539 [Closed] - Printable Version
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539 [Closed] - Tindome - 08-09-2015
![[Image: 539.png]](https://alonimi.net/misc/images/graphics/539.png)
disclaimer: probably not historically accurate
539 [Closed] - Tindome - 08-09-2015
It was the middle of the day, but Theodorus had no intention of getting out of bed. His servants went about their business without him, because they knew that it was best to give him a wide berth when he was in a mood.
He was most certainly in a mood.
Theodorus was actually quite nice to his servants, overall. He'd never had slaves, and had freed a few. But he had a mean streak a mile wide, tongue as sharp as his teeth, a wild thing even just to see. While most of the members of his estate had outgrown their terrors of him, they still knew better than to think him harmless.
His ill-temper had any number of sources. Primarily, it was the city. He'd left Rome for Constantinople thinking himself clever, but he found that he did not much care for it. He'd never liked Rome as much as he'd liked Athens, and he liked Constantinople even less. He did not like the new gods, and the strange laws they brought with them, and the sensibilities around them. He did not like the slaves, and the wars, and the churches. He hadn't always gotten along with the old gods, but they'd made more sense to him than this new one.
Meeting new playmates was harder, now, than it had been. There weren't parties the way there used to be, no more orgies or bacchanalia. He got away with more than most people, even if patrikios did not mean quite what it used to. He had a villa and lots of servants and lots of gold, and even this new god could not argue with that. But they didn't know what to do with him, did they? He was something from another time and different gods, and eventually he had a hunch that someone in this city was going to try and kill him for a heretic.
He'd been thinking about moving to Persia. Which was a strange thought, when they had warred for so long, but he'd never really been a patriot. Romans now were not Romans as they used to be, and Persians seemed to be so much nicer. So he'd heard from Jews, anyway, and they were usually the first to know if a place was awful.
He'd considered other places. Sinae, or India, maybe. But he was so very Greek, still. The paleness of him and the arrangement of his features had been very pleasing, in that time and that place. He'd been younger, less tall, less broad. He was still not so large as a barbarian, but he was too large, too sharp, too pale. In a place like Persia, with so many people from so many places, he might be able to get away with it. He did not know enough about those other places to say.
Mostly these thoughts displeased him. He wanted to move, and yet he didn't. What he really wanted was for everything to go back to the way it had been, when he'd had his villa in the heart of Rome and his gardens had been vast and his parties infamous. When eunuchs were not so uncomfortably common, when he could take as many lovers as he liked in whatever shapes pleased him.
Curls dark black ran wild along marble-white skin and imported red silk, untamed enough to resemble more a dark ram's fleece than the hair of a man. He gazed out his window at the sea, watching ships pass along the pier, brooding.
He was not opposed to new things. He liked new things. He simply did not like having to lose his old things.
Sprawled out naked on his bed, he huffed.
He was going to need to get up eventually.
He was most certainly in a mood.
Theodorus was actually quite nice to his servants, overall. He'd never had slaves, and had freed a few. But he had a mean streak a mile wide, tongue as sharp as his teeth, a wild thing even just to see. While most of the members of his estate had outgrown their terrors of him, they still knew better than to think him harmless.
His ill-temper had any number of sources. Primarily, it was the city. He'd left Rome for Constantinople thinking himself clever, but he found that he did not much care for it. He'd never liked Rome as much as he'd liked Athens, and he liked Constantinople even less. He did not like the new gods, and the strange laws they brought with them, and the sensibilities around them. He did not like the slaves, and the wars, and the churches. He hadn't always gotten along with the old gods, but they'd made more sense to him than this new one.
Meeting new playmates was harder, now, than it had been. There weren't parties the way there used to be, no more orgies or bacchanalia. He got away with more than most people, even if patrikios did not mean quite what it used to. He had a villa and lots of servants and lots of gold, and even this new god could not argue with that. But they didn't know what to do with him, did they? He was something from another time and different gods, and eventually he had a hunch that someone in this city was going to try and kill him for a heretic.
He'd been thinking about moving to Persia. Which was a strange thought, when they had warred for so long, but he'd never really been a patriot. Romans now were not Romans as they used to be, and Persians seemed to be so much nicer. So he'd heard from Jews, anyway, and they were usually the first to know if a place was awful.
