makinglies | Catching Flies With Honey

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Catching Flies With Honey

The hardwood of the floor dug into Chris' knees, like sharp pinpricks of the reminder he wasn't seventeen and learning how faith worked anymore. Five years down the line and he'd learned to accept the discomfort as part of his devotion to Bane; the black hand favored pain and promise of ruination and those who took power for themselves.

Was he proud of his servant? His cleric who took up his banner with the promise to overthrow those also loyal to him? Probably. After all, this was exactly the kind of game the Dark Tyrant loved.

So Chris didn't move or grab a pillow from the stiff and unyielding couch in the alter room, or move his hand even though he knew it was pressed into the discolored spot of the floor where his cousin's blood had soaked it.

They'd done what they could with the place, cleaned it, painted it, let those go who wished to leave the memories behind with a generous parting gift to get their lives started over. Some had stayed and neither he nor Rhyt could thank them enough; this whole thing was hard enough without needing to hire a whole new staff they likely couldn't trust not to stab them in the backs.

Of course, even if they'd needed to do that, they would have had their 'Guardians' all the same. A God's blessing, their friends. He and Rhyt had stayed up many nights to begin picking at the strings of the tapestry the Listers had smothered the city in, and many of those nights had ended in more than one drink, minds fried, and simply reminiscing to each other how lucky they were to have Amnos, Silver, and Ra'ah at their sides.

Even if her gentle ribbing about the latter most member of that group usually ended in playful wrestling on the study ground until one of them sat on the other in victory.

Chris could feel a soft smile spreading on his face as his thoughts wondered to their resident rouge, his bright eyes and soft hair...the way his skin felt under the callouses on Chris' hands and the sounds he made when they fooled around...

A flush of heat ran through him and he sat back on his heels, hands running down his face and then through his hair. So much for praying.

Muttering small, insincere, Elven curses under his breath, Chris stood and winced at the protest of his legs. How long had it even been? An hour, maybe half more? It was getting late. He blew out the candles he'd lit and replaced the rug they'd put in the room to cover the bloodstains before moving out into the upstairs living area. It was really a glorified landing that held a couple couches at this point, for all the junk they'd sold, only replacing the necessities. He and Rhyt might have wanted to live in this dumb house to dance on the Lister's grave, but that didn't mean they wanted to sleep in their beds.

A quick glance out the windows into the garden confirmed the time, the low, orange light of twilight washing the reds and maroons of the mansion in a warm, almost welcoming glow.

Silver was likely at the pub listening to Candle perform, they'd be back late. Amnos and Chastity were likely somewhere in the house, maybe the library or out in the gardens. He made a mental note to check with the workers tomorrow about the timeline for their house, he wanted it ready before the first (of what Chris suspected were many) little Stonehuer arrived. Rhyt and Ra'ah...honestly, he didn't know. They could be anywhere in the house or not in the house at all...and since they were both rogues, he likely wouldn't be able to guess anyway.

Chris cast Light around him, the ball of radiance following over his shoulder in lieu of a candle as the cleric made his way downstairs to the dry storage. He could call on someone to get a drink for him...that was what nobles did, right? They snapped their fingers, rung a bell, and their servants did everything for them. By all rights, that was what the now-Sonom staff were being paid for. It made the back of his mind itch at the thought, like someone had cast an antimagic field on him and rendered him useless.

No, let the staff clean or cook or take care of the house that was too big even for the six main inhabitants living there, Chris could get his own drink. Something he politely told the two Tabaxi he came across as he went, both offering to help.

No, a drink...maybe a large one or the whole bottle and a glass, if the mood took him, and he'd retreat to those couches back upstairs to watch the rest of daylight's final breaths.

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Ra'ah was heading back from a conversation he'd had with Amnos.

It shouldn't have been as dire as that sounded, but in many respects it had been. Per the usual, the dwarf had seen more than Ra'ah might have given him credit for. He'd come to respect Amnos in many ways and the conversation they'd had only cemented it.

"You'll lose him if you don't get your head sorted," Amnos had said, or something to that effect. It had been a lingering thought in the back of his mind. It came to the forefront in those brief but poignant moments when Chris had left their temporary shared bed to pray or wash up from the nights activities and for a moment Ra'ah would wonder. Is this the last time?

