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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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[sterngaze]

[At times, particularly times like this, Liem struggles to absorb the meaning of the things Set says to him. He feels that he isn’t grasping the god’s lesson, not least of all because he has never in his life felt in control of whether or not people would love him. Love has always been a fleeting commodity to him, sometimes given freely and sometimes not, often for reasons that seemed entirely outside of his control. He can understand that trying to find a pattern in the chaos might be futile, but the prospect of accepting that when and if he receives love will always be completely random only makes him despair.

But the hot, familiar solidity of Set’s chest beneath his hands remains a comfort. He can be convinced, at least in the present day, that the god does love him, does wish to keep him close—for as long as they have remaining to them in Kenos.]

As long as you think of me, and you don’t neglect to tell me when you wish things of me, that is enough.

[Beneath the cool weight of Set’s collar, Liem traces his shard with gentle fingertips. Leaning closer, he brushes a kiss against Set’s cheek.]

Come find me when you’re happy, or upset… and share it with me.

[redsoil]

[ To be told that Liem wants to know his mind ( his feelings, not just his intellect ) ought not to be as staggering as it is to a god. They ought to expect such wistful sentiment from those who flock to them, but Set does not; he has not, in many years, been near to anyone who had wanted to be a confidante to him. Not since he and Isis had broken so thoroughly from one another.

Beneath Liem's fingers, Set's Shard burns with his innate heat ( a child favored by Ra; feral goddess above all ) and Meridian's light. He has risen far, devoted himself to accepting that to get what he wants, he must use those who would also use him. To embrace the body of faith and cornerstone of power that was the Church, and draw Liem into its orbit as well. Like a sacrifice, to prove himself. ( He can never trust his own intentions anymore; he hadn't been able to for a long while, even before offering up his altruism. ) ]

— my sister cursed us.

[ He blurts it, sudden and feverish. Beginning in the middle, where he ought to begin at the start. ]

I am not supposed to obtain what I want. I believe that means... what I want most, but I feel its influence everywhere. In every step I take to get back to Egypt and my son, or to grow closer to you.

[ His Shard seems to flutter with nervous energy. A terribly fragile god, this one. One who takes Liem's hands and presses them down, lower and lower until he can feel the cool spread of those fingers upon his bare thighs. A bold offering from a god who is actually a bit of a prude. Who turns as red as his hair. This is a different sort of intimacy, after all! ( It is honest, not a mask worn by him or a pursuit to numb his mind. ) ]

I do want... something, though.

[sterngaze]

[Liem doesn’t expect the abrupt transition Set makes to speaking of himself—his struggles, and his desires. He’s not displeased; he had been earnest in his request to know the god’s mind. He just hadn’t known there was something already weighing on it, right at that moment.

How deep must the animosity between Set and Isis run, for her to have cursed him—cursed them both—in such a way? Every time the god speaks of her, Liem cannot decide whether it is with hate or painful, lonely wistfulness. Perhaps it is both.

But his eyes and his attention both follow the trail Set makes of their hands, down his body to the bare flesh of his thighs. When he looks back up at the god’s face, the flush darkening his complexion makes Liem’s expression grow more intent, and a warm, persuasive desire slides through him in response. He wants to get his mouth all over that blush, and only the gravity of their discussion prevents his train of thought from being entirely derailed. Somehow, for all his fussiness, the more debauched one sometimes ends up being Liem.

And although he is being good, his fingers still splay over Set’s overwarm skin, thumbs sliding down to stroke the softer flesh of his inner thighs.]

What is it that you want, Set?

[redsoil]

[ Isis cursed all of them; none of them were to have what they wanted the most ( Set, to have his son; Osiris, to have Set; Isis, to have Osiris; Nephthys, to die ). But, he feels the tendrils of the curse slip through all that he is, threatening to deny him whatber he strives for and craves. It is why he flirts with amorality, why he yielded his altruism, why he courts a demon to become more like one, why he straddles devotion to Meridian and flirtation with Zenith — all in an attempt to get around the curse's threat.

