icarusalsoflew | Waking the Dead 2.0 || August 13, 2063 || Saturday || The Mordechai Home

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Waking the Dead 2.0 || August 13, 2063 || Saturday || The Mordechai Home

[So before the real work in Europe starts, you've all got a free day to roam around the Mordechai Home and its rather beautiful surroundings. Everyone is more than welcome to stay the night.

The Cooley Peninsula's a lovely place, and this particular section is even prettier than the rest of the area. The house, in itself, is pretty interesting too.

Knock yourselves out, guys. This is turning out to be a pretty sweet vacation, isn't it?]

DESCRIPTION STUFF:
+ The house is an old-style Irish home made of brick and covered in ivy. It's got two floors (all five bedrooms are upstairs, and each one has a bathroom), an attic, and a basement. Everything's antique in here, and there is pretty much NOTHING Japanese in the house except Hikaru. The binding motifs: Christian symbols with a Celtic twist, blades, brambles and water.
+ First floor's got the kitchen with the dining area right next to it, and the living room with a fireplace. There's a porch up front.
+ The attic is full of old and interesting shit, and looks like a study. Hikaru's Brotherhood of Violence stuff is here.
+ The basement is the strangest area: half of it is a workshop-cum-armory with a map that expands an entire wall. It's full of old notes, post-its and photographs. Observers will note that this was Alistair's project from way back when - the beginnings of how he always managed to keep track of Hikaru. The other half is under lock and key; the door's a vault. It feels cold beyond it. VERY cold.
+ There's a beach that's about a three minute's walk down from the hill that the house is on. The ancestral Mordechai cemetery's a ten minute walk from the house, through rolling hills. Alistair's wife is buried there, as are Maes' wife and kids, Abel, and both Seth Mordechais.
+ ...And then there are fields for miles and miles, and mountains in the distance.
+ The Kearney home is actually a fifteen minute drive away from the Mordechai home. Nobody's in, though.

OTHER OOC NOTES:
+ Feel free to go anywhere you like. Ping me if you need descriptions.
+ Alistair will only return to the house by sunset. He's in the cemetery or roaming around in the forest. until then.
+ Feel free to make your own threads, or pop in to bug the NPCs at the threads I am putting up for them.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[You're the one, out of all of them, who has made him realize that he actually gets impossibly turned on by the way you talk to him whenever you're tangled together. Words are his thing, as is the way they bleed out when everything - the emotions, the sensations - runs far too high, catches up with his thoughts, and very gently kills them.

Maybe he'll tell you that someday. As things stand, though, the way your fingers ghost over his jaw and the solidity of your palm against his cheek is sending another pang of want through him. The force of it is enough to make him tremble anew, and his gaze immediately drops from your face.]

Please don't do that.

[No, he isn't upset; not in the slightest. He's just completely fucking overwhelmed, and it's making him withdraw in the face of the staggering breadth of his need for you. If you keep this up, he's pretty sure that he won't be able to handle it.]

[ That's making him blink. This one's just taking a few seconds to stare at you now, Hikaru, before he can feel the smile tugging on the corners of his mouth; before he's pressing a tender kiss to your forehead and then tipping your face up so that he can kiss you full and long on the mouth, his own breath heavy andd full of want and desire.

You'll note the way his voice's pitch has changed, too: low, soft, strained with need.

( Yes, he's also moving a bit more beneath you. Seeing you like this, he's discovering, only makes him want you so much more he's positively trembling from it. ) ]

Why?

[ Can he not tell you these things? It's the truth. ]

[Adjusting to every shift you make is becoming a lot harder than it should be, and since you moved like that and he felt you again --

-- yes, he's blushing even harder. This is a little shameful, given who he is, what he's seen, and what he's done in every other year before this one, across twenty-nine fucking lifetimes.

The slightly vehement way he shakes his head and keeps his gaze studiously away from yours makes him look even younger than he already does. He's also shifting his arms up so that they've encircled your body properly, and he's pulling in, clinging to you even tighter.]

[ You blush, you keep your eyes away and cling to him so much tighter, and he can't help the sound that leaves him: a sigh that is part weighted chuckle, part ragged intake of breath as he he tracks kisses along the curve of your shoulder, nips almost desperately at your neck, and puncturates all that with the way his teeth graze on your ear.

His palms are moving over your body with quiet intensity, following that shape of you as if he is memorizing every dip, slant, angle and occasional curve until he's finally moved both hands to the small of your back to pull you even closer ( there is no closer than this, solid as he is up against you, tight as his arms are now around you, but a boy can try, right? ) ]

I'm just calling it as it is, [ murmured with his mouth pressed right beneath your ear, lips moving over your skin as if he's a man starved for oxygen and you are the air that he breathes. ] You're so fucking beautiful in all the ways that matter and count.

The way you move-- [ lick ] --the way you talk-- [ suck ] --the way you sometimes just have to look [ and then kissing you full on the mouth all over again. Yes, those are his hands making quick work to loosen the waistband of your pants. Yes, that is a particular sound you are likely familiar with, since you've heard him make it before -- the only difference is, you're not even actively touching him.

