synflux | ( closed ) life like the unplumbed sea;

Entry tags:

( closed ) life like the unplumbed sea;

WHO: Elysium & friends(?)
WHAT: This is now just a catch-all for everything
WHERE: Everywhere
WHEN: 2024
WARNINGS: Blanket warning for possible explorations of dark themes in general, please tread at your own risk. I will, however, endeavour to include specifics in headers if applicable.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ He's trying a little too hard to be a hero, probably. It's not something he can hide to himself when it's a topic he's been ruminating over for years. Extend just enough to be lauded as one, be smart and pull back when you know the odds are completely against you. It's a different story when you're left with no choices, but was he really left with none, here?

Could he make that much of a difference? ]

Well, you won't find much better than me to be stuck in a situation like this with. And, I suppose I could say the same about you. [ … ] That you haven't been all that bad to be around.

[ Short of someone who would have the firepower to blow through their enemies, maybe. ]

Just kidding. It's not hard to imagine someone going mad from how quiet it's been. A single guy can only fill so much silence in by himself. [ Which, is what Sampo has always been: a guy to kill time, to poke and prod, to perhaps see what lies underneath. He was never that committed to it, and he's imagined it would end in something along the ends of an "oh well." It doesn't make much sense in the context of them working alongside each other—why?—but his head once again protests that line of thought. ] I thought about it on the first day, but—…

[ For the first time since their conversation had begun, Elysium tears his gaze away from the window to look at Sampo. It's a little easier to let it naturally fall on his idle work, the blade he may or may not still be cleaning. ]

…—you never really came across as someone who'd get all sentimental on me. [ translation: he would actually much prefer it if Sampo wasn't getting sentimental on him. then maybe, he could convince himself that their interactions were less genuine for it. ] Whatever the case, we'll get you out. I'll get you out. Even I don't know what my full potential is, you know? I could end up surprising the both of us.

["Haven't been all that bad" he says. Yeah, he'd expect that. He's not some popular, beloved figure of the world. He's the shadowy comic relief. He's the side character. He is not to be admired and put on a pedestal.]

[He is not the one to be saved in any scenario. And he's been fine with that. He has his role.]

[This feels different. Unsettling but not in some overly negative way, just...unfamiliar. He's used to being chased. He doesn't know how to take this, a sincerity that almost feels like it isn't deserved.]

[But at the same time, in these times, Elysium is all he's had. He's all he's relied on. Is it that abnormal, to want to grab on, keep him close? His idea of elation falls upon the dignity of all mankind. He doesn't want to be the last one laughing.]

...No, I'm not really the sentimental sort.

[But...? But. He also glances at the window, the tip of his tail swishing from side to side on the floor in lazy, thoughtful, but tense little circles.]

But regardless of that, I'd like to see you surprise me. [He smiles.] Besides, I can't let you hog all the glory. Tit for tat, my feathered friend. I'll get you out, too. It's only fair, right?

[ Get out him out, too… and then what? Elysium wants to ask. Elysium releases the full extent of his Arts, they breach the Seaborn's barricade. From there, it won't be a playful game of hide-and-go-seek; they'll actively chase them down and Elysium himself becomes a liability when the likelihood of finding and receiving treatment would be closer to zero. A little harrowing, is that there's no guarantee even if he himself holds the line.

Unless.

…

The answer to his earlier musing is that no: he was never meant to be a big hero, or make that big of a difference. But, he has made differences and if he could save one more life, then, perhaps, he could make peace with that. A hero for one.

For a man he's known for a month. For a man who, in the past month, he's somehow exchanged parts of himself that he never has under the pretense of…something. When did they have the time and luxury to? Nevertheless, Elysium isn't the type to assign value to lives. Evidently, there's something Sampo wants to return to whereas in contrast, from acceptance of the mission, Elysium had always planned to be buried in Iberia. Even outside of their specific circumstances, Elysium would do the same for the next person.

Still. It'd be nice to be remembered. For who he is, or was. ahem. ]

No way. Are you actually taking my comment about preferential treatment to heart? A guy's going to misunderstand, at this rate.

[ Eyes curve in obvious mischief. As it goes when there's something to hide. ]

… But what you said about a breather—that does sound nice. We've covered a lot of ground these past few days; it's almost impressive that you've managed to keep up. I really wasn't expecting you to!

[ Another non-answer. One could say, at some point, he'd pilfered vials of questionable origin… he'd never planned on using them himself so much as sending it back for research purposes, but he knows what they do. He's seen what they do. He thumbs them in the pocket of his coat. ]

Is misunderstanding really that bad?

[Is it that bad at this point? After all this time? He's never been one for relationships, he's the first to go when anything gets remotely serious. It's always been easy with Elysium, precisely because it's been easy, but something...feels like it isn't enough.]

