Goldner Mond im blauen Himmel Strahlt herunter, duftig labend.

[oblate]

giant coa-verse copypasta thread

mega ugly and unformatted



noiz-chan: (024)
want to do this? i can pm you or the other way around!
[ Noiz watches the act silently, waiting until Seymour is finished to exhale a sound of slight amusement through his nose, and speaking easily. it's almost as if they aren't talking about re-ed and sex at all— Noiz treats it as a business exchange down to a tee. ]

You act fast. Cafe Risque, tonight at nine. I'll be in one of the rooms... come alone.

[ while his tone had remained mostly emotionless throughout the conversation, it suddenly takes on an almost challenging tone— even haughty, low and sharp. ]

... It has to be worth my time. Don't forget.

[ Noiz disconnects the feed. if Seymour comes and can satisfy his conditions, he does... if not? it's no loss of his. and if he doesn't have something worth it... he won't go along with it, it's that simple. if he does, however... well, there's not much Noiz wouldn't do to get what he wants. ]


sey-kun: (Default)
lights camera [action]
[ As it turns out "a young man, probably by himself" is not much of a description to give to the assistants at the establishment, and it is necessary for Seymour himself to knock on doors and part curtains until he finds what he is looking for. A trying business. He is perhaps 40 minutes late by the time he knocks, opens a door, and sees a young man, probably by himself, with a notable number of piercings.

The clicking sound, he thinks to himself.

He appears in his customary garb, in all its many-layered, many-hued splendor, and enters the room with a degree of gravitas which is impressive to those soluble in ceremony, and pompous to everyone else.

He narrows cold grey eyes and gazes down at the young man. ]

You are Noiz, are you not?


noiz-chan: (019)
[ Whoops. Perhaps Noiz had displayed too much faith in Seymour's ability to locate him, given how collected he'd appeared on the network. Or, you know... he'd overlooked it. The difference is meaningless, as he wouldn't acknowledge any fault about it on his part. It had been more than annoying to arrive on time and have to wait, however— if this had been anywhere else, and if he'd had something else to do... Noiz would have left already.

... He has nowhere else to be in Ariel yet, however, so here he is, seated at a small table by himself in the room. The place is clearly meant for other acts, given the expansive couch centered against the darkened walls, but it would do just fine for what Noiz intends. Glancing up as a man enters the room (immediately narrowing his gaze over the gaudy nature of his clothes, his oddly... ethereal presence), he doesn't bother lifting his chin from where he'd been resting it on a palm. ]

... You're late.

[ Noiz's expression is just as emotionless as his voice (still toneless, almost cold) had been on the network, eyes meeting Seymour's without flinching. ]


sey-kun: (I'm a little teapot)
[ A pause, during which the narrowed eyes grow narrower. ]

I regret inconveniencing you.

[ He says it at the very blade's edge between "sincere" and "ironically sincere," and it is accompanied by a deep, strange bow. When he rises his expression is bland. ]

I am Seymour Guado. And I bring gifts. [ From within one very wide sleeve he produces a bottle and a pair of glasses (sadly, ordinary water tumblers.) He approaches the table and sets the glasses down; the bottle he uncorks with a strong, clever grip.

It is an inexpensive wine, a light red, tannic and very fruity-smelling. This would be the first time he has ever tried anything like it. A recommendation from the bartender downstairs (inexplicably.) ]

Can I interest you?

[ He is already filling both glasses anyway, his movements a little too slow and studiously graceful to be normal. ]


noiz-chan: (025)
[ Noiz listens. He doesn't buy it exactly, too used to people trying to win him over with favours before trying to bleed him dry, but entertains the idea that Seymour is trying. It gives him time to let his eyes wander freely: eying the somewhat warped fingertips that grip the bottle, and the many layers of his garb. Last is the dip in the material, the marks that flow over his chest, the cord the flows downward. Hm. ]

This whole place is an inconvenience. All I'm interested in is finding which of them are useful to me.

[ Nodding, Noiz unfolds his hands, sitting back in his chair to watch Seymour pour the wine. He wouldn't drink it until the other had first, naturally, so he's in no hurry, instead tacking on a purposeful addition to what he's said. ]

Just as this is for you. Potentially.


sey-kun: (Default)
[ He takes the other chair. The wine is ignored for a moment as he examines Noiz - about this he is open, and thorough. He's not surprised by the other man's youth, but the number of piercings, and his sharp eyes - unexpected. He is pretty the way some young men are pretty, they way Seymour himself was once pretty before he came to manhood: beautiful before conception of gender.

His clothes however are appalling.

As well he does not appear prone to niceties. This bluntness is again annoying. Eventually Seymour speaks. ]

So it seems.

How do you know whether there is any utility in the information you seek?


noiz-chan: (049)
[ Seymour doesn't appear to be very old. Sure, for a younger person's standards there were things you could recognize, if you looked close enough (which Noiz does, naturally) namely the curve of his jaw as well as the broadness in his shoulders. He's certain without standing that Seymour is taller than himself, but many of the physical aspects are of little concern to him. What is interesting, however, is the marks (veins? he can't tell) that spread over his forehead, up into that atrocious hair.

Luckily, Noiz is all but fashion-blind when it comes to horrific hair, given he'd already become very acquainted with someone who's hair is far too close to the hue of Seymour's.

His eyes continue to stare directly at the other's face, gaze sharp and calculating, even challenging in comparison to the blank slate that was his expression and tone. ]

I don't. That's what I'm here to figure out.

[ He doesn't stop there— pushing his luck a little, Noiz continues, fingers rubbing absentmindedly at one of the piercings on his hand to keep him grounded. ]

In a place like this, information is already limited. What's important to discern first and foremost is whether the act of seeking it at all is worth my time... or beneath me.

[ Are you worth it? it barely goes unsaid. ]


sey-kun: (pic#3768528)
[ This appears to satisfy Seymour greatly, and he settles back into his seat with an expression of plush, bureaucratic smugness. Yet he is as sharp-eyed, and there is, in the casual graze of his nails upon his silks, or the runch of muscle as he folds his arms, the suggestion of the casual predator; one who plays with his food, even when sated. It appears he has worked something out.

And it is not clear whether Noiz occupies the position of ally or prey in this calculus. ]

If that is so, then we may come to a useful arrangement.

It is too soon for my sources. Hold...

[ He says in a manner to forestall any immediate reaction or, rather, immediate complaint. Taking up his cup, he sniffs it first, then more deeply. A sip. He is putting the words together. ]

But you are dealing with one who offers more than a binder of newspaper clippings. I will have power, [ He says it with simple certainty. It isn't a matter of pride or puffing up; the thing is inevitable as gravity and to be treated as such a natural event. ] and with power, access. And I would wish to share them.

[ In his cool gaze is the unspoken end of the sentence: with someone who pleases me. ]


noiz-chan: (008)
Hn...

[ ... It's as he expected, then. Seymour is useless to him— or is he? Another fact about the lack of information here was that you could only go up. Furthermore, Noiz couldn't judge the workings of this place without anything to draw from, even if it was ultimately fraudulent in itself. Leads were leads, and it was better to follow something than nothing at all. ]

Power?

[ Noiz replies with hollow incredulousness, continuing just as fast as he leans a little over the table, hands resting flat upon its surface. ]

Explain. If you want to infer payment that isn't present yet, you're going to have to convince me.

[ Convince. He isn't easily convinced. Seymour was going to have to impress him or offer something real, or else it wasn't worth his time. Noiz didn't do things halfway— it's how he'd been so successful. The client always left pleased... though what befell them after that wasn't his problem. ]

...My services don't come cheap for a reason.



sey-kun: (Default)
You misunderstand.

[ He puts the cup down. Nothing in his expression changes, but an easiness and a voluptuousness has left his tone, like the slack gone out of a sail under a hard wind.

The terms were simple in his mind: power exercised in exchange for pleasure given. But as entertainingly rude as Noiz was, as beautiful, as physically adept, as canny, there were in the end any number of people in the city who would let a man like Seymour do whatever he liked with them.

Neither was he particularly pleased to have his relative powerlessness and pennilessness shoved in his face like this. Had he not come with gifts, and the honest intention of including Noiz in whatever success he would (very shortly) enjoy? And in exchange to be put to bargaining as if there was anything on the table except a moment of sexual fantasy - he was being himself bought cheap by one whose cost was overly dear.

Ticked as he was, he remained placid and unblinking. This was nothing to take personally; it was merely the mark of the man he was dealing with, neither good nor bad. But they had come to the end of Seymour's hospitality, and shortly after that, they would come to the end of his willingness to waste his time. ]

I have offered an exchange of mutual benefits. I will produce. I have no such assurance from you. You are very daring to demand payment up front.




noiz-chan: (041)
[ Noiz leaves his drink untouched. It's clear this was going to be a less than pleasant exchange— but he was used to that. People weren't always so happy to give him what he wanted, so it leaves him unfazed... unimpressed, even. Noiz's reply is unhurried. ]

You jump to conclusions quickly.

[ He isn't the best at being anything less than blunt. Noiz was just as aware of his own weakness in Ariel thus far, naturally, but he wasn't asked and thus didn't need to answer as much. It may just be a moment of fantasy, but for him it was much more— an examination of what many of the inhabitants seemed to fear. That, and a chance to make a profit.

Noiz leans forward farther, eyes narrowed and all but burning in comparison to the lack of inflection on his face, voice low. ]

I'll do it. Whatever disgusting things you want to do to me, or put in me. Again and again. You can even fuck me, Seymour Guado— if you hold out long enough to do so.

