[Men like Kirin Jindosh are missing something. In exchange for the intellect that makes Jindosh the smartest man in the Isles, something else had to be taken, or at least never awoken in the first place. For Jindosh, as anyone can see and many have openly discussed, it is a moral center. An empty heart that feels nothing as Paolo details his earliest murder, an accident, the guilt.
The ceramic piece of engineering that is his left thumb scrapes slightly against his wine glass as he tips it back for another sip, and that is all Kirin Jindosh understands of accidents. A machine that slips, and those things that get in the way.
He's always thought of people in the same way, as it happens. But Paolo standing before him is not a machine, and the guilt and pain of his past that he's sharing are a puzzle Jindosh will never be able to solve.]
What are they for you now? A bad habit? [Tattoos and murder, but never mind the distinction. Jindosh has no pretty words to offer and Paolo would laugh in his face if he bothered, anyway; no one has time for fake overtures of sympathy from him. But for a moment the world has shifted, and a little speck of color has found its way onto the blank puzzle pieces that make up Paolo when Jindosh looks at him.
Sympathy still eludes him, but there's something haphazardly methodical about the stars all over Paolo's back that appeals to him in a different way. So. His wandering finger leaves that first star, dragging up to a spot between Paolo's shoulders and pinching there with two more.
He understands anatomy. This is helping.] I don't think you've relaxed at all. Do I make you uncomfortable?
Everybody deserves to be remembered. Whether you're a mark on a gang leader's back, gang leader that's just gonna be replaced when he kicks the bucket... or a man with a crazy house that'll have people visiting decades after he's gone.
[He's had this answer prepared, it seems. Was he thinking about having this conversation before? Probably. He thought more about him more than he'd like.
And he knows talk like this isn't going to have much of an impact on Jindosh. Still, it feels nice to talk to someone instead of a dead witch's hand. Hands... feeling nice... What is he doing back there? The weight he's been carrying all day, all week was melting in seconds. He won't forgive himself for how his breath hitches.]
Hardly anybody but my second knows I have these. If you made me uncomfortable, you'd just keep on wondering what's under my clothes. [Well, since it's confess time,] I also wouldn't stay here, in the grip of a man who can take my last life if he so chooses.
[There's a raised eyebrow behind Paolo's back as he talks, Jindosh not missing that reference to himself. Paolo thinks about his memory? That's a surprise—Jindosh's reach extends out of this house and all over Karnaca, bleeding into the rest of Serkonos, and as Anton Sokolov's technology becomes obsolete, the rest of the Empire will know him as a household name, too. He's planned for it.
A star on Paolo's back, by contrast? He sees the point, sure enough, but to say living on as a splash of ink on one man's guilty tapestry is enough is... laughable. He prefers his house.]
Hmm. Then that will do in a pinch. [Get it, in a pinch, like what he's doing to the tension in Paolo's shoulders. He does it again, shifting his fingers to another spot, kneading his fingertips into the next knot he finds.]
However, it won't do to have you dismissing my mansion as a "crazy house." You stand in the heart of an ode to natural philosophy, a dedication to the innovation of mankind and the endless, relentless pursuit of knowledge.
[He didn't put his house on top of a cliff just for fun. Like, yeah, that contributed, but the mansion has always been a shrine to intellect first and foremost.]
Do you think these walls turn simply to amuse visitors? No, Paolo, no—when I am finally laid to rest, this mansion will stand here as a testament to possibility. One day some touched mind may even figure it out without being told.
[He's still working his way across Paolo's back, pressing in harder for emphasis as he speaks. But now that he's rattled off his ode to his house, a pause, his fingers in the silence wandering further down Paolo's spine. It's as if he's only just processed everything Paolo said—] Your last life?
Well, I ain't smart enough to comprehend all that. So I'm gonna keep calling it a crazy house. [A lie, he knows. He'll probably repeat Jindosh's words back to another Howler recruit that's confident they can make it out of the place unscathed. It'll probably be followed by "or some boring shit," but it's the thought that counts.] Maybe a nice, but absolute batshit crazy house.
[He shouldn't laugh, but it's so easy to. Jindosh's ministrations make him forget the fact that hand was holding him down just an hours before, doing unspeakably painful things in a way that was just too much for Paolo to like. His shoulders shake with no restraint, no careful control with how he acts around most.
His loose tongue could be the end of him, but he doesn't mind dancing on that edge anymore. Not with him.] Any step out of that lab can be one of my last. This uh... gift of mine has its limitations. [He won't tense up, he can't tense up during this, but the amusement in his voice significantly dies down.] I get a freeby, before sundown. 's why I come before it sets. You can kill me once before, once after, but I'll be waiting until it's dark before I come around again.
[He sighed, choosing to swirl what was left in his glass. Or maybe he's trying to catch his reflection, who knows.] You don't know how much I lay on that table everyday, Kirin Jindosh. You don't have any idea.
[A nice, batshit crazy house... Paolo is lucky that Jindosh's opinion of himself and his house extends much higher than snippy comments like that. He's lucky, too, that Jindosh is finding it particularly enjoyable to touch him like this and feel his body move and shift under his very fingertips. It's different from cutting him open in the operating room, and this time he almost feels that spark he expected the first time, weeks ago, when Paolo's hand brushed against his around the stem of a glass.
He doesn't realize he's been chasing it, but he knows it's there.]
You trust my hands not to slip before sundown. [That's what he's getting out of this. Not trusting Jindosh himself, hah, who would—but trusting his ability to kill with precision and purpose. And because it's Jindosh,] Shall I take that as a compliment?
