[ They stand, enigmatic as ever, though certainly enjoying the way that Hector drinks the sight of their changed form in. Perhaps it's reckless of them to so easily shift in the presence of others when all their life, they were made to keep this as such a closely-guarded secret, but... Vaer couldn't be more separated from their past life now. The Headmaster cannot find them, here. Or the Atrean royal family.
So... fuck it.
They kiss Hector back duly, matching that greed and that reckless abandon, lips immediately parting and their tongue immediately seeking to taste him. Their arms brace against the door behind him and now, now they can rock their hips aganst Hector's slowly and feel the effect of it. ]
[ It's fine--Hector's used to bearing the burden of other's secrets (and his own). It won't leave this bedroom. Vaer won't even have to ask.
Well. Hector might bring it up in private later, but. That's not the point.
Vaer rocks into him and the friction sends ripples of pleasure through him, slipping through his lips and into their mouth in a low groan. His own mouth gapes open, letting Vaer have what dominion they please over him as Hector concentrates only on rolling his hips in time with the other.
But they're not going to do this standing up, are they? With his full armor still on? There might've been something in the drinks, but Hector isn't that desperate. His hands let go of them and lightly trail up their chest, where he pushes back on them to break the kiss and stand up straight. ]
Bed.
[ He croaks, taking a few steps towards the bed, pushing them in that direction as he does so. And when he has enough room, he gently reaches up to remove the wreath adorning his own head and places it on a nearby table, before quickly and methodically begins stripping himself of his gloves, pauldrons, breastplate.
Vaer is pliant as they go, seeing no reason not to do this on the bed, and especially not when it means they can take a seat and watch as Hector divests himself of the full armor that he apparently has had on while hanging out at the bar!
But even beneath that, he sure has a lot of clothes, especially in contrast to Vaer, whose leather armor is hanging out elsewhere in the room and had been wearing a simple trousers and shirt situation, the latter of which is already off. ]
[ Hector's eyes drop as he removes his belt (sword absent, thankfully), and begins to undo the buttons on his coat. A faint cloud casts over steely blue--what party in the past decade hadn't ended up in a bloodbath? Where he had to be there to respond immediately? Maybe it seems silly now, here, out of place and out of time, but who cares. That he'd lay down his life for strangers hasn't changed a bit.
He drapes his coat, shirt over the back of the nearby chair, slips the cravat from his neck to place it with the rest of his things. He turns partially towards Vaer, more to show off than anything, as he lifts his arms. Along with the old nicks and scars that dot his shoulders and arms, at the very center of his chest is an old, but rather nasty-looking burn scar, one that never quite healed properly, that sprawls across him like a web. He arcs his back as he runs his hand through his hair, arousal obvious in his state of partial undress; his eyes slip shut as he pulls ebon waves back and up, quickly tying it up into a ponytail.
The hair is off-limits. ]
There. Now we're even.
[ Tone low and sultry, eyes lidded, Hector turns to rest a knee beside Vaer's thigh on the bed, and then the other, lowering himself into a straddle over them as his arms slink around their shoulders. ]
[ Vaer has most certainly borne witness to many a tavern brawl in their time, so Hector's response simply garners a mirthless, breathy chuckle before they lean back on the bed, propping their body up on their elbows. They continue to watch with rapt attention as Hector peels away his clothing, one article at a time, heat already pooling in their gut while their eyes roam appreciatively all over Hector's frame.
That his skin is marked by scars comes as little surprise, given his apparent world-weariness, especially so given how they were just talking about wearing full armor to a hotel bar. His body looks so different from the unmarked, supple bodies of the noble folk Vaer had been used to seeing in their past life; no, his looks more akin to that of an adventurer, and in the best of ways.
After all, each mark, each ridge of toughened skin and each discoloration is a story that has been carved, burnt, and fixed into his being... And in spite of themself, Vaer is a moth drawn to a flame, for a bard cannot resist a good story. ]
So we are.
