noctium: ic contact

[anbu]

TEXT / AUDIO / VIDEO / ACTION
un: "uchiha, itachi" hungryeyes

Comments

[anbu]

I wasn't going to criticize the decision, though I suppose I had not realized the extent to which Worse Dragon had impacted you.

[Not shocking, considering how few their interactions in Aefenglom, by his own design.]

I recall that the book you forced me to purchase, [yeah that's what happened] in the end, was very enlightening despite its obscenity. At the time I was not in a place to appreciate it. [Oh, ye old prude days.]

Do you have plans for other employees? You seem set on this. What if our stay does not last here?

[mensrea]

"Forced" you. Yeah, okay, whatever helps you sleep at night.

If we're whisked away yet again to some other dimension, what's it matter? The business will pass on to someone else, I guess. But I can't just sit here with my thumb up my ass doing nothing. It's already been over a year since I was home. I'm turning nineteen in a few weeks. Life continues, even if it's not where I belong.

I need to do SOMETHING with myself. You know?

[anbu]

[He doesn't know — it seems as though, over the course of dimensional experience, they've traveled in different directions. The more this recurs, the less willing and interested Itachi is in permanency; as though the intensity he'd dug himself into Aefenglom's problems had evaporated the moment Sasuke, Stiles, and Jonas had left and he was alone. Hell seemed even more pointless, except that it punished him rightly.

Yet similar is not something he would have ever called him and Stiles, so it doesn't alarm him. If Stiles weren't with him in Noctium now, would he even attempt to engage? Admitting that the boy is like an anchor toward whatever parts of humanity still exist within himself, and any real desire to be alive, feels unfair. A heavy burden. He determines never to say it.]

You will return home eventually. Your birthday, it's the 8th next month, correct?

[mensrea]

Eventually. I'm not going to stop living until then.

You remembered. Yeah, it's the 8th of April. Or Diamil, in this world. At least it won't be a full moon this time.

[anbu]

It was a difficult night to forget. Do you have plans?

[mensrea]

Still can't believe you never thanked me for saving your life that night. Ungrateful.

Nope, no plans. Maybe we can have our date then?

1/2

[anbu]

[WOW]

You did not save my life.

[anbu]

And yes, I was going to make that suggestion, so long as you have the availability.

1/2

[mensrea]

Yes I did.

[mensrea]

Sounds good. I'm gonna kick your ass in Poker.

[anbu]

[Ignoring whatever Poker is—]

Why do you believe my life was endangered?

[mensrea]

[ Do we really need to discuss this, can't you just accept your lord and savior, Stiles Stilinski. ]

Witches are at their weakest on the night of a full moon. Monsters are prone to go feral those nights. You do the math.

You're welcome.

[anbu]

[Yes we NEED TO DISCUSS THIS. He has spiderweb trauma.]

If anything, at the time, you were the only threat I encountered. There was no reason to escort me across the city.

[mensrea]

At the time. Who knows what could have happened. I took preventative measures.

[anbu]

[He's about to argue further when it occurs to him that the point is not only ancient history, but perhaps hypocritical, when he himself has made executive decisions in the interest of "preventative measures" without explicit permission. Exhibit A: the massacre.

Maybe they are more alike than he wishes to admit.]

Fine.

Was there anything else you wished to ask me?

[mensrea]

[ Sweet victory. ]

Yeah.

What're you wearing?

[anbu]

Excuse me?

NSFW

[mensrea]

[ The response is a long time coming. Stiles has to talk himself into the idea, then take time to set up. Eventually, a picture is sent to Itachi – taken from his perspective, looking down at his reclining body on a bed. Pink, peaked nipples stand at attention in the cool air, his shirt discarded somewhere out of sight. The long, smooth plane of his abdomen gives way to pelvis bones, jutting out from where sweatpants ride dangerously low. One hand has disappeared under the waistband, fingers spread beneath the fabric. ]

Tell me what you're wearing.

1/2

[anbu]

[What is happening right now.]

[anbu]

[Of course, due to his attraction to Stiles, he is not immune to the image. In fact, the visual stimuli has a greater impact than he could have anticipated — a hot, swooping tug of arousal pulls down into his belly as he studies lines of bare skin and the implication of that hand’s placement. Unfortunately he is not a man of interpersonal acuity or charm, and so the reply is disappointingly blunt:]

A shirt and pants. Why did you send me that?

[mensrea]

[ Okay, to be fair – what did Stiles even expect. ]

I'm sexting you. Sex texting? As in, initiating long-distance sex through explicit pictures or descriptions.

[ Doubt begins to creep in, but he stubbornly pushes it to the side. Itachi's attracted to him. He knows that. There's no reason to be embarrassed. ]

Interested?

[anbu]

[Pictures... and descriptions...]

Do you want to have sex? Wouldn’t you prefer that to happen in reality, instead of from a distance?

[mensrea]

[ God, Itachi is so similar to Malia sometimes. ]

Well, yeah. But that requires me getting off my ass to come visit you. And there's something sexy about doing it this way. It'll make seeing each other in person next time even better. Trust my methods.

[anbu]

[He had to go and use the T word.

Itachi's response is somewhat delayed, frozen in the temporary deliberation of how to proceed within new, foreign, uncomfortable territory. He's learned how to be intimate with Stiles through physical action, not through words. After tabbing back to the image sent and studying it with the dark, potent knowledge that is how Stiles looks right now—that is what he is doing at this very moment, all for him—a message finally comes.]

I'm not certain what's expected of me. Describing my clothes cannot be satisfying for you. Should I also send a picture?

[The effort and willingness to try is there; he will simply need Stiles' lead.]

[mensrea]

[ For once, Stiles is patient. Nestled in his bed, covers kicked aside, he rereads Itachi’s previous messages while waiting for the man to respond. This is new territory for him; all attempts to sext Malia had crashed and burned spectacularly. But through the distant anxiety of trying something different, there’s a bud of anticipatory excitement too – one that blooms into a familiar warmth of affection when the shinobi finally texts back. ]

You can send a picture if you want. Or you can tell me how it made you feel, seeing that picture of me. Did it turn you on?