You gotta trust your mastermind

[grandhighwizard]

These things had to be done right. Playing with someone was a pleasant distraction, and like many things in Rhys's life, it was a mixture of spur of the moment decision (he'd certainly never intended to start pursuing the Ancient Runes professor, no matter what he looked like, until he idly needled the man and found out how fascinatingly easy he was to poke) and careful planning to get exactly what he wanted.

So he prepared the herbal tea mixture quite carefully. Blueberry-pomegranate he could do - he had seeds and infusions, and a few black tea leaves, and just a pinch of this and that, all put in a nice little tea ball. It was a tasty mix, with the added benefit that it would render the drinker rather open to suggestion. Not ridiculously so, but just enough that the person would be more willing than usual to go along with requests. Which was just what Rhys needed - Onikous might be oblivious to some things, but best to take no chances. He wanted the younger man thinking this was all his idea.

That morning in the Great Hall, he made sure to get to breakfast in plenty of time to sit down next to the Rune professor, setting a cup of hot water next to the man, and the tea ball dropped gently into the mug, as he settled into his own chair.

"Try that. I made it with you in mind, and I'd like to see if it suits. I can always tweak the formula, if you don't like it."

Comments

[psiignlanguage]

"Well, I don't follow politics, actually. I avoid it as much as possible." In fact, aside for his father's dead as a repercussion of the recent war, he would not have ever really known about the extremities of the war entirely.

With his plate now cleaned off, Cyrus leans back in his seat, finishing off the other glass of wine. "I say that because you very obviously have done greater things. It's as if this was you...being bored."

He doesn't feel as if he's sharp witted anymore. This is one reason he does not drink.

[grandhighwizard]

Rhys tipped his head to one side, resting a forefinger against his jaw. "Oh, I wouldn't say I'm bored. Not even a little bit," he purred. "It's different, here, and I still have my ... hobbies, of course. And I'm meeting so many interesting people."

He stood, smoothly, refilling both their glasses (a splash for his, more for Cy), and gestured to his couch. "Come sit with me? I'm enjoying the conversation ... "

[psiignlanguage]

His head had started to swim a bit by this point. It was a bit heavy as he stood up and managed to maneuver his way over to the couch. He was still holding his glass of wine, and he took a sip almost the moment that he sat down.

"My, this...is a bit stronger than I thought." He paused. "What sort of hobbies do you have?"

[grandhighwizard]

The taller man sat down, quite a bit closer than was really necessary, letting one long arm rest casually along the back of the couch. "Painting," he said, gesturing at the weird picture of the moth. "Personal research into certain ... formulae. I have several collections of things, as well, and I do love to read."

He smiled again - Rhys seemed to smile a lot. "And what is it you do for fun? What do you enjoy?"

[psiignlanguage]

"You painted that?" Cyrus asked, rather breathlessly. He seemed genuinely impressed by that. But he managed a laugh as he took another sip from the glass--whoa, had he seriously finished the glass off between standing up and sitting back down?

"My work's what I do for fun. I fancy astronomy too, I thuppoth."

And just like that--he's lisping. This time from alcohol.

[grandhighwizard]

"I did. Your work has to be more than teaching, though, doesn't it?" Rhys asked. "Runes are fascinating, secret languages ... "

Quite casually, the older man brushed his fingers through Cy's hair, just above his ear.

[psiignlanguage]

"Hnn--" He wasn't aware that he had just made that noise as Rhys combed his hand through his hair. For a moment, Cyrus muttered something in what was probably ancient Greek before slumping into the couch a bit.

"I read a bit, but I mostly have muggle hobbies."

[grandhighwizard]

"Tell me about them." Rhys ignored the noise, stroking his weirdly stained fingers through the younger man's hair again, this time trailing down to his neck, letting his fingertips just gently skim over the surface of the skin.

[psiignlanguage]

"Television," Cyrus says, purring quietly, because he's just kind of sunken into the couch thanks to the light stroking of his hair and skin. "I watch a lot of documentarieth about viking civilizationths and--"

He trailed off, and from his mouth came a soft, tiny little groan.

[grandhighwizard]

It was a soft couch. Really good for sinking into, actually, and Rhys leaned in, fascinated at how quickly Cy had just given in. Some people didn't get this way even when they were completely wasted - the younger man must have needed it, which Rhys had suspected. The potions professor kept stroking, and then gently lifted Cy's glasses, letting them sit atop his head so the older man could get a better look at those marvelous eyes.

