birdwithoutasong | These are the days it never rains but it pours

Entry tags:

These are the days it never rains but it pours

Who: Ky Kiske (

closedcircuit) and Sol Badguy (

immoralflame)
Universe: Guilty Gear Canon
What: Ky makes a move on Sol.
Warning: Walls.

It wasn't as though Ky had tried to indulge his thoughts on the subject. The only thing he should be feeling for Sol was exasperation, and he knew it, knew that was the most he could reasonably expect Sol to feel for him. Saying that over and over hadn't made it true, much to Ky's annoyance, and as much as Ky wanted to draw his sword and get Sol to fight him like he meant it for once, his hands left his side for another reason.

Perhaps Sol had positioned the wall behind him to use it to push against once they got started, perhaps he'd wanted to make sure there weren't any distractions, or perhaps he really was just so arrogant or lazy that he didn't care where he started off fighting and whether or not it made sense. Whatever the cause, Ky pushed forward, his hands going to Sol's shoulders to try to pin him against the wall while he leaned in to press his lips to Sol's. It was too early to regret before he did it, because he wasn't planning to, and once he was moving his thoughts were focused on how Sol's lips would feel and the possibility that Sol might punch him before he got there.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It was not reasonable to mark someone in a visible place just because they wanted to have sexual relations. At least, Ky didn't think that was standard behavior, not least because he didn't tend to see many people with such markings. Not that he'd been specifically looking, or anything. Still, it only seemed logical that he would want to keep this quiet, ~~like a dirty little secret~~ like his relationship with Sol, whatever it was turning into, shouldn't have any real bearing on his work and should in fact be able to be kept separate.

If Sol thought that Ky was going to get out of this without memories, without it flashing in his mind, then he was mistaken. Ky didn't want it any other way, however much of a mistake it might be it was his mistake to make, and he thought that he could both predict and accept the consequences. Which wasn't the same as being comfortable undressing Sol in even semi-public, even if he knew that should things get just a little heavier he'd probably swallow any possible objections in favor of getting to the undressing Sol part of things. Ky wouldn't call himself nervous, certainly, so much as rather excited in a more than simply sexual manner about this whole thing. Which meant doing it at least vaguely right, which meant that Ky wanted there to be at least a bed present. Wouldn't that make things easier?

"We could get a room somewhere close." Were there really any other ideas they could consider? Ky was certain that even so much as suggesting going to his place would be a bad idea, and there were some directions he was certain it was better not to push in.

Most people either were more careful with placement or had the makeup to cover them up the next day; Sol'd suggest the latter if it came up. And Ky could keep this as quiet as he wanted, Sol wouldn't care. This was exactly what it was, just a push and pull that went away from the battlefield and into the proverbial bedroom. It shouldn't affect anything in daily life, and definitely not work. All there was right now was sex. That's all that would be there, all that Sol was giving. That should be all there was to it.

Of course Ky would end up with memories, but it was the kind and place that mattered. No memories in Ky's own bed, for one. But yes, it would be Ky's mistake. It would also be Sol's for giving in, though. They'd have their own ways of handling the aftermath, but Sol was rather firmly planted in the moment regardless at this point. Sure, they could use a bed, but it wasn't really mandatory if you asked him; doing it "right" just meant enjoying themselves. The suggestion of getting a room, though--they'd at least have somewhere to collapse. Where they were presently wouldn't be very good for it. Nng, but that'd mean moving and Sol wasn't sure he wanted to go anywhere.

"Fine." Make him break the contact he'd kept up, then. Sol pulled back from Ky's throat, peeling away from the wall and pushing his former commander's leg away. "Do it fast." It really had been a while, too... Being basically made to keep his hands to himself wouldn't be followed long, either, so they had better find someplace real close.

