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[With another cool wash of relief over the mind that's seethed with worries since this all surfaced, Osiris nods and pulls out a manila envelope with a string-wrap tie. On the expanse of table between them, he first fans out several photos: some are taken from a distance and appear to be of some kind of performance, while others are closer up and show their subject more clearly.]
This is Set's current form. Though none of us know how it would be possible, we believe he's been forcing his soul into living human bodies in order to take them over for at least a century, and that's led to him changing appearances many times. [A few more pictures, showing two previous forms.] As you can see, he always retains that red hair. Each of us seems to have something about our godly appearance that carries over into these human forms, and that colour appears to be his.
[He points to one of the pictures where Set stands on a large, well-lit stage.]
I was able to reach a journalist that's gone into deep cover to report on the cult and they've been a treasure trove of information. These are apparently rallies that happen almost daily within the cult compound, separate from the ones he opens to the public. I recognize much of the symbology on his backdrop as taken from the Cult of Set as I once knew it, but I'd like you to take a look and see if anything stands out as possibly Satanic.
[Short answer: yes. Anything Osiris doesn't recognize, Emmanuel will, and vice versa.]
This is Set's current form. Though none of us know how it would be possible, we believe he's been forcing his soul into living human bodies in order to take them over for at least a century, and that's led to him changing appearances many times. [A few more pictures, showing two previous forms.] As you can see, he always retains that red hair. Each of us seems to have something about our godly appearance that carries over into these human forms, and that colour appears to be his.
[He points to one of the pictures where Set stands on a large, well-lit stage.]
I was able to reach a journalist that's gone into deep cover to report on the cult and they've been a treasure trove of information. These are apparently rallies that happen almost daily within the cult compound, separate from the ones he opens to the public. I recognize much of the symbology on his backdrop as taken from the Cult of Set as I once knew it, but I'd like you to take a look and see if anything stands out as possibly Satanic.
[Short answer: yes. Anything Osiris doesn't recognize, Emmanuel will, and vice versa.]
Sure, but not many of us give a shit when it's us that's hurting, not them.
[Translation: you're a good fucking person, okay, just accept it.]
Especially when there's just no room for compromise, like - that's so brutal. Here I was thinking I could help and I don't even know what to say.
[Another moment of frank honesty.]
[Translation: you're a good fucking person, okay, just accept it.]
Especially when there's just no room for compromise, like - that's so brutal. Here I was thinking I could help and I don't even know what to say.
[Another moment of frank honesty.]
[Would he rather have been left with bedbugs in his hair? One falcon eye can still only do so much attached to a human brain.]
Emmanuel, right. I knew it was one of those churchy Hebrew ones. Dad didn't really tell me much about you, considering. [That they're gonna be staying together for the foreseeable future, he means, until Set gets his ass well and truly kicked for the last time.
Just outside the motel room door is parked a rather slick car in a deep, glittering shade of green with the top down. Horus pops the trunk for Emmanuel to stow his suitcase - thankfully both of them packed light because there's not much trunk to share - then holds a hand out for his room key.]
Hop in, I'll go check you out and then we can go. Your stay here is on us.
[What Horus has yet to consider is that he hasn't really clarified who he is, either - he's still, even so long after their reign, even when they use different names, not accustomed to such clarifications being necessary. Of course he means Osiris when he says his dad, and of course that makes him Horus. Who wouldn't know that?]
Emmanuel, right. I knew it was one of those churchy Hebrew ones. Dad didn't really tell me much about you, considering. [That they're gonna be staying together for the foreseeable future, he means, until Set gets his ass well and truly kicked for the last time.
Just outside the motel room door is parked a rather slick car in a deep, glittering shade of green with the top down. Horus pops the trunk for Emmanuel to stow his suitcase - thankfully both of them packed light because there's not much trunk to share - then holds a hand out for his room key.]
Hop in, I'll go check you out and then we can go. Your stay here is on us.
[What Horus has yet to consider is that he hasn't really clarified who he is, either - he's still, even so long after their reign, even when they use different names, not accustomed to such clarifications being necessary. Of course he means Osiris when he says his dad, and of course that makes him Horus. Who wouldn't know that?]