[He's decided it. Right here, right now, looking at that amused look that he can tell is hiding something more vulnerable, a scab to a wound he doesn't want to address, that he'll have the best joke in the world when all is said and done. Elysium will expect that one will come out of this mess. The punchline will both of them making it. Sampo will have the time of his life laughing at a man who never expected for these underdogs to succeed.]

[He wants to laugh. Unwinnable odds, twisted by fate. He wants Elysium to laugh. Joy is one step closer to divinity.]

[He shakes his head, reaching for the man's wrist to place his hand on his shoulder. Here, give it a squeeze. He's no spring chicken.]

It's like you haven't even looked at me, pal. I mean, I may not be as sprite and agile as the youngsters, but I do have some meat on my bones, here. You should really get those eyes checked!

[A little chuckle, his eyes also creasing in mischief. Also hiding. If he notices the move of the other's hand in his pocket, he doesn't address it]

....What do you wanna do? For our little breather? Do a little date out on town before we go to war?

[ It's okay to misunderstand, was it? Elysium hasn't been looking at him, he says? Sampo approaches and his gaze moves to meet his directly. ]

Haven't we been going on them all this time? [ A laugh, ] Aren't you bored by now?

[ An emphasis on a new beginning, and an emphasis on an end. It's not as if he knows what Sampo's thinking exactly, but for him to say it how he does: he's wagering on the both of them, here. Their last game, isn't it? Sure. Elysium will impress precisely what the stakes are. ]

Say. I have a better idea. If misunderstanding isn't as bad as you claim it is——

[ Sampo places Elysium's hand on his shoulder to squeeze, but when, if ever, did Elysium enjoy being predictable in their games? The same hand slides down to his arm. It lingers there for a beat, for two beats, before it goes further still to loosely circle Sampo's wrist. ]

——then it should be fine, shouldn't it be? For you to indulge me.

[ That's about all the warning he gets before he's roughly tugged into Elysium himself, his other hand looping around to guide Sampo into an open-mouthed kiss.

revising the four bases and potentially hitting home run but at what cost ]

[The hand flutters downward, before landing on his waist. It curls around the curve, tucks taut against the lower back. He doesn't even have enough time, here - like he's found himself with the trap clamped around him when he least expected it.]

Ah.

[That's all he can say. He's pulled in, a fish on the hook, and those lips meet his like a threat for more. Those terrible lips that have been something he's lightly imagined worrying with his own day by day like a necessary task, though he's been pleased to simply live in the mental moment than actually expecting it would be brought so bluntly to his door. How terrible he is.]

[Sampo feels the rush of heat paradoxically shivering from his neck down, returning the kiss with a mild whine. A second, two seconds, and he's pulling back briefly with a lopsided grin. He murmurs.]

You're a real bastard. But I think you knew that already.

[Another kiss. Another. His eyes are shining, like jewels, as his own hands cup the man by the chest.]

I...haven't been bored. [He admits, before stealing another kiss.] Just...a guy's gotta dream big, you know?

It takes one to know one, doesn't it. But, I know. You don't have to say it.

[ What does he know, and what does he not have to say? It's open to interpretation. Like many of the other adornments hanging from their shared sky.

But a kiss with the slightest bit of bite, and if Sampo tries to pull away Elysium tightens his grip and holds him closer still. Where Sampo might be more content in taking things slower so to speak, Elysium's assertion is that they're on a time limit, dropping his hand lower to clasp their hands together. He won't think about where these impulses are coming from—not now, not later, but pecks are hardly gratifying for the sheer amount they've danced around each other in the past.

So, he deepens the one. Keens and accelerates them into a breakneck pace by clashing their tongues and dropping his arm to feel the heat of Sampo's bare back. That point is to leave them—him, with no mind to consider the what if Sampo emerges victorious from their wager. He won't.

After all: was it not Sampo who'd said that too many others had given their poor lives in search of Elysium?

The sun and the sea: a brief glimpse in what could've been. One burns, one drowns. What isn't up to interpretation is that to Elysium, this will be their only window to it, clear in his gaze and with every deliberate touch. Never mind that Elysium himself had been abstaining from relationships for this same exact reason. Figures, that it'd also be what ruins his resolve. ]

[He has been chased into a dead end, has he? And now, he is seemingly at Elysium's mercy. He gasps as that hand finds his back, arching it against him as he returns the man's attack of a kiss.]

[He detaches with a wet noise, pressing forehead against forehead as he hisses:]

You play the ball well.

[But not better than him. He won't let it. A part of him recognizes this impulse. A nauseous, twisted pleasure that rises like bile. The name of it? Desperation. He won't let Elysium win. The fight will come, but if there is ever a chance to stake his claim and declare his intentions, its here and now.]

