He Xuan (贺玄) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
esurientabyss) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crescentview2023-02-03 12:41 pm
esurientabyss) wrote in crescentview2023-02-03 12:41 pm
A foreboding feeling fills this place... (Feb - March Closed Threads for He Xuan)
🌊Who: He Xuan, and peeps.
🌊What: Dating, other potential misc. stuff that's coming up.
🌊When: February - March.
🌊Where: Boat, various places on the island.
🌊Warnings: Some NSFW, alcohol. Fun times~
🎃 fall events
childe (tartaglia) | link to trio shenans
mundane/misc. activities
jack vessalius, kaveh, appreciation
⛄ winter time
a talk
🌊What: Dating, other potential misc. stuff that's coming up.
🌊When: February - March.
🌊Where: Boat, various places on the island.
🌊Warnings: Some NSFW, alcohol. Fun times~
childe (tartaglia) | link to trio shenans
mundane/misc. activities
jack vessalius, kaveh, appreciation
⛄ winter time
a talk
no subject
Instead, next he's watching as Tartaglia's reaching for...what, a strange mechanism of some sort? He isn't quite sure what he's looking at here. And then there's the picture going off.
It's not the most dignified image of him, but there have been far worse portraits made in his likeness. It does manage to tear the scowl off of his face, as he's reaching out for it. He does like it, his sulky face, alongside Tartaglia in his wonderful maid outfit and all. ]
I promise. No one else needs to see it.
...Didn't know there were devices that could make immediate portraits, however.
[ He Xuan hasn't had much interest in unfamiliar, more advanced technology, but this is an outlier. ]
I'd say it was him, but I suppose my actions at a certain...place ended up causing it. Initially we got along, because on the surface, our personalities are similar. Yet, we ended up having certain irreconcilable differences.
[ Suffice to say, so maybe it was him who started it? At the time when he was at the hotsprings, He Xuan didn't exactly view Diluc in the same way as he does now. ]
But, seems his reasons for him disliking you are obviously different.
no subject
Not out here.
[ Although Diluc was quick to spill the beans, Tartaglia's a lot more furtive about the matter, beckoning He Xuan off from the sun-speckled view and towards the interior of the ship. It's relatively cool wherever the darkness hits, striking at his back and his face. Silhouette half in shadow, he's purposefully inscrutable, walking too fast for it to be anything but deliberate.
Leading the way to the private suite, he's brokering no argument on the matter. Come on in. Soon as He Xuan has entreated himself to the room, Tartaglia shuts the door and relents to seat himself on the bed where the gift basket resides. ]
A grudge. We were strangers, but I riled him. No helping that. He loathes the Fatui, so by extension, he loathes me. [ Enlivening stuff, promised so much hostility and then some terrible demise at Diluc's hands? Like, okay then. ] To put it in simple terms, you might call me a "diplomat" for my country. That's how the Fatui function. I'd liken myself to a sword, if anything.
[ Only meant to be wielded for the Tsaritsa's will, no higher moral ground and amicability that vanishes when the goodwill does. Each and every fleeting chance to be more than a weapon is a beautiful one, but ultimately, this bloodlust never lets up. ]
.... I'm curious. What'd you do to earn Diluc's ire?
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When the other man tells him 'not out here', he doesn't bother making any argument. See, He Xuan knows the importance of certain subjects and matters to be kept under wraps—where no one can simply eavesdrop and learn something they shouldn't. Of course, it's a simple matter to follow quickly, eventually stepping inside into their private room. After the door's shut (and presumably locked), he's watching Tartaglia make strides over to the bed, and sits like he's gotten accustomed to his current attire.
In this too does He Xuan make a movement to follow, stopping slightly as he spots the gift basket, and unsurprisingly picking up a couple of the chocolates. One might argue he is a glutton for punishment, but really, it's a struggle not to have taken any from the baggie he's had. What's a few more?
