dinohouse | [Closed; Mushverse Past] Basco/Marvelous voice testing/history sharing.

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[Closed; Mushverse Past] Basco/Marvelous voice testing/history sharing.

It still feels like I'm inside a dream as the startlingly red captain takes me onto his ship. I have the image of it first coming into view still burned to my eyelids; when I blink I still see it as it rose in the sky behind him, as red and bold as its captain. I haven't felt so drawn to something in my life, its call as strong to me as the song of the stars. It's as if even the blood in my veins longs for it; I don't think I could have refused the captain's offer to join his crew, even with how strong my pride can be.

He shows me the engine room, the impressive inner mechanisms that keep the ship airborne, keep it humming with life. And it does have life, more than any ship I've been on before. I can feel it humming under my touch as I grip a railing. This ship has a voice, has a story to tell me, or maybe one to make with me.

The brief yet concise tour eventually comes to the main living room, what I can feel just with my first steps is the heart of the ship. It's sparsely furnished, a small table with a pair of chairs, a tiny couch with coffee table, the main controls for the computer screen on the far wall. And of course the captain's chair.

I hover at AkaRed's elbow for a moment, drinking in my surroundings as he points out the stairs that lead down toward the crew quarters, the doorway that leads to the galley, and the other stairs that lead up to the crow's nest.

It already feels like home. Like I've lived here all my life.

AkaRed moves to sit in his chair, tells me to make myself at home, pick out a room for myself. I shoulder the small pack I brought with me, all I usually travel with, and spin around, drinking the room in all over again.

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I don't bother looking over my shoulder to check which spice he's grabbed; I didn't actually need one to start with, it was just an excuse to get his attention. And if I'm making that obvious now, well, maybe I have a purpose for that, as well.

"Yeah, that'll work," I answer, my apparent attention fixed on my skillet. "Come shake a few pinches of that in?"

I'm grinning more these past few days. Not that I've ever been a somber sort of creature, but AkaRed is, and it's easier to take on the general mood around you than keep yours aimed in a contrary direction. Follow the lead of the crowd around you, and things tend to run more smoothly in general. It's a chameleon trait of mine, and with the new kid around, it's probably the reason I've been all the more cheerful. He seems genuinely happy to be here on the Galleon. It's another of his characteristics that makes him, honestly, kind of cute.

"You like spicy food, right?"

I blink when he doesn't even really look at the spice in my hand, just says it's fine. Knowing my lack of skills, he should probably check what I grabbed, right? But then, what do I know. I can barely boil water properly. You'd think with my appetite I'd have learned at least the basics of how to work a kitchen, but no such luck.

I wander over to Basco's side and grin at the sight of what he's cooking. I can't help but smile wide and unguarded when I see food. It just makes me happy, not to mention I seem to need a lot more of it than most of people I've encountered, something in my heritage, like my strength, I suppose. Given that I don't really know where my heritage originally hailed from, that's as good an excuse as any.

I shake a bit of the spice into the skillet, taking great care not to accidentally upend the entire bottle of powder into the dish. "I love spicy food," I answer him, and my own thoughts. But there is such a thing as too spicy, even for me.

He's such a singleminded guy. I think he may have completely missed my innuendo in favor of drooling over the food. It doesn't even have any meat in it - a category of food I've already learned he has special fondness for - but nevertheless he's looking at it with the longing eyes of a lover. I definitely can use this, at some point.

I grin, sass in my voice, and quirk a brow at him, intrigued. I can't resist the temptation to find out what happens when I push another button or two. He makes this game endlessly fun, and he's very easy on the eyes. I don't know if he's realized how close he's standing to me, just to get closer to the smell of the food.

"That's good. I love spice, myself." The spoon scrapes in the pan, mixing in the powdered spice - from the smell of it, it's cumin, a lucky grab on his part - with the caramelized vegetables and the char. "Maybe I should make a separate dish for our Captain, and make ours even hotter."

"Does he even eat?" I ask, not entirely seriously and not expecting any real sort of answer, I mean, I'm sure our captain eats, I've just never seen him at it. Either he wanders off when it's mealtime or he just sort of hovers near us at the table. It was a little unnerving at first, for maybe the beginning seconds of that first meal. But it's hard to care when decent food is set down in front of me.

The spice Basco had me add makes the wafting scent of the food even more enticing, and I have to actually stop myself from grabbing at bit of vegetable and popping it in my mouth. One, hot, and two, I think Basco might smack my hand with the spoon. "How much longer?"

