Title: Love's Just A Four Letter Word - Truth Or Dare part 2
It took a moment, but he caught himself before the real tears started, apologising through his hiccups for his patheticness, for his weakness at crying over something so stupid as the past, and wiped his eyes on his sleeve, which flopped down over his hands at the best of times anyway. "I… I…" he gasped, steadying himself. "Didn’t mean to do that.."
'Ooomphing' as he was pressed into the mattress before being sat upon, he grinned, chuckling as he was called a 'lazybones'. He didn't mind. As he listened, he kept his eyes upon Tyn's, fingers strolling slowly over the young man's knuckles, lips pursed as he tried to remember the years of the English war when he was asked if he could recall it. "I... don't. Can't recollect the year, was probably down in Asia somewhere..." and then he fell silent again, hearing this curious story from which Tyn seemed to absorb himself. This mother of his, seemed very... interesting. Eyes widening when the tears came, he was pulled away from his half-formed thoughts, his hand instinctively wrapping over the other's body, fingers stroking worriedly through Tyn's hair. "No, no... don't apologise. There's no shame in crying at the past, especially when the one you speak of disappears and leaves you feeling... incomplete. No shame." he whispered again, knowing exactly how it felt for something in you to be ripped to shreds by just a simple memory. It was like breaking your leg on a pebble. Something minor causing major damage... it /was/ devastating. Pressing a reassuring kiss to his love's forehead, he smiled just slightly, eyes half-hooded with a probing, gentle stare. "Come now, and ask me my question, for you know a self-absorbed slob like me needs to speak of himself... I do pick truth, of course. I don't trust your dare's either, my love."
Casper slipped from the limb with Lysander, a little silent 'oh' forming on his lips as they made contact with the ground. Turning to instantly cling to the man, he took the jacket, leaving it under one arm as one of Zan's settled about his hips. His fingertips played at the seams of the other's shirt, eyes looking to his jaw, not needing to travel any farther to suit himself. It was easy to see how Casper felt in an embrace like this; he was safe, hidden. All the rest of the world was just a blur of colour, muted, midnight noises, and cool breezes not even catching the young man's attention. Then, with a wandering, numbed mind, he started to speak about nothing in particular, just wanting to fill the void of silence that was to take place on the walk back to Lysander's, most likely, quite humble abode. "I hope that Martha and Freddy enjoy that cheesecake... you know, you should have had some, it was very good... And... and..." he blinked. "What did you think of that band tonight, you don't think the singer was better than me, do you? Truthfully, I mean... seriously... I wish they would stop breaking in onto my bar... I know it's like... that.. they're being paid, but... I wanted to sing tonight, I wanted people to hear me, again. They... they make me feel better, knowing that they enjoy what I sing..."
Still patient and now silent, the fingers caught back into the blue hair, curling it between the index finger and the middle one before twisting it around and around the digits until it was up to the bleach-blonde scalp. He was about to say something about it, but didn't, not wanting to draw Tyn's attention back to his appearance, wondering if the eye was going to make him continually self-conscious... for eternity. Surely, he would get over it soon? Edvard said nothing, and expected nothing, turning his thoughts away from what had caused the eye to go missing and back onto their game with a grin.
"People.... I don't like people, really.. but they, they... you need other people, you know. To survive. I tried it once, being all by myself for months, and I nearly went mad, I think..." they were back onto the concrete jungle, moving unhurriedly down the street, still wrapped up in each other, Kris too afraid to move, too contented to try.
Tyn gasped for breath, ending his hiccups eventually, still clinging onto Var like a baby koala. "A question?" he repeated dumbly, air still not properly returned to his lungs as he sought about his dishevelled mind for question, one that would seem sensible, one that would make Var not loose all confidence in the young man’s intelligence. He scrunched up his eyes so tightly that for a moment, he could only see stars and flashing lights, and then opened them up again, "Sure you don’t want a dare? I can think up really good dares… no? Meanie." He breathed, and bit gently on the lobe of the other’s ear.
