hotproblems | 🌹🌹🌹

My leggings, then, if you are going to insist on reality in this daydream.

[They still won't fit his long legs, but frankly, nothing of Fenris' will. And there are worse things than Lorenz walking around in a garment that leaves nothing to the imagination.]

Would you prefer I requested sparring without armor?

I would prefer you requested staying in bed and recuperating from your injury, my dear. Not that I am opposed to motivating you to stay in bed, of course, but...

[Like he's doing right now, specifically. His fear that Fenris' life is in danger from said injury has faded, yes, he knows an injury like this will heal just fine— but he's heard one too many "I've brushed off worse"-type comments to ignore. Just... rest, for once.

But all that aside,] Even a daydream has a right to be comfortable, for the record. You're proving that as we speak.

[His very own daydream-turned-real... remind him to write that down later.]

I-- ah.

[Someday he'll get used to the casual way Lorenz reveals things like that, but for now, he takes it in stride. Settles down a little more, resting his weight more fully atop Lorenz, one hand reaching for his so he can lace their fingers together.]

You call me that more and more these days. Darling or my dear.

[It's not an objection. Just a statement, really, an observation that he's pleased by.]

I enjoy it. But it's new to me, to hear such things.

[Hm— very sweet, Lorenz thinks, and tilts his head to kiss him on the cheek. He knows full well how much more difficult it is, comparatively, for Fenris to be open with his affection, and so each little I-enjoy-it and yes-I-would-like-that is good to hear.

Also, it's cute.]

I'm glad you enjoy it. I rather enjoy making you happy, so— how fortuitous!

[Hmm! Very good, very excellent, but his thoughts circle back to something said earlier that is not quite domestic bliss, and so he asks more softly:] Has it- hmm. Does it ever worsen considerably? The effects of the moon?

[They've spent more than a few moon cycles together and even griped about them plenty, but Lorenz is aware that his own "blessing" is, ah, the simple one? The easy one? And as this is the first time Fenris has come home hurt with Sanguis as explanation, maybe it's time to talk about it again.]

[There's a little pause, because he has to order his thoughts, but:]

It's difficult, sometimes, to distinguish what it is that Sanguis brings and what my own inclinations are. For example: I do enjoy sparring, especially when I am challenged. And it's rare I am challenged.

[That's not even braggy, he's just that good at fighting. You kind of have to be in order to be a bodyguard.]

Similarly, I find mages dangerous, and have a--

[Natural wariness, he was going to say, and that isn't wrong, but it's not the whole truth. He shakes his head, dismissing that thought.]

All my emotions are amplified. What is normally competitiveness deepened tonight to fury. It's a miracle neither of us injured the other more seriously; we fought as though we meant it. Or at least: I did. Because, when she revealed she was a mage, what might normally be surprise and wariness became terror.

[Which is mildly embarrassing to admit. Certainly not something he's proud of. Then again: it's rare he'll look Lorenz in the eye when they talk like this-- not out of shame, but adherence to years of training under Danarius-- so perhaps he won't notice.]

It doesn't amplify all my emotions. But the worst ones, perhaps. Even when it comes to you, I . . . my possessiveness of you increases exponentially. Not my-- my affection, but my need to keep you close, lest someone else come too near.

[And he hates that, he really does. He hasn't acted on it yet, but the fact he has the urge at all is stomach-churning.]

If you are near, it ought to be because it is what you wish. Not because I scared off others, or kept you in a cage to be mine.

Edited 2020-07-19 21:00 (UTC)

[So Sanguis is a headache; Lorenz had figured as much, but still, it's a lot to unpack. But first--]

I would tell you if your behavior became objectionable.

[A simple truth, and for both their sake. He wouldn't appreciate the gesture and Fenris would appreciate being set straight, he assumes, before doing something he'd later regret. There's an unspoken assurance there, that while Lorenz does love him very much, he isn't the sort of person to let his feelings excuse unwanted behavior. Quite the opposite, actually.

So, then. The rest... hmm.]

Well, a simple solution is beyond me, I'm afraid. Perhaps if you were to record your feelings, or found some other method to remind yourself under dire circumstances...

[He frowns, a touch frustrated; Fenris isn't really asking for advice and the moons' influence isn't really avoidable, but his first instinct is to at least try and think of some way to curtail the worst of it besides staying home for half the month, every month. Maybe a mnemonic device...!!

He'll workshop it. After a moment he lifts a hand to touch Fenris' face, thumb smoothing over his cheek.]

