Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
Skinning and hosting by the epically talented Kaons, and functionality fanciness by the coding magic of Neowulf. If you ever see either of them around, make sure to show them some love!
I'd still know you, not being shown you, I only need the working of my hands
Everest Hart has lived more of his life since having met Dahlia, than he has the rest of his 22 years. Say what you will about the Family, but he's a changed man, and by all current metrics, it's all for the better. This explains why it is that the aviator, a normally sheltered and incredibly anxious man, has shown up with a bag full of supplies, only half of which are clothes. Planning on remaining for a few weeks so that he might get the most out of whatever lessons he could find here, Everest had brought lotion, iron supplements, sleep aids, a notebook (just one instead of his normal library), along with a small selection of comfortable clothes. His assumption was that he wouldn't be spending much time in them.
Isla's map had provided perfect guidance such that the aviator had no problem landing Mateo's skyship nearby. Upon entering the brothel, it was with a slightly overwhelmed look on his face that he took a moment to drink it all in: the dimmed lights, the grandiosity and luxury that invited the curious to come closer, the low hush of voices and the pulse of something sensual.
Swallowing, Everest went to the bar. Setting down his bag, he politely waited until the bartender seemed free before making the sort of assertive eye contact that usually meant hey, come here. "I'm looking for a room? And also a.." He paused. "..partner?"
It’s one of the rare few occasions that Thorn isn’t out and prowling immediately for company for the night. Instead, he’s just finishing his break, ensuring he’s all put together and looking just as flawless and billowy as he can be. His clothes are sheer and flowing, allowing the view of the tattoos that circle his wrists and run up his hips and back, floral and vine like, complete with thorns for his namesake.
As he rounds the corner, he sees the bartender glance over toward him, head tilting before the bartender gestures to a lone man at the bar. It sinks in and he realizes quickly that his favorite nemesis is actually being helpful for once.
So he flashes him a saccharine smile before he sidles up beside Everest, leaning against the bar to get a bit in his space. “Heard you were lookin’ for a partner?” He asks, letting his seafoam gaze linger on the handsome, bearded man. “I come with a room, too.” He flashes a wink, that soft and playful grin growing.
thorn
— i am all you've ever wanted, what all the other boys all promised //
I'd still know you, not being shown you, I only need the working of my hands
The language of the bar seemed to be fleeting glances and raised eyebrows; a dialect that Everest was woefully unfamiliar with, so by the time Thorn arrived at his side, the aviator thought perhaps he was being ignored. Maybe they could sense his inexperience?
'Oh," turning with no expectations in mind, Ever smiled politely. "I was, yes." Debating whether or not he was meant to reach out and shake this man's hand before deciding against it, Ever instead merely returned his grin. "What I could really use is someone knowledgable. I, uh....am new to all of this and honestly, I have no idea what sorts of things I like, much less how to be good for someone else, you know?" Well, no, Thorn probably didn't. He wouldn't be working here if those were the sorts of questions that kept him up at night.
A grin blooms across Thorn’s face as Everest looks toward him, offering that polite smile in the face of Thorn’s eagerness. “Oh, well you’re in luck. I happen to be quite knowledgeable. Come along.” He hums, reaching out his hand, one who’s wrist is inked with a cuff of dark vines with thorns, aiming to hopefully have Everest take his hand.
If he does or doesn’t, Thorn will still guide him up the stairs, choosing the furthest room in the back that was available, slinking against the doorframe to let Ever step in first. “The rooms change to your wishes. Imagine a space you’re most comfortable in or would like to try.” He informs him, waiting for the room to change before he follows Everest in to take it all in.
thorn
— i am all you've ever wanted, what all the other boys all promised //
I'd still know you, not being shown you, I only need the working of my hands
"Oh, great." Genuinely said an exclaimation mark seemed a bit too eager, the aviator slipped from his stool just as Thorn took his hand. Snatching for his bag and nearly upsetting the barstool in the process, the aviator exhaled a touch nervously before falling into step. Having never really held hands with anyone and assuming that his lesson might as well start now, Ever cleared his throat a touch not wanting to speak too loudly. "I have never known, is it like this—" Fitting his hand around Thorns the way you might were you wearing mittens and had to keep your fingers together, he gave a squeeze. "Or this?" Next, he interlaced their fingers before looking for guidance from the other man.