(( Maybe more of a scared and considerate person. If he falls out of line and it causes waves... Well, it'll just be worse for him in the end. Nothing short of a new identity in some faraway place can help. A weak but very genuine smile tries to curl the corners of his lips, but doesn't quite make it. ))
I appreciate that.
I appreciate that.
That smile doesn't count, for the record.
[An idea occurs to Seb then - he's not well equipped for the whole emotional talk thing, but he definitely knows how to help someone have a good time. It might not even take more alcohol or any drugs if he really pours all his party boy energy into it.]
Well, now I don't want you to leave with no experiences of your own to remember. Any chance I can convince you to dance with me? Just dancing, hands off, I promise. And I'll still keep the creeps away.
[An idea occurs to Seb then - he's not well equipped for the whole emotional talk thing, but he definitely knows how to help someone have a good time. It might not even take more alcohol or any drugs if he really pours all his party boy energy into it.]
Well, now I don't want you to leave with no experiences of your own to remember. Any chance I can convince you to dance with me? Just dancing, hands off, I promise. And I'll still keep the creeps away.
"Take all the time you need."
Laurent has all of time, in fact, so he's not going to rush this moment. He can see that Jason is... well, stressed. Between finding himself here with no explanation, not having the medication he needs, not knowing Laurent's intentions aren't harm... Of course he's worried. Which can, in turn, affect the appetite.
No, Laurent's in no hurry. Anything on this table can be warmed or cooled again if Jason wishes it to be.
Nor are any questions he might have limited to this moment.
"My man won't be long with the medicine," he assures, still singularly focused on Jason despite all that's on the table and even in the room to look like. The house could be burning and he might not notice (save maybe to rescue this man across from him from a horrible fate). A caravan of circus performers could crash through the room with their acts and he wouldn't so much as move a muscle to look at anyone or anything but Jason.
He barely blinks in the silence between them. IS he even breathing? (He's actually not because what need has a vampire of that?) Slowly, his hands slide over the tablecloth and fold together. A more patient gesture. Yes, he could be patient until Jason feels their connection, too. Laurent has nothing but time.
"There is something in you that calls to me, as the moon to the tides, and I cannot resist it."
Laurent has all of time, in fact, so he's not going to rush this moment. He can see that Jason is... well, stressed. Between finding himself here with no explanation, not having the medication he needs, not knowing Laurent's intentions aren't harm... Of course he's worried. Which can, in turn, affect the appetite.
No, Laurent's in no hurry. Anything on this table can be warmed or cooled again if Jason wishes it to be.
Nor are any questions he might have limited to this moment.
"My man won't be long with the medicine," he assures, still singularly focused on Jason despite all that's on the table and even in the room to look like. The house could be burning and he might not notice (save maybe to rescue this man across from him from a horrible fate). A caravan of circus performers could crash through the room with their acts and he wouldn't so much as move a muscle to look at anyone or anything but Jason.
He barely blinks in the silence between them. IS he even breathing? (He's actually not because what need has a vampire of that?) Slowly, his hands slide over the tablecloth and fold together. A more patient gesture. Yes, he could be patient until Jason feels their connection, too. Laurent has nothing but time.
"There is something in you that calls to me, as the moon to the tides, and I cannot resist it."
Gentle. Calm. Reassuring. Patient. Sweet. And all because nothing else in the room seems to matter to him, only Jason. If this were a first date that Jason had been warned about before it was sprung on him, he'd probably be halfway to in love already.
"I'm really flattered, I am," Jason assures Laurent with a rather flustered laugh. "You seem like the sort of guy who can afford to be as picky as you want, so this is obviously - it's a lot, but I get that it's complimentary."
With that much out, at least, Jason finally decides to make a meal choice or two while he considers his next words. Wine is out of the question when he's undermedicated, so he pours himself some sort of fruit juice that definitely didn't come from a powder or can. A couple of slices of roast meat, some vegetables, some sauce to drizzle over them and a piece of dense bread to mop it up. The way he'd build a meal at home. Each serving is notably small, but he is a model.
That feels better. He hasn't totally snubbed such a massive show of hospitality.
"The only thing is..." And immediately his restless hands start tearing up the bread instead of eating it. "... I have my own life. I have a job - two, now. I've got family. People are depending on me. There's kind of a lot going on for me right now and I can't just - live in a really nice house for however long while we figure out if we're compatible."