That thought would squeeze a vice around his heart so tightly that he had to shove the whole thing deep down inside him where he didn't have to look at it for too long and then the cycle would repeat.

It had been this way for, what, a few months now? How long had it been since that night they liberated the city? How long had it been since he'd somehow charmed his way into Chris' bed? Ra'ah wasn't sure. He hadn't been counting but apparently it had been enough time for one of their party to notice that the web of feelings was being woven tighter and tighter between them. It scared Ra'ah a little.

He enters the large house and looks around. Most of the finery had been sold to help fund their attempts to get the city on its feet properly and truth be told Ra'ah was only a little sad to see some of it go. Oh if Tyrian could see him now...but no, it was better not to dwell on the ghost of past lovers. He was living a new chapter of his life now and that was far more important. He catches sight of one of the maids who had stayed on and asks where Chris is. Dry storage. Perfect. He takes off in that direction and pauses when he sees Chris contemplating over the beverage choices. A smile appears on his lips and he leans casually against the frame of the doorway trying to look cool.

"You're not thinking of having a drink without me are you?"

The one thing they'd kept completely in tact from the Listers was their selection of alcohol. Usually, Chris was grateful for it: they had quite the selection. Not tonight. Tonight, Chris was feeling indecisive, he could tell. His eyes had grazed over the ales and the wines and the hard liquor more than once before he caught the sound of someone else nearby. Who it was he din't have to wonder about for long as that soothingly familiar voice caught his attention.

It was ridiculous how his heart did a childish flutter in response, as though he were a teen again and desperate for a smooth adventurer to sweep his mind off it's feet. A smile curled its way onto his mouth and he subconsciously turned slightly more towards the door, though his eyes stayed on the bottles. If he was honest, he wasn't even really seeing them anymore.

"Oh, I was thinking it, but I'm thinking now that I might grab two glasses instead of one."

He picked two things at random and finally turned towards his companion to offer the choice to him, Chris' smile only widened upon actually seeing Ra'ah.

"I'd've called for you, but you slip so easily into the shadows, I wasn't sure I'd just be talking to myself."

The casual smile grows on his face as he listens to Chris speak. He could listen to the sound of his voice for hours and would never get tired of it. It was honey to his ears, a sweet cadence and an accent that was growing familiar but exotic all the same. Never mind it was considered the commoners tongue, Ra'ah loved it and if he was honest…

"Well I'm glad I showed up," he walks over and mulls over the two choices. He's really not a connoisseur of alcoholic beverages. He'd just as easily reach for an ale as he would an aged scotch and barely tell the difference, but he does think about it before reaching around Chris and picking a different vintage from the shelf all to get closer into his space.

"I think this one would be better." His voice is right at Chris' ear, spoken low and as if it were sweet nothings rather than an opinion on beverages.

He knows what Ra'ah's doing. It's a familiar dance held every other night or so; the steps were sometimes different, but the beat was the same. It was a dance that would end against some surface, hands dipping below cloth as lips met and heat rose.

A heat that shoots through him now, his reaction as automatic as a dog hearing the dinner bell.

"As am I."

A touch more slowly than he needs to, Chris puts the two options he'd pulled out back and turned towards Ra'ah again to wrap a hand around what he'd picked out. Chris moved closer still, his free hand coming up to play with the loose golden strands of Ra'ah's hair that hung free of his bandanna. Chris let his gaze linger on those beautiful eyes he'd so easily get lost in, when allowed, and pitched his voice a little softer.

"Is that so, my good sir? Well, seeing as I know you to be a man of taste, I'll trust your judgement."

A man of taste indeed. A taste Chris didn't hesitate to enjoy as he leaned in to steal a kiss from Ra'ah, the hand that had been playing with his hair now coming in to cup his jaw.

Ra'ah has to fight to keep his breathing steady as Chris turns in his arms. He's straining not to move towards the fingers in his hair and he's rewarding by meeting those beautiful eyes of his. Much like Chris, though Ra'ah didn't know it, he could get lost so easily in the jade pool of his gaze and the sweet sound of his voice.

He hums softly as their lips meet. He presses back gently at first, the heat in his own belly threatening to boil over and have him escalating things, not caring one wit if the staff saw them, but he is at Chris' mercy.

