twocomplex: (call the police)
Nocta Oren ([personal profile] twocomplex) wrote in [community profile] teaism2015-06-14 07:19 pm

they're all in a room at the same time, for once

[Yet another day in Renacht. No, that's not quite right. Yet another day in the Palace of Renacht, stuck on the grounds with nowhere else to go and nothing else to do. Yes, that about summed it up.

Oren was beginning to grow bored. With how things were, he couldn't leave the palace, couldn't venture to other areas, couldn't do anything. And Robin was stuck here along with him! And what have they done about it? Absolutely nothing. He wonders if it's the presence of Mattias that distracts them both. Normally, Oren would like to be messing around. He hasn't had a chance with Mattias here, with Robin hanging around, and he's never been able to tell if Robin was quite interested in it himself... Aside from makeouts, that is.

He finally blinks out of his fantasy, lifting his chin from his palm and running the hand through his hair, instead. Curls fall right back into place before he's flattening it down the back of his head and looking from Mattias to Robin.

They were literally just sitting in this room right now.]

Tell me, what exciting things shall we do today?

[He's tired of it. The boredom, the restrictions, the lack of attention. Were they eyeballing each other in their free time? Perhaps each time he blinked they found time for more! ...Or maybe he's just a little grumpy here. Forgive him.]

Another long few hours of staring out the window? I've read every book within reach three times over now.
birdsbirdsbirds: (♠ head like a steel trap)

[personal profile] birdsbirdsbirds 2015-06-15 04:40 am (UTC)(link)
Make out.

[it's said with the careless ease of someone who might not have been paying attention. his nose is in one of said books, and his eyes haven't left the pages. he's lounging in a chair, feet up on a piece of furniture. he has not seemed particularly thrilled today, but he has yet to reach the impatient boredom that Oren has.

he mostly said it because he thought it would be funny; at least one of them would probably make a startled noise, either at the thought, or at his shamelessly casual suggestion.

does he actually want to? it's hard to say. he's been more mysterious than usual, closed up with these two, on a world that's not remotely his own. by all rights, he seems perfectly content with his book. he turns a page.]
noctiphile: (HACHACHACHA)

[personal profile] noctiphile 2015-06-15 04:59 am (UTC)(link)
[Unlike the other two useless sacks of shit in his quarters, Mattias actually has shit to do. Apparently being a Messiah means having to do all sorts of paperwork. Reading over treaties, signing religious sanctions, poring over what are probably the most boring documents in the world. Still, he can hardly complain. Stacks of paper are a fair trade when the city has promised to keep the two numbskulls behind him alive. Provided they stay within the palace grounds.]

It's not as bad as it seems. They'd let you out if they coul—

[His words die a pathetic death when Robin voices his suggestion. He chokes and his neck nearly snaps with how fast he looks at him, mouth flapping uselessly. Whatever he expected to find, it wasn't Robin sitting with such disinterest. Had he been serious? It was hard to tell and his brow furrows trying to figure it out. Falling into a stupor, he comes to a moment later when something wet creeps along his fingertips. Ink, spilled from his initial startle, spreads across the desk coating the documents in a wave of irreparable darkness. Frantic, he balls up whatever expensive bullshit he's wearing and dabs at it furiously, trying to catch it all before it trails off the desk.]

All joking aside, [Really, that's what it had to be, right?] I can try and find something for us to do if it's that torturous for you.
birdsbirdsbirds: (♥ i've got a bad idea)

[personal profile] birdsbirdsbirds 2015-06-15 08:55 pm (UTC)(link)
[he also eyes the mess that Mattias has made, though he does so with no great urgency. his mind spins out a half-dozen things he could do to "help" that would actually make it worse. taking off his shirt would be one of them. you know. to help clean it up.

but he doesn't, because Oren contributes his good comment, which catches his attention. he slides his gaze over. meets his eyes. his absent, polite smile slowly turns into a smirk.

sorry, Mattias. maybe his boredom is worse than previously stated.]

I think that'd make poor Mattias rather uncomfortable.

