[Blade's onslaught is merciless, and Dan Heng's balance is already off. Between that and the strange feeling suffusing his body-- a sinking realization that the pollen they're both breathing in might be poison or acting as some sort of narcotic, based on the way his nerves are aflame... It's only a matter of time.
He blocks each strike to the best of his ability, but eventually, there's an opening he can't quite cover in time. And that opening is all blade needs for for his weapon to slide home in Dan Heng's chest, a choked noise of agony escaping his lips, pain robbing him of any sense left to him whatsoever. The only thing keeping him up is his spear leveraging him against a tree unintentionally.
It's inevitable really, that the power within him finally manages to surge to the surface in response, pushing the sword free and healing what would have been a fatal wound, but leaving him changed in the process.
It would take far more than that, to fell the Imbibitor Lunae.]
[ in a way, that's exactly what Blade had been hoping for. though without an audience to see Danheng for what he truly was that didn't mean that Blade didn't relish the sight. ]
There you are.
[ the words are edged in a growl of satisfaction, and for all that he had been anticipating the transformation, even pushed Danheng to that point - it does little to quell the fire burning under his skin. like an all-consuming, roaring flame it lights up his blood, igniting it like a match to kindling.
what is this feeling...? it's a feeling deeper and more intense than hatred, the urge to touch, to take - and he does, bridging the distance between them and grasping Danheng's chin with one hand. his sword finds its way into his hand, like a hound returning dutifully to its master, and he leans in, close enough that they pant the same hot, humid air, close enough that Danheng can see the glazed look of violence in his eyes.
and then Blade abruptly crushes their mouths together in a kiss that's all teeth, too rough, too aggressive by far. it's like he intends to swallow Danheng up, his words, his protests - all the sins he'd committed. ]
[Dan Heng knows what has happened, when the haze of pain finally clears from his mind. The weight on his head, the hair brushing his shoulders. This body and form is unfamiliar and yet feels so natural, a duality he generally struggles with.
But such sensations do not hold his focus. No, what holds his focus are the still burning flames beneath his skin: want, hunger, desire more powerful than he has ever known. His wounds have healed, but the transformation has done nothing to douse the need searing through his body.
Blade leans close, and the proximity is tantalizing. He can't even claim that he tries to pull away, enraptured by Blade's warmth on his lips as he tries to catch his breath.
It seems inevitable when their lips crush together, like a tidal wave come aground. The gasp that escapes him is lost to Blade's hungry mouth, and Dan Heng finds himself surging forward into it, fingers curling into the shoulder of the man's coat sharply, dragging him closer. There's violence in this kiss but violence is a language they speak well indeed, and Dan Heng bites back just as hard, newly sharpened teeth tinting the taste of their kiss with blood.
He feels like he's drowning, like he's burning alive, like blade plans to take him apart piece by piece, until there's nothing left of him.
Dan Heng can't even truly say he minds, in this moment.]
[ in some ways he knows that this is wrong. it's laughable, how easy his hatred spins into arousal, as though it hadn't meant anything from the beginning; like all this time he'd spent chasing Danheng down he'd been driven by the instincts of a hound with a an urge to rut, and now that he was sating it he was as tame as a pup.
his namesake dips, the weight less appealing in the face of what was offered, and it doesn't take any more coaxing before the once-cherished weapon falls to the ground with a muted thud. that hand now freed he wasted no time in digging them into Danheng's shoulders, pushing him, bodily, up against the nearest hard surface - the rough bark of a tree, made bearable by the layers of clothing at Danheng's back - and returning the kiss in kind.