This song and dance is familiar, and while it hadn't been Ra'ah's intention when he came to meet Chris, if he would have him he would be more than willing to give himself to the cleric. He places a hand on Chris' hip and squeezes gently, a silent question for permission. He's not nearly as crass as all that, though they have occasionally found themselves moving quickly to more private quarters. He can't get enough of him and therein lay the crux of his dilemma, yet here he was getting so easily swept in the stream of their...whatever this was, that it seemed far too easy to go with the flow rather than get bearings. He could mull about it later. Now, all he wanted was the answer to that question. Did they take this further?

Chris allowed the kiss to go on, to revel in it more than he'd originally intended. It was so easy: kissing Ra'ah. His kisses were soft but full of so much. It was comfortable and safe and something he wanted nearly all the time.

Which is why he pulled away, his hand slipping from Ra'ah's jaw to his chest. He let his hand linger, but then pulled away completely and returned to his original task of rummaging up two glasses.

The glasses in hand, he turned back to Ra'ah with a small smile. "Later." An answer to his unasked question. "Come sit with me while the sun sets?"

It was...romantic. More than their usual, more physical or flirtatious activities. Not that their nights together didn't also range from pure carnal to more romantic, depending on the mood, but this would be...different. It needed to be different. Chris couldn't keep up this dance forever, not when it felt as though some of the steps were off limits.

Rhyt had cornered him nearly two weeks ago.

'I'll take him if you don't!' She'd cooed. 'Take him where? To a bar to be your wingman? There are parts of him that are less appetizing to you, Rhytty.' He hadn't even needed to ask who she meant. She only got that teasing tone about one person.

She'd wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his cheek, pinning him to his chair. 'Those parts sure seem appetizing to you. I've seen how you look at him when his back is turned.' Her lips got closer to his ear, but he could feel his heart drop with her words. 'You keep doing this to yourselves and you'll find yourselves in an impossible hole.'

He'd felt his head shake, almost as though it weren't his own action, and his hands came up to rest on her arms. 'He's not available. His mind and body may be in my bed, but his heart isn't.'

'But yours is. No one should linger on a lost love the rest of their lives: you know that as well. Take the rest for yourself...or end it for both of you.' She kissed him again and pulled away. 'Some wise advice from your big sister.'

The conversation ran with perfect clarity through his mind as he backed through the door and into the hall, eyes still on Ra'ah in the present with his question. Something probably needed to happen, the question would be if he was strong enough for it to be tonight.

Ra'ah smiles softly as the kiss breaks and Chris turns away. He's not at all upset by the small rejection and the promise of later is more than enough to satiate him for now.

"I'd love to," He says softly. His heart thrums at the romantic implications of it. No, not at all foreign to them. They had some nights that were romantic, making love instead of simply having sex. It was those nights that usually led to the mornings of Ra'ah staring quietly after Chris as he left for his prayers and wondering if this was the end. He'd had a little over a year to pine for the loss of Tyrian. Though most of it had been spent smuggling himself out of the region and to safety where his head wasn't wanted for something he hadn't been able to control, but he'd pined all the same. He'd cried himself to sleep and raged in anguish about how he hadn't been able to do anything. He still didn't fully understand what had happened. Could he have stopped him? Could he have convinced Tyrian that whatever his plan was it wasn't worth it?

But it had been worth it. He'd kept an ear to the ground and as the months passed his kingdom thrived and prospered, cured of what had ailed it just as Tyrian had wanted. He'd become a martyr and his kingdom was none the wiser of his sacrifice. At least as far as Ra'ah knew. He wasn't foolish enough to ever set foot back there and he had a life that was very much worth living. He had a new love.

