There is a lot to process in this moment: how still and quiet Allumin suddenly is, the hand gripping his shirt and drawing him near, the forcefulness. For someone who can play convincingly self-assured, Benedict finds that his thoughts are suddenly falling all over themselves to be addressed first: the realization that he's been had, the realization that he likes that he's been had, the heat building in him (both above and below) at the hot breath on his face.
"...oh," is all he manages to say, and in this moment he also realizes he doesn't tend to do this stone sober, and is a lot less suave than he was playing at. Fortunately, he's pretty good at blocking out the last thought ('what would Mother think if she knew') in favor of trying to meet Allumin's lips with his own.
When Benedict tries to close the space between their lips, tries to initiate a kiss, he leans back to deny him.
"Needy already?" he asks, his words twisting his lips into a coy smile. "Well, that won't do at all."
One hand wanders upward, at least offering some gratification of touch in the form of Allumin's thumb running over his lips. His other one also releases the grip on his shirt, but lingers over his chest. He himself is unsure of where this is coming from within him, but seeing Benedict wanting fills him with confidence. Makes him feel in control.
"Having patience only makes the satisfaction sweeter."
Although utterly unused to being denied anything in this realm, Benedict is, for lack of a better word, intrigued. He blinks rapidly in surprise when Allumin leans away, but maintains his rapt attention, giving a quick and subtle little nod when it becomes clear that there's some manner of plan in play. He's here for it.
His thumb grazes along Benedict's lips again before moving away to firmly grasp his face by the chin. Hazel eyes bear down deep into his dark ones, and there is a brief shuddering exhale that betrays Allumin's nervousness (and also maybe a bit of excitement hm) at so much deliberate eye contact compared to his usually more avoidant gaze.
"Before we go too far, I want you to give me a safeword. If I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, if at any point you want - need - to stop, you have to tell me." It is both an order and also an earnest request. He does not want to do anything that would hurt him genuinely, doesn't want to ruin the chance at any kind of relationship with Benedict.
Eliciting a little sound of alarm, Benedict breathes in quickly and meets Allumin's eyes, hesitating a moment before giving him another little nod.
"...um," he says stiffly, it being hard to move his jaw while it's being held, and all, "...Ventus." He remembers talking about this with Colin, at some point-- but it was for Colin to say, and not for him. Or at least, it's unlikely he would have.
“Noted. Thank you.” And with that, he gives Benedict a kiss as a reward. It may not be the kind he’s hoping for though, because it’s soft, gentle, and very brief and over before it can really be savored.
Letting go of his chin, Allumin moves back once again and pulls the braid of his hair over his shoulder, unraveling the ribbon tied into it. The ribbon is quite long and made of sturdy material - a necessity to keep all of his hair neatly tied up but also for other reasons. As he does this, his eyes take the time to really make a thorough journey over Benedict’s frame and he wonders where will be most sensitive to which touch, and how much he’ll be able to explore before inevitably the other man has to go to work. This merits a bite of his lip and his cheeks flush as his imagination tries to conjure up thoughts of what sounds he’d make. He also wishes he had a longer bit of rope than just his hair tie, but it will be enough for now.
“I was thinking about how wonderful you’d look if I tied you up,” he says, but he doesn’t follow it with a question as to whether or not Benedict would like that or wants him to. He wants Benedict to ask for it. If he begs? Even better.
The kiss is even better this way, somehow, and if ever Benedict's eyes were going to fill with little cartoon hearts, it would be now. His head follows after Allumin as he pulls away, but Benedict is too fascinated to actually protest. This guy? This guy?
He's given pause by the hair tie, feeling a little skittish based on the uncertain set of his brow. "I want to see it first," he says quietly, sheepishly, knowing this is a game and feeling a bit of guilt for disrupting it. He holds out his hand in silent request-- there's clearly a history here, and he wants to be sure there's nothing to genuinely fear.
"Of course," is Allumin's answer, tone understanding and tender. He's not going to ask questions about it because it's not his place to do so - his place is to respect Benedict's needs and wishes. He hands it over to him so that he can inspect it however he likes.
"If you don't want to be tied up, that's alright. More than anything, I want you to feel respected and valued during all of this."
That seems a bit counter-intuitive, but for once Benedict realizes maybe his idea of something is not necessarily the truth of it. Isn't the objective to be treated badly? He feels over the hairtie, and, finding no effects of note, hands it back. "It's fine," he decides, still a little uncertainly-- he's suddenly not sure what his role in this is meant to be.
