Proddy Provocations

Disclaimer: Adult language and themes.

The Temple of All Dooms - Xanadu Weyr

F'yr and Glorioth's homestead in the forest. There's a tower.

What's better for a texture-obsessed greenrider than a blindfold? NOTHING. The silken thing, folded enough times to really dim if not fully block the greenrider's sight - just enough to be titillating, to tease at the idea of sight and inflame the imagination is just left to settle by hands leaving the bow at the back of that hair that gets a comb through by familiar fingers that drop to the proddy grenrider's shoulder and trail toward the front. "How many fingers am I holding up?" There's a blur, but not distinct digits. That's a good sign, right? Is it a better sign that as soon as Ru'ien opens his mouth to answer, F'yr's mouth is there, head presumably blotting out the light for the moment while his tongue invades, stealing whatever those words were going to be for just long enough to make it infuriating when he pulls back to say, voice edged with light, teasing humor, "You were saying, love?"

Maybe Ru'ien will regret having agreed to the bronzerider's invitation that came only after the recognition of the man's proddy state and enough into it that Ru still has some control, but not enough to control those pesky obsessions Kiha's infection possession of him likes to trigger. If he does, he'll have to figure out how to hold onto that feeling while nails drag down the side of his neck and F'yr vanishes for all intents and purposes. "Stay there." There is on a stool at F'yr's kitchen island. It would not, all things considered, be a terribly wise (or safe) choice to get up and try to follow the bronzerider wherever his feet retreating to. He's back in a few moments and there's the sound of something scraping across the counter and then F'yr's fingers down Ru's bare arm to his hand and then the hand is opened with F'yr's other hand curling Ru's fingers flat and settled into his hand is some…. pastry? Yes, some kind of pastry. The bronzerider won't infantilize his partner by feeding him, but he will ply him with mystery foods — with mystery textures, flavors, smells— not, apparently, prepared to offer clues from the outset. He did say to come hungry, but was this really what Ru'ien had in mind for their evening?

IT’S A VALID POINT! And Ru'ien has no arguments at the moment, not that he would protest over being blindfolded. Keeping him from touching it is the true and potential challenge! It could be that intrigue and curiosity outweighs his texture-fixations for now, serving as an invisible binding to otherwise restless hands. His imagination is always at some heightened level, but this is certainly fuel to the fire! He scoffs for the question asked, about to form the words (‘ass’ is probably among them), only to have them stolen in a most delightful way~ Surely that muffled groan isn’t a complaint — or the low sighed whine when he pulls back. There’s definitely a chase with his teeth, as he attempts to at least graze his lower lip or nip the bronzerider’s jawline in retaliation. Ass.

No regrets! NOT YET Ru’ien’s hummed note might sound a bit of a complaint, but only because he doesn’t want it to stop. He twitches and leans subtly to the drag of nails along his neck, growling some half-spoken curses. His head tilts back, slightly cocked to the side as if considering whether it’s in his favour to obey F’yr. “As you wish.” master His lips purse in a wry manner, but he’ll choose to be ‘good’ this time around. If there’s any movement at all, it is the mildly restless shift of his legs where the semi-sheer lace fabric of the ‘dress’ he wears brushes against bare skin. Okay, so his ONLY regret by the night’s end might be wearing white~

Another hummed note, partly questioning and equal delight, as those fingers brush along his bare arm to his hand and — what is this? Some kind of pastry! Ru’ien’s laughter surfaces on the cusp of a sharper inhaled breath. “Am I supposed to guess?” he purrs, velvety sweet and faux innocence. Is that the game, F’yr? he knows it’s not all the rules His head tilts again, as he can’t quite help the habit of looking down, promptly clicking his tongue when reminded he can’t see. An upwards movement of his head signals some form of amused thoughtfulness, as he plays along, fingers already tracing the outline of shape and textured surfaces. Is this a filled pastry? IS THIS WHAT HE EXPECTED? No, of course not~ But that’s why Ru’ien’s loving it, this little turn of events.

F'yr's fingers brush along the shell of the greenrider's ear, only to tweak the lobe in a pinch at that 'As you wish~,' or maybe just the silent inferences. Too bad Ru can't see the bemused tug of his partner's smile. Once he's free of the item in his other hand, however, he's shifting to where the heat of his body can be felt standing alongside the greenrider. One hand touches the small of his back, pressed flat there and starting to move in small circles. It's the perfect position from which to lean just near enough to let his breath tease the hair near Ru's ear when he murmurs, "Ideally, you're supposed to—" he pauses, letting those slowly spoken words, linger, letting the silence become a new texture — one that twists and changes and needs filling, before he finishes, "—enjoy it."

