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Rege-Jean Page attends the 2025 Met Gala.

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@casimirnoctis location: Mercury's Abode, Eterna notes: he said, "I know what you are, bottom."

The dull hum of Mercury's Abode was quieter than Polaris remembered, but it was here - hidden within Eterna's cisterns - that the discreet guildsmen worked toward what the Tower was ignoring. The Kossith. Polaris hadn't spared the horned-southerners much thought until their arrival, then it just felt like a ticking clock.

"The Queen's silence speaks volumes," Word was already spreading that Arethusa would not send aid to Haven, not while the darkspawn were still causing trouble in the south. The Laurelin was dying, Valerius had escaped, the Kossith had taken Aventia and even now they marched on Haven, "you look troubled."

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Regé-Jean Page | Brunello Cuccinelli suit | Vanity Fair Oscar Party | 2025

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Regé-Jean Page | Giuliva Heritage ensemble | Black Bag London Screening | 2025

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Regé-Jean Page | dunhill suit | Academy Museum Gala | 2024

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Rege Jean Page

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Polaris took everything Karme gave him, swallowing him down with slow, deliberate motions, savoring the taste as he did. His throat worked around Karme’s pulsing length, tongue dragging against every twitch and throb, milking him through the aftershocks with obscene devotion. He didn’t pull away, didn’t flinch, only held him deeper, letting Karme spill into the heat of his mouth until there was nothing left to give. And still, he lingered, lips sealing around him as he swallowed the final traces with a satisfied hum. When he finally pulled back, his tongue flicked out, collecting any remnants from Karme’s flushed skin.

Laughter, low and low, reverberated against Karme’s skin like a struck chord, rich and knowing. His lips curled around Karme’s length as if savoring something decadent, and in truth, he was. The taste of him, the heat of him, the way he trembled under Polaris’ hands - it was intoxicating. Addictive. He pressed his finger deeper, just barely, just enough to tease, enough to keep Karme right there - on the edge, pliant and waiting.

His tongue followed the trail of sweat down Karme’s abdomen, slow and deliberate, his free hand splaying across Karme’s ribs to feel the sharp, uneven breaths that rattled through him. Polaris’ finger pressed again, curling just enough to coax Karme open.

"You’re still so hard," Polaris mused, his voice thick with satisfaction. "I could drink you dry, and you'd still be aching for me, wouldn’t you?" He let his lips hover just above Karme’s length, letting his breath tease against oversensitive skin. "I think I want to feel you come apart again. This time, with my fingers inside you, stretching you open -" he grazed his teeth along the inside of Karme’s thigh, watching the way his muscles tensed in response "- until you’re ready to take me properly." Polaris wrapped his lips around Karme again, devoting himself to the writhing creature coming undone beneath him - cock achingly hard, his mind wandered to where one finger was joined by another. The heat of him, the tightness.

The sensation pooling between his thighs was unlike anything Karme had experienced in his life, or he thought possible to experience in the first place. He never wanted it to end. He never wanted the sun to rise. But something else was rising within him just like when Polaris taught him how a kiss was supposed to feel. Except now, he didn't have clothes on to hide how hard he was. The deeper Polaris went, the more Karme leaked into his mouth. His entire body tensed with the effort it took to hold back and not run into that wall. Polaris' tongue felt too good, and Karme selfishly didn't want him to stop.

Then he felt it like a jolt, the sensation of a press against his hole. He liked it, but he clamped down the moment he felt movement. Karme tried to hold back, but no amount of tension would stop the steady release into Polaris' mouth. As if a slow wave washed over him, electrifying pleasure spread across his nerves while his body trembled. He wished he could've given some warning, but Karme was distracted by the ringing in his ears. Once his twitching cockhead had no more to leak, he took a breath and felt himself open for the finger inside of him.

