psychoshenanigans | Accord // Probably Canon

The usual hum and 'ah' would have been fine with him, but purring--real, honest to the Gods purring--is more than he could have asked for. His lips curl into a smirk as he them up against the corner of his jaw, his kisses sometimes slip into the tiniest sparks of a bite, the languid drag of teeth. His roaming hand slows, fingers splayed between his ribs, soaking up the tonesoundrumble in his chest. It reminds him so very much of--

Ah, how he wishes he could join him.

The hand at his back serves for good encouragement, as he rolls his hips against whatever's underneath him now (gender, species? At this point, who gives a fuck...). The hand starts to drag fabric along with it, and soon Robin's insistently tugging up on Tek's shirt. If he went through all the trouble of getting the guy to change back, he might as well be able to reap the benefits, right?

He squirms out from under Robin's hand enough to help him roll that shirt up and over his shoulders with a shrug, ducking out of it and tossing it off to the side in one eager motion. It leaves only his necklace jingling back onto his chest, and a whole lot of ridiculously flawless skin.

And hey, while he's here, with his shoulders a little off the mattress-- he catches Robin with a hand on the back of his neck, half pulling himself up to meet him and half pulling Robin down. He's hunting for his mouth again, taking advantage of the room Robin's allowed him, getting as close as he can manage while he can.

He barely has time to appreciate said perfection before he's ensnared in another kiss, pulled down by Tek's weight while he tries to keep himself from collapsing into him. Their shoulders bump as he reaches behind himself to start tugging at the sleeve of his jacket, but he readjusts when the surprise wears off. He manages a nice (but delicate) balance while he shrugs off his jacket entirely--the process dragged out by how preoccupied he is, avoiding the painful clacking of teeth. He's giving Tek just as much as he's getting back.

His gets tossed to the side. Still a shirt to worry about, but at least now he press forward. He moves his hands to grasp the sides of Tek's face and dominate the kiss, forceful and rough for a change. When he finally breaks for air, he can't help the grin that spreads across his face.

"You're fun." Breathy, delighted. What a fantastic playmate he's discovered.

While Robin is commanding the kiss--Tek blissfully allowing him because, oh, how he's earning the earning the right--his hands wanderwander down his sides to his hips, and solidly perch there. It's one of his favorite places. He loves the feel of that ridge of bone under his fingers where legs meet body, despite the fact that clothing is still in the way.

He opens his eyes when Robin breaks the kiss, having been a little lost in the new roughness of it, and-- ah, he's met with a grin.
That look...
Tek is all ego when he smiles back.

"Of course I am."

And then it's his turn to go after what he wants, hands slipping off Robin's hips and up under the fabric of his shirt, fingers sliding hungry over the feel of skin, muscle, ribs, as if he's recording Robin's shape to memory.

He curls in on himself, just a little, at the touch--ends up pressing his forehead into the crook of the other's shoulder, a shuddering little breath hissed in through his teeth. He has missed this, he has missed this, the feeling of skin on skin, someone paying attention to him. Euri is all right (don't think about that too much, not now--) and Michael is fantastic when he can be bothered to be, but... Tek has every right to be smug.

Because this game is more than just where you put your hands, really. It's more than just getting yourself off. That's the thing, he thinks--he is used to a battle, a challenge. He's used to going pound for pound with his opponent. But here, he would say that they are more partners in a dance, with something of a reliance on each other. They contribute to the other's performance. It is not even, but each action builds on itself until they are no longer two separates--they are one whole act, one dance, better than anything the individual could manage.

But fuck it, he shouldn't be waxing poetic at a time like this. With a quick, playful bite at Tek's jawline, he leans up to peel off his own shirt and toss that in the general direction these things seem to be going. His skin may have had flaws once, but his body has been rebuilt so many times that they're now nothing more than distant thoughts, ghosts in already ghost-white skin.

He leans down again, returning to languid kisses and breathing in deep so as the feel the other's heart beating through his own ribs. He loves the warmth, the shiver that passes through his limbs and prompts him to slide his hands along his partner's sides until they, find rest at his hips.

--And this would be why he's enjoying Robin so much. He gets it.

Because, it really is a performance. Give and take; it's a conversation. Tek knows this as fact because he is a seducer, through-and-through. He's ultimately in it for himself, of course... but he knows that the best way to get what he wants isn't to compete-- it is to coerce. Encourage, praise, give however much you want to get back. Communicate; coax it out of them.

So, when he eats up Robin's figure with a pleased and hungry eye, it's only half because he honestly can't help it. The other half is because he knows that Robin is watching his face. And then, when Robin returns to him and gets close, Tek gratefully returns the attention he'd given before-- humming happily into his jawline, pressing insistent kisses in a trail heading for his neck.

...And it's sometime during this that Robin's chest makes contact with Tek's necklace. Though, with the ripple of effects that it causes, that part is a rather small detail to notice. In the middle of everything, he just sort of... bumps into Tek's soul. Energy that is otherwise hidden--the outer edges of his mind, the world-stuff he's made of, death and everything inhuman that he is--quietly and suddenly clings to Robin's mind like water droplets being drawn toward and then sticking together.

