[He'd slept in a guest room, before, to give Loki his space. But he misses the company of other people as well. Not in any physically pleasant way, but merely that he's spent a lot of his life in rooms with other people. He only can't stand it down in the barracks of the Gallows because everyone's cranky and waking up all hours of the night and fitful and frightful. He keeps a blanket in the library now, stowed away, and something soft to rest his head on. When he plans on giving sleep a go.
No idea how it'll feel this way, after tangling with intimacy with a friend in a fancy Hightown place and a couple drinks. If it'll help, if it'll be the same as ever. Having someone there doesn't change the dreams. But it changes the aftermath.
He raises Loki's hand to his mouth to kiss the back of it, happy to be led, happy to do this even if it's a bad idea. Wondering if he should've done it before.]
If you've got any objections to anything in particular before we get settled, now's a good time to say it.
[Mobius doesn't plan on doing anything out of the ordinary, he thinks, other than said taking his time. But if Loki's got any hot spots to avoid, if he'd rather they don't talk, if he absolutely can't stand the idea of an occasional smack, better to say it upfront than to ruin the mood by stumbling headlong into it.]
Or if there's something you really want me to do... [He almost poses a question. But he's not keen on forcing it out of Loki.] If there's a fantasy you'd like indulged, I might be able to do something about that.
[ Loki makes a humming sound of consideration as they climb the stairs. ]
I've avoided being choked, since arriving in Thedas, but I'm not certain it is actually an objection or just... [ He makes a gesture with his free hand. ] A fear of another fear that might not even exist for me. So perhaps we continue to avoid it, or begin gently with it if we don't.
[ See? He's flexible. Really. ]
Overall there isn't much that I don't like. I can handle pain, enjoy it even, but I am disinterested in completely shaping this, tonight, around that set of needs. Touch is more important. Being with someone. [ A beat, as he chews on his lip without looking back towards Mobius and they continue up the stairs. ] Being with you.
I really like your hands in my hair. [ Which may or may not be either here or there, Loki isn't sure, but it felt worth mentioning. ] I think having you in charge of this, between us, is the fantasy I wish to indulge in first and foremost.
I can touch you. I plan on it, a lot of it. [He wets his lips for a moment, considering the options that Loki presents.] Might even start with your hair. Ease into this. We got all night. And nights after.
[But it's all noted, filed away in the mental drawer he has dedicated to Loki.]
I'm disinterested [to borrow Loki's specific phrasing] in hurting you. Tonight. I want to make you feel adored. Until you can barely stand it.
[He glances sidelong at his partner.] I don't usually go into these things with much of a plan, so I think we're just gonna feel it out as we go.
[ Loki huffs his amusement, glancing toward the carpet. ] I doubt it'll take very long to make me feel adored until I can't stand it.
[ He knows he's needy, overwhelmingly so at this point. He feels of two kinds about it, honestly. Like being disasterously needy has netted him something he wanted very much, only he's unused to being disasterously needy. ]
Alright. I doubt I'll have complaints when all is said and done.
[ He looks up again and smiles a little. ] Shall we go in?
If you do have complaints, I only want to hear about them in the morning.
[Course correct in the midst if need be, but. Loki's right. Unlikely to have complaints. Mobius is pretty sure at this point there doesn't even have to be anything sexual about any of this to give Loki some of what he really wants. Attention. Affection. The touch of another. Company. Easy.
He nudges the door open to go in first. Taking control, subtle and small but present. He'd been led to a different room off to the right before. Even then, there had been the stray thought--of sleeping in Loki's room, maybe even with Loki, even if just in a very literal sense alone rather than as colloquialism.]
I want you to get comfy. Preferably in bed, but wherever works for you.
[ Loki huffs out a laugh, running a hand through his hair as he follows Mobius into his room, which... feels incongruous, somehow. Get comfy. He can do that.
Which, unfortunately, means ignoring Mobius for a while. Or at least turning his back to him.