The unspoken subtext, which Laurent may or may not pick up when he knows so little about Jason: I don't have time.
"I'm really flattered, I am," Jason assures Laurent with a rather flustered laugh. "You seem like the sort of guy who can afford to be as picky as you want, so this is obviously - it's a lot, but I get that it's complimentary."
With that much out, at least, Jason finally decides to make a meal choice or two while he considers his next words. Wine is out of the question when he's undermedicated, so he pours himself some sort of fruit juice that definitely didn't come from a powder or can. A couple of slices of roast meat, some vegetables, some sauce to drizzle over them and a piece of dense bread to mop it up. The way he'd build a meal at home. Each serving is notably small, but he is a model.
That feels better. He hasn't totally snubbed such a massive show of hospitality.
"The only thing is..." And immediately his restless hands start tearing up the bread instead of eating it. "... I have my own life. I have a job - two, now. I've got family. People are depending on me. There's kind of a lot going on for me right now and I can't just - live in a really nice house for however long while we figure out if we're compatible."
The unspoken subtext, which Laurent may or may not pick up when he knows so little about Jason: I don't have time.
(( They may look 'delicate' in these human shapes, but they're anything but. Setekh is a god, a primordial being; Lucifer a seraph, a fiery serpent protecting the throne of God. Neither are fragile beings, despite how humanity might choose to portray them. Even in these shapes, they're far more resilient than any mere mortal could dream. So a little teeth? A little extra strength to manhandle each other? Hardly worth batting an eye.
Lucifer sucks in a sharp breath through his nose, meeting Setekh's hunger. A deep, wanton groan bubbles up from his chest at the obvious effect he's having on the god. And he rolls his hips to show that Set's inspiring the same in him. But being a creature of fire, Lucifer's skin burns beneath thin layers of fabric that separate them. Feverishly hot, radiating out as if he might engulf them both in flame.
Ah, but there's only one small missed beat. A subtle, barely perceptible shudder when Setekh's hand moves to find its place against his back. Those scars where wings once grew... The only flaw in an otherwise perfect being. He's sure those ragged scars can be felt through the shirt. It's barely even a fraction of a second's distraction before his hands ball in Setekh's shirt, tugging insistently until he hears that satisfying sound of thread and fabric giving way. ))
Lucifer sucks in a sharp breath through his nose, meeting Setekh's hunger. A deep, wanton groan bubbles up from his chest at the obvious effect he's having on the god. And he rolls his hips to show that Set's inspiring the same in him. But being a creature of fire, Lucifer's skin burns beneath thin layers of fabric that separate them. Feverishly hot, radiating out as if he might engulf them both in flame.
Ah, but there's only one small missed beat. A subtle, barely perceptible shudder when Setekh's hand moves to find its place against his back. Those scars where wings once grew... The only flaw in an otherwise perfect being. He's sure those ragged scars can be felt through the shirt. It's barely even a fraction of a second's distraction before his hands ball in Setekh's shirt, tugging insistently until he hears that satisfying sound of thread and fabric giving way. ))
(( Those big brown eyes go wide at the suggestion. For many reasons. Because this place is what it is. Because he'd be dancing with a man (that's a lot for him to unpack on its own). Because... His eyes drift to the throng on the dancefloor back to the too handsome face of the man beside him. ))
I don't know how to dance like that.
I don't know how to dance like that.
[For a moment, Seb forgets himself and fails to stifle the fond smile that spreads across his face at Siwan's painfully earnest reaction.]
You're so cute...
[Wait. No. He's just a friendly, helpful stranger. No flirting. Even if it was totally unintentional this time...
Seb quickly pulls himself together and flashes a more crooked grin, casual and playful.]
There's no rules to how we dance here. Just move however the music makes you feel like moving. Freedom, remember?
You're so cute...
[Wait. No. He's just a friendly, helpful stranger. No flirting. Even if it was totally unintentional this time...
Seb quickly pulls himself together and flashes a more crooked grin, casual and playful.]
There's no rules to how we dance here. Just move however the music makes you feel like moving. Freedom, remember?
Freedom...
(( Freedom observed from an already unsafe distance. It's one thing to sit politely at the bar, to decline anyone who tries to speak to him (few had before Seb) and another to actually be out there in that throng of writing bodies, many of whom are far less decently clad than Siwan is and who are also dangerously lovely.
