[It's a scent that will remind him of the reality, even more than how sore he's going to be. Moreover, even if there's no chance anyone will be able to tell who he was with, he's still going to end up hiding away until the distinct tang of sex isn't so... dramatic. He's a professional and all, you see.
Which is why it's such a rarity to see him like this, expressions soft and tired, even sweet. Kleken's lazy movements hold all of the tatters of Luke's attention. There's even something almost... cute about his breathless laugh, vulnerable in its exhaustion.
Acknowledgement of the words comes in the slightest shift. A tip of the head toward the conductor of his madness and the worn, shaky shift of arms around shoulders to draw his face close. Luke doesn't have the coordination for more than that, but there's satisfaction in the mingle of breath nonetheless.]
[ Kleken would fuck him a hundred times over, if it meant seeing this expression again. That he would even if he didn't was hardly the point; Luke's frankly adorable expression captures all of the conman's attention, and that small laugh of his. ]
[ Oh, how Kleken wanted to keep it all for his own. ]
[ Could it be a trap? He doesn't think Luke has the mind to lay one anymore, but he tosses caution aside all the same and leans into those arms and lets himself be drawn up close. So close he can feather a kiss against those tempting lips, light and airy and a small sweetness to them. ]
[ As if they were really lovers. ]
You did splendidly. And you'll take care of them well, I'm certain.
[that sweetness only settles Luke more, mouths close and bodies closer. Entangled, he feels a sense of... strange belonging, stirred in soft words. It's true enough—he would certainly take care of any brood he bore, no matter the circumstances. Teach them to see through someone as awful as Kleken, to be the kind of people who earn their place without subterfuge.]
Mm. I will.
[He's fading now; less to sleep than to the oblivion of every throb and ache, of course. More like their first experience, when at the end of it all he'd been splayed out in the chair, losing everything to the insistent press of tentacles. The table is less than comfortable, if his spasming muscles suggest anything, but what can he do about it?]
... you didn't prepare a bed... did you?
[He's going to sleep for like a whole day after all this.]
[ There's a moment's temptation to tease him, to tell him that of course there isn't a bed in their meeting rooms and the man would have to somehow drag himself upright and out of the room while full of seed and eggs alike. A very long and large moment before he sweeps it away with an easy chuckle, brushing back the man's damp hair with a light brush. ]
I'll arrange one for you.
[ He has one arranged already in another room, a tentacle reaching out behind him to open the secret passage known only to those in the Istvan Gang that would lead them there. He idly notes to himself that he'll have to pass on that leak of information to his boss at some point. He won't tell the man the specifics, and he's rather sure if he smiles a certain smile the man won't ask, but he will receive a reprimanding lecture for using such secrets for his own purpose. ]
[ Glancing back at Luke as his tentacles proceed to pick the limp man up, others working quickly to clean up the room to its prior state and picking up ever condemning piece of clothing that's been shed along the way, the sight of such vulnerability makes the cost feel rather worth it. ]
[It probably wouldn't have landed well, given Luke's current state. Rather, he just would have had to accept that he was stuck here then, because there's no possible way his legs are going to carry him and his arms aren't that strong.
As it stands, his eyes close lightly at the brush of fingers over his hair, pushing it out of his face as Kleken speaks so... kindly, somehow. That should probably worry him. Well, problems for later.
Here and there, the tentacles earn a soft little hiss or a wince as they gather him up; no amount of tender care can really overcome the sheer ache of everything he'd just endured. Still, he doesn't complain about it, or try to hinder them in any way; he's more like a bug in that moment, too—curling into the embrace of those tentacles as though they were some sort of cocoon. Ah, he's so tired...]
... mmn.
[barely a hum of acknowledgement, and Luke continues that stretch of vulnerability. There's nothing left in him to protest, let alone to be lively. Rest is an easy order to agree to, as such, hands and legs curled to gently, protectively cradle his distended belly, weight fully relinquished into the tentacles' care as consciousness wanes.]
[ He smiles again at the noise, at the exhaustion yet contentment that exudes from the man wrapped up in his tentacles as he carefully escorts him through the passage, opening the door to a simple and clean bedroom, the curtains drawn to block out the sun's light. A bedroom he'd pointedly told the building guards to avoid for a full 24 hours with a look he knew would keep them away. A pitcher of water and a few bread rolls sit on the table next to the bed he carefully lays Luke onto, take a chair while his tentacles take to work using a water basic to clean the man off properly. ]
[ All of it a level of aftercare probably strange to associate with the man. As if Kleken had been thoughtful about giving the man some time and resources to recover even after he awoke from his exhaustion. ]
[ Kleken himself cleans up in the attached bathroom, changing into clothes he'd kept waiting for himself while a few of his tentacles keep an 'eye' on their guest. Though he doubts the man will be waking anytime soon. ]
[ Whenever Luke comes to, Kleken and his tentacles will be gone. All that remains of him is a note left on the bedside table, his writing neatly on it, and the eggs still inside the man's womb. ]
They will disappear in a few days. Schedule an appointment with me if you'd like more.
[He's surely out for at least the next few hours, worn into quiet exhaustion. The most movement he makes is just in being set down on the bed, in fact—simply to curl properly in place. Beyond it he's quiet and still, belly rising and falling with slow, calm breath.
