jikan_rpg | ✵ [Jan Catchall] Hope is not pretending that troubles don't exist.

[ Venti likes being around Diluc. He enjoys his company regardless as to what his company entails at any given moment. He knows this is because he trusts Diluc. He feels free and open in his company, and it makes having fun easy. He's fun and easy to tease, but he isn't shy about telling Venti when he's pushed one too many buttons, too. And sometimes he knows he needs that in his life.

He hadn't visited Diluc exclusively with the expectation for intimacy, but he's not disappointed when it happens. He's the only person here who Venti has shown off his wings for - and he's never quite forgotten what it was like the last time he had, too.

Those gentle touches as the man's fingers move over the sensitive feathers, a sensation he feels through his body. He doesn't say why he brought them out, but that is part of it. He knows it's hard to resist touching them. It's why afterwards, they remain out, stretched behind him as he seeks out the warmth of Diluc's body.

He almost makes a joke about how Diluc never struck him as someone who would accept cuddling like this, but he doesn't. No need to spoil it, after all. ]

[he isn't sure how much time has elapsed; he never really does, honestly. then again, he rarely is aware of anything else after he's brought to ruin, by yet another request he had of Red Wine. what was he thinking about before he asked the man for another distraction? he's not too sure. but judging by how his limbs are trembling, how his lungs ache from breathing too hard (from when he did remember to breathe), how sore his throat is (was it because he was loud? or was he particularly hungry for Red Wine's cock in his mouth?) and just how hazy his mind feels, it seemed like he was in a very particular mood.

not that it mattered, for the time being. he's sure those thoughts would catch up to him, sooner or later, but this temporary distraction, like many before it, do what its meant to do as he lays in Red Wine's warm arms, as he slowly pulls himself back together. he lets out a hum every so often, to let Red Wine know that he's still with him, that he isn't completely lost. no, he doesn't ever let himself get that far. or rather, the Food Soul doesn't let him. it's a fine line between sanity and insanity that Dohalim toes every time he's treated roughly, but he's always pulled back. though, ~~all of the time~~ sometimes, Dohalim can't help but feel bad that he's put that much responsibility in the other man's hands every time they do this. but... he's also grateful for it, all the same ~~even if it's not the healthiest way to deal with other emotions and thoughts~~]

[Diluc himself rarely opens any meetings with the expectation of intimacy, but Venti is one of few that he certainly doesn't mind it happening with. He doesn't mind at all, either, when the small, warm body in his lap manifests those lovely wings for him to touch and tease as he drives the archon to completion.

It's still, when he thinks about it a little too hard, utterly baffling to him that he has done things like this with Barbatos. The sisters would be apoplectic if they knew.

But he doesn't care. Can't find it in him to care when they're both satisfied, cleaned up, and Venti is leaning up against his chest with his wings laid out. Diluc has one arm around his back, and the other hand idly moves along the arch of the wing spread across their bodies.]

How's that? [He murmurs, something almost reverent in his voice as he strokes his fingers over the feathers. Right now he isn't trying to rile Venti up, just... make him feel comfortable.] Good?

[ The touch feels soft over the sensitive wings. The only physical reaction is the slight flutter of feathers as the wings twitch a little into the touch. He's certain Diluc knows that yes, it is in fact good, from the reaction alone. But he'll give the man an answer regardless. ]

Yes. It feels great.

[ He feels great. He seems to almost go naturally with the touch he gives Venti. The way he moves his fingers, shifts them over the wings? That gentle touch seems to almost come naturally to Diluc. It is so easy for him to touch softly, his fingers moving in a perfect motion over the sensitive feathers.

He tries to think of a way to describe it. ]

You're gentle with them, it's almost like you've done this before.

[ He appreciates that. He moves a hand up to tap his fingers idly over Diluc's chest where he's settled in comfortable. He's pretty honored that the other is so gentle with him. ]

Edited (typos & such) 2022-01-06 14:11 (UTC)

[He's learned over time just how far he can push Dohalim without it being too far, and it's for the man's own good that he never steps over that line even if he might want him to. Red Wine will treat him roughly without mercy until he's begging for release and for more all at once but as soon as he senses that tipping point he always stops.

