[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.
[Paolo has the other half of his little smile and then some, but for once it wasn't a grin. No, there was fondness in his eyes, even if it was fleeting. His attention was easily captured by the position this put them in, the rare moment where he's looking down at him. The stars of his back faced those of the night sky, and he can feel both literally and figuratively on top of the world.
He wasn't smug for a total of like, thirty seconds, basically. He can't help the low chuckle that escapes him, but he can help running his fingers through Jindosh's hair. He just doesn't.] What's better, the view out there or the view right here?
[Jindosh doesn't look up at people very often; obviously, being as tall as he is, and generally speaking he prefers to be physically far away and above other people, looking down on them the way things should be. It's a bit heavy-handed in its symbolism, but he figures the layman needs the help.
Now he's looking up at Paolo, hands on his hips, and the only thing that stops him from considering this a distinctly unfair and inappropriate position is how easy it would be for him to squeeze and toss Paolo onto the bed beside him. He doesn't, but maybe if Paolo takes up attitude, he'll consider it. The fingers in his hair feel nice, just like the night air, and for a moment he shuts his eyes and allows himself to lean into Paolo's touch.
Hmm. Alright.] I'm sure of many things. You are... a sight to behold.
[Is that enough? Wordsmithing is not his forte, he thinks.] If you are the city and the city is you, then I shall still take the liberty of saying mine is the finest view in all Karnaca.
[Paolo parts his lips, but stops short of interrupting him. He hadn't really thought he'd say more, and it had been enough. But it seems speaking of the city had the same affect as speaking of Jindosh's intellect. He's real hot for being told he's special.
So the fingers threaded in Jindosh's hair clench, and Paolo's pulling him far back enough to settle over him. The bed was so low that he didn't manage to lower himself with the practice and grace Jindosh had, but there's practice and grace in the way he holds his jaw and presses his lips to his yet again. How many had they exchanged by now? He lost count, and he'd been so keen on setting a record to beat.]
Praise from you-- [He mutters against his lips, delivering kiss after kiss like they were the fine wine he couldn't get enough of.] --is one greatest thing a man can achieve-- [He leans forward, a knee on one side of him while the other moved to part Jindosh's legs.] --in this city.
[Ah, he'll have to reconsider his wordsmithing improvisation abilities again more carefully after this. Jindosh awards himself a point for delivering exactly what Paolo wants to hear (he is a genius after all) and smirks up at him before their lips meet again. He can't help his amusement at Paolo fumbling his way down to the bed even as he obliges and moves back enough to give him space. The hand in his hair still feels nice and this is going to happen—
He squeezes Paolo's hips now to distract himself from that new lurch of worry and concerned wonder. He wants Paolo in his bed, consequences be damned, and he'll think about those other things later, later, later. While Paolo is picking up all the clothes he's thrown around the room, probably.
Right now he's being kissed like he's the air and Paolo is drowning, and he might feel very much the opposite himself, but if Jindosh is drowning then he'll be sure to leave his mark before he goes. He returns each of Paolo's kisses and adds a few of his own, interrupting him mid-sentence to kiss at the corner of his mouth. He's very accommodating, though, moving his legs just enough for one of Paolo's to get between them.]
Then consider that your motivation to earn even more. I'm intrigued by what you have to offer. [Which might be a weird way to say he wants to bone, but whatever. Point made.] Show me what makes you the worthiest man to get into my bed.
[Compliment? Also the only man, but never mind.]
Edited (Don't let me tag at 7am, an edit reason my phone autofilled in shame) 2017-01-05 15:33 (UTC)
The only man to get in your bed. [He won't just let that go, no way. He's kissing with his shoulders shaking in amusement, repeating "intrigued" under his breath as his lips make their way down.
There's no ridiculous layers of clothing blocking his way to Jindosh's neck this time around, and the hand through his hair gently pulls to give himself more access. His kisses are gentle the first time around, little more than playful nips. But once he reaches the skin he knows a collar will cover, they're hard enough to mark the skin, with little consideration of if he might find it annoying in the morning.
