[ He'll stroll across to the lounge, putting himself well within reach for Nishi to peruse the layers of fabric barely long enough to cover just past his hips at his own leisure. His question merely earns a snort of — surprise, surprise — still amusement. ]
Shame was a feeling long since discarded by Allag's own hungers, and I am nothing if not a product of my empire.
[And peruse he will, one palm pressed flat against Fandaniel's thigh, fingers wandering, inching higher and higher... until they reach the juncture between thigh and hip. What kind of underwear did Fandaniel choose for this hazing? Don't say tighty-whities. That would ruin the moment entirely.]
That would explain a lot. What do you feel if common human decency has been stripped from you?
[ Considering Nishi had warned him of what was to come the night before, he's made a point to find something black and lacy from within the costumerie. No doubt from some burlesque collection for certain shows, but also suitable enough for this. It did mean sneaking away to search for them before having to meet Nishi here, of course, but why shouldn't he?
It's not as though Nishi's included any accessories as of yet, now has he? ]
Hmm, what do I feel? [ He leans into the palm lying against his thigh and hip. ] Despair, hatred, madness; it's all quite gloomy, no? But what else would one expect from a man such as me?
[Nishi was raised with learned patience. As much as he might crave it all evening, he knows dessert tastes best when saved for last. Still, he's never been one to follow the rules when he can break them with ease, snapping the flimsy waistband of those panties before withdrawing his hand and rising smoothly to his feet. He offers his little maid a bent arm to hold, guiding them toward the accessories.]
Not much. [heh] But it's a shame. You must have been quite different when your beloved Xande was alive. Did you dress up for him too?
[ None of this is something he cares about one way or the other; he'll play shy at the snap of the waistband and lay a hand on the offered arm, playing along as easily as anything else he's done. It strikes him as a strange choice to try and be rid of him this way, though if Nishi is as gripped by the need to keep him close as Fandaniel is to him... ]
I did not.
[ He offers up in response after falling into a quiet moment of thought, thinking back, dredging up memories from so long ago. ]
T'was hardly needed as I was always dressed extravagantly in those times. I do wonder now what he would have thought I had turned up dressed as a maid. Could I have seen him smile one last time? Or would he have scolded me for playing a fool?
[They have a few options in the realm of accessories. Nishi picks out a pair of wristlets and stockings with garters for Fandaniel to add to his ensemble. If he can't embarrass Fandaniel, he can at least ensure the maid who will be attending to him looks the part.]
For what it's worth, either reaction would be appropriate. You play your role dutifully, whatever that role may be.
Now then... don't tell me slipping these on requires the privacy of a dressing room.
[The garter belt may take some patience, but so what? Modesty between them is rapidly becoming pointless. When these layers are bound to end up on the floor at some point anyway, there's little need to fuss over decency.]
How indecent of you. Asking to watch a lady dress?
[ But he is no lady, nor is he modest. He'll do Nishi the favor of dropping the pretense and slipping the wristlets on first, followed by shimmying into the garter belt, but then he's finding an appropriate stool to balance against with each foot as he slowly, so slowly, pulls the stockings on, one by one. He'll push the ruffles of the maid's skirt aside to give him the best view possible as he does this.
Each time he finishes rolling a stocking up, he's sure to attach it to the garter, snap, there, to keep them in place just so. ]
[At that, Nishi can't quite catch his laughter before it slips free— Fandaniel? A delicate little lady? Hardly. Should Fandaniel ever need reminding of his place in this arrangement, he'll receive it, once the pieces have all fallen into place.
Still, Nishi doesn't deny himself the indulgence of watching him work the garter and stockings into place. They suit him too well, almost. Born to play the fool, or else so long steeped in this performance that the man he once was has been eroded away. Perhaps he's forgotten the man he once was altogether.
Someone, surely, ought to be kind to Fandaniel for what he's endured— life, death, and all the cruelty between. But it won't be Nishi. He's just as hollow, bled dry by years of dutifully bowing to his role until there was nothing left but the mask.
He plucks a pair of stilettos from the line of shoes, black and slinky, the heel licked with white and gold ribboning, and offers them with a wry flourish.]
