can stay for a night or two.
( That's how he's left feeling right now, anyway. And riding on that, he reaches with the arm not currently being leaned on, picking up Kirma's drink for a sip of his own.
As expected, though, it's far too strong for his taste, and he sticks his tongue out a little in disgust before pushing it at Kirma. )
( he learned a trick for this, you see, back during cocktail roulette. kirma's head lifts so he can chase after esi, one hand cupping his cheek in order to pull him into a kiss. the taste of the cocktail is a strong one and his ears flick back and forth, but he doesn't pull away; his tongue slips in to his mouth, chasing the hints of sweetness leftover from the fruity monstrosity he'd been sipping at, earlier. smorch.
the thing that sticks out the most to him is how quickly things change. not just here, in the peacock— every lifetime feels as though it drags on until the point they finally meet again, wherein they promptly collide in a whirlwind of violence and blood for the second, two, three it takes for them to have to start all over again. in this one, they've hardly known each other, have nearly spent more time together in this gilded cage (lol) than back home, and yet— here he is, shoving his tongue down the crown prince's throat like it's just another tuesday. it's inexplicable.
maybe that's why the only thing they can ever think to do is die at each other's hands.
when their lips finally part, kirma stays close. there's also like, no hiding a sweatpants boner so... sorryyyyyy 🙈 )
Stay for two.
( he won't actually have the choice, but maybe it'll go over easier if he thinks he had some agreement in it. )
( It's not what he's expecting at all, so there's surprise in his eyes as Kirma kisses him. No, it's not just a kiss— he's shoving his tongue in his mouth, in public?
He doesn't dislike it at all, responding after a shocked hesitation, even leaning into the kiss as it finally parts to chase every bit that's left. His face is flushed from more than just alcohol now, and a puff of air escapes his lips as he looks away to hide it, pushing the drink at him more firmly. Drink this!! )
...Two. Sure. So long as you make it good.
( That's his teasing little comment, an agreement even if he's so reluctant to admit it. He wants to be wanted, so of course he wants to create a little push and pull...
Not as much as it's going to create, but. That's for another day. Right now, his eyes are finally sliding back down to that sweatpants boner (hello.), and he laughs a little under his breath, sliding his palm to run over Kirma's thigh. Kinda cute. )
( he laughs a little, too. the drink can get chugged now, he guesses. slowly but surely, he's getting better at drinking whiskey without the burn in his throat making him cough, step one of a long journey to having any sort of tolerance at all. his tail wags, and on the surface, things couldn't look more different from their last time at the cage, only a few weeks ago.
but on the inside— though spades is a feather-light touch, practically invisible but for how the space where it intersects with his brand stays cleared even in its absence, kirma's thoughts are still firmly planted in visions of dark times past. how long before more of them play out on this particular stage, he wonders. maybe it doesn't actually bear thinking about; it'll happen, or it won't. tonight feels like the second option. tomorrow morning? )
You think it's the drinks?
( it's a little the drinks. he likes to imagine it's more the company. spicy mayo is his favorite, isn't it? esi's saving grace here is that he'd need at least three more drinks to try fucking him in public again, without any suit pressure. )
( He could make a joke about being able to carry a part of him, if he cut it off, but. Esi decides to let that slide for now, giving a little laugh of his own as he pushes his barstool back. Standing shows that he's a little wobbly, though it's nowhere near the amount he'd had back the last time they were here...
But it's enough to be relaxed. To be happy. And so, why not? )
If it's not the drinks, is it something I did? ( He's trying to look as cute as possible right now. Of course. )
Come on, then, let's get going. If you fall over, I'll leave you there, okay?
