To serve, I think. Best not to make it too complicated, lest you get hung up on playing politics.
[ Also because it's another line he can put for himself in the role; he'd never take advantage of his people in that way, someone's willingness aside. ]
[ Mydeimos laughs affectionately, reaching up to pet an ear again. ]
Be a good boy and meet me in my room in an hour, all right?
[ As his hand falls away, his fingers graze Phainon's cheek. Again he's tempted to leave a kiss there, or to pull him in for a proper one. The hesitance might even be noticeable; ultimately he pulls away though, to head upstairs. ]
[ The good boy, the pause, the way Phainon, too, leans in, almost too hesitant - his eyes dart over Mydei's face before he swallows.
He wants to kiss him again. He wants it desperately. It had felt like too much, the last time, but now... Now, the idea of not kissing him pains him more than he can say.
[ Mydeimos nods before he makes a tactical retreat up to his room, the urge to lean back in overwhelming. He uses the time to take a quick shower, unbraiding his hair. He keeps the arousal going by thinking of Phainon, the way he touched him; slowly, he forms a more moderately sized crystal throne, placing some pillows on it and at the foot.
He debates over an outfit before he settles on one that can barely be called clothes, forgoing the collar and attached fabric but keeping the armbands and his normal jewelry. Before he knows it his time is almost up, and he gives himself one last glance before making sure the door is unlocked and settling himself on the throne.
When the knock finally comes, he calls out, command in his voice: ] You may enter.
[ Phainon spends the next hour basically... Pacing.
It's hard to focus, a low burning inside of him, a longing. He wants Mydei, now, and having to wait is a delicious kind of torture. He keeps staring at the clock, waiting for the hours to change, waiting to sink into this - to enjoy the game of it, their new understanding empowering them both. He doesn't necessarily expect Mydei to push his boundaries too far tonight, but who knows.
When the time ticks over, finally, he changes. He wears a looser outfit, something easy to take off, less formal. He looks more like a dressed down guard than the man he is at heart, and when he finally gets into Mydei's room...
His voice disappears.
Mydeimos looks beautiful like this, and he has to force himself to breathe, to offer a proper Kremnoan greeting as he steps into the room, door shutting behind him. ]
[ If Phainon ever imagined Mydeimos to hold court it probably did look something like this, minus the salacious outfit; he sits comfortably on the throne, one leg bent to rest on it, resting an elbow on one crystalline red arm and leaning his face against his hand.
He doesn't play at disinterested, just leans into the trappings that Krateros had once expected of him for a time, beckoning Phainon over with his unoccupied hand. Once he's close enough he's quick to grab him by the chin, forcing him to kneel on a pillow if he wasn't already going for the motion. His touch is firm, but not intentionally painful - not yet. ]
You've been busy as of late. I was starting to think you'd forgotten me.
[ Whether he's casting Phainon as a whore or a guard he'll leave up to the other man, but he lets a hint of jealousy color his tone. ]
[ Phainon is going to kneel as soon as the option is there, even if Mydeimos hadn't chosen to urge him that way, to encourage him to sit, to make his place, to settle down. Even without the mantle of the scene around him, he feels the urge so naturally that it is hard not to give into the urge, his expression devouring as he looks up at the other man.
No wonder Mydeimos was so loved. How many of his soldiers desired him, thought of him like this? How many men looked upon him with such want? Phainon could not fault them, even as he feels his envy blossom.
Looking a little chagrined, ashamed, Phainon tries not to pout. He is here to serve, and so his face is gentle, open. ]
Forget you? Like I'd ever. [ He leans forward, into the touch. ] I have longed to return to your side. Perhaps it was you who had forgotten me.
[ Mydeimos smirks - a familiar expression, but now it's tinged with an edge of haughtiness that he often forgoes with Phainon. It's easy to see the shift of muscle under his body as he leans forward; he traded the everyday studs of his chest piercings for something else, gold hoops with red gems on them. ]
As if I could ever forget this mouth.
[ He lets his thumb move to press against his bottom lip, but doesn't dip his fingers in like he wants to, not yet. ]
It has been too long since I've felt it, though.
[ The way he slides his leg down so his legs are spread, only the thin strips of cloth and chain to cover him, is Not Subtle. ]
[ Phainon fights back the hiss, the strange, sudden urge to shove his face between Mydei's legs, at least trying to cling to the pretence of self-control. It's hard, and he has to really focus, but they're trying something new, and he is determined to do his best. He is very good at playing a role. ]
I have been lax in my service. You might allow me to rectify it.
