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.

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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.]

[ You whisper his name and he's on the move, covering you completely with the whole of his own body as he captures your lips with his own.

Give him a bit, he's shedding the rest of his own clothes because they're in the way of everything else. ]

Say it again, [ there go his pants before he catches your lower lip between his teeth to worry at them a little. That's his tongue slipping past your lips as he lets you go so he can slant a smile over your mouth. ] Say my name again. [ That's him tugging off the last of the trappings and brushing the length of him against you and breathing: ] Ngh. Shit, it's been too long.

[ Has he ever mentioned that he loves the way you both just fit together? He probably should tell you that. ]

[He's going to indulge you, not just in your request but in the way he wraps his arms around your neck, brings himself as close to you as he possibly can, and folds his body perfectly against yours.]

Josh, I love you.

[Please fuck me.

That probably goes without saying now, especially with the way he looks at you, the way his words tremble in what little air there is left between the two of you.]

Edited 2014-06-06 07:34 (UTC)

[ It’s like a punch straight to the gut, the way you're looking at him right now, vulnerable and utterly disarming in the way you fit perfectly in his arms. There's a tightening in his chest as he takes in those words, and he knows what you're asking, and yes, he'll give in.

That's a kiss pressed against your brow and then one more over your mouth as he whispers:] I need to stretch you out first. [ And then he's pulling away just enough for him to open that drawer and fish out that tube of lubricant that he coats his fingers with.

Josh is quiet as he guides your legs around him, moves you both into a position that angles you in the right way to slip his fingers in. ]

[This one certainly isn't as quiet as he probably should be, even if he's trying his best to be: it's written in the way he quivers, and tries to swallow the needy whimpers rising up from his throat as the rest of him welcomes you in.

Having your fingers there is relieving, but it isn't going to last for very long. It's only making you think of how your cock isn't in him yet.

Really: how did he last all of those days without you, thinking that he might never have you again?]

[ Funny how while you're wondering that, this ons's just thinking about how he's missed the way you close around his fingers, your body telling him in the plainest of terms, how well you two just fit.

He wants you around him so badly, but he'll be damned if he rushes you before you're ready.

He presses his lips to yours again, the movement of his tongue as it teasingly rubs against yours in time to the way he's curling his fingers to trace the inner walls of you. ]

[The way you kiss him is enough to make him shudder, and you'll end up swallowing the rest of the noises he makes as you work him up.

That's good, in a way. Maybe people won't end up hearing anything else from him as you fuck him.]

[ He fingerfucks you for a significant amount of time ( he's not counting, your mouth and the sounds beneath his lips are a distraction ) but he slows the movement of his fingers when he feels you getting close to the edge.

One deep and thorough kiss now, as he withdraws his hand and shifts over you, palms spreading your legs so that he can press close. He rubs the tip of his cock against your opening first, his mouth keeping your occupied as his tongue teases your lips. And then he's slipping an arm around your waist, as the other drifts down to guide the full length of him into you.

There's a soft sound that escapes him at that, something caught between a swallowed breath and a whine, but he muffles that by crushing his lips against your own. ]

Edited 2014-06-09 01:45 (UTC)

[He'll take that, because he needs your air, he needs your mouth, he needs your tongue against his own. Moments like this are both wonderful and frustrating, because you're both tangled together and yet he wants nothing more than to sink beneath your skin.

So he'll get as close as he can, and try to pull you in more by caging you with his limbs, wrapping his legs around your torso and keeping his arms locked around your neck. Whenever he breaks away to breathe, you'll feel the stutter and sob of his breath over your skin, and see how each one hitches up into a little whine of need.]

[ There's a shudder that goes through him when he's finally buried himself to the hilt in you, his face pressed into your neck to breathe the scent of you in because it's been too long, he's missed you too much and this is him surrendering himself.

He starts moving in slow and steady strokes, face finally lifting to yours so he can drink from your lips again. You are the oxygen he needs, that first sip of water when the whole of him needs replenishment and the place he'd come home to.

Close is not nearly close enough here. He needs the lines between you to blur, to fall into you so completely. ] Please, [ this is him begging in a whisper that trembles from the force of emotion that's making him dizzy, ] don't leave me again.

I don't know what I'd do.

Edited 2014-06-11 03:37 (UTC)

[It's probably fascinating, then, to look on as that last, perfect press of you into him makes his eyes grow dark and wide, how the shudder of his breath is the kind of moan that can only be wrung out when someone's so full of somebody else that it's impossible for that unfortunate party to wrest himself free.

Not that he ever wants to now. That's the farthest thought from his mind, among what thoughts remain now that you're together again.]

Never. I never will.

[It's a promise that he'll fight and kill for in order to keep.]

[ He's crushing his mouth against yours in an almost desperate attempt to memorize the taste of you. One hand is also drifting down to feel you up, thumb tracing slow circles over the tip of your cock as he rolls his hips against you. ]

I missed you. [ He's echoing your words now, each syllable heartfelt and ripped from the core of him. ] I was so scared that you'd leave me. That I messed us up so much because I couldn't get my head straight.

[ He bows his head to press open-mouthed kisses over your chest, right over your heart. ] I love you so much, Hikaru.

[The way you've buried your hand between your bodies in order to work him up that way makes him whimper, and cling to you tighter. Maybe you'll feel the slight bite of his nails digging into your back.

He can't help it. The intensity of the feelings he harbors for you makes him lose control.]

I love you too.

[That's whispered, weak and earnest, against your ear.]

[ He bites on is lower lip in an effort to swallow the hiss of pleasure when he feels your nails bite into his skin. What can he say? You holding onto him like this, like he's the only thing for you to latch onto is overwhelming.

He's mouthing kisses along your neck at that, and then he makes his way back to all but fuse his mouth to yours. His tongue slips past your lips to tease against your own, unconsciously mimicking the way he's thrusting into you in deep and thorough strokes. ]

[That gets him going all the more, if only because the way you're fucking him is the perfect and welcome assault to everything that he is. As such, it isn't too long before the gasp of his breath and the moans leaving his lips whenever he comes up for air both take on a higher, more desperate pitch.

He'll shudder once he's finally starting to reach that high, and let those hands of his grip you tight/roam over your back/anchor you in place, the way your body is pinning his down to that bed.]

[ He doesn't pick up the pace, doesn't rush, just keeps on moving inside of you as if each roll of his hips might take him deeper and deeper into your skin. When he hears the change in the pitch of your voice, he ghosts kisses over your mouth, his eyes fixed on your face; one hand skimming the length of your torso, the other gripping you tight in his fingers.

His breaths are shorter, the room feels smaller and you are the only thing that matters. ]

[When he starts to cum, you'll feel him spilling over your hand just as much as you'll feel the way he clenches around you, and tries to curl his body against yours as best as he can. He buries his cries against your shoulder; because of all of that, it might look a little like he's trying to hide himself away in your arms, or maybe end himself by trying to melt right into you.

Perhaps it expresses, in a way, what you are to him. You're his world, and he's only too happy to get lost within you.]

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larue - 2014-06-15 14:33 (UTC) - Expand

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