[There's something awe-inspiring about the sheer amount of passion there is in Nyx's reaction. Regis isn't sure what specifically makes him think that. Perhaps, it's the bend of the Glaive's neck as he throws his head back. Maybe it's the way his braids slide along his skin, one defying the others to settle into the space between his neck and shoulder. For just a moment, Regis finds himself fighting the urge to lean forward and take that errant braid into his mouth to see the kind of reaction pulling it might cause.
Of course, stopping to think about it is his mistake for Nyx has already begun to recover, redirecting the very literal sparks flying between them into something more purposeful. It's not just the use of magic that draws the low moan from Regis' lips, though; it's that focus, that control, coming so closely on the heels of that moment of unrestrained wildness. There's a beauty to it...and hasn't he used that word a lot tonight to describe this man? There are others, but something about using those words seems wrong to Regis. One implies being tamed, another conformation, and another timidity.
Nyx Ulric is none of those things.]
You're so beautiful. If I knew which deity was responsible for your making, I would shower them in praise. [Despite the breathless, pretty words, Regis hasn't allowed the hand working between them to still, fingers quickening at times, slowing at others, never quite settling into a steady pattern.]
[Every time Regis speaks Nyx is torn between snarling at him, kissing him harder and fiercer and driving the ability to form words out of his head or instead arching into it, wrapping himself up in the elegant praise like some sort of luxurious fur. He huffs a breath, not quite a growl, but this time he lets himself savor the words. A kiss, lighter, playful, smiling against Regis' mouth. There's the intent to speak bu it's delayed by the clever twist of fingers.]
I'll take it instead, if it's all the same to you.
[Laughter muffled in the thick hair along his jaw, teeth pressing in hard to give a nip just below it, even if it means fighting with the tail end of Regis' beard. His hand slides back up Regis' body, fingers hovering over his chest, a jolt of lightning dancing between them skipping from one fingertip to Regis' skin, back to the next.]
What.. this?
[There's amusement in his tone as the arcs of electricity continue, the last one finally sparking from fingertip to nipple and back before abruptly shutting down.
Nyx's weight shifts, his thighs tensing gripping firmly at Regis' hips to steady himself as he arches backwards, laying nearly flat backwards over the king's lap so he can reach that box of goodies without moving his position. He plucks up one of the numerous bottles of lube from the box, makes a show of rolling the muscles of his abdomen, flexible and effortless as he draws himself back up.]
Only if you put your other hand to work, too.
[And then he's pressing that bottle into Regis' free hand.]
[If Regis could still think after that exclamation, Nyx certainly would have been in for a scolding since he's certain the Glaive knew very well what he meant by his request and that sure was not it, however, luck often favors the bold and that is certainly what Nyx is. Regis' mind whites out again for a moment as his head drops back against the chair, a low cry escaping his lips. By the time his brain is working again, Nyx has already set himself to work retrieving the bottle, putting his body, his strength, and flexibility wonderfully on display for Regis to drink in, and drink he does until a better idea crosses his mind.
Well, luck and the bold, right?
He moves his hands so that one rests on each of Nyx's thighs to make sure that the Glaive doesn't unbalance himself when he reacts and then leans forward to press his lips to the expanse of skin before him. It doesn't take long for him to make his way to Nyx's belly button, and once he does his tongue flicks against it, teeth catching the edge before he moves on to press lips and tongue along those hardworking muscles. It's with no small amount of reluctance and a sharp nip to the skin under his mouth that he pulls back once Nyx rights himself.
Regis finds himself hesitating once he's accepted the bottle, uncertainty flickering through his pale gaze, though the source is likely not what Nyx will assume it to be if he catches the shift in his king's expression. This is not another instance of Regis doubting that this is what Nyx wants; instead it is the concern of man who has reached the limits of his experience.
Despite his guards' assumptions, Regis hasn't been totally celibate since his wife died. He's only human, after all, but he went to great lengths to keep his explorations private, especially when they led him in directions he wasn't expecting them to. Still, learning cannot replace experience and this he has no experience with.
To distract himself from his worries, Regis twists the cap off the bottle, setting to work covering both his hands, settling the first back around them, strokes smoother for the added lubrication. Once he's tucked aside the bottle, he sets the second hand to work as requested, slick fingers teasing Nyx's entrance. When he meets the Glaive's gaze, there is trust in his eyes. He might not have experience with this, but Nyx does and he has every faith that the man will guide him.]
[Regis' mouth works over him and Nyx takes his sweet time with his task, savoring the heat of lips and tongue, the soft scratch of his beard, the sharp prick of teeth.
But even he can't stay mostly upside down forever and he laughs at the punishing nip as he rights himself again.]
Let you explore later, when we actually manage to make it to the bed.
[A smirk, playful as he captures Regis' mouth in another kiss. A kiss that's as much heat as it is reassurance and, just in case, silencing yet another question. If he asks one more time Nyx is going to take that scarf of his and gag the man and then he won't get to hear all the lovely words he has to say.