[but his gaze is practically a dare, at this point.]
noctiphile: (yet)

[personal profile] noctiphile 2015-06-16 02:09 am (UTC)(link)
Oh, don't mind me, I've apparently been opted out of it already.

[Is he annoyed? Yeah, he's annoyed. He saw them both look over here and continues to see them do nothing about it. Oren even laughed. Brats.

With a furious amount of scrubbing, Mattias manages to soak up all the ink. The sleeve of his robe is ruined now, black staining the rainbow of embroidery. Mattias sighs. He's going to have to wash it out.

He rushes to the bathroom and shoves Robin's stupid smirking face on the way out, saying nothing but a disgruntled:

Try to behave yourselves.
birdsbirdsbirds: (♥ ruins with a bad pickup line)

[personal profile] birdsbirdsbirds 2015-06-17 11:57 pm (UTC)(link)
[his face is shoved. his grunt of surprise has a stupid laugh on its heels. his gaze lingers on Mattias as he walks away, delighted with his own trashy humor... at least until Oren stands and saunters pointedly over.

he's a little surprised, and it shows as he looks between his face and his hand. he took it seriously? true, he'd entertained the thought... but he didn't think anyone would actually take him up on it. but he settles again into that quiet smirk of his, considering, knowing he might only have seconds before Mattias makes another irritated appearance.

he closes his book with a quiet snap. his smirk spreads wider.

--because he puts the book down in his open hand. ha ha. tricked you.

as soon as it sinks in, he grabs Oren's arm and, without a word, yanks him down to his level. he ducks in to kiss his neck, once, twice, and bite him. just a little. his mouth is next.

if they're going to play, they're going to play by his rules. and he doesn't feel like standing up.]
noctiphile: (nOT LIKE THIS)

[personal profile] noctiphile 2015-06-19 01:04 am (UTC)(link)
[Call it a sixth sense but even as he walks away, he knows they're doing something. His mind fills in the possibilities, kissing, touching, strippin—No. He picks the tamest one. Convinces himself they wouldn't, they couldn't do anything else. Not in such a short time. He'd be right out again and they'd be sitting there, smirking in that smug way of theirs and throwing innuendos. Trying to make him blush. That'd be the worst of it. It had to be.

They were just flirting. He repeats it as a mantra while he runs the robe under cold water, rubbing at the sleeve with soap. It's a stuttering process as he recalls different things. The way Robin looked at Oren and how the smirk grew on his lips. Oren's words as he left. The invitation was open.

Had it been? It seemed more like a shared joke. A way to pass the time, consume the boredom. He had plenty to do, they knew that. So it couldn't have been offered to him. They were just—just trying to find a way to distract him. That had to be it. Just another way to tease the reaction they wanted out of him. That had to be—


[An overreaction, maybe. But distracted as he was, he was currently wading through a pool of water. The sink had overflowed, a small waterfall cascading from the basin and creating a river that snaked back to the door.]

No, no, no, no, no.

[He reaches for anything and grabs a towel. It soaks through immediately. Biting his lip, he remembers the mop, tucked away in the bathroom's closet but when he opens it up, it's not there. Just a lonesome bucket, waiting for it's companion. He grabs it by habit and proceeds to the door. If they wanted something to do, they could task themselves with helping hi—]


[He blushes. Of course he does. The water is still running behind him, the puddle reaching fingertips around his feet but he can't do anything about either. All the energy has drained from him. No, not just that. Every thought has been redirected to the sight before them.

They're doing it. The bastards are really doing it.