[ A flick of his tongue against Mydei's thumb, eyes unblinking. ]
[ Mydeimos wouldn't have been mad if he'd decided to hell with the scene and gone off on his own - it's always flattering to be wanted that badly. There's something intoxicating about knowing Phainon is doing his best though.
(There's also something intoxicating about playing roles that are close but not the same as ones they've done before. Mydeimos has never taken lovers like this; Phainon was not a common soldier very long. It's a whimsical what-if.) ]
Remind me, then.
[ He's tempted to call Phainon by name but not sure if that would break the spell, so he doesn't. Instead he offers his indulgent command, letting go of his face to lean back, expectant. Mydeimos is usually far more active, so there's something to be said about forcing himself to sit back and let Phainon work, too. ]
[ Phainon does want him, badly, and isn’t that the problem, isn’t that his Achilles heel?
Thirty three million lifetimes and he feels as if he’s craved Mydei in too many of them, his closeness, his warmth, the low timbre of his laughter, his friendship. Phainon and Mydei had come as a pair for so long that it feels fitting and right to be here at his side, to fall into anything and everything that he could imagine. His devotion is an endless cycle, and even the breaking of their own doesn’t cease it.
His heart is racing in his chest as he hums, all coy and sweet. ]
Of course, my liege.
[ Body moving, Phainon settles between his friend’s legs. His hands slide up, tracing the muscle, the shape, the raw strength. He pushes fabric aside in a gentle exploration, seeking his prize - a handsome, perfect cock, that his fingers touch before his mind can catch up with it. He laughs, a little embarrassed by his desperation. ]
[ The amount of time they've spent together are entire lives in their own right; to say nothing of cycles where they were born or met earlier, and spent hundreds of years together before the Flame Chase ended.
The strongest feeling Mydeimos has of them is that there was never enough time; time to do what they wanted, time to get to know each other. It feels strangely easy to imagine Phainon at his feet, kneeling because he wants to (because he is).
The eagerness with which Phainon's hands descend on him does not go unnoticed, though the only hint is a quirk of Mydei's mouth in a smile before he melts his expression back into a haughty one. ]
Take your time. I'm feeling indulgent tonight.
[ He carves out a little space for these characters to not rush. He does move his hand again to curl it into soft white hair, unable to stop himself from touching, though he doesn't yank or direct Phainon (yet). ]
[ Phainon bleeds into the role, unable to help himself.
The urge to give and give is something he is incapable of ignoring or denying, a part of himself that is incapable. He wants to carry all the burdens of the world, to be the one to ease the hurts of his friends, to take their pain and replace it with pleasure. The deep well of affection is swelling, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.
Offering sex to them seems an easy solution, his heart warm, hot, teetering on the edge of something else. When he finally lets himself take what he wants, fingers stroking between Mydei’s thighs, the soft edge of his sac, up to his cock, to take it in hand.
[ Mydeimos can't help the small shudder of pleasure that ripples through his body at Phainon's fingers stroking over him almost lovingly. How long has it been since they last indulged? Long enough for him to miss it urgently. ]
I give what I'm given from my subject.
[ Saying that makes a hot flush of arousal go up his spine. Thinking of Phainon draped in his red and gold, like a mark of ownership. His jealousy is always an odd thing; he wants Phainon to have all the attention here, as he deserves it, but the urge to leave his own marks over those that remain persists.
He shifts so that his legs cage in Phainon on either side, so that all he can see and smell and feel is Mydeimos, using his oppressive power not to threaten, but to force all distractions away. ]
Then you must find this devotion often, my liege, as you treat us so well.
[ It's impossible to look elsewhere, to let his gaze drift, when the thing that has been on his mind is right in front of him. Phainon had never understood some of the scrolls and books he had devoured when he had been studying, edging on illicit, but he thinks it is settling around him now. He thinks it is impossible not to comprehend such deep, desperate desire.
It all makes sense, now.
His technique is a little more practiced now, and it is as if he really is some bed partner for his dear prince, letting his hand glide over him, his lips trail against those handsome legs. Phainon doesn't want to tease, necessarily, but he does want to enjoy himself, flushed and excited already. ]
[ Mydeimos hums in approval at the hand stroking him, and the lips tracing the markings on his thighs. There is something truly indulgent about seeing Phainon like this, focused entirely on his task and nothing else.