The kiss doesn't last long, though, broken as he arches into the slick hand around him, bucking hard up into Regis' hold, the glide of the other man's cock against his only making him gasp out another curse. Add in slick fingers toying over his entrance and he's a panting, needy mess in a matter of moments all over again. He tilts his hips, pressing back against Regis' fingers and it's not until he doesn't immediately have them buried inside him that he finally blinks down, waits for his brain to catch up. Oh.]
Mmm not some blushing virgin, Muja.
[It'd been a bit but not long enough that he wasn't desperately eager to have Regis' fingers inside him. Enough that he reaches back to settle his hand over the king's, lets their fingers circle his entrance together then shifts his hold just a little to urge Regis inside, breath coming out in a sharp sweet whine as he coaxes him in deeper, body tensing around the intrusion, muscles fluttering, at once trying to adjust and wanting so much more.]
[A breathless chuckle follows that statement as Regis chases Nyx for one more kiss before letting the man go, arching up to meet the Glaive's eager bucking. It's hard to hold onto his previous worries while watching how quickly Nyx falls apart under his hands; it's even harder when the Glaive slides one of his own hands backward to encourage and guide him and that whine? Sweet. Needy. It's enough to drive the breath right out of Regis. When he finds his voice again, it comes out as a low rumble.]
Your cheeks said something different earlier, my wild one.
[When Regis arches into Nyx again, he leans forward enough that he can press his lips against the Glaive's collarbone, aggressively working a mark into the warm skin below. At the same time, he sets his fingers to work slowly stretching and stroking Nyx open. It's probably slower than the Glaive would like. The pace might even be called tentative were it not for the fact that the pale green eyes that gaze over Nyx's shoulder are full of aroused mischief.
Can anyone really blame him for wanting to see just how many whines he can pull out of Nyx before they go farther?]
[He wants to snap out some clever retort but finally, finally having Regis' fingers inside him steals away his voice. Any opportunity he might have had to reclaim it is lost when Regis sets his mouth to work at Nyx's collarbone. It draws a breathless cry from him, makes him arch up against his king's mouth, sends the sharp crackling scent of ozone roiling through the air again.
Fingers tangle in silvered hair, holding Regis' mouth in place while also letting Nyx have a handhold to counterbalance as he rocks back, using his body to try to urge Regis to open him up faster. But it seems the older man has other ideas and that does get him another whine, this one starting high and sharp and rolling down into a growl of frustration.]
More.
[Not a request, a demand, and Nyx yanks hard on Regis hair, dragging that pale green gaze up to meet his. The second time it's snarled against his lips, insistent and eager.]
[The gaze that meets Nyx's demands is intense, focused, but oddly not challenging as so many of the gazes they've exchanged tonight have been. Regis is used to having demands made of him, though certainly not in this pleasurable a manner. Manner aside, there are still two outcomes; he can outright deny the demand or he can accede to it in the fashion he chooses. In the political field, the important thing is that both outcomes give him control.
Here? Here he has no wish to force Nyx to bow to his control. The very opposite is true, in fact, and the answer he finally gives to that demand follows on heels of a confident smile.]
As you wish, Wild One. [The words are barely out of his mouth when Regis pulls Nyx into a kiss, all tongue, teeth and distraction while he shifts his arm to allow himself to press his fingers in deeper and at a better angle. Despite his outward calm, that whine absolutely shattered out what little patience he has left, and it's only a matter of time before the last bit of his control follows with it.]
[The kiss is hard and demanding and so much teeth and everything he wants. But then Regis sinks his fingers in deeper and Nyx has to break the kiss to gasp out a sharp cry, bucking up briefly before pushing himself back on Regis' fingers.]
Vilg oac, muja.
[The words moaned into Regis' mouth, his grasp on Lucian slipping away under the onslaught of pleasure. Nyx tries to kiss him again, catches his lips, nips sharply once and then breaks away to whimper, a high needy keening on each exhale.]
Y-yeah... fuck Reg gonna fucking make me come before we even get there.
[More needy sloppy kisses even as he writhes on Regis' fingers, desperate for more but also unwilling to really pause.]
[Earlier in the night there is no doubt a joke about the recovery period of young men would have followed that statement, but it's not a joke that comes to Regis' lips now. Instead, it's a desperately relieved sigh caused by the rest of his control finally slipping away. So many of his early memories are of his father drilling into his head how important always keeping control was. Even when he hit his teens and began rebelling in his own way, the control was never far away, a shadow constantly lingering over him waiting to assert itself again.
Perhaps that is why the fire leaps so high in that moment, shattering away any of the shadow that dares remain. There will be soot to clean from the mantle and grate tomorrow, but nothing flammable the flames lick at actually catches. The same holds true for the thin decorative candles that are scattered throughout the room. They burst into flame so hot most snap at the middle, wax and ash all that is left by the time they hit the carpet.
Regis doesn't acknowledge the flame around them, groaning lowly into Nyx's mouth even as he brings the hand he's using to stroke them upward with more pressure than before, ending with a sharp twist and then pulling away. If what's left of his shirt wasn't ruined before, the fact he drags his fingers over it to dry them before he takes a firm grip on Nyx's hip, seals its fate. Regis' other hand meets the Glaive's backward motion once more before he pulls away, repeating the actions he just finished with his previous hand so his grip doesn't slip when he adjusts their position.
