[Oh, he's never going to hear the end of this once both of their feet are on firm(ish) footing oncemore, and Hades has the capacity to take in a sufficient amount of air in order to properly complain. Yet. He finds that this is worth it. They're hurtling down the dune at an utterly breakneck pace now- far faster than what he originally went down it, and they're unbalanced.
One jolt, two jolts, three- at the third, he's jolted toward Hades, his vision is marred by the sensation of moving to the side, of a black cowl, of hair the purest of white(?)- and the pair of them are thrown over each other, tumbling over, under, over, under- skidding and sliding and rolling and-
A bump, and a stop. And Hades is above him, his weight enough to push him down unto the sand just slightly. He is looking up, and at the sound of the other's voice, that reticent, almost overexaggeratedly hurt tone that so often comes out when he begins to complain, he opens his eyes with a faint smirk on his lips to properly enjoy the fruits of his handiwork.
...And. Oh. Hades' hood is still up, yes. But his mask...
There is a strong brow. Yet is is flesh and bone- quivering with a myriad of microscopic little lines between, and there is that hair again. It is so bright. It simply is as perfectly white as a first snow, and his skin is akin to marble. Pale, yes. But strong. Unblemished. And eyes- two quite beautiful, actually, yet intent eyes- ones that display the signs of an apparent lack of sleep in dark circles below but are piercing.
Why is he looking.
His eyes are wide as he stares up at Hades, his long-awaited, long-anticipated tirade falling upon deaf ears. And quickly, without response, without thought, he vanishes from beneath him in another portal.
[It's still within the early stages of this tirade that Hades becomes aware, with some considerable embarrassment, that he has landed not upon a dune, but half-sprawled on top of Hythlodaeus. He pauses, just long enough to shift his weight off of him, his chin tilted down to make sure that he's still in one piece even though he's all but certain he will find the most infuriatingly smug grin imaginable tucked there beneath the white of his mask. When those golden eyes focus upon Hythlodaeus' face, however... that is not what he finds. Instead, his companion appears to be staring up at him in shocked horror, his mouth agape in an expression that is so far removed from the one he's come to expect that Hades himself actually flinches back - his mind trying to assess what on Etheirys could possibly have happened in the span of a moment.]
[And then his own eyes widen as he realizes that his own cowl is gathered around his neck. The familiar covering that always rests upon his nose, that outlines his entire world in shadowed red - it is gone. His mask is off. He is utterly and shamelessly barefaced before him.]
[Before he can even act Hythlodaeus vanishes, and Hades stumbles into the empty space where once he had been, the red lacquer mask revealed half-buried in the sand just out of arm's reach. Hades lunges for it and scrambles to his feet as he casts about for his friend. His heart is beating madly in his throat, and yet he cannot feel the slightest trace of his presence. It is simply not there, replaced instead by a sinking, leaden sensation in the pit of his stomach.]
['Focus,' he reminds himself. And he reaches. And he looks. Hythlodaeus has fled very far away, hovering just along the edge of his perception as a flickering sphere of pastel green -- and...]
['No!']
[Without sparing a moment more to replace his mask, Hades thrusts himself into yet another space almost before the portal can fully form.]
[He looked before he leapt. He has no idea as to where his own portal leads- and before he knows it, he is falling. The bright blue of the sky whirls nauseatingly in all directions around him, the air is rushing up so fast he can hardly breathe and-
Oh no. He can see clouds below. Clouds that swiftly turn into treetops which depict some ancient woodland growing larger and larger by the second and-
He tries. He really tries to conjure another portal. Something, anything to collect him and open out unto lower elevation but-
It's not working. His mind is in panic, his fingers are fumbling, he's falling and falling and falling and-
He can't breathe. He's seconds away from passing out and he's wholly certain this will be the end of him. There would be no surviving it. His vessel would be torn to pieces by the boughs of the trees, what left would be utterly broken upon the land below.
And his soul... It would return early. Too early.
The thought has him thrash in the air all the more, yet by the time he is close to realizing the first of his predictions, his body is almost limp, unmoving.
Until he is saved. His mind's eye sees the aether below him (or is it to the side?) and his vision fills with an unfathomable colour. A purple both deep, and vibrant. ...Has he already returned? Is this the Underworld, and is this a last visit?
His question is answered when the portal reopens. And he finds himself not floating, no drifting, for there is no ebb and no flow. Instead...
...Leaves. From their impact, fluttering gently down throughout his field of vision. And oh. He needs to remind himself to breathe. So breathe he does- a great, loud inhale and then a coughed exhale, and now he is unaware he is without his mask. ....Not that it even occurs to him to check. For there are arms around him and-]
....
Y-you-
[Saved him, yes. Normally, he would not insult Hades by stating something so asinine. Yet...
[And he hopes that Hythlodaeus appreciates that such an act in itself was no small feat. To leap into rushing oblivion at a close enough distance to capture and grasp his thrashing and then suddenly limp form, to have the presence of mind to pry open another portal by force, one to hover there in the midst of the sky big enough for the two of them to plummet into...]
[It's pure good fortune that has them sprawled on a bed of multicolored leaves, Hades' own breathing a ragged rasp as the pulse beneath Hythlodaeus' hands thunders and storms ceaselessly.]
[And yet Hades' grasp on him does not loosen, and there is no eruption of worried shouting and fuming. He's--still maskless, he knows. And before Hythlodaeus can panic even further, a strong hand cradles the back of his head and (quite carefully) tilts him into the crook of one broad shoulder.]
Don't look, then. You're safe.
[Dimly he's aware that his fingers find themselves buried not in the creases of his hood, for it is far too soft and sleek. Lilac... Just like those rebellious locks from the halcyon days of their youth. Back when he found this person completely and hopelessly insufferable.]
[Not much has changed in all that time, but perhaps now Hades does not find his ability to be a curse in the slightest. Normally he would shepherd souls after they have begun their descent back unto the star, but for his closest friend, he will make an exception just this once.]
[And at last he huffs.]
Although I've no doubt you'd make a fascinating addition to the Lifestream, I suspect neither you nor the Underworld are yet prepared for it.
[Saved him, yes- though the words do not come. His body is in open revolt against all he wishes for it to do. He is trembling as if hypothermic, gripping the other's cowl hard enough for his fingers to cramp. For all intents and purposes, he is quite openly clinging to Hades in this pile of unraked and untidied leaves, his teeth grit and his eyes closed as he buries his head into his shoulder as if he were still falling.
But a combination of things- Hades' considered tone, the firm, unshaken shoulder- the way he smells so... nice when so close, as well as his fingers threaded through his now loose hair cause him to calm some. Yet it is slow.
And it does not come without his body's last act of rebellion. A secret, told. Though muffled.]
I would not like to return without you. Under any circumstance.
[It's, all told, the very last sort of response that Hades expects. Hythlodaeus is shaken, he reminds himself, for he can still feel him trembling against him much like one of the many leaves they've found themselves tossed upon.]
[But for all it may be the sort of prattle one spills in the face of imminent and unexpected death, he does not think it untrue.]
