WHO: Malkuth & Others
WHAT: Various threads for April (hmu for starters if needed!!!)
WHERE: Pretty much anywhere
WHEN: Anytime during April
WARNINGS: probable violence, drinking, cannibalism, sex, spoilers for Lobotomy Corporation & Library of Ruina will be marked as needed
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very light lobco spoilers
her? plain old, ordinary malkuth? who, for three lives and counting, was lucky to have a single glance thrown her way? who worked so hard and died for it in her first, who managed to have it on her only once he'd forgotten the woman he loved, who would never again have it in her third?
she thinks of the framed picture in her desk.
her? ]
... I...
[ it's a little choked out, voice wavering and uncertain, but not for the reasons he'd assume at kneejerk.
her? ]
I've never... once... [ not like that,
not like this, hand feeling like a burning shackle against her skin, one she isn't sure if she wants to pull away from from how much this suddenly is for her, thinking of how much kaito's words had been for her, spilled out like a dam unable to control its water any further, and at least this one she could've seen coming. (she should have seen that coming too, and yet it'd blindsided her more than it had march.)
right? she thought she could. irresistible? anyone could have been, if they'd been kind to the old guide. if they'd reached out like she did, dared to touch. her heart beats so hard it aches.
... her? ]
Vergilius, no one's... I'm not...
[ the words are lost, inappropriate and wanting to draw away, but wanting to be close too. for all she'd scolded and scruffed him about it, malkuth's no different; there's so much red on her hands, the color of his eyes and his name and the way he relaxes into her makes her cheeks the same, her neck and ears and shoulders, if she were to show them, all deepening and flushed, but she's the same, she is.
malkuth wants to snap back like a rubberband, the way she had with kaito. but that had hurt him. she doesn't want to hurt anyone like that again. but to have the feelings put out there like that, again and again, face to face, without the safety of text between them, without the barrier of drinks or a memory soon to go, without the fallback of it being in her control
her breath comes out shaky and she unclenches her other hand, bringing it, shaking, to his face, to rest there. her eyes, alight with pain and relief and happiness taking shuffled turns, remain in his. ]
Thank you. [ she feels like a child, in a way. scared. small. relinquishing something into the care of another, if temporarily. ] Yes. I do. Be easy with me, okay? I've never... done anything like this before.
[ whatever this is. she doesn't remember, but she's kissed before. but it won't be... ]
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[The wavering of her voice makes a trickle of fear course down his spine, if only for a moment - perhaps he was too assumptive. It's best not to tread lines. But suddenly, the shade of red that blossoms on her skin makes his own eyes slight. It reminds her of when he had massaged her ankle, grasped her calf, called her by her other name. He swallows. What was once a rapid heart now feels like a hummingbird, a wave of heat sparking on the tips of his ears to turn them crimson in its wake]
[Perhaps if he simply said his part without having touched her hand, that self-sabotaging part of him could have potentially snaked its way, made him assume the worst. But then she reaches out with her other hand (she's shaking like a leaf) and grasps him there.]
[He knows he's done for. She has captured him. Head, heart, mind, and body. He's been skewered on his own thorns of passion, grown from her well-kept garden.]
[Vergilius shifts a little closer, scarred hands dropping to rest lightly over the sides of her chest. Safe and secure. He's a bodyguard here, after all. She "hired" him for that, once.]
Of course. Miss Malkuth.
[A murmured promise, and he bends in with vibrant eyes, allows her hands to shift off of his face for a moment.]
[He feels he has hungered for this from when she touched his face for the first time. A insatiable little monster of a wish.]
[A kiss to build a dream on.]
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normally, that's how it is. his hands against her, secure and safe and warm, don't ease her heart; they do the opposite, light headed even as her arms come to rest on his shoulders in kind, as he leans, her world becoming those points of light until unlike normal her eyes slide shut and she braces herself.
tense, uncertain in that unfamiliar (is it?) way, but it's
not scary, of course, not uncomfortable, of course, she's strung tight in anticipation until the moment it happens, hesitant until she's not and she returns it, straightening up as her heart unfurls just a bit, more tattered than she'd ever like to let on.
vergilius is different. his gaze is always on her, just like another's, and every time she thinks about it she feels that much closer to the edge of the fundamental unknown. maybe it won't be so bad climbing down together. ]
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[He can feel that tension - the way her muscles shift under his scarred palms. In other contexts, these same hands have held down men spitting and writhing in their own blood in the throes of death. Here, it stands as direct opposite, and his hands are careful, so careful. Not because he think she's fragile, but because his hands are used to harm.]