( thanks for not ruining the moment by being a freak!
their journey back to the room is a winding one, punctuated by stumbles and the occasional return to their earlier kiss, against a wall here, in the elevator car there. the lingering effects of esi’s selections have kirma pawing at him in an uncharacterically clingy manner, more for attention and closeness than anything else; the power of knocking back three strong drinks in a row with nothing to temper them shouldn’t be underestimated. that’ll be a lesson well-learned in the morning.
thankfully, it’s still the evening. this time, when kirma fumbles with the door lock, it’s from the looseness of his body and a vision that threatens to swim rather than an unfamiliarity with the watch. another thing he’s begun to get used to, and even take for granted. the suite inside is as much the same as it is changed. the layout seems to have flipped itself, and there are a few, more subtle changes: an alternate upholstery pattern, a different tile in the kitchen. none of their belongings are out of place, and that’s what counts. probably.
kirma doesn’t think to mention it, already dragging esi towards the bed before the door even clicks shut. it’s his turn to be the impatient one, though just for a closeness rather than any specific intimacy; more than ever, he doesn’t care what happens, as long as it starts that happening, like— ten seconds ago. )
( It's kind of fun, to stumble back to a room like this. So why was so Kirma against the flirty phrasing of inviting him back in the first place? Who knows. But now, they're there, the room is spacious and comfortable, unlike his own, and he eagerly follows Kirma, his eyes only briefly acknowledging the changes to the room. That's a thought for later.
For now, he grabs a fistful of Kirma's lazy looking shirt, fingers curling tightly so that he can yank him into a kiss as they walk. It's stumbling, and he's sure he slips into an accidental bite of lip or tongue more than once, and maybe steps on Kirma's foot somewhere, but it's heated, it's nice, it's exactly what he was looking for.
Something mindless. Something to not think about while the floating feeling of alcohol runs through his body. Something... consistent, maybe. Something less risky than the less.
The more he reaffirms it, though, the more some strange, creeping anxieties seem to crop up. And so he focuses on the taste of the alcohol on Kirma's tongue, on shoving him back onto the bed and crawling into his lap immediately after, on craning his neck downwards to meet his eyes and kiss the corner of his mouth again.
it's an injury easily soothed by mouth and tongue, though. a little flinch, and they've already moved on, kirma offering no resistance to esi's shove, all lazy smiles and wags. times like these, he thinks he could get used to the resort's hedonism. a soft whine escapes his lips against esi's. this lap situation is nice and all, but it's not enough. not while there's a pleasant burn in his stomach, and the warmth of esi's body is enough to match it, somehow.
his hands slide around, trying to find esi's waist, batting uselessly at the elegant layers he has on. can you get this fancy shit off, please. it's far more obtrusive than anything kirma is wearing, a fact clearly communicated by the erection pressing against esi's thigh. (time will tell if that thing actually gets the attention it needs, though.) another quiet noise, and his hips roll upward, trying to increase the degree of contact.
— but seriously, the clothes. the clothes! at least take the shirt off; he's desperate for a little skinship, here. )
( The impatience is clumsy and palpable, and Esikko laughs into the kiss for it. He pulls his hands back to himself to assist in undressing, discarding his things to the side one taunting layer at a time, all while leaning in, kissing, shifting more into his lap—
Ah, but pants make this a little difficult. With one more hard kiss to the mouth, he drags his tongue against Kirma's before pulling back, slipping to his feet so he can wiggle out of his clothes the rest of the way.
He's being showy about it. He's trying to make him even more impatient, of course. Is there something you want, Kirma?? Something you're dying for?? He'd love to hear it. )
( and between every layer, kirma is pawing, pulling. his shirt comes off easily somewhere in the middle of that, and he’s pressing their bodies together at every opportunity, reluctant to let esi go, necessary evil though it is. there’s even an audible noise of complaint as he stands, the neediness clear from the points of his ears to the steady rhythm of his tail against the sheets. )
Hurry—
( a demand clipped short by gritted teeth and a hiss that suppresses a far more desperate, needier noise that wells up in the back of his throat. he swallows it for now, opting to instead reach for esi’s bared waist, trying to drag him back preemptively. there’s no real force to the grab, or else esi might not have any choice but to comply; perhaps the communication of intent is what matters most.
there’s a distinct shift once he’s allowed to have his way, though. kirma wraps his arms around esi, presses his face into his chest. this was the realest endgame all along, you see— the compulsion in the drinks combined with an already present desire results in a need for feel rather than any particular action. )
( Esikko expects when Kirma is needy. He expects the pawing, the tugging, the pulling. Each time, he takes his sweet time getting the last of his layers off, living up every bit of the attention that he can. But when he's pulled closer, when Kirma simply rests into him in a hug...
