#« ( Einrí ) » Answers.

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"Einri is a huge meanie." >:( - totally not Killian

"... Who let the donkey out the barn?!"

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He has drawn him close again, arm around the other man's waist, their bodies meeting in a warmer moment shared within the warden's office. It's nto a first, for he has held Einri before, clothed as well as unclothed. There's nothing new in it, except that sigh that does escape the warden's lips as he - a bit hesitantly - steps away from Einri, creating a distance between them; the closer he gets, the harder it becomes, for there are obligations looming on his shoulders as well as the general question of what if?

Where would he go from here and out ?

"Einri, I -" Wriothesley starts gently, for he knows that there are certain expectations set by himself, by the way he has allowed himself to be drawn up in the currents known as him, the odd wind that ever so casually sweeps by his office and person. They banter, they laugh, they argue at times and then he finds himself a little too close for comfort, his own; " ... find the need to apologize, if you will hear me out for a few minutes."

And his comfort is strange, the warmth of the bare skin he has touched before, the lips he has tasted against his own. It feels so right, and yet there are parts of the warden - no , the man behind the title of Duke - that finds himself tugging at the reins, attempting to stay clear of it all. Not only is Einri a former exile, someone he has held power over at some point, but he is someone who actively stirs up heated confusion in him. Archons, he knows what it's about, this heat that emerges in his bones, the way arms seek to hold around him tightly, and safely. Wriothesley knows, but he also knows how there will come a time where kisses alone won't be enough and that their silly, intriciate touches through friendly spars will want to wander, and perhaps that's what gets him there he parts further with the archer. Body weighing itself down on the red couch, sinking into his own self-made despair for a minute as hands draw through darker locks.

He hasn't had this conversation before, not like this, for there has never been a moment where Wriothesley has found himself conflicted about another. "I expressed certain thoughts about you while you were under my supervision at the fortress, and while I fully acknowledge and am aware that you returned this interest, I... still find myself a little guilty for having held you the way I did while you were within the fortress, and this guilt tends to reappear whenever I hold you again, which is why I want to come clean about it." At least it's a start, silvery eyes gazing up at the other. They are not as stern as they usually are, perhaps a bit more human than normally, all too soft for someone who has held such a prominent position within the fortress. He is a warden, true. He will always be. Yet, behind that facade there'd be a human, a single soul wondering why couldn't he find it i him to offer a little more when he so desperately wished with Einri?

"Whenever I find myself holding you a little too close, a little too long, there is nothing more I wish than to -" and he falls a bit short, words difficult to place properly as they all sound a little too wrong, a little too premature; "... I think you get the gist of what I'd like, but... In all honesty, I cannot pride myself as someone who has had the time eo explore much beyond... anything, truly." He'd lean back, hand reaching for his tie. It's too tight again, too there.

"If that disappoints you then I thoroughly understands, and if this is not something you wish to pursue further due to the revelations brought to the table then... I also understand that, but I... want to be honest with you, I don't have it in me to withhold information that could potentially affect the both of us, Einri."

Warmth and need was always within these embraces, silent and with a devotion Einrí wasn't sure he could claim to be the same as his own wonder and lust. Though it was a nice sensation, to question his wants with Wriothesley and what they could be more of if he was to pursue it more, but whilst he was on those lines of thought - he felt the coldness here this time. A wall, a gap between them created by the Duke himself. It wasn't often Einrí clocked it, always one to laugh those uncomfortable feelings aside, to go steal for a self-soothing motion of a guaranteed high. So, when his hand was latching onto Wrio's hanging sleeve, it wasn't to hold him close, no - no, never that… Einrí was just about to… pick pocket. Yeah, that.

Still, his gaze rose, brows with it as if he didn't notice his own motions beneath his gaze as he listened to his name be spoken. Waiting for that reasoning for them to step back. Was it no longer a thing they wanted here? Was it time to stop this fling and go back to the road in search of his own people? But - no, he had to remember. This man wasn't like the folks he went to in pubs, clubs or underground fighting rings. This man wasn't a brute, that thought with his dick in the moment of needing a lay, or a fist to the ribs when they lost at a drinking game. This man wasn't a barbarian that have a one-track mind. Einrí had to remember, his information gathering came with a lot of rumours and tales, whispered hauntings of a child axe-murderer turned duke.

He had to remember his ears were not wrong, he was able to listen, to take it in and do what he needs too after planning. Thus, his fingers relaxed with his nature, Wriothesley, wanted to talk. Something he was great at… So, when their eyes met again. The man sat down, Einrí still standing - their gazes were on the same level. No panic or wariness in the Archer's eye - but a man open to listen, to take it on. "You've got the floor, Wriothesley." Einrí held his banter, tongue swift for a joke of how he couldn't do anything but listen to a duke here, but it wasn't it. Something in him was telling him this wasn't the Duke he was talking too but Wriothesley, the unsure man who hesitated to touch him beyond the nude embraces in the shower, the heated kisses that felt practised and rehearsed, the man that teased him more often than not when he was here as an exile and backed away the moment he had to be the Boss Duke, as if scolding himself.

Inhaling for five and holding for five, Einrí took a second to take a seat himself. Careful not to put himself under Wrio's gaze nor above it. Level - though his height made it a bit hard.

Silence was there, ears open and attention fixed on the warden. Listening to his woes, in the form of a confession for a man sorry for abusing his power here and confusing his curiosity with that power. It wasn't like the man demanded him to bend over or take what he wanted in the prison cells but Einrí could understand. This man wasn't a monster, wasn't a creature without thought, wasn't a man that didn't think of the consequences of his actions and a man with morals of his standing of class, professionalism and over-all a good heart. In all honesty - Einrí was taken aback to be seen as the same level. Someone to be respected with the truth of ones conflicted thoughts and desires.