Maybe none so dangerous as the one beside him. With his sleepy bedroom eyes and easy smiles and that jawline (have mercy!). But... Seb's been nothing but respectful. The only danger lies in Siwan throwing caution to the wind. Even three drinks in he knows that's a terrible, horrible, no good idea.
Siwan, still looking at Seb, borderline staring, actually, swallows hard. His adam's apple bobs and his tongue darts out over his lips. One time. What would it hurt? When will he ever be able to do something like this again? He tears his eyes of Seb long enough to throw back the rest of his drink (oh, god! what a mistake if the face he makes is any indication) then nods. ))
Alright. Let's dance.
(( Freedom observed from an already unsafe distance. It's one thing to sit politely at the bar, to decline anyone who tries to speak to him (few had before Seb) and another to actually be out there in that throng of writing bodies, many of whom are far less decently clad than Siwan is and who are also dangerously lovely.
Maybe none so dangerous as the one beside him. With his sleepy bedroom eyes and easy smiles and that jawline (have mercy!). But... Seb's been nothing but respectful. The only danger lies in Siwan throwing caution to the wind. Even three drinks in he knows that's a terrible, horrible, no good idea.
Siwan, still looking at Seb, borderline staring, actually, swallows hard. His adam's apple bobs and his tongue darts out over his lips. One time. What would it hurt? When will he ever be able to do something like this again? He tears his eyes of Seb long enough to throw back the rest of his drink (oh, god! what a mistake if the face he makes is any indication) then nods. ))
Alright. Let's dance.
Lucifer's bartender is beautiful.
It takes longer than one would expect for Seth to notice because he's so thoroughly enraptured with the Prince of Darkness himself, but no one will ever stop his eyes from wandering forever and eventually, inevitably, they fall on Wolf. And oh, he wants that boy so badly he can taste his craving like the phantom tang of beer on a recovering alcoholic's tongue.
He's not just a boy, though, in the same way Lucifer's not just a bar owner and Seth's not just a man. A hellhound - what a wonderfully dark title. Granted, most of the time he seems to suit it about as well as Anubis would, but Seth's not averse to cuteness. He uses it to his own advantage often enough when he runs up against someone who prefers fluttering lashes and sweet smiles to raw, aggressive sexuality. Wolf's pretty pink lips and cheeks probably wear it even better than Seth does in his current form.
Those pretty pink lips and cheeks are a large part of what starts to draw Seth to the bar when he knows Lucifer's out on his own business, leaving him free to sit on one of the high stools and prop his chin on a fist and coo:
"Hiiii, Wolfie. Is the big guy around?"
It takes longer than one would expect for Seth to notice because he's so thoroughly enraptured with the Prince of Darkness himself, but no one will ever stop his eyes from wandering forever and eventually, inevitably, they fall on Wolf. And oh, he wants that boy so badly he can taste his craving like the phantom tang of beer on a recovering alcoholic's tongue.
He's not just a boy, though, in the same way Lucifer's not just a bar owner and Seth's not just a man. A hellhound - what a wonderfully dark title. Granted, most of the time he seems to suit it about as well as Anubis would, but Seth's not averse to cuteness. He uses it to his own advantage often enough when he runs up against someone who prefers fluttering lashes and sweet smiles to raw, aggressive sexuality. Wolf's pretty pink lips and cheeks probably wear it even better than Seth does in his current form.
Those pretty pink lips and cheeks are a large part of what starts to draw Seth to the bar when he knows Lucifer's out on his own business, leaving him free to sit on one of the high stools and prop his chin on a fist and coo:
"Hiiii, Wolfie. Is the big guy around?"
Edited 2025-03-31 00:51 (UTC)
[Got him.
Sure, Siwan's different. He might even be special. Seb's not planning to whisk him off to bed tonight or anything, or make any kind of move until Siwan's much less jumpy than he is now. But Seb's determined to get at least one hook in, plant a craving in Siwan's body that his mind won't be able to argue away forever, and this is the chance he needs.
There's an extra sway in Seb's hips as he leads Siwan out onto the dance floor, clearing a small space for them on the edge of the throng sono one else will distract him it's not too overwhelming right off the bat. He can't show the same level of consideration with his own dancing, though, because he only knows one way to move and there's just no dialing back the sensuality; he could keep himself from chewing lightly on his bottom lip as he holds heavy-lidded eye contact, but hey, isn't he allowed at least a little fun?
