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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Chris shudders as those skilled fingers ducked under his shirt and toyed with his nipple, the sensation sending a current of pleasure through him. Little whines and gasps replace words as his mind lost focus on anything that wasn’t the feeling of those hands or Ra’ah moving inside of him.

As a cleric, his first and foremost devotion should be to his god. Bane had been his first and last thought Each day since he was seventeen. For five years, he’d been dutiful in answering the call the Black Hand had crafted just for him...but something had shifted. His benedictions carried the flavor of a different name on his tongue, whispered with the same reverence Chris spoke in prayers every morning. The call he longed to hear was his name, not whispered in dreams, but called in longing and a different kind of desire. The touch he longed for wasn’t the cold brush of his God’s sign, but the warm, desperate, grasp of a thief’s hand. The thief who’d stolen more than his body or even his heart, but his soul as well.

Chris poured his worship onto the man below him, no different than if he were a god himself. With a groan he couldn’t bare to stifle, Chris’ grip tightened and his muscles clenched as he came with a desperate cry and pushing himself down as far as he could with little pulses of his hips to take Ra’ah in as deep as he could have him.

Ra'ah had never been a religious man. Sure, the people that had taken him as their own had those they worshipped and some even said that finding him had been god's will, but that meant nothing to him. It had been a fortuitous chance for him. Who knew what would have become of him if he hadn't been found? But Ra'ah didn't really think that God had anything to do with it. More than that, the idea that believing so fiercely in one's God could grant magic had never been something that sat well with him and what had happened to Tyrian didn't help either. He knew better than to say this to those that worshipped, though Bane was a definite exception as nothing good seemed to come from him, then he'd met Chris. Chris, a man so beautiful he'd been physically attracted the moment he saw him. His initial demeanor had tampered some of that, but as they grew closer it came right back to the surface and seeing him use Bane's power to help them, well, it was hard not to be thankful even to a God that seemed not quite as good as Chris believed him to be. As the days passed Ra'ah did start to believe in something. He believed in Chris. He believed in his ability to do what he wanted and what needed to be done. He saw in him someone he was willing to follow and in that he did begin to worship him in love. Every night they came together, whether it was this passion, or something skirting the lines of a 4-letter word neither had yet dared to say aloud, Ra'ah worshipped him. He showed Chris those feelings that were as of yet buried inside him. Feelings that were far easier to show rather than say. Every kiss and reverent gasp of Chris' name was a benediction.

It was no different now. As Chris came apart and Ra'ah felt his walls quake around him he was pushing up into him and releasing his devotion. He holds Chris close and whispers his name against his skin. He moves his hand from Chris' hip up to his back and strokes him softly in a silent moment of devotion.

He kisses the vein running up Chris' neck, along his jaw, and to his lips. The kiss is soft and sweet at odds with their rushed intimacy. He lingers there and feels his breath against his skin. "I want to take you inside," he whispers barely moving from him to speak. "I want to do this properly." Though what exactly 'this' means is up for debate in his mind. Love making? Talking about their feelings? Ra'ah isn't entirely sure, but the growing chill and fading light is no place to linger.

The kisses are soft and gentle and act as little points of revitalization that rouse Chris from his post-coital haze. The last one nearly took him back into it, the tender press of lips to his own drawing a small disappointed sigh When Ra'ah pulls away. The words whispered to him complete the swing of his emotions and he nods.

Chris moved gingerly, careful for both of their sakes as he disentangle their limbs, slipped his pants back up, and tucked Ra’ah back into his own pants with a brief kiss to his cheek as Chris stood. His legs were a little shaky, but in the best kind of way, and he didn’t let it stop him from collecting the glasses and bottle to take back inside.

He didn’t want them to, but his thoughts stirred and swirled like leaves caught in a brief evening breeze. He wanted nothing more than to fall into Ra’ah’s embrace and revel in how their bodies moved together until morning’s light.

Yet, he couldn’t. Or shouldn’t. They did need to ‘do this right.’ It wasn’t fair to either of them; Ra’ah didn’t deserve to think this was something it wasn’t while Chris pined and painted him with emotions he didn’t want, and Chris didn’t deserve this heart-chilling fear as he hid those emotions in a corner.

