PCs with Gerome

[swordhandled]

[ some threads are nsfw ]

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[maskarang]

[ a rare, amused grunt sounds from the back of his throat. pulling back enough to plant a kiss on the corner of owain's lips. ]

[swordhandled]

[ he actually whines a little when gerome pulls away ]

[maskarang]

[ you know he can't resist your whims, owain. it doesn't matter how ridiculous he finds them. he drops another soft kiss onto owain's bottom lip before moving for a second—or maybe it's fourth by this point—one. guess their tongues are gonna meet again. ]

[swordhandled]

[ tongues are definitely meeting again. it's still a little awkward, kissing that deeply, but owain is putting his heart into it, trying to figure out how to do it. but in the end it doesn't matter because it's with gerome ]

[maskarang]

[ no worries, owain. it isn't like he's used to it either. they're learning together, inch by inch. they have... time, not as much as he would like (the trial weighs heavily on his mind, much as he tries to ignore their deadline), but... perhaps something will happen at trial. something surprising.

but just in case it doesn't, he shifts his weight and presses his mouth against owain even harder. ]

[swordhandled]

[ he lets out a light gasp, pulling gerome tighter against him. his mind is running fifty miles an hour right now, but he wants to forget everything besides gerome right now ]

[maskarang]

[ unfortunately, the meta will continue to remind owain of what's at stake. his life. as gerome remembers this, he releases owain's hand and instead buries his fingers in owain's hair. the more he remembers what tomorrow is, the more desperate and oppressive the kiss becomes. ]

[swordhandled]

[ it's fine, while owain may tap on the fourth wall, he doesn't break it. right now feeling gerome against him, kissing him harder is getting him to forget what's going on around them. the gasp quickly turns into a moan as he kisses back. he's definitely letting gerome take charge here. he knows that tomorrow he's going to have to take charge, be in control of his destiny.

but right now, he wants to put everything he has with the person he trusts the most ]

[maskarang]

[ fitting, really. he's always craved power—obsessively, in fact, but everything about this game has left him feeling helpless. in the first trial, there were the votes against owain he couldn't stop or even predict. this week, the outsider singling owain out in an attempt to impress upon someone else the rules of the game. now this.

this ridiculous frame, that stupid sword, the mafia, the town. he despises them all. if owain falls tomorrow... he can't bear to think of it.

so at least there's this. he can ensure he doesn't regret not acting sooner, not touching owain sooner. fiercely, he grips owain's hair and pulls away again. he trails a line of kisses and bites down owain's throat. ]

[swordhandled]

[ just as fitting that this is being done with someone who's willing to give gerome all the power he's craving. it's a climax to everything that's happened, how many times must owain come close to death before his luck runs out? it very well seems like this might be the time. the fact that this death may come not through failure in battle, but through actors moving to their own whims is what truly scares him.

it's up to owain to put his verbal skills to the test...

but he's been craving this touch, this feeling from gerome. if he must meet his end tomorrow, then he can feel this once before that happens. he arches his neck, giving gerome easier access, and can't help the moan that leaves his lips when gerome bites down there. ]

[maskarang]

[ it's tempting to let his mouth linger here, to let his tongue and lips nibble and suck at owain's neck as his pulse vibrates. while owain arches his back and moans because of every touch. but, as pleasant as that would be, there's more to feel here.

he exhales slowly and trails his hand down, slow as he can, from owain's hair to his cheek, his neck, his chest. at the same time, he stops loitering at owain's neck and shifts lower, down to his collarbone. ]

[swordhandled]

[ his breathing increases, feeling gerome's hands and lips trail downwards, quietly panting his name ]

[maskarang]

[ he stops before making his way back up. he settles his mouth by owain's ear and whispers low. ] Again.

[swordhandled]

[ lets out a low, shuddering moan ] Gerome.

[maskarang]

Never has a sound ever been so sweet. [ well then. a nuzzle to his ear before going back and kissing owain again, deep as he can. ]

[swordhandled]

I'll say your name as many times as you desire it. [ returning the kiss as deeply as well, eagerly ]

[maskarang]

[ kindly don't mind him as he ravenously consumes owain's lips for a while. ]

[swordhandled]

[ he's very much not complaining ]

[maskarang]

[ he wouldn't be able to complain even if he tried. his tongue is too busy. ]

[swordhandled]

[ tongue tied is the correct phrase here i think

literally ]

[maskarang]

[ an apt turn of phrase, but maybe that should be remedied? for a moment at least. how does owain like having his lower lip lightly sucked on? ]

[swordhandled]

[ he's letting out a low gasp; he likes it ]

[maskarang]

[ good, because he liked the sound of that gasp. he throws a light kiss into the mix, one where purely lips meet. after, he takes owain's hand again and brings it to his lips to give his index finger a soft kiss. ]

[swordhandled]

--Returning the kiss from yesterday.

[maskarang]

You're owed more than this for the mischief you caused. And the relentless teasing. [ as a test, this time he licks along the length of owain's finger. ]