He knew he loved Chris. Probably had for some time now, though he'd only grown wise to the feeling recently. He hadn't needed Amnos to tell him that. He knew what it meant when he smiled whenever he heard Chris' voice. He knew what it meant when he'd lay in bed with Chris in his arms and could feel his heartbeat under his fingers. He knew what it meant when if Chris asked him he would gladly give his life for him. Oh, he was in deep. Ra'ah knew he was in deep and that was what terrified him. The first and last time he'd fallen this strongly for someone he'd lost that person. They hadn't had nearly enough time together but it hurt all the same. It hurt so badly that Ra'ah had all but drowned himself in drink once he was able to sit safely again, or so he'd thought. While he might never say it, his meeting Amnos and Silver might have saved his life. Who knew how many years it would have taken him, though perhaps he was being dramatic. The first is always the hardest but the scar on his heart was still there, but life has a way of healing wounds. He might not have been interested in Chris right away. He'd sounded way too sure of himself though he was good to look at, yet as time past and they came to know each other Ra'ah started climbing into a hole there was no getting out of and his heart healed. Of course, a scar was still there but it was faded and didn't hurt nearly as much. Chris had helped simply by the virtue of being himself. Ra'ah wanted him if Chris would have him. If he didn't...well...he'd bury the feelings as far as he could. He knew that rejection would change their dynamic. They wouldn't carry on this song and dance anymore. They would part and that would be it. It was a bit frightening. They had more than their relationship riding on this but they couldn't go on like this forever.

Ra'ah follows Chris out the door and into the hall. He puts a hand to the small of Chris' back and walks with him out to one of the veranda's where they'd have some privacy. He inhales deeply and goes over to the railing, elbows leaning on it as he looks out over their estate.

"You know," he says softly, "sometimes I still have a really hard time believing we're living in this big house."

Chris easily leaned into the touch at his back, happy for the steadying contact as they went. With the Black Hand's blessing, may he not lose this. He wasn't sure what he'd do if he did.

No...he did. He knew himself well enough, he'd made himself as he was. He'd throw himself more into his work in the city, those would be his days. His nights would be drinking until he couldn't see straight and picking a fight with whatever drunkard crossed his path, then crashing into his bed or whatever horizontal surface he'd find to start it all over again the next day. At least until he could get away from this place. If he ever could...but that was a spiral of thought for another time. He shook it from his mind and focused on the now instead. If this did go south, he could have what time they allowed themselves.

"I know what ya mean." Chris set the cups down on the side table nearby and set to pouring them a couple fingers each. "This' hardly what I had in mind when I imagined overthrowin' the Listers all those years. I'd've been just as happy sellin' the damn thing, but Rhyt's always been fond of the finer things."

Chris settled in beside where Ra'ah was leaning and offered him his glass.

"It's not really my style, but I feel I cannae complain; it's far nicer than anywhere I've lived, even the Charm." He didn't think he'd had reason to mention Swallow's Charm before in so many words, but it was hardly a secret, where someone to dig hard enough.

"I can't say I blame her," he says with a chuckle, "but then both of us have an eye for the finer things." He winks. His sticky fingers had gotten him through during those years as had his connections in the underbelly of the city. It had been how he'd managed to get out of the region and not in a casket. He was grateful for his skills but other than knowing the value of objects he'd never really craved this life. Give him the open planes, the desert sand, hell he'd take the forest and mountains. Anything where he could feel the wind in his hair and the sun on his face was where he wanted to be.

All the same, this wasn't too bad either.

Ra'ah takes the glass and nods his thanks. Without thinking about it, he moves his elbow a little to be in Chris' space, gently touching but not crowding.

He takes a sip of the drink, glad it hadn't been a bad choice -- A spiced wine of sorts -- and nearly choked on it.

"The Charm?" He blinks. "You mean Swallows Charm? The brothel we stayed in?" Chris had lived there? It hadn't come up. There hadn't been a reason for it to. "You lived there? Were you…?" He leaves the question hanging, looking at him curiously at this new truth.

Chris takes a sip from his cup, already smirking in response to Ra'ah's reaction. As soon as he'd swallowed his gulp, that smirk turned into an outright chuckle.

"Aye, I lived there. Grew up there's more like. Lady Ivaline took my little self in after the Sonoms were killed and me'n Rhyt were split. She went with a local cartel that worked for my parents and I went to Swallow's Charm where the Madame had long been a supporter of the Sonom family. Stayed there...basically until you lot arrived. Who'dyou think told Rhyt to take you there?"

He glanced over to Ra'ah and one eyebrow raised as he took another sip. Seeing Ra'ah couldn't fully form the obvious question, Chris turned so he was leaning back against the railing instead.

"Was I what? A lady or man of the night? What'dya say if the answer might be 'yes?'"