He wanted it to be abundantly clear he was his tonight, after all.] The only one who comes to see you every night, [He says against his skin, pressing down on him so he would lay further back as his free hand roams down his chest. He stops at his waist, feeling around for whatever clasp to the pants he was wearing to undo it.] The only one who can walk out of here saying he's spent hours looking at you. Listening to you. Learning your secrets.
Yes, yes, [Jindosh consents to Paolo being the only man he's taking to bed like he's commenting on the weather, like it isn't the truly monumental task it is. He is intrigued, thank you very much Paolo, and to prove it his hands wander up Paolo's back again. He tilts his head for Paolo like it was his idea all along, unable to stop his breath from hitching when he's forceful enough to leave marks.
Those are definitely going to annoy him in the morning. They'll probably itch. He'll complain - what if he can't wear his cravat??
He shifts back again, so thoroughly obligingly he'll have to be extra fussy in the morning to make up for it, leaning on one of his elbows so he can keep tracing patterns on Paolo's back. If he's tracing the same pattern because he's already memorized where a handful of the stars on his back are, well... that doesn't matter, ignore that.]
My secrets, [he repeats, voice low but unwavering, with just a hint of challenge in it. His secrets. He almost starts to say something more, about how a man whose house is always open to any kind of miscreant who walks in the door has little room for secrets, but an unpleasant, fluttering memory kills the comment before he can say the first word. He can't put a finger on the memory but it's dark, like he's been put in a box and couldn't find his way out with one of the sides taken off, and he hates it so much he lets himself fall onto his back, that other hand coming up to the back of Paolo's neck.
Jindosh is most definitely the one drowning now; he pulls Paolo up to kiss him on the mouth, hard. The jolt of memory slips away from him as he anchors himself firmly in the present, breathing in Paolo... He still smells like Jindosh's lotion. What a nice touch.]
Well, [he's a little breathless after that kiss, but shh] then.
[well!!!]
You... I might consider the terms of your latest deal. Being called yours.
[If Paolo notices the change in Jindosh, however brief, he doesn't say a word. He only slowed his slightly, the grip in Jindosh's hair loosening, but the button of his pants still coming undone. His fingers brush the waistband, but he refrains from pulling them down in his attentiveness.
He would know if he lost the man to a bad memory, or if he lost him to the fact there were just none at all. He spent too long looking for the signs, too long enduring the fact he wouldn't remember a simple conversation. An unfinished thought could mean anything, if he lost him again, now--
The fear that threatened to stop his racing heart was snuffed out quickly and quietly, though, when he registers lips hard against his, only a second late into returning it. He'll keep him anchored in the present, with how he leans his weight into him and curls his fingers as they break away. stay.]
Y... Yeah? [He manages, less out of breath and more unfocused. He shakes his head, disregarding any stray worries that might linger.] I never discussed any terms of a deal, but... I thought it was kind of obvious I'm yours in return. If you...
[Even worry-free, he won't pull anything off him. No, it seems he'll slip his hand under instead, gliding fingers over what arousal he might have through fabric.] ... considering.
[Jindosh doesn't remember. There are stretches of time—weeks, at least, but was it months? It comes and goes in scraps and pieces and he knows that during that time his own mind came and went in scraps and pieces itself. It terrifies him the way no single thing ever has, to think that the hole in the back of his mind could swallow him back up at any moment is...
Staggering. He knows nothing of what Paolo is feeling in that moment because he can't know, he doesn't remember that there was anything for him to forget, but Paolo keeping him physically anchored here seems to do the trick. He can breathe, and he is no one but himself.
And Paolo is saying something. Jindosh gives him just enough focus to laugh, maybe... a little less rudely than usual?] Of course you belong to me.
[Obviously. But now that's out in the world where they can both hear it, and Jindosh's smug look stutters and slips a moment later when Paolo's hand brushes against him. Where his body wanted to lock up and refuse to move earlier it now wants to lift hips up and seek more of that touch, while he blinks about eight times like that will distract from how... needy he suddenly is.
He makes a face. Hormones.] As I was saying, [he's so smooth] you are the one waiting on me. You have been mine for weeks.
