idriswolfe

[idriswolfe]

[Viggo’s arms rise, trying to match the length of his husband’s as open hands form around his wrists. As one finger overlaps the flesh, another soon follows, and another, slowly winding around the man’s joints. As his body slowly presses against Idris’s, with chests flush against one another and pelvic bones rejoined as though they’ve never parted, the palms gradually slide down the long but muscular arms, feeling them flex beneath his teasing touch. A small smile glosses over his plush lips as the chin raises to let them brush against his lover’s mouth, tempting to kiss, but firmly staying true to their tantalizing distance that barely makes a separation. 

Further down the fingers skim, tracing every ripple of skin and display of strength, molding around sculpted shoulders, toned sides, running over the defined ribs and waist that leads to the hip bones that are practically carved specifically to fit him in the most alluring way. However, it’s only one finger from either hand that is given the task of following their path. Without breaking his gaze, the darkened-honey eyes have their sights only on the multi-colored ones before him while his hands are reserved solely for his body, to explore, to keep, to mesmerize, to memorize, to do everything that causes pleasure instead of pain.

Leaning further into him, the lips give in to present a faint kiss to him with an unblinking gaze, tasting the champagne that covered Idris’s mouth with a tongue already dipped lightly in its flavor. As another is delivered and sweetly welcomed, the other’s hips become free from their protective covering. Viggo’s hands aid them in their departure from his husband’s flesh as his own skin falls across the side of his legs and along the outer thighs before the tips graze back from once they came, slipping behind him.

From their united motions, mirrored flawlessly, the palms drift apart, following different directions. One draws up, beyond the outlines that form the pelvic bones, the chiseled abdomen, letting the knuckles dig into the chest to cause the taut skin to concede to their force as they continue to drag. The remaining hand, in contrast, doesn’t stray as far as the first. It winds past the arched side for the bend of the spine, reaching its tail and exchanging the hardened bone for curving flesh before the shape is completely traced. Dipping down, the connected arm wraps Idris in its reassuring embrace moments before the muscles constrict from the rising hand, lifting the brunette to form entirely around his equal.]

[idriswolfe]

Every glide. every stroke, and every touch, generating pulses of sensory reaction as synapses worked to communicate with one another, translating the series of acts into something comprehensible without the need for words. The explanation for sensation was meant to be scientific, yet for Idris it had been trascendental in the most surrealistic way. The slightest caress was like a spark, leaving trails of fire in its wake, igniting the senses as his own world was set aflamed. "Isn't it sacrilegious for the Faithful to hold so much power over his Saint?"

Muscles flexed and contracted of their own volition, what had been trained and conditioned were put aside in favor of the primal and carnal. Lips parted slightly, soft breath let out in a silent praise, exhalting, seeking, wanting and needing, even as Idris found himself arching up slightly, wanting to give into the temptation of feeling the moisture of Viggo's lips against his skin some more, There was not a single place on the exposed plane that had not been blessed, but there could never be enough blessings. "I'd sin as many times as I need to," Idris would gladly take the risk of damnation for that chance of redemption at the very hands of his Saint. "If it means I'll always have you by my side."

Vanity had never been his vice. External appearance meant little to Idris, having long seen how it could be easily manipulated, creating deception and disappointment for the sheep that wandered; and that it was what laid beneath that gave the finality of truth. However, such ideal was placed into question when he underwent trials of his own, where his very belief and resolve were tested. Days turned into nights, perceptions and cognition sharpened from deprivation, and were shattered at their height; the numbing pain of electricity, the ever suffocating presence of the source of life itself, and the culmination of them all in a ritual of blood, as crimson painted the cold floor of the cell with each swipe of the cold edge into the flesh, a mockery of a sacrificial offering with the most twisted intent. But those who sought were never forsaken. Faith begot strength even in the darkest and harrowing of times. The Faithful had called upon his Saint, his anchor and his light, even as agony coursed through his veins and threatened to consume his very core, Viggo had always been there. Prayers had been heard and answered, and those marks were nothing but marks, unfit for the title of memories but apt to be seen as testament of strength. And Idris embraced them, made them part of his own, treasuring each and every evidence of their bond, transforming nightmares into dreamscapes and darkness into light, as the fallen Faithful was resurrected by the grace of his Saint.

