#ft. roland

[gwyndolence]

All Gwyn needed was Roland's reassurance, even as the wind still lightly tugged at their hair, the sound of the throngs in the street below them rising to muffle the sith's soft sighs and moans as his sire rocked deep inside of him. As much as the pace was a tease all on its own, it felt incredible to be so full and so close, Roland's lips against his skin, the sith's cock rubbing between their stomachs with each careful thrust. It was a very different kind of claiming than their first counter this time at Krovs, yes, but Gwyn felt beautifully wanted still, covered by Roland's weight, blanketed by his sire's attention. If this could drive him mad, it would be a spectacular way to go. "I feel as though I've been mad since I met you," The sith murmured, airy and teasing, turning his head just enough to kiss the other again, slow and thorough, sucking lightly at Roland's lower lip before they parted again.

He gasped at the harder thrust, his fingers digging into Roland's jacket, the sudden pleasure crackling through him like sparks after his body had just gotten accustomed to their unhurried pace. Gwyn managed a breathless laugh once he recovered from the surprise, pressing his forehead against Roland's own, eyes shining with affection and desire. "I think it shall be you first, though, my darling," He cooed, skin still prickling with adrenaline and an over-awareness of everything: the faltering railing, the distance to the snowy cobblestones, the iron band of Roland's strong arm around him. Gwyn surrendered his grip on his sire entirely, taking Roland's face in both hands to kiss him passionately again, totally entrusting himself to Roland's strength and willpower.

If public indecency existed in Krovs, which Roland really didn't think it did at this point, they would certainly be at least flirting with that dangerous line. Someone would have to be very close to them to really see anything though it was likely no real secret what they were doing. Perhaps onlookers wouldn't know exactly how far it had gone and just think they were sharing a close embrace. The idea of being watched hardly bothered Roland, though, that and the whole risque maneuver of fucking Gwyn on the balcony railing just served to make this that much more exciting and erotic, at least for him. It seemed Gwyn was getting a similar thrill out of it given all his reactions. They were well matched when it came to their tastes in this kind of activity so that was hardly surprising.

As he'd known, Gwyn made no complaint or protest about the lack of adequate preparation, seeming to relax against him and adjust very quickly though that was no surprise either. "I'd expect nothing less." Roland murmured. He wouldn't have made the statement if he didn't mean to follow up on it. Roland smiled at the light kiss on his cheek, shuddering and making a soft sound as Gwyn clung to him more tightly and clenched around him. "I won't let you fall." Roland reassured him, rolling his hips in that slow, deep rhythm. His grip on the railing beside them was tight enough to bend the metal slightly but he needed it to keep himself from ramping up to a more dangerous pace. His lips skated over Gwyn's cheek and jaw, this very much the opposite of the frenzied coupling they'd had last time but Roland did so like to draw it out as well. "Shall we make it last half the night?" He teased, nipping at Gwyn's ear lobe, licking lightly just underneath. He pulled his hips back then rocked them forward, the slow drag of his cock making him moan slightly. "Which one of us will go mad first, I wonder." He breathed, adding just the slightest bit of extra force as he drove all the way in again, his grip tightening on the railing even further as the metal gave and groaned in protest.

[adrasian]

closed starter for @councillor-roland

Adrasia felt the finality of the moment drop on his chest like a stone when the guards first approached him with purpose beyond herding. Oh, it was inevitable, but as he was prepared for his appointment, the celestial could not help but remember vividly the first night he had spent in a castle such as this. He had fought viciously then and bled for it, but before his feet had even touched Krovs' floor, he had known it would be different this time. It had to be, he reminded himself as he was marched out of the Undercroft, willing his hands to unwind from their clenched fists. His overseers would expect the opposite and any slight sign of rebellion on his part would be taken as a sign that his lesson had not yet been learned. How now to take this?

That was the question that circled through his mind, eyes blind to the finery he was marched past, the curious looks that marked his passing, ever closer to the master's chambers. Adrasia was no seducer, no good at playing doe-eyed either, by his own estimations. None of this to answer what this master would expect from his prey -- the name he had not yet been told, but councilman was omen enough. That thought brought another thrill of adrenaline with no place to go: Adrasia knew sadists, knew gloating egotists, exhibitionists whose greatest pleasure was the shame they assigned to their mess. There was no strategy to please all of them (as if he had once even tried). And which would he be?