It wasn't. Not really, but he wanted to know. Those men and women were more his family than the distant and blurry memories of a woman in fancy earrings and a man who'd sat Chris on his knee.

Ra'ah blinks and says nothing while Chris talks. He really can't picture him as a woman, long hair and fancy dresses with corsets and a bosom somehow pushed high. He supposes the closest he could get was Rhyt and how she looked but even then the imagine didn't quite correlate with the man he knew. He could however picture Chris wearing something more masculine, something a man of the night would wear and a blush covers his tan skin thankfully obscured by the setting light.

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm asking," he smiles softly, "I wouldn't say anything. Who am I to judge? I'm a bastard child of the desert who stole for living." There's no bitterness in his voice, he'd long ago accepted the truth of his past and it didn't change his present and his future was unwritten.

"But," he grins and drops his voice leaning in to whisper into his ear, "if you were I'd ask if that's how you knew how to move so well with me."

Chris' smile grew again, something slightly more predatory to it this time as he responded. "Oh, my dear man, that certainly came from lessons and a bit of practice, though not as much as you may think. I suspect we just have a good rhythm together."

That much was certainly true, even with nothing else considered. Kallian had taught him much in their one night together, but the rest Chris had learned from talking with the ladies about what men liked and had taken the chance for some 'practice' all of twice after that. Truthfully, the majority of his practical experience was coming from his and Ra'ah's liaisons.

"I'm having you on a bit, I worked there, but mostly as a 'companion.' Just an ear for men t' talk to, someone for them t' look at but not touch. I changed that all of once. A special occasion, if you will. But then my role turned more to security and protection when I started my cleric training."

He chuckles as he pulls away. He watches Chris as he talks and takes sips of his wine. He's only mildly jealous at the idea of others hands on Chris but he doesn't show it. He can't deny they do have a good rhythm. That first night had only been stalled by the reveal of what was under Chris' clothes and Ra'ah had quickly shown him how much it didn't bother him. He loved Chris as he was and in whatever shape he might one day be if they could gather enough money for it. They had other priorities at the moment.

"A special occasion?" He arches an eyebrow. "Was it someone you loved?" It was the only reason he could see for suddenly changing from the role of companion to something more carnal. Chris didn't strike him as the type who'd go in for a one night stand unless he was at least somewhat emotionally attracted.

Chris took a chance to gain some time for his answer by going in for a slower sip of his wine. That was...a loaded question, though Ra'ah had no reason to know it. Chris knew Ra'ah would understand, he knew of his friend's own lost love, even if the details weren't something they'd worked up to talking about; he knew a man had existed before him.

Kallain, though...he'd known him for a week. Yes, they talked for hours upon hours all through the night, eyes barely leaving each other as Chris drank up every tale he was offered...but could you say you loved a person after a week? Had he loved him or had he loved the idea of him? A wind-swept sailor, resolute in his convictions, but gentle with his hands and words. A man who'd come into his life, turned it upside down for the better, showed him who he was, and then swept back out of it with promises of returning. Only to have seemingly vanished from the Moonsea.

"He was a handsome sailor, dark with bright eyes and clever words. I was a teenager and half his age." He shrugged and shot back the rest of his drink. "I was charmed." He wouldn't...couldn't say more than that. It was a healed scar of his own, but one that had healed raw for not knowing whatever had happened to Malik Kallian.

Chris moved back to the bottle and pour more into his glass before coming back to offer more to Ra'ah as well.

Ra'ah listens quietly and watches Chris' face as he speaks. He can't know the full depth of his emotions, he's not that adept at reading people but well enough to get by. He knows Chris isn't saying everything but it isn't his place to ask. How could it be when he wasn't more than a body to warm a bed, but that probably wasn't fair either, not when he had his own lost love hidden in the shadows and had his own feelings firmly wrapped around Chris. He could have understood. Though he'd been there when Tyrian had dropped he had no idea what had caused it and perhaps no way to ever really know. He didn't know anything about magic and much less about gods other than the common knowledge. It was too much to dig up and not something Ra'ah wanted to talk about.

"I see," he says softly, taking the offered drink and gently touching his fingers to the hand holding Chris' glass. "It's alright, I'm not jealous," he smiles, teasing a little to try and break the sudden seriousness that had fallen over them.