"Casper, love, calm down…" Lysander said softly, stroking his fingers under the black jumper and stroking the sharp, protruding hipbone he found there. "I didn’t think they were that bad, love. Not exactly my type of music though. But… I am biased, in your favour, you have to admit. I like yours much more…" he gave the other a reassuring squeeze. "They were too… I don’t know. Boyband cliché? I think that’s what you call it. And the age of boybands is over, thank god. If I have to live through another five years with groups of girls obsessing over guys with a group of letters and numbers instead of a name…" He made a soft growl in the back of his throat, and to quiet it, stole a kiss. "You were much, much better. And why don’t you go talk to the owners? I’m sure they only did it to get some variety into the place."
He pondered a few more moments, amusing himself by blowing hot gusts of air over Var’s collarbones, having pulled the top few buttons open to get at the other’s skin. "Alright, a question, a question…" he muttered, although his mind was still fixed on his mother, and on what Edvard had said. He was right, of course. There was nothing wrong in crying, but still, it somehow meant Tyn was even less of a man. Not that he was going to start acting macho and buying Playboy magazine, but still. Gah, he was still acting like a woman. "Alright, I’ve got one. Ready? Remember, you have to be honest. Do you likes both guys, and girls, or what? And, and, wait, I haven’t finished! And you have to tell me how many other people… you’ve had relationships with. I’d like to know. Not counting one-nighters, either. Proper relationships. I want their names and addresses too." he gave an evil, thin grin, almost a Mafia smile, and then burst out laughing, nuzzling his face into Var’s bared chest. It was an evil, evil question to ask, and one he normally wouldn’t have bothered with, because it made him seem jealous and clingy and overly suspicious. He had said it with the spirit of fun, of playful mocking, but well… would Var take it that way? Was Tyn being too nosy now in Edvard’s private business? There was still privacy, even in a relationship, after all. The youth didn’t know if he had overstepped that line, and now, with his face buried, he wouldn’t be able to tell until Edvard spoke.
They walked, Lysander still consoling him about both his singing, and about his give-or-take attitude to cheesecake, and lead the singer through the not-as-shabby-as-he-probably-had-expecte
Kris had replied to the manager comment with, "Oh, nonono.... I don't think they would let me stay.. he's very uptight...." and then his words were lost, silent unless asked a question by Lysander; he was watching every building, wondering if each door would lead to a lobby... /the/ lobby. The lobby that would lead up a flight of stairs... that would lead up to an apartment room. And just who knew where that was going to lead? Swallowing the thoughts with a look around the rather nice looking building they had just entered, Kris couldn't help but look at the floor and listen to Lysander's words. "Oh, yes.. you mean the snogging set of them... Rather... pretty, weren't they?" the young man remarked in an off-handed way, letting his face rest in the curve of the other man's neck. Entering the apartment slowly, as though he were some dog curious of his new cage, eyes narrowing as he peeked in shrewdly; just as soon as he saw it though, he couldn't help but like it. "It's fabulous!" he grinned, stepping inside and contrasting the place his own. His apartment was shabby, lifeless. There was a bathroom and a bedroom; the carpets were threadbare, the sheets were grayed and frayed with age, and the shower was, as Kris claimed, 'possessed by demons' and spouted cold water no matter how far the knob was turned to hot. Yet, you wouldn't think that, by looking at the boy's clothes, and his mannerisms. Truth be told, he could afford an apartment better than the one Lysander lived in, but he didn't want it. "Thanks... and I'll drink whatever you have, don't trouble yourself..." he carefully took a seat on the small couch offered, leaning over to look at the magazine while asking slowly, "What's a motherboard, by the way?"
"Oh, I know... I am terribly mean, aren't I? I'll take a dare next time." he replied, eyebrows dipping and his smirk coming back for a nanosecond. Yet, at hearing the truth he was going to be forced to give, something in his brain clicked back to his own past, making him frown, lines in his face creasing deeply; this change made him look his age, just ancient with those stony eyes. Feeling the warm breath cascade ghostly over his skin and the heat of Tyn's face against his chest, he didn't answer right away, taking those factors in as though they would matter in the long run, in the answer. "Oh," he began, having to say it twice to find his voice. "I... women and I don't click very well." he replied, face still in that rocky set, eyes narrowing in remembrance of the first woman who every tried to... He shook his head once, to clear his mind. It had been his Master's first creation, that beastly lady who took immense pleasure in making him less than he was, just 'another one of his disposable little play things' she would call Edvard, speaking of her Master, not his at the time the implication had been spoken. And yet... maybe that is what he had been? Just another toy to be used, and then thrown away... that was what had happened, and he had always wondered... had there been others treated, abused like him by this very same man?
