Ask Cloud Nine

[Darth Stolas]

He chewed through his food gratefully, though he remained dignified, drinking a glass of some kind of berry juice along with it. He knew better than to skimp on extra sugars at the moment.

Morgan looked up when Emryc asked about their contact and took another drink to wash down what he'd been eating. His eyes were red, and he seemed a little poorly rested, a little tense. Well, he did have to wake up to handle confirming a kill, so it made sense. Morgan paid it no more mind.

"Kerros Tower, top floor, main office," he rattled off from memory, sitting up a little straighter and very carefully putting his silverware down in such a way it didn't scrape against anything. There was already enough noise in here as it was.

"It's not far," he added before popping a bit of fruit into his mouth, the sausages already gone. He pressed his fingertips against a cloth napkin afterwards, repeated the process until it was gone, and then went over his hands one more time just in case. He was done, and the meal was already covered by the same entity who had booked the rooms.

He pushed his chair back- slowly- and stood again, retrieving and slipping on his simple black jacket and patting the pockets to check their contents. Again his fingers slid over his neck, but dropped a second later. That was yesterday. Today it was time to work. He slid the chair back in and would wait for Emryc to rise and be ready before heading out of the hotel. The client had sent their own speeder for the meeting and it should be arriving soon, so he lit a cigarra for the wait.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc was mostly focused on the Holonet, but his gaze lazily drifted back to Morgan to measure his progress. That was when he caught the man eat a piece of fruit, clean his fingers, eat another, and repeat the process. He was immediately reminded of his own habits when he ate with his hands and how that often yielded the strangest looks. More specifically he was reminded of eating wings a similar way and the way Lyra looked at him as if he had grown a second head. Even the surrounding patrons eyed him with revulsion.

Being slightly hungover meant his inhibitions were slightly less than usual. Before he could stop himself, a soft chuckle escaped him. It went from that to an actual laugh, the sound almost unnatural in how out of character it was for him. And yet, it had a warmth to it that had been invoked from deep within. His eyes glinted as he laughed, and the frosty silvers suddenly melted for just that fleeting moment.

Emryc didn’t explain himself, he simply quieted down and finished with clearing his throat. The smile slowly slid off and was replaced by his usual face as he rose to stand and followed Morgan out.

He didn’t draw out a cigarra this time, but he did put on some sunglasses to spare his eyes from the assault of the sun. They were custom fitted for his pointed ears. He silently waited for the speeder, catching Morgan once again rubbing at his neck. Was he getting some sort of a rash?

The speeder, another luxury line, arrived shortly and Emryc slid in. The doors were lined with glasses and alcohol. There was almost a visceral reaction as the half Sephi grimaced and turned away, having no desire to touch it. He trained his gaze forward as the speeder took them towards their destination.

“Any history here?” He asked Morgan quietly, wanting to know if this would be another incident that enraged him.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Somewhere near the end of his breakfast, Emryc started to chuckle. Then he laughed. Morgan looked up as he wiped over his hands. He stared, unsure quite how to process this new development. He was pretty sure he heard static, but it was probably just the hangover. Yeah. While Morgan's face forgot what to do, though, he quietly did something like a backflip in the confines of his own mind. He'd never heard him laugh, and had no idea whatsoever why it was even happening, but a moment after it'd gone it brought a small smile to Morgan's face. What a nice way to start the morning, whatever the reason.

But eventually they were both outside. Morgan squinted in the sunlight through the thin clouds and flicked a pair of gold-rimmed sunglasses from his coat and went back to his cigarra. He tossed it underfoot when the speeder arrived and stepped inside, eyeing the alcohol and silently wondering what about it Emryc disliked so much. Maybe he only liked that gross stuff found buried under a pile of rubble. Morgan briefly considered picking out something light, like a good brandy, to help alleviate the headache but eventually decided to abstain.

He turned to look at Emryc, frowning slightly. "Not this time. Never met," he replied, then leaned into the extra-comfy leather seats. The ride to the tower was quite mundane and was over within fifteen minutes, during which Morgan's mind had wandered to the events of the past few days. He smiled to himself in the darkened window.

When they arrived he stepped smoothly from the car and pulled his jacket straight, looking up at the tall tower. His eyes narrowed slightly. This part was important, and not just because of the meeting. They'd never gotten an agent inside the tower itself before. Kerros tower was the central point for Cloud City's traffic control. They knew everything that came in or out of the place, one way or another. Intel on it was valuable.

