crescentview | winter catch-all

[Owen stares at him, watching in confusion as Otegine shifts. Then it clicks, the way Otegine kneels like the stupid little drawing he did, and Owen’s entire mind goes entirely blank.

He hears what he says, he understands all the words, it’s not at all a surprise, and yet Owen can’t think of a single thing as he looks at Otegine. Imagine - absolutely side swept with something he saw coming because now that it’s real he doesn’t know what to do. He can’t speak, no, but even if he could he doesn’t think he could make something coherent out of his thoughts.

He knows there’s no ring for them, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need one for this, and he doesn’t care if the goddess will ever give him one. He nods once, then again, reaching down to cup Otegine’s face between both hands. His lip trembles, and his eyes sting, which doesn’t make any sense, because he’s…

He’s happy.

Why is he crying if he’s happy?]

[It's not what he would call romantic, not planned out or proper or anything close to what he thinks Owen deserves. But he also knows Owen doesn't deserve any further hesitation.

He stays still, attentive, watching in the absence of noise - the stillness of Owen's expression, the confusion that blanks out into something unreadable, then slowly blossoms into a nod... then another, breaking the space, eyes the color of fire glassing over in a way Otegine doesn't think he's ever seen before.

It's a yes. It's a yes, in spite of all the goddess' "no's", and Otegine's chest fills steadily and full with emotion, hot and relieving, like his heart might burst in his chest, a voiceless mouthing of "Really?" as Owen's hands frame his face.

When tears start to gather, the yari's face tightens slightly in concern, a gentle hushing as he lifts his own hand to run a thumb against the wizard's cheekbone. For a split second, he thinks to ask, like he did many weeks ago... but that hesitation comes and goes, instead leaning up the distance to carefully guide their lips together, a chaste but lingering kiss.]

Edited 2023-03-16 03:53 (UTC)

[The kiss is welcome, chaste as it is, and Owen doesn’t want to pull away. Shame Otegine is on the floor, and he can’t demand he get on the couch with his voice missing.

Still, he can keep his hands on Otegine, brushing over his cheeks, through his hair, a constant contact because for some reason he feels light and full of warmth, like he’s swallowed sunshine. Maybe it wasn’t the ideal, maybe it’s not the solemn vow the goddess will approve of, but it’s the first time Owen has thought about a future beyond power.

He’s not just following his whims. Otegine is someone he wants and he will continue to want, and… some day he’ll marry him. He’ll be the best damned bride this island has ever seen.]

[The space between them stays close even as Otegine leans away, just enough to catch his breath. While one hand braces against Owen's arm as thought he might keep the touch to his skull from leaving, the other settles against the core of the wizard's chest.

He wants their lips to be back together, wants to bask in this warm and wonderful and overwhelming emotion. But knowing Owen had just died keeps his touches slow and deep, almost reverent in how carefully he drags his touch to settle over the hollow that no longer held a beating heart, the heat of his skin settling into the rise and fall of breath that showed Owen was, in fact, still alive.

He tugs at Owen's arm at the same time that Otegine starts to slip himself back up to the couch, a silent gesture for Owen to turn even as the hand against his chest presses gently to lay him down, trying to settle the wizard against the arm of the couch.]

May I do something for you?

[Do something for him? Most people would probably think Otegine’s already done too much for him, and they’d absolutely be right about that. Owen absolutely thinks he needs more, though, and the gentle way Otegine encourages him to lay back admittedly has his thoughts running in a certain direction. It’s all just so intimate, so who can blame him?

He settles against the arm of the couch, snatching an extra pillow to support him so he can watch what Otegine is doing. He nods, the best “yes” he can give right now, and keeps his eyes on the touken.]

Mn. Just, uh... just yank on my hair if you need me to stop?

[It's said with a nervous grin as he guides the wizard's thighs to part, settling himself between Owen's legs before leaning overtop him.

Dark eyes soften as he gazes down with a careful touch to Owen's jawline.]

Maybe I couldn't stop what she did. But... I want to remind you you're here now. I don't want to take it for granted.

[To wake up from the darkness, whether by his own dream or what he remembered from Owen's memory... it was always jarring. Not quite restful peace, not quite with relief. But to ground himself after a nightmare with a cold breeze, with tactile and sound and taste, always helped reorient him.

Maybe he could try to do the same for Owen.

It's a simple start, the Touken carefully undoing enough buttons of Owen's shirt so that he can lower his mouth to trace the flesh of his neck and collarbone. As his mouth works, his hands trace - a careful mapping of the body underneath him, first following the length of Owen's arms to his fingers, then the rise of his chest down the stretch of muscle to the line of his hips. It's a slow and careful pace, like the stoking of the fire, prodding and patient.

All the while, he tries to pay attention to Owen's breath, to how his body shifts. He has no voice to guide him or boss him around for now... but he knows Owen isn't exactly the patient sort.