Needless to say, the bucket crashes to the floor.
birdsbirdsbirds: (♥ well this looks kind of sketchy)

this has to be 1/2 I'm sorry

[personal profile] birdsbirdsbirds 2015-06-21 08:13 am (UTC)(link)
[he does not particularly appreciate his shirt being pulled on. being yanked forward isn't his idea of a good time (and as we all know, he can't go ten seconds without being a hypocrite about something). but he can... forgive it pretty quickly, on account of Oren still being very talented with his mouth. when's the last time anyone kissed him like this?

so he does lean forward, fighting back to much of a smile while he aims to take control again. he keeps his hands to himself, at first--though his grip never leaves Oren's arm.

even when Mattias interrupts, skitters through the moment in a clash of sound and abject fluster, he's still holding on. he lifts his head, looks over--quickly closes one eye against the kisses being trailed down his neck. it's hard to focus. he's got a, uh, particular delight for this kind of thing. he tilts his head and shoulders back as far as Oren's meddling will let him, looking entirely too casual for someone who's heart is skittering around in his chest.

part game, part wish. a lot of silly thoughts. guilty thoughts. he doesn't actually like being watched like this, it makes him nervous--but the thought of playing with both of them is almost too good to imagine.]

I wasn't kidding, Mattias... Hurry up and join us. Oren's-- [he shivers at the bite. he has a marvelous poker face, but his body doesn't always play along.] --Hah, Oren's already being too mean about it.
birdsbirdsbirds: (♠ your arguement is now invalid)

still sorry but also not sorry

[personal profile] birdsbirdsbirds 2015-06-21 08:15 am (UTC)(link)
[but leave it to Robin to also ruin the mood, suddenly jerking back with an inhuman strength, jostling Oren, peering around Mattias at the water slowly crawling towards the door.]

What is--why is there water everywhere? [is Robin genuinely confused about this right now? he seems awfully invested.] Is the faucet still on?
noctiphile: (nOT LIKE THIS)

[personal profile] noctiphile 2015-06-22 05:54 am (UTC)(link)
[Mattias doesn't understand how Oren's being mean. He's being generous, granting Robin at least five different techniques Mattias himself hasn't even seen. He watches with greed as Oren moves down Robin's neck, listing forward without much notice, imagining it as his own. Wondering what each unknown technique feels like. Wondering what made Robin squirm and stretch like that. Wondering if he himself would be capable of doing the same.

His breath is caught in his throat as he watches. Stares, really, entranced by the hottest sight he's ever been face with. It's a lazy feud that's far from a fight. A competition that doubles as the prize and he's got front row seats.

It fills him with warmth, of course it does, but moreover it fills him with selfish desire. Oren's movements are so familiar that he can feel each tug, each bite, each kiss. He follows each kiss with his fingertips, hypnotized in recollections and old flames. It's not enough. He wants more. Wants to feel his lips break against his skin and gasp when his teeth sink in. Wants to be set aflame by his hands and chilled by his breath. Wants all of those sensations to be his, shared at most, but never given away. Never leaving him excluded.

And then there's Robin. Beautiful, unknown Robin. Where Oren tread familiar ground, Robin was an unexplored country. Every sight, every languid arch and lazy stretch excited him, left him aching for more. To be able to touch him, hear him, feel his body move beneath him, above him, around him. What would it be like? What was Oren feeling and why couldn't he?

Caught in a daze, he watches, completely aware of interest stirring, arousal awakening. Half-heartedly, he tries to quell it. Robin does a better job than he does.


[His observation hits harder than his invitation which hadn't even registered. Just passed by, words on the wind. The questions about the water were the ones that left him fumbling. His mouth worked for an answer and proceeded to stumble over itself, words tumbling out in an incomprehensible mess.]


[It was worse than being caught staring. More embarrassing to feel like an intruder, a nuisance, then a simple observer. His cheeks didn't merely heat up, they burned and he could feel the blush spread across the rest of his face. His hands flew to nothing in particular, plucking and combing through the air as if in hope of finding an explanation. When none come, he panics, yelps, and flees. The bathroom door closes behind him with a slow scraping and a somber thud.

Groaning, he slides against the stone door and flops into a puddle. With all the stone latticework in the door, they can probably hear him but he doesn't care. Well, that's not right. He cares a little bit. But it's just a tiny addition to a large loss of dignity.

