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

[ He had just started to settle in when you come around. Turning once he senses your approach, and smiling the moment he feels the way you wrap him up in your arms.

Give him a bit to fully turn around to face you. ]

Of course you can.

[ Softly, as he's reaching out to cup the side of your face with his hand. He's missed this, so... ]

[ He shouldn't shiver at your touch, not like this, not like it's the first breath of fresh air he's had in a while. He shifts in response, body coming flush up against your own as he meets his lips to yours.

Every last cell in his body feels taut though: with desire, with missing you, this. He can breathe in that particularly unique scent of yours -- apples, winter, pine, and the distinct smell of you threaded through.

Dammit. He thought he'd worked off enough of the tension while training. Apparently, he thought wrong. ]

Thank you.

[ That's coming out soft, a little strained when he finally breaks off, forehead pressed against your own. ]

[ It's getting to you, isn't it? You're all tense and quiet.

Watching you a moment, then he's closing the distance between you both by kissing you. As he does that, maybe you'll feel the slight shift of energy around the area. Don't worry: he's just making sure that nobody will interrupt the two of you, and that no one will be able to look into what's going on within this tent.

He could have done this earlier on, but he had not wanted to bring the possibility up with you for the same reasons that he had not called you out your needs. ]

[ He relaxes some when you kiss him again, hands moving now to follow the familiar shape of your body as he moves to fit himself better against you. Dim as the tent is now, shadowed as the both of you are, there's an odd sense of complete awareness on his part where it concerns you and him. ]

Hikaru... [ he murmurs that in the air between you both, hands cupping your ass as his hips press close. He wants you so much. He needs you like air. ]

[ And he's moving in turn, keeping himself close to your body in a way that neither of you have been able to do in too long. ]

We can.

[ Murmuring that as your foreheads are pressed close. As he's letting his legs tangle together with your legs, and letting his hands ghost over your skin. ]

It's safe now.

[ The way he ends up tugging that robe of yours loose is a touch rougher than he expected to be, and the sigh that passes his lips once he's pushed the fabric aside is almost reverent. The arm he's snaked around your waist is tugging you higher above him, because he wants the familiar weight of you anchoring him down.

When he rears up just enough to do so, he presses his lips over your skin: hungry, strained and well on the way to a little desperate. ] Babe, shrug this thing off, please.

[ That lack of finesse on your part, however, only serves to excite him, especially since he knows why you're not nearly as smooth or as in control as you would be.

Gamefully adjusting himself in precisely the way that you want him to, and letting his lips wander over your skin as he's taking himself out of his kimono. ]

Fair is fair.

[ Saying that, deep and amused and wanting, as his hand moves underneath the robe you're wearing, intent on pushing it off your shoulders. ]

[ Now that he's here, with you, like this, he could care less about his robe. Catching your mouth now, a nip of teeth when he does as he shrugs it off and pushes that fabric aside, a low sound of need deep in his chest.

He needs your skin pressed to his skin, you body flush against his own. One hand has curled at your nape, as if to keep you close and ensure that your mouth stays right where it is over his. The other hand has snuck between your bodies, palm flat over the planes of your stomach and making no secret of where it's going.

You'll be able to pick out the soft sounds he doesn't realize he's making -- needy, hungry, strained.

Focusing on other things has been his way of coping. Particularly since it seems to be the only time he can manage to keep his thoughts -- and eyes -- from constantly veering your way. ]

Edited 2015-02-10 04:07 (UTC)

[ You're hot enough to make him hiss, to drive a bit more of the air out of his lungs because you're skin's in contact with his own and it's only serving to remind him of his building need for you to fuck him/for him to touch you. He has started to kiss you like he's trying to taste every possible taste that your lips/mouth/tongue might be able to offer him.

Know that this not-quite-separation has been difficult on him. He's just been very, very good at not showing it.

