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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
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.