“Ra’ah...” His voice fades out in hesitation as he turns to the other man. A gentle but still hesitant smile crosses Chris’ lips as he tries to cover. “...would you mind getting the door?”

Ra'ah helps get them both into a proper state as much as he can. He steadies Chris and smiles softly in quiet thanks as he pulls away. For just a moment, he has that fear clutch his heart. That feeling that this was the last time. Chris will collect the glasses and thank him for a nice evening and disappear. Perhaps not from his life, they did have a city to help maintain, but these moments between them would be gone forever.

He takes a deep, steadying breath and stands from the couch. He fixes himself up, too lost in his thoughts to really offer help with the forgotten glasses and bottle. He looks up when he hears his name and his own smile is just as small and hesitant. "As you wish," he says softly as he goes over to open it for Chris. On instinct, he places his other hand on the small of Chris' back and helps lead him through as if he needs the guidance.

The gesture is small and unlike some men who might use it as a way to suggest their partner needs extra assistance, for Ra'ah it only means that he wants to touch Chris always. He wants to have his hands on his person in some way, an arm, his cheek, the small of his back, anything that would suggest this connection is something more than a temporary thing. He wants desperately to believe that this feeling inside him will be acknowledged and something more can grow from it. He has felt love before, of course, he has, but this pull Chris has over him is something completely different. It goes past his skin and past his heart to his very soul. It's a connection he hadn't had with anyone else, not even Tyrian, and it's something he's terrified of.

They walk down the hallway and Ra'ah helps again with the door to Chris' room, conveniently the first available. Their nightly activities aren't limited to one or the other as mostly it only matters which door is closest. Ra'ah assumes tonight will be no different though he does want to speak to Chris. He wants, needs, to do this right. Amnos' words are still ringing in his head, brought back to the forefront now that Ra'ah isn't distracted by Chris and amplified by that cold fear in his heart. He's nervous and his smile doesn't carry the usual confidence.

Something's off. Not in the touch at his back or the presence at his side, but in how Ra'ah is here with him, but also not. His mind is elsewhere and Chris' mind, as unhelpful as it is, provided exactly what he didn't want to hear.

He was having second thoughts. Doubting wanting to be with Chris. Regretting, but was too kind to say anything.

Maybe he shouldn't say anything. Maybe he should say something and tell him it's okay, that he doesn't have to stay-

His thoughts whirl about as they enter his room and Chris set the bottle and glasses on the small table near the one cushy chair he allowed himself. It was larger than he strictly needed, as was the bed that dominated the center of the room, but it was comfortable. The richly made rug that sat in the center of the room was the single decor that he'd maintained. Otherwise, it was mostly sparse and impersonal. The drapes were often pulled back from the windows to allow the sunlight in, there was a small bookcase with a few books he'd brought with him or taken from the repurposed Lister-now-Sonom library, the armchair nearby and it's accompanying table. On the other side of the room was the one wardrobe with all of his clothes (a bit more now that he could afford them) and the door to the attached bathroom beyond.

All-in-all, it was a functional and nice room, perfect and far nicer than he'd ever had before.

He gestured to the bed and turned the chair so he could sit in it with his knees drawn up to his chest facing him. "Ra'ah...I...I dunna what ya had in mind tonight...but-" He hesitated again, but decided to switch tactics in the next breath. "Somethin's botherin' ya. Will ya talk to me 'bout it?"

Edited 2020-07-30 01:20 (UTC)

Whether by virtue of the room being large or Chris not having many possessions the room appeared far cleaner than his own. His own room has daggers strewn everywhere and a nest of blankets and pillows in the middle of the floor. The bed was nice, it certainly did the trick when it was his room the two fell into, but when he was by himself Ra'ah craved something that felt a little more like home. He wondered if he'd ever get used to it.