Forehead to yours now, the look in his eyes dark and intense and unblinkling. ]

Do you know how I looked at you across that room at the party and all I could think was that I'd screwed up so bad I was ready to do anything just to make things right with us again. [ No shying away, he won't let you, not when he needs to say this, so have a palm at the nape of your neck to keep you still. ] I went home with my heart in pieces, and I woke up to scrape it together again. I dragged my ass to school and I managed to go through the motions but my head was so full of you.

[ Soft now, earnest, as that hand at your neck gentles with clear effort: ] Tell me again? That you love me? [ He's not done. ]

There is no one I want more than you.

[ Yes, he knows his pronunciation of your language could use some work. Yes, he stammers that out, but he wanted to say it anyway. Just like that. ]

[What else can a body do but respond, especially when it belongs to someone who has always been inclined to be perfectly attuned to the person he has ended up falling in love with? It does not help, of course, that he can't exactly turn off how powerful every sensation is to him, how precisely detailed. He knows, for example, which hand is against his skin because he can feel the map of the the lines on their palms. He knows the differences between each kiss depending on how you kiss him and where, because he can tell how it fits against him/on him. And the way you smell.

By the time you've taken to holding him in place and forcing him to look at you, his breathing has gone completely ragged, and his eyes are dark with pleasure, reflecting just how far you've sunk into his bloodstream, how you've invaded his thoughts. And he doesn't miss the fact that you've chosen to speak to him in the first language that the two of you shared.]

I love you.

[He responds in kind, just as the expression on his face breaks a little further and shows you just a bit more how shattered he is by just how much he loves you.]

[ He's leaning in now, pressing his forehead to yours, eyes shutting to a close as he smiles. His heart feels so full of you, and it's the best feeling in the world. ]

Can we kill the lights? [ That's murmured over your mouth. ] Not sure if the others are wandering about still, but...

[ This one's not planning to leave the room anytime soon. ]

[It is so hard to concentrate when you're doing something like that, on top of everything that you've already done. As such, you'll have to excuse him for being a little slow to nod back.

At this point, it was particularly hard to care about the fact that they weren't alone in the house. Still...]

We should... we should probably try keep quiet.

[Which is more for him than it is for you, really.]

[ And he's going to kiss you full on the mouth, body flush up against your own before he pulls back with a little hitch in his breath, as if leaving you hurts. ]

Two seconds.

[ He's moving off the bed now and padding as quietly as he can towards the switch which he flips down so that the room goes dark. There's enough light from the window for him to make his way back while his eyes adjust and when he's by your side again, you'll feel how he slides his arms around you, drawing you right up against him all over again. ]

I would have wanted to keep them on-- [ because he loves watching the way you respond to him, he really does ] --but I don't want people thinking that we're still up.

[ That's his breath by your ear now. ]

[And that brief absence should have given him ample time to lie back, try to let his brain and will meet right back up at the point where his heart is, and catch his breath.

It didn't. Also: you murmuring in his ear? Horrible.]

Mm, that might be best.

[Excuse the lack of wit and charm. You kind of blew those out of the water for him right now.]

[ That's his hand cupping your cheek now, before his fingers skim down to catch your chin. You've been shy all day and it doesn't look like that shyness is abating just yet. It's okay though: he's got you. ]

Hey, [ murmuring that just as he's catching your lips with his again. ] No need to be shy, remember? It's just me.

[ He's guiding your arms around him at that, even as he deepens that kiss until the both of you fall back against the mattress. He's kissing you in earnest now, suddenly daring, just a touch desperate, hands moving over you as he sheds you of all the trappings you put on so that he can feel you up and make you shudder.

You'll also hear the ache in his voice: ] I want you so fucking much it hurts.

[You succeed in doing all of that and then some, because he's so out of his depth, so perfectly lost in you that he can't possibly do anything else but welcome your ministrations, and let his head fill with your static.

You can probably feel the way his heart is hammering away in his chest, and how hot his skin is, and how his lips quiver every time your lips break away from them. All of that and more, all because of you.]

You have me. [He sounds his physical age as he looks up into your eyes, and earnest as only someone so young could be earnest.] I think you always will.

[Even after you're long gone, after he has "moved on" to other things, to the rest of his existence. This one never, ever forgets.]

[ You'll see the way his gaze falters when you say that, because yes, he has things to work through but what matters is that he will work through them. Hearing you tell him that, though, robs him a little of breath, and he leans in and captures your mouth with his. ]

You don't have to think that far, [ that's a sigh right before he slips his tongue past your lips to rub it against yours; and he's going to keep on kissing you for a little while until he needs to come up for air. ] Here and now is okay. Here and now with you.

[ That's his brow set gently against yours. ] Me worrying and thinking too far ahead is what got you hurt in the first place. Not doing that again.

It's only because you care.

[That's it at the end of the day, isn't it? He knows how you are with people. You only invest emotion - all shades of emotion - in the ones who matter. He gets it now more than ever.]

And we're past that.

[They are, right? There will be other things (because there are always other things), but that only means that they have to try harder to make the better things in between shine through.]