[He already has, don't worry. There's a shift behind Paolo and a clink as he sets his glass down, the cool ceramic touch of his other thumb pressing into Paolo's back a moment later, joining the ministrations of his fingers. Paolo is letting him do this, no matter how much of him Jindosh owns as long as he's here, and he is certainly taking advantage of it.]
Most men lie on that table once, and never have the opportunity to try again. [He's just saying... he doesn't care much, but most people only get one try, Paolo. Cheater. At this point he's half listening to see how many of his questions Paolo will answer freely, without being asked, and half listening to stall him from stopping Jindosh's hands studying his back.
He's just learning so much right now, it's lovely, like he's learning that pressing between Paolo's shoulder blades just so will make him shudder, and doing that again. Hmm.]
[He asked a question, Paolo is sure of it. He just isn't sure of what that question was anymore. He stopped paying attention to anything when he felt the second hand at his back, and before he could stop and think, he was leaning back with a far more pleased sigh escaping his lips.
Yeah, there was some touching between him and Mindy. They might have gotten some level of intimate before, but those days were long since past. She didn't spend any time after the ink set, and Paolo wasn't seeking someone to relax with. So this? This was pure bliss.] You're... uh... you...
[Something. Jindosh sure was something, something that ran a shiver down his spine. He sets his glass down next to the other, keeping a hand on the table in an effort to stay upright.] Most men don't get you like this either, right?
[Well, Jindosh is taking all of this as a compliment too, for the record. He doesn't expect Paolo to all but melt under his hands like this, especially after the violence he's inflicted on him with absolutely no remorse, but to hear him sigh like that from such a simple touch—should he presume he's forgiven for his extremes, as well?
Jindosh isn't nearly collapsing against the table, but Paolo's response more than stirs the fire in him. This is new to him - touching someone for a reason besides natural philosophy or to cause harm - and he's suddenly enamored by this very new and interesting thing that seems to light up every corner of his brain that's been silent for too long now.
So he supposes he can be honest when he answers that question,] No. No, you would be the first.
[He shifts his hand, the whole one, so it lays flat against Paolo's spine and inches down, pressing with the heel of it and curling his fingers against his skin when he reaches the bunched up fabric of his robe. An idle curiosity turned to action turned to needing to see what will happen if he gives in to his simple desire to put his hands on Paolo, and here they are.]
After all your time spent talking yourself up, I expected you would do more than stutter and get acquainted with another table of mine.
[Paolo might taking support from the table, but he'd like to think he deserved the break. He's spent hours getting turned inside out, as stiff a board one minute and writhing with pain in the next. If this were any other evening, he'd go home a hell of an ache in his chest. He'd wished it was out of some misplaced feelings, but no, it just hurt like hell.
So yes, he won't hide the fact he's balling a hand into a fist at Jindosh's explorations, or how he's pressing further back the longer his hands were on him. It was nice. He didn't get nice things.]
After all your time talking me down, I expected you would be spending less time with your hands all over me. [He doesn't miss the opportunity at a comeback this time, but he's hoping it's distracting from the fact his ears are turning as red as his face must be.] I don't think this is one of your... pursuits of knowledge, Kirin. You asked what I wanted besides wine when I propositioned you, yet now you're doing the squeezing. I think that's a little more surprising here.
[Has he really been hanging on the words of that conversation, all these weeks later? He has. The only downside to having his back turned is that he can't study his face this time.]
[What narrative has Paolo constructed for himself about all of this, Jindosh wonders. Is this the part where he, Jindosh, promises to never put Paolo on that table again and instead welcomes him seductively into his bed? The very notion is ridiculous.
He's not going to promise anything about the table. Honestly.]
I wouldn't say that. [This with another pinch, another squeeze, his hands relentless at turning Paolo into putty while he stands there in control. He finds that an added bonus of the situation, that he can unravel Paolo using only his fingertips. The leader of the Howlers, pleasant and pliant and chatty under his thumbs. How exciting.
There isn't a word that accurately captures what he hopes to get out of this - even "hopes" is too strong, "wishes" too... needy. He wants, quite simply. He wants Paolo to do this to him. Sex has always been a useless distraction from more important things, his work, but he isn't impotent. His body can want and crave just fine without the aid of his sputtering brain, and for too long for his comfort now it—he—has been wanting and craving Paolo.
His taste in partners is somewhat questionable, but it is what it is.]
You've been batting your eyes at me for weeks, and still you haven't taken a single step toward me I did not ask of you first. [Taking drags off his thumb was something to consider the first time it happened, but when will Paolo put his money where his mouth is? Jindosh moves a half-step closer to him, leaning not quite into his ear but close. If they're going to discuss Paolo being hung up on that ancient conversation, then,] Sooner or later I will have you howl for me.
[Any retort Paolo had on his tongue was lost in seconds. He didn't know what he really expected from a man that had his hands so far down his back, but who allowed him to say things like that? Who allowed him to step up his game? Jindosh was looking for sparks, and at this rate, he was going to try and be as electrifying as a wall of light.]
Well, [He's reluctant in his turn. It meant the impromptu massage was coming to an end, and, well, he'd have to look up. At least he's found his voice enough to prevent from another stutter, lest he want to lose all his pride.] I've been a distinguished guest in your home, Kirin. It'd be awful rude of me to do anything you don't ask of me.
[No, he isn't standing on his tip toes, ignore that. He's placing a hand at Jindosh's side and taking his white collar out of fondness, not the fact he's too short to reach otherwise. Taking up and tugging, as it so happens, to lean far enough that his lips are just over his, so close to brushing.] So if you wanted me to fuck you between our little sessions, all you had to do was say so.
[He may not want an invitation, but that's just because a command was much more enticing. Paolo is a furry and takes orders, but he'll try to distract from that by following it with a kiss.]