He doesn't move away, so he's near enough to be swatted if Ru'ien feels the need to answer the deeply rudely amused tone at the greenrider's having jumped to some conclusion. "But I do think I've heard some people play that sort of game." This still light, but also real. "I won't stop you if you want to guess, but this is just about me helping you enjoy this." This, being this unavoidable time where Kihatsuth slowly infuses herself into the shape of her rider's skin. The hand moving on Ru'ien's back is— well, simply comfort, simply support and togetherness. He moves it up, rubbing across shoulder blades and down spine. "I usually try to put greenrider off me when they're proddy, but for some reason—" he drags the words out, as though he can't quite put his finger on it, "—I seem to enjoy it when we end up together for a flight. " GOSH, GOLLY GEE, WONDER WHY~ F'yr knows, but teasing is part of the fun of this game. Right? Of course, Kiha probably just heard him say he likes to win, or can tap it from Ru later. RIP Glorioth's proof of virility.

Speaking of teasing, while Ru does whatever Ru's planning to do with that food, F'yr is going to just have a nibble of— well, the greenrider's neck after gently hooking hair out of his way. Don't mind him. Or his teeth.

It really is too bad! Ru’ien loves witnessing expressive reactions, but he’ll settle for the ‘scolding’ tweak to his ear; it brings a snickered breath and a sly smirk without apology. His back arches just enough to press into that hand, the rest of his body shifting to the change. The murmured words bring a tingling chill, then a flush of heat leaving him lightly shivering in the wake of the twisting, changing, textured silence. “Oh—“ Ru’ien starts with a low sigh tapered in the end to a growled: “I am enjoying this~” He’s not talking about the pastry (yet), either! The very one now forgotten and held suspended between his hands. F’yr will escape being swatted at this time, by luck that said hands are preoccupied!

“Mhm, well, I’ll give you points for creativity!” Ru’ien muses, lips curving into a smirk as he tilts his head again — no doubt just a reflex gesture at this point, given the blindfold. His shoulders will roll and shift under the touch of F’yr’s touch, encouraging, welcoming more despite the way it sends a cascade of sparks through him. Teasing is VERY much a part of the game, if not close to the heart of it!

“Is it because I am so irresistible?” he purrs, a lazy grin in place for his part in teasing back. Play first, seriousness (or close enough, given his state) next and he lowers his head downwards, and slightly off-angle, to “look” at the pastry he’s now examining with his fingers. He seems focused on one spot, gently probing it. “Why do you put them off?” he (not so) idly asks. Has Ru’ien witnessed it before? Perhaps. It wouldn't have troubled him if he had, but now his curiosity is piqued. Kiha definitely heard enough and that never bodes well, does it?

There won’t be any protest to nibbles and teeth! Only a breathless groan and turn his head to expose more for F’yr’s pleasure perusal. Lips will part, tongue briefly passing over his lower lip as his body leans ever more shamelessly towards the bronzerider; it may put him at risk of unbalancing himself from that stool. worth it, in his opinion

As for the pastry? Ru’ien discovers that it is, in fact, a custard filled pastry — and immediately focuses on delving into it with the most suggestive and lewd use of his fingers. Has he no shame!? Take that pastry away before he defiles it further! bakers everywhere would weep … or is that how he scores the best treats from the kitchens?

"Oh, you're going to give me points for more than that by the time I'm done with you." Is it funny to hear F'yr affect a cocky self-assurance with a dark-humored twist? Does it make it less funny but more spine-tingling in conjunction to what he's doing there with his lips and tongue on the skin of shoulder where fabric has been nudged gently aside for the purpose? If so, that's really fine because entertainment is rather the point and keeping a chaos minion devotee engaged does take more than just creativity. "Keep eating like that and I might get ideas about—" he breathes into Ru'ien's ear as he pulls back and up, letting it sound scandalous going in, but finishing it with a solid, "—stealing the rest and running while you're still blindfolded." What a game of hide and seek that would be~

F'yr wouldn't, would he? … Well, he does like to frustrate the proddy— even this one, so he might. Guard your tasty treasure there, Ru'ien! Fortunately, F'yr seems content to pet through the greenrider's hair for a moment before he moves around the other man in his seat to presumably go get whatever's next. He doesn't go far, judging by the distance of his voice. "Because I'd rather not end up in bed with them." That was probably easy to assume from what's been witnessed, of course, and F'yr probably knows that. Still, it's a moment or two more before he offers up more. "It's a… a strange experience to end up sharing intimate things with a person you feel no attraction for. To have my body respond in ways that…" Can Ru'ien hear the puzzled expression searching out the right words to try to describe an experience that's not necessarily common? "… That it just wouldn't under any other circumstance, I suppose."