He follows Chris into the room, looking around as if something were likely to change, and when Chris sits and takes the chair he sits on the bed as he's asked. The position isn't one Ra'ah is used to seeing. Chris usually has his knees akimbo or taking up space with his arms. Now he looks so small and it's all Ra'ah can do to keep from wrapping him in his arms and apologizing for making him worry. As it is the question makes that pit in his stomach deepen and the frost in his heart threatens to drop it down that dark abyss. He swallows hard and leans back a bit onto his hands trying for all the world not to look as nervous as he feels and failing spectacularly at it. It doesn't take a high insight to be able to tell that he's bothered.

"It," he pauses and takes in another breath, sighing slowly before continuing, "it's something I need to talk to you about, needed to talk to you about."

He pauses again and leans forward resting his hands on his knees and forgetting a little. "I'm," dear gods above why is this so hard to say? "You," he tries again uncharacteristically tripping over his words. He's purposefully not looking at Chris as he talks. "You know that before all this...before I met you and even before I met Amnos and Silver, I had a partner." His voice grows quiet as he talks. It would have been so much easier to just spit it out.

"Chris, I love you. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone. Please, don't leave me.

But he can't. He feels he has to explain himself in some way, has to prove that this isn't just pretty words. He wants to do this right and yet he's so nervous that it's going to turn out all wrong.

There was a squirming in his stomach when they'd walked in here, a squirming that intensified as he'd opened his stupid mouth. A squirming that reached it's peak as Ra'ah's own discomfort and hesitant stumbling became more and more evident.

If he'd kept his mouth shut, maybe this could have gone on longer.

Now Ra'ah stumbles on his words and in the span of a breath, a sharp, shattering chill spikes from his gut to his heart and snap-freezes those butterflies to leave them shattered in his gut. It spread and gripped his insides so tightly, he thought he might start shivering for it.

If he'd stayed quiet, maybe they could have continued to pretend.

Ra'ah brings up the previous lover and Chris can feel the chill spread out to his fingers and up to his mind. 'You fool. You already knew this, you already-' He nods, not trusting his voice. He'd already known this would be the outcome and he'd let himself hope because he was a child with a child's delusion.

Just like before.

What sensible part of his mind (or maybe the opposite-maybe the last shred of hope) remained, needed to hear the words first. Needed to know.

The silence between his words stretches out like a chasm. He's terrified of jumping it, knowing full well the darkness that lurks down there. He'd lived in it for a better part of a year. Tyrian was down there in that dark abyss, but Chris was on the other side. He had to make this jump.

"You know that he," he swallows hard again. His mouth feels so dry and he wishes he had the sense to fill a glass before he started this. He can feel his fingers trembling just under the skin. "He died and it," His voice hitches and he has to pull in a breath. He never talked about this. He only mentioned it in so much as that his friends knew he'd lost a lover and blamed himself, but none of them knew the full breadth of that. "It was my fault." His voice shakes and he hates himself for it. "It was my fault, I couldn't protect him and I...I'd hate myself if the same happened to you."

He's made of ice now. It's in his fingers and toes and even his hair and he couldn't move now if his life depended on it.

He didn't know everything about Tyrian, really almost nothing, but he doubted it was Ra'ah's fault. Or, just as likely, not directly his fault. Unless he'd stabbed the man himself, there was little doubt it was just an unfortunate set of circumstances.

And Ra'ah continued and Chris couldn't move or nod or do anything but trust his voice not to waver as he finally spoke, his tone careful for lack of anything else to cling to.

"I can ta'care of myself, Ra'ah. Have done fur years. I get it, though...if ya..."

He took a breath that wavered at the very end and he instantly berated himself, his thoughts tearing him apart for his selfishness. Chris needed to let him off the hook, it wasn't fair to make him carry it all.

"...if ya need to stop...this cause yur not ready or yur not past 'im, I get..get it. Ya owe me nothin' 'twas- I..." Heat finally bloomed in the corners of his eyes, but he refused to acknowledge it or let it fall. "I cannae see you hurtin' so I want ya to do what's best for ya."

The sound of Chris' voice wavering draws his eyes up. His jaw drops a little as he sees the blooming redness there and for a moment Ra'ah doesn't process the words he's saying.

