dalishious | - IC CONTACT -

[ continued from here ]

It's Merrick's turn to grab Metaari's hand and steer him, though he can't exactly pull him anywhere. He does lead the way to the door that leads down into the wine cellar--which he could have slipped into unnoticed if he were on his own, but as Metaari is quite visible, they'd certainly been spotted walking in. Merrick has enough knives on him to threaten whoever dares interrupt them, though, so he's not terribly worried.

There are rows of dusty shelves full of various wines and liquors from all over Thedas, and if this were any other occasion, Merrick would absolutely be raiding the place right now. As it stands, he just returns to his spot nestled against Metaari's chest, finally lowering his guard.

"I really thought you wouldn't come," he mumbled.

Metaari tries his best to be inconspicuous (he's pretty decent at it when out in the field), but in the middle of a crowd and with his size being an ever present factor, it's next to impossible to not have a few curious glances cast in their direction as they go by. Still, as soon as they step inside the walls of the hold itself the sound dampens considerably as the crowds thin. He smiles at the back of Merrick's head as he's lead through the building and down stairs to the cellar.

The immediate brace startles him for a moment but as soon as he recovers Metaari rests a hand on top of Merrick's head, lightly stroking his hair. "What I said out in the courtyard was true, you know. The promise of running into you again was too good to pass up."

He finally steps back a little in order to bend over, enveloping Merrick in his arms and lifting him up onto his toes in order to steal a kiss. Deeper, this time, not the fleeting peck he'd been given in front of the crowd. It lingers and his lips tingle still even after he pulls back so he can lightly bump their noses together. "You're addicting."

There's a lot to discuss-- like what this is, where it's going, how the fuck he'd explain it to the others. There's Metaari's place in the Inquisition, too, whether he's willing to work for a cause greater and more dangerous than any mercenary job, or if he'll be on his way once the festivities are done. It's all there, waiting for time and sobriety, but the bubble is closing around them again-- the secret place they go where time halts and everything stops mattering.

Merrick kisses back, wobbling a little on his tiptoes, relying on Metaari to support him. As always his kisses are deep, devouring, fevered. He bites down whenever he feels it's unexpected, keeping Metaari on his proverbial toes.

Talking can happen--will happen--later. There hasn't been a lot of time for discussion. This is only their third meeting, the others fleeting moments in the dead of night, but now they both have a solid location to be at. It should be easier from here on, though significantly more difficult all the same. Metaari was to take, have, consume, and it's frightening. He remembers this rush. He remembers where it lead.

But the thoughts get pushed aside in favor of finally just picking Merrick up from the ground, lifting his legs to wrap them around his waist. One large hand supports Merrick from underneath and he takes a few steps toward a wall that's mostly devoid of bottles, leaving it smoother than the others. He presses Merrick into it, letting the wall help keep him aloft as he devours that soft mouth.

Merrick's hands settle on either side of Metaari's face, able to touch and explore since he doesn't really have to hold himself up. Just like last time and the time before, the desire he feels stuns and frightens him. He's just not like this. He doesn't find most people attractive at all, even when he thinks he logically should, and he certainly doesn't engage in casual sex. To everyone else, he just comes across as frigid where love and sex are concerned. He doesn't feel like himself right now, feels like he might be better, and there's no room in his brain to even begin to wonder what that means.

He wants things fast and rough and dirty this time. He barely breathes in between frenetic kisses, his legs tightening around Metaari's waist, clinging desperately. His arms go around the qunari's neck, fingernails scratching at the base of his skull.

Addicting. It really was the right word for this, wasn't it? Metaari was addicted to Merrick; his taste, the way he sounded, the way he felt against his body. He wanted hum, bad enough that he climbed a mountain for him. The implications behind the act were staggering.

Metaari wastes no time. He's already pushing fabric aside, reaching a hand down to free himself from his pants. Already hard, already wanting, it was the mere anticipation from the moment they started walking away from the crowds that had gotten him going. He only breaks his mouth away from Merrick to tip his head down and press his lips against Merrick's neck. There were going to be marks, deep and lasting, and Metaari isn't going to apologize for them. Look here. He's been claimed.

It's a good thing that Merrick doesn't have to hold himself up, because his neck is sensitive and the kisses and bites turn him to jelly. His hand coils fingers around one of Metaari's horns--certainly not strong enough to hold his head in place, but enough to say yes, right there, keep doing that.

He's just as hard, just as dizzy with fevered desire, but he forces himself to gasp out words. "Do you--" A gasp, a pant of breath. "We need--something."