[Paolo could deny that. He could does what he does best and lie through his teeth, saying his visits were just to test his limits and apply the pain inflicted on him on others. It was true, once upon at time, but that was long before he was the type to stare so fondly when he got a smile out of Jindosh, let alone a laugh.]
I guess. [That's as close as he'll come to admitting it, though, even if the curve of his lips is a dead giveaway. Or perhaps he's trying not to laugh at the change in attitude, because he expected a much less eager response.] But you're the one wrapped around my finger for now, aren't you?
[Or, well, his fingers are wrapped around him. Quite literally, now, with how he's more firmly grasping his length through whatever fine fabric Jindosh happens to be wearing. He strokes slowly, as if coaxing any arousal deep in his uncertainty's to come out and play. Well, he probably wasn't thinking too deeply about that. He's just being a tease.]
[Staring fondly at him is still a new and different experience - no wonder Paolo being his for weeks has been obvious. Jindosh is usually disinterested, not stupid—he figured out quite quickly that Paolo looking at him the way he does meant something more than approval of his experiment techniques. Or something quite different from that in general, considering...
Anyway, don't laugh at him for having a perfectly healthy and responsive body. His ears burn red with embarrassment from either being touched or Paolo's amusement at it, but he still works at keeping the haughtiness in his face.]
Is that what you would call this? [He says the whole sentence in a single breath before he loses the smug look, hips twitching up again. He still has the presence of mind to scold himself for this—through fabric, Kirin Jindosh? Really?—but the way he pulls Paolo into another kiss is sign enough that he's enjoying himself as much as someone with his attitude can. And of course the fact that he's getting harder under Paolo's fingers, but the separation of body and mind is severe enough for him that he's kissing Paolo as a helpful reminder.]
[Paolo is appreciative in his efforts to remind him, considering how he'd spent the first kisses of theirs doubting Jindosh even wanted them. He could very well have just taken the initiative for each step they took, but the fact little time had since their lips last met before he was pulled down for more? That made it more exciting.
Hearing a challenge after that was just icing on a cake. Proving it began in more actions than words, Paolo chasing his lips for one last kiss before he leans weight off of Jindosh. His hand leaves his length, the other dragging down his side before joining in the effort to pull down the waist of his pants.
Regrettably, there's much less intimacy in this. The process is especially tedious with the nobleman's clothing, and while he makes an effort to retain contact, it proves difficult when his clothes catch on the long forgotten shoes. They're getting undone and thrown aside, somewhere he'll have to look later. It didn't matter. What mattered was the fact he hesitated at returning to the last article of Jindosh's clothing, instead pulling back to drop what little he had left himself to the floor. It was only fair he was the first bare.
[This, the least intimate part, is when Jindosh feels the most comfortable somehow. It follows logically—he only has to wait for Paolo to struggle lamely over his pants and shoes instead of working to maintain the semblance of his usual overconfidence he's been trying, when really he feels like a teenager fumbling in the back of a theatre.
So it's fine, really, to lie back and watch the ceiling while Paolo undresses him. He leans up on his elbows to chastise him about throwing more clothes around the room again, but stops when he realizes what Paolo is doing.
Well, there's no shame in him at all as he stares at Paolo, at all of him, looking him carefully up and down like he's a prize Jindosh has won. Which is close. He hasn't noticed the socks yet, which lets the quirk of his lips be nothing but satisfied, untarnished by sock judgment.
Nice.]
Come here, [he says, raising a hand to beckon, crooking a finger at Paolo as if there's any chance he wouldn't come when called.] Let me marvel at you again.
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no subject
"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.]
no subject
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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[Paolo has the other half of his little smile and then some, but for once it wasn't a grin. No, there was fondness in his eyes, even if it was fleeting. His attention was easily captured by the position this put them in, the rare moment where he's looking down at him. The stars of his back faced those of the night sky, and he can feel both literally and figuratively on top of the world.
He wasn't smug for a total of like, thirty seconds, basically. He can't help the low chuckle that escapes him, but he can help running his fingers through Jindosh's hair. He just doesn't.] What's better, the view out there or the view right here?