Alright then, "little lady." Try these on. You can manage in heels, can't you?
[Six-inch stilettos are a torment fit to break lesser men, but if Fandaniel is a lady of true taste and refinement, he'll suffer prettily in silence.]
[ Would it displease Nishi to know that he had always been this flamboyant? Or perhaps that was hardly what he wondered. It was simple enough for Fandaniel to reach for an old role — one of many, for many different names has he had, and many different faces — and sink back into it. This one, at least, was closest to reality.
Strange, shameless, laughing and smiling when no such joy to fuel either of those lived in him any longer. Well, at least the humor he felt was real enough. This was hilarious, him dressing up to please a man that some unknown God has bound him to. So much does he desire death at his hand... Ah, to feel any desire at all after all this time?
He puts on a surprised face even as he takes the heels. ]
Little old me with heels like these? How tall they are, but I can't disappoint, now can I?
[ Perhaps shocking no one whatsoever, he can don such heels just fine, as he does, although there is a small wobble when he first steps away from the support of the stool. ]
Hmm, though it has been some time. Let's see.
[ He'll keep a hand on a hip, other arm extended straight out alongside him, and he practices a few prim little steps, heels clicking on the floor as he goes. A few steps away, a turn, and then a pose. ]
[Fandaniel certainly looks the part. Some wobbling aside, it seems he can walk the walk just fine. He has his allure, no doubt, but Nishi isn't here to flatter him. He has yet to give up on the idea of breaking this man down, showing him a living hell so severe that he'll turn away from his craving of death... but Nishi isn't a fool.
He knows from personal experience, after all, that some men are determined to chase their own death no matter what trials stand between them and oblivion.
All that remains, then, is to see how far Fandaniel will fall before slipping into the void. Nishi rises, offering Fandaniel the briefest applause — clap, clap — before he makes for the prop room, motioning for Fandaniel to follow. He won't offer him an arm to hang onto this time, nor will he wait for him to catch up in those dangerously high heels.]
Tell me, Fandaniel: should you be rewarded for your efforts or punished for falling shy of expectations?
[ Nishi will find it a difficult feat. Fandaniel has sought an ending for several thousand years now, and he does wonder, what does this little mortal in red think he can dish out that he hasn't already suffered? Ever curious even now, he'll offer a grand sigh and trail along after the man. He won't be as quick, naturally, but he won't be far behind, either. In the end, these are still six-inch stilettos, and the memory of wearing such in the past is slow to stir.
He had worn such before, had he not? Hmm. When, though? Who was he pretending to be then? Had he been a woman at the time? Surely, he must have been, but a name eludes him. Someone of little import, then, he imagines. ]
Would it bother you to know my heart flutters at the thought of either? Reward me, punish me, you will find me at your service regardless.
[Fandaniel can take his time. That gives Nishi the opportunity to select what he needs, his hand closing around the handle of a leather riding crop and testing the weight of its keeper against his palm. This will do. The sting will bite, the welt will rise, and come the inevitable strip search later in the week, it may even leave a mark worth remembering.
That, of course, is something to weigh carefully. Nishi has no qualms about scarring this man with pain, but he knows too well how eagerly Fandaniel might bare his injuries to others... and point directly to their source. That would be... inconvenient.
So his back stays turned until the moment presents itself. And then, like a snake uncoiling, Nishi pivots on his heel. The crop whistles once through the air before it cracks down across the flesh of Fandaniel's thigh. The sound is sharp, like a breaking branch, and the impact blooms red almost instantly, a welt already raising. The air itself seems to ring with it.]
In that case... I'll just do what I want. You've already opened yourself to me, after all.
[ It hurts. The lash cuts through his nerves like fire, and Fandaniel jerks, surprised. It's startling enough to make him lose his balance, heels skittering on the floor in a useless attempt to regain it before he tumbles to the side, landing hard on a hip with a quiet hah. He catches the rest of himself on a hand pressed to the floor, but it leaves him seated on the floor, legs curled to the side. Even if the welt fades, that might leave a bruise along a leg, but even then, he offers no complaint.
