“Oh, sure, let’s just … pass right out. What, do you want me to lose control?” Kris sighed and dragged his hands over his face. “My whole life is just strange right now,” he muttered under his breath.
“Hey, I had not meant it such.” He frowned, pulling his knees up so his arms rested on them. “Changes are indeed strange. Some not acceptable, others perhaps.” Hal murmured, now not sure of whom he was talking to now. Himself?
Kris couldn’t resist the temptation to run a hand along Harry’s ankle, enjoying the feel of the leather against his skin. “What changes aren’t acceptable?” he coaxed.
“Oh, gods,” Kris groaned. “You /asked/ me this, Harry, so no hitting. I like you. I mean, not just friendly ‘like to spend time with you’, more like sexual ‘like to undress you and make you unravel beneath my touch’. And now we’re just going to forget I said any of that, and mark it up to your never-to-be-sufficiently-damned ale.” He cracked one eye, watching Harry. Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t get beaten up over this stupidity.
“No hitting.” The prince reassured, his hands pushed behind his back to put emphasis to keep his word. He raised his eyebrows, looking down for a moment to think, processing what was to be said to him. There were many barriers, if the prince had liked it or not, despite his rebellious and conceited natures. Classes, families, perhaps even years (be it from 1598 to wherever he was from), and all the rest. Though he talks to the thieves, exclaims in the taverns and talks of in the illegal houses, that was only so far out of his reach.
He looked down to Kris, wondering what he should do; he knew not of what to look like, sympathetic, sad or accepting..nor did he know what to say. The prince lent a small smile, “Though the person will pass for the morrow if he drinks the more damned ale..”
“Oh, sure, let’s just … pass right out. What, do you want me to lose control?” Kris sighed and dragged his hands over his face. “My whole life is just strange right now,” he muttered under his breath.
“To think?” Kris tried to shake his head and discovered that made the ground shift a little more than he liked. He settled for folding down to sit right up next to Harry, liking the warmth of the other man. “I’d come here to /not/ think, I think. Did that even make sense? Is this being drunk? Cause I’m not sure I like it. I mean, I like you, but I’m not sure about the whole rest of thisssshit.”
Kris flopped backwards, bouncing his head off the grass, and squeezed his eyes shut. “Please tell me I did not just say that.”
Hal was not so accustomed to being so close, he shifted slightly to give a bit of distance though he turned to him when he spoke. “Words you speak would make sense if a person was drunken.” He replied with a short smile. He paused, wondering what in fact..he meant by his words; perhaps it was the cups of ale that were talking to him. He laughed lightly, tilting his head. “You are a strange one, indeed. Though; most everybody is strange in their own slights. What do you mean by your words? Come, tell me.” He said gently, but straight forward—being a bit of a habit.
“What say you? Though..I am not sure on what you wanted, or perhaps did not want to say.” The prince replied again, looking outward.
“Oh, gods,” Kris groaned. “You /asked/ me this, Harry, so no hitting. I like you. I mean, not just friendly ‘like to spend time with you’, more like sexual ‘like to undress you and make you unravel beneath my touch’. And now we’re just going to forget I said any of that, and mark it up to your never-to-be-sufficiently-damned ale.” He cracked one eye, watching Harry. Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t get beaten up over this stupidity.
The edge to his voice isn’t entirely annoyance when he replies. “How should I *gasp* know? You do what you like, call the shots, how’s that?” Grabbing at Loki’s shoulders, he precludes an answer by drawing the other into a fierce kiss.
With a growl, Loki breaks the kiss. “As you wish. I am not the most gentle of lovers, at times, and was simply giving you the benefit of deciding how you wanted it.”
It’s a strange feeling, this sense of being surrounded by another. His hands aren’t really much bigger than they were as a female, so he starts off rubbing his thumb as instructed while slipping two fingers into Loki, trying to do the things he remembers feeling good to his female body.
Her hands in his hair is pretty nice too. Maybe it’s just him not being used to having short hair, but his scalp seems a lot more sensitive. Actually, right now /everything/ is sensitive, and gods, he /wants/ her. He’s trying desperately to be obedient to Loki’s instructions, but it’s hard, and that’s a pun he wishes he hadn’t thought of just now.
