crescentview | FALL CATCH-ALL

[ This--

This is how it was meant to be.

As the soft of Syrlya's petal lips meet his, something inside Trahearne melts, shatters, flutters. For a moment, he feels like he's suspended in midair, floating above all the troubles and worries and squabbles that had plagued him so, that have run rampant through the island. A torrent of love and affection pours from every fiber of his being to fill the air around them, and his hands slip back, gently gripping at the dress at Syrlya's lower back.

His head tilts, and he dips his head, kissing him back. Ever so slightly do his lips part as he applies firmer pressure, wanting to taste more of him. ]

[It's like the floodgates have opened up.

The surge of affection hits him all at once and almost takes his breath away. His hands slide back, arms curling around Trahearne's shoulders to keep them together.

Syrlya's response is not slow. He pushes in, eagerly and forcefully deepening the kiss. The gesture isn't near enough to expression the passion that bubbles up in him, finally tasting a satisfaction he'd been denying himself for so long.]

[ Tighter do his arms wrap, doing away with all the hesitation and restraint he'd been forcing on himself. He holds Syrlya flush to him, responding with equal speed as his tongue brushes against his lips, his tongue, his essence. He drinks in all the passion that flows through them, a quiet hum of delight resonating through him, back into Syrlya.

His eyes remain closed, but he breaks the kiss just scarcely to murmur against his lips-- ]

Don't--

[ He interrupts himself, kissing Syrlya again. He feels so breathless, but nothing feels like enough. ]

--go.

[That's his line.

Syrlya's doesn't respond with words, as he's barely keeping up with breathing between kisses. Instead he responds by pushing his body into Trahearne's, letting chest and stomach and hips and legs meet, as his tongue tries to wrestle its way into Trahearne's mouth. He'll do anything to prolong this moment.

--only until he really can't breathe, and his lungs burn, and he's forced to tilt his head back with a gasp.]

[ That's a perfect answer.

One hand snakes up Syrlya's back, fingers coming to entwine with the stems of his hair at the back of his head, and the other rests at the back of the opposite hip, holding him closer, tighter. He leans into him, over him, and not once is he worried about him bending too far, or too hard, because in this moment he trusts Syrlya and every emotion from Syrlya that feeds into him. This is right.

Syrlya pulls back for air, and for the briefest moment, Trahearne's eyes languidly peel open, dragging up from his lips to his eyes. If Syrlya is ready or not, it doesn't matter--he gives him one, deep kiss before his speaks, the intensity of the passion in his eyes boring through Syrlya's.

There is gravel in his whisper, barely masked desire bubbling through the wanting. ]

Stay with me.

[He's barely begun to breath again when Trahearne's mouth consumes his, and he's hit with a wave of vertigo that smothers his ability to think. It's really only Trahearne keeping him up, by this point, his legs too weak to keep himself steady even if he fell back to their flats.]

I'm here. [He doesn't even know what Trahearne means--stay the night? Forever? In his heart? It doesn't matter because Syrlya is filled with such an incredible need, clinging to Trahearne's desire, he can't really think about why he would be doing anything except continuing to touch, to love on Trahearne.]

[ Though Trahearne means tonight, all the others are equally applicable. What is life without Syrlya? In whatever he's given, he wants to hold his memory, his image, him with him and never let go. This moment is equally as important as all the ones yet to come.

With his arms cradling him, holding him up, Trahearne gazes down at him lovingly, admiring him, his glow, his eyes, his scent, the very essence of his being. The affection he feels is almost unbearable, that nothing he does will ever be enough to even skim the surface of how he feels.

His hands lift to cup Syrlya's face, and he kisses him again. Because why not? ]

Good.

[ Trahearne dips for a second, letting go, before sweeping one arm around his shoulders, and the other behind his knees, and lifts him into a carry. The weight is familiar, comfortable in his arms. He looks to him, a smile growing on his face.

And he strides into the house. ]

--Oh! [And then Syrlya is scooped into Trahearne's arm, the blush on his face competing with his glow as he looks, bewildered.

