[ there's an ache that swells in his chest as he watches the moonlight ripple across the shifting plains of diluc's skin, a map laid vulnerable and bare for his greedy hands to lay conquest. happiness is still not a concept he's entirely comfortable with; it comes to him packaged in layers of wariness and guilt, a delicate gossamer bubble all too easily broken with a breath to reveal the poisoned blades lurking within. it's almost painful, that shudder of his heart and thawing of his veins when diluc turns the softness of his mouth to his neck, the same sweet pain he imagines the frost must feel as it gives way to spring and sun - how long, he wonders, before the inevitability of winter again? surely it can't be natural, this constant and overwhelming warmth that sings in his blood, surely the universe will present its price to him sooner or later.
it seems like the story of his life, forever waiting for the dagger to fall. even so, as he shifts halfway over so he can grin insufferably into diluc's face, the midnight tresses of his hair spilling ink against the pale canvas of his body, he thinks for the first time that perhaps the wait isn't so bad after all. ]
Why, Master Diluc, are you going to plant me with your seed? [ his voice trembles with barely restrained laughter as he flutters his lashes theatrically - and oh, he's definitely going to regret this in the morning when he has to drag his sleep-deprived ass into work, but annoying diluc has always been a worthwhile endeavor of his time. ] Shall I come to you adorned in greenery so you can deflower me?
[ and despite his over-the-top dramatics - not that he isn't already designing a skimpy nymph costume to commission for some poor soul - well, there's some appeal in the fantasy, isn't there? there'd been plenty of myths and legends in khaenri'ah of people cursed to become various flora and fauna, long before they'd discovered what a real curse could be - but it wouldn't be a curse at all, with the two of them. to be rooted permanently in the soil of diluc's home, to be pruned and tended to with the same gentle care he shows the vines of the winery - that would be a blessing, if anything. ]
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it seems like the story of his life, forever waiting for the dagger to fall. even so, as he shifts halfway over so he can grin insufferably into diluc's face, the midnight tresses of his hair spilling ink against the pale canvas of his body, he thinks for the first time that perhaps the wait isn't so bad after all. ]
Why, Master Diluc, are you going to plant me with your seed? [ his voice trembles with barely restrained laughter as he flutters his lashes theatrically - and oh, he's definitely going to regret this in the morning when he has to drag his sleep-deprived ass into work, but annoying diluc has always been a worthwhile endeavor of his time. ] Shall I come to you adorned in greenery so you can deflower me?
[ and despite his over-the-top dramatics - not that he isn't already designing a skimpy nymph costume to commission for some poor soul - well, there's some appeal in the fantasy, isn't there? there'd been plenty of myths and legends in khaenri'ah of people cursed to become various flora and fauna, long before they'd discovered what a real curse could be - but it wouldn't be a curse at all, with the two of them. to be rooted permanently in the soil of diluc's home, to be pruned and tended to with the same gentle care he shows the vines of the winery - that would be a blessing, if anything. ]