After making sure Emryc was still with him, he stepped through the sliding double doors and entered the tower and toward the secretary's desk.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Down time was bad. Down time meant his mind was allowed to drift. Emryc tilted his head to look out the window, catching bits of his own reflection but seeing the cityscape beyond. His mind inevitably wandered back to the man from last night. He should have asked him to come back to his room. No one would have known. He had been impulsive before, and it never had strings attached.

He thought again of the warm skin, the coiling muscles under his touch and the way he tasted. Thoughts took a complete plunge and he thought about himself nestled between those perfectly firm and sculpted...why in the living kriff did Morgan’s stupid citrus body wash drift in to intrude his thoughts again? Emryc’s eyes narrowed, and he cast a halfway glance at the firrerreo as if he had committed a crime with the choice of wash.

A soft exhale. It was for the best, his mind needed to be clear for the job. Emryc straightened up in his seat as they arrived, vaguely hearing Morgan mutter about not knowing this contact. He didn’t acknowledge the words, mind back to being focused. He needed to keep things in check. The memories would stay on this planet and would be left behind as soon as he was back on the ship.

Emryc walked with Morgan to the secretary desk, informing her of an existing appointment arranged by the Sith. Their path took them to a repulsorlift and towards the top floor. He glanced through the glass pane, watching the floating buildings in the clouds in the distance. It was truly fascinating, and he had never seen anything like it before.

They arrived after a few minutes, the doors opening to an executive floor. Emryc walked towards Antoine Hierogrant’s office. He walked in and the surprise was visible on his face. ‘Antoine’ was a Chiss. The man cut an imposing figure, red eyes gleaming as he looked up to regard the two men.

Emryc stepped forth and sat down across from him, glancing at Morgan to see if he knew they were dealing with a Chiss.

“Mr. Thorne and Mr. Ali,” He said, looking over them both, “How can I assist you today?”

“Well we’re hoping the discussion is mutually beneficial,” Emryc said, pulling out his datapad, “Trends over the past five years show that Bespin overall has seen a hit in its economy due to rival planets within FWA becoming the key source of tibanna production. The reason is that the FWA is a loose conglomerate with trade agreements and decrees in place. Out here in the outer rim, that’s sorely missing. Looking at your supply chain and customer base, you’re seeing a year over year hit because there are no true jurisdictions in place. Things have shifted to more or less an honor system and that’s gouging the business.”

Emryc looked up to meet the crimson eyes, “As of today, the main contrarians that have blocked any revamping efforts no longer stand in the way” He said simply, “The smart move here would be to IPO several of the production companies and allow external investors. You haven't done that because the other council seats have been monopolizing the private shares. From there we can set up official trade agreements and re-establish a strong presence in the Outer Rim.”

He slid the datapad over so the man could see the data himself. It was all data Emryc had worked many hours to compile when he was given the details of the mission, “These are substantiated claims you can take to the public for a vote to become Baron Administrator.”


@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan let Emryc do the talking here. He was better at dealing with this kind of thing and, besides which, Morgan had his own job to do still. His ears picked up the sounds of machines and whispers, his eyes spotted hidden details and camera arrangements. He noted where people walked most, touched most, avoided most. The two Sith went up the repulsorlift.

It was a smooth ride, and gave his Sight a chance to explore some of the rest of the building in brief and vague detail as they passed by. Fingers briefly brushed his neck before his eyes briefly flicked to Emryc in the confined space, then to the lift's control panel to continue taking his notes, in silence save for the soft and jazzy tune piped through the speakers.

Then they arrived. The client was a Chiss. Very interesting. Morgan's eyebrows rose but otherwise maintained his military demeanor, though he did share a glance with Emryc's when he glances his way. He definitely hadn't know about this particular detail. Morgan bowed his head respectfully and offered a simple and polite return greeting, but otherwise Emryc seemed to have this covered, good boy that he was.

Morgan blinked and moved on, his senses Watching and Listening to the goings on in and around the room while the other Sith explained the plan. Emryc might even pick up on it this time, he wasn't being subtle, the strange gaze of invisible eyes determined to find every little detail.

Antoine, assuming that was his actual name, quietly considered both Emryc's words and the datapad he'd slid over, a finger slowly sliding across his chin. The Chiss' expression was impassive aside from a light curiosity, doubtless born of the discipline instilled by Chiss society. After several seconds his hand moved down to pick up the datapad, slowly and silently looking through it, crimson eyes lazily perusing the documents within. He gave away nothing in his expression, and even his mind was difficult to grasp ahold of, which made the waiting seem like it took longer than it did.

