His breath shudders, and he swallows a little harder. It's not the pain he can't handle, but maybe it's because he's never had someone so close to his heart - surely not in this literal way, and surely, not even, in metaphor. It's raw and dizzying - in a way he can't explain, something about what Ish says, while his sharp of his nails play his heart like a melody, feels - feels - feels...
He wonders what kind of melody he is. He wonders what sound there is there when his heart must be a hellswater trench and it must swallow all music within. It must be... )
Yes.
( He noses against Ish's neck - a bestial gesture, rather than anything human; something affectionate; something inviting. His heart beats quicker (he wonder how that feels?) in rushing recollection of what Ish has so faithfully promised. Something about hearing it all in review when Ish holds the very core of everything he is, that defines him, feels, )
I don't... want to forget.
( For better or worse, even if he should persist another thousand thousand years. )
[ as used as he is to prying open hearts and rooting around inside, this is the first time someone has leaned into it. he takes a breath at the contact against his neck, his fingers skipping a beat in their rhythm.
ahh, he has to focus. ]
You won't. [ "you won't, now." not that there was a question before, but this is something like putting an exclamation mark on top of a declaration. he continues, nails tracing the figure of a serpent, simplified. his crest, diluted to the most powerful lines. ]
I'll show you mine too. [ his nails lift, but his hand lingers around the beating heart in the palm of his hand. ]
( The delicate incision into his heart marks him, fire in its wake. It hurts, it feels strange, it feels sharp, but - he doesn't hate it. He doesn't hate it, feeling what it is, feeling like - more than just a crest, the snake curled up within it; it's like Ish is coiled up around his heart, keeping him company there.
How long has his heart been so lonely, until now?
His cheeks burn hot. )
... Please.
( He wants to say something else, but he doesn't know the words for it. Ish holds his heart, but there's more he wants to express. There's more he wants Ish to know - about how he makes him feel; about how this makes him feel. He wants Ish to know how much this feeling exists as something overwhelming, something wonderful he's never had, in his heart. He wants Ish to hold it; he wants Ish to know it.
And so, Hwylryn answers this desire by opening passage to the sea:
His emotion comes in excess from the start. It's ocean rushing through a cracked hull; it's something that grips from the inside out and pulls its victims back into cool and sweet and roiling seas, the water rushing through the ears like a song, the bubbles like laughter, and the sunlight disappears into the dark.
It's something that's never meant to be overwhelming, but it just is - how long has it been building, now? When he was born, they didn't even have numbers that went as high as he'd need them to go. He'd been stockpiling since then. This love is not all for Ish, solely for Ish, but its tangled up in there, without beginning and end, like blood in the water - and so this is why he cannot just show him one part. Where he has love for other things, other people, there exists his love for Ish, too.
He has to let him feel that everything, and hope that somewhere in there Ish can find what's meant for him, and hope that as the waves passes across him, that maybe it feels nice, and maybe - Ish can tell him what that song sounds like, because, to Hwylryn, all his heart sounds like is drowning. )
ish was content to leave it at that (as if he hadn't already been greedy in leaving his mark), but hwylryn decides otherwise. what else can he do but accept it? not that it's a forced choice, because ish will always accept what hwylryn gives him, clear water and rushing tempest and everything in between. in a way, perhaps his specialty as an attendant is his nature to take in what's around him, in every meaning of the word.
he shudders. at the heat he can feel from the skin against his neck, at the absolute flood of love that hwylryn has to offer. for a moment, he feels like he's drowning. but then he remembers. he remembers that he was born in something like this, born of emotions that she could no longer bear to keep inside of her.
he breathes and lets it fill his lungs, his eyes, his ears, all of him. the sound is beautiful he thinks, one he could get lost in forever. (he won't. or maybe, he already is). ]
( He feels the shudder, hears how Ish breathes and relaxes into it, and in Hwylryn's waves of excess swims new color: surprise, foremost - then relief; happiness; content; excitement; mischief (always mischief, no matter what). He's too much, and he knows it! He doesn't mind it, on the day to day. But it's always a little sad, a little acrid in his mouth, when the ones he wants love from most can't take what he is in his most natural state. He's not a creature made to contain his emotion.
But Ish doesn't recoil from it, or force himself to endure. Hwylryn hadn't meant to test him, or anything; that would require thinking beyond himself, for a second, and he was thinking a little too much of himself. He wanted Ish to know! And Ish would have to suffer the consequences. But Ish doesn't suffer. He seems to ease into it, he seems like maybe he even enjoys it? And that thought - one he hopes is true - makes his chest bubble like nothing else.
