It was one thing to notice perversion. It was another thing entirely to be moved onto and forced to resist an - at the time - unwanted movement. Grinding and groping. Caesarion had his interests peaked for a moment, but when the other male who he knew to be Dagon decided to pounce onto him and try to pin him down, his instincts immediately activated. There was no need for . . . violence, but resistance was a different thing altogether. As the bard moved in to try and kiss at the mage's lips, his hands touched the back of his neck and transmuted Res extremely quickly. A gaseous Res resulted in a bubble of wind wrapping around the man's entire face, making it difficult to breathe. Caesarion would then attract the wind back to his hands while keeping it pressed against Dagon's face, resulting in a sort of grapple on him that he would use to flip him over, his back meeting the mattress and Caesarion the one hovering over him, pinning him down, releasing the air covering his face. He would be able to see properly and hear properly again, though his eyes might be watery and his vision blurry for the briefest of moments.
"Dagon."
The man called his name. "That's not how civilized people play. Do you want me to imagine you uncivilized?" He held the man down firmly. Caesarion was of superior weight and strength. He would be able to keep him down and if he resisted too much he'd suck the stamina out of him with Reimancy. He didn't play games. He was going to let the bard calm down, and then they could resume civilized discussion - assuming this man did in fact have any civility to him, which he imagined was less likely than before. But then he had to question it all. When he was acting instinctively, he didn't question anything - he only imagined fighting for his . . . chastity, and maintaining dominance. Now there were hordes of inquiries flowing through his mind. Why did Dagon suddenly lose composure? Did his Hypnotism go too far? Was this actually his fault instead of the other man's? Could he actually blame him?
He felt . . . confusion. A mixture composed of guilt and rage; preservation of his dignity but also a pondering into Dagon's heart and what he wanted. Why he did what he did. He stared into his eyes and exhaled. He tried to relax himself as he tried - and perhaps failed - at relaxing the other man. He decided to speak and remind him to be tame. He would use . . . Hypnotism, keeping him calm. Relaxing his nerves. Making him feel good without being tense; in a way, pleasuring him without a single physical movement. He used another stage of conditioning - sudden thought, making him think: Calm, over and over. Calm.
"Forgive me. I am being unfair," he said. His eyes narrowed almost sorrowfully as he leaned in to kiss the man on the cheek. Their chests pressed against one another - feeling their quick heartbeats, the warmth of their bodies. Caesarion locked his fingers with Dagon's instead of holding down his wrists. "I should not tease if it is not my intention to follow through. I lose myself in the struggle for entertainment - sometimes, unwittingly, I play with people and their emotions. Tug at their needs. This is not unlike me. And yet . . . I am sorry." He pulled back and moved to the edge of the bed, placing himself away from Dagon, sitting with his elbows touching his knees. He looked down, seeming embarrassed or stressed out by whatever just happened. There were so many things to ponder upon.
First was the fear of loss of dignity. For some reason Caesarion had always related his flower to his dignity - it was as if remaining prudish was a method of keeping himself proud. He promised that there was essentially only one person he'd give himself to. Anything else was as if a heresy upon his divine form, and he could not possibly imagine blighting himself with such insecurities over a temporary pleasure. Thus, despite how badly he'd wanted to give his sexual interests a try, he continued and continued to refrain. He pulled away where others moved forward, always keeping out of their range. All the people he'd found attractive became nothing to him. They were . . . just, simple desires that he felt he needed to hide away from. So he did, and he had succeeded in doing so.
Second was the games. He wasn't sure if Dagon was simply aggressive or if somehow he forced that reaction from him. Either way it was unfair to retaliate so brutally considering the nature of human beings. If it was simply a mistake, it only required a simple apology. His retaliation was far too severe - he could have choked him. Worst, the transmutation could have gone wrong. This was unlikely for a mage of his caliber but it was still a possibility that required consideration. So where did that leave him now? It left him wondering. What did he do? What could he do to make amends? What did Dagon want? Why did Dagon reach out to him? Why did he pounce so aggressively? Why did he feel like he wasn't just another passing face . . . ? He felt like his appearance and his personality was more treasured than it was sought after for menial pleasures. Maybe his unnatural wariness had gotten the better of him and he came too close to depicting Dagon as a simple seducer who would cast him away.