[Even so, he hopes she can relax. The more he wades into the sea, the more he wants to simply drown himself in it. But he's careful, still, drawing back to give her a little time to breathe before kissing her once more, a little more deeper with a sigh against her lips.]
[After all....Be easy with me, okay?]
cant believe this. lobco spoilers
it isn't a tired one like normal. it isn't irritated or a sigh just to sigh. even now, even right now, habit takes over reason and malkuth's mind ticks down notes the way she had crawling on the floor, streaks of blood painting the laboratory floor as she reached out with near-wordless cries. anyone else would have turned at her hasty footsteps (and they did, she remembers gabriel's irritation and michelle's quiet greetings, lisa and enoch's turned faces, daniel's easy-going tease, giovanni's eyes flicking briefly, and even kali's careful hand to keep her from turning the corner too hard) but she can't help but think
maybe
at some point they would stop turning, too.
... his manner is gentle and careful, restrained without it being patronizing. her body is warm and only getting warmer, stomach tumbling pleasantly as she moves forward to sit closer, a hunger not so different than the fairy festival's growing in her heart. loneliness had ached at her then, unquenchable, and it claws at her now. what eases it, then, is what is before her.
malkuth breaks reluctantly to breathe, laughing softly. ]
Not that easy. [ breathy and a little teasing. closer, brushing her lips on his for another kiss. ] I'm impatient.
[ if she could feel out what to do herself, besides bringing one hand from its spot on her arm to run through vergilius's hair, then she'd be doing it. but malkuth is inexperienced in three lives, eager to learn. ]
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[Would the Vergilius of the past be able to appreciate anything like this? When he was nothing more than a weapon, a killing machine, a Fixer trying to survive?]
[He doesn't know. Maybe the seeds of this were only recent, maybe they were planted long ago. He had that dream for a long time, after all. Guilt did much to tend the soils of it. He wonders if that same guilt will drench this moment later, drown him in sorrows untold.]
[But he doesn't want to let it. Malkuth smiles at him, and her voice is like a song he can't help but follow. It makes a surge of feeling well up in him - different from the plain desire from his body, and altogether affectionate. He smiles - a brief little twitch of a thing, so rare on his lips - as he kisses her, before pressing little warm spots of kisses alongside her jaw and cheek.]
[For this brief, brief moment, perhaps he can feel human.]
Alright. I might be, too.
[He guides her, now, to lay on her back completely onto the bed. He follows, swinging himself onto the bed before he dives down for another kiss, then pressing his lips against the crook of her jaw, sliding to the artery that beats in quick time.]
[One of his hands is sliding to her side, squeezing lightly as he feels up to her chest. A tease.]
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(he is? for her? he's impatient because of her? her? she can't wrap her head around it; her?)
and malkuth exhales the silent doubts as she's laid back, nerves pressing her fingers through his hair again as vergilius looms, briefly, over her, heart stuttering when she feels herself lift just a bit to catch the first.
they're like precise strikes, chest rising as she inhales softly and sighs, eyes closing (her?), pulse quick and alive where his lips lay. the hand makes her jump, laughing in surprise, but it's
it's not bad it's
not enough.
there's fabric in the way, uncomfortable as it traps her warming body, and malkuth takes her hands from him to breathe out, scooting just enough away, missing it, to pull off her shirt and hate, a second, how long her hair is, as it tickles her back when she lays down again, the swell of her breasts beneath a simple white bra, to take his hand and place it back. the scarred palm is as pleasant here as it was holding her wrist.
better, better. soft and warm and a bitten back grin as she turns her head again, a quiet encouragement to continue. ]
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[She looks at him like so. Her eyes even more vivid as his, excited and eager like a perfect little devil. Malkuth's hands shift, and now she's bared herself. Unblemished, beautiful skin. She might dislike her hair, but he finds a new obsession with it, unable to keep his eyes from tracing the lines as it frames her body like some kind of knockoff halo.]
[He thinks he wants to see her body flare up in his color, again.]
[Vergilius kisses her again over her neck, like a little promise before he himself draws back. The jacket, discarded. The shirt, lifted up and over his head, tossed to the side. This husk of a body has been opened for the architect to explore.]
[He's not as perfect a specimen like he was, perhaps, several years ago, but this skin tells tales. These ruins open their gates to her - the crisscross of scars like a map, damaged and roughened patches, the tautness of muscles - and it all leads to a summary of the same thing, perhaps. He has came, he has won, he has conquered, and he has survived.]
[His other hand draws hers upward to splay onto his chest. He won't wait, now, spurred on by the rush of feeling - Vergilius kisses down her chest, before placing his lips over what he sees of each breast in almost unsubtle worship.]
