lieabilities: (Just move however you want.)
Kleken ([personal profile] lieabilities) wrote2024-03-31 01:33 am
Entry tags:

[psls] For When The Octo Keeps Octoing

[ A place for PSLs/Continuations. ]
commensalist: (♫But we wait like evening for night)

[personal profile] commensalist 2025-04-01 07:11 am (UTC)(link)
Typically not where my schedules are concerned.

[but it's the followup that makes him flinch, eyes narrowing behind his mask. it makes it all but impossible to see how his cheeks darken, blending colour into its shadows. he needs to keep calm here.]

... there have never been eggs to think about, so I'm not sure what you're talking about. [yes he is. he hasn't forgotten it, how... freeing it felt, how he'd melted as soon as he'd been so full.] Naturally, I have been well. And as this is not my intended meeting, I shall be on my way.
commensalist: (♫Such a noble aim; such a noble aim)

[personal profile] commensalist 2025-04-01 01:33 pm (UTC)(link)
[never have more ominous words been spoken, indeed. Luke can practically feel his blood run cold, though he does his best to stay calm and collected.]

That won't be necessary.

[his schedule, huh... Kleken at least thinks he's thought this through, he'll give him that. of course, just because he has a "clear schedule" doesn't mean he needs to stay here.]

Nevertheless, I'll be on my way. Thank you for your consideration on this matter.

[he just... has to slip past Kleken where he is between him and the door. definitely not a calculated maneuver on the aurorian's part. truly.]
commensalist: (♫Such a noble aim; such a noble aim)

[personal profile] commensalist 2025-04-02 10:40 am (UTC)(link)
Of course. There are things that must be done, regardless if whether or not my schedule is full, as you put it.

[nothing nefarious, sure. He glances to the wine glass as Kleken mentions it, lips pressing together. If it was most anyone else, he would be less worried...]

I rarely imbibe, you realise. It tends to be a poor choice for me.

[is that true? Maybe, but he's mostly dancing around admitting his suspicion. Delicate steps take him toward the exit—and, more unfortunately, toward those tentacles. Surely he can find a way to step around them, right? Surely. ]
commensalist: (♫A thirst only deserts know best)

[personal profile] commensalist 2025-04-03 04:13 pm (UTC)(link)
[Kleken, one of these days he's going to strangle you. Possibly with that rope, because what the fuck, actually???]

... must you. [He's not sure if he's more annoyed by Kleken teasing that rope into view or the demand of a drink. Getting out of here... the more Kleken talks, the less likely it seems.] fine. I'll have a small amount.

[are the chances of drugging too high to be comfortable? Yes, completely. But maybe he can avoid Actually swallowing any to minimise possible dangers.]
commensalist: (♫A family tree desperate for rain)

[personal profile] commensalist 2025-04-04 03:00 pm (UTC)(link)
[He doesn't bother to answer, since his deadpan words had really just been in response to Kleken's insistence. Maybe also because he doesn't think the other really cares what he'd say anyway.]

I won't need any more.

[this said with emphasis, he taps his clawed fingers against the glass, considering his next move. The scent of the drink is almost cloyingly sweet to his nose, coating his senses almost immediately. That's... not good, he's sure. Shaking off the feeling, he sighs, unaware of the fact that he's affecting himself worse for it just yet.]

What did you expect to talk about, when you arranged this inconvenience?
commensalist: (♫Don't we?)

[personal profile] commensalist 2025-04-05 03:43 pm (UTC)(link)
And yet you demanded this anyway.

[It's definitely very like him. In the end, Luke takes a mild sip of the drink; he's no lightweight, so he isn't worried for that much.

The question earns a raised brow, basically invisible behind his mask.]


... I care for bugs, and I also paint. Much of my time is far too busy for hobbies, though.
commensalist: (♫Chances are we are alike)

[personal profile] commensalist 2025-04-08 12:04 am (UTC)(link)
I don't see a particularly notable benefit to that closer relationship.

[Kleken benefits from Luke's polite measure, at least. He could have easily left it at "no." "Hell no," even.

The sensation of hunger is sudden and concerning, but not completely unexpected. He's taken only one or two drinks, so he expects the feeling to settle soon enough.]


Yes. I've painted a few portraits and other memorial images. You may have seen a few around the markets on Umbraton.

[throb. his core aches abruptly, and he subsequently ignores it.]
commensalist: (♫A family tree desperate for rain)

[personal profile] commensalist 2025-04-08 06:18 pm (UTC)(link)
Of which I believe I already qualify for.

[similarly factually true, as someone with a high standing with the Istvan Gang. Of course... that same connection has also sort of gotten him into this mess...

Taking another sip of his own drink, he considers the merits of downing the rest so that he can flee. It's not like him, normally, but—despite the way he's ignoring the growing ache and nursing that slowly, it's almost dizzying.]