He'd considered other places. Sinae, or India, maybe. But he was so very Greek, still. The paleness of him and the arrangement of his features had been very pleasing, in that time and that place. He'd been younger, less tall, less broad. He was still not so large as a barbarian, but he was too large, too sharp, too pale. In a place like Persia, with so many people from so many places, he might be able to get away with it. He did not know enough about those other places to say.
Mostly these thoughts displeased him. He wanted to move, and yet he didn't. What he really wanted was for everything to go back to the way it had been, when he'd had his villa in the heart of Rome and his gardens had been vast and his parties infamous. When eunuchs were not so uncomfortably common, when he could take as many lovers as he liked in whatever shapes pleased him.
Curls dark black ran wild along marble-white skin and imported red silk, untamed enough to resemble more a dark ram's fleece than the hair of a man. He gazed out his window at the sea, watching ships pass along the pier, brooding.
He was not opposed to new things. He liked new things. He simply did not like having to lose his old things.
Sprawled out naked on his bed, he huffed.
He was going to need to get up eventually.
539 [Closed] - Blade - 08-09-2015
Earth was a silly place with even sillier creatures. Bipeds with weak exteriors and wrought with breakable forms had easily begun to outnumber the others. Some of them had too much hair and many more of them not enough. He remembered the too-large reptiles with snapping jaws and elongated talons; some of them had had feathers. Shame really about that large hunk of space-rock; they’d not quite had a chance to really grow. He’d had a bet with another Grigori that they’d last for at least another eon. He’d almost liked the feathers better than the hair; they tended to come in more colors... Mammals. Ha. And they thought speaking in sounds—as they had so recently learned how to accomplish—was the most divine way to communicate. Perhaps not divine… no, but by the cosmos they were deliciously messy. How they’d not killed themselves off sooner than the large reptiles was beyond him; they’d certainly figured out how to war well enough. And that was the interesting part wasn’t it? Most creatures in the universe killed for territory, sex, and sustenance—survival as well; human beings… they had too much passion—vision—and not enough restraint. If they weren’t overproducing themselves into oblivion they were doing a fine job of destroying themselves. And over what? Skin color? Culture? False gods? Land?
Other Grigori were sated to simply trek about the everdark, free of form and oxygen—exploring, watching, and then moving on. Few ever came back to a place once they’d had their fill in one way or another. Some of them liked the planets without speaking bipeds, choosing—for a time—to take a form familiar to that world and muck about until they wanted for something else. His people, if you could call them that, enjoyed the simplicity of untamed creatures. They didn’t think too much beyond what sounds they made and the natural manner they went about existing. So unlike humans…
When he’d been younger some of the Grigori had tarried on Earth for a time. Many of their false gods could be blamed on his people, he supposed. Not that he really cared. If one was too ignorant to grow out of the past then one deserved the blight they brought onto themselves—and their children. But he didn’t care about most of them. Just one.
He was still too young even if he was not as young as he’d been when he’d watched the child fumble about like a newborn star trying to take shape. And after the boy had changed the Grigori still couldn’t stop watching, only leaving when he needed to eat. Each time he returned to Earth it was a little harder to find the biped that changed named like one changed exterior adornments; though, locate him he did.
Watching was a Grigori’s past time, his namesake; however, they all really did grow weary and move on after a while. And here he was… watching—frowning in his unfathomless state of not-being and unable move on. There were other beings on this world, truth be told; beings not quite human. He’d become one, this creature who changed his name with each new age. And yet, the Grigori found nothing interesting about any of them. So why?
Pushing the thought aside, though still frowning, he became put out by the brooding. He not been gloomy often, the Grigori’s little fox. And he couldn’t stop, it seemed. How… awful. He appeared positively content to remain in bed and was doing nothing short of glumming about. Was it the state of the world? Admittedly, it had gotten a little boring in a few places. Not true of the untame western landmasses…
This really wouldn’t do; the little fox’s mood was starting to foul his own and he preferred to be entertained.
