Falls of the Hinterlands You ask me what I’m thinking about
Saints Of The Dying Light

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"Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future."
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Setting: Night 
Weather: Calm, cold, clear skies.
Tagging: @Patroclus 

Set right after this thread.

Kyn allows the smaller male to lead them out of the mountainous walls of their little slice of paradise. Once they find themselves exiting, it’s Kynareth that takes the lead once more. Moving them closer to the beautiful falls that he would also like to visit with Simmik as well on one of these moonlit nights. 

Tonight though, it’s the newly aquatinted russet male that steals his attention. Not his beautiful wife in white. He knows she would not mind, so he decides that he will allow himself to spend some time with him. Perhaps get to know him just as he has the other members of the Saints. 

They finally make it and Kyn is stunned by its powerful beauty every time he visits. Golden orbs rake over the falls and a light smile comes to his maw. “Beautiful, no?” He asks quietly to his company.
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He was made breathless by it all. The jaunt and the view. Patroclus was glad to have someone here with him for it, otherwise he might have never believed the sight to be anything more than a dream.

Yet Kynareth's words assure him that it's as real as the man next to him.

Delicately he sought to lean into the larger man's side if allowed. Just breathtaking. He confirmed with a delicate nod. Still trying to take in the beauty of it all.

A spar here feels like...sacrilege. To break the peaceful night would be a shame, even if they had come out here for it in the first place.
left hind ankle is mending from a break. mobility is limited and painful.
Saints Of The Dying Light

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A weight makes itself known against him as Patroclus leans on the Grandmaster’s broad form. Of course he allows him, he even leans back a little. A gesture that is meant to let the other know that Kyn desires his touches. 

A smile makes its way onto his maw as he briefly flicks his eyes to the maw beside him. A whisper of a laugh escaping him as the other humors him with the last sentence.

“Doesn’t it?” He laughs. “We don’t have to spar.” Kynareth hums back. “We can just take in the sights, talk, exist, anything you’d like to do, darling.” The brindled man suggests comically.
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The words tempt and lure him away from the idea of a spar. He was present with such a luxurious option.

Anything he wanted to do, but —

What about what you want to do?

The question was purred with soft interest. His own features pulled up slightly as he sought to return the little smile that painted Kynareth's features. The larger man looked different like this. Bathed in moonlight, softened by the gentle rays.
left hind ankle is mending from a break. mobility is limited and painful.
Saints Of The Dying Light

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He knows the other contemplates briefly, judging from the silence that follows. It doesn’t seem to last long though and the question is quickly turn back around on him. It causes the brute to laugh, it’s a hearty genuine sound. Yet, the smile the twists his maw is much too conniving and playful.

The suggestive tone his company uses isn’t lost to him and he flicks coingold eyes over curiously. “Oh yeah?” He asks humorously. Leaning over further into the others space he playfully nips at his jawline. “I’m pretty sure I asked you.” His voice is a low, attractive hum with a spark of sass.

He doesn’t stop there, “Must be your ears,” He suggests, clearly just picking at him. “the title Majesty must be giving you selective hearing.” He chuckles as he teases him. Hanging a heavy paw over his back and pushing him with his heavy set head if he’s allowed.
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The nip to his jaw does not go ignored or unreturned. Patroclus would be quick to try and plant a lick along the man's chin. His tail set a slow pace behind him.

He held his voice back until Kynareth was finished. Left thoroughly amused by the words that slipped free from his master. A warm sensation was planted and bloomed in his chest, not for the first time that evening.

I thought I recall hearing — with my selective hearing — that the majesty gets what they want, He teased back in a murmur as he sought to press his nose into the thick fur that covered the man's neck before he bowed under the weight applied to his back.

Which means I, Majesty Patroclus, want to hear what you want to do. Patroclus volleyed back, purposefully having applied taunting pressure on specific words.
left hind ankle is mending from a break. mobility is limited and painful.
Saints Of The Dying Light

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AHHHH I love Patroclus!

Mature Content Warning


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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Suggestive Themes

Kyn is loving the vibes. The nip to his chin, the playful jostling they give one another. The hum of the maroon wolf’s voice tickles his throat as he settles beneath his chin and it has him releasing another bout of laughter. Lord, this guy is funny, entertaining, handsome, and sweet all at the same time. Kynareth might just be smitten. It isn’t often he finds men attracted to him and he finds it most disappointing. Not this one though, it seems he’s having a swell time with Kynareth’s persistent teasing and shameless flirting, mainly because he’s definitely flirting back.

