"But that isn't what my power is for," Emet-Selch says. "It is to improve the Star for all our people, not just debauchery. This is..."
Enjoyable, yes, and he hates to admit it. But it is also as close to sinning as the ancients have a concept for it. It is for the singular pleasure and not for helping, not for improving. This is just letting the inner beast that Emet-Selch has a very tight leash out to play; sometimes, that's frightening.
"Yes, yes," Hyth soothes, patting him further as if he's a child in need of comforting. "But it's refreshing to do this, every once in a while, yes? It doesn't hurt anyone. No one is deprived because you've shapeshifted your genitals into a more interesting configuration for a time. Right?"
Hyth's vulgarity knocked him right back to himself. Emet-Selch peers up through his fringe of bangs, disheveled and not just a little bit sweaty.
"I beg pardon," he grumbles, putting up his comfortable, prickly front. "Must you be so crass after I have made you weep with pleasure? Did I not service well enough, Hythlodaeus?"
"I was trying to be encouraging!" Hyth pouts, trying to clean up that messy hair with his fingers. "Your service was exceptional as always, my dear Emet-Selch. Why do you think I work so hard to make sure you take a little for yourself as well?"
"I care for myself perfectly well," Emet-Selch says, still invoking perfect. He must be perfect, must fulfill his role perfectly, must be a light for the Star; that's why he was chosen. Because perfect Hythlodaeus turned it down, and Emet-Selch now must live up to the idea that his friend passed on something and now he must meet a bloody impossible standard.
Never mind that Hythlodaeus is right: he was better for the job. But it's come with it's costs, too.
"Mmm. You are...sufficient, I think. But sufficient will only get you so far." He's still fussing, pawing at Emet-Selch's hair again. As if it could never be fussed on enough. "But if you strain yourself until you break, what harm will come then?"
"Sufficient?" Emet's voice went up a octave, as he craned his neck and peered at his lover, who was clearly yanking his chain. "Oh, sufficient, I see. But you can do better, then."
He won't break. He can't. He has to be the Emet-Selch that Hythlodaeus deigned not to be.
There's a moment of sadness in Hyth's face. "Yes," he says, and then the mask comes back up again and he's got that serene, mischievious smile he always does.
Yes, because he worries what will become of Emet-Selch without him. It's part of why he could never rise to that office...because Hyth can get along fine with Hades out saving the world, but Hades could never do without Hyth beside him.
The words sting and earn a flinch, pride flayed open. Emet's tired eyes turn away, but he does not pull from Hyth's embrace, merely goes cold in it. Leaning against him, he makes no move to get up or leave his side, but stares at something in the distance. A toppled table couldn't possibly be that interesting, but Emet-Selch looks at it all the same.
Crud. He's spiraling, time to distract. "I did have another idea," he says, pressing a few kisses along Hades's cheek. "If you're willing to let me drive for a little bit. I visited Elpis the other day, we were discussing concept husbandry. The way they carefully control and monitor the more dangerous creatures, not Pandemonium's lot but just the ones who can get easily upset." His hands paw at Emet-Selch, adding additional stimulus, trying to draw his friend's mind away from the cold, lonely place it's sliding toward.
Emet is stupidly easily to melt; he does not want to hold on to hurt or pain long, even if it sometimes grabs him and drags him down by his collar.
He seeks a hand to weave his fingers with, to take up to his hand so he can kiss the pads of them. "Tell me, then, how the concept farm amused you this time."
Hyth reaches out for the aether in the room - the flowers decorating his walls, the pillow on the couch, and crudely weaves them into a cord and collar that encircle Hades's throat. The end of the leash rests in Hyth's hand as he smiles brightly - it's a thin construct and will disappate in hours, but they don't need it to last.
"Would you be my concept, brought to heel, my dear?"
Oh, he even shaped something! He must be serious. All attention on Hyth and spiraling thoughts fading, Emet gives a little nod. "And how must I heel then, if I'm some unruly creation? How will you keep me well behaved? Or must I do tricks for amusement, or experiments to record?"
The leash length bends and twists, until it becomes an ethereal rope sweeping around Emet-Selch's body into strange, sensual pattern. "Ah, well.. If you're unruly you must be bound up." He puts his hand gently across Emet-Selch's mouth. "Perhaps even muzzled. I know how dangerous your mouth can be, after all."
"I beg--" your pardon, he doesn't get to finish. He squawks a little, noisy under Hytholodaeus' hand before he goes for the most juvenile response ever: he just pokes it with his tongue. Fine, gag him, he'll just slime up your finger.
(No one thought Emet would be anything other than a brat, right?)
