[His soft laugh isn't cruel but it is pleased, smug at Hades's reaction even as he kisses his temple. His "fingers" curling around his core, caressing with utmost care. It is enticing to have Hades so rawly reactive under his attention, and while his other arm holds and cradles the man's body in his lap, he takes the liberty of closing his soul's fingers around the core of Hades's, those fingers long and taloned and infinitely careful.]
[He is trembling in his lap. Gasping and moaning against his neck as his inner soul is cradled. It's open and raw and everything he wants. A touch he's clearly starved for.
His wits are scattered which means the grip he has on Lahabrea's own souls slackens without his notice. Not that he could maintain it in his current state.
He doesn't even realize words are slipping out of his mouth.]
[It is incredibly sweet hearing Hades plead in such a voice. And without letting go anywhere he catches Hades's chin in an extra invisible hand, tilts his head up firmly to kiss him.
His thumb caresses the core of him, a firm stroke along the center of his essence, fingers curling lightly to keep him "cupped" in his palm.]
You are so starved for this affection. Have I neglected you?
[It's gentle, but his fingertips settle in five points, clawed tips at the center of Hades's soul, and then he presses one in, breath catching himself as he does so delicately.]
[He can't answer that because his mouth is busy. Though the firm stroke against his soul gets his to grip his shoulders more tightly. More as an encouragement to continue more than anything.
But at the more pointed treatment that grips turn into bruises. And gasps turn into cries.
So, yes, he is quite starved for this type of affection.]
He drags that claw through the very center of Hades's soul, piercing through him both imminently gentle and possessive in his hold.
His other arm sinks into him, physically still holding him close but aetherically with his hands deep in his chest, cradling the center of his soul in both sets of claws.
He does not wait or give Emet time to adjust to being so intimately invaded and touched, sinking the tips of all ten fingers into him, impaling through him without damage or pain, as his fingers curl tighter.]
Then his body is writhing to get out of and further into the hold at once. It being way too much pleasure and stimulus and desperate craving all at once. As for his mind, everything has gone completely white and he is unable to hold any coherent thought in his head.]
[That is more or less the goal. He kisses Hades's cheek, but his concentration is on cradling his soul. Treating it with the utmost care, as it is the most precious thing in the universe.
Even impaled on the ten claws that are his fingers. That is care!
He's exceedingly gentle though, given it is all too much by design, flexing his fingers in the very core of the other man, kneading almost like a cat before very gently pulling his fingers from so deep, leaving them resting on the edges.
It is not to let Hades breathe or recover however, his hands shift, palms over and under that ball of essence, closing around him and squeezing, constricting, applying pleasant pressure directly to the core of his being.]
[He kisses his temple, his cheek, his gasping lips, taking in those whimpers. Holding Hades in invisible hands, stroking his back and hair, arms still buried deep in him, never letting go of his core.
He's trembling himself just slightly, there's a deep pleasure in touching Hades this way. In drawing out such wrecked reactions.]
I am far from finished with you my love.
[His voice could not be more fond or filled with love. He could not possibly pour more affection into Hades's soul than he is offering right now.
Those invisible hands pull Hades back just enough for Lahabrea to kiss his chest. Pulling his aetheric hands out, near the surface of his soul and form, still cupping the core of Hades. Gentle, careful, keeping him firmly within the aura of soul. Where nothing could possibly damage him, where he is not untethered from himself. But where Lahabrea can kiss him, physically, with his soul, lips to his core, still holding him caged in his palms and talons.]
[He would like to bask in it for a few eons, he thinks. Lahabrea's soul. Even though his mind is scattered and it is far, far, far too much, he can still appreciate its warmth, its fire, its tenderness.
That is, until begins to tug his own soul to the surface. After all, what is healthy coping but burying trauma deep inside hopefully for it to never surface again?
He can barely handle people touching his death scar, the physical proof of his most dire failure. And even though he is gentle, even though he is careful, even though he is full of love and adoration.
He can't.
All he can feel, all he can imagine is all the Light of the First tearing through him. Chunks of auracite trying to pull at his soul to bind him. And then that terrible moment where he had to give into both and felt the threads of his own soul unravel through his fingers. Of it being torn out of him.
Tears fill his eyes and cold, acidic fear begins to taint Lahabrea's fingers buried deep within him.]
[That will not do. Of course he stops pulling, fingers closing closer around Emet, blazing and protective.
He lifts the other man with invisible hands of aether, pushes him down in the pillows while still half buried on his soul, not a bit disentangling as he leans over him, pinning him.
