[Watching Regis collect himself, draw up to his full height and the same regal posture he knows so well Nyx has a fleeting moment of wondering if he'd over stepped. If, perhaps, he'd gone too far with his reckless challenge. But there's still that glint in those breathtaking green eyes and he doesn't let himself show that moment of uncertainty.
Then Regis speaks this time it's not the fire that surges but the air between them sparks with electricity, a flickering glow up the creeping lines of scarring that curl up Nyx's neck, pale eyes flashing with the reflection of violet power. His breath goes still in his chest and for a moment all he can taste is ozone, the sound of the power, the fire, everything else fading into the meaningless background noise as his King speaks in the sharp staccato of his people's tongue.
His own team mates cannot recall the language so neatly most of the time and the fact that this proud Lucian king not only knows it but is complimenting him, politely asking Nyx to ruin him, is enough to have him crossing the space between them again with an urgency that hadn't been there a moment before.
He peels his tee off with one hand as he goes, tossing it carelessly aside, and when he reaches the chair one knee is wedged between Regis and the arm immediately. Hands tangle in silvered hair, static sparking between them as Nyx reclaims the other man's mouth, the kiss hard and demanding. It takes a long moment for him to drag himself away from Regis' mouth and when he does the words he murmurs are eager and hungry and certainly unfit for a royal to have learned.]
Vilg dryd'c rud. Keep talking.
[He settles himself more firmly into the chair, over Regis' lap, any concern he might have had for the older man's bad leg burned away the second he started speaking. A little squirming, dragging his mouth away, down the length of Regis' throat, growling against the skin when the collar of his shirt brushes against his cheek. Nyx yanks his hands out of Regis' hair, static making the strands fly away haphazardly, only to curl them in the front of his shirt, yanking hard to part the fabric, buttons snapping from their holes and joining the lost cuff link on the floor.
no subject
Then Regis speaks this time it's not the fire that surges but the air between them sparks with electricity, a flickering glow up the creeping lines of scarring that curl up Nyx's neck, pale eyes flashing with the reflection of violet power. His breath goes still in his chest and for a moment all he can taste is ozone, the sound of the power, the fire, everything else fading into the meaningless background noise as his King speaks in the sharp staccato of his people's tongue.
His own team mates cannot recall the language so neatly most of the time and the fact that this proud Lucian king not only knows it but is complimenting him, politely asking Nyx to ruin him, is enough to have him crossing the space between them again with an urgency that hadn't been there a moment before.
He peels his tee off with one hand as he goes, tossing it carelessly aside, and when he reaches the chair one knee is wedged between Regis and the arm immediately. Hands tangle in silvered hair, static sparking between them as Nyx reclaims the other man's mouth, the kiss hard and demanding. It takes a long moment for him to drag himself away from Regis' mouth and when he does the words he murmurs are eager and hungry and certainly unfit for a royal to have learned.]
Vilg dryd'c rud. Keep talking.
[He settles himself more firmly into the chair, over Regis' lap, any concern he might have had for the older man's bad leg burned away the second he started speaking. A little squirming, dragging his mouth away, down the length of Regis' throat, growling against the skin when the collar of his shirt brushes against his cheek. Nyx yanks his hands out of Regis' hair, static making the strands fly away haphazardly, only to curl them in the front of his shirt, yanking hard to part the fabric, buttons snapping from their holes and joining the lost cuff link on the floor.
Surely the king can afford to lose one shirt.]