You are rude, [Jindosh says simply, first, letting his hands fall back to his sides when Paolo turns.] A hoodlum. You've already stolen my robe and drank more of my wine than anyone with polite sense.
[He says all of this casually, like they're discussing the weather, but the bored aridity that detaches his words from anything he might say to another guest in his home is gone. That doesn't mean much, given how he's always been more excited about guests who show up uninvited, who might wind up on his tables as test subjects, but there's an edge to his tone that carries a different kind of excitement. He's as enticed by Paolo reaching for his collar as Paolo is by his giving orders (and honestly, he's enticed by giving orders too).
He doesn't actually know what he's doing. Intimacy is an unexplored territory, something he's always turned away from due to lack of interest or plain distaste (Luca Abele's orgies? Not the ideal place to meet the Grand Inventor). But they've established at least two things, he thinks: first, that this is happening, and second, that no matter what he says, Paolo will likely just laugh at him and egg him on.
Good enough. He leans down only precisely the correct amount to reach Paolo's lips, inwardly cursing himself for the way his traitor heart thuds heavy against his ribcage and suddenly his tongue feels thick and paralyzed in his mouth. For a fleeting moment he mistakes the fluttering in his stomach for fear and nearly shoves Paolo away, nearly stops all of this and steps away from the precipice and away from being close to another person. There is a greater than zero chance that this is a bad idea, certainly.
But he doesn't, and somehow Paolo's words before their lips meet settle the discomfort in Jindosh's chest. He frowns into the kiss, unsure of what to do now that he's done this. It lasts a moment long enough for Jindosh to take another half-step closer, one hand seeking out the table behind Paolo and completely disregarding any personal space Paolo might have as his leg bumps into his hip and nudges back. (It's okay when he does it, of course.)
Ah, but before he rearranges this kiss into a more successful one—] Don't be crude.
[Paolo is distantly aware that his back is hitting the table, and he would curse Jindosh's height if he were paying more attention. But he's more focused into the kiss, into the frown. He can take their closeness as a good sign, but it's still fresh on his mind, and it wasn't something he'd just shove to the back.]
Don't be prude. [First, he has to answer that, but quelling any trace of discomfort was the goal here. It'd been awhile for him, but he wasn't so far gone that he wouldn't take the time to make sure they were both relaxed. He releases the collar, dragging his fingers down to the thin sliver of skin before he was just tracing more fabric.
Sure, his heart had nearly been beating out of his chest. But there wasn't any laughter at Jindosh's inexperience, and his "egging on" is following the first kiss with a gentler, briefer one, testing the waters he'd just wanted to dive into. Some thug he is.] Don't tell me I'm the first of anything.
[A little condescending to suggest, maybe, but he probably needs to know. Here, he'll follow it with a third press of lips, but this time it was to the corner of his mouth. No diving.] Anything at all.
[Wow, alright. He is a prude, but don't point it out. It's difficult to reason with himself all of a sudden—he hasn't changed his mind, evident from the way Paolo's simple touch to his skin makes him shiver and his grip tighten on the edge of the table, but... Well.
"I don't relax." If Paolo hadn't planned on a crash course in Jindosh's neuroses, he's about to get one anyway. His pride makes him take Paolo's gentleness with him as an insult, because of course it does, and he's frowning again before he can help himself. The line of his mouth twists, like he's trying not to look like this because that makes everything all very obvious, and he hates the uncertainty that pulls at him even as he compels himself to put his other hand on Paolo's hip.
This was easier when he only had to speak, when only Paolo's body had to cooperate. He feels suddenly stiff and mechanical, and really, this happens now? Now. Of all times.
So with his wooden mouth he tsks and says,] You have a listening problem. I already told you that.
[Having Paolo right here and kissing him is pleasant, though. Can he start there.]
[Paolo knows he did something wrong, but he isn't so sure on what that something is. He holds him into a kiss, Jindosh frowns. He offers a more delicate touch, he frowns more. He's sure he still wants this, given that it'd be no easy feat to get away at this point.]
Then you just tell me if I make you.... uncomfortable. [Sincere, but matching the teasing tone Jindosh had with his hands down Paolo's back. The fingers at his neck gripped tighter, holding him still as his kisses trailed down his jaw.
They only move when he finds there is too much leather against bare skin, down to the buttons holding his jacket closed. There's a thought, perhaps maybe this is too fast, perhaps maybe he shouldn't be getting into this at all. But any care for that was out the window, along with the fact the robe they spent so much time debating was bound to slip sooner or later.]
[Whatever he did wrong, Jindosh isn't going to articulate it at all. He can't, his pride won't allow it—imagine Kirin Jindosh admitting out loud, in words, that the simple act of kissing made him nervous? He'd rather walk off the edge of his balcony.
He closes his eyes, and some of the tension comes out of his shoulders as he wills himself to fully admit that he wants this. The idea of giving himself over to the mercy of another man is where his mind still catches, but this isn't that—his hand is still on Paolo's hip, fingers pressing possessively as Paolo's lips start to wander.
It feels nice, and that should be enough. Paolo puts pressure on the edges of the tightly-wound coil that has been Kirin Jindosh for decades and if he unwinds at all it will be because he wants to. He does want to—maybe he just wants to direct it himself.
He'll start by pulling at his own clothes, then, but of course he has to be picky about it; the pin with the chain comes first, delicately tucked into a pocket of his jacket, which he won't start on until he's loosened the decorative cravat at his throat. At least he's finally making good on his promise to loosen his collar and get very close to Paolo, now...]
If you're going to pull on me, [maybe ordering Paolo around will put the confidence back in his voice,] feel free to start there.
[Paolo knew he wasn't going to get putty out of Jindosh. He beginning to was realize he wouldn't even bend if he didn't want to, and he certainly wasn't going to break. So when he feels the pin put aside, he knows he shouldn't treat him like he's made of glass.