[Which is why he makes the sudden move to yank his hands down to push him roughly against the nearest wall, sliding in to eliminate the space with torso against torso. His tail turns to wrap around the man's ankle.]

[Sun and sea. The sun will never burn away the expanse of this water no matter how hard it tries.]

I'll give you a moment to look back on, friend.

[Because Elysium will look back on it. He will stand and walk and sing and smile and dance. And he will witness it, no matter what comes.]

[He sinks his lips against the other's jawline. Kiss upon heated kiss down his neck, with a rolling forked tongue and a groan. His hands slide down naughtily, one threatening to slide around to the back to that nice curve.]

[ Sampo thinks he's at Elysium's mercy, but Elysium himself is at the end of his own rope. Greedy, Sampo had called him. Yet, Elysium wonders if he knows the full extent of it, from how he's lived his life to his options he takes now. Elysium satiates one desire; two other desires rise to take its place. Even if there's still plenty he wants to see and plenty he wants to experience, Elysium himself has never been tethered to any one thing or person, his life merely a piece he'd been willing to play when the timing was right. He'd only ever owed it, once.

Now, it's there. Sampo can try all he might to win it while he's up against the house. Rather than express surprise, a sound more akin to a laugh is what escapes his mouth when he's pushed up against the wall as if, yes, he'd been inviting this all along. ]

Then, it's only fair that I give you a memory in exchange.

[ From the hand he'd had on Sampo's head in comfort, to the way he'd almost laced their hands together the first time, and to now in how he reaches to touch Sampo's forehead to run his fingers through his bangs, leaving a path, an outline, that traces all the way along the frame of his face to his shoulder. They're all pieces, perhaps, of a story that could've existed in another world. Or, it's possible it's a story that only exists in this precise moment of time, with all the variables lined up as so because of who they were.

It's an exceptionally gentle gesture, everything considered. He'd never thought about it before, but Elysium thinks, briefly, that he might've always wanted to dedicate himself to someone like this, a roost, a sea, that he would want to return to day after day. But that's neither here nor there, and the moment is replaced with the reality that the intent isn't so pure when he could hardly say they've known each other long enough for the depth of such feelings to exist, setting aside the incompatibility of it with their personalities. Greed. That's precisely what it is, with the illusion that Sampo might've or ever could've been that person.

Sampo sinks himself into Elysium and with it, Elysium both gasps and shudders, voluntarily curling into him and exposing more of his neck, with his nails digging into his shoulder. One instinct tells him to run, the other overpowers it, thriving under the weight of Sampo's desperation.

But Elysium's no slouch, either. He appreciates the position. It's novel. Still, a war comprises of several battles, and this is one. With his free foot, he'll attempt to knock Sampo off his equilibrium by hooking and sweeping it under one of his legs. There's a table nearby—and Elysium thinks Sampo would look nice, or nicer, splayed atop of it and trapped between his two arms, but not without stealing nips at exposed skin in the process. ]

… Whatever the end is this time, [ if curiosity very will "save" the cat instead, ] I'll play with you until the closing act.

[The touch is so so gentle. It's the type of gentle that almost infuriates him. He wouldn't consider himself an angry person, and even here, he's not angry at all, but it makes him feel like he should be. Instead, he falls back on a more familiar motion: spite. The way the man trails his hand through his hair, down his neck, over his shoulders - that's not the simple caress of a lover. There's weight to it, seeping into his bones and drawing more of a vibration out that threatens to shake him to his core. He only has a moment to enjoy where he is, humming into the exposed skin of the man's neck, before that leg swings in.]

[Like a tree, he falls, wincing as his back hits the wood. Elysium won't give him any quarter on this battlefield, though, and he's gasping as the man's mouth bites over his neck.]

[Ah. What bliss. What horrible bliss. His tail is dislodged from the man's leg, but it returns with a vengeance to curl over his waist with a squeeze.]

[Why don't you join me on stage?, an Elysium whispers from another world, into his ear. There are an awful lot of empty positions at the moment.]

[Sampo, of course, barks out a laugh. His arms twist around the other's body to tuck him nice and close, hips lasciviously jutting up for friction as he kisses him over the forehead, his cheek, the corner of his lips with a widening smile.]

You do know what the concept of an "encore" is, right? Let's bring the house down, birdie. We'll get one right away if we do.

[ in which there is no merciful god, just aha

And just as mercilessly, Sampo leaves Elysium with little gaps to take advantage of for a follow-up by launching one of his own, leaving both scant air left in his lungs and a sharp inhale to compensate for it. ]

Ah. Is this how the world's finally ready for us?