The whole time, Regis' lips don't move far from Nyx's, the words whispered against them no order, but a soft needy plea.]
[The answer comes without any thought or consideration, driven only by need. So many pieces of Regis' surrender push him so close to the edge. The shift of his grip, the surge of the fire, the desperation in those words. It's all enough to have Nyx panting into his mouth, lips hovering above his Kings'. The near contact has sparks tingling and jumping between them, quieting with each kiss and firing back to life with each gasp, every millimeter between them charged with lightning.
Nyx would never dream of denying his king anything, especially not now, not like this, not with Regis' hands firm on his hips. It takes a fleeting moment of shifting, raising himself a little further up Regis' body, whimpering at the promising heat of him as he adjust the angle just so.
When he finally sinks back on him, nails dragging sharply over Regis shoulders as he throws his head back, arching and crying out, it's not fire that bursts in the room but lightning. The sharp crackle of it lighting the room up briefly, flashing through the air as surely as it does across Nyx's nerve endings.
It's almost too much, though it's no one's fault but his own, using the leverage of Regis' shoulder to drive himself down on one swift, smooth stroke, burying the other man inside him and he nearly loses himself right then and there.
[It's not just one voice that rises to twine with the crack of lightning, but two, and in that moment the world shifts, slides together in a way that leaves Regis unable to tell where one sensation starts and another ends. After so many years of numbed feelings, it's like all his nerves have been blasted open again. Heat and tightness becomes one with the pressure of air so thick with magic that it creates its own breeze, lifting, falling, spinning around them creating the very storm whose eye they had rested in not long ago.
Regis both feels and doesn't feel it as his nails sink into Nyx's hips before he drags them up along the Glaive's sides and then across his shoulder blades, fingers finally stopping as they fold over his shoulders and draw him down close enough for their lips to meet again, coming together just as their body's have.
A sharp nip to Nyx's lower lip, a low rumbled groan breathed into his mouth, and then Regis rocks up into the body above him encouraging the Glaive to move.]
[The drag of nails up his body, sharp and biting, has the Glaive writhing atop his King, breath hitching and stuttering out, body wound tense at the continuous sting. When Regis' hands finally settle at his shoulders it's all he can do to keep himself upright for another moment. The kiss he's drawn into is sloppy at best, breathless and shuddering as he is, unsteady and slumping against the other man.
The bite of teeth at his lip makes him gasp again, harder this time and his own nails bite into Regis' shoulder in retaliation. There's so much, magic a tingling pulse over his skin, the heat of his King inside him, the way his welted flesh burns hotter for the spark of magic on the air. He can hardly catch his breath under the surge of sensation and then Regis moves beneath him and he cries out again, softer this time for his breathlessness.
But there's no denying the intent behind that motion and Nyx grits his teeth, bearing down on his lover, grinding himself against him,savoring the feel of him, so full within him. Then he lets out a slow, steadying breath, finally opening eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed to stare down at his King. The first shift is subtle, slow and careful, testing the strength of his body, already trembling with pleasure.
Each movement becomes more confident, though, building into a steady, rolling pace, riding out the natural swells of the magic around them. ]
[There's something grounding in how Nyx's slumps into him. Not that it lessens the sensations running through Regis, but it anchors them within the two of them again, separating the feelings from the wild magic that spins around them. The nails that dig into his shoulders act as another anchor and he leans up into them, chasing the sensation until a different one draws his attention away.
Nyx is trembling under his hands. Regis is sure he's doing the same, but he can't tell for certain because he's too caught up being lost in that simple reaction. The shiver of muscle and shift of skin holds his full attention until his Glaive bears down and finally starts moving, then Regis' eyes find Nyx's and hold them, watching how the color and focus changes as he creates the rhythm between them.
At some point Regis begins whispering breathless words of encouragement, praise, and more than a few colorful curses that Nyx will likely be surprised to be hearing once his mind returns enough to think on such things. The words are another grounding method as the rolling pace that has been set blends and overlaps with the magic once more.
Between the words, he turns litters Nyx's neck with kisses and bites, one hand eventually slipping between them to return its attentions to the Glaive's dripping cock.]
[Green eyes catch silver and Nyx is transfixed, focus sliding in and out with each breath, each flex of muscle and shift of his hips but never looking away. For a long moment he doesn't even blink, watching his King with breathless wonder, shuddering at the murmured words even though he hardly registers what the other man is saying. It doesn't matter, just the rich cadence of his voice is enough to send shivers up his spine.
And then Regis leans in to mouth at his neck and Nyx throws his head back, eyes slamming shut and fingers tightening against broad shoulders. A sharp curse escapes him, his rhythm stuttering briefly. He manages to keep himself steady despite how inconsistent his movements become. At least until Regis' hand moves to curl around him again.
A choked cry of his lovers name, nails scraping hard over one shoulder before his hand lifts to slam against the arched back of the chair to keep him from collapsing entirely, and Regis barely gets a full stroke in before Nyx is spilling over his fingers. Rocking down hard on the other man, just savoring the feel of him deep enough to drive the breath from him even as the air burns hot with the crackle of electricity, thick like a storm cloud that stifles either of them from drawing in a deep breath anyway.
