[ it has been six months since they started dating, five months months since lycaon first kissed him, and three months since they first slept together. lycaon has been incredibly kind and incredibly gentle, treating wise with such care that one would believe he was made of glass; it had taken much coaxing on wise's part for them to even have gone as far as they have at this point-- and yet it still wasn't enough.
while lycaon, in all his courteous and obliging nature, is more than wise could have ever hoped for, there are times he is left... wanting. it's not as if he's completely unsatisfied, but he can see hesitation in lycaon, as if he were afraid he would scare wise away.
that is what lead him here today-- after countless hours of research (much of which he had tried to keep from the prying eyes of fairy), he is sure he has found the solution to this little problem of theirs, a way to help lycaon loosen up-- or so he hopes.
the maid dress falls just above his knees, layers of ruffles shaping the skirt and brushing against his thighs; it's certainly different that what he wears on a daily basis, but as wise studies himself in a mirror, he can see that he doesn't look bad at the very least. there are only a few more final touches to this costume: a headdress and a set of black lace gloves; wise finds himself fiddling with the headdress, unable to tie it just right to fit atop his head. ]
[ Dating Wise is very, very, very good in Lycaon's opinion. When he was tasked to get closer to the proxy, to get in his good graces and become allies, he did not expect that they would end up like... this. Intimate. Partners. Affectionate. He found himself counting down the time until he was free to see the younger man, his heart full and his body warm.
Of course, even though they'd become closer, Lycaon was still hesitant in many ways. He wasn't sure if he was Wise's first Thiren partner but he knows the likelihood of Wise having dated another wolf is pretty much null. It means he doesn't know what Wise is prepared for, what he craves, and how far Lycaon can go with him. So, he's careful in how much he pushes. He hasn't yet knotted him, keeps his teeth in check, is gentle during their lovemaking and focuses entirely on Wise's pleasure as a result.
In all honesty, he doesn't see anything wrong with this. He's satisfied by taking care of Wise and Wise seems pleased as well. So, he's gone along thinking things are completely fine, of course.
Tonight, they're to meet at Lycaon's apartment. Wise mentioned having something of a surprise for Lycaon and so, he's a little excited. Wise arrived before him, Lycaon's work making him unable to arrive earlier, but he doesn't mind. Wise has spent plenty of time in his apartment at this point, a place to get away from the prying eyes of Wise's sister.
He slips into the apartment then with a polite greeting of — ]
Wise? Are you here? I'm home.
[ Before he divests himself of his jacket and steps further into the apartment. He's in his typical waistcoat and cravat, though he has put the pocket watch to the side for now. There are various straps and accoutrements to take off as well but first, he's looking for Wise.
He finds him in the bedroom and what he finds is not what he was expecting at all. Wise, in a maid dress, looking... ravishing, in all honesty. Lycaon is so taken aback by this that he just freezes in the doorway, staring. A warm heat rolls through him and he has to swallow, hard, as he blinks a few times and tries to get his thoughts in order. ]
[He should be accustomed to strange summonings. The world continues to birth him as necessary — a device meant not to cast judgment, but simply remove the dead and rotted corpses that plague the march of progress. His disgusting-ass job, and proof that even falling through an endless abyss can’t save him from that purpose.
Except it’s not his world this time. Neither Fairy Britain nor whatever excuse for Proper Human History he’s usually forced to protect. The manifestation comes without fanfare on a cold, hard earth, without any witnesses or guidance from a Holy Grail — and on shaky limbs a monster from another reality walks, and walks, in this land made of monsters, of Ethereals, cursing everything from the ground to the shimmering edge of the Hollow.
Whatever thing manages to escape Hollow Zero’s edge remains a well-kept secret amongst the HIA — partly to soothe the public’s concerns, and doubly so to save face. But it seems they made right call when months pass and there’s not a word of any oddities within New Eridu. Life thrives as it always has, and it’s hardly their concern that an upstart business starts climbing ranks in the underbelly of the city: ran by some strange Thiren with colorful moth wings and a whimsical smile.
Whoever he is, he does his job well enough to attract attention and jealousy in droves, until his small team of loyal staff have had enough of their boss’s disregard for his personal safety. Hiring someone of Lycaon’s specific expertise might be an expensive endeavor, but they manage. And yes, the results are, admittedly, mixed (what kind of client takes to dodging his bodyguard like he’s the one being paid) but Lycaon is coached through the intricacies of his new client by the current secretary on board, after he is welcomed into the man’s residency.
Just keep following him — Oberon. Stay on top of him like an oil slick. Don’t worry; half the time he’d holed up in his office, anyway, and there’s only a small chance he’ll try to paint Lycaon’s fur green.]
Tch. As if I’d choose green. Pink would suit that Fang Clan wannabe better.
[Muttered to himself when the memory of that conversation rears its head unannounced, and like many things regarding his bodyguard, Oberon’s mouth pulls into a sour line at the thought. Sighing, he tosses a stack of papers on the desk in his irritation, watching them slide around into a half-formed mess he’ll have to organize later.