"He eats," I answer, smiling absently. The skillet's beginning to go dry, so I reach over the flame to grab a bottle of thin oil, adding a splash or two and stirring quickly as the iron pan soaks it up, spitting. I don't notice the heat, but Marvey might be stepping back a pace in a moment or two; hot oil, I've been told, hurts when it hits humanlike skin. I wouldn't know.

"I wish he'd eat while it was still warm, though," I admit, glancing briefly at the kid. "It really does taste better before it's gone all cold and clammy. But he does everything on his own time. Even meals."

I can see him eyeing the pan and I tease him by sliding the spoon around the pan's curve, herding the vegetables toward my side, where it's harder for him to reach. "I haven't even gotten the noodles started yet," I laugh. It's hard not to feel complimented by his eagerness, even though logically I know he'd be this focused on the food no matter what quality it was.

"Unless you just want bunny food for dinner, you'd better be patient."

I take the smallest half step back when the fresh oil he adds begins to spit a little, I'm a bit more resilient than most of the human variety, but heat is heat, and hot oil is especially hot. I know, I've had a few experiences with it before I gave up on trying to cook anything that needed it.

"I like that about him, though." I say, somewhat absentmindedly, focusing on how Basco seems to be scooting the vegetables away from me in the pan. My brow scrunches up a bit, and my stomach gives a small growl. "Everything on his time. How a captain should behave."

Finally I give in, holding Basco still by his arms for a brief moment (he's slight enough, I think I can manage) and then reaching around his other side. I snake a bit of tasty looking vegetable from the pan and pop it in my mouth, eyes closing after as I hum and chew happily. It's good, savory and spicy, and I lick my fingers after to get that lingering bits of flavor off them.

When the kid - Marvelous - grabs me, at first I wonder if he's finally responding to the innuendo I've been lacing through the whole conversation. Then I realize he hasn't even noticed in the first place, and is quite literally pinning me solely to get at the food. Incredible.

His arm around my body, holding my arms to my sides, is strong, far stronger than I would have anticipated by looking at him. He takes what he wants, reaching around my back to get it. How he's got me held - and I'm not struggling, either, too amused by the situation to interrupt it as it plays out - I can't see him feeding himself, but the softly wet pops that come after tell me that he's licking his fingers clean.

Does he have any idea of the effect he can have?

I elbow him in the shoulder, finally, pushing him back from the pan and from my back before he decides to grab a second bite. Having him tucked up so close behind me is not helping my concentration, nor is very wise for either of us, though he hasn't any reason to suspect as much yet. I'm here under certain conditions, I remind myself, and grin at Marvey as I put enough distance between us for me to see him again.

"Do you love food so much that you don't even care if you burn yourself stealing it?" I ask. I've scooped a strip of spicy pepper onto my spoon, and turn away from the range a bit, offering it to him. The spoon's wooden, far safer to steal the morsel from, and I can't help but be bemused by the kid's priorities.

"I didn't burn myself!" I protest around my fingers, licking the last bit of lingering flavor and then licking my lips after. "That was good, for vegetables. You need to use that yellowish spice more often."

My eyes light up again when he offers me another bite, this time a spicy looking pepper. I hover for maybe half a second before reaching for the pepper, ready and eager to pop it in my mouth and enjoy the fiery bite.

'For vegetables'?

I'm snickering as he lifts the pepper from my spoon, and I keep watching, waiting, as he pops it into his mouth.

Once he's bitten down, I grin. "How much do you know about spicy peppers? I'm named after that one."

The heat doesn't hit at first, the really strong peppers don't work that way. They're that slow, sneaky heat and then suddenly you're all red in the face and sweating and gasping and begging for anything cold to cool your whole body down because you feel on fire.

I can actually hold my spicy heat pretty well, but I don't think there are many out there that can take the full force of a ghost pepper just popped into one's mouth. I bite my tongue, trying to ride out the heat as it builds, but eventually I have to breathe and that just comes out as a choked gasp.

"You," my voice is a croaking thing, but I'm smiling, because it's funny damn it. Even with the pain rising in my mouth, it's damn funny that he got me so good. "You bastard!"

I try to laugh, though it's more of a stuttered cough.

I'm grinning, and as he starts coughing, I put an arm out and offer support, reaching with my other hand for a small something off the counter, which I pop into my mouth and hold in one cheek. He's bending forward, the pepper really starting to take strong effect, and yet he's laughing, or trying to, through the burn.

