[Nyx writhes in Regis' lap,trying to arch into every touch, press up into those hands as they slide over his body. Each firm touch dragging a rough gasp from the younger man, pressing the sounds into Regis' skin.
For a moment Nyx wonders how the hell his king can make full sentences like that, eloquent and practiced if a little breathless. It's unfair, the control he has. It could be age but Nyx is pretty sure given another twenty years he still wouldn't be so composed, certainly not with an eager young thing in his lap.
Which is as much a challenge as the words and looks earlier had been.
Nyx's hands smooth down Regis' chest, fingers confident and unafraid of the scars that sprawl there, deeper and more elaborate than his own but it shows that the king favors his left side too, the web of lines marching up his neck, down his shoulder.]
You can do the pretty shit later.
[Low and rough, murmured against his collarbone before there's a series of sharp nips up along his collar, all the way up to his throat. Nyx lays himself forward, chest to chest, reveling in the heat of the other man and shifting so he can roll his hips down against him, the movement smooth and almost unnatural as though he were not entirely human at all but carried the coeurl's same fluid grace and flexible spine.]
Fuck. Regis...
[The movement is enough to have his breath leaving him in a sharp whine that he muffles against Regis' throat, teeth going to work on a very different pulse point this time.]
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For a moment Nyx wonders how the hell his king can make full sentences like that, eloquent and practiced if a little breathless. It's unfair, the control he has. It could be age but Nyx is pretty sure given another twenty years he still wouldn't be so composed, certainly not with an eager young thing in his lap.
Which is as much a challenge as the words and looks earlier had been.
Nyx's hands smooth down Regis' chest, fingers confident and unafraid of the scars that sprawl there, deeper and more elaborate than his own but it shows that the king favors his left side too, the web of lines marching up his neck, down his shoulder.]
You can do the pretty shit later.
[Low and rough, murmured against his collarbone before there's a series of sharp nips up along his collar, all the way up to his throat. Nyx lays himself forward, chest to chest, reveling in the heat of the other man and shifting so he can roll his hips down against him, the movement smooth and almost unnatural as though he were not entirely human at all but carried the coeurl's same fluid grace and flexible spine.]
Fuck. Regis...
[The movement is enough to have his breath leaving him in a sharp whine that he muffles against Regis' throat, teeth going to work on a very different pulse point this time.]