It makes him freeze, for a moment. This was deeply uncomfortable. No, perhaps it was so achingly comfortable that it wrapped back around to being uncomfortable— Esikko feels at a loss for words, and he hesitates before bringing his hand down on Kirma's head in something like a pet. )
Is that all you want from me?
( The words that finally do come out are low, and he presses himself against Kirma, aiming to push him back and follow close. His free hand moves to run along Kirma's side to his thigh. All he knows how to do is turn this into something more expected. )
( would it be so wrong, if he said yes? from esi’s movements, he knows the answer. it does not stop him from trying to hold on for as long as he can, though there’s also little resistance to being pushed down, his arms relaxing as the distance between their bodies increases again. it isn’t that the touch at his thigh isn’t nice, or that he doesn’t feel any arousal. what he’s looking for is something far more intimate, though— regardless of if it’s a real want or an aftereffect of whatever they put in those drinks.
the drinks… are likely the easiest scapegoat, here. )
The only thing I want is you.
( what harm is there, in admitting that much? there isn’t quite a smile on his face, but there’s an adoration in his gaze as he stares up at esi. one hand comes up, tracing the line of one of esi’s marks with a finger that moves on to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. a tender gesture better reserved for a lover in more than the physical sense of the word. )
( It's a scary feeling, that tender gesture. Perhaps it's because it's something he can't write off, something he can't explain away— or maybe it's the echoes of tender gestures that come with it, the overwhelming feeling in overlay, again, and again, on top of itself. It's suffocating, like there's going to be a point where he can't lift his head anymore, can't take in another breath after what he feels.
But right now, he can. Right now, something burning inside of him can hold onto that tenderness, and he has a direction for it. Leaning down, Esikko touches their foreheads together, his hand guiding Kirma's thigh to wrap around behind him all while he watches those mismatched eyes. )
...I can't be the only thing.
( His words are mumbles, eyes focused on Kirma and yet somewhere through him, all the same. He knows there is more that he wants. That there's no way the relationship he's seen growing with a certain blonde man isn't something he can claim to want. He knows that there's so much more than he, a useless prince still learning magic, has to offer.
But of course he wants to have that challenged. Wants to see Kirma meet him completely, to feel the warmth of their bodies crossing and connecting. When he pulls his forehead away from Kirma's, it's to duck down so that he can kiss him, fingers curling sharper into the base of his thigh.
It's not cuddling, no. But it's the only way he's learned how to express himself so far. )
( hmm. even in his current state of mind, hearing that as esi's response is enough to make him pause, his ears twitching even as the rest of him revels in the simple contact of them resting on each other. he cannot begin the guess at esi's thoughts, when that same man is the furthest thing from his mind right now, too singularly focused on the heat of the moment. maybe if he hadn't been drinking, he could've made the connection. maybe. )
You are, ( is all he can say, without that. a statement as earnest as it is simple, spoken from a place that cannot imagine anything that could contradict it. a place that also won't be in this room, come morning, when everything falls apart and unravels between the both of them.
that problem is for future kirma to deal with, though. the current him's primary concern is with the kiss, with opening his mouth to take in the lingering taste of sweetness and alcohol; it's with letting his arms circle esi's neck to pull him in all the better, running an open palm along the breadth of his back. unfortunately the trazie is hitting here And he's being kind of a pillow princess so this is the end of the tag now. goodbye )
( Kirma gets to be the royalty tonight, huh. Well, that's fine. Esikko would be doing whatever he wanted regardless, and the affectionate attention he's receiving right now feels nice over the buzz of the alcohol. He kisses deeper, hand slipping from Kirma's thigh to position between his legs. He swipes a finger playfully along his ass, cupping his balls into his palm before he drags up and over his shaft, curling into a gentle grip.