Though, his golden eyes might have caught sight of a note, but Tartaglia's talking, and his attention flickers more over to him instead. Next, he unwraps one already, bringing it close to eat. ]
So that's why he views you with such...vitriol.
[ He Xuan recalls the words Diluc used to describe Tartaglia when he went to confront him, though he doesn't think of the red head any better for it. But whatever the case, he's not the type of person to find those aspects so troublesome that he'd never want to see the man before him ever again.
As for the question...well, it gives him pause. It's not something he'd ever necessarily tell anyone under most circumstances. The problem is, that he doesn't feel inclined to hide even this.
What does that say about him? He Xuan is trying very hard not to think about that, like the way he's trying not to think about the way Tartaglia is dressed, and the fact the both of them are in a private room. By which we mean, he's failing. ]
No smart remarks.
[ He says quickly, moving to tuck a strand of loose hair behind one of his ears, which falls back into place.
Anyway, he's trying to figure a way to say this delicately. Except, He Xuan is a fairly blunt person, so it goes as one might imagine. ]
...Do you remember when the goddess made a fool of Diluc for engaging in certain activities? He took umbrage with the fact that I would not allow him to do as he pleased.
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What? [ This is the worst thing he's ever heard. ] You can't be serious. With him?
[ That stick in the mud? Alright, time for a distraction. Deigning to take several bites of the truffles himself, Tartaglia tastes none of the sweetness. Instead, he's left with this weird, drugged-out craving for heat or something equally unbearable. Shouldn't it be spicy?
Longing sets itself upon him the same way. One minute, he's the closest to normal he'll ever be. The next, he's lost track of the conversation entirely, breath sawing out of his throat in hot splinters. Suffering the vising grip of desire, Tartaglia plucks the card clean out of the gift basket, scans it over for the first time since making this mistake. ]
Knew it was... too good to be true. [ Crumpling the note in one fist, he stands, wobbly and shaky on his feet. ] Don't... don't eat any more. Actually— toss them all out.
[ Too late for Tartaglia to fight off this feeling, though, red in the face as he staggers over to the bathroom like he can splash himself into sanity? As if he could use his Vision right now? The damage is done. Braced over the sink, he's struggling to focus, yearning so heavy and frantic in him. ]
Damn it.
no subject
As it is, He Xuan is caught without words once more, and while Tartaglia is asking those questions, rhetorical or not, he's gone ahead with stuffing a second bite of the chocolate into his mouth. Sometimes, one is so overcome with such embarrassment that this can only be the next course of action to take.
Evidently, Tartaglia thinks the same. He tries to think of something else to ask about. But, the problem is choosing one at this point, especially with the fact he's still rather flustered.
Still, He Xuan isn't expecting what happens next. Tartaglia's reaction, and then his subsequent words still halt any emerging from him whatsoever. For a split second, hot anger takes over reason, him presuming poison.
If so, he will absolutely bury alive whoever's responsible. Some of that fury is mixed with worry, as he finds himself following the other man into the bathroom. ]
Tartaglia, are you—
[ His logical brain catches up, to an extent. Tartaglia's face had been bright red, now again caught over in what's reflected by the mirror (a smaller one, compared to the one in the room) over the sink. But in the midst of this, his hand had been reaching, fingers liable to reach out for one of the other's arms, before He Xuan realizes he isn't thinking clearly, also arrested by the haze. More mild, in retrospect, for now. ]
This—it's far too late. But, there is nothing to be done. Unless...
[ He lets the implication stand for itself. But does nothing until he hears an answer, despite how inconvenient this is becoming. ]
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I can handle it. ... This is nothing.
[ Clearly his throat so sharply doesn't do away with this awful energy when it's pried out of him, running like the faucet. He's past denying it, the expression on his face so blistering and induced. ]
Were you thinking I'd also let you do as you please with me?
