oo2 ★ okay that's it. text; un: marmorapaladin

[undeserted]

[ It's short and sweet! Unlike Keith, who is also short but bitter as all hell right now. ]

look don't read into this too much
are any other Iris moonblessed feeling like their heat is
early?
or feels. different. [ read: worse. so much worse. ]

does it have anything to do with dragon stuff

I looked up some information
I'm wondering how we get chosen for stuff like this
if there's anything about us that
factors in.

Just curious I guess


[ Basically why the fuck did he get saddled with Iris and now this shit?? like, he isn't sure if he should be insulted or not at this point. This is also a very roundabout way of asking for some help and/or reassurance because this shit sucks but also he's Keith and this is about as publicly forthcoming as he gets. ]

Comments

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[undeserted]

[ SENT.

And that's......gonna be it, Keith is just gonna send it and bounce. And flop back on his bed and curl into a ball and resist the urge to call up the dude again and tell him to forget it.

This shit is too dire for him to be a stubborn bitch right now, so he just puts his communicator down and that's that on that. But along with the uncharacteristic lack of bitchiness seems to be a desire for things to--look good? Be welcoming? Keith really wants this guy to approve of him which is fucking ridiculous because he doesn't know him. What is going on.

Keith does try and make himself as presentable as possible and tidy up and fluff pillows until he feels like his knees are gonna buckle again, though, and then he's just. Gonna curl up. On his bed. And wait. ]

[pushpin]

[ the public transit usually isn't bad in Lunatia, but every bump and shake feels like it rattles the core of him, stirring and agitating a desire that makes no foreigner of him; a familiar pattern of thoughts intensified by draconic blessing, words like need and mine cycling on loop over and over behind his eyes as he stares out the window without seeing. ]

[ his palms are clammy by the time he's walking his way up the stairs, long legs taking them three at a time, an earnest mix of habit and anticipation. ]

[ if Sanguis had been in the sky, he'd be able to smell his mate (mate?) from down the hall and not have to double-check the address; a part of him wishes it was, the dragonsong pushing him towards coveting his exalted blessing as he rarely does. when he bangs on Keith's door, it's a hard, demanding thing — more like the harsh pounding of something like law enforcement than a lover. ]

[ at the very least, there's no need to waste time with awkward niceties: when the door opens, he barely takes Keith in with a single sweep — that'll do — and fists the front of his shirt to drag him into a rough, dominating kiss, tongue swiping at the seam of his lips. ]

[undeserted]

[ The motion is so sudden and so not what Keith had been expecting that he'd likely have stumbled if he weren't so naturally agile on his feet. He hasn't ever been handled in such a way before, not in this context, and it takes his entire body by surprise.

And he might have shoved the dude off, were he not so addled of mind--not because he dislikes the touch, per se, but because it's rough and violent and demanding and Keith isn't ready to accept how into that he is--but instead he melts, hands gripping the guy's biceps as he whimpers into his mouth.

They hadn't even said hello. Keith realizes he doesn't need that, though-- he doesn't need to talk, doesn't need to be asked permission. Something addictive is coursing through his veins, a complete desire to surrender and satisfy and please the one who is claiming his mouth so insistently.

Mate. Mate. Mate. ]

[pushpin]

[ whimpers only encourage him, drawing Keith up against him as if the sound was of wound and not of pleasure; he seeks it out with his tongue, opening his mouth up as he relents, the lash of it warm and wet and velvet. tilts his head and sighs through his nose, arms linking around him possessively, hands raking over his lower back and squeezing his ass. ]

[ not the type to waste time. ]

[ there's no warning as he uses those two handfuls two hike Keith up against him, the difference of their heights letting him stand up to full and encourage legs around him. with him secured up against his body, he walks the threshold into the apartment, blind and fumbling as he kisses the whole time — just to turn and push the door shut with Keith's back slammed up against it, lining their bodies up, hips grinding into his. manhandling. at last, friction — so rough and demanding he might as well be fucking Keith through his clothes. ]

[ mine, mine, mine. his hands are everywhere. ]

[undeserted]

[ With every new touch and kiss Keith finds himself losing more and more coherency, as a pleasant buzzing sensation fills his brain. It's not dissimilar to how he feels when he's in heat-- and it'll be cause for much contemplation later, how the feeling is almost blissful compared to the abrasive and always-on nature of his personality, but right now? Right now, Keith is only dimly aware that he even has a brain.

Or legs. They feel like jelly, ready to buckle-- until suddenly they don't have to hold him up anymore, and Keith lets out a sharp cry as he is lifted and slammed against the wall. The guy-- what's his name again? Keith can only think mate-- is so close now, so so fucking close and yet it's still not enough.

Keith's cries are swallowed in violent kisses and he's so fucking hot, so turned on right now. It's already overwhelming, enough for tears to start prickling in his eyes. He tries to bite them back and ends up biting Guanshan instead, the tips of his naturally pointed teeth pricking the flesh of the other man's lip. ]

[pushpin]

[ what Keith gets in return for his efforts is the tang of blood, coppery and thick, and Guanshan moaning for it. perhaps Sanguis had chosen him for a reason, all violence and fire, because even when his moon isn't high, the little pangs of roughness and kisses of violence only make him harder — a firm shape he presses between Keith's legs and grinds, frotting like an animal enough to heat both of their zippers. nipping back, he snaps hard enough for Keith's own bottom lip to bleed, mingling the slip of saliva and blood from both of them, and then he moves lower. ]

[ teeth drag at the lobe of his ear and move down, a hot, sucking mouth closing over the jugular and sinking, prints of teeth and purpling bruises to be left in his wake. he tastes like salt, like sin, and Guanshan growls like the flavor is only his to possess, hands squeezing the same song into his hips until he's satisfied enough to put (hellish) space between them just to rip his pants and underwear off as quickly as possible, putting Keith back on the ground just long enough to stomp on the offending clothing and hike him back up — ]

[ this time, to carry him to the nearby bed, tossing him at its nearby edge. he doesn't give Keith time to protest to the way he's exposing him, lifting his thighs up and bending him over himself, ass exposed where he spreads his cheeks... ]

Open up. [ announced with a rough, open-palm slap to the bottom curve of his ass, and his tongue laps across his puckered hole before the tip plunges in. ]

[ no need to ask permission indeed. ]

[undeserted]

[ The unmistakable metallic taste of blood is in Keith's mouth now, and he has no idea why; it's all going so fast, way too fast for his hazy brain to follow along from one point to the next. Thankfully Guanshan seems perfectly content to take the lead entirely, manhandling Keith and positioning him like a doll as their bodies collide. Keith is a wild, fierce, independent thing by nature, which is why the ease of his submission is coming as such a surprise to him-- or at least it would be if he could think clearly enough to ruminate on it. At the very least, it isn't that far off from the way he gets when the Iris cycle hits.

As it stands, Keith bares his throat and trills as the kisses and bites mark up his pale skin. The odd sound is followed up with tiny gasps and whimpers, but nothing that tips over into loud territory just yet-- not even when he is stripped and wrestled over to the bed and his legs are in the air before he can even register what's happening. ]

Wait-- I-- oh fuck...

[ Oh god what is this. What is he doing. Keith's head falls back on the mattress and he covers his burning face with both his hands, utterly overwhelmed. He's so open and exposed and it feels so weird but so so so good and he can't be embarrassed because that little part of him just keeps repeating that this is his mate, that he's safe, that he knows best. ]