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Post by tarquin finley ellis on Oct 29, 2012 1:03:22 GMT -5
 It just seems to get worse and worse as time goes by. The danger part, anyway. Other things now too, though that hadn't been the entire time, no. Quinn had gotten increasingly more violent since that day, not far into his fifteenth year when everything spun out of control. It certainly didn't help that Quinn had been learning to fight every which way, that he was a natural at it with a temper that was scalding. One mental breakdown later and he found himself facing the Russian man he's come to know so well. And that... oh that had been a scene to have seen! Circling each other with puffed chests and lustful eyes.... It had been one wicked showdown that had ended up becoming so much more.
And then it wasn't anymore. They shouldn't have worked at all. None of it even made sense. This here and now was how most would have thought it would be from the start. They'd been wrong, but then... so had Quinn. He never thought it would come to something like this. But here it was anyway. Quinn twitches a little as Makism starts, and he tries to mimic the starting position for a run; bracing himself to go; and then he's off. It's a good start, it really is. But Quinn isn't great with pacing himself at running, and he's behind enough to simply scoop Makism up; cackling in his throat as he continues to move with the man in his arms; finally slowing down and walking the rest of the way to the pool. Once there, he nipped Makism's nose. "Off with your clothes!" He crowed with a snarky smirk, letting the man down. |
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Post by makism vandik tarasov on Oct 29, 2012 1:13:18 GMT -5
That had been what Makism would call a beautiful night... it was one he'd never be able to wipe from his mind, something that would play over and over and over again on the nights when he was cold and lonely... a ghost of the beautiful days that had passed.
It doesn't keep him from turning, from cuddling into Quinn's chest. He laughs long and low, leaning up to kiss the man's neck ever so gently. "You're awfully slow for having such long legs." The jibe is gentle, playing, toying with the other man.
By the time his feet hit the ground, the man is more than ready to go. He's got his shirt half way stripped off, moving to pull Quinn's shirt up as well. "I may have told a little lie... I left my belly ring in." There's a glittering blue stone sitting coyly in the middle of the young man's tanned waist. He feels sexy, that's all he needs.
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Post by tarquin finley ellis on Oct 29, 2012 1:43:36 GMT -5
No matter what comes, that first night is stuck in his mind too. It's there, lodged in the back and pulled to the surface at some random moments. It actually doesn't make sense anymore. It confuses and frustrates Quinn now, and he wants to push it down. They aren't the same people as they were then. In Quinn's mind, Makism has become a much more softer, dependant creature and right now Quinn can barely stand it half the time. Sometimes it's good, but that's usually when he's horny and he wants the supple, all too beautiful flesh of the Russian male under his hands.
When he doesn't want that, the clinging can be annoying. Yet it's still better then confused murmuring that greets his ears around Connor. Quinn has already started to tune that bullshit out when he's around the winged male. But it seems that Connor has started to take the hint, and there's ultimately less speaking between them anyway. Which works well enough for Quinn. Those things aren't at the forefront of his mind just now, though. He's fine with Makism cuddling to him while he's holding the man in his arms; it's Makism's natural state when picked up this way, isn't it? Quinn deals. Accepts that.
He peers down at the laugh, hearing the words and huffing. "I don't run." He grumbles lowly. To him, running is mostly having to do with fleeing, and Quinn does not flee. He also doesn't comment to the playful jab. Quinn watches with a lick of his lips as Makism already starts to take off his shirt, and then his own is being tugged on and Quinn is all too happy to be rid of it. Yet at the man's next words Quinn goes still, eyes shifting to the blue stone there. And in seconds he has Makism up in his arms again with a low growl, flinging the Russian man -- and whatever isn't off for clothes yet -- into the deep end of the pool. Nope, he doesn't like the lie. At all. He strips down and slides into the water, glaring. |
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Post by makism vandik tarasov on Oct 29, 2012 2:10:15 GMT -5
Makism had found himself stripping down with startling ease. There was something about him that liked showing his body off... it was as if he'd become quite the voyeur. Funny the way things like that worked... he liked being watched, he liked being touched. It was brilliant. Everything had the ability to come alive under a gaze, with a simple brush of fingertips.
But he finds himself gathered up and thrown before he can think much farther. He'd just been reaching up to pull the man's pants away, but found himself crashing through the water at high speed. Makism pulled himself to the surface, sputtering just slightly. "I was under the impression you found that one sexy." The Russian man rolls his eyes with grand dramatics, treading water as he shakes his hair much like a wet dog.
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Post by tarquin finley ellis on Oct 29, 2012 2:51:10 GMT -5
Quinn had noticed the whole voyeur thing going on with Makism, and of course he's cool with it. Now, anyway. There had been a time when the idea of someone else oogling what was his caused a very unpleasent reaction. At this point, Quinn just lets it go and well, joins right in. He's naked at this time, finding it quite interesting to go skinny dipping in the pool where anyone could walk in on them. Plus the cameras. Couldn't forget those. Quinn knows that they are there. No fucks given. They've probably watched a number of nasty things Quinn's done. Whatever.