No, he's finding Jindosh felt like cold steel of a machine waiting to be kickstarted, and it's more exhilarating by the second. His lips curve up against the man's skin before he pulls back, reaching up to pull the strip of the cravat's fabric from around his neck and up over his head.] You certainly make yourself a present to unwrap, Kirin. I'd say it's an honor if we weren't going to be here all night.
[Not that he really minds being here all night anyway. He's delicate in the unwrapping, but the thing is ultimately discarded to the floor. He anticipates complaints, either now or later, but it's not really enough to stop him.]
Should I have worn a robe down to see you on my operating table? [That's a little too kinky, all things considered. He tilts his head cooperatively to let Paolo pull off the cravat, following its journey to the floor with his eyes. Ah.] You're going to pick that up.
[Later. Decidedly later, when they're done here or wherever they end up doing this. He flicks open two of his jacket buttons before abandoning it for Paolo to deal with and instead running his fingers into Paolo's hair. It's short everywhere but on top and he suddenly finds that lacking—what should he curl his fingers into and hold onto?—but he compromises by jerking Paolo's face close again with his hand cradling the back of his head. Yes, that's much better. He can do this just fine.]
I'm not interested in the details of who you've bedded before me, but do yourself a favor and remember that none of them could hold a candle to what I am worth to this city and all of Serkonos.
[He's so smart and important?? Respect him and his fancy clothes. He doesn't wait for an answer to that, serious or not, before leaning down to kiss Paolo himself this time.]
Yeah? I'm going to be picking this up too, then, your... [Paolo trails off, hands that were doing just fine in undoing the second to last button fumbling. He'd been doing his best to keep his attention on the task at hand, but Jindosh's proved to be distracting as ever. He knows just the right spots to make him lose whatever smug remark he had planned, but it's not something he really considers a consequence.
And he's talking about how great he is, because of course he is. But Paolo finds he can't really argue, not with how captivating his assertion was. He had some sort of reply on his lips when he feels another kiss on them, so he'll just have to make his feelings known after he finally gets his jacket open.
He's snaking his hands under, dragging his fingers up his chest before promptly shoving the leather off like it offended him. He tries to maintain the kiss, he does, really, but he can't help but break away as he's pulling it down his arms. He'll make up for it this time, with boosts instead of the jabs at his ego.] This is my city. I know what makes it tick. I've been thinking about you before I ever set foot through the door. Anyone in my past...?
They hold a candle to the fire that is Kirin Jindosh, grand inventor building army of clockwork soldiers. [Like he said, once he's got that thing off him, it joins the cravat in a pile on the floor.] Because he's what really makes this city the jewel of the south, isn't he?
[Paolo is putting in the effort—Jindosh can give him that. With his jacket open and hands slid underneath he shifts, pressing closer to Paolo and kissing him harder until he breaks away. Jindosh hums, considering, as he's forced to let go of Paolo to have his jacket shoved off. The moment he has one hand free, it's back to Paolo's head and his stupid haircut.
The things he's saying are intoxicating, to say the least. He can lay claim to the city with no complaints from Jindosh, fine, and his eyebrows lift at the mention of thinking about him before even coming here. Of course he's pleased to hear that.
But then, to credit Jindosh with the splendor of the city—the fire in him is truly outrageous now. For a moment he stands there, lips parted to make a fussy comment that's died on his tongue after Paolo's lovely compliment. Pride and satisfaction and, new and different, desire well up in him, and it is one thing to be lauded by the Duke or a simpering, simple-minded noble and quite another to have Paolo's hands burning against him while he tells him he's the man who's raised this city from mediocrity. Paolo might be saying this only to him, here in private, but does anyone else really deserve to hear it anyway?
No. Only Jindosh. He's... well, the shine in his eyes is nothing short of hungry, and as he snakes his other arm around Paolo's waist to pull them flush together, it's clear that Paolo has cracked at least one of his many codes.
He's real hot for being told he's special, news at 11.]
So you do possess a certain measure of eloquence. [compliment,] Your city, indeed... And do tell, what does that make me?
[This is it, this is the question with a thousand wrong answers.]
[For once, Jindosh's reaction doesn't surprise Paolo in the slightest. He wanted this rise in him, to have his hands and lips on him without the uncertainty of before, to desire him beyond just being a new experiment. He needs it.
It's why when he's asked, the words spill from him without a second thought. Sure, most people would probably take more care how they reply to an obviously important question, but he's not most people. There's no need to worry about walking on thin ice, because he'd like to think he's already crossed it.] That makes you more valuable than anything that can come from the mines.
[Just to reaffirm that, both hands return to Jindosh's skin, thumbs brushing the more exposed skin to rest over his pulse.] It makes you mine. Anyone that prefers the view of the city over seeing you is a blind man, anyone that walks this house with any reason other than to see you don't deserve a second chance. If being on that table means I get to see you like this, I'll die again and again until the blood runs out.
[Oh good, he's really going for it. Jindosh curls his fingers in the part of Paolo's hair that's long enough for him to do that at all, eyes fixed on him as he speaks. It's not hard to figure out which words to flatter him with, all things considered, but Jindosh can hear the minute difference between Paolo's words and anyone else's mindless simpering. Paolo might not be thinking but he is trying, and that is flattering in its own way.
And hell yeah he's more valuable than anything that comes from the mines. That alone causes a shift in him, makes him smile, although it's probably less warm than the smile Paolo has been hoping for. He's just so important and everyone should know it, that's all.]
Oh, please. [good start] If your blood runs out, no one will lie on my table so willingly again. [And also his house has a great view, thanks.