"Our mutual contact spoke of your competent reputations," he began in a controlled baritone, smooth and relaxed. The datapad was lowered back to the desk. "I suspect you were undersold. You've done what was asked of, and more of course. I will consider these points, and honor our arrangement." The man slightly nodded his head and in place of the datapad he slid over a small metal box that contained several items, data, access cards, and so forth that could be copied in the hands of certain entities to allow high level access to Cloud City, amongst other things.

"I look forward to future good business, gentlemen."

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc was entirely focused on the man, not really looking around or taking note of the surroundings. This was how he and Morgan worked as a team - his mind had to be prepared for any kind of mental gymnastics the Chiss threw at him. Silence hung between them for a while as the man considered his options and lazily rifled through the collected data. Emryc’s gaze never shifted, even if he could feel Morgan occasionally moving around in his seat.

In the end, Antoine was agreeable and slid over the necessary access tools. Emryc offered a polite smile, “Likewise, Baron Administrator Hierogrant,” A tiny wink to go with it as he shook the man’s hand while he rose. He took the box and turned on his heel to walk with Morgan and leave the office. They would be handing the box over at their next checkpoint back on Terminus.

Emryc visibly relaxed more as he walked over and stepped into the repulsorlift. He once again turned to watch the floating cities in the distance, hearing the soft jazz and the quiet whirring of the lift.

“How long before he tries to kriff us, you think?” He asked quietly without looking at Morgan. Contingency plans were always needed when operating as a Sith. This one would be no different.

For all intents and purposes, however, their mission on this planet specifically was over.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan stood from his seat and shook Hierogrant's hand after Emryc, offered a small bow, and turned away to follow the other Sith back to the lift, straight back as the Chiss in his step. He also relaxed somewhat once they were in the lift, though not entirely. Morgan was still working.

The jazz drew his attention again, a strange intermission between an experienced corporate leader and the end of a task. His thoughts wandered along those lines, the sounds of a woman's voice and the pitter-patter of drums, brass instruments played quiet and smooth. He smiled a little, a brief expression that slipped away as Emryc spoke.

"As soon as it gains him the advantage. At least he'll probably wait until after he has control," he replied at the same volume. It was all a big dejarik, making little moves back and forth. The Sith had gained something and Hierogrant had gained something, but that didn't mean they were technically on the same side. It was a start, not quite the end.

The repulsorlift reached the bottom, Morgan gave the secretary a cheery wave goodbye and a soft thank you, and then both Sith would once again be driven off back to the hotel. Again Morgan simply stared out the window, quietly thinking to himself. He glanced toward the reflection of Emryc on the window.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

The journey back to the hotel was quiet and uneventful. He didn’t catch Morgan looking at him, his focus on his comlink as he browsed through scores on the Ryloth Rancors facing off in Huttball today. It was a championship he had been following and his team was getting crushed. His jaw tightened as he watched the recap of a few bad plays, his favorite players struggling with defense. They were holding back far too much and getting slaughtered.

His focus was entirely on the highlight reel and checking the scores until they arrived. Emryc silently got out of the speeder, their things already having been transported back to the ship. The most exciting part of this was the knowledge that the bike was his to take. He found it again, waiting for Morgan to hop on before he jetted off back towards their ship. The sun was setting over the horizon during the ride back, the clouds a brilliant pink hue streaked with blue.

As usual, Emryc zipped through traffic, taking the same hairpin turns as he made his way back towards the docking bay. He didn’t bother getting off the bike even as they entered the port, driving past mechanics that jumped out of the way till he rode it up the cargo ramp. Emryc was clearly in a great mood from keeping such a prize as he finally got off the bike and removed the helmet.

After he set the helmet down and tied the bike up, he turned to walk further into cargo bay. However, that was when he noticed the scuff marks along the floor and the dented cargo crate. His eyebrows furrowed as he analyzed it.

“What the hell?” He said as he walked over to look at the damage, “Someone came in here to kriff with our stuff?” Emryc bolted towards the inner rooms within the ship, checking every single one. He popped into the crew quarters and found his personal items where he left them, along with his comics. He next rushed towards the lounge area, looking around until he exhaled in relief.

