ᴀᴜᴅɪᴏ/ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ | time to get REALLY smashed

[sylphystia]

Who: Dezel and you
Broadcast: Yes
Action: Malum only.
When: Evening.

[audio;]

[The voice that graces the communicators isn't a frequent one. It's low and rough, belonging to a man who has lost something dear to him yet again. Even so, the consonants are clinical. He doesn't sound like the sort of guy who wastes time.]

For those who knew him, Sora's gone.

[He's checked every asteroid, the party, god, even some other ships. He came up empty. He runs his thumb invisibly over the wayfinder Sora made for him way back when-- a good luck charm for the seraph with incredibly bad luck.

There's never enough time.]

Maybe he'll be happy at home. Who knows.

[He doesn't know what else to add, so he just shuts off the feed and goes to work.]

[action; Malum]

[Even on his worst days, Dezel doesn't burn food. He works his shift but he lingers afterward with a few bottles of bootlegged wine. A lot of people can't see him so he sits out of the way, hoarding a whole table to himself. Sometimes the little glass moves by itself, if someone's looking. But most people just pretend they didn't see anything.

He drinks instead of serving for the first time in a while, and he doesn't taste a damn thing. It's adult time now. He can't afford to think of children.]

Comments

[sylphystia]

[Dezel makes a noise of surprise that's... very close to a squeak, but god, don't tell him. He's already wide-eyed and embarrassed-- and his hat is askew, to make it that much more obvious.]

You're shameless, [he mutters, and tries to hide his blush by looking away.]

A-anyway-- you don't have to worry about me all the time. I'm fine.

[airily]

Am I?

[ Zaveid reaches up to fix the hat, adjusting it on Dezel's head gently. It... Looks better on him than it ever did on his own head and for a moment he wonders what to do with the one locked away in Sorey's room. Maybe he should get rid of it.

(His heart says otherwise).

Leaning back, he reaches to tug Dezel closer and wrap an arm around him. ]

Who said I was worried? I was just thirsty.

[sylphystia]

[Dezel isn't expecting Zaveid to fix his hat, but it feels familiar in a strange way. He's only been wearing this hat for five years, but surely Zaveid had touched him like that before... He shakes his head to clear it. If he tries to force anything it won't end well. And Zaveid told him to stop doing that, too.

He huffs a bit as he's tugged closer, but he covers Zaveid's hand with one of his own anyway.]

Tch. You're always thirsty.

[airily]

[ It's a gentle thing that comes because Zaveid can't help himself, and he tilts his head and glances over as Dezel touches his hand, covers it with his own, and there's a burst of warmth inside of him. It's something soft, and he cherishes it, wanting to foster and take care of it, to see it grow.

Even Dezel's huffing noises and growled words do little more than make him smile, pressing his face into his cheek to leave a kiss there, happy and comfortable. ]

Is that a problem? You bring me drinks.

[sylphystia]

[Dezel makes an undignified noise along the lines of 'ggh!' because of the cheek kiss, but he can't bring himself to push Zaveid away. Even with the blushing.]

That's not what I... never mind.

[He rolls his eyes. Still, the gravity of the older seraph is undeniable. He leans in and gently, so gently, presses his lips to Zaveid's big dumb forehead.]

... There. We're even.

[As if kisses are punches, and someone is keeping score.]

[airily]

[ Dezel blushes every time and it makes him feel a warmth in his stomach - and it makes him want to laugh, because he has no idea how he got to this point but he's too happy to care. ]

Mhm, sure.

[ He's definitely thirsty in all senses of the word, though, and he basks, leaning close and closing his eyes at the return kiss. It's... Soft, and gentle, and he relishes it. He loves it. ]

Are we? What if I -

[ And he leans in to steal another kiss. ]

[sylphystia]

[Dezel's expecting him to steal another kiss this time, at least. He doesn't react with the same indignant noise but with a little more enthusiasm on his end-- pressing back, giving a little more teeth into the kiss than is usually polite.

His hat flutters over onto the table. Dezel lifts a hand to grab it, then changes his mind. His fingertips brush over Zaveid's chin instead, stroke along the angle of his jaw, trace the shell of his ear. Gentler still, he learns the precise angle of Zaveid's eyebrows and the feeling of lashes fluttering against his palm, the little bump of his smile lines.]

[airily]

[ It's not anything wildly different from the kisses they're shared in the past - Zaveid has kissed Dezel more than a handful of times, now, and he's loved every single one of them - but there feels like something more - a little more bite, a little more feeling, a little something extra to make his heart race in his chest.

It all gets better (or worse, he's not sure which) when he feels a hand moving over his face, exploring the shape of him, touching him and feeling and, he realises, seeing him. Zaveid tilts, pressing into the kiss, basking in it, and doesn't move otherwise, not doing too much more than letting his lips brush over Dezel's in a handful of tiny, sweet kisses.

He wants Dezel to have all the time in the world to do whatever he wants. ]