While Benedict is busy inspecting the tie, he takes the time to unbuckle and set aside his belt and the bag hanging from it. It will get in the way more than anything, even if they don't strip down much, so it's better to get it out of the way. He also slips off his gloves and sets them aside as well, then takes his hair tie back, slowly running his now bare fingers over Benedict's hands as he does so.
"I do," he answers, and considers how to say this that he might like to hear best. After some thought, he leans close, brushing back Benedict's hair so as to plant a kiss on his ear, then says, "You're actually the one in power here, after all."
"Well that's a bad idea," Benedict mutters, self-effacingly, but catches himself; he just met this person, he's not about to spill all his insecurities to him, no matter how pretty either of them are.
The hands through his hair feel nice, though, and he sighs lightly.
"What are you going to do?" he asks, with more curiosity than trepidation.
If he does happen to hear the muttering, he ignores it - he's not here to dig into personal business at all, and the only thing about Benedict he's concerned about is making sure he enjoys this.
"I'm going to see what sort of things you like and don't like. For example..." He pauses as he takes a moment to run his hands all through his hair, from his temples to along the back of his skull and down to the nape of his neck - seeing if there is anywhere of note where his touch feels nicer than others - then grabs a fistful of his hair and pulls his head back.
It's clear from touching Benedict's hair-- clearer than it already was by looking at it-- how well he cares for it, and the hours he puts into its upkeep. He may not be able to afford all his fancy oils and creams anymore, but he does what he can.
And then Allumin's hand knots in it, which makes Benedict gasp aloud in... pain? Horror? Outrage? Maybe all of the above, but he takes a beat to think on it, and his wide eyes meet Allumin's. He nods lightly, wincing as it pulls at his scalp. Yep, that's good.
Benedict receives another one of those little kisses of affirmation, and Allumin releases his hold, half-petting, half-combing his hair out with his hands.
Initially, he'd intended to commit more to an aggressive spin on all of this considering the whole 'Oh, you don't think I could be a demon, actually?' thing that inspired all of this, but after observing the other man's reactions he resolves that being more focused on positive attention is a better move. If Benedict asks for something rougher, then he'll do that, but for now he thinks that this is a better pace and tone.
As he combs out any tangles from his hair, Allumin plants soft kisses on his forehead, his cheeks, and ends with one that has more presence than all the others. It begins with just more weight in the press of his lips to Benedict's before he takes one lip in-between his own and gently suck on it. Allumin's own touch-starved senses take over his sense of control for the moment when he does this, which means two things...
One: The moan that comes out from deep within him is loud, the kind Benedict would definitely feel against his lips. Two: Allumin, in a moment of unfiltered need, ushers him onto his back, still kissing, and presses his body against him.
Being doted on so is delightful, and brings to mind a warmer, sunnier time in Benedict's life, physical affection being a thing he could expect and enjoy. He easily returns the kiss, with a little flutter of his heart when Allumin bites his lip, even more so when he's lain back--
--but then, with that sound, he pulls his head back to laugh. "Been a while, has it?" he teases, with a little of that bite from before, and his hand slips up to pinch Allumin's chin in a gesture both affectionate and mocking.
He genuinely finds it endearing; he is also, maybe, trying to get more of a rise out of him.
Because the assertive, in control part of his brain is currently off, what that gets from Allumin is another little gasping moan and grind of his hips at the hold on his chin. Then he turns red in the face and sputters a bit, pulling his face free to hide it buried against Benedict's neck.
"Even if it were, I'm loud no matter what!" is the exasperated reply. He isn't totally denying it, which means perhaps even if he has enjoyed a bit of company recently it wasn't enough to satisfy him. This has its own implications to be had about Allumin's sexual appetite.
He's still not quite back to where he was, mentally, because of his embarrassment. Teasing, unfortunately(? is it really?), is something that he enjoys despite how much he may hide and bluster about it. In a feeble attempt to get back into his groove, he tries to distract from his reaction with kisses up alongside Benedict's neck until his lips are against his ear.
"Your laugh is nice - I like hearing it." One can hear him struggling to get his control back in how his voice cracks a bit giving the compliment.
How long has it been, since he actually properly laughed? It's only at this moment that Benedict realizes he isn't sure. He's never been an especially giddy sort to begin with, but the last few years have also been... well. Unusually stressful.
"Mm," he intones, pausing to turn his head and meet Allumin's eyes, "bet I can make you louder."