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Now he's looking up at Paolo, hands on his hips, and the only thing that stops him from considering this a distinctly unfair and inappropriate position is how easy it would be for him to squeeze and toss Paolo onto the bed beside him. He doesn't, but maybe if Paolo takes up attitude, he'll consider it. The fingers in his hair feel nice, just like the night air, and for a moment he shuts his eyes and allows himself to lean into Paolo's touch.
Hmm. Alright.] I'm sure of many things. You are... a sight to behold.
[Is that enough? Wordsmithing is not his forte, he thinks.] If you are the city and the city is you, then I shall still take the liberty of saying mine is the finest view in all Karnaca.
[Is that enough?? Kiss him.]
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So the fingers threaded in Jindosh's hair clench, and Paolo's pulling him far back enough to settle over him. The bed was so low that he didn't manage to lower himself with the practice and grace Jindosh had, but there's practice and grace in the way he holds his jaw and presses his lips to his yet again. How many had they exchanged by now? He lost count, and he'd been so keen on setting a record to beat.]
Praise from you-- [He mutters against his lips, delivering kiss after kiss like they were the fine wine he couldn't get enough of.] --is one greatest thing a man can achieve-- [He leans forward, a knee on one side of him while the other moved to part Jindosh's legs.] --in this city.
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He squeezes Paolo's hips now to distract himself from that new lurch of worry and concerned wonder. He wants Paolo in his bed, consequences be damned, and he'll think about those other things later, later, later. While Paolo is picking up all the clothes he's thrown around the room, probably.
Right now he's being kissed like he's the air and Paolo is drowning, and he might feel very much the opposite himself, but if Jindosh is drowning then he'll be sure to leave his mark before he goes. He returns each of Paolo's kisses and adds a few of his own, interrupting him mid-sentence to kiss at the corner of his mouth. He's very accommodating, though, moving his legs just enough for one of Paolo's to get between them.]
Then consider that your motivation to earn even more. I'm intrigued by what you have to offer. [Which might be a weird way to say he wants to bone, but whatever. Point made.] Show me what makes you the worthiest man to get into my bed.
[Compliment? Also the only man, but never mind.]
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There's no ridiculous layers of clothing blocking his way to Jindosh's neck this time around, and the hand through his hair gently pulls to give himself more access. His kisses are gentle the first time around, little more than playful nips. But once he reaches the skin he knows a collar will cover, they're hard enough to mark the skin, with little consideration of if he might find it annoying in the morning.
He wanted it to be abundantly clear he was his tonight, after all.] The only one who comes to see you every night, [He says against his skin, pressing down on him so he would lay further back as his free hand roams down his chest. He stops at his waist, feeling around for whatever clasp to the pants he was wearing to undo it.] The only one who can walk out of here saying he's spent hours looking at you. Listening to you. Learning your secrets.
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Those are definitely going to annoy him in the morning. They'll probably itch. He'll complain - what if he can't wear his cravat??
He shifts back again, so thoroughly obligingly he'll have to be extra fussy in the morning to make up for it, leaning on one of his elbows so he can keep tracing patterns on Paolo's back. If he's tracing the same pattern because he's already memorized where a handful of the stars on his back are, well... that doesn't matter, ignore that.]
My secrets, [he repeats, voice low but unwavering, with just a hint of challenge in it. His secrets. He almost starts to say something more, about how a man whose house is always open to any kind of miscreant who walks in the door has little room for secrets, but an unpleasant, fluttering memory kills the comment before he can say the first word. He can't put a finger on the memory but it's dark, like he's been put in a box and couldn't find his way out with one of the sides taken off, and he hates it so much he lets himself fall onto his back, that other hand coming up to the back of Paolo's neck.
Jindosh is most definitely the one drowning now; he pulls Paolo up to kiss him on the mouth, hard. The jolt of memory slips away from him as he anchors himself firmly in the present, breathing in Paolo... He still smells like Jindosh's lotion. What a nice touch.]
Well, [he's a little breathless after that kiss, but shh] then.
[well!!!]
You... I might consider the terms of your latest deal. Being called yours.
[Very tentatively!!!!!]