[ Fresh out of any modesty, Tartaglia shuts the sink tap off. His stare's so hot and bruising, like he's begging to be thawed out or to lay waste to something, anything at all. ]
Or did you want it another way? To watch— as I conquered you, and had my way— until you surrendered to me, over and over.
[ Hurting for it, or thriving off the challenge? Which one is it? ]
Come on. Out with it already. No more misunderstandings.
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Both options sound surprisingly equally appealing. Is it because of the wretched heat blotting out any sense of rationality? Or because of who it is in front of him, who he has already desired before any of those damn chocolates came into play.
But his inclination to take Tartaglia is a bit higher than eventually being made to surrender. ]
Not easily, but eventually.
[ He Xuan is already close to Tartaglia, making the idea of any distance between the meagre and laughable at most, when he shifts unabashedly closer, anticipating the other has no qualms about lack of distance now at the very least. Then, he's moving one hand daringly to rest on one of the other man's hips.
Unsurprisingly, he speaks again, words dark with arousal. ]
And I would ruin you. Make you enjoy it...wanting it, until you're thinking of nothing else.
[ Will Tartaglia protest much if he leans in to steal a kiss from him? It wouldn't certainly be chaste regardless, intent on giving him a taste of such passion, and intensity. ]
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You're always so vague.
[ Stalking forward, he shoves He Xuan past the doorway and over the threshold, no way to outrun Tartaglia when he's hot on his heels. Coy, and then insatiable, he's slow and vicious with these pursuits. Pushing He Xuan back until he's all but nailed to the bedroom's mirror, it's floor-length and reflecting everything, like his mood and his demeanor, so vicious and still vying for more. Tracing one cheekbone with his thumb, Tartaglia smudges him with his touch. ]
Why's that? Can't say you want to fuck me? Is that too impolite?
[ Now Tartaglia leans in to claim his mouth, licking into it. A very bruising gesture on his part, rendered in longing and addiction, and an appetite far greater than any of these sweets could ever satisfy. Coming away from He Xuan, he plants that secret between their parted lips, only drawn away long enough to breathe. ]
Tell me how long you wanted me. You owe me that.
no subject
...Then again? It hadn't been his back against the sink. ]
How is that vague—?
[ Anything else he might have said is dissipating in real time for the moment when Tartaglia dares to push him back—all the way up against the bedroom mirror, for once his footing off due to not anticipating the other man's movements as much. Any indication of mild petulance having all but vanished with him distracted, that thumb soon tracing against skin that is normally unnaturally cold, strangely heated to lukewarm by the affliction.
Good timing for Tartaglia to pose those questions, He Xuan only speaking quick enough to add— ]
Can say it just fucking fine.
[ Not that there's much opportunity to say anything else, with the other decisively pressing into a heated kiss—his own lips are already parted, wanting more, more and more. He's leaning into it himself, unwilling to do nothing, cherishing the roughness of it. When Tartaglia breaks away, it feels far too quick; he's severely out of it. Aching enough that going about this logically is an impossibility, and the admittance falls from his lips too easily. ]
I wanted you ever since we first met up at the lake. Thought about it often, even afterwards.
[ He Xuan goes in for another kiss swiftly, to smother Tartaglia in it. That, with a bite on the other man's lip as his hands are already moving over to the other male's hips, gripping tightly. And then shift his footing so he can put effort into switching their positions, aiming for Tartaglia's back to be against the mirror. ]
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Kissing him should've been sweeter and colder, something to take the edge off the heat; his head thumps back against the mirror, but the temperature won't drop, only rising when Tartaglia rests his cheek against the glass, panting unevenly. ]
I meant what I said.
[ As if he's gonna suck up to anyone? Threading through the long strands of He Xuan's hair that have come loose like chilled silk, he tugs, yanking him down like he can bring him back to mortality and not some weird, deathless state of mind. ]
What's with all of these secrets? [ First he's filthy, then he's wanton. Clutching up around him, Tartaglia sharply grinds his knee at He Xuan's groin even through the layers of this very stupid dress, courting his very imminent destruction. ] Make it up to me.