He's lying beneath him, but his hand snakes down to grip the bulge in Allumin's pants, firmly enough to make himself known, but not enough to hurt.
Allumin's face and ears redden, and on instinct he buries his face to muffle the sound, lips pressed against Benedict's neck. With the window being open, there's definitely the chance - if there happens to be a quiet enough moment in the Gallows air - that someone will hear.
He struggles to contain his own need after trying to make a point of patience, hips twitching into his hand as he tries to stop himself from grinding mercilessly against it. Despite playing it cool up to this point, he is half-hard and only gets more excited from the grip.
In an attempt to regain control, over both himself and the situation, the lips pressed against Benedict's neck part and he bites him. It's not gentle, but not enough to break skin either, and will definitely leave a mark.
It's early enough still that there will no doubt be complaints if they get too noisy, but Benedict can't quite make himself care; he gives a little yelp of his own when Allumin bites down on his neck, not expecting that much intensity from what was previously kissing. It's not a problem, though.
Sensing Allumin's dilemma, Benedict begins to stroke him teasingly, smirking up at the ceiling. This'll show him who's in control.
In another circumstance, Allumin would adore the teasing, and on some level he does still enjoy it. However, it's never proper form to let someone else steal control away from you in these situations and therefore it is a... punishable offense.
The sound that comes from Allumin at Benedict's touch is somewhere between a snarl and a moan, coming moments before the elf releases the hold of his jaw on Benedict's throat to bring himself upright enough for what comes next. Allumin, after grabbing his hand by the wrist and pulling it away to pin forcefully a moment over his head, hooks his arms under the man's knees and pulls them up to rest upon his own shoulders. Then, he grinds against Benedict's ass.
"What did I say about patience?" is the stern reminder he makes, fingers digging deep into Benedict's thighs as he holds his legs in place.
Another little gasp, Benedict's eyes going wide and his face paling slightly once more, though the blood rushes back to it quickly enough. He's almost smiling, but also looks appropriately shocked as he's upended thus.
All too aware of the bulge pressing up against him, he contends with a surge of nervousness-- he's never been in this position, either literally or figuratively, but that doesn't make it unwelcome. Just... new.
"Ow," he whines faintly, but the syllable somehow manages to convey far less 'that actually hurts' and more 'I am intrigued, please continue'.
Watching Benedict's expression change makes him understand what's so entertaining about his own when it comes to others. There's a delighted smirk on his face as he looks down at him, hands moving down the other man's thighs to sit where they meet his hips. Allumin gives another squeeze there, fingers pressing at a spot of the inner thigh intended to overtly tease.
"You know... I had considered riding you at first, but now I have a feeling you might enjoy something else," he says, following up his words with a little thrust against him.
A breathless little sound, and Benedict shifts his hips forward in reaction to the squeeze, his own arousal having begun to make itself known beneath the thin fabric of his combat training clothes.
Blood has rushed to his face, and by the flusteredness of his expression, it's clear that not all of it is because he's nearly upside-down. He watches Allumin, waiting with dwindling patience for him to conclude the thought.
His grip loosens, and as much as it might be nice to move his hands closer, to touch instead of tease... his hands instead slide upwards on either side, so so close but not touching. They continue to move up over his hips and to his abdomen, where he grabs little fistfuls of Benedict's shirt and pulls it free from where its tucked in. Hands meet skin, and as he leans forward to reach higher his body also presses in closer as well.
As he gropes Benedict's chest, he wishes they had more time. For all the prolonging he keeps advocating for, he knows that they'll have to move on to the main event and wrap this up soon. Maybe... there can be another time later, with no reason to hurry. As he gazes down through his lashes, it's clear there is some kind of yearning behind his eyes.
His grip loosens, fingers fluttering over his chest a moment before - ! Allumin grinds against him as he pinches Benedict's nipples, rubbing them between his fingers for a moment before letting go.
The evasive touch causes Benedict to whine faintly, moving his hips again as if in hopes of meeting Allumin's hands-- and failing, of course, but not entirely disappointed by what happens instead.
It is uncomfortable, and his pain tolerance is next to nothing, but there's something about the shock of cool air on his chest in tandem with the warmth of Allumin's fingers that causes Benedict to wiggle once more, clearly already forgetting what he's already been told twice about patience.