"Or you could just be some beast who can't even speak." His hand slides lower to wrap gently around Emet-Selch's throat a moment. Mmm, but to lose his words might not be worth the fun. Hyth squeaks and yanks his hand back, giggling, when Emet-Selch licks him.
"Brute!" he protests, and gives him the lightest of little slaps. "Rowdy little concept!"
He's not sure why it tangles him up so, but Hyth's hand on his throat goes straight to his cock. The levin racing down his spine is also audible-- that got him to jerk in his grip, before he sucks in a breath when his mouth is free again. But he takes his swatting and scoffs a little for it.
"Of course I'm unruly," he says, rolling to lay on his belly and look at Hyth, chin propped on his hands. "Maybe I'm one of Hermes. He gives them so much and then he's surprised they fly off or do strange things! they certainly need leashes."
"Oh, absolutely." Hyth twists the leash around his hand and leans in, letting Emet-Selch feel the warmth of his breath as he leans in. "And if I'm going to examine you properly I must make you behave, no?"
"I cannot possibly make it easy for you," Emet said, even as his head is canting to be nearer to Hyth's face, to hear him better, look at him because he's so beautifully close. He's such a terrible liar, sometimes.
Hyth mouths at his ears, then sets his teeth on them. "If we can't reshape you, we must train you," he purrs. "Would my lovely concept roll over so I can examine it?"
Emet-Selch's gasp is sharp, heady, but he makes a whine, pushing the command Hyth gives him aside for a moment, laying there still on his belly, waiting for a tug of the leash or other sign of authority to remind him he is not in charge.
The leash twists and arches about, forming itself into a set of restraints that hold Emet-Selch spread eagle. He could break them in an instant, thin as they are, but that is hardly the point. Hyth gets up on his knees, dragging his robe back on to further denote that he is human and Emet-Selch is a mere naked beast.
"Now, let's examine this one," he muses. His fingers start at Emet's face, running across his cheekbones and delving into his mouth as if to measure the strength and capacity of his jaw. He mutters to himself as he does, little notes and statistics, the same muttering he might do when reading a proposal for a concept at work.
Emet-Selch makes a petulant noise, pulling at his bindings (that are meaningless, but oddly fun), but the moment there are fingers in his mouth, he tongues and sucks on them, letting his eyes half-lid in soft pleasure. He is... if not content, he's calming, less focused on his busy inward life.
He'll do anything for Hyth, and they both know it.
Hyth giggles, and pretends to make notes about Emet-Selch's behavior. His hands smooth lower cupping his groin. "Ah, shame this concept is so basic. A few changes and perhaps it could be filled up very nicely..." he says pointedly, fingers pressing in.
Emet-Selch made that disgruntled sound, and then shivered a little, turning his gaze away; not just because he was playing petulant, but also because there were exploring fingers and he liked that. That was part of it, certainly, but also because he didn't want to give Hyth too much satisfaction as he squirmed.
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Enjoyable, yes, and he hates to admit it. But it is also as close to sinning as the ancients have a concept for it. It is for the singular pleasure and not for helping, not for improving. This is just letting the inner beast that Emet-Selch has a very tight leash out to play; sometimes, that's frightening.
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"I beg pardon," he grumbles, putting up his comfortable, prickly front. "Must you be so crass after I have made you weep with pleasure? Did I not service well enough, Hythlodaeus?"
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Never mind that Hythlodaeus is right: he was better for the job. But it's come with it's costs, too.
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He won't break. He can't. He has to be the Emet-Selch that Hythlodaeus deigned not to be.
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Yes, because he worries what will become of Emet-Selch without him. It's part of why he could never rise to that office...because Hyth can get along fine with Hades out saving the world, but Hades could never do without Hyth beside him.
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He seeks a hand to weave his fingers with, to take up to his hand so he can kiss the pads of them. "Tell me, then, how the concept farm amused you this time."
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"Would you be my concept, brought to heel, my dear?"
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He's curious, at least, to the game.
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(No one thought Emet would be anything other than a brat, right?)
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"Brute!" he protests, and gives him the lightest of little slaps. "Rowdy little concept!"
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"Of course I'm unruly," he says, rolling to lay on his belly and look at Hyth, chin propped on his hands. "Maybe I'm one of Hermes. He gives them so much and then he's surprised they fly off or do strange things! they certainly need leashes."
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(Don't make him be in charge, he's tired of it.)
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"Now, let's examine this one," he muses. His fingers start at Emet's face, running across his cheekbones and delving into his mouth as if to measure the strength and capacity of his jaw. He mutters to himself as he does, little notes and statistics, the same muttering he might do when reading a proposal for a concept at work.
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He'll do anything for Hyth, and they both know it.
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