What Nishi gets instead is Fandaniel peering up at him from below, the shock on his face short-lived. He slides back into a smile and a laugh after the fact, and he raises a hand to daintily cover his growing grin. ]
Master wants to be rough, it seems. Shall I get back up and bend over for you?
[Nishi grins, teeth bared in something sharp and unkind. There's shame in it somewhere— buried and muffled, but that shame grows quieter each time he lets this part of himself surface. Whoever he was before... was surely not a good man. I have to be better, he reminds himself, but the voice urging restraint is little more than a whisper now.
He doesn't offer a hand. Instead, he nudges Fandaniel with the toe of his boot, coaxing him onto his stomach. The skirt rides up easily, exposing pale skin. A moment's pause, a deliberate raising of the crop, then the strike. It lands with a snap, reverberating through Nishi's palm, the kind of hit that leaves nerves buzzing and flesh hot. The sound cracks the air, sharp as a gunshot in the enclosed space.
It's satisfying, the way his body absorbs it, the faint tremor left behind. Nishi knows he's courting bruises if he keeps this up, but restraint doesn't come naturally with someone so infuriatingly eager to be broken.]
[ A terrible pair, the two of them, only capable of making one another worse, feeding off whatever obsessive savagery binds them together. Fandaniel, for his part, needs little coaxing to lay himself out on his stomach, even going as far as reaching back to make sure the skirt rides up tantalizingly, giving Nishi more than enough skin to target with his crop.
Again, he's struck, and a gasp is forced out of him, back arching and, in turn, his hips rolling up off the floor. It leaves him feeling alive for once, how the pain forces him to squirm like this. He can feel heat coming to his face, the same way the welt from the crop leave shot, angry skin where it hit. ]
...hah... good. Good. [ Surely he can come up with something more verbose than that. He looks back at him, neck craning just enough to gaze up at him with one heavily lidded eye and, as always, that damn smile. ] I hope you don't plan on holding back, hmm?
[What Fandaniel's doing here is dangerous, offering himself up as a striking board for Nishi's frustrations. Surely there shouldn't be many, not with the good, orderly life he's carved out since waking in a strange world.
But that all ended about a week ago. The train never stops— It simply carries him from one purgatory to the next. With every stop, the frustrations pile higher, his composure thinner, his cracks showing.
So— no. Holding back isn't even in the equation. Nishi circles the angry welt on Fandaniel's ass, then strikes again, leaving a smarting twin.]
You wanted this. Don't come crying if you can't walk tomorrow.
[ The strike sends a jolt through him, and his eyes flutter shut briefly, a quiet hitch in his breath catching in his throat again, his body tensing from the lash of pain, then relaxing again, slowly. ]
Mm.
[ His eyes open, all to peer up at Nishi once more. ]
I wanted this? [ A smirk. Insolent even now, dressed so indecently and on the floor like this. He'll ] I only wish to do what you wish to do, Nishi. I will not come crying to you tomorrow unless you want me to.
[ If that at all prods at the man's nerves, all the better. Fandaniel finds this all hilarious: dressing up, wiggling about, and making soft noises for him, all of it. A game for someone like Fandaniel, though he'll hardly turn down a bit of pleasure when it's inevitably offered. If it ever is. He can easily imagine Nishi denying that out of spite, but that would only lead to more laughter after the fact. ]
[This will test the balance between Fandaniel's shameless urge to run his mouth and how much abuse he can endure in silence. There will be questions at trial. Answer any of them honestly, and our deal is off.
Can Nishi trust him? Not in the slightest. But probing the limits of his loyalty has its own appeal, and so the keeper comes down again, and again, and again— across arms, thighs, the ridges of his spine. The crack of the crop keeps time like a metronome, snapping out a rhythm that could almost be mistaken for music.
By the time his curiosity is satisfied, there's scarcely an inch of Fandaniel's back left unmarked. Char gives him a nudge with the toe of his boot.]
What will you tell them?
[The ones who will ask. The ones who won't take silence for an answer.]
me when he should have been stiff and in pain all week 2 long welp
[ Some places will bruise, red and angry, far worse than others, but in the end, Fandaniel has to wonder the same. He's left panting, breath heavy, and shaking on the floor by the time Nishi's done with him and the crop. The more the crop fell on him, whip sharp, the louder he got, and it's a wonder no one came diving in to see where the noise of someone in pain was coming from.