Slowing his fingers down, he withdraws his hand from her, curious to see what will happen.
“I wouldn’t want to take you away from your adoring people,” Kris grinned up at Harry. Shoving himself up from the seat, he dodged Francis. “But elsewhere, yes. My ears ring in here.” Following the Prince to the door, Kris added, “Where, then, now?”
“They are only few, the drunken minds are always so merry here.” He smiled lightly, waving a small goodbye to them all, most to be Poins and Falstaff and his men. The prince rubbed his arm from the warm sides of the tavern to the cold and darkening dirt town.
“Where then?” Hal raised a brow, turning to Kris as he spun around on the dirt road to look to him. “I know not. Where else? We have a more open space with the nature, if that suits better than a tavern.”
Kris couldn’t help the diffident shrug. “You know this whole area better than I, Harry. I was just feeling … a little closed in, if you understand, in there.” Was this being drunk? Where the world seemed a little more vibrant, the stars a little brighter, and the ground shifted slightly under one’s feet?
Kris made his steps slow and careful, and paid little heed to the words he was speaking, a little too close to Harry. “Let’s go somewhere we can be alone together.”
The edge to his voice isn’t entirely annoyance when he replies. “How should I *gasp* know? You do what you like, call the shots, how’s that?” Grabbing at Loki’s shoulders, he precludes an answer by drawing the other into a fierce kiss.
With a growl, Loki breaks the kiss. “As you wish. I am not the most gentle of lovers, at times, and was simply giving you the benefit of deciding how you wanted it.”
The swearing begins almost immediately. Head thrown back, hands scrabbling at the sheets, desperately trying to decide whether to hold stock still or writhe under Loki’s tongue. The feeling of being enclosed, rather than enclosing, is more than a little different that he’d ever imagined in his wildest flights of fancy. Teeth clenched, he manages, “It’s considered bad if I spill too soon, right? ‘N this,” punctuated by a sharply-drawn breath, “you can do to me if you’re female. Please be female. Ogods!”
Kris settled himself more firmly into his seat. “I like to watch people have a good time, and you are very worth watching for that, Harry.” He let the smile turn a little wry. “Though I’ll gladly admit this isn’t really … to my taste. A little too crowded, really.” Raising his voice to a shout, he called “Francis!”
“I thanketh thee for thine words! Though I fear for the turn of one’s eye towards me, I am used to the drunken looks—not as others to say I am ‘worth’ that. Never mind that!” He shook his head, voice just barely audible, he leaned in close for him to hear. “Crowded, says you? Then elsewhere?” He suggested standing up against the rumbles of the ale bellied men.
“I wouldn’t want to take you away from your adoring people,” Kris grinned up at Harry. Shoving himself up from the seat, he dodged Francis. “But elsewhere, yes. My ears ring in here.” Following the Prince to the door, Kris added, “Where, then, now?”
*leans his forehead against hers* That all you can see, then? Just how I look? How I sound? All the physical? You’re better than that. *brushes his lips to hers*
*feels her heart kick up a short frenzy and tries to steady her suddenly erratic breathing* N-No. You’re still Summer. You’re still the person I made tea and ointments for when you couldn’t even stand without hurting yourself. *looks into those green eyes again and feels like a small weight has been lifted from her back* You’re still my friend.
Good girl. *steps away and shoves hands in pockets* By the way, are we four supposed to be doing this prom thing together? You and Deva, me and Tony?
*shoves her hands into her hair and shakes her head around a bit* That would be nice, to go as a—what’s the phrase?—“double date”.
Although I understand Loki is taking Miss Venn as well. We could do it as a family thing. *shrugs*
‘Oh boy male bodies react differently!’ went through his brain at high speed before thinking was just obliterated. His hands grabbed at Loki’s shoulders, trying to pin the other in place. He made no attempt to deepen the kiss, just lengthen it, utterly unwilling to break it.
Hands move to your hips, pressing you flush against the leather and armor covering Loki’s body. The god’s own reaction to your passion is quite evident. He purrs softly, tongue slipping out to trace your lips slightly, looking for an entrance. He rolls his hips a little, hard flesh seeking the same.
He can’t help his mouth falling open to Loki’s tongue, far less the gasp that’s provoked by the hip roll. As much torment as can be administered to female bodies, there is a unique torture to pressure applied to male anatomy, and Loki was more than applying it. “Gods, Loki,” he groaned.
