tongueamok | XOqNI

Carlisle is aware of the limits for how much energy he can channel through himself safely, having been well-trained in restraint. He has slowly grown accustomed to the sensations born of his own arousal, allowing the heat and shudders and longing to roil in his abdomen rather than suppressing them entirely. He knows well of Glacius' proclaimed love for him, yet as he explores that something else more, delving into the depths of this aural connection between himself and his partner, Carlisle can actually feel it for himself, as though the emotion were made tangible through this current.

Unfortunately, when reveling in all three of those delights simultaneously, they prove more than he can handle.

Excess energy rises from his eyes like steam from a boiling pot, the vapors aglow in the dim illumination; he keeps one palm against them to stifle their irritation, the other finally breaking the connection with the Mote to join Glacius' as the alien works him. Though his head is pounding -- something he feels suddenly once the connection is severed -- he is vocal about his wants rather than allowing his compulsion to speak for him.

"M- more." It's a single word, but when accompanied by a heavy, lustful moan, his fingers clawing greedily against Glacius' skin as he leans back into his partner once more, he is sure Glacius will understand.

Glacius can feel Carlisle attempting to delve deeper into this connection, and he welcomes it like he welcomes the conjoined motion of their hips, the moans rising from the throat of the cleric underneath him, the greedy clawing at his skin, and of course the pleasurable pressure building between the two of them. Encouraged by his partner's reactions, the alien's energies flow even more vigorously, the thrumming of the Mote in turn a resounding chorus of love and sensation--and then all of the sudden the bridge collapses as Carlisle pulls his hand away from the light, withdrawing from the influx of metaphysical and emotional sensations.

It's just as well; it's all becoming enough that Glacius is rapidly losing his ability to keep the link between them open. Carlisle retreating to the realm of the physical once more allows him to focus solely on that, which he does now, responding to his partner with a lustful snarl: "Of course, Carlisle."

The Mote winks out of Glacius' hand, freeing it to return to those scars while the other keeps tending to his lover's arousal; he works his hips and the point of his mandible goes to the clergyman's neck once more, and feeding Carlisle pleasure so many different ways all at once means that it doesn't take long for them both to go over the edge. At that point the pale alien finally slumps forward, his body shuddering as he sprawls out over his partner's back and allows the endorphins to roll through his system, leaving him in a relaxed and utterly pleased haze. His limbs feel like jelly, and yet he still can't help but try to cradle Carlisle to himself, stroking the length of his partner's body as he holds him safe and secure in that bed of furs.

And, of course, there's the steady purring thrumming away in Glacius' throat, loud enough to rival even the pattering of the downpour outside. He can't remember the last time he's felt so utterly, blissfully content; he can only hope he's done a good enough job here that Carlisle feels the same.

Carlisle comes around from his own haze of fevered endorphins in Glacius' arms, the rumbling purr of the alien relaxing, but keeping him from falling into too deep a slumber following their impromptu, yet passionate coupling. As he catches his breath, he rests his head on Glacius' chest, aural overflow still trickling from his eyes, ethereal wisps rising into the air above them. They are far thinner than they were during their moment of connection, but the fact they remain does indicate that the Mote had some physical impact upon Carlisle.

The emotional one is more notable to the clergyman. He presses his face to Glacius' skin, feeling so utterly appreciated, but ashamed all the same. "I'm sorry," he mumbles out. "I'm sorry I couldn't hold on any longer. That was- was intense, unlike anything I've ever felt... and yet, what I felt was something I should have understood all along, it seems."

Glacius had been too taken by the moment to note the strange steam rising from the clergyman's eyes in delicate, trailing wisps--and he's too lost in the afterglow to do so for a good few moments even now. All he wants to do is bask in the closeness, the affection, and the utter content of the moment, letting his mind drift as he wraps his arms around the human as he shelters against his body. His arms might be a bit more spindly without all that ice coating it, but it's a secure and loving hold nonetheless.

It's Carlisle's apology that finally cracks the alien's eyes open. He takes notice of the steam, and makes a mental note to ask about it later--after he's addressed his partner's shame. "You have nothing to apologize for--I was trying to overwhelm you, Carlisle," Glacius murmurs, keeping up the stroking of the cleric's lanky frame. Then, realizing how that probably sounds, he quickly adds on, "But not in a malicious or harmful way--I just wanted you fill you with nothing but good feelings, as that is what you deserve, not this... self-debasement that plagues you, even now, when you are in my arms. It is my hope that what you felt from the Mote may... help with that. I know that words can sometimes seem empty, but... it is hard to argue with something that you can feel for yourself."