He changes out of his breeches but keeps the loose shirt on, running a hand through his hair again as he glances around the room. There's no underwear or smallclothes involved in Loki's wardrobe, apparently.
There's a hearth, though, and Loki lights the fire there before he goes toward the bed and pulls back the covers. When he'd decided that morning to go to the Gallows and attempt to do something useful he'd started with cleaning this room and he's glad for it, honestly. This would all be more embarrassing if he hadn't.
He climbs in but doesn't lay down right away. Instead he sits there and finally glances Mobius'way again. ]
[Loki's allowed to take his time, too. Mobius steps out of the way, or out of direct line of being in the way to anything, and mostly watches. Takes in the room in his periphery, but his focus is, as ever, on Loki. There's no judgement, no verbal judgement anyway, about anything he does. Or wears or doesn't wear. That shirt is not long for this world before it's going to end up on the floor, but it's certainly comfy.
For his part, the only thing he takes off are his boots. The rest coming off can just be part of this journey.
When Loki looks to him, ready, he finally moves to close the distance. Muscle memory wants to get this over with, to go fast and hard with breathless laughter and as much pleasure as can be squeezed out in a couple minutes, until they do it all again another time. It's deliberate, how slow he is now. Stepping to the bed's edge, laying a hand on a bare thigh, briefly, before both hands come up to pet at Loki's hair. Stroking strands back from his face, simply combing through, petting, until at last, they still in a comfy cradle at the back of Loki's head. tangled in dark waves and curls.
Seems like a good time for another kiss. Thorough. Slow. He'll test Loki's patience and his own at the same time.]
[ Loki likes to tell himself that he can be patient. That he possesses the capability if nothing else. And, to be fair, he has some support in this. Traditionally, you know, in the sense of how things have gone in the past.
The problem is that for all of those moments when he possessed the ability to be patient it was because he had a strong concept of what the reward would be. What he'd get in the end of it. The means justifying the ends, and all of that.
No such luck right now, though.
Because he wants to be overwhelmed, to be pushed out of his own head, and historically that has meant intense physical responses being pushed to their maximum. It has not meant gentleness; more often than not, far from it. It has rarely meant an emotional connection. He is used to falling into the deep end (sometimes literally) as quickly as possible. Loki is, still, not used to whatever this is shaping up to be.
Death by a thousand soft touches and kisses, perhaps.
The hand on his thigh is nice, causing Loki to make a soft intake of breath. The hands in his hair? Amazing. Soft and present and it's nearly too much already, how is he supposed to withstand this?
By the time Mobius leans in to kiss him Loki's eyes are shut. He doesn't open them again either, he just... tries very hard not to press too much, to ask for too much with his body, but that means hands fisted in Mobius' shirt before he realizes it and by then it's probably too late. There's another soft, needy sort of noise that gets lost in it and Loki swallows, drawing a breath. ]
Can I take this off?
[ Meaning his own shirt, actually. He just wants more contact. More touch. Or to possibly wrap himself in a blanket and then let Mobius unwrap him, it's difficult to say for certain. ]
[Loki has needed this, intensely, for a while. There's something to it, he thinks, something along the lines of needing a physical tether to acceptance rather than just words. That care and worth are wrapped up in action and attraction.
And in a way, it breaks his heart, but in a way, is it just a difference in society? Is Loki's particular brand of seeing no real difference between friends and lovers common to his kind?
Thinking too much, perhaps. Staring into it and wanting more. Mobius has rarely been too shy to take more when he wants. But it's hard to know, exactly, where to take this with Loki. He's been assured that this is wanted, has been wanted for months, and Mobius expressed a desire in return. They aren't drunk, even if the heady mix of burning alcohol and warm bodies makes the world around them feel softer. He can give comfort for tonight. He could give comfort for as many nights as they please. Is that a dangerous road to go down?
Loki makes noises that run right through him, and he asks a question, and Mobius doesn't know whose shirt actually he means, but with a small smile and a press of lips to the sharply defined line of his jaw, the answer is the same either way:] You can, yeah.