He makes a quiet sound at the nudge and, with trembling arms, pushes himself up to kneel rather than continue lying sprawled. Ah, muscles stretching against abused skin as he moves to reposition himself. Small miracle he doesn't sob at it all, something that would have come unbidden from a bruised body even if he, Fandaniel, felt no particular urge to cry. ]
...haah... What will I tell them...? [ He lets his head hang, sweat dripping down his face. What indeed. ] They already believe in my proclivity for showing up bruised and beaten. I will let them think the same as they thought before.
DLKNSLKNSLKSNLKSNLSKN and there's no pain reliever.............................
[The irony isn't lost on him— Fandaniel's a difficult sight once the welts begin to rise, red and angry. Nishi takes no real pleasure in it. Easier, perhaps, is to be the one being struck, to bear the welts himself. Too bad that isn't the arrangement they've made.
Instead of yanking him up onto precarious stilettos, Nishi lowers himself, slipping into his space until only inches remain, a perilous closeness by design.]
Which would be what?
[He wants a solid answer. His thumb grinds into a welt along Fandaniel's thigh as he hooks the leg up, winding it firmly around his hip.]
Don't be vague. If you want me to humor you, have believable answers ready.
[ How intimate, coming down to his level to torture him further. Where his thumb grinds throbs with pain, though slowly, unstable, surely not following any kind of healthy heartbeat. Certain "health problems" make the pain a little easier to endure, but he isn't immune by any means.
He still breathes in sharply at the unkind touch. It still hurts. As ever, he can still only let out a quiet chuckle, even now, even after all of that. ]
Hmm, that Solomon isn't a particularly kind lover, though if they expect me to name names, I believe I will attach a requirement that everyone admit who it is they are fucking. Why, if they need to know who's bed I go to, surely I should get to know their dirty little secrets as well, don't you agree?
[What a cruel stipulation— just Fandaniel's style. That ought to handle all but the most shameless among them who will find themselves vastly outnumbered by the many who wish to keep their intimate lives intimate.
Nishi is, of course, one of the latter. As he lifts Fandaniel's other leg to wind it around his hip, he bends in to lick at the curve of his neck, humid from the punishment doled out on him. His bite is careful, not harsh, but lingering— drawing a bruise that will bloom red, then fade into an ill violet, perfectly suited to Fandaniel.]
That should do. Prying is a bad habit many here share.
[Not that Nishi excludes himself from that observation.]
[ Fandaniel lets out a sigh as Nishi sinks his teeth into his skin. Compared to what else he's done, this actually feels gentle, even if it, too, will leave a mark behind. How much he'll have to cover up this week... ]
Can you blame them? All of their lives are on the line.
[ But it also gives him a tool to use against them, at least in this. They'll have to see how much that holds true this week, though. Ah, but that's a concern for another time. He's happy to help Nishi with hooking a leg around his hip, though with the man manhandling how he's seated, he's forced to keep one hand behind him, palm flat to the floor, to keep himself stable without outright clinging to the other.
Oh, but his free hand? He slides it up, brushing past Nishi's face and winding his fingers through his hair, finally finding an excuse to touch him back in turn. ]
[Fandaniel won't have long to worry about keeping himself upright. Generous as ever, Nishi puts him firmly in his place, lowering him to the tile and guiding his thighs wide around his hips. Does it surprise him that there's little arousal to be found in the act of beating Fandaniel swollen and red?
Nishi responds more to how Fandaniel's body yields under the whims of his lips, occupied with meticulously marking up his neck. Perhaps he's old-fashioned. Perhaps he's a sadist because circumstance demands it rather than by some innate drive to wound, but who would believe that?
After all, if he were not the demon Fandaniel expects, his partner would lose faith in his ability to grant his wish. So he continues to show the cruelty his prey anticipates, in small stinging bites— scraping teeth along collarbones, across portions of the chest not covered by flimsy layers of silk. Fandaniel expects a beast, and he will get what he yearns for, licked over to test how cleanly he might snap between Nishi's teeth.]