“Praying to me already? But I’ve barely begun…” Loki kisses his way down your neck, biting gently at the tender flesh. He begins slowly backing you toward the bed, hands wandering to far more interesting areas. “Are you certain you want this, Summer?” Loki looks down at you, making sure you’re on board with this before he goes beyond his current actions; pushing you down to the bed, watching you with lust-darkened eyes.
“If you stop, I think I might kill you,” he mutters, hands trying to find the fastenings to Loki’s garb. “Or perish of curiosity myself, whatever.” Glancing up quickly, green eyes meet green ones. “No permanent marks, please? I’m curious, but not /that/ curious.”
Loki chuckles at the enthusiasm, his clothing glowing gold before most of it vanishes. He is left in his leather trousers, pale skin exposed to your touch. Slowly, he lifts you enough to pull off your shirt, trailing openmouthed kisses across your chest.
“How do you want this? Top, bottom…. I can even change my form to a woman if you’d prefer.” His line of questioning is perhaps made a bit more difficult to answer by his actions. His hands slowly move up your thighs to press gently, slowly massaging the hardness he finds between them.
The edge to his voice isn’t entirely annoyance when he replies. “How should I *gasp* know? You do what you like, call the shots, how’s that?” Grabbing at Loki’s shoulders, he precludes an answer by drawing the other into a fierce kiss.
No reason. *shrugs* Although you’re still lying. I know fear when I taste it. Bitter and crippling. All you registered was my silhouette, and your whole heart screamed fear. I swear, you’re worse than Loki about lying about your emotions.
*taps her fingers on her leg, growing a tad irritated* Summer, dear, what reason would I have to be afraid of men? I’ve outsmarted enough in my time to know that- No, that’s not right. I’m thinking of the men of Asgard with that statement. I’ve interacted with enough to know that, just as with women, each individual is unique. But for some relatively minor physiological differences, the two genders are quite similar. There’s as much cause for me to be afraid of men as of women. And, as you said, I’m not afraid of Marie. *laughs softly* Though by some of the things she occasionally says, perhaps I should be. Tell me, was I afraid of you when you were a woman, will I be afraid when you’re a woman again?
That’s just it, Angela. You weren’t. At all. But as soon as I approach you in a male body, despite that you know what soul is there, you broadcast fear. Am I not making myself clear? I’m an empath, hon, and I can hear every emotion you have. You’re not shielding at all.
*sighs* Alright, fine. For argument’s sake, I’ll say you’re right. Well, if you’re looking for an explanation, I’m afraid I’m fresh out. Do you have any theories?
Nope. If you were human, I could hazard some, but I’m not taking any bets on whether Asgardian lifestyles are close enough to give the same experiences. *turns around to lean on the wall next to her, unintentionally kind of leering* I can probably help you get over it though.
*narrows her eyes, unfamiliar with his current expression* Oh? And how might you do that?
I’ve heard the best way to deal with a fear is to confront it over and over. *fits a hand behind her neck*
Yes, I’ve…heard that as well. *feels a spark of that fear flare up and inwardly kicks herself* Though I’ve heard it associated with battles. Are we going to fight, Summer? *laughs weakly*
*quietly* Is that what you want? To fight me? I don’t think you’ll like the results. *senses the fear and grimaces slightly* Look at me. Only look at me. Who is here, Angela? Who is with you, touching you, looking back at you?
Summer, of course. *looks into his eyes, rather more intently than she meant to, for a long moment before her gaze twitched over his features, the unfamiliar contours of his face* Summer in the body of a stranger, someone I don’t recognize.
*leans his forehead against hers* That all you can see, then? Just how I look? How I sound? All the physical? You’re better than that. *brushes his lips to hers*
*feels her heart kick up a short frenzy and tries to steady her suddenly erratic breathing* N-No. You’re still Summer. You’re still the person I made tea and ointments for when you couldn’t even stand without hurting yourself. *looks into those green eyes again and feels like a small weight has been lifted from her back* You’re still my friend.
Good girl. *steps away and shoves hands in pockets* By the way, are we four supposed to be doing this prom thing together? You and Deva, me and Tony?