"I am leaving tomorrow," he said. "You mentioned that you have no attachment to this place. If you sincerely want to follow me to Riverfall, even if it's just on the pretense of pleasure, then come to where I am and sit on my lap. If you only imagined that you would manipulate me and move on . . . then open your door and I will leave." It was a simple enough decision. He would give Dagon some semblance of what he wanted if he was being honest about following Caesarion. If not, then he was gone, and their temporal bond was completely severed.
"Dagon."
The man called his name. "That's not how civilized people play. Do you want me to imagine you uncivilized?" He held the man down firmly. Caesarion was of superior weight and strength. He would be able to keep him down and if he resisted too much he'd suck the stamina out of him with Reimancy. He didn't play games. He was going to let the bard calm down, and then they could resume civilized discussion - assuming this man did in fact have any civility to him, which he imagined was less likely than before. But then he had to question it all. When he was acting instinctively, he didn't question anything - he only imagined fighting for his . . . chastity, and maintaining dominance. Now there were hordes of inquiries flowing through his mind. Why did Dagon suddenly lose composure? Did his Hypnotism go too far? Was this actually his fault instead of the other man's? Could he actually blame him?
He felt . . . confusion. A mixture composed of guilt and rage; preservation of his dignity but also a pondering into Dagon's heart and what he wanted. Why he did what he did. He stared into his eyes and exhaled. He tried to relax himself as he tried - and perhaps failed - at relaxing the other man. He decided to speak and remind him to be tame. He would use . . . Hypnotism, keeping him calm. Relaxing his nerves. Making him feel good without being tense; in a way, pleasuring him without a single physical movement. He used another stage of conditioning - sudden thought, making him think: Calm, over and over. Calm.
"Forgive me. I am being unfair," he said. His eyes narrowed almost sorrowfully as he leaned in to kiss the man on the cheek. Their chests pressed against one another - feeling their quick heartbeats, the warmth of their bodies. Caesarion locked his fingers with Dagon's instead of holding down his wrists. "I should not tease if it is not my intention to follow through. I lose myself in the struggle for entertainment - sometimes, unwittingly, I play with people and their emotions. Tug at their needs. This is not unlike me. And yet . . . I am sorry." He pulled back and moved to the edge of the bed, placing himself away from Dagon, sitting with his elbows touching his knees. He looked down, seeming embarrassed or stressed out by whatever just happened. There were so many things to ponder upon.
First was the fear of loss of dignity. For some reason Caesarion had always related his flower to his dignity - it was as if remaining prudish was a method of keeping himself proud. He promised that there was essentially only one person he'd give himself to. Anything else was as if a heresy upon his divine form, and he could not possibly imagine blighting himself with such insecurities over a temporary pleasure. Thus, despite how badly he'd wanted to give his sexual interests a try, he continued and continued to refrain. He pulled away where others moved forward, always keeping out of their range. All the people he'd found attractive became nothing to him. They were . . . just, simple desires that he felt he needed to hide away from. So he did, and he had succeeded in doing so.
Second was the games. He wasn't sure if Dagon was simply aggressive or if somehow he forced that reaction from him. Either way it was unfair to retaliate so brutally considering the nature of human beings. If it was simply a mistake, it only required a simple apology. His retaliation was far too severe - he could have choked him. Worst, the transmutation could have gone wrong. This was unlikely for a mage of his caliber but it was still a possibility that required consideration. So where did that leave him now? It left him wondering. What did he do? What could he do to make amends? What did Dagon want? Why did Dagon reach out to him? Why did he pounce so aggressively? Why did he feel like he wasn't just another passing face . . . ? He felt like his appearance and his personality was more treasured than it was sought after for menial pleasures. Maybe his unnatural wariness had gotten the better of him and he came too close to depicting Dagon as a simple seducer who would cast him away.
"I am leaving tomorrow," he said. "You mentioned that you have no attachment to this place. If you sincerely want to follow me to Riverfall, even if it's just on the pretense of pleasure, then come to where I am and sit on my lap. If you only imagined that you would manipulate me and move on . . . then open your door and I will leave." It was a simple enough decision. He would give Dagon some semblance of what he wanted if he was being honest about following Caesarion. If not, then he was gone, and their temporal bond was completely severed.