[ Them, as the leading roles in their story for two. His eyes shine bright, smile wide, despite how his body betrays his nonchalance with how it's left quivering from Sampo's veritable barrage of attacks. Unadulterated desire, shot through from the venom of Sampo's figurative fangs. It's enough to make a man feel delirious under the intensity of it, with the jut enough to elicit a quiet moan. ]

… With an invitation like that, I can hardly say no. Until you tire and fly away, then——I'll give you as many encores as you'd like.

[ For all his greed, Elysium's words continue to be distressingly soft. As if he's reached an acceptance, as if he's ready to give Sampo all he wants save for the one thing he's wagered, an indulgence reserved exclusively for him, in this crack of time. But the show has to conclude sometime, as it goes with a metaphor attached with a predetermined end, and no amount of extending would change that.

And if it must go on—all the more that it'll have to regardless of any casting changes.

But for now: the stage is them. Elysium answers Sampo with similar fervour of his own. Winding one hand into Sampo's hair to muffle him with another kiss, the other trails teasingly along the hem of his pants, deftly undoing what needs to be undone. Sampo probably feels the smile more than he sees it when his hand playfully slides to rest on the underside of his hip, nails grazing taunting circles onto his skin.

The fewer words they use against each other, the better. But maybe it isn't, considering just how much their bodies are doing the talking. ]

[Oh, he's always been the type to know when someone is holding something out of reach. You learn that well in business. Someone is selling the parts and leaving the rest out of the market to make quick cash. There's no real reward, here. No real value. And yet Sampo knows he's given a lot here, and yet Elysium is keeping something under lock and key.]

[And if he can help it, he will have it. In the meantime, the very idea of Oripathy and the Seaborn at their doorstep should be kept out of their minds. Elysium should only see him. Nothing but him. He is absinthe to drown the sorrows and hallucinate the joys.]

[A poison to cause madness through these physical machinations.]

[Romeo and Juliet, eat your hearts out.]

[Not that he knows who they are. Elysium and his kiss make him groan and gasp, wanting more at all costs. The fingers feel heated - is he cold blooded now? - and he tugs them both flux against one another as he asks for more with his body and biting kiss.]

[One hand detaches to be sent below to cup and rub at his sunshine through his pants - Sampo pants a little, hoping somehow his own bloodflow will rush to his head on his shoulders and make him pass out. Elysium's smile almost feels enough for that. Wouldn't that be nice?]

I won't...fly away. C'mon. Think a little better of me.

[The tip of his tail slides over the man's chest.]

Besides. I'm the guy whose belly is to the good solid dirt.

[Haha. Snake joke.]

Haha. Because I'm the one holding you down? It wasn't too long ago that you were warning me not to feed your ego. I wonder… what ever happened to that!

[ So he says while dragging a kiss to Sampo's jawline, occasionally holding skin between his teeth. At the end of the world, at least no one else's going to see you or you, yourself. When Sampo had called Elysium a bastard, he really wasn't wrong.

He heaps on his affections, whatever they are, because to him, Sampo is just that kind of guy: after he's seen everything and hollowed out all that he is, is Elysium's life itself all that special? It's not that they've changed; it's just that the situation's changed. If one last act is what's needed to ensure their play goes without a hitch, then Elysium can serve that role, easy.

If one needed any more evidence that they (Elysium) should be shut up: ]

And you say that, but I'm thinking I prefer you like this? Your back to a surface, right under me. How else would I be able to see your face? I thought about it before, during that time you told me those same words.

[ He cants his head enough that his mouth is where he'd taken that very first bite, voice dropping low. Body against body, Sampo can probably feel both the heat and hardness that's collected at Elysium's core, throbbing with unmistakable desire. The coldness of his tail does little in abating it, but it's less of a priority, and Elysium pays it no mind as his own hand shifts to wrap experimentally around Sampo's shaft. ]

… You're beautiful, Koski. [ His breath is hot, and his eyes narrow meaningfully as he pulls away no more than necessary to watch how his expression might flicker. ] How do you want me to finish you? With my hand? [ A squeeze, ] Or——my mouth?

[He could fight back. He really could. That's part of his power - to hem and haw amd act the clueless comic relief, all while being more of a force ro reckon with under the surface.]

[He could turn the tide. He could flip them over, bite over the back of his ear as vengeance for some other version in some other dimension.]

[He could. Elysium is taunting him a little, here. He's got him underneath him, after all.]

[But he doesn't.]

[He wants to be here.]

[Sure, he'll grit and snap his teeth through it all. But he's here, and he's more than happy to play the long game. Even so, the spikes of elation are exquisite. The man presses with such heat against him, and he wishes he could somehow pull him into him, let this moment last for eternity with heat that deemed to have been made long ago from either side to intertwine with one another.]