[ Permission means opening his eyes, means letting go of Mobius' clothes, means winding his arms through the sleeves of the shirt in order to get his hands beneath the hem from the inside and shoving the entire thing up and over his head.
Permission also means pressing a boundary, and the boundary at the moment is also Mobius' shirt. He was given consent, after all. So. Off with that too, thanks.
He pauses for a moment there, taking in Mobius' skin. Muscles. Scars. His touch is careful but no less heated as he runs his fingers from one collarbone to the other, down across his pecs, tracing over ribs. Mobius has rarely (never?) taken his time before. Does that mean no one else has done this, either?
He swallows the question down and looks up into Mobius' eyes, instead. ]
[Loki shucks his, and Mobius feels free to look, but Loki's hands keep moving, and he laughs. Both? Both. Both is good; both is great. He doesn't want Loki to rush this, but maybe the sooner his own clothes are off, the better.
And it seems Loki also wants to look. To touch. To revel in this moment. It might surprise him--though with the information he has, it also might not--that Mobius is fairly solid. No corn chip shape and bulging muscles of Thor, of course, but not necessarily unlike Abby. Carrying around armor and weapons on the daily for years and years will shape a man. Was the other Mobius softer? Would Loki even know?
His hands settle right around Loki's waist while the Rifter explores. The scars he does have are mostly older and faded, and even the fresher ones have had years to heal. He's seen fights and accidents alike, at any rate. The touch is delicate but wanting. Fingertips burning against him in the best way. Mobius stays still, allowing the exploration and watching him carefully.
He will make this slow. He will make himself keep this slow. Running hands slowly up over ribs, and then along back. Shoulders, arms. Palms warm and worn.]
What do you see?
[He asked this before, in relation to his other. And now like this, like this, he wants to know what Loki thinks.]
[ The answer comes easily; he knows what he's looking at, after all. Is familiar with the ways in which a lifetime of armor and weapons use shape the body from the bones outward.
He likes it. Enjoys the strength of the man beneath his fingers. The dense muscle and old scars.
(It is different. He knew the Mobius he met first was no fighter, it was easy to tell. He was more of a planner than a man of action, and Loki could respect that as well.
But it is different.)
Loki's touch meanders upward once again, hands coming together at Mobius' breastbone just to spread out once more towards his shoulders, his arm. Loki tracks his own movement with his eyes before giving a slight smirk and leaning forward.
[Even in the years without, he has done physical work, has done training. Could have settled for something cozier and less active, he supposes, but he's glad to have kept it up.
Loki leans, captures lips in a kiss. And it's warm and wonderful.
Mobius takes this chance to close what little gap remains between them, bare torsos aligned. He presses, his own lean forward, and further still to push Loki back until he's flat against the bed with Mobius bent over him. Holding him firm by the hips.
The kiss becomes an exploration. Jaw, first, and then the underside of his chin, and down along his throat. Tongue dipping to the hollow of it. The briefest hint of teeth at the hard edge of collarbone.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
No idea how it'll feel this way, after tangling with intimacy with a friend in a fancy Hightown place and a couple drinks. If it'll help, if it'll be the same as ever. Having someone there doesn't change the dreams. But it changes the aftermath.
He raises Loki's hand to his mouth to kiss the back of it, happy to be led, happy to do this even if it's a bad idea. Wondering if he should've done it before.]
If you've got any objections to anything in particular before we get settled, now's a good time to say it.
[Mobius doesn't plan on doing anything out of the ordinary, he thinks, other than said taking his time. But if Loki's got any hot spots to avoid, if he'd rather they don't talk, if he absolutely can't stand the idea of an occasional smack, better to say it upfront than to ruin the mood by stumbling headlong into it.]