He would have been perfectly happy to continue bathing in the other's affections if it were not for the sudden raw understanding that encompasses him--for a second he completely forgets where he is in space and time and sounds a little startled, tensing and digging his fingers into whatever's underneath him (which is perhaps a little unfortunate for Tek's hip). Shivering uncontrollably, he pushes himself back up.

But the feeling fades back to something he can comprehend when he does, and his fingers feel, to no avail, for something at his neck that isn't actually there. The necklace...

Tega, he knows what that was, too. Could this guy really be (he doesn't want to think it and get his hopes up, but Michael and Cheriour are here, so...) someone like...

He snatches up the end of that necklace, curving to lean back over Tek with nothing short of curiosity. For someone who just bumped into the soul of something deathly and inhuman, he looks almost excited.

"What is this?" It's directed at Tek, of course, but his eyes are focused on the thing in his hand. Sorry, he's got a short attention span.

There's a wince. One eye squinted closed, the line of his mouth a little twisted, his expression makes it very clear that he's gone from bliss to a perturbing amount of discomfort in an instant.

Between the fingers digging into his hip, a mind abruptly crashing into his and then immediately retreating, and the simple fact that all the fun has stopped... he's a little nettled. It's enough to draw out a resigned-sounding 'huh' of a sigh.

He doesn't get to do much else beyond that, however, before Robin is back again. As soon as the other man's fingers make contact with the gem-- a pretty little thing of a similar mottled lavender as Tek's eyes, but crystalline and somewhat bottomless --the connection jumps back to life. This time, Tek's hand is immediately snapping up to Robin's, but not to pull his touch away. Instead, his fingers wrap tightly around, locking up Robin's grip so he can't let go.

'It's mine.' --The answer is in Robin's head, along with the vague sense that the meaning is much larger than the words explain. It's not something to be tampered with, it's him.

Though it probably should have been a somewhat concerning gesture, Robin just looks all the more pleased, and leans down to give Tek a quaint little kiss on the corner of his mouth. He thinks it's... well, endearing isn't quite the word he's looking for, but it feels like he's just found something very close to home.

"I get it," he assures him, pressing his tightly-held hand against Tek's chest. He's settling back into calm, comfort. It's not all that bad in here, and he slips into old habits. 'Seems a silly place to keep it, though.'

He huffs when Robin kisses him, still balanced between being placated and annoyed. His mental voice apparently has some range to it, because it matches his expression, the tone falling rather flat. '--I don't exactly have much of a choice.'

And, as far as the connection goes, it really isn't all that bad. It's certainly something that Tek doesn't mind (as long as Robin doesn't jolt back and forth like that anymore) and it is energy that naturally wants to stick and get comfortable. Whether Tek likes it or not, his soul is a gregarious one.

He really only likes being the star of shows that he's orchestrating, however, so he'd like to move on from feeling like a curiosity. One hand loosens from around Robin's a little, and the other goes up to grip and give a tug to his upper arm.

Quit giving him that look and c'mere.

'There's a story here...' But the thought trails off as quickly as his attention. He can stand to wait for a while longer to hear more about what the deal is with this... thing, this little connection into a much larger existence. He supposes that being wrapped up in it isn't so bad. Finch used to do that, as did Crow (when he was feeling particularly... commanding).

Not really for something like this, though. His fingers stay clasped loosely around the gem, but he leans over Tek and presses another kiss against his lips. From there, a hum of allowing acceptance as he settles back down the way he'd been before. He nuzzles playfully at his neck, too--like a cat that's been invited back into someone's lap.

That's better. He's not entirely mollified, but he's getting there.

He does have to admit that the hum of another mind against his is particularly nice. One of those things that you never really appreciate until you don't have it anymore. The good kind of distracting. It--and the breath on his neck--calls his hand up to go threading fingers through Robin's hair. Taking a moment to dote on him, savor the feel of him so close. It's nice.

...But, maybe not nice enough.
In a decisive moment, His fingers coil closed in Robin's hair. Not enough to pull it or cause him discomfort, just enough to tell Robin to hold still while he turns his head to kiss him properly. Thoroughly.

And he, of course, enjoys being doted on back. It's almost like they never left, especially with his fingers in his hair (his hair) the way that they are.

But the tightening is what really gets him into the moment--makes him a little sharper, a little more aware of the present situation. Though not a harsh grip at all, his response is perfect. He holds still enough to be engulfed by that kiss, a sound just a little too close to a pleasured groan escaping into the capture.

He can play that, pound for pound. His hand (the one not still brushed loosely against the gem) soothes over the skin that'd suffered for his surprise earlier, fingers drifting up the other's side and then slowly, tantalizingly, back down to slip under the waistline of his pants.

He's glad for Robin's southward-wandering hand, if only to hopefully distract from the slightly undignified 'mm!' and little squirm that he's not able to catch when Robin's hand skates up his side.

...Tek might be a little ticklish.