"No matter how much I've sinned," Fingers undid the rounded metal, finding the metal tab. "How much I've tempted," The light staccato of metal teeth being separated was almost inaudible, but the slight resistance as the slider glided over the tracks were felt in the most tangible way. "Or how much I've led you astray," Fingers slipped under the final barrier, trailing down, seeking and finding, gliding over and around the heated flesh as Idris's eyes met Viggo's once more. "I'll always follow you into the dark."

Tea Leaves || Vidris

[idriswolfe]

[Viggo Cain, aka The Saint]

[idriswolfe]

Heat. Felt through the simple touch of skin against skin, its temperature felt in spite of the fleeting contact. Idris had seen those eyes upclose more times than he could count, and there was a time when those shades of amber would never lose their clarity even when temptation called. But that time had since passed, and in its place was a welcomed change, where while the determination still stood, it gave ways to devotion and love when concerning their Faithful. "Being the Faithful doesn't mean I'm free of wrongs." He pressed back slightly, seeking the closeness and warmth. "But I'm a special kind of sinner." Head tipped back slightly, exposing more of the taut column of the throat, craving the subtle yet tantalizing sensation of the gentle teasing that only Viggo could give. "Whose sins can only be absolved by the Saint to whom he worships."

Swallowing hard and feeling the way the muscles flexed and constricted with the movement as skin brushed against the lips that Idris was now so familiar with, there was no need for self-control anymore. Physical reaction was of no shame here, even if Idris found himself shivering slightly as his breath hitched against the onslaught of sensations. Fingers that were interlaced with his husband's tightened momentarily at the graze of the teeth, a soft breathe was let out as eyes fluttered close briefly before sight was allowed again. There would be a mark there, the blessing from a Saint, one that Idris would embrace and accept fully and willingly. There was no deceit or pretense, such were things of the past. Lips parted slightly at the fingers against his skin, each opening of the button was a ritual of its own, a baring of soul, an understanding, a desire to give. The organ beneath slowly increased its efforts, pumping the blood that was coursing through Idris, faster and faster, until he could almost hear it roaring in his ears. Almost. Because regardless of what was happening, it would always be Viggo's voice that led him home.

Breathing quickened as temperature rose, and at that moment, Idris could understand the verity of the phenomenon that was known as spontaneous combustion; and if that should ever be the way for him to go into the night, there would be no regret. Hand shifted tentatively from where it was placed, almost reluctant in its departure from the safety of his husband's own, as it moved under the thin fabric of Viggo's shirt, savoring the heat of the skin below as it traveled upward, counting ribs slightly before the decision was revoked and Idris's hand found itself at the hips again. "We'll have to change that, won't we?" Fingers found the metal and prong that held the leather in place. Slipping the material through the loop and undoing the impediments, Idris's hand brushed against the button and teeth that kept the remaining barriers in place. "Tell me, my dear Saint." Hazel orbs gazed up at the now darkened brown ones as Idris breathed out, "Are you at my mercy now?"

Tea Leaves || Vidris

[idriswolfe]

[It was a lazy Saturday afternoon in the July, one of the few occasions where the Cain-Wolfe household was not burdened with another odd request from their ever eccentric bosses.  On a whim, Idris had suggested exploring one of the parks, resulting in a snapshot of this candid moment.]

[idriswolfe]

There had been smiles given in a not so distant past in Virginia Beach, but they were always tinged with a sense of indescribable sadness, a burden that seemed to weigh upon its owner like the sins of the world; but now, all Idris could see were those of hope and joy, heartfelt happiness and adoration that the taller man never thought he would be worthy of deserving. Yet here they were, a few short years later, each having found what they had looked for in the most unlikeliest of all places. The mansion might've been Purgatory for some, for Idris it had been the window that God had given when the door was closed; and he had found that light in the form of Viggo Ira Wolfe, burning ever so brightly even in the darkest hours.