His attention wanders to the fingers on his pulse and he turns Paolo's words over again in his mind. Now that he's being laid claim to along with the city, that's something worth thinking about... Complimenting his looks isn't quite as effective as complimenting his mind, and he's hung up on Paolo calling him his. It doesn't strike him with the visceral urge to shove Paolo away, unexpectedly, but perhaps that's because Paolo can think whatever he wants without it being true.
His traitor heart turns over as he tilts Paolo's head back to kiss him again, wondering, is it true? Paolo is the only person who's ever gotten this out of him, but what is that except the right sequence of firing synapses and chemical mix of hormones?
Well, it's probably fine to not respond to that at all yet and just kiss him instead.]
[Jindosh thinks too much. He has plenty of time to debate the complexity of his feelings when they're done here, when he knows what he's capable of doing to what's his. It's evident in the way he's standing as tall he could to press against Jindosh's lips, in how he drags his fingers down his neck to the buttons of his shirt, falling just short of ripping them off when pulling it open.
Firing synapses and chemical mix of hormones was not the reason for wandering hands, eager to feel the skin of a man who prided himself on being done up so well. Paolo keeps his lips against his, but he's leaning off the table behind him to pull at the clothing and press his chest into him. Hunger went both ways, it seems, and now that they've broken through the tension he will take what was his.]
Edited (i'm an idiot and so is paolo) 2017-01-05 01:32 (UTC)
[Okay, but it could be synapses and hormones. Don't discount those. Or: Jindosh isn't blessed with the gift of a simple touch undoing the rest of his thoughts so he has to actually try to stop thinking and just be here, in this.
It's nice of Paolo not to completely ruin his shirt. He can be taught. Jindosh's arm is still around his waist and squeezes him in closer, considering for just a moment before taking hold of his robe where it's settled at Paolo's hips and tugging. Paolo can take what's his all he wants, but Jindosh isn't going to be the first one undressed.
Hmm. While he's tugging at that, though, he breaks the kiss to speak quietly against Paolo's lips,] I trust you know how to find my bed.
[because you invaded the room and stole his robe you hoodlum]
[Jindosh struggles to only think about this, when it's the only thing running through Paolo's mind. He doesn't mind being the first to be bare, though all skin wasn't exposed. He had only stripped with his comfort in mind, old, worn cloth leaving a tad more mystery. If he'd thought they'd wind up here, his wouldn't rings remain on his fingers, as well as his stupid, stupid socks.]
Of course I do. [He grins as he withdraws fro his lips, resting his hands on his shoulders to walk him backwards. It's only a few steps, and he hadn't needed to look away to pull the lever that sent the room turning.] I love your batshit house.
[He loves the way the walls come down and the moonlight shines through from the balcony, and how the sounds of the city he claimed as his was in the far distance. But he especially loved how easy it was to walk him to the bed's edge, the robe starting all this falling behind them.]
[Paolo is lucky Jindosh has better things to do than insult the quality of his clothes again. It abruptly seems very silly, Paolo's worn clothing mixed with Jindosh's finery, and those socks he hasn't even noticed yet—but he's focused on walking backwards instead of that, and with a subtle amusement in response to Paolo's comments about the house.
Which is the best house ever built, for the record. But he wears a little half-smile for it and Paolo, too, watching him as he's walked back to his own bed. He takes a seat on the edge, both hands sliding to rest on Paolo's hips and pull him in closer, however he wants to arrange this for right now - and, ah.
The robe.] That's three of my things you'll be picking up later.
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no subject
The ceramic piece of engineering that is his left thumb scrapes slightly against his wine glass as he tips it back for another sip, and that is all Kirin Jindosh understands of accidents. A machine that slips, and those things that get in the way.
He's always thought of people in the same way, as it happens. But Paolo standing before him is not a machine, and the guilt and pain of his past that he's sharing are a puzzle Jindosh will never be able to solve.]
What are they for you now? A bad habit? [Tattoos and murder, but never mind the distinction. Jindosh has no pretty words to offer and Paolo would laugh in his face if he bothered, anyway; no one has time for fake overtures of sympathy from him. But for a moment the world has shifted, and a little speck of color has found its way onto the blank puzzle pieces that make up Paolo when Jindosh looks at him.
Sympathy still eludes him, but there's something haphazardly methodical about the stars all over Paolo's back that appeals to him in a different way. So. His wandering finger leaves that first star, dragging up to a spot between Paolo's shoulders and pinching there with two more.
He understands anatomy. This is helping.] I don't think you've relaxed at all. Do I make you uncomfortable?
[ha ha]
no subject
[He's had this answer prepared, it seems. Was he thinking about having this conversation before? Probably. He thought more about him more than he'd like.
And he knows talk like this isn't going to have much of an impact on Jindosh. Still, it feels nice to talk to someone instead of a dead witch's hand. Hands... feeling nice... What is he doing back there? The weight he's been carrying all day, all week was melting in seconds. He won't forgive himself for how his breath hitches.]
Hardly anybody but my second knows I have these. If you made me uncomfortable, you'd just keep on wondering what's under my clothes. [Well, since it's confess time,] I also wouldn't stay here, in the grip of a man who can take my last life if he so chooses.
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A star on Paolo's back, by contrast? He sees the point, sure enough, but to say living on as a splash of ink on one man's guilty tapestry is enough is... laughable. He prefers his house.]
Hmm. Then that will do in a pinch. [Get it, in a pinch, like what he's doing to the tension in Paolo's shoulders. He does it again, shifting his fingers to another spot, kneading his fingertips into the next knot he finds.]
However, it won't do to have you dismissing my mansion as a "crazy house." You stand in the heart of an ode to natural philosophy, a dedication to the innovation of mankind and the endless, relentless pursuit of knowledge.