Thus, in the quiet of his open room, the black mist began to appear; starry bits of blackness that twinkled and danced roved over the floor, along a corner of the little fox’s bed, before finally coming to rest as the very foot. It was there on the floor that his body began to take shape, galaxy-black clouds curling and forming. The eyes came first, electric magenta that seemed to glow like two lights. Next came limbs: long muscular legs with feet, hands and arms, shoulders and more. Marble cut and far too pale, the Grigori would be staring at his fingers—a hand—as he held the single limb up and the dark receded. Pale lips curled curiously as he flexed the digits. His hair was a long whimsy curled cascade that fell down his back and over his shoulders, locks moving where they may over his collarbone as he blinked and white lashes touched his cheeks.
Perhaps he should have bothered with clothes? It didn’t seem prudent, not when he was so interested in feeling out this new body and the world around him. Air felt warm against his skin, he noticed. The sharp nose twitched and his face moved through several expressions, inadvertently drawing attention the far-too pretty, though masculine, manner in which he’d crafted it.
Still, he’d almost forgotten why he’d gone about the trouble of all this. Electric magenta hues refocused on the body in the bed, narrowing as his hands went to his hips. He opened his mouth speak, but the worlds that escaped were entirely of his people and thus he stopped—frowned. This required further thought, it seemed. He rubbed his throat, coughed, and then rearranged what made the least amount of sense and tried again.
“You’ve become rather boring,” he finally said, a pang of joy blooming secretly within at his own success. He smirked at that, but it quickly faded. “I’ve come a long way and yet all you do is laze about as if the world has nothing more to offer you.” His voice was reproachful; as if he placed blame solely on the little fox. “It’s a lot like watching primordial ooze create life, dismal and usually disappointing.”
539 [Closed] - Tindome - 08-11-2015
Theodorus first became aware of the presence by the taste. Not that the taste was new to him, but it was stronger than he had known it to be, to the point that this was the first time he had found himself truly aware of it. Previously he had assumed it to be something in the background, something common and easily overlooked. So it had gone with trees, after all. He was, for all his years, still rather inexperienced, having never made a study of those things which made the world and which fed him. If they were not obvious, they were also not very satisfying, and so he did not much care. He'd had a vague notion, for a while, that he might have only been tasting stars.
It reminded him now of opium smoke, or maybe dried snakeskin, or a glassblower's workshop. Something hot and brittle, something sharp.
He probably ought to have risen, but he remained as he was, curling a little around a pillow on which he lay to better see what was happening. A darkness, and then a glow, until that darkness began to shape itself as a man. How strange, that it should choose that particular shape. Was it a man pretending to be a cloud, or a cloud pretending to be a man?
He winced when it opened its mouth to speak, rubbing at his ear with a knuckle rather than a fingernail to avoid clawing out his own eardrums. It would heal well enough if he did, but it would hurt in the meantime, and he was not in the mood to hurt. He didn't mean to yawn as the peculiar phantasm spoke; it simply happened, teeth flashing and jaw cracking, stretching out his arms to coax himself into a more active listening position.
This was a strange thing, but he had seen many strange things. Not as many as he someday would, but he lived in strange times, when strangeness found men without their needing to seek it out.
By the time he was sitting upright, legs still tangled with silk, there was no longer anything to listen to. Theo raked a hand through his wild mass of hair to get it out of his face, well enough to see, if only for a moment. It would not take long for them to come tumbling forward again. He had any number of questions, but he would settle for just the one, lest he seem overeager.
"The fuck are you?"
It reminded him now of opium smoke, or maybe dried snakeskin, or a glassblower's workshop. Something hot and brittle, something sharp.
He probably ought to have risen, but he remained as he was, curling a little around a pillow on which he lay to better see what was happening. A darkness, and then a glow, until that darkness began to shape itself as a man. How strange, that it should choose that particular shape. Was it a man pretending to be a cloud, or a cloud pretending to be a man?
He winced when it opened its mouth to speak, rubbing at his ear with a knuckle rather than a fingernail to avoid clawing out his own eardrums. It would heal well enough if he did, but it would hurt in the meantime, and he was not in the mood to hurt. He didn't mean to yawn as the peculiar phantasm spoke; it simply happened, teeth flashing and jaw cracking, stretching out his arms to coax himself into a more active listening position.
This was a strange thing, but he had seen many strange things. Not as many as he someday would, but he lived in strange times, when strangeness found men without their needing to seek it out.