[ He sits up in one movement, drawing his hands back and issuing a silent challenge. ]

— But I need more than a simple mention of what I'm to get in return, once you've obtained it. Some sort of assurance that I'm not going to do it and receive nothing but air afterward. That's all.

[ ... Noiz has an idea, but that can wait just a little longer. ]


sey-kun: (pic#7263481)
[ Now he does frown, and not in a kindly way. It appears there has been a serious miscommunication. ]

I did not realize you were so unwilling. Forgive me.

[ Power exercised in exchange for pleasure given. Pleasure taken is not a thing Seymour is accustomed to paying for at all. And he is not unaccustomed to being found disgusting, just as he is not unaccustomed to extracting revenge for such an insult. He stands, chill and imperious. ]


noiz-chan: (004)
[ Ah. Noiz realizes immediately that he seems to have offended, watching that frown pull down the corner of previously haughty lips. A miscommunication indeed, though one he won't apologize for. ]

Unwilling? You're wrong.

[ Noiz doesn't budge one bit, staring blankly across the table at the now-standing Seymour, letting simple, pointed words pose the possibility instead of action. He pauses just long enough beforehand to brush rude, a small, nearly unnoticeable twitch of a smile curving his mouth. ]

I can prove it.

[ He lets that hang in the air— a proposal, if you will. The other can take it or leave it; neither would scrape much skin off him to win or lose. Not to a person like Noiz, anyway. It would only prove to him whether Seymour was an interesting inhabitant of Ariel... or a boring one. ]


sey-kun: (pic#7263517)
You will have to.

[ Throughout the show Seymour remained as he was, motionless, with a freezing glare.

Greatly does he now resent being stripped of his powers, that he might otherwise have silenced Noiz some time ago. Were Noiz even a hair less interesting, or less attractive, he would not have waited even this long. If there is some sullen spark that anything useful may come of this, it is warmed now by the thought of exerting a little of his displeasure sooner rather than later.

Yet he is not incurious. The unspoken terms of his offer were no longer as generous as they had been when he walked through the door, but he had not yet walked out of it. ]


noiz-chan: (010)
[ He doesn't take Seymour as a generous man, but that is simply because he doesn't see anyone that way. It was all cost-benefit, and even if he'd encountered one person who had broken that mould, the happenstance not applied to anyone else. Noiz doesn't consider himself particularly giving, either— but he was offended that his words are being taken insincerely, insinuating he was a fraud.

Without looking, he kicks one of the legs of the chair Seymour had sat in until just recently, hard enough that it faces outward to the table's side. He gestures. ]

Sit.

[ Noiz stands without another word, reaching up to pull off the hat he'd worn throughout the exchange, revealing short, mussed hair. He sets it on the table and crosses halfway, waiting to see if he does as asked with a continuously vacant expression— except for his eyes, which show almost offense. ]


sey-kun: (And pour me out!)
[ A heavy silence follows; Seymour watches, and it is the kicked chair which culls from his bristling a sensation like bark flaking from a branch. It is this sort of thing, this flat affect and physical flash, this churn of insult and offer...

When he passes to the chair he draws near Noiz and looks meaningfully down at him. Strange-colored eyes, he thinks; a pale gold-green, like a new leaf. Anger suits him.

Seymour fans his robes and sits. ]


noiz-chan: (040)
[ Those conflicting aspects are what Noiz is made of. Outwardly, it was all he knew— anything else was foreign, hard to provoke and even harder to obtain willingly. Inside, however, he was all irritation and cold, swift action. He had smarts, no doubt, but he possessed just as much pride, and he'd been offended.

Noiz takes the silence and pause it gave and uses it for himself, waiting until the other is seated fully until moving in front of him at a slow pace, meeting Seymour's eyes with his own lack of expression once he stops and is turned toward him. The former narrow heatedly, more than a spark of threat present in them before Noiz is sinking to his knees, the movement graceful and lacking in subservience.

His eyes are cast downward as Noiz brings his hands upward and without hesitation to the cyan material of the ribbon crossing his robes, touches purposeful, pointedly suggestive. Scarred fingertips brush over the fabric barely before dipping down and beneath it, running his palms and fingers slowly up the front of Seymour's pants— darting between the confines of knotted gold ropes to rub a brazen line upward, and to more dangerous territory. ]


sey-kun: (Default)
[ So.

What surprises him first is the rush of quick, boyish lust and amaze he feels. This is the city at work, he knows it, but it is not only the city, and the prick of resentment sharpens his gaze upon Noiz.

So, he would, despite how he spoke of the act in those revolting terms. He knelt readily enough, smooth as a cat, and his hands were experienced.

What would he do when he saw his penis. Would his leaf-colored eyes turn up to his mark in contempt, or blank distance, the way a janitor cleans a toilet.... If things kept up like this he'd be permanently flaccid. He would have to distract himself. And if Noiz were offering himself like this, then he would have to offer himself also as the distraction.

One long-fingered hand touches Noiz' cheek and then, more quickly than argument, his scruffy, bright hair. ]


noiz-chan: (055)
[ ... Noiz can't say he hasn't felt anything. He wonders dimly, as he rubs fingertips up the inside of Seymour's thighs through fabric— thumb tracing the tendon between hard— if this is what Ariel does to you. The act itself was all him, that was undeniable... but something sparks an excited feeling in his stomach, almost as if he's looking forward to it.

He isn't, but he doesn't mind, either. The disconnected expression on his face remains while he looks down at the various materials blocking him, contemplating what was best an entry. Seymour's robes are arcane to him— a mixture of traditional and something distinctly foreign; the gold ropes that cut into almost tassels distracting and obstructing his way. Noiz doesn't so much as scoff or send a look upward before he's leaning down (away from the touch of the other's fingertips) to bite a section of the rope, drawing it taut (and if he looks close enough, Seymour could catch a glimpse of intensity in Noiz's eyes) with a tug of his mouth as his hands find the tie behind Seymour's waist, doing away with it without ceremony.

There's no doubt, now— that he's getting excited. It irritates him. A sort of scent drifts off the other's clothing as well as (assumedly) skin, something sharp and smooth; clear as the air surrounding a graveyard at dusk. It's only cloying in that it makes Noiz that much more aware of his motions, one hand still rubbing in slow circles up Seymour's thigh as his opposite pulls at the turquoise sash, seeking to unravel it and clear the way for better. ]


sey-kun: (pic#7263474)
[ Disconcerting, the thrill of Noiz' unfriendly gaze meeting his own reserved one. This slim brat with the prickly eyes is, despite everything, peculiarly beautiful. His narrow, flexible, fierce person rewards the watching the same way a wild animal in a cage does.

And Seymour's legs are in fact sensitive, and he is more pleased than he would admit to be touched and undressed like this; he slings his knees apart a little wider to leave more of himself open to Noiz' exploration. Warmth creeps up the back of his neck and it's difficult to stay as pissed as he would like. He nearly smiles. Whether it is the chip, or the boy's skill, he's pricked by stubborn want and curious about what will come next.

But he will not be stayed in his own exploration. He touches next the curve of Noiz' ear, careful to run along the rise where the holes of many piercings thread through him. His thumb brushes the lobe and grazes the big stud there, enough to suggest that pain was possible, but not necessary. The corner of his jaw, as well. He looks interested now. He is interested, now. ]


noiz-chan: (036)
[ Noiz moves with precision, but a sort of unhurried air, as well. No action is tentative, or shy— there were no half-measures. When he unties the sash, it's in one long, slow motion, pulling along the length of his arm (a light hiss of soft material dragging against material as it comes undone, ignored) until the discarded half sinks to Seymour's lap, the netted garment already laid across Noiz's thighs where he's knelt. He doesn't remove it outright, instead running both palms up from the other's knees, higher and higher, the sash being brushed out of the way during, as if he doesn't care to stop touching Seymour long enough to remove it.

It's partially true. What's the point in ceremony? It isn't as if he's all that enthusiastic to do this, but— Seymour's long, almost alien fingertips brush his ear and piercings, and Noiz is caught off guard by a small shudder. Arousal sparks in his stomach, the tension of thumb to stud, as if he could do something to it, make him feel it, just that option pushing a compelling feeling throughout him. It's disgusting, in a way— how readily Noiz is finding himself excited by this, so aware of how close he is to the other through his pants, just touching him prompting images of much more at the back of his mind. That damned chip.

Stubbornly, Noiz doesn't touch Seymour outright just yet. He continues to skirt fingers around him, running palms in a slow, heavy movement up from his knees again, circling around his crotch to his hips, fingers splaying only to drag downward, framing him rather than touching outright. To further explain that prolonged feeling, Noiz leans down as he rubs fingertips in slow circles to hover close to his pants, pressing his mouth to Seymour's inner-thigh, tensing his teeth against him just barely through the material. This is followed by another, similarly-purposeful gesture to slightly higher up his thigh, with eyes flicking upward to Seymour to show a glimpse of a look as intense as before, if not more.


sey-kun: (Default)
[ Freed of their sash Seymour's heavy lined robes slump open; beneath he wears black slacks that close with a row of silver buttons. The long tail of his necklace rolls over the strange rippling musculature of his bare abdomen. The pricking movement of these muscles, like fingers, runs contrary to his deep, calm breathing.

However much he might consciously manage it, he is excited.

The pressure of Noiz' touch, his thoroughness, his decisiveness - a rare jewel, a gift unlooked-for. The tension along the tops of his thighs leaks out as Noiz plies him. This isn't so much teasing to him - he's barely semi-erect at this point, anyway - as pleasurable in its own right. Honest sensuality, honestly shared, or else the art of the appearance was so great that it could not be told from the real thing.

