Me, of all people? I don't think of myself as anything special!
[ Blind, of course, to the publication of his life story, to the work the Trailblazer put in to sharing it, to ensuring that his world would be born. Phainon is stuck in Irontomb, hating himself. ]
I enjoy cooking, and I often make too much. It would be no trouble to share more with you.
[ Not that he considers himself any kind of true hero. Phainon is not the real Deliverer, for all that he might cling to the term; he is just... Phainon. Khaslana. A beast, burning in the flame of the sun.
Glancing over at Sunday, his smile widens a little, something softer on his face. ]
[ For a brief, wild moment, Sunday entertains the thought of kissing Phainon. Of course, they'd kissed before, at the ball but there were circumstances around that, weren't there? Alcohol and aphrodisiacs and the setting itself. But here, in Sunday's apartment, there's no real excuse for it other than Sunday's own desire thrumming through him.
He really should not.
So, he clears his throat for a moment and steps closer, not in an effort to kiss but in an effort to be useful. ]
Tell me how I can help. Let me be your sous chef tonight.
[ Sunday will go digging through Phainon's bag then, pulling out the seasonings that he enjoys so he can season the meat when they get there. He pulls out mostly savory seasonings, nothing too spicy, and when Phainon asks him about it — he gives a soft shake of his head. ]
I can't handle things that are too spicy. I love flavorful food but the spice overpowers it for me. What about you?
[ Oh. That is... close. Phainon is so close now that with a slight flutter, Sunday's wings brush across Phainon's cheek and causes Sunday to duck his head slightly, shy. ]
Of course, you got it.
[ And he will... pull the meat closer to start to season it, trying not to think of their proximity. ]
[ It's... Cute, the way his wings flutter, and Phainon doesn't move, allowing it to happen. What he actually does is lean in even more, peering at the seasoning as he goes.
[ It's so intimate, the closeness Phainon is showing him. He feels safe, tucked away against Phainon's chest like this, with him leaning in so closely. It's not bad, not bad at all. He swallows when Phainon pays him the compliment, rubbing the meat with oil and seasonings to make sure it takes and he blushes lightly.
Is this... should he flirt? Can he flirt? Does he even know how? ]
Well... if you should ever need use of them, do let me know. I'm at your service.
[ Phainon can feel the energy buzzing between them, a curl of desire and want, ready to be lit. It makes him smile, and he does what he feels is right, resting his chin on Sunday’s shoulder. ]
[ A fizzle of electricity shoots up Sunday's spine when Phainon rests his chin on his shoulder and he swallows, hard, nodding his head without hesitation. ]
I'd... like that. Yes. Please.
[ Sex, huh? Sex with Phainon... they kissed at the ball but that was different. This is a little more... intentional. But he can't say he doesn't want it. ]
[ It feels like forever to cook and eat their dinner.
Phainon can feel the kindling flame, the shared want that echoes in them both. They talk, content to share their experiences and discuss their life here, with an awareness of the destination. He even decides to abandon the dessert he had planned, gathering the plates and putting them aside before he goes to the sofa, Sunday’s hands in his own.
If allowed, he’ll pull the other man down onto his lap, eyes roaming his face. ]
[ He is most certainly allowed. The warm heat he's felt since they made dinner together, even as they talked over it, has only continued to grow and now his body nearly... aches for more with Phainon. To touch him. To kiss him. To fall into something together with him. His eyes keep lingering on Phainon's mouth and even now, as he's pulled into his lap, his face a little pink from the wine shared over dinner — his gaze drops down to his mouth again. ]
I want to kiss you, Phainon.
[ He wants so desperately to kiss the other man, and lose himself in it completely. ]
[ Phainon can’t help the fond smile that stretches over his face, nor the way his arms wrap around the other man’s waist, to draw him close. He can remember how it felt to kiss Sunday at the ball, soft and slow and a little hazy from the good wine. He thinks it’ll be similar here, with nothing and no one to disturb them.
Lifting his head, he smiles wider. ]
What is stopping you?
[ Leaning up, he kisses him gently, one hand gliding up his back to sink into Sunday’s hair and hold him in place. ]
[ Oh, the kiss is perfect. The kiss is exactly what he needed, what he craved ever since Phainon messaged him this afternoon. There's a soft, gentle sigh into it as he sinks into the kiss, his hands lifting up to curl his arms around Phainon's shoulders and grasp him gently.