As they stopped, Everest peered into the room. 'Those are two very different things.' He chuckles; places he was comfortable—the hospital, the library, Mateo's houseboat—were not necessarily places he wanted to try. Unless...insert kombucha girl here. "Maybe just somewhere basic to start." Better that he not have to focus too much on the set dressing right from the get go.
Stepping inside, Thorn would find the room utterly bland and devoid of the sorts of things that make rooms like this enjoyable. No lavish paths or four poster beds, no couches to fuck on or bear skinned rugs to prevent skinned knees. Only a simple bed (white, boring sheets, not even a high thread count), a table with two chairs, and a few book shelves.
Everest’s eagerness is happily received, even as they start to walk toward the stairs and their hands shuffle in ways that the Attuned questions. “Interlaced.” He confirms, giving the aviator a squeeze and an equal grin back as he guides him toward the room.
He chuckles lightly and nods, shrugging a shoulder to offer “or, I suppose, a place you can let loose and relax.” Which he doesn’t expect to be such a sterile space when he walks in. He takes it in, though, immediately moving toward the bed to sink into the… surprisingly not great mattress.
He feels like he’s a teenager again and it’s his first fuck. But he supposes that’s part of the point? Stretching out like a cat, Thorn peers at Everest from whichever place he decides to sit and flashes a smile (made brighter by the white everything surrounding them). “So, where would you like to start?” He asks, placing the ball entirely in Everest’s court, looking very much out of place.
thorn
— i am all you've ever wanted, what all the other boys all promised //
I'd still know you, not being shown you, I only need the working of my hands
"Interlaced." The aviator confirms with a smile; if it felt more natural to hold the other man's hand that way he really didn't know, however just knowing it was the correct way already made it feel better.
Glancing around the room, Everest sets his bag down by the small table before turning to spy Thorn already making himself at home upon the starchy sheets and too-firm mattress. "Well..." Looking a touch uncomfortable if only because of his uncertainty, the aviator ran his fingers up the side of one arm before hooking his fingers around his bicep. "I suppose some background might help. I only had sex for the first time a few day ago, and before that I'd done nothing else. My first kiss was only a month ago, and..." He shrugged a touch helplessly.
"I've always had a really hard time being touched, up until recently, so when I said downstairs that had no idea what I did or didn't like, I meant it." Hard or soft, fast or slow, top or bottom, playful or aggressive. He'd asked Isla about using his partial shifts to try and enhance her experience but had only known how to utilize them in the most basic of ways.
"So I was hoping you could help me figure that out." Then they could move onto tricks for Everest being a better lover to others.
Spotting the discomfort immediately, Thorn leans forward just a little, giving the Aviator his full attention without a single shred of judgement in his pale face. He listens, the explanation starting to sink in (which he finds surprising, having never met Everest before and finding him a very good-looking man, surely someone would have been all over him before, but it’s alleviated with the further admissions and he nods his understanding.) “Ahh,” he starts to say softly, nodding his head and slipping over to the side of the bed to give him room should he want to approach. “’Course I can help.” Perhaps in the face of Ever’s uncertainty, Thorn’s confidence might help.
“We’re gonna start small and go through it all, ‘kay?” He slips off the bed, standing and approaching Everest and letting his seafoam gaze focus gently on him, reaching out with those tattooed arms to offer them out for Ever (not wanting to touch unless he chose to first, given what he knows now). “Do you like to be the one to touch first, or would ya rather be touched first?” His hands remain out, reaching for him but hovering until he gets the answer. Either Ever would reach for his hands to start or Thorn would break the last bit of distance to grasp his. And that feels like a pretty good starting point.
thorn
— i am all you've ever wanted, what all the other boys all promised //
I'd still know you, not being shown you, I only need the working of my hands
Indeed the other man's confidence is an immediate balm. For all the good Dahlia's purple haze has done in his mind, quieting his anxiety and soothing away the worst of his social insecurities, still Everest is naive and inexperienced when it comes to much of life's nuances. 'That sounds good.' He agrees, his shoulders relaxing down away from his ears somewhat as he exhales.