[He is, perhaps, one of the very worst people on this star for calming anyone, but at last Hades lets his palm stroke over that hair - just once, cautiously. He tries not to let himself be distracted by the way their bodies seem to fold all too perfectly against one another, or by the feelings that stir inside his breast at being so clung to, as if he is someone else's salvation, a pillar, a hero.]
[...Pure rubbish, that. And yet he would be, if such a role were needed.]
As if I'd let you go that easily. Worry not, the Underworld and I are on quite familiar terms. If I so wanted, I could simply pluck you back out again.
...Besides, it'd be far too quiet if you were gone. How ever would I concentrate on anything without you constantly interrupting my work to assault me with your affections?
Perhaps you'll be the last soul I usher unto the star before relinquishing my seat to another.
[Oh, it's meant to be the dramatics that Hythlodaeus knows so well, yet the moment the last of the words leave him, Hades becomes aware that... they are all precisely true. How dreadful his days would be without Hythlodaeus here to pester him. How normal and expected, even anticipated, have such antics become...]
[Oh, Hades truly is the worst person ever to calm another. This is the single most worst attempt he has ever experienced at being calmed, and likewise, this is the very worst manner of agreement he has ever heard. Being plucked out and assaults and all.
Yet nonetheless, he is calmed. He is soothed- and he feels his heart slow- cease feeling as if it is to burst from his chest, and rise, slightly- into the back of his throat. He pulls his head from where it is cradled upon one of the other's shoulders, and he looks up to him.
What Hades sees would be lightly tanned skin. Impossibly high cheekbones, thick yet shapely eyebrows and large eyes with a bright pink light emitting from them, complimenting the lilac colouring of his hair. His visage is completed with a narrow nose, and full lips. And...]
I would not be your last. ...I would travel with you. Side-by-side, in the hope of being fortunate enough to spend my next life with you. As a friend, or...
[He casts his gaze downward. And he shifts slightly, bringing his hand to the side of Hades' face, taking the shape of his jaw. And then he leans upward, to lightly, tentatively touch his lips against his. And against them, he speaks.]
[Hades' silence is interrupted by movement, and what he spies next would steal away even the most self-assured declaration he could possibly muster. He should be turning away, should have the decency to avert his gaze and afford Hythlodaeus a moment to retrieve his mask -- for it is gone.]
[He cannot.]
[In place of a mask is perhaps the most lovely thing Hades has ever laid eyes. An altogether beautiful face, and eyes he can well imagine being filled with no small amount of laughter and mischief.]
[He can barely make sense of the words, even so coming from that familiar mouth in that pleasant voice he knows so, so well.]
[This is Hythlodaeus?]
[But it must be; of course it is. And he is...staring at him like a complete imbecile. His deep-set eyes are as wide as they can possibly expand, so stunned that Hythlodaeus could easily lounge there and count each of the brighter flecks that surround the dark pupils honed on this visage that slowly fills every corner of his awareness.]
["Or?" He wonders dimly. And then he is being kissed so very softly, and the feel of fingers against his bare cheek proves both startling and mesmerizing.]
[It's very nearly terrifying, how deeply he wants to return that kiss all of a sudden, to crush his face against his and refuse to let him go. And yet, he cannot bring himself to move or utter even a word in response.]
["Or?" Hythlodaeus couldn't possibly be implying that he imagines them in a future life as lovers... could he? For what reason? Since when? Besides, they hardly need wait until the next life for such an arrangement!]
[]Astute and as keensighted as he is, it is not entirely within his power to read every situation. And oh, he's misreading this one. Hades' silence indicates horror to him, his lack of movement indicates a faint disgust. And... Oh, he feels his heart sink.
Well, he's certainly put his foot in it. Or so it seems. A breath comes from him, rueful, short- and he pulls himself away, keeping his eyes on the ground. Really, this is quite the awful week. A relationship totaled. A friendship totaled.
And oh, the thought of the friendship ending has him feel worse- far worse- than he had expected. Hades' silence is met with his own as he stares down unto the withered leaves, and he almost wishes, just slightly, that the mound would part. That it would swallow him whole, entirely and utterly, and that...
He would be out of sight. Out of perception. Utterly and entirely gone, just so that this wouldn't be half as awkward as it was.
He wills himself to speak- his tone foreign to himself, voice sounding, to him, like someone else entirely was speaking.]
Well. If one were to be charitable about this whole situation, I should not be blamed for trying. You are quite handsome underneath that mask, after all.
[Oh, that was pathetic. His hand moves to the side of his head, brushing a few stray wisps of lilac behind his head.]
[And oh, he has been completely misread. Surely there is no horror nor disgust to be found within the steady shimmering of Hades' soul.]
[That stunned expression of his is soon replaced by one of utter confusion and befuddlement. Perhaps it is a shame, then, that Hythlodaeus has taken to staring at the earth, for he misses the way Hades' eyes follow him even there, and so too does he miss the way those words summon bright, unmistakable color to his face -- and then does his brow twitch and movement returns.]
[Even so, he is no less perplexed.]
...I have no use for your apology, Hythlodaeus. I've long since ceased being offended by anything that passes your lips.
[He's not being eloquent, he worded it thus for a reason. His head bows, and yet his gaze slides sideways to watch him, questioning.]
But what reason is there in hoping for something that is well out of our control? Should you not, instead, focus your attention upon the life you've currently been gifted?
Whatever it is you're trying to do, you've still more than sufficient opportunity to try. And if this is related to the gratitude you spoke of before, then at least hear my answer before you accept defeat.
[He does not deign answer the last. Of course they will be returning. Eventually, and together.]
[I could. He thinks to himself, at least with regard to hearing the proffered answer. For the focus of his life had already been decided. (...Although oh, were things to go the way he suspected they were to go, with an abject refusal, with this awkwardness permanent, he may very well have to find new purpose. That, in and of itself, is a disconcerting thought.)
He busies himself, in his thoughts, with picking, individually, each leaf that had settled upon him. From inside of his sleeves, upon his legs, even raising himself to a sitting position and tackling the act of removing the leaves from the inside of his hood- his eyes slowly trailing back to Hades as he does so.
And.]
Then you have my apologies regardless. For- [Oh, he really has to put himself in Hades' head to allow the rest to come.] being quite so untoward. Imagine! Almost ending you as well as myself with such a rudimentary miscalculation, then accosting you with such a suggestion!
[A laugh follows, yet it does not show in his eyes. It is dry. Almost as if he indeed, has already ascertained defeat and subsequently, expects a parting. His lower lip then retreats unto his mouth, just for a moment, as if committing the vague taste of the other to memory. As a lesson. A point of failure, to learn from. To never repeat.
His eyes move away oncemore. And a leaf, still within his hand, is crushed.]
If you would prefer to give me your answer, please do. But you should not feel obligated.
[For it is such a ridiculous proposal. He would like to finish- to round his defenses perfectly, to spare Hades at least some awkwardness. ...Yet he finds he cannot.]