The pale alien lets out another shuddering sigh, stretching against Carlisle once more before settling back against him and giving him a careful hug. "So... whenever you are discouraged, or feeling bad about yourself, just remember that there's someone out there who... deeply, truly loves you, Carlisle. I hope it can... help you feel better about yourself when you need it. And I hope it can help you feel more secure about us, too--you can never let me down, not when I care for you and cherish you as deeply as this."

That response gets not more self-debasement or doubt from Carlisle, but a genuine smile, one accompanied by a short fit of laughter as he considers the lengths to which his partner would go just to prove his worth -- their worth, together. Something else trickles from his eyes as he grins: tears, ones of gratitude as he is moved beyond words.

He returns the hug as best he can, aware now that he is no longer inundated by carnal desire of that sharp, throbbing pain in his forearms. Though he knows exactly what it is from, he could not care at that moment. All he wants is for the alien to know he feels the same way.

"Could you sense that?" he asks, his voice shaking. "When we connected with your- with your light, could you feel me how I felt you? Were you privy to what it is I see when I look at you? What it is I endure when I wait for you to return home?"

Edited 2017-06-23 02:57 (UTC)

Glacius chuffs as Carlisle returns the hug, a sound that suggest he'd tried to wriggle even closer if they weren't already flush against one another. It's the string of emotional, deeply moving questions that quiet the alien; he looks down at his partner, nuzzling against him as he thinks about it.

"You know, I... I think I could," the pale alien murmurs. He'd been feeling a lot all at once--as Carlisle had--but now that he has the mental capacity to think back on it, he's able to begin untangling all the strings of their influence. "I'm... not sure how that's supposed to work, honestly, given that you do not possess a Mote... and even if you did, such a thing is supposed to take intense focus... but, ha," Glacius pauses to give a light, loving chuckle, "Maybe your feelings were strong and emphatic enough that they made it across regardless."

The otherworldly being seems to think on it for a moment or two more, landing on a thought that he knows for a fact is true. It combined with his lover's words touches him so deeply that he finds himself looking down at his partner, adoration glowing in those eyes as he holds Carlisle tight and drags his intact mandible carefully through the human's hair. "I know I can certainly sense it when you grace me with such heartfelt sentiments, and... when you hold me like this. But... I like it when you take the time out to tell me, regardless."

Carlisle smiles at Glacius once more, closing his eyes and allowing the alien to groom his hair, relishing the feeling of the mandible as it grazes his scalp. "I shall endeavor to tell you that more often, then," he notes with a sigh of satisfaction, fighting the weariness as it sets into his muscles in the wake of their exhausting venture.

Unfortunately, the rest of his body fights him soon enough. As the minutes tick by, the warmth he'd felt when in the throes of passion works against him, that sheen of sweater across his skin leaving him shivering again in the chilly air of the shed. He grits his teeth, his wrists stiff as he pulls one of the furs atop himself, trying to keep warm.

"As much as I truly enjoy these moments," he says quietly, just above the sound of the rain, "Perhaps we should return to our protective layers before too long. I... I do worry about you."

After all, he may be cold, but he knows Glacius must be far from it without his icy armor.

"I can never hear it enough," Glacius agree quietly but fondly, continuing to carefully preen the human. It's the shivering that stops him; he draws back slightly to look at the human, confused at first as to where that's coming from given that he's stripped his icy skin completely. With the ambient chill in the shed from the gloomy weather outside, it's easy to put two and two together; if it's taking him this long to start overheating without his protective shell, then it's probably too cold in here for a human's comfort, especially one as cold-natured as his partner is.

Still, just because the bare alien isn't steadily cooking doesn't mean he isn't at risk. He was just pressed against his feverishly warm lover in the heat of the moment, and he is now laying in a bed of furs that traps said body heat rather effectively. In fact, there's probably a reason that it's taking him so long to come back around from the haze his mind is in, one that's not entirely related to endorphins or afterglow. He's been above freezing for too long.