It’s a delectable sampling of all of the above, amusing and intriguing to hear that cocky self-assurance with dark-humoured twist and spine-tingling for sure to what is being done with lips and tongue along one sensitive part of exposed skin (or just the overlap of texture changes). Ru’ien chuckles low and deep in his throat, a dark-humoured note of his own for the statement, the treatment and then the scandalous ‘threat’. His breath shudders, lips slanting into an amused smirk as his head tilts again; maybe his eyes have fluttered closed beneath that blindfold. “You would never—” he purrs, withdrawing his fingers from that poor roughly handled pastry in well timed precision. “—be so cruel!” Those fingers are now being suggestively licked clean by the last syllable, when the effect isn’t diminished by his wicked grin. What a game of hide and seek that would be, indeed~

Ru’ien hums a fleeting note of pleasure to have his hair pet through, hands now lowering back to the table top (and maybe blindly probing to see if there IS a cloth or merely an idle reflex). His head cocks to the side to follow the sound of F’yr’s withdrawal, angled more or less in the correct way as he listens. “Ah,” he muses, half interjected and unsurprised because, yes, he’d assumed something along those lines — and holds no judgement towards the bronzerider, letting him have that moment to puzzle out the words before finishing with his answer.

“I think I can understand that?” Ru’ien’s never truly discussed his own feelings concerning flights … the REAL feelings. He’s content to allow those to form their own assumptions from what they see from the masks, because it’s easier to take any backlash towards that half, while safeguarding his true self. There’s also the fact that Glorioth has caught Kihatsuth twice, so his experience with strangers has only been ‘twice’. “It’s kind of like an unsettling surreal feeling? I know I felt something… “off” I guess? When I woke up tangled with a woman.” It might not be quite the same or remotely close, but it’s the closest Ru’ien has to any time he’s truly felt a jolt of ‘nope’ with a stranger (so far) — which quickly buried itself behind his usual mask-guarded antics.

Let's be clear: that game of hide and seek would end with F'yr's face covered in crumbs and Ru'ien IN TEARS. (Okayokayokay, maybe not tears, but possibly bewildered why the outcome wasn't substantially sexier. Welcome to life with F'yr~~) "I can prove it if you like," is daring challenge to that claim that he wouldn't. Ru has seen him eat before, right? F'yr is perfectly capable … physically. If nothing else, he's proved he can be unpredictable when there's proddiness involved … but, no, he's probably not so cruel as to have set all this up and then actually whisk it all away. Still, he makes the exceptionally empty threat sound credible. He'll make a diplomat yet~

The hand searching does find a cloth, but only because someone with full use of his eyes still has noticed the groping on the counter and slid it to where it might be found. It's even moistened. Maybe someone anticipated the lurid show with the squishy bits of the pastry. Who knows their greenrider, huh? It's F'yr~ There's the sound of plate on counter sliding closer and then F'yr settles on the stool next to Ru, shifting so his knees are one between and one outside of the greenrider's, perhaps to add a reassurance of proximity that the blindfolded man can feel, lest his imagination get the better of him, even with a voice to track his partner by. "Gender doesn't seem to matter," F'yr murmurs, not denying Ru's response, but rather building off of it.

"For me. It's like… I'm outside myself as much as in myself, and then the parts that aren't normally so—" The pause is that familiar searching pause that comes with the lip-press that Ru'ien has probably memorized by now. "It's not quite casual, I guess." Not that he would know outside of the insert-absurd-number-here flights Glorioth has participated in and won. Thank Faranth he grew out of the early winning streak and things are now much more occasional happenings. "But a lot of people sort of make it that way. Take it that way. Not all of them." And there's something distasteful in that, something more that goes without explanation in the moment. "So it's like I'm with them in that. And then Glorioth passes some final extremity of the experience and I'm slammed back into myself left with this…" He doesn't seem to know how to finish that so instead he tangents into, "Maybe it's what some people feel like when they've been drunk and wake up next to a stranger." It could be a good analogy. … but F'yr wouldn't know.