Ky stepped to the side, hoping that the additional distance that he gained would be enough to keep him from reaching out and dragging Sol back to him. He already missed the contact that they'd had, although the lack of further simulation wasn't fading his arousal any. Ky fussed at his clothing for a moment, trying to make it look a little less like he'd just been making out with Sol in a back alley. It might not have helped a lot, but he felt like he was more presentable when he finished.

"Of course." Then he was taking off for a nearby hotel, hoping that Sol would either follow or stay behind until Ky came back for him, but either way that he wouldn't take this opportunity to slip off. Ky was going to do his best to find a place for that reason precisely. Having somehow managed to capture Sol's sexual attention he didn't think he could quite handle losing it because he'd been stupid or arrogant or slow. He'd wanted this for too long, committed to it too far.

That made one of them, then; Sol wouldn't look presentable because he didn't care enough to try. Standing lazily and rolling his head from shoulder to shoulder while Ky "primped", Sol kept his hands in his pockets. It would be an absolute lie if he said there wasn't the temptation to yank Ky back by collar or hair and go back to his throat, and--

Ky'd started walking. Alright, then; he'd follow about as lazily as his stance suggested he would. No point in making the trip longer by waiting. What was the point of that, anyway? Sol'd be leaving this place, no one would really remember him, and for all anyone knew, they were just hunter and cop working together for something or other.

Yeah, right. Wasn't Sol's problem, though, and Ky's stick-up-the-ass attitude alongside that white frock of his could probably dispel any rumours.

Wherever the blond picked would be fine; Sol was not a particular man. He could hear the blood running through his veins, he thought; losing his interest wouldn't be an easy task even if it took them a while. Easier to resume what they'd been doing by a long shot, and if it took too long, he might even drag Ky straight back into an alleyway. Depended if it pushed his want to be lazy or not.

Ky just better be prepared for teeth as soon as the door to whatever temporary room closed behind them.

Whether or not the man who accepted Ky's payment for the room suspected anything Ky didn't know, nor did he care quite as much as he suspected he ought to. The important things were the key in Ky's hand and the fact that Sol hadn't left as soon as Ky turned his back. He smiled, unable to suppress the anticipation in it, before leading the way to the room that would be theirs for the rest of the night.

Ky's thoughts wandered in all sorts of directions as he led, although most of them had to do with Sol. And sex. And sex with Sol. He was over-eager by the time they were upstairs, and it took him two tries to get the key in the lock.

As soon as the door was shut Ky sprung on Sol, pent-up energy venting itself in the movement of Ky's fingers on Sol's belt clasps and the press of Ky's leg between Sol's, eager to make up for the delay.

No point in caring; if you care too much about what others think, you quit living your own life and start living theirs. Worthless. And yeah, that key was pretty important for right now, but Sol wouldn't object to Ky losing it in the hall or stairway or anywhere else. Even he had his little kinks here and there, however frequently or infrequently he might indulge in them. The smile Sol's thrown back should be expected, really, but he wasn't quite sure what to offer in return because really? Not always the type. But picking the anticipation out of it warranted a smirk, though. So Ky was gonna be like that, huh? At least Sol could expect enthusiasm.

And that assumption was made clearly accurate as his back hit the door, hands at his clothes and hello, Ky; weight shifted to let him press close to thigh and hip, because why the fuck not take advantage of that? Sol bent, going for the blond's throat again with a rumble in his own, a hand fisting in Ky's hair to pull his head back. At some point, he'd have to fight with Ky's goddamned uniform, but not right now. Maybe Ky'd deal with it himself; would probably be better, kid being more familiar with it. Free hand did, however, start with the engraved belt, familiar at least with that article.

Not caring could, in many situations, be even more dangerous. There had been times Ky had lived to be that beacon for other people, times he'd dragged himself the extra distance that he needed to go because the fact that other people were relying on him meant he had to. That and the fact that he never thought giving up would be an acceptable answer. In this situation, though... Ky was less concerned about the fact that the receptionist might have an idea of what he was planning on using the room for and more concerned with getting his hands all over Sol. He was being selfish, tonight, and that turned out to be a thing it was pretty easy to give into.