I am here because I wish it. [It's as good a time as any to say it outright.] And if I can ease even an ounce of this stress, I will gladly do it.

[The assurance is worth a great deal. It's not that he ever thought Lorenz felt pressured somehow, but . . . mm. Even the presence of such an ugly instinct within him is enough to make him uneasy.]

You do already.

[He tips his head, pushing against his hand.]

Do you know that? How much easier it is when you're around?

I had a hunch.

[After last week, anyway— they'd shared enough sentiment, and he only needed to quite literally feel Fenris calm down thanks to his touch to understand.]

Being with you is a gift, Fenris. To be able to care for you is... [Well, something saccharine, but he trails off with a smile. Fenris has experienced his feelings in kind, so it isn't hard to guess.]

If ever you find yourself struggling, simply picture the face I make when you put feet on the table and you will surely recover.

[The face of fussy disapproval; this is only kind of a joke.]

I wouldn't dare. Speaking of terror-inducing . . .

[Which is a joke, obviously, and also an easy thing for him to say as he snuggles in closer, avoiding Lorenz's eye.]

Being with you is a gift.

[An echo, but also a confirmation. He murmurs it softly, quietly, because it's just for Lorenz's ears.]

Being with you is . . . is easy. Easier than anything. Easy to just be, no matter what else is happening, or what moons are influencing either of our behavior. I-- even at our worst, Lorenz, even when we fight, I find it easy to simply be with you.

And that is a boon in my life that I cherish.

[Lorenz chuckles, shifting to run his fingers through Fenris' hair. The soft words are a gift unto themselves, even as Lorenz already knows Fenris cares for him as much as he does. He knows that, and he is very fond of love languages beyond stating it outright, indeed, but he is also a poet— romantic professions of this kind are just as treasured as the warm weight of Fenris against him and the low rumble of his voice.

It's enough, he thinks; to be together anywhere would be enough, and this tiny apartment (with needy dog now yapping outside the bedroom door) is only a bonus. So--]

Fenris... I feel the same, and so— I have a question. [A beat, ahem.] Would you like to live here? You already do, more or less... I believe this space is yours as much as it's mine.

[So ultimately it's a purely symbolic gesture, or the agreement to say "ours" instead of "yours" all the time. That kind of gesture.]

What do you think?

[It's not an unreasonable question. They spend the majority of their time together here. He's got several changes of clothes here, his own toothbrush . . . not his shitty shampoo, thank god, but almost everything else. They have a specific shelf for his weapons. He pretty much lives here already.

But it's a Step, and so he takes the time to consider it. Keeps his head buried against the crook of Lorenz's neck, listening to Nugget yap pointedly at them.

It's . . . important, on some level, to have a place of his own. To have something that's his, just his. It had been important in Kirkwall, too, albeit in a different way. Danarius' manor was never home, but he'd reveled in squatting there, making it his own through sullen inaction and spiteful inclination.

But he would enjoy being with Lorenz constantly. Ours, and there are a few things he wants to establish before he commits, but . . . it would be wonderful to wake up to Lorenz each morning. To not have to cross the city in order to be together; to not have to plan whether or not he wants to stay over at the end of the night.]

. . . what if instead I took the apartment next to yours?

[He says it softly.]

Both of them could be ours. We each of us could have an impact on the other's space. All that would separate us would be a single door. But I would also have a place that was mine, completely and utterly. And that is important to me. I've never had that before.

We would share a bed, a kitchen . . . a life together.

I had been wondering what to do about next door.

[The connecting apartment, which currently serves as Pizza Float Storage and little else, has been quite a headache... Fenris claiming the space as his own is a neater solution than anything Lorenz had come up with himself, up to and including boarding the door shut just in case the city dumped a different stranger in there. So-- points for practicality.

Lorenz skims his fingers down the back of Fenris' neck in an idle motion, considering it. It's not outlandish by any means; his own parents had more or less their own wings of the same house, coming together to eat and sleep and little else. While the trappings of convenient noble marriages are quite the opposite of loving both one man and one's own personal space, the groundwork is there.]

I would like that— it should be quite easy to share without tripping over one another. [Literally or otherwise-- it is not a massive apartment.] Of course I want to be with you, but we need hardly tie ourselves together to accomplish it.

[To take both spaces and push them together into ours, into a life and a home, sounds... wonderful. The walls in the other apartment are still nauseatingly pink, but they can workshop that. It will sort itself out, and it takes him a moment to focus back on the conversation and not planning out the whole process. He is naught but a busybody with a thirst for domestic tasks...