And then a laugh bubbles out of him, his head tilting to lean against the arm he has slung around Trahearne's neck. He feels absolutely vibrant.]

[ He wants to share in that laugh with him forever. Trahearne's own rumbling in his throat as he pushes open the door. Not once do his eyes leave Syrlya's. His chest feels so light, like he's finally been freed.

He marches through the house, and into his bedroom. It's quiet--they're the only ones here. After gently placing him back on the ground, his hands slowly lift to Syrlya's face again, and he places another kiss to his lips. ]

I have...so much love to give you, Syrlya. [ And another kiss. And another. ] If you would let me.

[Syrlya's grip slides a little, but he doesn't fully let go of Trahearne even as his feet reach the ground again. The walk into the house proper has let the tingling in him settle, and his thoughts focus again.]

I--yes--[Trying to get his words out between kisses. His fingers clutch around leaves as that desire starts up again.] Yes.

[ Trahearne replies only with a forceful exhale as his breath is stolen from him. He said yes. He said yes. He feels the desire and he latches onto it as it feeds into his; his eyes flutter shut, and he feels the familiar prick of a flush on his cheeks.

His arms wrap around him again, in his passion he leans over him, trying to kiss him deeper, deeper, wanting to taste more, more of him. His hands dig into the fine fabric of his dress as he holds him tight, not really mindful that it's supposed to be a rental.

He never wants to let go. ]

[Syrlya's whole body arches to accommodate Trahearne as he bends over. And they're kissing deeply again, Syrlya tilting his head to fit their lips as tightly together as possible, as deep as possible.]

[ Trahearne takes a step, and another, almost stumbling as his shin hits the edge of the bed. He inhales sharp, suddenly drawn out of the reverie in Syrlya's lips.

But when he pulls back in that moment, his breath catches--Syrlya's face, his lips, his eyes all stir a deep, heady desire, one like he's never felt with anyone else, in the pits of his gut. With his arm steadying him at the waist, he slowly brings his knee up onto the bed, encouraging Syrlya to sit on it as he lowers himself over him.

He leans in, lips scarcely brushing Syrlya's. ]

I love you.

[ He kisses him. His eyes slip shut. ]

I want you.

[It's intoxicating, the way Trahearne's desire spikes when he looks at him.

He plops back onto the bed, neck craning to look at Trahearne hovering over him, kissing him, and never has he been more aware of their height difference.

His fingers, again, find perch in Trahearne's leaves. The ones forming his shirt. And he starts to pull.] Then--take me.

[ He doesn't need to be told twice. In this moment, it's hard to think of anything else. He doubts he has ever wanted anything more than this.

With a forceful kiss, Trahearne pushes Syrlya onto the bed, a quiet gasp escaping his lips in the impact. His other knee comes to rest on the other side of him, and his hands wander, really feeling his body for the first time, the curves, the angles, the shapes under the soft fabric of the dress. He searches for a way to remove the dress, so that he can feel more of him.

He shivers. Not for any particular reason. Perhaps out of anticipation. Or desire. ]

[There's a zipper in the back, but he'll figure that out eventually.

A dress is much thinner fabric than his coat, and it's much easier to trace over all the indents and edges of his body through them. He shudders from the touch, the tease of it driving his anticipation.

Maybe should give Trahearne some warning. Or ask. But in a moment of uncontrolled need he simply draws his hands to tear off the leaves making the front of Trahearne's shirt. Not once does he break the kiss himself.]

[ Trahearne doesn't particularly care--the leaves fall to the wayside, baring his torso in an instant. Syrlya will feel the ridges of the healed wound over his chest, but it doesn't hurt anymore.

Not finding the zipper immediately, Trahearne's hands drift down Syrlya's sides to grab onto his hips and push him higher up onto the bed. Though he never breaks the kiss, tasting and feeling and drinking in every sensation and emotion he feels rippling from the other, his hands keep traveling down, lowering to the skin on his thighs. He exhales into his mouth, tantalized by the feeling of Syrlya's skin on his fingers, tracing the edges of leaves, hiking up the skirt to his dress. Oh, how he wants him. ]

[Syrlya's breath hitches as he's pushed up on the bed, and that starts a rush of pure arousal that completely distracts him from thinking about the wound he's just revealed.