By the time he was sitting upright, legs still tangled with silk, there was no longer anything to listen to. Theo raked a hand through his wild mass of hair to get it out of his face, well enough to see, if only for a moment. It would not take long for them to come tumbling forward again. He had any number of questions, but he would settle for just the one, lest he seem overeager.
"The fuck are you?"
539 [Closed] - Blade - 08-11-2015
It was difficult not to see the boy in him, the one he’d once been, at that moment—a clamoring tangle of overeager energy with no direction wandering through the underbrush. But he hadn’t been broody those ages ago, looking like some kind of man-child who’d rather pout than play. The reminder had more to do with how he was laid about, totally unwilling to wake up—just as any humanoid child with not enough sleep would be.“Bored,” he replied; though he didn’t sound angry so much as put out because of the Little Fox. But he wasn’t acting it, not really. Not as he turned about the room and began looking at things with new eyes. “By the cosmos… how do you tolerate having such a low visible spectrum range?” he blinked a few times as if doing so would mend that problem. “I suppose it’s fairly advanced for a bipedal species of any kind, but... utterly disappointing by comparison.”
He circled the room them, picking up things and investigating them as he went on. “I assumed you’d begin moving again, what with all borderline judgement and hate going around. Not the first time religion has ruined things for others.” He tossed something in the air, catching it with a satisfied smirk as he made way over to the other man’s bed and sat down on the edge like he had every right. “But here you are moping like a spoiled child who’s can’t find his favorite toy.”
The Grigori’s back was to him as he kept his eyes on the ball he tossed, some delicate thing he didn’t seem to mind tossing. He caught it the last time and stopped, leaning one hand on the mattress behind him and turning so he could look at his Little Fox. Platinum curls slid over his bare shoulders and some of it touched the bed. “How much longer are you going to be like this? Because, if it’s going to last at least another five hundred years I’ll find something better to watch.”
539 [Closed] - Tindome - 08-22-2015
He considered just laying back down. Maybe pulling the blankets over his head, for good measure. Arriving naked and uninvited in his bedroom was one thing, but to do so for a lecture could not be borne. Touching his things, even. It made him want to break them just to prove a point. He didn't know what, but the impulse was there.
Then he sat on the bed, and Theo narrowed his eyes at the pale shape of his back. What would happen if he bit him? Would he disappear in a puff of smoke, or would he bleed? They were very nice sheets. It would be a shame to get blood on them. Not that it ever stopped him. Maybe if he hadn't turned around, he would have tried it.
He reached out to snatch the little ball away, a thing of glass all painted in gold, an impossibly delicate and expensive bauble. Then he tossed it out the window. Because he'd ruined it. By touching it. Somehow.
"I will be here six-hundred years," he decided, falling backward back into his bed and lacing his fingers beneath his head. "So you may as well leave me, Varetheí, else find a better use for your tongue. If you have a tongue. I do not let men in my bed who do not please me, phantom or no, and you seem to have the wrong idea about who ought to be entertaining whom. I am here for no one's amusement but my own."
Not that he was doing a very good job of seeing to that. It was, nonetheless, the principle of the thing.
Then he sat on the bed, and Theo narrowed his eyes at the pale shape of his back. What would happen if he bit him? Would he disappear in a puff of smoke, or would he bleed? They were very nice sheets. It would be a shame to get blood on them. Not that it ever stopped him. Maybe if he hadn't turned around, he would have tried it.
He reached out to snatch the little ball away, a thing of glass all painted in gold, an impossibly delicate and expensive bauble. Then he tossed it out the window. Because he'd ruined it. By touching it. Somehow.
"I will be here six-hundred years," he decided, falling backward back into his bed and lacing his fingers beneath his head. "So you may as well leave me, Varetheí, else find a better use for your tongue. If you have a tongue. I do not let men in my bed who do not please me, phantom or no, and you seem to have the wrong idea about who ought to be entertaining whom. I am here for no one's amusement but my own."
Not that he was doing a very good job of seeing to that. It was, nonetheless, the principle of the thing.