He will kiss the tears on his cheeks and pour half his own soul into Emet, full of fire and darkness, blazing and warming and chasing the cold fear--not to eradicate it but to soothe and comfort, to give ease rather than to destroy the emotion. He is gentle. And he is forceful. And he does not let go of Hades's core even a little, though he keeps it cupped and safely deep in him, not trying to draw his soul's essence out, instead holding him shielded in his palms.]
Shh. Fear not. My beatiful Hades. No harm shall befall you within my hold.
[His breathing evens out as much as it can given the situation as he's laid down, covered and protected. He brings both of his hands to the back of Lahabrea's neck so he can hold him close.
And finally, finally it looks like he'll have time to get his wits around him so he's not simply reactive.
....And then there is the soul pouring. Perhaps not.
He gives out a sharp hiss of pleasure as the fear melts away. And he's so tired and boneless at this point that there is no resistance. He lets him take and find space in as much of his soul as Lahabrea desires. He practically just gives it to him.
And now that Lahabrea has taken residence he'll feel his love for him, his joy, his concern, his fear, and guilt and self-revulsion and mourning and exhaustion.... the list goes on. Can he really tell Hades' emotions separate from his own at this point?]
[It might be a little difficult to untangle but he tries mainly just to fill him and hold, soothe the fears and the guilt, cradle the self-revulsion, the trauma, the worries, accepting all of it without judgment or flinching. Spreading fire through every crack and corner of Hades, blanketing and filling him with love and protectiveness.
He strokea his core again, just the gentlest touch of fingers, not concentration there to overwhelm as before, simply adding that to his show of affection.]
[He is soothed. He always is in Lahabrea's presence. Though even moreso as he coated in his soul.
He's panting underneath him and he opens his eyes which doesn't remember exactly when he squeezed them shut. He's exhausted so he doesn't respond physically, but he does respond aetherically. Without hindering Lahabrea's movements he clasps the fingers, the talons around his own core just lightly coating them in his color.]
[There is a smile, felt in his soul, but really all he does is keep soothing, petting and holding and gathering Hades against him.
And very gently he probes deeper. Not to unlock or lay bear trauma, simply sinking warmth into him, into his core, into every scrap of his soul. Reassurance. Gentle comfort. Trying to reach those things that need it most.]
[He whispers his name softly letting his eyes fall back shut.]
Were we not supposed to soothe each other. Together. I don't believe I can keep up.
[Throwing his aether around him like a net and tugging him down flush to him physically. He'll let Lahabrea control the pace of intimacy with their souls.]
[He kisses Emet's jaw and lips lightly as he's pulled down, fingers stroking through his soul at a leisurely pace now.]
You say as if I am not soothed holding you thus. To have you here in my hands is more relief and comfort than words can express.
[Though he does try to share that feeling, the peacefulness just holding Emet brings, to share the truth of it, show that it is not empty words but true relief.]
[Slipping his arms around his waist bonelessly. Basking in that.]
I know. I know it does.
But I know your soul aches as well.
[He can't do any more than lazyily brush against him with his aether having been too spent with the kindness murder Lahabrea enacted earlier. So it is simply slow and lazy and tired touches but they do not lack in their own adoration or affection.]
And what exactly were you planning before my stamina ran out?
[Sometimes you must simply murder a man you love and enjoy every moment of it. He keeps up the gentle caresses in turn, humming softly. Mischief in his soul with the fondness.]
There are matters we've both pushed aside. Too busy and too afraid to deal with. I can still feel it, aether, my aether slipping through my fingers. I will never be able to forget it.
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Re: Day 296
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His wits are scattered which means the grip he has on Lahabrea's own souls slackens without his notice. Not that he could maintain it in his current state.
He doesn't even realize words are slipping out of his mouth.]
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His thumb caresses the core of him, a firm stroke along the center of his essence, fingers curling lightly to keep him "cupped" in his palm.]
[It's gentle, but his fingertips settle in five points, clawed tips at the center of Hades's soul, and then he presses one in, breath catching himself as he does so delicately.]
Re: Day 296
But at the more pointed treatment that grips turn into bruises. And gasps turn into cries.
So, yes, he is quite starved for this type of affection.]
Re: Day 296
He drags that claw through the very center of Hades's soul, piercing through him both imminently gentle and possessive in his hold.
His other arm sinks into him, physically still holding him close but aetherically with his hands deep in his chest, cradling the center of his soul in both sets of claws.
He does not wait or give Emet time to adjust to being so intimately invaded and touched, sinking the tips of all ten fingers into him, impaling through him without damage or pain, as his fingers curl tighter.]
Re: Day 296
Then his body is writhing to get out of and further into the hold at once. It being way too much pleasure and stimulus and desperate craving all at once. As for his mind, everything has gone completely white and he is unable to hold any coherent thought in his head.]
