[Matori] And Long Walks On The Beach [Damis | Xilarn]

[Fluffesu]

The Only Black Uke

He didn’t really know what he would’ve done if Damissan had refused. It hadn’t occurred to Xilarn to even fear such a thing until the first opportunity for it was already upon him, and in the suspended second where his lover’s eyes found his and a scrap of fish and noodles was held on the fork in front of Damis’ mouth, Xil had the briefest flutter of a notion that he would be upset if this boy didn’t take this stupid bite of food. Though apparently, as became obvious the instant Damis’ lips parted, Xilarn was equally unsure of what he should do now that he had.

He thought he’d known. Xilarn had moved nearer with the intent to... ‘reward’ behavior he deemed positive. ’You’re so brave, Damissan. I’m so deeply appreciative of your daring endeavors into the world of fine cuisine from the place that was your idea to eat at.’ A special brand of praise for his willingness to at least try things that Xilarn didn’t imagine he would’ve if not prompted a little more adamantly.

Sarcasm probably wasn’t necessarily the response that Damissan would’ve most appreciated, but it was all in good fun.

But- It hardly mattered. Whatever his intentions might’ve been, by the time Xilarn held an empty fork between his fingers—just hanging there in the air even after he’d watched Damis’ lips wrap around the single bite he’d offered, after his gaze trailed down Damis’ throat as he swallowed, after the easing of his lover’s posture from the realization that he hadn’t ingested poison or something equally unpleasant—there didn’t feel a need to say anything except, “You’re perfect, Damissan,” murmured in a tone quieter than he’d intended.

Most unfortunately and despite time and intent and even the familiarity that had come with such things, Damissan’s smiles were thought-shattering, and it felt as though Xilarn might never be fully prepared for that.

Then the utensil was plucked from his fingers, and Damis was shifting beneath his other hand, just a slight brushing of his fingers up- Even that was enough to sweep the full of Xilarn’s attention downward. He sucked in a breath, and when he exhaled, he smiled. “You might consider us even, then,” he hummed. “You fed me in Tale.” Sort of, if stealing a berry from Damis’ tongue really constituted as ‘feeding.’ Xilarn leaned, perching over the corner of the table as he brushed his lips to the corner of the younger man’s jaw and skimming his fingers up along the inside of his thigh to ghost over the midseam of his pants. “I enjoy putting things in your mouth, besides.”

It occurred to him that if they weren’t in a public restaurant, with the edge of the table between them, he might’ve… Well, not climbed into Damis’ lap, certainly, but probably something that looked fairly similar. But they were in a restaurant with food on the table between them, so Xilarn settled back into his own seat instead and took up his own fork.

“I won’t pretend like I enjoyed Jauhar’s cuisine any more than you. It certainly is-” He scooped a bite of smoked fish onto his fork as he considered the next word. “-unique… to the jungle, I suppose.” There probably weren’t many things he was less interested in eating than engorged armor slugs. “Not quite as fancy as what you’re having now, by any means.”

He took his bite and spent probably more time than was necessary chewing and glancing down at his dish. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten out in like fashion. Maybe not since he’d actually lived in Oba with his family, as a child… The novelty of it was there certainly, and he wouldn’t argue that probably anything he could purchase here would taste better than most things he could prepare himself. Yet, even though it was an enjoyable and infrequent occurrence, being here, in this land was at least at much.

His focus turned back to his companion. “Do you want to see if we might box the rest of-” He gestured to their plates. “-this up, walk down to the water, and finish on the sand?”  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Fluffesu

A lot of things could come from Xilarn’s mouth, not all of them distinctly pleasant, and over the course of their travels together, Damissan had come to take most everything in stride as ‘teasing’ rather than actual malice. Of course, after their relationship had become more personal, it was at times perhaps easier to overreact to things not necessarily intended poorly. This, however…

You’re perfect…

It was difficult to take for anything but what it was, and for a moment Damissan blinked, caught off-guard. Then, flushing, he returned his companion’s smile.

“Mm…I-” Whatever might have come of that sentence, however, was distracted by the path of Xilarn’s lips and hand, and in that particular instant, the dominant portion of Damissan’s decision-making process concluded that nothing else was more worthy of his focus. Certainly not forming sentences, in any case. Thus, ‘I’ll take your word for it…’ and ‘I do like to think my mouth is receptive to most of what you might put in it…’ came boiled down into a grand summation of: “Ah…”

Then, Xilarn settled back.

And as though the haze of a magical and mind-dizzying aura had backed off with him, Damissan blinked and cleared his throat. “‘Unique’ is one word for it, I suppose,” he said. “And compared to that…this is a delicacy. I still think I might starve before successfully consuming steaming slug intestine.”

He took another bite of his own regard, as though re-inspired to think it even less objectionable by comparison, was in the midst of fiddling with a second when Xilarn made his suggestion. Immediately, the concept appealed. Fresh ocean breeze skittered in over them and the outer patio here, but that and the sound of the rolling sea as it embraced the sand on each in-swell would be only more prominent if they separated themselves from the chatter of strangers. Thus, while Damissan didn’t mind the presence of the restaurant, he nodded without hesitation, and on glancing about and spotting a server, raised a hand in a brief entreat for attention.

After the man approached and inquiry had been made, it wasn’t long before they were taking up what they had left, and making their way out. Though he knew it would quiet, Damissan found himself surprised nonetheless at the ease of subtle tension that came with distancing themselves from the crowd. He loved people, festivities, and activity generally—yet, he realized as their steps took them further from the bustling of others, that in Xilarn’s presence at least, he had grown very accustomed to sharing spaces in private obscurity with no one to bear witness but the elements.

It felt natural.

His gaze skimmed out over the open sea, marveling at how endlessly it seemed to stretch, into infinity on the horizon, and in that instant, he resolved to stoop, and remove his boots, so that the shifting sand could be warm and textured under his feet. He hummed.

“It’s a pity we aren’t closer to the shore at home,” he remarked at length. “Though I’m not fond the ocean’s ‘natural meats’, I think this might be only the third time I’ve had opportunity to look out on the sea itself, and it is beautiful.”