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extramortem) wrote2023-12-31 12:44 pm
golden peacock | inbox
▶ AUDIO
▶ VIDEO
▶ ACTION
17 / male / interested in: men / 6♠
Details
Prior to arriving here, I was a new demon applying myself to learn everything I could about Hell and its rules as well as demons and the games that they play among one another. Prior to that, I was human—a student in school.
Anything else you want to know about me, you will have to ask me yourself.
Regardless of whether I’m here or in Hell, my goal is the same: I want to learn everything I can about this place and its people, and then I want to utilize the rules and rewards of the Game to best benefit myself. I want to discover what it means to become “powerful” in this place, and I plan on collecting cards and climbing ranks in order to do so—and on my own terms.
Determination and adaptability.
I’m interested in anything thrilling, frightening, or mysterious. Beyond that, I’m willing to try any number of new things, though I typically tend to focus on whatever is capturing my interest at the time. As for food, I would say that my sweet tooth is comparatively underdeveloped—I tend to prefer savory food, though I would be happy to share sweets with another.
What’s most important to me is that it’s someone who accepts me and loves me for everything that I am.
…Though, if he’s attractive, that would certainly be a bonus.
Wine
.02 CLOWNS OR MIMES
…Neither
.03 SHOWER OR BATH
Bath
.04 PIRATES OR NINJAS
Seriously? Neither. This is kind of childish…
.05 TITS OR ASS
Depends
.06 COFFEE OR TEA
Either
.07 SPICY OR SWEET
Spicy
.08 SUMMER OR WINTER
Winter
.09 LEATHER OR LACE
Lace
10. ROUGH SEX OR GENTLE SEX
Both have their place, I think…
INTJ-T
no subject
This particular game seems to be all about things being “a little sudden…”
( even if the truths and dares it’s giving them so far are… well. interesting. )
Alright, then.
( even still, makoto doesn’t exactly want to act a lech and ogle him—this mostly comes from a place of understanding that he doesn’t always particularly enjoy it when it’s done to him, or at least not when he has full control of just who that person slathering their eyes over him is. he tries to be polite by way of being casual; truthfully, nudity itself is a rote issue for him after the last six months or so. that having been said, it’d be challenging not to notice the healing wounds on esi’s arm and torso. if he were to try to cross-examine makoto’s reaction, it’s… layered. his expression ends up a mask, hard to read one way or another, but his eyes are a little more telling—a bizarre mixture of bright attentiveness and… the faintest hint of concern?
in the end he accepts the proffered undergarment with a summary, ) Thank you, ( before beginning to undress in a matter-of-fact way himself. he strips off his trousers before taking off his underwear to replace it with the pair that esi had handed him… wait, is this silk? he hums. ) How fancy. ( regardless, what is there to say about this body of his? he has a slight mental detachment to it because it’s not his. his head may be sewn onto it, but this body had been ordered and given to him by his master, apparently created for him somewhere in hell. the skin is smooth, unblemished, and death pale, and as J had ordered it to his own specifications… well. he is well-equipped to be positively noteworthy, though not to the extent where it might seem disproportionate, given how short and slight he is.
he ruminates over the questions as he puts his trousers back on. ) I’m not sure… Seems like it would be an unsportsmanly way to stonewall your opponent, if it did take the points from you. ( and that isn’t really the spirit of the game, is it? he glances over to esi, expression questioning. it hadn’t been part of it, but, ) Do you— …Did you want to trade, or…
( or he could just go commando for a while?? makoto doesn’t think he minds much either way. his own underwear—a rather plain pair of black, cotton boxer briefs—are certainly far more basic than what he’s wearing right now. otherwise, he guesses he can just put them in his pocket or something. )
I guess that’s that. ( his points haven’t been subtracted, so… he should get those points in five minutes? ) Your turn.
no subject
( Just in case. Esikko smiles, thin as it is, and moves to slip his clothing back on without the underwear. The question does make him pause, glancing over a bare shoulder to study Makoto for a moment before he continues. )
Thank you for the offer, but I'll be fine like this. You can keep those.
( It's not meant as a direct insult to Makoto, though it could certainly be taken as one. He pulls the cloth back over his shoulders, waiting until he's fully dressed to take the dice in his hands and roll them again. It's a one and a six, thanks to RNG!
