But, I'm proud of it. [ Petulance drips from his tone.
Shanks indulges him more often than not, so it grates a little when he doesn't immediately get his way. Spoiled, and rotten for it in the way that an animal well-fed on treats and love can be. Even as hands begin to wander his body, he sticks to what he wants; to show Shanks what he's had purchased for him would be one more feather in his cap, something to be smug and satisfied over. Yet, as he feels his robe being tugged apart, his own sense of what he wants begins to rapidly, irrevocably, become tied up in his husband's wants and needs. It's a sickness, and he's pleased to be infected with it.
Quieted by the kiss, he reaches down to part his robe around Shanks's body, leaving it to drape like a curtain around him — long and pale and naked below, he arches his spine and pushes his hips forward to flaunt himself to Shanks. ]
( a silent laugh crests across shanks' face, a devastatingly fond smile tugging at his lips. it would be easy, of course, to give in without a second thought, to say of course, darling, what was i thinking, let me see it now — but it wouldn't be nearly as fun. and as much as shanks loves to see set preen over a job well done (or, in this case, a gift well given), there's something uniquely satisfying (and, indeed, somewhat arousing) about being on the receiving end of his wife's indignation.
this isn't new, though. it's been true long before they were ever even romantically involved. so it isn't with any condescension that shanks replies — )
The luckiest. ( — because he means it quite honestly, smittenly, a fool in love with every range of set's temperament.
his honeyed gaze drags slowly over set's form, drinking in the tone of muscle, the soft peak of nipples, the familiar weight of his hips and the smooth shaft of set's cock pressed against his belly — a sight shanks hasn't tired of and never will, so long as there is still air in his lungs. the hot pull in his gut draws him closer, nearly upright, until he lists to one side, toppling set onto his back, curtains of red hair and silk robe pooling beneath him. shanks bends at the waist, his tongue hot against the ridge of a nipple, sucking it between his teeth playfully, a lazy smirk on his face when he glances up, gloved hand planted on the underside of set's thigh, the flesh of his thumb teasing the head of set's cock. )
[ Traitorously, some part of his hazy, happy mind thinks: Don't smile at me like that, and he doesn't know why. Digging his heels in never made anyone happy, it wasn't appealing and it never earned him the affection and love he'd always craved. Once he'd stopped being so disobedient, everything had become easier — his duties to his family, the weight of his career. Except, that it wasn't easier. It was just mindless. It pleased them, to see him molded to their design and no one was more pleased than Osiris, who would praise him, through word and contact alike.
Everyone had been happy.
And then, he'd run away with Shanks. Taken an opportunity for what it was, to break free of his family and rush into the grasp of someone else; someone he wanted to make as deliriously happy as his family, without the sickly-sweet attentions of his elder brother. The worrisome weight of his scrutiny, the backhanded way he'd compliment and console and press his presence in around Set when he was home among them — Shanks was liberating. The strains are smoothed away, with him. Under him, even. With a warm mouth on his body, leading him to arch urgently into the soft bite of teeth. To roll his stomach and hips soft against the questing hand.
]
If I did, you would know it.
[ He would make Shanks stop, is what he means. He has no problem being physically demonstrative in his denial. Below him, his hair spreads like liquid wildfire across their sheets, his expression rosy and alight with an eagerness for more. His hands reaching down, to card through Shanks's hair and caress his face, to draw him in for a kiss even as he shifts his hold to try, with an edge of desperation, to align Shanks's cock with his body — still open, still wet from earlier — and guide him inside. He should just live there, connected forever. ]
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Shanks indulges him more often than not, so it grates a little when he doesn't immediately get his way. Spoiled, and rotten for it in the way that an animal well-fed on treats and love can be. Even as hands begin to wander his body, he sticks to what he wants; to show Shanks what he's had purchased for him would be one more feather in his cap, something to be smug and satisfied over. Yet, as he feels his robe being tugged apart, his own sense of what he wants begins to rapidly, irrevocably, become tied up in his husband's wants and needs. It's a sickness, and he's pleased to be infected with it.
Quieted by the kiss, he reaches down to part his robe around Shanks's body, leaving it to drape like a curtain around him — long and pale and naked below, he arches his spine and pushes his hips forward to flaunt himself to Shanks. ]
You're lucky I came to bed for this.
no subject
this isn't new, though. it's been true long before they were ever even romantically involved. so it isn't with any condescension that shanks replies — )
The luckiest. ( — because he means it quite honestly, smittenly, a fool in love with every range of set's temperament.
his honeyed gaze drags slowly over set's form, drinking in the tone of muscle, the soft peak of nipples, the familiar weight of his hips and the smooth shaft of set's cock pressed against his belly — a sight shanks hasn't tired of and never will, so long as there is still air in his lungs. the hot pull in his gut draws him closer, nearly upright, until he lists to one side, toppling set onto his back, curtains of red hair and silk robe pooling beneath him. shanks bends at the waist, his tongue hot against the ridge of a nipple, sucking it between his teeth playfully, a lazy smirk on his face when he glances up, gloved hand planted on the underside of set's thigh, the flesh of his thumb teasing the head of set's cock. )
Do you want me to stop?
( he will, if set says so. )
8)
Everyone had been happy.
And then, he'd run away with Shanks. Taken an opportunity for what it was, to break free of his family and rush into the grasp of someone else; someone he wanted to make as deliriously happy as his family, without the sickly-sweet attentions of his elder brother. The worrisome weight of his scrutiny, the backhanded way he'd compliment and console and press his presence in around Set when he was home among them — Shanks was liberating. The strains are smoothed away, with him. Under him, even. With a warm mouth on his body, leading him to arch urgently into the soft bite of teeth. To roll his stomach and hips soft against the questing hand.
If I did, you would know it.
[ He would make Shanks stop, is what he means. He has no problem being physically demonstrative in his denial. Below him, his hair spreads like liquid wildfire across their sheets, his expression rosy and alight with an eagerness for more. His hands reaching down, to card through Shanks's hair and caress his face, to draw him in for a kiss even as he shifts his hold to try, with an edge of desperation, to align Shanks's cock with his body — still open, still wet from earlier — and guide him inside. He should just live there, connected forever. ]