He was a man from many lines of work, he's seen the rush of gold and money that turns a city of beggars to monsters. He's been in places where trafficking was the normal, lesser beings for being a different race, speaking differently, looking different to that of the majority or even the minority. It's refreshing to say the less, when a man that knows of his power and balance in the world actually sits down and explains himself. Be it was a consciousness that came to them in a dream or from their own morals of knowing the rights and wrongs. Communication is key to all sources of conflict… Einrí, was happy - he felt honoured to see this here, to be in the forefront of it all. This man… was an idiot. Yet - a man that really made Einri feel something a little more than ever before. Enough for him to have a smile on his face with red cheeks and ears that fluttered in pink.

"You…" He started, looking down and sighing out heavily as hands move to his face. A rub of palms over features, a moment of silence, a moment to take it in - and yeah. This man was too honest. Too polite for a man that was supposed to be this massive figure of authority, but then again, it was because he was such things he was like this, wasn't it? "Wriothesley…" He stated, looking up with hands lowering to his hips. "Do you see me as something to own and conquer in the name of the Duke?" Einrí didn't need to hear that strong no to know of it.

"Did I pursue you with the idea of you knowing everything about how to be sexual in a place like this? Yes and no, I don't know your experiences and I knew the moment you started returning my interest that something was amiss." Einrí stood again at this point, stepping closer to the man and taking place before him. "I didn't look at you as this sex god, sure, I have fantasies of you using those biceps and thighs to give me the fun of my life, but I'm not going to hate or be disillusioned because you don't know how to get to that part of it all." Looking aside, the Archer let the words sink in for a moment, looking towards them eventually and reaching out to press his fingers into those locks of ebony and grey.

"Listen to me, Wriothesley. Thank you for sharing something that's been on your chest and shoulders, I can't say I understand the worries you face due to my upbringings and the likes, but I do want you to know, I'll take it into mind. You aren't a man of force nor expectations but a curious mind finding things out. I don't claim to know your past or how you are or who you've been with - but there is one thing I am super sure of." A thumb turned to his chest, pointing at himself.

"I'm so damn willing to help you explore yourself and myself in any way you want. As Einrí, the free man and not as an ex-convict under your rule." He smirked wide, moving to daringly push the man back by his forehead - opening up his lap for himself to slip onto. Straddling and taking his face into hands. "Wriothesley… would you like to be mine? Exclusive and free to explore anything you're curious about with me and only me?" It was a rather - strong ask, but, Einrí felt like this was the right course. This is how it's meant to be…

He almost wanted to throw Beorn a thanks for rotting his brain about soul mates and the 'right' partner and all that noise in their travels but right now - it was about them. Just them. "Thanks for telling me your worries… I ain't ever had that level of honesty before outside of friendships. I might be lacking for you though, so don't be too disappointed if I'm not what you think things will be like, i'unno." Now he felt a little inadequate, but he silenced it with a sniff and roll of shoulders as thumbs caress the Warden's cheek and jaw.

"Now… a very important question… do you wanna make out?"

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Jianyu leans over, shoulder touching Einri's and head resting against his. He's just going to take a break against them for a minute, or five, or ten.

"Oho?"

"Ohoho?"

"OhOH?" Cue a sudden elbow to Jianyu's gut, followed by a fist to his sternum to not only deck the bastard where it'll hurt for a good while but also to keep reaching forward to snag his shirt to flip the taller bastard over his shoulder and onto the floor. Einri wasn't a petty man, he wasn't bothered by his height, he was one of the tallest of his species and yet - when others pointed it out. Oh, how it boiled his nerves. Thus, following Jianyu to the floor, to wrap that arm that rested on his head into an arm-bar lock with his legs and with all intentions of breaking his fudging elbow - did the honey-scented man hiss obscenities in the background of important talks about the fireplace.

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Returned.

How was he meant to allow hands to remain still, there they shifted, moved so they could drape themselves around Einri's frame, pull him closer as to sink himself further into the intimacy of their lips. Fully embrace the warmth exchanged between caressing tongues, curious in their honest approach to one another as the two blended together, Wriothesley's head canted back as the other stood before him. For now he'd sit, take it in, allow Einri to stand before him and for his hands to explore what they seemed to have yearned for. Hair, skin, neck - closer, a hand from the warden sliding up around his waist and onto the elf's back where fingers would desperately clutch onto fabric.

Intoxicating. Addictive. He could see it now, why the murmurs of missing loved ones and loves of past days were a topic sprouting among those who had spent their decades within these walls, for there was something in the way lips pressed against one another, glided across bottom and top; longing, desire.

This was kissing, the proper kind and not what he had found himself exchanging in moments of uncertainty in younger days. Lips on someone whose frame had drawn natural curiosity out of stubborn nature, a fleeting sensation of ecstasy bubbling underneath, causing one hand to linger on his back and and another to wrap around the back of Einri's head. Hair slid between parted fingers, Wriothesley unwilling to let go just yet.

"Don't let go just yet," Wriothesley would utter in between halted kisses, " - just ... a little longer, let me hold you a little longer."

Long enough to quench the aching thirst he had suffocated for so long, long enough to quell whatever sudden greed that had risen to the occasion alongside the need within his fingertips and lips. "I don't want this to progress, I just -" hushed whispers, lips inching to the corner of Einri's mouth, then down his cheek, jaw and eventually neck where he'd allow himself to linger.

" - I just need to hold you, Einri."

If only for a minute, if only for a second, he'd ask to hold him and ask to bask in the warmth of another. It was all he needed, all he wanted, now that the warden had found it in him to face the unresolved feelings tied to the bruised company. Why now ? Was the sight of him beaten and bloodied that horrific, had it sparked a feeling of regret for not having acted upon their intimacy prior? A fear that if he didn't dive into it now, there could be a chance that it'd never happen?

Wriothesley didn't want to know.

He wanted to hold him, to let his lips meet with his neck once again as both arms would wrap around his waist. "Would you be okay with that?"

Inexperience, it was a common thing amongst the folks of life. A world were fighting could happen at any moment, seeking out love and a house for warmth was far and few between. Learning the blade, arrow or casting magics with the elements always would be priority… Einri was no different, though his people were much more tightly knitted for the duration of their stint in the trees and wilderness. The man had to wonder what it was like for Wriothesley - a man that bore scars so vicious upon the skin but walked with his head held high and no fear of letting them show.

