whatever it takes

He climbed up slower this time, testing each pole step with more care, still obvious he's quite the natural climber as he made his way right to the top. Rook wrapped his legs around the pole so he'd have both hands freed, checking the rope lines, tightening anything that needed it. Now that he knows the rest of the pole steps are actually safe he skittered back down in record time.

A star: if that’s what he is, it isn’t what he seems like right now. Having changed into slightly more comfortable (but nevertheless fashionable) clothing in the time since the concert, the singer could be any other elf, really – sleeves of his woven shirt tucked around the stump of his left arm, while his right hand caresses a smoke of his own. But he doesn’t bother snuffing it. Instead, he just smiles.

“Who said I was looking for him?”

There’s something a little playful in his tone, a smile that seems more like a tease, perhaps even flirtatious as he keeps his eyes fixed on the pillars. Curious… when everyone else had gone out for drinks, this Rook seemed dedicated enough to investigate the problem. It’s reassuring, and just affirms that he is the man he’s been looking for.

He had asked the dwarf not to make a big deal of it, Rook was just doing his job after all, but he did suppose it was only fair that Cathal knew what had happened — he'd been the one who could have gotten very badly hurt or worse.

"No thanks really needed but I appreciate it." Rooks almost casual body language was hard to read exactly, though he does mirror a playful smile of his own, head tilted slightly as blue-grey eyes clearly gave Cathal an up-down.

It’s a balance, because he does like sex, and he likes it raw, and he likes it passionate and pure and with abandon. He’s unashamed in it, mostly, but he’s also only human and doesn’t quite want to seem like the eager puppy who aches to be taken apart right here and now, to have every one of those words course through him in reality, to feel the burn and beautiful agony of being on that knife’s edge for however long it takes his lover to give him mercy ——

He swallows, the flush curling up his neck and throat and blazing through his ears, and that kiss brushes so soft and delicate but his breath is hot, his eyes burning, his skin feeling like fire as his pulse hammers unevenly under those little gentle kisses.

"Well, I know I said tonight but it may be too cruel to leave you so wanting for so many hours." One arm slid over Verso's shoulders, hand curling into his hair to play almost soothingly with the dark strands, other hand trailing ever so slowly down his clothed chest. "At least, not without you tied up in such pretty knots."