"I really like your apartment..." Kris called, letting his eyes wonder over the bookshelves, the tiny metallic pieces in a box, the books, the computers.... all of it from his perch on the couch, hands folded over his knees in an almost lady-like sort of gesture.
"Only one serious relationship, besides yours... of course." he stated, sluggishly regaining the smile he had been fighting for. "And that was my Master... would that count?" he coughed, looking off and trying to forget the looming picture of the one he had adored for years before he was given this eternal, lasting gift of pain and anguish forever.... A dark existence in a world of light. "Now..." the raven haired man stated unhurriedly, turning his more-pleasant eyes back to Tyn as he brushed back his own curls. "Truth or dare?"
"Yeah, they were the ones snogging…" he muttered in reply, but didn’t comment any further, letting Casper’s reaction to the space in which he lived remove the anguish he felt about Tyn’s ‘betrayal’. He made his way into the kitchen, pulling down two glasses, aware that his guest could see his every move through the arch way that lead from the living room. After all, doors were a pain in the backside if your arms were full. "A motherboard? It’s like… the main brain in a computer, it controls what we call the peripherals. The screen and the mouse and the keyboard and the printers. I was rebuilding one that got fried the other day…" his words stopped as he took a bottle from the rack, shook it and poured out two measures before stepping back into the room.
Tyn had listened carefully, constantly nuzzling down into Var as he felt the muscles in that pale chest tighten up. Not as good indication, especially when he usually only felt those sorts of contortion during the death of his victims. He gave a soft, whine-like noise as he pressed his cheek against Edvard’s ribs, trying to signal that the older man didn’t have to answer the question if he didn’t want, and further more that Tyn was there and he was damn sorry he’d asked such a rude question. When the story came to an end, his face was pressed even more closely into Var, and was lightly kissing every inch of skin he could, like a sinner would kiss the hem of a saint’s robes. He was a sinner, and although he would like to believe he was the personification of Lucifer himself, Edvard’s words, the soft way if passed the turn back to the blue-haired boy reassured him. Var wasn’t angry, wasn’t emotionally scarred by the question, and was no more upset then Tyn had been in the own recounting of his past. But some small, masochistic part of himself would have rathered Var be angry, or hurt, so Tyn could wallow a little more in his teenage angst. However, it was not to be, and to mock this, that little, devilish part of him took over his mouth, only for a moment, and said in a sure, steady voice: "Dare."
"I’m glad you like it. It’s not normally this messy, not really." He explained, moving over towards the sofa, and passing over the glass, filled half-way with a pink liquid, "But there was a power-surge last week and it blew all the circuitry, not to mention my back-up drives, so I’m rebuilding." He sat down on the edge of the sofa next to Casper, eyes studying the man. "Oh, this stuff is ‘Vino Rosa’ it’s a little bit like Tia Maria. Just sweeter, and pink." Lysander explained, taking a sip himself. "I’ll take you home, in a little while, if you want, Casper." He added, softly, his eyes moving shamefully from strongly coloured irises. He shouldn’t have brought him here, it was too soon. Even if they had both felt so lustful, so… needy before, now, things were different. The burning coals in his stomach were now dead cold, and heavy. So was his head, cold, throbbing slowly in time with his heartbeat. "I’m sure..." he began, and then wasn’t exactly confident in what he was about to say. What wasn’t he sure of? He wasn’t sure. Ha ha, he thought, there weren’t enough words in the English language. But he was sure that now, with this man, with Casper, in his house, he couldn’t go any further. Tonight was not the night to push boundaries; it was just too soon.
"A dare. A good one. Something difficult and nasty and horribly wicked." He nodded, face lifting and his eye shining as he spoke, the words soft and slightly husky, excited by the prospect and eager, willing.
