sorserer | ( office hours & overflow )

[ stephen doesn't even really deign to respond to hakkyuu's very reasonable shock; he registers it as a jolt in the body splayed out beneath him, not forceful enough to need reining in, but for the most part he keeps his senses where they need to be. his fingertips push into hakkyuu's hot-running flesh, keeping him exposed as stephen--

well. takes a second, actually, to meet his eyes, and winks, because he's a bastard like that.

and then he's nuzzling again over hakkyuu's crotch, rasp of goatee suggestive against his cock, but yeah, he's going back to eating him out now, slowly at first, careful hot flickers of his tongue against where hakkyuu is most exposed. ]

[Ugh. The wink is awful and if that had been directed anywhere near Hakkyuu in a moment like this Stephen would have felt firm knuckles planting firmly and mercilessly on the side of his stupid skull.

In this case... Maybe it's that Hakkyuu doesn't know better, or maybe it's just the timing, or a culmination of several things, but whatever it is that cocky bastard wink makes him blush so furiously it's a wonder he's not about to pass out with all the blood rushing to his head. It's also awful for Stephen's ego and it's a shame he doesn't have a full grasp on that yet.

Any further protests fully die in his throat though, entirely cannibalised by the sounds that climb up through his throat--long, drawn-out and unstifled through the position his body is in as he shivers down through the expert manoeuvrability of Stephen's tongue in all the places it absolutely shouldn't be as he reaches one hand down to grasp the material cresting Stephen's shoulder.]

[ the immediacy of the flush that burns hakkyuu’s skin is its own reward. he takes a moment to have visibly relished in it, then gets right back to the matter at hand.

stephen likes eating people out. this is something hakkyuu already knows about him in some indeterminate future--which for stephen, given the last time he was able to touch him, is already long past. he’s good at it, too, kneading the supple muscle of hakkyuu’s cheeks at a rhythm oddly in concert with how he works his tongue over the furl of his asshole, with the barest suggestion of slipping inside, the low heady breaths he takes against the most sensitive inches of hakkyuu’s skin. he actually groans himself while he’s down there, tasting him. in a way it’s been too long; in a way he’s missed this. and if that’s something hakkyuu realizes later, well, that’ll be his problem, no his own time. for now he wants more of those drawn-out porno mewls, wants to see just how hard and wet and wanting hakkyuu can get after coming once already. stephen was a teenager too once, after all; he wants to stretch that vitality to its limits. ]

[Something that flashes up in Hakkyuu's mind as he feels the heat of his breath pour across his ass and his tongue move expertly along and creeping inside his hole, making his insides judder and everything feel sweltering and slick, both physically and mentally. But what pops into his mind is Stephen, in his low, velvety voice, telling Hakkyuu that he's split him in half.

Conceptually, Hakkyuu knows Stephen meant with his cock, and yet with his mouth working like that over and inside his ass like that, he pictures something similar on the same theme--something less overtly violent but makes him think about pushing thumbs into the middle of a fruit to pull it apart and leaning in to lap up the juice spilling out.

It feels obscene, both in literal sensation and from the mental association that scurries through Hakkyuu's mind and it arrives just as Stephen's tongue finds an especially sensitive spot in tandem with one of those wonderful groans that occasionally escapes from Stephen. The timing of those things clashing together makes Hakkyuu's hips jerk forward, the movement making his cock bob and slap back against his own belly and drawing a weeping string of pre-cum out from the head of his swollen prick as arrested, more desperate-sounding noises claw their way out of his throat, the sort of noises that would be very at home on any of Duplicity's illicit streaming services.

He doesn't even really notice that the noises he's making are getting louder, that his breathing is getting more ragged in a way that makes the lines of his chest all the more pronounced as he tries to suck in and push out as much air as he can though his lung capacity is more constricted with his legs up in that way. It makes Hakkyuu feel light-headed, not fully aware of his grip on Stephen's arm gripping harder, thighs showing a few light shudders initially and steadily building up in intensity.

Then, briefly, his eyes open wide before rolling back in his skull with a half-attempt to call Stephen's name that turns into a long cry with silenced moments along the way where his throat can't fully sustain the sound as thin ribbons of cum across his own stomach and a few stray strands flying forward as his hips jerk involuntarily.

Throughout, he doesn't let go of Stephen's arm.]

