[Normally he was all for Richard taking a bit of control, pushing him to have to wrestle it back. He was not interested in docile damsels, and technically Richard wasn't even the body type that stole his attention but the combination of scars and ambition and secrets overrode his usual tastes. It seemed fitting that he would bed with someone like Richard then, after swearing off of any type of relationship for decades.
He was experiencing something, but it had nothing to do with a thrill. The pain to his neck only layered on the sense of rising panic, warm blood spilling down to mark the collar of his shirt and even stain his white cravat as he shifted in the chair as if he might make the first attempt to stand, even as his blunt nails dug in harder to ground him in the moment. He stared as Richard's face, lips barely moving in the kiss despite keenly aware of it occurring and that his participation was likely warranted. All he could think was that he had to have control again, that this wasn't the Pilt, wasn't back then when weakness had overtaken him.
The friction in his lap brought him briefly back to the room, and he made a point of biting Richard's lower lip hard enough to experience a momentary sensation that control was possible. Unfortunately, the tendrils of panic didn't allow his body to respond to the friction of Richard's grinding, but it did force him to relent in some of the grip of the younger man's thighs.
He could do this. His hands shifted so that he could pull and tug the material up around Richard's waist, trying to inject himself back into the moment now that the threat of choking had abated. He was sliding his hands around Richard took hold of them, lashing them together with this silk tie. His response was to make a grab for the knife still embedded in his chair.]
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2024-12-29 06:54 pm (UTC)He was experiencing something, but it had nothing to do with a thrill. The pain to his neck only layered on the sense of rising panic, warm blood spilling down to mark the collar of his shirt and even stain his white cravat as he shifted in the chair as if he might make the first attempt to stand, even as his blunt nails dug in harder to ground him in the moment. He stared as Richard's face, lips barely moving in the kiss despite keenly aware of it occurring and that his participation was likely warranted. All he could think was that he had to have control again, that this wasn't the Pilt, wasn't back then when weakness had overtaken him.
The friction in his lap brought him briefly back to the room, and he made a point of biting Richard's lower lip hard enough to experience a momentary sensation that control was possible. Unfortunately, the tendrils of panic didn't allow his body to respond to the friction of Richard's grinding, but it did force him to relent in some of the grip of the younger man's thighs.
He could do this. His hands shifted so that he could pull and tug the material up around Richard's waist, trying to inject himself back into the moment now that the threat of choking had abated. He was sliding his hands around Richard took hold of them, lashing them together with this silk tie. His response was to make a grab for the knife still embedded in his chair.]