One of the guardsmen jostled the celestial from his churning thoughts and Adrasia realized they had finally stopped. It had not been for rudeness's sake either, they were prompting him to knock. A helpless little laugh nearly escaped the celestial at this, quickly choked back. Stoicism, perhaps, was all he had left to grasp for. The night would pass, whatever it would be, and when it was over, he himself would still be the same.

A small consolation, but Adrasia took it and used its strength to raise his hand and rap twice on that fine door behind which the rest of the evening lay. So be it.

[swingstep]

...If that is what you say.

[amystarrstuff]

part 5 (part 4)

[adrasian]

There was the silence again, creeping into Adrasia's heart and infecting him with doubt. He gazed at Roland's unreadable expression with a hesitant look to his own, wondering if he should take his leave regardless, before the vampire leaned up again to gently take his face. Oh. Adrasia's eyes slid closed before Roland's lips even reached his, a bittersweet pang of something sounding in his chest as the master kissed him. It lingered for so long, over the span of many breaths that Roland didn't need and the celestial held regardless, his heart thudding hard and steady beneath his ribs, strangely calm in the midst of this strange intimacy. It was - inappropriate, for either of them. It was brutally tender. Adrasia inhaled deeply as Roland finally broke away, eyes darting up again just in time to catch the other's empty smile. Something very nearly made sense to him then. A goodbye kiss, a reluctant one. How much closure had the vampire gotten, in this newest heartbreak?

There was nothing more to say. Adrasia nodded slowly as Roland pulled back and made for his robe, finding his own clothing as the master was busy with his phone, the celestial's gaze already distant in the whirl of his own thoughts. There was no post-coital bashfulness now, if only because he was too busy trying to put the pieces together to remember to feel it. And besides, Roland was hardly leering from his bed at a bare and blushing slave like he had been once before. Vampires had always seemed unchangeable creatures in the angel's mind, living funerary monuments to their own sins, the triumph of ego that lived on long after the mortal body that had contained it was corrupted for good. It felt bizarre to recall that first version of Roland as Adrasia tried to contend with the one before him now. Then they were both clothed again, the slave staring at the back of that golden head as if he could intuit what was going on in Roland's mind if he only looked hard enough. It might be far more simple than he was first willing to believe. Far more human.

"I'll bid you goodnight then, councilman," Adrasia said softly before he left him, letting the matter and the strangeness lie -- at least for a little while. He would have more than enough time to try to make the pieces fit together from his bed in the Undercroft again.

END

Adrasia said he understood and it seemed he truly did, not that he was just saying it. Was the angel even capable of insincerity? It hadn't seem that way in all Roland's interactions with him. Perhaps that was why he'd been drawn into asking what he had, to sharing as much as he had because of that sincerity, that earnestness that seemed so much a part of the other man. It was dangerous, in a way, but Roland couldn't help but be grateful for it at the same time. It was rare that he opened up to people he wasn't already close to and it was only because Adrasia had caught him in such a vulnerable state...but still. It was different, even special, perhaps. Adrasia had understood on a deeper level, as well, what it was to be abandoned, he'd confirmed it. It was a link between them even if it was only shared pain. Or perhaps Roland was just so desperate for connection of any kind right now that he was grasping at straws. Still, what had happened here was hardly ordinary for him and when he had the energy, if ever he did again, he would have to think more carefully about that and what it meant.

The angel didn't argue when Roland said he should send him back, started to pull away and Roland closed his eyes but let him go, his hand sliding over his chest until Adrasia had pulled too far away and it fell to the bedding. He needed to get up and find his phone to summon the guards but he barely felt like he could sit up let alone do any of that, though he opened his eyes when the angel asked his question. Was he hesitant to go? Roland looked at him from where he lay for a long moment without answering then slowly did push himself up, moved across the small space between them slowly, cupped his face and kissed him one more time. It was slow, long and lingering, a sort of wordless farewell and maybe a last desperate bid for a moment longer of connection. He drew it out, holding him there gently before he finally pulled back and looked at him for a moment. "Just that." His lips quirked upwards in a ghost of a sad smile before he finally drew back, his hand falling away and forcing himself out of the bed, to the abandoned robe on the ground where he found his phone in the pocket. It only took a moment to send a message to one of the guards. "They'll be here in a few minutes." He didn't look at Adrasia as he spoke, having clawed back a little distance, a little numbness again as he pulled the robe back on slowly. Best to let him go. If he looked at him again he'd just keep him here and who knew what else he'd let slip out if that happened? No, Adrasia had done enough, had helped in all the ways he could, and it was best to leave it at that.

