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 watch him carefully, as I finish my sandwich, at the way he tosses the trumpet aside. His fingers look a little stiff, not something worth commenting on, but still something I note.

I flop to the floor beside him, right pressed up against his side. One of my legs is bent, the other outstretched, and I lean back against the mast with him.

"You look cold."

It is not something I'm proud of, how fast I press my shoulder as hard as I can manage against his, how my whole body leans against his side before I even have awareness I'm moving. I don't outright grab him, gods below, but I'm pressing against his offered side from top to bottom, and he'll surely feel the cold stiffness of my skin, even through his clothes and mine both.

It's not so much that my temperature is objectively icy, by almost any measurement scale. But in comparison to my normal radiant heat, which I've been told more than once can be overwhelming even without bodily contact? I might as well be a cold-burning star.

"...Yeah," I admit, since it's obvious anyway.

I nod, but don't comment further. It's not something he wants to share with me, the why he's so cold on nights so warm, and so I won't pry.

I simply slide my arm around him, and guide him a little closer, and let him lean into me and draw whatever warmth he can gain from me.

Unspoken affections, nonverbal love.

Hn. Love.

Marvelous's hug is warmer than anything else up here, least of all me, and it's a temporary comfort, a brief respite. But the cold creeps in anyway, and shortly I'm almost as uncomfortable as I was before.

After a while, I've un-grumped a bit, enough to nose against Mabe's throat, nuzzling for warmth and places for my kisses both.

"Can I sleep in your bed tonight?" It's never an assumption with us, no matter how rare it is when we don't share a bed, either his or mine. Assuming would mean there was Something between us. Assuming regularity would mean we'd have to have a Talk about whatever that Something is.

Easier to have to find out every time. Even though a 'no' from him about this would do something to my hearts I'm not ready to find out.

I tilt my head so that he can nose more easily at my neck, humming low in my throat at the pleasant feel of his kisses.

"Sure," I answer with a small shrug. I could say something like 'of course', or, 'always', but that would give away more than I am willing to share with him yet.

I sit with him for a few more moment, then finally detach from him, getting to my feet and offering him a hand up.

He swings me easily to my feet, and I'm once again reminded of the amazing strength contained in his compact frame. Not that I ever truly forget about it, but at some moments it's more obvious than others.

Such as today's battle. The only reason he took a wound was that, for that crucial moment, a Sugoumin was more agile than he was strong. It's a balance he hasn't yet perfected, but despite his age he's already a powerful fighter and when the experience of years tempers his raw strength, he'll be a fighter unlike any seen before.

Standing, the cold's even worse, and I tip against Mabe with a shudder. We're nearly the same height, and his earlobe's in easy nibbling range.

"Let's go to bed," I purr against his cheek, scraping the line of his jaw with my teeth - gentle only for the moment.

I don't want to talk about the emotion that drove me up here, or the physiology that is forcing my retreat. I don't want to talk at all, because the only time we fight with each other, not at each other, is on the battlefield, or between the sheets.

Or on the kitchen table, to be fair, but tonight I don't want to compete with the galley for his attention, or affection. I just want him.

He shivers against me, and I get my arm around him again, holding him for a moment and rubbing at his back. I know this probably won't fix his chill, but it feels right to do it, so I do.

He nibbles at me, and purrs, and I chuckle softly, nodding once before leading us back down from the crow's nest. Back to the warmth of the Galleon, and off toward my room.

Once inside my room I detach from him for a moment, unzipping my vest and shrugging it off my shoulders. I toss it onto my desk chair, and then start to work some of the buttons of my shirt open. I wince a little when this action pulls a bit at my still all too fresh wound.

The friction of his palm on my back seems to linger, even by the time we're in Mabe's cabin. And the chill in my bones is already fading as he shucks off his vest, and I'm working on the laces of my trousers. But he flinches, a little twinge in his motion, and a tiny spot of red blooms on the bandages around his wounded wrist.

I cross to his side on automatic, taking his arm in both my hands and turning it over carefully.

"...Lemme help."

I frown at first, when he rushes to me, like a wounded child. But I can't deny that it hurts, and I will have to push my pride aside and let him help me, or risk further damage to himself.

So I sigh heavily, and let him move my hand away from my buttons, and examine my arm.

"I just twisted it funny," I supply, looking down at the floor, doing my damnedest not to scuff one boot across the floorboards, like a petulant child.