And when he wakes... oh, to say everything hurts is almost an understatement. It outlines just how real everything was—not that he can imagine he would have dreamt something like that unprompted. Certainly not with Kleken, of all people. True, Luke doesn't buy the deeply negative inferences people tend to throw around the conman, as though he has no redeeming qualities... he's too observant to have missed the occasional slip of the persona. That doesn't make him a more tempting candidate for a bed partner.
schedule an appointment, he writes. The utter gall. He can barely think beyond the ache and the strange feeling of fullness, why would he... well, okay, yes, he can think of a few reasons.
And a few more, in the coming days. Because as it turns out, Luke seems to be quite the breeding type—once his aches have subsided, he finds himself frustratingly needy any time the eggs shift inside him. Not even under pain of death will he admit how many times he has to get off in the shower when he can finally use it, nor how disappointed and empty he feels when the eggs are gone. If he gets deep enough, he can still scratch that deep itch, just for a moment...]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lieabilities) wrote2024-03-31 01:33 am
no subject
Which is why it's such a rarity to see him like this, expressions soft and tired, even sweet. Kleken's lazy movements hold all of the tatters of Luke's attention. There's even something almost... cute about his breathless laugh, vulnerable in its exhaustion.
Acknowledgement of the words comes in the slightest shift. A tip of the head toward the conductor of his madness and the worn, shaky shift of arms around shoulders to draw his face close. Luke doesn't have the coordination for more than that, but there's satisfaction in the mingle of breath nonetheless.]
no subject
[ Oh, how Kleken wanted to keep it all for his own. ]
[ Could it be a trap? He doesn't think Luke has the mind to lay one anymore, but he tosses caution aside all the same and leans into those arms and lets himself be drawn up close. So close he can feather a kiss against those tempting lips, light and airy and a small sweetness to them. ]
[ As if they were really lovers. ]
You did splendidly. And you'll take care of them well, I'm certain.
no subject
Mm. I will.
[He's fading now; less to sleep than to the oblivion of every throb and ache, of course. More like their first experience, when at the end of it all he'd been splayed out in the chair, losing everything to the insistent press of tentacles. The table is less than comfortable, if his spasming muscles suggest anything, but what can he do about it?]
... you didn't prepare a bed... did you?
[He's going to sleep for like a whole day after all this.]
no subject
I'll arrange one for you.
[ He has one arranged already in another room, a tentacle reaching out behind him to open the secret passage known only to those in the Istvan Gang that would lead them there. He idly notes to himself that he'll have to pass on that leak of information to his boss at some point. He won't tell the man the specifics, and he's rather sure if he smiles a certain smile the man won't ask, but he will receive a reprimanding lecture for using such secrets for his own purpose. ]
[ Glancing back at Luke as his tentacles proceed to pick the limp man up, others working quickly to clean up the room to its prior state and picking up ever condemning piece of clothing that's been shed along the way, the sight of such vulnerability makes the cost feel rather worth it. ]
Do rest.
no subject
As it stands, his eyes close lightly at the brush of fingers over his hair, pushing it out of his face as Kleken speaks so... kindly, somehow. That should probably worry him. Well, problems for later.
Here and there, the tentacles earn a soft little hiss or a wince as they gather him up; no amount of tender care can really overcome the sheer ache of everything he'd just endured. Still, he doesn't complain about it, or try to hinder them in any way; he's more like a bug in that moment, too—curling into the embrace of those tentacles as though they were some sort of cocoon. Ah, he's so tired...]
... mmn.
[barely a hum of acknowledgement, and Luke continues that stretch of vulnerability. There's nothing left in him to protest, let alone to be lively. Rest is an easy order to agree to, as such, hands and legs curled to gently, protectively cradle his distended belly, weight fully relinquished into the tentacles' care as consciousness wanes.]
no subject
[ All of it a level of aftercare probably strange to associate with the man. As if Kleken had been thoughtful about giving the man some time and resources to recover even after he awoke from his exhaustion. ]
[ Kleken himself cleans up in the attached bathroom, changing into clothes he'd kept waiting for himself while a few of his tentacles keep an 'eye' on their guest. Though he doubts the man will be waking anytime soon. ]
[ Whenever Luke comes to, Kleken and his tentacles will be gone. All that remains of him is a note left on the bedside table, his writing neatly on it, and the eggs still inside the man's womb. ]
They will disappear in a few days. Schedule an appointment with me if you'd like more.
no subject
And when he wakes... oh, to say everything hurts is almost an understatement. It outlines just how real everything was—not that he can imagine he would have dreamt something like that unprompted. Certainly not with Kleken, of all people. True, Luke doesn't buy the deeply negative inferences people tend to throw around the conman, as though he has no redeeming qualities... he's too observant to have missed the occasional slip of the persona. That doesn't make him a more tempting candidate for a bed partner.
schedule an appointment, he writes. The utter gall. He can barely think beyond the ache and the strange feeling of fullness, why would he... well, okay, yes, he can think of a few reasons.
And a few more, in the coming days. Because as it turns out, Luke seems to be quite the breeding type—once his aches have subsided, he finds himself frustratingly needy any time the eggs shift inside him. Not even under pain of death will he admit how many times he has to get off in the shower when he can finally use it, nor how disappointed and empty he feels when the eggs are gone. If he gets deep enough, he can still scratch that deep itch, just for a moment...]