[ The words leave their lips as little more than a whisper. Hector settles onto their lap, and immediately Vaer is obediently sitting up. All the while, their hands find the meat of his thighs, fingers pressing deep into the fabric of his trousers and soon wandering up before they grab his ass, offering a slow roll of their hips against Hector's as they lean in and offer a kiss so light and seemingly chaste, a tease before they catch Hector's lower lip between their teeth and bite down ever so lightly. ]
[ And maybe he'll tell those stories one day, when his spirit has healed enough to do so.
Not now, though. While Vaer might be considering the sagas behind the marks on his body, Hector's too busy thinking about the heat in the pit of his stomach, the ache between his legs.
Vaer captures his lip, and his mouth hangs open uselessly for a moment; a quiet, breathy moan rolls in his throat. The fingers kneading into his ass encourage him to spread his legs wider, sink deeper onto their lap and rock in slow tandem with their hips. He feels Vaer's arousal on him, and it only feeds into his own. His eyes flutter shut, and after a brief stutter in his movements, he tilts his head, leaning forward with force, to sink his own teeth firmly into their upper lip, tongue greedily and messily wetting his little prize. ]
[ Of course their arousal feeds into each other, that shared heat building between the both of them; Vaer groans into the kiss. Oh, but that's good, the graze of Hector's teeth against their lips, the agony of their trousers keeping their bare skin from each other. Also these trousers and pants fit their more feminine mask quite well but they're... hm. Getting a bit too tight.
But they relent, for now. It would truly be a shame to have to pull Hector out of their lap when he sinks and fits so nicely into it. Instead, Vaer occupies themself with Hector's lips, his tongue, the taste of him, kissing him deeply and messily until it doesn't quite feel like enough. Soon, Vaer drags their mouth away from his lips, trailing down along his jawline, down his neck, and to the slope of his shoulder, where their mouth closes over bare skin and bites, sucking hard just to leave a mark there. ]
[ Hector's arms slink further around Vaer's shoulders, one hand curling uselessly as their teeth sink into his neck, while the other lifts to rake fingers through their hair, to dig into their scalp and keep them close.
His head lolls to the side, and the world spins. The drink was strong, the allure of a beautiful stranger even stronger. Slowly, he melts in Vaer's hold, the anxieties and worries that had led him to drink alone in the bar in the first place vanishing with the rest of his inhibitions.
A low groan rolls in his throat, perhaps tickling Vaer's lips as it passes through and slips through his mouth. His trousers are tight, too tight at this point, but the restraints, the barriers between him and Vaer's cock are almost tantalizing. His eyes slip shut, picturing what they might look like fully bare solely from what he can feel as he grinds, deeper, rougher as Vaer makes a right mess of his neck. ]
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no subject
So... fuck it.
They kiss Hector back duly, matching that greed and that reckless abandon, lips immediately parting and their tongue immediately seeking to taste him. Their arms brace against the door behind him and now, now they can rock their hips aganst Hector's slowly and feel the effect of it. ]
no subject
Well. Hector might bring it up in private later, but. That's not the point.
Vaer rocks into him and the friction sends ripples of pleasure through him, slipping through his lips and into their mouth in a low groan. His own mouth gapes open, letting Vaer have what dominion they please over him as Hector concentrates only on rolling his hips in time with the other.
But they're not going to do this standing up, are they? With his full armor still on? There might've been something in the drinks, but Hector isn't that desperate. His hands let go of them and lightly trail up their chest, where he pushes back on them to break the kiss and stand up straight. ]
Bed.
[ He croaks, taking a few steps towards the bed, pushing them in that direction as he does so. And when he has enough room, he gently reaches up to remove the wreath adorning his own head and places it on a nearby table, before quickly and methodically begins stripping himself of his gloves, pauldrons, breastplate.
...He's got a lot of clothes. ]
no subject
Vaer is pliant as they go, seeing no reason not to do this on the bed, and especially not when it means they can take a seat and watch as Hector divests himself of the full armor that he apparently has had on while hanging out at the bar!