Right now, they felt hot and brittle at the same time. Lips that moved with ease and those that were following to catch up. The taste of his man on his tongue and the sensation of being held even though his ribs hurt, Einri didn't complain. Only inhaled to keep their kiss going, to stroke over Wriothesley's jaw that moved with his actions. Deeper it felt, exploring and learning together, whilst the world around them drowned out in its humid lingering. An afterthought really to the Archer before finally the Duke withdrew with words whispered. It was hard to not be taken aback from it though - since he got it in his head that this was just a fleeting thing.

A sudden goodbye. Nothing else but their lingering something to be left burned as a kiss to think about every now and again.

But, to be held in return, to be given that moment of power with Wriothesley sat and at his reach, it made Einri's ears tint redder, realizing the state of them both. His heart a flutter with his corrected and open thoughts as he shuddered under the touch of lips in place. It was a moment flashback to the shower, making Wriothesley kiss his neck that time once, this was the same feeling - but better. Because it was sought out by them themselves. Fuck - it was hot. Stupidly hot but the words didn't raise fast enough for Einri to reply. Instead, his lips rolled tightly together to release with a subtle shaken exhale, registering not only the kiss left of his skin but the fingers in his hair tingling his spine from top to bottom.

Wriothesley was dangerous.

An innocence that spoke volumes and yet a need that shackled Einri's attention to be respectful. This wasn't a man to reveal weaknesses but here, it was an open platter. A want of a desire suppressed? Einri wasn't sure, but he wasn't to throw it aside. Nor dismiss it as a simple Duke's frivolous ploy for something new and shiny in this underground place. "Anything - for you, Wriothesley." A promise, as his hand rose from the other's throat to return to their face. Stroking thumb under lips to push and press to the side a little with a lick of his own again. "I thought this would have been the last time." He laughed - a moments chuckle to himself, leaning closer, stepping closer, being held closer. Resting his weight upon their frame and yet still stroking over their jaw. Nudging at the underside with his thumb to allow his own lips to return the sensation of a hot-kiss to their jugular.

"Instead, I think you holding me will heal my hurts faster - so don't let me go anytime soon ~" A jovial tune, hidden beneath it a curiosity of his own. Touch gentle and bashful in their exploration of Wriothesley's shape. Careful to not invade clothing, to not provoke material but to feel the sheer strength of what was hidden beneath.

So, when he was held at the waist, asked with such need - Einri could only smile and lean forward. Pressing their lips back together once, using his hands to gather Wriothesley's face in his palms and promptly used his thumbs to open the others lips to seal his own on top of them again. He didn't need to speak it again with this. The slow trail of teaching a curious man find themselves in pleasure without being completely overwhelmed and vulnerable in their own skin.

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"What did you plan to achieve with this?"

Whether or not it was a fight started by Einri or not was beyond Wriothesley's current knowledge, but a fight had broken out and he had been called upon, forced to step between the criminal and other exiles. A yank of the shorter male's collar had sent him away from it as Wriothesley had tackled and forced the other exile down on the ground, metallic gauntlets pinning the man to the ground. Reminder, threat, warning ; he wouldn't have any of this behavior on his watch, a cold and eerily calm approach leaving those around with a straight posture.

Guards had taken that exile, Wriothesley had cuffed and lead Einri away from the situation and to the infirmary. Sigewinne had offered supplies needed and the duke had taken it from there. A lecture, he'd reassure the head nurse, and therefore in need of privacy. She had heard that one before and only expected a rough outcome, seeing the duke and the criminal off.

He had brought him back to his office, not too unusual in these situations, most exiles whispering in fear as the sight of Einri escorted into the duke's den. Would he make it out alive? Would he find himself stripped of all rights?

They didn't know.

They didn't know, for as there'd be lectures there'd also be a hand tilting Einri's head upwards, cotton pressed against crimson stains from his nose and lip. Subtle music played in the background, the shorter forced into the couch of Wriothesley's office as he was maintained within the duke's very grasp, him tending to the injuries sustained in the fight. Opposed of Einri there'd be a table holding the body of the duke, the two (for once) face to face within private company. Equals, not simply duke and inmate, but survivors in a moment of lecture and reflection. A gentler nature, not quite the same approach he had when wearing his coat.

"I'm not your personal guard," he added, pressing cold cotton against a cut, "next time it might be you I'm pinning into the ground ; why did you fight the other exile?"

Idiocy, Wriothesley assumed.

Silvery eyes examined the man's face, cotton removed as thumb would soon graze over his bottom lip. Concern? No, not quite. Though, something akin to the similar uneasiness that was often brought along with such sentiment. What if it had been Einri he had to pin against the metallic floors of the fortress at some point? What if he got into the wrong fight with the wrong exile and there'd be a different outcome of it all?

Then what?

"You're going to scar right there," Wriothesley added, hand still on the chin of the other as he'd lean closer, inspect the cut at the corner of Einri's lips. Soft to touch, though a bit chapped from the fortress' harsh environment. Humid and cold, dry and cold. A most hostile environment, yet one that Einri seemed to thrive in; chapped, not chapped, what did it matter? Tracing the bottom lip once more, Wriothesley's head would cant (perhaps it was the adrenaline in his body, still, rushing through his veins and striking up thoughts within his mind). He had admired those before, now miffed that someone had landed a hit on them under his watch.

Right there, thumb tracing over a small cut in the corner of his mouth; " ... sit still. " He'd request subtly, quietly, just between the two of them.

Right there, distance closing between the two as Wriothesley would close the distance between them, lips meeting softly. Hesitant at first, then parting for a deeper kiss, grasp onto the chin of Einri's coaxing him closer to himself. Firmer, warmer. A sensation Wriothesley had come to imagine time and time again in moments he had visited Einri, both bodily and in thoughts found in lonesome hours. Closer, deeper. An itch within scratched at the feeling of lips being met in return.

Wriothesley wasn't his personal guard, and yet ... perhaps there'd be some sort of favoritism on how he had chosen to tackle the situation.