Touch of metal against his skin was familiar. Idris had its shape and sensation memorized by now, knowing exactly where the edge ended and the roundness of the band began, and more importantly, its significance to Viggo. He leaned into it unconsciously, seeking the contact and the warmth, memorizing ever touch and movement, knowing fully well that every detail would be replay in his mind for years to come, another memory that was to be treasured, savored, and most certainly relived. One might say it was blasphemy to bestow such a title onto anyone, but Idris had never viewed it that way. Sainthood was earned, and in Idris's eyes Viggo more than earned the title and there was no one more fitting. Viggo was his Saint, and Idris the ever faithful worshipper.

It mattered little who was watching whom, for the admiration and adoration between them were mutual, and that even the slightest shift in movement he had would be observed and respected. Viggo was soundless even as he stood up and met him half-way, agreeing and compromising in the most delectable ways that reminded Idris of their dynamics and chemistry. It was the right kind of balance, with the most intricate elements and the the most ideal component to bring about the best type of everlasting fireworks that burnt brighter than even the greatest supernova. Love was a word that couldn't be put into words, but Idris had no doubt that they were the very personification and essence of what that was coveted by all.

A soft smile was given at the laced fingers, the slighest contact sending electric signals through the sensitive nerve endings, allowing Idris to sense, memorize, relish in the simple yet sensual gesture. Saints were known to bless, and if such was the case, then Idris had been blessed many times over with each brush of the lips.  The heat of the body was palpable, and the desire to touch was almost insurmountable; but temptation should be stilled, and that with faith, what was sought would be given. It was answered quickly enough, nonetheless. The light graze of the knee against his thigh made Idris shiver slightly, the heat that had crept up his face seemed to increase slightly in intensity.  "I only exalt the good, the worthy, and the loved."  Body pressed against the other, almost molding them into one.  Almost, but not quite yet. It was something to be anticipated, because the union would always come, and with that, the heavenly bliss. "And there's no other Saint I'd rather praise than you." Legs parted toward the edge of the desk as hazel eyes darkened.  "Will my Saint be merciful and answer the prayer of his Faithful?"

Tea Leaves || Vidris

[idriswolfe]

[Taken while on a night out to the Chicago Symphony Orchestra with husband, Viggo Cain]

[idriswolfe]

"Then I say in the name of all things good, the analytics should go on the backburner."  Idris did not mean it, of course; although he had a feeling that this was probably yet another bizarre test or twistedbet of some kind between Steele and Light.  "So it's neither then, since miraculous would be a better description based on what you said to them about me."  Idris let out a soft laugh.  "You're a charmer, Viggo.  Always know the right words to say to make a guy feel special."  The smile lingered, as was the warmth in his heart.  He could feel Viggo's eyes on him, and he knew at such close proximity, there was no way that the blush would go unnoticed.  It was one of those physical reactions that Idris had continuously failed in being able to control.  Even now, the thought and implication of anything personally intimate tend to send blood rushing to his face, making him at times the target of teasing.  Idris didn't mind it so much nowadays anymore, having accepted that this was an aspect of him that wouldn't change any time soon; and as long as Viggo didn't mind, neither would he.  The hitch and slight change in his partner's breathing were all the clues Idris needed to know he was doing all the right things.  The slight shift in skin and muscles under his lips indicated an ingestion of the tea that Viggo loved so much, although Idris knew that it was only momentary.  "I wouldn't call it a respite."  Smiling against his husband's skin at the soft snap of the laptop, Idris brushed his lips against the bare skin once more, tongue darting out and swiped against the surface.  "I'd say it's more a show of appreciation."  Fingers gliding along the sensitive skin of his throat, the tips tracing along lightly until they reach his ear, sending a small shiver through Idris.  Viggo knew his body almost better than his own these days, and sometimes even the lightest touch from the man was enough to set Idris's senses aflame.  "Perhaps you're correct in that observation after all."  He murmured.  "But there's really only one saint who is worthy of both."  Turning his head slightly to the side to lay a kiss on those fingers, Idris stood up once more, his hand remained linked to his husband's as he made his way around Viggo's chair.  Moving the laptop gently to the side, he half leaned against and half sat on the desk.  The afternoon sun had painted everything in the study in a hue of bronze, giving an almost halo-effect around Viggo's dark blond locks, delineating his beauty in a way that was almost celestial.  "Definitely only one." His other hand brushed against the defined jawline, tracing along the edge and gently tipping his husand's chin up as he drew Viggo toward him.  Those amber eyes were almost golden in this light, complementing the complexion that almost seem to glow from within.  An eternal light, one that would always lead Idris home.  "And he's right here with me."  With those words, Idris leaned in and closed the distance between them.

