altimit | .:October Fun Times:.

[ Voices which are simply vocalizations of the past that were once remembered in some cases, voices from the wrong places, voices from times that never once existed for some, and perhaps voices from the heart. And memories that were there, or have not place being.

Ganymede keeps company a bit away from most people around this time. His temper runs even hotter still, emotions no longer leashed to the point where he might enter into a violence that makes him filled with regret. But there is just so much anger now.

So much like he might explode. And terror, and despair.

What hope is there when it feels like bit by bit that's being taken from them? He returns to see Michel, quiet footsteps like a silent song. The door closes behind him and it feels like rainfall.

He steps closer to see Michel, and he runs on over to him. He then stops suddenly, wondering if he might be disturbing his peace. ]

Michel...

[ He says the name softly, and tears fall quietly. Ganymede rubs at them even as he tries to hold them back. ]

I want to go home.

[ He knows it's Ganymede before he opens his eyes fully. He always knows it's Ganymede, even as quietly as he moves this time. The cadence of his steps like a song they both understand. Recognition-urgency-hesitation.

Today, it's still "Michel" from Ganymede. For a little longer, maybe. With the way Michel's emotions have been lately, the sight of those tears can't not send a jolt through him. He sits up fully and reaches out to curl his fingers around Ganymede's wrist, tugging him closer. ]

...This still isn't home?

[ There's a little bit of a question in the statement, but only just. He gives Ganymede another gentle pull, testing whether Ganymede will come curl up in his arms here or if Ganymede is too restless to sit just yet. ]

Tell me what happened.

Home is with you.

But home is also with you back at my place, in Greece. Not in this hell.

[ Ganymede doesn't have the heart to interject his next words with humor, but if he could... ]

You can't watch me become the best dancer in the world here, remember? No stage where there are so many people watching, no theatre productions...

[ The blond shakes his head, and finally allows himself to sink downwards so he can sit with Michel, and then wrap his arms around the other, allowing himself to be able to come close into his embrace. ]

...Zelkova got hurt real bad and I can't find him. I think it's Lily again. He's always causing problems. I hate how it feels so hopeless, and now some people look strange and are acting weird.

I don't want to see their faces ever again.

[ He'll never see that with his own eyes. Each day that passes the words come closer to slipping out; he can practically taste them on the tip of his tongue, barely caught behind his teeth in time. Every day, a battle of reflexes against these impulses.

He reaches up a hand to cup Ganymede's cheek lightly, rub the traces of tears from the corner of his eyes. For one more day, let that be enough. ]

There could be a stage here. This place... is changing constantly.

[ It's an observation, not a persuasion. He wraps his arms around Ganymede in turn and tucks Ganymede's head under his chin, nuzzling his face into his hair. ]

...It's not hopeless. You've been in worse situations than this. [ The vacant stare, like an empty doll. ] Even if you can't find Zelkova. He's come back after vanishing before, hasn't he?

[ Can't wait until Michel says that and Ganymede has another fit.

...That's probably why he's trying to keep mum besides feelings being hurt, huh? Anyway, Ganymede blinks through the tears. Then he looks annoyed. ]

I don't mind a stage being here, but it's not the same.

I want us back home soon.

[ Ganymede says with a stubborn utterance. Even if he says these things, that things feel hopeless, it's just mostly frustration. The moment he feels that despair acutely, he won't even bother trying; he just wants to punch so many people in the face right now the number is sincerely staggering, and it kind of scares him a bit. Especially when he loses pieces of himself in the memories. ]

I have? ...What do you mean? [ But he can believe it's not hopeless, definitely not, with the way the other holds him, nuzzles against him, and says those words. The blond raises his fingers to thread through the long hair too. ] You're right that he has. I guess...it's just infuriating.

People messing with our emotions, our memories, our whole entire being—it's not right. It's not fair. Do you ever wonder how they would react if we could do the same to them? CC Corp? Lily? They would hate it, so why do they do it to us?

[ ~~Michel, avoiding Ganymede rabbitkicks to the last...~~

He gives a soft huff of an exhalation at that pronouncement, not in the least surprised. Ganymede's stubbornness will outlast any of this. It will probably outlast him. ]

They don't expect to ever be on the receiving end of this treatment. It's convenient for their purposes, and so they'll use it. That's all. "Right" and "fair" has nothing to do with it, once someone has something they want. Even a good person could find themselves using methods they swore they would never touch.