Releasing the baser instincts, to lower his shoulders and let his arms droop, his eyes widen, and his lips seal shut. He didn't need to egg on these bastards for them to enter the death pit, but honestly, when he was just about to force himself forward, on his toes - ready to leap and take down that giant without a crowd this time betting on him, Einri was rattled out of his state of fight to land with a crunch and hiss at his bruised ribs. Gaze blinded by the pain but the cold sting of the floor, humid air in his lungs and the damp sensation around him returned to his senses and he found himself in the arms of two aiding the duke from being picked up off the floor.

He would have sneered, hissed even, but the breath had been taken from him as his ribs really protested that. Instead, he was stood up within time for him to stare upon Wriothesley pinning that bastard down with little effort. Though he was a thick man, muscular, it wasn't anything shockingly different from himself. Still - it was nice to see, sure the reason for the fight was nothing less of a disagreement. A push that just triggered something in the smaller and whelp - the big bastard can complain about his cheek hanging off his face, from the devilish teeth of the archer.

A brawl was nothing new under here, but it wasn't meant to happen without the ring being set up and Wrio on standby.

Now, Einri was hanging his head - guided by the cuffed wrists and surrounded with the whispers decorating his ears. He knew this could mean the end of his freedoms, the touch of favouritism, the scolding of a lifetime, cause what would stop the Duke from having his fun and ending it now? Nothing. Einri didn't know what to expect, so he turned his thoughts to himself. Examining his hurts, a limp with a swollen ankle, bruised thigh and hip. Ribs felt the worst, but he was sure they were broken. Inhaling stung like a bitch, but it wasn't agony - as far as he was concerned, he was just hurting a lot.

Knuckles and right elbow were bright red, not much blood but specks from splatter and his own face. That was probably a mess of purpling bruises. His lip hurt too, made him scrunch his nose with another wince as he felt the change in the air that made him return to his senses again. The Duke's office was seemingly his place to be these days. The sofa was a lot more comfortable for his size, no lie - so when he was sat and left to his own bubble. He relaxed, he turned his head off and let his eyes close to release the tension with a stretch of his fingers in the metal cuffs and only opened his eyes again when he felt Wrothesley before him.

"Ah - … would you believe me if I said, I had no plan?" For once, he wasn't teasing his inmates for matchsticks or bedding bets. Nor to spread a rumour for the shits and giggles. Nor even his usual want to be tossed at Wrio's feet for some pampered scolding. It really was just a split moment of seeing red when he was shoved. He couldn't remember what it was, but he remembers those lips moving when that hand touched him with that intention… Was it a slur? A name of his kind in nothing but bad ilk? Probably. It's been years since he's heard something like that - so maybe, maybe that was it? Anger.

A hiss did slip from his lips though as the stinging disinfectant was being washed over his flesh. Oh, that did smart. His tongue danced restlessly, wanting to lick the split skin aggravated by the Duke's motions but again, he was frozen. The hand on his chin was firm but gentle, the guiding of his head to be lifted from its jerked down position only solidified the silence in his throat. Gods, he was handsome. Watching those steel-grey, blue-metal? What colour were they? They were always in his direction, and yet he can never pinpoint the colour that they are in a word that holds up to what they do to him…

The wiping of blood made him realize the hot-itchy lines across his skin. Restless fingers twitch with a want to rub and scratch… but he held it off. Wrio seemed to understand, wiping away the hurts and crimson, mending the anger in his veins that still simmered into a tranquil hum. Blinking wide eyes and softening their gaze, tired with aching limbs, the pains settled in the back of his mind… This wasn't a scolding, not a second of it. Not with how they were settled, Wrio on his table, himself before them - his face in hand and tended too like a … yeah. Blinking, he looked skyward after the question was spoken. Did they want an answer?

"Scar?" His brain caught up, he didn't think he was that silent in real-time, but it seemed like it was enough. Wriothesley moved on with a simple request too. It wasn't an order even though his chin was still in the man's grasp - when did the cotton turn into flesh? His hand was warm… it made his shoulders lower and the weight of his head lean into the palm because he too, felt that moment. When Wrio' leant in, Einri watched until their lips touched. Like it wasn't him, like it wasn't Wriothesley - like it wasn't just a moment in time that's happening and yet, his body felt like a puddle of water. Finally appeased, finally at rest - as his lashes fluttered with the deepening of the kiss. Drowning in the taste of the Duke's tea-washed tongue, fresh teeth, gentle remnants of a hard worker, but mostly Wriothesley's taste. Deep… heavy, filled with oddity yet moreish, addictive and sweeter than any honey scent Einri was born with.

Oh - that was a nice mix, wasn't it?

His lip didn't hurt as much now, not when his hands moved to grip onto Wrio's shirt at his stomach. Just holding on as he pressed forward as guided once. As his tongue thinner than Wriothesley's followed their movements, coaxing and stroking but never fighting, overpowering - no, this wasn't that kind of happening. It was just… something else. Something more that made Einri's bones melt too.

Though it wasn't without ice.

A cold possibility.

Was this a kiss goodbye?

As his hands shifted, the metal rattled and the cuffs fell to the floor. Palms would raise to gather Wriothesley's wrist and jaw, to hold onto them just the same. Stepping closer, leaning closer, kissing firmer - but not with the intention to make it be anything more than just this. But with more weight upon its possible meaning - because if this was his last time seeing this Duke.

Einri wanted to burn his taste upon his tongue and imprint his warmth on those lips.

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Leave it to the all-knowing eyes of the fortress to keep an additional eye on the one who finds himself frequenting the fortress. Not quite an exile, not quite a lawful citizen; an in-betweener, there one moment and then off the next, finding himself some new trouble to get into before the urge for a bed and a hot meal resurfaces. To waste warm water on someone who'll be gone the next day, surely financial matters solve themselves under the agreement (or rather, deal) struck with the cafeteria ; all you can eat, for produce had been delivered a little too close to their expiration date, in desperate need to be eaten.

All ears, except his.