He whipped around to look at Morgan, “Your hallikset,” He said abruptly, eyes slightly wide, “It’s...uh….safe,” His eyes narrowed almost immediately. He cleared his throat before turning to walk towards the cockpit, “I’m flying this time,” He said coldly.


@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

He had quietly been looking forward to the ride back, for a small variety of reasons. One was just the ride itself, the feeling of wind blowing past him, the sense of freedom. Morgan hopped on the bike behind Emryc and just enjoyed the trip, though a short laugh came out when the other man passed right by a group of panicked mechanics instead of having the bike loaded by a crew.

He gently put the helmet down, looking at it for a moment, distracted by something or other until Emryc said something. Morgan turned to look at what he was talking about, eyes narrowed, and then immediately looked away with a sheepish expression. With everything else going on he'd forgotten about that stupid box. He sighed resignedly and moved to follow him out. No one had been on the ship, not really. The layers of impression left behind felt the same as before, but he didn't feel like saying anything about that just then.

"Yeah, that's a relief. Thanks," he replied without making direct eye contact, pointedly staring at the instrument instead of at Emryc. He smiled a little after the other man walked off. The words he'd said before they'd left the ship came back to mind, about missing Morgan's singing. It turned into something sad when he recalled the words after. Concerns for another time, another place. He picked up the instrument and placed it gently inside his crate for the transition into hyperspace and then joined Emryc in the cockpit, seating himself behind him and buckling in.

"Only fair," he said idly, watching Emryc with a curious and pensive expression.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc was slightly confused at Morgan’s utter lack of concern at the ship having been infiltrated. He filed that away, deciding not to ask about it. He was more or less back to himself, revving up the engines and slowly pulling away from the docking bay. The ship purred under his command, and he couldn’t help but marvel at how smoothly everything operated. He loved his own ship, but this was something else entirely.

Within moments, they were in the air and slowly pulling away from Bespin. There was a mirror that allowed him to glance at the cockpit in its entirety. He caught a glance at Morgan in it, noting the almost forlorn expression there. It was curious and oddly out of place, but his eyes flicked back to gaze ahead. He never pretended to understand people, his own emotions foreign to him most of the time.

After he maneuvered through realspace for a while, there was a soft countdown. The stars began to slowly mesh and blur together as the engines whizzed and they finally lurched forward. The jump was complete and the blue vortex was back around them, just as it would be for two days.

Emryc sat in his seat for a while to watch the display, glancing up at Morgan after a while in the mirror again. He unbuckled himself at last, turning around to walk out of the cockpit. The atmosphere was different, as if he were coming down from a high of sorts. He couldn’t quite explain it, and he didn’t even bother.

He ambled over to the common area and plopped down on the couch, switching on the rerun of the Huttbal game from earlier today.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan watched Emryc maneuver the ship up and away from Bespin, eyes on the stars when they began to pull and stretch across the viewpoint during the transition to lightspeed. He stood and followed Emryc back into the ship, having the spent the time directly after the jump running his fingers across the co-pilot controls and switching some settings around to ensure the smoothest ride. And some more advance warning, this time. Just in case.

He sank into the couch, half lounging across the corner with his eyes on the holoscreen. He wasn't really watching it, though he could tell one side was doing really poorly. Just terrible, actually. It ended up drawing his thoughts away for a little bit, but then he lost interest and found himself instead looking at the table.

Then he examined the arm of the couch, the precise stitching and the quality of the leather, a finger idly dragging across the curve. Morgan looked up from the couch and toward the cargo hold, fingers briefly brushing against his neck. His jaw tightened, then relaxed, his expression softening. Morgan turned back to the game.

"So. What colours do you paint with, soldier boy?"

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc kept watching the game, visibly wincing when his team missed yet another opportunity to score. His jaw twitched and it was obvious watching this was bothering him. He could only tolerate for a bit longer before he switched the channel to something else, this one a full length movie. Emryc turned to look at Morgan briefly after he spoke, though the man looked at the screen then.

He didn’t miss the way Morgan rubbed at his neck again, and his gaze lingered there for longer than necessary. He looked up to take in the side profile of his face, contemplating several different things before looking at the screen himself.

“Soldier boys don’t paint,” He said flatly. He was vaguely reminded of the splotchy mess that was the ‘modern art’ piece he stared at in the bedroom. The one Morgan casually walked over to remove. The memory brought a faint grin. There had been several memories, and they took up space in his mind just as the very walls of the ship had the haunting remnants of Morgan’s voice and the hallikset.