While he'll allow this... whatever this is between them to be used as an outlet for Dohalim's complicated emotions he won't allow the man to use it as some kind of punishment for himself. As much as he had tried to remain emotionally unattached from at least this aspect of things, Red Wine has found that to be all but impossible.

And now here they are, at the tail end of another of those wild encounters, and Red Wine can feel each tiny tremor as it runs through Dohalim's body. Every twitch across exhausted nerves. He hadn't fared much better himself - he can feel the weariness sinking right down to his bones - but his stamina will always outstrip the other man's when it comes to this.]

So, do you want to tell me what brought this on..? [He hums, pushing his fingers gently into Dohalim's hair and scratching lightly against his scalp.] You had me worried I might hurt you.

[it does take a moment or two longer for Dohalim to answer, and when he does, Red Wine is met with a sideward glance, before he shakes his head]

Do I ever want to talk?

[of course, he's back to his roundabout ways of answering the other man's questions; it's almost expected at this point. yet another thing he feels guilty about, leaving the man to pry him open yet again for another answer. he lets out a sigh, pressing his face into Red Wine's chest. at least he's honest with his own question]

I've always come out alright, in the end, yes?

Mm.

[Does he ever want to? No, but that doesn't mean that he won't if Red Wine needles him enough. Sometimes he does. Sometimes he just lets it lie. He brushes a few curls of hair back off Dohalim's face and his fingertips linger around the shell of his ear.]

You know why that is. [Because Red Wine stops. Because he stops, even if Dohalim doesn't ask for it. It would be easy for the Food Soul to utterly break this man if he wanted to and the both of them know it. If he wanted to, he could hurt him.]

Do... I'm only asking because I care about you.

[the Food Soul's words has Dohalim's stomach to flip flop, though he tries to push that feeling away, for now. a part of him is happy that someone cares enough to make sure he's okay, but at the same time... and he'll be pushing that thought away, as well]

...I know you do.

[and that's what makes it worse. that's what makes the guilt cut deeper than it already has. he could ask Red Wine to stop, the both of them could put an end to whatever they have between each other, to carry on their lives as just friends, but he just can't let go of this. he enjoys the intimacy with the other man as well as his company, and he can't help but want more of it]

If you must know... It is simply... Me being me.

[still as vague an answer as ever, of course]

Just you being you, hm...

[He thinks he knows enough about Dohalim by now to understand what that implies despite how vague it is, but he still sighs softly as he tugs the man in closer to himself and presses a kiss to the top of his head. Red Wine looks up at the ceiling quietly then, curling a hand over Dohalim's shoulder and lightly rubbing his thumb over warm skin.]

Getting your head stuck in the past again then, is it?

[Not at all out of the ordinary. He snags the edge of a blanket to tug it over the two of them, just up to their hips.]

We can talk about something else. Ask me something instead, if you like.

When am I never not?

[and it's something he truly needs to work on. eventually. at least he's willing to admit it to himself, but only because he's around someone who, at this point, knows him more than most people (even his own companions back home) does.

a question to ask Red Wine... what could he ask that wouldn't get a deflective answer? he knows the man to be the more private sort, and unlike himself, the Food Soul does way better to keep his private life hidden from those that aren't privy to knowing. not that Dohalim minds, of course, he's in no position to demand such a thing from him. and while he's curious, all the same, Dohalim doesn't like prying. perhaps it's a walking on eggshells approach, not wanting to anger the man by asking so many questions to begin with, but...

well, Red Wine is offering, isn't he?

he offers the man a cheeky grin as he looks up at him]

Hm... What's your favourite colour?