My voice is soft, fond, as I snicker quietly, as I unbutton his cuffs, unbutton his shirt, starting at the waist, moving up one by one until all the buttons are opened and his breastbone and hard stomach are revealed. Palms flat, my touch as warm as my gaze, I stroke my hands across his skin, drawing idle patterns, gliding up to his shoulders.

I push the shirt off, smirking, letting it fall to his wrists, baring his nape and shoulders and arms and chest, lightly binding his arms with its inconvenient folds.

"Let me take your mind off your wrist," I purr against the shell of his ear, lips barely brushing its curves.

He snickers, and I almost pull away, but then he's undressing me slowly, working my shirt open, and the promise of a pleasant evening finally wins out over my stubborn pride.

I relax a bit as he gets my shirt open, sliding it down to my wrists. He purrs against my ear, and I feel a pleasant shiver run through me, down low to the base of my spine.

I tilt my head slightly, offering him a bit more of my skin, inviting him to kiss and nip at all the places he's learned I enjoy it most.

Marvelous hasn't been on the ship that long, but it's already hard to remember how things were without him. I don't think I'll ever tell him so, but he is, without a doubt, the greatest treasure I ever could have found.

AkaRed brought me on board with the promise of treasure and riches beyond imagination, and while gold has a price, I had thought that the specific treasure he had offered me - the treasure of a life safe from Zangyack's hunt and the charnel house of their Goumin interbreeding farms - was truly the greatest imaginable boon that could be granted me. I was more than willing to give up my independence and submit to AkaRed as my captain if it meant a chance at grasping that dreamworld, the closest thing to happiness that I imagined any wretch of my race could hope to claim.

My mistake, I suppose, that I didn't imagine Marvelous.

The fear of the hunt enters my mind more and more infrequently these days. Extremes like tonight's exercise in masochism, when I subject myself to temperatures which to me feel nigh unbearable, just to keep my beast at bay, used to be everyday occurrences for me. Now. . . Not so much.

I nip and growl against Mabe's throat, loving the way he tenses against me, offers his skin in a way that is actually a command, a demand that I pleasure him in the ways he wants to be pleasured. And so I do, teeth scraping a tingling path before I find the perfect spot and bite down, suckling a sanguine mark to fullness under my lips. When I pull back to look at it, it's utterly lovely, but lonely. I give it a few friends.

He shivers against me, everything from his shoulders through his hips quivering lightly, and I press my body closer to his, one hand spread possessively over his rump, fingertips digging into the vee of his crack, through his pants. I mean to bury myself there, and I know he knows my intent. This, right now, is all the warning he'll get, the only consent I'll ask for; if he lets me proceed now but decides to fight me later, he won't win. I know what I want from him and I'm going to have it.

My teeth nip his earlobe, tongue tracing the shell and tickling in deeper. I'll have me in every opening he's got, maybe. It's a mindblowingly hot thought, but really, creativity like that takes so much PATIENCE. And I just want to shoot my load into him, as many times as he can stay conscious for. Tonguefucking his ear might have to wait.

He works my neck over until I'm quivering against him, clutching lightly at him to maintain some sense that I can still stand. Still have control over my own body. It's when his hand presses suggestively at the crack of my ass that I just fucking give in and lean into him proper, almost growling at the suggestion.

"Basco..." My voice is rough and heavy, and I clear my throat a little to make it stronger, a bit louder. Not that I have anything else to say, but just in case he wants words.

I tug at him, and back up as I do, not wanting to pull away from him, just wanting him to move us to the damn bed already.

And maybe undress me since my arm is still vaguely bleeding under the bandage and I don't think I can manage my own pants right now.

He guides us toward the bed; I take control back, taking his hint and carrying on with it. I lay him down, letting him move himself as much as he bothers to. Not like I'm going to make it easy on him - my mouth is at his neck the whole way, and as I lower myself down over him as he lays back on the pillows, my teeth settle down into a firm, not quite gentle bite straight around his windpipe. His chin is tipped back, and the tip of my tongue traces little wet lines between the points of my fangteeth, pressing in just enough to dimple his skin.

He makes me feel feral, mindless with want and fixation on him. I barely have breath or thought for much else, and certainly not anything that doesn't account for him in at least some way, whenever we're in the same room. When we're like this...

...well, bites and bruises and wrenching force and clenching fists and more, all of it, it's heavenly.

