[He can't help but think about John. This man before him is no farm worker. His hands are clean, not worn. But still, the heft, the build, reminds him of that viciously sunny man, somehow.]
[It was nice having John around. He made things easier for him. Now, he's on his own.]
[The man stares. Lovecraft, with dark eyes, stares back - should he say something? - but then he moves, and steps inside.]
[Lovecraft follows. The water hits him and his dark hair, and he seems like he belongs here. Water's always been his element.]
Go here. Go there. Pick that up. Subdue that person. Do the...dirty work, as someone I know has said. Nonstop. No rest.
[The thing about eyes that deep and dark is that they take on an almost mirror-like quality, showing Nishi a face he sometimes doesn't recognize. He could've sworn he had a scar right between the eyes. And he thought... he'd been a little older than this, somehow...
...Ah. And he doesn't recall being a man who spaced out quite so easily, either, but Nishi only catches the end of that sentence. Sorry, Lovecraft, he's listening............]
What makes you think that you don't have a choice? Who is telling you that?
[If anything, Lovecraft is patient. Maybe not sincerely so, given that it seems to be more of a side effect of his slothfulness, but moving at a fast pace for anything has never been his style. The man comes to, and Lovecraft lets out a sigh.]
Everyone I work for.
[...There's something about it that itches under the skin. He doesn't know why. Something about it like an alarm bell. Why?]
I have worked for many, and every time...I am bound to heed the contract. How miserable.
[Getting lost in someone's eyes is a bad thing, actually? Whoever romanticizes the kind of unpleasant self-reflection that occurs when you take a long hard look at yourself in someone else's eyes needs to have their head examined. In an effort not to think about everything he's forgotten, Nishi grabs a cloth and begins lathering it up with soap with great haste.]
Then you're working for the wrong people. A good leader would not subject you to work so horrific that it's left you gaunt and miserable. You should tender your resignation immediately.
[As if Lovecraft can tell his bosses "fuck this shit, I'm out" when he's stuck in this place, same as Nishi... but at the same time, if he has a job, they're probably going to terminate him for multiple unexcused absences anyway. With that in mind, a suggestion!]
I'll buy you out of your contract. [With what money?] You can work for me instead. [And do what?] Sound good?
[He can't. He...doesn't know why he can't. He just knows he can't. It's impossible. He has to. He's bound. He's tied.]
[The offer, however, breaks him out of his dreary mental frustration, eyes widening - like this, he looks younger, surprisingly - and stares at the other man for a moment. Buy him...out of his contract? But that's another form of work.]
[Nishi doesn't hesitate. Once he's set his eyes on something, his mind is made up. He sees boundless potential in Lovecraft, if only he were free— and his intuition has never led him astray... has it?
The real question is how to cut the man's chains. How to pry open his eyes and make him see that freedom is not beyond his reach.
His hands pause, the soapy cloth running clean beneath the stream of hot water.]
I don't need to know your skills. I can see it in you, and that's enough. Just... don't ask how I'd know.
[He speaks with the authority of someone who's lived another life entirely, a man who casts off hesitation as though it were a mask. What kind of life had Nishi led?]
[This feels so sudden - for a slothful man like he is, shuffling onto Bethlehem and other cities he's sent to, this is too much. Out of the frying pan, into the...shower? With a vivid man, who now reminds him of Fitzgerald. A forceful leader, but Fitzgerald was wrapped up in his own selfish wants.]
[What does this man want?]
[He reaches forward, almost unconsciously, grasping onto his wrist lightly.]
[Not so fast. He has to be sure Lovecraft knows what it means to yearn for something, to want it so badly you'd fight for it. To illustrate a point, Nishi won't give him an honest answer until he begs to hear it.
Nishi takes those hands, long and slender, and guides them to hold his soap and cloth. He'll leave him to dictate the pace.]
You'll have to forgive me for being demanding. I'm not an easy person to deal with— good luck finding someone who disagrees. But I know how to take care of people. At least... that's what I'm told.
[He is guided - he naturally tenses, not used to being touched. Hypocrite that he is, touching and not expecting it in return.]
