"why not?" he says back, lips curved. his gaze is steady and sure as it falls on emerson whitlock, as if there is nothing more than he would like to do to spend the rest of his days staring at them, watching them, observing them. "has no one ever called you interesting before?"

[break][break] how unfortunate.

[break][break] but how fortunate for him.

[break][break] as the other curves around the edge of the bench, a hand curls around the edge of a knee. warm, as a palm slides against his thigh.

[break][break] but caden doesn't look down, doesn't act as if he's doing anything different. as if they're just having a nice and simple conversation in the quiet of the speakeasy.

[break][break] "are you sure?" he hums. "i think i would remember a pretty face like yours."

[attr="class","ooc"] emerson whitlock [break]
the ritual [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-munna"]

“I don’t know?”[break][break]

Adrenaline spikes as a hand moves up his thigh. Surprise only flickers across his face briefly as the contact jolts through him, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he shifts closer to further the opportunity.[break][break]

His thoughts still scatter, though, and he has to sort through his sudden attentive fixation on the touch along with the fog from his drinking to stammer through a response. “No. I-I mean, not that people never, uh, compliment me or, or whatever. Just…don’t take compliments well.” He shrugs quickly, as if that’s the best explanation he can give for his awkwardness.[break][break]

Em frowns slightly, bottom lip puffing in the slightest hint of a pout. “I…yes? I’m pretty sure.” His face darkens further at the compliment, but he’s certain he’s not mistaken.[break][break]

Unless the other is trying to throw him off for some reason. Maybe he should play dumb? Seems weird, but— His head tilts as he watches caden maher , eyes narrowing in a way that’s more flirtatious than suspicious.[break][break]

“But maybe I’m mistaken?”

[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] caden maher | save him… [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-minccino"]

there is something sharp in caden's eyes, like a snake closing in on a mouse, when emerson whitlock reveals his secrets.

[break][break] never complimented before? not good at taking compliments?

[break][break] how perfect.

[break][break] "what a shame," he says, head angling towards the other in the booth. "you're someone who deserves compliments, emerson."

[break][break] his hand stays warm against the redhead's thigh, not quite yet reaching for something yet. his body does angles towards him though, his eyes never leaving the other's face. one of his knees bumps against theirs, interest flickering in that dark gaze of his alongside something else.

[break][break] something like heat.

[break][break] "you're good to look at," he murmurs. "and i think you'd be good at more. don't you?"

[break]

[attr="class","ooc"] emerson whitlock [break]
the ritual [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-munna"]

Em chews at his bottom lip as the other’s words roll through him. Igniting more heat in his face and an uneven thump in his chest as Caden tacks his name to the end in a way that somehow makes it heavier handed. “aah, thanks?”[break][break]

He’s gonna get swallowed up. Maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen. His leg tingles where that hand lingers, and a part of him is impatient that it stopped, the other part of him embarrassed for being impatient. He twists inward as well, and it’s probably written all over his face.[break][break]

You’re good to look at.[break][break]

The instinct is to retort with a no, you sort of remark. Caden is tall, dark, and handsome. And frankly, Em sort of feels like a scrawny pipsqueak next to him. But maybe that’s appealing, he doesn’t know.[break][break]

He’s not exactly thinking with his brain, by now.[break][break]

Instead, it feels like his shrinking violet tendency has been seen through. Like the other knows what lurks under the surface behind all of his initial shyness and awkward demeanor.[break][break]

Sort of thrilling to be found out, isn’t it? Even if Em wasn’t initially planning on concluding his night like this, he’s not about to turn down the chance, either.[break][break]

Awkward or not, he isn’t stupid.[break][break]

Or even inexperienced. So he tilts into it—lets their eyes reconnect, the same sort of low burn flickering in his own. Close enough to kill the distance, but holding off at the last second as the corners of his open mouth start to curl upward the tiniest bit. “You sound real confident about that.”[break][break]

It’s liquid courage, and probably ill-advised. But that’s what makes it fun.

[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] caden maher | save him… [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-minccino"]

caden is smart, wickedly so. there are many things he can do that are a talent, and many things his time could be spent better with. there are responsibilities he has, even in this lackluster version of a life that his brother has forced him into.

[break][break] but that night, his heart lulled with liquor and his interests in all other things waned, the only thing that he seems keen on is finding out more ways to make emerson whitlock squirm.

[break][break] and he's not afraid to make that known.

[break][break] the redhead tilts towards him, and the seductive smirk the doctor wears grows in turn. his hand continues moving then, slowly, down the curve of the other's inner thigh. he leans in.

[break][break] "ah," he murmurs huskily. "what can i say? i'm good at reading people."