He's the son of the biggest pervert in Ancient Egyptian divinity. Seduction comes naturally to him, and that may be the one gift he's ever received from his father. Poor Siwan's just about to discover how that feels when he's not safely in the eye of the storm.]
Sure, Siwan's different. He might even be special. Seb's not planning to whisk him off to bed tonight or anything, or make any kind of move until Siwan's much less jumpy than he is now. But Seb's determined to get at least one hook in, plant a craving in Siwan's body that his mind won't be able to argue away forever, and this is the chance he needs.
There's an extra sway in Seb's hips as he leads Siwan out onto the dance floor, clearing a small space for them on the edge of the throng so
He's the son of the biggest pervert in Ancient Egyptian divinity. Seduction comes naturally to him, and that may be the one gift he's ever received from his father. Poor Siwan's just about to discover how that feels when he's not safely in the eye of the storm.]
There are very few times when Wolf's unhappy about being Lucifer's personal pet hellhound. Those times are usually times like this, when someone wants to get too familiar with him because they're familiar with the Boss. Wolf doesn't even try to hide the heaving sigh and his rolling eyes.
"Wolf. And you know very well he's not. Don't play stupid. It doesn't suit you."
"Wolf. And you know very well he's not. Don't play stupid. It doesn't suit you."
Edited (I think I'm losing my grasp on English) 2025-03-31 01:48 (UTC)
His reaction should probably be insulting or at least mildly irritating, but Seth's as charmed as ever. He doesn't even bother to stifle or hide the delighted laughter that burbles up at that sharp look.
"Alright, since you put it so nicely, I won't. I actually came to see you." Then he adds, after a pause: "Wolf."
"Alright, since you put it so nicely, I won't. I actually came to see you." Then he adds, after a pause: "Wolf."
"Keep it that way. Until I say otherwise, it stays between us." Though theoretically, it would be better to have as many eyes on this as possible, but he doesn't like the negatives that could come with it. Things like people learning that Bank can be stolen from. Or the thief being alerted to the fact that Bank knows. There's a decent chance that the thief isn't operating alone, and what if they have a partner who happens to work relatively close to him? Bank already has a hard time fully trusting most of the people around him, he didn't need a reason to further the divide. He didn't need an excuse to deepen the 'me versus them' mentality.
"Months. Fuck me. How much did the thief get?" He sighs and shakes his head, sliding forward to sit on the edge of his chair, bringing himself closer to Jake. "Until this fucker is found, this is all that matters to you."
"Months. Fuck me. How much did the thief get?" He sighs and shakes his head, sliding forward to sit on the edge of his chair, bringing himself closer to Jake. "Until this fucker is found, this is all that matters to you."
(( Oh, yeah. Seb's got him. Hook, line, and sinker. Maybe because he was interesting in what Siwan had to say. Maybe because he's so damn good-looking. Maybe because there's something about the whole scenario that Siwan simply doesn't want to resist. Seeing all these men just being so comfortable with themselves (and each other). Under different circumstances, he could've had this. But his circumstances are what they are.
So why not take the littlest sip tonight? Why not dance with the pretty guy who bought him a drink, who's doing him the favor of keeping maybe some less savory people away? Why not forget his family name and expectations for just a few hours? Why not let the worry of Hyejin or their children finding out drift to the deepest recesses of his mind to be buried under the weight of everything he's denied himself his whole life? Why not?
Well, it's not that easy to turn off his self-consciousness. For a moment, Siwan simply stands there, people moving all around and Seb right in front of him. And he doesn't even have the decency to close his eyes while he moves like that. Maybe Siwan should've been doing shots instead of nursing cocktails.
Did it just get warmer again? Siwan tugs lightly at his shirt collar, eyes fixed on Seb and his fluid movements that seem to melt into the music. Well, it's mostly just a thrumming bass line but that's really all the patrons here need to move and have fun. Siwan, please stop staring. But looking elsewhere doesn't bring any reprieve either. Okay, well, the devil you know, then. Siwan lets his eyes fall closed so he can focus on the music, that deep repetitive beat that almost rumbles in his bones. In another place it would be far too loud, but here it seems just right. The sort of volume that almost requires people in this part of the club to get up-close and personal if they want to talk.