Sweet lips pressed against sweet lips and Sunday opens his mouth gently in order to allow Phainon the access to deepen the kiss. The kiss transitions from something light and sweet to something deeper, a little more sensual, and definitely full of heat. Tongues sliding against each other, he chases after Phainon's lips with eager presses of his own and a soft, low moan into his mouth. ]
[ Phainon isn’t as used to this as he’d like to pretend himself to be. He’d like to imagine himself a capable lover, good at giving pleasure, skilled with mouth and hands, yet… His recent experience has had him far more focused on receiving than giving. That’s something he’d like to rectify in general, and not something he wants to lose himself to where Sunday is concerned.
Rather than worry about it, he sinks into the kiss with a moan. His fingers tangle a little more, twisting, and his free arm pulls Sunday all the closer. He’s practically pinning the man against him, gleefully and filled with excitement. It’s obvious how much more of this he wants, giving his all to seek and claim, to show his desire. ]
[ Phainon's enthusiasm is far too intoxicating for Sunday to resist, pressing into it with eager swipes of his tongue and his hands, sliding over Phainon's chest and resting on his shoulders. His wings flutter just a little and then he shifts his position without breaking the kiss, no longer sitting sideways in Phainon's lap and instead straddling the other man. It helps him sink deeper against his body as they kiss.
The heat continues to build between them and Sunday doesn't mind it at all. He knows where this is going at this point and he wants it, badly. Especially with someone as beautiful as Phainon. ]
[ As soon as Sunday settles properly on his legs, Phainon is reaching up to anchor him in place, one strong arm around his waist and pulling him against his chest, not giving him any space to move. The other hand stays in his hair, holding him there, too, even as he tilts his head and chases, chases, filled with want and need.
He doesn't want to rush things, but this isn't their first kiss. Phainon feels himself wanting more, and the need overcomes reason, his fingers tugging gently, testing the waters to see how the other man reacts.
At the same time, he lets his hand explore, sliding up the back of Sunday's shirt, around to his stomach, teasing against the warmth of his skin. ]
[ There is a soft, pleased sigh against Phainon as their kisses deepen and as he feels Phainon begin to touch his body. His arms move to loop around Phainon's neck, one hand sinking into his hair as he lets the two of them continue to kiss. And as he feels Phainon's hand up the back of his shirt, around to his stomach, Sunday's gut clenches in anticipation and he moans softly. Yes, yes, he wants more.
When he breaks apart from the kiss, he lingers in Phainon's space, bold now due to his experiences with Hythlodaeus. ]
Phainon... [ Murmured gently against his lips. ] I want more.
[ They'll need lube, he thinks distantly. It's over in the drawer by the bed, which means they'll need to move from the couch. But they'll get there, he thinks. He's confident. ]
[ More, Sunday asks, and Phainon wants to give it to him, wants to let this man have all the things that he desires.
Pushing himself up, he steals another kiss, long and slow, tongue searching for more of the taste of him as he devours, letting his desire take over him. It would be easy to let his hands search and explore, push clothes out of the way, to let his mouth search out the areas on the other man that please him the most, and he groans into the kiss as all of those thoughts settle in his head.
Desperate, and wanting, he leans back, nodding, eyes dark. ]
[ Sunday nods, happy to obey. Phainon's touch and kisses have been near intoxicating and being able to just deliver to Phainon what he wants, what he asks for, that is something Sunday is more than happy to do. So, his hands pull back from Phainon's body as he sits back a bit to drop his hands to the hem of his shirt. Slowly, he starts to unbutton his shirt from bottom to top, letting Phainon watch the whole time.
And then the shirt is dropped back to the floor, leaving him shirtless on top of Phainon's lap, and he breathes a little roughly against him. ]
[ It's almost a strange role reversal, being the one to give instructions, to give commands. Phainon has grown used to other people telling him what to do, so there's something exciting about telling Sunday what he wants and seeing it just... Happen.
As soon as his chest is bared, Phainon is leaning in, nuzzling against his neck. His mouth trails down, and he bites at his collarbone gently, testing the waters. Some people enjoy the burn of teeth, other people do not, and he is waiting to see how Sunday reacts before he does anything too harsh.
At the same time, one of his hands rises, thumbing over his nipple gently. ]
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[ Blind, of course, to the publication of his life story, to the work the Trailblazer put in to sharing it, to ensuring that his world would be born. Phainon is stuck in Irontomb, hating himself. ]
I enjoy cooking, and I often make too much. It would be no trouble to share more with you.
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[ Just said quietly and contemplatively before he moves on, to the less dangerous topic of cooking. He laughs a little at Phainon's generosity. ]
Then, I will gladly have what you share. Starting with tonight. Thank you for coming over, once again. It really is nice to have your company.
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[ Not that he considers himself any kind of true hero. Phainon is not the real Deliverer, for all that he might cling to the term; he is just... Phainon. Khaslana. A beast, burning in the flame of the sun.