He feels the skirt ride up, and he writhes against the bed as fabric fights against his legs until his thighs are revealed and Trahearne's fingers run against them. Just a dress leaves so little between them, and with his legs free he lifts them to slide his calves up Trahearne's thighs and hips. Take him.]

[ There's something about the way Syrlya's leg rubs against him in his wanting--much more tangible now that he wears leaves instead of his usual bark--that causes Trahearne's own breath to hitch. He's--Syrlya's--they've never been like this before. With each other. To feel him and his desire, desperation only feeds into his own, and his breath grows short. In a moment of impatience, he lowers himself further, pressing his groin to Syrlya's.

A hand reaches to grab Syrlya's wrist, and he places it on his waist. Strip me, is his silent command, as his other hand roams.

Trahearne breaks the kiss, but only so that he can move to kiss Syrlya's cheek, the tip of his nose, the base of his ear; he pauses as his hand snakes behind the back of the dress, and a laugh bubbles from his throat when he feels the zipper. ]

I found it.

[Then strip him, he shall, peeling and peeling each large sweeping leaf and just letting them fall to the floor. His hands return over and over to the skin he's just revealed, feeling up it and pressing in his fingers until he finally continues to strip off more.

And then Trahearne finally finds the zipper, and Syrlya laughs.] You could have asked.

[ Trahearne shudders as Syrlya's hands trail across his; there's something nice, comfortable about leaving his clothes in the care of another sylvari. He doesn't have to teach, or ask, or remind. Syrlya knows. And for some reason, that causes a surge of affection to well up inside of him.

Which causes his own laugh--so rare, but something he has been doing a lot tonight--to sound all the more delighted when Syrlya teases him. He sits back on his heels, arm cradling Syrlya to bring him up with him, and slowly slides the zipper down.

His eyes remain fixed on Syrlya's face the entire time, watching him with heady anticipation, to see all of him. ]

[Syrlya is pulled to sit, and now they're at the moment they have to choose one or the other. So Syrlya chooses his own clothes, being easier to disrobe, and as Trahearne pulls the zipper down Syrlya shifts so he can pull the dress over his hips. Once undone, it's quick work for him to roll it over his head and let it drop off the edge of the bed, leaving just the leaves the shield his groin, and the necklace Trahearne had given him.

His fingers tease the edge of the leaves at Trahearne's hips.]

[ With the dress gone, Trahearne takes a moment to just...look at Syrlya. To admire all the shapes and colors and delicate, swooping lines that make up the one he loves most in his most intimate form. He rests his hand on his stomach, fingers gliding up his chest, over the curious, foreign scar, and then settle on the necklace.

He smiles.

As Syrlya teases Trahearne, Trahearne bows forward, resting his head in the crook of Syrlya's neck. The light touch causes him to shiver, and arch his chest slightly into the other.

He hums, eager, but satisfied. ]

You're beautiful.

[Syrlya sucks in a breath as Trahearne leans into his neck, breathes flattery to his skin. It almost makes him dizzy, being brushed over with Trahearne's love.

His grip tightens.] You should help me, since I'm already unclothed.

[ Trahearne chuckles, and reaches to help Syrlya, to start prying the leaves around his hips and legs off. They brush against his skin, fall to the floor. All that remains are the modesty coverings.

And he comes over Syrlya again, gently lowering him back onto the bed. His lips hover over him, and his fingers drop to tease the edges of Syrlya's coverings.

For a moment, there's a brief pang of nerves. This isn't his first time--neither is it for Syrlya, he knows--but it's...different this time. He cares about him. Deeply. He wants to be one with Syrlya, but he doesn't want to hurt him. A shaky finger edges its way beneath the lip of a leaf, and he breathes against Syrlya's skin. ]

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Starts the NSFW warning

:gasp:

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