Just give him a minute. Really, just a minute. Siwan's nowhere near as elegant (or sexy) as Seb, but once he finds his rhythm, the stiffness melts away. Note by note, beat by beat whatever self-consciousness and worry he felt vanishes. Oh, he's still awkward because that's just who Siwan is as a person, but... this isn't so bad.
Until he opens his eyes again to see Seb still dancing right in front of him. ))
So why not take the littlest sip tonight? Why not dance with the pretty guy who bought him a drink, who's doing him the favor of keeping maybe some less savory people away? Why not forget his family name and expectations for just a few hours? Why not let the worry of Hyejin or their children finding out drift to the deepest recesses of his mind to be buried under the weight of everything he's denied himself his whole life? Why not?
Well, it's not that easy to turn off his self-consciousness. For a moment, Siwan simply stands there, people moving all around and Seb right in front of him. And he doesn't even have the decency to close his eyes while he moves like that. Maybe Siwan should've been doing shots instead of nursing cocktails.
Did it just get warmer again? Siwan tugs lightly at his shirt collar, eyes fixed on Seb and his fluid movements that seem to melt into the music. Well, it's mostly just a thrumming bass line but that's really all the patrons here need to move and have fun. Siwan, please stop staring. But looking elsewhere doesn't bring any reprieve either. Okay, well, the devil you know, then. Siwan lets his eyes fall closed so he can focus on the music, that deep repetitive beat that almost rumbles in his bones. In another place it would be far too loud, but here it seems just right. The sort of volume that almost requires people in this part of the club to get up-close and personal if they want to talk.
Just give him a minute. Really, just a minute. Siwan's nowhere near as elegant (or sexy) as Seb, but once he finds his rhythm, the stiffness melts away. Note by note, beat by beat whatever self-consciousness and worry he felt vanishes. Oh, he's still awkward because that's just who Siwan is as a person, but... this isn't so bad.
Until he opens his eyes again to see Seb still dancing right in front of him. ))
"Me?" He repeats, cutely. "And yet you lead with asking for the Boss." A little frown of disapproval that's more for show than anything bows his lips. He even turns his back to go wash a glass or something. "Do better."
Go on, Seth. That's your second chance
Go on, Seth. That's your second chance
[Now that's the kind of raw lust Seb likes to see dripping from someone's gaze when they can't tear it off him. He's so much more accustomed to the rising simmer under his skin that he has no problem holding eye contact in a moment like this, but it's fiercely gratifying when Siwan's eyes follow the expanse of his shoulders down his chest and abdomen only to become caught on his narrow waist and hips. This is what he's made for and Siwan's performing his role perfectly so far.
It's odd, though... when Siwan finally finds the rhythm and starts to move his own body, Seb feels proud of him. His happiness that Siwan has broken through all the conditioning and can let himself just exist for awhile is pure and uncomplicated in a way that happiness has almost never felt for him before.
Then their eyes meet again and that fleeting moment of wholesomeness pops like a soap bubble.
Seb slithers closer, almost close enough for their bodies to brush together, then turns his back to Siwan and lets him watch as he slides his hands through his own hair, down his own neck and over his collarbones, his pecs, over the rolling ridges of his abs - the same path Siwan's eyes took earlier, right down to rest on his hips as he gives them a playful swivel. All with their faces nearly cheek to cheek.]
It's odd, though... when Siwan finally finds the rhythm and starts to move his own body, Seb feels proud of him. His happiness that Siwan has broken through all the conditioning and can let himself just exist for awhile is pure and uncomplicated in a way that happiness has almost never felt for him before.
Then their eyes meet again and that fleeting moment of wholesomeness pops like a soap bubble.
Seb slithers closer, almost close enough for their bodies to brush together, then turns his back to Siwan and lets him watch as he slides his hands through his own hair, down his own neck and over his collarbones, his pecs, over the rolling ridges of his abs - the same path Siwan's eyes took earlier, right down to rest on his hips as he gives them a playful swivel. All with their faces nearly cheek to cheek.]
As much as Seth would love to bend Wolf over his knee and slap the sass right out of him via his ass cheeks - well, he's not at that clearance level, and remaining in Lucifer's good graces is of vital importance to him for far too many reasons. He'll keep playing along.