[He opens his mouth to snap something back, but the compliment is a killer move. A dagger to his heart would affect him less. A new shade of red crosses his face, but mot before his eyebrows twitch together with a low grunt. This asshole.]

Hah- [He lets out a low moan with the grip, throwing his head back with a lurch of his body into the welcome of that grip.] C-Choices, huh? How very nice of you, pal.

[A little vicious, he leans around to place a bite against the man's ear. Sunshine, hear his plea.] Hand, if only....I can see you topple over, too. I won't let you have all the fun.

[His nimble fingers move, and one shoves itself rudely down Elysium's pants to brush against the top of his member. Two can play at that game.]

[ in which i overrule sampo's choice to go with a bj so i can shut this man up. except no, that wouldn't really do anything either… they're both bad. there's no winning.

Because, wow. Although not the first time Elysium's seen a similar kind of reaction, it feels like it's been recontextualised, somehow. Unlike the other times Elysium's been made privy to what he's always assumed to be a rarer side of Sampo's, he's also no longer holding back: ]

… Pretty. [ The words escape his mouth freely, a bare whisper against Sampo's skin. In the green of his eyes, the flush of his face, and especially in the way he spitefully stares back without wanting to give up the fight. It's endearing, even. Boyish. Vaguely, Elysium wonders how else he might be able to continue eliciting the same reactions… that would be a dangerous thought in of itself if he weren't already thinking about how little he had to lose. ] But also, [ … ] petty.

[ He exhales a breathless, amused sound. That one juxtaposition of how he's seen how Sampo does have the power to hem and haw, and act the part of clueless comic relief to deflect but is that bit of vulnerable with him instead—might just be what Elysium thinks and looks back on when he considers where things might've possibly started: when, exactly, he'd started looking forward to seeing how this man might try to drown him.

Or: when he'd decided to leave his branch to see where Sampo's palm might take him, after all. Both an action and thought he'd never intended to have.

A terrible, terrible, man. But, gap is destructive as the historians surely say, and the four words right there might just be the most of any truth Elysium has revealed thus far. It isn't long though, before that pettiness he'd just complimented rears its head around, biting down hard on his own lip to muffle a hiss as he instinctively bucks to grind against Sampo's hand. Through bleary eyes, he meets Sampo defiantly—he feels too warm, his head is spinning in part from decreased oxygen, and his heart has been rabbiting for some time, but, so help him, he solidly gives Sampo a pump as his other hand slides through one of his cheeky side slits and around his body to hold him in place. ]

Let's see you— [ a pant, an audible hitch from Sampo's bite, ] try, then…!

[ He's not going to make it easy, and he'll go for their deepest kiss yet, refusing to relent until they're both left gasping for air. If Sampo breaks it, he, naturally, gives chase. ]

[Don't call me that, buddy.]

[He wants to say that. The whispered words, meant for him and him alone, are enough to drive a spike of something down his spine that sears like pain but burns like alcohol. Elysium stands, like some taunting avatar of his namesake, and Sampo hates it, hates how beautiful his eyes are framed by snow-white and blood-red hair.]

[He wants to say something, but he can't. It's too late. The man has wormed into him, made holes he doesn't know how to fix. But that's fine. That's alright. He made that decision, too, not too long ago. The sea started to hunger from the beginning. He just was unable to leave that path no matter how human he was, right?]

[He holds a bird in the hand to caress it. He holds Elysium in his hand to pull him down to his level violently.]

What a bastard you are.

[Is all he manages to say (with spite, with blunt affection), before the onslaught comes in and knocks any rational thought out the window. Elysium meets his lips, he does so in return, gasping and moaning without abandon into the innards of his mouth as his forked tongue slides in.]

[He thrusts into the man's grip with a wince, and he himself pumps the other down below aggressively, feeling victorious to finally hold the heat he craved so readily in his hands, but-]

[It's not enough. Maybe it never will be enough. To drink his fill, and never be sated. What a way to go.]

[Greedy, greedy.]

[He almost cries the other's name as a prayer, vision swimming with whites and reds. His tail squeezes him like a boa constrictor.]

Elysium-

[Please.]

Again? What a word to use on someone who's only been complimenting you. Would it make you feel better if I added that I mean everything I've said?

[ Elation: perhaps, this is the peak of Elysium's. Whereas he's heard plenty of compliments from his silver-tongued friend and has always reacted accordingly, nothing feels nearly as genuine as the two bastards that have left Elysium's eyes shining from the weight of them. He can't help but laugh, the sound bright even as it's interspersed with short, gasping breaths before they're once again locking mouths.