At least it's easier to think like this, with a barrier between them. Legs slide up and he uses them as armrests, bouncing his head against the stone door while the water soaks his feet. Robin's other words come in a slow drip and mesh with Oren's prior ones. An invitation extended from both, insisted enough to be larger than a joke. For all he didn't know how it would work, it was an enticing idea. A way to feel included, the three of them sharing their affection. Affections he didn't know Robin and Oren even had with each other but—that was beside the point. It was a lucrative offer and, as he turns off the faucet, he knows they're right. What else were they supposed to do? Paperwork could certainly wait.

Sighing, he walks back to the door and rests his head on a patch of latticework. Closing his eyes, he breathes in deep and steels himself for the embarrassment of his only remaining issue with the idea.

... How would it work? With the three of us?

[The questions hang in the air. His fingers dig into the stone. Had they heard him? Just to be certain, he adds hesitantly:]

... You can't kiss two people at once.
birdsbirdsbirds: (♥ ruins with a bad pickup line)

[personal profile] birdsbirdsbirds 2015-06-22 04:59 pm (UTC)(link)
[Mattias' sudden retreat does have Robin pouting quietly after him... his mind sticks there and not to the task at hand, which is why Oren's breath at his ear sends another shiver through his skin. the assurance is helpful. the kiss is a nice reminder.

and as Oren pulls away to speak to Mattias through the door, he reassesses, refocuses. he reigns in his own defense--Oren is doing fine, leading. maybe he should let him. Robin is used to the vicious monsters of the Underground, not two mortal men.

and he's got a way with words.

he wets his lips, quietly, listening, breathing in against Oren's new touch, finally reaching towards him to run fingers over his neck and into his hair. he smiles with every suggestion, imagining each picture, already growing warm with the thoughts that came next. Oren is beautiful like this, spinning his web. he thinks, selfishly, of keeping him for himself.

because he's always wanted to, hasn't he? his eyes close softly at the kiss--but his fingers curl tightly against the other's neck, betraying how much he wants more of it. Mattias can watch them have each other, if he really wants to hide so much.]

I think... [what does he think? he might have gotten a little lost in his own haze--leans forward to press a kiss against his mouth before he answers. he lingers just over his lips until he finally knows what to say.]

This chair is becoming unnecessary.

[it was part of his being a brat before, but now he'd much rather stand--which he illustrates by that hand travelling along Oren's neck, over his shoulder, and down his chest. he would have kept going, if he could reach--a problem they could solve if the had a chance to get closer.]
noctiphile: (do i need to detail the list of ur idioc)

[personal profile] noctiphile 2015-06-22 06:14 pm (UTC)(link)
[Fingernails scratch against stone; Mattias bites his lip. They're touching each other. He can see it, the movement of Oren's arm. Yet as much as he can see there's even more he can't. Their expressions, where Oren's touching, how he's doing it. All of the finer details are obscured. Oren's still talking, still detailing acts that he no doubt knows will drag him out. It's grating, knowing how easily he can be manipulated and yet he still wants more. Whispered instruction from behind as his fingers trace down Robin's chest. He wonders what it looks like, wonders about what Oren's feeling and knows just then that he wants to be part of it.

The door scrapes open and his vision clears, unobstructed. Robin's leaning closer now, his arm moving, dragging fingers down Oren's chest and the sight twists him. The knowledge that they were so close to moving forward without him bites though not as much as the thought of Oren exploring the unknown before he's even had a chance to see it. To see him.

His throat tightens and his stomach jitters but he scowls all the same. Taking a step forward, he slips off the first robe, leaving it behind him. His pace picks up and he sheds more, leaving a trail of silk in his wake. When he passes the bed, he's left in his underclothes—a tight shirt that bares his chest more than it covers it and clinging pants that feel far too constricting at the moment.

You could have at least moved to the bed.

[He says, marching past it. His timidity is gone now, replaced with annoyance that they would keep going, that Oren could control him so easily, so smugly and that Robin would follow without pause. It's a good thing, though, he thinks. Makes him less flustered, less nervous. Bites away his hesitation and replaces it with confidence that only comes from anger.]