I kneel above him, releasing his neck, watching the hunger in his eyes as I quickly work open his pants, yanking them down and off of his body. I jam one shoulder under the fold of his knee, forcing it up til his thigh presses his ribcage and he's laid open and delectable under me. My fingers go to his entrance immediately, rubbing lightly, taunting. My other hand's at my own trousers, working the laces clumsily, hurrying too much.

I have to swallow before I can speak, which is irritating. His own unsteady voice a moment ago makes it somewhat less embarrassing, though.

"Mabe."

A powerful jolt rips through me when his finger toys at my entrance. I arch a little, mostly just my back lifting slightly and my head falling back. I want more. His touch is too teasing. And he knows it.

I'm laid bare beneath him, spread and ready. And I ache for him. No, ache isn't the right word. There's no hurt here, no pain of longing for something I may or may not have.

I crave him. I know what he wants, and I want it too. I know we'll both get what we want tonight, so there's no real ache, just... impatient longing. Need. Lust.

Maybe more than lust...

"Are you going to knot me?" I finally ask. opening up a bit. I know what he is, sort of. I know what he's capable of anyway. And I love what he can do to me.

I figure he'll do it anyway, wants that, from the way he's acting. But I want to hear it.

I push hard on his ring with one fingertip, hooking my nail against him, tugging and rubbing roughly. The friction reddens his skin, and when I track all five nails away from his hole across his asscheek, the faint red shows where I've traced.

"Heh. Are you under the impression I plan to ask your opinion on that before I do?" I set about teasing him, nibbling away at his control with fingertips nudging just past his entrance, dipping in, stretching him, working him open by tiny fractions, bit by bit. I've got two, then three, fingers inside of him, tips pressed together, and I'm spreading my knuckles in a pulsing, forceful pattern. Steady and predictable. "That's cute."

I twist, knuckles popping in and out of his ring, feeling the tension of him fluctuating around me, feeling some of his muscles tighten, others loosening with desperation for me.

He's just about ready, then. Leaving him empty and wanting, I pull my hand back, wiping it on the bedsheet at his hip. My other hand's had my cock in hand for a bit now - freed of my tight leather pants (a vanity, and a pain in the balls when I want sex), I've got it in palm, rubbing absentmindedly til the rest was ready.

And Mabe's twitching now, and I can't blame him for being hungry for me. Hell, I would be.

And gods below know I'm hungry for him.

I stroke my nails up the back of his thigh, teasing, savoring this. "For the record," I murmur, leaning forward to bite his collarbone, to take a hungry, teeth-filled kiss from his mouth. "Yes."

I lean back, taking him all in, just appreciating the view. I stroke his thigh again, more gently. And then I fist my cock at the base and smack it sharply across his balls.

The sudden sting probably hurts him. It just makes me more wild.

"I plan to stuff this inside you and rut you, Mabe-chan," I promise, and my voice is dangerous and low and intense. "I plan to swell you up with my fucking dick and bulge you with my knot."

I smack him again, hitting his hole, watching the ring of muscle flinch. And then I press the nubbed tip of my cock against him. A string of sticky precum leaking out of it drips into him, slowly.

"I might even let myself puff before I go inside you. You want that?"

I lick the soft skin on the side of his knee that's still folded over my shoulder, holding his gaze. Daring him.

I snort, and roll my eyes a little, because really. He's so dramatic all the time.

"I know you'll do whatever you damn well please. It was just a question, not a request."

The teasing continues, the taunting, little stings and glancing touches. A bit of pain with the pleasure, enough to draw a few winces from me, though they're mostly just for show. Just to make him feel satisfied with himself.

...Not too satisfied with himself though.

I do groan when he lays out what he has planned, because it's quite a promising scenario, and I'm not going to outright lie when I want something as much as he does.

I know how to pick my snippy battles with him.

"I just fucking want you inside me already." I answer him, a small challenge in my voice and in my gaze. I lift my hips a bit, and clutch at the pillows behind me, licking my lips and holding his gaze.

He dares me back, shoving me just as hard as I'm shoving him. I can try all I want to intimidate him; I won't make a dent in that confidence of his, that cool surety he's got that things are never outside his control.

I wouldn't have him any other way.

I thrust forward, sinking deep inside him in one long push. He's impossible in every way, maddening sometimes, and at others he warms me, lights something hidden deep inside my body, behind shields of spiny bone. Something I don't like to look at.