Re: Day 296
Even impaled on the ten claws that are his fingers. That is care!
He's exceedingly gentle though, given it is all too much by design, flexing his fingers in the very core of the other man, kneading almost like a cat before very gently pulling his fingers from so deep, leaving them resting on the edges.
It is not to let Hades breathe or recover however, his hands shift, palms over and under that ball of essence, closing around him and squeezing, constricting, applying pleasant pressure directly to the core of his being.]
Re: Day 296
Words are useless. Even if he could remember how to form the syllables he could never string them into something useful.
He pushes against his chest, a weak and lacking thing, and then freezes when his soul is being squeezed so lovingly. Whimpers escapes him.]
Re: Day 296
He's trembling himself just slightly, there's a deep pleasure in touching Hades this way. In drawing out such wrecked reactions.]
[His voice could not be more fond or filled with love. He could not possibly pour more affection into Hades's soul than he is offering right now.
Those invisible hands pull Hades back just enough for Lahabrea to kiss his chest. Pulling his aetheric hands out, near the surface of his soul and form, still cupping the core of Hades. Gentle, careful, keeping him firmly within the aura of soul. Where nothing could possibly damage him, where he is not untethered from himself. But where Lahabrea can kiss him, physically, with his soul, lips to his core, still holding him caged in his palms and talons.]
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That is, until begins to tug his own soul to the surface. After all, what is healthy coping but burying trauma deep inside hopefully for it to never surface again?
He can barely handle people touching his death scar, the physical proof of his most dire failure. And even though he is gentle, even though he is careful, even though he is full of love and adoration.
He can't.
All he can feel, all he can imagine is all the Light of the First tearing through him. Chunks of auracite trying to pull at his soul to bind him. And then that terrible moment where he had to give into both and felt the threads of his own soul unravel through his fingers. Of it being torn out of him.
Tears fill his eyes and cold, acidic fear begins to taint Lahabrea's fingers buried deep within him.]
Re: Day 296
He lifts the other man with invisible hands of aether, pushes him down in the pillows while still half buried on his soul, not a bit disentangling as he leans over him, pinning him.
He will kiss the tears on his cheeks and pour half his own soul into Emet, full of fire and darkness, blazing and warming and chasing the cold fear--not to eradicate it but to soothe and comfort, to give ease rather than to destroy the emotion. He is gentle. And he is forceful. And he does not let go of Hades's core even a little, though he keeps it cupped and safely deep in him, not trying to draw his soul's essence out, instead holding him shielded in his palms.]
Re: Day 296
And finally, finally it looks like he'll have time to get his wits around him so he's not simply reactive.
....And then there is the soul pouring. Perhaps not.
He gives out a sharp hiss of pleasure as the fear melts away. And he's so tired and boneless at this point that there is no resistance. He lets him take and find space in as much of his soul as Lahabrea desires. He practically just gives it to him.
And now that Lahabrea has taken residence he'll feel his love for him, his joy, his concern, his fear, and guilt and self-revulsion and mourning and exhaustion.... the list goes on. Can he really tell Hades' emotions separate from his own at this point?]
Re: Day 296
He strokea his core again, just the gentlest touch of fingers, not concentration there to overwhelm as before, simply adding that to his show of affection.]
Re: Day 296
He's panting underneath him and he opens his eyes which doesn't remember exactly when he squeezed them shut. He's exhausted so he doesn't respond physically, but he does respond aetherically. Without hindering Lahabrea's movements he clasps the fingers, the talons around his own core just lightly coating them in his color.]
Re: Day 296
And very gently he probes deeper. Not to unlock or lay bear trauma, simply sinking warmth into him, into his core, into every scrap of his soul. Reassurance. Gentle comfort. Trying to reach those things that need it most.]
Re: Day 296
[Throwing his aether around him like a net and tugging him down flush to him physically. He'll let Lahabrea control the pace of intimacy with their souls.]
Re: Day 296
[Though he does try to share that feeling, the peacefulness just holding Emet brings, to share the truth of it, show that it is not empty words but true relief.]
Re: Day 296
But I know your soul aches as well.
[He can't do any more than lazyily brush against him with his aether having been too spent with the kindness murder Lahabrea enacted earlier. So it is simply slow and lazy and tired touches but they do not lack in their own adoration or affection.]
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[And he can't find the words so he just holds him.]
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[Gentle, probing. He is patient, but curious.]
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But if I may soothe you, help you, ease you, tell me. Ask me. Let me. Only when you wish. Only if you are ready.
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[He pushes with his soul asking for entry.]
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