enoderedrum

NETWORK USERNAME:
ripraven

CURRENT HOUSING:

Currently living both in his designated housing, but also Adams House (pretty much in Kavinsky's bed nightly).

SCARS / MARKINGS:
ENVY - Cut into his left forearm (via Blue)
SUFFER - Carving into his calf via himself.
WRIST SCARS (successful suicide) + Thigh SCAR.
WRIST TATTOO - Paw on his right wrist (via Kavinsky)
THROAT TATTOO - A raven with its wings spread on either side of his neck,
the face is a skull of the raven instead, and the background is filled with blue, purple and hints of red watercolor splashes. (Tattoo shop on Mammons Island.)
RIBCAGE TATTOO - An arrow for Clint and an hourglass for Nat.
STITCH SCARS AROUND MOUTH + slightly damaged vocal cords - Thanks to The Veiled Order capture.
MERMAN Features; white hands with claws and subtle webbing that's retractable, iridescent scales over his hands and in random spots.

DEMON ATTRIBUTES:

Demon Teeth.
The beginning of Pointy Ears (not pictures because right now they're just itchy and growing).
[These are based off Hellburbia Suicide].
Slowly his hands are turning White and his nails are turning into claws (basically)

RICHARD JOSEPH LYNCH
aka
little grey dragon he adopted from Mammons Island.

N A V I G A T I O N: kinks & permissions | visuals | funeral | bdsm info | cr chart
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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

enoderedrum

Noah broke out into a smile; one of those you don't really have to think about, just, something that genuinely makes you happy--that sort of smile. There was something about the reciprocated 'awkward' and the blushing that made him happy.

It also made him a little sad, because he could tell this was something Illya wasn't used to. Not even Noah was used to it anymore. For the last two years at least he avoided all contact. He went without because on the few occasions that he had touched someone they pulled away.

Carefully, he pushed himself up until he was actually sitting up, nose to nose with this impossible creature, and blue eyes once more sought out green, "I like you, Illya. So if you keep me around...get used to the soft stuff, too, okay?"

favoriteforgery

Proko tips his head down and kisses Noah's shoulder once he's close enough. "I'm not--"

He pauses, then lifts his head and lets himself kiss Noah full on the mouth.

"I'll try."

But no promises. He's impressively sober right now; maybe Noah won't like him anymore when he isn't. Because he's not sure he can stop all that. Not now. Not here.

"We should uhm. Put some clothes back on."

Part of him longs to feel skin against skin but he thinks the barrier of fabric would make him feel more secure, and it would always help take away some of the temptation to slide back towards filth.

Try.

That little spark of...something...started up again. Hope, maybe? Surprise? Whatever it was, it was a dangerous feeling, scarier than the darkness he remembered fading into.

Another kiss. Maybe two, three. Then Noah carefully nudges Illya back onto the bed out of his lap so he can go retrieve their clothes, including the binder. Not because he wanted him to put it back on, but because he might want it.

Tugging his joggers back on, he tosses his grey hoodie at Illya's head with a small smirk, "Put that on. It's warmer."

Prokopenko foregoes his binder in favor of his t-shirt and Noah's hoodie. He pulls his boxer briefs back on and makes sure that his jeans are nearby but... doesn't get back into them just yet. Instead, he sits in Noah's bed, a bit shy but also very content in his hoodie.

He knows, in theory, what comes next. But it's Noah's room and Noah's bed, so he's kind of letting him take the lead on this one.

Well, it won't be for too much longer, thankfully. Even Noah enjoys a little privacy and when you have two beds in the room with no barriers--even if one is Blue--it's not ideal.

Tugging a shirt on, he glances at Illya and hums thoughtfully before lifting the blankets at one corner and sliding underneath them, "When you said you'd try...did you mean to keep me or to get used to the soft stuff? Get under here."

"Yes?"

Proko eases under the blankets, content with the idea of being warm and cozy for a while. He doesn't know if Kavinsky is back yet. Sometimes he's just gone for a while.

Cleared everything right up. Noah was amused for a moment before he softened again. He watched Illya slip under the blankets, parts of him aching again. They'd have to work on this...both of them.

But he reached over and pulled the other to him, tangling them up in a way that they shared the pillow and really, if someone saw them they wouldn't really know what limb belonged to which boy.

Noah nosed him lightly and looked over his face, "Thank you..."

"For what?" he asks as he tucks closer. Illya puts his head down like he might hide against the other boy. It feels god to be warm, at least. He nuzzles against Noah's neck and sighs. He's definitely going to pass out here if they keep this up.

He's quiet for a few moments. Thinking. Probably overthinking. And then adjusts to let Illya tuck in better where the other boy wants to.

"...for not pulling away."

"You too," he murmurs in the space between them. Noah could've flipped out, pulled away, any number of things that have happened before. Illya sighs and drapes his arm over Noah like he's testing to see how that feels.

It's nice.

It is nice. The kind of nice that makes you drowsy and the idea of sleep becomes something finally within reach. Closing his eyes, he noses a little into the other boys hair and relaxes, "I won't pull away from you." Especially not now. Proko wasn't the trouble, it was this feeling that was trouble.

It was a good thing Noah enjoyed risky things.

MURDEREDONE

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