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[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.]

[Wow, please respect his compulsion to talk all the time, thanks. He hums, free hand sliding to Fenris' knee and inching higher as Fenris makes hasty work of his clothes. His shirt was already a touch disheveled from Fenris being on top of him, but please, make a mess of him. He'll huff about it later, as is tradition.]

Now, now— don't be smug.

[But do, actually. And mind his buttons, etc.]

You are positively radiant in the water. And elsewhere, of course, but— topically. To say nothing of the sheer indulgence of it! A sweet scent for the water, and skin against skin— I would be a fool to turn my nose up at it.

[He's penciling it in mentally for what to do after they argue about paints for an afternoon, yes, excellent.]

And I rather enjoy washing your hair.

[He'll be as smug as he wishes, clearly-- and it's hard not to be smug when he sees Lorenz beneath him, disheveled and a little flushed. There's still the remnants of old bruises here and there, bitemarks on the curve of his chest, just beneath his ribs . . . his fingers slide gently against them as he contemplates whether to bite new ones or simply renew the old ones.

Both, perhaps.]

You seem to enjoy your fingers in my hair regardless of setting.

[Ever since he got the Haircut, anyway. He's grown quite accustomed to Lorenz's fingers casually dragging against the back of his head, idly stroking the fuzzy bits of his head. He hums softly and shifts, arching his back to push against Lorenz's hand, moving down just far enough to kiss and nip at the hollow of his throat.]

As do I. Tip your head up, hmm?

[Lorenz's neck is going to be covered at this point, and that's just how it is! There are aspects of Sanguis' possessiveness that he despises, but so long as he knows Lorenz will protest if he finds something he dislikes . . . then yes, Fenris is going to claim him again and again.]

[This right here is the reason Lorenz wears a shirt to the beach-- Well, he's hardly simply tolerating this particular Sanguis quirk, tilting his head obligingly with an approving grin.]

I daresay that whoever cuts your hair deserves a reward.

[Ha ha, they must be so talented? Perhaps even deserving of praise? Hmm? His hands would be in Fenris' hair right now indeed, if not for being otherwise occupied feeling him up. He squeezes again and pushes his hips against Fenris' just so, sweet pressure and just a taste of friction. The sharp scrape of teeth across oversensitive skin makes him gasp and arch up and for a moment everything is teeth and heat and Fenris, mm, what was he talking about—]

Fenris—

[Mmph, nope, back to home decor-]

When we've finished painting and- ah- so on, then I would gladly have you in every room of our new home. [It counts as new because of the our, see.] Not only the bath.

Now that . . .

[He pauses in that sentence, delighting in the utterly fantastic moment that is Lorenz arching up and gasping, oh, god, but what a perfect moment that is. He memorizes that moment, his eyes wide and his hips rocking down sharply, yes, god, please. He lingers at his throat, licking at the bruise he'd just left, grinning sharply as Lorenz settles back down.]

That is something I would hear you elaborate upon.

[He tips his head back lazily, looking down at Lorenz. His eyes have gone dark with desire, his gaze both utterly fond and distantly lustful.]

Go on. Tell me how you would take me in each room, in every room, while I claim you so thoroughly there won't be a person alive who doesn't know who you belong to.

[Ah, well, there's the possessiveness.]

[Ah, and if Fenris looked at him like that all the time, they would never get anything done— Lorenz leans up to kiss him first, hard and heedless of Sanguis teeth, tongue running over the corner of his mouth as he drops back down to the mattress. He ought to just write a dirty limerick at this point, huh, but that wouldn't pack the same punch—]

You are quite the glutton, my dear. Go on— you're welcome to indulge.

[He tilts his head pointedly in invitation; come here, babe, do your thing. It will take him a moment to put the house-christening fantasy to words anyway, slipping fingertips up one inner thigh in the meantime. Mm, so—]

In the sitting room on the sofa, over the back or on the cushions— either will do. In the kitchen I will cook you anything you like [important!] and have you on the counter, where you are already so fond of climbing. And in here, then in the shower, we will rigorously test how long I can lift you up, indeed.

[The precise details can come later, and he'll get to the Blue Rooms in a minute, but first:]

I want to see you so happy and so satisfied that you can hardly stand it. And to see you tremble with it, to come undone just enough— just for me. [His voice drops steadily quieter as he speaks, private, for Fenris and no one else; when he squeezes his thigh now it's as much tenderness as desire. He'll make a whole weekend of it, the weekend of spoiling his boyfriend rotten, and it will be very poetic.] I'll show you just how much I truly love you, Fenris.

[You know— in case a very physical reminder would be nice. The emotions mixed in quite a bit with the raw lust there, but ah, yes:]

And— as the other rooms are to be your domain, I thought it would be nice to let you pick. You do enjoy bossing me around.

