[CLOSED] oooh monsieur de la fere ooh~

[thestormcomes]

Who: Athos & Redglare
Where: Somewhere in some room on some floor.
When: October 1st
Rating: Rated T for Tentacles
Summary: Redglare likes Athos. Like, really likes Athos. A lot.
The Story: [Abstinence can only get you so far: that is to say, not very far at all. To High Renaissance men with swelling sexual appetites, the thought is never far from the front of one's mind, even if said man has adopted the cloth and rosary.

Athos has done an exceptional job cutting himself off ever since...well, his wife decided to to leave him, and he hasn't looked back since. Leaving the carnal pleasures to Porthos, the youthful blush of love to D'Artagnan, and the occasional sin to Aramis was much easier.

However. Now. Is different.

He suffers from an unfortunate craving and a desire for touch, one that has remained dormant for far too long and ignored for the entirety of this event. Until now.

Sequestering himself in his room is an option, the only option.]

Comments

[sinkships]

[Redglare is so past the point of subtlety that it is honestly amazing. There's this annoying heat in her, very much unlike the normal feeling of detachment that she felt with most of her pailing affairs. It is this irritating burning need that simultaneously angers her and makes her anxious and she knows just who to solve it with.
Rather, she knows just who she wants to solve it with.

So she sniffs him out like a bloodhound and doesn't even bother scratching at his door. That is for pathetic lust-driven individuals and she is only the latter. She knocks twice and says sternly:]

I'm coming in.

[And then she kicks out at the door hard enough to splinter part of the doorframe when the wood gives before the door does. When Athos sees her, he'll notice a few things. Mostly that her underclothes are missing and all she has on are the red layers of her outfit and her underwear. So not much.]

Athos...

[That husky voice is a little out of the ordinary. So is the look of lidded eyelids from behind sunglasses.]

[thestormcomes]

[He had been trying to drink - trying being the keyword. Never before has Athos had to make an effort to imbibe alcohol, and now he is forced to staring at it, wondering why it will not satisfy when it has done so many times before.

That's when he hears the knock, a declaration on the other side, and a very unladylike kick is dealt out to his doorframe. Standing abruptly, about to give the intruder a right lashing for barging in, Athos catches himself frowning at the sight of a noticeably disheveled Redglare.]

Is it...customary...where you are from to not use the handle?

[And to look at him with such...ah, hunger?]

[sinkships]

[She has her cane in hand and she swivels it around so that one hand is curled just below the dragons head, and the other just before the tip. She stalks towards him like that, pressing the cane against his chest and shoving him back until he hits a wall. She really is a bit brutally strong.]

You know, I've admired you for quite some time. Not quite a red infatuation until now I suppose. I'm not even sure what this is, to be quite honest. I just have these... urges, you see. I'm not quite sure what's wrong with me, or whether or not to care.

Perhaps you can help me decide, hm?

[thestormcomes]

[There are different kinds of closeness. Friendly closeness, a camaraderie of sorts, different from the closeness a man has with his family, or a lover. This is the sort of closeness suggestive of one thing, and one thing only.]

Urges?

[Athos inquires innocently enough, glancing down at the cane between them. He's been feeling urges himself, admittedly, but has decided not to name them for the time being.]

I am...

[Careful, now.]

...flattered by your admiration and attentions. Although I find myself uncertain as to how you are under the impression I can assist you.

["Red infatuation" just sounds strange, and he moves one hand up to grip the cane, keeping it from crushing into his chest.]

[sinkships]

Oh yes, you know the sort. I highly doubt you don't. I suppose by human standard, you're quite handsome. You lack horns and fangs, which is quite odd. However I don't admire you for your looks. It's mostly you ideals. Never have I met another with such outspoken ideas about unfair governmental systems. I suppose the honor is a nice touch too, even if it can lead you astray occasionally.

[Redglare switches her grip on the cane, allowing it so that she can lightly coax Athos' chin up with the dragons head. Her face is unusually close and she can smell everything he is from here.]

Are you really so uncertain?

[thestormcomes]

[Athos is wholly unaccustomed to receiving compliments, and he doesn't bother to hide his surprise when they come from Redglare. Satisfying urges thanks to an event is one thing, but having something that sounds suspiciously like honesty unveiled without anyone's consent...

He lifts his chin - and his eyebrow.]

I...suppose not.

[He hasn't been physical in that way in a while, though. Even with the blood pounding in him, the telling lack of underclothes on the body so close to his, protocol locks him up.]

I'm afraid I may-

[He takes a deep breath.]

-do something I may...regret.

[sinkships]

[Redglare eases up on the cane and runs a hand idly through his hair before taking off her glasses twirling them by the antenna before hooking them in on her vest. She leans her forehead against Athos' and does nothing more than inhale and exhale slowly as she tries to get her thoughts in order.

It doesn't really work.

Instead, she grins at him avariciously.]

Do you really think that there's anything you could do to me that I would regret? Or is it your own regret you fear? You needn't, you know.

[She turns and stabs the cane into the wall, still sheathed, so she can move her hands to his waist.]

You can't hurt me and I won't hurt you.

[On purpose.]

[thestormcomes]

[Touch is...not something he allows all that often, because he isn't fond of the soft ones. The reassuring ones. They remind of better days long-passed, and the fingers in his hair send shivers down his spine.