What a good soldier he was - would be. Devoted entirely to the Kremnoan prince. The thought makes him shudder again, hips shifting upwards. ]
Yet it is your devotion I seek most often, and ache without.
[ The words are... a little more honest than he intends but fit the role. ]
[ Phainon's lips are pleased, a touch smug, as his hand teases, a temptation.
He wonders if Mydeimos will urge him on, make demands, order him, as he has done in the past, or if he will be benevolent as a prince, letting his bedmate do as he pleases. He's not sure what he would prefer, but he awaits the discovery with great eagerness. ]
You could call upon me more. I remain most eager to serve you.
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[ Careful, he kisses Mydei's neck. Tempting, too tempting. ]
You sound like you have an idea in mind.
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What if you were mine?
[ IT HANGS JUST A MOMENT TOO LONG before he adds: ]
A warrior of the detachment, I mean, instead of Okhema's hero.
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He looks... Curious. ]
Have I come to relay a message? To serve my warrior prince?
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To serve, I think. Best not to make it too complicated, lest you get hung up on playing politics.
[ Also because it's another line he can put for himself in the role; he'd never take advantage of his people in that way, someone's willingness aside. ]
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[ His fingers trail along Mydei's body, against his stomach, palm flat as he smiles. ]
Have you been left wanting for too long?
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Perhaps. My favorite attendant has been busy for quite some time, it seems.
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And left you with such longing? For shame. We must repair such terrible circumstances.
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[ The hands fall to his, and he threads their fingers together, though his tone is serious when he speaks again. ]
Should you want to do this now, you'll have to give me some time to set the scene.
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I can be patient, I suppose. But only so patient!
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Be a good boy and meet me in my room in an hour, all right?
[ As his hand falls away, his fingers graze Phainon's cheek. Again he's tempted to leave a kiss there, or to pull him in for a proper one. The hesitance might even be noticeable; ultimately he pulls away though, to head upstairs. ]
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He wants to kiss him again. He wants it desperately. It had felt like too much, the last time, but now... Now, the idea of not kissing him pains him more than he can say.
Phainon bites his tongue. ]
One hour. I'll wait.
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He debates over an outfit before he settles on one that can barely be called clothes, forgoing the collar and attached fabric but keeping the armbands and his normal jewelry. Before he knows it his time is almost up, and he gives himself one last glance before making sure the door is unlocked and settling himself on the throne.
When the knock finally comes, he calls out, command in his voice: ] You may enter.
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It's hard to focus, a low burning inside of him, a longing. He wants Mydei, now, and having to wait is a delicious kind of torture. He keeps staring at the clock, waiting for the hours to change, waiting to sink into this - to enjoy the game of it, their new understanding empowering them both. He doesn't necessarily expect Mydei to push his boundaries too far tonight, but who knows.
When the time ticks over, finally, he changes. He wears a looser outfit, something easy to take off, less formal. He looks more like a dressed down guard than the man he is at heart, and when he finally gets into Mydei's room...
His voice disappears.
Mydeimos looks beautiful like this, and he has to force himself to breathe, to offer a proper Kremnoan greeting as he steps into the room, door shutting behind him. ]
My prince. I have come, as requested.
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He doesn't play at disinterested, just leans into the trappings that Krateros had once expected of him for a time, beckoning Phainon over with his unoccupied hand. Once he's close enough he's quick to grab him by the chin, forcing him to kneel on a pillow if he wasn't already going for the motion. His touch is firm, but not intentionally painful - not yet. ]
You've been busy as of late. I was starting to think you'd forgotten me.
[ Whether he's casting Phainon as a whore or a guard he'll leave up to the other man, but he lets a hint of jealousy color his tone. ]
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No wonder Mydeimos was so loved. How many of his soldiers desired him, thought of him like this? How many men looked upon him with such want? Phainon could not fault them, even as he feels his envy blossom.
Looking a little chagrined, ashamed, Phainon tries not to pout. He is here to serve, and so his face is gentle, open. ]
Forget you? Like I'd ever. [ He leans forward, into the touch. ] I have longed to return to your side. Perhaps it was you who had forgotten me.
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As if I could ever forget this mouth.
[ He lets his thumb move to press against his bottom lip, but doesn't dip his fingers in like he wants to, not yet. ]
It has been too long since I've felt it, though.