People are quick to turn on one another in situations like this... but no, I cannot fault them. Not when some "higher power" dictates we maim each other for his amusement.
[ There's no surprise at all. Fandaniel can't pretend not to have garnered some sense of pleasure from the beating; to actually feel anything at all holds an allure all of its own. That is not necessarily sexual pleasure, though, and what little arousal had been achieved from being hit again and again does not quite hold a flame to Nishi finally helping himself to his body directly.
There is some small grumble as he's pushed down onto his back, even as those lips play across his skin, leaving mark after mark. The pressure of the welts pressed against the tile is a bit much once the initial cooling sensation of a cold floor fades. That's all it will be, however. No complaint, no request to be moved somewhere more comfortable.
Instead, he follows that with a breathy sigh, soon overriding any previous discontent with little sounds of approval. With both hands now free, he can begin to explore in turn. The hand that had brushed through his hair slides down along his neck, then over his back, while the other slips around Nishi's side, fingers pressing into cloth firmly, trying to feel what lies underneath. ]
Mm, just so. So worried about being the next victim, I wonder if any have spared the time... to think of how, hmm, to a kill a god.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Shame was a feeling long since discarded by Allag's own hungers, and I am nothing if not a product of my empire.
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That would explain a lot. What do you feel if common human decency has been stripped from you?
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It's not as though Nishi's included any accessories as of yet, now has he? ]
Hmm, what do I feel? [ He leans into the palm lying against his thigh and hip. ] Despair, hatred, madness; it's all quite gloomy, no? But what else would one expect from a man such as me?
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Not much. [heh] But it's a shame. You must have been quite different when your beloved Xande was alive. Did you dress up for him too?
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I did not.
[ He offers up in response after falling into a quiet moment of thought, thinking back, dredging up memories from so long ago. ]
T'was hardly needed as I was always dressed extravagantly in those times. I do wonder now what he would have thought I had turned up dressed as a maid. Could I have seen him smile one last time? Or would he have scolded me for playing a fool?
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For what it's worth, either reaction would be appropriate. You play your role dutifully, whatever that role may be.
Now then... don't tell me slipping these on requires the privacy of a dressing room.
[The garter belt may take some patience, but so what? Modesty between them is rapidly becoming pointless. When these layers are bound to end up on the floor at some point anyway, there's little need to fuss over decency.]
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[ But he is no lady, nor is he modest. He'll do Nishi the favor of dropping the pretense and slipping the wristlets on first, followed by shimmying into the garter belt, but then he's finding an appropriate stool to balance against with each foot as he slowly, so slowly, pulls the stockings on, one by one. He'll push the ruffles of the maid's skirt aside to give him the best view possible as he does this.
Each time he finishes rolling a stocking up, he's sure to attach it to the garter, snap, there, to keep them in place just so. ]
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Still, Nishi doesn't deny himself the indulgence of watching him work the garter and stockings into place. They suit him too well, almost. Born to play the fool, or else so long steeped in this performance that the man he once was has been eroded away. Perhaps he's forgotten the man he once was altogether.
Someone, surely, ought to be kind to Fandaniel for what he's endured— life, death, and all the cruelty between. But it won't be Nishi. He's just as hollow, bled dry by years of dutifully bowing to his role until there was nothing left but the mask.
He plucks a pair of stilettos from the line of shoes, black and slinky, the heel licked with white and gold ribboning, and offers them with a wry flourish.]
Alright then, "little lady." Try these on. You can manage in heels, can't you?
[Six-inch stilettos are a torment fit to break lesser men, but if Fandaniel is a lady of true taste and refinement, he'll suffer prettily in silence.]
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Strange, shameless, laughing and smiling when no such joy to fuel either of those lived in him any longer. Well, at least the humor he felt was real enough. This was hilarious, him dressing up to please a man that some unknown God has bound him to. So much does he desire death at his hand... Ah, to feel any desire at all after all this time?
He puts on a surprised face even as he takes the heels. ]
Little old me with heels like these? How tall they are, but I can't disappoint, now can I?
[ Perhaps shocking no one whatsoever, he can don such heels just fine, as he does, although there is a small wobble when he first steps away from the support of the stool. ]
Hmm, though it has been some time. Let's see.