[ariveth]

continued from eritvita:

              FOR THE LONGEST TIME Ariveth just... kind of stands there, hands by her sides. Habit says this isn't a big deal, it was him or them, people die and life goes on. Besides, it was a cultist — even less reason to fret about it. Anyone else she would've patted on the shoulder then told them to get up and move on. But it's not just anyone else.

Roland's exhausted himself of tears and shock, and she suspects he's spiraling in a way she might've, once upon a time, younger and unaccustomed to a blade in her hand. Killing could become easy, or at least easier, but it's harrowing in the beginning. She's never liked seeing him sad, and certainly doesn't like seeing him so devastated; but words won't be sufficient this time. Worse, she worries that anything she'd have to say might sour the situation further. Comfort has never been her forte.

After a long bout of hesitation, she finally sinks onto her knees behind him, sitting high to wrap one arm over and one under each shoulder respectively, hands resting across his chest. Her face presses into the curve of his neck; silent.

It's not nearly enough, but it'll have to be for now.

[doom-dreaming]

remember when i said i'd been thinking about a roleswap au. well ,

[ariveth]

              ANOTHER THING TO DO TOGETHER, is her immediate thought, and just as soon as she thinks it, she wonders why she's so quick to it. "I'm surprised," she says. "You'd hate the cold, for sure. But you'd love the view. Monastery wouldn't open up though, but I hear that's standard for all who visit, even the ones who bring supplies and gifts." Ariveth laughs, bumping against him idly. "Maybe you ought to join me on a contract sometime, I may have one suited to some sneaking and wooing by a tall handsome man like you."

The touch to her elbow for steadying himself prompts Ariveth to link their arms almost instinctively, hooking her elbow with his. "What do you mean?" she snickers almost incredulously. "You mean like a dremora? A dremora friend?? What did your parents think of that?"

They climb ever upward, until she can see the circular edge of the burial mound at the peak. She ignores the bad feeling looming, and digs her heels in as she ascends. "Can't say I'd have been able to even if I'd wanted to dabble," Ariveth confesses. "Never had the magical aptitude. I suppose don't mind daedra, greater or lesser. Some of the lesser ones are... kinda cute in an ugly, feral sort of way, aren't they?" At least the ones she'd seen following mages around in her time had seemed oddly endearing. "At least they aren't shambling stinking corpses, is what m'trying to say."

“I hath never walked the Seven Thousand Steps,” mentions amiable Roland. Perhance shouldst he, amidst that fall of snow and with a pack and camp supplies married for no less than a week; if only to pay homage to the Greybeards a’fore their forever-locked doors.

“And hath I done the sneaking and the wooing,” and Roland’s handsome eyebrows dost bounce in thrice. “And none were I bound to commit to swordfighting unless in jaunty ankles with that Yokudan Scribe; wouldst I speak with them presently, if found their olde, olde blood brought again beneath the eyes of excellent Mundus.”

And he laughs hard and chuffs a cloud of solid heat, and the hill beside that gushing river is tall, long-stout’d, and terrible to mind their foot placements. He watches his footing, so Roland, and touches at Ariveth’s elbow to mind his balance amidst this shining ice. “None, fretfully brought before my Mother and Father! My first friend were of a Caitiff,” crows he.

“Art my interests as strange as the purpling mist what slips through my fingers as dost I cast each spell, beautiful Being. Naught art thou fond of the risen dead as sure as the creaking bones of the draugr,” mentions Roland. “But, prithee: what of the Daedra? None of our Gods and Princes what connive in their own Planes of their own Oblivions, but of those lesser sects that allow themselves swift passage by the elbows of new mages. Hast thou e’er dabbled?” inquires he.

[gwyndolence]

Mon petit, I know how fond of this type of fashion you are and thought the feathers were especially fitting. If you're going to dress like this anyway you might as well have excellent pieces. I haven't forgotten my promise to spoil you, either, and the second item might just make it easier, non? Joyeux Noel, Roland

x

[adrasian]

for @councillor-roland

He had stopped worrying at some point about the consequences, come the next day. Perhaps come the next hour. Adrasia's drunken thoughts were too slippery to wrestle into coherent shape at the moment and the most solid of them had been around how badly his feet hurt. He had taken to carrying one sandal, the one that had broken again after he fled, then both when that proved too uncomfortable, but the street was hardly any kinder on his soles. Why had he been in the street? For a moment's break from Euphoria's oppression, Adrasia remembered now, but it had been far longer than a moment.