Somewhere, while gauging Ish's reactions, he'd begun to press kisses to his neck (he had gauged those reactions, before - he was just a little distracted, is all). It's when Ish seems lost in the rushing tides of Hwylryn's feelings, heart still in hand, excitement in Hwylryn's chest, does that kissing turn to sucking and teething - affectionate, teeth digging in deeper; not enough to draw blood, but certainly enough to mark. Gnawing, when the feelings in him begin to turn particularly fond. (And, idly, he considers - perhaps he ought to mark Ish, the way Blade had Dan Heng . . . ) )
[ one more breath he told himself and then he would move to separate them. one more breath and hwylryn's teeth catch onto his skin and pull him in even deeper than before. he sighs into the sensation, into the warmth needling into him, the fingers around hwylryn's heart plucking different kind of notes than before. there's still an edge of pain to it, much like teeth, but there's a pleasure to it, a pleasant ache.
he shouldn't be encouraging this, but here he is, anyway. ]
( The more Ish teeths in turn, jolts running hot, so much more vibrant and so much more intense than if he'd just clawed at his skin, from every chord played and through his heart, through his chest, to the rest of him, the more violent the teething grows until it's a lot less suckling, a lot less teething, and a lot more biting into him - until his teeth sink particularly hard into Ish's flesh, and Hwylryn can't help but press up against him, as if he means - through instinct alone - to return half as much intensity of sensation as Ish is giving him.
Their chests may be necessarily split by Ish's hand as a gulf between them, but lower? That might be enough to discourage Ish, because it sure doesn't discourage Hwylryn. In fact - and unfortunately - all this; the pain; the intimacy; the biting; the way Ish likes it, too - only encourages him. )
[ unlike next week in the orchards, ish doesn't even have the sense of mind to string together thoughts of confusion, embarrassment, or surprise. all he has is instinct: he likes how hwylryn feels, his lips, his tongue, his teeth, his heart, his—
—blood blooms from the marks along his neck, little blossoms of heat. mmnph, he feels so hot but it's not enough, not when he can feel hwylryn against him, in the same way he is.
( It's probably at least winding to fall while having a hand impact your whole entire heart??? Painful, and winding, and while he could've gone without it, he's on the fence about if he's not into it,
It's all enough to mostly distract Hwylryn from how Ish feels pressed up against him,
almost. )
... I think... you can let go— ( A shuddering exhale, cheeks brushed with a lingering red, the sensation still strong. The mood is a little lost now, but he seems pleased enough by his handwork on Ish's neck, as he reorients his gaze. ) It'd be harder to help like this...
( he has no idea why ish is screamin in the dazed and Extremely Distracted state of mind he's in he just figured it's a delayed scream from falling. or something )
Right, right! [ despite how fast he replies, he's careful when he removes his hand. there's no blood, since this is him cheating with his magic in a novel way. ]
To help? [ wow they're both pretty flushed, huh? (his braincells are still several feet up there somewhere). he tucks some hair away from hwylryn's face, eyes confused and searching. pointedly ignoring how the rest of him feels, at least for now. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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( Without hesitation. But then—
Oh, that, feels,
His breath shudders, and he swallows a little harder. It's not the pain he can't handle, but maybe it's because he's never had someone so close to his heart - surely not in this literal way, and surely, not even, in metaphor. It's raw and dizzying - in a way he can't explain, something about what Ish says, while his sharp of his nails play his heart like a melody, feels - feels - feels...
He wonders what kind of melody he is. He wonders what sound there is there when his heart must be a hellswater trench and it must swallow all music within. It must be... )
Yes.
( He noses against Ish's neck - a bestial gesture, rather than anything human; something affectionate; something inviting. His heart beats quicker (he wonder how that feels?) in rushing recollection of what Ish has so faithfully promised. Something about hearing it all in review when Ish holds the very core of everything he is, that defines him, feels, )
I don't... want to forget.
( For better or worse, even if he should persist another thousand thousand years. )
no subject
ahh, he has to focus. ]
You won't. [ "you won't, now." not that there was a question before, but this is something like putting an exclamation mark on top of a declaration. he continues, nails tracing the figure of a serpent, simplified. his crest, diluted to the most powerful lines. ]
I'll show you mine too. [ his nails lift, but his hand lingers around the beating heart in the palm of his hand. ]
no subject
How long has his heart been so lonely, until now?
His cheeks burn hot. )
... Please.
( He wants to say something else, but he doesn't know the words for it. Ish holds his heart, but there's more he wants to express. There's more he wants Ish to know - about how he makes him feel; about how this makes him feel. He wants Ish to know how much this feeling exists as something overwhelming, something wonderful he's never had, in his heart. He wants Ish to hold it; he wants Ish to know it.
And so, Hwylryn answers this desire by opening passage to the sea:
His emotion comes in excess from the start. It's ocean rushing through a cracked hull; it's something that grips from the inside out and pulls its victims back into cool and sweet and roiling seas, the water rushing through the ears like a song, the bubbles like laughter, and the sunlight disappears into the dark.