RE: 539 [Closed] - Blade - 11-21-2015
Oh... he was thinking—quite the taxing sport for human beings. Not that his Little Fox was much human anymore. He’d been quite adorable in years past. Now... he wasn’t certain. A brat. Definitely. The Grigori conveniently avoided thinking about how that might be hypocritical. He, for one, didn’t often get along with his own kind simply for much the same manner; not that they were really any different. So few of his people met and conversed for very long, eccentric and wrought in boredom—constantly searching for next amusement no differently than a sexual addict continued to up the ante. It generally reduced them to bickering pranks that wound up molding the universe in favorable and unfavorable ways.When his Little Fox grabbed the ornament and tossed it out of the open window his brows rose in interest. Magenta hues followed the path it took, considering stopping its motion. He refrained though, taking much more interest in the way his fell and broke—the way it felt to him. Sometimes the tearing apart of things was much more entertaining than the putting together of them.
And then he smiled—laughed brightly at the response. White teeth made an appearance as his Little Fox pouted further. “Oh yes, I well know about all of that. You are rather adorable when you’re not getting what you want, but you’re more than aware of that.” And then he turned his head to its previous position, next falling back on the mattress so that the back of it gently rested on his Little Fox’s thighs. His lifted his hand and stared at it, wiggling his fingers and looking at them as if they were worthy of his idle attention.
“I haven’t the need or the want to leave you presently. Though, I do wonder how you imagine I might entertain you—myself in the process, as I never do anything that does not please me. You have given me many examples over the decades, tumbling about as you do—using others as you desire.” He paused and dropped his hand, rolling his body so his cheek rested on the other man’s thigh. His curls fell in a cascade over his shoulder and neck. A smirk; a brow rose.
Yes, this was infinitely better that just watching him. Perhaps he should have done it sooner.
RE: 539 [Closed] - Tindome - 11-28-2015
"Adorable?" he repeated, incredulity and offense mingling in his voice. "I may no longer be the beast that I once was, but I have not killed men and bested gorgons to be treated as a child by wayward phantoms. Were you any other thing, I might have torn out your throat for that." He sat up, though not entirely, hands splayed out on the covers behind him. A better angle to see the man now practically in his lap, who tasted as strangely as he did. "Or am I incorrect in assuming that to do so would be pointless? I would hate to think I have wasted the opportunity."
He certainly did look as if he was ready to oblige Theo's request, soft curls along his thighs with only a thin barrier of silk between them. He had not actually anticipated that kind of easy acquiescence, but he was not about to refuse such a thing if offered.
If it was being offered.
It was a little difficult to tell.
A lot of things were difficult to discern, actually. The taste of him was so different from the beings to which he was accustomed, it was not as easy as it normally was to tell what exactly it was that he was tasting.
Was he even capable of it, that burst of energy that he so enjoyed to feast upon in more earthly creatures?
"If you have so many examples," he said, "then surely you cannot lack for inspiration in imagining what I might want." Indeed, Theo's cock was not immune to the sight or the feel of another man's cheek against his thigh, brushing against silk. "Or have you appeared here in my bed with such a pretty form only to tease me, wretched thing?"
He certainly did look as if he was ready to oblige Theo's request, soft curls along his thighs with only a thin barrier of silk between them. He had not actually anticipated that kind of easy acquiescence, but he was not about to refuse such a thing if offered.
If it was being offered.
It was a little difficult to tell.
A lot of things were difficult to discern, actually. The taste of him was so different from the beings to which he was accustomed, it was not as easy as it normally was to tell what exactly it was that he was tasting.
Was he even capable of it, that burst of energy that he so enjoyed to feast upon in more earthly creatures?
"If you have so many examples," he said, "then surely you cannot lack for inspiration in imagining what I might want." Indeed, Theo's cock was not immune to the sight or the feel of another man's cheek against his thigh, brushing against silk. "Or have you appeared here in my bed with such a pretty form only to tease me, wretched thing?"
RE: 539 [Closed] - Blade - 11-29-2015
The Grigori was silent for a few brief moments as his Little Fox explained how he was insulted—what he would do if he could do it to him. And then he barked laughter; his body shook with the action, his head jostling along the other man’s thigh. “Most assuredly, you are—much of the time. Sharp tongue and sharper teeth—all the better to make me bleed, it seems—you hope.” He exhaled a smile, lips pursing. “How I find comedy in it.“Though, Grigori generally have coarse taste when it comes to humor.”