[he knows that isn't exactly what Red wine means, but he can't help but be a bit of a goblin, right now. hopefully, it'll lift the mood a little bit]

[Luke isn't entirely sure how he found himself in this situation. to be completely honest, actually, he isn't sure how he's found himself in about ninety percent of situations in Nippon. he'd just... simply stumbled in on Vennessa's camp (what had she been doing camping out here by herself? does she not know that housing is available for them?), and now here he is, sitting in said camp, with a pretty lady sitting by him.

well, at least Luke can say he's attracted to her, which... sort of puts to rest a panic he'd been trying to suppress.

but now he's just plain awkward around Vennessa, apparent by the light flush in his cheeks. he doesn't say anything, not trusting his voice to be steady enough to string words together]

[True enough, when is he ever not? Red Wine is used to it by now, as well as being used to how damned evasive the man could be. He doesn't take it personally, as much as he'd like Dohalim to just... talk. It isn't all about the talking. Most of it is that he wants the other man to feel better for longer than it takes for him to orgasm.

He returns the grin flashed his way with a smile and shifts to kiss Dohalim's forehead.]

My favourite colour? Purple.

[Easy question. He rubs his thumb along the dip between his companion's shoulderblades.]

What's yours?

[an easy question, but it's one that Dohalim had never really thought about, himself. it's so hard to choose just one, when an entire colour spectrum could paint a beautiful picture. every colour could be delicately picked for a particular mood, and could tell a story words may never be able to. but, then again, he might also be thinking too much about it.

then again, the only time he'd been able to dress himself in anything other than white was when he descended to Dahna. not even just dress, but to see colours in their natural splendor...]

It's so hard just to choose one. I appreciate the blue sky on a clear day, the different shades of greens in my realm, and the different colours of flowers the gardeners would plant in Viscint, especially. I even appreciate the browns and grays of the rock formations.

[he pauses as he catches himself, realising the tangent he'd just been on]

But, I suppose that doesn't answer the question, does it.

[He comes to the beach because it's quiet, and still does despite certain events. It's quiet in winter because it's cold and windy, inhospitable to most when there are so many other far more pleasant (and warmer) places that one could be. Sometimes he'll see someone else. Usually a small figure in the distance, a barely-there shape that he can pretend isn't there at all. Occasionally someone will pass by him and he'll have a quick conversation if he knows who they are, but more often than not they are here for the same reason that he is and such interactions never last too long.

The tide is in as he sits there this time, early in the afternoon, leaving a strip of sand comfortably wide enough to walk on that the waves keep damp with spray as they move in towards the rocks where Diluc sits. That distance from the sea it's relatively dry, though the low and heavy grey clouds threaten another afternoon of rain.

He doesn't look tense or too troubled today, and is tossing pebbles from a small handful at the water each time it slides inwards over the beach. His thoughts aren't too distracting that he doesn't realise someone is walking town the sand towards him, but he doesn't look their way until they get close enough for him to recognise a particular shade of ginger hair.]

Oh. ['Oh'. Not much of a shift in his expression. Maybe to something mildly curious, just for a moment. He throws another pebble, and it makes a visible indentation in the sand before the water washes over it.] It's you.

Childe. [ He quips, tone such that it seems more like he's correcting someone who's forgotten who he was. As before he's dressed for the weather; the onset of the colder months has prompted him to select a few lengthier, long-sleeved shirts and tunics, each one in the Liyuen style and colored shades of maroon and brown not unlike his own Harbinger uniform. A different scarf is bundled up around his neck, the ends flapping gently in the wind and leading the eye to where he's got... a bucket grasped in one hand.

Perhaps surprisingly, there's a wide variety of shells within. Apparently this is what he spends hours on the beach doing. ]

We have to stop meeting like this. I might just start thinking that you're following me around wherever I go. [ Despite the confident teasing in his words the fact that he doesn't look at Diluc when he says it makes his discomfort known. A few steps brings him closer to the Mondstadt man, but he still retains a respectable distance from him and doesn't bridge the gap between them on the rock. ]

What are you doing, Diluc?

[A soft grunt escapes him at hearing the name. Gods, he knows the name. He'd say he'd be happy to forget it but he knows he'd be lying and he really ought to do less of that when it comes to this particular man. Another pebble is thrown forcefully into the sand, making another dent for the next wave to take.]

Thinking. [He replies shortly, looking down at the few remaining pebbles in his hand and closing his fingers over them. The last time he had met Childe here isn't something he wants to think too much about, and yet... it's hardly something he can forget. Outside of the emotional outburst he has gone over the things he blurted out in anger and distress - some of which only one or two trusted people know - and he hates that he was able to be reduced to that so easily. Maybe it had been a long time coming, but could it have been in front of anyone else?