Nyx blinks, slowly, drunkenly down at Regis, slides his fingers over the bright weals left by his nails. His lips quirk up in a giddy little smirk and then his breath rushes out once more as he grips the top of the chair for leverage to work himself down against Regis once more, able to focus a little better on his King's reactions now he's not so caught up chasing his own pleasure. Still shuddering and sensitive but enjoying every moment of it if the languid roll of his hips is anything to go by.]
[It's almost impossible for Regis to keep himself from just letting go and following Nyx into release. Between the way his Glaive's body tightens around him, to the warmth that spills over his fingers, from the sting of nails on his skin to the sound of his name on Nyx's lips, all of it pulls him to teeter on the edge, but he knows if he goes over he will miss the very thing he chases even harder than he chases his own release.
For reasons he's never been able to properly explain to himself, Regis has always needed to see that moment of complete release as it passes over his lover's face. The reactions of the body have never been enough. He's always sought that one last piece.
And this, if he had missed this, Regis would never have forgiven himself.
It's almost as if Nyx takes flight. Despite normally being so guarded, he opens up completely and soars free of all the things the world has thrown at him to bind him to the earth. Even when he starts to come down, he still seems to float, his attachment to the ground tenuous at best despite the fact their bodies are still intertwined and moving slowly together.
Regis moves then hand not still slowly working over Nyx's cock so he can brush his fingers across his lover's cheek.]
[Floating is a good word for it. That distant, hazy pleasure that leaves his mind muddled and his body loose and languid. He hums softly, letting sensations rush over him. The praise earns a smirk and Nyx lets his head loll to the side, lips catching at Regis' wrist, then the heel of his hand, skimming over his palm, tongue flicking at the delicate skin between his fingers. He laughs, rich and pleased, nips at the meat of his thumb and then smirks at his King once more.
His other hand reaches up to join the first, gripping the back of the chair and giving him an anchor point as he begins to move in earnest over the older man. The slow, languid movements shift to something a little faster, a little more determined, body clenching tight and then rolling his hips in a smooth elegant arch that starts low and curls all the way up to his ribs. Something he'd learned as part of traditional Galahdian dance but that makes him shift delightfully on his King's cock.
Another hazy chuckle, pleased and eager as he begins the rhythm, something quick and steady, a teasing roll of his hips that seems to vary to a song only he can hear.]
Regis~
[Soft and coaxing, something hopeful in his tone. He wants nothing more than to feel his King fall apart as well.]
[For all that Nyx is floating, Regis is very grounded, walking an edge and knowing he will soon be falling. He looks forward to the fall--anticipation to make the moment better. Each lick and nip to his hand raising the edge higher, each clench and roll building to make the fall longer. It's hearing his name in that voice and in that tone, the hope and then invitation that come along with it that finally causes him to lose the edge. Regis cries out, thrusting up to meet Nyx, free hand finding purchase on the Glaive's arm and holding tight as he falls.
There have been times--increasing over the years--where Regis feels far too keenly that he is falling--losing himself to the magic of the Crystal--but the loss that comes with this fall, this erasure of everything in heat and light, is freeing not frightening. His body shudders with how strongly it needs that moment of nothing, for how hard it struggles to hold on for a little longer, for how it gradually releases that hold and lets his mind slowly slide back into reality.
It's not his own body he feels first, but Nyx's still moving slowly over him. Regis releases the tight grip he has on the Glaive's arm, slightly trembling fingers running over marks he knows vaguely, in the back of his mind, will be bruises in the morning. A few more to add to the collection.
A soft, contented sound slips from his lips and he finally opens eyes he has no idea when he closed, hazy green searching out silvered blue. When he finds them, he leans forward to press a gentle kiss against the lips not far below, speaking softly, once he pulls away, two simple words.]
[Nyx gasps as Regis cries out, sinks down on him and whimpers at the spill of warmth inside of him. If there's meant to be any words in the small sounds he makes they don't quite make it out. He lets himself fall forward, settling heavily on Regis' lap in the moment, pleased and content.
His own gaze is unfocused, blinking in surprise at that kiss, leaning into it and humming softly. But the words that follow draw a quizzical little noise from him.]
Wha- [A slight cough, his throat raw and dry from gasping breaths and cursing, the metallic tang of the charged air on his tongue. The motion makes him shift in Regis' lap and he whines when his King slides free of his body and cum begins to drip down his thigh. There's something both satisfying about it and disappointing at the emptiness that follows.]
What're you thanking me for? [Softer this time, nearly a whisper.]
[A soft hum is the only answer Nyx gets at first, Regis' hand sliding into the Glaive's hair, cupping the back of his head in an effort to keep him close.]
Did I warn you I am terribly sappy after sex? You're going to laugh at me.
[The words are barely a murmur, almost lost as Regis leaves a trail of gentle kisses along Nyx's jaw and down his neck. He's sappy and also a cuddler and no one would blame Nyx if he begins to think that Regis may be using the latter of that pair of things to distract him from the answer to the question. Eventually, though, Regis does settle his head against his Glaive's shoulder with a soft sigh and softer words.]
Do you know how long it's been since I've been able to let everything go even for just a few moments? You've given me such a great gift. Saying 'thank you' is the very least I can give you in return.