At the end of the world, not only will no one else see them—no one else will hear them, too, and the delightful sounds Sampo vocalises only serves to fuel Elysium's own enthusiasm.

If they achieve this climax together, how nice of a finale would that be? ]

Say it… louder… [ Against the tail crushing his chest, against his own staccato breathing, against his own self-preservation to save what little breath he has left, this one priority arises above all else: ] Please…? Sampo——

[ Not Koski like how he'd been deliberately drawing a line between them this entire time——but, Sampo.

But whether Sampo chooses to indulge his request or not, they've already well accelerated beyond the point of no return. His name, spoken with reverence. The sheer desire that permeates and pervades his every sense. He doesn't hold out much longer from there, and all he can do is fixate on the unbridled and single-minded want for them to come together, his own vision blurred blues and greens. The sun meets the sea——and as it burns through the horizon, setting its waters alight with its colours, it's time for it to drown in tandem as Elysium delivers one final thrust as he spills.

But yeah, maybe he does pass out like this, drown at sea. He'll slump into Sampo's shoulder after everything's said and done, and flutter his eyes shut as he tries to steady his breathing, much less catch his breath. ]

[Yes. Again. Over and over again. The silver tongue has been tied, and here he is, delivering something surprisingly genuine. He doesn't insult clients, as he would say. (That's a lie, he has and can will insult people, but not like this. Never like this, soaked in sweet dredged up from his well.)]

[He doesn't believe him - or rather, doesn't want to believe him. It makes things too complicated, gets his heart racing, gives him some kind of illness that feverishly flushes into his spine and through his body that he wants to purge. Elysium and his eyes shine. There's some urge to gouge them out, but he won't, can't. A view of the sun on the horizon of everything. But Elysium sees it as the end to a day. Sampo wants to think its a promise for tomorrow.]

[The man makes a request. Sampo would retort with a clear mind that he doesn't do anything for free. As if his thoughts are read, Elysium then proceeds to say his name like so - which is so demolishing, really. What a payment that is.]

[Fine, then. He hisses and gasps and feels that sunshine burn of that hand against his shaft. Sampo kisses the man, hand starting to be coated in sticky heat as he moans:]

Elysium.

[How funny, his name is so close to Elation.]

[When the name leaves his mouth is when he himself winces, feels the snap of arousal and a full-body vibration as he grinds his release into the other's solid grip. Little edges of whimpers come from his throat, and he starts to slowly calm down.]

[What a climax. Sun into sea, a brilliant sunset to burn the retinas. But the sun will rise again. He shouldn't have all of it here and now.]

[His free hand slides into vivid white hair as he tries to find the pair of his lips to kiss. Sampo holds him against him like a vice, not wanting to let go. Not just yet. His tail detaches, mercifully, slapping down tiredly onto the floor.]

You're...really something, you know that, Elysium...?

Edited (dont tag mobile kids) 2024-06-10 04:56 (UTC)

[ 'Elysium.' The way in which Sampo utters it as he reaches his crescendo makes it a tenet that almost has Elysium wishing it were something else. A long distant name, maybe, in the delirium of their high.

But, no. The moment passes. Elysium hopes it never comes again. He hopes it does.

A convenient distraction, then, in the withdrawal of his tail, a low whine protesting it despite breathing being made significantly easier. ]

So I've been told. … You have to be quite something yourself to be able to keep up.

[ Apt: Sampo chases after another kiss, but Elysium has something else in mind. Even in the afterglow, there's hardly a moment to rest; he pretends he doesn't see it, evades it if he has to with a slight duck of his head. All with that same annoyingly confident expression on his face that suggests he has a better idea.

Sure, he has no tail. But he does have the arms to wrap around Sampo's waist, lifting him up just enough with a fair bit of strain. He isn't trying to make some sweeping gesture here, and the intent: to flip their positions, splaying himself on the table to wrap his legs where his arms had previously been around Sampo to keep their bodies pressed together. They're sticky. They're messy. Nothing of their surroundings nor the heady scent in the air wouldn't be a constant reminder of their debauchery, and yet, Elysium couldn't care less at the moment, freely threading his hands behind Sampo's neck to draw him back in.

Just because the sun has started to set, it remains unrelenting until it's well beneath the waves. ]

What do you think? [ A pure and devilish grin all in one; the grin of a man who knows exactly what he's doing, felt as he presses their foreheads together. If Sampo still wants his kiss? He'll have to take it. ] … It wouldn't have been fair if I was the only one who got to see the view. It's rather nice, isn't it? I'd go as far as to say you won't get any better.

[ The sun might rise again, but will it ever be the same one? ]

[Elysium ducks the kiss. It makes his own eyebrows come together, displeased. Even in the here and now, with bodies overheated, he still can't quite stomach the taste of his own medicine.]