[He gets the idea. He must show his work. He has never done this before. But curiousity wins over exhaustion. His hands take the soap to start rubbing over the man's shoulders.]
[Nishi wears the mask of a man who lets others reach his heart, but the truth is harsher. It's all performance— a persona honed until he forgot what lay underneath, leaning on the image of someone strong enough to usher in a new age.
But because he isn't that man, he understands. Always the one to reach out, rarely the one reached for. Lovecraft's touch, hesitant as it is, reminds him of that truth.
Still, he trusts the man's hands won't falter. There's fire in him, deep down.
Then Lovecraft questions him. Nishi's eyes flick to the floor.]
[How sad. Maybe it isn't sad. Maybe that's how people are. Does really anyone know who they are? He had a discussion with someone here about nature, nurture. These are things he doesn't think about much - the world is already something exhausting, why add to it with useless discussions on what people may or may not be?]
[But others, they are weighed down by that question.]
[He thinks it must have been a solid weight to bear for John.]
[He tilts his head, voice a low murmur, going down over his chest.]
[The weight of the cloth feels heavier against his chest, somehow, and that much closer to his heart. Lovecraft's heat is distinct from the water raining down on them, pillowing them in clouds of steam. Nishi's gaze pierces through them.]
...A horrible person.
[Delivered straight, it's impossible to know whether Nishi meant that earnestly or not.]
[Well, he's in the right company. Lovecraft doesn't pause, doesn't judge. His hand doesn't move from his chest, stilling there, even as he meets that gaze with the dark purple of his own.]
Do you not wish to be?
[John struggled with that day in and day out. Humanity eroded over time for the sake of putting food on his family's plate.]
[People, Lovecraft finds, break themselves a lot over things like that.]
[Ha... How ironic. He came here to checkmark a box, not to have the closest thing to an earnest heart-to-heart, but here he is having one. Always managing to botch the best laid plans at the worst possible times, Nishi has come too far, committed too much, to pull back now.
It's his turn to act. Easing forward into Lovecraft's space, Nishi's fingers frame the sharp line of his cheek.]
No one with any humanity left in them wants to be the bad guy. You simply... become what the world needs you to be.
[What it expects you to be.]
But it's not impossible to break free from what everyone expects from you. In your case, I truly believe that.
[Again, not used to touches, he freezes in place, holds his breath. Always, under his dour nature, lays true anxiety. The world has always seemed so overwhelming. People, even more so.]
[But the touch isn't rough, or painful, and he lets the tension ease even as his pupils seem to grow a little wider.]
Why...in my case? You don't know me.
[As if a stranger could simply understand. As if a....he lost his train of thought, suddenly, like he tripped. He doesn't know why. Breathing out through his nose, he slides the cloth over what was washed, the corners of it tickling over his skin.]
[The side of themselves that they show to the world may be different, but Nishi can read the anxiety in Lovecraft like a mirror. He's never managed to outrun his own, but what matters is that he tries. He keeps running knowing the beast will eventually catch him, but he can't stand to lie still and wait for its jaws.
He feels similarly about people in Lovecraft's situation, so used to the familiar bars of their cage that they've forgotten what the way out looks like. No, he doesn't know Lovecraft, but he knows what it feels like to be trapped. To bend until you become the perfect monster others imagine.
His fingers sink into the dark shock of hair that spills over so much of Lovecraft's body. For a moment, it looks like he might guide him closer, close the last of the space between them. But his hand stills before he dares. Instead, he lets the closeness suggest something unspoken, his breath brushing the line of Lovecraft's jaw, his words pitched low enough to feel like a confession.]
How do you think people get to know each other? It starts with a gut feeling. Intuition.
[That second question is one he can't touch. If Nishi thought freedom was possible for himself, he would have found it by now. So he does what he always does: he offers it to someone else instead.]
Join me. I don't know where or what, but I'll find a space for you. Somewhere you can live your life on your own terms.