[ And he isn't saying anything nearly that optimistic about Lily, or CyberConnect. He threads his fingers slowly through Ganymede's hair, petting gently before he makes his way to trace the wave marking on his cheek. ]

Do you want to hear about your circumstances before? Even though you won't remember.

[ Or is it better to let those things slip away? Although he can't take back the letters he's already written. ]

[ ~~His fear of rabbitkicks keeps Michel in check? (no)~~

Ganymede likes to think he is so stubborn he could outlash a tsunami even if that isn't really realistic. ]

I'm sick and tired of that being true.

I just want to beat the crap out of them and be done with it. They should be tasting the bitter fruit of their actions. That's how it should be.

[ He sighs to himself, frustrated, but allows Michel to card fingers gently through his hair, and then touch his cheek. Even leaning into the affectionate touch. ]

I remember at one time being in a hospital. For a long time. I know someone had saved me from a previous situation I was in, and I was unhappy about it. Right...I was captive, but I don't remember being held somewhere against my will. Or why, or how...

Did it have something to do with that? Tell me about it.

[ This is how Ganymede is, isn't it? The restless energy, barely contained. It's proof that as frustrated and upset as he is, he isn't hopeless. ]

The world isn't that fair.

[ Which is true. But Ganymede's anger isn't wrong. No, it's probably more correct than the tired resignation that's begun to creep in around the edges for Michel. The thought kindles a spark of protectiveness in him again, a little flicker of light. ]

I wrote it down for you, in case you forget it again.

[ But he remembers. Keenly. He pushes some of Ganymede's hair back from his face, looking down at him in thought. ]

A man... was hired by a client of his to kidnap you. Someone who wanted a pretty doll to look at. He— hurt your family, and he took you. For four years, until you were rescued.

[ The barest bones of what had happened, laid out plainly. He doesn't know how to say it in a way that won't hurt, if these lost things can still hurt at all. ]

It should be at least a bit more. A lot more.

[ Ganymede's expression is nothing short of irritable for a moment, because of course he's going to insist on such things.

Hardly much of a surprise, no? But he leans into the gentle touch against his cheek regardless. ]

...So I was kidnapped and held for a long time. No wonder you said what you did. But, I'll still always hate we're being forced to deal with this situation.

[ However, he begins to pull back, considering something as he is able to rise back to his feet. He is a little compelled to do something, after all. ]

Though, there's always one constant about it all. Do you want to guess what that is?

It should be.

[ If the world were a better place, there would be no room for him. But the thought makes him smile a little at last, though the expression slips to questioning surprise when Ganymede pulls away.

Was he wrong to tell him? No, he seemed to accept the information easily enough. It must feel like something that happened to someone else, if even that. ]

...What constant? I'm... not very good at riddles.

[ Puzzles, but not people. Not reading their reactions or their needs. He starts to push himself a little away from the couch, wondering if he should meet Ganymede halfway. ]

[ Never wrong to tell him.

Ganymede loathes how cruel the world is. But all the same, he loves the sweetness that can be found in the sincere honesty from within those who will be close to him and have remained as such.

There is now a small smile on his face, as his hands reach out to gently rest on the man's thighs, to make him sit down. ]

Stay. Let me do this for you...so, you'll figure this riddle out very soon.

[ Then, Ganymede is pulling them back to Michel's knees before he steps back again, and he begins to show the other man something. Swaying his hips from side to side, before he twirls on the spot, allowing his own hands to pass up his own legs, his body, and ultimately beginning to show him a dance.

Once hat is more sensual than not, meant to be certainly private. ]

It's just for you. Your eyes only, Michel.

[ Some things are disappearing, too fast. Every warm memory, the things that soften the jagged edges of what he can't shield his heart from.

But when Ganymede smiles at him like that and those warm palms press down against his thighs, he feels his chest flood with warmth all over again. Maybe... the new memories can outpace what he's losing. His eyes follow Ganymede's movements as he steps back, riveted by the sway of his hips. ]

I-is the thing that's constant... how much you enjoy seeing me flustered?

[ It's too soft to be a complaint. He can't tear his gaze away, fixated on every place Ganymede's hands touch. Sometimes, just a smile from Ganymede is enough to make him ache to reach for him. Let alone this. ]

...You're beautiful.

[ The true constant. No one else in the world could look like Ganymede, the artistry in every movement. ]

[ Ganymede will always be happy to remind him of the happier things in their lives; they will need to continue to struggle still.

