An All Hallows Moon, Tonight

[sterlingwins]

To say that Sterling was not having a good night would have been the understatement of the year. It was a shame, because he usually did so appreciate the holiday; parties and costumes and candy and stiff drinks, what was not to like? Certainly, some costumes left much to be desired, but so did the fashion choices of the general public, so it was

Comments

[sleight_of_fate]

Rhys is used to distress calls, especially around Halloween, which is his busiest season in general besides tax season (which is less surprising the more you think about it, he supposes), but he's a little surprised at how quickly he gathers up his gear bag and heads over. He's local now, which is even more strange, but now that he has a little money and the possibility of steady work, well, any city will do, right

[sterlingwins]

Sterling really wishes he didn't have to answer the door, but, if he wants any chance at this getting fixed, he doesn't have much choice. And so he gets up and heads for the door, that sound of rustling fabric, full skirts, the click of shoes on his hardwood floors. He's more than a little flushed when he opens the door, stepping out of the way as quickly as he can possibly manage and telling Rhys to hurry up and get insideHonestly, Rhys is probably the wrong person to have asked for help, but the only other people he knows would have taken far too much pleasure in this. Sterling is less than convinced that they ever would have fixed this mess at all. He's been thinking about him too much since they parted ways, thinking about that dream, about the fact that Rhys is part incubus, and just how good it felt when he 'skimmed' off of him, as Rhys had put it. And he'd been so worried, so concerned, and he can't help but find that endearing

[sleight_of_fate]

Rhys can't help but blink at the sight of Sterling. It's surprising as hell, he won't deny that, and his first impulse is to tease, but Sterling's reaction is all wrong for this being a Halloween costume gone awry. Sterling's actually upset about this, so Rhys just hurries in and closes the door behind him, looking around as he casts out his senses for any impressions of immediate, active magic

[sterlingwins]

If you're perceptive, there's something in the way he moves, the sway to his hips, that says he's not quite as uncomfortable like this as he wants to be.  Sterling's a hedonist at heart, and there's something about the feel of fabric, the way the corset pulls in tight against his skin, nips his body in all the right ways.  And the more he looks at Rhys... his breath catching, and he finds himself smiling coy in spite of himself.  He does want this fixed - doesn't he

[sleight_of_fate]

Rhys takes a breath and put his bag on the table. It didn't surprise him that Sterling went with small and classy for living quarters. He didn't expect that the insurance agent would surround himself with anything less than the best: Low-key, refined, tasteful. Rhys was, honestly, kind of jealous: he didn't generally have a taste for expensive things, but he did like comfort, and he wasn't able to afford much of that right now. His place was tiny, only three rooms, and furnished with the best IKEA and the Salvation Army had to offer

[sterlingwins]

"Well, if it's on the dress, I'm screwed, because I can't get the thing off." There's something in how he straightens it, jittery hands pulling the wrinkles smooth over his knees that says he's not quite as uncomfortable as he seemed at first. In truth, he likes the feel of the fabric, how it hugs his body, but... well, with Rhys here, it was uncomfortable, shameful. He had been raised in a very traditional family. He might not seem the type for it, but there was still a streak that was self-conscious, even if it was buried deep under pride and arrogance

[sleight_of_fate]

Rhys smiles a little, knowing that toast, too...he tended bar for quite a while, after all, and it's still his go-to mundane cover job of choice when he's on the skids. "Well, don't really like mirrors to begin with, and don't think I'm capable of bad sex," he retorts playfully before he can stop the words. Too much a habit, after all.

Then flushes slightly, because that brings back a rush of sensory memory of different waterfalls of silk fabric, of pulling Sterling up to face him in his lap, burying his face in the pulse of his neck where he can smell expensive aftershave and feel the way his blood rushes at Rhys's touch, the murmurs or sighs at each thrust

[sterlingwins]

Sterling can't help the way he smiles when Rhys says he's not capable of bad sex, a fact which Sterling isn't about to dispute, not with that dream they'd shared, how it still haunts him; waking and asleep, and if anything now it's sharper, more clear.  "I would never suggest you were," he murmured with a quirk of his lips.  He'd been avoiding him before, not quite able to face him, face how much he'd liked it, the side of him he didn't show to anyone that Rhys had seen, all soft and giving and pulling Rhys in like he needed to feel him.  All quiet moans and whispered murmurs as their bodies moved together, and he couldn't get it out of his head, and now it was a rush, painted in his head in bright colors and tactile sensory memory. There's a glint in his eyes that makes it obvious that he still thinks about it; unashamed and forward

[sleight_of_fate]

Rhys gets warning in the shift of Sterling's body, the rustling of silk and the pulse of want shooting through the older man's aura, but the kiss is still a surprise, and so is the fact that Rhys doesn't resist nearly as much as he thinks he should be as Sterling's soft lips find his. Even if that night of totally enthralling sex never happened, that kiss in the aftermath of the shadow-devil fight did happen, and Rhys's body is happy to let him know that he remembers that, too. The rough fabric of his jeans pulls tight across his groin, and that only makes things worse, not better

[sterlingwins]

It makes his head spin, it feels so very good when their lips touch, like a rush of euphoria, warm and electric, and all he can do is lean in. The spell is hard to fight, not just because of the sheer power behind it, but because it's Sterling's own desires that it's playing with. His tattoos are taking the worst of it, are the reason he's remotely coherent, and not just an aching ball of repressed desires, which the spell elevates to another level. His repressed love of dresses and feminine things, how much he wants Rhys. He's been fighting to ignore that for the past few weeks, pretend like what Rhys had seen in that dream hadn't been real

[sleight_of_fate]

Rhys sighs quietly and resists the urge to punch himself in the groin. Again. He wants Sterling, but not like this, and...

Now that he can feel it, he can feel the spell wrapped in Sterling's aura like brambles. Dark gray...no...black, and building slowly but insidiously. It's a black curse, not just a practical joke, and subtle enough that when he looks away from it, it seems to disappear. This is a powerful working, one that Rhys will need a full ritual to counter.

"Yeah. But you're under a spell, so now's not a good time to be making that kinda decision," he says quietly, resignedly. He won't take advantage of Sterling while he's under a spell. So he just reaches up to brush away a little of Sterling's hair, just because he wants to, and sighs, then sets his mouth in a thin line. Even if there's nothing between him and the insurance agent but some sparks, this assault feels personal, and Rhys is already going through all the counter-rites he knows, having decided that he's going to use a mirror rite to shove this nasty bit of

[sterlingwins]

He murmurs softly as Rhys' fingers brush through his hair, leaning into the touch, a shiver running through his body. He knows, in a distant sort of way, that he's right, that he shouldn't really be doing anything with anyone like this; there's something in the thorns on the black brambles of the spell lacing through his aura that says anything actually sexual would likely make it stronger. But, that doesn't help how he feels; hot and aching for Rhys to be closer, pressed up against him, touching him against the fabric that flows around him like the silk of red priest robes in that dream

[sleight_of_fate]

Rhys lets his breath out, slow and shaking when he feels Sterling's hands in his hair. It's tied back now, but there's a lot of it, and rather than pulling away, his eyelids flutter a little, just enough to let Sterling know he likes that. Rhys takes good care of his hair, his one real vanity besides his tattoos, and it shows in the gleam of lights off that perfect, sleek black. A mix of textures to play in: silk where it's long, and velvet along the back of his head where it's cropped close to his skull. Rhys isn't femme at all, never has been, but having his hair brushed...that's a luxury he has a feeling that Sterling would enjoy just as much as Rhys knows he does