[ Or just get eaten alive by him, when he takes his dirty mouth to press teething bites into He Xuan's throat, leaving new and dark colors crawling down it. Will it bruise? He hopes so. Tartaglia's trying his hardest to leave his mark on him, staining him with his touch and these guiltless fingers, grip wound in his hair while his other hand's flirting with one shoulder, holding He Xuan at bay. ]
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Since you know, they're hardly secrets anymore. [ He states bluntly, and then the other male moves that knee, bringing pleasant friction, incurring a grunt. With Tartaglia like this, He Xuan lets his hands wander, but the fluffy dress is a bit of an impediment, even when he has a hand dip low, gripping his rear end, eager to press him even closer. ] Careful what you ask for.
[ Even for someone like him, the mark will settle. Meanwhile, he's sliding another hand around to the other male's back, forcing a bit of room where it had been against the solid mirror, searching for a way to begin to pull the top half of the dress off. Buttons? Zipper? Or he'll just rip it off in his impatience, whatever's quicker; Tartaglia's attempts to hold him at bay, ineffective. ]
You're in far too many layers. This needs to come off.
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But Tartaglia indulges it, haphazardly stumbling on his feet where he's pinned in place. Closer than further apart, his eyes turn ferocious. That's just how it goes when he's saddled with this bottomless hunger, like a sieve that can't be filled. Busy losing the rest of his mind to tugging the zipper down of his volition, he's wrenching out of He Xuan's reach. ]
Rip it and I'll leave wearing nothing. That fine with you?
[ Leveling the flattest retort possible, Tartaglia sinks to his knees. The dress is half-shucked off where he's crouched down, now split down the middle. Back exposed through the tugged-open seam of it, the reflection of it through the mirror is indecent, as hot and flushed as his face. Ungracious and troublesome besides, he glances up from beneath his lashes. ]
I'll suck you off— [ More senseless conviction spills out of his mouth, laughter stretched out and searing his throat. ] —if you'll let me.
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Whenever Mount Tonglu set the ghosts into a frenzy from the disruption, He Xuan merely found a way to sleep away, unaffected. He obviously can't do so here, for better or worse. But with the retort the other male's given, he can't quite find himself able to argue much with it. It isn't like there's any extra set of clothing for Tartaglia here, so he just barely resists reaching out to pull him back, and decides not to grant it no reply.
Besides, with the way Tartaglia sinks to his knees before him, already looking debaucherous enough that a different sort of distraction takes him, and there's that kind of laughter being torn straight from the other male's throat, which does something to him. ]
Then, do it.
[ The words spill out seemingly coldly, but are heated all the same, He Xuan's hands going straight to undo his belt, tossing it to the floor unceremoniously. Followed by him shrugging at least what will be considered one outer layer off—a necessity for him to take out his cock from his pants, a healthy, nice size for someone as tall as him. One other hand reaches out to boldly grasp a hold of that hair, fingers already sinking in, no need to pull just yet with him so close. ]
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Running mad in the excess of honesty, he comes up short with reasons to strategically withdraw. In a less effected state, he'd question the circumstances more. At least, his gaze wouldn't sink this badly, the air first stifling and then harsh where it's flung atop him, the heat crawling to blister over his shoulders.
At his own discretion, Tartaglia says what's on his mind, eyes gleaming. ]
You'll find me plenty obliging. [ His teeth sink into his lower lip when he says it, not at all edging away from the attention that he's invited upon himself. ] More enthusiasm would be nice!