He does wish to share it. It is already more important than slaking his idle lust. He watches with all of his attention and a sharp sigh of appreciation. When Noiz grazes him with his teeth and looks up at him his breath catches in his throat; a slow, sweet smile follows, and his thoughts are perfumed with many visions of those same eyes bright with orgasm, dark with pain. The curve of his own body is uncommonly loose, relaxed. Ready.

He runs sharp nails along the curve of the boy's throat and catches his jaw, stroking him, until he can touch the pad of his thumb to Noiz' lips. He presses there gently. ]


noiz-chan: (048)
[ Noiz doesn't admire him. There are parts of Seymour's body— the ones that are visible, that is— that are curious to him, such as the marks on his face, and the odd, rippled texture pressed onto his ribs, but he pays them no mind. He isn't here to panegyrize the other, despite how his touches may almost seem to worship the muscle tensing up beneath him with their thoroughness, still rubbing in increasingly strong circles up their inner expanse; he's here for business. To prove something.

The look that Seymour directs at him strikes him down to his core however, almost ashamedly so. It perpetuates everything he's growing to hate and find intriguing about this place all at once, individuals he would never be intimate with, those he would barely do business with back home, all at once. Usually, it would end in a fight, and now it's ending in something distinctly different... though the air he projects is that it could easily shift in the other direction at any moment. A mixture of animosity and arousal gathers between his ears — and legs— and the meeting of gazes and their meaning (his own intense, still as hostile as ever) heightened by fingertips digging into the material of Seymour's pants to drag down his thighs slowly, a direct reaction to the light scratch of nails over his skin. It feels too sensitive, too effective, too much.

... He's starting to get hard when Seymour's thumb brushes over skin and then lips, pressing against them, but doesn't display it. As if to combat that knowledge as well as show the full strength of his opposition— that he was doing this because he wanted to, because he had power over himself, but at the same time is all too willing to play out the (in his mind) vacant act in order to get what he wants— Noiz stares up at him with ferocity, beginning to act further. His tongue darts out to brush against the other's thumb, by no means shy with its suggestiveness in a long and slow lick against the pad, the piercing in his tongue running over wet skin, eyes still cast upward as he scrapes his teeth lightly against it while drawing back.

If this were any other situation, with any other individuals— he would be perfectly communicating a fervent "Fuck me" right now, but for Noiz... it's better translated as "Your move". ]


sey-kun: (Default)
[ Fast, dizzying, the movement from hostility to lust in Noiz' eyes. An instant of vulnerability, or frustration - Seymour could not tell. Whatever it was, he wants to see it again. As Noiz' cunning tongue strokes him, as the hard bead of his tongue-stud slides against his skin, a pleasurable shiver runs down his spine.

This encounter which had started as bargaining is spilling messily over its boundaries and the honest desire in Seymour's heart is no longer aimed at dalliance, but exploration, comprehension, conceptualization of the beautiful threat nestled between his knees. To understand him, and this not in the gentle, generous, benevolent sense used by those well-meaning social workers who wear the garb of priests, but in the sense of "to grasp; to devour; to taste completely, and to be able to call this savor to mind at will."

For the sensitive animal who hates and responds to him so readily plucks his greed the way all mysteries do.

Therefore he finds it insufficient to sit quietly while his dick is sucked. His long fingers curl under Noiz's chin, appreciative of its fine point and strength, the resilience of his skin. He brushes his thumb along the length of the boy's lips. Then he lifts with calm strength, and guides: stand up, come here. There is room on the chair for Noiz to get his knees on either side of him and kneel in his lap, or he will himself stand. It doesn't matter. His thoughts are already far ahead, on the pale, tall body stripped, of the mouth against his own, of being intricately enfolded with Noiz. ]


noiz-chan: (019)
[ ooc: moved here due to tentatively sexy content. ]


2014-02-03 02:30 pm

Entry tags: dramatical murder: noiz, final fantasy x: semour guado
protected 18 [closed] glaciers melting in the dead of night
What: continuation of this thread
Where: Cafe Risque
When:3/26 i think
Warnings: uh smut, specifics tbd

continues below!
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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only


noiz-chan: (019)
[ None of this had been in his plans— what little existed. When he'd first replied to the broadcast, it had been out of little more than curiousity and a mean spirit. After that, a possible business transaction, granted an odd one. Now, however... it's gone far beyond simply proving his willingness, having intended to get a different proof from Seymour later on, and to something else. Noiz hasn't even initiated that something else and it's already buzzing through his system, skin prickling with heat.

Seymour doesn't need to say anything. The reaction— fingers trailing under his chin, seizing it gently— to his own pointed display says enough, and it causes a hard, heavy throb of desire to settle where his cock is already half-hard. Noiz is all too aware of this fact when he begins to rise, directing a deceptively calm (if a little breathy) comment at him as he does so, fingertips trailing upwards and then off Seymour's legs as he moves out of reach. ]

... Are you convinced already?

[ It's a question he thinks he already knows the answer to. The golden netting he'd pulled taut with his teeth earlier, as well as the the sash he'd teased away both slip down and off his thighs as he stands, pooling around his shoes. Noiz doesn't move, placed directly in front of him to the point of having to tilt his face downward to meet his eyes, therefore pressing his chin into the touch of Seymour's fingertips— he feels oddly exposed, though there's an equal kind of satisfaction drawn from the dissembled state of the other's clothing, all the same... Noiz' eyes gain some of that intensity again, continuing quietly, challengingly. ]

Seymour Guado.

[ Again, his seemingly vacant demeanor radiates pent-up energy, whether it was anger or lust or a combination of both, and If he were listening to what the chip is implying and nothing else, he would have been possessed to actually utter the thought that passes through his mind yet again, a whisper— "Fuck me". Noiz doesn't, however, instead seemingly caught between one moment and the next, paused with his eyes fearlessly upon Seymour's own. ]


sey-kun: (I'm a little teapot)
[ Noiz' eyes, sharp on the skin as acid, fierce, with a feral energy... the silver-grey ones that meet them are empty of any aggression or offense now. Instead: serenity, stifling in its richness. Obsession, drowning-deep.

A sea moves to his challenge; Seymour rises without looking away, his wide shoulders rolling smoothly, the black beasts over his chest bunching and rampant. As much as his smug bureaucrat routine puts an effete polish on it, he is substantial, and there is nothing foppish in the balance of his body. In the precision of even such a minor movement there is the suggestion of unwearying endurance, strength, control, long hours subsumed in ritual. All of these things would be put at the service of Noiz' pleasure, and enrichment, if the tide ran that way. He speaks seriously. ]

I will show you what my promises look like.

[ He doesn't mind or care about his own dishevelment. His hand touches and travels smoothly down the boy's belly, tucks under the hem of his shirt, and follows it to his hip. Beneath, his long nails steal under and scrape lightly along Noiz' flesh.

He grasps the hem in both hands and draws it up, and if Noiz did not follow the movement, he would tear the thing off without hesitation. ]


noiz-chan: (007)
[ Noiz doesn't budge even a centimeter when Seymour rises, only adjusting his chin to make up for the difference in their height — measured in inches alone, though he still doesn't like it, being looked down on by the strength of those eyes— and having barely a moment to even frown before the other is acting. the touch to his stomach (sending a hard shiver down his spine at being able to feel the nails scraping on his skin; cock twitching, stiff and increasingly incessant) communicates more than the words ever could.

When Seymour attempts to remove his over-shirt he can't help but resist on instinct, and Noiz is forced to throw out a hand in front of him to stop from tripping over the garments surrounding his shoes— fingers seizing a handful of the now-loosened, intricate robe draped over the other's shoulders— but he's speaking with neutrality edging on defiance once his mouth is free of the material. ]

... Are they as immaterial as those you've promised already?

[ Though left with only his black undershirt, Noiz shows little upset, instead catching his balance and leaning in, one fist still thrust into Seymour's clothes. He's all but glaring up at him from mere breaths away, that intensity from before now fiery, beginning to show just what Noiz is capable of beneath the indifference. The gossamer pulled tight over his visage shows what lay beneath— an angry kind of lust, hot and violent. Challenging. When he speaks soon after, it's in low, carefully controlled but fervent words. ]

You should know— I'm not easily convinced.

[ It's clear that the situation has changed, and he is part of that change. Whether it's by the ever-present mantra in the back of his mind as his blood seems to boil and heartbeat throb— "Give it to me", "Show me, fuck me", or Noiz' unwillingness to back down... it no longer matters. ]


sey-kun: (pic#7263425)
[ His faint smile is that of a man who is about to get exactly what he wants.

In these impromptu surroundings, against this adversary - whose arguments tick like a clock, whose anger however quick was precise and savory, and who knew intimately what was wanted of him, and who would... He is contemptible and peerless. The thought of his studded mouth is a slash of brilliance across Seymour's tongue...

Yet even here he feels an ulterior logic take him and supercede his own clumsy will, urgency, desperation to touch more, drink deeper. That is not the rhythm of this moment. His impatience is nothing. It shatters like a spiderweb. In its place rises the tranquility of a channeling, an evocation. The more ferociously Noiz snaps, the more placid Seymour becomes, as if all the words were vanishing like stones into a deep lake. His calm, interested gaze drops for a moment down the length of Noiz' body; he grasps the other man's loose hand and guides it to his bare waist. Beneath Noiz' fingers his flesh is very warm, unusually humid; the skin is too thin, the pulsing of his musculature too clear.

At the same time he threads his other hand through his opponent's shining hair, to the back of his head and lower; there at the back of his neck are warm metal beads. Seymour is not expecting them. He brushes past them too roughly out of ignorance, but the surprise doesn't stop him. He grips there, the piercings hard against his hand, to pin Noiz steady against the kiss that descends.

