#╯⸻ 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘎𝘰𝘥'𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 . †╰ ʟᴜᴀɴ

[deathmcth-archived]

Ayalon's thoughts of Luan working out and bulking up from his drug-weight loss.

His chest clenches with pride, followed by a small curl of his lips whenever he sees Luan do something for himself. The God would never be too familiar with a mortal's limitations— they were just too different, an eternal reminder that his expectations need to be softer. Regardless, he'd help. Pestering Luan with his company whenever the mutant felt the urge to go for a run or lift weights at the gym. Ayalon himself needn't do any of it, always standing a little bit awkwardly whenever he feigned lifting the 50lbs dumbbell.

The God felt as if he cheating. 50lbs weighed less than a bag of air.

But his entertainment solely came from people watching, and more importantly, aiding Luan in his endeavors. He'd kiss him on the temple, despite the sweat that built up there, whisper into his ear how good he was doing, and just how proud Ayalon was to see him do something for his own satisfaction. Although he needed to remind himself of the difference between he and Luan's strength, Ayalon knew quite well how important this decision was. He's mindful of compliments, after all, Luan's been beautiful from the start. Funny that his sensitivity was put more into a person's feelings rather than what the human body could and couldn't do.

" You look good, Luan. "

" You're doing so well. It's paying off. "

Luan has been beautiful from the start. The God would remind him of that if he ever needed it. But Ayalon prefers him this way, healthy, pushing his boundaries and focusing his attention to better alternatives. He refrains from mentioning the drugs ( unless, Luan were to bring it up first ), he doesn't make comparisons between how Luan looked previously to how he is now. Ayalon knows how easily progress can be broken, and he'd have no hand in tearing it apart. But he'd be there to brush off scuffed knees if Luan were to ever tumble on his journey to sobriety.

[deathmcth-archived]

@nvrcmplt asked: Luan gripping Ayalon's jaw to lift it up so he can bite upon the moth tattoo'd adams apple with a low hum. Gently straddling their larger lap, whispering soft praise over dark tones as his tongue licks them into jugular and down to collar bone. "What if I asked for you to mark me with a tattoo of your choice?" Hands stroke down their front - nails digging in a bit to abs before they fell to hips between his thighs to squeeze. Nose nudges along jaw with a smile, hues a glisten with dare and excitement.

"I had a dream of taking your dick deep - as you inked me."

" Is that so? " He hums with a tilt of his lips. Ayalon finds purchase at Luan's waist, drumming his fingers casually across his flesh while the man used him as a confessional. Human's were always so funny— putting on airs of independence, but grasping at the chance to become subservient when the moment arises. It makes Ayalon chuckle, and the pads of his fingers began to sneak upwards and under Luan's shirt. He trails along the length of his spine, the gentle curve of his sides, to his shoulder blades. " You have a very vivid imagination, " the God compliments. " That's not a very safe business practice, though. Fucking you while doodling on your skin with a needle? What if I mess up? " He feigns nervousness, raising his brows and worrying on his bottom lip.

It was entirely plausible, Ayalon's hands were steady enough to work even if struck by a sudden earthquake. But he refrains from saying so.

" If that's really something you want... " He lulls his head to the side, his frown losing to another endeared smirk. One palm stays placed at Luan's shoulder blade, while the other continues its travels up to the back of the mutant's neck. His fingers wrap around it in a hold, and his eyes meet the fiery gaze of Luan's own. " Is that what you want? " An amused huff, and viridian hues glint with something bordering on primal. " Sounds like a fair trade. I use your ass as a cockwarming station while marking you up however I want. Let's just hope you do well being pinned on your stomach for an hour or two. "

[deathmcth-archived]

@nvrcmplt​ asked: [ 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 ] ― sender wraps a soft blanket around receiver’s shoulders 

[ 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 ] ― sender feeds receiver something sweet , holds up a rootbeer with vanilla to his lips. //Luan

the five senses

                He waits patiently, mouth slightly ajar to accept the treat Luan gives him. Like some obedient pet, Ayalon sits silent and still, only occasionally humming his pleasure. His eyes light up with every spoonful offered, knuckles gripping the edges of the blanket wrapped around him in around to stop himself from latching onto Luan’s wrist every time the sweet infested utensil came his way. The Divine is content, warm, not that the cold really did much to him anyways. But it was Luan’s consideration of him that caused Ayalon to feel fuzzy. 

         “..You have some.” He finally speaks, palm held upwards to stop Luan from offering him more. “Do you not want any?” And he’s shifting from his spot, on his hands and knees as he moves closer in an attempt to convince Luan to taste it himself. He’s close enough to bump his forehead against his lover’s, and Ayalon hums again. “Be greedy,” he urges, wrapping his blanket cloaked arms around the mutant’s waist. “Take more from me. I want you to have what I have.” 