Lorenz.

[It's a desperate whine, a gasp emitted against Lorenz's throat as he pauses in his biting. Oh, Maker, and he knew the shape of what was to come, but he hadn't banked on the specifics. He hadn't banked on the way love in infused in each and every fantasy; how they're filthy, yes, and he desperately wants Lorenz to bend him over the kitchen counter, over the table, picking him up and fucking him against the wall, please, oh, Maker, please, but also--

But also: Lorenz so hungry to see him happy. But also: Lorenz eager to see him undone, to see him delighted, to see him happy. He all but chokes at I truly love you, so overwhelmed it's a wonder he doesn't spontaneously combust then and there.]

I love you, [he breathes, and it's a secret. It really is. Slaves aren't allowed to love, but here Lorenz is, so wonderful and perfect that it would be impossible not to love him. I love you, and he kisses the hollow of this throat sweetly, tenderly, before pulling back to stare down at him.]

I love you.

[Utterly, sincerely, always. I love you, and it will forever be an act of rebellion, no matter how long he is a free man. I love you, and he leans down, kissing him tenderly, an answer for Lorenz's own kiss.]

Darling . . .

[Oh, he loves him so much, so much. He's grateful for the subject change, if only because it's too hard to linger on the subject. His hips rock down, and now he moves down, both hands gripping Lorenz's ribs, his hips.]

I do enjoy bossing you. And while I love you [i love you!] bossy, I love you pliant as well. Bending over a table, the bed-- or simply on your back, legs spread, begging me for what I will always, always give you.

[Case in point: his mouth is steadily moving southward, sharpened teeth dragging pointedly against Lorenz's fair skin, sharp scratches lingering against his darling's fair skin.]

[Yes, Lorenz thinks, reveling in the sweet, sweet timbre of Fenris' voice even now, as he unravels just a bit already— Yes, like that. Like that and then some, so much that Fenris is bursting with it, and even that will not be precisely enough to encompass it all. If love is a drop of water then what he feels for Fenris is an ocean, and, ah— something, something, a boat?

Well, ocean metaphors are his worst, but Lorenz knows this: Fenris leans down to kiss him and he swears, he swears he can taste every I love you against his lips, warm and sweet. He lingers there a moment, one more quick kiss pressed to Fenris' lips before he moves again, and oh—]

What did I say about strenuous activity...?

[Absolutely nothing worthwhile, clearly— And now his fingers make their way into Fenris' hair, curling and uncurling with languid delight and no intention of truly stopping him. No, it's quite obvious that they're both feeling, ah, needy; Lorenz feels like he's on fire in the best way, a smolder that sparks with each pink scratch Fenris leaves against his skin.

It's a lot, to put it mildly. The comfort of knowing love heightened to the dizzying freedom of saying it, of hearing this beautiful man so precious and dear to him say it over and over, is quite a lot. Lorenz handles it with a fresh flush of heat, color inching down to his not quite bare shoulders, looking more pleasantly disheveled than ever.]

Fenris.

[Goddess, but if he isn't a sight to behold like this, all dark eyes and hungry mouth, Lorenz's shirt riding up as he moves down— Lorenz bites his lip and sucks in a breath from the sensation, one hand reaching for Fenris' to tangle their fingers together. He could start begging right now? That sounds doable, but—]

Tell me more of it— other things. What suits you, Fenris.

[Lorenz is adding Fenris talking about fantasies to his own list, effective immediately. It's subtle.]

[He doesn't respond right away, too busy kissing his way down Lorenz's torso, licking pointedly at the curve of his ribs, his fingers tight against his hip.

Mm. You rendered a little helpless, I think. At my mercy, most certainly. I like denying you; I like the way you get, frustrated and needy-- and then, later, when you'll do or say almost anything so long as you get what you want. So with your hands bound, perhaps.

[Even like this, frankly: all he'd have to do would be to tug his shirt down further and tie the sleeves back. The goal isn't to truly trap Lorenz, after all, but simply keep him still. Fenris tips his head back, studying him carefully, before adding:]

Hmm. There are a few toys I'd use on you as well.

[Ah, rude, but rude in the way that makes Lorenz hum and arch after his mouth, gripping his hair a little tighter. It doesn't take him long at all to get frustrated and needy each time his hands are pinned or pulled back or whatever else, so... fair.

Toys, however--]

There was, ah... before you arrived in the city there was a ball, for charity, and they gave everyone in attendance a little rubber duck that vibrated. I gave mine away.

[It had judgmental cartoon eyes, never mind that now, he does not have to say this. On his own he's never sought out anything extra, besides, but with Fenris-- hmm!]

You wouldn't pick something so ridiculous, would you?

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