He felt a little confused to The Grigori; his emotions were a flitter of this and that, as if he couldn’t decide how he should be around his new guest. But he did like The Grigori there, despite his attitude. And that was something. The Grigori liked knowing he was exciting something out of his Little Fox. It was much better than nothing; something was always better than nothing.
“Am I wretched now?” he asked gently, gravelly, wickedly as he sat up. One hand was placed on the other side of the other man’s legs and he leaned into The Little Fox. “I who have appeared before you and spurred you to do more than wallow? To do more than pout and mourn all that you don’t have as you have always had it?”
And then he was smoke again, starry bits of color blinking on a canvas of inky ebony that swirled around The Little Fox. It would feel like a brush of warm breath along his body. When he reformed he was behind him: his crotch pressing into his lower back and bottom, the inside of his bare thighs pressing into the outside of the other man’s, and his nose pressed behind his ear as he exhaled a chuckle.
“Shall I tease you into ecstasy, My Little Fox?” he asked as one hand slid along his ribs, down his abdomen, and reached, nails scraping—fingers eventually daring to curl around his hardening shaft. “Perhaps that would please us both,” he murmured deeply.
RE: 539 [Closed] - Tindome - 02-28-2016
His amusement did little to endear him to Theo, irritation bristling at him with the sound of laughter. His lip curled, and it was growing ever more inconvenient that he could not simply kill him. Or at least hurt him. He'd not done such a thing on impulse in a very long time – but then, he had not needed to. The threat was enough, the knowledge that he might lose his temper and crush bone or tear flesh, strength fueled by terror, terror fueled by strength.
Grigori, he said, but Theo did not recognize the term. Not a beast that he had heard of, not a monster whose name was whispered in his hearing. Gorgons, nymphs, dryads, faeries, spirits; these he knew. This creature tasted like none of those things, not even alike to the spirits of the dead despite whatever resemblance he may have held.
"Wretched," he repeated, dripping with disdain. "Those who give unasked-for opinions are the most wretched, the most foul – the lowest of the low." This may have been just a touch hyperbolic. "I did not ask for your interference, Grigori, nor did I consent to put on for you a show." For such was his claim, was it not? That he had watched, that he had lurked in the background of Theo's consciousness? There was no other explanation for the familiarity of the taste of him, stronger now where it had once been a faint omnipresence.
The man – the Grigori – lost his solid form again.
Theo watched the intangible shadow, wary. He anticipated neither the form nor the manner of his reformation, close contact and the trappings of intimacy. He did not do anything so gauche as attempt to throw the other man away from him, nevermind the cock pressed so rudely at his back.
Had he been attempting to force himself on Theo in earnest, it may have been a different matter.
But this was merely an acceptance of Theo's own offer, even if it was fingers rather than lips wrapping around his stiffening cock. "Would it please you?" Theo wondered. Such a question might seem unduly considerate if not for the nature of him. His apparent concern for the pleasure of his partners was rarely more than consideration of his own needs, the unseen power that fueled him. "I have little faith in your ability to please me, regardless – a tease, and no more."
Grigori, he said, but Theo did not recognize the term. Not a beast that he had heard of, not a monster whose name was whispered in his hearing. Gorgons, nymphs, dryads, faeries, spirits; these he knew. This creature tasted like none of those things, not even alike to the spirits of the dead despite whatever resemblance he may have held.
"Wretched," he repeated, dripping with disdain. "Those who give unasked-for opinions are the most wretched, the most foul – the lowest of the low." This may have been just a touch hyperbolic. "I did not ask for your interference, Grigori, nor did I consent to put on for you a show." For such was his claim, was it not? That he had watched, that he had lurked in the background of Theo's consciousness? There was no other explanation for the familiarity of the taste of him, stronger now where it had once been a faint omnipresence.
The man – the Grigori – lost his solid form again.
Theo watched the intangible shadow, wary. He anticipated neither the form nor the manner of his reformation, close contact and the trappings of intimacy. He did not do anything so gauche as attempt to throw the other man away from him, nevermind the cock pressed so rudely at his back.
Had he been attempting to force himself on Theo in earnest, it may have been a different matter.
But this was merely an acceptance of Theo's own offer, even if it was fingers rather than lips wrapping around his stiffening cock. "Would it please you?" Theo wondered. Such a question might seem unduly considerate if not for the nature of him. His apparent concern for the pleasure of his partners was rarely more than consideration of his own needs, the unseen power that fueled him. "I have little faith in your ability to please me, regardless – a tease, and no more."