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He would know if he lost the man to a bad memory, or if he lost him to the fact there were just none at all. He spent too long looking for the signs, too long enduring the fact he wouldn't remember a simple conversation. An unfinished thought could mean anything, if he lost him again, now--
The fear that threatened to stop his racing heart was snuffed out quickly and quietly, though, when he registers lips hard against his, only a second late into returning it. He'll keep him anchored in the present, with how he leans his weight into him and curls his fingers as they break away. stay.]
Y... Yeah? [He manages, less out of breath and more unfocused. He shakes his head, disregarding any stray worries that might linger.] I never discussed any terms of a deal, but... I thought it was kind of obvious I'm yours in return. If you...
[Even worry-free, he won't pull anything off him. No, it seems he'll slip his hand under instead, gliding fingers over what arousal he might have through fabric.] ... considering.
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Staggering. He knows nothing of what Paolo is feeling in that moment because he can't know, he doesn't remember that there was anything for him to forget, but Paolo keeping him physically anchored here seems to do the trick. He can breathe, and he is no one but himself.
And Paolo is saying something. Jindosh gives him just enough focus to laugh, maybe... a little less rudely than usual?] Of course you belong to me.
[Obviously. But now that's out in the world where they can both hear it, and Jindosh's smug look stutters and slips a moment later when Paolo's hand brushes against him. Where his body wanted to lock up and refuse to move earlier it now wants to lift hips up and seek more of that touch, while he blinks about eight times like that will distract from how... needy he suddenly is.
He makes a face. Hormones.] As I was saying, [he's so smooth] you are the one waiting on me. You have been mine for weeks.
[so.]
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I guess. [That's as close as he'll come to admitting it, though, even if the curve of his lips is a dead giveaway. Or perhaps he's trying not to laugh at the change in attitude, because he expected a much less eager response.] But you're the one wrapped around my finger for now, aren't you?
[Or, well, his fingers are wrapped around him. Quite literally, now, with how he's more firmly grasping his length through whatever fine fabric Jindosh happens to be wearing. He strokes slowly, as if coaxing any arousal deep in his uncertainty's to come out and play. Well, he probably wasn't thinking too deeply about that. He's just being a tease.]
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Anyway, don't laugh at him for having a perfectly healthy and responsive body. His ears burn red with embarrassment from either being touched or Paolo's amusement at it, but he still works at keeping the haughtiness in his face.]
Is that what you would call this? [He says the whole sentence in a single breath before he loses the smug look, hips twitching up again. He still has the presence of mind to scold himself for this—through fabric, Kirin Jindosh? Really?—but the way he pulls Paolo into another kiss is sign enough that he's enjoying himself as much as someone with his attitude can. And of course the fact that he's getting harder under Paolo's fingers, but the separation of body and mind is severe enough for him that he's kissing Paolo as a helpful reminder.]
Prove it.
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Hearing a challenge after that was just icing on a cake. Proving it began in more actions than words, Paolo chasing his lips for one last kiss before he leans weight off of Jindosh. His hand leaves his length, the other dragging down his side before joining in the effort to pull down the waist of his pants.
Regrettably, there's much less intimacy in this. The process is especially tedious with the nobleman's clothing, and while he makes an effort to retain contact, it proves difficult when his clothes catch on the long forgotten shoes. They're getting undone and thrown aside, somewhere he'll have to look later. It didn't matter. What mattered was the fact he hesitated at returning to the last article of Jindosh's clothing, instead pulling back to drop what little he had left himself to the floor. It was only fair he was the first bare.
Except, you know, those damn socks.]
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So it's fine, really, to lie back and watch the ceiling while Paolo undresses him. He leans up on his elbows to chastise him about throwing more clothes around the room again, but stops when he realizes what Paolo is doing.
Well, there's no shame in him at all as he stares at Paolo, at all of him, looking him carefully up and down like he's a prize Jindosh has won. Which is close. He hasn't noticed the socks yet, which lets the quirk of his lips be nothing but satisfied, untarnished by sock judgment.
Nice.]
Come here, [he says, raising a hand to beckon, crooking a finger at Paolo as if there's any chance he wouldn't come when called.] Let me marvel at you again.
[He will not marvel at the socks.]
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