What Lysander had just said, about this stuff they were drinking, that was just as clear as mud, and something sort of like his not-so fluent Greek; yet, not wanting to sound completely stupid on the subject, he just kept his mouth shut, knowing fools could only be proved to be such when they spoke. He merely took the glass and sipped it, eyes wandering over the broken bits of computers and the new ones waiting to be pieced back together. Sighing gently, he watched the beautiful, sky-blue eyes drop from his own, feeling something like lead settle down in the cavern of his own chest. What was that he saw flicker across the other's face as the words came? Disappointment, shame? "Oh, well... all right." he replied, lips conforming to the edge of his glass, eyes flickering over the pink liquid curiously. "And you should call me Kris, it is my name, after all... but... It doesn't matter, call me whichever name you like, everyone does." Casper-Kris gave a soft smile and leaned over, poking Lysander gently in the jaw, eyes mischievous. "Hah. Poooke." he smirked, his stupid nature unable to keep from shining through, if only for a moment.
"Oh, all right, you devilish little monster you... Making me come up with a dare...." his face twisted as if in deep, deep concentration, mind sinking in a pool of memories; blank faces swimming all around, his mangled thoughts still on his previous answer. With fingers stroking through the blue hair as he glanced to the ceiling for help he huffed, thinking of something. "Yes, before I forget, I didn't tell you the whole truth in the last sentence, I did have one other lover-his name was Mishka. Heh, I saw him about twenty years ago, doing quite well from what I observed... I don't think you two would get along though.. Mishka was always very... Well, is there a decent way to put it? Spoiled, brattish... quite bitchy, really... But anyway, another story, another truth." Edvard inclined in face to the side, neck straining forwards to brush a kiss to Tyn's lips, mind setting back onto his task.
Still grinning with a childish sort of air, the youth leaned back into the couch, fingertips roving over the thin beard drawn over Lysander's jaw seeing how it faded somewhat as it reached the chin. "You know, I never was too keen on facial hair," he couldn't help but try and lighten this oh-so tense mood. "But it really does look rather good on you, Handsome." Casper crossed his legs and folded them carefully beneath him, setting his glass onto the coffee table before rearranging himself and picking it back up again. One sip, and then another, and then a swallow, a swig... "You suppose I can have just a tad bit more of that?" he pointed at the bottle, eyes glancing away towards the kitchen and then back.
"Oh dear, Tyn.." the vampire muttered after a few minutes of consideration. "I don't think I'm quite vicious enough this evening to think of something terribly nasty and oh-so naughty... Do you have any suggestions?" He was awfully at things such as this, and didn't wish to really have stretch his mind just to come up with some bogus idea; it was a curious game they were playing, that was for certain... "I'll just sort of... branch off from them. Come on now, don't groan and give me that look, just give me a few ideas. I'm old, my mind is weak, pity me." he smirked, prodding his young lover in the sides to egg him on, fingertips brushing at the fabric before suddenly poke the ribs, tickling them, more or less. He wasn't looking for pity, that was certain by the spark in his eyes, but something else that he wasn't sure of, just wanting to go on to his next dare... or truth. But wait, hadn't he promised? Oh well, worry with that later, take in the now.
Tyn squealed, trying to push the hands away, but not really, seriously, trying. "Nononono! Stop! You’re killing me! Stooooooooooopit!" he gasped for breath, almost falling backwards off the chair, clinging to Var’s arms, and then pouncing back onto his lover, pushing him down onto the sofa and tickling him back. That little devilish part managed to through a few gropes into the mixture too, half-laughing, half-gasping, bending his head to suck possessively at Var’s neck, leaving a small red mark before jumping off him, dancing around to the other side of the sofa. Leaning over tickling, or rather, messing up Edvard’s hair from this angle was much safer, he decided.
"Sure love." Zan said, however when he brought the bottle back, he was careful not to pour too much, after all, Cas… Kris, seemed tipsy enough. The walk there and back, from the kitchen obviously, gave him some much needed thinking time. Handsome? Was he? He pondered this. He’d always just had… a beard. It was in his interests to have one, his father said only real man had their fathers teach them to shave, and Lysander was too nervous about cutting his throat accidentally to try it. So since he’d been 17, he’d had a beard. Although he had made sure it wasn’t a horrible, nerdy beard. Telling people you worked as a computer technician was basically giving them a permit to think you had no social life, so looking like one was certain not on the agenda. He rather liked his beard. Which was probably why he’d almost had a heart attack when Kris had said he didn’t like facial hair. Thank god he seemed to consider this one alright, because, although Zan would willingly get rid of it, he had no idea what he would look like without it.