Diluc huffs out a soft breath, lifting his head then to level his eyes on the younger man.]

What do you want?

[Not as sharp this time. Not quite as accusatory. Still not really sounding like he really wants Childe around (not that that has ever stopped him), but there isn't a not-so-subtle 'get the fuck out of my sight' buried under the words anymore.]

[there has to be something said about not taking things offered by strangers, or something. perhaps Luke should have been a little more aware when he was shoving baked goods in his mouth. ever since arriving in Nippon, his vigilance had been lowered, as if the loom of having to save the world isn't weighing down on his shoulders.

for once, he'd been able to actually relax without any responsibilities, even though every so often, his mind would go back to the things he needs to do back home. well, at least the deadly miasma covering the world had dissipated, so everyone can breath in (literally) a sigh of relief, for the moment.

but that isn't what's concerning him. what's really wrong right now is the fact that he just feels weird after eating; he'd remembered reading that they were "uki" baked goods (whatever that means), and that they tasted good. but it's a weird feeling he just can't seem to shake off, nor can he explain; maybe if he goes home and sleeps it off, he'll feel better.

so off Luke shuffles to... try to find his way home, only to get turned around and lost. it doesn't help that the weird feeling is starting to cloud him mentally; he'll randomly stop in the middle of his trek, seemingly looking like he's trying to gather his bearings. in reality, he's momentarily forgotten what he's doing, before he suddenly remembers and continues his walk.

but, as he keeps walking, the weird feeling only grows; he can feel himself getting warm in the face and... well, this is embarrassing. at least it isn't as strong a feeling of arousal like that time in the hot springs...]

Edited 2022-01-11 19:22 (UTC)

I wonder when I might have had the opportunity to do something like that.

[Perhaps it was the last time they had been together like this? He had been given plenty of time to experiment then, and he hadn't forgotten which parts of the white wings provoked the most favourable responses. Back then, he had suggested that he was amenable to having Venti in his bed in any form as well.

If the slight frame of the Archon currently settled against him was anything to go by, that suggestion had been a well-received one. He had felt different like this. More fragile somehow. Maybe that's why he feels the need to be so gentle.

It's a far cry from his constant threats to kick Venti out of the bar or shake him down for money to pay his tab.]

I love you. [Diluc says then, softly, as he moves his fingers slowly through warm feathers.] You know that, right?

[Not having to eat or drink has its perks, and at least one of those perks when it comes to Nippon is that Raphael doesn't end up accidentally ingesting things that could influence his behaviour. He does at least know what uki is and when to avoid it, though he has partaken now and then... just a little.

He isn't following Luke so much as heading in a similar direction, but he sees the young man stop in front of him several times as if he's trying to figure out where he's going.

Luke hesitates enough times for Raphael to catch up with him purely incidentally, but as he does so he gives him a quick glance and sees that... not all appears to be well with him. He looks flushed and confused, and the bleeding heart that Raphael is is immediately sympathetic.]

Are you lost? [A gentle touch to the man's shoulder is all he needs to realise that... he has no idea what this person is. His fingers twitch back uncertainly.] Where are you trying to go?

[the good thing about the uki is the fact that he;s a lot calmer. if it were any other time, if he were sober, and lost, he'd be an anxious mess trying to get home. and really, despite feeling the way that he is, the walk is nice. maybe if he just goes on a little adventure, then it'll be fine. he's fine. yeah.

but when he feels Raphael's hand on his shoulder, he jumps a little at the sudden contact, head craning over his shoulder so fast that it's surprising that he doesn't give himself whiplash. it takes a moment for him to answer, his uki addled brain trying to catch up]

Um... Home. I'm trying to go home...

✵ [Jan Catchall] Hope is not pretending that troubles don't exist.

✵ Diluc Ragnvindr

✵ Red Wine

✵ Thanatos

✵ Vennessa

✵ Raphael

time for something soft.

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GOOD

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gives you one (1) cinnamon roll

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for Childe (@acutabove)

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