Here, he giggles a little into the kiss, clearly pleased with himself. It's fun, to tease like this. To do what feels strangely like was always meant to happen, but never could— and as his teeth graze gently across Kirma's bottom lip, he allows himself to forget anything else. )
( there is a part of him that wishes it could be this way forever. some say the magic fades once you get used to a thing, but— how many lives have they spent together? enough that it surely would’ve happened by now, were it possible. yet kirma never tires of any moment with esi, no matter how fraught things are. even when he’s agitated, complaining, sulking, the spaces between each thought are filled with warmth, and maybe that’s the true thing that anchors him there. if they could somehow come together without those things, though?
it’s akin to a pleasant dream, and right now, he gets to live it thoroughly. his legs part further, angling to try and facilitate esi’s movements, whatever they may be. the giggle is enough to pluck a heartstring, sending so much tension along the sinew that it feels ready to snap. really, why couldn’t it last— why couldn’t they thread themselves together, if they’re already irreversibly intertwined— to his addled mind, it all seems so straightforward. so easy. truly, the way it all backfires will shock him.
that doesn’t matter quite yet. right now, in this room, he’s more occupied with the body atop him; with a hand, he traces the shape of the still-healing gouges down his torso, a gentle echo of the violence from that day. there’s something akin to regret in his gaze, his fingertips lingering at the same spot they’d once pushed in so deep. there’s new skin there, knit soft and pink over a lurid moment, and maybe, with any luck, in another month there’ll be nothing there at all. )
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... Fine.
( mild disappointment leaks through, his usual barriers already weakening under the influence of alcohol. let's be lightweights together. the second drink arrives, and, after a moment's consideration, downs it just as quickly as the first.
it does not help his pawsy status. without a drink to hold onto, his free hand settles for gripping esi's thigh instead, as his tail sways. given another ten minutes or so as the second drink truly takes hold and... let's just say horses. )
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His face, a little flushed from his own drink, ducks down slightly as Kirma downs that second one. )
You're going to get trashed like that. You're even worse than me, aren't you? Drink some water.
( Kirma is not "worse" than him... they even out, height vs muscle, probably. )
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( all the drinks in all the worlds are at their disposal, and esi thinks he should drink water? hardly. instead, his hand lifts to tap on the menu, drawing esi's attention back towards it. )
Pick out something else for me.
( demanding, pushy dog. four months ago, he wouldn't have dreamed of making a request of him at all; funny, how much one little incident can change a man's outlook forever. he hasn't said no to esi since, of course— but the option is always there, now. the vindictive part of him might be buried deep now, but it still hopes esi recognizes that fact, too. )
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You've gotten bossy.
( He leaves it at that comment, eyes skimming down the list again. He's finished one drink, is now well into another, and he points out the classic Sazerac, ordering it for him. )
For the record, I won't be helping you if you grow ill from this.
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( not in so many words, anyway. how many years has he spent alone, even after being in esi’s company? enough that it’s hard to envision anything else, no matter how much he’d want it, to be in his care— the earnest kind, without knives or twisted words. an impossible dream, to be sure. too many thoughts in rapid succession has the fingers in esi’s pocket curling, digging in at his hip. a sign of things to come… maybe. )
The point of this place is to enjoy ourselves, right? So—
( a small interruption, at being served, again. a new drink means a new round of sniffs, as if to try and piece together what’s in the glass with his meager knowledge of foreign spirits. hmm… )
— That’s all I’m doing.
( and maybe, being bossy is part of that, a little. surely esi can understand the appeal of acting in such a manner, given that it’s practically his default state of being. )
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While Kirma begins sniffing his new drink, Esikko reaches to take a strand of his dark hair between his fingers, winding it around them in a curl. )
Oh? Are you trying to take me back to your room, tonight?
( he doesn't know )
I suppose I could be convinced.
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It's our room.