There is no attempt to dominate, no particular force. His mouth is adhering and thorough. ]


noiz-chan: (063)
[ There's something very particular about him that drives Noiz to anger, and frustration— that calm. As if he hasn't a worry in the world, silent but not subdued (his hand is drawn to flesh, feeling hot and uncomfortably sensual when offered rather than taken), far too unchanging for all the offense he'd shown earlier. Has he been had? He can't know. For the most part, it's that look that Noiz receives for his own irritation, almost as if it's exactly what Seymour wanted, that drives his fingers to tighten against clothing, and—

Fingers brush over the piercings on his neck, sending a shiver down his spine (and another heavy throb downward, ever-present, clashing with Noiz' defiance with a dull, wanting ache) and he's almost provoked to act on his own, until suddenly the opportunity is taken away from him. Seymour's lips are strong even without a particularly strident kiss, and despite all that taunting, Noiz responds immediately— albeit with more force.

Noiz' addition to the gesture immediately strengthens in comparison, almost like a bite more than any sign of affection, with all the wordless proof of a fight, something equal rather than any loss on his part: his lips pull at Seymour's with a hungry, forceful energy, lacking shame or shyness— intending on showing this seemingly alien, ethereal being that he wasn't to be mocked, nor refused. The hand at the taller man's waist presses to skin fully with a quiet, if mildly combative mm, already running up over blackened marks and then down flesh with blunt nails bared until pushing at his hip, opposite pulling down on the material of his robe to push up into the kiss.

He doesn't mind being treated like a wild animal, something exotic and unpredictable— but Seymour would have to learn that Noiz is just as dangerous. ]


sey-kun: (pic#7263470)
[ Noiz' nails drag up a sigh of pure pleasure from Seymour. He presses closer, his dick - now hard and thick and urgent against the seam of his slacks - shoves up against Noiz; this sensation is intense and beautiful, and because Noiz is Noiz, and not some fragile flower who must be nursemaided through the stages of a man's pleasure, Seymour can relinquish enough of his control to drop his head to Noiz' shoulder and groan and enjoy the feeling of his tall, young frame. It means abandoning the exquisite force of his kiss.

His arms slip beneath Noiz' and enclose him and wrap him close so that they are tight together, shoulder to hip. But this is unsatisfactory, so he lays hands to the other man's slim waist and from there drags up his shirt. Taking it all the way off doesn't matter at the moment; it is enough to press his own bare skin to Noiz', the shirt hitched up awkwardly between them. His pants are next. Seymour engages with the fastenings there with cool, nimble fingers.

He has no fear. If Noiz hurt him, he was willing to be hurt. Likewise if he did harm, it would be deliberate against the volunteer. He knows - his cool silver gaze meets Noiz' once again as he straightened - from the language of his movement, from the texture of his skin, his sharp words, his cunning, his response: this one would not break or hide himself.

His hard chest slides against Noiz'. He cups the young man's head in his hands and indicates with a nudge of his chin: again, a kiss. In the delicacy of the gesture it's clear that he's also saying please.

This time when his mouth meets the smooth, tender width of the other man's he is more forward. His agile tongue strokes along the line where Noiz' lips meet and slips between them. He hunts foremost for the stud, the one he'd felt on his own thumb. In his experience there was nothing like such a piercing. ]


noiz-chan: (017)
[ Maybe Noiz would have resisted, before. Perhaps he would have gone so far as to try to injure Seymour, or plain leave without proof of his payment in sight— but not now. Whether it was because of the chip he now knew effectively did things similar to this to him all too easily, or because of his blatant sensitivity, or due to the other's sense of enigma, it isn't clear.

... Truthfully— humiliatingly even in secret— however, it's probably more a mix of the last two than any interference from the chip. He'd experienced many things earlier in his life out of attempts to feel the way others could— whether it was by the continuous piercing, or the almost self-inflicted pain he'd gained out of battling in Rhyme. Sex was no different. And yet, now that he can feel again, it's almost as if he's experiencing everything for the first time. Everything is too intense— even feeling those nails drag up skin (his own running hard up Seymour's chest to brace himself once more) nearly drags a ragged moan from his lips, thankfully forced into something more aggressive as Seymour breaks the kiss.

He doesn't second-guess how good the other's arousal feels when Seymour grinds against him, even through his pants. His own is just as strident, almost painful as he ruts hips forward in response, not only acknowledging his place in this— as a fully willing (if roughly so) participant— but urging him on, showing him without words that Noiz hadn't been nearly as unaffected in this for all his attitude suggested. No, he'd gotten hard just from the seeming power-play between them, the suggestion that one was better, and then the other; the implication that he couldn't follow through. The suggestion of Seymour's cock in his mouth. Now he wants this.

Noiz doesn't ask, as the other now asks wordlessly to kiss him. He takes— crushing lips and teeth against the kiss offered up, both immediately parting to allow for the intrusive tongue. His own darts out to press and stroke against it, the clack of the piercing he's searched for audible as it brushes teeth (and those below his lips occasionally scratching face and mouth alike), rolling against the other's own, small and wet and all too intimate noises escaping the exchange. Hands press hard against Seymour's chest, past the trappings on the floor and the chair to the couch right beside it, needing more room... but for what? ]

Hey—

[ He murmurs in between, retreating with a bite of Seymour's lip but only for him to continue thickly, eyes dark and focused with violent intention on the man's face just before him. ]

Are you going to fuck me?

[ It isn't a question. There isn't an ounce of shyness in his tone nor eyes, that look of intensity remaining on Seymour's face throughout, not once wavering. The whole exchange is quick, full of latent energy, expectant. ]


sey-kun: (I'm a little teapot)
wow rude noiz
[ The fascinating tongue-stud.... Seymour searches it with his own tongue, toys with it, tugs at it and then soothes away any potential sting with agile stroking. The thought of it being a piece of Noiz, the thought of the flesh parted around it - these make him shudder happily. He follows Noiz in all other respects: sensing his intent and accommodating him, hunting what seems to please him the most. This for the relish of Noiz' open, visceral enjoyment alone.

Intent as he is on the kiss, he makes no argument about being shoved over to the couch. It is irrelevant where the come together, so long as they do. Seymour is already sweeping his hands down Noiz's back and tucking his fingers under the waist of his now-open slacks. His long fingers wrap around Noiz's ass and squeeze around him - firm, sweet in their pliable round perfection. Delectable as the rest of him. Seymour's hum of pleasure is interrupted by this puzzling question.

He draws back, breaking the kiss, glancing at Noiz with one eyebrow raised. The gleaming eyes that stare back at him make his cock throb. He makes every effort not to sound condescending or baffled. ]

It was my intent.

[ Long nails curl more closely under Noiz' ass, sneaking into the cleft, smug in their adherence, then.... ]

... You mean right now.

[ His own impatience was so distant now that he did not account for anyone else's. Faintly embarrassed and delighted, he tries to smooth the rough edge of the statement by kissing the young man's forehead, and temple, and then he murmurs in his ear just as the pad of one finger strokes the tight, heated pucker of Noiz' asshole: ]

For this we will need something. Did you...?


noiz-chan: (054)
ahem no u
[ It feels somewhat odd, to have a stranger handling him like this— while he can feel— the idea of allowing someone to essentially do these things for the first time he experienced them like this even worse, but the truth is Noiz doesn't care much. He'd come into it expecting nothing, perhaps something small... it was his fault for letting that turn into this. The responsibility was his alone... Seymour's seemingly distant allure be damned, Noiz would see this to its end.

... He wants Seymour to fuck him. It's not something he'd thought about previous to this, hell about most anyone beside Aoba, the allure in it nearly nonexistent without feeling— but now he wants it badly, unable to put a finger on the reason why. Perhaps it's because he wants to feel it: Seymour stretching him, the pain as well as pleasure that he might induce. What noises he might make. Whatever the reason, his heart beats a little faster because of it, eyes narrowing into an angry, lustful gaze. He grinds up against Seymour slowly as the other speaks, watching his face, Noiz' own unchanged. ]

You don't feel like you want to wait. [ the pointed grind ceases, Noiz' eyes turning elsewhere as lips flutter over his temple. He ignores the gesture outright, thinking ahead, for something to ease what he assumes will be somewhat uncomfortable... until there's a finger pressing against him, sending a shiver down his spine. Noiz pushes back against it, temptingly close to pushing Seymour within; sparking a reminder of what it was he can't seem to help but crave. His eyes flick back, meeting the other's gaze with a low murmur. ] Or do you?

[ Again, he drags his nails down lightly over the other's chest in order to spread his fingers over the kirin carved into Seymour's chest (did it hurt, he wonders— does he like to hurt?) and give a push toward the couch, words uttered brusquely as he breaks away to grab a vial of lube he'd seen next to some skeezy-looking glassware in the corner. ]

Sit down.

[ As soon as he has it in hand, he's moving toward the couch and shoving Seymour down through whatever distance is left between it and him, pushing a knee up onto the cushions to straddle the other's lap with a distinct lack of shame. While Noiz has what's needed... he gets distracted by their closeness, pressing his hips full against Seymour's to rock down against him once more— specifically grinding up against his cock, his own thick against his boxers, throbbing urgently— clearly hard even through his slacks, fast to engage Seymour in another ravenous kiss; all teeth and tongue. ]


sey-kun: (pic#3768528)
[ Seymour's placid smile is the first response to Noiz' cute commentary.