“Where will you go after this?” He asked, surprising himself with the question. Emryc wasn’t one to ask such things. However, there was enough curiosity to where he didn’t feel like storing it away internally. Emryc turned to look at Morgan then, still finding the various different emotions displayed in him to be strange. There were obviously several things on his mind, and he was purposely stewing on them.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Of course that was his answer. Soldiers boys don't paint. It was true at face value, of course. Soldiers were trained killers, cogs in the machine run by their superiors. Weapons to be wielded until their edge dulled, and they were discarded, forgotten.

Morgan turned toward at Emryc when he asked his question, bright golden eyes looking into the silver he'd grown used to seeing over the last few days. He'd seen them when Emryc smiled, when he was angry or furious, burn with the spark of fire, and light up when he found something he liked. He'd seen him sink into music, marvel at old books and knowledge. He'd seen him free, and he'd watched him chain himself back down.

Morgan flashed a bright smile, equal parts cheerful and amused. "Books for a scholar, blades for a soldier. If you hold a brush, you could be a painter. Is this not so?" he asked him, echoing an assertion from days earlier aboard Emryc's ship. He looked back at the screen and began to hum softly along to the music playing from the movie, lively tone quite at odds with the serious atmosphere of the flick.

"I have some work to do on Eiattu soon," he answered after a few seconds while the movie transitioned to a new scene. He wasn't really paying all that much attention to it. "But before then I'll be on Eriadu for some time. I have an apartment there." He looked at Emryc from the side, a small fang-toothed grin forming over his face.

"Where will you go?"

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc heard him spell out what he meant. He had known, but he didn’t acknowledge it. Emryc killed when it was necessary and he had a neutral outlook on it usually. It was the beast within him that savored and found pleasure in it, and that part of him was oddly separated from him. It was a part of him that he could only try to control, but it had a mind of its own.

He heard Morgan softly humming and he looked at the man again. He thought of all the different sides he had seen from him. He saw the way his eyes lit up, heard the trilling laugh, saw the pain there in Dorian’s office, and several other instances where he measured and controlled everything. He was similar to Emryc in many ways, but there was a common denominator through it all.

Emryc leaned back on the couch, bringing his legs up and sliding them out slightly. It was his turn to lounge, his feet not too far away from Morgan. He rested against a cushion that was propped up against the armrest on his side. Emryc didn’t miss the grin on Morgan’s face as he mentioned Eriadu and asked a question in turn. The half Sephi pulled out his comlink and brought up a game to play. He forgot about the movie entirely then.

His face was devoid of emotion, frosty gaze on the screen in front of him as he spoke, “Ever stop playing your games, Morgan?”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan was silent for several seconds after Emryc's question. It was just like the last time they were here. He was pensive then, thinking to himself as he'd been over the last hour, at least. The other man had said another simple little thing that gave him pause.

Morgan knew the answer. He knew exactly why he played his little games, acutely aware. It was a dance, moving back and forth, circling around and around, never straightforward. Never too close, never too far. Perfectly controlled, just as planned, not a hair out of place. Always trying to get to where he wants to go, edging in, and finding the right angle. Take without taking, that was the game. It was better to win. It was more fun, and it was safer. It just couldn't be that easy.

He turned to look at Emryc, took in his expression. The cold way he looked at his commlink, devoid of any real interest. It was a distraction, something to do, to focus on. Morgan had developed a certain fondness for that frosty look, but he liked it when he smiled, too, as rare as it was. He realized then he had a preference for the way Emryc looked at him, that he cared at all. Morgan's leg slid over the couch, still just shy of touching Emryc's.

Morgan's grin had vanished, replaced by a smile. It was bright, and warm, and a little unsure. His golden eyes looked somewhere beyond Emryc's face, holding a spark of something fiery and intense just beneath the surface. His legs moved forward and met with the other man's, joining them in the same space just the barest amount. He still didn't know how to do things this way, and he spoke softly, but at least this time he didn't hesitate.

Aha. I lose, soldier boy.

"Would you like me to?"

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc’s eyes were fixated on the game, roaming from side to side as he played a fighting sequence. He could feel Morgan shift and tense near him, and he allowed the man space to formulate his thoughts. Emryc was perfectly aware of his loaded question, but he also meant it. There were no games from him, and he seldom asked things he didn’t care to know about.