No, scratch that — Lycaon is gonna organize it without a word of complaint, most likely, until Oberon stares a hole into that fuzzy head. Bastard. If he has to be attached to the business, then he could at least have the good grace to get mad at Oberon’s teasing. Anything less is being unreasonable.]
Ah~ Maybe I’ll keep a bucket of paint right above the door and the moment he opens it…
[Why, it’s almost like he’s speaking out loud, knowing damn well Lycaon is on his way in and can probably hear him. Maybe.]
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while lycaon, in all his courteous and obliging nature, is more than wise could have ever hoped for, there are times he is left... wanting. it's not as if he's completely unsatisfied, but he can see hesitation in lycaon, as if he were afraid he would scare wise away.
that is what lead him here today-- after countless hours of research (much of which he had tried to keep from the prying eyes of fairy), he is sure he has found the solution to this little problem of theirs, a way to help lycaon loosen up-- or so he hopes.
the maid dress falls just above his knees, layers of ruffles shaping the skirt and brushing against his thighs; it's certainly different that what he wears on a daily basis, but as wise studies himself in a mirror, he can see that he doesn't look bad at the very least. there are only a few more final touches to this costume: a headdress and a set of black lace gloves; wise finds himself fiddling with the headdress, unable to tie it just right to fit atop his head. ]
no subject
Of course, even though they'd become closer, Lycaon was still hesitant in many ways. He wasn't sure if he was Wise's first Thiren partner but he knows the likelihood of Wise having dated another wolf is pretty much null. It means he doesn't know what Wise is prepared for, what he craves, and how far Lycaon can go with him. So, he's careful in how much he pushes. He hasn't yet knotted him, keeps his teeth in check, is gentle during their lovemaking and focuses entirely on Wise's pleasure as a result.
In all honesty, he doesn't see anything wrong with this. He's satisfied by taking care of Wise and Wise seems pleased as well. So, he's gone along thinking things are completely fine, of course.
Tonight, they're to meet at Lycaon's apartment. Wise mentioned having something of a surprise for Lycaon and so, he's a little excited. Wise arrived before him, Lycaon's work making him unable to arrive earlier, but he doesn't mind. Wise has spent plenty of time in his apartment at this point, a place to get away from the prying eyes of Wise's sister.
He slips into the apartment then with a polite greeting of — ]
Wise? Are you here? I'm home.
[ Before he divests himself of his jacket and steps further into the apartment. He's in his typical waistcoat and cravat, though he has put the pocket watch to the side for now. There are various straps and accoutrements to take off as well but first, he's looking for Wise.
He finds him in the bedroom and what he finds is not what he was expecting at all. Wise, in a maid dress, looking... ravishing, in all honesty. Lycaon is so taken aback by this that he just freezes in the doorway, staring. A warm heat rolls through him and he has to swallow, hard, as he blinks a few times and tries to get his thoughts in order. ]
... Wise?
no subject
Except it’s not his world this time. Neither Fairy Britain nor whatever excuse for Proper Human History he’s usually forced to protect. The manifestation comes without fanfare on a cold, hard earth, without any witnesses or guidance from a Holy Grail — and on shaky limbs a monster from another reality walks, and walks, in this land made of monsters, of Ethereals, cursing everything from the ground to the shimmering edge of the Hollow.
Whatever thing manages to escape Hollow Zero’s edge remains a well-kept secret amongst the HIA — partly to soothe the public’s concerns, and doubly so to save face. But it seems they made right call when months pass and there’s not a word of any oddities within New Eridu. Life thrives as it always has, and it’s hardly their concern that an upstart business starts climbing ranks in the underbelly of the city: ran by some strange Thiren with colorful moth wings and a whimsical smile.
Whoever he is, he does his job well enough to attract attention and jealousy in droves, until his small team of loyal staff have had enough of their boss’s disregard for his personal safety. Hiring someone of Lycaon’s specific expertise might be an expensive endeavor, but they manage. And yes, the results are, admittedly, mixed (what kind of client takes to dodging his bodyguard like he’s the one being paid) but Lycaon is coached through the intricacies of his new client by the current secretary on board, after he is welcomed into the man’s residency.
Just keep following him — Oberon. Stay on top of him like an oil slick. Don’t worry; half the time he’d holed up in his office, anyway, and there’s only a small chance he’ll try to paint Lycaon’s fur green.]
Tch. As if I’d choose green. Pink would suit that Fang Clan wannabe better.
[Muttered to himself when the memory of that conversation rears its head unannounced, and like many things regarding his bodyguard, Oberon’s mouth pulls into a sour line at the thought. Sighing, he tosses a stack of papers on the desk in his irritation, watching them slide around into a half-formed mess he’ll have to organize later.
No, scratch that — Lycaon is gonna organize it without a word of complaint, most likely, until Oberon stares a hole into that fuzzy head. Bastard. If he has to be attached to the business, then he could at least have the good grace to get mad at Oberon’s teasing. Anything less is being unreasonable.]
Ah~ Maybe I’ll keep a bucket of paint right above the door and the moment he opens it…
[Why, it’s almost like he’s speaking out loud, knowing damn well Lycaon is on his way in and can probably hear him. Maybe.]