So I don't, just pushing deep, til he bows beneath me, til my strongly braced posture over him finally sags. I'm slumped down over him; one hand's still holding me up, one hand's still hovering near where we're joined, and my thumb's started rubbing slow circles on the tendon of his inner thigh, thoughtlessly fond.

And my shoulders are bowed, head hanging low, and his temple's in range as I draw a hard breath and jerk my hips forward, just in case there was another bit of space inside him for a bit more of me.

My lips graze his skin, tasting the sweat gathered at his hairline, pressing a gentle kiss there as his body clenches around me, as we settle into place together, with each other. I kiss his hairline again, his temple, and then I realize I'm doing it and I pull back, baring my teeth in a silent snarl. I didn't even really think about it, just...did it. Kissing his mouth's one thing, because I get something from that, but...

So I bite the crest of his ear, my fangs sharp enough that even a little nip like that draws a bit of blood, to change the subject.

"You feel me?" I ask, a growl seated firmly in my throat, roughing up my speech. "Feel good?"

Oh I feel him. I feel him deep inside me, felt him slide all the way in in one smooth thrust. My body takes little time to adjust, welcomes him even.

I feel him as he pushes forward more, trying to get every last bit of his length inside me. I feel the way he reacts when I clench around him, drawing him further in as he jerks.

And I feel him as he kisses my hairline, then again, them my temple. Gentle and sweet. Something he's never done before.

I don't react, since that would probably make this awkward, knowing him. I don't mind the kisses, the tiny and new signs of affection.

Affection.

He seems too mind, not that I dislike the sharp sting of his fangs as he bites at my ear.

Yes. I feel him.

I nod, and gift him with a throaty groan. I reach up for the headboard, reaching for something to grip as I lift my hips, up and forward, wrapping one leg around him to move him to a better angle inside me.

He shifts under me, folds his leg around me; I'm still distracted by my own small gesture of - of affection - so it startles me, catches my breath on my teeth sharply as he rocks us together, changes the angle.

That'll make a guy focus for sure, though, and with my teeth bared I snicker, rolling my hips forward sharply. It jerks us both forward, and his grip on the headboard's suddenly really valuable.

"Hold. Hold on." I didn't my voice to catch so sharply, or for it to be so rough with want.

I can feel I'm still growing within him, still swelling. And the way he's looking at me, the way he's got...

I shake my head, close my teeth on a growl, and thrust forward, gripping his shoulder with one hand and pulling toward myself. Don't want to shove him away when I start pounding him.

Like I wouldn't hold on anyway. I know how he fucks, I know if I didn't hold on to something he's have my head slamming into the headboard hard enough to possibly almost knock me out.

I can feel him swelling inside me, filling me up, stretching me. It's not a new experience, and it's certainly not one I mind, but it's still exciting when it happens.

He grabs my shoulder and pulls me closer, and my arms strain slightly above my head. Muscles taught, hands holding fast to the headboard.

I groan, and let out a growl to meet his. Not quite as animalistic as his, but damn well close.

If he's tense, he's ready, and I'm off to the fucking races. No need to pussyfoot around with Mabe; he can handle me, and that's saying a lot.

I can't bend closer to him in this position, not really, but that's okay - all that needs to meet is his ass to my hips, hard as I can manage it. Over and over, long as he can bear it and a bit longer if I'm not done by then. The pace quickens as I start to feel myself unravel, though the end's a fair pace off still. Still got time for adding plenty of bruises to the both of us yet.

"Know something, Mabe?" My speech is punchy, syllables chopped up into the groupings that fit into each of my harsh-drawn breaths as I slam into him. "Not nothing I've ever fucked turns me on like you do. Never met an ass like you before."

You, not 'yours'. I grin, crooked, a warm spark of light in my eye as I hold his gaze and fuck him raw.

That's good, I think to myself, a lustful smirk on my lips, because I've never met anyone else that fucks me like you do.

I snort at the ass comment, and bless him with a little eye roll. I'm breathing too hard to form words properly now, beyond curses, but I still want him to know that I caught that.

I meet his thrusts with small jerks of my hips, the most I can manage with the position I'm in. The fire builds in my gut, and not a slow burn either. Like a match to paper.

My dick is hard between us, already weeping, but I'm not really focusing on that ache, I'm much more interested in every single fucking time his dick drives in deep and sends sparks so bright through my I see fucking stars.

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

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