[ There are few words that could actually work as a half-decent answer to that, but actions say a lot more, so he's kissing you again and showing you just how yes, that's done, and if anything ever crops up again, he's one hundred percent invested in making this work.

His hands are moving over you now, touching you the way he knows you like to be touched, and each skim of the palm and every kiss tracked over your skin is done with such reverence it's like a prayer.

When he finds his voice again, he's whispering into the dark, tongue flicking over your nipple. ] I need you.

I need you so much.

[And it's amazing how every touch/kiss/movement on your part puts him that much more at ease under the weight of your gaze and beneath the solidity of your hands. This is the two of you re-learning each other, and even as you're working him up, you're bringing him right back to familiar ground. To something he had been so frightened of losing.

He needs you too. At times, this need scares him. Thank Elaine for the fact that you're always, always going to be close at hand.]

Then come inside.

[It's an invitation and a request, not an order. You're more than welcome to take your time, to keep doing what you're doing. This is, after all, one of the best ways that you show how much you love him.]

[ He moves over you first, mouth fitting itself snugly over your own as he braces himself above you. That's his tongue coaxing yours out to play, his teeth catching gently on your lower lip, his breath mingling with yours in the dimness.

That's his hand skimming down to touch the length of you between your legs and following that to where you've just invited him. ]

Do you have--? [ Glancing briefly towards the bedside table now. To be honest, he didn't think this through. You haven't slept together like this before tonight so it hadn't crossed his mind to hunt up lubricant at the store. ]

Top drawer.

[You're close enough to see the smile on his face and That Look in his eyes.

Was he expecting this? No. It's simple, really: this one just happens to be a creature of rhythm and reason when it comes to bedplay and bedroom politics. You'll always find exactly what you need in the same places no matter where you are with him.]

[ He'll answer that smile with one of his own, and maybe it's daring and little else, but that's him moving down in one smooth move to drag his tongue over your cock as he rubs teasingly at your opening. ]

I think I'm developing a fixation over the way you taste.

[ There's a note of amusement in his voice as he takes you in. ]

[And there should have been a witty return to that, really, except your tongue is warm and solid and wet and good and it's been too damned long, and --

This one's breath stutters out from his throat, followed by a gasp that's a delicious mix of pleasure and relief. He's also sinking even more into the sheets, because his hips are arching up, pushing a bit more of him into your mouth/against your finger.

It's always going to amaze him, the kind of effect you have on him. It's probably pretty amazing to watch, at any rate.]

[ Oh, he's watching. Seeing you like this, feeling the way you want more of him is humbling and beautiful and incredible.

He's reaching out with his other hand now, taking yours and tugging it close to the back of his head in a gesture that says simply: show me what you want and I'll give it; hold onto me, because yes, I'm here to stay.

You'll also hear the pleased hum from deep in his throat as he sucks, the roughness of his tongue moving along the length of you even as he has you, full in his mouth. ]

[And you just had to do that, didn't you? The way your tongue works at him is more than enough to contend with already.]

F-fuck...

[That is breathed out, though, hushed and relieved and hot and bothered all at once. His fingers are flexing, burying themselves in your hair, pressing against your scalp. As for his cock, it's growing even harder in your mouth, and filling in a little more.]

[ He's coming up for breath a little while later, but withdrawing only as far as to keep the tip of you still between his lips so that his tongue can rub at where he can taste you. His hands have also moved to the tops of your thighs where the pressure of his palms his massaging the flesh there.

When he turns his eyes to yours, he lets you go, tongue absently chasing the taste of you on his lips. He's still so close that you'll feel his breath on you as he speaks softly: ] Move up against the pillows.

[ He's sliding his arms beneath your legs now, shifting them so that they'll hang over his shoulders. ] I want to put my tongue in you.

[And his head's so full of you that the combination of every little thing that you do to him or say to him is dizzying. He complies, of course, as best as he can given the fact that it doesn't quite feel like his body is his own.

That would be your fault, really. He's yours, because he loves you fucking much.]

Yes. Please.

[Words are so difficult when you're this far gone.]

[ He's stretching out on those sheets at that, elbows braced as his hands lift your hips. He's nipping at the underside of your cock first, and then tracking a path downwards where he really wants you.

He takes it slow, lapping at your opening and alternating it with gentle exhales of his warm breath. He's also shifting to keep your hips in that precise position so that he can rub a finger over you. He does this for the next ten minutes or so, occasionally glancing up at your face to catch your reactions even in this dark.

There's enough light from outside to reveal the shape of you to him. And what he doesn't see, he's pretty sure he'll hear. ]

[What you'll see, then, is how the expression on his face has broken down into panting lips, darkened eyes, shuddering skin and tiny little hitches of breath that gradually escalate into gasps of pure, unadulterated pleasure. He squirms underneath your touch, reacts to the barest sense of you against his skin.

This is what happens when it's been far too long for the both of you, and you happen to have a lover who will always and ever turn you, in some fashion, into the entirety of his world.

By the time those minutes pass, this one's completely strung out. Your name is a quiet plea on his lips, choked with heat and too much want.]

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