[He didn't put his house on top of a cliff just for fun. Like, yeah, that contributed, but the mansion has always been a shrine to intellect first and foremost.]
Do you think these walls turn simply to amuse visitors? No, Paolo, no—when I am finally laid to rest, this mansion will stand here as a testament to possibility. One day some touched mind may even figure it out without being told.
[He's still working his way across Paolo's back, pressing in harder for emphasis as he speaks. But now that he's rattled off his ode to his house, a pause, his fingers in the silence wandering further down Paolo's spine. It's as if he's only just processed everything Paolo said—] Your last life?
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[He shouldn't laugh, but it's so easy to. Jindosh's ministrations make him forget the fact that hand was holding him down just an hours before, doing unspeakably painful things in a way that was just too much for Paolo to like. His shoulders shake with no restraint, no careful control with how he acts around most.
His loose tongue could be the end of him, but he doesn't mind dancing on that edge anymore. Not with him.] Any step out of that lab can be one of my last. This uh... gift of mine has its limitations. [He won't tense up, he can't tense up during this, but the amusement in his voice significantly dies down.] I get a freeby, before sundown. 's why I come before it sets. You can kill me once before, once after, but I'll be waiting until it's dark before I come around again.
[He sighed, choosing to swirl what was left in his glass. Or maybe he's trying to catch his reflection, who knows.] You don't know how much I lay on that table everyday, Kirin Jindosh. You don't have any idea.
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He doesn't realize he's been chasing it, but he knows it's there.]
You trust my hands not to slip before sundown. [That's what he's getting out of this. Not trusting Jindosh himself, hah, who would—but trusting his ability to kill with precision and purpose. And because it's Jindosh,] Shall I take that as a compliment?
[He already has, don't worry. There's a shift behind Paolo and a clink as he sets his glass down, the cool ceramic touch of his other thumb pressing into Paolo's back a moment later, joining the ministrations of his fingers. Paolo is letting him do this, no matter how much of him Jindosh owns as long as he's here, and he is certainly taking advantage of it.]
Most men lie on that table once, and never have the opportunity to try again. [He's just saying... he doesn't care much, but most people only get one try, Paolo. Cheater. At this point he's half listening to see how many of his questions Paolo will answer freely, without being asked, and half listening to stall him from stopping Jindosh's hands studying his back.
He's just learning so much right now, it's lovely, like he's learning that pressing between Paolo's shoulder blades just so will make him shudder, and doing that again. Hmm.]
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Yeah, there was some touching between him and Mindy. They might have gotten some level of intimate before, but those days were long since past. She didn't spend any time after the ink set, and Paolo wasn't seeking someone to relax with. So this? This was pure bliss.] You're... uh... you...
[Something. Jindosh sure was something, something that ran a shiver down his spine. He sets his glass down next to the other, keeping a hand on the table in an effort to stay upright.] Most men don't get you like this either, right?
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Jindosh isn't nearly collapsing against the table, but Paolo's response more than stirs the fire in him. This is new to him - touching someone for a reason besides natural philosophy or to cause harm - and he's suddenly enamored by this very new and interesting thing that seems to light up every corner of his brain that's been silent for too long now.
So he supposes he can be honest when he answers that question,] No. No, you would be the first.
[He shifts his hand, the whole one, so it lays flat against Paolo's spine and inches down, pressing with the heel of it and curling his fingers against his skin when he reaches the bunched up fabric of his robe. An idle curiosity turned to action turned to needing to see what will happen if he gives in to his simple desire to put his hands on Paolo, and here they are.]
After all your time spent talking yourself up, I expected you would do more than stutter and get acquainted with another table of mine.
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So yes, he won't hide the fact he's balling a hand into a fist at Jindosh's explorations, or how he's pressing further back the longer his hands were on him. It was nice. He didn't get nice things.]
After all your time talking me down, I expected you would be spending less time with your hands all over me. [He doesn't miss the opportunity at a comeback this time, but he's hoping it's distracting from the fact his ears are turning as red as his face must be.] I don't think this is one of your... pursuits of knowledge, Kirin. You asked what I wanted besides wine when I propositioned you, yet now you're doing the squeezing. I think that's a little more surprising here.
[Has he really been hanging on the words of that conversation, all these weeks later? He has. The only downside to having his back turned is that he can't study his face this time.]
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He's not going to promise anything about the table. Honestly.]
I wouldn't say that. [This with another pinch, another squeeze, his hands relentless at turning Paolo into putty while he stands there in control. He finds that an added bonus of the situation, that he can unravel Paolo using only his fingertips. The leader of the Howlers, pleasant and pliant and chatty under his thumbs. How exciting.
There isn't a word that accurately captures what he hopes to get out of this - even "hopes" is too strong, "wishes" too... needy. He wants, quite simply. He wants Paolo to do this to him. Sex has always been a useless distraction from more important things, his work, but he isn't impotent. His body can want and crave just fine without the aid of his sputtering brain, and for too long for his comfort now it—he—has been wanting and craving Paolo.
His taste in partners is somewhat questionable, but it is what it is.]
You've been batting your eyes at me for weeks, and still you haven't taken a single step toward me I did not ask of you first. [Taking drags off his thumb was something to consider the first time it happened, but when will Paolo put his money where his mouth is? Jindosh moves a half-step closer to him, leaning not quite into his ear but close. If they're going to discuss Paolo being hung up on that ancient conversation, then,] Sooner or later I will have you howl for me.
[when ya bf is a furry so you gotta play along]
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Well, [He's reluctant in his turn. It meant the impromptu massage was coming to an end, and, well, he'd have to look up. At least he's found his voice enough to prevent from another stutter, lest he want to lose all his pride.] I've been a distinguished guest in your home, Kirin. It'd be awful rude of me to do anything you don't ask of me.