Sol should still be familiar with everything from when he wore it, but Ky wasn't particularly interested in walking down that old path again, even just in his thoughts. Not when his thoughts had so many other ways to occupy themselves, like figuring out how to undo Sol's clothing. It might be significantly less complicated than Ky's own, but there was also a large amount of skin on display that Ky had to keep himself from getting distracted by. Working on the main belt did seem like a decent idea, even if it was made more difficult by Sol grabbing his head back, by the presence of teeth on his throat, a thing Ky was relatively certain shouldn't feel as good as it did because it was teeth. On his throat. Ky's breath was coming in small pants as he pressed himself against Sol's leg, and tried to regain a little ground by pushing Sol against the door a little more with the hands he had on Sol's belt.

Allowing yourself a little selfishness was one of the few ways to keep from losing your marbles, Sol'd found. His just happened to interweave with a greater purpose to his goal. But, on the whole, he was a selfish man. Good that Ky would only feed it as much as draw on it; sex took two people, whether both opted to be active participants or not. But even now, there was that odd "don't--" that picked and gnawed at him. He'd regret it. Ky'd regret it. Fuck, whatever semblance of balance they had would be thrown to the wind, but whatever: selfishness. Stupidity, too, but sometimes indulging in that paid off. Like right now. Sol definitely didn't care if the receptionist thought anything of their presence. He cared far more at that exact moment about Ky's hands at his belt, leg between his own, heart rate, and the rise and fall of Ky's still-uniformed chest.

Pretty sure that last one needed to change in presentation.

The sword-carved plate didn't clatter to the ground, instead the leather remained grasped in Sol's right hand, left leaving hair to find Ky's right hip and follow the shape back to his ass. Then he let it fall. Ky wasn't a soldier right now, wasn't a cop, wasn't anyone's "hope". Sol's jaw tightened as if to confirm that, but then released Ky's throat so that he could see what he was doing while both hands went after the uniform's more ridiculous aspects in an attempt to get past at least the two outer layers. Too many goddamn layers. He'd say something to the effect, but it wasn't really worth saying. He bit Ky again, instead.

Ky groaned when bit, still not sure why an act that should be violent seemed so comfortable in its place of sexual acts, not sure what kind of instinct made it feel so good, but he couldn't deny that it did. He tried to exercise some control then, in response to the noise he was making, his hands neatly unclasping Sol's belt with its less meaningful scrawl before he let it fall. Ky was certain that Sol wouldn't care about having his clothes on the ground, even if Ky was himself worrying a little about wrinkles in his out clothing, and the effect that it lying crumpled on the ground would have.

Not worth throwing a fuss over, he supposed, and not worth letting up Sol either, so Ky just focused on dropping Sol's clothing to the ground as well in revenge, taking off everything that he could get his hands on. It was better this way anyway, without giving Ky time or focus of attention about why this was a little embarrassing, without giving him the anticipation that would make him feel self-conscious again.

When Ky noticed that Sol was significantly less dressed than himself, and perhaps even more so now, since Ky was making more rapid progress, he stopped in his attempts for the moment. After all, it was good as well to simply appreciate what he was sharing a bedroom with. Ky had done an awful lot of thinking about Sol -- and his body -- while trying not to, and since he had the man in front of him he wanted to stop at certain steps, sweep his eyes and hands over muscles and lose his thoughts in half-contemplation and half-lust, until he snapped out of it.

For such a prude, or maybe because of it, Ky was nicely reactive to this kind of thing. And he could explain the reasoning for that kind of reaction to being bitten, could get into the details of it and offer examples--but wouldn't, because in the end, Sol didn't give a damn about the "why's". And he also didn't really give a damn whether or not Ky's clothing wound up wrinkled; easy, cheap fix for that. Or, they could go out later and have that fight he'd been expecting, if they had the energy for it. No one'd be able to tell what the wrinkles were for, then.