[ He'll keep a hand on a hip, other arm extended straight out alongside him, and he practices a few prim little steps, heels clicking on the floor as he goes. A few steps away, a turn, and then a pose. ]
Well?
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He knows from personal experience, after all, that some men are determined to chase their own death no matter what trials stand between them and oblivion.
All that remains, then, is to see how far Fandaniel will fall before slipping into the void. Nishi rises, offering Fandaniel the briefest applause — clap, clap — before he makes for the prop room, motioning for Fandaniel to follow. He won't offer him an arm to hang onto this time, nor will he wait for him to catch up in those dangerously high heels.]
Tell me, Fandaniel: should you be rewarded for your efforts or punished for falling shy of expectations?
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He had worn such before, had he not? Hmm. When, though? Who was he pretending to be then? Had he been a woman at the time? Surely, he must have been, but a name eludes him. Someone of little import, then, he imagines. ]
Would it bother you to know my heart flutters at the thought of either? Reward me, punish me, you will find me at your service regardless.
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That, of course, is something to weigh carefully. Nishi has no qualms about scarring this man with pain, but he knows too well how eagerly Fandaniel might bare his injuries to others... and point directly to their source. That would be... inconvenient.
So his back stays turned until the moment presents itself. And then, like a snake uncoiling, Nishi pivots on his heel. The crop whistles once through the air before it cracks down across the flesh of Fandaniel's thigh. The sound is sharp, like a breaking branch, and the impact blooms red almost instantly, a welt already raising. The air itself seems to ring with it.]
In that case... I'll just do what I want. You've already opened yourself to me, after all.
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What Nishi gets instead is Fandaniel peering up at him from below, the shock on his face short-lived. He slides back into a smile and a laugh after the fact, and he raises a hand to daintily cover his growing grin. ]
Master wants to be rough, it seems. Shall I get back up and bend over for you?
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He doesn't offer a hand. Instead, he nudges Fandaniel with the toe of his boot, coaxing him onto his stomach. The skirt rides up easily, exposing pale skin. A moment's pause, a deliberate raising of the crop, then the strike. It lands with a snap, reverberating through Nishi's palm, the kind of hit that leaves nerves buzzing and flesh hot. The sound cracks the air, sharp as a gunshot in the enclosed space.
It's satisfying, the way his body absorbs it, the faint tremor left behind. Nishi knows he's courting bruises if he keeps this up, but restraint doesn't come naturally with someone so infuriatingly eager to be broken.]
No need. You look good right where you are.
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Again, he's struck, and a gasp is forced out of him, back arching and, in turn, his hips rolling up off the floor. It leaves him feeling alive for once, how the pain forces him to squirm like this. He can feel heat coming to his face, the same way the welt from the crop leave shot, angry skin where it hit. ]
...hah... good. Good. [ Surely he can come up with something more verbose than that. He looks back at him, neck craning just enough to gaze up at him with one heavily lidded eye and, as always, that damn smile. ] I hope you don't plan on holding back, hmm?
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But that all ended about a week ago. The train never stops— It simply carries him from one purgatory to the next. With every stop, the frustrations pile higher, his composure thinner, his cracks showing.
So— no. Holding back isn't even in the equation. Nishi circles the angry welt on Fandaniel's ass, then strikes again, leaving a smarting twin.]
You wanted this. Don't come crying if you can't walk tomorrow.
no subject
Mm.
[ His eyes open, all to peer up at Nishi once more. ]
I wanted this? [ A smirk. Insolent even now, dressed so indecently and on the floor like this. He'll ] I only wish to do what you wish to do, Nishi. I will not come crying to you tomorrow unless you want me to.
[ If that at all prods at the man's nerves, all the better. Fandaniel finds this all hilarious: dressing up, wiggling about, and making soft noises for him, all of it. A game for someone like Fandaniel, though he'll hardly turn down a bit of pleasure when it's inevitably offered. If it ever is. He can easily imagine Nishi denying that out of spite, but that would only lead to more laughter after the fact. ]
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Can Nishi trust him? Not in the slightest. But probing the limits of his loyalty has its own appeal, and so the keeper comes down again, and again, and again— across arms, thighs, the ridges of his spine. The crack of the crop keeps time like a metronome, snapping out a rhythm that could almost be mistaken for music.
