║The Council Of Kings ♚ King & Risk║
His lips remained parted and bright green eyes were large with sorrow at Risk’s words, truly wishing he had the praise he deserved. Yet, before he could comment, at the end he could not help but let a soft smile take hold of his gradually relaxing features. Sliding down forwards on the snow, Gold wrapped his arms around his companion and buried his face in the elder’s strong, cool shoulder, uttering between them, “I pray you see the day when your realms are renewed and there is time aplenty to celebrate you, my King…” Slowly, gently kissing his way up the other’s neck, pressing his lips with feather-light pressure to the Jotun skin beneath, Loki whispered emphatically in addition, “But no matter what befalls…your beauty will never diminish in my eyes.”
The King brought Gold further into his lap, azure arm supporting around that emerald-cloaked form,
"You have such heart my friend. I admire your energy, and your passion for life."
Fingers idly traced the markings over his companion’s bare chest, smile ghosting at the corners of his mouth, “Even your passion for touch, as much as I still reel from your frequency of it. You honour me with your hospitality, and your faith and support in mine purpose.”
Shifting, tilting the smaller’s head up so crimson’s could convey his sincerity, “If I get the chance to repay you for any of this, you have mine word I shall do so.”
Though he could not see it, Gold could still feel the pervading smile in his companion’s rich voice, returning the expression with joyous content upon his own blushing face. He did not know why his reaction was always so coy whenever the larger Jotun’s cool fingers touched his flesh, but nor did he care to find out, too taken with the elder in every aspect.
When the Trickster’s face was upturned to the god’s above, his breath slowed, eyes observing the other’s strong features once more, leaving a pause between the solemn words and his next action; to lean in and capture the monarch’s mouth in a thankful kiss. He had no other way of expressing his gratitude, as much as such a silver tongue had been taught to weave pleasant, silken words into attentive ears his heart had more to say. Crimson orbs falling behind blue, he pulled himself closer, hand sliding down off the curve of Risk’s proud horns, curling softly into the sable locks beneath and deepening the slow kneading of their honest kiss.