This variety of exchange from the bronzerider leaves room for Ru'ien to share, in kind, his experiences, things more in depth, but it does not demand, nor direct. If the greenrider wants to share, F'yr is here, listening, passively waiting to hand over the next sweet treat, and if not, there's that for distraction.

Ru’ien’s grin broadens, a touch arrogantly, for the daring challenge put to him by F’yr. He doesn’t even have to say it; he’s still calling the bronzerider’s bluff on the whole ‘threat’. What would he do, if it was actually done if he pushed too far? probably cry They’d have to find a whole different way to keep him … preoccupied.

When the (moistened!) cloth is oh-so helpfully nudged his way, he’ll take care of wiping his fingers. The motions are only hindered by blindfold and the exploration of that texture too. Ru’ien will turn his head a bit to the sound of that plate, but his focus is more immediately on the touch of knees and sense of proximity. His hand drifts out and down, fingers eventually brushing against one of F’yr’s before flattening in a more firm touch. Reassurance? Maybe. Or Ru’ien is seeking just a little more ‘connection’ under the surface of light play and humor, given the turn the conversation has taken.

“Is it the not-quite casualness that hits hardest?” Ru’ien asks, low and gentle toned after attentively listening, regardless of how much his hands fidget idly; F’yr’s knee and some of his thigh will receive ample touch by the time he withdraws to sit back on his seat. He’s trying to grasp what F’yr is sharing, acknowledging the importance of this to the bronzerider despite his struggle to understand. The greenrider may be wired differently, but that doesn’t mean he cannot respect how F’yr feels; normally, he’d find a way to insert a joke or some humor, but proddy-related distractions might be interfering with that.

There is, at least, a low chuckle for the analogy and he can only tip his head in an unsure gesture as the chuckle becomes more of a hummed thoughtful sound. “Mhm, could be.” How would he know? He turns (more or less) to the new plate and pastry to defile sample, fingers idly exploring the edge of the dish. Even with the blindfold on, it’s telling from his posture that he’s considering taking that offered space to share. “Flights leave me vulnerable,” As F’yr’s already experienced twice with the greenrider. “Kiha does wonderfully,” Sarcasm, there. “In wearing me down. Casual is all that I have the energy to do, the quickest thing to reflect back.” And not him, in any sort of depth. Ru’ien’s fingers brush over the pastry at last and there’s a dismayed grunt, as they twitch and jerk away. Ugh, glazed? Apparently sticky and a nope, as he nudges the plate away with his knuckles.

It might be that the answer to the greenrider's question requires a little mental turnover before it can be answered for only a thoughtful rumble responds in an immediate way to the question. He's surely listening when Ru'ien shares further of his own experiences, watching as that hand finds the pastry nearest (but not the only one on the plate). If only Ru'ien could see his face. It looks a lot like this: :| but with an undercurrent of deep amusement.

The wrist attached to the fingers dancing away from that glazed pastry is snatched up by a no-nonsense grip and tugged F'yr-wards. "That one," he NEARLY purrs except he wouldn't know how, really, "was mine," and it still is because of course now he just has to get every sticky drop sucked off of the be-stickied fingers. The plate, for all that Ru can't see it, has all the offerings on it, not just the one he found first. It only came nearer because F'yr did.

The mouth pauses in its attentions to more pleasantly cleaning than the rag managed so he can slide the plate out of range of the greenrider's eager hand, "I'm sorry you're left so raw, after." That's more serious and comes with a twist of the (okayokayokay, it was cleaned long ago, hffhfhhf) hand so the bronzerider can press a kiss to the back of his lover's knuckles. "If I'm around when she has her flights," because why wouldn't he be? He does make an effort to be there, "You can always leave with me, if you like, or come to me after if you just want to be held, or if there's anything else I can do to help." There is, of course, the unspoken caveat that if he's with one of his other People, choices will have to be made, but that's not in this moment and he can still express his willingness honestly.

Finally, as he returns the hand to Ru's care with a final rub of its back with his thumb, he shifts to pluck up a pastry and place it in the hand, one the greenrider would enjoy on a normal day, he gives the man an answer to his first question. "I don't think it's the not-quite casualness. It's… the way I'm influenced by him, I think. It's a very strange thing to look at a person, not feel attraction, but to have your body react with attraction, and to want them anyway." It's called lust, F'yr. But for a man who feels first and only then enjoys physical intimacy, the concept is as foreign as flirtation has been. Perhaps, in time, he'll learn?