He felt Morgan shift and touch against his legs, and that was when he glanced up. Emryc ignored that his little character was immediately shot to death in the game. Silver eyes took sight of that smile - it was a smile he hadn’t really seen before. It was mixed with a hint of uncertainty and lacking that constant self-assuredness that Morgan carried with him. The firrerreo didn’t even meet his gaze, looking somewhere vaguely beyond him.

The frosty silvers softened just a bit. Emryc slowly put the comlink down, not backing away from the touch. He sat up straighter, and still he kept that connection. The movie continued to play in the background. Unlike Morgan, Emryc didn’t hesitate to look directly at him. He studied the other man, noticing the shift in his gaze and the way his chest rose and fell.

“Yes,” He said bluntly, never moving his gaze. He didn’t care if it meant that he was staring right through him and piercing into him in ways he didn’t want. Emryc wasn’t looking away this time, “What are you so afraid of?”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

One of his hands rubbed absentmindedly against his forearm, across the brands beneath the cloth. After a moment more Morgan's eyes turned to look into Emryc's. They had softened, just a little, but the intensity made him uncomfortable in that moment just as much as he wanted to be seen. He sat up straight in mirror of the other man, moved just a little bit closer across the couch. It was a difficult question to answer, but he tried anyway. He'd already lost, he just needed to keep it up.

"Being seen as what I am," he whispered, moving a little closer. It was the truth, but it wasn't exactly the detailed truth. He didn't know how to say it right, it wasn't something he talked about. But he could show him what he meant. He was good at that. He didn't notice when he started breathing faster, but he noticed at some point it was happening. Just keep going.

"I have scars too," Morgan said, a little louder this time, the hand against his sleeve pulling the cloth up his arm with shaking but determined fingers. There were the brands, lines and markings all the way up. They were clearly intentional, forming patterns across his skin. Self inflicted scars, to remind him of his purpose.

Storm clouds were roiling again. Fire flashed behind them, yearning to break free, burning fingers licking at the edges of where it was allowed to exist. He was trying, and he was fighting it too. He didn't know what to do. He feared being seen, he wanted to be seen. A tiger roared and clawed at its cage, desperate to escape. Should he really let it out? Was it worth it?

Morgan slid closer, edging in again, legs nearly intertwining with Emryc's. His muscles tensed, like he was about to pounce on something, but he still held on. Just one step more. His words came out slightly strained, but it was almost a shock to him they came out at all.

"Can I show you, Emryc?"

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc listened quietly as Morgan spoke, watching the man turn and shift closer. He didn’t move his gaze still, his face devoid of expression though his eyes were less stern. He could tell he was slowly unraveling Morgan, gently peeling away layers that he worked hard to keep. They weren’t the sheets of ice that Emryc had, but they could be maneuvered and pulled away. Morgan had a strict measure of control about the parts of him that he kept buried, whereas Emryc simply didn’t have things to really hide. He had the beast that roiled, but even that was just for when he snapped into darkness.

His gaze finally shifted down as Morgan rolled back his sleeves, revealing the various scars and markings. He could recognize some of them from a time long ago. Some of them could even be traced to the markings he saw on the Kravos holocron. His head filled with questions, but he held them all back. The way Morgan looked at him trumped any question he could think of.

Emryc’s hands moved of their own accord, reaching out as his fingers traced along the wrists presented before him. He didn’t look up, his eyes following his fingers as he slid them slowly up the length of Morgan’s arms. They were as beautiful as they were tragic, and he knew they were carved repeatedly into his flesh to have lingered through his healing. Did Morgan look upon his back the same way? Emryc could tell there was a shift in the way Morgan was breathing, his fingers trembling just a bit. He didn’t draw his hands away from the wrists, letting the warmth linger there. Emryc's actions were sure and true, and there was no hesitation. This was what he wanted, and he knew it. It wasn't any more complicated than that.

Emryc’s gaze slowly rose to meet Morgan’s goldens again. They burned with intensity admixed with trepidation. Emryc met it with his own silvers, unwavering and yet lacking the chill that usually emanated from them. He slowly smiled at the man, his voice barely above a whisper.

“If you insist, nightingale.”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Emryc's fingers were gentle across his arm, and Morgan hoped he understood what they meant, but the other man's warm touch felt like fire across his skin and burned other thoughts away. Morgan sat there, every ounce of focus bearing down on remaining in place, unmoving, tensed, ready. Emryc took his time, and Morgan waited.