( he isn't so put off by the terminology as to add any emphasis to his correction, but the drinks do a long way towards blunting the edge to his feelings. the slight pull to his hair makes him turn, head tilting towards esi— towards the touch. )
You need to be convinced to return home?
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But he ignores those. )
I'm aware that you share your space with me, but...
( Letting Kirma's hair slip away from his fingers, and therefore bringing his touch back so that he can finish off his second drink, he offers a smile. )
I don't have a key. And so many others seem to make it their home away from home, too, don't they?
Not that I mind what you do with your own space, of course. ( He does. ) But it is difficult to think of it as mine, so won't you humor me and invite me over?
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( immediate and defensive. the people, the person esi obliquely refers to has also been a point of silence since—
kirma shifts in his seat again, pulling his hand free from esi's pocket. he doesn't withdraw completely; his chin ends up on esi's shoulder, staring, no, gazing up at him. the sazerac sits on the bar, forgotten, condensation collecting on the surface of the glass. it doesn't have to be difficult. that's all on esi, he thinks. again: if they actually worked together instead of always being at odds, maybe that problem wouldn't have to be so prominent, either. convincing him of that fact, though?
the plan is already in motion, one way or another. )
... Stay over. ( plink. ) The staff finally fixed the bathtub.
( it seems as part of righting all of clubs' efforts, a few other unintentional fixes were caught in the ripples of energy and electricity. while kirma is none too happy about it, the ghosts have also left him alone enough that he's willing to try and see if it stays that way without his little "offerings." )
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Hehe. I suppose I can stay for a night or two.
( That's how he's left feeling right now, anyway. And riding on that, he reaches with the arm not currently being leaned on, picking up Kirma's drink for a sip of his own.
As expected, though, it's far too strong for his taste, and he sticks his tongue out a little in disgust before pushing it at Kirma. )
After you finish this.
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( he learned a trick for this, you see, back during cocktail roulette. kirma's head lifts so he can chase after esi, one hand cupping his cheek in order to pull him into a kiss. the taste of the cocktail is a strong one and his ears flick back and forth, but he doesn't pull away; his tongue slips in to his mouth, chasing the hints of sweetness leftover from the fruity monstrosity he'd been sipping at, earlier. smorch.
the thing that sticks out the most to him is how quickly things change. not just here, in the peacock— every lifetime feels as though it drags on until the point they finally meet again, wherein they promptly collide in a whirlwind of violence and blood for the second, two, three it takes for them to have to start all over again. in this one, they've hardly known each other, have nearly spent more time together in this gilded cage (lol) than back home, and yet— here he is, shoving his tongue down the crown prince's throat like it's just another tuesday. it's inexplicable.
maybe that's why the only thing they can ever think to do is die at each other's hands.
when their lips finally part, kirma stays close. there's also like, no hiding a sweatpants boner so... sorryyyyyy 🙈 )
Stay for two.
( he won't actually have the choice, but maybe it'll go over easier if he thinks he had some agreement in it. )
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He doesn't dislike it at all, responding after a shocked hesitation, even leaning into the kiss as it finally parts to chase every bit that's left. His face is flushed from more than just alcohol now, and a puff of air escapes his lips as he looks away to hide it, pushing the drink at him more firmly. Drink this!! )
...Two. Sure. So long as you make it good.
( That's his teasing little comment, an agreement even if he's so reluctant to admit it. He wants to be wanted, so of course he wants to create a little push and pull...
Not as much as it's going to create, but. That's for another day. Right now, his eyes are finally sliding back down to that sweatpants boner (hello.), and he laughs a little under his breath, sliding his palm to run over Kirma's thigh. Kinda cute. )
Those drinks certainly got to you, didn't they~?
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but on the inside— though spades is a feather-light touch, practically invisible but for how the space where it intersects with his brand stays cleared even in its absence, kirma's thoughts are still firmly planted in visions of dark times past. how long before more of them play out on this particular stage, he wonders. maybe it doesn't actually bear thinking about; it'll happen, or it won't. tonight feels like the second option. tomorrow morning? )
You think it's the drinks?