It’s such a shame! Missing such equally delectable expressions that would have been savoured just as deliciously as the pastries! Ru’ien would mourn the lost opportunities if he had any idea of their passing — for now, he may be picking up on that undercurrent of deep amusement.

With his wrist snatched in that no-nonsense grip and tugged, there’s a hissed breath, partially hitched as it’s sucked between his teeth, withdrawal arrested the moment F’yr starts on cleaning those glaze-sticky fingers. Then, a scoffed sigh. A small parting of his lips as his tongue traces the edge. Who needs a blindfold? Ru’ien’s eyes are closed behind it, his hand twitching under that attention.

“My mistake.” he purrs with much more practiced ease, mouth curving into a roguish smirk (maybe he caught that attempt by F’yr and finds it adorable he tried) tapering into a deep rolling chuckle. A kiss to the knuckles and a warmer, true smile given as his hand flexes into the touch with a hint of a shiver — even now he can’t ever quite escape proddiness. The offer is met with poignant silence on Ru’ien’s end, his jaw visibly working as his lips purse in thought.

“I’d like that,” he breathes after a minute spell of rumination. “Knowing I can find you after, whenever? I like that, a lot.” Ru’ien either knows or assumes enough to understand the caveat(s) involved and respects it; it’s never bothered him yet before. Sincerity is followed up by a blind-feel and then firm touch to F’yr’s arm. Connection, however brief and ended with a loving squeeze before he turns back to a mix of humoured genuineness. “I don’t know if I could run off with you in the thick of it? We got lucky once. You’d have your work cut out, to lure me away~” Or trick him when he’s Kiha-Ru. Challenge accepted, F’yr?

He goes as far as to make a soft sound to express, in a playful vein, his almost-disappointment in his hand being returned — only to have all forgiven when a pastry settles in. Immediately enthralled again by the flaky consistency (woe to F’yr’s counters and floors), it’s a wonder Ru’ien doesn’t shred it to oblivion with his eagerness. It hasn’t absorbed too much of his focus, however and he is able to grasp the edge of the concept of lust being described. He pauses a moment, the word on the tip of his tongue to gently (lovingly) tease with … but he holds it back. His mouth twists into a mischievous grin instead, tempered by the sincerity in his voice. he’s terrible, really, leaving him hanging “I think I get it now, Fear. It’s rough, having to deal with that, when you’re not expecting it … or wanting it?” And he’s sorry that F’yr is experiencing it as he is, even if he doesn’t quite come out and say it. It’s there, unspoken and maybe in the glance he would’ve given had he not been blindfolded; the gesture is still there, at least!

“You can always come and find me, after those flights, too.” he softly adds, with a general unspoken understanding of caveat(s) in relation to that but also, as often with him, no hidden strings, expectations or pressure.

F'yr stops, something in Ru'ien's tone of voice when he first speaks bringing a stillness that the greenrider might recognize even with the blindfold blocking his sight because it's so definedly the bronzerider's most intense listening, where the rest of the world, however briefly, melts away because there's something that needs to be entirely absorbed at the fore of his attention. He leans in, even in the wake of what could be a divergence into lighter things, to delay that for moments so he can press a soft kiss that is connection one greater than the touch to his arm to the greenrider's lips. It's nearly against them that he murmurs, "I should have said sooner," apparently he always assumed Ru could read that part of his mind up to this point.

But as he leans back, the humor is given it's moment to shine because he sighs - there's enough of a silence to punctuate before he does so that the one is not mistakenly connected with the much more real, and close enough to his words full of the false fatigue of those imposed upon. "A hero's duties are never done," he manages to contain the boom to something that isn't going to risk eardrums while perfectly approximating his lifemate's cadences. "But it's a quest worthy of me." Surely this isn't actually Glorioth speaking (THOUGH HE WOULD PROVISIONALLY APPROVE EVEN IF HE WOULD PREFER MORE MENTION OF THE TRUE HERO OF THIS STORY: HIMSELF! AHAHAHHAHA!), but the rider does a good impression. CHALLENGE ACCEPTED~

