E · G · O · T · I · S · M

             Gasps and moans that played the most natural and sweetest melody known              to him, something he never knew how to recreate or ever even wanted to (              afterall, music was nothing more than a tool to him ), muscles moving under              his touch and lips, feeling the skin heat up underneath him as his touch passed              from one patch of skin to another, brushing and pushing against sensitive               nerves that only sparked a burning flame in himself and whomever he was               with that ended in a dance of limbs and lips, bringing two people as close              as anyone can get without the use of magic ( he was sure it turned into a drug              to those that connected together spiritually during sex. he’s never tried; he’s not              sure he wants to, either or if he’ll ever trust anyone to do it ). It didn’t matter               the species of a person, it all ended in the same burst of pleasure he had grown               somewhat addicted to. 

             And he was never really sure which he preferred more; to be the one on the              receiving end of pleasure, to have someone’s hands roam his body and lips              kiss down his neck or behind his ear until his vision grew white from ecstasy              or to be the one giving it. To be in control and to reduce someone to a messy               state of broken moans and please and arched backs to press closer, chasing               after what he only teased about. In that moment he enjoyed the heavy breaths              he invoked from his host, revelled in the way his back arched against him,              how his skin brushed against his and he grew somewhat impatient, wishing               to bury himself inside him and press their chests together until there was               no room left between them, until they have gone far enough for him to let go              and sink in that well of magic, that small, sweet pond of energy he could not              quite push out of his mind. But he wanted to see just how far he could push              the other before he’d try and flip them over again, to be the one in charge. 

             He hummed playfully in response to his words as his lips pressed against               a nipple, tongue darting out to gently roll around the pink bundle of nerves as               his hips grind down to meet the other’s. His mind was aware of every finger               on his body, in his hair, documenting and tracking each press into his skin              and he wondered how many marks he’ll find once he leaves this apartment              and he hoped the answer was many. Noting said better that he was doing a              great job than physical evidence left on his body by grasping hands and teeth.              One of his hands slipped under his arched back and pressed against the small              of his back as the other trailed down lower, slipping between them and under the              hem of his trousers, fingers pressing gently over his shaft. Another hum passed              his lips as he released his nipple from between his teeth, a grin curving his              lips upwards. 

     No complaint yet voiced to the press of wandering hands and the scrape of nails, now they dug fiercely into his lower back once more, scratching upwards along his guest’s spine in lines he knew were sure to remain in the morning. He certainly wasn’t planning on stopping there though, not with a sharp gasp on his lips like a broken praise when lips brushed against his nipple, the scorch of tongue against him enough to have goosebumps rise to his skin and encouragement enough for his hips to buckle forward. Fingers proving an anchor to whatever faltering sanity trailing through the back of his thoughts, they curled with purpose deeper into the blond’s hair, scratching dull nails into his scalp. Not overly picky when it came to the root of pleasure, there was still a part of him that pondered the pros and cons to shifting them again but for the moment ( at least ) he was more than content to remain where he was.

     His back was a bow ready to snap when finally those searching fingers of the other’s wandered somewhere worthwhile, nerve endings alight with pleasure and a draw out moan painted onto his lips and the very air between them. The sensation somehow more pronounced than what was the norm, it was with an involuntary buckle of his hips that had them rise off the floor to push further into his hand, legs shortly after shifting to wrap around the male, ankles locked behind his rear to draw him closer in a near desperate need for more of that electrifying touch and friction. 

            But he was addicting, in the sense that even his skin tasted like elixir, a              combination of salty, sweet and bitter that formed a taste that was largely unique             to his company that made it almost impossible for his lips to part with his skin.             Perhaps he was homesick and he smelled and tasted just like any other being             he had met but when his thoughts were already cloudy from the pleasure his              rolling hips caused he couldn’t be blamed for thinking straight. One day he’ll             return to the stranger, perhaps after his business in China was over, and set              aside the obvious attraction in favour to logically come to the conclusion of             of the hows and whats and whys of his existence. Perhaps he’ll have some              answers to offer to the stranger so he wouldn’t feel too guilty for satisfying his             curiosity of his life ( especially since if it weren’t for the energy he felt he              wouldn’t even care ).