[ stephen loves this look on other people: splayed out and quivering, whining in their throat. it’s the kind of thing he tries to stay alert for so he can commit it to that photographic memory of his, something to mentally turn over with fondness in private.

but he’s seen hakkyuu in this state before, so he chooses instead to stay focused on the task at hand, tongue-fucking him through it, easing up only when the tremors pulsing through hakkyuu start to subside.

he presses a short sweet kiss to hakkyuu’s twitching balls: a little congratulatory, a period at the end of a sentence. then he draws back with a huff, tongue sweeping at last over his own lower lip. he’s still in his shoes, still suited and everything as he surveys his handiwork, stroking a comforting hand over the outside of hakkyuu’s thigh and turning his other hand to recall his glass of scotch. he drinks it all in: the star-bright taste of the liquor, the sight of fresh come striping hakkyuu’s flushed chest. lets him breathe through it, smirking against the lip of the glass. ]

[The difference between the state Hakkyuu might be in within the aftermath of one of Stephen's favourite bedroom activities is something like the moon and sun--the typical look all pale silvers and frosty pinks whereas right now he's all bronze and burgundy; frosty winter mornings compared to warm summer dusk.

There's a bit of a time lapse for him as he lays all flopped out on the bed, face warm from the second orgasm, ruddy red hair spilt against the crisp white pillow and his arms haphazardly flopped over his head as his chest heaves and he makes no attempt to get control of his ragged breathing.

He does, however, half open his eyes in time to catch Stephen leering above him, tumbler clasped in his scarred hands, under his cool blue gaze. It's extremely distressing how attractive Stephen looks like that, seemingly entirely unbothered by everything, sipping his drink like he could be anywhere, except his focus is so pointedly on Hakkyuu it's like being pinned right in place.

So while Stephen takes him in, Hakkyuu does the same from the opposite side, his breathing starting to settle enough that the heavy inhales and exhales can more through his nose instead as he just burns that image of Stephen deeply into his mind, a picture that will return to him long after this session is over, and linger crisp and clear even when Stephen is no longer in Duplicity for a time.]

[ stephen lingers comfortably in the mutual scrutiny, but there’s a corner of his mind, small and traitorous, that realizes that if hakkyuu were his normal self--if the events from the festival hadn’t taken place--they’d be talking right now. shooting the shit, maybe, both sex and conversation so easy that neither would feel parenthetical, one looping into the other until exhaustion took them both.

he doesn’t have the time stone anymore, so there’s no vision of the future that promises him anything of the sort. the sudden uneasy sense of loss is a skin-deep frisson that he’s quick to dismiss. he reaches over to set the glass down on the nightstand--

and toes his shoes off, one oxford and then the next, reaching up to pull the tie loose at last. his trousers are light enough that it’s not hard to see his erection has only partly flagged, but there’s a damp spot from having been hard for so long. ]

Still with me, kid?

[The only frame of reference Hakkyuu has for how these sorts of things are supposed to go are from Vrenille sharing various encounters with clients. The good, the bad, the really fucking weird, and the incredibly gross. But he doesn't really know what moments like this are supposed to be like, what they're meant to feel like, if he's supposed to feel so utterly captivated.

He doesn't know that there would be some relaxed chuckling through the hard breathes here, some light teasing, some beckoning. He doesn't know that Stephen's tie would have already been thoroughly abused by now, all scrunched up in a fist, fingers in the knot to keep it from slipping with either slow downward temptation or forceful, demanding tugs.

There's just no frame of reference because his memory only has faded memories of Stephen's responses, not what was said to elicit them.

The question though gets a soft huff of amusement as he tips his head back against the plush bed.]

Where else would I be?

[Where indeed. If contemporary Hakkyuu's recent actions are anything to go by, he'd be putting distance between himself and Stephen. So, not here, probably.]

You’d be surprised.

[ he’s shrugging off the suit jacket last, tossing it towards the armchair he was in before. the tie hangs slackly beneath the pressed collar of his shirt. he leans back on one hand when he’s just in shirtsleeves, feet on the floor, takes a long breath.

and then he shifts a little, reaches a hand back, cards hakkyuu’s sweat-matted hair back from his head. looks, for a second, at the red trailing over his scarred fingertips. ]

Don’t get too cozy.

Why, you about to send me off to grab takeout?