while he may not have the sharp teeth that would make reciprocation easy, he doesn't shy away from it, either; he knows pain, knows the ache of it, the sting of sheathing a thousand swords within the flesh of his body. he knows the point that blinding agony becomes a sweet, numbing indifference, and right now they weren't even close. he welcomes the prick of pain, the familiar taste of copper on his tongue. his blood sings with the promise and the fulfillment of violence, even as his thigh thrust roughly up between them, kicking Danheng's legs apart and giving him something to rut against as Blade's fingers skim down, pulling at cloth and ribbons and ties so he can divest Danheng of that damnable outfit. ]
[This is not what Dan Heng expected to happen, when Blade appeared on this planet. He expected violence, pain, and while there is violence here between them now, it takes a shape far different than he's ever known. Cloud piercer has clattered to the ground from where it had been barely holding Dan Heng up, falling next to Blade's sword as Dan Heng's hand finds better purchase elsewhere, grip unforgiving as he yanks at that coat that barely seems to hang onto Blade's frame. His kiss is rough and primal, no real experience behind the motions. This is not a desire he's yet to indulge in this lifetime, and yet it feels so very natural with Blade.
The shove against the tree should at least be uncomfortable, but the feel of Blade pressing against him just draws a groan from his lips, a noise that turns strangled and desperate when the larger man shoves his legs apart, grinds his thigh between them. He arches into him, rutting like beast in heat, all sense of time and place, of danger or risk lost to him.
This is madness. It's pure madness, and he can't get enough. As if in response to that desire, Blade will find one appendage making his maneuvering of Dan Heng's clothing a little more complicated-- The supple length of a long, teal tail intent on winding itself about Blade's form, seeking out every inch of the man it can find to pull him closer greedily.]
It's not my place to beg forgiveness, nor is it my place to apologize for crimes I cannot recall committing. Neither would provide anyone solace or satisfaction, without the requisite experiences.
I've accepted that this is my lot in life, for there is very little I can do to right the wrongs of a dead man. Content is not the word I would use.
[And he's close, now. He doesn't know how he knows, but the sense that blade is near is there.]
[ close, indeed. where Danheng's footsteps have taken him is hopefully a place out of his memories; a secluded space underneath a great tree, with a perfect, pristine view of the moon overhead.
how often had they drunk together under the moonlight? how many times had these memories been seared into Blade's soul, tucked away like a warm, treasured possession? ]
It is not your place to decide that without soliciting the opinions of those you have wronged. It is their choice to forgive you, their choice to decide whether you need right wrongs, not yours.
Any further solace or justice that could be provided to those he wronged died with him. I can accept his punishments without complaint, but it would be disrespectful and dishonorable to those he harmed to apologize in place of a dead man.
[And yet, something about the space he enters seems to catch against his soul, riveting him in place. It feels...
it feels like a place of solace. Comfort and warmth. His breath catches in his throat for a moment, his goal forgotten, because this place feels... precious somehow.]
[ against the bark, practically blended into it, sits the recipient of Dan Heng's message.
unsurprisingly, the message goes unanswered. Blade pushes himself off of the tree, one hand settled on his namesake, the other resting bandaged fingers against he smooth bark. his gaze fixates, unblinkingly, on Danheng, bright as though lit from within.
he waits, his face unreadable even in the face of his supposed old friend. there's a heaviness hanging in the air, a weight borne out of countless things left unsaid, and many more left undone.
what had he intended to lure Danheng out for? it almost feels as though he's anticipating something. some signal from the other, an admission, a reaction. something. ]
[The sight of blade and no one else, especially not anyone from the Astral Express, in this hidden away space is both relieving and somehow... fitting. It's strange, he's never been here, but... it feels right that Blade is here, somehow.
Less so is the heaviness in the air, the pressure of things unsaid, of countless sins.
Dan Heng is not a talkative man by far, but even he finds the silence to heavy to bear. After a moment...]
...This place... It's... Important, isn't it?
[Cloud Piercer is held in a lax grip at his side. If Blade comes at him he'll be ready, but this isn't the man's usual M.O.]
[ the answer should be clear by the fact that there is none, at least not from Blade himself.
perhaps in some distant memory Danheng might recall it; recall how they had bonded over drinks, the moon reflected in their cups. if not the memory, then the feeling, the nostalgia and the contentment that came with the company of a friend.
though perhaps Blade was the only one who remembered.
the sword sheathed at his hip makes a soft shiiiing as it's drawn. his fingers curl loosely around the grip, but there's no ease in his stance which is stiff, perfectly ready for engagement.
and yet Blade does not move to do so just yet. he just turns, his gaze turned to the sky, drinking in the light as he had drunk from his cups so very long ago. ]
[Something in him loathes the idea of spilling blade's blood here, aches at the thought. The sound of that sword being drawn almost makes him wince, and he bites back the don't that nearly escapes his lips.