[His hand will be busy, too. It cradles her curve, before sliding down to her belly to roll a thumb around her bellybutton, kneading a little into soft skin.]
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it remains as lingering as the old scars that her hands brush over in interest and wonder, eyes falling shut when he falls onto her again, the noise caught her throat escaping into a shuddering sigh of his name. ]
Vergilius...
[ certainly not scolding but not quite pleading, yearning and disbelieving all the same.
(her?)
in response her body rises in temperature, blooming red from the rosy pink, arching slightly to be closer, but the thumb kneading below is enough to keep her pinned. so funny, really, to be called a WAW-level threat and then be caught by a gesture so small and not so innocent.
when had he gotten these scars? what were their tales? her nails drag against them as if she could pry their secrets away with her touch. how doesn't he think it attractive, this time-worn body of his? the taunt tell of muscle, the hone of a weapon, scraping at her skin and leaving not a spot of blood in its path. not even a bruise.
... as if she were a treasure, when she feels like nothing but some trinkets. ]
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[He's liked it since the beginning. The warmth in it, the teasing, and now, the way she has it on her tongue makes him marvel in it for a moment. He will burn that into himself, a more pleasant version of a scar to hold onto himself in the cold and darkness.]
[It almost sounds like she can't believe this is happening. Neither can he. He would've never predicted it from the beginning. But this is here, this is now, her hands are over his skin, nails tracing against his body, and there's a reckless vision of her flaying him open, seeing every broken piece of him to marvel for her own.]
[He sighs into her skin, raising his head to catch her face before he dips down to kiss onto the soft patch of skin over her bellybutton.]
Miss Malkuth.
[His ears are feeling like they're heating up, making the cool metal of his earring almost like ice against his neck. Now, it's his time to implore, to ask. He wants to be sure.]
...Further?
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[ she parrots back, brows drawn in momentary wondering before they smooth out and she flushes, his color crawling across her body to the small curve of her hip, to what lay beneath.
her head swims pleasantly. there's an undeniable desire for more, unknown as that more is, and she thinks of school diagrams from elijah's life. there hadn't been time for that. black and white, simply necessary information for growing adults. perhaps there was love in that act, between her mother and father and the parents of those around here. maybe they had all found their color and elijah simply couldn't see it.
a private rainbow, found in each other. intermingling and becoming something new.
words are so embarrassing. she wonders how the people in her trash novels manage it. ]
Please. I... want to see the sort of colors we'll make together.
[ when people interact, when they overlap, they create something new. malkuth's not one to give up or shoot down new experiences, and it's not terrifying. vergilius has been nothing short of a gentleman. she just wishes she'd worn a skirt. ]
me slapping on the nsfw tag here
[A word he could care less for, at this point. Perhaps he should take offense at that. But he remembers what she said before, under the cherry blossoms. He remembers her vibrant pictures.]
[He told her then that he didn't think he could see the world like she could. That his colors were limited, that it was already too late. But here, she asks for it, and maybe, just maybe, he can see that meager light at the end of the tunnel. There should be no saving for his wretched soul.]
[In this moment, there's a painful part that wants to believe it can be.]
[He nods, pulling back up to give her a light kiss to the lips, before his hands unzip her, start shifting the fabric down. Carefully, off one leg, then the other, knocking off her shoes in the process. Oh. She's red here, too. Wonderful. A sight to set the heart aflame.]
[Vergilius then hooks his thumbs on the sides of her underwear to pull them down as well, something crushingly soft in his eyes as he uses one hand to pull hers towards his abdomen, above the line of his pants.]
Touch me...all you want.
i can't make fun of blair anymore.
just like shizuka had realized
that there was a lot she hadn't learned about being a woman, for different reasons and different circumstances, the way she looks or wants to look included even briefly in that.
but his hand grasps hers, leading her from her thoughts, and she exhales nervously as she presses her palm against his abdomen, fingers spread and counting the proof of his survival between them. there's no chill, there's only heat, and malkuth thinks of her novels. what a stupid thing to follow the lead of.
but in their own way they, too, are instructions for a woman who's never had the chance in the first place. she is no more a helpless maiden than vergilius is a cold and unfeeling partner, but the motions are the same.
she returns his kindness in unzipping, shifting down the pants with staggering desire, letting the small heel of her hand knead against him while the other slips behind his neck to pull him down for another kiss. one half of this she knows and is vaguely more confident in, the other she. isn't, and that's fine.
malkuth does think she'd like to see him under her though, if only to better map his written history. later, a bit later, she doesn't think he'd mind. ]
blair in the corner popcorning
[But to hunger is to allow a weakness. Malkuth takes his invitation, and he sighs into her lips when he feels her hand move over the swell. Her touch feels like heaven and hell. He wants to choke on it.]