"They don't often work around me. Televisions. Your eyes really are one of the most remarkable things I've seen in a while ... "

[psiignlanguage]

And in an instant, Cyrus was blind. He could hardly see anything without his glasses, and in that moment, everything just became a blur of color. It was almost like a drug trip, what with his vision being impaired, the array of hues, and the hum of intoxication buzzing about in his head.

"Izzat tho...?" he asked quietly, now unable to fight the head that came crashing to his face as he started to slink into that sort of relaxing warmth that in some strange way--Rhys was providing.

"Th-thankth..."

[grandhighwizard]

"Mmhm." The older man leaned in even further, until his lips were almost pressed up against Cyrus's ear. When he spoke again, his voice was low and hypnotic, his breath soft and warm against the Runes professor's skin, the side of his neck.

"I'm going to kiss you now, and you're not going to stop me, are you?"

[psiignlanguage]

Most likely, Cyrus was just enough in a daze for him to not make sense of what had just been sad to him. He merely opened his mouth to ask what he'd just said. But the wine in him made him shut up almost instantaneously.

[grandhighwizard]

Rhys laughed, his voice still low and wicked, right next to the younger man's ear. Then he did exactly what he'd said he would, sliding his fingers along Cy's jaw, tugging his face up a bit, and kissing him, slow and easy and deep, the taste of wine on his lips, still.

[psiignlanguage]

Reactions? What are those? For the first moment or two, Cyrus remained utterly numb to what was happening. He hadn't even realized that he was being kissed. But it was a gradual motion of his eyes shutting, and his lips parting juuuust slightly, and his body relaxing, and his throat squeezing out a soft, pleasured little noise...before his mind started to tell him just what was happening.

And he didn't object.

[grandhighwizard]

Rhys was a big man - around 6'8", with a broad, and powerful build. So it probably wasn't any surprise when he slid his arm around the younger man's body and tugged him closer with seemingly no real effort at all. It probably also wasn't a surprise that at his age he was a very, very good kisser. His lips and tongue moved in a languid, almost lazy way that said he was taking all the time in the world to enjoy the flavor and feel of Cy's mouth, and his fingers at the younger man's jaw stroked in effortless time with what the rest of him was doing.

He'd been right, he knew it, that the young Greek just needed a little coaxing, barely any at all, really, and he responded beautifully. Already he could imagine the pale professor stretched out on his bed, moaning in wanton pleasure.

Oh, this was going to be so fun.

[psiignlanguage]

He tried to reason with himself. What was going on? Why was he responding? Why was he enjoying this? For a moment, he's back in Greece with Sal and Di, sharing the bed with them both. It's his first time all over again. He's in the bunk with Candesca and she's running her fingers over his chest, urging him to run his hands over her breasts. Suddenly, he's a virgin all over again. Suddenly. His inexperience over the years catches up with him and he's suddenly absorbed in all of it.

He groaned. Groaned right into the other man's mouth, tongue wriggling about in a confused, but frantic method in order to receive some form of attention. Someone had pulled him into their arms, and they were giving him a special sort of privilege that he seldom got to experience.

[grandhighwizard]

There was laughter into the kiss at Cy's frantic movements, but Rhys didn't pull back, just played with the other man's tongue with practiced ease, then grabbed it lightly with his teeth, pressing them into the questing muscle firmly, though not hard enough to hurt, not yet. A big hand played over the younger man's back, nails teasing him through the cloth of his vest and shirt, stroking. Then Rhys let the Runes professor's tongue go, sucked lightly at his lower lip, murmured against his mouth, "Shh, we have time ... I'll give you everything you don't know how to ask for, cariad, and more ... "

And then he was kissing Cy again, playing with him, practically pulling the smaller man into his lap.

[psiignlanguage]

Cyrus whined. He wasn't sure if he liked how that felt to have his tongue and lips nibbled upon. He hissed, nearly arching as the nails grated along his flesh, positively convinced he felt flesh split. He breathed heavily once the kiss stopped--momentarily.

He considered saying something, but before he even had the chance, he had been pulled closer, and mouth occupied once more.