"What?" He blinks. "Chris, what are you saying?" He moves as close as he can while staying on the bed. "I don't need this to stop." He reaches out for him to try and take his hand. "I need this...Not...not for us to be apart, Chris." He swallows hard again and lets out a shaky breath. "Chris, I need you more than anything I've ever known and stopping..." his own voice catches as the very thought shakes him, "Stopping isn't something I can do unless it's what you want." Though it would kill him inside. Dramatic perhaps but it felt true.

The ice encases him, but Ra'ah reaches out and it's like a lifeline that he needs to take or die here. A horribly dramatic thought for a horribly dramatic reaction as he takes another shaky breath to keep that heat in his eyes were it is and cracks the ice around him to grasp at Ra'ah's hand.

He shouldn't have said anything at all, he was wrong about that too, he should have left him finish because now-

now...

The words start to register and his fingers grip tighter, like it was all that was holding his hope together.

He liked to keep his emotions close to his chest, liked to maintain a tight demeanor and not let anyone know what was going on in his head. When it came to Ra'ah, though, it was like it all went out the window. How could one word from this man shatter his world in one second and piece it back together in the next? May Bane save him from this particular pain.

"I don't." It's barely more than a whisper. "Gods, tha's the last thing I want. I- yur not just sayin' that, right? You're not just tellin' me what I wanna hear cause I'm trash at handlin' this as good as I thought?"

He was practically pleading and he could feel the ice slowly shifting as something warm and hopeful and terribly dangerous bloomed in his chest. If Ra'ah was just giving him lip service, Chris didn't think he could survive it...but if he meant it...if he was saying what Chris thought he was saying...gods above please.

"...Say what're it was you were gonna say."

It is far beyond Ra'ah's intentions to break and heal Chris' heart like this though Chris has the exact same power should he choose to use it.

He squeezes his hands and takes solace in his words. He doesn't want to leave him. It makes him smile and he reaches up with his other hand to wipe the unshed tears from Chris' eyes.

"You're not trash at handling anything," he smiles softly and can't help the tiny laugh that leaves him. "I'm the one who's trash at this. I've gone and made you cry when all I want is to keep you safe and happy." He moves to stand and leans over to kiss Chris' forehead. "What I'm trying to say," and doing terrible at, "is that I'm terrified of losing you. I'm scared that one day you'll realize I'm nothing but a desert rat with nothing to offer and that you deserve so much more than me." He kisses his forehead again. "I'm scared that one day I'll mess up and I'll lose you. I can't have that happen, so I want to be by your side always."

He wants to deny that, but bites back any response in favor of listening. Listening like he should have done instead of stepping out in front of pain neither of them needed to deal with.

He leans into every touch, each one a brand to that ice that falls away in chunks as he finally unfolds from himself. His hands find their way to Ra'ah's sides and he leans up to catch those lips against his own, letting the kiss linger for a long moment before pulling back to look at Ra'ah.

Finally, the corner of his lips curled up slightly. "First of all, M'not cryin, you've gone and lost yur mind. I don't cry. Second of all, if you're just some desert rat, then I'm gutter trash raised in a brothel, ther'nt any sort of uneven ground between us there, Ra'ah. Don't ever let you or anyone else think otherwise."

One of his hands moved up to cup Ra'ah's neck above him. "Third'f all...the only way you'll lose me is if you send me 'way now. I've a terrible habit of not lettin' things go once I've got 'em, so you best be sure of what yur askin'."

He returns the kiss soft and slow. He never dared to feel more in these kisses but this time he dares to hope. He dares to hope that all the fears he'd been harboring were unfounded and they were actually on solid ground.

Ra'ah can't help but chuckle at Chris' words. "No, of course, you weren't crying." He kisses the corner of his right eye. "You may be gutter trash, but you're mine." He allows himself the possessive terms of affection, daring to believe that maybe it's true at least a little.

He nudges his nose against Chris' in a gentle gesture of affection. "I know what I'm asking. I'm not turning back from this. I want us to be more than single nights strung together. I want you to be my boyfriend and I want the world to know that too."

The words 'you're mine' reverberate in his heart and brighten his smile. The rest...the rest nearly chokes him. He wants to drown in those words.

"I want that too. More'n anything."

He pushed back on Ra'ah a bit to give him room to stand and tangle his arms around Ra'ah's neck. Light, gentle, kisses were delivered upon his boyfriend's face.