[Regis doesn't have to try very hard to keep Nyx close, he has no intention of going anywhere. He's quiet for a long moment, curled up in Regis' lap, head resting against the kin's shoulder even as Regis does the same. A soft, contented sigh at the feel of fingers toying with his hair and eventually Nyx speaks, low and lazy, lips brushing against Regis' neck as he does.]
Not gonna laugh... 'm glad you let me help. [A gentle nudge, a light kiss, a moment to shimmy himself a tiny bit closer]
[Nyx's response causes a tired, but content smile to cross Regis' face. Already, there is a particularly persistent part of his mind that is attempting to slip back into the 'whys' and 'what ifs' of this whole thing, something Regis is nowhere near ready to get back to, so with all the practice he's had at locking away certain thoughts, he locks those away now. If he must linger on all those little worries more, then he will do it later when he is not so warm and content under Nyx's body.]
You owe me a new chair now, you realize. [There's mischief in the half-lidded look Regis turns at Nyx then.]
There is no way I'm going to be able to nap in this one anymore.
[Nyx is about ready to doze off in Regis' lap honestly, warm and content and well sated. The remark gets a muffled sound, curious and a tiny bit indignant. The Glaive blinks, one brow raising slowly, waiting for the rest of it.
Only for Nyx to bark out a startled laugh, stretching up to muffle it against Regis' lips.]
Now you have to use it for something more fun. [He reaches up, past Regis' head, touching the top of the wingback chair and bringing his fingers down, smeared lightly with blackened soot.]
[Though he objectively knows that there is no way he is going to be able to see the back of the chair without shifting them both more than he wants to, Regis still tilts his head back, gaze turning upward in a halfhearted attempt before he chooses to focuses on his Glaive's soot-covered fingers instead.]
That first idea has more merit than the second. There are good memories tied to it now. It would be a shame just to burn it.
[Regis will have to make sure whichever of the servants deal with his quarters today are paid extra for the work. They've made a fair mess of the whole room, even beyond what he's done on the occasions when nightmares woke his magic before they woke him.]
As comfortable as this is, we best move to the bed before we settle more.
[Otherwise, he has a feeling they are both just going to sleep where they are no matter how bad an idea that is.]
Mmm it would be, it's served us well. [Low and smug and for too pleased with himself. Nyx sighs out the next breath, dropping a series of kisses along Regis' shoulder. A small unhappy noise escapes at the idea of moving but after that brief, wordless protest he shifts back.
It takes a moment for him to get to his feet fully, knees weak and squirming a little uncomfortably at just how slick he still is. Once he's steady though he finally looks over at the large luxurious bed curiously. ]
I discarded wisdom quite a while ago. [Lap freed, if regretfully so, Regis pulls himself up in the chair, wincing when stiffness in his knee makes it clear he's not going to be standing unaided for a few minutes yet. He sighs then, expanding on that joking answer though he doesn't really want to.]
Stay for a little longer with me if you feel you cannot spend the whole evening. There should be towels and washcloths set out by the bathroom sink if you wish to grab them.
[They both could use a little cleaning up before they settle into bed for however long Nyx feels it prudent to remain.]
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hardbargain) wrote2018-11-08 08:23 pm
no subject
Of course, stopping to think about it is his mistake for Nyx has already begun to recover, redirecting the very literal sparks flying between them into something more purposeful. It's not just the use of magic that draws the low moan from Regis' lips, though; it's that focus, that control, coming so closely on the heels of that moment of unrestrained wildness. There's a beauty to it...and hasn't he used that word a lot tonight to describe this man? There are others, but something about using those words seems wrong to Regis. One implies being tamed, another conformation, and another timidity.
Nyx Ulric is none of those things.]
You're so beautiful. If I knew which deity was responsible for your making, I would shower them in praise.
[Despite the breathless, pretty words, Regis hasn't allowed the hand working between them to still, fingers quickening at times, slowing at others, never quite settling into a steady pattern.]
Will do you that again for me, wild one?
no subject
I'll take it instead, if it's all the same to you.
[Laughter muffled in the thick hair along his jaw, teeth pressing in hard to give a nip just below it, even if it means fighting with the tail end of Regis' beard. His hand slides back up Regis' body, fingers hovering over his chest, a jolt of lightning dancing between them skipping from one fingertip to Regis' skin, back to the next.]
What.. this?
[There's amusement in his tone as the arcs of electricity continue, the last one finally sparking from fingertip to nipple and back before abruptly shutting down.
Nyx's weight shifts, his thighs tensing gripping firmly at Regis' hips to steady himself as he arches backwards, laying nearly flat backwards over the king's lap so he can reach that box of goodies without moving his position. He plucks up one of the numerous bottles of lube from the box, makes a show of rolling the muscles of his abdomen, flexible and effortless as he draws himself back up.]
Only if you put your other hand to work, too.