Chris looked from those fingers up to Ra'ah's face and a grin spread like flashfire across his face.

"No? I don't think I've had'a chance to see you jealous yet. Is it fun?" His grin turned teasing and wicked and he leaned in a bit closer.

"Would'ya get handsy? Maybe a little more...firm? If I told'ya about my time with with the young third-born of the Knowles family...how I helped him find his manhood...would'ya want a first-hand demonstration?" He leaned closer still, bottle forgotten on the railing as Chris got into Ra'ah's space.

"Or maybe if I told'ya about the knight who wooed with the honey'd words of a gentleman...and then broke t'cot he laid me on for how animalistic I made him...would you want t' try your hand? See what I might do t'you in the best...possible...way?" He leaned in so his lips brushed Ra'ah's with each of his last words, but kept the barest hint of space between them.

Oh no.

Ra'ah sucks in a shuddering breath as he struggles to keep his composure. Jealousy isn't what he feels as Chris describes what he's done to and with past lovers. It isn't much but it's just enough for his mind to fill in the blanks. A more unsure man might have grown jealous at the image of Chris being worked so thoroughly into the bed that the frame broke, but not Ra'ah the image only sparked a fire in his gut and his own eyes sparkled with desire.

He doesn't move as the distance closes. If the desire to take Chris where anyone could walk in was strong the desire to switch their positions and have him against the rail of the balcony where anyone might see was stronger. He longed for him in every fiber of his being and those teasing words didn't help one bit.

"Are you giving me a challenge?" He asks, voice husky and thick with desire. "I'm not so easily instigated to jealousy my dear cleric, but," he lifts his free hand up and cradles his neck in his hand and smooths his thumb along the smooth column of his throat, "I'm always up for rising to a challenge."

“I might be.” It’s a whisper of breath from Chris’ lips to Ra’ah’s, punctuated by another breath’s pause where he locks their gaze.

This was meant to be a serene, gentle, romantic evening where they could talk with their minds instead of their bodies...but right now...he didn’t want romantic. He didn’t want romantic, he wanted hard, fast, quick, desperate, grasping hands and hungry lips and a flurry of rough intention followed by too-sweet kisses to sooth the bruises left on both their bodies.

Chris surges forward to attack Ra’ah’s lips with his own, his tongue already attempting to find entrance while his free hand reached up to tangle and grasp at Ra’ah’s blond tresses, desperation palpable and glass still in his other hand, though almost entirely forgotten.

Ra'ah meets the kiss, his roguish perception making it easy to see the tells in his body language. His mouth parts readily for Chris' tongue and he presses his own against it as he holds him close.

He moans softly at the tug to his hair and in response he presses just a little against Chris' throat. He makes a low sound in the back of his throat, possessive and hungry, while his free hand goes for Chris' hip to pull him in closer.

So much for romance.

This is a common occurence between the two of them, this flirtations game where they slowly escalate until one or both of them break. More often than not it's how they find themselves tumbling into bed together. Who would have stopped to think that doing that enough times would lead to feelings blooming. Feelings that they perhaps should be talking candidly about, but Ra'ah can't help himself. He is after all a man with needs and that need is in his arms and more than willing by the feel of it. He can feel Chris' pulse under his fingertips at his throat and the quickening only makes him more desperate. He kisses back with all the feeling he can put into it, teeth catching a little on his lower lip until he pulls it between his teeth and nips at it before crashing against Chris again. He can't get enough of him. He wants him in his bed, in his arms, anywhere he can have him. It's a love that is burrowing so deep under Ra'ah's skin he doesn't know what he'll do if it ends up all for nothing.

There was a voice in the back of his mind that was fighting this, that was trying to tell him to slow down, stop man his post on this whole issue-

But it was a swiftly losing battle. Ra'ah was a drug and Chris was addicted, he needed this. Needed him. Ladies in Swallow's Charm had spoken of love and lust as two separate things, the needs of the body and the needs of the heart. The idealistic and the realistic. Kayt had taught him the real difference. The needs of the mind and the needs of the soul. Lust was well and good for a night, maybe more, but it wouldn't keep your bed warm in the colder months when he or she went home to their partners.

Love was being that partner, the one they went home to, straying or otherwise. Love was when the heart, body, and soul spoke as one and said 'this one.'