What he feels like doing and what he will do are two separate things and would remain so. His thoughts are far ahead. Not that he fails to enjoy the moment - and when Noiz grinds against him his pupils fan open in autonomic response to the bolt of physical pleasure - but the more he is pushed, the more he is hurried, baited, teased, the more he rises into ceremony. Calm and alert, aware and attentive, he is nevertheless allowing the circumstances to be created by which he will enact his revenge on this beautiful and extremely pushy boy. There is nothing now that Noiz could do which would not work him deeper into this plan.

But all of that is for later. The rake of nails over his flesh makes him shudder and clutch hard at the round ass that fills his palm. A soft gasp of wonder breaks against Noiz' cheek; the hard pound of his heart leaps against the fingers on his chest. Pain does not excite him, but Noiz does, and the acts performed by Noiz do, and he is vulnerable to them. His tongue steals down the curve of the other man's ear and he bites at the rings, retaliatory, tugging on them before he answers. ]

As you wish.

[ He says it without irony. When his partner shoves off in search, his smile curls up a little more. The sight of his sharp, decisive figure is distracting; Seymour barely manages to sit down before he is shoved down and finds himself with a lap full of intense, horny boy, and arching limbs, and Noiz' weight, and his big cock shoved up against Seymour's own. Even with his mouth full of tongue he has the wherewithal to grasp Noiz' waist and haul him even closer. ]

You found it?

[ He mutters it between tangling mouths with him once more, between his hands running luxuriously down Noiz' hard sides and hauling at his shirt. It was cute before but the thing is only in the way now. All of his clothing is in the way. He wants to get his hands on Noiz' substantial cock, greedily. He wants to be inside him, and to watch how fierce he becomes when he's full... ]


noiz-chan: (059)
i'm sorry for noiz' improbable yaoi dick
[ It's something secretive, but the way Seymour seems to continuously react to his advances (rather, his responses to advances— no, he'd spurred most of this on himself, hadn't he?) in a way that was not only similar, but always pushing the envelope farther than Noiz had. In that way, he feels an almost competitive edge to his actions. So, when Seymour pushes, Noiz feels no other option than that to shove.

The tugs on his shirt and the words pressed against his tongue, swiping over Seymour's lower lip are acknowledged, but not yet acted on until several more forceful kisses are taken and he has the lenience to lean his weight back on where he's seated— that is, on the other— slowly rolling his hips back and forth, swaying just beneath where the man's hands circle his waist. He makes sure to rub directly against where he can feel Seymour hard beneath him. ]

Yeah.

[ He murmurs into the kiss distractedly, Noiz' expression somewhat reddened but otherwise remaining neutral. It's clear from his actions as well as the strident, heavy press of his cock against his pants where he grinds down against Seymour that the seeming lack of response isn't all that it appears to be, however. The brush of tongue and teeth to his ear, the tug on his piercings has made his body ache, and he almost demands that he do it again— almost.

... What he does do, though, is pop up the ornate cap of the lube he'd grabbed without looking, sitting back with a steady, full rocking movement downward to free both hands, pouring some of the liquid into his open palm. ]

I'll do it myself. [ There's a beat, and Noiz pauses, lips pursing before he decides to speak, voice even and eyes directed toward Seymour's face with unfitting— if intense— seriousness. ] ... Bite me again.


sey-kun: (Short and stout)
Re: i'm sorry for noiz' improbable yaoi dick
[ His first greed is for the gorgeous bare body before him and - how perverse - the piercing in his navel. But...

I'll do it.

Seymour only inclines his strange head in sympathy; with a gesture at once graceful and piquant he raises his strange hand to his mouth. There he kisses clean the fingertip which had pressed so intimately to Noiz. And he assures with his strange grey gaze that Noiz sees all and knows what is implied.

After that he cannot help but touch. His fingers calmly stroke Noiz' collarbone, pluck at his nipple and rub it, steal down his flat belly to stroke and search for his sensitivity. On his face there is only focus, and the awed frown of someone appreciating a beautiful thing in its every detail. All of this is manna to Seymour: hot skin, eyes of green fire, the shape of a young man's chest and his narrow waist, the span of his hips, the intense promises he makes with his hips and dick and palm full of lube.

He's hard for this. For this he shivers and catches his breath when Noiz grinds against him. For the wonder of this other body and its lies and truths.

A dark acquisitive intelligence roils in Seymour's eyes as he is commanded. He had suspected before, but now - Bite me again - it is certain. His palms sweep back up the glorious length of Noiz and furl over his neck, the back of his head. He draws him down & close. His smooth tongue paints the column of a throat but from there he passes not to the ear but to the studs below Noiz' lower lip. There he catches one between agile teeth.

The pull is sensitive, insistent. Noiz will tell him, he knows it surely, when this is too much, and until then - patient strength, the constant applied heightening of pain.

His stabilizing touch drops to Noiz's hips, and he searches for the fastenings of the young man's pants. ]


noiz-chan: (001)
you left that there to shame me didn't you
[ All at once, it seems as if the mood has slowed down, but within Noiz the case is anything but. He feels trapped, in a way, on Seymour's lap even as he simultaneously feels a sort of control. He's soon to be bared entirely for the stranger to take in and judge as he may, and knows innately, feels deep inside that he'd soon be taken by the same man. It doesn't frighten him in the least, but...

Shit, it's exciting in a way Noiz can't begin to quell, and even as it only manifests in quickened breathing at first, as the other acquiesces to his demands it becomes more and more difficult to keep it at bay. His cock twitches where it's contained in pants soon to come undone, still rocking forward gently onto the undeniable hardness of Seymour's arousal, but when fingertips tense around his nipple— something already sensitive set aflame with his inexperience of touch— and teeth pulling at his piercing... ]

Hn...

[ ... There's a low sound at the back of Noiz' throat, and he bares his teeth, glaring Seymour right in the eye from close up as he feels the unexplainable rush that shoots down his spine to settle where he's held heavily to the other, throbbing in time with the heartbeat pounding in his chest. As if to abate it even a little, or perhaps using it as a distraction for the following, Noiz brings his hand behind him, slick fingers dipping into the slightly slackened breadth of his pants and beneath further still, pressing in without hesitation.

It's tense, even hurts somewhat regardless of only two digits being applied, but he finds it hard to care. He tries to think back to what worked for a partner before, ends up bringing them back and forth to try to accustom himself to the feeling, but Noiz finds his thoughts still stray back to the figure beneath him. Even if the supposed limits of his body suggested different (and when did he ever listen to those, anyway?), he secretly finds himself too compelled by the idea of Seymour fucking him, and now— begins to sway hips in place as his hand and fingers work, eyes falling closed and expression straying from neutrality to a type of concentration.

— They flutter open a moment later, full of heat and challenge and all from before, but voice thickened with intent. He knows Seymour's fingertips will be on him momentarily, pants opened and the ardent fullness of his shaft clear against his boxers, but finds a much more pressing need requires fulfillment. If the other is still pulling at the piercing, his murmurs draw skin taut. ]

...Show me your cock already.


sey-kun: (can you believe it?)
i didn't know you could be shamed also dicksposition
[ His fingers slip into the boxers. In this he was gentle; never in his life, whether taking or stealing, had he failed to be gentle when touching here. The discipline of this gentleness was charged with superstitious eroticism: that by being meticulously soft in his approach, he would invoke sensitivity, sensuality. That the caution would invoke a hyperawareness of the risk of exposure. That the flesh would swell more taut beneath a slack touch.

He runs the pads of his fingers down the rewardingly hard length of Noiz's penis and lets the long tips of his nails prick at his hips, at the base of the thing. Having released the sublabial stud in his focus, he glances up at Noiz, watching the way it colors his expression to be handled so. A spasm of lust that makes his mouth water: he thinks, too, about how Noiz would look when his dick was sucked, so clearly he could almost feel thick heat on his tongue.

He salves this by dragging Noiz down for another kiss as his hand curls around his dick and grips him warmly, his fingers rippling and tugging subtly to milk him. This time he's quick to suck his tongue and hang on the tongue stud and a delicious low sound vibrates in his throat. A frost thaws and refreezes in the wake of Noiz' touch on him. If he were not already in ritual, if he were not already channeling his own lust into an evocation, how profoundly and how mindlessly he would be enclosed in sensation with this sneering, lewd boy...

At this command he reclines back against the couch and pulls Noiz' cock free. His hand withdraws from it with a lavish roll of his wrist and he looks down to admire it. He raises one fine brow. His wide mouth is red with pressure and pleasure.

He is no longer concerned with rejection at this point. Even if it came, it would be ignored. ]

As you wish.

[ He unbuttons himself unhurriedly and tucks the fold of his loincloth to the side. With a happy sigh, relishing the coolness of his own fingers against his cock, he drags his own hard-on loose. The thing is of unextraordinary length, with a modest foreskin already peeled down, but unlike any human's cock its heavy, prominent veins aree perfectly symmetrical and enclose the shaft like filigree. It appears shorter than it actually is, half by dint of coloring to a dark violet-red at the tip, half because it is considerably thick and made thicker by the prominent flare of the head. His thumb traces over it.

He gazes frankly at Noiz, not inviting comment so much as action. ]


noiz-chan: (065)
Re: i didn't know you could be shamed also dicksposition
[ ... He isn't surprised. Noiz isn't surprised, but that naturally doesn't stop him from commenting on it. ]

Gross...