You insufferable, unfair, cocky piece of—

[It's why, when he finally reaches them, he doesn't hesitate to pull Oren away. Catching his chin in a firm grip, he crashes into his lips, demanding and submissive all at once. Rougher than one would expect, full of nips and scraping teeth. Punishment, maybe, but something about it seems normal. Almost routine.

His hands alight upon his neck then travel down, meeting Robin's hand on his chest. He clasps it tightly and then eases, as if remembering whose it was. It draws him away, lingering at Oren's lips as he turns to watch Robin. Hesitation slips back in, teeth scraping at his bottom lip and something shifting in his eyes. Annoyance fading into half-hearted hurt.

And you

[He slips away from Oren and braces a hand on the arm of Robin's chair. He's nervous, doing this. Filled with the jitters that come before an important event. One that's certain to become a treasured memory. Tilting Robin's face to meet him, he holds his gaze for a minute, searching them. Admiring them for the hundredth time.]

—you were supposed to kiss me first.

[He takes it upon himself to remedy that mistake.]
birdsbirdsbirds: (♥ what is personal space anyway)

[personal profile] birdsbirdsbirds 2015-06-23 12:16 am (UTC)(link)
[you know, for as much time as he'd spent jealous and annoyed with the idea of the two of them being close with one another, he's got to admit--watching the two of them make out a foot away from his face is way hotter than he could have expected.

when he is suddenly the target of Mattias' attention, he doesn't look back with the same sort of playful, smirky attention he'd been given Oren. with Mattias, there's nothing to be smug about. quietly enraptured and looking a little guilty himself, he surrenders into his "punishment" without the slightest hesitation.

he can still taste Oren in his lips. he straightens up, arching his neck to meet him closer--greedy for more but far gentler compared to the other one. they can play and bite in a minute; if he's hurt Mattias' feelings, he wants to make up for it with a perfect first kiss.

he's still peripherally aware of Oren, and not surprised when he starts meddling--but he breaks off the kiss with a wide smile and moves obediently. he sidles in close to Mattias again, greedly scooping his face into another kiss. he can't keep his smile out of it... especially because he keeps glancing over to see Oren disrobing next to them.

what a show. it's all he can do to keep from laughing when Oren steals Mattias away. one new and one jealous, what a combination. he peels his shirt off, eyeing the both of them while he's got a good view... before leaning in, pressing kisses down Mattias' neck. he thinks he can do better than Oren. he leaves a sharp little bite down by his collarbone.]

noctiphile: (la petite mort)

[personal profile] noctiphile 2015-06-23 04:19 am (UTC)(link)
[Robin's kiss is different. A coming home kiss, the kind a soldier would give his lover upon return. Greedy, wanting, but grateful and apologetic—an I love you and I'm sorry coupled into a solitary kiss. He whimpers when Oren pulls him away from it, chasing after his lips and humming in satisfaction when they return.

He has time to giggle into the kiss before Oren breaks it. While not painful, the tug startles him; he yelps. Still, he can't bring himself to be annoyed. Not when Robin's mouth is at his neck, trailing down skin. He shivers, mewling softly into the kiss at the bite. Again, not painful but no less attractive.

Wonderful as his predicament is, he's still confused. It's what to do with his hands, mostly. He tries not to overthink it but does anyway, teetering between Robin and Oren in indecision. Which would be offended if he touched the other? Even distracted as he is, his mind runs through different scenarios, albeit slowly. None of them end well. None of the realistic ones, anyway.

So he settles on a compromise, hands stuttering towards each of them. One touches Robin's shoulder, the other, Oren's chest. His fingertips hover there before he decides it's uncomfortable. Then it's a hopscotch around, trying out Robin's arm, Oren's neck, Robin's back, Oren's hand. It was hard to know which they would like. Hard to concentrate on finding it when they were both trying their best to distract him. Groaning in frustration, he gives up. Settles where it's most natural, one hand combing through Robin's hair, holding him close, while his other follows suit with Oren—No. No, that wasn't right either.