He could hear low hum of party-goers still chattering as they walked through the square and the distant sound of music still pouring from the clubs. He would have to summon the courage to go back there, though the celestial couldn't remember why. He was shivering slightly, his costume half-pulled around his shoulders like a cloak, the cold stone of the fountain's edge seeping through the fabric he sat on and chilling his thighs. All he'd thought was how nice the water would feel on his feet. They certainly weren't sore anymore, that was blessing. But it was so late. He had to go back.

Adrasia summoned up his willpower, extracting his legs from the fountain slowly as if he was moving through honey. Still too fast, the lamplights were spinning dangerously. He only managed to half-turn himself, perched side saddle on the stone with his damp calves folded under him before he grunted and braced a hand against the stone. Only the click of heels on the cobbles roused the celestial from his trance, the faintest lingering caution making Adrasia try to lift his drooping head. The other was only a smudge against the trees before the sight of him coalesced to something real and solid, the celestial making a soft noise of surprise in recognition. "Oh. Hello, Roland," His voice sounded faint even to him, completely lacking his normal formality. "It's you. I think I need - to apologize to you."

[swingstep]

she said, "it just feels inhumane to lose this much." 'cause when you leave, you know you take more than your love.

[gwyndolence]

"Well, none of those musicians had you for a teacher," Gwyn laughed, sinking down into the water to enjoy the warmth on his skin as Roland soaped himself up, "I imagine most of them wouldn't have survived the experience." The sith lingered that way, submerged nearly up to his chin with his eyes half-shut and a loose smile of satisfaction on his face, the tub more than large enough to accommodate both Gwyn's sprawl and Roland's washing. He didn't miss that Roland's mood had begun to fray further again, but the sith didn't want to interrupt him if he was actually making an effort to take care of himself and for a while it was pleasant enough to soak in the sounds of lapping water and the fresh scents of soap, Gwyn humming a quiet old tune as he watched his sire tend to their mess. Then, they traded places. Gwyn was tempted to make show of it as he normally would've done, teasing Roland out into a second round that would've forced them to have to bathe again in the end. But Roland looked exhausted as he slipped from the tub and so Gwyn aimed for speed rather than titillation, especially since the last round had already ended in a manner that was decidedly... fraught.

He had just finished when Roland made his little declaration, Gwyn standing from the water and giving his head a puppyish shake. "So early for bed. I feel I'm being mothered. Or is it the other way 'round?" He grinned, leaving the tub to drain as he padded over to where Roland was waiting, "Hold still." He reached up to Roland's damp hair, "Your ends start to curl up a bit left like this, you know? I like it." But that wasn't how Roland groomed himself, so Gwyn took hold of the lingering water in those golden strands, pulling it free with a quick flex of his magic and letting the gathered moisture fall to the floor along with the droplets still clinging to his own skin. He deemed them both suitable to clamber into Roland's fancy sheets with a quick assessing glance back in the mirror, all evidence of their tryst gone: no blood, no bruises, nothing of Roland's fangs in his throat. As if it had never happened. Gwyn managed to stifle a sigh at that, his disappointment somewhat mollified by Roland still asking for him anyways. "There." He gave his sire a small smile as he turned back to him, fluffing Roland's now-dry locks before he dropped his hands once more, "I won't leave," Gwyn promised with a quick wink while they were still close, voice low and affectionate, "There's not a single other bed here I'd rather be in tonight. Alright?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He didn't really need one; it was Roland that craved reassurance right now. So Gwyn left the washroom as bare as he'd entered it, squeezing Roland's hand as he passed in making a beeline for the other's bed. He was still warm from that brief soak, Gwyn didn't want to waste that in strolling about bare skinned. It was a giddy thing to feel so needed, even if the circumstances were less than fortunate. But the sith had all the time in the world to get down to the bottom of things here -- such gloom couldn't last forever, in that he was determined. By the time Roland joined him, his fledgling had already made himself comfortable wrapped up in the elder's bedding, peering up at him from a tangle of sheets with a fond smile as Gwyn patted the space beside him. "C'mere, darling," And then, with an inescapable final bit of teasing, "You can even be the big spoon, if you'd like."