[It takes all of Hades' willpower not to smack a hand against his own forehead in an exasperated groan of frustration, but instead he uses it to push himself gradually up off the ground. His robes are still cluttered with leaves and sand, but he chooses to ignore them, for instead...]
[Propriety be damned, he leans over and grasps Hythlodaeus by the forearms to jostle his companion into looking at him properly (or so he can only hope), to stop being such a fool about all of this.]
[Though what Hades is about to do is perhaps even more foolish by half.]
Enough, Hythlodaeus.
Now I will allow that anyone would find reason to run off after witnessing something so unexpected and uninvited, but I will thank you to never apologize for simply making a suggestion in my presence again.
[And here he pulls him closer, gently and with care until the snowy white of his bangs falls on either side of Hythlodaeus' face.]
If you wish to stay, then stay. Did I not just finish telling you that I would never let you go easily?
Should you be so inclined as to follow me into the next life, then remain as you are in this one. I never once rejected your agreement. Though neither would I be the one to propose such a thing on the heels of what you have only just been through.
[Whatever Hades' own feelings, he would not be so callous as to declare any intention when Hythlodaeus has only just begun to smile again following a relationship in tatters. And here again... an empty laugh. Withdrawal. Hades can't help but sigh, feeling all of his efforts to help are fast unraveling at the seams. He looks entirely defeated when he adds, his mouth twitching in dislike for this, hardly one of his favorite works:]
'All my pride at thy feet, I lay, and I shall follow thee throughout the world. From peak to valley, 'cross sea and field, I remain. Yet no cloud, no squall shall hinder us.'
[He changed the line, yes. And it pains him greatly.]
He was expecting something else entirely. Something polite, something decent, something so very proper- a refusal conducted in such an overwhelmingly gentlemanly way most would actually be inclined to offer their thanks for it, despite their broken heart.
Yet that is not what happens. He is reached for- indeed without Hades' usual propriety- urged closer, and held closely. What comes from Hades' mouth is... well, at first, rather close to a refusal. Or more accurately, Hythlodaeus takes what comes as an expansion on what he has taken as refusal, more and more cushioning for the blow- and he wills himself to weather it.
For he does not want to be coddled- he does not want to be lightly let down, and he does not want to merely be the latest in a long line of people that Hades has had to treat kindly.
Yet that is not what happens. His surprise only grows, his eyes only widen, his mouth only becomes more slackjawed as Hades continues, and indeed, he finds himself openly staring.
And once he has regained himself, collected his thoughts:]
You remembered! ...And even better, you did not think to adapt Loveless for this moment.
[Levity, of course. Even in the face of something so serious. A hand rises, to lightly circle the wrist of Hades' right, still at his face. And tentatively, he guides the tips of his fingers to lightly trace his inner wrist.]
Just so I'm entirely clear. [It isn't that he's had a blow to the head. Nor that he's taken leave of his senses. Nor that Hades had thought too much of his senses.] You are prepared to proceed with this?
[The touch is so hesitant and so careful that even in the wake of such levity, Hades knows it for the truth. He does not move, instead allowing it to happen this-- shy and altogether unusual exploration of his inner wrist, and with it he feels something stir in his chest - a shiver without the unpleasant coldness of winter.]
[And here he lets out an entirely predictable huff of indignance - nothing gentlemanly about it.]
Of course I remember. You still wouldn't recognize an exemplary piece of classical literature even if it leapt up off the page and bit you on the nose.
[And a quite pleasing one it is. Hades finds himself staring again, but this time it is not one of stillness, but of looking and seeing, of recognizing exactly what it is he now holds close. And then he frowns, quite softly.]
Should I not be the one to ask such a question? As we both know, it has only been a week since you were last seen moping about in my study as if your entire world had ended.
[And more kindly he adds:]
Are you certain you are prepared for it? You needn't decide today. After all, what's a little waiting between friends? I will still be here.
[But do forgive him the very minor indulgence of sweeping a wisp of hair back behind Hythlodaeus' ear - he'd not touch him anywhere else, not without permission.]
Besides, what is there to prepare for? Already have we known one another for most of our lives. Think of it as a natural progression.
[Yes, so exemplary. So very exemplary, it needs to be called such by every single person that either has or has not read it, rather than allowed to stand on its own merit. His eyes narrow ever so slightly as Hades very much seems, momentarily, about to go on a tirade about the virtues of the piece, his lips curling upward into a smile.
He is about to say something to that effect. Perhaps even he shows signs of faint teasing- but the thought is put aside. For he should respond to what is said next. And so:]
I hope you would not think of yourself as someone I would cling to, in order to simply not feel lonely.
[Or any sort of rebound, thank you very much. His tone is even though, without any trace of joviality, or signs of being affronted. Instead, it is considered, quiet, even... earnest. And it comes with moving himself close once more, inclining his head to press the forepart, gently, against Hades' own.]
...Truth be told... I've held an affection for you for quite a while. If I were to be utterly frank with you, I believe my past three relationships have come to be simply because of your own interest in others, and because I wished to busy myself enough to not interfere in yours. For I could make it appear quite inadvertent.
[His eyes lower at the confession. And gently:]
As for my own, I chose people I thought decent. And those I thought I might be able to fashion each of them into half of what I know you to be. All were found lacking. And so each attempt ended.
[Indeed, the levity and the banter - the expansion of a long ago conversation occasionally revisited - they are all set aside. A crease forms where Hade's eyebrows would point towards one another, and likewise he is left to weigh Hythlodaeus' confession, to consider the words and each further implication.]
[He doesn't rush to answer, and instead frowns slightly in contemplation.]
...I think only that perhaps you should have broached the subject with me this "while" ago, if such has been your reasoning. Although I won't deny that I've played part in some few relationships over the centuries, I quite fail to imagine who it is you speak of in more recent memory. I haven't entered into an arrangement with anyone for well over half a decade now.
[Truly he has no idea. The last of them, surely, was Altima - a relatively brief joining that had occurred not long after he took up the seat of Emet-Selch. Altima had proven woefully unimaginative outside of his writings, and though Emet-Selch remains a fierce supporter of his work and even continues to critique his drafts from time to time (not a terrible trade-off, when he gets to sample them prior to public review), there is simply nothing else to be had.]
And I should hope I know you slightly better than that.
[Although, perhaps, not quite as well as he thought, for all of this to be revealed to him as something unexpected and unseen.]
No, you only attach yourself to that which you find completely and utterly fascinating. And even then, under normal circumstances you are painfully obvious about it.
[A glance, so close that molten gold would be spilling into those brighter, floral-colored eyes if only they were instead focused on his.]
I suppose, then, that these circumstances aren't precisely normal.
[Oh, that crease! Were the subject not such a serious, nor one so honest, he would have very much liked to have given it a little attention. For the other's gaze seems so stern at that very moment, very much like his mask for a fraction of a second. Yet.]
-You have not? Yet I've seen you...
[A hand rises to his chin. And he details, quite extensively at that, a fair number of people of which he has seen Hades with, at times that seemed to convey something within the specified five years. ...All ex-partners, of course. And all of them quite benign- yet on his end, mistook for brief rekindlings.