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There is a lot to process in this moment: how still and quiet Allumin suddenly is, the hand gripping his shirt and drawing him near, the forcefulness. For someone who can play convincingly self-assured, Benedict finds that his thoughts are suddenly falling all over themselves to be addressed first: the realization that he's been had, the realization that he likes that he's been had, the heat building in him (both above and below) at the hot breath on his face.
"...oh," is all he manages to say, and in this moment he also realizes he doesn't tend to do this stone sober, and is a lot less suave than he was playing at.
Fortunately, he's pretty good at blocking out the last thought ('what would Mother think if she knew') in favor of trying to meet Allumin's lips with his own.
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"Needy already?" he asks, his words twisting his lips into a coy smile. "Well, that won't do at all."
One hand wanders upward, at least offering some gratification of touch in the form of Allumin's thumb running over his lips. His other one also releases the grip on his shirt, but lingers over his chest. He himself is unsure of where this is coming from within him, but seeing Benedict wanting fills him with confidence. Makes him feel in control.
"Having patience only makes the satisfaction sweeter."
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He's here for it.
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His thumb grazes along Benedict's lips again before moving away to firmly grasp his face by the chin. Hazel eyes bear down deep into his dark ones, and there is a brief shuddering exhale that betrays Allumin's nervousness (and also maybe a bit of excitement hm) at so much deliberate eye contact compared to his usually more avoidant gaze.
"Before we go too far, I want you to give me a safeword. If I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, if at any point you want - need - to stop, you have to tell me." It is both an order and also an earnest request. He does not want to do anything that would hurt him genuinely, doesn't want to ruin the chance at any kind of relationship with Benedict.
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"...um," he says stiffly, it being hard to move his jaw while it's being held, and all, "...Ventus."
He remembers talking about this with Colin, at some point-- but it was for Colin to say, and not for him. Or at least, it's unlikely he would have.
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Letting go of his chin, Allumin moves back once again and pulls the braid of his hair over his shoulder, unraveling the ribbon tied into it. The ribbon is quite long and made of sturdy material - a necessity to keep all of his hair neatly tied up but also for other reasons. As he does this, his eyes take the time to really make a thorough journey over Benedict’s frame and he wonders where will be most sensitive to which touch, and how much he’ll be able to explore before inevitably the other man has to go to work. This merits a bite of his lip and his cheeks flush as his imagination tries to conjure up thoughts of what sounds he’d make. He also wishes he had a longer bit of rope than just his hair tie, but it will be enough for now.
“I was thinking about how wonderful you’d look if I tied you up,” he says, but he doesn’t follow it with a question as to whether or not Benedict would like that or wants him to. He wants Benedict to ask for it. If he begs? Even better.
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He's given pause by the hair tie, feeling a little skittish based on the uncertain set of his brow.
"I want to see it first," he says quietly, sheepishly, knowing this is a game and feeling a bit of guilt for disrupting it. He holds out his hand in silent request-- there's clearly a history here, and he wants to be sure there's nothing to genuinely fear.
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"If you don't want to be tied up, that's alright. More than anything, I want you to feel respected and valued during all of this."
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That seems a bit counter-intuitive, but for once Benedict realizes maybe his idea of something is not necessarily the truth of it. Isn't the objective to be treated badly?
He feels over the hairtie, and, finding no effects of note, hands it back. "It's fine," he decides, still a little uncertainly-- he's suddenly not sure what his role in this is meant to be.
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"I do," he answers, and considers how to say this that he might like to hear best. After some thought, he leans close, brushing back Benedict's hair so as to plant a kiss on his ear, then says, "You're actually the one in power here, after all."
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The hands through his hair feel nice, though, and he sighs lightly.
"What are you going to do?" he asks, with more curiosity than trepidation.
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"I'm going to see what sort of things you like and don't like. For example..." He pauses as he takes a moment to run his hands all through his hair, from his temples to along the back of his skull and down to the nape of his neck - seeing if there is anywhere of note where his touch feels nicer than others - then grabs a fistful of his hair and pulls his head back.
"How's this?"
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And then Allumin's hand knots in it, which makes Benedict gasp aloud in... pain? Horror? Outrage? Maybe all of the above, but he takes a beat to think on it, and his wide eyes meet Allumin's.
He nods lightly, wincing as it pulls at his scalp. Yep, that's good.
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Initially, he'd intended to commit more to an aggressive spin on all of this considering the whole 'Oh, you don't think I could be a demon, actually?' thing that inspired all of this, but after observing the other man's reactions he resolves that being more focused on positive attention is a better move. If Benedict asks for something rougher, then he'll do that, but for now he thinks that this is a better pace and tone.