Glancing over at Sunday, his smile widens a little, something softer on his face. ]
I've enjoyed your company as well, Sunday.
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He really should not.
So, he clears his throat for a moment and steps closer, not in an effort to kiss but in an effort to be useful. ]
Tell me how I can help. Let me be your sous chef tonight.
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[ He motions to the different ingredients, most of them pre-cut and separated. Frowning, he looks across at them all before he nods at the meat. ]
Would you like to prepare the spices and seasoning?
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I would love to. Just tell me which ones to use and I'll get right to work.
[ In the meantime, he will wash his hands to prepare for seasoning the meat. ]
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[ Phainon leans against the counter, smiling, eyes flickering over Sunday. He can't help himself. ]
Do you enjoy spice?
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I can't handle things that are too spicy. I love flavorful food but the spice overpowers it for me. What about you?
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I'm probably somewhere the same, so a light seasoning is fine! I'd hate for you to have an uncomfortable meal.
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Of course, you got it.
[ And he will... pull the meat closer to start to season it, trying not to think of their proximity. ]
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Does he... ]
You have good hands, Sunday.
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Is this... should he flirt? Can he flirt? Does he even know how? ]
Well... if you should ever need use of them, do let me know. I'm at your service.
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[ Phainon can feel the energy buzzing between them, a curl of desire and want, ready to be lit. It makes him smile, and he does what he feels is right, resting his chin on Sunday’s shoulder. ]
Will you let me, after dinner?
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I'd... like that. Yes. Please.
[ Sex, huh? Sex with Phainon... they kissed at the ball but that was different. This is a little more... intentional. But he can't say he doesn't want it. ]
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[ It feels like forever to cook and eat their dinner.
Phainon can feel the kindling flame, the shared want that echoes in them both. They talk, content to share their experiences and discuss their life here, with an awareness of the destination. He even decides to abandon the dessert he had planned, gathering the plates and putting them aside before he goes to the sofa, Sunday’s hands in his own.
If allowed, he’ll pull the other man down onto his lap, eyes roaming his face. ]
What would you lik, Sunday?
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I want to kiss you, Phainon.
[ He wants so desperately to kiss the other man, and lose himself in it completely. ]
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Lifting his head, he smiles wider. ]
What is stopping you?
[ Leaning up, he kisses him gently, one hand gliding up his back to sink into Sunday’s hair and hold him in place. ]
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Sweet lips pressed against sweet lips and Sunday opens his mouth gently in order to allow Phainon the access to deepen the kiss. The kiss transitions from something light and sweet to something deeper, a little more sensual, and definitely full of heat. Tongues sliding against each other, he chases after Phainon's lips with eager presses of his own and a soft, low moan into his mouth. ]
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Rather than worry about it, he sinks into the kiss with a moan. His fingers tangle a little more, twisting, and his free arm pulls Sunday all the closer. He’s practically pinning the man against him, gleefully and filled with excitement. It’s obvious how much more of this he wants, giving his all to seek and claim, to show his desire. ]
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The heat continues to build between them and Sunday doesn't mind it at all. He knows where this is going at this point and he wants it, badly. Especially with someone as beautiful as Phainon. ]
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He doesn't want to rush things, but this isn't their first kiss. Phainon feels himself wanting more, and the need overcomes reason, his fingers tugging gently, testing the waters to see how the other man reacts.
At the same time, he lets his hand explore, sliding up the back of Sunday's shirt, around to his stomach, teasing against the warmth of his skin. ]
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When he breaks apart from the kiss, he lingers in Phainon's space, bold now due to his experiences with Hythlodaeus. ]
Phainon... [ Murmured gently against his lips. ] I want more.
[ They'll need lube, he thinks distantly. It's over in the drawer by the bed, which means they'll need to move from the couch. But they'll get there, he thinks. He's confident. ]
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Pushing himself up, he steals another kiss, long and slow, tongue searching for more of the taste of him as he devours, letting his desire take over him. It would be easy to let his hands search and explore, push clothes out of the way, to let his mouth search out the areas on the other man that please him the most, and he groans into the kiss as all of those thoughts settle in his head.
Desperate, and wanting, he leans back, nodding, eyes dark. ]
Take your shirt off, Sunday. I want to see you.
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And then the shirt is dropped back to the floor, leaving him shirtless on top of Phainon's lap, and he breathes a little roughly against him. ]
Is that good?
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As soon as his chest is bared, Phainon is leaning in, nuzzling against his neck. His mouth trails down, and he bites at his collarbone gently, testing the waters. Some people enjoy the burn of teeth, other people do not, and he is waiting to see how Sunday reacts before he does anything too harsh.
At the same time, one of his hands rises, thumbing over his nipple gently. ]
It's good. You're beautiful.
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