[It's said so casually yet in conjunction with a slight upward lean toward Stephen's hand and tilting back to follow the crest of the touch as far back as he can manage to keep it with half-lidded eyes.

Everything smells so keenly like him in a way he's not so used to, sex hanging in the air like sticky summer heat and Stephen's restraint downright herculean at this point as he lets his head flop to the side and peer up at him with assessing brown eyes.

Stephen's not so scary now. Especially after his tongue has just been swirling and probing between Hakkyuu's cheeks like that. The plateau of inexperienced fear has surely been reached by now.]

[ without the full effect of the suit stephen knows he’s at least a little less intimidating: just a man, and men can be unraveled. he quirks another half-smile down at hakkyuu, drags his faintly unsteady fingers in a slow spine-tingling scratch over his scalp--but really, it’s just a pet. ]

I can’t bend you over if you fall asleep.

[Oh. Well that sure is a hint of something that later will make up a pretty important, very dog-eared part of Hakkyuu's sexual lexicon, the slight contrast of the soft with something a little sharper making him arch right back to chase after that sensation until he's effectively sitting with his hands propping him up against the bed to stare up the length of Stephen's body toward his face. He looks larger from that angle, though it's probably a trick of the perspective. ]

I'm not falling asleep.

[It's a very petulant grumble about the least important part of what Stephen's said.]

Just saying.

[ stephen makes absolutely no effort to clean him up, either; in fact he looks the mess over again with that same simmering hunger in his eyes. he shifts sideways again, up against the headboard himself now, pulling hakkyuu back on his lap. his next magic trick: a glass water bottle from the minibar appears in his hand, which he hands over. ]

Drink. [ ... shrug. ] Unless you want the scotch instead.

[With his eyes flickering from the bottle, to Stephen's face, then back to the bottle again, that earlier impression of suspicion returns briefly to Hakkyuu's face as he plucks the bottle from the sorcerer's hands, the icy condensation nipping at his finger tips.]

You keep the scotch.

[Yes, Stephen presents shades of consideration is cause for giving him the hairy eyeball the whole time as he unscrews the cap and takes some long, deep gulps to drain half the contents in one go before wiping the back of his hand across his mouth before letting his arm drop so the bottom of the bottle sets against the thin veneer of Stephen's shirt at his abdomen.]

Should I be worried about you falling asleep? Skipped your afternoon nap in your chair with the paper?

[ the chill of the bottom of the bottle feels oddly good through the shirt, and the damp not so unusual given he’s done his fair share of sweating over the course of the afternoon. he leans back, comfortable, his arm draped back around hakkyuu’s waist. ]

Does it seem like you don’t have my undivided attention?

[It's a pointed enough question with little to no evidence to argue against that it makes Hakkyuu shift and hunch his shoulders as he shoots a frown off to the side to take a more measured sip from the bottle then return it to where it had been resting against Stephen's body.]

I didn't say that.

[ this kid. stephen drags a lazy touch up hakkyuu’s back again, kneads idly at a muscle. ]

I’m alright. I don’t plan on tiring myself out without your help, anyway.

[ eyebrow waggle. ]

[Yeah, he might not say it, but the look Hakkyuu sets Stephen with definitely says why are you like this? as he s l o w l y drains the rest of the bottle. It didn't last super long, so Stephen's intuition or general sense of awareness was spot on in terms of the need for it there.

He shifts his hips, getting more comfortable there on Stephen's lap without pushing down on anywhere too vital just yet. And when he is most settled, he cants his head slowly to one side, watching Stephen with the kind of expression of being curiously unimpressed that only teenagers can manage.]

You look better like this. [He gestures to Stephen with the bottle hanging from his fingers, a few stray droplets flicking as he does.] Less like you're in front of an audience or whatever. And the tie was stupid too.

[Okay, the last one is just a jab for the sake of it, but the rest stands.]

[ stephen makes another neutral sound. he made it about halfway through that handle of scotch, but all his faculties remain well-retained. apparently the main thing he has to worry about is hearing, on occasion, snatches of the man in the boy; missing him. ]

The outfit was free. You remember what I said about gift horses. And the ties ... grow on you.

