G'raha has never attended so formal an event in his life! Not even acquiring his Archon marks had been given such pomp and circumstance. Dressed in a gown in a deep emerald hue that clings to his body and shows more skin than it covers, he walks the red carpet on Zoro's arm, and the warmth of his companion's hand on the small of his back-- just above the base of his extremely sensitive tail-- is enough to make blood rush southward. The garment seems to be enchanted to keep everything smooth until someone else's hands adjust it, though, so he's already in quite the state by the time they reach their 'seat.'
"Zor--" he starts to say, though the swordsman seems quite distracted by his-- what was it the employee had said? Swag bag?
"Zoro, please..." He reaches out to steady himself with one hand against his companion's arm, his hair already coming loose from the small chignon at the nape of his neck due to a prickle of sweat along his scalp. "Your hand was so close to my tail, I..." He takes a slow breath to steady himself, but this close to someone he has such a fondness for and can smell even through the faint scent of beauty products only serves to make his situation worse.
He gives pause, though, ears twitching-- he's not the only one in such a state, given the moans from rows away. He clears his throat gently, and steps closer to Zoro, face flushed. "I require your assistance."
If there's any part of G'raha that thinks Zoro's hand placement hadn't been completely deliberate... well, he's adorable for that.
There's a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth as he hears the desperate edge in G'raha's voice cutting through the noise of the theater.
He sees it all in a glance: the flush high on G'raha's cheekbones, the slight tremor in the hand on his arm, the way his pointed ears are pinned back almost shyly. The scent of him, sharp and sweet with arousal, hits Zoro like a shot of good sake. G'raha is so sensitive. It never takes much to arouse him, and the knowledge makes Zoro a little feral.
"Mmmn..." Zoro's voice is a low rumble, for G'raha's ears only. He presses a kiss to the shorter man's jaw. "My hand was so close," he sits down on their extravagant theater seats, a plush throne that gives him plenty of room to get comfortable, showing off the way his own arousal is already beginning to stir in his outfit for the event. "And you need my assistance now?" There's a teasing lilt to his voice as he deliberately lets his gaze drop to the base of G'raha's tail.
He hears it then, a low moan from a few rows behind them. Seems they aren't the only ones feeling amorous. Part of Zoro is aware there must be something in the air, or in the water, or hell, perhaps imbued in their clothesβbut he can hardly find any fucks to give when his lover is before him, looking so clearly desperate for relief.
"Come here," he commands, his voice dropping another octave. His hand moves from G'raha's back to his hip, guiding him to settle sideways onto his lap. The heat emanating from the smaller man is immediate and intense, even through the layers of fabric between them. Zoro's own cock gives a hard twitch, pressing against the curve of G'raha's ass.
"That's it," he murmurs, his other hand reaching back into the swag bag. He pulls out the strange, soft tube he'd been fiddling with earlier, before G'raha had captured his attention. An onahole. Because of course that's what the resort would provide.
He shifts G'raha, urging him to part his legs. "Open for me," he says with a kiss to the corner of his lips. It's easy for his fingers to find G'raha's tip, already slick with need. He distracts him with a proper kiss as he slips the toy around him, beginning to stroke in a slow, deliberate rhythm. "How's that?" he asks, mouth returning to the soft skin of G'raha's neck, kissing and nipping just hard enough to make the other man gasp.
Edited (park your legs right here, mr. crystal exarch, sir) 2025-05-25 15:21 (UTC)
G'raha's plight had only been made worse by just how incredible Zoro looks in his outfit of choice, the combination of sheer black fabric and ornate embroidery calling attention to his musculature. He swallows firmly at the teasing lilt, tongue darting out briefly to wet his lips from the kiss to his jaw, though he waits to take any action, his train of thought briefly derailed by the sound of another moan from elsewhere in the grand space.
The way that Zoro's voice gets deeper causes a shiver of want to course through his entire body, from the ends of his ears to the tip of his tail. He carefully settles onto his companion's lap, and he gives an appreciative hum to feel Zoro's cock twitch in response to his warmth. His eyes are already unfocused, slitted pupils dilating.
His thighs and lips both part at the command that follows, a strangled little moan leaving him at the relief of the fabric finally letting his length spring free, thanks to Zoro's aid. A mewl follows at the sensation of the object sliding over his length, snug in all the right ways and quickly warming to his body temperature, though the sound is all but lost against the beautiful shape of Zoro's mouth.
"Better," he manages to answer a few seconds after the question is posed. He drapes his closer arm around Zoro's shoulders, helping to steady his own weight, while his other hand braces against the strength of the thigh he's perched on. And if he gives it an appreciative squeeze, well... he'll surely live with the consequences.