[No, he isn't standing on his tip toes, ignore that. He's placing a hand at Jindosh's side and taking his white collar out of fondness, not the fact he's too short to reach otherwise. Taking up and tugging, as it so happens, to lean far enough that his lips are just over his, so close to brushing.] So if you wanted me to fuck you between our little sessions, all you had to do was say so.
[He may not want an invitation, but that's just because a command was much more enticing. Paolo is a furry and takes orders, but he'll try to distract from that by following it with a kiss.]
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[He says all of this casually, like they're discussing the weather, but the bored aridity that detaches his words from anything he might say to another guest in his home is gone. That doesn't mean much, given how he's always been more excited about guests who show up uninvited, who might wind up on his tables as test subjects, but there's an edge to his tone that carries a different kind of excitement. He's as enticed by Paolo reaching for his collar as Paolo is by his giving orders (and honestly, he's enticed by giving orders too).
He doesn't actually know what he's doing. Intimacy is an unexplored territory, something he's always turned away from due to lack of interest or plain distaste (Luca Abele's orgies? Not the ideal place to meet the Grand Inventor). But they've established at least two things, he thinks: first, that this is happening, and second, that no matter what he says, Paolo will likely just laugh at him and egg him on.
Good enough. He leans down only precisely the correct amount to reach Paolo's lips, inwardly cursing himself for the way his traitor heart thuds heavy against his ribcage and suddenly his tongue feels thick and paralyzed in his mouth. For a fleeting moment he mistakes the fluttering in his stomach for fear and nearly shoves Paolo away, nearly stops all of this and steps away from the precipice and away from being close to another person. There is a greater than zero chance that this is a bad idea, certainly.
But he doesn't, and somehow Paolo's words before their lips meet settle the discomfort in Jindosh's chest. He frowns into the kiss, unsure of what to do now that he's done this. It lasts a moment long enough for Jindosh to take another half-step closer, one hand seeking out the table behind Paolo and completely disregarding any personal space Paolo might have as his leg bumps into his hip and nudges back. (It's okay when he does it, of course.)
Ah, but before he rearranges this kiss into a more successful one—] Don't be crude.
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Don't be prude. [First, he has to answer that, but quelling any trace of discomfort was the goal here. It'd been awhile for him, but he wasn't so far gone that he wouldn't take the time to make sure they were both relaxed. He releases the collar, dragging his fingers down to the thin sliver of skin before he was just tracing more fabric.
Sure, his heart had nearly been beating out of his chest. But there wasn't any laughter at Jindosh's inexperience, and his "egging on" is following the first kiss with a gentler, briefer one, testing the waters he'd just wanted to dive into. Some thug he is.] Don't tell me I'm the first of anything.
[A little condescending to suggest, maybe, but he probably needs to know. Here, he'll follow it with a third press of lips, but this time it was to the corner of his mouth. No diving.] Anything at all.
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"I don't relax." If Paolo hadn't planned on a crash course in Jindosh's neuroses, he's about to get one anyway. His pride makes him take Paolo's gentleness with him as an insult, because of course it does, and he's frowning again before he can help himself. The line of his mouth twists, like he's trying not to look like this because that makes everything all very obvious, and he hates the uncertainty that pulls at him even as he compels himself to put his other hand on Paolo's hip.
This was easier when he only had to speak, when only Paolo's body had to cooperate. He feels suddenly stiff and mechanical, and really, this happens now? Now. Of all times.
So with his wooden mouth he tsks and says,] You have a listening problem. I already told you that.
[Having Paolo right here and kissing him is pleasant, though. Can he start there.]
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Then you just tell me if I make you.... uncomfortable. [Sincere, but matching the teasing tone Jindosh had with his hands down Paolo's back. The fingers at his neck gripped tighter, holding him still as his kisses trailed down his jaw.
They only move when he finds there is too much leather against bare skin, down to the buttons holding his jacket closed. There's a thought, perhaps maybe this is too fast, perhaps maybe he shouldn't be getting into this at all. But any care for that was out the window, along with the fact the robe they spent so much time debating was bound to slip sooner or later.]
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He closes his eyes, and some of the tension comes out of his shoulders as he wills himself to fully admit that he wants this. The idea of giving himself over to the mercy of another man is where his mind still catches, but this isn't that—his hand is still on Paolo's hip, fingers pressing possessively as Paolo's lips start to wander.
It feels nice, and that should be enough. Paolo puts pressure on the edges of the tightly-wound coil that has been Kirin Jindosh for decades and if he unwinds at all it will be because he wants to. He does want to—maybe he just wants to direct it himself.
He'll start by pulling at his own clothes, then, but of course he has to be picky about it; the pin with the chain comes first, delicately tucked into a pocket of his jacket, which he won't start on until he's loosened the decorative cravat at his throat. At least he's finally making good on his promise to loosen his collar and get very close to Paolo, now...]
If you're going to pull on me, [maybe ordering Paolo around will put the confidence back in his voice,] feel free to start there.
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No, he's finding Jindosh felt like cold steel of a machine waiting to be kickstarted, and it's more exhilarating by the second. His lips curve up against the man's skin before he pulls back, reaching up to pull the strip of the cravat's fabric from around his neck and up over his head.] You certainly make yourself a present to unwrap, Kirin. I'd say it's an honor if we weren't going to be here all night.
[Not that he really minds being here all night anyway. He's delicate in the unwrapping, but the thing is ultimately discarded to the floor. He anticipates complaints, either now or later, but it's not really enough to stop him.]