But: yes, a fine compromise. Just the thought of being able to start and end each day with Fenris curled up next to him makes a fond warmth bloom in his chest, and that he's smiling about it is clear in his voice.]

Both of them together will be our, ah... unconventional little house.

[Here in this apartment building, indeed. He gestures above them with his other hand as he says it, a short flourish to emphasize our! and house! Their own thing! Superb.]

And now you have a project to work on while you rest that injury. How fortuitous.

[He's never had something of his own, he'd said, and that's true. But he's also never had something that's ours, and the thought is just as pleasing. Ours, and of course they might chafe, they might not always get on, but that's also part of the appeal. They don't have to always get on, and yet still, this will be theirs.]

I still wish to share your bed nightly.

[Just establishing that. He's gotten too used to curling around Lorenz, falling asleep to the sound of his steady breath, and he won't give that up. He's smiling ridiculously widely, his fingers curling and uncurling in Lorenz's shirt as he tries not to shake quietly with happiness. It's a little overwhelming, frankly.]

Hmm. I cannot tolerate pink. But blue would not be displeasing as a wall color. Will you help me paint?

[Briefly, Lorenz flashes back to Fenris drilling holes straight into his wall without any patience for hearing the instructions— Goddess. He must help paint, lest something truly absurd happen to Fenris' new project, he knows it.]

Of course— on both counts, of course. I've no interest in sleeping without you.

[Perhaps Fenris can pick out a blue bedspread for in here... yeah, he'll think about it. The aesthetic is, as always, strong.]

Have you ever painted a room before? Later, I could "search" for some helpful pointers.

I have not, no. I was a bodyguard, not a house slave.

[Which means he absolutely never learned how to take care of any basic house tasks, which explains a lot. He tips his head back lazily, his legs spreading as he settles lower on Lorenz's hips. Hey, and it's wonderful to be here with him now, connected in all the best ways, discussing plans for their home.]

I imagine we could figure it out. It's paint, how hard can it be? But I would not turn down tips.

If you boss me, though, there will be consequences. I am not above dousing you in paint.

[Oh good, they're going to waste so much paint like true amateurs, that's good to know in advance. Lorenz gives him a look, as if perhaps only one of them remembers the holes in the wall from the last "how hard can it be?" Sir.]

You wouldn't. Blue is not my color. I would be obligated to retaliate in kind.

[Their first act as not-really-homeowners cannot possibly be getting blue paint all over everything, including each other. It cannot. That's terrible. Less terrible is sliding a hand back down to Fenris' hip and tugging the hem of that shirt up to press his fingers against warm skin, mm— but he can multitask. Please, do not throw paint.]

However, I suppose we couldn't possibly paint a wall crooked... That's a relief.

The shelf bears the weight of my sword. That is all it was designed to do. Hush with your complaining.

[He says it with a particular sort of smirk, reserved solely for Lorenz, amused and a little smug all at once. His back arches, utterly pleased by those careful fingers. He's long since grown used to Lorenz's touch, but that doesn't mean he's immune to it. Far from it: a few seconds in and he can't resist a shiver, even as he ducks down to nip lightly at Lorenz's throat. It's been a hot second since he left a mark, what a terrible misstep.]

Hmmm . . . will you be flattered if I tell you you'd look as good in blue paint as purple, or is that too much of a stretch?

I am pointing it out, nothing more.

[Hmph!! The shelf is perfectly functional, but he's still going to fuss, even as he slides his palm over the curve of Fenris' ass to the back of his thigh, squeezing firmly. Hey, bitey, go on.]

Covering me with paint is a stretch unto itself, Fenris... I shudder to think of what damage it would do to my hair.

What kind of blue did you have in mind? For the walls.

[Hey, what if-- and this is wild, but-- what if he just kept grabbing at Fenris' ass and legs and that's all they did for the next half-hour? Never mind talks about paint, never mind literally anything else, he will just enjoy Lorenz feeling him up.]

I, ah--

[Is he expected to think? He doesn't reply for a long few moments, both distracted by Lorenz's hand and because he's too busy biting. Like that, just beneath his jaw, a mark so high up there's little to cover it. It's Sanguis time, and that means it's time for Lorenz to deal with both fangs and possessiveness.]

S-something, mm, something light-- airy--

[Nope, back to biting-- or marking, anyway, his tongue pressing harshly against the bruise he'd just left behind.]

[Oh, and what an excellent idea to top off such an excellent reaction-- but Lorenz loves the way Fenris' voice catches and stumbles just as much as he loves hearing himself talk, so it cannot possibly be helped. Fenris' mouth against his throat makes him shiver, tilting his head to encourage more and more, but mmph— he does still manage a chuckle.]

