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“hmm yes, I know he can be a bit of a handful now and I am sure he caused you some troubles and headaches in your singularity. but I tell you, your majesty, he has not always been that way ! merlin was such a sweet child. very silent and reserved. I believe once he trusted me he rarely left my side, hiding behind my skirt. not to forget he grew rather fond of the sweets I would bake... it gave him the cutest squirrel cheeks!”
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@ludullu replied to your post:
Petty was leaving me as a cat.
“You turned back, did you not? Had I done it for you and you found yourself in that form when I was not around you would have been stuck, though now you would not! What I did was practical.”
❝ And why is it that the older you get, the less brain cells you have? ❞
“Honestly, I would like to know why’s that too.” Like hell he’s gonna try to defend any of those old men! “I suppose not everyone gets wiser with age.”
@ludullu
goldcncrowned replied to your post: Gilgamesh whomst?
it’s alright. I’ll make sure you know my name. ;^)
I’ll expect you to make good on such an offer in a way that doesn’t involve weapons, hm~
Forehead pressed against silken tresses until finding the warm solidity of a crook between neck and shoulder. Stubbornly refusing to breathe his exhaustion to life, sovereign will instead take pause in the shelter he has made of Merlin. Serpentine irises drifted closed, nose brushing the flesh of the magus's neck; his search for answers within a clay tablet abandoned for something far more comfortable, albeit fleeting. Just a moment... that is what Gilgamesh would tell himself, at least.
Soft exhale ruffled blond locks as he turned ever so, leaning cheek against the head where it rest into him; as if he, this witless creature that he was, was a reassurance against the death knells sounding out in Gilgamesh’s honour. As if presence alone could be comfort, though perhaps that was simply the nature of the thing called ‘humanity’. Merlin proclaimed against understanding, adamant that he does not feel, yet the way metal bloom against pale of his chest burns as if in protest speaks a story he viciously ignores. Those pages, those dusty pages, ill touched, best left unread as he reached to settle fingers into hair upon nape of neck. Tender as it was, gold touched as quiet hum left Cambion.
Pads trace from nape to pulse-point; from there to bare chest. They trail pectorals of taller, head shifting and nudging until lips found their way to neck. It was a delicate display against the raw power of the other with whom he found himself entwined, deft fingers seeking points to draw something from Gilgamesh only to fall lower. Careful breech of fingers against loose hem of pants before he stilled, teeth catching shell of ear.
“Are you really so tired?” He has the audacity to sound forlorn as he speaks against him, lips chasing the tender point of neck behind lobe. “How sad.” Puff of breath against ear before he is shifting back ever so, rubbing cheek against other’s as if overly affectionate feline. The display was, at a glance, odd. Yet Merlin was a sly sort, and he had long since learnt the most apt of ways to draw his king to bed where he might eventually find some modicum of rest.
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♞ - physically pick my muse up and carry them ;^)
some ask meme
It was a tangle of leads which had brought him to a tragic heap upon the floor, dogs fussing around in agitation at their fallen owner, leashes pulled tight about legs that they’d ensnared in the commotion. Quite how it had happened he wasn’t entirely sure, though assumed his companions had merely startled at a misfired car and panicked, deftly bringing him to ground in crumpled heap and awkward twist of ankle which turned an otherwise amusing situation into a painful one. One that ends in awkward squirming as he freed himself from leashes, propping self up as offered hand appeared within vision.
“I’m alright-” he blurted before other can ask, earning roll of eyes as he allowed other to pull him up. How foolish was he though in brazen assumption that he truly was ok, stepping forward with lurching stagger and it was only solid arm suddenly find itself about his chest that prevented him becoming closely acquainted with ground once more.
Merlin might have worked out a brief ‘thank you, but I’m fine’, however it seemed other knew better than to give him chance as leads were wrested from grip which was nothing in and of itself. At least, he thought as much until other dips and arm catches back of knees, hefting him up entirely without warning or effort.
Startled amethyst meets crimson as arm instinctively comes to hook about neck, incredulous as he finds amusement in other. Something else too if he were to look too closely; perhaps worry, or perhaps not though such still twists something within breast. Whatever it was found itself lost in vibrant flush of pale skin though, head snapping to avert attention heedless of huff such action is met with.
you're a beast ;)
“That’s terribly impolite, my king~”
He doesn’t invite anyone to his home, much less casual bedmates. Ah, but that’s it, isn’t it? Bedmates have gone from plural to singular… from casual to an attachment for one man, and Gilgamesh doesn’t necessarily wish to acknowledge the sentiment for what it is just yet. It's a great display of a war waged silently: crimson glances to phone and away throughout meetings, fingers tapping desk in a mix of idleness and agitation, messages typed and erased.
(2/2) That his mind is entangled elsewhere is something Gilgamesh hardly desires to breathe to life, but to the watchful eye, it’s made blatantly obvious in the way his finger continuously hovers over the ‘Send’ button until he finds his resolve. It’s a simple invitation, that’s all. A curiosity to be explored, and then eventually he will make up his mind.
[Text] Dinner and a movie at my place. Any night you’re free.
It was a strange thing how soon one could make themselves at home within one’s life, how quickly they could come to encompass something indescribable that Merlin himself cared not to consider too deeply. Yet for all that the gentle chime of phone where it rest upon his workbench drew attention more rapidly than he cared to admit, message twisting something in breast sharply as vibrant amethyst catches words. None of it could he ever admit- none of it was something he wished to breath life into.
Yet he is only human in the end, and one far softer than he cared to admit even to himself.
There were connotations there though and he sees them, feels them even for all he dearly wishes he did not. To sleep with someone without strings was an easy enough affair, but throughout neither had set foot in other’s homes for hotels were easier. Were impersonal. This, however, this was not impersonal. This was the opposite of that which they had engaged in their carefully constructed affair, unspoken rules outlined and now infringed. He should refuse, and yet perhaps unbidden he finds message written and sent before he is truly aware.
[Text] I can be free tomorrow.
It drew sigh, phone set to side as he went back to work as if that might resolve something of the uncertainty that rest within him; might resolve the way uncomfortable twist in chest had slackened not at all.
