Indeed, [ Lucius replies, breathless with his inhale, ] you are.
[ The way Eridanus presses his face within the grasp of his palm is so much like the loyal beast Lucius names him—and when Eridanus so clearly aches for more of his touch, how can Lucius resist the urge to give it. For a second longer, Lucius looms large over the form of his consort bent in supplication, lipless maw drawn tight to bear his teeth. Then once more, he crouches before him, just as he had to strip him bear in ceremony; the ridged mask of his face swims closer, and with his hand still cupped around Eridanus' jaw, Lucius tilts his face for the meeting of their mouths.
It isn't much of a kiss—and, fitting for this mimicry of his true flesh, it resembles those that passed between them in Felfri far more. That overlong tongue invades Eridanus' mouth, filling it until it overflows and its forked tips slither down the entrance of his throat. All the while, his own eyes remain open, half-lidded above their burning pupils as he watches Eridanus' face pinned beneath his. When that slick, fleshy muscle withdraws again, it licks across the opal guarding the outer edges of Eridanus' mouth—and then it skirts higher, passing over the tear-track scar that decorates that cheek until it comes to lave at eyes gummed shut by the sweet ambrosia of Eridanus' blood.
It probably doesn't take nearly as long as it seems for Lucius to lick the blood from his lashes. With one last lap at the blood gummed in his eyebrow, Lucius' hand drops away from Eridanus' chin; a moment later, both of those oversized paws find their way to Eridanus' body, and as Lucius stands, he hefts his consort up with him. It's only a few short steps to their bed, and as they reach its edge, Lucius rolls them both downward, Eridanus ending pinned beneath the hefty weight of Lucius' shoulder as if he were a treasured possession to be guarded. A clawed hand pulls along his form, less with a lover's passion and more as though he were simply verifying all is as he remembers. ]
cw: tongue, licking, gross, etc
[ The way Eridanus presses his face within the grasp of his palm is so much like the loyal beast Lucius names him—and when Eridanus so clearly aches for more of his touch, how can Lucius resist the urge to give it. For a second longer, Lucius looms large over the form of his consort bent in supplication, lipless maw drawn tight to bear his teeth. Then once more, he crouches before him, just as he had to strip him bear in ceremony; the ridged mask of his face swims closer, and with his hand still cupped around Eridanus' jaw, Lucius tilts his face for the meeting of their mouths.
It isn't much of a kiss—and, fitting for this mimicry of his true flesh, it resembles those that passed between them in Felfri far more. That overlong tongue invades Eridanus' mouth, filling it until it overflows and its forked tips slither down the entrance of his throat. All the while, his own eyes remain open, half-lidded above their burning pupils as he watches Eridanus' face pinned beneath his. When that slick, fleshy muscle withdraws again, it licks across the opal guarding the outer edges of Eridanus' mouth—and then it skirts higher, passing over the tear-track scar that decorates that cheek until it comes to lave at eyes gummed shut by the sweet ambrosia of Eridanus' blood.
It probably doesn't take nearly as long as it seems for Lucius to lick the blood from his lashes. With one last lap at the blood gummed in his eyebrow, Lucius' hand drops away from Eridanus' chin; a moment later, both of those oversized paws find their way to Eridanus' body, and as Lucius stands, he hefts his consort up with him. It's only a few short steps to their bed, and as they reach its edge, Lucius rolls them both downward, Eridanus ending pinned beneath the hefty weight of Lucius' shoulder as if he were a treasured possession to be guarded. A clawed hand pulls along his form, less with a lover's passion and more as though he were simply verifying all is as he remembers. ]