The truth of which, that only learned at this moment. That Hades had a single design for these people- his ongoing support in their endeavours. It is an easy mistake to make for someone like him- someone who did the exact opposite. Yet it is still...
Unforeseen. And oh, for someone like him that is supposed to see what most choose to conceal, he feels silly.]
Well. That would explain that...
[Yes. Very silly. His eyes drift away, and then he glances at Hades again.]
No, they are not. ...I've allowed my emotions to cloud my judgment, it seems. Imagine.
[And each of these somethings is explained, briefly but patiently. For yes, each ex-partner is someone whom Hades respects, and though they may have ended their mutual arrangement for lack of personal compatibility or to follow purposes which veered off in opposing directions from one another, it would seem that such partings were agreed upon, free of any lingering negative emotions. And when they cross paths in the future, there is no awkward avoidance, no jealousy, no bitterness - at least not on Hades' end from the way he recounts each one.]
...so, as you can see, you would not be interfering with anything.
[The statement is still quite open, yet not demanding of an answer. Neither is there any accusation tucked within.]
[Even so, it still rather boggles the mind that Hythlodaeus, seemingly (if he is understanding the situation correctly) has desired a more intimate connection for at least five years. And not only that, he's sought out substitutions to ease the sting of that which he'd thought was not possible. Had either of them stepped forward at any given time, they could have cut this misunderstanding quite short.]
[The more he thinks on it, the more of these little moments of "affection" begin to fall into place. Each innocent on their own, but together... How foolish of him for never having recognized them for what they truly were.]
Scarcely can I imagine it. But I am grateful nevertheless that we've found reason to clear up this matter. Although I cannot promise you will find that which you're hoping for even with me, I'd not have you continue to settle time after time, and again walk away disappointed.
So to that... I would offer that you see for yourself.
[The context behind each, at this point, hardly needs explanation, and he would raise his voice in protest at it- yet he does not. And as such, they are explained. They make sense in the context that there was nothing within them. Nothing, perhaps, aside from the fact that Hades was a good man, and even after someone had failed to live up to his expectations for whatever reason, painful or not, he wished them no ill. Supported them in their endeavors, even- remained on good terms and did anything and everything he could to help them.
Because that is Hades, he's reminded. (Concealed) goodness. (Far too modest) goodness. Goodness that tends to temper himself in (hilarious) feigned tantrums and complaints to prevent it from being obvious.
And he is endeared by it. So much, actually. And he finds a faint smile coming to him, finds himself drawing closer, finds his lips moving to that crease in his brow by way of smoothing it; and drawing down to his lips again to attempt another.]
Then, I accept. We'll find out if we are on the correct path, together.
[He does attempt to deepen the kiss then, but curiously, he finds Hades' mouth unyielding, incompliant. A faint sound, curious, comes from him, and he moves the tip of his tongue lightly against his lower lip before drawing it into his mouth carefully, by way of encouragement.
[Hythlodaeus will find that Hades remains quite still, but this time it's clear that he isn't appalled by his actions or frozen in shock. No, he accepts the press of a kiss against his brow, and following that his expression does appear to relax - but slightly. His eyelids droop, and a soft smile twitches there at the corner of his mouth just before...]
Very well, then. Together.
[The second kiss he expects, and Hades leans in just enough, his lips soft and chaste, and yet somehow uncompromising. It's...nice, pleasant even, and he does not draw away. However, he's not at all certain what the problem seems to be when that perplexed noise reaches his ears. And then he feels something warm plying against his bottom lip? His brow furrows once again, this time in utter confusion as his eyes blink open and he opens his mouth in clumsy protest.]
[Now is hardly the time to explain. Nor the time to question the (very real) possibility that Hades, for all of his partners, all of his experience, had not done something as simple as this before. For it could not something as strange, as surprising, (as endearing) as that, could it?
He doesn't know. But it is the time to say something, and indeed he does.]
Trust in me.
[It's with affection he says it. And as he says it, his hand moves from the inside of his wrist to the side of his face. The backs of his fingers would caress up the side of his jaw- and settle at the back of his earlobe- just to toy, lightly, with the beginnings of his hair there. Should Hades do as directed and trust, he would find Hythlodaeus repositioning himself to angle his head and kiss him again, this time drawing his lower lip (gently) between his own and sucking on it lightly.
Should it have the desired effect of having Hades draw in his breath in a gasp, he would find the opening exploited and his mouth breached in no short order. Hythlodaeus' tongue would meet his own- affording it a playful flick at first, before it caresses it, circling around it, then pressing against it.
He's... certainly dominant. That's for certain, and perhaps a surprise to Hades, judging by the slow, certain way he's all but staked his claim unto his mouth. But it simply wouldn't do to overdo it. So the kiss is short, broken shortly thereafter, and ended, with a few chaste, light ones to Hades' bottom lip to close.
["Trust in me" he says! As if he didn't just come within yalms of adorning the face of the star as her newest and perhaps most unfortunate landmark. And yet his own soul bids him trust, for it is spoken gently and if he cannot well believe in his closest friend, then what trust is there to be had? He is spared only short moments to reach this decision, for then fingers are brushing the line of his jaw, tickling the fine white tufts at the back of his neck - and if Hythlodaeus had been looking, he would have seen that Hades' soul shudders once more.]
[Not even when he has been transformed before him, bathed triumphantly in darkness as his mortal flesh is discarded like a worn out robe, has he ever felt this exposed. And yet he finds that he isn't precisely horrified by the prospect.]
[And so he trusts. Hades knows there is some manner of trick to this, and when his bottom lip is taken, his head tips back only an ilm so that he might inhale, and prepare, and brace himself for whatever is to happen - his mouth parts for much-needed air to settle the erratic thundering in his chest and is soon invaded utterly.]
[This time he does gasp, heat flashing up his neck to settle across his face. Wide eyes slide shut, fingers grip Hythlodaeus' arms more securely, and his brow creases yet again as he learns the warm, wet and completely unrepentant track of Hythlodaeus' tongue. Kissing had always seemed to him a languid activity, a rather passive display of respect and support and sentimental feeling with variation only in placement and intensity. Like playing a piece of prepared music upon another person's flesh. Not...not this!]
[Whatever this is, it has the various fragments of his being igniting one after another in quick succession - alert and intent and--it seems he's barely afforded any time at all, barely even enough for him to swipe his own tongue (somewhat cautiously) along the side of Hythlodaeus' own before this kiss(!) concludes, and Hades is left to startle back into himself.]
[Oh, but his skin prickles, and unbeknownst to Hades his entire face is flushed as his mouth opens and closes a few times in mute confusion and then he scowls at Hythlodaeus in false anger -- anything, anything to not feel quite so vulnerable or to indicate any disappointment at having it ended so quickly.]
And what, pray tell, was that supposed to be?
[Hythlodaeus' guess is correct. Never before has anyone dared to make such a bold move against the illustrious Emet-Selch.]
My affection. I did mention that I'd deliver it unto you when you least expected it.