[And then he's pressing that bottle into Regis' free hand.]
no subject
[If Regis could still think after that exclamation, Nyx certainly would have been in for a scolding since he's certain the Glaive knew very well what he meant by his request and that sure was not it, however, luck often favors the bold and that is certainly what Nyx is. Regis' mind whites out again for a moment as his head drops back against the chair, a low cry escaping his lips. By the time his brain is working again, Nyx has already set himself to work retrieving the bottle, putting his body, his strength, and flexibility wonderfully on display for Regis to drink in, and drink he does until a better idea crosses his mind.
Well, luck and the bold, right?
He moves his hands so that one rests on each of Nyx's thighs to make sure that the Glaive doesn't unbalance himself when he reacts and then leans forward to press his lips to the expanse of skin before him. It doesn't take long for him to make his way to Nyx's belly button, and once he does his tongue flicks against it, teeth catching the edge before he moves on to press lips and tongue along those hardworking muscles. It's with no small amount of reluctance and a sharp nip to the skin under his mouth that he pulls back once Nyx rights himself.
Regis finds himself hesitating once he's accepted the bottle, uncertainty flickering through his pale gaze, though the source is likely not what Nyx will assume it to be if he catches the shift in his king's expression. This is not another instance of Regis doubting that this is what Nyx wants; instead it is the concern of man who has reached the limits of his experience.
Despite his guards' assumptions, Regis hasn't been totally celibate since his wife died. He's only human, after all, but he went to great lengths to keep his explorations private, especially when they led him in directions he wasn't expecting them to. Still, learning cannot replace experience and this he has no experience with.
To distract himself from his worries, Regis twists the cap off the bottle, setting to work covering both his hands, settling the first back around them, strokes smoother for the added lubrication. Once he's tucked aside the bottle, he sets the second hand to work as requested, slick fingers teasing Nyx's entrance. When he meets the Glaive's gaze, there is trust in his eyes. He might not have experience with this, but Nyx does and he has every faith that the man will guide him.]
no subject
But even he can't stay mostly upside down forever and he laughs at the punishing nip as he rights himself again.]
Let you explore later, when we actually manage to make it to the bed.
[A smirk, playful as he captures Regis' mouth in another kiss. A kiss that's as much heat as it is reassurance and, just in case, silencing yet another question. If he asks one more time Nyx is going to take that scarf of his and gag the man and then he won't get to hear all the lovely words he has to say.
The kiss doesn't last long, though, broken as he arches into the slick hand around him, bucking hard up into Regis' hold, the glide of the other man's cock against his only making him gasp out another curse. Add in slick fingers toying over his entrance and he's a panting, needy mess in a matter of moments all over again. He tilts his hips, pressing back against Regis' fingers and it's not until he doesn't immediately have them buried inside him that he finally blinks down, waits for his brain to catch up. Oh.]
Mmm not some blushing virgin, Muja.
[It'd been a bit but not long enough that he wasn't desperately eager to have Regis' fingers inside him. Enough that he reaches back to settle his hand over the king's, lets their fingers circle his entrance together then shifts his hold just a little to urge Regis inside, breath coming out in a sharp sweet whine as he coaxes him in deeper, body tensing around the intrusion, muscles fluttering, at once trying to adjust and wanting so much more.]
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[A breathless chuckle follows that statement as Regis chases Nyx for one more kiss before letting the man go, arching up to meet the Glaive's eager bucking. It's hard to hold onto his previous worries while watching how quickly Nyx falls apart under his hands; it's even harder when the Glaive slides one of his own hands backward to encourage and guide him and that whine? Sweet. Needy. It's enough to drive the breath right out of Regis. When he finds his voice again, it comes out as a low rumble.]
Your cheeks said something different earlier, my wild one.
[When Regis arches into Nyx again, he leans forward enough that he can press his lips against the Glaive's collarbone, aggressively working a mark into the warm skin below. At the same time, he sets his fingers to work slowly stretching and stroking Nyx open. It's probably slower than the Glaive would like. The pace might even be called tentative were it not for the fact that the pale green eyes that gaze over Nyx's shoulder are full of aroused mischief.
Can anyone really blame him for wanting to see just how many whines he can pull out of Nyx before they go farther?]
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Fingers tangle in silvered hair, holding Regis' mouth in place while also letting Nyx have a handhold to counterbalance as he rocks back, using his body to try to urge Regis to open him up faster. But it seems the older man has other ideas and that does get him another whine, this one starting high and sharp and rolling down into a growl of frustration.]
More.
[Not a request, a demand, and Nyx yanks hard on Regis hair, dragging that pale green gaze up to meet his. The second time it's snarled against his lips, insistent and eager.]
More.
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Here? Here he has no wish to force Nyx to bow to his control. The very opposite is true, in fact, and the answer he finally gives to that demand follows on heels of a confident smile.]
As you wish, Wild One.
[The words are barely out of his mouth when Regis pulls Nyx into a kiss, all tongue, teeth and distraction while he shifts his arm to allow himself to press his fingers in deeper and at a better angle. Despite his outward calm, that whine absolutely shattered out what little patience he has left, and it's only a matter of time before the last bit of his control follows with it.]
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Vilg oac, muja.
[The words moaned into Regis' mouth, his grasp on Lucian slipping away under the onslaught of pleasure. Nyx tries to kiss him again, catches his lips, nips sharply once and then breaks away to whimper, a high needy keening on each exhale.]