I grab him by the shoulder, pulling up; when his head comes up, I meet his mouth with my own, pushing the ice cube from my mouth to his through the clumsy kiss.

I'm a little dizzy from the heat. It's bad, but not too bad. Not something I feel like I can't live through. He's such an ass, feeding me something like that before dinner. But I think that's why I like him. He's not really treating me like a kid, he's treating me like a brother. Sure, maybe a little brother, but it's not a bad feeling and...

...

....oh.

Lips against mine, a clumsy kiss, but he's pressing something cold into my mouth that brings an instant burst of relief. I can feel his tongue briefly, past the heat and cold, and it's not an entirely bad thing. It makes sparks dance down my spine.

I, somewhat reluctantly, pull away, just so I can get the ice cube to all the affected areas of my mouth. Not keeping it anywhere too long. I swirl it around until it's small enough to swallow, which I do.

Then I look at him, my cheeks still red from the heat, my smirk firmly in place, and I smack him upside the head. "Bastard." It's said with as much affection as I can muster with my throat still raw.

I'm grinning, mischief in my eyes, as Marvelous recovers from the burn, the ice, and the kiss. Never stop at one when three are available, I figure. I lift a second ice cube from their dish and roll it between two fingers, letting Marvelous see it, as I kill the heat on the range and slide half a pace closer toward him. "Need another?"

I glance at the ice cube in Basco's hand, then back at him. He really is pleasant to look at, not just his face but the whole package, tall and lean. I admit I may have spent moments watching him move since arriving on the ship.

Hell. If he wants to play, I can play.

I reach for his hair, grabbing fistfuls of curls and bandana and yanking him close. I crush our lips together, purposefully hard; payback for the pepper sniping.

He wants payback? I can do that. I bite his lip hard, not quite hard enough to break skin though; I don't want the pepper prank to do actual lasting damage, so the capsaicin needs to not get under the skin. I pull back a bit, bringing the ice cube up to the meeting between our mouths, and wedge it into his with a forceful thumb. He has to manage not choking on it, and I'll kiss him blind while he juggles that task, chasing the ice with my tongue, hot following cold.

He's probably still too peppered to be able to tell how much hotter my body temperature runs than a normal humanlike's; we'll have to make sure he notices, if there's a next time. The touch of my tongue is enough to speed the melt of the ice, but I'm not focused on that so much as the taste of Marvelous's mouth, under the taste of my cooking and the pepper, which I only vaguely notice. Spice - and heat - mean something different to me than they do to most humanlikes.

After my initial burst of boldness I melt under his actions. If I were less high of spicy pain I'd probably put up more of a playful fight. No, I definitely would, and will, if there's ever a second chance.

For now I lean into him, hands sliding down from his hair to grip loosely at his shoulders, I let the chill of the ice cube soothe the heat from the pepper, and focus all my attention on the movement of his tongue in my mouth.

He's melting against me, and the height difference between us is just significant enough to make the angle of our kiss into something different, something unique. I've still got the spoon in my hand as I wrap my arm around his back, tugging him closer still, until the heave of his ribs as he catches a fresh lungful of breath pushes my own, resonant against my own pulse, quick and quickly heading toward racing.

I nip at his lip, swallowing his gulping breath with my own, and grin at him from a very small distance indeed. We're tipped against the counter beside the range by this point, my hip riding its edge somewhat painfully, and I realize one of my knees has already parted his, pushing my advantage.

"Had enough yet?" I manage to pant, raking the ice-wet fingers of my free hand through his flippant hair to stroke and grip. I'd been using it to steady us, help maintain our balance as it seems the Galleon's taking a sharp turn to one side, tipping all the floors slantways, but now it feels a lot more pressing that I tug his scalp in tiny prickles, watching the effects I'm having in his expression.

We're leaving against the counter - well, he is, and I'm leaning into him - and one of his legs is pressing between my own, just hinting at something far more suggestive, something far beyond where I thought this would go.

I'm not complaining.

I shake my head at his question, my head leaning into his touch, at the tug on my hair. The room feel funny, and it takes me a moment to realize that it's not just me and my overstimulated being, but the Galleon has actually tipped, more so than it usually does when it's in motion. The floor is now at a funny angle. Well, I imagine it's funny, it feels very natural for me right now.

