prismatica | text | un: lightning

[ Hell yeah, it’s Iris moon mf ]

Haha, yeah. I guess I am.

[ As he drags his thumb across his lips, still smiling, relishing the way both alcohol and the mildest brush with moonlancing have his pulse quickening, slight tinge of bloodrush in his ears.

Relaxing, Rokurou leans in. Doesn’t grab again but does close some distance, top row of sharp teeth digging into his bottom lip. There’s mirth in his one visible eye, amber melded gold, but then other is mostly hidden by his hair. There’s just a hint of red between chunks of those bangs as he tilts his head. ]

Don’t like it?

I didn't say that. [He's grinning, showing off Iris-sharpened teeth as his big furry bat ears turn to catch the sound of that voice. Lightning's own bangs are a mess, a dark curtain over his bright blue eyes.

His voice is still bright, curious, a casual Texas drawl.]

What're you planning?

Planning?

[ He exhales shortly, something like a laugh but not quite— ]

Something like ... dragging you out back and shoving you down onto your knees?

[ Shoulder shrugging a bit, Rokurou turns his head, helping himself to another swig of something that the bartender slid down the counter. Just a shotglass, not even all that strong, but it feels good to wet his lips. ]

Unless there's something you're looking for. You're the one who posted. [ looking back, curious, ] What're you into, old man?

[Once is whatever, twice is getting commented on.]

You super into age play or is this your first time hooking up with an actual adult since you stopped fucking college kids?

If a guy's asking to take your dick in an alley behind the tenth seediest bar on fuck planet, you shouldn't just start off by insulting his age.

[He isn't even scolding the guy, just making a grinning comment.]

[ He laughs, a short huff of recognizing chastisement beneath the grin, letting the shotglass slide a few inches toward the other end of the bar with a flick of his fingers. ]

You're right, you're right. It's because I didn't check what your name is, actually.

[ And the other reason is dead and gone, so it doesn't really matter. Leaning back, Rokurou rubs his neck— ]

What do you prefer?

"Lightning" works for this kinda thing. You?

Edited 2019-12-30 00:57 (UTC)

Rokurou Rangetsu.

[ He moves his fist over his chest with a small thump, and offers a forward tilt of the head— ]

At your service.

Good. I'll be sure to use your talents well.

I'm a pretty easygoing kind of guy, do you have any preferences?

Just that you don't hold back. S'more fun that way.

[ He'll go ahead and slide a fresh, proper drink toward Lightning now; he did say he was buying, after all. ]

Cheers to Iris?

Cheers. [He says, tapping his glass against the stranger's.]

What kinda things do you like?

If we're not talking about just fucking...? I'm a swordsman. I love a good challenge.

[ And he seems genuinely pleased to talk about it, pepping up at the very idea. There's little he loves more than swords or a good fight—even with the Iris moon making him think more with his dick. ]

If we are, you should find out for yourself.

[ .... but yeah he's still mostly thinking with his dick rn. ]

Yeah? I know my way around a sword pretty well too. [literal? metaphorical? who knows with iris happening.]

But you're really not a talker, are you? [Lewin doesn't mind skipping most of the conversation, though knowing if he's going to be getting some tender missionary position sex or sadomasochistic fucking would be nice, not that he'd turn down either option right now. With how this entire meeting's gone so far, he's really hoping for the fucking.]

Well, guess that's okay. You sure as hell didn't complain about any of my suggestions earlier. [He isn't going to take his drink like a shot, but he's not slow about it either.] But I'm getting bored. Don't keep me waiting too long.

I like it, actually. Talking. If you mean it about swords, I'll talk to you about those anytime. [ that's the last drink for now—Rokurou sets himself onto his feet; there's no sway, no stumble. he's completely fine, despite having helped himself to a few drinks. ] But that's not why you're here right now.

[ And that's not what he's in the mood for. This guy—Lightning—already said he doesn't mind getting bitten. That's all Rokurou needs to know.

Doesn't matter to him if they're still at the bar, other people here and there. Rokurou fists his hand into that dark messy mop of hair and yanks, really doesn't care if it hurts, cracks his neck. All that the daemon cares about is getting a bare stretch to sink his teeth into. Close to where he can taste the throb of a pulse, a coaxing sound against his sensitive hearing, drawn toward that spot on thoughtless instinct.

And unless Lightning makes a point of stopping him, he will. He leans right over his shoulder and snap his teeth down, grinding his tongue against flesh caught between them. Wanting to taste blood and not shy about how hard his fangs pierce, sharp nails scraping against scalp as he tightens his grip.

It ain't gonna be tender missionary. ]

[He relaxes, lets the stranger grab him and tilt up his chin, lets him bare his throat. Those teeth are sharp, and he shudders as they pierce his skin.

This? Dangerous. But Lightning is nothing if not impulsive and dangerous and he shivers with pleasure at the contact. Pain is good, it always has been, and with Iris in the sky? He heals so fast he can take more of it than he could before.

One hand reaches out to grab at the stranger's clothing, to tug him closer.]

[ Rokurou's grip tightens, keeping black strands fast between his fingers. Yanking hard, not out of any particular intention, but because his (usually decent) restraint's slipping. Enough that his nails dig harder into Lightning's scalp in a possessive grasp.

It's a thrill, feeling skin give beneath his teeth, and Rokurou drags the flat of his tongue up along the swollen crush of teethmarks. Tilts his head even more when he's tugged in, enough that Rokurou's chin drags, chafing the coarseness of the curl of black daemon skin that jags against tan human flesh.

A thrill, but it's not enough—there's always that rhythm beating along with his pulse, demanding he take more, serve his own selfish needs, wants, and it's especially loud now. Iris's fault? Maybe.

His free hand snaps down to grab onto Lightning's clothes right back, close to outright manhandling as he tries to drag him up from his seat, wanting to shove him toward the door and through to their immediate left. Not the alleyway, that's too far. ]

C'mon.

[ Barricading in one of the bar's bathrooms? Good enough. ]

[He's dragged up off his barstool, which is hot. This entire encounter is going straight into the short list of memories to call up for later use.]

Aren't you gonna say "please"? [He's not expecting that to work. His tone is almost needling, like he's trying to piss Rokurou off more.]

text | un: lightning

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