Brushing against Oren's length, now that was much better.
birdsbirdsbirds: (♥ i've got a bad idea)

[personal profile] birdsbirdsbirds 2015-07-02 11:36 pm (UTC)(link)
[and who would ever complain about the attention of two gorgeous boys like these? he flits between feeling competitive and having too much fun to bother. he catches glimpses of Mattias running his hand over Oren's length, encourages him with a low, approving hum of his own. welcome to the game, little Nightjar.

and just as he starts to grow impatient, listening to their noises, he's pulled back in to play--Oren's efforts are rewarded with sharp little breaths, the edges of a laugh, hands groping back around his hips to pull him in closer too. he's already half-hard as he grinds back against the man's erection and the hand caught between them. he has the hindsight to wish he'd just taken off his pants when he had the chance.

tipping his head back against Mattias' shoulder, a grin spreads over his face. he shouldn't be mean--picking on poor Oren, who's already so prone to jealousy--but Robin's already been blunt and shameless once today, and look where it got him.

he gasps at something right by his ear--and croons the rest.]

I want to suck you off.

["And I want Oren to watch," is the phrase that he keeps tight behind his real words. it's not hard to give Mattias a warm, dreamy look to further the temptation. he hopes that Oren tries to steal one of them first.]
noctiphile: (nOT LIKE THIS)

[personal profile] noctiphile 2015-07-04 06:43 pm (UTC)(link)
[He takes the grinding as a signal. Feels Robin brush against his knuckles and takes it as a request. Well, he's happy to oblige. The zipper on Robin's pants make for quick work and he takes a moment to bless the damn thing. It's difficult to grab them both at once, but when he does it's with a strong grip and slow strokes, careful not to let either one slip away.

Oren's hands are still on him, pinching and circling him with full mastery. He's experienced and it shows in the soft whimpers and gasps Mattias makes against Robin's shoulder as he kisses. In the way his free hand tightens around Robin's hips, nails digging in habitual squeezes. It's distracting—moreso than Oren's kisses to Robin's neck—and to his dismay he finds himself neglectful. He kisses the crook of Robin's neck in apology, smoothing his free hand up his chest, memorizing every plane and dip with his fingertips. There's something erotic in feeling Robin breathe, an extra sense devoted to the man. God. Whatever.

He's just about to cover the other side of his neck in kisses before those satin words brush against his ear. He had been growing proud of himself before then, pleased with the steady growth of confidence and composure in his movements but all of that slams to a halt now. Mattias freezes and the moment sits disrupted, shards of it dropping around him as he stares at Robin in shock. Eyes wide and nearly bulging, he waits for the punchline. Any sign that this is a joke. There was no way it could be real. Not something so vulnerable, so confessing as—as that.

But the punchline doesn't come and even he's not a big enough idiot to let it go to waste. He tries to accept but his mouth works uselessly, flapping out syllables but never a full word. Desperate, he looks to Oren for help, beseeching in his gaze as he makes a final, strangled noise in question.

At this rate, his dignity is going to be in tatters by the time they're done.
birdsbirdsbirds: (○ i'm running out of keywords here)

[personal profile] birdsbirdsbirds 2015-07-18 08:13 am (UTC)(link)
[he's got enough awareness, even with a hand on his dick, to shoot Mattias a flat look. he'd hoped that it'd go a little better than that. the flustered, blushing partner, and less of the... awkward, fish-mouthed, shocked-witless thing that he's getting now.

so. he groans in annoyance as he's grabbed by the hair (still hates it), but the movements are so ground into his bones by now that he goes down in front of Mattias without a single hitch or complaint. he swells with excitement, close to the other man's heat, eyes locked on Oren's--looking defiant, but waiting for a command.

there's a real art to this. there's a reason he'd kept that job as a companion for so long. he knows what he's doing--and as soon as he's told, he obeys.

he takes Mattias with a different kind of groan, hands moving up his thighs... tongue exploring, tasting, treasuring something he's always wanted to try. he makes sure to breathe hot against his skin, and look up at Oren every once in a while, to see if he's still performing to his satisfaction.]