[He's about to say something, maybe some petty remark about that obnoxious grin, when his world shifts. It twists around, disorienting, and he's now the one on his feet, leaning over the willing and ready.]

[Elysium might be underneath him, but it feels like he's lost some control here. How wonderful. Forehead against forehead, Sampo lets himself settle with a steely, challenging look of turquoise. One hand buries itself into Elysium's hair, holding him steady. The crimson almost looks like a bloodstain over his fingers.]

I oughta wipe that grin off your face. You should be lucky my job is the opposite. [A little pause, almost confused - why would it be? Did he use to do something? Probably not. He sighs into the other's cheek. His forked tongue flicks out to taste himself on the man's lips. Salty. Lingering. He wishes he could burn himself onto this sunken sunshine instead. The ocean doesn't fill up when the sun descends. It just makes itself more aware of its loneliness and emptiness. ] You're so lucky you're so cute.

[He needs a little more time here to recover, but that doesn't mean he hates this, either. Sampo sighs, flexing and shifting his weight to let those legs truly wrap around him. His own tail waves back and forth before sliding up to rest against the outline of the other's body.]

Don't challenge me. Else I won't give you anything you want.

[A little peck on the cheek, another over the neck, sucking into the fine skin. But he will hold himself firm, with hand carressing through the man's hair. One could almost describe it as affectionate. Almost.]

Greedy, greedy.

[Say the greediest of them all.]

Were you ever planning to? [ Give Elysium what he wants. Give anyone want they wanted, for that matter, if it didn't align with his own goals in some way. But Elysium could say the same for himself, couldn't he? That he was hardly a selfless man, exemplified by how there was no way to justify his actions in the past hour. Perhaps, that's why the world decided to put the two of them together. A selfish sun that dreams of becoming a supernova, to a selfish sea that wants to rise to pluck the stars, or a certain star, from the sky. Both impossibilities. Both things they're trying to accomplish despite themselves.

Ironically, the intimacy of the moment threatens to squeeze out more air than Sampo's tail ever did—the tickle of his tongue, the wraparound, the pecks—they're all exceedingly tender, leaving a quiet hitch in Elysium's throat that he'll try to pass off as a laugh. His own tactics used against him, however intentional or not; the uncertainty is enough to fill his lungs with cold water. ] … Sorry, sorry. I'll stop teasing you now. Maybe you're the one who should reconsider how irresistible you are.

[ Learning further: ] Thanks for the moment, ——…

[ Whispered words that remain unsaid, pressed to his ear as a secret between the two of them; Sampo can decide for himself which of the two syllable monikers he's decided to use, because Elysium's quick to pull away after, reluctantly unwinding his legs from Sampo's body. Weeks of imagining what it might be like to indulge in bodily contact might not be all that much in the grand scheme of things, but the encounter hadn't nearly been enough to satiate everything he'd wanted to do. His body protests it, and yet.

And yet. He convinces himself that it's enough. Their play of lovers—a true five star performance, no? ]

Let's get ourselves cleaned up. Shall we?

[ A fond ruffle of Sampo's hair, as seems to have become their routine the few times they've parted in a distant past. In other words: Elysium is running. ]

[He never was planning to. Was he?]

[Earlier, it might have been easy to say "no". How easy it is to dance outside of someone's grasp. He never actually planned to be caught, and like a snake in a trap, there's a part of him that wants to lash out. He can't even understand why. The venom in him is something he's shuffled away, disguised under tricks and tomfoolery, and when he tastes it again he wonders if he's actually as immune to himself as much as he thought.]

[He swallows as the man leans in - his diamond eyes turn into vivid slits, not unlike that time they had in some bar far far away, when it was a game, when it was fun, when they were merely standing on the shore and not halfway in the water. Sampo? Koski? Which one was it? Does it matter? Isn't it all a ruse to begin with?]

[The man pulls back. He stands there for a moment. The heat. He misses the heat, cold-blooded. His mind is telling him that he should be clapping the man on the back and internally thanking him for the good solid logic of stopping before it gets worse.]

[What a good play. They're such good actors. It's acting, of course it is, that makes him slide his hands around the other's waist. He dips him, like a dance, not waiting for protest. For a moment, he holds him, eyes fixed in eyes with his own as sharp as his fangs. Don't you want to indulge? Don't you see how much I hate you for this? Do you feel the same way as me? Don't you want me to trap you? Don't you? Don't you? Don't you?]

[He steals a kiss, like it's the last kiss he'll ever have in his life.]

[And then he's shifted them back up, let out a laugh, and everything is buried, like it always is and always will be.]

Thanks for the moment, Elysium.