[A gut feeling. Intuition. People like this man speak on it like it's that powerful. Outside of this space, he would simply set it aside, scoff at it. As if it meant anything.]
[But here, they're close. Too close. It makes the itching under his skin more potent, like he could simply rip it off to reveal...what? Its been plaguing him ever since he came here. Something he should know, but he can't as much as he can try. He wants to say it. Warn him. But warn him of what?]
[If it was something bad, would it matter? Would this man even care, relying on his intuition?]
Didn't answer...my question.
[He says, muttering, but he knows already its a fool's errand. This man wants him by his side. Sees something in him. Potential, possibility. Maybe he would use him as a tool just like the others.]
[But it is tempting to hear. Respect for what he wants. He wouldn't want to work all the time, and as much as this sounds like another cage, it feels bigger, freer than before.]
[He turns his head, nose brushing against the other- his hand still, cloth pressed over where the man's heart is. He almost feels he can hear it beating so restless in his chest.]
If I do...will you continue to give me more? Offer me...more?
[He is greedy. Offerings need to be made to keep him satisfied.]
[The word more hangs heavily in the little space that remains between them. It's dangerous, how easily he wants to rise to it. His own hunger slips its leash in moments like this, when he can almost pretend like he isn't starving.]
More. As much as I can give, you'll have it.
[His voice is low, steady, though his heart betrays him under Lovecraft's hand, thrumming like a trapped bird beating its wings against a gilded cage. He doesn't look away. If greed is the price of freedom, then let it be greed that binds them.]
But you'll have to take the risk of trusting me first. Can you do that?
[Lofty promises. Again, he doesn't know this man. He doesn't even know his name, though perhaps if he spent a minute actually looking at the graves, he would. People move like shadows throughout life, save for a few shining instances that would burn into the back of his mind and not quite let go. John was one. Fitzgerald, though he disliked him, was another.]
[Is this man one of such instances? He's so sure. He's so ready to rise to the occasion. He could have nothing. This could be a bluff. Words, words, words. He's never liked people. They always have their own paltry desires.]
[Lovecraft heaves out a low, rumbling sigh.]
[An offering is an offering. In the end...tribute. Yes, tribute is tribute.. What a fitting word.]
Very well. [He will take the risk, because in the end, he is a man guided by simple, endless wants. Hunger, thirst, sleep. He will take all of this, and more.] I will trust you. But do not...make me...regret it.
Nishi closes the last fraction of space, lips meeting Lovecraft's with a deliberate force. It's brief at first, staking his claim, but there are limits to a man's self-control. Nishi is no exception.
His hands move with practiced ease, one at the small of Lovecraft's back, the other brushing through his long dark hair. Anchoring, guiding, asserting. Every movement is measured, but the heat in his chest pushes urgency into the motion, a quiet insistence as he sets the pace.
Nishi doesn't pause for consent this time— the trust Lovecraft offered is enough. He deepens the kiss, tilting his head, pressing closer, letting the energy between them swell without losing the careful control that defines him. Breath mingles, his heart kicks into overdrive, and the world beyond them falls away.
Even as he takes and takes, Nishi is attentive. Every twitch, every inhale, every subtle shift guides him. Nishi leads, commands, and protects this fragile line of trust, letting desire and control coexist.]
[Admittedly, he is surprised by the sudden lips on his. He's never been one to think about such things as being in the realm of possibility in any sort of context, and his ability to read other's intentions in this regard is pathetic at best. He tenses, uncertain, but Nishi seems to have realized something. Lovecraft, as stubborn as he is, bends to active guidance. Such is the weakness of his passivity.]
[It continues. Not simply one, but many, as if to steal the breath out of him. Nishi is taking...or is he giving? No, he must be giving this to him, too. He said as much, didn't he? He would give him all he wants, and more. He didn't think he wanted this...does he want this, too? It seems like a fuzzy thing - warmth from hands through his hair, heat between their bodies, cold from the water, all boiling together into one overwhelming mess of sensation.]
[He's relaxing into it, though - Lovecraft drops the soap and cloth as to grasp at the other's body like an anchor. Nishi's heart pounds in his ear. How fretfully alive. He, who walks like a dead man, can't help but be a little obsessed.]