Lukewarm water sounded through the public showers, light steam covering the metallic room around them ; daily routines matching up, the warden finding it in him to approach the other quietly, attentively as he allows silvery eyes to trail Einri's bare legs and back, head canting curiously as eyes admire him form a distance. A surge of warmth, heart fluttering. It hasn't been like this in a long time, this griping desire - lust, was it not ? - that coaxed him closer, closer... close enough to slide a hand around Einri's waist, fingers trailing the other's bare stomach. They have been here before, felt their bodies up against each other. The only difference is the nudity, skin against skin, as Wriothesley pulled Einri a little further back.

Fully against his front.

Close enough for their bodies to connect once more; " ... you don't usually shower at this hour, I do," he jokes, knowing fully well that his own schedule does not include showering at this hour. He does it earlier, right before anyone finds it in them wash up before dinner. Now, however, most are devouring their fair share of food (the warden's lips parting slightly as gaze trail down bare shoulder) and he is basking in a moment most often left to imagination, the seething demand in his body quenched slightly at the sensation of Einri's skin against his.

Is this what he has robbed himself of for so long? The feeling of someone's curves and lines beneath his touch, scent of person and water mixed; "... I don't want to do anything," Wriothesley added in a whisper, head leaning down to the side of Einri's neck, water splashing against his face. Parted lips trail against wet skin, placing subtle pecks as they trace the outline of the other's throat.

"I just want to hold you."

A moments' peace, without needing to be smirking into the eyes of those that look for a little too long for normal glances. Public showering wasn't new, it wasn't scary nor peaceful in the same breath. It was just a place to be here, and it was within good reason. From what Einri's heard of some of these looneys with minds gone from everlasting traumas and the likes, it was like they cared little for their own safety. To have no walls, meant no hidden spots, no attack zones, no defence against the guards and the Duke that followed them. Einri wasn't a fool to think they were without eyes on them everywhere, probably even some of the jailed souls were in plants. Nothing gave better results than living in the same ways as those with loose lips.

Hands cup the warm waters with grace, bring it to his face to smear up the length of his hair and pushed it back over his crown. The sensation was the best - he felt ten times cleaner than the recent colder showers he's had with watchful eyes and hands too close for his liking, but this - divine. A private rebirthing in his eyes… Though, short-lived. Of course - the metal creaked around them, pipes working hard but not hard enough to dull the sound of a tall figure approaching him from behind. A sensation that should cause him to draw dagger and bow but instead - naked and weaponless, he remains still. Allowing his arms to slowly lower from brushing his hair back to settle at his thighs.

A strangeness - because he knew this sensation wasn't to harm him. Crazy - he wasn't that dull in his senses of danger but even in this state. It was a familiar set of eyes on him, wasn't it? A trust in his gut, a wonder to his curiosity and it was answered with so much ease. After all - he was expecting gloves, sleeves and fur on his shoulders, but this made his lashes flutter wider. Staring upon the floor of gathered water and the sensation of wet flesh upon flesh. Was this Duke --- !! Oh… wow. This was rather fast, wasn't it? He knew the Duke liked to try things with him, forbidden touches of a Duke and a Criminal in their watch but this - this was new.

Amusing though as he moved his arms out of their needy trails. Nude now, confidence did flicker, confusion and mirth mixed as the bird-eyed being hummed into the steam and allowed his weight to be guided. Why should he deny this? Might get something out of it? Or was it just his own interest - the way this man held him was like a jade, precious and curious of its dips and curves. Like he was mapping out the erosion of time and place with his fingertips and now, inhaling the scent of his body - muted he knew the honey was, the sandalwood of his hair would be thicker, his lips part in their own right, but words don't slip out this time.

Beaten to the punch.

Didn't want to do anything? --- And yet, this was possibly one of the most intimate things a man can do with another man in the nude. The light touches to his skin, ink shimmering wet and gold hinted black, the run of goosebumps from Wriothesley's breath, wet hair darker in the corner of his eye, but it was alluring all the same. Did those ear like flicks stay down when drenched? Did he smell of ink and paperwork right now? Or was this a second shower he had outside his usual schedule? Einri wasn't dumb to know a lie or at least a half-truth from the Duke, but this was not the same bubble as usual. This held a little more spice to one's knowledge.

Enlightened he is though - moving with grace to now rest his fingers on Wriothesley's wrist. Trailing up his forearm and guiding his second hand further up his torso - a silent encouragement as his lips curve and head tilts with invitation for this steel eyed hound to explore all he wishes. "Then don't hold back, Duke." His hands pull aside, moving to raise on to that of their hair instead, pushing it back to rid of the trails down their forehead and near the eyes. Blocking the flow to allow Wriothesley the freedom, but not without guidance, as Einri did soon grip those strands a little tighter, tugging the hound up his neck, closer to his ear.

"Kiss here… and feel the reaction in my pulse with your lips." A tutor for a Duke of curious wants and needs… The praise on his tongue bitten silent as he releases their locks to instead return to his caged ribs under their grip. This... was stepping into places he had no control over any more, wasn't it? How thrilling.

[nvrcmplt]

"Smells like you have had enough wine and liquor for the both of us," the warden jokes as he stands before the other, the two having bumped into one another up on the surface.

A strange occasion, the warden's hand occupied by a bag of food he had been collecting, another rising to grasp onto Einri's chin. It's dark, it's evening, who is to pay attention to the duke's nightly affairs as he stands before Einri, thumb trailing up the dark and gold lines travling up the surface of his chip, up to the bottom of his lip. At the edge of said lip, Wriothesley cants his head, a curious hm let out; "never realized that there's gold in your tattoos."

Prying, silvery gaze then abruptly shifts up to meet Einri's own eyes, the duke guiding him a little closer, though not close enough for further contact to establish. "If you sober up, maybe I'll share my food with you at my office. "

Merry and swaying, the tunes of the taverns fresh in his mind, on his lips - tongue abuzz with flavours he couldn't describe to others with just how much he mixed and gulped with fingers in pockets, wallets and flirty-promises to steal watch, pearl and more. Heavy with good nights thievery, he wasn't stupid enough to completely let the drink get to his head. He tried to dally in the fresh air - sway and hum that merry tune, only to fall upon the shadow of a man he wasn't so used to seeing without bars in front of his vision!