So Glacius gives a quite grumble of displeasure, but moves to start disentangling himself from Carlisle regardless. "Very well. I do not want this to end either," he really, truly does not, "But I have always said that I do not want to cause you undue worry. I... I hope we can do this again soon, though, or something like it. It... pains me to have to cut this short."

"And me as well, but I would be troubled more were you to suffer on my account."

Carlisle pulls himself upright, wrapping one of the pelts around him.

"If you want to step outside to take advantage of the rain for reforming your shell, I promise to change quickly." Or as quick as he can, given the shivering and that painful stiffness making its way down his arms.

"You'll probably have changed long before I have managed to form an entirely new shell," Glacius replies, slightly rueful in tone. Something else draws his attention, however, taking his mind away from his own difficulties; having been right with Carlisle at times when his condition has started to worsen, it's not hard for him to notice the difficulty with which he's moving his arms. That combined with the steam that he'd caught rising from the clergyman's eyes before it diminished seizes the alien's concern.

"But... before I go... are you alright, Carlisle?" Glacius asks, tilting his head as worry knits his brows. "You seem to be affected by... what we've done in a way you haven't been before. I didn't push you too far, did I?"

Carlisle looks down to his arms, knowing how perceptive the alien can be regarding his health. The faint scars along the undersides of his forearms sting as he turns them upright.

"Having so much energy coursing through me has agitated some of my more magical injuries," he admits. "Aural overflow and what have you." His eyes dart to Glacius as he gives his partner a reassuring look, one accompanied by a desperate half-smile. "B- but they will be fine as I learn to manage such incredible amounts with... with practice. If you- if you wouldn't mind sharing such things with me again."

He certainly enjoyed that unparalleled intimacy on planes both a physical and metaphysical, but he doesn't want to make any demands of his partner regarding something so private to his people.

That gets Glacius to frown as he battles with a spike of guilt in his guts. "Ah--I am sorry, Carlisle! I... suppose I got carried away in the heat of the moment, wanting to make you feel simultaneously empowered and loved... but I did not think of how you have suffered in the past. I thought that my energies would nourish yours, but I didn't consider the possibility of overload. I... should have been more careful."

The pale alien sighs, coming back over to sit down next to the bundled-up human once more. He really does need to go start regrowing his icy skin, but this takes precedence. "And it is of the utmost importance that I never make you uncomfortable, when we are being physically intimate or otherwise. I wouldn't mind sharing with you again," and that decision is only reinforced by Carlisle's respect of his boundaries, not just assuming it is something that may happen again in the future, "but... if you are unsure of something that is happening, you must promise to tell me so that I can take of it."

Glacius pauses for a moment, looking at the clergyman as he lowers his slightly. A moment later he extends his hands, palms up, as if requesting Carlisle to take them. "...May I see?"

Carlisle gives a half-smile to that, one more sheepish than ashamed. "I was... admittedly so enjoying the moment with you that I did not realize it was beyond my current capabilities."

He sets his hands into Glacius', readily taking his offer; the veins along his arm are visible, those soft scars seared into his skin trailing upward and vanishing by the time they reach his elbow.

"Perhaps we could try it again when we are not in the, er... midst of unrepentant passion, but you did nothing wrong, Glacius. I felt incredible when overcome with your energies, better than I've- I've maybe ever felt, and closer to you than I could have ever imagined. I... I want that. I want to be closer to you."

Edited 2017-06-25 01:29 (UTC)

Carlisle's half-smile is met with a full one of the alien's own; it's quiet, somber as he studies the scarring in his veins, but it's a smile nonetheless. "Well... if you weren't aware this was happening, then it must be a testament to how good it felt. But I would still like to be more careful in the future. I don't want to hurt you..."

But he's touched that the clergyman still wants to pursue this possible connection between them regardless. Glacius drifts spindly fingertips carefully up and down his partner's arms, considering the genuine words Carlisle is offering him, the possibility of engendering their connection much more actively. A part of him wants to make that a reality right here and now... but the weather isn't right for it if he wants to do it according to age-old customs, and perhaps it's better not to rush into anything when the cleric's body is currently in revolt. Carlisle might not be suffering, and he might be willing to pursue just how deeply their metaphysical energies and auras can intertwine, but he is still recovering. Glacius wants to allow his body that much. Plus, holding off will give him more time to plan...