Roland smiled very faintly at the agreement and the way Gwyn scrunched his nose before his eyes were closed again and he was just letting Gwyn wash his hair. It was soothing in a strange sort of way. There was nothing sexual about it but it still felt intimate and...comforting, Roland supposed. It was a good idea to take a trip together, it would be fun and deeply distracting. Besides, they hadn't really gotten to spend time together just the two of them in quite some time. It would be a nice change and if this mood lasted and Rhys didn't return well maybe it would invigorate Roland.

As expected, Gwyn was happy to talk about the places they might visit and Roland let the sound of his voice distract him, though he did at least attempt to pay attention to all the words. He hummed occasionally in agreement or made a noise of disagreement but there were a few things he needed to address with words rather than just noises. "Agreed. Berlin is far more interesting. Of course we must do Paris, if only for a few days. Lugano sounds lovely but will the music be of any actual quality? There are some good musicians these days but they seem to be few and far between." Granted, Roland had fairly specific and exacting taste when it came to what he considered good music. He lifted his head when Gwyn had rinsed everything out and even opened his eyes again, turning to look at him. "We can make time for Marrakesh but of course I've been to Morocco." He gave him a strange look as if wondering why he'd had to ask. Sighing, he actually made a grab for the bar of soap and washed himself off now that his hair was done, somewhat less half hearted but still not very enthusiastically. He passed it off to Gwyn and just leaned against the tub, feeling strangely tired and still achey around the edges in spite of all of Gwyn's efforts.

"Come. Let's dry off and go to bed." Roland made the announcement heedless of whether he was interrupting Gwyn or not and for once there was no suggestive nature to the words. He legitimately did just want to go to bed and hold Gwyn and that was about it. Perhaps sleep would be a mercy. To that end, he hauled himself out of the bath and dried off, towelling his hair as best he could. He normally had a whole routine and used the blowdryer but he saw little point in it right now so made sure it wasn't sopping wet and slipped into one of the comfortable robes he kept in the bathroom once he was dry the rest of the way. He leaned against the vanity and waited for Gwyn to finish. "I just want to lie down with you for a while. You'll stay, won't you?" Granted, Gwyn didn't seem inclined to leave but Roland still didn't want to be alone. The question was more vulnerable than he would've liked but then Gwyn had seen him in a whole array of emotions over the course of the evening so it would hardly surprise him.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

saturday august 3rd jenga adventures at the guthrie from kiko laureano:

[ariveth]

continued from @eritvita:

              FOR A FEW MOMENTS, it seems Ariveth might be swayed by those sweet knuckle smooches and whispered promises of sparkling and alchemical souvenirs, offerings he knows she likes so much. And his cute, romantic manner makes her want to — but too keenly aware is she of the unknown of it all, the heavily-rumoured dangers, and the fact that Roland hadn't mentioned his plan to go alone.

Indignant and a little dramatic, she yanks her hands out of his with a deep frown etched into her prominent brow, folding her arms across her chest instead. "You can't just promise me gifts to make me feel okay about you crawling around alone in dark dwemer subterranes!" she chides, frustrated. If she sounds upset, it's because she is.

"Everyone and their grandmothers know that place is dangerous. I assumed you were going with your colleagues, at the very least! You cannot expect me to be alright with this."

[unproduciblesmackdown]

[spitsfire]

❛ want me to model these for you? ❜ from eritvita 👀

SUBTLE SMUT SENTENCE STARTERS:

It was a bold purchase, Ariveth knows, but those words in response to it cement at least some relief that it wasn't one he disliked. She watches Roland from the head of the bed, nestled comfortably among the pillows with a drag from the cigarette hanging between her fingers; eyes flicking from his face to the pair of risqué black leather chaps and then back again. She smiles, lazy and impish. "What else do you think I bought them for, honey?" she murmurs, tilting her head. "Pictured you in 'em the moment they caught my eye."

She's teasing, the specific cuts of the garment very telling regarding her intentions, but her flattery's completely genuine. "D'ya like them?" She waves her hand in gesture to what could very loosely be called 'pants', the pillar of smoke from her cigarette dancing briefly in the air. Her smile relaxes, but her eyes never lose their glint. "Be honest."