'Please.'

'I need him more than my next breath.'

Chris needed Ra'ah more than his next breath. His kisses trailed from Ra'ahs lips to his chin and neck, a 'please' in their fire across tanned skin. This was the one Chris' heart and body and mind and soul all wanted.

And it scared the life out of him.

So he pulled away to take both of their glasses and set them aside before clutching at Ra'ah's shirt to walk him back towards the couch behind him, controlled desire raging in his green eyes. He marched them back until Ra'ahs knees hit the couch, scraping against the stone but holding steady while Chris knelt between Ra'ah's legs and kept desperate fingers patiently clutching at his pants.

Breathless, he looked up to meet Ra'ah's eyes. "Ya say the word, putta stop to it. Aye?"

Ra'ah smirks and tilts his head back for Chris' lips. He releases a breathy laugh as he's pulled and tugged, eyes twinkling with mischief and desire.

He's known love before. He loved Tyrian, he was his first real love and his first true heartbreak, but this was something different. The way he and Chris came together was so natural and while they may not have been keen on each other from the beginning it hadn't taken long for Ra'ah to gain a large measure of respect for Chris and vice versa. His relationship with Tyrian had always carried some level of antagonism between the two of them, a pampered prince and a desert rat didn't make immediate friends, but there had been enough for Ra'ah's heart to be caught. With Chris, there seemed to be a gravity he couldn't fight at all. He was quickly becoming wrapped in that pull on his body and his soul. The enormity of it was terrifying but as each day went by he found himself craving Chris more and more and who was he to deny that?

The back of his knees hit the couch and he goes down to it heavily. He watches Chris with hungry eyes and that self-assured smile on his face. "I'm not stopping you." He says softly, completely at Chris' mercy. He keeps an ear out should someone decide this particular balcony was where they should be at that moment, though if Amnos or Rhyt had shown up he wouldn't stop Chris from whatever he had in mind. Rhyt had walked in on them at least once by now and Amnos was so open with things that he doubted he would care. All the better, because Ra'ah really doesn't want to pull the plug on this no matter how much they really should talk about those deeper feelings. His cock is already growing hard behind the cloth of his pants and with Chris down on his knees before him he couldn't say no. Those feelings would remain unspoken for now as Ra'ah reaches up, cups Chris' face, and runs his thumb over his lower lip. "I'm yours," he says softly, smiling and silently conveying all the emotion he can in that simple statement.

Those two words shake Chris to his core, chilling and thrilling him all at once. It's enough to slow him, his mind, to make him pause. Without looking away, one of Chris' hands comes up to curl around the back of Ra'ah's so he can turn and press a kiss to the pad of his thumb.

"And I, yours." He says it with too much reverence for a casual thing, for friends with benefits, for whatever they're supposed to be.

Before he can linger on it any longer, his hands are back at the tie of Ra'ah's pants and hasty but skilled at opening them to reach in for his prize. He needs to stop thinking and he needs Ra'ah to stop thinking before this tips onto complicated grounds. Chris' slender and long fingers curl around Ra'ah's cock and free him to the evening air, it's warm weight long-familiar in his hand. He leaned in to lick a stripe up the length of skin, but spared no more time before taking the head into his mouth, eager to get to work pleasing his lover.

Three little words and Ra'ah can feel his core trembling. He stares down at Chris not daring to hear more in those words. They should talk, he should go back on his word and stop this now so they can talk this out and know if this is a temporary bliss or if there is something deeper and intrinsic about all this.

Chris doesn't give himself time to think. He's moving again and Ra'ah is leaning back to get a better look as a familiar act is made new by the surroundings. The sun is setting behind Chris and making his blonde hair light on fire. He's beautiful like this and Ra'ah eyes go soft with an emotion he has yet to name aloud. He strokes his cheek with his thumb and swallows hard as he's pulled free to the night air. His senses are hyper-aware and he hisses a little as he sucks in a breath and tosses his head back at that one lick. It set's fire to his skin and he hardens further. There's no going back now, not without some physical detriment to his own well being and that's not allowed. He looks back down his body to Chris and again he's struck by his beauty. "You're beautiful," he whispers further stroking his cheek and carding his fingers into his hair.

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Do The Time Skip » Phlan

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