[ Is flattery such a curse? It's probably for the best that Tartaglia doesn't acknowledge his own attention-seeking habits when he can't fall back upon taunting to cope. For once, he's wrung out, and doesn't remark on much else, pressing down into whatever new reprimand finds him with his mouth. One hand's loosely fitted around the base of He Xuan's cock, tongue sliding deep down the underside, more soft than not. No attempts to shove it past his lips when he's preoccupied with affixing him with insolence, like he could force captivation with only his mouth. ]
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His eyes are laser-focused on what Tartaglia does or says. But now even moreso, even seeing the way he bites his lip...does it need to be said? An amused huff escapes him nonetheless. ]
You'll find I'm enthusiastic enough...
[ He says plainly, but judging by the way his lips slightly uptick, he is aware the inflection sounds contrary. Even if he draws a harsher breath once Tartaglia moves to make good on what he plans to do in earnest, but daring to do so lightly. Too slowly. He's doing it on purpose, with such a searing look at him.
How delightful. ]
...When you give me more. You've shown an incredible ruthlessness in your pursuit before. Is this the best you have, Tartaglia?
[ He Xuan lacks the patience he normally has, fingers already settled atop that red hair now boldly carding through those lock, and then going back to gripping more firmly. This time when he speaks, there is no hint of coldness, a bottomless greed and demand entering into his tone. ]
Give me more.
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Very, very briefly, Tartaglia's gaze is overcast and storming from beneath his eyelashes. Patience halfway to eroded, he's somewhat disoriented. Should he give in just this once? There's a moment of intense consideration on his part, gone very still as he reaches back around to the zipper and artlessly peels the dress the rest of the way down, that weird curse placed on him either severed or in shambles.
After that, mind made up, Tartaglia slows to a crawl with his ministrations, slyness marring his stare. If He Xuan's truly wanting, then he ought to know for sure first.
So beg. He'll concede for nothing less, fist loosening even where he's got his hand wrapped around as low as his ballsack, mouth split only wide enough to take about a fourth of dick in his mouth. Not even half, no gesture that truly satisfies. Dangling in that challenge presented by He Xuan's hand, Tartaglia knows full well that he could be yanked up at any time.
But goading comes so easily. He Xuan should've thought some more about the kind of monster that Tartaglia is, depraved enough to stretch out temptation. Flippant with his tongue when it runs down a vein, he's swallowing spit and not the least bit pentient for drawing things out, despite the resultant ache in his jaw. ]
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Even with him as sensitive as this, how much Tartaglia takes, how much he is touching is nice, but it's well below the realm of anything remotely satisfying. Given how he has loosened the grip, that only adds to the insult. ]
Tartaglia...
[ This time, he speaks his name—breathless and heated—from vexation more than satisfaction, the latter of which seems to elude him thanks to the other's efforts. Words are almost on the tip of his tongue, trying to find a way to construct them together to urge the red head on, but this is driving him mad enough. And seeing him more exposed? Aching and impatient, He Xuan can't wait. Nor can he give in like this.
He doesn't give any warning to him yanking the other male right off of his cock, one hand moving to ensure that Tartaglia's hand is also pulled away from where it was loosely wrapped, all in one smooth motion. ]
I've let you try to please me and have been found wanting. Let me make good on what I said I'd do to you.
[ He's waited long enough. One of the containers of lube flies straight into one of his hands, without need for any usage of water. Even with the dress still barely on Tartaglia, at this point he will literally fuck him with it still on.
Assuming, of course, he does indicate he's fine with it. ]
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Mostly, those urges are violent. Inside, he's a filthy mess of contradictions, easy to bruise and easier to rile, much too vulgar and far too unsweet for his own good. Maybe he should've been better about showing that before, not waiting until his inhibitions were stripped back and pared down to reveal that he's completely insensible, that it isn't love that overrides all that could exist in his heart but this tendency to run his opponents through.
But He Xuan's hardly an adversary, and Tartaglia licking his lips, his stare so deep and dark. Fingers flexing a little, they crumple together and then hangs limp in someone else's clutches.