Edited 2016-01-04 01:17 (UTC)

Metaari takes the hint, leaves his lips firmly attached where they are. His teeth occasionally scrape and bite at the skin, deepening the bruise even further. Merrick may want to invest in some high collared tunics for a time, lest he enjoys looking like he lost a fight with a giant leech.

A grin is pressed to Merrick's neck, hidden, and he almost chuckles. "You might hit me for this," he starts, muttering against the skin beneath his lips, "but I've been prepared for running into you. I wasn't sure when it would happen, and I didn't want to be suddenly left wanting for... necessary assistance."

With his back to the wall and his neck being all but devoured, Merrick doesn't really have a way to show Metaari how he feels about that statement. He just lets out a growl and squirms against him, fingernails pressing into the fabric of Metaari's jacket.

"You're unbelievable," he manages to gasp out.

"I'm prepared," he counters, moving one hand away from Merrick's body in order to pat around at his pouches. He knows he has it on him, a vial filled with a lightly sweet-smelling oil meant to be used to help relax. It's a concoction a company member taught him years ago, and one whose recipe he's made sure to remember; the uses were numerous, after all.

He finally locates it and pulls it free from the vial, holding it up. "Hold this," he mumbles, finally pulling his head away from Merrick's neck. Metaari doesn't want to put Merrick down but the angle is going to be a little awkward to deal with if he doesn't do something about it. So he sets Merrick down and sets his hands to working at the elf's trousers, working them down. He kneels as he pushes at them, pausing for just a moment to tauntingly flick his tongue across Merrick's head as he's exposed.

Merrick is sorry to leave the tight, warm embrace--the cellar is cold and drafty, raising goosebumps on his skin--but instantly forgets when he feels that tongue flick against him. The memories alone made him stiffen despite the chill, made him struggle not to press his hips forward to seek out more.

Instead he grits his teeth, back flat against the wall, clutching the small bottle in one hand while the other lands on Metaari's shoulder. He can feel the kiss marks on his neck, the remnants of saliva cold on his skin as the bruises throbbed satisfyingly.

Edited 2016-01-14 02:55 (UTC)

Once he finally has Merrick bare from the waist down and the clothing out of the way he stands again, picking him back up so they are as they were before, body pressed to body, heat radiating from them. Metaari tips his head to place his mouth against the other side of Merrick's neck to place a hasty twin mark there. He was going to come out of this looking thoroughly debauched.

He takes the bottle back and uncorks it with his teeth, spitting the cork out to his side somewhere. Using his body and the wall both to keep Merrick in the air he puts his hands back down under the elf before he pours a fair amount of the oil onto his fingers. With a grin Metaari leans in to close their mouths together as he presses a finger inside of the slight frame against him.

It's been...a while. Merrick gasps in response to the sudden intrusion, squirming a little before pushing down experimentally. He knows this experience is going to shock his system just like the last time, but he's ready for it. He doesn't do anything half-assed (~~pun very much intended~~).

The kiss helps him relax, and he sinks into it, drawing it out as long as he can. Then his head falls back against the wall, his throat bared, breath heavy and short as he adjusts. He chews on his lip as he lets the finger explore, feel him out, open him up.

Edited 2016-01-14 04:46 (UTC)

While Metaari has Merrick distracted with the kiss he works him open, slowly but surely, steadily spreading him wider. He presses another finger in and with it his own tension grows, his hips rolling slightly with the anticipation of it all.

"I don't know," he mutters in between kisses, his voice low and rough, "just how much longer I can hold myself back." He lets out a breath, pulling his head back a little so that he can look at Merrick properly. "Tell me when you're ready."

It takes Merrick a little longer than he'd wanted to open up--he keeps tensing up because of the cold--but it happens, slowly but surely, long moments spent with his arm locked around Metaari's neck, breathing against him. He's already covered in sweat, already trembling, and they've only just begun.

"Now," he gasps out, and wraps both arms around Metaari, anchoring himself as much as clinging for comfort.

His own arms are quivering from the effort to keep Merrick aloft and also work him open, one arm doing most of the heavy lifting on its own. The rest of his body is tense from restraint and it very nearly all comes crashing down the instant Merrick says now.

Metaari somehow manages to keep it reined in for a few moments longer, enough for him to empty to rest of the vial onto himself to slick it up. Once he feels he's ready he shifts his position, widening his stance a bit as he guides himself toward Merrick's entrance. His head brushes against him, searching, until he finally finds what he's looking for and he starts to slowly--agonizingly--press up.

Just like last time, it's a shock-- Merrick grinds his teeth as he feels the blunt head of Metaari's cock breach him, then slowly begin to stretch him impossibly. It hurts, sharp and acute, but Merrick is not afraid of pain.