[Lovecraft ekes out a little noise, a half-groan, as his slender fingers press over the other's spine.]
[That's the irony of losing yourself: forgetting names and faces and even moments like this, but it's not all lost. Lovecraft's hands remind Nishi of what it feels like to surrender to someone else, to dissolve into them, to forget about everything else for a brief, blissful moment.
One kiss bleeds into the next. Frenetic, messy, driven by the raw impulse to chase sensation. There's a thrill for his ego too, the challenge of riling such a dispassionate man. No one's blood runs truly cold.
He shares the heat of his tongue with Lovecraft's without hesitation, while the remaining distance between them collapses. Lovecraft's back is pressed into the shower wall. Nishi could finish his task here, take what he came for, but he hasn't had his fill. Not even close.]
[This is nowhere near the timid one who came in saying that the mask would stay on. Actually, now that he's thinking about it...staying on during something like this? Is this what he was aiming for the whole time? With him? Surely not.]
[And it seems, his own self-imposed rule has been tossed away. He's seen his face, and then some. The uncertain young man of before seems like a vicious fire, now. Lovecraft winces a little as his back hits the shower wall, but the attack continues. He could simply let him have his way, but Lovecraft is a well of sins, it seems. Sloth, gluttony, and of course, pride.]
[So yes, he still can be stubborn, even if he follows orders. Murmuring, he's pressing back a little, tongue pushing between lips as if it can dive deep into him. His hands slide lower, his spine cracking slightly as he bends down closer - he's smaller than him, and yet he holds such strength.]
[What a brilliant little light. How very unlike him at all.]
[That's the thing: Char is the mask— capable and confident even when the man beneath it feels nowhere near as self-assured. If you can't be it, become it. If you can't make it, build it. The ruse has gone on so long that Nishi can't recall who lies beneath, or even who Char is, existing as the remnants of a mask that has, ironically, been forgotten.
Perhaps he's doomed to forget himself over and over, or maybe that's the fate he is meant to suffer. At any rate, it hardly matters now. His hands are a crawling inferno, scaling the vertebrae of Lovecraft's back, commanding, demanding. Fire burns within him, a reminder of the assertiveness built under duress, of the confidence forged from nothing.
His free hand hovers above Lovecraft's heart, teasing bare skin, threatening to penetrate, to slip in and claim the rose in his chest. Fingering the tethers of his soul, toying with it, leaving him unsure of what comes next. Nishi revels in keeping him on edge, a predator savoring the chase, intending to swallow him whole before the water runs cold. Has he always been so animalistic a man? How many times has he been in this position, commanding hearts as easily as he rends them?]
[He's never been one associated with fire. He's the slow sluggish waters of the deep sea, content to hold its mysteries. He's not passionate. He doesn't burn. He simply persists. Life is so exhausting as to not find enjoyment at all.]
[This man seems like he wants to tempt him into it, though. He feels like he's suffocating a little. The fingers press over his gaunt chest, and he's opening his eyes with a little choked noise. So here it is. A claim for the treasure underneath. Nobody has yet taken his rose. He has no idea how it feels...until now, perhaps, teased by a man who seems more cruel by the minute.]
[Lovecraft hisses - the noise comes from inside of him, like the release of gas from a sieve, an entirely inhuman rumble following as he grasps the nape of the man's neck, pulls him back for a moment to truly stare into his eyes with his own.]
[His pupils are so blown as to be black holes.]
Do you wish to...take it?
[Comes the darkened murmur like from some abyssal tomb. Though, even though it is a challenge, he's not running away. He simply waits.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
insistence) wrote2025-08-18 04:41 pm
no subject
[It was nice having John around. He made things easier for him. Now, he's on his own.]
[The man stares. Lovecraft, with dark eyes, stares back - should he say something? - but then he moves, and steps inside.]
[Lovecraft follows. The water hits him and his dark hair, and he seems like he belongs here. Water's always been his element.]