     It was why his other hand shifted up to drag fingers through his guest’s hair and curl around the ends, why his breath came out in a soft, stuttering gasp with each roll of those hips that sent pleasure sparking along his nerves and a shiver down his spine. The heat of lips against his bare skin felt akin to a fire set within his veins, thrumming with that energy he wanted to drink up until he was full, an empty well desperate to overflow. It was as if his own body sang to the tune of a song he had never heard before, and if not for all of his attention focussed upon the other instead of his surroundings, it might have overwhelmed him just how far he was capable of stretching that same awareness now. 

    Ian’s every sense was trained elsewhere right now though, on the new expanse of skin and those taunting lips trailing down his chest. Not sparing a moment, dancing fingers immediately took advantage of all of that new territory, another short gasp on his lips and an arch in his spine even while he traced along the line of the other’s spine practiced expertise. His hips buckled, pressing up from the floor to chase after more of that friction, the grip within blond locks tightening in a small tug, nails digging in to the base of the thief’s spine with another pleased moan.

            If he had, he would have had the mind to question how the table had pushed             itself further away than it was, commenting how lucky he had to be to only get             away with a bruised elbow when in whole honesty, the edge should have hit              more. But the use of magic went unnoticed, too occupied at hissing at the              pain and restraining himself from outright whining at his own act of clumsiness.             He’d like to give himself a pat on the back, however for catching himself              before he could smother his graceful host under his weight – he wasn’t              exactly light despite his tall and slender build; muscles carried their own mass             and the pain he’d endure if their foreheads mashed together would have been             an entierly mood killing blow. A low, soft groan passed his lips, hands placed on             each side of his companion’s head and as soon as he was done assessing              his own discomfort, he turned his attention to the other. 

            Sy had been lucky though, he landed on top of someone soft and warm while             he had to battle the hardness of the floor beneath him and what was possibly             temporary headache. He had achieved what he wanted at least, switching              their position and pinning the other beneath him with less chance of turning             them back around now that they were stuck between two pieces of furniture.             The floor was fine as far as Sy was concerned, for anything they wanted to do.             Still, despite the triumphant grin he sported, the shade of blue carried concern             for the other. He prompted himself on his elbow and shifted to the side, pinning             him down under the weight of his body as his fingers soothingly ran through             his hair.  ❛  Oh, I’m sure you will, love, ❜ he teased, content that their jabs hadn’t             ceased because of the accident and taking it as a good sign towards everything.

     In any other situation, maybe he would have cared more, but it was already evidence enough that he was slipping just by his near unconscious manipulation of the table, that same buzz in his veins and fog around his thoughts enough to have his head tilting back when fingers pressed through his hair to send a pleasant shiver around his eyes and have lips parted with a barely audible sigh of approval. Later he could worry about the slip, about how easy he found it in that moment to reach out to the area around him, to shift the table as if it had been nothing at all, something that normally would have at least been a noticeable effort. And maybe it was the distraction, the mouthwatering, bright-eyed distraction that felt like a delicious high and looked just as tempting; regardless he just didn’t care.

     So damn the lingering headache and how his shoulder blades complained about the fall and damn his failure to pay as close attention to what was going on around him for once. The weight against him was enoguh to have those thoughts fizzle at the back of his mind anyway, all but a vague sense of smug satisfaction shoved to the background when those lips found his jaw and the hand upon his hip enough to draw out that rather annoying sensitivity of his, one that had his back arching ever so slightly and his own hand shifting away from the floor to lazily wrap an arm around the back of his guest’s neck. He wasn’t stubborn enough to bite back the soft moan that fell free from slightly parted lips when those hips rolled against his own, now would he want to even if he was. Not to say that he was one to simply give in, even to as tempting a position as this was. His free hand’s path was slow, tracing up along the other’s knee to ghost fingers in a slow, teasing dance up, slipping to trace along the inner line of his thigh and hesitating there before moving on to the edge of his trousers where he gave another pointed tug at the edge of his shirt. 