The regret Athos worries about is a combination of both.

But he recalls with some slight fondness their first duel, and when Redglare's hands move to his waist, he returns the gesture in kind.]

If...you're certain,

[he hazards slowly, beginning to relinquish his hold on protocol.]

[sinkships]

[Redglare presses against him a little more eagerly once he has his hands about her waist, pressing him into the wall with her body rather than her cane. She pulls back for a moment to look at him with a raised eyebrow.]

I would like to think we know each other well enough that you're aware of my penchant for certainty.

[She tilts her head just so and presses her lips to his with gusto.]

[thestormcomes]

[Ah, and this is the moment we like to refer to as the moment when all Hell breaks loose. Hell being a metaphor for Athos' supposedly waning libido, and the breaking loose part having to do with said libido finally getting to- Oh, well, you get the idea.

We'll leave the anecdotes for later.

For now, expect Athos' eyes to slide shut and a greedy sound to escape him, expect him to push off the wall and then back towards it, reversing their positions and pressing against Redglare.

Expect him to be exceedingly handsy.]

[sinkships]

[Expect Redglare to be a little awkward at first before splaying her hands out and moving them over ties. This close to him, with his mouth pressed to hers, he is all she can taste and smell. Wine and steel and the hint of roses that she can't bring herself to care about right now.

She curls one of her legs around his waist and moves her hands up from his waist. One arm is left to dangle over his shoulder, while her other hand carefully cups his face.]

[thestormcomes]

[Athos can barely remember the last time he was outwardly physical with someone - barring a sword fight or a duel, that is - as he tends to pride himself in his ability to control every action, consider each movement carefully, thoughtfully, before executing it.

This event has derailed his senses and forced his hand (or hands, rather) into contact. Contact with Redglare's thigh, for example, as he slides his fingers under it, helping her to hike it higher around his waist.

He is not especially gentle, but then again, it has been almost two years.]

[sinkships]

[Redglare doesn't mind the lack of gentleness. If anything, it makes her feel more in place. Trolls, even in red romance, are not exactly the gentlest of souls. Adult trolls require a little more pressure in everything and she is no exception.

Still, she growls, breaks the kiss and ducks down carefully to get at his throat. She licks a long stripe up his neck before carefully dragging her teeth down. It isn't enough to draw blood, but it is enough to leave angry red lines on his throat.]

[thestormcomes]

[Red romance, black romance, bad romance...whatever the quadrants are, Athos doesn't know jack-shit about them, nor does he care. There are several forms of love in his own world, though, not all of them pure, and most of them rather condemned by the Church.

Athos has only known one that he felt was true, one that had turned out to be a lie.

This, at least for him, is physical. In many ways a troll's body is similar to a human's, and as such Athos gives Redglare the courtesy of admiring her form with his hands and sucking in a sharp breath as her teeth rake over his neck.

Not his usual fare, but it'll do.

In the meanwhile, he'll get to removing her remaining clothing as quickly as possible.]

[sinkships]

[Her breeches and underwear are easy enough to take off, but before there can be any sort of failed attempt with her upper clothing, she movies his hands away and undoes the side-clasps. It's easier to remove them this way than risk getting tangled in her horns.

She's plenty naked when she presses back up against him and clenches her hands around two chunks of his shirt before she flicks her tongue over his lips.]

Take them off before I tear them off.

[thestormcomes]

[She doesn't have to ask Athos twice, because his fingers are already undoing the snaps on his leather doublet, forcing it off before it makes itself a new home on the floor, and the chemise is next.

The white linen joins its friend the doublet, and his swordbelt follows. As for the breeches, well...]

The armoire can make more, can't it?

[So let's get his hands busy following every curve on her body that they possible can.]

[sinkships]

[She moves away from his throat and mouth to reach up and peel her gloves off. Trolls typically have conical nails, but hers have been sharpened to points. She uses those points to quickly reduce Athos' pants to shreds.]

So it can.

[She moves to pull back on her gloves after those practiced motions. Athos doesn't seem the type to enjoy little acts of masochism unless their of the crippling emotional sort.]

[thestormcomes]

[HA HA HA CRIPPLING EMOTIONS HA. Good thing Athos can't hear the narration right now.

His poor breeches, subjected to the whims of an impatient troll, are left in raw tatters and Athos has already shucked off his boots for the sake of completion. Now, condoms haven't exactly caught on in the 17th century. They exist, certainly, made of oiled lambskin or sheep intestine, but they're not widely distributed, and men (unless they're married) aren't really worried about the having-of-children anyway.

Therefore, "protection" isn't a concern for him so much as comfort is.]

Much obliged,

[he speaks of the gloves, his own hands making themselves mighty comfortable moving across her ample chest, and Athos yanks her into another kiss.]

[sinkships]

Am I ever anything other than obliging?

[Redglare laughs for a short moment before cutting it off. It is odd, enjoying herself like this. The thought of reproduction has not even crossed her mind, but the thought of their anatomical differences has. Still, she arcs into his touch and presses their mouths back together, mindful of her teeth.

While she's reluctant to invite his own tongue into her mouth, she's not so reluctant to try and get hers into his own.]