Perhaps it's the humor that distracts him, perhaps it simply does not occur to F'yr to mention how he's effected when some other greenrider is whisked off by their someone, a state that some others might enjoy taking advantage of in the strapping blond apparently SOMEWHAT INCAPABLE of lust under any other circumstances(?). In any case, there's the window and F'yr doesn't even notice it exists. RIP Future F'yr. Instead, he's cupping hands under Ru'ien's trying to catch most of the shredding flakes while he responds to the only part he is aware of: "It's just part of being with him. It's… never comfortable, but as long as the greenrider," because thankfully there's only been one goldrider dealing with post-flight with him, not for lack of Glori's DAUNTLESS ATTEMPTS, "doesn't get…. insistent," what a nice way to put that, F'yr, "it's not unbearable." Presumably if it were, he'd have found some way to cope with it before now. He does offer a soft, "Thank you, Ruin." It's real, though it lacks any commitment to do so. It's possible after being touched that way, F'yr might not want to be touched even by familiar hands? Or maybe he just has other options.

Ru’ien catches that so definable stillness in F’yr even while he continued on and reached for that connection. It draws his attention, as does the sense of the bronzerider leaning in, keeping still on his seat in the wake of that delay of divergence. The soft kiss is returned with a quiet, equally soft, hummed note and exhale, along with a fleeting genuine smile. It’s alright. Unspoken, but there between them with the greenrider holding none of it against him. Now he knows and it won’t be something forgotten and perhaps F’yr will learn, someday, why that offer struck such a cord.

He’ll cock his head in a playful mimicry of someone who’s questioning whether they’re hearing things right as humor takes the spotlight again — and in the form of F'yr's act of impersonating a certain heroically inclined bronze.. He struggles not to burst out laughing outright, having to bite at his lower lip and work his jaw — oh who are we kidding? F’yr will barely finish the last sentence before he gives in, starting with an amused snort, a cough and then a rolling laugh. HOW DELIGHTFUL~ Best not disappoint, —dearie— F’yr! It may not just be Ru'ien you'll answer to.

How many missed opportunities and windows is that now? Ru’ien’s fixation in shredding eventually moves on to actually eating the now mutilated modified pastry. Small nibbled bites, all while F’yr talks and hopefully gives the bronzerider a chance to empty those hands of his. “At least there’s that.” That it hasn’t been unbearable. He smirks in understanding, in some vein. “It’s still rough.” And again, while he doesn’t say it, it’s there. He’s sorry that F’yr goes through it. At least they don’t have to struggle alone through it?

Ru’ien doesn’t pursue further with his own suggested offer, content with the response even if he picked up on the lack of commitment. He can — or may — come to understand not wanting to be touched even by familiar hands. Right now, however? His focus is largely on the last few nibbles bites and he dusts off his hands. “Well.” Tangent time, anyone? “I think I’m tired of pastries.”

“What’s next?” The last is purred, low and velvety, as Ru’ien’s weight gradually shifts; if anyone had to guess, he’s perched as if readying to pounce if not sufficiently distracted. It’s not hard to hazard a guess as to where the greenrider’s mind is going, with the way his head tilts suggestively at F'yr. Blindfold or no, he can approximate close enough! And his curving impish grin just adds a certain warning playfulness to nearly wrap it all up.

F'yr might disagree with the idea that either is not struggling alone, or redefine it as struggling individually but not alone or something, but thankfully the bronzerider is distracted from teasing apart unvoiced intimations for exact rightness of meaning by the greenride's proclamation. "'What's next?'" he mimics instead, affecting a tone of incredulousness, of affront. "'What's next,' he says, as if I've just got distraction after distraction lined up for his pleasure." The gall~~

Except, of course, F'yr has that and is ready to intercept the would-be pounce when it comes — if it comes — redirecting them both onto their feet, so very close, all but pressed together, blindfold still in place whether Ru volunteers himself onto his feet with the pounce or not. "Keep your blindfold on," comes in a murmur that stirs a few of his loose locks, F'yr's head to press kisses just under the seam of the blindfold at Ru's temple. Then he's turning quick as can be, wrapping the greenrider's arms around his middle, his back pressed along Ru's front, "Follow me." Evidently, the suggestion is to follow close— though in practice probably not that close, even if there is a pause now and again for teasing friction.



Toward the tower…

Into a room…

… where they can dance.


If Ru'ien's endgame to all this proddy titillation involves something more horizontal, he's got a few more distractions to indulge in, probably all designed to drag it out obnoxiously intoxicatingly, before the greenrider can claim a more intimate kind of fun.

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