Go here. Go there. Pick that up. Subdue that person. Do the...dirty work, as someone I know has said. Nonstop. No rest.
[Over and over and over again.]
[He's reaching for the shampoo bottle.]
And I have no choice. Really.
no subject
...Ah. And he doesn't recall being a man who spaced out quite so easily, either, but Nishi only catches the end of that sentence. Sorry, Lovecraft, he's listening............]
What makes you think that you don't have a choice? Who is telling you that?
no subject
Everyone I work for.
[...There's something about it that itches under the skin. He doesn't know why. Something about it like an alarm bell. Why?]
I have worked for many, and every time...I am bound to heed the contract. How miserable.
no subject
Then you're working for the wrong people. A good leader would not subject you to work so horrific that it's left you gaunt and miserable. You should tender your resignation immediately.
[As if Lovecraft can tell his bosses "fuck this shit, I'm out" when he's stuck in this place, same as Nishi... but at the same time, if he has a job, they're probably going to terminate him for multiple unexcused absences anyway. With that in mind, a suggestion!]
I'll buy you out of your contract. [With what money?] You can work for me instead. [And do what?] Sound good?
no subject
[He can't. He...doesn't know why he can't. He just knows he can't. It's impossible. He has to. He's bound. He's tied.]
[The offer, however, breaks him out of his dreary mental frustration, eyes widening - like this, he looks younger, surprisingly - and stares at the other man for a moment. Buy him...out of his contract? But that's another form of work.]
[And....]
[The main question is, here...]
Why?
[Why would he make an offer like that?]
You don't...even know my skills?
no subject
[Nishi doesn't hesitate. Once he's set his eyes on something, his mind is made up. He sees boundless potential in Lovecraft, if only he were free— and his intuition has never led him astray... has it?
The real question is how to cut the man's chains. How to pry open his eyes and make him see that freedom is not beyond his reach.
His hands pause, the soapy cloth running clean beneath the stream of hot water.]
I don't need to know your skills. I can see it in you, and that's enough. Just... don't ask how I'd know.
[He speaks with the authority of someone who's lived another life entirely, a man who casts off hesitation as though it were a mask. What kind of life had Nishi led?]
no subject
[This feels so sudden - for a slothful man like he is, shuffling onto Bethlehem and other cities he's sent to, this is too much. Out of the frying pan, into the...shower? With a vivid man, who now reminds him of Fitzgerald. A forceful leader, but Fitzgerald was wrapped up in his own selfish wants.]
[What does this man want?]
[He reaches forward, almost unconsciously, grasping onto his wrist lightly.]
What would you have me do?
no subject
[Not so fast. He has to be sure Lovecraft knows what it means to yearn for something, to want it so badly you'd fight for it. To illustrate a point, Nishi won't give him an honest answer until he begs to hear it.
Nishi takes those hands, long and slender, and guides them to hold his soap and cloth. He'll leave him to dictate the pace.]
You'll have to forgive me for being demanding. I'm not an easy person to deal with— good luck finding someone who disagrees. But I know how to take care of people. At least... that's what I'm told.
no subject
[He gets the idea. He must show his work. He has never done this before. But curiousity wins over exhaustion. His hands take the soap to start rubbing over the man's shoulders.]
[He seems golden, somehow.]
You are told, but you don't know?
no subject
But because he isn't that man, he understands. Always the one to reach out, rarely the one reached for. Lovecraft's touch, hesitant as it is, reminds him of that truth.
Still, he trusts the man's hands won't falter. There's fire in him, deep down.
Then Lovecraft questions him. Nishi's eyes flick to the floor.]
...No. I don't. I've never known.
no subject
[How sad. Maybe it isn't sad. Maybe that's how people are. Does really anyone know who they are? He had a discussion with someone here about nature, nurture. These are things he doesn't think about much - the world is already something exhausting, why add to it with useless discussions on what people may or may not be?]
[But others, they are weighed down by that question.]
[He thinks it must have been a solid weight to bear for John.]
[He tilts his head, voice a low murmur, going down over his chest.]