"I wouldn't want to step on any toes," he finally admits, though he sounds much more contrite than he feels. "I am the new guy, and Lucifer's trust and respect mean a lot to me."
And this is where he spins the topic back around to where it belongs, leaning into the counter even further and keeping his gaze fixed on Wolf's back so he'll feel it there.
"But I can't help myself. I want to know more about you."
"I wouldn't want to step on any toes," he finally admits, though he sounds much more contrite than he feels. "I am the new guy, and Lucifer's trust and respect mean a lot to me."
And this is where he spins the topic back around to where it belongs, leaning into the counter even further and keeping his gaze fixed on Wolf's back so he'll feel it there.
"But I can't help myself. I want to know more about you."
(( He really is like a living work of art, this stranger who's quickly becoming less and less of that. Not that this place isn't full of attractive men, but there's just something Siwan can't quite nail down about Seb that sets him apart. He seems so at ease, it's enviable, but... Siwan admires it, too. He's just so comfortable with who he is, where he is, what he is (which is not at all what Siwan is thinking he is, what a surprise that might be for a later date). And on top of that, Seb has the audacity to be beautiful, to be sexy (be honest, Siwan. He's sexy, no question).
Oh. It's definitely hot in here. Or maybe it's just them. Maybe they're the heat in the room. Wherever it's coming from, that heat is burning right through Siwan. But it's pleasant now, the way it melts through and settles under skin, working deeper still to the very marrow of his bones. No, it's not as subtle as melting. It lanced straight through him suddenly, like a lightning strike. But still... it didn't feel like something Siwan wants to push away.
Especially not with the way Seb glides closer. Not with the way they were only barely not touching. Not with the way he could feel something enticing in that scant space between them. Danger. Promise. (Promise of what? Siwan's not sure, but there's a pull like gravity around Seb and he's found himself caught in the man's orbit)
It's not quite instinct (how could it be when Siwan's never done anything like this in his entire life?), but he finds his hands moving toward Seb, toward that narrow waist practically begging to be held. His fingers flex and he stops short. Hands off, that was the caveat, was it not? Hands off. Surely Seb can feel his hands simply hovering there... ))
Is it okay...?
(( It's so hard to hear anything over the blasting music and his own pounding heart. But they're so close, nearly cheek to cheek. Close enough that hopefully even quiet words that were barely man breath against Seb's ear can be discerned. ))
Oh. It's definitely hot in here. Or maybe it's just them. Maybe they're the heat in the room. Wherever it's coming from, that heat is burning right through Siwan. But it's pleasant now, the way it melts through and settles under skin, working deeper still to the very marrow of his bones. No, it's not as subtle as melting. It lanced straight through him suddenly, like a lightning strike. But still... it didn't feel like something Siwan wants to push away.
Especially not with the way Seb glides closer. Not with the way they were only barely not touching. Not with the way he could feel something enticing in that scant space between them. Danger. Promise. (Promise of what? Siwan's not sure, but there's a pull like gravity around Seb and he's found himself caught in the man's orbit)
It's not quite instinct (how could it be when Siwan's never done anything like this in his entire life?), but he finds his hands moving toward Seb, toward that narrow waist practically begging to be held. His fingers flex and he stops short. Hands off, that was the caveat, was it not? Hands off. Surely Seb can feel his hands simply hovering there... ))
Is it okay...?
(( It's so hard to hear anything over the blasting music and his own pounding heart. But they're so close, nearly cheek to cheek. Close enough that hopefully even quiet words that were barely man breath against Seb's ear can be discerned. ))
Edited (ok, you can reply now!) 2025-03-31 04:01 (UTC)
[By the time Siwan asks, Seb is desperate for his touch. He's desperate for any contact with Siwan, half-drunk on the desire rising palpably between them and almost ready to throw his ass back on Siwan's crotch and let the chips fall where they may. But then Siwan's hands reach for him and hesitate - for his waist, which is a delectably commanding choice - and Seb's mouth splits into a toothy smile.
Instead of answering aloud, Seb just guides said hands where they want to be with his own and holds them there for a moment to encourage Siwan's fingers to get a good grip. His body's still moving in those long, rolling arcs and now that touch is no longer taboo, he wraps an arm up behind Siwan's head and curls his fingers into all that pretty hair.]