It's something that's never meant to be overwhelming, but it just is - how long has it been building, now? When he was born, they didn't even have numbers that went as high as he'd need them to go. He'd been stockpiling since then. This love is not all for Ish, solely for Ish, but its tangled up in there, without beginning and end, like blood in the water - and so this is why he cannot just show him one part. Where he has love for other things, other people, there exists his love for Ish, too.
He has to let him feel that everything, and hope that somewhere in there Ish can find what's meant for him, and hope that as the waves passes across him, that maybe it feels nice, and maybe - Ish can tell him what that song sounds like, because, to Hwylryn, all his heart sounds like is drowning. )
no subject
ish was content to leave it at that (as if he hadn't already been greedy in leaving his mark), but hwylryn decides otherwise. what else can he do but accept it? not that it's a forced choice, because ish will always accept what hwylryn gives him, clear water and rushing tempest and everything in between. in a way, perhaps his specialty as an attendant is his nature to take in what's around him, in every meaning of the word.
he shudders. at the heat he can feel from the skin against his neck, at the absolute flood of love that hwylryn has to offer. for a moment, he feels like he's drowning. but then he remembers. he remembers that he was born in something like this, born of emotions that she could no longer bear to keep inside of her.
he breathes and lets it fill his lungs, his eyes, his ears, all of him. the sound is beautiful he thinks, one he could get lost in forever. (he won't. or maybe, he already is). ]
no subject
But Ish doesn't recoil from it, or force himself to endure. Hwylryn hadn't meant to test him, or anything; that would require thinking beyond himself, for a second, and he was thinking a little too much of himself. He wanted Ish to know! And Ish would have to suffer the consequences. But Ish doesn't suffer. He seems to ease into it, he seems like maybe he even enjoys it? And that thought - one he hopes is true - makes his chest bubble like nothing else.
Somewhere, while gauging Ish's reactions, he'd begun to press kisses to his neck (he had gauged those reactions, before - he was just a little distracted, is all). It's when Ish seems lost in the rushing tides of Hwylryn's feelings, heart still in hand, excitement in Hwylryn's chest, does that kissing turn to sucking and teething - affectionate, teeth digging in deeper; not enough to draw blood, but certainly enough to mark. Gnawing, when the feelings in him begin to turn particularly fond. (And, idly, he considers - perhaps he ought to mark Ish, the way Blade had Dan Heng . . . ) )
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he shouldn't be encouraging this, but here he is, anyway. ]
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Their chests may be necessarily split by Ish's hand as a gulf between them, but lower? That might be enough to discourage Ish, because it sure doesn't discourage Hwylryn. In fact - and unfortunately - all this; the pain; the intimacy; the biting; the way Ish likes it, too - only encourages him. )
/2
—blood blooms from the marks along his neck, little blossoms of heat. mmnph, he feels so hot but it's not enough, not when he can feel hwylryn against him, in the same way he is.
he needs to find more leverage— ]
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unceremoniously they fall a few feet to the ground proper. oh.
what was he doing? what was he feeling? ahhh he's bleeding and hwylryn is—
he's suddenly aware of how tight his bottoms are.
hm. ]
Eeeeeeeeeeee! [ that's not even a proper exclamation? ish is dead.
his hand is still inside hwylryn's chest also. ]
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( It's probably at least winding to fall while having a hand impact your whole entire heart??? Painful, and winding, and while he could've gone without it, he's on the fence about if he's not into it,
It's all enough to mostly distract Hwylryn from how Ish feels pressed up against him,
almost. )
... I think... you can let go— ( A shuddering exhale, cheeks brushed with a lingering red, the sensation still strong. The mood is a little lost now, but he seems pleased enough by his handwork on Ish's neck, as he reorients his gaze. ) It'd be harder to help like this...
( he has no idea why ish is screamin in the dazed and Extremely Distracted state of mind he's in he just figured it's a delayed scream from falling. or something )
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To help? [ wow they're both pretty flushed, huh? (his braincells are still several feet up there somewhere). he tucks some hair away from hwylryn's face, eyes confused and searching. pointedly ignoring how the rest of him feels, at least for now. ]
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( As Ish removes his hand with a tender mindfulness, a gasp, slightly breathy, escapes his lips.
He swallows, getting a grip of himself - missing the feel of Ish inside him already (maybe we shouldn't phrase it like that) (but also)
As for the question, well. Once he's sort of reoriented proper, he shifts a little bit . . . palming Ish through the fabric, )
. . . If you want.
/2
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it's hard to get out words and ish is in actual danger of biting his tongue, beet red, the pupils of his eyes thin slits. he tries again, fruitlessly.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
his heart thunders in his ears, and he aches in a way he's never known until now. ]
You'resobeautifulandIcan'tmmmmmmnYeahIyeahplease.
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