So he draws his hands away from those scars, clasping his partner's in his own, and then gently moves them back towards the clergyman's body as if to show that he can pull them safely back within the folds of the blanket. As Glacius does that he lifts his eyes to meet Carlisle's, smiling more brightly now. "But I do want to be closer to you, as you do to me. And I am glad that pursuing that can help you to feel strong and good, just as I know you are deep down. How can I help with that now?"

Pulling his arms back into the fur, he shakes his head. "You could not hurt me, my friend. I know you wouldn't dream of it. I'm not sure what there is to be done at the moment, but being in your company always lifts my spirits. That alone gives me strength."

His eyes flick to the door, then back to Glacius. "Here. You go rebuild your armor, and I will take the time to rest so as not to agitate myself further. When you are finished, I will dress, and we can return home together."

"I appreciate your confidence and trust," Glacius replies... which is a genuine sentiment, even if he knows deep down such perfect safety is hard to achieve in a place like Hadriel. After all, he's been turned against people by the false gods before... though he's afraid to voice such thoughts aloud, both for fear of giving them ideas, and out of a simple desire to not ruin the moment.

Besides, when it comes to Carlisle, he has to believe that he can be stronger. That the connection they share will seem them through such manipulations as it has seen them through the machinations of their demented captors before.

But those are worries he doesn't want to get towed down by in such an enjoyable, intimate moment-- and he's always told Carlisle not to waste energy worrying about what-ifs or maybes. Opting to follow his own advice this time around, the alien nods, starting to rise--slightly shaky, now. He's getting weaker the warmer he gets.

"Very well. Oh--there's a thermos in that bag for you as well, full of some warm tea. I'd get it for you myself, but... I'm worried the heat might damage my hands," Glacius explains, holding them up ruefully. "Get yourself comfortable. As I said before, completely regrowing my icy armor will take some time."

Then, taking a few more moments just to look lovingly at the bundled-up clergyman as he gives a heavy, fond sigh, the pale alien starts to stumble from the dimly-lit shed out into the downpour once more.

Carlisle watches as Glacius goes, letting the door shut behind the alien before moving. He does worry.

Sliding his feet off the bed, he meanders toward the bag, his hands fighting against him as he holds the fur around him with one and fishes for the thermos with the other. Once he finds it, he returns to the bed, taking a seat before drinking greedily. The heat doesn't even slow him down -- it might scald others, but for Carlisle, it is a relief as it ebbs away the soreness clinging to the joints in his arms, and halts his shivering bit by bit.

As it relaxes him, he sets the container aside on the table and slides back under the furs on the bed, taking only a moment to rest his eyes. He does wonder why they felt so irritated only moments ago, but assumes it to be nothing -- nothing worth worrying about at this moment. He promised Glacius he'd attempt to curb such behavior. Of course, he's promised Glacius many things, and managed to break a few of them. They are works in progress, as always.

By the time Glacius returns, Carlisle, despite having had plenty of time to dress himself, has done very little of it: he nodded off almost immediately, whatever dreams hardly stirring him, his mind as exhausted as the rest of him.

Glacius, in other words, has done well.

While Carlisle is busy drinking his tea and nodding off with the comfortable, dry confines of the little shed, Glacius strides out into the cold and wet and busies himself with accreting a new shell. On the plus side, the downpour hasn't let up in the least, and all the water raining down around him provides him plenty to work with; on the downside, as he has said a couple times before now, completely regrowing his outer layer is a very intensive process.

He does feel better when it's started, though, a thin layer of ice gathering on his limbs and creeping over his body. The warmth fogging his mind and weighing him down lifts and dissipated, and his sense feel sharp and clear once more in the crisp, brisk cold. His gills, which were beginning to get worryingly dry, flare open to revel in the fresh hydration before becoming concealed and protected by his gelatinous operculum once more. His gaunt features seem to fill out as ice coats and builds up on them like a desiccated corpse being resuscitated, and his microweave courses and flows over his body like newly nourished veins, the surface of his icy skin solidifying and shimmering as it is built up layer by layer.

He is becoming whole once more... and he notices that the longer he stays out here, the more the temperatures keeps dropping. That helps, but it's also curious. He idly wonders if the gods are planning something else out of this freak weather; whatever it is, his confidence grows as his powerful frame does. With his strength and powers fully returned to him, he can ward off the weather. He can ward off whatever they try to throw at their prisoners.