[ His actions— what Seymour wanted— vastly betray his observation, however, his free hand immediately dragging down the other's chest to seize his cock, rubbing his thumb over where foreskin ended and the rise of the crown began, almost seeming to admire it as he strokes it. It's weird, but there's something too interesting about it— and it hasn't made Noiz want it any less. That much is unfortunately visible beyond words by the harsh stiffness of his arousal in Seymour's hand, its head reddened and pre-ejaculate beading at its tip, so he doesn't bother saying anything else, at first, simply dragging his palm up its length then down again, thumb rubbing for a moment at its base, hinting just short of stroking his sack.

... It's getting to be too much to stay quiet, though. During his exploration, Noiz had continued jerking fingers into himself with half-concentration, partially distracted by his curiousity— but that didn't negate that the combination of both made it all too easy to imagine the heavy content of one hand replacing the action of his other... again and again.

Noiz turns his eyes directly to Seymour's face once more, eyes half-lidded and expression frank with arousal even as a challenging twitch of a smile pulls at the corner of his lips. He leans back until he's full up to his knuckle, thus arching his hips and making the flagging tensity of his cock evermore visible, squeezing the base of Seymour's erection— ]

Can you really fuck me with this...?

[ It's phrased as a challenge mirroring his expression, but the unsaid meaning— one he wouldn't explain, admit, or further elude to— present in his eyes and the clear wanton need of taking his fingers in full, is "I want it, give it to me." He's above begging or even asking outright, but that doesn't change that Noiz is filled with the foreign and entirely new sensation of needing release to the point of silent frustration. Perhaps this was a normal thing for many people, but experiencing it for the first time now, staring at Seymour's encumbrance in his hand as he's filled with tension from within... someone else might be begging Seymour by now with different words, "Please, fuck me." ]


sey-kun: (Hear me shout)
awks because now i see all of noiz' faces in game as sex faces
[ Pleasurable as it is to be fondled so, easy as it is to read Noiz' lust and readiness, a darkness clouds Seymour's serene gaze. That word again, gross. A pin in his heart. He would not tolerate it any further.

He catches Noiz' hand on his own dick and pins him there for a moment, directing the young man's chin with his other hand, forcing him to see Seymour's serious attention. ]

Do not call it that.

[ But the answer to Noiz' question, both the one asked and the one implied, is yes. He is quick to prove it, starting with shoving Noiz' boxers and his overcomplicated pants low on his hips - even stealing in for a moment to cup his ass again and knead it, and stroke the crevice where Noiz' own fingers slipped in. Still, he would not be distracted for long. These things were coming off, now.

Between them they could make quick work of what was left of Noiz' clothes and shoes until he was stripped of everything but his studs. ]


noiz-chan: (045)
[ His chin is caught, and Noiz' posture stiffens, eyes staring right into the other's with neither fear nor discouragement. The order makes his cock throb where it still bobs stiffly with heavy arousal. Dimly, as the other undresses him (and he goes along willingly, fingers tensing in parts of Seymour's remaining clothing during the process, adding pull and friction almost as a reminder of what he expects) he contemplates what it might be like to make Seymour angry. How he might react— what he might do. What Noiz would do in response.

...Another throb, muscles tensing visibly as he slides knees farther down the couch to all but straddle him. Noiz hasn't thought about the possibility of turning back for a long, long while. His clothes are discarded, and he wets his lips, glaring half-open eyes at Seymour. ]

... Why don't you give me something else to call it, then.

[ Reaching behind him to where the other's cock now pressed, he takes hold of it and strokes tightly without looking, unashamed of his own bared state even as goosebumps raise on his arms, nipples tensing and chest rising too fast to be calm. Noiz is all wound up, that much is for certain, but he's more interested— privately— in seeing Seymour take initiative, giving a slight squeeze of the crown of his arousal in challenge. ]


sey-kun: (pic#7443413)
[ The darkness dissipates as he is obeyed. And when Noiz finally straddles his lap, grabbing his dick, Seymour is surprised that Noiz seems to hesitate now. Does he not feel the pulse of the thing in his hand?...

He had seen the subtle jerk of Noiz' dick, earlier, and-

These slow silvery thoughts soothe him on some numberlessly deep level. He glances up at Noiz, again cool and focused, and he cups the other man's head in his hands. His fingers come to rest in Noiz's hair light as raindrops, one by one. Unrushed, sensitive, interested, openly appreciative, his palms slip down Noiz' body: his neck, his shoulders, his collarbones, down his arms (cautious and delighted by their tension) and then at the elbow his fingers leap up again to spread over Noiz' chest. Slowly they slide down from there to brush his nipples, his ribs, his flat, toned belly, his pierced navel, his thighs; again he leaves off to glide down the length of his dick. Seymour exhales a deep breath as the pads of his fingers finally slip free of its heavy heat. He cups Noiz's hips. ]

Guide me.

[ He draws Noiz down onto his cock with smooth, serious strength. The moment of penetration is everything; his calm grey gaze is fixed upon Noiz' face, to see how he would react, how he would flush, how he would be pleased.

The sensation of being enclosed in him, of feeling his tight, slippery hole open for him, is intense, urgent, needful. He sets this urgency at a remove, consciously. His own pleasure was not important now. His entire focus belonged to Noiz.

And to the next phase of the ritual. ]


noiz-chan: (077)
[ Seymour's hands explore Noiz' body in a way that seems almost too intimate. Too knowing. There's no way he could know how fervent each touch comes across, how palms running down warm skin feel as strong as a blow and yet as provocative as of the silky texture of Seymour's sash were slipping over his bare flesh. His posture stiffens despite himself as fingers spread over his chest, exploring, sucking in a quiet breath when they brush his nipples and drag over the piercing at his navel. His abdominal muscles as well as thighs tense visibly, and while Noiz would never sink as low as to try to hide it, he couldn't if he even wished to. He's bared completely to Seymour, the fact that it was only skin-deep the only respite.

... But he finds himself maddeningly affected by it, all the same. His cock remains stiff and hot, ever-more so when the other's fingers trail over it, and idly Noiz realizes that this was an inevitable outcome. Even a brief flash of the image of Seymour's cock in his mouth, thick and arcane-looking, filling him up— it sends a jerk of pressure to his arousal, and that fact is driven home.

Hands come to his hips, and Noiz is brought back to reality all at once, blinking once to disperse the distracted look that had no doubt painted his expression, a narrowed and almost irritated one passing over it instead. But it's no use. Little objection dwells within him at this point to refuse Seymour's entry, feeling his heartbeat quicken with conflicted excitement as the other's engorged cock presses at him tensely.

His back is straight, and his palms pushed to the couch beside him rather than touching the man about to pierce him, knowing that if he focused on anything else it would only become harder. A soft, strained sound leaking past his tensed lips and he leans back with the sudden and mounting feeling of Seymour starting to push him apart, Noiz' eyes narrowing and breath growing short as his spine curves back, face gaining a flushed quality. He's no blushing bride, but there's no resisting some reaction when the unbelievable sensation of Seymour's cock parting him broadly and to the hilt threatens to overwhelm. ]

H—haah...

[ It's slow, almost torturously so that he sinks down without any asked-for guidance (knowing he can't speak, can't resist the terse sounds that would follow) as his eyes become unfocused, concentrating on the pressure and slight pain that all feel as intense as a wound and as good as if he'd come already. Noiz still manages to only express this with a small series of quiet breaths and a half-gasp or two, though his posture and the distant look on his face as he becomes flush with Seymour's lap explain what is wordless. Some of it, at least. ]


sey-kun: (pic#7263474)
[ It is beautiful.

Noiz is supremely beautiful, drawn white and tense with the heavens like a coil of incense smoke ascending. His handsome face is broken now of chilly distance and flushed and unfurled with feeling and bright, and Seymour watches him raptly. The sensation of pleasure as Noiz encloses him - it swims under the surface of his skin and swells in his throat, and he closes his eyes just for a moment to be subsumed in its very pure, very warm wash within him. Noiz comes to rest in his lap. His soft panting breaks against Seymour's shoulder, damp, vital as spring.

He feels no urgency to rut. Even though he had penetrated Noiz, even though his cock was thick and hot inside him, in this moment of hesitation he is himself filled with awareness which was leaf-green and metal-tasting, and he feels against his own skin the pressure of Noiz's will and desire, and he desires nothing more than this. Slow, deep, measured breaths. He is perfectly still.

This is close to pain, the more so because it would not endure. He would consciously shatter the moment it before its savor failed. ]

Noiz...

[ His thumbs stroke over his hips. Gently he rocks him, fitting them more closely together. He shifts; his soft lips touch Noiz's shoulder, then his jaw. Then, light at first, his mouth.

His hand runs down Noiz' arm. He collects the other man's hand in his own; breaking his kiss, he presses the palm to his mouth and whispers against it a word of benediction in a foreign tongue. Then he guides it to his shoulder. ]

Come.

[ Beneath Noiz, his hips arch, shallow but sure. His cock slips in deeper with each thrust. ]


noiz-chan: (68)
[ It would be so much easier to just jerk down onto him, try to take over and make this less personal and entirely unforgiving. He would feel less like Seymour's cock— heavy and hot inside him— was a small part of the exchange he'd rapidly found himself involved in, something else taking over. Time feels longer, almost depraved in the way it rubs away at his previous disinterest. This person was a stranger to him, not even a day old in his mind, and yet...

Seymour's kisses are unreturned, his eyes following the man's foreign, vague ceremony with breathless restraint. It feels good— too much, in its slowness, too aware is he of every centimeter swept inside of him. Noiz wants to hurt him, he realizes, just as much as he wants Seymour to fuck him raw. It's dreadful but he doesn't know how to combat it.