Memories of who he once was are vague and hard to decipher, much in the way dreams tend to be, lifetimes lost in the fog of sleep. But feelings? Impressions? He had so many he could never place the meaning of like worn down etchings in stone, indecipherable. And this place...]
...It feels like... a place of peace. Contentment.
[There's no hiding the ache in his voice. A wistful sadness, a longing. Such places are so painfully rare, for Dan Heng.
This place of memories didn't belong to him, but a part of him wishes it did.]
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starskiff2023-06-14 01:35 pm
Sex pollen meme cont
[Blade's onslaught is merciless, and Dan Heng's balance is already off. Between that and the strange feeling suffusing his body-- a sinking realization that the pollen they're both breathing in might be poison or acting as some sort of narcotic, based on the way his nerves are aflame... It's only a matter of time.
He blocks each strike to the best of his ability, but eventually, there's an opening he can't quite cover in time. And that opening is all blade needs for for his weapon to slide home in Dan Heng's chest, a choked noise of agony escaping his lips, pain robbing him of any sense left to him whatsoever. The only thing keeping him up is his spear leveraging him against a tree unintentionally.
It's inevitable really, that the power within him finally manages to surge to the surface in response, pushing the sword free and healing what would have been a fatal wound, but leaving him changed in the process.
It would take far more than that, to fell the Imbibitor Lunae.]
no subject
There you are.
[ the words are edged in a growl of satisfaction, and for all that he had been anticipating the transformation, even pushed Danheng to that point - it does little to quell the fire burning under his skin. like an all-consuming, roaring flame it lights up his blood, igniting it like a match to kindling.
what is this feeling...? it's a feeling deeper and more intense than hatred, the urge to touch, to take - and he does, bridging the distance between them and grasping Danheng's chin with one hand. his sword finds its way into his hand, like a hound returning dutifully to its master, and he leans in, close enough that they pant the same hot, humid air, close enough that Danheng can see the glazed look of violence in his eyes.
and then Blade abruptly crushes their mouths together in a kiss that's all teeth, too rough, too aggressive by far. it's like he intends to swallow Danheng up, his words, his protests - all the sins he'd committed. ]
no subject
But such sensations do not hold his focus. No, what holds his focus are the still burning flames beneath his skin: want, hunger, desire more powerful than he has ever known. His wounds have healed, but the transformation has done nothing to douse the need searing through his body.
Blade leans close, and the proximity is tantalizing. He can't even claim that he tries to pull away, enraptured by Blade's warmth on his lips as he tries to catch his breath.
It seems inevitable when their lips crush together, like a tidal wave come aground. The gasp that escapes him is lost to Blade's hungry mouth, and Dan Heng finds himself surging forward into it, fingers curling into the shoulder of the man's coat sharply, dragging him closer. There's violence in this kiss but violence is a language they speak well indeed, and Dan Heng bites back just as hard, newly sharpened teeth tinting the taste of their kiss with blood.
He feels like he's drowning, like he's burning alive, like blade plans to take him apart piece by piece, until there's nothing left of him.
Dan Heng can't even truly say he minds, in this moment.]
no subject
his namesake dips, the weight less appealing in the face of what was offered, and it doesn't take any more coaxing before the once-cherished weapon falls to the ground with a muted thud. that hand now freed he wasted no time in digging them into Danheng's shoulders, pushing him, bodily, up against the nearest hard surface - the rough bark of a tree, made bearable by the layers of clothing at Danheng's back - and returning the kiss in kind.