[He licks past into her mouth now, a minute warning as he lowers down to let his abdomen and chest press against hers. What a blossoming of heat! The Fixer rocks into her grip, encouraging, even as his hand naughtily shifts underneath the line of her bra to slip down and over her back. Using a fingertip or two, he plucks over the hooks, before tugging it off and to the side when he's succeeded.]
[Like opening a present. This is a holiday he wants to celebrate unto eternity.]
you ever think about how they have big ass windows to the outside in these rooms
it's hard to concentrate with his hands on her though, his body against hers, her hand against him, arching a little with a soft gasp at the removal of her bra. she recollects something, her legs spreading more to squeeze at his sides as she works with the encouragement between them, her hand harder against the swell. eager. impatient. (wanting to be praised.)
it feels so, so good, like how they'd felt dancing, when he'd stroked her spine (the memory a shudder she sighs shakily into him at), when his hand had rested at the nape of her neck and scratched gently through her hair. it's the same licks of flame that embroil her, ache her, and malkuth loses track of her notes and worries in the process.
the closeness, such a curse, such a blessing. but it really feels like it's not enough the more she consumes of it, of him. forgetting herself for a moment isn't so terrifying when there's such safety in the heat enveloping her. ]
me closing my eyes. i See
[She could eat him whole.]
[Its a thought that flits in - perhaps an odd one, as he's not especially in some obvious state of vulnerability what with her underneath him, but it feels more apparent than ever. She had that E.G.O, that fairy, that made her wanting and hungry. A part of him, almost a little eager for self-destruction, would have laid himself down for her. He doesn't know why he thinks it now, but the way she gasps and sighs and pulls him further in makes him shudder.]
[He called her a wolf in sheep's clothing. She can consume what she wants, he thinks, delirious. He's not drunk, but his head is swimming, heart beating so desperately in his chest. More, more, more.]
[He detaches for a brief moment, already missing her, so that he can hurridedly pull his pants and underwear off and take his place once again against her. One hand strokes to her hip, her thigh, to pull it snug against him. Even here, the soft skin brushes against the snarl of scarred skin.]
[Vergilius again kisses her, hungry too. He shifts his hips against her, the heavy heat of his arousal brushing against her to make him let out a little wanton groan. His eyes are vibrant, terrifying, but warm all the same as he whispers against the lips he's worrying.]
Ready? Malkuth.
it's fine. she has curtains
no, probably not. if she had the time to wring her mind over it, probably not. but she doesn't have the mind to mind it, red from ears to her thighs against his historied skin and hot wetness pressed to him. it's exhilarating and new. it's good -- she's good, a whine caught in her throat and her nails against the nape of his neck. ]
M-Mmhmm, [ body more than anything ready, the rasp of her name worsening the heat between them, ] yes, Vergilius. Please.
[ because if this doesn't solve the starvation she's disciplined herself to accept, nothing will. claw herself inside out just to get rid of the itch only to leave a gaping cavity in its wake, blood mimicking the tears that she won't let fall when she sits alone with her thoughts. she hopes it feeds her, hopes it quenches her longing; what else can she do?
malkuth tries to stay relaxed, but her anticipation makes it obvious she's not -- she can be eased to it, she'll gasp and shudder to it, and she's sensitive and wanting enough that he might be surprised by how fast she is to come from the get go. not embarrassing enough to her though malkuth's impatience has ever gotten the best of her. ]
thank god for curtains
[She says, and it makes something dangerous spark in his gut. Perhaps he has done this over the years, in forgotten beds and bland nights, but this is something new. A fire to burn through them both. He's always associated her with light, with the sun, in both the good and the bad. Too bright for him, giving life to something broken and battered.]
[Maybe this won't make him whole. He's traversed this journey with all his guilt too long to assume that. But he can fumble at rays of light at the back of the tunnel and marvel at the angel who graced him with it.]
[He nods, thickly swallowing, before he positions himself. Both hands cupping down now onto the bottom of her thighs to adjust her, holding her there briefly, before he starts to press in with a choked noise at the back of his throat. He doesn't want to simply shove down like some brute. He'll let them both get used to the other, the pressure and heat alike heightening into an awful, exhilarating feeling. Its the type of thing to make his body break out into a sweat - it feels more potent than a battle could ever make him feel.]
[He hopes it can make her feel the same way, too. He needs her to feel it. If someone is to be brought happiness, let her have this over him, wretched excuse of a soul he is.]
