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[sterngaze]

Liem Talbott

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Liem's mindscape is dark; quiet; contemplative. Any feelings or sensations that Liem doesn't intentionally project himself seem distant, as though echoing from a far-off room. Following any given sense to its source is bafflingly difficult.

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[redsoil]

[ Their hands clutch at one another, Liem's cool and Set's fever-warm, as a mouth works at his throat to draw in what is needed. To drink from a god — Set does not pretend it is not likely different from having the same from a mortal, he does not know what he tastes like ( the thought of putting flesh or blood to his own tongue fills him with a sickening flip of distress — ), but it must be pleasing to Liem. Or, Liem is just that hungry. Really, the scraps of his pride force him to think that it must be the former.

In the way that the soft, wanting sound is driven from Liem, one also follows from Set. A sigh, the exhalation of tension as the burst of sharp sensation at his throat begins to dwindle into a dull ache, the presence of teeth in his throat filling him with a warmth he cannot begin to recognize. It feels — not good, as if the experience were pleasant, but there is a pleasure in it. In being devoured, in being wanted enough that the priest gives in to those humiliating needs of his.

He drops his head back, leaning himself heavily along the counter as he curls his fingers against the bare skin of Liem's wrists, a steady metronome of stroking fingers and wordless, murmured encouragement. The god's posture is open, fearless of what is happening ( perhaps, he should learn to be more protective of himself, perhaps he should guard himself better — ). ]

[sterngaze]

[It takes a long moment for Liem to realize when it is no longer hunger that fuels the desperation burning in him. He is so caught up in the scorching, whirling need to have more of Set — more of the pulse drumming against his tongue, more of that feverish body beneath his hands, more of that more-than-human blood soaking his senses — that he misses the slide of one hunger into another, fails to realize when his thirst for blood becomes simple greed for the pleasure of indulgence.

But then, they are difficult wants to separate.

It is just that Set is so very warm, and his hands so insistent in their steady encouragement. There is a sense about him, something to do with the scent of burning sand and the way his presence fills up the tidy kitchen, that seems otherworldly — but the body that Liem clutches against his own feels human. Most importantly, as Liem pulls back just enough to drag in an unsteady breath, sliding a palm up Set's flank, he feels alive. Too alive for Liem to want to let go of, even if his need for blood has subsided.

He is indulgent, when he drags his tongue up Set's neck, over the bleeding marks left by his teeth. Pleasure dances along his spine, and he is dangerously tempted to dip his mouth back to that pale throat to see just how far that pleasure will take him. His fingers trace a restless caress against Set's skin, almost warm now thanks to the heat coming off his body. Perhaps if he lingers a little longer…]

Set. [He breathes the name against the damp, bitten skin of his neck.] I… I need you to leave.