[deathmcth-archived]

@nvrcmplt​​ asked: Lying with the God and watching him rest, Luan had a thought that took his cheeks hostage in colours pink and red. The way the other looked was so peaceful, even at his side - it was a strange sight. He was used to the distrustful glowers, the abusive smirks, the snide condescension - the lack of trust so evident in the places he works in but here. Luan didn't look at him as a sudden stain on his path. IT was strange - really strange.

As he inhaled gently, he felt the tingle in his lashes that made him blink several times and do his best to will aside the tears but as he silently allowed them to form - he stared at Ayalon more and more. Only to reach out eventually with a hand to cup the others cheek, stroking hair behind an ear and leaning closer to kiss upon their forehead with a wet sniff before shuffling back and sitting up.

His phone was tugged from it's charge point but taken apart - replaced with another sim, another battery to settle in the dark and run his fingers through his hair and he rang the only number provided. He didn't need to wait long - "I'm pulling out the scene. Think it's time I have a new job. I'm not gaining much anymore here." He was tired... and his ear was filled with a noise of relief; his brothers always demanding him to change, to not be thrown into this life anymore no matter how good he was.

"Got it, Lulu. We'll tell the Boss - can you get out safely?"

"Yeah - I know someone who'll help me out if I ask."

"Trust them?"

"... with everything."

"... We trust your decision then."

"Mn."

"See you soon, lil'bro."

"See you soon."

Lowering the phone from his ear and taking it apart swiftly, he placed the sim card into a glass of water to be cut up later too. Sighing as he placed the phone pieces onto the table top, he rolled his shoulders to stroke up his nape and shudder at the teeth dents left there. Turning when he felt eyes upon him to stare at Ayalon in the darkness, those eerie yet beautiful green. "Think you're up for meeting my family?" He snorted at the implication but in jest, he didn't really know what Ayalon would do.

They've bond faster than Luan thought he would in all honesty - it felt good, like a drug rush without the drop but he knew emotional connections like this did too have crashes that couldn't be mended if they were to happen badly.

Still, he sat back and let his head hang over his shoulders to stare at the ceiling. Hand on the comforter still warm from their presence. "My name is Luan Sousa, Undercover Agent of the Information Bureau - We specialise in the supernatural and the unknown to protect the people but also to protect them. My undercover work is mostly the black market and illegal activities in the underworld of the world. I use my body and ability to get the information I need and erase myself to move onto the next." Fingers stretch through his hair, as he lowers himself back into the mattress to stare upon the God.

"I'm a mutant - my lips and saliva hold the ability to brainwash and manipulate people I've kissed. Yet - you're the first to not fall under that spell and the first I didn't want too after a while." Snort. "I'm quitting this undercover work, so I'll be out of here by the morning... so I was wondering, would you like to have coffee this morning with me?"

        He was awake the moment he felt Luan’s eyes on him. Ayalon’s body was heavy every time he awoke ( the God blames it entirely on age ), and he keeps himself still, relaxed, eyes shut even when Luan’s gentle caress takes his cheek and a strange pressure lingers against his forehead. At the kiss, the mutant's emotions rolled off of him and unto Ayalon like gentle waves. It draws back, and drags Ayalon with it; It pushes forward, and he’s left further up the beach. Bitterness, fear, sweet joy, painful acceptance— It makes Luan’s waters nearly ice cold to the touch.

But Ayalon never minded the cold. With cold came warmth, the promise of spring after snowfall. 

        Humans... Always so emotional. Ayalon thinks lightly, amused when he hears Luan’s sniffle. Gods were never meant to understand the complexity of a person’s psyche, but Ayalon liked to think he understood. At least, in his own way. The God is vaguely aware of Luan shifting around, fiddling with his phone and after a few clicks fall into place, Ayalon hears ringing. Even he knows it’s an odd hour to be calling someone, and Ayalon fights the urge to get up, to cup his hand over Luan’s and gently coax him off the phone ( ‘your job can wait. Your time is spent with me now. Don’t call other men without my permission’ ). 

       There’s a sound at the other end, a sign that whoever Luan was calling had answered. It’s then that Ayalon cracked his eyes open ever so slowly, piercing up at Luan as the other man sits distracted on his piece of technology. Ayalon watches, passive, glowing hues eyeing his lover like a carnivore mindlessly observing prey. Curiosity has his fixation roaming the features of Luan’s face, or what he could see of it from his position. The relief from the other end of the phone was shared, and the tension between his shoulder blades eased just a little more. 

         Luan was quitting his profession for.. him? For him? For the monster that took up extra space in the bed they would share? Ayalon thinks Luan a fool, then. He trusts me? He has faith in me? There’s a pull at the corner of his mouth in a slight smile, and a flutter in his chest. 

When was the last time someone looked to Ayalon for salvation? 