Y-yeah... fuck Reg gonna fucking make me come before we even get there.
[More needy sloppy kisses even as he writhes on Regis' fingers, desperate for more but also unwilling to really pause.]
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Perhaps that is why the fire leaps so high in that moment, shattering away any of the shadow that dares remain. There will be soot to clean from the mantle and grate tomorrow, but nothing flammable the flames lick at actually catches. The same holds true for the thin decorative candles that are scattered throughout the room. They burst into flame so hot most snap at the middle, wax and ash all that is left by the time they hit the carpet.
Regis doesn't acknowledge the flame around them, groaning lowly into Nyx's mouth even as he brings the hand he's using to stroke them upward with more pressure than before, ending with a sharp twist and then pulling away. If what's left of his shirt wasn't ruined before, the fact he drags his fingers over it to dry them before he takes a firm grip on Nyx's hip, seals its fate. Regis' other hand meets the Glaive's backward motion once more before he pulls away, repeating the actions he just finished with his previous hand so his grip doesn't slip when he adjusts their position.
The whole time, Regis' lips don't move far from Nyx's, the words whispered against them no order, but a soft needy plea.]
Do not deny me.
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[The answer comes without any thought or consideration, driven only by need. So many pieces of Regis' surrender push him so close to the edge. The shift of his grip, the surge of the fire, the desperation in those words. It's all enough to have Nyx panting into his mouth, lips hovering above his Kings'. The near contact has sparks tingling and jumping between them, quieting with each kiss and firing back to life with each gasp, every millimeter between them charged with lightning.
Nyx would never dream of denying his king anything, especially not now, not like this, not with Regis' hands firm on his hips. It takes a fleeting moment of shifting, raising himself a little further up Regis' body, whimpering at the promising heat of him as he adjust the angle just so.
When he finally sinks back on him, nails dragging sharply over Regis shoulders as he throws his head back, arching and crying out, it's not fire that bursts in the room but lightning. The sharp crackle of it lighting the room up briefly, flashing through the air as surely as it does across Nyx's nerve endings.
It's almost too much, though it's no one's fault but his own, using the leverage of Regis' shoulder to drive himself down on one swift, smooth stroke, burying the other man inside him and he nearly loses himself right then and there.
So much for Galahdian stamina.]
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Regis both feels and doesn't feel it as his nails sink into Nyx's hips before he drags them up along the Glaive's sides and then across his shoulder blades, fingers finally stopping as they fold over his shoulders and draw him down close enough for their lips to meet again, coming together just as their body's have.
A sharp nip to Nyx's lower lip, a low rumbled groan breathed into his mouth, and then Regis rocks up into the body above him encouraging the Glaive to move.]
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The bite of teeth at his lip makes him gasp again, harder this time and his own nails bite into Regis' shoulder in retaliation. There's so much, magic a tingling pulse over his skin, the heat of his King inside him, the way his welted flesh burns hotter for the spark of magic on the air. He can hardly catch his breath under the surge of sensation and then Regis moves beneath him and he cries out again, softer this time for his breathlessness.
But there's no denying the intent behind that motion and Nyx grits his teeth, bearing down on his lover, grinding himself against him,savoring the feel of him, so full within him. Then he lets out a slow, steadying breath, finally opening eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed to stare down at his King. The first shift is subtle, slow and careful, testing the strength of his body, already trembling with pleasure.
Each movement becomes more confident, though, building into a steady, rolling pace, riding out the natural swells of the magic around them. ]
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Nyx is trembling under his hands. Regis is sure he's doing the same, but he can't tell for certain because he's too caught up being lost in that simple reaction. The shiver of muscle and shift of skin holds his full attention until his Glaive bears down and finally starts moving, then Regis' eyes find Nyx's and hold them, watching how the color and focus changes as he creates the rhythm between them.
At some point Regis begins whispering breathless words of encouragement, praise, and more than a few colorful curses that Nyx will likely be surprised to be hearing once his mind returns enough to think on such things. The words are another grounding method as the rolling pace that has been set blends and overlaps with the magic once more.
Between the words, he turns litters Nyx's neck with kisses and bites, one hand eventually slipping between them to return its attentions to the Glaive's dripping cock.]
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And then Regis leans in to mouth at his neck and Nyx throws his head back, eyes slamming shut and fingers tightening against broad shoulders. A sharp curse escapes him, his rhythm stuttering briefly. He manages to keep himself steady despite how inconsistent his movements become. At least until Regis' hand moves to curl around him again.
A choked cry of his lovers name, nails scraping hard over one shoulder before his hand lifts to slam against the arched back of the chair to keep him from collapsing entirely, and Regis barely gets a full stroke in before Nyx is spilling over his fingers. Rocking down hard on the other man, just savoring the feel of him deep enough to drive the breath from him even as the air burns hot with the crackle of electricity, thick like a storm cloud that stifles either of them from drawing in a deep breath anyway.
Nyx blinks, slowly, drunkenly down at Regis, slides his fingers over the bright weals left by his nails. His lips quirk up in a giddy little smirk and then his breath rushes out once more as he grips the top of the chair for leverage to work himself down against Regis once more, able to focus a little better on his King's reactions now he's not so caught up chasing his own pleasure. Still shuddering and sensitive but enjoying every moment of it if the languid roll of his hips is anything to go by.]