Karme looked down and instinctively understood on a deeper level what Polaris meant when he said Mine. Between his legs was an elvhen man eating him raw in a way that made Karme question if he'd truly tasted anything before the lips that were currently sucking any hint of an intelligent thought right out of him. "Please more," he gasped, still hard and throbbing against Polaris' tongue.

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"If you're constantly measuring yourself by the opinions of others, you're never going to measure up." Simple but straightforward, "It's just a performance, important to some, maybe - but you're better than the spectacle of the sands. For some men, the greatest glory they can ever hope to achieve comes from the roar of a crowd, or how much blood they can spill over a set time." It was a show, nothing more and nothing less. Polaris stopped their short trek to rend his full attention on the witch, hand guided to the curve of the other's cheek. "Win or lose, we'll celebrate afterward." Polaris leaned forward, closing some of the distance between them to press his lips against the witch amidst the passing crowds and the throngs of people.

"Me? Nervous? That doesn't sound like me at all, I'm super chill about all things all the time always—" Karme took a deep breath before throwing a guilty grin Polaris' way. He didn't know why he was trying to kid the elvhen anyway. "You're gonna watch?" he questioned sheepishly, fidgeting with his hands before continuing, "Okay, I'm nervous. I know I'll likely be okay, but usually my job during Progress Day is to be neither seen nor heard. Now I'm taking center stage in front of the entire queendom? It's … a lot." Mostly because Karme felt like his reputation, his reputation, was on the line. "I guess I feel like if I can't do well during this, I can't do well on adventures. And I want to be able to have my own. If you'll be there though, then I'll do my best to put on a good show for you. But the win will be for me. I don't think I've wanted to win something so bed ever."

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Rege Jean Page

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Regé-Jean Page

Icon Magazine

Photography by Michel Comte

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Polaris was ravenous, but not in the way that devoured indiscriminately - this was indulgence, this was reverence, worship at a shrine of architecture. He wanted to consume him, to learn every taste, every texture, every way he could make Karme fall apart under his touch and his tongue. He wanted to hold his pleasure on his lips and let it stain his soul, a sacrament only he was worthy of taking.

Polaris could feel how Karme was already breaking apart, his body trembling like a bowstring pulled too tight, his hands buried in Polaris’ hair as though he were both bracing himself and grounding himself in the same breath. Polaris moved, bobbing just enough to engulf the other from crown to base - he sucked a little harder each time and Polaris drank in every sound, and every shake from the Olympian.

“You should see yourself,” Polaris murmured against heated skin, pressing a kiss just above where Karme pulsed against his tongue. “A ruined, and I’ve only just started.” He pressed his hands firmer against Karme's thighs, his grip possessive, savoring the heat and the way Karme’s body twitched under his hold. A trembling like a leaf in the wind, and Polaris was a storm. He let his tongue trace along every curve and ridge, slow and deliberate, as though memorizing the shape of him. Polaris wanted to keep him in his mouth forever, to prolong this pleasure until Karme was nothing but a pleading, breathless mess beneath him. He wanted to consume him, to know every piece of his body as intimately as he knew the songs that danced from his lips. Even as the dragon swelled and throbbed between his thighs.

Polaris pulled back just enough to watch, licked his lips, dragging the taste of him into his mouth, his own arousal a relentless ache, but he refused to give in yet. His fingers came to his lips, coated, then found Karme's hole as Polaris sank his mouth down around the witch's cock once again. Swallowing, pressing, testing, a digit through that muscular ring but just enough to twitch appropriately.