     “At least I can claim happy conquests after. Can you say the same?”

Somehow she had the feeling he left plenty of people pissed after his presence.

               ❝I’ll have you know that I always leave my conquests happy, love~ It’s           something I pride myself on after all.❞

     Not that he didn’t also leave a few people thirsty for his blood as well. But what fun would there be in life if people didn’t want him at least partially dead? 

     As if sensing the other’s contemplation, Ian only winked before snatching the pot of his head once more, lazily holding the prize above his head and far out of reach. It would be a shame to have their fun end so easily after all. 

         He arched against him, chasing the closeness and warmth that had built          between them, blazing heat that licked his skin and made him feel like he          was in the middle of a summer heat wave. He almost didn’t respond at first,          his voice coming to him like a distant echo at first, one he almost passed          on with another growl and a demand for his lips to return to that spot. But he          snapped out of his daze a moment or two later, his lips turning into a coy          smirk at his words.  ❛ Physics, ❜ he corrected, cockiness apparent in his           tone, though voice breathy with effort to keep his hips bucking up to meet          his.  ❛ Physics measures the relativity of time, my dear, so I can see why          you’re so awful at keeping track of it. ❜ And although his own knowledge of          it is weak at best, he was a well read man, an addict to libraries and book          stores even in this world ( perhaps even especially since everything that          ran without magic was so fascinating to the shifter; the fact that humans           managed to go above and beyond with just a few calculations of numbers was          extraordinary to him. he was sure the wizarding collective will appreciate           his new found book collection when he brings it back, wondering whether           anything will change in his world when he does ). He pulled himself out of           his thoughts when the others lips suddenly left the spot beneath his ear and           whined in protest, though enjoying the clarity his travelling lips brought.  ❛ But          I agree, art is so much more pleasurable. I did always prefer artists over          anyone else– ❜

     It was invigorating to see the evidence of the effect his touch and attention had on the male beneath him, to feel him arch against his chest and wishing that he could swallow every soft moan and growl. To actually manage to drag a whine from him when he moved away from that particular spot in particular was enoguh to confirm any suspicions, mentally ensuring to return to that space just below his ear later and see what else he could tear free from those intoxicating lips - lips he enjoyed pressed against his own and more than willingly leaning in to the kiss to steal away breath and chase after that buzz of energy that threatened to drown him in pleasure and leave thoughts something faded and unnecessary in the back of his mind. He wanted more so desperately, leaning in closer and fingertips tracing gently over the new marks upon his ribs, each roll of his hips torturously slow - until everything tipped.

     Had he more control over the moment, he would have softened the fall, even just a little bit. With thoughts frazzled and heated with pleasure, Ian hardly had the foresight to slightly shift his coffee table away, but not enough to avoid his guest’s elbow taking an unfortunate blow or to soften the impact when his back hit the floor with the other atop of him. Dazed with the landing and forcing himself to draw air into his complaining lungs, a short hiss fell free but that was all for the most part, his grip on the other having loosened in the shift and the back of his head complaining about the abuse. A soft groan left his lips when his gaze shifted to stare back at the other, mildly irritated pout on his lips and one hand trailing up to tug ever so slightly at his hair. 

     “You’re too much period. I wouldn’t blame the plants one bit.”

Watching the plant go back and forth in his hands was increasing her irritation exponentially, but it was his second quip that really got under her skin. Sure, it was just a plant but stupidly enough it was important. It was her one pleasure these days - building her garden. She honestly didn’t feel like getting into all that with him though. Her personal life had absolutely no place in this conversation. She kept her response to him short and sweet. 

               ❝Oh, you wound me. Such biting, bitter words for someone so sweet.❞

     He caught the plant once more, effortlessly plucking it out of the air before he rose it higher with a pleased hum to balance the small pot atop his head, hands held out as if in a silent tah-dah and his grin challenging. 

     “Only close enough to shove this pot clear down your larynx. Who knows, you might finally provide a plant enough moisture to live for you.”

               ❝I’m afraid my personality is a tad bit too much for them to soak up.           Perhaps you’d have better luck though?❞

     “That’s what the first pilgrims said. Why don’t you ask them how well that went? It should be a friendly conversation. You’re about to have something in common after all; no heads.”