[break][break] caden leans in close, until his breath is enough to overlap.

[break][break] "emerson."

[break][break] a hand leans over, his body hunched over the other's shadow, so no one can see what they are up to.

[break][break] "kiss me."

[break]

[attr="class","ooc"] emerson whitlock [break]
the ritual [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-munna"]

Of all places…here? It makes Emerson’s head swim to think that they’re not retreating somewhere like one of their places. Or even a dark corner. And yet he can’t quite manage to retreat, either.[break][break]

“Do you, uh, wanna find somewhere, or..?” The question trails as his breath wobbles, thoughts uprooted entirely by the drag of the other’s palm. Unconsciously, he shifts in place. Maybe coaxingly. “Well, you. Hah, you got me! Busted…”[break][break]

There it is, his name again.[break][break]

His heart hammers against his ribs and his eyelids flutter, and it would be so easy to do as he’s told. To just lean up and close the gap as the other shields him from the rest of the room.[break][break]

But the thing about Em is that he’s always been a bit stubborn in this regard. Maybe it’s because he flounders and people pleases in so many other aspects of his life.[break][break]

So this is where it kicks in.[break][break]

He does let his chin tilt up to draw closer. Impossibly close without connection, before he halts just shy of it again. The smile stretches wider and their lips brush just barely as the words roll off his tongue.[break][break]

“You’re bossy, huh?”[break][break]

No more than that.
[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] caden maher | save him… [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-minccino"]

normally, the name of the game is discretion. normally, caden has things to worry about — his job, his title, his position. however, he no longer works at lilycove general hospital, and all the responsibilities he currently has would probably not give a damn that he was currently coaxing this cute redhead in this bar booth.

[break][break] or maybe, caden's thoughts are just that far-gone. maybe the ritual's alcohol is much better than originally anticipated.

[break][break] or maybe it is emerson that makes the difference. that makes him want to do something more, something risky.

[break][break] the brush of lips against his casts a thrill, heat curling invitingly in his gut. but it is not yet satisfaction.

[break][break] his hand slides down lower, and then maybe lower still, sliding dangerously against their inner thigh.

[break][break] "i am," he rumbles. "do you have a problem with that?"

[break][break] once more, onyx eyes settle onto ruddy amber.

[break][break] "do you want me to stop?"

[break]

[attr="class","ooc"] emerson whitlock [break]
the ritual [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-munna"]

The agreement sends a harsh shiver rocketing down his spine.[break][break]

He shakes his head once, then twice. For a moment, he doesn’t trust his voice to not snag and hitch on a noise that would definitely get them caught. Caden can boss him around all he likes.[break][break]

Especially if it means the risk of the other’s hand traveling a little too far pays off.[break][break]

Unconsciously, his fingers curl in the front of Caden’s very nice, probably very expensive shirt—but this is the price to be paid for teasing Em like he is. Swallowing thickly, he uses that anchoring to pull closer— “N..no way.”[break][break]

The ache of need in the pit of his stomach won’t allow for stopping. So he does as he was told and finally closes the distance.[break][break]

It’s a drunk and sloppy sort of kiss, but does that really matter in the shady corner of a bar on new year’s eve?

[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] caden maher | save him… [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-minccino"]

there is something heady and intoxicating in the dark corner of the bar. murmurs of conversation echo around them, the sound of clinking glass, and the amber glow of the bar's hanging low-lights reflect in caden's eyes as he lowers himself down.

[break][break] their lips brush, his eyes focused on the other. inviting, teasing, daring.

[break][break] and then just like that - emerson whitlock falls. hook, line and sinker.

[break][break] they kiss him with the flustered sort of virgin kiss that he'd come to expect — drunk and sloppy and eager to fulfill all of caden's wants and needs. it stirs a fire within his gut, the sort of heat that curls when caden thinks about someone bending and breaking to his will. the sort of power and lust that his life had sorely been lacking as of late.

[break][break] for a second, caden gets pulled into the wave. but then, he stops. he pulls back, not all the way, and curls his hand against their shoulder. "careful," he says, and then kisses them back — but slower, steadier. caden is careful to control the pace of this, even if he'd been so demanding before.

[break][break] a smile curves against their mouth.

[break][break] "you're needy, huh?"