Polaris was gentle, slow, and deliberate with each of his movements and yet Karme felt there was something inherently demanding about his touch. He was coaxing something out of Karme that ran deeper than simple release, and Karme wanted to let him have it. So this was what it meant to savor lust on a tongue, to take the time to appreciate every inch of what your partner has to offer. Yes, Karme was impatient but only because fervor was all he knew. Maybe slow, steady, and torturous could become his default. Maybe he could be still and have patience—

"Ahh-ah-ha…" Karme's labored breaths intensified as he was bit again. His entire body squired and quaked as best he could manage, but Polaris had him pressed down perfectly, leaving little room for Karme to run from the pleasure his contact delivered. Even the tenor of his voice wrapped around the witch's ear and made his head buzz. Between the conflicting sensations his mouth drizzled on Karme's flesh, he was struggling to keep up with Polaris on his trek southward, delaying his conscious reactions until clarity broke through the mental fog of his desire. "Worshipped? I'm not … I mean I haven't…" He, of course thought about worshiping every inch of Polaris as he prepared for their date, but Karme never thought he'd be on the receiving end. Especially not to this extent. He whined as he realized the night was far from over. If Polaris meant to taste him in this state until the sun came up, then Karme would have to accept that. There was an assuredness in Polaris' voice that told him he was going to be worshipped, all night too, if the elvhen decided on that.

He came undone a bit as the warmth of Polaris' mouth made his head spin. Karme was all squirms and bestial noises, gripping the couch for his dear life while his hips instinctively jerked back. But there was nowhere to go between the cushions and Polaris' hands gripping his thighs. So Karme's eyes crossed and rolled back in his head as warmth bloomed from the tongue that just found another way to drive him wild. The more of himself Polaris took in, the more Karme felt like he was losing his mind. Never having encountered pleasure so intense, the feeling that he was about to burst only increased. Except, Polaris wasn't doing enough to make him explode yet, something he likely knew. Taking the time to look down was probably his worst mistake though, because the sight of Polaris looking back up from between his legs while his mouth toyed with Karme sparked a rather carnal reaction.

"You're beautiful," he moans absentmindedly, his breathing only getting heavier now. And then he went rigid again; a subtle change of Polaris' mouth made Karme pulse so hard that his ears started to ring. "Aw geez Polaris," he whimpers, saying the other's name with the intonation of a swear. In this position, it did feel a little dirty on his tongue, but it was warranted. How a man could make his hyperactive mind go blank with his mouth alone was a mystery, but that's exactly what was happening. Karme could barely form a thought besides 'Hold it' in his hand. Now it was starting to feel so good that he wanted to spend the night like this, teetering on the edge. He didn't know what to say, but one of his trembling hands did come to rest on the back of Polaris' head. Karme wanted to coax more from him too, wanting to be consumed by the elvhen to the point where every sensation before this would be erased from his memory.

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Aeldhert would find a way to become that much more dangerous under the withering touch of the Blight, that the reemerging empire held any weakness at all was a good sign. "I wouldn't expect her to stay dead long, not while the others still draw breath." Though the Aetherian influence had seemingly been thwarted in Lysara at every turn, it was hard to discern, there were the objectives that were obvious and then there were those that went less understood - perhaps not perceived at all. Polaris watched, with no small amount of satisfaction, as another embarrassment was laid out - another roar of laughter. It fed something debased in him to think that after the trio were ground to dust, guffaws might someday be their legacy. "So I heard, intentional again on my part." Imperfection wasn't in his repertoire, but Talisa had a keen eye for noting it. "You don't seem enthused," neither did he but only because this brand of humour wasn't really to his nature - he just enjoyed the effect - hence why he'd purchased the Keep to begin with.

The humor was not to Talisa’s taste, and she couldn’t tell if it was because she was too fascinated by the actual capabilities of the moving statues to care about what faux pas they played out or because something deep within her deluded little heart still held a pang of loyalty for the Athereons. After all she had learned, her time spent (although rather squandered on her part) with Fyren, and her slow-to-start engagement with Lysara and Avalon, did she actually miss them? Her arms were crossed as she considered this staring at the moving visages of a collection the most notable figures in Aetheron, though the way she stood was something more akin to a strange hug in which she attempted to hug or soothe herself. 