Or if there's something you really want me to do... [He almost poses a question. But he's not keen on forcing it out of Loki.] If there's a fantasy you'd like indulged, I might be able to do something about that.
no subject
I've avoided being choked, since arriving in Thedas, but I'm not certain it is actually an objection or just... [ He makes a gesture with his free hand. ] A fear of another fear that might not even exist for me. So perhaps we continue to avoid it, or begin gently with it if we don't.
[ See? He's flexible. Really. ]
Overall there isn't much that I don't like. I can handle pain, enjoy it even, but I am disinterested in completely shaping this, tonight, around that set of needs. Touch is more important. Being with someone. [ A beat, as he chews on his lip without looking back towards Mobius and they continue up the stairs. ] Being with you.
I really like your hands in my hair. [ Which may or may not be either here or there, Loki isn't sure, but it felt worth mentioning. ] I think having you in charge of this, between us, is the fantasy I wish to indulge in first and foremost.
no subject
[But it's all noted, filed away in the mental drawer he has dedicated to Loki.]
I'm disinterested [to borrow Loki's specific phrasing] in hurting you. Tonight. I want to make you feel adored. Until you can barely stand it.
[He glances sidelong at his partner.] I don't usually go into these things with much of a plan, so I think we're just gonna feel it out as we go.
no subject
[ He knows he's needy, overwhelmingly so at this point. He feels of two kinds about it, honestly. Like being disasterously needy has netted him something he wanted very much, only he's unused to being disasterously needy. ]
Alright. I doubt I'll have complaints when all is said and done.
[ He looks up again and smiles a little. ] Shall we go in?
no subject
[Course correct in the midst if need be, but. Loki's right. Unlikely to have complaints. Mobius is pretty sure at this point there doesn't even have to be anything sexual about any of this to give Loki some of what he really wants. Attention. Affection. The touch of another. Company. Easy.
He nudges the door open to go in first. Taking control, subtle and small but present. He'd been led to a different room off to the right before. Even then, there had been the stray thought--of sleeping in Loki's room, maybe even with Loki, even if just in a very literal sense alone rather than as colloquialism.]
I want you to get comfy. Preferably in bed, but wherever works for you.
no subject
Which, unfortunately, means ignoring Mobius for a while. Or at least turning his back to him.
He changes out of his breeches but keeps the loose shirt on, running a hand through his hair again as he glances around the room. There's no underwear or smallclothes involved in Loki's wardrobe, apparently.
There's a hearth, though, and Loki lights the fire there before he goes toward the bed and pulls back the covers. When he'd decided that morning to go to the Gallows and attempt to do something useful he'd started with cleaning this room and he's glad for it, honestly. This would all be more embarrassing if he hadn't.
He climbs in but doesn't lay down right away. Instead he sits there and finally glances Mobius'way again. ]
no subject
For his part, the only thing he takes off are his boots. The rest coming off can just be part of this journey.
When Loki looks to him, ready, he finally moves to close the distance. Muscle memory wants to get this over with, to go fast and hard with breathless laughter and as much pleasure as can be squeezed out in a couple minutes, until they do it all again another time. It's deliberate, how slow he is now. Stepping to the bed's edge, laying a hand on a bare thigh, briefly, before both hands come up to pet at Loki's hair. Stroking strands back from his face, simply combing through, petting, until at last, they still in a comfy cradle at the back of Loki's head. tangled in dark waves and curls.
Seems like a good time for another kiss. Thorough. Slow. He'll test Loki's patience and his own at the same time.]
no subject
The problem is that for all of those moments when he possessed the ability to be patient it was because he had a strong concept of what the reward would be. What he'd get in the end of it. The means justifying the ends, and all of that.
No such luck right now, though.
Because he wants to be overwhelmed, to be pushed out of his own head, and historically that has meant intense physical responses being pushed to their maximum. It has not meant gentleness; more often than not, far from it. It has rarely meant an emotional connection. He is used to falling into the deep end (sometimes literally) as quickly as possible. Loki is, still, not used to whatever this is shaping up to be.
Death by a thousand soft touches and kisses, perhaps.
