icarusalsoflew | 003. and in every raindrop... // open post.

I love you too.

[ But he's averted his gaze, even if he was responsive enough to the way you were kissing him. This is difficult for your fiance. You are, in all likelihood, intimately aware of the possible reasons why.

He's no stranger to feeling unsettled and sick in his own skin, but it never really gets better. One only learns how to deal as best as one could. ]

[ He's watching you carefully, as your eyes move away from his. He had stepped into that room, had seen the bed and the chains. He doesn't need a reel of the events to get the idea of what was done to you.

He shifts, head ducking so that his lips press to the side of your neck, his hips pinning you in place. His fingers are tangling themselves up gently through your hair.

No words yet, just the soothing offer of his touch, those kisses, in the hopes that you'll relax in his arms.

This is your space. Both of yours. You're safe here. ]

[ His relief rushes out past his lips in the form of a ragged breath that tapers off into a tiny sigh. He's arching his neck now, letting you have a bit more ground to cover over his skin.

You're attempting to go ways, at least, towards making him feel good and getting him to enjoy himself with you. He can't help himself either, not with the way that he has, since he fell in love with you, been perfectly attuned to everything about you: the way you look, the way you smell, the sound of your voice. ]

[ He's shifting above you, aligning his body in a way to better allow him access. His hand has snuck between your bodies again, quietly undoing the buttons of your top and letting his fingers trace the skin underneath. ]

I love you, [ he settles for those words because they're a truth that won't change anytime soon.

He parts the folds of your clothing and lets his mouth move down, each press of his lips tender, but firm.

You are beautiful in ways he wishes he had the words to express, but since he can't, he thinks back to the numerous times that you made him smile, that he couldn't help but watch you.

The link formed between your minds is convenient, after all, and seeing the stones at Lady Shalim's court had given him an idea.

Do you remember that time he dropped by your room for your first night out on the town? He still remembers his discomfort and shock at seeing you naked. He hadn't knon then that his attraction towards you had already taken root.

There was also the time before that, in the mess of awkward confusion as you solidly prompted him to sit down again at King's Rest in the wake of memories he hadn't really meant to see: the weight of your hand on his shoulder, the look on your face; your smile.

Th first time you two made love, mixed in with his worry that you'd been out in the rain; how good your skin felt beneath his, and then a desire so strong to make you feel good and not fumble like a virgil teenager in the back of a car with no clue how to show you that he wanted you so much.

You have been so patient with him, so careful. Let him offer you the same patience and care now. ]

[ He sees, both through your mind and through his own, the specific moments that you're thinking back to, and something in him immediately clicks. Memory, see, isn't just about replaying the moment on a psychic screen: it's also about recalling the other sensory details that made up the experience. Your boy has always, always been a prisoner of his own senses.

He's unfolding a little more underneath you even as the weight of you - comforting and solid - is caging him on top of that bed and within your limbs, and kissing you back, in the moments that follow, with a bit more urgency.

He loves you and trusts you so damned much, it occasionally frightens him. But he hasn't seen a single reason to believe that he's done this in bad faith. ]

[ When you kiss him back, the sound that leaves him is caught between a moan and a sigh. He uses his tongue to coax yours out to play and his hands tremble as his fingers move to undo your pants, palm snaking beneath the fabric that serves as a barrier between your skin and his.

He breaks off just as he traces the length of you, forehead pressed to yours as his breathing turns labored. ]

Help me get you out of this? [ Saying that, even as he's moving his hand between the mattress and your back, all the better to tug at the waistband there.

I want to see every inch of you. That's murmured through the mental link, his blood up, his heart hammering as he remembers your playful banter on that second to the last night at what was once Ys.

It had been push and pull then, you and him. Teasing, baiting -- all to your mutual benefit. Just one of the many ways you've both found yourself coming together, even in a place as foreign and as unsettling as Arcadia. ]

[ It is equal parts intense, affirming and sweet to get that sort of response out of you, and to see that you're handling him in exactly the same way that you always have since the two of you became a couple. Still, there remains a fair amount of apprehension in him, dark and cutting around the warmth and love that you're trying to offer him. ]

Okay.

[ Trying is , though, to set that at the back of his mind as he's obediently following your lead. Both his need for you and the choking remnants of his apprehension and uncertainty, though, are killing any words that he might have followed that one before he can begin to speak them.

Perhaps, in the moments that follow, after his uniform and the few other layers beneath it have been tossed to the floor, you'll look at your fiance and realize that he is yet to look this shy and this insecure in your presence. He's looking away, cheek pressed to the mattress, blushing, trembling with anticipation, need, and just a bit of worry. The tattoos on his body move with silent fluidity over his skin, and the crimson glow of his eyes is faint and muted against the other sources of light scattered across the room. ]

Edited 2015-02-18 03:30 (UTC)

Oh, babe... [ He reaches for you, catches your chin with the first two fingers curled along the tender spot beneath and his thumb ghosing over your lips. He draws your face back his way, leaning closer, body near and braced over you. ] It's just me.