And that scrawling of "FREE" had plenty of meaning, just not something for the benefit of the masses. Or maybe it was, in a roundabout sense. Regardless, he shifted just enough to let Ky accomplish what he wanted, pausing only when Ky did. A brow arched and lips took on an amused curve. Like what you see so far? Sol wasn't as picky as Ky in regards to state of dress, or maybe he just didn't bother with it enough to be picky; pretty sure Ky's shirt needed to go, though, and Sol's hands disappearing beneath it was a good way to demonstrate as much. Other than that? He'd just wait for Ky to pick up again.

It was probably because he was such a prude, or at least in part. All those years of repressing things, of shoving them aside until he had time to deal with them and then only dealing by shoving them further down, had prevented Ky from being able to build any sort of healthy sexual sense. That made the gates of desire opening -- or at least being acknowledged as existing -- kind of a monumental thing, the sort of thing that threatened to sweep ordinarily rational thoughts out of the way.

Or perhaps it was the fact that Sol had always been able to rile up Ky's emotions, leave him with his control second to his desire to get a reaction from Sol. He was certainly getting a reaction now, even if Ky still felt more vulnerable to Sol's smirk than Sol was to Ky having him less dressed.

And then there was Sol's hand under Ky's shirt, and it was almost like Ky could feel his brain short-circuiting, thoughts of making an impression on Sol nearly vanishing when compared to the physical sensation and the lead-in from that into a desire for more. When Ky picked up again, then, it was with a mind to efficiency, to moving forward, which meant taking care of his own clothes would be faster than having Sol work on them. Ky worked on pulling his shirt off, then let it fall to the ground with all the rest of what had been removed so far.

Bottling never helped anybody; all had to come out, sometime. And Sol'd argue that this wasn't so much the gates opening as them flooding--which he didn't mind too terribly, even if... Not gonna think that far ahead. No point. Not like Ky was going to change his mind any time soon. Indulge. Selfish, but it really wasn't hurting anyone right now, and if there was really a need for it... Ky could figure it out later. Maybe he'd stick around long enough to be helpful and not intentionally rile the kid up for an argument. Unintentionally was another matter entirely.

Intentional riling, for now, would be more focused on the fact that Ky'd gotten the message which meant Sol could go for the juncture of neck and shoulder without any sort of barrier. Teeth pressed down just hard enough, not threatening the muscle beneath the skin, especially not as he drew back to aim a little higher. He leaned back against the door more firmly, hands sliding back down Ky's spine to settle on hips. And he decided that there just wasn't enough happening, so shifting weight, Sol made use of bulk and that same fulcrum concept from before to change just who was where. With Ky up against the wall, he'd at least be better able to get things to pick back up.

Better not short-circuit too much, Ky; need at least base functions to keep going, and they're not even half through this.

It had never really been Ky's intent to bottle so much as focus on something else. And that had been easy enough during the Crusade. While there certainly had been men who went out and sought release, Ky hadn't been a man when things started, and he didn't want anything that meaningless anyway. Nothing shallow, and for all that this seemed to be as impulsive and temporary of an encounter as he'd always felt uncomfortable with the idea of, there was no denying that it wasn't that. The feelings going through him -- lust and desire, yes, but maybe more -- seemed to be deeper than anything Ky had expected, when he'd thought to expect anything.

Ky was taking off his clothing while Sol was chewing on his neck, what more 'pick up' did Sol think that they needed? Regardless, Ky hadn't been expecting for thing to get turned around once again, and he sputtered a little with his back against the wall, before he tried to push Sol around again. It would be notably less effective, since he both lacked the advantage of mass Sol had and also wasn't trying to apply any particular principles beyond the principle that he was enjoying the way that they were.