while he may not have the sharp teeth that would make reciprocation easy, he doesn't shy away from it, either; he knows pain, knows the ache of it, the sting of sheathing a thousand swords within the flesh of his body. he knows the point that blinding agony becomes a sweet, numbing indifference, and right now they weren't even close. he welcomes the prick of pain, the familiar taste of copper on his tongue. his blood sings with the promise and the fulfillment of violence, even as his thigh thrust roughly up between them, kicking Danheng's legs apart and giving him something to rut against as Blade's fingers skim down, pulling at cloth and ribbons and ties so he can divest Danheng of that damnable outfit. ]
no subject
The shove against the tree should at least be uncomfortable, but the feel of Blade pressing against him just draws a groan from his lips, a noise that turns strangled and desperate when the larger man shoves his legs apart, grinds his thigh between them. He arches into him, rutting like beast in heat, all sense of time and place, of danger or risk lost to him.
This is madness. It's pure madness, and he can't get enough. As if in response to that desire, Blade will find one appendage making his maneuvering of Dan Heng's clothing a little more complicated-- The supple length of a long, teal tail intent on winding itself about Blade's form, seeking out every inch of the man it can find to pull him closer greedily.]
Text meme cont
It's not my place to beg forgiveness, nor is it my place to apologize for crimes I cannot recall committing. Neither would provide anyone solace or satisfaction, without the requisite experiences.
I've accepted that this is my lot in life, for there is very little I can do to right the wrongs of a dead man. Content is not the word I would use.
[And he's close, now. He doesn't know how he knows, but the sense that blade is near is there.]
no subject
how often had they drunk together under the moonlight? how many times had these memories been seared into Blade's soul, tucked away like a warm, treasured possession? ]
It is not your place to decide that without soliciting the opinions of those you have wronged. It is their choice to forgive you, their choice to decide whether you need right wrongs, not yours.
no subject
I am Dan Heng. Dan Feng is dead.
Any further solace or justice that could be provided to those he wronged died with him. I can accept his punishments without complaint, but it would be disrespectful and dishonorable to those he harmed to apologize in place of a dead man.
[And yet, something about the space he enters seems to catch against his soul, riveting him in place. It feels...
it feels like a place of solace. Comfort and warmth. His breath catches in his throat for a moment, his goal forgotten, because this place feels... precious somehow.]
no subject
unsurprisingly, the message goes unanswered. Blade pushes himself off of the tree, one hand settled on his namesake, the other resting bandaged fingers against he smooth bark. his gaze fixates, unblinkingly, on Danheng, bright as though lit from within.
he waits, his face unreadable even in the face of his supposed old friend. there's a heaviness hanging in the air, a weight borne out of countless things left unsaid, and many more left undone.
what had he intended to lure Danheng out for? it almost feels as though he's anticipating something. some signal from the other, an admission, a reaction. something. ]
no subject
Less so is the heaviness in the air, the pressure of things unsaid, of countless sins.
Dan Heng is not a talkative man by far, but even he finds the silence to heavy to bear. After a moment...]
...This place... It's... Important, isn't it?
[Cloud Piercer is held in a lax grip at his side. If Blade comes at him he'll be ready, but this isn't the man's usual M.O.]
no subject
perhaps in some distant memory Danheng might recall it; recall how they had bonded over drinks, the moon reflected in their cups. if not the memory, then the feeling, the nostalgia and the contentment that came with the company of a friend.
though perhaps Blade was the only one who remembered.
the sword sheathed at his hip makes a soft shiiiing as it's drawn. his fingers curl loosely around the grip, but there's no ease in his stance which is stiff, perfectly ready for engagement.
and yet Blade does not move to do so just yet. he just turns, his gaze turned to the sky, drinking in the light as he had drunk from his cups so very long ago. ]
Once, it was. Perhaps now, not anymore.
no subject
Memories of who he once was are vague and hard to decipher, much in the way dreams tend to be, lifetimes lost in the fog of sleep. But feelings? Impressions? He had so many he could never place the meaning of like worn down etchings in stone, indecipherable. And this place...]
...It feels like... a place of peace. Contentment.
[There's no hiding the ache in his voice. A wistful sadness, a longing. Such places are so painfully rare, for Dan Heng.
This place of memories didn't belong to him, but a part of him wishes it did.]
...I don't want to fight you. Not here.