I smirk at him, my lips swollen slightly from all the heat and ice and hard kissing, and roll my hips against his thigh. Sort of testing the waters.

Ohhh, he's quick. I am very, very pleased with where this is going, more than I expected and quicker, too. Not that I hadn't had thoughts in this direction almost as soon as I got a good look at Marvey's pert little ass, but I certainly hadn't imagined he'd take to the idea so well. Some people insist on emotion or romance before this sort of thing. I'm glad to see he's not one of them.

I tense my arm around his back, restricting his movement, and the hand in his hair darts down, my fingertips gaining purchase on the tight bottom curve of his rump. I lift him against me, sliding him a bit further up my thigh, and still watching his eyes from a distance of a handsbreadth, tip my head just a bit to the side, my nose brushing his.

"You're bold," I murmur, showing my teeth with my smile. "I like that."

"I'm a pirate." I state simply, because that should explain everything, though I do humor him with a bit of elaboration. "I take what I want. When I want it."

He's lifting me a bit, but our heights aren't so distant that I have to tiptoe where he guides me. I can feel heat radiating off him, concentrated in his core. It's enticing, sending all these lovely little electric bursts through my nerves, pleasant trembles down my spine.

I slide a hand down his chest between us, and grip at his shirt. My voice is even now, my words full of weight, though I'm not asking for control of the situation. Far from it, I think I very much want to let him bend me over the counter, or kitchen table, and have his way with me.

But that is what I want, and I'm still in a place of power because I know I want it.

"With my own hands."

It's not hard to arch against the stroke of his hand, and I laugh breathlessly as the seeking palm clenches into a demanding fist. This Marvelous is exactly my type, and I seem to be his. Perfect. I roll my hips as he rises to meet me, and smile with teeth when his belly presses flush to mine, pressing my cock between us. His claim is bold, but he obviously knows what it takes to back it up. I respect that. And yet there's never been a single thing presented to me that I can resist challenging, good or bad.

"Or my hands?" I push, tightening my grip on his body. I can feel his pulse racing against me, and I think the floor's tilting again. I have to assume it's just in my head, my equilibrium thrown off by how much my body is screaming lust. I want him, I want him VERY badly.

The ship lurches, and it shifts me against him in just suck a way that our dicks brush through the fabric of our clothes, making me gasp, making me shudder, making me grip at him - at his shirt, at his arms, hair, anywhere I can reach really - with need.

I chuckle breathlessly at his words, looking the short distance up at him, eyes eyes heavy and glazed with list. With need. All for him, in this moment all my need revolve around him. "I think our hands are reaching for the same end right now, yeah?"

The Galleon does a sudden tip in the other direction, topping us away from the counter.

I don't know why the ship's started pitching all over the place - AkaRed drunk at the wheel, perhaps - but I really don't care. We slam up against the table, I bark my shin on one of the heavy thing's legs, and I couldn't care less right now. I spin Marvelous in my arms, one arm banding his stomach, holding him close; the roundness of his ass strokes my cock and I groan, bracing my head on his shoulder, and squeeze him closer still. My other hand reaches between his legs, greedily seeking his heat, while I fit my mouth to the slope of his shoulder just above his collar and scrape his skin with my teeth.

The small of my back hips the heavy table, hard - possibly enough to faintly bruise by the morning - but I don't really care, or even think about it much, because then Basco is spinning me around so I'm facing the table, my ass against his groin. His head rests against my shoulder and he groans, and that sound makes my own dick twitch near painfully.

Not too painful for too long, since Basco's seeking hand find my need and grip and I'm groaning in mirror of his, maybe louder, as I've never been one to hold back at anything. His mouth is doing something to the bit of bare skin below my neck, and while it feels good, I'm far more focused and grinding into his hand. On letting him know I want this every bit as much as everything I want. Deeply and completely.

I hope he's not expecting this gently. I hope he's not expecting slow. Cause neither of those are gonna happen here, and as much as I want what *I* want, and intend to take it, it would be very convenient if he ends up enjoying this as much as I know I'm going to.

I force my hand into his trousers at the hip, sliding my hand around to the front to worry the clasp open as quickly as I'm able. As soon as I've got room to maneuver, I let go of his cock, one palm splayed on his chest to press him back against me. My other hand dives low, curling between his thighs from behind and demanding entrance to his body. There's a little bit of oil left on my hands from cooking, just as much as spattered up onto them. It's not enough, but for a fingertip, for a rough taste, it's plenty.

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