"Take that!" Tyn gasped, ruffling Edvard’s hair again, before staggering around the other side of the sofa and collapsing onto his lover. "That… was pretty good." He managed, out of breath from the mixture of silliness and from laughing. His sides hurt from where they had been mercilessly attacked, and, again, from the laughing. "Eddy… your dare…. Do you still want it?" he asked, hand resting on the elders male’s lower abdomen, playing with the fastenings lazily. "Or would you take the safe way out and have a truth? I promise I won’t think you’re any less of a man." He giggled then, breaking the cool, nonchalant mask he’d worn and pressing a kiss to the red mark, the love-bite, he’d left high on Var’s neck. If they went out, covering that up might be difficult. But as they weren’t trying to hide anything as it was, Var could show it off as much as he liked, although it would probably confuse any fangirls they came across.
"I’ll call you Kris, if that is what you’d prefer, love." He said, passing the glass back and sitting down, setting his own and the bottle full of thick, pink alcohol back onto the coffee table, although slightly closer to himself, rather then to the other. He didn’t want Kris drunk. That would probably not be too wise. But that meant he was going to have to watch his own drinking, something he wasn’t normally too good at. Drinking Rosa was like drinking lemonade, after all. Although only in the sense that it was easy and pleasant to drink, not like beer or ale or anything like that. Now, they were both doing to have to be careful, least something happen that shouldn’t.
Var laughed heartily, trying to shield his precious mat of locks from his lover, curling his arms over his head, ribs left very vulnerable; yet, that wasn't for long, seeing as Tyn came back, quickly collapsing onto him, licking at the bite he had given the older man. Lifting his face, curls all knotted and bunched around his jaws, the immortal laughed, teeth nipping at Tyn's nose carefully. "Oh, I'm sure you wouldn't you little wretch... Give me the dare, but I'm sure I'll regret it." he leaned his head back, fingertips leaving his curls and touching the mark at his throat, smirking faintly. "My oh my, I guess that means we can't go out for a while, doesn't it? I don't wish to let everyone be so jealous of us, and they surely will be, with this little token... and I refuse to wear make-up." he clamed up, thinking the moment after he had said it, that small bit of Edvard-trivia would be used against him somewhere down the line. "Well, go on then, heathen lover of mine! Pick my dare!" Poking at Tyn's nose once, he wrapped his arms over the other's shoulders, eyes narrowed, lips pursed into that oh-too-familiar smirk as he waited, just as patient as death.
Unable to keep from it, as he had feared, the youth took another draft of his drink, lips pursed as he stared at a corner of the room opposite the pair, obviously thinking of something he didn't wish to put into words and ask the other's opinion on it. "Oh, yes... Kris is fine..." he uttered, looking back almost stupidly to Lysander. "Uhmm... Well..." his glass still clasped in one hand, lips unable to keep from pursing into a silly little smile, he looked down into the pink, rippled drink, seeing himself and starting to play with his hair. Something in his mind said it would be best to leave, but he ignored it, continuing to fiddle with his many earrings, his relaxed, smoothed hair, and the tip of his nose, which he most have found very interesting at that point in time, because he poked it, just to see how it would bounce back.
Edvard wondered vaguely, just how bad this was going to turn out to be. Hopefully, not as bad as the thoughts still conjuring in his mind, like smoke from a bubbling, oozing cauldron. "This won't be completely painless, will it?" Var mused, looking to his lover with mock worry, fingertips rubbing down the young vampire's jaw, eyes glistening with pent-up glee. He would have to pin the other down sometime, and tickle him until he gave in, completely; what a way of gaining control, Master by tickling death. How naughty. The vampire chuckled at his wayward thoughts and blinked, making them disappear behind his eyelids, golden spheres latching back onto Tyn's one. "Well, come on, come on."
