#/glassthoughts

[glassrowboat]

Okay, fine, to make up for my last post how about this:

Baizhu is sitting at his desk when you slip inside the room, the door opening and shutting, signaling to him that you joined him. He's already speeding up his writing, trying to get one last character in before you come over to him.

He expected you to want attention or maybe even ask about what was plaguing your mind this time, but you didn't even glance at him before you were crawling under the desk.

"Dear?" He asks, head tilting down so he can see a few glances of the clothes you're wearing rustling around with you. "Just what are you up to now?"

All he got back was you hushing him.

"I don't think the floor is very comfortable."

Not even that drew you out, so with a shake of his head, Baizhu went back to what he had been doing before.

He got some notes written down from the text he had been trying to transcribe by the time you had found yourself between his legs to get comfortable; writing brush running along the paper only for it to fall from his grasp as he felt you pressing a kiss to his clothed cock.

"You.....I should have known."

[glassrowboat]

...you think....you think it's possible to clicker train Reca?

He, of all people, has the ability to take what's been taught to him and toss it out the window like it never existed, but he doesn't. Ya wanna know why? Cause he wants it.

Assurances of him being a "good boy" have always given him a small rush, it stirs up his pride much akin to the same way it spikes at having people compliment the films he's created, but instead of a self-satisfied smirk on his face and a blooming ego, it's a blush creeping up his neck and red eyes going to meet yours at hearing you say he's being perfect for you.

Then he's grinding against your thigh again as you pull him closer.

This time, your words are accompanied by one soft click Reca missed. Drowned out by his own moans.

And sure, he knows what you're up to, has been from the moment your lips landed on his, but he's not going to stop you either.

This could be for a reference he tells himself at first, ignoring the way his cock twitched the second time he heard the click and your sweet voice praising him once again; telling him how pretty he looks like this.

Not even an audience applauding as the credits start to roll could have him like this.

All yours.

Another click as your hand wraps around his weeping cock.

Another and another and another.

The sound fills his head the entire night just like the whir of a projector as it plays through the film roll all the way up to the last scene. Only there's no end to this.

Perhaps this was only a...prequel of sorts... because the next time he hears that click, Reca can't help but feel weak in the knees the same way he was those few nights ago when your taste had been on his tongue and your endless praise fueled him to bring you to a climax only the best director in all of the galaxy could so effortlessly create.

You didn't even have to ask if he wanted to be your perfect boy for you this time as another click had him falling before you and willing to play his part in this scene just like any good actor should.

[glassrowboat]

Thinking about "Would you fall in love with me again" from Epic with Mydei finally returning for the first time to his love after whatever the fuck is going on with the time paradox and running to them, desperate to be in their arms, but stopping short right before he touches them.

His hands have been covered in more blood than he can count to the point he swears the smell lingers on his skin, his hands have long since forgotten how you feel, only knowing the way his fingers wrap around the handle of a spear he had grown calluses from holding after years on end, and his own men have fallen in battle time and time again all while he was unable to do anything to stop it.

Did he deserve to touch you?

To remember what it feels like to hold you in his arms?

It leaves them with no choice but to reach out first.

He swears his breath hitches as he feels their warmth again as they relax into the warrior's hands regardless of all he's done.

They were truly a fool, but one he would never give up again as his arms wrap around you to hold them tight.

[glassrowboat]

Indulgent self insert bull, but...

Mydei coming to visit the same plaza again and again whenever he hears a play is being put on a again. He's always enjoyed the arts, even in his own uniformed way of being more of an observer than an artist himself, but something about the way the scripts bring together a truly compelling story that lays bare the way men break apart in the face of tragedy truly resonated with him-- not that he'd say it aloud.

So he keeps coming to see each new play.

At first, he couldn't tell when it was a different playwright script, but then he started to pick up on a certain tone each of their stories held. A certain playfulness between characters that left him smirking, how those soft moments between lovers tugged at his heart in a way he would deny was longing, and...and this...pain.

It's what this playwright seemed to excel at.

His hands clapped together, his applause blending in with the people around him even as they got up and trickled their ways outside of the door, leaving only a few lingering strays, the actors, and one person walking up on stage with a smile on their face and praises on their tongue.

Is that...who he thinks it is?

With a shake of his head, Mydei brushes the thought off and joins the rest of the crowd leaving the stage behind. He couldn't afford to linger too long when he had a mission to handle soon. Besides, he'd be back again. That he was already sure of.