( it's a little the drinks. he likes to imagine it's more the company. spicy mayo is his favorite, isn't it? esi's saving grace here is that he'd need at least three more drinks to try fucking him in public again, without any suit pressure. )
Maybe you'll have to carry me back. ( lmao )
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( He could make a joke about being able to carry a part of him, if he cut it off, but. Esi decides to let that slide for now, giving a little laugh of his own as he pushes his barstool back. Standing shows that he's a little wobbly, though it's nowhere near the amount he'd had back the last time they were here...
But it's enough to be relaxed. To be happy. And so, why not? )
If it's not the drinks, is it something I did? ( He's trying to look as cute as possible right now. Of course. )
Come on, then, let's get going. If you fall over, I'll leave you there, okay?
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their journey back to the room is a winding one, punctuated by stumbles and the occasional return to their earlier kiss, against a wall here, in the elevator car there. the lingering effects of esi’s selections have kirma pawing at him in an uncharacterically clingy manner, more for attention and closeness than anything else; the power of knocking back three strong drinks in a row with nothing to temper them shouldn’t be underestimated. that’ll be a lesson well-learned in the morning.
thankfully, it’s still the evening. this time, when kirma fumbles with the door lock, it’s from the looseness of his body and a vision that threatens to swim rather than an unfamiliarity with the watch. another thing he’s begun to get used to, and even take for granted. the suite inside is as much the same as it is changed. the layout seems to have flipped itself, and there are a few, more subtle changes: an alternate upholstery pattern, a different tile in the kitchen. none of their belongings are out of place, and that’s what counts. probably.
kirma doesn’t think to mention it, already dragging esi towards the bed before the door even clicks shut. it’s his turn to be the impatient one, though just for a closeness rather than any specific intimacy; more than ever, he doesn’t care what happens, as long as it starts that happening, like— ten seconds ago. )
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For now, he grabs a fistful of Kirma's lazy looking shirt, fingers curling tightly so that he can yank him into a kiss as they walk. It's stumbling, and he's sure he slips into an accidental bite of lip or tongue more than once, and maybe steps on Kirma's foot somewhere, but it's heated, it's nice, it's exactly what he was looking for.
Something mindless. Something to not think about while the floating feeling of alcohol runs through his body. Something... consistent, maybe. Something less risky than the less.
The more he reaffirms it, though, the more some strange, creeping anxieties seem to crop up. And so he focuses on the taste of the alcohol on Kirma's tongue, on shoving him back onto the bed and crawling into his lap immediately after, on craning his neck downwards to meet his eyes and kiss the corner of his mouth again.
He doesn't want to talk. He just wants to feel. )
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it's an injury easily soothed by mouth and tongue, though. a little flinch, and they've already moved on, kirma offering no resistance to esi's shove, all lazy smiles and wags. times like these, he thinks he could get used to the resort's hedonism. a soft whine escapes his lips against esi's. this lap situation is nice and all, but it's not enough. not while there's a pleasant burn in his stomach, and the warmth of esi's body is enough to match it, somehow.
his hands slide around, trying to find esi's waist, batting uselessly at the elegant layers he has on. can you get this fancy shit off, please. it's far more obtrusive than anything kirma is wearing, a fact clearly communicated by the erection pressing against esi's thigh. (time will tell if that thing actually gets the attention it needs, though.) another quiet noise, and his hips roll upward, trying to increase the degree of contact.
— but seriously, the clothes. the clothes! at least take the shirt off; he's desperate for a little skinship, here. )
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Ah, but pants make this a little difficult. With one more hard kiss to the mouth, he drags his tongue against Kirma's before pulling back, slipping to his feet so he can wiggle out of his clothes the rest of the way.