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For reasons he's never been able to properly explain to himself, Regis has always needed to see that moment of complete release as it passes over his lover's face. The reactions of the body have never been enough. He's always sought that one last piece.
And this, if he had missed this, Regis would never have forgiven himself.
It's almost as if Nyx takes flight. Despite normally being so guarded, he opens up completely and soars free of all the things the world has thrown at him to bind him to the earth. Even when he starts to come down, he still seems to float, his attachment to the ground tenuous at best despite the fact their bodies are still intertwined and moving slowly together.
Regis moves then hand not still slowly working over Nyx's cock so he can brush his fingers across his lover's cheek.]
So beautiful.
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His other hand reaches up to join the first, gripping the back of the chair and giving him an anchor point as he begins to move in earnest over the older man. The slow, languid movements shift to something a little faster, a little more determined, body clenching tight and then rolling his hips in a smooth elegant arch that starts low and curls all the way up to his ribs. Something he'd learned as part of traditional Galahdian dance but that makes him shift delightfully on his King's cock.
Another hazy chuckle, pleased and eager as he begins the rhythm, something quick and steady, a teasing roll of his hips that seems to vary to a song only he can hear.]
Regis~
[Soft and coaxing, something hopeful in his tone. He wants nothing more than to feel his King fall apart as well.]
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There have been times--increasing over the years--where Regis feels far too keenly that he is falling--losing himself to the magic of the Crystal--but the loss that comes with this fall, this erasure of everything in heat and light, is freeing not frightening. His body shudders with how strongly it needs that moment of nothing, for how hard it struggles to hold on for a little longer, for how it gradually releases that hold and lets his mind slowly slide back into reality.
It's not his own body he feels first, but Nyx's still moving slowly over him. Regis releases the tight grip he has on the Glaive's arm, slightly trembling fingers running over marks he knows vaguely, in the back of his mind, will be bruises in the morning. A few more to add to the collection.
A soft, contented sound slips from his lips and he finally opens eyes he has no idea when he closed, hazy green searching out silvered blue. When he finds them, he leans forward to press a gentle kiss against the lips not far below, speaking softly, once he pulls away, two simple words.]
Thank you.
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His own gaze is unfocused, blinking in surprise at that kiss, leaning into it and humming softly. But the words that follow draw a quizzical little noise from him.]
Wha- [A slight cough, his throat raw and dry from gasping breaths and cursing, the metallic tang of the charged air on his tongue. The motion makes him shift in Regis' lap and he whines when his King slides free of his body and cum begins to drip down his thigh. There's something both satisfying about it and disappointing at the emptiness that follows.]
What're you thanking me for? [Softer this time, nearly a whisper.]
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Did I warn you I am terribly sappy after sex? You're going to laugh at me.
[The words are barely a murmur, almost lost as Regis leaves a trail of gentle kisses along Nyx's jaw and down his neck. He's sappy and also a cuddler and no one would blame Nyx if he begins to think that Regis may be using the latter of that pair of things to distract him from the answer to the question. Eventually, though, Regis does settle his head against his Glaive's shoulder with a soft sigh and softer words.]
Do you know how long it's been since I've been able to let everything go even for just a few moments? You've given me such a great gift. Saying 'thank you' is the very least I can give you in return.
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Not gonna laugh... 'm glad you let me help. [A gentle nudge, a light kiss, a moment to shimmy himself a tiny bit closer]
's all I wanted, pamujat.
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You owe me a new chair now, you realize.
[There's mischief in the half-lidded look Regis turns at Nyx then.]
There is no way I'm going to be able to nap in this one anymore.
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Only for Nyx to bark out a startled laugh, stretching up to muffle it against Regis' lips.]
Now you have to use it for something more fun. [He reaches up, past Regis' head, touching the top of the wingback chair and bringing his fingers down, smeared lightly with blackened soot.]
If you don't decide to just finish burning it.
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That first idea has more merit than the second. There are good memories tied to it now. It would be a shame just to burn it.
[Regis will have to make sure whichever of the servants deal with his quarters today are paid extra for the work. They've made a fair mess of the whole room, even beyond what he's done on the occasions when nightmares woke his magic before they woke him.]
As comfortable as this is, we best move to the bed before we settle more.
[Otherwise, he has a feeling they are both just going to sleep where they are no matter how bad an idea that is.]
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It takes a moment for him to get to his feet fully, knees weak and squirming a little uncomfortably at just how slick he still is. Once he's steady though he finally looks over at the large luxurious bed curiously. ]
You sure it's wise for me to stay, pamujat?
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[Lap freed, if regretfully so, Regis pulls himself up in the chair, wincing when stiffness in his knee makes it clear he's not going to be standing unaided for a few minutes yet. He sighs then, expanding on that joking answer though he doesn't really want to.]
Stay for a little longer with me if you feel you cannot spend the whole evening. There should be towels and washcloths set out by the bathroom sink if you wish to grab them.
[They both could use a little cleaning up before they settle into bed for however long Nyx feels it prudent to remain.]
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