Right now, he wants.

Liem's hands on his bare skin, cool and strong. The way his eyes burn with his own desire — thumbs along his inner thighs, and he wants those hands in more places. Tucked into his own, or holding him firm. He does not yield to things easily, especially not to his own desires when they are "without purpose" other than to be intimate. ]

— you can't tell?

[ brat ( he's testing you, liem ). ]

[sterngaze]

[The intent look Liem is aiming at Set only grows more considering as he continues to hold his gaze; trying to discern Set’s intention, the shape behind his wanting. He still doesn’t understand the god as well as he’d like to, when it comes to certain things: the things Set tends to keep hidden, that he avoids by habit, even when they are alone. There are things about the god’s relationship with intimacy, he thinks, that he still doesn’t understand.

But for all that, he is no less intrigued. Liem shifts on the couch, his hands inching a little further up Set’s thighs as he leans over, bracing one knee between Set’s legs. Slowly; deliberately. His eyes remain upon Set’s face, seeking, and they look a little hungry.

Is this what Set desires? Does he want it when Liem’s fingertips skirt beneath the hem of his shendyt? When he leans closer, dipping near—to brush his mouth against that flushed brow?]

I want you to tell me.

8)

[redsoil]

[ A faint sound escapes him, one that is simultaneously longing and startled in quality. It is as if Set is shocked by his own wants, by the way some subconscious part of him wants Liem's hands high on his thighs and the other part of him is startled that he's being touched like that. Some part of him torn in two, that seeks intimacy but is disoriented by its existence; that does and does not want Liem leaning over him ( in his mind, Liem is a different sort of man than others; he is deliberate and polite, affords himself enjoyment with intent and moves in increments ).

The redhead opens his mouth, and he wants to say what is on his mind. He wants Liem to know what he wants, but the words strangle in his throat. Not for lack of trying, but for a host of other reasons that need to be whispered first. As Set turns his head up, and his smile turns a little thin and drawn. His eyes still want, they do not flinch, but something inside of him needs to say the first thing, if he wants to live up to Liem voicing his own "want". ]

— men, categorically, do not touch me like you do.

[ One of his own hands dips, fingers gliding across the dark material of his shendyt to the angle of Liem's wrist. Not to push him away, but to stroke the cool skin there. To curl his fingers around it and try to draw it higher between his thighs, nakedly flustering and petulant as his mouth frowns and draws into a deeper pout. His spine rolls into an arch, to push his shoulders down against cushioning and hips higher.

]

Be nice. [ He scolds a little, sounding terribly put out by such an easy request, before he amends his tone and words: ] I want, to be touched nicely. By you.

the way this went from relationship conversation to smut in like 4 tags

[sterngaze]

[Liem’s intrigued feeling deepens, shades cooler with a little thrill of realization as Set looks up at him. Somehow, despite Set’s fear of being claimed and his need to seem strong, despite his flush and fluster, Liem had not thought that this might feel vulnerable for him. He had not considered that there might be an intimate situation in which Set might be touched any way other than how he desired.

The thought is a little frightening. The trust Set chooses to put in him is frightening.

Still, Liem’s eyes dip, caught by the insistent arch of Set’s body, and his blood heats at the urging of those warm fingers. The god’s desire is clear enough now—and Liem wants to indulge him, with a suddenness that catches him off guard. He wants.]

Is that all?

[His free hand, the one unimpeded by Set’s fingers, pulls away so he can lean his arm against the couch’s back, poised over the other man. That pouting mouth begs to be kissed, and he finally will, sliding his tongue over the lush curve of Set’s lower lip, as he gives in to the coaxing of the hand on his wrist. His fingers disappear beneath dark fabric to find Set’s cock, to curl around it and stroke with deliberate, teasing gentleness.]

You know I like putting my hands on you.