But it'll make it worth it.

A phrase he has once uttered close to when he spoke to someone not too long ago, but now feels it acutely. ]

Maybe it is. Is that so bad, though?

[ He hears the softness in the voice; knows that it isn't a complaint, but asks gently anyway. As for the compliment, each time he happens to hear it, it makes his heart feel lighter, but because it's Michel saying it, even if he has heard such words before.

It's just... different.

He will twirl for him, the light jingle of his everpresent jewelry creating a bit of ambience to go along with it, movements continuing, stretching for minutes longer, as he passes the other a bright smile. ]

When you look at me and say those words, I feel as if my likeness would be like to a god's.

[ How egoistic, perhaps. But he comes closer, and closer, until he presses his hands atop Michel's shoulders, and then himself, again, hands down teasing on his thighs, his legs, until he stops, smiling brightly at him, leaning in for another, gentle kiss. ]

If I said that it was, I doubt that would stop you...

[ Ganymede's cheerful relentlessness. But for all his blustering, prickly awkwardness, Michel has never been shy about making himself understood when he needs something to cease. His eyes are warm in a way even he doesn't realize as he tracks Ganymede's every motion. ]

I don't have any poetry or hymns to offer you.

[ But there's a note of apology in it, not a tease. He wishes he had the right words to tell Ganymede, not this clumsy offering. Anyone could tell him he's beautiful, and he's certain they have. It doesn't do justice to the way his hair streams like a sunbeam, his smile brightens his face like a song.

Michel tries to show him in touch instead, reaching for him when he leans in for that kiss, not caring if it interrupts the dance. If Ganymede doesn't flit away from him again he'll cup his cheek to kiss him back, let his hand settle on the small of Ganymede's back. ]

You're right that it wouldn't.

[ Ganymede says lightly. And perhaps because he knows that Michel would say if something bothered him so, it makes him always all the more confident in where he so happens to go with him. The man isn't the type to easily be forced.

No, someone would have to press upon him the weight of a thousand tons in order to keep him from slipping out of something he wouldn't want to indulge himself in at all. ]

You might not, but I don't need any. I just need you.

[ He allows Michel to interrupt the dance somewhat, and it is so easy to press back into Michel, even allow himself to settle himself into the other male's lap. He adjusts the dance slightly, instead allowing his hips to roll up against Michel's, unable to resist an urge to do a little more.

This is apparently now a lap dance. Surprise! ]

[ That "I need you" from Ganymede can still steal the breath from his lungs. It doesn't make any sense. He isn't the sort of person anyone should be pleased to have around. Let alone the sort of person anyone should need.

He thought he'd been doing a terrible job at lifting Ganymede's spirits. But Ganymede seems to have no trouble lifting them all on his own. Michel makes a soft noise of surprise as Ganymede's weight settles over his lap, the sound undignified with his sudden intake of breath. ]

O-or is the constant simply how much you love to dance?

[ It's. Perhaps not solely the love of the dance that seems to be motivating Ganymede's enthusiastic excitement. Michel's hips cant upwards instinctively when Ganymede presses against him, his palms drifting lightly down Ganymede's thighs to feel him as he moves. ]

[ Knees planted on each side of the other's legs, it's very much easy to get a rhythm of sort going. Perhaps one might argue that he should have no experience in this, but a dancer learns as many tricks as one does to enhance their ability, even if he never necessarily looked to indulge in sexual relations before meeting Michel.

The sound that escapes Michel sounds cute. ]

You don't sound like you're complaining about that either, though?

[ Ganymede smiles, flush on his cheeks, letting out a soft breath when he feels the other move against him; up and down, then against the other's front he rolls against him. His hands move up and down the other's clothed chest, back to cup his face with both hands, gentle, but also meant to be enticing, teasing; to stoke the flames and give a performance all in one package. ]

[ To Michel it seems only natural that this would come easily to Ganymede. Why wouldn't he have studied all sorts of forms of dance? This is just one more, as effortlessly beautiful and beyond Michel's ability to follow as all the others. ]

...No. I love to watch you dance.

[ He'd wanted to see it just once, in reality. In the sunlight. For Ganymede... he could even have tolerated standing in a crowd, to hear him receive the adulation he deserves.

But this kind of dance is precious, too. Only for him, only between them. He tilts his head into Ganymede's touch, drawn to each subtle tease Ganymede offers. He lets his lips just brush Ganymede's fingertips, his fingers skimming over the lithe lines of his hips. ]

What part about my dancing do you like the most?