     Too bad for her, Ian was rather attached to this particular pot, and not in the emotional sense but physical, a mental link made with the pot itself to keep it firmly in place, which meant, of course, her effort to get the ‘succulent’ closer to herself only ended with the opposite, force and physics working against her to have the stranger rebounding into him. And honestly, just for safe measure, he did the same to that spade she was eyeing as well, grin never leaving his lips and only widening at the sudden proximity.

     The reason he had approached the other in the first place as because of that same off feeling, but it was fainter than the last time he had felt it, not quite as aggravating against his senses — that is, until he felt the cards in his hand change. One glance and a bemused ❝Well, huh,❞ slipped free before he merely shrugged, the deck cast behind his shoulder to scatter into a rain of cards, all the same cards for that matter.

       Even if his own lungs burned from the lack of air, the strong refusal to part with        him provoked a low, dangerous growl in his throat, one that he hardly noticed         escaped him. He hadn’t notice his own, subtle spike in energy that resulted in        drinking up the essence he provided but his own skin was brimming with a soft        shade of magic – a connection between them that did not so much as connected        as it provided a reflection of his soul and the energy floating around it; a simple       spell done out of desperation to regain what was currently lost, if only by a        margin. His gaze was sharp, crystal blue, almost ice like in it’s colour        barely visible around his dilated pupils, but a sharp contrast against the dark and        he was ready to chase after the kiss that was so suddenly and unnecessarily        interrupted, his apology and the subtle shift of his hands going completely        unnoticed – until his back hit the soft cushions of the sofa. 

       Whatever spell he held was broken in that moment as confusion only briefly        flashed past his features. Before he could react, his lips were back on Sy’s         and he forced himself to breathe as to not let himself get overtaken by his         more primal side. He responded a second later with matching passion,         hunger that was never quite sated and yet never quite there either. His hands        twitched to life in an instant and he buried one into those silken locks, tugged        sharply in response to the heated kiss while he took the liberty to dig the fingers        of the other into his back, nails scratching sharp white lines down his spine.        Yet still he wished the second kiss wouldn’t have been torn from him either,        even if his damned lips had his head tilting backwards, giving him room to        kiss, bite and mark as he pleased for his own pleasure, inhaling sharply        a soft, pleased sound lost between heavy breaths once he nibbled on his         soft spot. 

        ❛ You’re awful at it, my dear. ❜ He teased, very much ready to shift their          positions once more when the shot of pleasure that rushed up his body         had him moaning ever so softly. His own hips buckled, lifted off the          sofa and collided with his own again, impatiently seeking that release         the shifts promised. He could deal with the switch of positions for now, he         thought as his eyes closed and his lips sought the edge of his jaw to nibble         lightly on it, fingers retracing the fading lines on his back with equal force         as before.

     The scratch down his spine had a matching growl vibrating deep in the back of his throat, his skin feeling suddenly too warm for it to be normal, arching into the touch and shifting up slightly if only to alleviate the brief prickle of pain along his scalp. With his neck open to him and such a delightful reaction to that first, experimental scrape of his teeth, a purr rumbled through the air, hungry lips targeting that space just below his ear now with heated kisses and another slightly sharper kiss, wanting to swallow every sound he could draw to the surface. His hands wandered hungrily, their pace slow and searching with a brush of tips along the defined lines of his torso, pausing to trace each scar he came across with an increasing sense of approval. 

              ❝Math was never my best subject,❞ he murmured against his skin, voice           a low rumble in his throat and leaving his tongue to flick across the new mark           against the other’s skin. A sharp breath had him swallowing his next words,           that buck against him enough to encourage another slow roll of his hips,           shivering in the wake of nails against his back. ❝Art is so much more satisfying in           the end.❞ Lips trailed down the line of his jaw once more until he hovered above           his lips, heated breaths a wash against his skin and that same addicting drug            waiting to be taken. His nails dug small trenches into that space just below his           ribs with another roll of his body, soft moan breathed against his lips.