"Do you really think I should leave?" the young man questioned at last, breaking the awkward silence that had began to gather around them like a blanket of corduroy. Lifting his eyes at last from his pink mirror, Kris smiled at Lysander, wanting the other man's opinion on just what to do. He could see how Zan was holding back on his own drink, not guzzling it like himself; so, that was a sure sign the boy was comfortable with the other man, he could get flat out goofy around him, and not care. If it was unflattering, he didn't seem to notice, but just let his drink wash over him, killing off his conscious and good judgement. "Not thirsty?"
He took a swig from his glass at that moment, and refilled his glass, and then topped up Kris’. "No, I’m thirsty, I’m just enjoying your company lovely. I don’t normally get to drink in good company. It’s a nice change…" he smiled widely, licking his lips and letting his eyes rest on the kiss-reddened mouth of the singer, feeling the pink liquor slip down his throat, warming him from the insides out, and feeling the first drops seep into his blood stream.
Tyn’s face had split into a grin several moments before, however, face re-lighting after that short, tired slump. He sat up, grabbing Var’s hand, and pulled him up, which wasn’t very much effort at all, and dragged him to their bedroom, and forced him to sit down on the unmade bed. Gah, had Tyn really got that lazy since the other had moved in? That he had no energy or desire to do household necessities he had always done before, uncomplaining? Was he becoming lethargic? Probably so, it had to be said. "Right you. You’ve chosen to undergo the most painful, humiliating, barbaric torture of the modern age. Much worse then either you, nor anyone else could ever imagine!" he gave a thick, evil-villain style laugh, and then ran to the wardrobe, pulling out a large, circular hat-box, lifting the lid as he cradled it to his chest, back still turned to Var.
"I don’t think you should leave, no" Lysander said, swallowing his own drink down, giving in. he wouldn’t get drunk, but he’d be social, because he wasn’t enjoying these big silences either. He refilled both glasses to the top, and turned to look at the other, smiling as he leant forwards to kiss him, tasting the sweetness of the alcohol on both their tongues. "I don’t want you to, but it might be better if you did. Maybe not, though…" he gently kissed Kris again, one hand cupping the other male’s clean-shaven cheek, eyes opened as his lips brushed over Kris’ and then he eased open the other’s mouth, letting his tongue move inside. The hand on the glass fumbled to put it down, and to remove Kris’ glass from his grip as the kisses deepened, becoming much more intense, lustful, demanding.
He pulled out a scarf, and gently folded it, widthways, into three, making sure that it was lightproof, before tying it around Var’s eyes. "You have to sit through this, Eddy. No complaining, or squirming. The slightest move could be fatal." And with that, he opened the lid of the large, circular box, and took out a few of the snatches of cloth, gloves and other scarves, for the most part, that covered the rest of the contents. And then, smiling, he took out a cylinder, slim and relatively, short, pulling off the cap and twisting the end, his tongue held between his lips as he began, trying not to giggle.
"I’d like you to stay. Have breakfast with me…" he murdered in the time it took them to catch their breath, and pull the other into his lap, his head tilted slightly to look up at him. "Stay a night or three. I dare you."
"You dare me?" Kris uttered, his lips ghosting over Lysander's, talking against the warm breath spilling from them. "Well, how can I refuse a dare?" Another kiss followed, and then another, fingers slipping from the other man's arms up to his shoulders, then onto his neck, then his jaw, both hands cupping his face, thumbs nearly touching the earlobes, fingernails hidden in messy brown wisps. The candy-sweet mouth pressed once gently to the man's forehead, to the bridge of his nose, to his chin, and then onto his lips again, hand only dropping to pull his... well, as they had said, /his/, hands against his own, feeling blindly how much larger they were then Kris'. Fingertips trailing over the knuckles and then touching the ends, he sat Lysander's palms on his hips, eyes shut lustfully. Casper's nosetip bumped Zan's, prompting kisses in return for the ones he had given, eyes flickering open slowly to watch his darling's open in silent reply. "Don't you want me?" he asked, voice low and husky, eyes showing that the feeling was strong in him, wondering if this desire ran both ways. The knees straddling brunette’s hips tightened slightly, Kris didn’t seem to want to wait for an answer.