[ Ganymede asks, voice breathless, keeping his movements constant while seated atop the other man, watching his face. The touch of those fingertips are nothing short of wonderfully scandalous, feeling even a bit ticklish, and so he dares to lean a bit forward, before dropping himself down, creating more friction against the other man.

He moves both hands to slide down those shoulders, up and down, before bringing them back to his front, and shifting upwards so he bring his lips close to his ear. ]

Is it the way I move? Or that you can see more of me when I do?

[ Michel's breath catches sharply as Ganymede presses down again, his reaction unmistakable by now. He can't resist grinding up against him in turn, almost lightheaded for the moment with wanting.

But it's so sweet like this. The tease of contact makes his heart race, the anticipation building for every gentle touch Ganymede grants him. Wound this tight, even Ganymede's breath warm against his ear can make him shiver. ]

Do I... have to pick?

[ It isn't a fair question. But he tips his head back for Ganymede, his eyes half closed, gaze warm. ]

...The way you move. It's... like a song in motion. Like art.

[ Hearing the way Michel's breath catches is the definition of satisfaction written in stone, the blond nonetheless already more than excited, no...enthralled at how he is able to get more from the other man. The slight grinding in return makes him smile a little. Even if the other can't see it. ]

Like art?

...I think I can accept that answer. Especially when you manage one at all, and I think I actually like the compliment.

[ Cheeky, perhaps, but seeing the other man tilt his head back, oh...there is no way he is unaffected. A light flush against his cheeks rising like the setting sun, and he can only keep himself from not giving a kiss for so long. Just like that, he shifts downwards to press a gentle, teasing kiss against that neck. And, instead of dropping down, he begins to move more urgently against the other male, to increase the friction between their lower halves. ]

If my dance is like art, then would it be wrong to see you're incredible like a sculpted work?

[ Michel's always clumsy with his words, and he knows he's stumbling now. His blush deepens — but it's clear Ganymede isn't actually displeased when those gentle lips press against his neck.

The teasing is too much already. He wants to let Ganymede play things out at his leisure... but he also can't resist the urge to curl his fingers into a possessive hold on Ganymede's hips as he arches up to meet him. ]

I-I'm... just an ordinary man.

[ Especially compared to Ganymede. If they're no longer teasing, is he allowed to touch more? He turns his head to kiss Ganymede's jaw, sliding his palms down over his thighs longingly. ]

Ganymede... let me take you to bed.

[ He wants to pick him up and carry him now. They need so much more space than the couch for this. If Ganymede wants to show him more of this dance, well... ]

[ Oh no. Far enough from being displeased to the point where he can only be nothing but pleased.

Feeling the way the other male's fingers dig a possessive hold into his skin is ... nice. He likes that, but he's distracted by his comment, frowning a little. ]

But to me, you're extraordinary.

[ He doesn't care if Michel doesn't believe it. He does. He even quickly returns the kiss, light against the other's lips with a lurch now, as the other continues to caress his bare thighs. ]

...Then, take me. However you want to.

[ He says the words softly, gently, yet...no less enticing. ]

If you insist on phrasing things like that, I'm going to walk into walls...

[ That word choice definitely wasn't accidental. Michel's breath hitches, and he slides his hands under Ganymede's thighs before standing up with him outright. His movements are likely clumsy in their abruptness; but he knows full well how graceful and at ease Ganymede is. He isn't worried about dropping him as he carries him towards their bedroom, even as he leans down for one more tiny kiss.

But, a little emboldened... since he managed to answer Ganymede's question before, he lowers his voice to add: ]

I-I want to see more of you, too. All.. of you...

[ ...Now, at that, Ganymede's going to be smiling briefly for a different reason. ]

My words would really be stuck in your head that much, even when I'm not around? ...Well, good. Just watch out for the walls, okay?

[ Having something as good as that stick in Michel's head can only mean positive things from his end. But, there was also another effect as well, hearing the way the other man's sudden intake of breath in response—to his other words for sure.

And, oh, he's being picked right up—he also has no fear about being dropped, leaning into the kiss he receives just a bit, hands hanging on while his legs are wrapped around Michel's waist. ]

...I'll be happy to show you everything.

Edited (sshhh) 2023-11-12 23:58 (UTC)

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when you come back to older tags, 'i thought i tagged this' anyway slaps a nsfw tag here. belatedly

surprise spice: the sampler platter

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