[ here, in the quiet space of oushi's meager four-rank suite, there are no excuses to fall on. no aphrodisiacs, no hotel-spurred impulse to suddenly declothe and copulate. no nausea-stalling medicinal patch, no locked doors and instructions forcing them to act on unspoken desires. it's just them, this electric heat between them, and a strange but mutual sort of longing that keeps culminating in an inexplicable need to be as close as possible.
what is that called? do either of them dare to figure it out, just yet?
the answer the the latter seems to be a resounding no. attentions remains focused instead on getting close and doing more. by the time oushi realizes he's been pushed back, there is a pressure against his crotch that draws a low groan from his lips, and it sounds so especially loud in his little room. eyes wide from his own embarrassment, but he doesn't tell vanitas to stop. he doesn't do anything but clutch at those slim hips, and rock up just as eagerly each time vanitas moves.
he's embarrassingly hard already — has been, since they first started kissing. so is it any surprise he's all into this, the fervent grinding that keeps chasing at a relief their layers of clothing seem to only delay? ]
Keep going, [ he breathes, barely a whisper. dimly, he's aware he's still wearing those stupid cat-ear headbands. does vanitas really like it that much? he'll never take them off, if that's the case.
he tightens his grip on vanitas' hips, now coaxing them to move even faster. ] Feels good...
[Vanitas doesn't stop to think about the mess they might make together if he keeps going. One or both of them coming in their pants while fully clothed is not even on his mind, just the mindless chasing of a particular sensation that he gets each time they grind together just right. He'll worry about the walk back to his room later.
He pants softly, a little bit of a smirk on his face when Oushi tells him to keep going. They're fully clothed, but Vanitas can feel Oushi's arousal under him as if there weren't layers of fabric separating them.
Vanitas forgets about the cat ears until he glances up again, bouncing on Oushi's lap to simulate what it might be like if they ever did go through with the real thing. Vanitas only gets harder when Oushi grips his hips, the sounds he makes going from soft pants and sighs to little grunts and moans in the effort it takes him to create more friction.
What does it say about any of this that he's already so close, his body tensing and tightening around absolutely nothing, but still so ready to lose it for the other young man beneath him.]
[ as if oushi would let vanitas walk back to his room in soiled clothes. as if oushi would let vanitas walk back to his room, period.
how could he, after seeing him like this? the view from beneath vanitas is something short of exquisite, and considering oushi is still seated upright he can't even say he's getting the full experience right now. what a scary, exciting thought that is — to know even just a little bit of someone could spark something so all-consuming in him. ]
Here, [ he breathes, in answer to something vanitas hasn't even asked. in truth, he's answering himself, responding to the deep burning in the pit of his gut that aches for more.
his hands momentarily leave those delightfully slim hips to slip between their bodies, fumbling with the fastenings of their pants. wildly, he thinks about the first time they met. back then, it had only been his own pants to deal with, but it turns out dealing with two is no slower than one. within seconds he's eased them both out of the confines of fabric, and as that familiar slide of rigid heat on rigid heat meat, a broken moan tumbles out of his mouth in an embarrassing volume.
he bends his neck awkwardly for a brief moment — just to drop a sizable wad of spit along the tips of their cocks. with a rough squeeze, he uses that slick to start up a brisk, steady rhythm.
feeling that heat crawl up along his veins again, he looks back up to see how vanitas is faring. he drops a kiss along a cheek, licks his to parted lips to steal a quick, searing kiss. ]
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listen i'm the last person to talk about timestamps ok...
what is that called? do either of them dare to figure it out, just yet?
the answer the the latter seems to be a resounding no. attentions remains focused instead on getting close and doing more. by the time oushi realizes he's been pushed back, there is a pressure against his crotch that draws a low groan from his lips, and it sounds so especially loud in his little room. eyes wide from his own embarrassment, but he doesn't tell vanitas to stop. he doesn't do anything but clutch at those slim hips, and rock up just as eagerly each time vanitas moves.
he's embarrassingly hard already — has been, since they first started kissing. so is it any surprise he's all into this, the fervent grinding that keeps chasing at a relief their layers of clothing seem to only delay? ]
Keep going, [ he breathes, barely a whisper. dimly, he's aware he's still wearing those stupid cat-ear headbands. does vanitas really like it that much? he'll never take them off, if that's the case.
he tightens his grip on vanitas' hips, now coaxing them to move even faster. ] Feels good...
no subject
He pants softly, a little bit of a smirk on his face when Oushi tells him to keep going. They're fully clothed, but Vanitas can feel Oushi's arousal under him as if there weren't layers of fabric separating them.
Vanitas forgets about the cat ears until he glances up again, bouncing on Oushi's lap to simulate what it might be like if they ever did go through with the real thing. Vanitas only gets harder when Oushi grips his hips, the sounds he makes going from soft pants and sighs to little grunts and moans in the effort it takes him to create more friction.
What does it say about any of this that he's already so close, his body tensing and tightening around absolutely nothing, but still so ready to lose it for the other young man beneath him.]
no subject
how could he, after seeing him like this? the view from beneath vanitas is something short of exquisite, and considering oushi is still seated upright he can't even say he's getting the full experience right now. what a scary, exciting thought that is — to know even just a little bit of someone could spark something so all-consuming in him. ]
Here, [ he breathes, in answer to something vanitas hasn't even asked. in truth, he's answering himself, responding to the deep burning in the pit of his gut that aches for more.
his hands momentarily leave those delightfully slim hips to slip between their bodies, fumbling with the fastenings of their pants. wildly, he thinks about the first time they met. back then, it had only been his own pants to deal with, but it turns out dealing with two is no slower than one. within seconds he's eased them both out of the confines of fabric, and as that familiar slide of rigid heat on rigid heat meat, a broken moan tumbles out of his mouth in an embarrassing volume.
he bends his neck awkwardly for a brief moment — just to drop a sizable wad of spit along the tips of their cocks. with a rough squeeze, he uses that slick to start up a brisk, steady rhythm.
feeling that heat crawl up along his veins again, he looks back up to see how vanitas is faring. he drops a kiss along a cheek, licks his to parted lips to steal a quick, searing kiss. ]
How is it? More?