Was worth about the same, in the end. Not dealing with things had a way of coming back to bite you in the ass. And there was nothing meaningless about indulging in that kind of thing in the midst of a war. Sex was a good outlet for stress and anxiety once you got past that first barrier. That wasn't shallow, just human. Just like this: human instinct. But Sol would have reeled at the idea that this was anything more than need and want and some kind of twisted attraction. He'd never given Ky reason for anything even on those lines, but then those things didn't need to have them. It's whatever could possibly be beyond that.

And as for that "pick up"? Just more. He might have been getting impatient, really. One hand slid down to follow along Ky's thigh, nails dragging over the material, and Sol bent as necessary to reach his knee with the intention to haul it up to his own hip; meanwhile, settling between Ky's legs seemed like a good idea. He didn't budge with the push, too intent on what he was doing. He knew better than to just grind against Ky like a horny teenager, but goddamnit, it had been a while and fuck if that wasn't what he wanted to do. So maybe he would, if only for a second or two, something to tide him over.

This really shouldn't have been happening...

Whatever else he had been, Sol had managed to be a sort of constant in Ky's life, one who had certainly been around enough for Ky to have had an awful lot of thoughts about. Some of those thoughts had, unfortunately, went places that they weren't supposed to, though certainly none had gone so far as they were at now. It was a little more than stress and anxiety, after all -- Ky wouldn't do it if it were just that, if it were just that he'd still be throwing lightning balls at Sol's head instead of grinding forward into his body, reaching up to try to nip at Sol's neck.

The grinding might be intended to tide Sol over, but Ky was either far more riled up already or far less experienced or both, because by this point he was feeling painfully close, and he wanted...more contact, to be closer to Sol before he came. If he got to have a say in it, although he wasn't particularly concerned about how close he was. It was still good, after all.

It felt right.

That was the worrying part. That was the part that shouldn't have been, right nestled in there with any sort of reliance Ky might have built on Sol to be anything. Sol hadn't cared what kind of an impact he'd left on people as he pushed on through what semblance of life he led, when he probably should have paid more attention. Should've paid more attention to the impact others made on it, too. He didn't like admitting that there were some who had, didn't like admitting he had ties to anyone. People were passing encounters, things that only happened a few times and carried little weight. Ky carried little weight, according to Sol, but that wasn't why he pinned him more firmly to the door to lift his other leg over a hip with both hands beneath thighs to point out that Ky should keep them there.

If it wasn't the rupture of stress and anxiety, Sol didn't want to know what it was. Didn't want to be told, didn't want it to even come up. He could handle it if it was; expect it--well, he'd expect it from anyone but Ky, but he could at least draw sense from it. But he wasn't thinking about that, now, far too distracted by the mouth at his neck and sliding an arm behind Ky's back to pull him away from the door after being sure the kid'd hold onto him. Needed cooperation for this.

Perhaps it was better that Sol hadn't paid more attention. Had he, he might have backed off, found a way to somehow be even more distant and dismissive than he'd already been. Regardless of how Sol felt, Ky had needed to have someone who saw him as something other than the uniform, and Sol's disrespect had been...grounding at times. When everyone else had been relying on him, it had been good to have someone who would knock him down and show him that he still had a far way to go. To let him be himself, to some degree.

Maybe he still needed that.

Ky wouldn't go talking about that, couldn't even quite admit it to himself. Beyond that, he'd never tried confessing anything emotional to Sol -- even simpler feelings, like loneliness -- out of an awareness that Sol wouldn't care, and out of a belief that he pushed them all to the side, then they wouldn't get in the way of what he needed to do.

Ky twisted against Sol, body tangling up with the other man's s he obliged, holding on tightly and leaning in as close as he could to press his mouth against Sol's skin, to drag his tongue across his shoulder. It was easy enough to focus on this now, Sol filling up all of Ky's attention.