By the time his curiosity is satisfied, there's scarcely an inch of Fandaniel's back left unmarked. Char gives him a nudge with the toe of his boot.]
What will you tell them?
[The ones who will ask. The ones who won't take silence for an answer.]
me when he should have been stiff and in pain all week 2 long welp
He makes a quiet sound at the nudge and, with trembling arms, pushes himself up to kneel rather than continue lying sprawled. Ah, muscles stretching against abused skin as he moves to reposition himself. Small miracle he doesn't sob at it all, something that would have come unbidden from a bruised body even if he, Fandaniel, felt no particular urge to cry. ]
...haah... What will I tell them...? [ He lets his head hang, sweat dripping down his face. What indeed. ] They already believe in my proclivity for showing up bruised and beaten. I will let them think the same as they thought before.
DLKNSLKNSLKSNLKSNLSKN and there's no pain reliever.............................
Instead of yanking him up onto precarious stilettos, Nishi lowers himself, slipping into his space until only inches remain, a perilous closeness by design.]
Which would be what?
[He wants a solid answer. His thumb grinds into a welt along Fandaniel's thigh as he hooks the leg up, winding it firmly around his hip.]
Don't be vague. If you want me to humor you, have believable answers ready.
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He still breathes in sharply at the unkind touch. It still hurts. As ever, he can still only let out a quiet chuckle, even now, even after all of that. ]
Hmm, that Solomon isn't a particularly kind lover, though if they expect me to name names, I believe I will attach a requirement that everyone admit who it is they are fucking. Why, if they need to know who's bed I go to, surely I should get to know their dirty little secrets as well, don't you agree?
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Nishi is, of course, one of the latter. As he lifts Fandaniel's other leg to wind it around his hip, he bends in to lick at the curve of his neck, humid from the punishment doled out on him. His bite is careful, not harsh, but lingering— drawing a bruise that will bloom red, then fade into an ill violet, perfectly suited to Fandaniel.]
That should do. Prying is a bad habit many here share.
[Not that Nishi excludes himself from that observation.]
no subject
Can you blame them? All of their lives are on the line.
[ But it also gives him a tool to use against them, at least in this. They'll have to see how much that holds true this week, though. Ah, but that's a concern for another time. He's happy to help Nishi with hooking a leg around his hip, though with the man manhandling how he's seated, he's forced to keep one hand behind him, palm flat to the floor, to keep himself stable without outright clinging to the other.
Oh, but his free hand? He slides it up, brushing past Nishi's face and winding his fingers through his hair, finally finding an excuse to touch him back in turn. ]
As are ours...
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Nishi responds more to how Fandaniel's body yields under the whims of his lips, occupied with meticulously marking up his neck. Perhaps he's old-fashioned. Perhaps he's a sadist because circumstance demands it rather than by some innate drive to wound, but who would believe that?
After all, if he were not the demon Fandaniel expects, his partner would lose faith in his ability to grant his wish. So he continues to show the cruelty his prey anticipates, in small stinging bites— scraping teeth along collarbones, across portions of the chest not covered by flimsy layers of silk. Fandaniel expects a beast, and he will get what he yearns for, licked over to test how cleanly he might snap between Nishi's teeth.]
People are quick to turn on one another in situations like this... but no, I cannot fault them. Not when some "higher power" dictates we maim each other for his amusement.
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There is some small grumble as he's pushed down onto his back, even as those lips play across his skin, leaving mark after mark. The pressure of the welts pressed against the tile is a bit much once the initial cooling sensation of a cold floor fades. That's all it will be, however. No complaint, no request to be moved somewhere more comfortable.
Instead, he follows that with a breathy sigh, soon overriding any previous discontent with little sounds of approval. With both hands now free, he can begin to explore in turn. The hand that had brushed through his hair slides down along his neck, then over his back, while the other slips around Nishi's side, fingers pressing into cloth firmly, trying to feel what lies underneath. ]
Mm, just so. So worried about being the next victim, I wonder if any have spared the time... to think of how, hmm, to a kill a god.
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