It spurs the Saint to chuckle lowly and follow him down as he gives into the push.  Settling himself atop his warm form as the other tests his patience with another jab. Raising and lowering his tones at certain times that makes the sentence that much more teasing.

Raising a circular brow he hums in contemplation. “I think it’s more of a who I want to do.” He states confidently, a cocky smirk on his lips. He knows it’s horribly cliche and honestly tacky, but that’s the type of horrible humor the wolf-dog has. Yet, he sighs then, dropping himself closer and sensually ghosting his nose over the shell of his ear. “But it would be rude to defile you on our first date. Don’t you think, your majesty?” He purrs down to him.
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Patroclous would, in every way, publicly hold a high image of himself. He may not have seen himself as a king (or even worthy of his imaginary crowned majesty title) but he still thought he was...lofty. Born and raised in an empire. Expected to uphold a certain standard.

Yet here he found a comfortable place here in a low place. Settled in from the Grandmaster's heavy form and his rather plain bold words.

Patroclus was not blind to the comapny of men. It was not something that he had ever spoken of in a brazen way. Especially not back home. Here Kynareth seemed open for it all, though — and any hidden worries Patroclus might have had were washed away by the privacy of the waterfall. There was not likely to be prying eyes out here, to his knowledge.

If you truly wish to...you must promise something first, Hushed in tender tones. He did not yet pull away from the other man, but he was prepared to do so with taunting flare if his requirements could not be met.
left hind ankle is mending from a break. mobility is limited and painful.
Saints Of The Dying Light

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"Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future."
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He hopes he hasn’t scared him off with his humorously blunt words. It has Kyn even holding his breath for a fraction of a second as he awaits his reply. Soon enough, he gets one. 

...you must promise something first. The words seem almost hesitant and Kyn gives him a look that says he’s waiting to hear the terms and conditions and sign the dotted line. The Grandmaster quickly decides he might do just about anything to continue to be in the presence of the wolf that lies beneath him. He’s already captivated his interest. Kynareth’s a very willing and generous man when it comes to things like this.

So he lifts himself a fraction to watch him, a soft nod of his head to tell the other to continue. He waits on baited breath to hear what he might say next.
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There were no words from the man he found himself smitten with. Smitten enough to be wholly vulnerable in this moment. All Patroclus received was a nod and look, expectant and waiting for the bait that the temporary majesty had laid out.

You will stay the whole night. It was not a large expectation in the grand scheme of things, but it felt large to Patroclus.

I admit I'm...soft. Hopelessly smitten and a smidge romantic. The night would not have to mean anything beyond a simple soothing moment in time to each other, if the other man wished. Patroclus did, however, wish to play pretend for the night even if everything washed away in the morning.

Men were unpredictable with these things. Himself included.
left hind ankle is mending from a break. mobility is limited and painful.
Saints Of The Dying Light

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You will stay the whole night. It’s an order not a request and that’s just how Kynareth likes it. Hell, he’d stay the whole night and then some. It becomes aware to the Grandmaster that this man doesn’t know him all that well yet. If he did, he’s know that the brindle man would bestow affection upon him at any given chance and all too frequently.

So overall, his request isn’t all too hard at all and he finds himself smiling down to the younger. Then he finds himself grinning when the next few words slip from the fiery males mouth. 

A soft laugh bubbles up from his maw. “Oh, darling.” He whispers. “I’ll stay the whole night and then some.” His muscled arms flex beneath a beautiful brindle coat as he leans down and laps carefully at Patroclus’ whiskered lips. “In that case, you could call me smitten and romantic too.” The Grandmaster soothes before dipping further back to lick at his cheek.
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Could maybe time-skip to later night/morning or fade, whatever you feel. <3

Unaware of any tension he had been carrying, it all melted away at the man's words. Gentle reassurances and offers of more than just a night. Such a horribly dangerous game to play with Patroclus. He was a...romantically greedy man. Inclined to take stolen nights whenever he could. Often times that had invited rumors into his life.

Breathe.

He would not get ahead of himself. He would enjoy this private moment with the brindled man. Admire his flexed muscles and the affections that were placed upon him. He tilted back his narrow head to push into the licks that were placed on his cheeks.

Tentatively he let a whine bubble in his throat and sought to be as close to the other man as he could be like this. Their contract had been signed and sealed.
left hind ankle is mending from a break. mobility is limited and painful.