He'll speak up again only when his hand starts to drift towards the pit of Owen's hips, thumb running the length of the seam and what sits underneath. His voice is cautious against Owen's neck.]

...Do you want my mouth? [His press drags against the seaming.] Here?

Edited 2023-03-18 18:34 (UTC)

[Owen isn’t usually treated like this - the closest would be the night on the cruise, but that hardly counts. There was still immeasurable, overwhelming need induced by the chocolates and the massage. This feels more like being worshipped, and that thought feeds into his ego more then is probably good.

At least Otegine is spared from listening to him gloat, because he really could get used to being treated like something precious. Even though everything is so gentle and careful, it’s all because of the hold Owen has on him. A power nobody else has, because he’s the only person Otegine will ever cherish like this. Owen is the only one who will get to experience this, who will feel his hands and lips. It’s a bit strange to just lay here, but he enjoys being serviced. The only sign that he is is the thickening of his cock, no racing pulse or heart to skip a beat.

He runs a hand through Otegine’s hair, a smirk on his face as he nods. Please. He wants Otegine to pleasure him as best as he can.]

[There's a hum of a chuckle up his body as he leans himself out of the crook of Owen's neck, catching that smirk with a softly satisfied smile of his own, draping over him close enough for their noses to brush.]

You sure?

[His touch withdraws, just long enough to bring his hand to his own mouth and exhale hotly against the skin. With the extra warmth, the butt of his palm takes over for his thumb, kneading into the swell building up under the fabric of his pants.

How was it that he'd been before, exactly, that time Owen reacted so well towards him that night at the hot springs... he has to think about it a little longer than his counterpart, and the words don't hold quite the sadistic bite. But he remembers the sensation of it, the power that held his body up with confidence. He might not be an unshakable god... but he still was a Touken Danshi. He could hold his own, even with the powerful man who he was growing to cherish so deeply.

So his own smile grows a little cocky, just as it had after their first kiss, a slight cock of his head to the side.]

Show me?

Tell me with your body, however you need to. Tell me I'm yours.

[And with that, he leans in to lock their lips back together, a far more passionate attempt than his previously chaste kiss, letting his hand continue its work to make sure Owen would be perfectly ready and waiting for his mouth to take over.]

Edited 2023-03-26 02:10 (UTC)

[He nods. He’s sure, of course he’s sure. There’s been an overwhelming number of things here that he’s not sure of, so many things that have been eating at him or confusing him, but this, at least?

He’d be an idiot to turn down Otegine servicing him. It doesn’t make it less frustrating that he can’t talk, that he can’t goad or encourage him, but he can speak with his body as best as he can.

He meets the kiss eagerly, rocking up into Otegine’s touch. Maybe it’s his emotions still running high, or his body is just more sensitive after reconstructing itself, or it’s simply the fact that it’s Otegine and any moment with him would be blissful, but he’s already painfully hard. He rocks against Otegine’s hand, reaching between them to work at the button on his pants. It’s a bit difficult because he doesn’t want to stop kissing him, but he’s… eager. Very eager, but some concessions might have to be made.]

[He can't help the heated exhale that escapes from him at how fast Owen's body comes to attention under him, kneading his palm long and slow into the rocking of Owen's hips. Even without words, it's evidence of its own that the wizard is enjoying himself, that Otegine's actions are having the desired effect. He's doing good, isn't he? Doing something good, just for this special one... this eclectic and powerful and selfish man he wants to marry.

He breaks their liplock only when he finally needs air, his smile almost mischievous as his fingers meet Owen's at the clasp of his pants - not to stop, but to help the process.]

Easy, easy... you're really ready for me, huh. [As soon as there's room past the zipper, Otegine's hand slips straight back to work, fully cupping Owen's erection through what little fabric remains of his underwear. He should probably just start with his mouth, given how swollen Owen already feels against his fingers... but Owen liked when he pushed a little bit, didn't he?

Maybe he could make him squirm a little. Let him ride in the pleasure enough to earn a sulk or two.

Heat sinks into his own hips as he slowly pumps Owen through the fabric, a teasing pace just meant to keep him alert. His free hand slips down to pop two more buttons loose of Owen's shirt, the warmth of his fingers finding the cold peak of his nipple to run between his thumb and forefinger in a similar rhythm.

With a flexing tension of his wrist, the yari tugs just a little tighter against the tip of Owen's cock through the thin fabric, at the same time taking up the sensitive nub of his chest with a careful but abrupt yank between his knuckles. A sudden, sharp pang from both chest and groin, before letting both of them fall right back into a slower grinding rhythm. It's an action that's repeated, a little harder each time, burying his face into Owen's neck to take skin between his teeth and start to leave a mark, then another.

How long can he go until Owen starts to writhe?]

winter catch-all

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Nsfw from here, tagging for the flatview

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Can't believe im using notegine icons seriously

owen jumpscare

gasps gently... henlo