[ the pause is actively dubious. hakkyuu doesn’t like stephen’s formal wear, exactly. do cats like pushing mugs off coffee tables? ]

Sure, you can make the most outta something free, but there's making the most of it and mostly making it. What's the phrase, wearing the suit or the suit wears you?

[He shrugs, back to that place of looking like he's scored some kind of point on an invisible chart with no rules when it's actually clear Stephen's ahead and well into the double digits already. That doesn't stop him from stretching forward, all jittery from pin-ponging energy and post-orgasm highs, in a way that brings him fully forward to lay his face against Stephen's chest and let the rest of his body flop flush against the wizard's long, drawn out form.]

Pretty sure you know which you are in that equation.

[ there’s something a little sweet about the slight weight of this iteration of his friend against his chest. it’s the differences, though, that keep stephen’s buzzed brain flickering with irritated longing for how things used to be.

the problem is that enough of their friendship had been calculatedly light that the moments that had started to slip through over the past year--unexpectedly soft ones, something in all that ebonhawke steel letting itself slouch and yield in private--only made stephen want more of a burden. to say, i can take on more than this, both in the general and in the specific. as if a sanctum could be a person just as much as it was a place.

but his hand had stung for a week after that punch, and he’d let it, despite the ready availability of healers in the city, because actually maybe he couldn’t. in the end hakkyuu was a man from a city under siege; he knew the pointlessness of a brittle fortress. the city and hakkyuu had both had his number from day one: stephen’s pride always comes first.

he drops his head a little, as if he can shake the thought loose. he presses his mouth to the top of hakkyuu’s head, breathes him in with no apparent agenda. ]

Watch it, kid. [ lackadaisical, as if he isn’t wondering whether this is the last time he’ll get to do this. ] You’re getting downright complimentary.

[The truth, that Hakkyuu would rather swallow down through broken bones with his last dying breathes than speak aloud, is how close Stephen had gotten to that.

Home, to Hakkyuu, has always been transient and flesh-made, not brick and mortar. It's Vrenille and the guild, so home could be in Lion's Arch harbour, on the frigid Bitterfrost Frontier, the arid Silverwastes, the lush Maguuma Jungle, or the sexual heaven-and-hellscape of Duplicity and every single one could be home as long as he's near his people.

Maybe he already knew that if Hakkyuu said, directly or indirectly to Stephen, 'hey, could you hold this?' about any number of the frankly intensely fucked up things in his brain, Stephen would do it. Stephen would be a place to hang his coat, lock the doors and sink into against a rolling storm. The possibility was there and it was just too overwhelming. It's why he forced Stephen to get a locksmith and a repair man in to fix the door Hakkyuu kicked in and the windows he shattered--you don't get to waltz back into a place like you live there if you prove you're unsafe to be around.

But here and now, Hakkyuu is pretty blissfully unaware. Stephen is a weird pervert man in a bizarre don't-I-know-you brainspace where he float back and forth between being a near stranger and something much more and he can't actually lock him down at any point between the two.

His words though make Hakkyuu snort, completely ignorant of the turmoil in this poor guy's head.]

You wish. If it makes you feel better though, I could insult you a bit. [He tilts his head up, giving Stephen a judgemental squint eye at that very close angle.] ... You're not into that, are you?

Probably depends on the insults ... the person doing the insulting.

[ it’s an even-handed enough assessment by stephen’s standards. he doesn’t talk a lot about what he’s “into” because he feels like for the most part it’s self-evident. if he likes the person he’s with, he likes what they like, at least for half an hour or so, and as long as it doesn’t press upon any particular boundary.

he’s not doing anything especially manually stressful, so he loosens the reins on the light spell that has kept his hands steadier than usual, his hands starting their easy tremor low on hakkyuu’s back. ]

You didn’t take the clothes they gave you, though. [ he smirks down at him. ] What were they gonna send you in with? High school uniform?

Oh, so it can't just be anyone spitting in your face, is what you're sayin'. Can't tell if that's better or worse.

[It'll be a few years before Hakkyuu's razor-edged attention to detail will be sharp enough to pick up the change in steadiness to Stephen's hands, but at this point it largely goes unnoticed as it sits in a blind spot.

His expression flattens then as Stephen hones in on and picks up that point.]

So what if they were?

Oh, the past two hours or so would’ve gone roughly the same. I just think it would’ve been funny.

[ going back to lazily feeling him up now, hands skimming over his sides. ]

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