Righted, he's yanking off the dress so it drops the rest of the way with the hand that hasn't been caught, unashamed with the nudity. It's fine. It's not ideal, but even if it's ripped to shreds, he'll walk off the ship with his ego intact. Maybe he's a little bit of a masochist, given this proclivity toward harming others, harming himself. ]
At least take your clothes off, if nothing else. How am I supposed to touch you beneath all those layers?
[ Is He Xuan just going to finger him and fuck him out? That's a thought. Here's another, eyes gouging him through, face-to-face and so unbecoming for it. ]
If you're gonna do this to me, then I want you to watch.
[ No looking away. ]
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His feelings are more than surface level, making this more complicated than simple—yet, he lets them remain submerged, angling towards allowing only his deep physical need apparent. A deep greed that he has within him is now unleashed, with him unable to keep it at bay, and the time for shame has long since passed.
Letting the bottle float, and letting go of the other's hand, he takes his clothing off in smooth, hurried movements, letting himself stand completely exposed. He then boldly reaches for that hand again in a quick motion, leading them closer to the bed, towards the end, perfectly witnessed in the mirror directly across. ]
Did you think I would look away when I can barely keep my eyes off of you?
[ Golden eyes bare down on Tartaglia, as he dares to reach forward, hand on the male's chest, to try to push him back against the bed so he can climb atop him. And of course, the bottle's already brought back into his other hand, opened, two fingers dipping in. He has full intention of still preparing Tartaglia properly, and will slip two in first, between those legs, movements smooth, impatient, but direct all the same.
Leaving no room for nothing but certainty. ]
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Kind of unreal, the sight's too dreamlike, more akin to a fantasy; panting into the sheets, he's gulping insensibly with the notion. Too late to ask if they could do it in the shower or something, crank the water at full blast, icy enough to thaw the nerves. Not like he has enough frame of mind to use his Vision either, cast on the floor with everything else.
Less substantial than even these rich sheets is his sudden lapse in control, grasping rather uselessly at the sheets, knuckles so heavy with strain. Never has he harbored the intent to shove his fingers inside his ass and get off that way, so of course it isn't an effortless act to receive any now. Crushing and vice-like even though he's hardly a virgin, he's clenching down around the part of He Xuan's hand that's slid inside. The sensation is unyielding, slick from the lube, but insufferably hot, the air sawing out of his lungs while he's still full of things he can't exorcise. ]
Just a promise from you.
[ Hard to be anything but stupidly honest when Tartaglia's made so vulnerable, breath coming out too shallow and fast, skin suffocated by the heat. Ignoring the fact that his dick's throbbing so angrily between his legs, he's reaching for whatever of He Xuan that he can touch while impaled on his hand. ]
Give me your word.
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He notices it all. The hands in the sheets, the way he breathes like he's taking his last breath, and the desperate tightness that's all but clutching onto both of the fingers as he dares to move them in a constant motion. He Xuan even will slide them deep, taking more care here when he does, but not coming to a complete stop.
With him so close by still, it'll be a simple matter for his free hand to reach in between them, fingers lightly stroking at that hardness, to provide some more ease, but does it? Tartaglia's hands can very well reach at him like this—his face, his chest, hips, arms—and he will allow him to do so. ]
A promise? Then, you'll have one—consider my word given that I'll never look anywhere else but at you. No reason or desire to do otherwise.
Every single moment of this, from beginning to end, I'll have you within my sights. Nothing else.
[ In the end, He Xuan can't help the fact there's emotion other than simply heat and desire coloring his tone. Impossible for him to be so unaffected in so many ways—that ship has long since sailed.
But, he continues along, undeterred. ]
Are you ready for me, Tartaglia?
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[ So unsweet, there's no subtlety left in him, baring all the terrible greed like the Adam's apple set in his throat. Abject with his stare, Tartaglia's shoving at those fingers tugging around his cock to wrap his own around them, stroking erratically so he doesn't fall right off the sharp precipice of self-control. Anything like discipline in him is halfway to annihilation already, inglorious and brutalizing with his own hand.