Sol could knock Ky down every peg there was even if he had paid attention, even if he had been even more dismissive. Stuck in the same place, he'd have stayed rude, stayed brash and disrespectful and a general pain in the ass for any higher officer. To remind Ky regularly that he was still a child. To point out that children didn't belong on the battlefield. Even after Ky'd grown up, he was still naive, so Sol would continue to knock him down.

If Ky wanted a rude awakening to ground him, Sol was the best for it.

Emotions had little place in Sol's world, numbing himself to them as much as he could because they only got in the way of things, though rage was often what was allowed to seep through. That was one similarity between them, and maybe that was part of what made this so very, very easy.

As easy as carrying Ky over to the bed and all but dropping onto it, keeping the blond in his lap; standing was becoming a nuisance. The reasoning didn't matter now, though it probably would later. But now? Now was just how thick the air was, Ky's weight, how badly he wanted it situated just so, and the resistance of skin against Sol's teeth as he marred another patch of Ky's throat.

Edited 2012-12-23 08:01 (UTC)

Sol could certainly keep knocking Ky down, but for all that Sol had more influence on Ky than many people there was a large part of Ky that would keep popping up again. He could be knocked down and still come to as naive and optimistic as he had been before, because it was hard to see how being pessimistic was supposed to be better, hard to see how he could believe in failure when he had to believe in himself.

If Ky had been such a child that he had no place on the battlefield then the world should be a different one, one that didn't require his presence there. As it had been, Ky wasn't going to stay out of the battle, to lie low only for the sake of his own life and end up not having that life mean anything. He had fought because he'd had to, really, and he intended not to give up or stop now that they'd won.

Sol was able to move Ky with more ease than he'd expected, and it occurred to Ky that perhaps he should struggle or squirm, or do something other than tighten his hold on Sol's shoulders, momentarily concerned only that he might be dropped.

On the bed, though, some sort of instinct mixed with arousal took over, as he pushed forward against Sol, sprawling in his lap now. His legs shifted to wrap around Sol, grinding himself against the other man. His breath was heavy, his brain struggling to come up with something to say that would appropriately suit the moment.

Ky's optimism and determination knew no bounds; part of what made Ky simultaneously annoying as Hell but easy to follow as a leader (for most people; Sol's opinion tended to stay rooted to the "annoying as Hell" option). It kept them butting heads, kept the charges building. For it to turn out like this, though, wasn't anything that ever should have happened. Hard to care, right now.

The world should have been a different one, he'd get no argument from Sol on that. The world should never have needed children to fight its wars. Impossible to change now. It wasn't something Sol let himself dwell on--he tried not to dwell on anything he couldn't change. Couldn't change, only seek to stop the man responsible. He'd done his grieving, his mourning, his self-loathing a century ago. Made himself numb. Moving on was the only option. Moving on and preventing that kind of catastrophe from ever happening again. He was the only one who needed to answer that; Ky should have cast off the mantle of a knight with the end of the war, should have tried to meld into the peace. Kid was an overachiever.

Overachiever and reactive as Hell.

Sol grabbed Ky's hips, pulling them tight to his own but holding them still. Before this all started, Sol wouldn't have been able to register Ky as attractive. Whether it was the demanding or the abandon, Sol wouldn't not be able to see that. And fuck it was tempting to just shove Ky onto his back and work him open and-- Sol shook off that line of thought, attention going to prompting Ky up onto his knees, leaving his throat to bite and drag his teeth lower. Gonna need to try and get Ky's pants off, however that was going to work. Grabbing his ass again probably wasn't the way to go, though. Too damn bad.

It was entirely impossible to say what should and shouldn't have happened between them, because there was what had happened, and that overrode both. For it to turn out like this was something that required all the little things that had happened, everything that had led to what Ky in particular felt, but also whatever made Sol respond in this way, but it was also something that they'd been headed towards for what seemed like a while. It was something that Ky had spent a lot of time trying not to think about, and consequently a lot of time thinking about.