"I hope yur ready to be stopped and kissed at any given time." He punctuated that deceleration with one firm and deep kiss on Ra'ah's lips. After a moment, Chris pulled back again to murmur against those enticing lips. "I don't wanna step wrong in this again, but I don't wanna leave anything unsaid that shoulda been said ages ago either. So...tell me if ya'd rather pretend I didn't say it when I tell ya that I love ya. More'n I ever thought possible."

Edited 2020-07-30 04:54 (UTC)

Ra'ah moves easily back and rests both hands on Chris' hips. His smile only grows at each of the kisses. Each one is a fire warming him and chasing his fears away. He's reached the other side of that chasm and Chris is there with open arms. His boyfriend. His lover. His partner.

"I love the sound of that." He kisses Chris' cheek. His heart is swelling with joy hearing those 3 words, 8 little letters that mean so much to him. He smiles against Chris' lips and returns the kiss soft and sweet. "I love you," he whispers, "I have for awhile now only I was too scared to say it." But he could say it now. He says it again before kissing Chris long and deep. His arms wrap around his waist and hold him close. His heart is pounding in his chest and it's impossible to keep the smile from his face. They're together. Actually together and not just stealing moments when they can. It might be that nothing changes other than being able to hold Chris' hand in public or kiss him whenever he wishes, but it feels like such a monumental thing that he can't help but lift Chris from the floor and spin them both in a quick circle out of joy.

Chris met the kiss with enthusiasm and more than a little depth, a small sigh of contentedness escaping him as he did. A sigh that turned into shocked laughter as Ra'ah spins them around.

Head light, chest thrumming and lungs seemingly tight, Chris felt a rush of adrenaline and a tremor in his limbs. Hearing that little phrase back is terrifying as much as it is exhilarating. It wasn't something he heard very often.

"I like th'sound of that. Think I'll like hearin' it, if the urge ever takes ya."

He took a step forward, his hands coming down to grip at Ra'ah's hips as he walked his boyfriend (his boyfriend!) back so that his knees would hit the bed.

"Right now, ya know what sounds amazin'?" One of his hands slipped down and around the front of Ra'ah's pants to cup and trace his curve with the nail of his thumb. "You."

Heat instantly floods Ra'ah's senses. He grins at Chris and cups his cheek with his hand. He slides his thumb gently along his lower lip.

"You mean," he takes hold of Chris' hip as he sits down onto the bed, pulling him with him. "you want to make love properly?" He can't help the silly grin on his face. 'Making love' it was something he had done with Chris time and time again, but now it actually felt right saying it. That fear that Chris would disappear for good in the morning was gone and all Ra'ah wants to do is worship him. He wants to show Chris just how deep his love runs and make him feel as good as he does.

He pulls Chris in for another kiss as he shifts back to get properly onto the bed. The hand on Chris' hip slides under his tunic again until he can touch the warm skin of his side. He squeezes gently as he deepens the kiss, lips parting and tongue sliding gently along his lower lip in a tease as much as it is asking permission.

“That I do. T’start, anyway.”

He had so many things he wanted to do, both to Ra’ah and have done to him, but first should be what they could do together. They’d been slow and gentle and passionate before, all the motions of making love without the name, but now it has the name and it would be different for it. Each touch and kiss and thrust could unabashedly announce love and endearment without the fear that had taken them both.

Chris met the kiss even as he scooted forward on his knees beside his boyfriend. The press of tongue to his lip and that graze of touch on his side has him pulling back. He gives a small peck to Ra’ah’s chin before he goes, a quiet bid for patience as he pulls the tunic up and over his head. The ill-fated garment is tossed to the side and instantly forgotten and only the briefest flutter of hesitation sees the breast-band joining it.

He rarely undressed completely in front of anyone, but Ra’ah wasn’t just anyone and he craved the feeling of their skin pressed together.

As soon as he was divulged of his nuisance clothing, Chris dove in to reclaim Ra’ah’s lips, his tongue immediately seeking entrance.