"Ahoy!" Laughter was bright, yet subdued for the two of them. The cobble grounds under his boots not the best at keeping him upright with how much his shoe-toe gets stuck under a lifted brick. This time though he needn't be walking - just swaying as if he was. A habit to keep a rhythm, even as his lashes flutter with blackened hairs brushing over flushed cheeks. A shimmer of his sea-blues and wild greens, attention to their gaze on his face. That glower - ah, he didn't shy away from letting his teeth scrap his bottom lip, the inaudible pop of it freeing itself with a lasting smirk was all that was given in return to Wrio's words.

"You got it, handsome." A flutter of his lashes, a shimmer of that golden hue as his vision beneath the headband ignited just a touch. Energy was always a wonderful way to rinse his senses, to rid of the fluids in his guts, but it was at a price. After all, to purge alcohol… you had to get rid of it. Thus - a hand was quick to push Wrio's chest, whether fingers slithered un shirt for a moments brush of flesh was for Einri to dream about as he turned aside - the nearest bin shoved open and his guts heaving out the delicious remnants of a bountiful night. Wrenching the last of it, pure liquid, which wasn't the best idea for a drinking night - the shorter male stood upright and inhaled deep.

Rolling his shoulders and stepping back with a sway and back of his hand to his chin to wipe aside drool moreso than vomit. "Waste of a good coin that, but for you… worth it." Fingers dip into his shirt, removing a pouch of herbs that have the strongest scent of mint - tossing a wad of them into his teeth to chew with ease. The next thing was his forever-filled waterskin on his hip just below his kidney. That was swung around to be chugged on, the mint leaf spat into the bin and replaced by another bundle to really freshen up the best he could without brush and paste. Worked well in the wilds.

"… Sober enuff, I say." Not at all, but at least he won't digest any more into his system as he stepped forward and wobbled with a laugh before reaching out to snag onto Wrio's jacket's sleeve. "Lead tha'way, cap'in! If ya fas' enough, can see jus' how far my tatts go down with ya own hands before I sleep... unless ya into tha'."

[nvrcmplt]

And of course some of the guards have reported missing keys, keys Wriothesley know very well has ended up in the hands of a certain inmate, one who finds it in to commit crimes big enough to send him to the fortress for a few days for the sake of a warm bed, work and food. Naturally the warden doesn't blame him, he understands and had he been any younger he would have applauded Einri's dedicated to the "comfort" offered the meropide. Last observed at his designated dorm, Wriothesley's boots would weight heavy against the metallic floors upon approaching the inmate.

"You don't know how to keep your fingers to yourself, do you Einri," the Duke speaks as he positioned himself behind the other, a strong arm wrapping around the other's waist. A pull was in its place, ensuring so that the inmate wouldn't find it in him to turn on the warden. One hand traced the front of Einri's abdomen, the other tracing the side of his thigh; "... where are you keeping them this time?"

This time.

It's not the first time Wriothesley finds himself like this, holding the petty criminal in such firm yet seemingly tender embrace, the way fingers allow themselves to thoroughly examine each and every curve of the man's body; he has to find those keys, of course, it'd be great tragedy were they to land in the hands of someone with cruel intentions. In his search, Wriothesley allows himself to slide a hand up under the man's shirt; it's a strange sensation, the way his stomach feels against the bare skin of his fingers (he can't recall such urges in the presence of others, if any). Back against chest, the duke's deep voice lowers further as head settles against and next to Einri's, a coy smile on his lips.

"Don't tell me you spread a rumor just to get searched," Wriothesley scoffs, "that's bordering towards fraud and scamming, which is far out of your criminal expertise... rat."

One thing to note in these damp walls and metal halls was the lack of need to hide in layers. The place wasn't the most ideal to many with criminal tendencies, but to some weasels, like himself, Einri was thriving in a place that held him in a bunk. Fed him, clothed him, kept him warm and of course - entertained him stupidly well. He needn't do much to rile the guards here, a tongue as silver and active as his own - his lies and slanders were birthed into life. A small cackle of a fox in a hunter's den and the next thing he knew - he was stood behind.

A presence that made his hairs on arms stand, the sensation of a beasts' obsession for the answer in his bones. The touch of their hands on his hips, made his own lips curve with the intention clearly understood. He wasn't a fool - this would lead to nothing but a fling, maybe a romp in a bunk or a second shower that day, but this was something he knew well into the night that would happen. A curious man. A questioning figure that held power and balance in these walls but also the etching stone upon its clear surfaces to take all the notes of a madman's query.

The thief, fingers stick like summer-warmed honey were cool and at ease for once. Poised at his sides, risen only slight to not hinder the hands that were exploring his body. A voice in his ear that made the pointed thing twitch and lift with a shudder down his spine. As his lips part with a soft exhalation, the Elf stares upon the metal flooring and turns only his eyes. "Well, where's the fun in telling you, Mister Duke?" His fingers wiggle, the movement to show that it wasn't between his fingers like a card upon a table of gambling. Nor up his sleeves as his shirt stopped at his mid-forearm, torn and tattered at the rim.

Lashes flutter upon the warmth that radiated from the figure's caressing digits, his thigh tensed, a giveaway for a pocketed item? Non. As it soon relaxed with his words that followed an inhale. Fingers of a foreign warmth under his shirt, the clothing thick but not completely thick enough to keep heat in such a dim place when he wasn't moving as much outside of work. Still like most cold days, Einri felt his chest tingle as his nipples hardened with the flow of fingers trailing up his skin more and more, the pinch of shuddering tingles raced from where he was traced with those fingertips, it really stole the thief's breath, shamelessly - as he dared not roll back into his jailer. Bloody hard to not just fall into it though.