Esikko sighs the moment his Watch alerts with the prompt. )
..."Dare. Insert an item from this room inside an orifice of the other player's choosing." Really?
no subject
( winning or losing is less on makoto’s mind than what the game will dictate that they either do or ask of one another. it had warned of a “penalty” for the loser… just how harrowing of a penalty would that be? it would certainly be an inconvenience… potentially a shame or embarrassment. no, makoto certainly doesn’t want to lose, and he will do his best not to, but he’s not necessarily anxious about it.
he simply shrugs, sticking his underwear into a back pocket of his trousers. yes… how can he be so worried about the punishment that the House might dish out to him when playing the game itself is embarrassment enough? he breathes out a short sigh.
the conversational timbre certainly changes with that dare, though. it startles makoto into, first, a brief state of shock, and then crackling disbelief. ) Seriously? ( what item? this is a library?! and makoto gets to choose where he puts it? all things considered, the young demon doesn’t seem quite as scandalized by this dare as one might expect—regardless of how this might play out, he’s already become accustomed with far worse.
so, with that in mind, he levels esi in a wary stare. ) What, exactly, do you plan on putting inside of me?
( maybe trying to test esi’s relative levels of scandalization… perhaps he is trying to win this game after all. )
no subject
( Not at all. And it seems Esikko is completely aware of that, with the slow smile that spreads across his face in clear amusement. He presses his hands together at the fingertips, considering the room around them with a soft little assortment of hums. )
I think it would depend on where you want me to put something.
( He tosses a look back to Makoto, eyes sparkling a little too much. )
Don't worry; I'll choose something that will fit just fine, so go ahead and pick a hole, won't you?
no subject
( well, that, and he’s a demon from hell—he’d learned very quickly that one’s default should be cautiously mistrusting others, saving trust for sparing use or perhaps never at all. it hadn’t taken a single week for the trust he placed in J to be proven to be foolish. maybe there was some amount of trust he could instill in fjord, given how heartfelt the advice he had given him was (and how useful it had ended up being). but, then again, he had come at J’s beck and call to remove the last of makoto’s humanity, so maybe he’s insane for even considering him a “friend” in the first place.
at least esi seems in on the joke, even if his slyness only elicits a thin-lipped frown from makoto. he emits a sigh at the question, more as if he’s being put upon rather than made uncomfortable by the dare. )
Let’s just say I don’t feel particularly romanced to bare everything to you right now. ( that, and he’s just not particularly enthused to go sticking anything into his ass right now. he briefly considers it, his thoughts ironically go down a similar track as J’s did, when they were still contracted to one another. just sticking something into his mouth isn’t all that fascinating or exciting either—so what is it that he can do to make this more fun? more fascinating or exciting?
perhaps it’s his memory of those last few minutes of his mortal life that give him his answer. his lips curve into a feline smile. ) So I’ll give you two options. You can find something to stick into my mouth and we can move along, or, ( and here, in a motion so swift and understated one might feel as though they had misinterpreted watching it, he reaches up, curls his forefinger under the loop of one of the stitches on the front of his throat, and pulls. the stitch gives a soft pop as it breaks; makoto flinches at the sharp stab of pain, but it’s not so bad—not nearly as bad as losing one’s head, which he has weathered multiple times by this point.
a trickle of blood leaks from the widened seam in the skin, running down his throat and disappearing past the collar of his shirt. he even goes as far as to spread the torn flesh, expression both dark and lurid. ) You can find something to put here.
( one thing’s for certain: playing the part that J had for him all those months ago is giving him a perverse thrill, so he’s already having more fun. )
no subject
Is this meant to be less intimate?
( That's the question he settles on as his hands find Makoto's shoulders, his grip tight enough to make clear that even if the other wants to change his mind at this point, he won't let him now. He's been offered something appealing, and it would be too cruel to leave it as a tease. Esikko has to duck down for their height difference, and he does so now, eyes flicking up to meet Makoto's from beneath his chin. )
Let's see what counts as an object, shall we?
( He starts a little too low, just above that shirt, tongue pressing down to lick up and along the trail of blood to his target. There, at the new opening that was so kindly created for him, he doesn't hesitate to slip his tongue inside. It's not a shy press, not some hint or bluff— he hooks in deep, curling his tongue upwards in an attempt to feel and taste all that he can reach, smoothing invasively over every bit of muscle, flesh and blood that he can. )
cw: slight gore...
makoto’s smile notches wider. ) Mm, perhaps not. But it is more interesting.
