robopriest | PC WITH ANAXAGORAS

[ You better believe that a small, soft huff definitely ensured escape from Anaxagoras when Hansa teased him so! It is true. He is in a foolishly, flustered state - but he refuses to say that.

At the very least, it is not a pout that lasts because he is intensely occupied with this kiss.

It is always like a beautiful dream whenever they are drawn so close to one another, but these days, it feels less fantastical and more novel in that aspect.

That he knows he will not wake and find it a passing delusion, that he can always feel himself ready to sink so deeply within a single moment.

When the man's lips slip open, he is all the more welcoming to part his own, so that Hansa's tongue can meet his own, and for a moment, his remaining eye looks dazed as it becomes heated. Tinged with passion that he finds himself ever so gladly losing himself in, any sound he can make caught in his throat as his fingers curl into the back of Hansa's shirt. ]

[He loves seeing the change in that eye. From the fervent passion of expressing his knowledge to the shyness that gazes away at a compliment, Hansa loves every one he sees. He wants to see everything reflected in that beautiful eye. The eye of a man who looks at him and deems him his loved one.]

[He continues the kiss, his own eye lidded - one of his hands slides over the other's neck, covetous, before sliding back ans through his vibrant green hair.]

[Hansa only pauses for a moment, worrying his teeth a little on the man's lower lip with a cheeky, wolfish smile.]

Shall I see more of you? Or you shall see more of me?

[His heart is thudding against his chest, suffering in overexcitement.]

[ Oh, he can become so easily lost even in this moment, allow himself to indulge further, but there is something he wants. A sharp reminder when he sees that matching half-lidded gaze of that other eye, even with every pleasant touch that feels like something more than simply grounding.

Even with the feel of his own heart racing, the flush to his cheeks not diminishing, and with him stealing a little, quick peck, even after the small reprieve, resisting in just leaning into that hand. ]

Let's reveal ourselves to each other, shall we?

...But, I get to do it first. [ A little playful smirk alights itself across his lips - perhaps like a mirror, even if not quite wolfish - as he brings a finger to poke at the man's chest. ] Sit up, Hansa.

[ Much as he prefer to lie down...it will be difficult for him to undress even a little bit with them so close to one another. ]

Fine.

[It must be a bit like opening a Christmas present. This really is unbecoming of him, eager to see a man's bare chest. Shame, shame. He's piling on the sins left and right.]

[He pulls himself back, even as his hands tuck against the other's hips. Just to hold him. He doesn't want to let go.]

Go for it. My love.

[ Anaxagoras has never done this in the first place, showing off himself so ... boldly in front of another. But, once he sits up, he is in prime position to do exactly that. Though, he doesn't bother suppressing the giddy feeling that arises at the term of endearment, eye creasing a bit in obvious appreciation. Perhaps ridiculous of him to be so taken by it...yet, all the same, ultimately reasonable. ]

Someone is eager, hm?

[ He teases with a light tone, but ultimately pleased the man holds on, and right away, he seemlessly begins to take off his clothing. The top half of that little coat, followed by loosening the belt, which makes it easier to shrug off this nightmare of an outfit with just the top half. By the way...he is purposefully doing this slowly, and his one eye at one point keeps his gaze on Hansa, fingers lingering on his own skin, as he is making this sensual - even when divesting himself of those black long gloves. ]

But, how long can you resist touching me, even like this?

[ Anaxagoras throws a cheeky smirk with as much ease as breathing. It's fairly easy to see that he has a slim form, unsurprisingly - unblemished, except for the chest void that is clearly consistently exposed in his normal attire. ]

You know I can't.

[He is eager. He's nervous. He's liable to explode and fall apart and put himself back together. Barely anything has happened. But just like with the kiss, this is a step forward into a grand beautiful unknown.]

[His beloved works on this outfit with so many parts, like a puzzle. It is both a show, and a damn tease, because he feels like he needs to be kissing him over all these unblemished areas. The shoulders. The arms. The neck. This slender chest. And...]

[Hansa does reach out despite himself, fingertips hovering over this strange void he finds. He has noticed it before, but now...]

Is this also...like your eye, then?

[ Both of them still are wading through uncharted territory, even if the same currents remain very similar to the ones they traversed before. Anaxagoras is, fortunately, becoming accustomed to this - even if the reactions that rise through him are constant, reminding him of how alive he is.