Moving on was something that Ky could agree with, but he wanted to move on towards something. It shouldn't be about anyone making himself numb or anything like that. It was about taking the history he had as a knight, the respect he'd earned and the goals that he'd worked towards, and continuing on with them even after the war -- the obvious threat to humanity -- was over. There were still things that needed to be dealt with, and Ky couldn't in good conscience leave them alone. The uniform was a handy symbol of what he represented, of the history he had trying to do good. It was about trying to be proactive, not just reactive.

Which didn't really apply to sex, particularly not with how he was still fumbling through it and with just how in control of everything Sol was. It was definitely a reactive act, Ky letting Sol shift him in whatever way Sol thought was best as long as Ky could still reach out and touch, as long as he was still being touched. There didn't seem to be any risk of that going away, even if Ky was starting to feel the strain of too many clothes still being in the picture. He couldn't exactly fix that when Sol's hands were on his ass, and he wasn't about to try to remove Sol's hands. Instead he lay one hand flat on Sol's chest, the other one going for a shoulder to pull and tug and try to grind his hips against Sol's.

What made Sol react to this in the way he had wasn't something he wanted to acknowledge. It'd been a while since Sol'd bothered with sex, but that shouldn't have had enough impact to drag him into this. There was a lot that shouldn't have been, and it would weigh on him for a while after this--even if Ky didn't regret it, and even if Sol couldn't give a rat's ass about it for now, a skewed sense of morality could still pick and choose what it wanted to hang onto. Even if this was inevitable to some degree, Sol probably could have done more to refuse it.

Sol was moving on towards something. Something Ky wouldn't understand not on a surface level, but on one that ran decades deeper. It was necessary to ignore the throb of old scars in order to move past them, so that they wouldn't interfere. While Ky sought to protect and serve, Sol sought to eliminate and only eliminate; to finally unleash over one hundred and fifty years' worth of rage, of loathing, of resentment. The Flame of Corruption.

And corruption carried now an additional meaning, if he ever felt like degrading the man he'd become in all that time. Didn't matter now. Indulging in the idiotic side of things, in the side that wanted Ky badly enough that he put the rest of the world on hold. Something to look back on and wonder what the Hell he was doing. For the moment, he just squeezed Ky's ass and finally went about properly urging him up high enough to undo Ky's pants and tug them down just past his hips with one hand, the other holding Ky's hip firmly to make sure he didn't start with his cock being freed. Ky could shove or push or pull at him soon enough and Sol'd let him. In the meantime, undressing Ky further seemed like a great idea.

Ky would have been irritated and annoyed had Sol done more to refuse it, and while he knew perfectly well that him being annoyed and irritated seldom changed Sol's mind there was a certain persistence that could have come to bear. Would have, if he could get over the embarrassment intrinsic in a scenario where Sol turned him down to get to the point where he realized that Sol was actually attracted to him. Because yes, there were all the reasons that this was a terrible idea, but then there was the fact that Ky was generally touch-starved, that even if this didn't have all the emotions he wanted there to be, at least it was something a lot more vibrant than most of his life had been so far. A lot more alive.

Ky could probably easily enough understand what Sol was moving towards, if Sol would talk about it, was willing to explain anything at all ever. But no, he had to be content in his distance. If his cause was so very important, then, really, he should be willing to accept some help, should at least let Ky know what the situation was. Whether or not he thought Ky could help -- and there was no reason he couldn't, if the cause was good enough -- he could at least better understand Sol.

Ky shifted, eventually cooperative with this particular goal to remove his pants even though it had required the temporary cessation of contact. Ky didn't exactly want to hold still while Sol undressed him, though, that didn't seem very exciting at all. So he braced his weight and freed up one hand, enough to fumble at Sol's pants and try to get various stubborn belts off. "You're too dressed," he muttered, because clearly that was a problem, clearly taking off Ky's pants meant that Sol's should already be gone.