[There is a glint of amusement in his eyes- because he hardly needs his Sight to detect that Hades is affected. Why, just by the hue of his skin, he seems very affected. Let alone the fact that his mouth opens and closes akin to a fish out of water! He can't help but laugh. But it's small, muted- and quiet- more a chuckle than anything.]
...Was it not for you?
[A few smaller ones, lighter ones- are then placed upon the bridge of his nose. They're fleeting, gentle- even though Hades himself, in this (fake) furore almost looks like he may very well bite his lips off for his troubles.]
[He's being gently provoked, he knows. As well as granted an invitation. It's almost as clear to him as if Hythlodaeus had looked him dead in the eyes and bid him come and enact his revenge if he disliked his affections so much.]
[But that is precisely it. He didn't dislike it at all. There is no one else here, and if he wishes more, he's all but been given permission to go ahead and try.]
[And he does want more. Overwhelmingly.]
[Almost before Hythlodaeus can voice what a pity it is, he'll find that Hades acts. It isn't so much a bite as it is a light pinch - just enough to grant him purchase, to keep those lips from pulling away that his own tongue might press against them seeking entrance. He would make a thorough study of it, if he is allowed. And should Hythlodaeus' "affection" stand as an accurate example, he suspects he can reenact what only just occurred to similar if not equal consequence.]
[If it is not yet for him, he can make it so. Never before has he...]
[So do forgive him if he's too preoccupied to answer.]
[They must be a sight, the pair of them- two grown men sitting in a pile of leaves, doing this. Yet Hythlodaeus is quietly confident they would not be happened upon by anyone unfortunate enough to take in the sight. For the pile of leaves they're in stretches across the entirety of the woodland's ground, marking it as somewhere uninhabited, unsettled. Devoid even of subtle signs of animal life, for no birdcalls fill the air. Just the swaying of the trees in the wind.
By himself, he is more than certain he would dislike the silence. He's most certain he would dislike this place. Yet with Hades, he finds he likes it very much. Even, hypothetically, were they to be stumbled upon by one of the very first researchers to eventually settle this place and bring it purpose, life- without their masks nothing, save for their souls, marks them as who they are. Unmasked, they are very much anonymous. Two deviants, absolutely- to go about like this. Yet nothing more. There is no danger.
Still. He makes a faintly surprised noise when he finds his lower lip held between Hades' teeth, his eyebrows raising just faintly as he realises that the other intends to emulate.
And far be it for him to refuse. A muffled, ever-so-slightly amused sound then comes from him, and he (of course!) parts his lips to allow the other entrance, lowering his arm to hold Hades close... but oh, should Hades fancy Hythlodaeus would provide the same level of (shocked) tolerance, he would be gravely mistaken. For as soon as his tongue finds its way into Hythlodaeus' mouth, it would find itself beset with, sparred with, his own.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cracks knuckles!
One jolt, two jolts, three- at the third, he's jolted toward Hades, his vision is marred by the sensation of moving to the side, of a black cowl, of hair the purest of white(?)- and the pair of them are thrown over each other, tumbling over, under, over, under- skidding and sliding and rolling and-
A bump, and a stop.
And Hades is above him, his weight enough to push him down unto the sand just slightly. He is looking up, and at the sound of the other's voice, that reticent, almost overexaggeratedly hurt tone that so often comes out when he begins to complain, he opens his eyes with a faint smirk on his lips to properly enjoy the fruits of his handiwork.
...And.
Oh. Hades' hood is still up, yes. But his mask...
There is a strong brow. Yet is is flesh and bone- quivering with a myriad of microscopic little lines between, and there is that hair again. It is so bright. It simply is as perfectly white as a first snow, and his skin is akin to marble. Pale, yes. But strong. Unblemished. And eyes- two quite beautiful, actually, yet intent eyes- ones that display the signs of an apparent lack of sleep in dark circles below but are piercing.
Why is he looking.
His eyes are wide as he stares up at Hades, his long-awaited, long-anticipated tirade falling upon deaf ears. And quickly, without response, without thought, he vanishes from beneath him in another portal.
This one has no aether trail.]
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[And then his own eyes widen as he realizes that his own cowl is gathered around his neck. The familiar covering that always rests upon his nose, that outlines his entire world in shadowed red - it is gone. His mask is off. He is utterly and shamelessly barefaced before him.]
[Before he can even act Hythlodaeus vanishes, and Hades stumbles into the empty space where once he had been, the red lacquer mask revealed half-buried in the sand just out of arm's reach. Hades lunges for it and scrambles to his feet as he casts about for his friend. His heart is beating madly in his throat, and yet he cannot feel the slightest trace of his presence. It is simply not there, replaced instead by a sinking, leaden sensation in the pit of his stomach.]
['Focus,' he reminds himself. And he reaches. And he looks. Hythlodaeus has fled very far away, hovering just along the edge of his perception as a flickering sphere of pastel green -- and...]
['No!']
[Without sparing a moment more to replace his mask, Hades thrusts himself into yet another space almost before the portal can fully form.]
Hythlodaeus, watch out!
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Oh no.
He can see clouds below. Clouds that swiftly turn into treetops which depict some ancient woodland growing larger and larger by the second and-
He tries. He really tries to conjure another portal. Something, anything to collect him and open out unto lower elevation but-
It's not working. His mind is in panic, his fingers are fumbling, he's falling and falling and falling and-
He can't breathe. He's seconds away from passing out and he's wholly certain this will be the end of him. There would be no surviving it. His vessel would be torn to pieces by the boughs of the trees, what left would be utterly broken upon the land below.
And his soul...
It would return early. Too early.
The thought has him thrash in the air all the more, yet by the time he is close to realizing the first of his predictions, his body is almost limp, unmoving.
Until he is saved. His mind's eye sees the aether below him (or is it to the side?) and his vision fills with an unfathomable colour. A purple both deep, and vibrant. ...Has he already returned? Is this the Underworld, and is this a last visit?
His question is answered when the portal reopens. And he finds himself not floating, no drifting, for there is no ebb and no flow. Instead...
...Leaves. From their impact, fluttering gently down throughout his field of vision. And oh. He needs to remind himself to breathe. So breathe he does- a great, loud inhale and then a coughed exhale, and now he is unaware he is without his mask. ....Not that it even occurs to him to check. For there are arms around him and-]
....
Y-you-
[Saved him, yes. Normally, he would not insult Hades by stating something so asinine. Yet...
He's still hyperventilating, okay.]
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[And he hopes that Hythlodaeus appreciates that such an act in itself was no small feat. To leap into rushing oblivion at a close enough distance to capture and grasp his thrashing and then suddenly limp form, to have the presence of mind to pry open another portal by force, one to hover there in the midst of the sky big enough for the two of them to plummet into...]
[It's pure good fortune that has them sprawled on a bed of multicolored leaves, Hades' own breathing a ragged rasp as the pulse beneath Hythlodaeus' hands thunders and storms ceaselessly.]
[And yet Hades' grasp on him does not loosen, and there is no eruption of worried shouting and fuming. He's--still maskless, he knows. And before Hythlodaeus can panic even further, a strong hand cradles the back of his head and (quite carefully) tilts him into the crook of one broad shoulder.]
