vatheon | 5 ♐ How to Quickly and Effeciently Traumatize Your Children

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5 ♐ How to Quickly and Effeciently Traumatize Your Children

Who: Darkleer, Summoner, Equius, and Gamzee
Where: The Highblood (+1 Temporary Mouthy Lowblood Rebel) Hive
When: Morning
Style: Action?
Status: Closed

[Yes, there's the positively bewildering matter of Dualscar, and the much more terrifying matter of the Grand Highblood, but the more dangerous of the two has been dealt with. Even without that, the week has been almost... peaceful, even with the arrival of Mindfang and all the difficulties that caused. ]

[It's almost been nice. Then again, considering the date he and Summoner went on, perhaps he is slightly biased.]

[But now things are truly going to be back to normal with the return of Gamzee and Equius. They've been gone far too long, having to survive with dealing things up on the island. They deserve something good for once. So that's why he's in the kitchen, making breakfast. He still hasn't bothered to get his sunglasses back from the Helmsman, so it's the same cheap pair he's wearing again. Only he's a bit more casual today: glasses pushed up and resting against his horns, a tight blue tank top hugging his torso, and simple black slacks, his sign on one pocket. His hair is tied back once again in a loose, messy bun, strands still brushing against the nape of his neck and between his shoulder blades.]

[It's quite possibly the most casual he's looked in quite a while.]

[Pancakes, fruit, crepes, quice, bagels, a little something called Akki Rotti... It's all set up on the table already, and Darkleer is simply finishing up a last few dishes. Coffee cake and banana oatmeal bread, to be specific.]

[What? They eat a lot here.]

[Carefully removing the two from the pan, he asks over his shoulder to the troll who's been helping him all morning.]

Could you assist me with this? We'll be done after this.

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[His voice hitches, afterwards, a steady stream of 'uh's and 'um's leave, jaw locking, leaning even further back, feeling the edge of the table press into him as he leans. Summoner's eyes dart to either of Darkleer's hands and he furrows his brows, wings tugging to alter their positions behind him, coating the table top in an orange blanket.]

Please, just, stop. It's so fucking, embarrassing.

[Why would anyone even make poetry to be read to anyone in an a romantic way? It's just so cheesy and silly and god, he feels like he wants to just curl in on himself]

Well, when you put it in such a way, I suppose...

[And his expression just looks so contrite. It's perfectly practiced, the way he frowns apologetically and his brows draw together. But his eyes? They're alight with deviousness, shining with that confidence and amusement. Darkleer let's his voice slip lower.]

Shall I compare thee to a warm summer's day?
Thou are more lovely and more temperate;
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May
And Summer's lease has all too short a date
Sometimes too hot the eye of Heaven shines
And often is his gold complexion dimmed..

[Darkleer is quite enjoying himself. He certainly sees no reason to stop.]

[s;onvfjuvndfvgb]

Stop stop stop stop! Uh, I am so not comfortable, this is completely unsettling just, uh, ahhh.

[Ramblings, just ramblings, he soon moves his hands to cover his face as if they will hide him from the poetry, like some magic fleshy shields made to stop the literary bombardment focused on his general person.]

[Is this actually happening? Is the great and courageous, quick-witted, cocky Cavalreaper General actually hiding his blushing face behind his hands like some six sweep old nymph?]

[Darkleer feels his heart flutter. This is absolutely perfect.]

And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd:
But thy eternal Summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

[so of course he's not going to stop.]

[Sobbing, he feels like he should be crying right now. This is just terribull. His face is hot and it's like he's going to just burst into flames. The words just keep coming, and now he's finally going to try and scramble out away from the other troll and the table.]

[Just needs to get the fuck out of this room, breath, dear, dear mother grub.]

[No such luck.]

[Darkleer takes Summoner by the arms and pulls him back, pressing him right back against the table. His eyes are half lidded as he leans down to smirk at him all the better. Seeing that frantic nature makes his passions spark. It's the blush, he thinks. Never will it appear anywhere else.]

That's two, now, that I have recited for you. I have heard it said that it is the third which is particularly fortunate... Shall I?

Nooo... no no no y-y-yo-you shall not.

[Whining as he squirms on the table, trying to pull his arms away and push Darkleer away with his legs. The table's moans, slight as they are, are more from the force Darkleer is exerting then from Summoner's weight, being a lot lighter than anyone would think. But even if the table was having a difficult time, Summoner would continue trying to get away, continue rambling and umming and uhhing in his frazzled state.]