Edvard was dragged unceremoniously from the couch, and flopped on the unmade bed, disregarding how lazy they were to not have made it; not that it really mattered all that much, for really, how was going to see? "Oh dear... somehow, I feared this would happen." he called, feeling a scarf cover his eyes and he willingly shut them, giving in. "What exactly is this barbaric torture you speak of?" and then something soft pressed to his lips. Something... slick. "Oh damn." he moaned, lips not even moving. "Tell me you aren't... tell me you won't! Vile creature! Delivered fresh from Hell when I found you, weren't you?" the eldest vampire cried, his mock pain and agony almost making him smile, even though he knew it would be fatal to do so... or at least, extremely painful to his mind and overall well-being when his 'stolen straight from Satan's bed' lover finished.
Pressing himself cattily against Lysander, his lips formed into a smirk, leaning into him as he nipped at the left earlobe. A muffled sort of moan was directed into Lysander's ear, hips moving, grating forwards. The youth's tongue, quick and the colour of the same liquid they had been drinking slipped out, teasing the skin there for a moment and then disappearing, another little sampling sound slipping from his lips. With that, he let his arms fold around the other man's back, mouth turned into a smirk pressing hot, needy kisses up and down the side of his love's neck, moving towards the Adam's apple and with a flick, tasting that skin too, soft noises catching in his throat. Ah yes, the bitch was back into action; what Casper had feared would happen was unfurling right now, his slutty nature slipping through the pretty exterior.
"Hurry! Hurry and finish your awful work, you monstrosity!" the vampire crowed, his body racking with pretend sobs, lips pressed down into a sorrowful grimace. "How, how could I have ever participated in this vile bit of... whatever it is you are making me play. How wretched." And the teasing insults continued, wondering just how bad an artist his lover would turn out to be.
He moaned, his hands on Kris’ moving, bucking eager hips responding with just as much teenage libido, and his fingers pressed into the back seam of the trousers, over the hidden cleft of the other’s ass, squeezing before the other hand moved onto the opposite cheek, both sets of fingers begin to rub and knead over the round flesh. Lysander’s trousers felt uncomfortably tight, and now he can feel his heart jumping up against his ribs he realises it’s far, far too late to stop. With Kris in his lap, he turns, laying the other down and kissing him hard, forcing his tongue into the soft, willing mouth, lapping at the other’s tongue and then sucking on it, trying to swallow all that he could of this gorgeous, lusting man.
"It looks good though." Tyn breathed, biting back more giggles, stepping back to survey his work. Not back, the shade wasn’t too dark otherwise Edvard, with his pretty feminine looks, would look like a street-whore. It was dark enough though to contrast with the pale skin, a light brown which brought out the bronze in his eyes… Tyn was proud of himself, as he gently unfastened the scarf, and took Var’s hand again, muttering consoling words about how it didn’t look so bad, before bringing him into the bathroom, and standing him in front of the mirror, taking up a position near the door in case he had to run. "It doesn’t look too bad, does it? I’m not very good at it but… the colour is good. Maybe I could get wallpaper that colour…" he voice trailed off, his own pale pink lips turned up into a smile.
There was a second groan, longer more desperate, as trembling hands began to scratch over the front of Kris’ trousers, before beginning to work them off, fingers stroking and petting and rubbing over hot, needy flesh, leaving Kris’ lips so he could pull the trousers completely off, and then work of freeing the youth’s torso. "How do you feel about sofa-sex?" he asked, breath hot as he pressed his lips against the boy’s chest, over his nipples, taking each into his mouth and sucking them into sharp peaks individually, one hand holding Kris just under the arm, the other working between the faintly shaking legs.
"Well?" Tyn prompted into the silence, passing over a towel, sensing that Var would probably want the stuff of as soon as physically possible. "I didn’t mean to get you angry. I was only being silly… I won’t do it again. I… I know it was only a joke. My jokes get out of hand…" his voice faltered. Eddy hadn’t been angry before, he was messing about, like Tyn was, but now… who knew how the elder would react? Var certainly… had a lot of past Tyn knew nothing about, might never fully know about. He had no right to pry, after all, but still…he hoped he hadn’t stepped over the line.