( he’s rather comforted to know that esi seems to be the type of person to agree with him on something like that. why bother with all of the rote and predictable options when there are far more thrilling alternatives? there are very few things about being a demon that set makoto apart—he has no inhuman features, no magic or innate abilities, but there are some things he can offer far easily than others can. there’s a strange, slippery sort of satisfaction in that.
though it’s in makoto’s nature to be capricious and defiant, especially in the face of others using even a small manner of force with him, something between learned instinct and temporary playfulness has him go pliant in esi’s leading gasp. it doesn’t cross his mind once to back out—if anything, he similarly assures esi’s own compliance, reaching out to grab the front of the young man’s clothing. neither pushing away nor pulling closer, it’s more of an anchor than anything else. the eye contact that he maintains is unblinking and perhaps even daring; he lifts his chin, baring his throat.
his eyes do close, though, once esi leans forward to lick the trickle of blood clean from the column of his throat, one blazing hot stripe of sensation before his mouth finds the opening that makoto had torn open for him. as ever, it’s not without its own pain and faint discomfort; it’s the sharp, urgent stinging of torn and irritated flesh followed by the lower, more pervasive feeling of wrongness at the foreign intrusion which causes his breath to hiss through his teeth in the first second or two after esi stuck his tongue into his throat. but that’s just one layer of it. the full picture is far more complex, far more rigorously complicated; makoto’s grasp on the front of esi’s clothing tightens, tense arm and shoulders shaking ever-so-slightly, and his breath rattles a little more loudly and precariously as the press of esi’s tongue into the tight tangle of muscle, blood vessels, and viscera hidden beneath the thin skin of his neck. perhaps it shouldn’t be arousing, but it is. his expression flushes, teeth gritting against a tightening knot of heat which sinks through his body to his hips. he can’t help but think: is this what J had felt when he tore the skin open on his throat so he could fuck him there? there’s a part of makoto that’s still fixated on that moment, preserved in amber for the rest of his existence as the one that directly preceded his own mortal death.
as it is, it’s more than enough to force a small, raspy groan out of his mouth—only half-pained, it thrums his vocal chords, causing the flesh enveloping esi’s tongue to vibrate with that reverberation. )
no subject
His fingers dig deeper into his grip on Makoto's shoulder, and his other arm winds around him, braces a hand against the back of his neck so that he can lick deeper still. When he parts his lips to exhale hot against the splitting skin of his neck, he pushes his body forward along with it, forcing the both of them into a step as his teeth graze gently, a threatening tension against something so delicate.
It's in that moment that he remembers himself, that he withdraws his tongue to lick the blood from his own lips, pulling back in slow reluctance.
Well, he pulls back, but he doesn't quite want to move away. Even when he pulls one hand back to wipe at his face, eyes sliding to the side, the one on Makoto's shoulder remains, his grip loosening into a gentle touch. )
no subject
truthfully, there’s a large part of makoto that hates the way that he melts into esi’s arms, as if submissive or subservient, as if he didn’t have the gall or the spine to support himself. but this is a largely reflective of a self-imposed distaste of being put in such situations without any consideration to his own input or preferences, as he had been back in hell—no, he has to remind himself logically that he had offered, and what he doesn’t need any reminder of is how much he knows he enjoys it, even if he has no idea why. it had certainly never been something that had crossed his mind before J had split the skin of his own throat for him, but now he can’t deny the obvious deviant twist that it elicits within him, heating up his blood with yearning, causing his breaths to come in quick, short gasps.
this accelerated tempo is interrupted when the deepening of this “kiss” progresses exactly as how makoto would likely have done so himself, stepping into his own space and opening his mouth wider to scrape the enamel of teeth just over the surface of soft, delicate skin and the foreign rasp of the stitches that keep it held together. this startles a sound out of him that’s hard to pin down, seemingly perfectly balanced between positive and negative anticipation. makoto has had his throat ripped out by another, and however he felt about it paled in comparison to the fact that it might very well endanger his life without the healing he’d been administered directly afterward. so his fist tightens in esi’s clothing and he begins to push back at him—fortunately, right around the time the other young man withdraws himself.