[grandhighwizard]

One hand on Cy's back easily supported him, as Rhys pulled him in. The older man radiated heat like he had a fever, his skin warm even through the layers of cloth that separated them. It probably helped that his own tunic top was thin, but it was still noticeable as their chests pressed together.

The Potions professor's fingers found their way up into the Greek's hair again, soothing away the whines, his thumb tracing the shell of one ear, stroking the soft skin just behind it then carding through dark hair once more. Bit by bit, Rhys was opening Cy up more with his mouth, with his tongue, with his hands that held and caressed and spread warmth from his fingertips. He didn't want the other man to have a chance to breathe, let alone protest, wanted to make him boneless and malleable for whatever Rhys chose to do to his body.

[psiignlanguage]

He was still experiencing everything for the first time. He couldn't remember the last time someone had pressed so close to him. He couldn't remember the last time his heard his heart pound so rapidly. He couldn't remember the last time he had gripped the fabric of another's clothing for support.

Cyrus wanted to gasp. And he wanted to pull back and tell the professor that dinner was nice, but he had to go. But this wasn't the position to, whether he wanted to or not. His tongue hadn't been this active in ages. Probably since the summer when he was eating gelato and it had begun to drip down his hand and he needed to lick up the entire mess before it got to be too much to handle. He groaned--allowing it to permeate into Rhys's mouth, as there was nowhere for it to go. He could feel his lungs objecting. It was hard to get the deep, long breaths that he needed through his nose.

And everything was becoming very dream like.

[grandhighwizard]

And still Rhys kept kissing him. Over and over, taking his mouth every way that it seemed possible, fitting their lips together in different configurations, dancing with his tongue against the younger man's, leading Cy on into kiss after kiss after kiss, barely pausing between them to breathe. His hands stroked and soothed and explored, but never under the Runes professor's clothes - he barely needed to, with the way he was touching. Melodious counterpoint to his mouth, hitting all the right notes. Aggressive when his mouth was aggressive, running up the smaller man's chest, or over his thighs; soft when the kisses were more gentle, stroking along the spine, tenderly carding through the other man's hair. It seemed Rhys's mouth and hands were working in tandem to keep Cy off balance, to reduce him to a breathless state of want, all without ever even touching between his legs.

[psiignlanguage]

Since when did Cyrus want it this much? He wasn't sure, but his hands were tugging at Rhys's clothing, and his legs were gently beginning to spread, almost as a way of inviting the man to reach a little bit more about his body. It was Cyrus being a child again. An innocent, aroused little child being felt up by his big bad professor for extra credit.

And it was something about that little mental image that popped into Cyrus's head, that lead to his breaking the kiss momentarily just to be just a little bit vocal.

More like incredibly vocal.

His hands raised and wrapped their way around Rhys's neck, and began to thread their way into his longer hair, giving it a gentle, although rather confused tug.

[grandhighwizard]

He had to laugh again - it was absolutely beautiful, the way Cy was responding to him, like he'd just been waiting for the older man to swoop in and take what he wanted. The tug in his hair spurred him to wrap his arms around the smaller man's waist and actually lift him into Rhys's lap, legs spread over the older man's thighs. He added a little extra incentive to the sudden move by tugging Cy's shirt out of his pants, finally running his fingers over the skin beneath, over ribs and stomach.

The Potions professor's mouth dropped from the next kiss, to trail along Cy's jaw, tongue and lips playing together, down to his throat, but here he was stymied by that tie and collar. Grinning, he pulled back to catch the younger man's gaze, making sure he had his attention before commanding in a low, authoritarian tone, "Take your tie off."

[psiignlanguage]

Cyrus's head pressed forward, tucking itself between Rhys's neck and shoulder, shuddering as his flesh was actually touched this time. It wasn't something he was expecting. He's practically got himself gasping into the crook of his neck. The sound he was letting out was a gentle, whimpering, eager noise, as his fingers grip at Rhys's hair again.

He pulled away, looking to see the man's face. He was so much larger than him, and Cyrus felt scrawny, tiny, insignificant as the man--he nearly though this man was his teacher for a moment--ordered him. Cyrus's hands shook faintly as he reached up and loosened his tie before removing it, tossing it to the side.

The look upon his face was between blank, and flushed, almost as if he was confused over what was happening.