He's being showy about it. He's trying to make him even more impatient, of course. Is there something you want, Kirma?? Something you're dying for?? He'd love to hear it. )
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Hurry—
( a demand clipped short by gritted teeth and a hiss that suppresses a far more desperate, needier noise that wells up in the back of his throat. he swallows it for now, opting to instead reach for esi’s bared waist, trying to drag him back preemptively. there’s no real force to the grab, or else esi might not have any choice but to comply; perhaps the communication of intent is what matters most.
there’s a distinct shift once he’s allowed to have his way, though. kirma wraps his arms around esi, presses his face into his chest. this was the realest endgame all along, you see— the compulsion in the drinks combined with an already present desire results in a need for feel rather than any particular action. )
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( Esikko expects when Kirma is needy. He expects the pawing, the tugging, the pulling. Each time, he takes his sweet time getting the last of his layers off, living up every bit of the attention that he can. But when he's pulled closer, when Kirma simply rests into him in a hug...
It makes him freeze, for a moment. This was deeply uncomfortable. No, perhaps it was so achingly comfortable that it wrapped back around to being uncomfortable— Esikko feels at a loss for words, and he hesitates before bringing his hand down on Kirma's head in something like a pet. )
Is that all you want from me?
( The words that finally do come out are low, and he presses himself against Kirma, aiming to push him back and follow close. His free hand moves to run along Kirma's side to his thigh. All he knows how to do is turn this into something more expected. )
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the drinks… are likely the easiest scapegoat, here. )
The only thing I want is you.
( what harm is there, in admitting that much? there isn’t quite a smile on his face, but there’s an adoration in his gaze as he stares up at esi. one hand comes up, tracing the line of one of esi’s marks with a finger that moves on to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. a tender gesture better reserved for a lover in more than the physical sense of the word. )
… However you’ll have me.
( and whether he’s wanted in return or not. )
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But right now, he can. Right now, something burning inside of him can hold onto that tenderness, and he has a direction for it. Leaning down, Esikko touches their foreheads together, his hand guiding Kirma's thigh to wrap around behind him all while he watches those mismatched eyes. )
...I can't be the only thing.
( His words are mumbles, eyes focused on Kirma and yet somewhere through him, all the same. He knows there is more that he wants. That there's no way the relationship he's seen growing with a certain blonde man isn't something he can claim to want. He knows that there's so much more than he, a useless prince still learning magic, has to offer.
But of course he wants to have that challenged. Wants to see Kirma meet him completely, to feel the warmth of their bodies crossing and connecting. When he pulls his forehead away from Kirma's, it's to duck down so that he can kiss him, fingers curling sharper into the base of his thigh.
It's not cuddling, no. But it's the only way he's learned how to express himself so far. )
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You are, ( is all he can say, without that. a statement as earnest as it is simple, spoken from a place that cannot imagine anything that could contradict it. a place that also won't be in this room, come morning, when everything falls apart and unravels between the both of them.
that problem is for future kirma to deal with, though. the current him's primary concern is with the kiss, with opening his mouth to take in the lingering taste of sweetness and alcohol; it's with letting his arms circle esi's neck to pull him in all the better, running an open palm along the breadth of his back. unfortunately the trazie is hitting here And he's being kind of a pillow princess so this is the end of the tag now. goodbye )
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Here, he giggles a little into the kiss, clearly pleased with himself. It's fun, to tease like this. To do what feels strangely like was always meant to happen, but never could— and as his teeth graze gently across Kirma's bottom lip, he allows himself to forget anything else. )
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it’s akin to a pleasant dream, and right now, he gets to live it thoroughly. his legs part further, angling to try and facilitate esi’s movements, whatever they may be. the giggle is enough to pluck a heartstring, sending so much tension along the sinew that it feels ready to snap. really, why couldn’t it last— why couldn’t they thread themselves together, if they’re already irreversibly intertwined— to his addled mind, it all seems so straightforward. so easy. truly, the way it all backfires will shock him.
that doesn’t matter quite yet. right now, in this room, he’s more occupied with the body atop him; with a hand, he traces the shape of the still-healing gouges down his torso, a gentle echo of the violence from that day. there’s something akin to regret in his gaze, his fingertips lingering at the same spot they’d once pushed in so deep. there’s new skin there, knit soft and pink over a lurid moment, and maybe, with any luck, in another month there’ll be nothing there at all. )
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