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[ffxv] untitled cornyx snippet
Dec. 3rd, 2018 09:44 pman old tumblr-only snippet.
*
“A lion doesn’t suit you,” Nyx says, fingers tracing the outline of the tattoo on the back of Cor’s leg. He’s seen it before, but hasn’t yet had the opportunity to really look until now.
Cor shrugs, the gesture muted by the fact that he’s lying on his stomach on Nyx’s bed, arms crossed beneath his cheek, chin tucked up against his shoulder as he watches Nyx. "Take it up with the family.“
Nyx hums, letting the pad of his thumb rest on an inked fang. The lion is stylized, geometricized, mouth wide open mid-roar – there’s a talented hand behind it, even if it doesn’t quite sit right in Nyx’s mind. Cor has never once mentioned anything about his own family before, and Nyx will be surprised if he does again. He knows enough, about war and loss and the way people reshape themselves in the midst of both to cope, to fill in at least some of those blanks.
He knows, too, that he’ll never ask for elaboration.
Nyx bends down, presses his lips to the lion’s nose and smiles against skin. Then higher, to the soft, vulnerable skin behind Cor’s knee, nipping the tendon just hard enough to feel it tighten between his teeth. He resettles moments later, covering Cor’s body with his own despite the half-hearted complaint about the heat. Cor’s ear proves a tempting target, and he leans in, lips brushing the shell of it, tempted to bite. "You’re a wolf, Marshal.”
“A wolf, huh?” Cor’s voice is muffled, but amused.
“A wolf.” Nyx gives into the temptation, because he has no real reason to resist, and because there’s something deeply satisfying in Cor’s quiet hiss as his body goes tense beneath him. "We know our kind.“
*
“A lion doesn’t suit you,” Nyx says, fingers tracing the outline of the tattoo on the back of Cor’s leg. He’s seen it before, but hasn’t yet had the opportunity to really look until now.
Cor shrugs, the gesture muted by the fact that he’s lying on his stomach on Nyx’s bed, arms crossed beneath his cheek, chin tucked up against his shoulder as he watches Nyx. "Take it up with the family.“
Nyx hums, letting the pad of his thumb rest on an inked fang. The lion is stylized, geometricized, mouth wide open mid-roar – there’s a talented hand behind it, even if it doesn’t quite sit right in Nyx’s mind. Cor has never once mentioned anything about his own family before, and Nyx will be surprised if he does again. He knows enough, about war and loss and the way people reshape themselves in the midst of both to cope, to fill in at least some of those blanks.
He knows, too, that he’ll never ask for elaboration.
Nyx bends down, presses his lips to the lion’s nose and smiles against skin. Then higher, to the soft, vulnerable skin behind Cor’s knee, nipping the tendon just hard enough to feel it tighten between his teeth. He resettles moments later, covering Cor’s body with his own despite the half-hearted complaint about the heat. Cor’s ear proves a tempting target, and he leans in, lips brushing the shell of it, tempted to bite. "You’re a wolf, Marshal.”
“A wolf, huh?” Cor’s voice is muffled, but amused.
“A wolf.” Nyx gives into the temptation, because he has no real reason to resist, and because there’s something deeply satisfying in Cor’s quiet hiss as his body goes tense beneath him. "We know our kind.“
