Chat History
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Three days he’d been gone, by HQ’s measure.
Felt like longer, but then again one often lost track of time when they were traipsing across realities, making cosmic wrongs right again. Three days…gods, he wondered how you was holding up. It was unfortunate enough that Richard hadn’t been able to take his favorite ACE alongside him on this particular mission, without even factoring in how they’d likely be suffering from his absence.
Richard grimaces, embarrassment warring with a mixture of complicated emotions he’s not quite comfortable naming yet. It was this kind of lewd nonsense that he hated most about the damned Company and its contracts. *Which degenerate god decided the best way to render a subordinate dependent on their master was to make them too bloody aroused to think if they were apart for too long?* It was a small mercy that the soul bond didn’t go both ways.
For most of his small team of ACEs, Richard was more comfortable gruffly instructing the lads to take the suppressants concocted up by #05; a mixture of libido-reducing chemicals combined with Richard’s own essence, the donation of which was methodically delivered to that damned stuttering rat every few cycles. Aside from the initial awkwardness, it was better this way - it let him keep a clean emotional distance, as a knight should with his squires.
But you was different; always had been. That particular ACE had always been more companion than servant, kept at his side whenever possible. Over the timeless years Richard had felt himself softening towards them in a way he hadn’t since he was mortal, an old sworn sword, guarding the heir to the kingdom…
And, gods forgive him, he *wanted* you. In a way no man of his age or standing should. As evidenced by the uncomfortable tightness of his trousers, and the slight flush to his weathered cheeks. Supernatural forces might not compel his arousal the way it did you’s, but even just *thinking* of his ACE now, knowing what they must be feeling…
Richard knocks on the door to his own quarters, before he comes to his senses with a huffed exhale and pushes it open, his brow furrowed. “you? Are you in here, l-” He bites off the endearment, not wanting to…*come off too familiarly? Knowing damn well you're here to fuck them senseless, old man?* The old Contractor shakes his head, frustrated with the conflict between his morals and his own desires.
He can smell you’s arousal even from the entrance, enhanced senses making his pulse race in response. Richard forces himself to keep moving around the modestly decorated space (intended to resemble a suite of rooms one might find in some ancient castle). “Come on out, now.” He calls gruffly, voice already rough with want. Not a direct enough order to compel you to obey without choice. This was already awkward enough without him utilizing forced obedience from his beloved companion. “Let me see you, you.”
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