[ There is something so eerie and beautiful about you like this, like something out of one of those dreams that wake you up, restless and unable to slip back into sleep, but you were fairly sure that you couldn't call it a nightmare because you hadn't wanted to leave.

He fixes his gaze on yours, and maybe you'll see all the love and acceptance in his heart reflected there. He meant what he said to Makoto when he told the former Sin-Eater that he played for keeps. Nothing short of you telling him to go will make him -- and to be perfectly honest, he can't even promise that.

Leaning in to capture your lips again, his free hand's fingers gently tracing the jut of your hip, the line of your thigh. ] Don't hide from me, Hikaru.

[ You're safe here. Let him show you that. ]

[ But that's just it, isn't it? It is you, and he loves you so much. It's one thing to be the King of the Lightless Lands in a room full of friends, comrades, and people who practically see him as their god. It's another to be like this with no one else but you in the room, utterly exposed.

Still, the certainty in your words and the caress of your fingers over his skin blow holes right through the uncertainty, reminding him only of the precise effect that you have and always will have on him. ]

I'll... [ Pausing, swallowing. ] I'll try not to.

[ Maybe you'll be able to meet him halfway from there, and keep this particular part of his past from ever hurting him again. ]

That's more than enough, [ he smiles against your mouth and withdraws, mouth tracking a patient line of kisses down your chest. His hand is moving lower, curling around you again and tenderly caressing your shaft.

There's a reverence to the way he's paying attention to your body, lingering over your heart, the dip between your ribs, tue patch of skin over your navel. A lool crosses his features as he takes in the sight of the tattoo at your hip -- the kitsune amongst the higanbana, looking alive against the moonlight of your skin. ]

You're so beautiful, baby. So beautiful.

[ And there's the tiniest huff of relief leaving your boy's lips once your lips start their journey down his body. You'll also feel the way he arches up from those sheets, trying, instinctively, to respond to how nicely you're treating him. All of that, of course, breaks into a low moan the moment you have him in your fist.

He's blushing in earnest now that the fire you're stroking up in him is burning a good amount of that anxiety away. Thrown as he is now, it shouldn't be surprising that your words go right through him. ]

Stop saying things like that.

[ That is whined out, by the way, because he's swelling within your hand and it's messing with what remains of his resolve. It is so hard to be scared of exposing more of his vulnerabilities to you when you're doing such a terribly good job at making him want this. ]

[ There's a soft, pleased sound when you whine and he tightens his grip around you on the upstroke, mouth parting over the skin along the underside of your ribs before he rakes his teeth over your flesh. He he times the movement of his lips with the audible inhale as he breathes you in and then he's feeling you up again, with less pressure than just a moment ago. ]

And keep myself from seeing that flush on your skin? Never. [ He whispers. You're not quite full just yet -- but he can solve that.

He isn't paying attention to whether or not you're watching him now, but what you'll see is the way he traces his fingers over your erect cock before guiding it towards his mouth, tongue flicking out to taste the tip of you.

You'll also feel his consideration through the shared link, filters for thought dropped. He's wondering if he can just do this for a little while until you get... ah, comfortable, in his care. Cover you with kisses meant to both soothe and excite. There's no rush tonight, after all. ]

[ And every single thing you do in those moments sends a fresh wave of tremors down the entire length of your boy's body, making his fingers and toes curl into the sheets, eliciting more tiny, desperate cries. He's clearly torn now, between turning away or looking right at you.

If you're concerned about him not being as hard as he ought to be, that is changing rather quickly. ]

Josh...!

[ There is your name stuttered out in a delicious protest, and your fiance blushing even harder. He's fighting a losing battle against his own body, because it wants you to keep going no matter what Hikaru thinks on the matter. ]

Edited 2015-02-19 05:49 (UTC)

[ And perhaps it will be frustrating, how he makes the promise of a high only to pause and wait, as if to keep you in place. ]

Tell me what you want, Hikaru.

[ Murmuring that lovingly into the air, the heat in his gaze directed at just you, his breath warm over your skin.

He's made love to you with his mouth before, but you've never quite fucked his mouth hard before. Because he really would let you. Provided ( and this is an odd suggestion, not quite completely formed in visual from his mind to yours ) that maybe you both can negotiate that it will be only your hips that will be able to move. ]

I want you.

[ He's only wanted you for a considerable amount of time, and he is certain, beyond all other things, that he will continue wanting you even long after the two of you reach the end of the line. It's that singular need that fills his eyes as he looks up at you, begging, needy, more than a bit desperate. ]

I want to be yours, however you'd like to have me.

[ And he'd like to be able to be taken out of his own mind so that he can fully enjoy every second of you taking him the way you'd like to. ]

[ There's something about hearing a simple, heartfelt declaration like that. It's enough to bring him back to the here and now, you back against those pillows and these sheets; him, looking up at you and seeing the need in your eyes. ]

Hold onto me? [ It's not really a question so much as it is reassurance. He wants your fingers in his hair while he pleasures you for this first part; the steadying pressure of your palm against his scalp.