Malk...Malkuth...
[As he bottoms out, his hands shake ever slightly, fingers dug into her skin. Allowing them both this brief moment so the heat between them can intertwine and solidfy - and then, with a definite, slow movement, he can start to shift back and then forward again to allow them a new dance to savor.]
[She's so beautiful like this.]
[I want you. His gaze says, burning like never before. I want you.]
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dizzying and exhilarating, impatience stuttering her breath as he presses against, fingers and arousal both, and into with only the latter; she closes her eyes with a low moan, a shudder as he fills her with himself. malkuth wears vergilius's color well now too. draped in it. enveloped in flame. it surges beneath her skin, unlike anything she's felt in the two lifetimes she might have had the chance to explore it (and never did, never could; the color she sought is right in front of her, for her eyes alone) and
maybe she is stealing parts of elijah's what ifs away, selfishly for her own. hearing her name fall from his lips curls her toes and she forgets her first life for now. the present is here, the future is red, beyond that is-- is a color she doesn't know just yet, and she's excited to see it. ]
Haa... mm, you're-- so gentle, even now...
[ the restraint is hot. the way he can't help it, with her, still plays endlessly inside her head. the way he'd grasped her calf the way he does her thighs now make her wonder if she could've had this sooner.
what if they'd kissed that day. would it have ended like this? maybe not as well, with more guilt to swallow and air less clear between them.
god, she hopes his fingers leave marks. it already feels like they're branding her, just like his lips had earlier. she misses that. unsubtle, embarrassing as it was, she'd felt wanted, desired, and her eyes catching his takes the breath out of her parted lips for the same reason.
her, her. just her. they're beautiful and searing like the rest of the heat they share, fingernails digging into the skin of his back as if they'd like write their own tales, and malkuth is again caught by them in their dance, impatience tempered and tamed.
it's hard to talk when her tongue feels swollen in her mouth, body trembling at the slowness of his careful, definite strokes, but malkuth does her best through her sighs, one hand sliding to press at his cheek. ]
Bea.. beautiful. Your eyes.
[ just for her, only for her, at least for right now. maybe they wouldn't turn to her again. she'll sear this memory into her mind too, just like the ache of her body and the way it works around him naturally, slick inside and out as sweat beads at her skin and shares his. a feeling she won't soon forget, and one she'll miss in due time. ]
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[He never felt like he appreciated the color, truly, before this very moment. He was titled it. It meant nothing but a reference, perhaps, to the blood he had spilled constantly over the years.]
[....She would know that better than most. And yet, here she is, giving him everything including the uttered compliment of his eyes. It's sincere to a point where it feels it stabs through him. If he had done this earlier, he doesn't think it would've gone anywhere. A single moment. A dot.]
[There's a weight of mutual understanding that holds them together like a paperweight. These abandoned texts can be read together. As easy as anything. He swallows down her sighs, a low keen of a noise at the back of his throat that replies to her.]
[Yes. He is gentle even now. He wants to savor it. He wants her to savor it. To move inside her with such a steady pace, feeling the lines of her legs held so perfectly against him, is true bliss. He means it.]
[Her hand moves, and he instinctively kisses at its palm, kisses its fingers, sucks ligtly over a few fingertips to produce more of that spark of their shared color.]
[Beautiful? Him....?]
Ha.....you feel...like everything.
[Everything he could ever want. His movement and creased little eyebrows of happiness and concentration say it for himself. He groans again, eyelids fluttering.]
I like...how you sound, ah...
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No more... poetry for me, Vergilius? [ teasing even now. ] Can't think of any?
[ she likes his voice too, she'd said. hearing his written word was the match that struck this after all. has she ever been anyone's everything? not to her knowledge. but she's everything right now, she feels everything right now, nails in his skin and knees squeezing tight. it really is a good a lot, a chosen a lot, and maybe she's goading him just a little. ]
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[Now that gets him to shoot her a little bit of a frown - what a tease. Here, now, in the midst of union, heat, and desire? Well, on second stuttered thought, maybe that is the point. Maybe there's never been a better time of it. It's hard to think, though - he feels like his thoughts are tripping like drunkards over the weight of sensation as he continues his thrusts into her.]
[What she does IS goading him, he thinks.]
[But he doesn't mind.]
Your voice is...the song I want to sing to myself in the dark. [Another shift of his hips, a guttural gasp.] For myself. For you. A duet to...consume and be sated on. Ha.
[His body is shaking a little, sparks singing up his spine as he quickens his pace, dives deep, emphasizes it to make her truly feel the weight of him.]
You menace.