Emryc looked up and stared into his eyes. Gold met silver and saw none of the cold that so often rimmed them, present just a few seconds before. It reminded him of- something, he didn't know. He was just waiting, patient. Morgan waited, and Emryc took his time. Emryc's lips slowly curled into a smile that fit so well with his eyes, steady and sure. Morgan stopped breathing.

“If you insist, nightingale.”

The words were quiet and yet they rang in Morgan's ears, traveled into his chest and sat there, beating along with his racing heart and filling his lungs with fire. They shifted something in him, the last tiny thread he had that kept everything in place. Emryc wanted to see, and Morgan could let go. He had permission. The clouds burned white hot, he finally exhaled, and his breath carried with it last of his control.

The shift was sudden, steadily ramping up as the chains fell away. It started with the eyes. The burning at his core came fully to the surface, furious and wild. His skin flushed a deeper undertone of silver from the faint shade it always held, contrasting sharply with the lighter tone of his brands. The fire in his lungs became a rumbling, half purr and half growl, cutting through the quiet and drowning out the stupid distracting sound coming from somewhere off to his right. He moved forward across the couch with purpose, a feral cat ready to dive on unsuspecting prey, legs sliding against Emryc's as he adjusted his position. His arms moved along Emryc's, skin sliding across skin. The furnace doors were opened, and the tiger was released from its cage.

Emryc really was going to have to be careful. Morgan almost bit him.

Morgan practically pounced across the short distance between them, eager for touch, eager for scent. A hand like silk and iron ran across Emryc's chest and down his sides. Muscles coiled and uncoiled and he planted himself across Emryc's legs, chest to chest, pressing into him as much as he could manage. His other hand blurred over Emryc's right shoulder and gripped the arm of the couch hard enough it began to give. The touch of soft lips and razor fangs was preceded by hot breath that rolled in waves across the skin of Emryc's shoulder.

The hand on Emryc's side clawed and pulled at his shirt just short of tearing the cloth from his body, the couch arm creaked ominously behind his head. Even then he was being careful not to hurt the man before him. The tiger was free but still bound to a leash, woven not by his own inhibitions but by Emryc's desires. Morgan wouldn't do a single thing Emryc didn't let him, but he would still go to the very edge of that leash the instant slack was given.

Distantly, Morgan thought it was probably for the best that Emryc had a solid tolerance for pain.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc watched the metamorphosis happen before his eyes, the process almost hypnotic in nature. Morgan’s skin took on a silvery sheen, all his inhuman traits coming out in full display. The eyes burned more than ever, and the fangs were pronounced. Emryc didn’t flinch at the sight, his own eyes piercing into Morgan’s. He didn’t shift as the firrerreo closed the distance between them, and he could feel the heat between their bodies.

He knew Morgan was applying self restraint and he knew he was walking into dangerous territory. He was in the tiger’s cage now and the tiger was achingly hungry. Emryc felt his hand slide along his chest and down his side, each touch sending a jolt through his spine. He could feel the claws just barely raking against him, his clothing getting caught against the sharp edges.

Emryc looked beyond Morgan as he felt the man brush his lips along his skin, the hot breath tickling along with the very tips of those fangs that caught his attention from the beginning. He knew how much restraint this took for him, and he felt the man all but writhing against him, that tiger roiling and pacing as it eyed the feast before it.

And perhaps it wasn’t a feast at all. Perhaps it had claws of its own.

The half Sephi finally moved then, pushing back against Morgan so the firrerreo was on his back on the couch. Emryc leaned in and pressed in so his hips were between Morgan’s legs, one of his hands pressing into the armrest behind Morgan’s head to hold him up and allow him to look down at him. Fire danced in the silver eyes, flecks of gold burning as passion found its way back into his gaze.

His other hand slid down the side of Morgan’s body and down the outside of his thigh as he pressed himself even closer to the man. Emryc gazed at those lips and those fangs and a whole other beast confronted the tiger, one that wanted to make it purr like a kitten.

Emryc watched Morgan for a moment, listening to the way he breathed, taking in the way he looked at him, feeling the way he roiled and moved beneath him. Then and only then did he lean in to capture those lips with his own for that first taste. There was passion and hunger to take, but also that aching desire to give.

Sometimes it was better to win when it didn’t come at the cost of a defeat.

@Mr. Teatime