In one slow, fell movement, Noiz feels as if he's compromised a vital aspect of his being, and must fight to get it back. His body disobeys— swaying his hips downward in time with the push of the other up and into him, every time reminded just as sickly-sweet, as warm and smooth and yet overwhelmingly intense as the last of the girth working its way inside him in more ways than one. Perhaps it was as fitting a first as one could ask, in this place, but for Noiz it's all but vexatious in its intimacy. Seymour's movements are too much like control— or is it reverence? He cannot tell. He doesn't have the experience nor emotional capacity to do so, moreover the honesty to admit that in this moment, as their bodies meet and he he is enthralled.

As his palm presses a little harder to Seymour's shoulder to remind himself of the corporeal, that the being beneath him is a man— as far as he knows— and nothing more, Noiz rocks down and more swiftly into the careful thrusts. With a look torn between half-lidded, numb ecstasy and enmity, like he's been caught in a mistake both overly-pleasant but too proud to admit it, he lowers his head and licks a line from the blackened edge of a tattoo and up to Seymour's jawline, breath exhaled through teeth shakily. He pushes the other's arousal deep inside of him, rutting against the other's lap while fully seated to the tune of a muted sound at the back of his throat— internally cursing the man and the bizarrely affectionate exchange that yet left his stiff cock nearly dripping with heat. ]


sey-kun: (There's a second verse even.)
[ Noiz sets the pace and Seymour follows, pliant and powerful. Unblinking eyes watch him rise and fall, watch his lips part around his panting, watch the confusion and pleasure in his open expression. Each moment of Noiz' closeness or surrender hangs in the hollow of his chest, each time Noiz sinks down against him he feels the rhythmic furl of ecstatic pleasure vibrate up from where they were joined together.

Noiz bends to drag a tongue along his skin and he shudders; his head rolls back against the couch, that he might expose himself to more, and he lets his eyes fall shut again. The shock of pleasure communicates itself with a heavy throb of his dick inside Noiz. His palms press up along Noiz' lean waist to catch him, ride against his movement, encourage him; mostly just to take in the shape of him. It is sincerely enjoyable just to feel his skin and the movement of his body.

Seymour must pin these intimacies to his focus: so the folded pleasure is banked, so the spike of lust is constrained, so the rich sensation of Noiz' tongue on him does not overtake him. He wants to hold Noiz closer and feel his trembling. Later. He wants to devour him in hungry undisciplined kisses. Later. He wants to expose himself, dangerously, to Noiz' scorn and attention. Later. The pound of his cock into Noiz' hole beats against his brain and demands orgasm. Everything later.

This moment is for curling one hand around the bobbing length of Noiz' cock and rubbing the ring at its head with his thumb. He strokes it too slowly on purpose and lets his long nails catch on every stud. A sudden smile curls his lips. ]


noiz-chan: (013)
[ Fuck, he curses internally— it's too good. It's too much. That growing heat building in his dick and spreading throughout him grows exponentially with every pound of Seymour's thick cock into him, and the struggle to still the affected moans that want to rip forth is all too real. He wants to. He wants to urge the other in the right direction, wants to order Seymour to fuck him— but he won't. He refuses. Noiz' hands grip over the man's shoulders with blunt nails digging into flesh even still, then sucks a breath in suddenly when Seymour's nail drags just right over one of the piercings embedded into his shaft.

The mix between painful tension and new sensation sending a spike of pain up to where he's so fervently stiff. Reeling back as it strikes white-hot throbs of pleasure through him, Noiz straightens to thrust down onto him, rocking his hips in place and rubbing his cock against the other's sharp touch, a shallow sound passing—

... but he then makes the mistake of meeting the maester's eyes. His own widen from where they'd been half-lidded and heatedly distracted to that of a glare, and his thighs tighten where they're pressed beside Seymour's legs, posture stiffening despite how he keeps riding him (Fuck, but he can't stop, anyway) in pure reaction to the physical provocation of that infuriating smile. The irritated words that pass his lips along with heavy breaths are lacking entirely in any affection. ]

What's— [The intensity of it is barely accommodated for by pushing a hand to the couch behind Seymour for purchase, the previous action bringing his face too close, too close, his cold but alight gaze blurrily taking in the other's expression. ] —so funny?


sey-kun: (pic#7443412)
[ There is patience in the slow, deep, calm flex of his belly as he drives his thickness into Noiz' wet hole. There is no fatigue, no skip in the rhythm. He might do this for hours without tiring. The cool grey eyes which meet Noiz' seems to promise it to him.

The glare prompts his smile to widen; he lifts his face to Noiz' and speaks close to his mouth, almost touching. His thumbnail tucks into the ring piercing the base of Noiz' dick and pulls. His voice is smoke-soft and knowing. ]

I am intrigued.

[ No part of jacking him off or torturing his piercings is enough to distract Seymour from the pleasures offered by Noiz' closeness. His long eyelashes drift to his cheek as he catches the scent of Noiz' skin, his breath, his hair. A fountain overflows in his heart: to learn of these qualities is an intense, profound joy. The same with the warmth of his skin, the play of muscle in his thighs or belly, his blond brows furrowing in frustration, his hot tongue teasing him. To have his senses overwritten with Noiz and directed to Noiz, whose clean, dark, transparent sexual intensity disturbed him, compelled him....

He shoves his cock up into him as he cups his head again. Again a light kiss as his fingers sidle along the piercings at the back of Noiz' neck. He is proud - of bringing Noiz to the same point of irritation and arousal that Noiz had brought him to - and pride makes him gentle, perhaps even because he suspects that gentleness will antagonize Noiz further.

His tongue slips between Noiz' lips. He licks the sensitive thin inner skin of his mouth meticulously as he strokes the length of Noiz' dick. ]


noiz-chan: (067)
[ It's more than frustrating. It's a little humiliating, even— though Noiz didn't feel that way about the act itself. It's Seymour's seeming lack of unbalance, even during this, something that's already pushing him steadily toward a fast finish. The prideful and yet gentle smile that quirks lips he'd so fervently kissed before, Partly he wonders if he's just good at hiding it, but mostly he feels he knows the reason. It's too much because it's the first time he's felt it the way it should be felt— this man was unknowingly shaping Noiz' perception of pleasure, and that felt...

— He won't consider how it made him feel, now. All that truly matters in this moment is the unchanging beat of Seymour's cock into him, and the growing tension that coils and burns deep within despite all mental attempts of staying its approach. Noiz' eyes narrow with the effort, breath coming out harder every now and then. There's a degree of preparedness for something cheeky to slip from Seymour's lips, but before he can brace himself for it, the piercing is yanked in tandem with a thrust upward— Noiz sucks in a breath loudly as it sends a hot, somewhat painful jerk of intense pleasure up his cock, threatening to burst. ]

Nnh—

[ The next thrust comes with the same rhythm, but it strikes him differently with the tension to his cock and the irritation that flares in his chest only making him ache further— it's like an itch is welling up inside of him every time Seymour's cock pushes him apart, growing and growing until he's no longer aware of the disjointedness of his hips grinding down in time with the other's movements. His vision feels more blurry, and even as Noiz tries to drag together the words to strike down Seymour's arrogance, his body acquiesces fast to the touches over his aching arousal, eyes narrowing and hands dragging down the man's chest with (even blunt) nails bared to support him as he rocks into his hand and back (hard, disjointed, needy) onto Seymour's cock.

He wants it. He wants this end, but he tries to hold on, to get the upper hand, breath coming faster and shorter. ]

Intrigued by... [ Hah— hah, ah— ah! ] What...?

[ Noiz' words are murmured with blatant annoyance as Seymour's tongue brushes his lips beyond, and it's after only a moment of this combined with long fingers stroking him that the heat within him boils, one of his palms shoving him back roughly against the couch and away from his mouth before he's reeling, breaking. Every smack of his body down onto the other is suddenly too much, and yet he can't take it in fast or hard enough— embarrassingly finding his vision return enough to catch the ripple of muscle trailing down to where he's undeniably being fucked— and not just that, but Seymour's eyes: the connection between what's delving into him as well as antagonizing finally making his cock pulse and his thighs twitch and tighten around the other in sudden and fierce, unwanted but intense orgasm.

He doesn't keep leaning back, instead pitching forward, both hands thrust to the couch to grip it as he doubles over with hard, restrained gasps and shallow jerks. It's good, too good, and Seymour suddenly feels too big as he tightens around him and yet keeps delving for more; an easy mess made on the other's stomach where the head of his cock comes into contact with it, and a low, exasperatedly erotic hiss of an insult passes his lips as he's wrung out with the sensation. ]

Bastard...


sey-kun: (pic#7263516)
[ He is arrested by this.

He does not blink lest he lose sight of Noiz' lean body straining. Where he touches, he does so in strict mindful attention to his need: stroking his dick, his nails digging into the thin skin at the head, and the other hand curled at his hip to support him as he fucks himself down onto Seymour's cock. He feels Noiz flexing in his grip and lets his fingers stray to the cleft of his ass where heat pours out from where they are joined.

Seymour draws terrible, level, even, deep breaths that pull his whole chest taut under the surge of Noiz' nails.

Visceral lust - Noiz is nearly milking him now - rises up in him like a tide. It expands unreasonably, a sea of clear cold longing for Noiz and for release. To constrict it and force its power to feed his patience requires masochistic focus and the pain of relinquishment makes his throat swell as if he were holding back tears. A mantra hums in his mind and cools him; yet if he distances himself too much, he will not see all that he hungers to see as Noiz bucks on him and his face scrunches up and he pants, his ass clenching and his penis stiffly jerking as he comes, flushed pink and gold as an idol...

Noiz hovers close to him in the aftermath. Seymour's head inclines automatically and officiously in pride, his own limbs humming with tamped-down energy. His breath is a little tight against Noiz' cheek. He makes it sound efficient, ironic, when he speaks: ]

Is that all?