As he combs out any tangles from his hair, Allumin plants soft kisses on his forehead, his cheeks, and ends with one that has more presence than all the others. It begins with just more weight in the press of his lips to Benedict's before he takes one lip in-between his own and gently suck on it. Allumin's own touch-starved senses take over his sense of control for the moment when he does this, which means two things...
One: The moan that comes out from deep within him is loud, the kind Benedict would definitely feel against his lips. Two: Allumin, in a moment of unfiltered need, ushers him onto his back, still kissing, and presses his body against him.
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--but then, with that sound, he pulls his head back to laugh.
"Been a while, has it?" he teases, with a little of that bite from before, and his hand slips up to pinch Allumin's chin in a gesture both affectionate and mocking.
He genuinely finds it endearing; he is also, maybe, trying to get more of a rise out of him.
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"Even if it were, I'm loud no matter what!" is the exasperated reply. He isn't totally denying it, which means perhaps even if he has enjoyed a bit of company recently it wasn't enough to satisfy him. This has its own implications to be had about Allumin's sexual appetite.
He's still not quite back to where he was, mentally, because of his embarrassment. Teasing, unfortunately(? is it really?), is something that he enjoys despite how much he may hide and bluster about it. In a feeble attempt to get back into his groove, he tries to distract from his reaction with kisses up alongside Benedict's neck until his lips are against his ear.
"Your laugh is nice - I like hearing it." One can hear him struggling to get his control back in how his voice cracks a bit giving the compliment.
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"Mm," he intones, pausing to turn his head and meet Allumin's eyes, "bet I can make you louder."
He's lying beneath him, but his hand snakes down to grip the bulge in Allumin's pants, firmly enough to make himself known, but not enough to hurt.
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Allumin's face and ears redden, and on instinct he buries his face to muffle the sound, lips pressed against Benedict's neck. With the window being open, there's definitely the chance - if there happens to be a quiet enough moment in the Gallows air - that someone will hear.
He struggles to contain his own need after trying to make a point of patience, hips twitching into his hand as he tries to stop himself from grinding mercilessly against it. Despite playing it cool up to this point, he is half-hard and only gets more excited from the grip.
In an attempt to regain control, over both himself and the situation, the lips pressed against Benedict's neck part and he bites him. It's not gentle, but not enough to break skin either, and will definitely leave a mark.
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It's not a problem, though.
Sensing Allumin's dilemma, Benedict begins to stroke him teasingly, smirking up at the ceiling. This'll show him who's in control.
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The sound that comes from Allumin at Benedict's touch is somewhere between a snarl and a moan, coming moments before the elf releases the hold of his jaw on Benedict's throat to bring himself upright enough for what comes next. Allumin, after grabbing his hand by the wrist and pulling it away to pin forcefully a moment over his head, hooks his arms under the man's knees and pulls them up to rest upon his own shoulders. Then, he grinds against Benedict's ass.
"What did I say about patience?" is the stern reminder he makes, fingers digging deep into Benedict's thighs as he holds his legs in place.
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All too aware of the bulge pressing up against him, he contends with a surge of nervousness-- he's never been in this position, either literally or figuratively, but that doesn't make it unwelcome. Just... new.
"Ow," he whines faintly, but the syllable somehow manages to convey far less 'that actually hurts' and more 'I am intrigued, please continue'.
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"You know... I had considered riding you at first, but now I have a feeling you might enjoy something else," he says, following up his words with a little thrust against him.
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Blood has rushed to his face, and by the flusteredness of his expression, it's clear that not all of it is because he's nearly upside-down. He watches Allumin, waiting with dwindling patience for him to conclude the thought.
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As he gropes Benedict's chest, he wishes they had more time. For all the prolonging he keeps advocating for, he knows that they'll have to move on to the main event and wrap this up soon. Maybe... there can be another time later, with no reason to hurry. As he gazes down through his lashes, it's clear there is some kind of yearning behind his eyes.
His grip loosens, fingers fluttering over his chest a moment before - ! Allumin grinds against him as he pinches Benedict's nipples, rubbing them between his fingers for a moment before letting go.
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It is uncomfortable, and his pain tolerance is next to nothing, but there's something about the shock of cool air on his chest in tandem with the warmth of Allumin's fingers that causes Benedict to wiggle once more, clearly already forgetting what he's already been told twice about patience.
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