Letting his blue gaze drift down toward Thorn's arms as they stretched forward, lean but knowing, the aviator shrugged for a moment. "I...I'm really not sure." He admitted a touch bashfully; one would think he'd know at least that much about himself, but truthfully, he did not.
Taking a step forward to place himself within the other man's space properly, Everest took a steadying breath before reaching out and letting his fingertips trickle up one of Thorn's tattooed arms. The ink felt like nothing at all beneath his touch and yet his mind told him that he did in fact feel the contours of the vines. "What would you normally do next? If this was...real? How quickly do you know how to move forward, or where to be in the room, or when to take off your clothes?"
All Thorn wants is for Everest to start to relax – and he gets to see it start working in action as the handsome attuned’s shoulders lower from being trapped by his ears. The courtesan’s hands extend, the question slipping from his lips, and he listens intensely as Ever starts to explain that he doesn’t even know that much. It’s fine, though, because Ever is suddenly in his space and Thorn beams up at him with huge content.
He doesn’t pull or poke or prod yet, but the fact that their hands remain together in some way and Ever stands in front of him, he tilts his head a little coquettishly. “It depends on how the night is going and what the intentions are. Some wanna have romance, so you would spend this time wooing them by gentle and fleeting touches, compliments, foreplay." As for the rest of it? He starts to clear his throat a little and hums. “Some seem to be more interested I having sex than any of the lovey dovey stuff that came before it.” And each had their own route to go to.
So he runs his thumbs gently along the backs of Everest’s hands. “Usually, it’s an end goal, which means there’s time after if things go a little to quick.” He offers the advice easily, focused wholly on the beautiful view he gets from where he sits. “Sometimes the whole act itself is why a pair is made.” Like them, in this room of science and basically nothing, where Thorn is starting to guide Everest down the path. “Would you like to try one of the options?”
thorn
— i am all you've ever wanted, what all the other boys all promised //
I'd still know you, not being shown you, I only need the working of my hands
"Gentle and fleeting?" Ever repeats, his brow creasing slightly. "What does that do?" From his own incredibly limited experiences, nothing had been fleeting or gentle in the way Thorn was seeming to describe it. Dahlia had tugged him into a closet and spilled blood from his lips, Mateo had blanked Ever's body with his own and kissed him a handful of times, and Isla...well, that had just happened. Fast.
Chuckling slightly at the mention of things going quick, the aviator blushes. Letting his eyes drop to Thorn's fingers and where they brush against the back of his hand, he nods thoughtfully. "My first time I didn't last long. Seconds, I think. But then we waited and when we went again, I lasted longer." Not much longer to be sure.
"Why if....what if you try some of the things you know men usually like and I can tell you if I do or don't?" He suggests, raising his blue gaze to seek out his counterpart's seafoam stare.
“It gets your heart pumping.” Thorn says in a wistful sigh – nothing bad, but to give the air of the dramatics in which he speaks on it. In fact, he starts with those gentle and fleeting touches on the back of Ever’s hand, head tilting as he listens to his partner’s admissions, nodding his understanding. “That’s completely normal.” He muses, getting the thought that Everest might think that there was something wrong with the difference.
There isn’t.
Thorn’s gaze remains glued to the attuned’s face as the question reaches him, and there’s a gentle smile that flickers across his face as he starts to move, pressing himself between Everest’s legs, hands ghosting up in those gentle and fleeting touches toward the other man’s head, moving to cup his jaw with both of his palms, keeping his head tilted up so Thorn can lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips, short and chaste. “This is slow and sweet.” He informs Ever with a breathy tone bordering on a soft little moan.
It's an act that only lasts however long it takes to let it really sink in for the Aviator, before those hands are growing rougher, Thorn pulling himself back a little to push at Everest’s chest to push him back against the white bedsheets, hovering over him as his hands start to roam with more pressure down from his chest toward his navel. “This is quick.” He tilts his head with all the handsome confidence, peering down at the Aviator to see which he preferred out of the two so far.
thorn
— i am all you've ever wanted, what all the other boys all promised //
