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[Well... if Lycaon really is just going to let Louis do as he pleases, then he's going to do as he pleases - that mane is let go of, just so Louis can wrap his arms around Lycaon's neck, instead, and that kiss is just pushed even deeper where he can. Laughing a little against the Thiren's lips when he feels his tongue piercings clack against those sharp fangs, shuddering a little when he intentionally presses against the sharp tip of a tooth. He seems plenty happy to just indulge in this - to indulge in Lycaon and the taste of him - for as long as he's allowed.
And meanwhile... Those toxins, slowly but surely, will be kicking in. Through a kiss, Lycaon could never get enough to really need to worry - not unless he has the breath control of an Olympic athlete, willing to keep this up for literal hours. It's the lowest dose of his toxins possible, meaning Lycaon likely won't even need to worry about hallucinations, let alone anything worse.
But despite that, still, colors will start to play and dance across Lycaon's vision, bright and saturated and inviting, as a sense of euphoria no doubt buzzes across him... The kind that warms the face and settles the mind, lofty and soporific yet somehow invigorating. It almost feels inspiring, honestly. And, at the same time, bells - soft, chiming bells - can be heard just at the very edge of his hearing, just soft and gentle enough to be easy to ignore, yet almost adds an angelic feel to the world as they continue on. It's all so gentle, so kind. So warm, like a mental embrace.
... Louis, of course, is none the wiser as to whatever Lycaon's getting to experience. He's well beyond that level of his own toxins, at this point - the only times he ever experiences the mild euphoria and the gentle bells is whenever he's so low on his magic, he may as well be close to death. Louis hardly even remembers what the early effects of his magic are. At this point, at Louis's own level of toxicity... instead of shifting colors, it's grotesque distortions and movement of still objects, twisted visages and things that aren't real. Instead of warm euphoria, it's delusions and mania, paranoid and frightened of everything around him. Instead of soft chiming and angelic hums, it's buzzing in his ears, layered voices, ominous whispers, his name called in solitude -- It's, you know. The worst. The reason he worries so much about sharing his toxins in the first place.
Right now, though? No matter what Louis is experiencing, he has Lycaon here to focus on and distract him from it. Lycaon gets the nicest, gentlest effects of his magic... and in return, Louis gets his sharp Thiren teeth to prick his tongue against, those sharp claws tracing his skin, hot breaths shared between them - all good and helpful distractions to keep him out of his own mind.]
[The feeling of tongue piercing tapping his fang sends a shiver through Lycaon. Not entirely enjoyable but not painful either. The way their lips and tongues meet, the tingling he feels through his body now, and the slight chime of bells are taking hold. His tail wags without much hinderance as the toxins eat away at that self restraint.
Lycaon feels warm and not unpleasantly so. It's a soft warmth building from his tongue and sliding down into his neck, shoulders, down his arms, along his spine, pooling between his legs, and sliding down his thighs. It traces down his tail as well as they continue to kiss. Perhaps some hesitation or fear may be warranted but Lycaon feels none. Louis's very being soothes him and only spurs him on. Claws trace delicate flesh, his fingers then press and hold onto Louis, pulling the reaper closer. He growls into the intoxicating kiss and finds himself wanting more.
Louis, perhaps, is truly addictive. At least the positive effects of his biological tie to this Orange magic. Lycaon wonders how good it will feel to continue to indulge as they proceed here. Fingers slide down between them, skilled fingers dancing along those folds between Louis's legs. Tracing the lips gently with the soft pads on his fingers, careful of his claws so they do not press too close to sensitive flesh. Lycaon is no stronger to intimacy and being mindful of said claws. The practices motion proves this.]
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wolfishlycharming
(no subject)
Laughing a little against the Thiren's lips when he feels his tongue piercings clack against those sharp fangs, shuddering a little when he intentionally presses against the sharp tip of a tooth.
He seems plenty happy to just indulge in this - to indulge in Lycaon and the taste of him - for as long as he's allowed.
And meanwhile...
Those toxins, slowly but surely, will be kicking in. Through a kiss, Lycaon could never get enough to really need to worry - not unless he has the breath control of an Olympic athlete, willing to keep this up for literal hours. It's the lowest dose of his toxins possible, meaning Lycaon likely won't even need to worry about hallucinations, let alone anything worse.
But despite that, still, colors will start to play and dance across Lycaon's vision, bright and saturated and inviting, as a sense of euphoria no doubt buzzes across him...
The kind that warms the face and settles the mind, lofty and soporific yet somehow invigorating.
It almost feels inspiring, honestly.
And, at the same time, bells - soft, chiming bells - can be heard just at the very edge of his hearing, just soft and gentle enough to be easy to ignore, yet almost adds an angelic feel to the world as they continue on.
It's all so gentle, so kind. So warm, like a mental embrace.
... Louis, of course, is none the wiser as to whatever Lycaon's getting to experience.
He's well beyond that level of his own toxins, at this point - the only times he ever experiences the mild euphoria and the gentle bells is whenever he's so low on his magic, he may as well be close to death. Louis hardly even remembers what the early effects of his magic are.
At this point, at Louis's own level of toxicity... instead of shifting colors, it's grotesque distortions and movement of still objects, twisted visages and things that aren't real.
Instead of warm euphoria, it's delusions and mania, paranoid and frightened of everything around him.
Instead of soft chiming and angelic hums, it's buzzing in his ears, layered voices, ominous whispers, his name called in solitude --
It's, you know. The worst. The reason he worries so much about sharing his toxins in the first place.
Right now, though? No matter what Louis is experiencing, he has Lycaon here to focus on and distract him from it.
Lycaon gets the nicest, gentlest effects of his magic... and in return, Louis gets his sharp Thiren teeth to prick his tongue against, those sharp claws tracing his skin, hot breaths shared between them - all good and helpful distractions to keep him out of his own mind.]
(no subject)
Lycaon feels warm and not unpleasantly so. It's a soft warmth building from his tongue and sliding down into his neck, shoulders, down his arms, along his spine, pooling between his legs, and sliding down his thighs. It traces down his tail as well as they continue to kiss. Perhaps some hesitation or fear may be warranted but Lycaon feels none. Louis's very being soothes him and only spurs him on. Claws trace delicate flesh, his fingers then press and hold onto Louis, pulling the reaper closer. He growls into the intoxicating kiss and finds himself wanting more.
Louis, perhaps, is truly addictive. At least the positive effects of his biological tie to this Orange magic. Lycaon wonders how good it will feel to continue to indulge as they proceed here. Fingers slide down between them, skilled fingers dancing along those folds between Louis's legs. Tracing the lips gently with the soft pads on his fingers, careful of his claws so they do not press too close to sensitive flesh. Lycaon is no stronger to intimacy and being mindful of said claws. The practices motion proves this.]