Pressing a kiss against the top of your thigh now, before he takes you in his mouth like you belong there, a low hum deep in his throat as he begins to suck you off. ]

[ He's only too happy to oblige, with one hand latching unto one of your shoulders and the other sliding over your scalp and through your hair, just as you had hoped. You'll feel the way the fingers on both hands tighten later on, accompanied by a moan that is as physical a sensation against your body as it is a sound in your ears.

It doesn't take all that long for him to swell a little more in your mouth, and grow hot and rock hard between your lips/against your tongue. The sounds that he makes at each pass on your part also increase in pitch: a direct reflection of how lost he's getting in you. ]

[ It drives him on -- the press of your fingers, the swell of your cock, those sounds from your lips. His hand is pumping your dick in almost counterpoint, pushing you higher, the grip of his hand firm and loving all at once.

Hold back until you can't anymore. The words pass from him to you and he surprises himself at the tone of it, more command than request.

Let him make you feel good. Let him take you out of your skin and towards somewhere else; something infinitely glorious. ]

[ You're going to be rewarded for that request with a whine of protest, and the sight of the expression on your boy's face breaking a little more, all knitted eyebrows and darkened gaze. Nevertheless, he's biting down on his bottom lip, and now actively trying to still the movement of his hips. It's not really working out for him, but he IS trying.

That works out admirably enough for him for a few minutes before he's finally slipping too far for him to recover. He's trembling even more than he was earlier now, whimpering into the mattress, shaking his head in blind, final resistance against the inevitable. The hand he has curled around your shoulder is digging its fingernails into your skin. The hand that was once in your hair has fallen away, and twisted its fingers up into the sheets.

He's so hard right now, it borders on painful. His cock is also twitching within the grip of your hand, and leaking with precum. ]

[ He shifts above you, slowing the pace he's sucking at your cock only for a moment as he sets his hands on either side of your hips. Coming up from another pass, he lets the tip of his tongue lap at the tip of you; gaze hooded, eyes dark.

There are images flashing from him to you now: you on your knees, over him, your fingers curled on the headboard or gripping the sheets ( he doesn't want to push yet, not yet; but the drapes of this bed look sturdy enough to lash you with -- if you'll let him ) your cock in his mouth as he stretches you out with his fingers while he sucks you off until you cum.

His need for you is visceral, his desire a tangible thing. ]

[ But that stray thought you have brings out his skin's keen memory for how it feels to have one's wrists/ankles/limbs tied together tight, to know, intimately, the struggle of one's body against the hard certainty of bindings keeping one in place, exposing, not by his choice but by yours, what parts of him interest you the most.

His hips are bucking against your mouth now, pushing his cock between your lips, over your tongue. Every sob of need that leaves his lips now is also a plea, because it's rapidly becoming impossible for him to keep himself from cresting higher and spilling over.

Say what you will about Arcadia, but it seems as though it is in this place that your fiancee lets himself surrender to the deeper, darker aspects of his love for you. Perhaps that is, yet again, a sign of how much he trusts you. ]

[ You buck, and the fingers he has on your hips grip tighter and hold you in place, even as he eases himself down. He's resting his weight on his forearms now, had bobbing as he sucks you off all the more.

There's enough time for the both of you to explore all the things you'd both like to do tonight, and since plans are in motion for him to follow Yulia to Eriskay, he would like to give you his full and undivided attention before you both crash together in a final heap of exhausted limbs tangled in each other for the night. ]

[ After a bit more of that, there is a single, blindingly hot moment where all breath and capability to make any sort of sound leaves him. It hits right before his will finally collapses, and has him writhing against your body, crying out in earnest as he cums in your mouth.

It takes him a while to drift back down, and he does so in a mess of quivering limbs, breathless sobs and quiet whimpers over the pillow. He still feels so hot, though, and weak with need. In fact, that release doesn't seem like it did much for him at all, given the fact that his dick hasn't gone completely soft.

Forgive his inability to look at you. It's all he can do to figure out how to get his lungs to work again. ]

[ It's in moments like this that he has to really tamp down the need to preen, because you looking the way you are right now is something he did and you feeling good has always been something that has brought him pleasure.

He doesn't wait for you to relax before he's licking his lips, the taste of you in his mouth and down his throat; his hand gently feeling your cock up because you are far from done, babe, and so is he. ]

I swear, the way you look is pretty sinful. [ All appreciation and desire from this one, even as he's crawling all over your body to cover you with his form.

Have a kiss, love: slow, lazy, coaxing -- even as his grip tightens momentarily around you in a gentle squeeze, enough to get you going again with the unspoken promise of more. ]

I could spend the whole night touching you like this.

[ There's a half-meant protest buried in the way your boy squirms in your grip, and whatever force it might have had is further undermined by the way he opens his mouth to yours, and how he arches up into your hand.

It's so terribly hot, and he's getting wound up in his own skin all over again. That would be your fault, of course. ]

I don't just want you to touch me.

[ The need is overriding every other thought, and darkening the look in his eyes the moment they're turning back towards you. If for anything, it's a pretty clear sign that he is, indeed, starting to get into all of this in earnest. ]

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