[Don't run.]

[Parroted words right back, before he gives a little casual gestures, and moves towards where he saw a bathroom in this place. If Elysium wants to follow, that's his decision.]

[ How fitting. A first dance that starts at its coda; a dance that's meant to leave one yearning for the what if. The prelude of it they both know, from that time both long and not long ago, but the midsection is missing——asking, begging, to be filled. When he catches Sampo's gaze with his own, the answer lies in his placid smile. A curious thought arises, then: if they'd gotten their roles mixed up all along. The burn of Sampo's irritation—the crackling of a flame that's barely contained within itself—it is tempting to see what it could be as wildfire.

Just a game, was it? Until it wasn't any longer and they found themselves in over their heads. But, it isn't too late, his reciprocation in the form of a mere press of his lips back—a ghost of one, as the moment's already been neatly tied up with a bow.

A first dance. But also, a last one. And so, Elysium won't do much else aside from follow Sampo with his eyes before he's back to looking out the window. If at some point he traces along the lines of his mouth, well.

The real answer: he does.

The next day takes them back on the road. The next few days after that, too. Perhaps unsettlingly, there are far more Seaborn lurking about than during their initial journey. It's a bit much, but it's nothing Elysium can't handle; constantly having to recalibrate their path is grounds enough for keeping more to himself, and it serves as a convenient excuse as he aggravates the Originium in his body. Still, he's far from aloof. The tail continues to be his emotional support tail, even if he's no longer finding every excuse and only every other one under the sun to grab hold of it……

And aside from the occasional cough? Not-so occasional cough when he thinks he's alone? There's nothing too alarming, at least, on that front. Sure, the crystals on his body have begun spreading again, winding around his wrist like a shackle of a reminder, and the same row that had only gone up to his abdomen is now as high as his chest—but that's nothing Sampo should see. On the fifth day: ]

Give me space. I'm serious. [ He's smiling, but his eyes are narrowed in warning. ] Unless you want to be collateral damage, keep your distance until I tell you it's clear. It might tip off some of the nearby Seaborn, so… Worst case, get ready to book it in that direction [ he points ] and go straight ahead. If nothing else? You should be able to find safe passage in Laterano. ——Take this with you. I've made an entire report on the situation.

[ he throws it. it's a recording device. this may or may not sound like a simple message to hq ]

[Maybe a snake is always fated to eat his own tail.]

[Well, maybe that's just him being superfluous with the imagery. It's something to attach to the growing gnawing feeling inside of him, threatening to choke him if he doesn't keep tamping it down. A singular moment on stage, and now he has to sit with his own thoughts, looking at a man he knows will do everything to get off of it. How uncomfortable. How nauseating.]

[Elysium sits with him sometimes, brushes over his tail like he's done tons of times before, but something has shifted, hasn't it? Those coughs he does his best to hide. Sampo Koski, as much as he would like to act it, isn't stupid. The knowledge of Oripathy in his head gives him insight into things that he would really would like not to know. He uses the distraction of the Seaborn to keep himself from piping up, but maybe that's just adding fuel to the fire here.]

[At the end of the world, will the sea burn? He doesn't know if he wants to see it, feel it, become it.]

[(The dreams are back again. He's yanking tied colored pieces of cloth like flocks of butterflies out of his own abdomen, pulling and pulling, but there's no end. A typical clown trick. The joke is that there's too much inside of him, ill-fitting and deserving to be spit out. Something laughs. It doesn't sound like its laughing with him. It's tempting, honestly. Maybe he should give himself over to that laughter, and be the one laughing with Elysium at the end, pursue that elation no matter that cost.)]

[On the fifth day, Elysium tells him this, throws him a device. Sampo smiles, as he always does, glancing to the device and back to Elysium.]

[He lets out a little huff.]

Collateral damage, huh. [And very lightly, very casually:] I don't think becoming a bomb will look good on you, friend. And I know bombs.

[ Well. Elysium can't say he didn't expect some sort of push back. He smiles back, too——as he also always does, matching Sampo's tone. ]

I could say the same for something else. Except, there's nothing to think about; sentimentality really doesn't suit you, bro.

[ A little incentive, then: Sampo's ears will start ringing. Every moment he spends lingering, the sensation intensifies until it culminates into a migraine. It could get worse, it could get better. Evidently, the source of it is from Elysium himself, even if his expression remains unchanged. ]

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the most belated cw: just don't look...

cw: God Help Us (also maybe nsfw just. don't look)

(crystal voice) we only have ourselves to blame

wow im actually innocent in all this i just play a silly guy

most definitely nsfw now... it looks like this but i'm the innocent

i blame ly for everything

yeah i godmodded ban me (free me)

no. free me first

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