How that excitement and nervousness burns through him like the first time he kissed Hansa.

He also can't help but feel naught but pure satisfaction when Hansa's fingers come closer to him, after the admission that escapes him - though, they still just hover despite their proximity. ]

A result of some experimental creativity that resulted in something so inexplicable, yes. Although, I wouldn't want anyone to so much as have visible sight of my missing eye, unlike this.

...By the way, just in case you may believe laying your hand here will hurt, you don't need to be concerned about it.

[ That said, it isn't somewhere he'd allow just anyone touch, mind. Though, speaking of 'touch', he will reach out with one hand to lay against Hansa's cheek for a moment, fingers carressing it gently. ]

But, if you're going to do so, I want you to undress a bit after. I'm already impatient to see more of you as well.

Experimental creativity, huh.

[The man is practically a mad scientist. And a man who has lived countless lives to boot. His idea of his own existence is something else, indeed. To allow such changes to his body...]

[Wait.]

[He laughs a little, leaning into that carress.]

Pot would be calling kettle black if I commented more. You'll see.

[He's one to talk, he means. His own touch makes contact, drifting down the swell of his chest, before he pulls back to roll up his top. Hansa pulls it up and over his head, discarding it.]

[He looks like one would expect him to around his neck and upper chest. It's the rest that's drastically different. Metal inlaid plates make the rest of his chest and abdomen, and his shoulders and arms are complete prosthetics. His hands almost look like flesh-colored gloves, like this.]

[The remnant of the other's teeth are already healed quite well, much to his chagrin.]

[Hansa's eye dips down, a little vulnerable.]

There...isn't much for you to bite, here.

[ Anaxagoras certainly is.

Although, he has to wonder what is it that's going through Hansa's mind, after he gives the laugh that he does - endearing as ever. But, he is arching one eyebrow when he makes the remark, stoking his natural curiosity further.

He waits! Though, he is not able to suppress a shiver from when Hansa let his own brief touch wander - and then, afterwards, his gaze is intent as the other man divests himself of his attire. The top being taken off and showing off where metal is laid upon his body in lieu of proper skin.

Anaxagoras can't help but reach out to let his fingers touch the material, from the abdomen, to the chest, and also eventually to his shoulders as well as arms. His gaze is filled with fascination, immense appreciation, and wonder. ]

Oh no, I suppose not.

[ Then, his lips curl upwards, as he angles his head downward to press his lips against where the man's heart should lay if it were situated normally - against the metal plate. He cares not how different it feels from the usual, warm skin; he then also pulls back, smile still on his face, albeit more gentle, clear as day. Just so the other man can see it too.

...Before then he lays his head against Hansa. ]

Coincidentally, there is much for myself to love and appreciate and to show in actions that shall be remembered in history itself.

Yes, to be able to witness the evidence behind the strength of the arms I've been held within multiple times is exciting in a way beyond words.

Know it well, Hansa. A physical, tangible mark doesn't have to be engraved upon you to provide as irrefutable proof of the sentiments I have for you.

[ He believes that the man may have concerns that the feeling or appearance of metal may be lacking. But, to Anaxagoras, it is exciting and loveable, just as much as the rest of him. ]

[He almost thinks he doesn't deserve these soft touches. It's a silly thought, he knows. But this body wasn't made to be bared, or carressed, or kissed. It was made for one thing only: to kill. To execute the will of God.]

[And here, a half-god is alighting a divine touch upon consecrated metal. At least he can feel it, and the sensations are brief but intense all the same. And in the midst of it is a beautiful smile, and a weight of a head against this changed chest of his. He is warm. He might be mostly machinery now, but he still is hot-blooded all the same.]

In history itself? You really make me feel you'll write a legend with our names in it.

[His hand drifts to thread through the man's hair, fingers finding the little clasp where he's pulled it back. He wants to see the man's lovely green strands loose and free.]

...I know it doesn't have to be engraved on me. [About the physical marks. He appreciates what he says, though, kissing the top of his scalp with some pleased embarrassment. He loves him all the same. What a beautiful thing to feel.] I just do like when you bite me, that's all.

PC WITH ANAXAGORAS

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