It's more fun like this anyway.
[Evidently Seb's not protecting Siwan from himself anymore.]
Instead of answering aloud, Seb just guides said hands where they want to be with his own and holds them there for a moment to encourage Siwan's fingers to get a good grip. His body's still moving in those long, rolling arcs and now that touch is no longer taboo, he wraps an arm up behind Siwan's head and curls his fingers into all that pretty hair.]
It's more fun like this anyway.
[Evidently Seb's not protecting Siwan from himself anymore.]
[Tracking a young, handsome (ew) guy with fire engine red hair isn't as easy as it used to be, especially not in the lower income and counterculture circles where Set tends to prowl. These days there's not all that much difference between freshly dyed fire engine red hair and his dad's, and now the bastard keeps changing faces every few decades just to make Sobek's life harder.
Not that Sobek often wants to see his dad. Almost never, really. But Set will inevitably get himself into trouble, and then someone from the pantheon will get on Sobek's ass, and then it's his responsibility to find the bastard and figure out what's going on so he can refute whatever rumours are buzzing around about his own involvement. Fuck Set, and Fuck Horus for never believing Sobek that he wants nothing to do with the prick.
When even Osiris proves hard to reach, though, Sobek realizes this might be bigger than Set's past schemes.
His hunt leads him to a bar that feels almost suspiciously nondescript in its seediness from the outside but blossoms to full supernaturally seedy life once he's through the door. Oh, this is a crowd. No human could unintentionally amass this many powerful freaks in one place and Sobek strongly suspects there's not a single human involved in any part of this place. Not only that, but he almost thinks he can feel a tendril of his dad's cold, biting energy on the air like a draft through the walls.
The locals aren't exactly hostile, but they're restless enough that Sobek decides to head straight for the only obvious employee, a doll-faced young man working the bar, and make sure he's not sticking his neck too far out here.]
Is this a private club? I'm not looking to start any fights tonight.
Not that Sobek often wants to see his dad. Almost never, really. But Set will inevitably get himself into trouble, and then someone from the pantheon will get on Sobek's ass, and then it's his responsibility to find the bastard and figure out what's going on so he can refute whatever rumours are buzzing around about his own involvement. Fuck Set, and Fuck Horus for never believing Sobek that he wants nothing to do with the prick.
When even Osiris proves hard to reach, though, Sobek realizes this might be bigger than Set's past schemes.
His hunt leads him to a bar that feels almost suspiciously nondescript in its seediness from the outside but blossoms to full supernaturally seedy life once he's through the door. Oh, this is a crowd. No human could unintentionally amass this many powerful freaks in one place and Sobek strongly suspects there's not a single human involved in any part of this place. Not only that, but he almost thinks he can feel a tendril of his dad's cold, biting energy on the air like a draft through the walls.
The locals aren't exactly hostile, but they're restless enough that Sobek decides to head straight for the only obvious employee, a doll-faced young man working the bar, and make sure he's not sticking his neck too far out here.]
Is this a private club? I'm not looking to start any fights tonight.
Good luck. If a lifetime with Lucifer couldn't do it... Well, no. Lucifer not only enjoys, but encourages a certain level of sass. Especially in those who are so fiercely loyal to him as Wolf is. When the Boss isn't around, Wolf's in charge here and he treats this place as he would his own domain. He's allowed to run out anyone he wants to, and even eat the rude on occasion (though he does try to refrain. Too many people going missing would draw attention and that's the one rule).
"Don't worry," he calls in a sing-song voice, still 95% focused on washing that glass. So interesting, that glass. Much more interesting than some old god trying to find another body to stick his dick in or whatever it is he wants. Looking back over his shoulder with the friendliest smile, he clarifies, "He's not the jealous type. There's probably a dozen more other than you." And Wolf would know since he's the one who guards the doors. And who climbs in bed beside his master after. Theirs is a special kind of bond.
"Don't worry," he calls in a sing-song voice, still 95% focused on washing that glass. So interesting, that glass. Much more interesting than some old god trying to find another body to stick his dick in or whatever it is he wants. Looking back over his shoulder with the friendliest smile, he clarifies, "He's not the jealous type. There's probably a dozen more other than you." And Wolf would know since he's the one who guards the doors. And who climbs in bed beside his master after. Theirs is a special kind of bond.
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