this leave them in the lurch of a moment that’s almost humorous with how awkward it is, with silence reigning around them but for the persistent faint ragged edge in makoto’s breaths. esi might not want to retreat just yet, but makoto does take a step back, back and shoulders curving a bit as if to hide in on himself both in an instinctual reaction to a faint feeling of shame he feels but also in response to the widened wound at his throat. he doesn’t necessarily do so to escape the hand on his shoulder, but he also doesn’t make the effort to maintain the contact either. he searches around in his pockets for a moment before retrieving a handkerchief, which he presses to his neck to help staunch the blood. bleeding tends to stop rather quickly for him, but it will need to, and he might need to do a quick, temporary stitch so he doesn’t run the risk of opening it up again— )
Just—give me a moment, ( he says in a reedy, rasping tone; his eyeline doesn’t budge from the surface of the table. )
no subject
( Though he could press more, though he could insist on doing more, Esikko decides to allow Makoto his space. He had nearly been lost in his actions himself, and so he takes the time to wipe his mouth clean some more, to fold his arms and focus on not thinking too hard on how it had felt, how much more he had wanted.
Still, his eyes keep drifting back to watch the other boy, his fingers curling into his elbows as he waits. So he can fix it, can he? Just like that. A little different from the clinic here, but similar in some ways— but then again, Makoto is a demon, or something, right? So it's like that.
He doesn't offer much in the way of anything, content to wait it out here, watching all the while. )
no subject
he gets flustered to lose his self-control in front of others. it’s a rather frustrating trait to have, especially given what he had been doing in hell prior to being brought to golden peacock and what the House is trying to force them into here. that sort of embarrassed reactivity tends to be fun to both demons and people, he’s found. how annoying. he wishes he could force himself to just stop caring, but… it’s easier said than done!
he takes a moment to regain his composure; his expression is still embarrassingly rosy, but at least he feels as though his breathing is somewhat under control. the bleeding has also slowed, though it hasn’t stopped quite yet. he takes a moment to search in his pockets again, pulling out a needle and a loop of thick medical sutures. he has, at the very least, gotten more accustomed to doing this—it’s not so cumbersome and strange to do as he threads the needle and quickly stitches together the opening that he’d made, snapping the stitch free from the rest of the loop with his teeth. it’s not a clean stitch by any means, but he can fix it later when he’s in front of a mirror. )
Okay. ( still a little hoarse, but not as bad as before. ) It’s… my turn now, isn’t it? Or—have you won yet…
( there’s a faintly distracted quality to his voice. it’s a little hard to focus on the game itself when one’s still fighting to master their physical response to it… )
no subject
( Esikko doesn't hide the interest in the way he watches Makoto, a small little smile sliding back into place with ease. Running a finger of one hand idly along the wrist of his other, he hums like he's considering a few things. )
Unless, of course, you'd like to forfeit?
( Honestly, though he's a lot more put together than his companion here, Esikko is fairly distracted himself. He's not one to forget the unique taste of each person's blood, and while Makoto's wasn't as... spicy, let's say, as he was hoping to get from a demon, it still had a nice quality to it. Beneath the normie. )
You seem a little thrown off, after all that, so I'd hate to trouble you to push yourself further.
no subject
typically, it would have taken makoto a few more minutes to gradually return to his normal self after the sharp turn in the overall timbre of their interaction. he does tend to recover his composure easily from such things, almost as if he’s in a haste to leave them behind (though he’s not so lucky to do so mentally and emotionally, regardless of how he acts). it’s lucky, then, that esi stumbles across a miraculous panacea to his disconcertment—an insinuation that he quit. his spine goes ramrod straight before his body stills for a single moment, followed then only by a curt angling of his head to allow him to dig a dagger-sharp glare directly into esi’s smiling face. )
I’m not going to give up. ( he basically spits the words at the other young man’s feet, an indignant curl to his lips revealing the flash of pearl-white teeth. ) No matter how it looks, or what this stupid game will ask us to do next.
( even if, mathematically-speaking, esi would win regardless, if they continued to succeed at their challenges. this is simply the cornerstone of makoto’s personality—even backed into a corner, even in an impossible scenario, even against all odds, he bites and kicks and scratches and thrashes with everything that he is until the bitter end. it marks him as a fool, perhaps, but at least he wouldn’t be marked as a coward.
he grabs the dice and rolls them, going still once more as they land on (1d12=2) two ones: snake eyes. after a second, his Watch beeps, and he looks at it. his expression contorts in consternation which clears, somewhat, after a moment, though there’s still a residual tension.)
It says… it’s a wildcard. ( he glances up to esi. ) You get to select whether it’s a truth or dare. And what it is.