[Got he can't stand poetry like that, it's just... it's like tickling, it's worse than tickling.]

I do think I shall.

[And possibly, quite possibly, maybe, he'll cease the game for now. Maybe.]

There is a lad sweet and kind,
Was never a face so pleased my mind;
I did but see him passing by,
And yet, I'll love him till I die.

[There's not escaping Darkleer's steel grip, and he ignores the pushing legs. Instead, he just stays focused on Summoner, still enamored with his reactions and the way his lips trip over words. Yes, he will love this firework filled troll until he passes. Darkleer knows it.]

Please, just, stop, please...

[MORE SQUIRMING. MORE TRYING TO GET AWAY. His back is arching and his wings are a bit frantic over the table top as he tries to wrestle away, but this is exactly why Summoner relies on never getting caught.]

Ugh, let, let me go! Shhhh! SHHHH!

His gesture, motion, and his smiles,
His wit, his voice my heart beguiles,
Beguiles my heart, I know not why,
And yet, I'll- oh, calm, calm, very well.

[Shushing him right back, Darkleer bumpbs their noses together.]

Calm, calm, if you can't handle it...

Nnneh heh heh... stooop.

[Shaking his head the best he can with that head rack of his, still a ball of energy trying to yank away from the other troll, wanting to head into any other room and curl up to calm down.]

Calm..no... I can't handle it. Just, stop!

Calm, calm, I've stopped, haven't I?

[Giving a low chuckle, he just holds Summoner where he is. The struggling the other troll does is of no bother at all. Not even a small bit. Still rubbing his face against the other's, he smirks.]

You really never learn, but I suppose I cannot say I mind when it gives me the opportunity to drive you to such a wonderful mess.

Wah-wonderful!? Yeah, sure, w-w-wonderful. Why-why would anyone even write that stuff... ugh.

[A long whine, like a dog waiting to leave through the back door to go outside and wander about. Summoner breathes in a closes his eyes, his face hot, trying to calm down as he lays there being held to the table.]

Because they want to impress the one they love.

[Another snicker at that whine and Darkleer ducks his head down to kiss along Summoner's jaw, up to his ear.]

To express the feelings that twist and turn inside of them whenever they're kissed or gazed upon with love. [A warm breath against his earrings.] And perhaps, just perhaps, to tease them until they're nothing more than a gasping mess, blood bright and brilliant against their cheeks, words stumbling across their lips and never quite making it.

They certainly didn't write any of those poems with the express intent to embarrass you, Lysunder. [A smirk against his earlobe.] Although I will admit that is mine in reciting them.

Oh gooood.

[A groan, Darkleer describing the reason for such poetry is almost worse than the poetry itself and Summoner gasps out some embarrassed sobs, still squirming a little here and there. But his ears flicker at the small kisses, and his heart races a little more when the other troll breaths into his ear. He's now noticing the position he's in, with Darkleer taking the dominant role, and he internally cursing a him to settle down so he can properly enjoy this turn of events. But still he's just umming and uhhing with no real words managing to crawl from his lips.]

[Damnit. Damnit, just, stab him or something, poetry is worse than that, he can handle the blade but these cheesy fucking words are just so... so horrifying.]

No brilliant and witty retort?

[Ever so slowly, Darkleer begins to pull back, eyes dark and confident.]

No sharp comeback, no clever counter? Why, how unlike you, Lysunder. You were so delighted to tease me so that I could pay attention to you, and now that I am, you're mysteriously out of words.

[Finally pulled back, his face close to Lysunder's, Darkleer smirks.]

I've won yet another round, I believe.

There is no w-w-winning, or rounds.

Damnit.

[A sneer, almost pouting as he looks up to Darkleer, his face still hot, orange, ears tinted with the same colour and flickering here and there. His hands press to the other's chest, palms flat against it, pushing slightly.]

Poetry's just dumb, if there w-w-was win-winning, of course you w-would w-win w-wi- UGH! [SO MANY Ws and Ys!]

Was, winning, would, win.

[Isn't Darkleer so helpful? He keeps smirking, eyes bright and amused.]

And regardless, each time you try and tease me, you've certainly started something. It isn't my fault that when it takes this direction, you don't know how to turn it in your favor.