Don't look, then. You're safe.
[Dimly he's aware that his fingers find themselves buried not in the creases of his hood, for it is far too soft and sleek. Lilac... Just like those rebellious locks from the halcyon days of their youth. Back when he found this person completely and hopelessly insufferable.]
[Not much has changed in all that time, but perhaps now Hades does not find his ability to be a curse in the slightest. Normally he would shepherd souls after they have begun their descent back unto the star, but for his closest friend, he will make an exception just this once.]
[And at last he huffs.]
Although I've no doubt you'd make a fascinating addition to the Lifestream, I suspect neither you nor the Underworld are yet prepared for it.
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But a combination of things- Hades' considered tone, the firm, unshaken shoulder- the way he smells so... nice when so close, as well as his fingers threaded through his now loose hair cause him to calm some. Yet it is slow.
And it does not come without his body's last act of rebellion. A secret, told. Though muffled.]
I would not like to return without you. Under any circumstance.
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[But for all it may be the sort of prattle one spills in the face of imminent and unexpected death, he does not think it untrue.]
[He is, perhaps, one of the very worst people on this star for calming anyone, but at last Hades lets his palm stroke over that hair - just once, cautiously. He tries not to let himself be distracted by the way their bodies seem to fold all too perfectly against one another, or by the feelings that stir inside his breast at being so clung to, as if he is someone else's salvation, a pillar, a hero.]
[...Pure rubbish, that. And yet he would be, if such a role were needed.]
As if I'd let you go that easily. Worry not, the Underworld and I are on quite familiar terms. If I so wanted, I could simply pluck you back out again.
...Besides, it'd be far too quiet if you were gone. How ever would I concentrate on anything without you constantly interrupting my work to assault me with your affections?
Perhaps you'll be the last soul I usher unto the star before relinquishing my seat to another.
[Oh, it's meant to be the dramatics that Hythlodaeus knows so well, yet the moment the last of the words leave him, Hades becomes aware that... they are all precisely true. How dreadful his days would be without Hythlodaeus here to pester him. How normal and expected, even anticipated, have such antics become...]
[...]
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Yet nonetheless, he is calmed. He is soothed- and he feels his heart slow- cease feeling as if it is to burst from his chest, and rise, slightly- into the back of his throat. He pulls his head from where it is cradled upon one of the other's shoulders, and he looks up to him.
What Hades sees would be lightly tanned skin. Impossibly high cheekbones, thick yet shapely eyebrows and large eyes with a bright pink light emitting from them, complimenting the lilac colouring of his hair. His visage is completed with a narrow nose, and full lips. And...]
I would not be your last. ...I would travel with you. Side-by-side, in the hope of being fortunate enough to spend my next life with you. As a friend, or...
[He casts his gaze downward. And he shifts slightly, bringing his hand to the side of Hades' face, taking the shape of his jaw. And then he leans upward, to lightly, tentatively touch his lips against his. And against them, he speaks.]
If you are in agreement.
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[He cannot.]
[In place of a mask is perhaps the most lovely thing Hades has ever laid eyes. An altogether beautiful face, and eyes he can well imagine being filled with no small amount of laughter and mischief.]
[He can barely make sense of the words, even so coming from that familiar mouth in that pleasant voice he knows so, so well.]
[This is Hythlodaeus?]
[But it must be; of course it is. And he is...staring at him like a complete imbecile. His deep-set eyes are as wide as they can possibly expand, so stunned that Hythlodaeus could easily lounge there and count each of the brighter flecks that surround the dark pupils honed on this visage that slowly fills every corner of his awareness.]
["Or?" He wonders dimly. And then he is being kissed so very softly, and the feel of fingers against his bare cheek proves both startling and mesmerizing.]
[It's very nearly terrifying, how deeply he wants to return that kiss all of a sudden, to crush his face against his and refuse to let him go. And yet, he cannot bring himself to move or utter even a word in response.]
["Or?" Hythlodaeus couldn't possibly be implying that he imagines them in a future life as lovers... could he? For what reason? Since when? Besides, they hardly need wait until the next life for such an arrangement!]
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[]Astute and as keensighted as he is, it is not entirely within his power to read every situation. And oh, he's misreading this one. Hades' silence indicates horror to him, his lack of movement indicates a faint disgust. And... Oh, he feels his heart sink.
Well, he's certainly put his foot in it. Or so it seems. A breath comes from him, rueful, short- and he pulls himself away, keeping his eyes on the ground. Really, this is quite the awful week. A relationship totaled. A friendship totaled.
And oh, the thought of the friendship ending has him feel worse- far worse- than he had expected. Hades' silence is met with his own as he stares down unto the withered leaves, and he almost wishes, just slightly, that the mound would part. That it would swallow him whole, entirely and utterly, and that...
He would be out of sight. Out of perception. Utterly and entirely gone, just so that this wouldn't be half as awkward as it was.
He wills himself to speak- his tone foreign to himself, voice sounding, to him, like someone else entirely was speaking.]
Well. If one were to be charitable about this whole situation, I should not be blamed for trying. You are quite handsome underneath that mask, after all.
[Oh, that was pathetic. His hand moves to the side of his head, brushing a few stray wisps of lilac behind his head.]
...My apologies for offending you.
[And quickly:]
Shall we return?
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[That stunned expression of his is soon replaced by one of utter confusion and befuddlement. Perhaps it is a shame, then, that Hythlodaeus has taken to staring at the earth, for he misses the way Hades' eyes follow him even there, and so too does he miss the way those words summon bright, unmistakable color to his face -- and then does his brow twitch and movement returns.]
[Even so, he is no less perplexed.]
...I have no use for your apology, Hythlodaeus. I've long since ceased being offended by anything that passes your lips.
[He's not being eloquent, he worded it thus for a reason. His head bows, and yet his gaze slides sideways to watch him, questioning.]
But what reason is there in hoping for something that is well out of our control? Should you not, instead, focus your attention upon the life you've currently been gifted?
Whatever it is you're trying to do, you've still more than sufficient opportunity to try. And if this is related to the gratitude you spoke of before, then at least hear my answer before you accept defeat.
[He does not deign answer the last. Of course they will be returning. Eventually, and together.]
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He busies himself, in his thoughts, with picking, individually, each leaf that had settled upon him. From inside of his sleeves, upon his legs, even raising himself to a sitting position and tackling the act of removing the leaves from the inside of his hood- his eyes slowly trailing back to Hades as he does so.
And.]
Then you have my apologies regardless. For- [Oh, he really has to put himself in Hades' head to allow the rest to come.] being quite so untoward. Imagine! Almost ending you as well as myself with such a rudimentary miscalculation, then accosting you with such a suggestion!
[A laugh follows, yet it does not show in his eyes. It is dry. Almost as if he indeed, has already ascertained defeat and subsequently, expects a parting. His lower lip then retreats unto his mouth, just for a moment, as if committing the vague taste of the other to memory. As a lesson. A point of failure, to learn from. To never repeat.