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[Later. Decidedly later, when they're done here or wherever they end up doing this. He flicks open two of his jacket buttons before abandoning it for Paolo to deal with and instead running his fingers into Paolo's hair. It's short everywhere but on top and he suddenly finds that lacking—what should he curl his fingers into and hold onto?—but he compromises by jerking Paolo's face close again with his hand cradling the back of his head. Yes, that's much better. He can do this just fine.]
I'm not interested in the details of who you've bedded before me, but do yourself a favor and remember that none of them could hold a candle to what I am worth to this city and all of Serkonos.
[He's so smart and important?? Respect him and his fancy clothes. He doesn't wait for an answer to that, serious or not, before leaning down to kiss Paolo himself this time.]
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And he's talking about how great he is, because of course he is. But Paolo finds he can't really argue, not with how captivating his assertion was. He had some sort of reply on his lips when he feels another kiss on them, so he'll just have to make his feelings known after he finally gets his jacket open.
He's snaking his hands under, dragging his fingers up his chest before promptly shoving the leather off like it offended him. He tries to maintain the kiss, he does, really, but he can't help but break away as he's pulling it down his arms. He'll make up for it this time, with boosts instead of the jabs at his ego.] This is my city. I know what makes it tick. I've been thinking about you before I ever set foot through the door. Anyone in my past...?
They hold a candle to the fire that is Kirin Jindosh, grand inventor building army of clockwork soldiers. [Like he said, once he's got that thing off him, it joins the cravat in a pile on the floor.] Because he's what really makes this city the jewel of the south, isn't he?
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The things he's saying are intoxicating, to say the least. He can lay claim to the city with no complaints from Jindosh, fine, and his eyebrows lift at the mention of thinking about him before even coming here. Of course he's pleased to hear that.
But then, to credit Jindosh with the splendor of the city—the fire in him is truly outrageous now. For a moment he stands there, lips parted to make a fussy comment that's died on his tongue after Paolo's lovely compliment. Pride and satisfaction and, new and different, desire well up in him, and it is one thing to be lauded by the Duke or a simpering, simple-minded noble and quite another to have Paolo's hands burning against him while he tells him he's the man who's raised this city from mediocrity. Paolo might be saying this only to him, here in private, but does anyone else really deserve to hear it anyway?
No. Only Jindosh. He's... well, the shine in his eyes is nothing short of hungry, and as he snakes his other arm around Paolo's waist to pull them flush together, it's clear that Paolo has cracked at least one of his many codes.
He's real hot for being told he's special, news at 11.]
So you do possess a certain measure of eloquence. [compliment,] Your city, indeed... And do tell, what does that make me?
[This is it, this is the question with a thousand wrong answers.]
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It's why when he's asked, the words spill from him without a second thought. Sure, most people would probably take more care how they reply to an obviously important question, but he's not most people. There's no need to worry about walking on thin ice, because he'd like to think he's already crossed it.] That makes you more valuable than anything that can come from the mines.
[Just to reaffirm that, both hands return to Jindosh's skin, thumbs brushing the more exposed skin to rest over his pulse.] It makes you mine. Anyone that prefers the view of the city over seeing you is a blind man, anyone that walks this house with any reason other than to see you don't deserve a second chance. If being on that table means I get to see you like this, I'll die again and again until the blood runs out.
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And hell yeah he's more valuable than anything that comes from the mines. That alone causes a shift in him, makes him smile, although it's probably less warm than the smile Paolo has been hoping for. He's just so important and everyone should know it, that's all.]
Oh, please. [good start] If your blood runs out, no one will lie on my table so willingly again. [And also his house has a great view, thanks.
His attention wanders to the fingers on his pulse and he turns Paolo's words over again in his mind. Now that he's being laid claim to along with the city, that's something worth thinking about... Complimenting his looks isn't quite as effective as complimenting his mind, and he's hung up on Paolo calling him his. It doesn't strike him with the visceral urge to shove Paolo away, unexpectedly, but perhaps that's because Paolo can think whatever he wants without it being true.
His traitor heart turns over as he tilts Paolo's head back to kiss him again, wondering, is it true? Paolo is the only person who's ever gotten this out of him, but what is that except the right sequence of firing synapses and chemical mix of hormones?
Well, it's probably fine to not respond to that at all yet and just kiss him instead.]
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Firing synapses and chemical mix of hormones was not the reason for wandering hands, eager to feel the skin of a man who prided himself on being done up so well. Paolo keeps his lips against his, but he's leaning off the table behind him to pull at the clothing and press his chest into him. Hunger went both ways, it seems, and now that they've broken through the tension he will take what was his.]
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It's nice of Paolo not to completely ruin his shirt. He can be taught. Jindosh's arm is still around his waist and squeezes him in closer, considering for just a moment before taking hold of his robe where it's settled at Paolo's hips and tugging. Paolo can take what's his all he wants, but Jindosh isn't going to be the first one undressed.
Hmm. While he's tugging at that, though, he breaks the kiss to speak quietly against Paolo's lips,] I trust you know how to find my bed.
[because you invaded the room and stole his robe you hoodlum]
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Of course I do. [He grins as he withdraws fro his lips, resting his hands on his shoulders to walk him backwards. It's only a few steps, and he hadn't needed to look away to pull the lever that sent the room turning.] I love your batshit house.
[He loves the way the walls come down and the moonlight shines through from the balcony, and how the sounds of the city he claimed as his was in the far distance. But he especially loved how easy it was to walk him to the bed's edge, the robe starting all this falling behind them.]
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Which is the best house ever built, for the record. But he wears a little half-smile for it and Paolo, too, watching him as he's walked back to his own bed. He takes a seat on the edge, both hands sliding to rest on Paolo's hips and pull him in closer, however he wants to arrange this for right now - and, ah.
The robe.] That's three of my things you'll be picking up later.
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