[ But this is not what he means. Neither for their joining, nor for Noiz' insult.

He lets his hands fall away to rest upon the tops of Noiz' thighs; he sits placidly, smug and composed, except his cock is straining-hard and still stuffed completely inside Noiz. He meets the other man's eyes and he is still smiling faintly, indicating even in the dishevelment of his rich clothing his superiority, his cool command.

I will do this to you again and again. ]


noiz-chan: (017)
[ It's easier to just pretend Seymour isn't there as it takes everything out of him— breath, mind, come alike— but considering the look on the other's face is part of what had so suddenly thrown him over the edge... it wasn't as easy as he'd have liked. Noiz pants under his breath, stomach muscles still tensing and relaxing repeatedly as do his thighs, cock twitching as he hunches over spent. He's only just regaining the rest of his senses when Seymour's voice rumbles smoothly close to his face, sending a hard throb down his now over-sensitive cock, teeth baring just slightly in response.

His hands relax somewhat against the couch, and Noiz straightens up a little— becoming more and more aware of how stiff Seymour still is within him, of how he's conscious of even the most minor shifts of the other's cock buried inside— eyes half-lidded and expression foggy in his ecstasy, moodiness creeping back in visibly all the same. ]

... And what if it was?

[ What else did he want? For Noiz to jerk him off? The situation isn't so cloudy now that he's not fervently throwing himself onto Seymour's cock (actively, anyway), but the hazy, numb feeling that permeates his body makes him fickle to again forget just why he'd come here in the first place. All it had been for was... a deal. And yet, this man had brought him to such a state, and with barely any effect other than the thickness of his arousal still pushed into Noiz.

...He wasn't some pet, or a gift. Irritation forms a knot in his throat even as he finds himself vaguely drawn to finishing Seymour off, to figuring out how he could be so still— among other things— during something so... intense. Noiz wants to wipe that look off his face, and badly. His voice is more than a little breathless when he continues, chest rising and falling dramatically. ]

I'd say I've...more than proven my sincerity.

[ Some of that rebellion leaks through as he tries to take hold of his end of the situation once more, slowly rocking his hips down onto where Seymour presses inside of him. It's too sensitive— fuck, too good toomuch— but he does it all the same, not wanting to back down even as he somewhat does by recognizing what he'd just done. It doesn't help that he's still flushed and disheveled and has made a sticky mess of Seymour's stomach, either, but he had to try. ]

Or did you want this...?


sey-kun: (That's all there is.)
Is that what you think I want.

[ He says in a rich sort of voice, velvety with his soaked sadomasochistic pleasure - controlling himself too well, lapping up Noiz' weakness too greedily. Does it not ram the point home to remain so serene now that Noiz had spent himself? Is it not intensely gratifying to force him to perform further.

He tilts his chin up; his eyes are darker now with his interest, wide, obscure silver like a heavy overcast. He holds Noiz' gaze as he reaches back to tug one of his hands away from the couch. His thumb rolls within its curved palm; he lays it upon his bare chest and guides it down until his fingers drag through the spurt of semen across his belly.

Lifting it to his mouth, he licks Noiz' seed from his fingers. Bitter, a burning bitterness, the sap of medicinal herbs, with its sharp proteinaceous scent that only comes from sex and spoiling. His disturbing eyes close. His hand curls along the spread curve of Noiz' hip and he arches into his lover's body without any particular urgency. Merely to feel where they were still joined, its heat, its sloppy openness. A soft sigh parts his lips. ]

Do you wish for me to stop, Noiz?

[ Is this already too much for you? He knows the answer already; he wouldn't have asked otherwise. He wants very much for Noiz to kiss him again with his rude, fresh mouth. Perhaps he will demand it in a moment. For now he lets his head fall back against the couch and his hand fall flat across Noiz' belly to span his slimness and soak up his heat and brush against his pierced navel.

He is nowhere close to succumbing yet. ]


noiz-chan: (019)
[ He's tempted to grab Seymour's tongue and rip it right out, when he talks like that. When his tongue laps across Noiz' palm in a way that's too sensitive, damp and slow and too lewd for its own good. It sets something heavy in his stomach, a mix between disgust and already wanting more regardless of his spent state. He's almost as tempted to fuck Seymour's mouth with his fingers, just to see how he'd react.

— Even so, the other's thick, still-hard cock seated within him betrays that calm facade... or what Noiz thinks to be a facade, anyway. As he's arched into, he sucks a breath in a little faster than had finally calmed down to, eyes staying on Seymour's face even as their bodies arch and shift slowly. His voice is cold, purposely level even as its still somewhat breathless. ]

...I don't want anything.

[ It's half a lie, and that's good enough for him. Noiz ignores the spark of arousal roiling in his loins, ever-stoked by the still insistent but gravely unmoving jut of he other into him, and raises the kissed hand, semen still dabbed across his thumb. This time when he speaks, it's with a pointed clench of muscle around Seymour's cock, hips shifting just barely— his voice low and challenging and altogether unfitting for the position he's in, but knowingly so. He smears his thumb across the other's mouth, face tilting down toward him just barely. ]

If you want something, then take it.


sey-kun: (pic#7263467)
[ A dark flash mars his serenity, visible in the pits of his pale eyes, and just as visible the moment of conscious control which buries his rage. He licks his lips with the delicacy, precision; then he presses his face to Noiz' chest and rubs his cheek against the flat between his smooth pale pectorals. His long forelock tickles against Noiz' shoulder. His tongue sweeps hotly towards a pale flat nipple. Just before he encloses it, he utters, ]

I want to hurt you when you say such things.

[ His tongue pours over the nipple and his mouth follows, adhering and luscious. He must angle his head so and suck at him in order to catch the little pink nub of it between his teeth.

His bite is meticulous: any harder than this and his clean sharp teeth would break the skin.

After this he draws away to admire his handiwork, the swelling blood-bright color that blooms on Noiz' flesh. His nails graze the boy's belly. He presses lightly and delights in the subtle tautness of Noiz pinned from within between his cock and hand. A sharp glance up at his tormentor. ]

I wish to fuck you properly.

Lay down.


noiz-chan: (017)
[ Noiz stays purposely still— almost stiffly so— as Seymour's face presses to his chest, lips then pressing to skin in a way that feels too hot, a low hiss of his breath being sucked in heard as the other's mouth encloses his nipple. His hands creep to Seymour's shoulders, settling there as teeth twitch closed over him, nails digging lightly into skin in response. Noiz' eyes are narrowed and brows drawn when the man glances upward, lips parted and cheeks lightly, almost indignantly flushed. This bastard runs through his mind briefly before he's clenching teeth at the admission of wanting to continue this further from Seymour, something else first spilling from Noiz' lips as heated and angered as it is breathless. ]

Then keep hurting me.

[ Before he's even finished speaking, Noiz is shifting to lean back against, well, nothing, allowing his body to fall back against the couch; hands still on Seymour's shoulders and sliding up to his neck, intending to drag the other as far as he could with him. His back has only just hit the soft yet tense surface of the seating when he's continuing more forcefully, even entreatingly with eyes focused firmly on Seymour's— ]

Fuck me.

[ Truthfully, if he were to continue along with the anger and still-remaining arousal that stirs in his stomach, Noiz would repeat it again and again— fuck me, fuck me, fuck me— but he won't. He wouldn't, ever. Seymour doesn't deserve it. The prickling intensity in his eyes and the flustered tone of his skin should say it all. ]


sey-kun: (That's all there is.)
[ Noiz falls back, and Seymour recognizes his strange sense of humor in it, and presses his lips together, close to laughter. He follows with his whole body as any good dancer follows his partner. He rises over Noiz, covering him, shoving himself between slim golden thighs so they would not lose contact. In the sudden darkness between them, as he looms over Noiz and the distant lamps are cut off by his arching shoulders or the fall of his hair, the hostile gemlike gleam of Noiz' eyes calls to him like a lamp in the windows of home, like light at the edge of a deep forest.

Fuck me, so he said. Keep hurting me. These words that made lust throb in his dick... Seymour's hand flattens along the side of Noiz' face to steady him against the hard kiss that follows. His cock sinks deep into Noiz as he settles on top of him and he grinds, smiling a little, licking his lips in the aftermath of the kiss.

The couch is cramped and close. His weird belly flattens against Noiz' dick as he arranges himself. The fine ciliate muscles that pluck and tighten there tense unnaturally against Noiz as Seymour reaches down to grasp his knee and lift it up high against his body. His voice is quiet and hoarse with want. He speaks between kisses that graze Noiz' lips, chin, the line of his jaw. ]

Will you come again for me.


noiz-chan: (048)
Hn.

[ Bringing a hand up, Noiz threads fingers through the Meister's hair to its base, tightening in it lightly, biting back a low groan (biting Seymour's lip) in the hard kiss paired with the other's thickened dick grinding against him inwardly. He allows the repositioning, though it's with an expression much like a wet cat's— although it doesn't seem to deter him from rocking his hips a little onto Seymour as he murmurs distractedly, eyes distant. ]

...Why don't you try and find out?

[ Noiz' gaze may be narrowed in that same, cold-yet-heated glare when he refocuses, but his voice is breathless all the same. He is tight around Seymour— and his cock starts to stiffen again, aided by the sensation of the other sinking deep into him, the man be damned. He's laid out like an ornate display, beneath him, one leg propped up to Seymour's design, the other pressing loosely to his back, of Noiz' own. Despite all of what seems nearly affectionate, that discontent is still present in his expression— a challenge. ]