But he is not about to let the attention go to that, so he's nipping Robin's lip a little--no sharp teeth this time, don't worry--and works his fingers in Robin's hair. A little rough, lightly raking at the nape of his neck.

He thinks that he might have noticed something like that (and the information is carefully logged away for later, perhaps when Tek least expects it), but that does nothing to change the fact that he is easily distractable. The fingers in his hands may as well be the strings that make him a puppet. He's fine with being controlled, so long as he knows to what ends.

And these are ends he can really get behind.

Yeah, sure, let's ignore the little departure from the usual mood of things. He'll let the bite settle through his nerves and continue the hand's departure towards untouched skin, drifting like feathers. He likes the feel of his flesh--though he's momentarily surprised to have to remember that Tek is not currently equipped with the parts he'd been expecting. The perfection wins out anyway.

A languid epilogue, he shifts from the kiss to run his tongue along the underside of Tek's jaw, pressing into the space between bone and muscle even as he begins to explore below the hemline, fingers drifting wherever he gets a response.

That purr is returning, the sound rumbling under ribs and between his teeth as his back begins to arch.
Robin starts the motion under Tek's jaw-- his head tilting back in response, the motion then rolling in a slither down his spine until it reaches his hips, ending in a restless shifting under Robin's hand.

His skin is beginning to heat. The reptilian coolness of it warming until he nearly feels feverish. It matches the way that his aura thrums against Robin's, the energy growing livid and clingy, and the way that his fingers curl a little in Robin's hair. With the connection, the instincts winding up in him are almost tangible, but there is still an element of restraint.

A building blissful aggression that he's wrestling back, for now.

And he'd like to say that he's used to this--the warming of skin, the soft thrum of affirmation and affection--but it's not usual at all. This one's warmth is unnatural, even and barely flushed and he can feel the other changing underneath his lips and chest and fingers. His presence is heavy, enveloping. It's the sort of thing that makes him feel like the air is too warm, like there's not quite enough of it.

Or maybe he's just imagining it. Maybe the idea of something a little new and unexplored is just too good to pass up. Maybe his more pressing attempts to catch the other in a deepening kiss, excited by the way the other moves and arches with his touchtastepresstease, is just a delusion he's building up for himself.

But the Gods be damned if he still doesn't want to fuck him right now.

Edited 2012-01-17 20:58 (UTC)

That kiss is just what he wants--he's caught, and then pulls Robin into it. It's an outlet. It gives him something to play rough with while he continues to keep the rest of his ferocity in check.

He wants to-- No, not just yet.

Hand slips down to the back of the other's neck, so he doesn't pull his hair with the way his fingers are reflexively claw-curling. He tempers himself, reveling here in every little motion and shiver. It's a wonderful place to linger, surrounded in the growing hum of electric nerves.

It's when his will finally buckles with a writhe against Robin, a bit of voice slipping out of him--heady and breathless--that he decides, again, that it's all not quite enough. He wants more.

The purr sharpens into a growl-- the kind that incites.

He breaks the kiss so he can tilt his head and lean up for his neck, mouth and teeth and tongue hovering just a breath from skin. Not quite making contact, but close enough to be felt nonetheless. An illustration of the tension that he would kill for Robin to break right now. Part silent plea and part demand.

Robin isn't as patient. The sounds themselves are nearly enough to break him; he shivers with that sharpened sound, the feeling pooling like everything else at the base of his spine. The much-wanted friction, the subtle breath against his neck, they're more than enough.

He barely gives time to fill his lungs before he pushes and moves, hand slipping away to quickly (and efficiently--it screams of practice) do away with everything that shouldn't be there. Clothes gone without the slightest hesitation, pressing in close to kiss him again without the least bit of nervousness of self-consciousness. Robin's never been bothered by this sort of thing. Tek should be pleased to see what he's managed to do to him anyway.

He presses against the other and this time, the shudder is impossible to disguise. That and a heavy breath break their kiss, his primal want just as obvious. He could be written off as completely ensnared if not for his last little mental nudge of satisfaction, a smug and all-too-appeased look on his face.

"Well?"

Everything down to the look of pride on Robin's face is exactly what Tek has been aiming for. A lofty goal that he's been watching unfold before his heavy-lidded and covetous eyes. It's all such a rare combination-- a wonderful collection of ego and pliancy and skill. Fair to say, it's been decades since he's run into a creature anything like him. Robin is earning every bit of the praise he's seeking.

Breath heavy and restless in his chest, part of Tek's answer comes in the form of a rolling open-mouthed purr. It's a greedy blissful sound, rumbling as he follows after Robin, eating up any bit of space that might have been left between them. Slithering up against him, around him, arms wrapping so fingers can drag up along the track of his spine and ease him closer. One leg slides up until his thigh rests comfortably against Robin's hip. All of it one lithe motion, melting eagerly up against him. He's at his neck again, teeth pressed in a smile against his skin.

The second part of his answer is in the necklace caught purposefully between his chest and Robin's, humming the message directly into his mind.

'You're perfect.'

Accord // Probably Canon

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