[attr="class","ooc"] emerson whitlock [break]
the ritual [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-munna"]

Emerson is clumsy, yes. Awkward, definitely. But he’s definitely not virginal. The messiness of his kiss is only fueled by his drunkenness. Spurred by his desire to have needs met, and satisfaction guaranteed. So maybe it is caden maher, who has fallen into a trap, instead.[break][break]

He can feel the slip, almost giving way before Caden pulls himself back into control. Em lets his tongue slide along the curve of his bottom lip. His teeth nip at the same spot before direction pulls him away. Hooded eyes watch Caden, darting sideways to the hand on his shoulder.[break][break]

His head tilts. For now, he plays along. Lets him have the control he apparently so badly wants. It would be easy to be swept up in this—to be at the other’s whim for the rest of the evening.[break][break]

But that would be boring.[break][break]

Em lets the kiss deepen, tilting into the feeling of being close and leaning up into the height difference that exists even while seated.[break][break]

Rust red eyes flare open at the words that tumble from the other’s addictive lips and it’s then that his gears shift. Leaning back, they smile all vulpine and clever. “You have no idea what I am.”[break][break]

He absolutely is needy. He would whine and beg if poked and prodded right. But he’s not about to make that easy. Needy and easy weren’t synonymous in his book.


[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] caden maher | save him… [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-minccino"]

caden is a man who likes control.

[break][break] like a snake, he coils around his prey with the ease and comfort of one who has done so many times before. but perhaps this is more of an example of how far he's fallen, that he doesn't realize how much something else has coiled around him.

[break][break] in the darkness of the bar, he presses himself closer to the ruddy redhead crouched beneath his touch. he lets him fall into desire and heat, hand slotted dangerously against their inner thigh, pressing closer still.

[break][break] nearly devoured by want, caden doesn't realize it until the other speaks. suddenly, he is staring into amber-bright eyes, the curve of a smile that looks suddenly nothing like the mouse that he had thought he'd trapped.

[break][break] 'you have no idea what i am.'

[break][break] his gaze darkens.

[break][break] "i don't?" caden says huskily, hand sliding through the other's hair and tugging lightly to expose a pale neck. licking a stripe up his neck, his teeth grazes dangerously against his adam's apple. his other hand slipping beneath a shirt to splay a hand against his abdomen. his breath labors against the shell of emerson whitlock's ear

[break][break] "why don't you show me then, sweetheart?"

[break]

[attr="class","ooc"] emerson whitlock [break]
the ritual [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-munna"]

As Emerson scrutinizes him, he sees the moment it shifts. The realization that sinks into those dark eyes. It’s satisfying. Meek and awkward little Emerson, only occasionally able to reroute a situation so that he is the one calling the shots.[break][break]
At least somewhat. Something he quickly finds at risk as fingers tangle in his hair and render his neck vulnerable. He has to bite his lip to stifle the heavy breath that crawls up his throat as teeth and tongue drag over skin, threatening to pull him back under the surface.[break][break]
“That’s what you want, hm?” Emerson coos in return, head tilting as they continue to attempt in keeping that slight distance from him. He leans forward, detangling a hand from his hair and chin perching in his palm as his elbow rests on the table. Amber eyes watch Caden carefully, “Will it be worth my while?”[break][break]
The smile on his face betrays the fact that he knows it will be. He’s decently drunk, and full of the heat that comes with desire. But there is a distinct satisfaction in turning the tables on the other. The press of his hand is still there under Em's shirt—present and existing to create the needling of impatience under his skin.[break][break]
He shifts inward, allowing the jostle to shift that hand lower. Spiking his pulse, breath hanging in his throat though he makes no sound. It’s like one big game of promiscuous chicken. “If you think it will be, then we should get out of this booth.”[break][break]
It’s a line that should be delivered coyly, heavy with intent. But for better or worse, clever or not, Emerson is still Emerson. So it comes out matter of factly, instead. A simple suggestion rather than heady flirtation.
[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] caden maher | save him… [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-minccino"]

"do you think," he murmurs, pressing his lips down the length of the redhead's throat. "i wouldn't?"

[break][break] caden's teeth grazes against his adam's apple before going back to emerson's face, claiming another heated kiss.

[break][break] a tongue slips in effortlessly, his hands sliding beneath the hem of a shirt. the bar fades into white noise as that hand curves around emerson's hip, pulling him forward. securely, possessively.

[break][break] his other hand slips further still and finds satisfaction.

[break][break] the rocket swallows the breath that hangs in emerson's throat, taking him for all he's worth. he's ready to lose everything. a man who has lost it all is afraid of nothing, after all. but then, emerson speaks.

[break][break] caden is forced to pull away, and when he does, his eyes are impossibly dark. silver blown a slate onyx. his lips purse together, before he huffs out a sigh. 

[break][break] "since you asked so nicely..."

[break][break] only slightly reluctantly, he pulls back. caden's lips press once more against those swollen lips, before he stands up fully and pulls emerson up with him. against him.

[break][break] "take me home, emerson."

[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] emerson whitlock [break]
the ritual [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-munna"]