The fact remains that Makism has a great body, and why shouldn't it be bared often? Still, it isn't quite to that point when Quinn throws the man into the pool. He's amused at the sputtering, hearing the words and shrugging a bit. "The bellybutton one is fine, but I don't like the whole 'lying' thing. Why bother lying? Honestly. You knew I wanted your clothes off." He replied simply, eyeing the man. But then he's moving through the water toward Makism, curling his body around that of the other man's. His fingers find the piercing, tapping it lightly but otherwise leaving it be. |
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Post by makism vandik tarasov on Oct 29, 2012 3:02:48 GMT -5
It almost hurts Makism, the shift he's watched in Quinn. It would hurt a lot more if he let it. He was trying not to be a fucking pussy any more, remember? If you asked him how that one was going for him, he'd like and tell you it was going swimmingly. Lie right through his fucking teeth, even.
Makism does feel free to roll his eyes at Quinn as he lectures. There's a low rumble in his chest, a sort of chuckle. "Oops." The word rolls of his tongue toyingly, not bothering to apologize because why do it when you weren't sorry? He can feel the other man rippling through the water, and he has a feeling that something on the violent edge of their play would be coming for him next. He turns rather abruptly, surface diving down and out. Makism is making it clear-- it's a day for play.
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Post by tarquin finley ellis on Oct 29, 2012 3:44:33 GMT -5
Quinn doesn't like to lie. He still doesn't like it with these changes, but he's more prone to let it happen if he thinks it needs to, if it will help him out one way or another to an extent where it's worth it. Mostly, Quinn's going to say flat out what is what and that's it. It's probably why his words are so cutting. They are truth and he won't beat around the bush with them. Straight and right at you. The way Quinn likes it to be. Lies end up in tangles more often then not anyway, and he just doesn't have time for that shit. He has other things to do.
He snorts at Makism's 'oops' and knows the man doesn't mean it, but Quinn's already over the slight, it's nothing big, after all. And he is fine with that piercing, so everything is good. It doesn't take long for Makism to be away from him again; and Quinn is more then happy for play, launching through the water after the man, tugging at an ankle before curling his body around and using the pool bottom to propel him the other way, surfacing and darting about; waiting to send a splash Makism's way. He's grinning now; quite interested in this game and wherever it's going. |
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Post by makism vandik tarasov on Oct 29, 2012 17:38:07 GMT -5
They'll always play. Makism and Quinn might pick at each other, might pull at each other, but things will always be play. They're not always gentle, but there's always going to be the pair of men crashing together and tugging, picking at brains and pushing and shoving. It's the beauty of their relationship, it really is.
He feels the hand close around his ankle and tries to stifle a laugh. He rises with the Irishman, a grin on his lips as he breaks the surface. The man moves to wrap his arms around Quinn's waist, leaning in to kiss his neck. There's no way to dodge the splash, but it's all in good fun. "Boo!"
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Post by tarquin finley ellis on Oct 29, 2012 18:42:29 GMT -5
Right now, the best they've got is play. Sexual, non-sexual, it doesn't matter. It's all the same thing in Quinn's mind at this point. Easy, rough; just different levels to whatever they end up doing. Skinny dipping and messing around in the pool where anyone could just walk in? Just the kind of playing that Quinn has in mind. No pressure or needs, just this and that's all there needs to be. A good dose of stuff like this is something Quinn has to have every once in awhile. More now after what had happened, the way the cold had seeped into his heart.
He sends the splash at Makism, but the man is already close, arms wrapping around his waist, and he feels the kiss to his neck, hears the word and Quinn slips down into the water and wiggles away from Makism, re-surfacing to stick his tongue out at the man before he's off again, treading water and waiting for Makism to go after him. Quinn glances around the area surrounding the pool, wondering if they had any of those floating noodle things, as it would be pretty amusing to bop Makism over the head with one of them right about now. |
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Post by makism vandik tarasov on Oct 30, 2012 20:35:08 GMT -5
Makism wanted so much more than play... he really did. He wanted the world from Quinn, that was the truth. It was killer, it really was. His heart was breaking day by day, it was killing him... he could be crazy, some days. Some days he was terrified he was going crazy.
He feels the man slip away, and the Russian gentleman uses it as leverage to propel himself off as well. They're ever so graceful cutting through the water, shooting glances of fire and ice through the air that hangs between them. They've always been something else... now they're a different short of something else. Makism dives beneath the surface, launching himself in Quin's direction, reaching out to grab a foot and tug. Cat and mouse, it's always been cat and mouse.