He gasps, over and over with every stretch, and he turns his head slightly to sink his teeth into Metaari's neck. He stays like that for some time, biting down harder with every stab of pain as if trying to return it by inches.

The teeth to his neck send a jolt through his body, causing him to throb once as he slowly pushes himself inside of Merrick's body. The going is slow, necessarily so, but it's so tight and warm and it just feels good, right, that ending it quickly is tempting. But he doesn't; he wants it to last in spite of his resolve quickly disappearing.

He doesn't even notice when his forward progress stops, when he finally has himself fully enveloped inside of Merrick's body. He's too focused on the sensation of the elf against him, the feeling of teeth digging so sharply into his skin that he wouldn't be surprised if he bleeds. "Shit..."

Merrick is shaking from head to toe, clinging to Metaari almost desperately, breaths shuddering as they leave his lungs. He's overwhelmed, just like last time-- so, so incredibly full, like he can feel it in his belly, his throat. The ache of it goes all the way up his spine, and he feels like his bones might shatter, like he might break in Metaari's arms.

He opens his mouth and a whimper comes out, followed by another when he tries something else. It's all he can articulate right now, so he just presses his nails into Metaari's back, fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt, and just--holds on.

Metaari doesn't move, doesn't even twitch. He can feel Merrick trembling against him, can feel how he quakes through his entire body, and it's--startling. An overwhemling need to protect suddenly hits him, which is absurd, really. Merrick is fully capable of taking care of himself, but Metaari still feels the desire to stand in front of him against anything that might come his way.

So he holds him back, one hand soothingly moving up and down his back. He tips his head back a little and nudges at Merrick's face with his nose until he can find the elf's mouth and cover it with his own again, swallowing the whimpers.

The sudden tenderness is unexpected, but exactly what Merrick needs right now, and he cants his head up so he can meet that gentle kiss. He answers it with slow, sweet movements of his lips, his spine curving in tandem with the stroking along his back.

Slowly his body begins to relax around Metaari, some of the tension uncoiling from his muscles, though he continues to tremble with pure need. His hands crawl up to the back of Metaari's neck and his kisses get more erratic, more desperate. He bites on his partner's lower lip, follows it with a short, breathy laugh.

He's okay.

Edited 2016-01-24 03:09 (UTC)

The shaking is a subtle change, less tense and pained, but the moment he gets that little nip to his lips Metaari can feel the shift and he grins at the laugh, stealing one more kiss. It's an unspoken got it and Metaari shifts his hold so he has both of his hands under Merrick's body.

Slowly, so slowly, he starts to pull his hips back, bringing himself out halfway before he presses back in again. A groan rumbles through his chest at the sensation, hot and tight and good, and he repeats the motion. Slowly out, slowly in. And again, until he can start to feel Merrick opening up around him.

Merrick sucks in a gasp, releasing the tension in his hips as he sinks down. He clutches Metaari around the shoulders, keeping close, breathing deeply. The slide of Metaari's cock in and out of his body is all he can feel, all he can think about, and he closes his eyes and just allows himself to be taken.

He isn't a passive partner, though--his hands moving up and down Metaari's back, nails occasionally scratching at the back of his neck, thighs tightening and trembling around him, heels pressing into his back.

His cock, having gone soft from the shock of the penetration, begins to stiffen again as Metaari starts to move inside his body. He lets out a shuddering breath.

"Fuck me," he whispers, his voice ragged. "I need you to..."

The words cause a wave of desire to crash through Metaari's body and he groans at them, his eyes falling closed as he internalizes it, files the phrasing and the sound of Merrick's voice away. It isn't the first time he's heard the words, not by a long shot, but it isn't very often that they're so honest. This isn't lip service, this is true need.

His stance shifts, widens just a bit so he's sturdier, and he grips Merrick's thighs with a grin. "Fuck you, huh?" He pulls himself almost all the way out and taunts, holds the position for just a moment. "Ask and you shall receive," he rumbles before snapping his hips up, burying himself fast and deep inside of Merrick's body, the start of a steady, pounding rhythm.

Just like last time, Merrick has no choice but to hang on and just ride it, to release his tight control on his own body and just take, just feel. He can't think anymore, can't speak, can barely move. He grips Metaari, both arms around his neck now, squeezing him tight.

The whimpers that leave his lips are the qunari's alone to hear. The vulnerability he's showing is such that no one else can see, that will stay in this wine cellar between the two of them forever.

There's a rhythm to his gasps and cries, a steady "ah--ah--ah--" as he's pounded into.

Edited 2016-02-03 03:51 (UTC)

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