But even beneath that, he sure has a lot of clothes, especially in contrast to Vaer, whose leather armor is hanging out elsewhere in the room and had been wearing a simple trousers and shirt situation, the latter of which is already off. ]
Expecting trouble at the hotel bar, were you?
no subject
[ Hector's eyes drop as he removes his belt (sword absent, thankfully), and begins to undo the buttons on his coat. A faint cloud casts over steely blue--what party in the past decade hadn't ended up in a bloodbath? Where he had to be there to respond immediately? Maybe it seems silly now, here, out of place and out of time, but who cares. That he'd lay down his life for strangers hasn't changed a bit.
He drapes his coat, shirt over the back of the nearby chair, slips the cravat from his neck to place it with the rest of his things. He turns partially towards Vaer, more to show off than anything, as he lifts his arms. Along with the old nicks and scars that dot his shoulders and arms, at the very center of his chest is an old, but rather nasty-looking burn scar, one that never quite healed properly, that sprawls across him like a web. He arcs his back as he runs his hand through his hair, arousal obvious in his state of partial undress; his eyes slip shut as he pulls ebon waves back and up, quickly tying it up into a ponytail.
The hair is off-limits. ]
There. Now we're even.
[ Tone low and sultry, eyes lidded, Hector turns to rest a knee beside Vaer's thigh on the bed, and then the other, lowering himself into a straddle over them as his arms slink around their shoulders. ]
no subject
That his skin is marked by scars comes as little surprise, given his apparent world-weariness, especially so given how they were just talking about wearing full armor to a hotel bar. His body looks so different from the unmarked, supple bodies of the noble folk Vaer had been used to seeing in their past life; no, his looks more akin to that of an adventurer, and in the best of ways.
After all, each mark, each ridge of toughened skin and each discoloration is a story that has been carved, burnt, and fixed into his being... And in spite of themself, Vaer is a moth drawn to a flame, for a bard cannot resist a good story. ]
So we are.
[ The words leave their lips as little more than a whisper. Hector settles onto their lap, and immediately Vaer is obediently sitting up. All the while, their hands find the meat of his thighs, fingers pressing deep into the fabric of his trousers and soon wandering up before they grab his ass, offering a slow roll of their hips against Hector's as they lean in and offer a kiss so light and seemingly chaste, a tease before they catch Hector's lower lip between their teeth and bite down ever so lightly. ]
no subject
Not now, though. While Vaer might be considering the sagas behind the marks on his body, Hector's too busy thinking about the heat in the pit of his stomach, the ache between his legs.
Vaer captures his lip, and his mouth hangs open uselessly for a moment; a quiet, breathy moan rolls in his throat. The fingers kneading into his ass encourage him to spread his legs wider, sink deeper onto their lap and rock in slow tandem with their hips. He feels Vaer's arousal on him, and it only feeds into his own. His eyes flutter shut, and after a brief stutter in his movements, he tilts his head, leaning forward with force, to sink his own teeth firmly into their upper lip, tongue greedily and messily wetting his little prize. ]
no subject
But they relent, for now. It would truly be a shame to have to pull Hector out of their lap when he sinks and fits so nicely into it. Instead, Vaer occupies themself with Hector's lips, his tongue, the taste of him, kissing him deeply and messily until it doesn't quite feel like enough. Soon, Vaer drags their mouth away from his lips, trailing down along his jawline, down his neck, and to the slope of his shoulder, where their mouth closes over bare skin and bites, sucking hard just to leave a mark there. ]
no subject
His head lolls to the side, and the world spins. The drink was strong, the allure of a beautiful stranger even stronger. Slowly, he melts in Vaer's hold, the anxieties and worries that had led him to drink alone in the bar in the first place vanishing with the rest of his inhibitions.
A low groan rolls in his throat, perhaps tickling Vaer's lips as it passes through and slips through his mouth. His trousers are tight, too tight at this point, but the restraints, the barriers between him and Vaer's cock are almost tantalizing. His eyes slip shut, picturing what they might look like fully bare solely from what he can feel as he grinds, deeper, rougher as Vaer makes a right mess of his neck. ]