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Post by tarquin finley ellis on Oct 30, 2012 20:55:28 GMT -5
Quinn is aware of what Makism wants from him. He is, certainly. But if there is anything he can do about it, he doesn't want to. He has his path that he has decided for himself, and it's not the same that Makism wants from him. Quinn wants the easier, less emotional route. He wants to do exactly as he pleases without needing to think about how everyone else feels about it. Already his life is to the point where he's disregarding the feelings of others. He's seeing the world through eyes with a haze over them. He likes it this way.
And so what if Makism is going crazy from it? One more step in a direction Quinn can better mold to. It's not on his mind just now, the cool water against bare skin and the antics are what comes to the forefront of his mind now. This is fun, and he's pulled from thoughts of any pool noodle by the tug at his foot; chuckling as he's back under the water and twisting about to grab Makism's hips, sending a quick nip to the man's side before forcing himself back to the surface and away. Cat and mouse, or maybe something else now. The game is different. All bets are off. |
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Post by makism vandik tarasov on Oct 31, 2012 20:24:07 GMT -5
This is a new game, and Makism can tell you it's one he likes. It's strange and thrilling and brilliant. Quinn had taken his breath away a long time ago... it looked like he was giving it back in the form of heavy breathing, heads spinning, touching in the dark... yeah. That was typical of this pair, at least.
The Russian man laughed gently, a growl breaking in his throat at the feeling of teeth on his hip. The piercing had healed, leaving a subtle hole, tender to the touch. Every bit of skin was hypersensitive-- it was what happened when Quinn was around. He was electric, enlivened. The creature dove after the man, wrapping his arms around the Irishman's waist, nibbling across his shoulder.
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Post by tarquin finley ellis on Oct 31, 2012 21:10:36 GMT -5
There are so many new games they could play if they just looked, if Makism would give in to what Quinn wants. But he can't expect it from the man bound to his emotions. It makes sense why it doesn't work, won't work. Quinn gets it in his own way. They clash because the give and take is no longer in balance. Quinn isn't giving enough, and he does not want to. He doesn't want to feel love, and that really is the pinnacle of it all; where it's at. It is the marker to all of it, the reason Quinn had ever been so giving at all. Without that, there is less on his side. It's uneven and he's not even trying anymore.
But the pooltime is fun, and Quinn is willing to twist and bend with Makism's need for physical contact, for prying hands all over him. It's fun, and it's not exactly cuddling so there is no need to try and pull away. Cuddling leads to badness. Usually it had to do with feelings, and honestly, Quinn doesn't like it. He has before; with Makism, even. There had been a time when it felt right and good and, well, Quinn had wanted it. But not anymore. Not now. He can feel the water chill a little around him just before Makism is there, shivering at the nips before surfacing, spinning and pulling the man close. And, of course his hands are groping over hips and ass; it was far too tempting. |
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Post by makism vandik tarasov on Nov 1, 2012 15:55:46 GMT -5
The Russian man couldn't help how he felt. There were things that he couldn't fight back, things that were far too strong... far too reflexive. It drove the man sick to his stomach. His heart was sent off pounding in his chest as the man came closer, came nearer. There were a million things that the man had to deal with that happened to combat with the proximity of a man who didn't love him any more... the proximity of a man he still loved very much. Makism didn't feel so hot, to tell you the truth.
Quinn was dipping and diving within the water. It was a chasing, terrible fighting, lovely crashing of minds and heads. The Russian man reached out, fingers digging into Quinn's sides as he felt his backside groped. There's a growl in his throat, his teeth moving down the Irishman's shoulder. A million things crashed about in his head, a million lovely things. Possibilities swirled around his head, and there were oh so many. "Hello, my love."
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Post by tarquin finley ellis on Nov 1, 2012 22:05:28 GMT -5
Feelings were weaknesses. They put too many soft spots in a person, and Quinn had been tired of those spots being pressed and stabbed at. He'd been wounded, and he did not want to be hurt anymore. He wanted those spots to be gone. To be rid of those weaknesses once and for all. And so the feelings had to go. There was no other way. Had to be done for him to go forward, to be who he wanted to be, have wante he wanted, and yes. To do what he wanted. And so right now, Quinn did what he wanted and he liked it. He didn't want it to end.
It was a fun, near weightless kind of game that he enjoyed, though he was graceful enough on land. But the water made it easier in some ways, and it was interesting what moves he could perform in water that he couldn't quite reach on land. And Quinn can do quite a lot of neat things that most people couldn't when grounded. Quinn embraces the feeling of fingers digging into his sides, grins at the growl he hears from Makism and the trail of teeth down his shoulder. Quinn's hands grip and then loosen to slide down the man's thighs, and when Makism speaks, Quinn leans to nip at the man's neck.
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