RE: 539 [Closed] - Blade - 07-11-2016
It made The Grigori happy to know that his Little Fox was irritated with his reactions; which was not all that surprising given that he, by definition, was a creature of chaos in some respect. His kind did thrive on it. Actions, reactions, and a tumbling of events that made things move. Stationary and nonmotivated was not interesting; it slowed things down and made existence stagnant. And really, there were few things more dangerous than a bored grigori. Knowing The Little Fox was angry, sort of, did nothing to dissuade the being who’d watched him—who knew much of his capacity—for far too long.In fact, calling him wretched again, telling him that he was ‘most foul’ and ‘the lowest of the low’ only made him smile further—amused as a cat who’d gotten the cream. He also enjoyed the momentary caution he’d sensed; so then... was there some part of him that feared The Grigori?
His lips curled against the back of The Little Fox’s ear—enough to crack open. “Are you quite certain, Little Fox?” he asked as his fingers finally gripped the base of him, some splaying over soft sacs which were lower still. “So often you do what provides you with sustenance—the pleasure of those around you... sometimes anger... I have felt many things as I have watched you. Have I not provided in my own way?” The Grigori didn’t know if by now he was trying to bait him or have a little fun—perhaps both. But he was enjoying himself more than usual. “Is that not a proper exchange?”
His free hand moved to knead the other man’s thigh while the one holding his stiff rod squeezed and slid upward. “I do wonder...” he murmured, words whispered across the his Little Fox’s lower neck, in response as to whether or not such a tempting act would please him. Sex was pleasing, but he’d yet to try it in a human body... or human-esque, as the case was. But skin always felt good; and it did indeed feel as good as any other time he’d committed the act, the feel his skin against The Little Fox’s—the feel of his own hardening cock pressing against his back.
He hummed, considering the other man’s last words... “Ah... but teasing provides its own release... Would you not agree?” At these words he bit down softly on the space between his neck and shoulder, sucking just enough. At the same time, he swept his thumb over the tip of him—ever curious of his reactions and feelings.
RE: 539 [Closed] - Tindome - 01-08-2017
"Very certain," he said, no hesitation at all in his response. He did not respond to the Grigori's touch except those involuntary responses of the organ itself. He was not some young and eager thing, to lose himself so easily in a touch. Touched so often, and by such skillful hands, but it was a rare thing indeed that he desired pleasure as much as sustenance. "You have provided no more than the trees, or than beasts, which I find no more appealing." Though it was not entirely honest to pretend he did not appeal; he was not repulsive or distasteful in the essential essence of him. "I have agreed to no exchange, and so reject your claims," he added.
He seemed no more knowledgeable than Theo as to whether he was capable of feeding him. That pricked at his curiosity. Had he not fucked before? Theo had little interest in virgins, as a rule, but this creature did not behave particularly virginally. Then again, he may have only been copying what he had – by his own admission – already seen.
"Teasing is only worthwhile within a limited set of circumstances," he said, because it was true that he'd been a tease often enough. Only to embarrass, humiliate, arouse – eliciting something or else enhancing the eventual emotional release. He growled as a mouth touched his skin, a curl to his upper lip at teeth and tongue. His cock twitched and leaked in the other man's hand, but he did not otherwise acknowledge the contact. "None of those circumstances involve teasing me."
He seemed no more knowledgeable than Theo as to whether he was capable of feeding him. That pricked at his curiosity. Had he not fucked before? Theo had little interest in virgins, as a rule, but this creature did not behave particularly virginally. Then again, he may have only been copying what he had – by his own admission – already seen.
"Teasing is only worthwhile within a limited set of circumstances," he said, because it was true that he'd been a tease often enough. Only to embarrass, humiliate, arouse – eliciting something or else enhancing the eventual emotional release. He growled as a mouth touched his skin, a curl to his upper lip at teeth and tongue. His cock twitched and leaked in the other man's hand, but he did not otherwise acknowledge the contact. "None of those circumstances involve teasing me."