Losing it, losing himself in it, he's palming broadly along He Xuan's nape, clutching him down so he's dragged closer. Impatient and prying, Tartaglia's pushing so He Xuan lowers his head for once before him. ]
Do it.
[ He'll fall to pieces if left on his own, well before any vulgarity. Buried into with grinding slowness, he's shuddering, the noises leaving him filthy and shattered. Well out of his own depth, every inch of him glistening in sweat or wreathed in shivers, Tartaglia's nudging himself down so he can take those fingers deeper. The dip in his backbone proves inflexible, even when he's struggling to arch off the bed. ]
Do it already. I'm letting you.
[ Or he'll do it, and he'll be relentless and cruel in wrenching up to overpower He Xuan. ]
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If it weren't for how far gone he was himself, he might have even laughed. As much as he doesn't consider this a situation deserving of such humor.
Once the demands are finished leaving Tartaglia's lips, He Xuan pulls his fingers out without preamble. Both hands now free, in the heat of the moment, he's had the chance to slather some of that liquid from the bottle—now lying carelessly on the ground after being tossed—on his own cock. He's also already pulled back some in order to do so, nudging away the other's hand from where it had rested against the back of his neck.
No need for saying anything promptly, He Xuan's tugging at—gripping—one hip with one hand and guiding his cock with another, so he's effectively pulling Tartaglia right onto his cock, still kneeling on the bed. Not stopping for anything, He Xuan's slowly sheathing himself inside completely with a sound of pleasure, impatience of his own winning out as he doesn't bother to even bother to take care or hide such a sound.
That's as much as a reprieve that's given.
After all, figuring that neither of them desire to wait for long, He Xuan himself having no wish to do so himself with how much the other is tightly gripping onto him, he will already begin a pace, easing in and outside of Tartaglia. Sliding almost completely out and then, one hand tight on the other's hips, he's thrusted himself all the way back inside, using his grip as leverage all the while. ]
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But he's grinding down against it until his body's swallowed more cock, wet from the lube and tenderly opened up. Figures it'd be hard to ride He Xuan's cock when held taut against the mattress. Predicting the pace comes easily enough but it still throws him hard when the full length of it slams inward, filling him too quickly.
He's clenching for all the space it occupies inside of him, throbbing from the overwhelming stretch. Pushed much too deep, the thrusts are overwhelming, and Tartaglia's gripping at He Xuan's wrist before long, fingers gnawing shallow crescents where they've dug in. Not to retreat, though. Even in a compromising position, legs pulled taut on either side of He Xuan's waist, he's ceaseless in his attempts to drag him further down. ]
Come on. [ His voice is so shivery, tremors eating up the clarity it could've carried. ] Come closer. You'd make me wait this long?
[ Why the hell is He Xuan propped up so far away, anyways? Kneeling to fuck him dispassionately is all well and good, but it's nothing proximate, not the soul-sucking closeness that Tartaglia craves so earnestly. ]
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Feeling him clutch so desperately tight around him, He Xuan doesn't bother to hold back how quick his breaths leave him, as if he actually needs to take in air when it's entirely unnecessary, but despite it all he's witness to the way the other reaches—for something. Then, his wrist—and now he attempts to pull him in with those words, so inflected with that heated desire. ]
Maybe I'd make you wait a little longer.
[ He Xuan says, voice not nearly as without heat as he'd prefer it to be. Maybe after this, days later, Tartaglia will forget the man said something like that. ]
How angry would you be if I did?
[ But he is the type of person he can't help but give the one he cares deeply about what he wants, not to mention his own desire to be so much closer. And so, shifting their positions slightly, he leans down. Close enough like this to grab onto, to have those arms encircle, or...for He Xuan to press deeper and harsher still into Tartaglia, but also steal a greedy, heated kiss from the other man. ]
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