Who do you think...you are?
no subject
...A horrible person.
[Delivered straight, it's impossible to know whether Nishi meant that earnestly or not.]
no subject
Do you not wish to be?
[John struggled with that day in and day out. Humanity eroded over time for the sake of putting food on his family's plate.]
[People, Lovecraft finds, break themselves a lot over things like that.]
no subject
It's his turn to act. Easing forward into Lovecraft's space, Nishi's fingers frame the sharp line of his cheek.]
No one with any humanity left in them wants to be the bad guy. You simply... become what the world needs you to be.
[What it expects you to be.]
But it's not impossible to break free from what everyone expects from you. In your case, I truly believe that.
no subject
[But the touch isn't rough, or painful, and he lets the tension ease even as his pupils seem to grow a little wider.]
Why...in my case? You don't know me.
[As if a stranger could simply understand. As if a....he lost his train of thought, suddenly, like he tripped. He doesn't know why. Breathing out through his nose, he slides the cloth over what was washed, the corners of it tickling over his skin.]
Shouldn't you free...yourself...?
no subject
He feels similarly about people in Lovecraft's situation, so used to the familiar bars of their cage that they've forgotten what the way out looks like. No, he doesn't know Lovecraft, but he knows what it feels like to be trapped. To bend until you become the perfect monster others imagine.
His fingers sink into the dark shock of hair that spills over so much of Lovecraft's body. For a moment, it looks like he might guide him closer, close the last of the space between them. But his hand stills before he dares. Instead, he lets the closeness suggest something unspoken, his breath brushing the line of Lovecraft's jaw, his words pitched low enough to feel like a confession.]
How do you think people get to know each other? It starts with a gut feeling. Intuition.
[That second question is one he can't touch. If Nishi thought freedom was possible for himself, he would have found it by now. So he does what he always does: he offers it to someone else instead.]
Join me. I don't know where or what, but I'll find a space for you. Somewhere you can live your life on your own terms.
no subject
[But here, they're close. Too close. It makes the itching under his skin more potent, like he could simply rip it off to reveal...what? Its been plaguing him ever since he came here. Something he should know, but he can't as much as he can try. He wants to say it. Warn him. But warn him of what?]
[If it was something bad, would it matter? Would this man even care, relying on his intuition?]
Didn't answer...my question.
[He says, muttering, but he knows already its a fool's errand. This man wants him by his side. Sees something in him. Potential, possibility. Maybe he would use him as a tool just like the others.]
[But it is tempting to hear. Respect for what he wants. He wouldn't want to work all the time, and as much as this sounds like another cage, it feels bigger, freer than before.]
[He turns his head, nose brushing against the other- his hand still, cloth pressed over where the man's heart is. He almost feels he can hear it beating so restless in his chest.]
If I do...will you continue to give me more? Offer me...more?
[He is greedy. Offerings need to be made to keep him satisfied.]
no subject
More. As much as I can give, you'll have it.
[His voice is low, steady, though his heart betrays him under Lovecraft's hand, thrumming like a trapped bird beating its wings against a gilded cage. He doesn't look away. If greed is the price of freedom, then let it be greed that binds them.]
But you'll have to take the risk of trusting me first. Can you do that?
no subject
[Is this man one of such instances? He's so sure. He's so ready to rise to the occasion. He could have nothing. This could be a bluff. Words, words, words. He's never liked people. They always have their own paltry desires.]
[Lovecraft heaves out a low, rumbling sigh.]
[An offering is an offering. In the end...tribute. Yes, tribute is tribute.. What a fitting word.]
Very well. [He will take the risk, because in the end, he is a man guided by simple, endless wants. Hunger, thirst, sleep. He will take all of this, and more.] I will trust you. But do not...make me...regret it.
no subject
Nishi closes the last fraction of space, lips meeting Lovecraft's with a deliberate force. It's brief at first, staking his claim, but there are limits to a man's self-control. Nishi is no exception.
