Legend of Ransera

Ayreon chuckled, his hallmark smirk sustaining long beyond the laughter.

"How fascinating..." The knight whispered, for their conversation was altogether intimate. "I don't begrudge you your wanderlust. I'd be a hypocrite if I did, but from what I've read the bonding seems intense and I do fancy intensity. If I were capable of such a thing, I think I would be very keen to try it out. It has its detriments to be sure, but what pleasure doesn't have some sort of hangover, come-down or other such toll." The mention of taste sent his intoxicated mind toward a consummate focus upon that particular sense.

Taste was strange. He supposed one was always experiencing it, but rarely conscious of it outside of very particular scenarios which tended to be tied to pleasure: Food, drink and sex. Now cognizant of his tongue, he set it to dancing behind his teeth. There were still traces of the liqueur, along with the faintly metallic taste that must have been just the default for his mouth.

Rather lost in his mind-altered musings, he was a bit surprised by the incursion of novel flavours in the form of another mouth against his... another tongue partnering with his own in the dance. He straightened his back and leaned more into the other man.

His focus shifted now. For some reason, the effects of the drug seemed to highlight one sensation at a time. Not that the others were absent, but they were muted by the potency of a singular sense. It had been taste, but now it was touch. Tongues could execute that function as well, and so he was attentive to the velvety smoothness of the counterpart appendage and the full lips of the winged boy. There was also the feel of soft feathers at his back and smooth skin under his hands.

"Exquisite..." He whispered against Raithen's lips.

Ayreon, for his part, did not seem remotely concerned with their displays of affection being public. If he wasn't an outright exhibitionist, he was at least cavalier. This was further exemplified by his sudden desire to doff the rest of his garments, that he might feel that uniquely pleasurable sensation of skin on skin. Hands and lips were nice, but torsos and arses shouldn't be left out of the equation in Ayreon's reckoning.

It wasn't the simplest of tasks, given how they were presently arrayed, but the knight was motivated and, as Raithen posed his question, he slid off the last of his constraining clothes.

"I know precisely what I'd like to take." He replied with a snarling smirk as his eyes scanned the golden skin beneath the wings, but he didn't elaborate before being given a more advanced tutorial on the intoxicant they'd recently imbibed. It all sounded well and good to him. He was, after all, the sort of person to blithely try out an unknown decadence with a near complete stranger in a foreign realm without really inquiring as to the breadth of its effects. He'd been prepared to be wholly incapacitated, if it was a pleasurable sort of descent, but this was probably preferable given the environs.

"Ah..." His smirk faded at the line Raithen drew in the proverbial sand, "That is a pity. I don't care for boundaries." He cast his eyes across the room, "Here all this time I'd only had eyes for you, but I suppose I shall have to scan the horizon, now..." Whether or not he knew it, Ayreon was projecting disappointment. His body still reacted to the touch, but his attention was now pointedly elsewhere. His expression was not unlike it had been earlier in the night when Raithen had offered his arm, and Ayreon overtly ignored the gesture.

The light, violet eyes of the knight perused the newly revealed landscape as it was presented. Soon thereafter his hands grazed the hills and valleys he'd already devoured with his gaze. Then he extended his tongue to slide it across one of Raithen's nipples, before the other slid down his form, causing quivers to wrack his entire slender body as the smooth skin of the boy swept over his own.

Though Ayreon's hackles had risen, they were promptly smoothed over by as Raithen offered up another pleasure in lieu of that which seemed to be forbidden. It was difficult, under the influence and the circumstances, to retain so petty a grudge whilst basking in the lap of these augmented delights.

He tipped his head back, loosing a throaty sigh. He let his mouth hang open as his eyes rolled up until he was staring at the wall behind his head. There he remained, relaxed in places and tense in others. It might have been seconds or minutes. However long it was, he eventually tipped his face forward to look down at the blonde head of the Solunarian royal scion.

"It would seem I didn't need to look far, after all..." He told the boy, as he swept long, slender fingers through his silken hair and smiled adoringly and approvingly down at him. Raithen's thoughtful attentions seemed to be enough to retain Ayreon's. Perhaps it was due to the state he'd been left in by the intoxicant, or perhaps it was just a tribute to his particular set of skills, but whatever the case the knight seemed content (perhaps more than that), at least for the moment. He neglected to scan the room for alternatives, now that they'd breached at least one boundary, albeit not the one he might have coveted most to charge through headlong.

How much of this was the drug and how much the boy? Ayreon wondered as he tipped his head back and shut his eyes to give himself over wholly to his tactile senses. There was certainly a boost to that boon provided by the intoxicant which hadn't faded so much as it had focused in from the broader high with which it had begun.

When Raithen withdrew momentarily to garner the attention of staff, Ayreon knitted his brow but didn't trouble himself to lift his head or even to open his eyes. He assumed whatever had elicited the cessation would be temporary and that the pleasures would either resume or revise into a novel medium. And right he was. A bit of music entered the mix and the resumption commenced.

He did glance up eventually, briefly perusing the sights on the stage, though he still found the vision at his lap more alluring. He'd never had the attention of an Avialæ before. He hadn't seen many and those he had seemed unwieldy in their size. This one was enough of a runt that he made for a more suitable lover for one of Ayreon's size. The elf even had the height advantage, if one didn't count the wings in the equation.

It wasn't long before the moment was at hand and in mouth, as the knight let out a vocal utterance in Silandris and the length of his willowy body quivered and pulsed for a few moments before subsiding into stillness. A lazy, satisified smile curled his lips at one side and he lifted his head lazily to look down at Raithen.

"Such a good lad." He praised in a quiet rasp as he lifted a hand to cup his jaw, stroking his cheek with a thumb as he looked down into his eyes. "Is all of Solunarium so doting to foreign delegates?"

Ayreon chuckled rather adoringly, and paid Raithen a light kiss in answer to his compliment. Perhaps it was the softer sentiment he sought to convey, or perhaps he simply wasn't the sort who preferred to taste himself on another's lips, but whatever the case it didn't linger or delve any deeper than those full, pillowy lips. When he broke it, he sighed in satisfaction.

"I so am pleased that I shall be spending more time in your realm, Raithen. I do hope that you will be my guide to many the novel pleasures your land has on offer that I have yet to experience..." He trailed off, as his gaze shifted from Raithen's face to the canopy created by his wing, behind which the dancers continued about their sultry work.

"I would watch you take your pleasure on one of the staff, I think." He said with a somewhat imperious glint to his grin. "But I wish for you to look at me for the entire time you do so. I would sit back and casually drink myself to surfeit, while you toil at your own, base pleasure. Can you do that for me, little bird?"

If he obliged, Ayreon's grin would both deepen and darken. He would kick his feet up on the table, cross his legs at the ankle and watch like some portrait of a haughty, decadent prince in repose. As Raithen would soon discover, that was exactly what Sir Ayreon was.

The indulgences, sensual and intoxicating, would continue into the morning hours and would end with utterances of intention on the part of the Aurisian-accented elf. He was, it seemed, intent upon spending more time in the company of this winged Adonis.