        His hands balled into fists from beneath the pillows, his body— his true body underneath the fake one he wears, vibrates to life. An old spark ignites deep within his veins, a God long since vanished begins to crawl its way from the underbelly and up to his throat. Urging him to have Luan utter his name in prayer, kneel in his temples and repeat the sacred scripture that bonded Deity and Worshipper together. 

       The question Luan raised of meeting his family swiftly has the scratching in Ayalon’s throat replaced with a chuckle. A delighted huff of laughter, and he turns his body to the side to meet Luan’s gaze better. Oh, how different their customs were. Ayalon doesn’t answer, but instead reaches to take the hand that Luan placed over their blanket and simply listens. The bed their confessional booth. Some of the facts Ayalon knows; Luan’s name, his involvement with the supernatural ( Ayalon could smell it on him ), using his body to get what he wanted and his ability to manipulate. When Ayalon’s lips would meet Luan’s own, he could taste this power on his tongue. Sweet, with an addictive bite. But the God wanted Luan to tell him everything on his own terms, thus was Ayalon’s decision to not dig deeper. 

Patience always followed with rewards. 

      “You’re mistaken,” Ayalon’s voice came as a deep rumble, heavy from sleep. His fingers part from their place on Luan’s hand, and instead brush a few strands from his companion’s face. Just as Luan had done to him previously. “I didn’t need your kiss to fall under your spell.” And he chuckles at his own joke, scooting himself closer in order to drape an arm across the other’s waist. “Luan Sousa,” he starts again, much softer. Ayalon finally allows himself a full smile, and it creases the outer corners of his eyes. “What an enigma you are... Is 2 A.M. your preferred time for honesty?” 

        His eyes close, a light exhale, and they open again. “Thank you for viewing me as someone worth trusting. It’s possibly one of the greatest gifts to bare. Your ability’s lack of effect on me..” His voice trails off, and his eyes flicker to Luan’s mouth for the smallest of seconds, “..I hope, with time, you will come to understand. I’ll tell you, I promise I will tell you my own secrets. But for now, I simply wish to know you. Time is precious.” The arm he has around Luan’s waist presses harder, pulling the mutant flush to his chest. “Be selfish. Don’t let go of what you no longer need for my sake, but for your own. I’ll help you, but only if you’re acting for yourself.” 

           Ayalon partially speaks of his own selfish desires. He knows he cannot give Luan normalcy, the love he deserves, affection without teeth threatening to puncture his throat at every term. Ayalon cannot love like a person, and he can’t find it within himself to pretend to. Luan asks for the tenderness of a divinity, and that in itself, is both a blessing and curse. 

        A lighthearted sigh after a moment of silence, “regardless, I’d love to get coffee with you.”

[deathmcth-archived]

@nvrcmplt​ asked: Don't mind Luan stroking himself to completion over Ayalon's abs and smearing the mess in as he catches his breath from the high. He kinda really loves Ayalon's body - worships it in his mind for hours,

        He’s fixated on Luan’s expression; The way his jaw clenches, the pinch between his brows and how he sucks in a sharp breath when he’s close. Ayalon sits still to not disturb him, but he can’t stop his palms from sliding up Luan’s thighs, rolling his thumbs across the night worker’s flesh in circular motions. Ayalon’s own body heat had risen, compared to his usual cool temperature, and it spikes further the moment his gaze travels down Luan’s neck, to chest, and finally to the fist he has around his cock. 

       Ayalon suddenly finds his hands stationed at Luan’s hips, pelvis twitching upwards when Luan finishes all over his abdomen. The Deity holds his tongue, so close to barking out orders for Luan to ride him. He envisions the other sinking down slow on his cock, moaning at the size of it, taking all of him in and whining at Ayalon’s praise. But what breaks him from his momentary fantasy is the delicate feel of fingers across his abs, warmth trailing behind them. Cum is plastered over his skin, over the art that’s found a home in the God’s faux flesh. He sighs, lifting a hand from Luan’s hip to wrap around his wrist, gentle, and bringing the mutant’s wet fingers past his lips. 

         Gaze flickers back up to meet his companion’s, bringing Luan’s attention from his abs to his mouth. Ayalon takes his fingers down to the knuckles, wrapping his tongue around the digits before pulling off with a pop—! The taste of cum sits heavy on his tongue, and Ayalon presses a sweet, chaste kiss on the back of Luan’s now saliva coated fingers. “Was that all?” He asks, voice carrying a curious tilt, “—To satisfy you. Is that the extent of it? Or do you crave more?” From his fingers, to the inner side of his wrist, Ayalon’s lips brush over Luan’s pulse. “You can have more. You can want more. I’m nothing if not your willing servant.” 

[deathmcth-archived]

-- A lil' Tsun nuzzle. ♥♥♥

Luan is so cute Ayalon can't take it. He's sweating.