The Steel was roused from her thoughts by the voice of an Elvhen man suddenly at her side–or at least he was a man in this present moment. What was his name? Something with a P. She had no respectable reason not to know it, she had heard it spoken more than a few times after all. “Yes,” she confirmed, dropping her arms to her side and considering his work before the pair of them. She was quiet for a few moments trying to decide how she might respond: it seemed all of the dragons but her were deeply settled in their stance of being anti-Aetheron. She knew why. But she knew they had treated her so much differently as well, though. “Well, I’ve heard that one is dead,” she finally responded, pointing at Kansaldi. Her eyes floated over the visages of Anthin, Aeldhert, and Aelthryth. “And that one of those three is wasting with the Blight.” And finally, she looked upon the Archon who she called father. The resemblance was striking, and it made her as angry as it did mournful to look upon his face. “The likeness of this one is uncanny, except for one thing. The nose: you’ve made his nose a bit large.” She paused for a moment to make a pouting face before her gaze flicked up to meet Polaris’. “He was always very sensitive about that.”

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@talisa-the-steel location: Comedy Keep Courtyard notes: Progress Day!

It had taken Polaris a beat to recall where he'd seen the woman before, but recall he had. On the other side of the eluvian there hadn't been much time for idle discourse, but while he'd once been in Aetherian chains, building structures at the behest of his captors, he had seen her at the side of the Archon himself. There was a... visceral reaction... but the Baran was old enough to know that not all cages were universal. Some were certainly more comfortable.

A petty exhibition of his own orchestrated itself through the quasi-sentient statues he'd carved of the magisters in question. One laughable display after another, a guffaw here, a flatulent joke there, it paid him a measure of amusement to see the Lysarans laughing at the figures that had, at one point, destroyed everything that Polaris once held dear.

"Talisa, was it?" He asked, brow raised as he gestured candidly to the statues. "What do you think?" The statues captured the likeness of Kansaldi, Anthin, Aeldhert, Aelthryth, and the Archon quite well - if he did say so himself.

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Karme did enjoy talking, which was apt because Polaris enjoyed being engaged. Listening and asking questions in turn, Karme was going on a great deal about skytrol-fueled vessels, which was, in fact, a subject that the dragon happened to know very little about. Still, he was beginning to know when Karme was deflecting. He'd circle back to the skytrol and the airship later. "I'm surprised you're not more nervous about the fight tonight, I have to admit, I was surprised to hear you'd signed up at all -" everyone knew those fights weren't real, they were a waste of time as far as the Baran was concerned, however, "some friends of mine have a booth, I'll be watching with them." Cheering Karme on went unsaid but he had confidence in the witch's ability to survive the match.

who?: @xpolarisx where?: tiber bay when?: progress day

Sitting on the docks with festival food, talking about the specs of the airships that danced above was the perfect way to spend his time with Polaris. At least Karme thought so. However, there was a notable lack of quiet and not just because he kept changing focus the moment he ran out of things to say about a specific ship. His mind was jittery and his fidgeting betrayed his anxiety. Still, Karme continued, "…and that's why skytrol-fueled vessels will become obsolete real soon despite grandmama unveiling the first less than a year ago! Isn't that exciting?! Two generations beyond steam engines all within my lifetime, like wow. I'm glad I didn't have to hide out this year and gott to participate with everybody. This Progress Day has been…" Fun was the word to use because Karme did enjoy walking through the festival before he met up with Polaris, but his stomach was twisting to the point where he stopped eating the food in his hand. What if he made a mistake by signing up for the gladiator match? Luckily, he was quite skilled at avoidance. "Hey! Did I ever tell you how I won the ship? Prepare yourself for a tale of flower arranging and saucy dancing. I've never pulled a muscle so hard in my life!"

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Regé-Jean Page | Giuliva Heritage ensemble | Black Bag London Screening | 2025

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Beneath ancient arches and starlit eaves, a shadow within a world of whispers, he wondered if the day might come when he would walk these streets free of ghosts.

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REGE JEAN PAGE in BLACK BAG (2024) trailer