The word 'Better' is a wrecked, breathy thing against his skin, and it sends a jolt straight between Zoro's legs. He watches the pleasure in G'raha's expression, enjoys the pretty flush on his cheeks as he mewls and moans in response to his assistance. He loves this look on the diminutive redhead, loves how he's slowly coming undone, simultaneously pliant and tense in his lap, and all his to drink in and enjoy.
He keeps a steady rhythm with the toy, his own hips grinding up in a counter-rhythm, seeking relief against the firm curve of G'raha's ass. The friction is equal parts exquisite and frustratingβjust enough relief to stoke the fire in his belly, but not nearly enough pleasure to truly satisfy him.
Then G'raha's hand tightens on his thigh, and Zoro's brain chooses to interpret the firm squeeze as a request for more. Just like that, a switch flipsβa low growl grumbles in Zoro's chest, and suddenly he needs to be inside him. Now.
He briefly abandons the onahole to clench, tight but unmoving, around G'raha's slick length. He hikes the fabric of the emerald gown up, pulling down whatever smallclothes the smaller man has down to his ankles. Then he's working on his own trousers, the sound of the zipper unusually loud in his ears despite all the other noises in the theater. His cock springs free, hard and aching, and he wastes no time in pressing the thick, wet head of it into the valley between G'raha's cheeks, just teasing, just feeling the incredible heat.
His free hand dives back into the swag bag, fingers searching blindly until they close around the small package of lube he'd spotted earlier. He's sure the resort meant for exactly this to happen, but he can't think about his qualms about playing right into its hands when he's too busy slathering the cool gel onto two of his fingers. "Easy now," he murmurs, voice thick with his own need as he slides one finger, then two, inside G'raha's tight entrance, working him open gently but firmly.
It isn't too long before he's replacing those digits with the head of his cock, guiding G'raha to sink slowly down until they're pressed flush together. A deep groan leaves him as G'raha's heat envelops him, tight and perfect. For a moment, he just stays there, savoring the feeling of being so intimately close. "You feel incredible," he murmurs, kissing the side of G'raha's face, indulging himself by grinding up into his lover a few more times. Then his hand finds the onahole again, and he resumes working G'raha's cock, his hips delivering slow, powerful thrusts that matchh the movement of his hand.
That low growl immediately causes a chill to shoot down G'raha's entire spine, and it's only because he knows exactly what it means that he keeps from squirming his way off of Zoro's lap. He holds his breath when his miniscule scraps that the resort thinks are smallclothes are pulled down, still not quite breathing when he hears Zoro work on freeing himself-- only to give a brief shout to feel the press of the head against him.
His chin lightly thuds forward against his chest, breathy moans and needy whimpers earned by the swordsman's easy preparation. And then, just what he's wanted this whole time: Zoro's length pressing into him as he's pulled down fully into the other man's lap. "Wicked White," he gasps, reaching back with one hand to grasp hold of short green hair, while his other hand attempts to brace against the armrest of their 'seat.' He can't brace against the power of Zoro's thrusts in this moment, though, all but bouncing in his lap.
He cranes his neck, trying for a kiss only to miss entirely, lips and tongue finding the strong line of Zoro's neck, where he instead works on leaving a little mark. A hickey, he thinks it's called. "Don'... don't stop," he warns, his body clenching up more tightly on Zoro's next thrust.
I miss my comrades, of course, but... I rather think I miss my home the most. A cozy room in the headquarters of an organization of scholars, in a city dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge and scientific advancement, on an island in a northern archipelago. It is not where I was born, but it is where I spent much of my life until my expertise called me elsewhere.
Is that what you were in the middle of when the House got you?
Hmm. This game is going to have to wait if you want me to find someone willing to let me drip wax on them and get back to you with proof, and I'm guessing you aren't volunteering, so. IOU?
Just when G'raha had thought he'd seen it all at the Golden Peacock, it surprised him yet again. The boobie sharks were... something, the reverse mermaids were somehow more stomach turning than the horrors he'd seen during his time on the First, but the sex club at least seemed to be closer to business as usual for the resort.
He takes a seat at the bar and orders a mojito with extra mint and lime so he can taste the alcohol even less, and pulls his bingo card out of the singular pocket of his short black swim trunks. The rest of his outfit only consists of a red shirt with only the barest hint of a floral pattern which has been left completely unbuttoned, heart-shaped sunglasses that rest atop his head, and equally blue sandals on his feet. He looks the card and its unmarked squares over, lips momentarily pursing-- until the bartender greets someone who has taken the seat next to him while also placing G'raha's drink in front of him.
He favors the woman with a smile, his long, feline ears perking up. "Good day! May I buy you a drink?" Someone had done so for him, his last time here, and he's a firm believer in paying a good deed forward.
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