A powder blue, perhaps?

[A very sweet baby blue, how charming. Lorenz thinks about various blues and their various merits and reaches his other hand down now too, to squeeze both thighs just below his ass and press their hips together in a slow motion. The absolute worst thing right now would be somebody's stitches coming loose...]

Mm— what else? Besides the paint.

[How many times has sex started like this, with them talking and talking until they simply can't anymore? Oh, countless times, surely. Who crumbles first is clearly a point of contention, and Fenris has lost just as often as he's won, but he tries every single time.

Like now. He moans pointedly, half in genuine reaction and half in pointed provocation-- Lorenz could be carrying him around right now, but this is a fantastic alternative, but not any less strenuous-- and drags his mouth over to the other side of Lorenz's neck. Not at the top, but rather the bottom: the crook of his neck, biting just a little too hard there. One hand reaches back, grabbing Lorenz's wrist, pinning it firmly to the mattress as he bites. Like that, and he trusts Lorenz implicitly, but it also never hurts to, hm, leave him covered in his scent, his marks, to let the world know that this darling boy, this perfect man is claimed . . .

And who, hm, had asked a question. What was it? Oh, right.]

What else--?

[Uhh--]

Lorenz.

[It's a little bit of a whine.]

Kitchens-- cooking, I like seeing you cook, even if it's fish, I enjoy watching you in the kitchen . . . you try so hard.

Edited 2020-07-26 06:22 (UTC)

[Lorenz laughs outright this time, delighted surprise at the harder bite mixed with put-upon indignant disbelief, turning his wrist in Fenris' grip— please, he has so much more to feel, this is rude. He all but lets go of Fenris' other thigh in return, trailing a feather light touch over every curve and angle he can reach from here, up his back and down again, nearly to the back of his knee. Hello, dearest, and he bites his lip in a paltry effort to not whine as well.

It is a grand effort, see, and the game is afoot. This isn't strenuous at all.]

I— [lord,] I've improved. You almost liked one of those fish dishes.

[He has a whole handful of meals he can cook without meal kits, now! Please be impressed. He shudders again, eyes shut to appreciate hot mouth against already delectably sore skin--]

At this rate, you won't need to menace me with blue paint at all.

[Zing!! Go on, feel free...]

I believe— I am fairly certain the other apartment has, ah, a larger bath.

[He will never like a fish dish, know this. He will try them because he loves his boyfriend, but he will not like them.

Anyway. Anyway, he does not release Lorenz's wrist, mostly because he likes how he feels and looks when he's pinned a little. Pinned a lot, too, his arms above his head, all gasping and writhing . . . but this, too, a little helpless and a little not. He rocks his hips down, humming at the way Lorenz's free hand drags over him, delighted and amused all at once at how he reaches.

He will not respond to the paint comment, however:]

And do you want to bathe with me, Lorenz?

[Please, by all means, say it. He tips his head back, licking his lips, staring down at him with no small amount of lust and possessiveness both. Sharing a shower is always fantastic, but a bath is particularly enjoyable.]

Mm. You're overdressed right now, do you know that?

[Lorenz looks up at him, eyebrows raised and color rising quickly in his cheeks betraying any illusion of being cool and disaffected he might have tried for. He hums and drops his gaze down to Fenris' shoulder, the glimpse of collarbone and beyond where his shirt hangs off in just the right way, appreciating the view before he answers these very important questions.]

Why wouldn't I want to bathe with you? Naturally, I do.

[Does anything hit all the right intimacy buttons like having a bath together? It's sublime! He presses his fingers harder into Fenris' lower back, tracing an idle pattern before slipping his hand lower to simply rest on his ass. Hmm, overdressed, tell him more.]

I haven't a hand left to do anything about my attire, Fenris.

[Hey, true, but also rude, somehow? He huffs irritably, not at all truly bothered, and squeezes his wrist just once.]

Nevertheless . . .

[The fact remains: he's overdressed, and right now that seems a grave crime. With an enormous sigh, he releases his hand-- and then, further, sits up. Not quite dislodging Lorenz's other hand, but also now he can work on shirt buttons himself. And does, slender fingers swift in tugging at Lorenz's belt buckle, his shirt, eager to at least make him a disheveled, half-dressed mess.]

I enjoy hearing you speak of it. What you like, and why you like it. Baths or lingering in my bed or whatever else you imagine.

And given you enjoy speaking, I suspect it works out for the both of us.

[He smirks at that, just a little.]

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