The hand on his thigh is nice, causing Loki to make a soft intake of breath. The hands in his hair? Amazing. Soft and present and it's nearly too much already, how is he supposed to withstand this?
By the time Mobius leans in to kiss him Loki's eyes are shut. He doesn't open them again either, he just... tries very hard not to press too much, to ask for too much with his body, but that means hands fisted in Mobius' shirt before he realizes it and by then it's probably too late. There's another soft, needy sort of noise that gets lost in it and Loki swallows, drawing a breath. ]
Can I take this off?
[ Meaning his own shirt, actually. He just wants more contact. More touch. Or to possibly wrap himself in a blanket and then let Mobius unwrap him, it's difficult to say for certain. ]
no subject
And in a way, it breaks his heart, but in a way, is it just a difference in society? Is Loki's particular brand of seeing no real difference between friends and lovers common to his kind?
Thinking too much, perhaps. Staring into it and wanting more. Mobius has rarely been too shy to take more when he wants. But it's hard to know, exactly, where to take this with Loki. He's been assured that this is wanted, has been wanted for months, and Mobius expressed a desire in return. They aren't drunk, even if the heady mix of burning alcohol and warm bodies makes the world around them feel softer. He can give comfort for tonight. He could give comfort for as many nights as they please. Is that a dangerous road to go down?
Loki makes noises that run right through him, and he asks a question, and Mobius doesn't know whose shirt actually he means, but with a small smile and a press of lips to the sharply defined line of his jaw, the answer is the same either way:] You can, yeah.
no subject
Permission also means pressing a boundary, and the boundary at the moment is also Mobius' shirt. He was given consent, after all. So. Off with that too, thanks.
He pauses for a moment there, taking in Mobius' skin. Muscles. Scars. His touch is careful but no less heated as he runs his fingers from one collarbone to the other, down across his pecs, tracing over ribs. Mobius has rarely (never?) taken his time before. Does that mean no one else has done this, either?
He swallows the question down and looks up into Mobius' eyes, instead. ]
no subject
And it seems Loki also wants to look. To touch. To revel in this moment. It might surprise him--though with the information he has, it also might not--that Mobius is fairly solid. No corn chip shape and bulging muscles of Thor, of course, but not necessarily unlike Abby. Carrying around armor and weapons on the daily for years and years will shape a man. Was the other Mobius softer? Would Loki even know?
His hands settle right around Loki's waist while the Rifter explores. The scars he does have are mostly older and faded, and even the fresher ones have had years to heal. He's seen fights and accidents alike, at any rate. The touch is delicate but wanting. Fingertips burning against him in the best way. Mobius stays still, allowing the exploration and watching him carefully.
He will make this slow. He will make himself keep this slow. Running hands slowly up over ribs, and then along back. Shoulders, arms. Palms warm and worn.]
What do you see?
[He asked this before, in relation to his other. And now like this, like this, he wants to know what Loki thinks.]
no subject
[ The answer comes easily; he knows what he's looking at, after all. Is familiar with the ways in which a lifetime of armor and weapons use shape the body from the bones outward.
He likes it. Enjoys the strength of the man beneath his fingers. The dense muscle and old scars.
(It is different. He knew the Mobius he met first was no fighter, it was easy to tell. He was more of a planner than a man of action, and Loki could respect that as well.
But it is different.)
Loki's touch meanders upward once again, hands coming together at Mobius' breastbone just to spread out once more towards his shoulders, his arm. Loki tracks his own movement with his eyes before giving a slight smirk and leaning forward.
More kissing, apparently. ]
no subject
Loki leans, captures lips in a kiss. And it's warm and wonderful.
Mobius takes this chance to close what little gap remains between them, bare torsos aligned. He presses, his own lean forward, and further still to push Loki back until he's flat against the bed with Mobius bent over him. Holding him firm by the hips.
The kiss becomes an exploration. Jaw, first, and then the underside of his chin, and down along his throat. Tongue dipping to the hollow of it. The briefest hint of teeth at the hard edge of collarbone.]