The strength of a wall, the metal on their uniform barely mattered as the Elf felt their sturdiness on his backside and spine. The touch bringing him more warmth, but the closeness gave them more reach under his shirt. No key this time on his sternum, held by thread of his under shirt, no key hanging from a makeshift strap over his chest, no key used as a dangling nipple jewel piece. No, no, no. Not this time - a clever use though, versatile item and thought with what he had at hand. But no, not this time indeed. He held the key in question, of course, but this man would just have to feel a little harder for it, as the thief hummed before a laugh at their correct judgement.

"My, my - it's almost as if you enjoy the games just as much as I, Mister Duke. Then again, you do seem to react well with fetch quests, hm? Ah - that and the rewards after slipping your fingers into places that many would frown upon." The swift curl of his tongue tip against bared teeth as he smiled with true mirth at this endless rewind of a game. Einri didn't shy away from that figure that held him under their control, after all. Instead - he merely stepped back into their presence, feet situated well to balance their bulk against the wall of a man behind him. "Search away, petit chien~ Ah, here." Movement of his hands, raising to beckon attention to the finger as it rose over his frame and press to the male's nose. "Use it well, hm?" Head tilted, inviting more of their attention to his body.

Touch wasn't going to satisfy this new curiosity of theirs alone, was it? "You're very cold, in finding these keys of mine." Smirking now, hands return to lowering before him, shifting to dare slither them behind himself, lower at his back and smoothing palms against their stomach but little else. Miming the cuffing of wrists with holding onto the fabric of Wrio's garments to hold him at this closeness and to stare ahead upon a mirror covered in streaks of condensation and time. A smirk blossoming with glinting eyes of a man with the upper hand and glee upon their game to play on.

Since under foot, between the cracks of metal and age, was wedged the smooth metal teeth of blockades locked beyond his own sights.

[nvrcmplt]

A friendly spar between archer and warden had landed Einri on his back against the floor of Wriothesley's office. Straddled over the shorter frame he'd remain the unbeaten champion, for now, even if it was just sparring between two... familiars. He'd try not to leave too much weight onto the other, uncertain as to whether he'd handle it or not.

"That easy huh?" Liar, he had struggled a bit.

While the warden couldn't pride himself a cheater, he had a few tricks up his sleeve that tended to prove useful in situations he wished to turn around, such as Einri who had gotten close enough for him to bring him down and with wrists pinned. It wasn't a hard grip, simply firm, one that was meant to keep him in place but not hurt. Bound hands grazed against the frame the other's hands, Wriothesley leaning down to close the distance between them a little more, taking in the other's features as his own chest heaved.

"Didn't strike me as someone who'd actually be able to keep up with me," he joked breathlessly, silver gaze resting on Einri's features whereas fingers shifted. Out of bounds, surely, the rushing adrenaline might have gotten the best of him there his own fingers would press the archer's hands down further, glide in between their empty spaces and simply hold his hands.

He couldn't recall having held someone's hands like this throughout his career, not even the days prior to the meropide. Fingers would slide so gently in between Einri's, think back on moments he had felt his skin before and how easy it had felt, warm even. As if he had grazed something that made sense to the innermost corners of his body. Was it simply Einri, or who he was? Wriothesley wouldn't have been able to tell him even if he asked, not even find it in him to explain the closing distance between them there he'd lean further down, elbows almost restin against the floor - one on each side of the other. Trapped, all so he would allow his eyes to trace the outer lines of damp features, the way Einri's eyes seemed to latch onto his in return (they were so gentle yet intense, Wriothesley couldn't tear his away).

Attraction, but the kind that left his hands warming up and heart beat, lips part slightly as he leaned further down, beckoned Einri's own where he would leave a puff of air; "... you owe me a box of tea."

And he'd slide his fingers back out of the grasp, lean back up, but not quite move away just yet. Instead he'd reach for the edge of his torn t-shirt and force it up to damp forehead, revealing slightly toned front that carried a series of scars.

"Make two," he'd glance down, shirt still in hand. "You were easy to take down, after all."

A welcomed weight, a sight to behold, let's be honest now. A wet dream or five have had this same scene yet just less clothes. Still, it was a touch on his pride, to be caught so swiftly considering his nature of being speedy, small, low to the ground. To be grappled and pulled into the capturing of his frame by this brawler was a little humbling to say the least. As chest rose and fell with pants, he willed them to be as quiet as he could, listening to the Duke speak on, a statement that did burn at his loins but also his competitive nature. He wanted to sneer, spit - anything that a bar brawl would allow but he instead clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth. "Oh hush." Yeah, it was a fair fight.

"You… were more cunning than I believed." It was amazing though, this position wasn't what he dreamt of completely, maybe a hand on his neck, or in his hair, sometimes he was on his stomach - pushed down with a knee and a hand in his hair. Those were terribly spicy and yet he knew this man could never do such things. Wriothesley wasn't the walking wet-dream Einrí fantasised. The man was far to polite, he wasn't sure the word pure would mix here. Though sure the man showed some 'virginal' signs of being 'not in the know' on how 'sensual between bodies' worked but he knew how to flirt. Look at him right now, that heavy gaze made the Archer fluster within himself. Hoping for maybe just maybe - they were feeling that pull too.

Still, to be teased in the silence, to be in awe of watching a man pant above him, sweaty and with a good workout, the words that came with it all was different. The heat of two bodies, the slick fingers that were making his palms tingle and fingers tense, the sensation of those fitting between his own. Gods, it was like sex without the sex. It was a sensation that made the hairs on his neck stand and his heart shudder in anticipation. Was it going to be now? The time he gets to see the hunger in this man's eye for once? Was it this that made Wrio' think a little harder into what his body wanted to explore? The hesitance of their many other happenings… the showers, the work area, the jail, the escape tunnels… So many times they've had playing cat and mouse, the tension was there, the interest and the confessions of not knowing how to handle oneself and the shame of having such thoughts considering their roles.

Everything was screaming that his man wanted to lay one on Einrí in the heat of the spar and yet, just as the Archer was allowing his lashes to fall, to be submerged in the taste of this man's mouth - "… you owe me a box of tea." The startled laugh that left the Archer was filled with 'of fuckin' course', but the annoyance of his hopes being squished were instantly squashed with the fucking SIGHT. Gods - his mind was filth. A worthy torture to the end of their spar. As hands still tremble from the intimate grasping, the sensation of their thicker digits filling the gaps - the weight on his frame and the exposure of a solid body with muscle definition but also thickness of a god damn boxers waist. Einrí didn't shy from teething his bottom lip to hold in a noise of true delight.