Tea Leaves || Vidris

[idriswolfe]

It was the epitome of blessing, to see how both of them had evolved and grew over time.  They had thrived under pressure where others would have fallen, become closer over hardships where others would have separated.  It hadn't been an easy journey, but they had succeeded together, with each other; and the radiant smile Idris saw on Viggo's face was testament enough.  "I thought being a saint means you lead by example and do benevalent things to further a benevolent cause?"  The Viggo he had met back in the mansion days wouldn't have had the more carefree demeanor that this one had now.  "Pretty sure that doesn't constitute saying yes all the time, especially when I can bet you your next cup of tea that these guys are probably up to no good again."  Referring to his husband as a saint was something that Idris had done since their earler days, and that nickname still held true even today.  "I'm having trouble deciding whether I should find that sacrilegious or flattering."  Idris couldn't help but smile at the grin on Viggo's face.  "I think I'm going to go with insulting.  I respect saints."   He chewed on his lower lip briefly and released it.  The touch on his skin was gentle and comforting, anchoring Idris in more ways than he could ever count.  It wasn't that Idris wanted to disturb Viggo in his work, but sometimes in moments like this one, everything else was secondary.  "But I'm not tempting the Saint." The tell-tale heat of a blush was already creeping up his face. "I'm worshipping him."  The lips that were on Viggo's throat inched their way around.  "Viggo?"  Kisses were laid where fingers previously brushed against the nape.  "Put down your teacup."

Tea Leaves || Vidris

[idriswolfe]

[Young Idris, age 10, taken 1 month prior to the raid]

[idriswolfe]

There was slight ease in tension from Viggo's posture from the contact, and there was an inexplicable sense of relief and joy to know that he could at least be of some assistance.  They were both dedicated individuals, and that carried over to their professional lives as well.  Most of time it had worked in their favor, but then there were times like this one, where the temptation to send Steele and Light an email to tell them to ease off was almost too great to resist.  "You're way too nice, Viggo."  Idris commented, though not unkindly.  "Next time, just say no.  Knowing how strange those two are, they may actually get a kick out of it."  The hint of a smile that he saw warmed Idris's heart.  While his husband had come a long way from the reserved, soft-spoken, and melancholy man that Idris had first met at Bellona Mansion, he still valued every smile that Viggo had for him.  Idris remembered having once read the story of a general who had committed treason by opening up the gates of the Great Wall of China to let in the invading Huns; all just to see a smile on the face of the woman he loved.  It was a both a true story as well a tale of caution, and as reckless and selfish as the act might be in others' eyes, Idris knew that would be something he was more than willing to do.  "Four's a lot, Viggo."  Idris allowed his fingers to stroke against the skin for a moment longer, before leaning forward a bit to wrap one arm around Viggo's shoulder and rest his chin on the other side.  "Good." Idris pressed a kiss to the side of Viggo's throat.  "Ditto."