His hands move with practiced ease, one at the small of Lovecraft's back, the other brushing through his long dark hair. Anchoring, guiding, asserting. Every movement is measured, but the heat in his chest pushes urgency into the motion, a quiet insistence as he sets the pace.
Nishi doesn't pause for consent this time— the trust Lovecraft offered is enough. He deepens the kiss, tilting his head, pressing closer, letting the energy between them swell without losing the careful control that defines him. Breath mingles, his heart kicks into overdrive, and the world beyond them falls away.
Even as he takes and takes, Nishi is attentive. Every twitch, every inhale, every subtle shift guides him. Nishi leads, commands, and protects this fragile line of trust, letting desire and control coexist.]
no subject
[It continues. Not simply one, but many, as if to steal the breath out of him. Nishi is taking...or is he giving? No, he must be giving this to him, too. He said as much, didn't he? He would give him all he wants, and more. He didn't think he wanted this...does he want this, too? It seems like a fuzzy thing - warmth from hands through his hair, heat between their bodies, cold from the water, all boiling together into one overwhelming mess of sensation.]
[He's relaxing into it, though - Lovecraft drops the soap and cloth as to grasp at the other's body like an anchor. Nishi's heart pounds in his ear. How fretfully alive. He, who walks like a dead man, can't help but be a little obsessed.]
[Lovecraft ekes out a little noise, a half-groan, as his slender fingers press over the other's spine.]
no subject
One kiss bleeds into the next. Frenetic, messy, driven by the raw impulse to chase sensation. There's a thrill for his ego too, the challenge of riling such a dispassionate man. No one's blood runs truly cold.
He shares the heat of his tongue with Lovecraft's without hesitation, while the remaining distance between them collapses. Lovecraft's back is pressed into the shower wall. Nishi could finish his task here, take what he came for, but he hasn't had his fill. Not even close.]
no subject
[And it seems, his own self-imposed rule has been tossed away. He's seen his face, and then some. The uncertain young man of before seems like a vicious fire, now. Lovecraft winces a little as his back hits the shower wall, but the attack continues. He could simply let him have his way, but Lovecraft is a well of sins, it seems. Sloth, gluttony, and of course, pride.]
[So yes, he still can be stubborn, even if he follows orders. Murmuring, he's pressing back a little, tongue pushing between lips as if it can dive deep into him. His hands slide lower, his spine cracking slightly as he bends down closer - he's smaller than him, and yet he holds such strength.]
[What a brilliant little light. How very unlike him at all.]
no subject
Perhaps he's doomed to forget himself over and over, or maybe that's the fate he is meant to suffer. At any rate, it hardly matters now. His hands are a crawling inferno, scaling the vertebrae of Lovecraft's back, commanding, demanding. Fire burns within him, a reminder of the assertiveness built under duress, of the confidence forged from nothing.
His free hand hovers above Lovecraft's heart, teasing bare skin, threatening to penetrate, to slip in and claim the rose in his chest. Fingering the tethers of his soul, toying with it, leaving him unsure of what comes next. Nishi revels in keeping him on edge, a predator savoring the chase, intending to swallow him whole before the water runs cold. Has he always been so animalistic a man? How many times has he been in this position, commanding hearts as easily as he rends them?]
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[This man seems like he wants to tempt him into it, though. He feels like he's suffocating a little. The fingers press over his gaunt chest, and he's opening his eyes with a little choked noise. So here it is. A claim for the treasure underneath. Nobody has yet taken his rose. He has no idea how it feels...until now, perhaps, teased by a man who seems more cruel by the minute.]
[Lovecraft hisses - the noise comes from inside of him, like the release of gas from a sieve, an entirely inhuman rumble following as he grasps the nape of the man's neck, pulls him back for a moment to truly stare into his eyes with his own.]
[His pupils are so blown as to be black holes.]
Do you wish to...take it?
[Comes the darkened murmur like from some abyssal tomb. Though, even though it is a challenge, he's not running away. He simply waits.]
Shall...you claim it?
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oh yeah this is completely nsfw, beware ye who scroll here
do have sex lovecraft.jpg
inevitably someone's going to make that when pcs unlock
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