[Summoner's slim, teeth clenching tight and he just listens as the other speaks. Quoting w words, what a fucking ass hole... Not that he was any better when he was doing around the same to Psiioniic, but that's besides the point. For now Darkleer just keeps talking and there doesn't seem to be a way for Summoner to shut him up besides

well, kissing him. Which is pretty easy with how close they are.]

[He does it pretty much as fast as Darkleer finishes his last sentence and before he can start on another, craning his neck up. His hands grip tight, fingers curling into the thin fabric of his tang top and tugging on it as he pushes his upper body and head up to press into the kiss hard.]

[Oh.]

[But, the breakfast-]

[-can wait for just a minute longer, can't it? The children probably are still packing their things, he can get one last little indulgence out of this fiery mouth against his, passionate and annoyed and yes that is a deep, rather pleased rumbling coming out of his chest and through his throat.]

[Just a minute.]

[His hands slide against Lysunder's body eagerly, one up and the other down. They fit around him perfectly, cradling the back of his head to keep this kiss close, and the other reaching down rather boldly towards his rear so he can heave him up a bit against the table better. Lest neck pain for both of them.]

[In the meantime, Darkleer reciprocates easily after getting over his slight surprise. Nipping softly at Summoner's lip, he licks his mark and kisses him further. This fool really is a horrible influence on him.]

[Oh... oh...]

[That, certainly worked better than he would have guessed. Feeling Darkleer give into it seems to calm him down considerably, his mouth starting to curl up into a grin as he pushes the kiss deeper. Summoner isn't really thinking about the kids or breakfast, or... any of that. He's not concerned with being found like this so it doesn't even occur to him. Instead he just lets out a pleased moan, hips pushing up, muscles tightening as Darkleer grabs his ass, and legs raise to bend his knees at different angles at either of Darkleer's sides.]

[Horrible? Nah, wonderful maybe. Yes, a wonderful influence.]

[Absolutely wretched influence. Don't try to convince Darkleer otherwise.]

[Although, admittedly, Summoner is doing a rather good job of convincing him with his mouth right now. That groan is gorgeous in not just the sound of it but the feel of it against his lips and tongue. His hips push back against the set pressing against them with no lack of eagerness. How does this snarky little lowblood bring this side of him out so easily?]

[Darkleer decides that it doesn't really matter as the kiss becomes more intense, more involved, and he opens his mouth to try and press his tongue against Summoners even as one large hand gives his rear a squeeze.]

[A laugh, he manages a pert, tight lipped laugh as he feels Darkleer's tongue press to his mouth, trying to pry it open. Summoner's legs stay bent, squeezing the other troll's sides, completely enjoying how easily it is to get Darkleer into it. Probably a feeling similar to the one Darkleer got from controlling him so well with that terrible poetry. Being the one to make this tight-assed prude so relaxed and intimate, being the someone to see this side of him, yeah, that was nice.]

[His lips open and he lets the blue tinted muscle coil in between his teeth, his own joining it in a wet embrace as he rocks his hips up, letting out another pleased moan when he feels Darkleer's grip tighten on his rear. Back arches up more, wings rustling and sliding over the table under him, hands still curling tight and pulling at the cloth of Darkleer's shirt.]

[Those hips rock against his just so, and that's it. Darkleer has lost, once again, and right now he has no regrets because that feels wonderful. Running his fingers through Summoner's hair, he grinds back and moans in pure blissful pleasure. He wishes he could watch those wings, see them react in this moment, but he can't focus on that at all, not when his eyes have slipped shut, and he can only feel and hear Summoner press up against him.]

[It takes work to make sure he doesn't press back so much and make the table tip. Lots of work, with how Summoner's kissing him. But that makes it quite worth it.]

[That's fine, Summoner's hips are just as needy to rub against him and he's doing well to indulge it. Legs tight on the other troll's sides, he uses his grip there to grind up as hard as he can, hands quickly moving to change positions. One sliding down to dip under Darkleer's shirt, fingers hungry to feel the chiseled lines of his stomach and chest, and the other going up to clench tight around the back of his neck.]

[Fast, aggressive, he kisses as he moves, deep and rabid, eyes closing tight while he grinds and shoves his tongue deeper, glazing the inside of Darkleer's mouth with orange.]

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