Instead, he dared it - reaching with a hand to grip onto the toned hip, squeezing flesh as gaze rose with challenge before he controlled himself and flicked at just below the man's navel with a finger. "You shit Duke, of course, tea's on your darn mind, huh?" Though it was humorous, as he removed his hands to not overstep his limits and smear his sweaty hairline back to breath between his palms and get himself together. He was worth the chase, he already had a line in this man, it was just about patience now. Patience, reel it in, Einri.

Exhaling, he stretched his arms above his head, a kink in his lower back cracking audibly before he slapped his hands down on the man's thighs. "Off, ya tease. Can't make tea if ya usin' me for ridin' practice."

[nvrcmplt]

[LIFT]: sender gently cups the receiver's face and lifts their chin so the receiver is looking up at them. // killian to... einri? :3c

You know, sometimes, when people did this to him when he was in the mood - he'll be popping a boner. But with this guy, knowing he was one of Jianyu's friends, it turned that part of his brain off. That and the equine features, he wasn't against the horse-folk, but he has heard rumours… Some, right, gut damaging rumours and he wasn't about to flirt his way to an early death for snu-snu.

Still, as he stared at the starer, deep in thought - he found himself squinting his round-hues eventually and raising his bow from his shoulder to use it into smacking at the man's shins. "Ey, back it up, clop-clop." He snorted, stepping back and tugging his chin back from their grip. "I ain't got any sugar cubes to spare, my mare will eat me alive if I gave them away." He teased, his horse was asleep - well cared for right now. Not at his side nor awaiting his return from the gathering of folks.

"If you want me to ride, try a bit harder, yeah?" Well, he wasn't going to follow through with his comments, but he would be a weak man to resist such a statement. Gods, he made himself laugh - slapping his knee and all as he wiped a tear and adjusted his bow back onto his shoulder by the string in his palm. "That was a good one, gods, that would of gotten me a gold coin in the inn."

"Aah, so what did you want?"

[nvrcmplt]

Jianyu stared at Einri for a good long while; not saying a word as if he was thinking about something intently. About what? Perhaps it was about what he was going to do next. Without so much as a warning, he leaned close and bit down on the other's cheek. Not enough to hurt, but it was certainly firm enough to be felt before he leaned away, smirking and quite pleased with himself. ❝Like biting into a meat bun, heh.❞ Why did he do this? A mystery.

What the fuck was that about?

Attention turned to his companion, staring - eyes filled with nothing but question marks. His cheek was hot, teeth biting wasn't a common thing amongst his folk nor the nomads he was with, but this was just --- ??? What does he do with this information now? He was seriously broken, to the point he hadn't even turned the reigns of his equine ride and instead broke away from the group as his head clouds with pure confusion.

[nvrcmplt]

‘ that’s a lot of blood. ’ wriothesley to einri !

An exhalation and a body that ached - a worthy time of his hunting but to think he'd be walked upon as he was in a moment of releasing himself from the frenzy of a fight. To flinch, turn and take aim with instinct overtaking his mind, rather than a thought of familiarity at the voice in his blind spot. Einri was alert and silent for several seconds - taking them in, that soft metal gaze, even with a weapon in their direction. They held something akin to understanding even from that distance. . . Einri's shoulders were the first to relax, then his lungs that held a breath to steady his aim and then the bow lowered with an exhalation that felt like it took years of his age with it.

"Archon-Christ, do you have a death wish that badly, Duke?"

Einri didn't shy away from letting his rear collide with the bloody floor, relaxing and letting himself give away nothing but relief of his battle being over. Call it a foolish move, but his arrows were never ones to miss. He wasn't shy about going for killing shots when he knew he was on his own and would be killed instead. Inhaling the worlds cooler air even if it did taste of iron and sea-dried leathers around them, he turned his gaze back to his interest of interests and huffed a laugh. "Bit late, by the way… " Not that he sent for help, but the commotion must have been alerted from how close he was to this man's domain, or was he already in it?

Strange how it felt right to be here. Defending a territory that wasn't his… but for someone he didn't mind being around for long term.

Sniff. "Got a towel?" His lips curve into a grin, feral with the state of blood splattered over his outfit, skin and facial features. Going for the throat was always a bag of surprise. Did he get the windpipe and give them an instant death without a mess or did he slice the arteries in the throat for a celebratory rain of crimson surprise! Either way - it was a dance of success when no one else got back up to have some form of revenge with these results.

[nvrcmplt]

“I thought you were dead when I found you. You’re lucky to be alive.” from Wriothesley to Einri !

He felt like he's been through the ringer, stretched and squished like fresh bread dough in the hands of men instead of ladies. It was a rough night, his back ached, legs trembled and nothing to show for it but the massive red bump on his head from colliding with a low archway upon horseback that really did knock him out cold upon the eve. He didn't know when or what time it was he fell but to be here... with the Jailer? Ah. Meant he was caught --- again. "Well, that's a sight for sore eyes, hm? Thought I was in heaven for a minute there, but you have clothes on. Shame."

[nvrcmplt]

❛ you didn’t want to fight before either, did you, running into me? ❜ from wriothesley !

Ayyye, shit. He didn't want to fight this guy, what would he get out of it? He was already rich if he can give the bag of coins and collectables from a small visit to someplace a little too fancy for his kind, but - but, now he was lost. This place a maze and his sense of direction being fucked with by the bubbles and all sorts... It was making him dizzy, but he stood tall.

Even if he was currently being hunted down by this guy... in some rather intense boots.

Einri looked up when spoke towards too, wanting to huff and tell the guy to buzz off but instead, he did what any fleeing thief did. Twist on his heel with his bow drawn and fling a three-arrow shot towards Wriothesely and bolted it out of there as if his ass was on fire. "Then stop chasin' me!"