[ any vestiges of self-control oushi might have had left in him evaporate into thin air the second vanitas pulls him in for a kiss. perhaps, had the younger man shown any shred of hesitation or uncertainty, then oushi might have managed to hold onto enough of his sense to muster up some strength to fight the raging instinct coursing through his veins. but it's a future oushi will never know, crumbling like ashes the second their lips touch, and he tastes vanitas on his tongue. his moan is low, long, tapering off into a frenzied growl as he melts, resolidifies, and surges forward all in the span of seconds.
skin to skin, he pushes vanitas down against the floor — right over that previously and conveniently shed coat — taking advantage of his broader, sturdier frame to effectively pin the slighter man down as he ravages those yielding lips for kiss after kiss. there is no space between them, the persistent press of his hips a demanding thing. one hand buries itself in the wet tangle of vanitas' choppy locks, the other grips tight on the softest part of vanitas' thigh, as if intent on leaving the print of his hand there.
is he aware of vanitas' answering arousal? there's no way he couldn't be, the way he grinds and rocks his hips, intent on seeking their reliefs. his body battles with itself; aching to feel more while desperate to taste relief. which will win out? the answer seems to come when, eventually, the hand at vanitas' leg manages to hook its fingers into the waistband of his pants, and oushi gives a rough pull, dragging the fabric down over the swell of his ass. ]
[The previous times he's witnessed this kind of effect were so different. He hadn't had any kind of physical or emotional connection to any of those people prior to the moment the resort decided to play those games with drugged food and cursed charms--the entire Omegadome game.
This is so different with Oushi. If resistance was futile back then, what good was it to even try now when the man pinning him down makes his heart race like this? Vanitas feels pure concentrated bliss being eaten up with kisses, returning each one as his hands roam over Oushi's skin, nails scraping gently across his back. Maybe his lack of resistance is because he actually wants this, he's let people claim him for so much less, but the idea of being his specifically feels good.
It takes the cold hair on his ass to sober him long enough to reach out and grab Oushi's face, not quite pushing him away as much as trying to force him to stop and look at him for a moment. Is he in there? Does he want this too, or is his mind being compelled? Past all of the fierce lust in his eyes, Vanitas can't tell.]
Oushi, wait. [Somehow Vanitas' need to finally feel the other man inside him is eclipsed by his fear of Oushi regretting this moment afterward. But only barely. It's still enough that he wants confirmation that they're both in their right minds first.] Are you sure this is what you want?
[ he had already had his hand working to shove down his own pants when vanitas' hands — cold, small, scarred — grip at either sides of his face, forcing their eyes to meet just as oushi had been so close to baring his teeth and biting down hard on the soft skin of vanitas' neck—
does he want this? yes, desperately. and in this moment, more than he's ever wanted anything in his life. ]
Y-Yes, [ he gasps, because it's the truth. but this close, vanitas should be able to see the conflict in his eyes, the way those greens darken with concern. ] But—
[ but with the clarity granted by the sound of his name in vanitas' voice, he can recognize that while he might want this, with vanitas... he doesn't want it in this way. not because the hotel is making him. not because vanitas is letting it happen.
suddenly, he reels himself back. and he does it with so much force, there could not possibly be anything accidental about the way he cracks his head against the stone wall behind him — not hard enough to truly damage, but just enough to rattle that brain around a little. it's enough of a shock to his system that the urges coursing through him stutter and stall, and he can finally tear himself away from vanitas long enough to truly realize, with horror, what he'd just been so close to doing. ]
S-Sorry. I'm sorry, I—
[ he folds in on himself, clutching at his head again as it lowers to between his knees. he starts mumbling something, breathless and frantic and under his breath. should vanitas strain to hear him, he'd be able to make some of the words out: ]
[Vanitas almost sabotages himself, looking into those eyes up close. It would be far to easy to lose himself in them, the hazel-leaning green of them strangely warm and comforting given the circumstances of the moment.]
But? [He's bracing himself for the worst. For Oushi to admit that he only wants this because his "instincts" are driving this ship. Deep down Vanitas knows that this wouldn't be the way Oushi would want things to go between them the first time it happens, and just knowing that is enough to make him say no when all he wants to say yes. If he were truly as bad as he wanted people to think he was, he wouldn't be this invested in doing things the right way.]
It's fine. You don't need to apologize. We can do-- [His voice trails off to nothing, the sound dying in his throat when he sees the way Oushi makes space between them then curls into himself. Why does his chest feel so tight seeing him this way? This isn't what he wanted. Vanitas watches helplessly as Oushi starts to spiral, but he's beside the other young man in an instant, sitting near him quietly as he listens.]