[ The way he slides his leg down so his legs are spread, only the thin strips of cloth and chain to cover him, is Not Subtle. ]
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I have been lax in my service. You might allow me to rectify it.
[ A flick of his tongue against Mydei's thumb, eyes unblinking. ]
Let me remind you, my prince.
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(There's also something intoxicating about playing roles that are close but not the same as ones they've done before. Mydeimos has never taken lovers like this; Phainon was not a common soldier very long. It's a whimsical what-if.) ]
Remind me, then.
[ He's tempted to call Phainon by name but not sure if that would break the spell, so he doesn't. Instead he offers his indulgent command, letting go of his face to lean back, expectant. Mydeimos is usually far more active, so there's something to be said about forcing himself to sit back and let Phainon work, too. ]
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Thirty three million lifetimes and he feels as if he’s craved Mydei in too many of them, his closeness, his warmth, the low timbre of his laughter, his friendship. Phainon and Mydei had come as a pair for so long that it feels fitting and right to be here at his side, to fall into anything and everything that he could imagine. His devotion is an endless cycle, and even the breaking of their own doesn’t cease it.
His heart is racing in his chest as he hums, all coy and sweet. ]
Of course, my liege.
[ Body moving, Phainon settles between his friend’s legs. His hands slide up, tracing the muscle, the shape, the raw strength. He pushes fabric aside in a gentle exploration, seeking his prize - a handsome, perfect cock, that his fingers touch before his mind can catch up with it. He laughs, a little embarrassed by his desperation. ]
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The strongest feeling Mydeimos has of them is that there was never enough time; time to do what they wanted, time to get to know each other. It feels strangely easy to imagine Phainon at his feet, kneeling because he wants to (because he is).
The eagerness with which Phainon's hands descend on him does not go unnoticed, though the only hint is a quirk of Mydei's mouth in a smile before he melts his expression back into a haughty one. ]
Take your time. I'm feeling indulgent tonight.
[ He carves out a little space for these characters to not rush. He does move his hand again to curl it into soft white hair, unable to stop himself from touching, though he doesn't yank or direct Phainon (yet). ]
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[ Phainon bleeds into the role, unable to help himself.
The urge to give and give is something he is incapable of ignoring or denying, a part of himself that is incapable. He wants to carry all the burdens of the world, to be the one to ease the hurts of his friends, to take their pain and replace it with pleasure. The deep well of affection is swelling, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.
Offering sex to them seems an easy solution, his heart warm, hot, teetering on the edge of something else. When he finally lets himself take what he wants, fingers stroking between Mydei’s thighs, the soft edge of his sac, up to his cock, to take it in hand.
He needs this. He can’t stop thinking about it. ]
Your desires are mine, tonight.
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I give what I'm given from my subject.
[ Saying that makes a hot flush of arousal go up his spine. Thinking of Phainon draped in his red and gold, like a mark of ownership. His jealousy is always an odd thing; he wants Phainon to have all the attention here, as he deserves it, but the urge to leave his own marks over those that remain persists.
He shifts so that his legs cage in Phainon on either side, so that all he can see and smell and feel is Mydeimos, using his oppressive power not to threaten, but to force all distractions away. ]
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[ It's impossible to look elsewhere, to let his gaze drift, when the thing that has been on his mind is right in front of him. Phainon had never understood some of the scrolls and books he had devoured when he had been studying, edging on illicit, but he thinks it is settling around him now. He thinks it is impossible not to comprehend such deep, desperate desire.
It all makes sense, now.
His technique is a little more practiced now, and it is as if he really is some bed partner for his dear prince, letting his hand glide over him, his lips trail against those handsome legs. Phainon doesn't want to tease, necessarily, but he does want to enjoy himself, flushed and excited already. ]
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What a good soldier he was - would be. Devoted entirely to the Kremnoan prince. The thought makes him shudder again, hips shifting upwards. ]
Yet it is your devotion I seek most often, and ache without.
[ The words are... a little more honest than he intends but fit the role. ]
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He wonders if Mydeimos will urge him on, make demands, order him, as he has done in the past, or if he will be benevolent as a prince, letting his bedmate do as he pleases. He's not sure what he would prefer, but he awaits the discovery with great eagerness. ]
You could call upon me more. I remain most eager to serve you.
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with the ICON
teehee
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