His eyes move away oncemore. And a leaf, still within his hand, is crushed.]
If you would prefer to give me your answer, please do. But you should not feel obligated.
[For it is such a ridiculous proposal. He would like to finish- to round his defenses perfectly, to spare Hades at least some awkwardness. ...Yet he finds he cannot.]
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[Propriety be damned, he leans over and grasps Hythlodaeus by the forearms to jostle his companion into looking at him properly (or so he can only hope), to stop being such a fool about all of this.]
[Though what Hades is about to do is perhaps even more foolish by half.]
Enough, Hythlodaeus.
Now I will allow that anyone would find reason to run off after witnessing something so unexpected and uninvited, but I will thank you to never apologize for simply making a suggestion in my presence again.
[And here he pulls him closer, gently and with care until the snowy white of his bangs falls on either side of Hythlodaeus' face.]
If you wish to stay, then stay. Did I not just finish telling you that I would never let you go easily?
Should you be so inclined as to follow me into the next life, then remain as you are in this one. I never once rejected your agreement. Though neither would I be the one to propose such a thing on the heels of what you have only just been through.
[Whatever Hades' own feelings, he would not be so callous as to declare any intention when Hythlodaeus has only just begun to smile again following a relationship in tatters. And here again... an empty laugh. Withdrawal. Hades can't help but sigh, feeling all of his efforts to help are fast unraveling at the seams. He looks entirely defeated when he adds, his mouth twitching in dislike for this, hardly one of his favorite works:]
'All my pride at thy feet, I lay, and I shall follow thee throughout the world. From peak to valley, 'cross sea and field, I remain. Yet no cloud, no squall shall hinder us.'
[He changed the line, yes. And it pains him greatly.]
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He was expecting something else entirely. Something polite, something decent, something so very proper- a refusal conducted in such an overwhelmingly gentlemanly way most would actually be inclined to offer their thanks for it, despite their broken heart.
Yet that is not what happens.
He is reached for- indeed without Hades' usual propriety- urged closer, and held closely. What comes from Hades' mouth is... well, at first, rather close to a refusal. Or more accurately, Hythlodaeus takes what comes as an expansion on what he has taken as refusal, more and more cushioning for the blow- and he wills himself to weather it.
For he does not want to be coddled- he does not want to be lightly let down, and he does not want to merely be the latest in a long line of people that Hades has had to treat kindly.
Yet that is not what happens.
His surprise only grows, his eyes only widen, his mouth only becomes more slackjawed as Hades continues, and indeed, he finds himself openly staring.
And once he has regained himself, collected his thoughts:]
You remembered! ...And even better, you did not think to adapt Loveless for this moment.
[Levity, of course. Even in the face of something so serious. A hand rises, to lightly circle the wrist of Hades' right, still at his face. And tentatively, he guides the tips of his fingers to lightly trace his inner wrist.]
Just so I'm entirely clear. [It isn't that he's had a blow to the head. Nor that he's taken leave of his senses. Nor that Hades had thought too much of his senses.] You are prepared to proceed with this?
[It's faint disbelief, if he's honest.]
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[And here he lets out an entirely predictable huff of indignance - nothing gentlemanly about it.]
Of course I remember. You still wouldn't recognize an exemplary piece of classical literature even if it leapt up off the page and bit you on the nose.
[And a quite pleasing one it is. Hades finds himself staring again, but this time it is not one of stillness, but of looking and seeing, of recognizing exactly what it is he now holds close. And then he frowns, quite softly.]
Should I not be the one to ask such a question? As we both know, it has only been a week since you were last seen moping about in my study as if your entire world had ended.
[And more kindly he adds:]
Are you certain you are prepared for it? You needn't decide today. After all, what's a little waiting between friends? I will still be here.
[But do forgive him the very minor indulgence of sweeping a wisp of hair back behind Hythlodaeus' ear - he'd not touch him anywhere else, not without permission.]
Besides, what is there to prepare for? Already have we known one another for most of our lives. Think of it as a natural progression.
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He is about to say something to that effect. Perhaps even he shows signs of faint teasing- but the thought is put aside. For he should respond to what is said next. And so:]
I hope you would not think of yourself as someone I would cling to, in order to simply not feel lonely.
[Or any sort of rebound, thank you very much. His tone is even though, without any trace of joviality, or signs of being affronted. Instead, it is considered, quiet, even... earnest. And it comes with moving himself close once more, inclining his head to press the forepart, gently, against Hades' own.]
...Truth be told... I've held an affection for you for quite a while. If I were to be utterly frank with you, I believe my past three relationships have come to be simply because of your own interest in others, and because I wished to busy myself enough to not interfere in yours. For I could make it appear quite inadvertent.
[His eyes lower at the confession. And gently:]
As for my own, I chose people I thought decent. And those I thought I might be able to fashion each of them into half of what I know you to be. All were found lacking. And so each attempt ended.
...Do you think less of me for it?
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[He doesn't rush to answer, and instead frowns slightly in contemplation.]
...I think only that perhaps you should have broached the subject with me this "while" ago, if such has been your reasoning. Although I won't deny that I've played part in some few relationships over the centuries, I quite fail to imagine who it is you speak of in more recent memory. I haven't entered into an arrangement with anyone for well over half a decade now.
[Truly he has no idea. The last of them, surely, was Altima - a relatively brief joining that had occurred not long after he took up the seat of Emet-Selch. Altima had proven woefully unimaginative outside of his writings, and though Emet-Selch remains a fierce supporter of his work and even continues to critique his drafts from time to time (not a terrible trade-off, when he gets to sample them prior to public review), there is simply nothing else to be had.]
And I should hope I know you slightly better than that.
[Although, perhaps, not quite as well as he thought, for all of this to be revealed to him as something unexpected and unseen.]
No, you only attach yourself to that which you find completely and utterly fascinating. And even then, under normal circumstances you are painfully obvious about it.
[A glance, so close that molten gold would be spilling into those brighter, floral-colored eyes if only they were instead focused on his.]
I suppose, then, that these circumstances aren't precisely normal.
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-You have not? Yet I've seen you...
[A hand rises to his chin. And he details, quite extensively at that, a fair number of people of which he has seen Hades with, at times that seemed to convey something within the specified five years. ...All ex-partners, of course. And all of them quite benign- yet on his end, mistook for brief rekindlings.
The truth of which, that only learned at this moment. That Hades had a single design for these people- his ongoing support in their endeavours. It is an easy mistake to make for someone like him- someone who did the exact opposite. Yet it is still...
Unforeseen.
And oh, for someone like him that is supposed to see what most choose to conceal, he feels silly.]
Well. That would explain that...
[Yes. Very silly. His eyes drift away, and then he glances at Hades again.]
No, they are not. ...I've allowed my emotions to cloud my judgment, it seems. Imagine.
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...so, as you can see, you would not be interfering with anything.
[The statement is still quite open, yet not demanding of an answer. Neither is there any accusation tucked within.]