He watches Chris hungrily as the tunic is tossed aside. The small hesitation isn't a surprise, it usually comes and had the very first time they'd done this carnal act, but Chris was getting more comfortable with him and now that they were officially branded lovers it seemed almost silly to keep that bit of himself from Ra'ah.

He pushes off the plush pillows behind him long enough to rid himself of his own upper vestments. His scarf and shirt go flying to join Chris' tunic on the ground. The linen cloth around his forehead is knocked askew and he tears it off just in time to catch Chris in the kiss.

He can't help but smile against his lips even as he parts his own to allow entrance. He pushes his tongue back against his lovers' and moans softly in delight. He traces his hands up Chris' sides to his ribs when one goes back down to grasp his hip and the other cups his chest pantomiming his motions from out on the veranda. His fingers find the soft skin of his nipple rather than cloth and he moans again at how good it feels against his rough hands. He's delightfully soft and silken in all the best places and Ra'ah can't get enough of him. He deepens the kiss and pulls his hips in close. He's already getting hard just from this, wanting, needing him, and knowing he has him from now until always.

There's no fear that Chris will disappear this night or concern for the next. Ra'ah has never been keen on imagining too far into the future. It's enough for him to live in the present and having Chris' love is more than enough to quell any past anxiety. He trusts Chris will hold his feelings and stay with him as he'll do the same. He loves him too much to do anything else and he's ready to prove that in whatever ways he must.

Edited 2020-08-06 13:59 (UTC)

Ra'ah's tongue against his own is bliss in it's own right and he meets that passion with his own, but the hand on him pulls a gasp from Chris that has him leaning into it.

His hands had been busy supporting him, but one of them abandons that so it can slip into Ra'ah's freed hair and tangle itself there and pull very lightly at the strands. He shifted his weight so he could lean more into that hand and on him and free up his own to trace down Ra'ah's side to his hip.

Chris broke from the kiss with a gasp, his desperation mixing with his passion as his kisses lit down upon his lover's body with fervor and every ounce of reverence Ra'ah deserved. Cheek to chin to neck.

"Yur Gorgeous...ya know that? Fuckin' perfect."

"You're one to talk," Ra'ah gasps softly at each of the kisses. "You're beautiful," he strokes his hand along his hip and back to his ass to squeeze and pull him close. The weight of him is familiar and a comfort, like a warm blanket in the cold of winter.

He tilts his head to the side for Chris to lay his kisses down the column of his throat. "You're perfect," he moans softly unable to. articulate much else. He wants to say how much he loves him. He wants to say how Chris is his moon and stars in the sky and everything else in his world but he's too caught up in the lips at his throat and the press of his arousal against rough cotton.

Chris let them linger there, the hand on his ass too enticing to pull away from just yet. It gave him a chance to work a mark into Ra'ah's neck. Let the others know Chris had no intention of being careful anymore.

His handiwork received a peck before Chris started working his way down further, his hands tracing the lines of Ra'ah's body as his kisses fell with reverent care upon the same paths. When he got to the edge of Ra'ah's pants, his hands snared them and pulled, allowing his lips to continue their dutiful worship.

He practically purrs at how good it feels to have that mark made against his skin. He knows even with his scarf it will show. They had always been careful before, not wanting to broadcast what they both believed was nothing more than an arrangement of convenience to fill a need, but now he could wear that mark proudly and it makes him smile.

He watches as Chris makes his way down his body. He stares reverently at him and reaches up to smooth back some of his bangs. His breath hitches for a moment as his trousers are pulled roughly from him and he can't help but chuckle as he's laid bare, his arousal even more evident now. There's a lingering scent on his skin from their earlier tryst. Knowing that Chris will taste himself on his sex makes him moan and arch up towards waiting lips. "Please," he whispers, not doubting that Chris wouldn't take him in, but needing him to know how badly he needs this all the same.

His lips play a teasing dance, one pressed to Ra'ah's left hip...one to his right hip...one to his left thigh...a dance purposefully avoiding what his love so desperately needed.

He wanted it too, no question, he wanted to taste himself, still lingering on Ra'ah's skin before they renewed their efforts.

But a little foreplay went a long a way.

"What is it, love? What're you askin' for?"

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