Tea Leaves || Vidris

[idriswolfe]

Tea Leaves || Vidris

viggocain:

idriswolfe:

Spring time in Chicago was one of Idris’s favorite seasons.  In spite of having spent a good part of his life accustoming to climates and braving the harsher elements of the wilderness and extreme environments, Idris had found the milder seasons to be more of his liking.  While Chicago was not what one would call a place with good weather year round, Idris found the Spring and Fall season to be relatively pleasant.  And spending the day off with his spouse was most certainly one of his favorite past times.  It was not difficult to find Viggo in the house they resided in.  It was by no means a large house, but it was comfortable and more than enough for the two of them.  Idris followed the distinct scent of Viggo’s tea and walked up the steps, arriving at the door way of his husband’s study.  Knocking on the door gently, Idris walked inside and found the other man seated at his desk, with the teapot and tea cup resting next to his laptop.  ”Running analytics again?”  Idris peered over Viggo’s shoulder.  ”Those bosses of ours should really be paying you for over-time.”

Oak Park did afford one the luxury of a private-sense. For business and personal affairs, this was taken advantage of in the Cain-Wolfe household. SLLLP demanded discretion, in particular, and to have a setting where the two could work in peace as much as be with each other without paperwork hanging over their heads was appreciated. In the study, the sunshine poured in from the bay windows, reaching across the rectangular table and highlighting the golden hues of the stain and varnish. Resting on top of the surface, the porcelain cup grew empty from the final sip while Viggo stared intently on the computer screen, only to reach out for it again as if it was full. His bare feet were positioned on the seat, knees bent to his chest while his chin hovered lightly over them if only to drink. It was only until his tongue brushed the smooth texture that he realized there was nothing left, though. There was a quiet sigh, the trance-like stare broken as he set it back while his hand gripped the silver teapot. It had been hours since he had left the room, but he retained his focus up until the knock against the door was heard, making his amber eyes swim over to meet Idris with a smile. “Experimental weapon statistics,” he answered with a trail of irony in his tone. The voice washed over the sound of the tea splashing in the cup, swirling before its owner pulled back, setting the container back. “If it makes me cringe, they know they’ve succeeded.” The lightness in his eyes sparked as they reflected his partner’s image before they reluctantly reverted back to the screen, one hand over Idris’s while the other brought the porcelain rim to his lips. “Mm,” he responded before swallowing, “or more days alone. I think I’d prefer that more, really.”

Viggo was a sight to behold when he was preoccupied with something.  Even without having to stand in front of the other man, Idris could already picture the way Viggo's brows would knit together slightly while in concentration, the mesmerizing way in which those soulful amber eyes would almost be unblinking as they stared at the computer screen, the interesting way in which he sat - something that Idris had tried to get him to change time and again for the sake of his posture, and of course, all the while accompanied by the tea - or as Idris sometimes called it, Viggo's greatest love - that was always by his side.  "Lovely.  What kind of twisted ideas have they come up with now?"  Idris let out a sigh.  "On second thought, maybe I don't want know what's going to bring about the Armageddon."    While Idris held multiple roles and functions at SLLLP, analytics was something that he didn't have to do often.  In some ways, Idris had considered himself lucky in that respect, seeing that statistical analysis had never been held much interest for him; but seeing his husband burdened with the work made him ache.  One hand reached over to feel the teapot - it was cold.  "You've been at this for hours."  Idris's lips curled up in a soft smile as he looked down their joined hands, the metal bands juxtaposed next to each other.  "More days alone?"  The other hand brushed against the nape of Viggo's neck, fingers tracing against the skin gently.  "Alone as in you alone, or alone as in we alone?"

[idriswolfe]

The morning has already dawned an hour ago for Viggo, but he makes his way back into the living room, hoping that Idris hasn’t woken up yet. However, he seems like he’s already stretching, eyes beginning to focus. The shorter of the two sighs, but a smile stretches his lips faintly before the shutter of the camera in his hands is heard. When given an incredulous look towards the act, Viggo shrugs delicately as he looks back at the lens, winding his wrist around the band it comes with. “I’ll miss you,” he speaks simply, not looking at his husband, as the thought of the mission he’s needed for will overtake his mind. “With this, I can think you’re with me.”

[idriswolfe]

[Part of the wedding photo collection.  It was not the actual attire that Idris wore to the wedding, but one of many that was worn during the pre-wedding shoot.]