RE: 539 [Closed] - Blade - 03-17-2017
The Grigori couldn’t taste feelings the same way The Little Fox could, so it was sometimes difficult to tell if someone were lying or not—especially if they were inclined to believe their own brand of horse piss. Even so, he did not think The Little Fox was genuinely disinclined towards his presence. “Perhaps because I chose not to,” he said, sounding as if he didn’t know. He couldn’t be certain, after all. He was not of this world, and therefore, perhaps the creature who’d woven The Little Fox as he was had not taken grigori into consideration. But he’d never actually tried either, none-to-entirely inclined to make his presence known to his favorite Earthen creature. Until now. So it was possible that while he was hidden from him—muted in his own way—that anything he felt, that The Little Fox could sense from him, was drab at best.“Or, perhaps I was too untethered to this plane to have been much more than a tickle in your ear, Fox.” How would The Little Fox react if The Grigori could feed him? What would he taste like? Like the stars The Grigori fed on? Ambrosia? Nectar of the heavens? Or something entirely rotten?
If The Grigori could know his mind—and he couldn’t—he would tell him that, no, this certainly wasn’t his first time in a humanoid form taking liberties. It was just the first time in a human form; well, as human as he could manage, at any rate. But he couldn’t, so it didn’t matter.
The Grigori hummed at his response on the matter of teasing. His hands were stilled; his chin resting on The Little Fox’s shoulder. “Would you rather tease me then?” he wondered aloud. “You’re such a fickle thing today... and grouchy. And hardly doing anything about it at all.” He sighed finally and sat back against the pillows, placing his hands behind his head. Magenta hues started upwards at the ceiling.
The Little Fox wasn’t really responding. Sure, his body reacted a bit—he’d growled. Hardly interesting. And he was angry in his own way; which was better than depressed and despondent. But The Grigori wanted him to be spurred to do something more than... he was so unhappy. He really didn’t mind a little unhappiness, but not to the point of...
...what was the word? Words?
Given up—yes. He’d given up. A rut. And The Grigori didn’t like his Little Fox being one of those.
“You’re the most interesting thing I’ve come across in quite a long time, you know?” he said more to himself once more. “Going about as if it’s game, but at the same time as if existence can always provide you with something infinitely more fascinating to toy with.” He huffed. “You haven’t even seen the whole world yet... and you’re acting as if you have—as if it has nothing left to provide you with.” He shut his eyes and let his body relax a moment because it felt good to do that. “You’ve lost...” He trailed off, not sure if he had a name for it. Because child-like wonder was a silly way to describe it and didn’t fit at all. “...something,” he finally said, because there wasn’t a word or words for it. That thing that made The Grigori come back again and again—watching The Little Fox as he went about life as if it always had something better or fascinating to provide him with.
RE: 539 [Closed] - Tindome - 05-07-2017
Theo was surprised when the other man gave up on his ministrations – he'd assumed that he would be more persistent. What had he then hoped to accomplish? Had he thought that he could do to Theo what he had so often done to others, turn the tables on him with lust and greed?
"I am always fickle," he asserted with a sniffle of disdain, suffering no lack of self-awareness on that particular front. He was allowed to be fickle. He'd earned it.
He eyed the thing in his bed with suspicion. It still rankled to think that he had been someone's entertainment, a source of amusement, a thing to watch when he was unawares. Flattering as it was to be interesting – but of course he was interesting. What could possibly be more interesting than he was?
"Feh," he said instead. "I have all the time in the world to see the world, if I desire it. If I do not desire it, it is because the world has not made itself desirable. When it can offer me such pleasures as I have once had, I shall seek them out. Why should I wander in search of what may not be, when I have such a fine bed, and when such pleasures can come to me instead?"
"I am always fickle," he asserted with a sniffle of disdain, suffering no lack of self-awareness on that particular front. He was allowed to be fickle. He'd earned it.
He eyed the thing in his bed with suspicion. It still rankled to think that he had been someone's entertainment, a source of amusement, a thing to watch when he was unawares. Flattering as it was to be interesting – but of course he was interesting. What could possibly be more interesting than he was?
"Feh," he said instead. "I have all the time in the world to see the world, if I desire it. If I do not desire it, it is because the world has not made itself desirable. When it can offer me such pleasures as I have once had, I shall seek them out. Why should I wander in search of what may not be, when I have such a fine bed, and when such pleasures can come to me instead?"