I hadn't taken you for a—collector.

[Ah. That's absolutely him losing track of his thoughts, pupils dilating as stirred desire wraps around specific words Kleken speaks (alarming, in his lucidity—Luke can't imagine a time he would condone someone being "owned," so why did the thought appear, and so strongly at that?). He... needs to get out of here. As such, he does tip the barely full glass up to finish it.]

... but I really should be going.
commensalist: (♫For a purpose worthy of)

[personal profile] commensalist 2025-04-11 02:58 pm (UTC)(link)
If I don't qualify for them, then they aren't needed for me.

[His head is swimming a little now, aware of Kleken's gaze but unable to do anything to try and mitigate it. The other makes his thoughtful little suggestion and it does nothing to help Luke's mental state. Drug addles his reason, slowly wrapping him in a cocoon of indulgent desire.]

Unfortunately, as I mentioned... my time is quite limited, yes. You've already taken most of what I have to give.

[setting the glass down, he can feel himself trembling, just a little. Then he bends to rise again, pressing his fingers along the bridge of his nose as if to rattle his mind back into logic.]
commensalist: (♫We ache like children for love)

[personal profile] commensalist 2025-04-12 02:58 pm (UTC)(link)
[They may indeed be similarly sized, with Luke just a bit more substantial—but under the circumstances the mercenary is already looking a little smaller than usual. He's alert at the way Kleken moves, peering up at him from his seat with every step forward. Ominous, yes... but there's something so satisfying in the display of confidence.]

You— [His pulse flutters as cool fingertips find his chest, the light pressure sending his mind into wondering at his plans... how much of this did he decide in advance, anyway...?] You would have to make a compelling case, Kleken. What more time could you hope for?

[His hand reaches to brush away the one at his chest, falling to ignore the desperation every point of contact raises in his belly. He's already lost his footing, but he's trying desperately to hide it despite knowing he likely can't.]
commensalist: (♫A family tree desperate for rain)

[personal profile] commensalist 2025-04-15 05:13 am (UTC)(link)
Kleken—

[It's far less of a warning than he wants it to sound. Pulled forward, with the odd scent of the other man tickling his nose as they come face to face, he struggles to keep from shivering at the way breath intermingles. The way that seductive tone holds his attention.

He's not even held in place yet, but he's forgotten to retaliate as arousal courses through him and every word sinks in. to satisfy that need...]


... don't be ridiculous, Kleken. [He still hasn't forgotten how they all felt, slithering in past where they belonged, nestling and nuzzling from the inside—] Why would I want to let you violate me again?

[His fingers curl around Kleken's wrist, but they're still trembling a little as the thought settles in his mind. Why, indeed, does he want to let himself be "violated?" Much of it is the aphrodisiac he's now exceedingly sure is coursing through his body, but...]
commensalist: (♫We ache like children for love)

[personal profile] commensalist 2025-04-18 05:46 pm (UTC)(link)
[hearing the words stirs every part of him Luke is desperately trying to calm and ignore. His mask does no good at hiding the flicker of interest in his gaze, drug-addled mind fluttering back to the memory. To wondering how much sweeter it would feel while his arms aren't tied down to a chair and his body can arch and squirm, when tentacles can nestle freely in every hole—]

I— [He has to force the words, body already too hot and needy to listen to any attempts to make it move.] I don't need that...

[Oh, but he wants it. Enough that he has to press his thighs together, trying to soothe the empty feeling and hide the bulge straining his pants.]

Ugh... [breathy, hot, his head dips dangerously as swimming through the haze of desire becomes impossible.] What—did you drug me with, you bastard? I can't—feel my legs.

[well, he can sort of feel them... it's just that they're hot and sensitive and even his clothing feels like it's squeezing them unbearably tight.]
commensalist: (♫For a purpose worthy of)

[personal profile] commensalist 2025-04-22 01:29 pm (UTC)(link)
[There's something that feels... unpleasantly docile about his mind right now, eyes betraying how right Kleken is. The more they talk, the more his body heats up, and the more ragged his breaths become. A hand rises to brush away the one at his mask, but it's a weak protest at best.]

I don't—

[fingers trace over his abdomen and his breath hitches, free hand reaching out to grasp Kleken's shirt around a shoulder.]

I'm not a light drinker, so don't lie to me. [another twinge of desire wracks through him then, cock throbbing impatiently.] why—do you want my body so badly, anyway?

[He doesn't expect an answer he'll believe, but that's not the point. Talking is helping him keep a thread of sanity when all he wants is to snatch that hand up and guide it between his thighs.]

I don't—want to do anything here. [Is this giving in? Definitely.] Not in a chair again—nngh.

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