Are you okay? [He whispers softly, eventually gathering the courage to risk making things worse by pulling one of his hands away from encircling himself to hold onto instead. His ugly marked up hand closing around Oushi's to force his fingers between the other set.] I promise I'm not upset with you. [Vanitas doesn't now if this will help, or if Oushi is even listening, but he brings the other boy's hand to his lips, kissing the back of it apologetically. Maybe it would have been best to not say anything at all.]
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skin to skin, he pushes vanitas down against the floor — right over that previously and conveniently shed coat — taking advantage of his broader, sturdier frame to effectively pin the slighter man down as he ravages those yielding lips for kiss after kiss. there is no space between them, the persistent press of his hips a demanding thing. one hand buries itself in the wet tangle of vanitas' choppy locks, the other grips tight on the softest part of vanitas' thigh, as if intent on leaving the print of his hand there.
is he aware of vanitas' answering arousal? there's no way he couldn't be, the way he grinds and rocks his hips, intent on seeking their reliefs. his body battles with itself; aching to feel more while desperate to taste relief. which will win out? the answer seems to come when, eventually, the hand at vanitas' leg manages to hook its fingers into the waistband of his pants, and oushi gives a rough pull, dragging the fabric down over the swell of his ass. ]
no subject
This is so different with Oushi. If resistance was futile back then, what good was it to even try now when the man pinning him down makes his heart race like this? Vanitas feels pure concentrated bliss being eaten up with kisses, returning each one as his hands roam over Oushi's skin, nails scraping gently across his back. Maybe his lack of resistance is because he actually wants this, he's let people claim him for so much less, but the idea of being his specifically feels good.
It takes the cold hair on his ass to sober him long enough to reach out and grab Oushi's face, not quite pushing him away as much as trying to force him to stop and look at him for a moment. Is he in there? Does he want this too, or is his mind being compelled? Past all of the fierce lust in his eyes, Vanitas can't tell.]
Oushi, wait. [Somehow Vanitas' need to finally feel the other man inside him is eclipsed by his fear of Oushi regretting this moment afterward. But only barely. It's still enough that he wants confirmation that they're both in their right minds first.] Are you sure this is what you want?
no subject
does he want this? yes, desperately. and in this moment, more than he's ever wanted anything in his life. ]
Y-Yes, [ he gasps, because it's the truth. but this close, vanitas should be able to see the conflict in his eyes, the way those greens darken with concern. ] But—
[ but with the clarity granted by the sound of his name in vanitas' voice, he can recognize that while he might want this, with vanitas... he doesn't want it in this way. not because the hotel is making him. not because vanitas is letting it happen.
suddenly, he reels himself back. and he does it with so much force, there could not possibly be anything accidental about the way he cracks his head against the stone wall behind him — not hard enough to truly damage, but just enough to rattle that brain around a little. it's enough of a shock to his system that the urges coursing through him stutter and stall, and he can finally tear himself away from vanitas long enough to truly realize, with horror, what he'd just been so close to doing. ]
S-Sorry. I'm sorry, I—
[ he folds in on himself, clutching at his head again as it lowers to between his knees. he starts mumbling something, breathless and frantic and under his breath. should vanitas strain to hear him, he'd be able to make some of the words out: ]
Oushi —ioki... Twenty... —oto, Japan.... Oushi—
no subject
But? [He's bracing himself for the worst. For Oushi to admit that he only wants this because his "instincts" are driving this ship. Deep down Vanitas knows that this wouldn't be the way Oushi would want things to go between them the first time it happens, and just knowing that is enough to make him say no when all he wants to say yes. If he were truly as bad as he wanted people to think he was, he wouldn't be this invested in doing things the right way.]
It's fine. You don't need to apologize. We can do-- [His voice trails off to nothing, the sound dying in his throat when he sees the way Oushi makes space between them then curls into himself. Why does his chest feel so tight seeing him this way? This isn't what he wanted. Vanitas watches helplessly as Oushi starts to spiral, but he's beside the other young man in an instant, sitting near him quietly as he listens.]
Are you okay? [He whispers softly, eventually gathering the courage to risk making things worse by pulling one of his hands away from encircling himself to hold onto instead. His ugly marked up hand closing around Oushi's to force his fingers between the other set.] I promise I'm not upset with you. [Vanitas doesn't now if this will help, or if Oushi is even listening, but he brings the other boy's hand to his lips, kissing the back of it apologetically. Maybe it would have been best to not say anything at all.]