Sure, Ky'd be persistent about it. When he wanted something, he knew the kid'd damn well do what he could to get his way. That was pretty much the reason they fought, far as Sol could be assed to care. As for realizing that hitch in Sol's mental wiring (because that's what it was, for all intents and purposes), it'd be lucky if Ky could have without Sol's response. Though there's something to be said about vibrancy in this; for as much as it was that for Ky, something that gave him maybe a little sense of being alive, it served something similar for Sol. In his case, maybe it let him feel a little more human.

But that understanding would never be there in full, and it just wasn't something worth trying to sort out or even begin to bother with. Ky wouldn't stop asking questions, not until Sol beat the idea that the kid didn't have to have all the answers when they weren't about him or what he was doing. This was Sol's. Something he needed to do, wanted to do, and both required he be on his own for it. No outside help. Didn't need it, didn't want it. His. If Ky wanted it in Biblical terms, it was the only thing Sol could do for some shred of redemption.

Because letting himself get jumped by Ky really worked in that direction.

A bored or boring partner didn't really do anything for Sol, so the continued enthusiasm was the best response Ky could give. Also meant that Sol wasn't letting it get out of hand. Though there was amusement to be had in the way Ky had a very clear idea of what to do--always did. Or thought he did, anyway. The complaint earned a rumbling noise from Sol, amusement of some kind going by the smirk on his lips. If Ky was touch-starved, though, Sol was going to spoil him absolutely rotten; he liked to touch, to know what was under his hands. And that could be involved with just throwing Ky down and--dominance thing. Caving to that might happen. Still human, really; he had enough control and the limiter to keep it from being worse, but damn.

"That so?" he drawled, not really putting any effort behind the words; a little heavier than they ought to be, though. Ky could fumble all he wanted, because Sol occupied himself with Ky's boots after dragging his hands down along the man's thighs, body heat enough to be felt through the uniform, lingering. Yeah, these weren't staying on long once they could be removed. It'd probably be frowned upon if he tore the good Captain Kiske's pants off the rest of the way, wouldn't it?

The thing was, either this mission of Sol's was something that Ky wouldn't care about even if he knew everything -- in which case Sol should simply tell him because that would be the easiest way to dissuade him -- or it was something that would concern Ky, and therefore mattered to him. Either way, Sol shouldn't be the one to determine whether or not Ky needed to know about something. He wasn't his superior officer, and never had been, never would have been despite his superior age.

Ky could talk at great deal about redemption, and how much some things could help. How it wasn't about making himself alone in the world, how it should never be about. It was about serving something greater than himself, it was about making a difference. For Sol to insist on going at this on his own was irresponsible at best.

Rather like what they were doing now.

Ky would find it impossible to muster anything less than enthusiasm for what they doing, even given that. He knew he probably shouldn't reward whatever that response was, but there was that whole touch-starved fact, and the way that he needed to get Sol's pants off, stubbornly insistent even though he lacked as much coordination as he might like to have. If he was going to be spoiled rotten then he wanted to start it off by having Sol completely naked (although in his head that included Sol's headband).

"I'll fix it," Ky murmured back, still stubbornly working at it, even as he wanted to go back to doing far less forward-thinking motions. But he knew enough to be able to weigh up the consequences of his actions, and as much fun as simply rutting against Sol would be, he wanted more than that so why not make the more than that happen in the near future. He finally got all of Sol's belts on his pants undone -- as well as one of the ones lingering on the man's arm -- and tugged stubbornly at the pants. Move with him to help with this, Sol. (Otherwise he'd have to start just sticking a hand inside of the pants.)

It would be incredibly frowned upon, and also raged about and possibly there would be rage-induced electricity, because Ky didn't have anything else to wear if those got ripped while they were here. Not to mention that it would be incredibly unnecessary, which ought to be enough to keep Sol from doing it even given that he'd probably ignore all the other potential consequences. Just... Leave his pants in one piece and everything would go a lot smoother, Sol.

These are the days it never rains but it pours

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