[Even so, it still rather boggles the mind that Hythlodaeus, seemingly (if he is understanding the situation correctly) has desired a more intimate connection for at least five years. And not only that, he's sought out substitutions to ease the sting of that which he'd thought was not possible. Had either of them stepped forward at any given time, they could have cut this misunderstanding quite short.]
[The more he thinks on it, the more of these little moments of "affection" begin to fall into place. Each innocent on their own, but together... How foolish of him for never having recognized them for what they truly were.]
Scarcely can I imagine it. But I am grateful nevertheless that we've found reason to clear up this matter. Although I cannot promise you will find that which you're hoping for even with me, I'd not have you continue to settle time after time, and again walk away disappointed.
So to that... I would offer that you see for yourself.
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Because that is Hades, he's reminded. (Concealed) goodness. (Far too modest) goodness. Goodness that tends to temper himself in (hilarious) feigned tantrums and complaints to prevent it from being obvious.
And he is endeared by it. So much, actually. And he finds a faint smile coming to him, finds himself drawing closer, finds his lips moving to that crease in his brow by way of smoothing it; and drawing down to his lips again to attempt another.]
Then, I accept. We'll find out if we are on the correct path, together.
[He does attempt to deepen the kiss then, but curiously, he finds Hades' mouth unyielding, incompliant. A faint sound, curious, comes from him, and he moves the tip of his tongue lightly against his lower lip before drawing it into his mouth carefully, by way of encouragement.
...Maybe now?]
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Very well, then. Together.
[The second kiss he expects, and Hades leans in just enough, his lips soft and chaste, and yet somehow uncompromising. It's...nice, pleasant even, and he does not draw away. However, he's not at all certain what the problem seems to be when that perplexed noise reaches his ears. And then he feels something warm plying against his bottom lip? His brow furrows once again, this time in utter confusion as his eyes blink open and he opens his mouth in clumsy protest.]
What are you...?
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He doesn't know. But it is the time to say something, and indeed he does.]
Trust in me.
[It's with affection he says it. And as he says it, his hand moves from the inside of his wrist to the side of his face. The backs of his fingers would caress up the side of his jaw- and settle at the back of his earlobe- just to toy, lightly, with the beginnings of his hair there. Should Hades do as directed and trust, he would find Hythlodaeus repositioning himself to angle his head and kiss him again, this time drawing his lower lip (gently) between his own and sucking on it lightly.
Should it have the desired effect of having Hades draw in his breath in a gasp, he would find the opening exploited and his mouth breached in no short order. Hythlodaeus' tongue would meet his own- affording it a playful flick at first, before it caresses it, circling around it, then pressing against it.
He's... certainly dominant. That's for certain, and perhaps a surprise to Hades, judging by the slow, certain way he's all but staked his claim unto his mouth. But it simply wouldn't do to overdo it. So the kiss is short, broken shortly thereafter, and ended, with a few chaste, light ones to Hades' bottom lip to close.
And.]
You seem surprised.
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[Not even when he has been transformed before him, bathed triumphantly in darkness as his mortal flesh is discarded like a worn out robe, has he ever felt this exposed. And yet he finds that he isn't precisely horrified by the prospect.]
[And so he trusts. Hades knows there is some manner of trick to this, and when his bottom lip is taken, his head tips back only an ilm so that he might inhale, and prepare, and brace himself for whatever is to happen - his mouth parts for much-needed air to settle the erratic thundering in his chest and is soon invaded utterly.]
[This time he does gasp, heat flashing up his neck to settle across his face. Wide eyes slide shut, fingers grip Hythlodaeus' arms more securely, and his brow creases yet again as he learns the warm, wet and completely unrepentant track of Hythlodaeus' tongue. Kissing had always seemed to him a languid activity, a rather passive display of respect and support and sentimental feeling with variation only in placement and intensity. Like playing a piece of prepared music upon another person's flesh. Not...not this!]
[Whatever this is, it has the various fragments of his being igniting one after another in quick succession - alert and intent and--it seems he's barely afforded any time at all, barely even enough for him to swipe his own tongue (somewhat cautiously) along the side of Hythlodaeus' own before this kiss(!) concludes, and Hades is left to startle back into himself.]
[Oh, but his skin prickles, and unbeknownst to Hades his entire face is flushed as his mouth opens and closes a few times in mute confusion and then he scowls at Hythlodaeus in false anger -- anything, anything to not feel quite so vulnerable or to indicate any disappointment at having it ended so quickly.]
And what, pray tell, was that supposed to be?
[Hythlodaeus' guess is correct. Never before has anyone dared to make such a bold move against the illustrious Emet-Selch.]
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[There is a glint of amusement in his eyes- because he hardly needs his Sight to detect that Hades is affected. Why, just by the hue of his skin, he seems very affected. Let alone the fact that his mouth opens and closes akin to a fish out of water! He can't help but laugh. But it's small, muted- and quiet- more a chuckle than anything.]
...Was it not for you?
[A few smaller ones, lighter ones- are then placed upon the bridge of his nose. They're fleeting, gentle- even though Hades himself, in this (fake) furore almost looks like he may very well bite his lips off for his troubles.]
Oh, what a pity. I rather enjoyed it.
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[He's being gently provoked, he knows. As well as granted an invitation. It's almost as clear to him as if Hythlodaeus had looked him dead in the eyes and bid him come and enact his revenge if he disliked his affections so much.]
[But that is precisely it. He didn't dislike it at all. There is no one else here, and if he wishes more, he's all but been given permission to go ahead and try.]
[And he does want more. Overwhelmingly.]
[Almost before Hythlodaeus can voice what a pity it is, he'll find that Hades acts. It isn't so much a bite as it is a light pinch - just enough to grant him purchase, to keep those lips from pulling away that his own tongue might press against them seeking entrance. He would make a thorough study of it, if he is allowed. And should Hythlodaeus' "affection" stand as an accurate example, he suspects he can reenact what only just occurred to similar if not equal consequence.]
[If it is not yet for him, he can make it so. Never before has he...]
[So do forgive him if he's too preoccupied to answer.]
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By himself, he is more than certain he would dislike the silence. He's most certain he would dislike this place. Yet with Hades, he finds he likes it very much. Even, hypothetically, were they to be stumbled upon by one of the very first researchers to eventually settle this place and bring it purpose, life- without their masks nothing, save for their souls, marks them as who they are. Unmasked, they are very much anonymous. Two deviants, absolutely- to go about like this. Yet nothing more. There is no danger.
Still. He makes a faintly surprised noise when he finds his lower lip held between Hades' teeth, his eyebrows raising just faintly as he realises that the other intends to emulate.
And far be it for him to refuse. A muffled, ever-so-slightly amused sound then comes from him, and he (of course!) parts his lips to allow the other entrance, lowering his arm to hold Hades close... but oh, should Hades fancy Hythlodaeus would provide the same level of (shocked) tolerance, he would be gravely mistaken. For as soon as his tongue finds its way into Hythlodaeus' mouth, it would find itself beset with, sparred with, his own.]
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I was wondering when you'd use that icon.
hades in pjs is perfect usage tbh
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