It's well over an hour by the time Glacius has finally regrowing his icy shell in its entirety, and he wastes no time striding back inside the shack, his desire for closeness after their intimacy not having diminished in the slightest despite the time that has passed. When he steps back inside, however, and sees Carlisle swaddled up in furs and resting comfortably in the warm light of the strung-up lights, the alien stops up short, finding himself wishing that he didn't need the shell at all. There's nothing he'd like more than to curl right up with his partner in such a serene moment to continue the closeness they'd been basking in earlier... but he knows that if he didn't wake the clergyman up when he initially joined him in the bed, the chill of his newly-grown skin certainly would in time.

Maybe there's someone in this cave who has some sort of powers that can temporarily leave his underbody more temperature resistant, he muses idly; for now the otherworldly being sits down near the door instead, settling for keeping watch, contenting himself with the knowledge that his efforts have left his partner well tended to and peaceful enough to nod off so comfortably.

Carlisle snoozes for another half hour or so once Glacius returns, so comfortable in the fur and the still-fresh memories of his partner that he hardly moves. When he does finally wake, it's more startling than he'd like, a sudden sneeze shattering whatever dreams he might have had.

He sits up, pawing at his face as he utters a colloquial nicety under his breath. It takes him a moment to even figure out where he is, but once he sees Glacius by the door and looks down at the furs over him, it comes back.

"Oh." That one was still sleepy; the next one is more alarmed as he only then remembers he was supposed to be getting dressed. "Oh! Oh Glacius, sorry. How- how long was I out? Cisth, I didn't mean to nod off."

He takes the topmost fur with him as he grabs his clothes and starts sliding into them, wincing as he remembers one more thing -- right, his forearms are very sore.

That sudden sneeze that punctuates the tranquility inside the shed manages to startle Glacius as well, though his tells aren't as obvious as the human's; his head snaps up, his back goes straight and his posture rigid. After a moment Carlisle starts talking again and the alien realizes everything is as it should be, relaxing once more as he picks himself up, wanders over to his partner's bedside, and then squats back down.

"No need to apologize--it's good that you managed to get some rest, and I am happy for it," the ice alien soothes. The hanging lights above glint and reflect off of his newly forged skin; even without his glasses, Carlisle can probably pick up on the fresh sheen of his shell, the lack of imperfections or scratches on it. The alien can also pick up on that wincing--he places a great white hand on the blanket wrapped around the clergyman's shoulder, trying to steady him.

"Just take it easy and get dressed at your own pace. I... am sorry you are hurting." Even if Carlisle has reassured him that he's done nothing wrong, he still feels like that's his fault. He'll do anything he can to make up for it.

Carlisle holds up a hand to cease Glacius' apologies before reaching for his glasses. Even without them, he could tell the alien was once more covered in a thick, icy layer -- the familiar drop in temperature followed him into the shed, chilling the entire space with his presence alone.

It takes him a few minutes, but Carlisle manages to get himself dressed, only stopping to rub at his sore forearms once. He apparently deems the sweater and slacks and not quite enough for the chill that no doubt awaits them outside in the pouring rain, the storm having not let up one bit since he took shelter; he drapes one of the pelts around himself as a makeshift cape, wrapping it around the front of him and tossing the back over his shoulder.

"There we are," he says, offering his partner a smile, rubbing idly at his arms once more. "I believe that will be sufficient, don't you?"

Glacius pretends to scrutinize Carlisle for a moment, then puffs a little exhale. "Perhaps. But I think I can do one better."

He explains what he means not with further elaboration, but by action; pushing the door of the little shed wide open, the ice alien extends his arm through. With his icy skin intact once more, he is able to shift once more--and he's using that to his advantage to ensure his partner's comfort, here, as his hand liquefies and expands as it flattens out. It curves broadly as it begins to take shape, and by the time his shifted limb as resolidifed, its taken on a form not unlike a large umbrella.

"Here," Glacius rumbles, looking back to Carlisle, "Stay beside me, and I will see you safely through this storm."

It takes Carlisle a moment to realize what Glacius is doing, but once he does, he smiles widely, stepping beside his partner as he sidles out the door.

"My protector, as always."

[To here.]

XOqNI

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