Letting his hands wander down the full length of you now, skimming over your arms, your sides. Then he's sliding one palm over the curve of one of your hips while he's letting the other wander between your legs. ]

[ A low moan leaves him, half-swallowed as he presses even closer and curls his fingers around your length. His head is spinning with the taste of you, the combined heat of your bodies. He catches your lower lip between his teeth, worries on it a little as he palms your ass and lets his fingers dip between your cheeks.

He needs more, he needs you sunk into his skin. He needs your hands on him and him buried inside of you. ]

I need you. [ He murmurs that against your cheek, mouth tracking hot kisses down along the slant of your neck and shoulder and then back up again to where he can nip at your ear. ]

Edited 2015-02-10 12:51 (UTC)

[ There's a breathless laugh in the air close to your ear, one that tapers off into a pleased sigh. He does love the feel of your lips on his skin, even if it never fails, somewhere down the line, to drive him up the wall.

Case in point: the way he's tangled the fingers of one of his hands up in your hair now, pressing against your scalp like he's trying to hold you in place. He has also shifted, pushing himself up a little more, giving your hands a bit more to grip on and your own fingers a bit more leeway to tease him, if you so chose to. ]

Need me where, exactly?

Edited 2015-02-11 04:49 (UTC)

[ There's a satisfied sound that leaves him when you do that and he's catching ypur mouth with his all over again.

His fingers trace the shape of you, touch lightening just enough in the hopes of coaxing a shiver as he teases your entrance with the finger of his other hand. ]

Everywhere. [ It's the only word he can think of at the moment, distracted as he is by your touch, your taste. ]

[ You take him up on what he was offering you and it's suddenly impossible for him to do anything else but shudder, lose his breath, blush, moan into the minimal space between your faces. He's hot and very hard in your grip, and it's just going to get worse for him from there.

His head is bowing now, sagging underneath the effort of straining against the pleasure that is threatening to override him completely. The hand he has in your hair has fallen away, skimming over your spine, coming to rest just at the small of your back. The better to let him wrap one arm around you and support himself against your body, of course.

At any other time, maybe he might have been a bit embarrassed at how quickly he's getting worked up. At this moment, though, you are both in a place that neither of you really likes, and it's been far too long since you were able to come together, to steady yourselves by taking refuge in each other's arms. ]

Edited 2015-02-11 14:23 (UTC)

Kiss me, [ the words are rough as they leave his lips, whispered into the air between you. His grip has tightened around you, his fingers rub at you a little more. His thoughts are scattering, and he doesn't even realize that he's instinctively reaching for you in every way ( Where's the goddamned lube when you need it ) with flashes of how you feel coursing through him.

( Your hand rests against the small of his back and he's struck by a thought that he's done very well to tuck away in the furthest corner of his mind: you, doing to him what he does to you -- maybe. )

His mouth presses against you shoulder as he feels you up, fingers tightening on the upstroke. ]

[ Unfortunately(?) for you, since the two of you are, to borrow Tala Vega's dry words from the stranger points of 2012, "joined to the brain" at the moment, he is catching those stray thoughts and desires that flit through your mind. In the heat of his own need, he initially doesn't bother making sense of it beyond how it shows him the fact that the two of you rather desperately need to fuck like rabbits.

Then he catches that last half-thought of yours, right as his own hand drifted down a little lower, and he proceeds to what is, in his eyes, the next logical step to take.

He moves his hand even lower, sliding underneath the cloth of your pants and over your skin, cupping one of your butt cheeks in a way that lets his fingers craze oh-so-lightly over the crack of your ass.

At least he is dutifully responding to your request by kissing you, alternating between deep dips with tongue and lighter ones that end with him nibbling idly on your lip. ]

Edited 2015-02-12 05:53 (UTC)

[ Here is the breakdown of his collective response to that gesture: the shudder that seems to go through him, lancing up his spine and down his limbs with the aftermath of gooseflesh rising over his skin. The hitched whine that tumbles from his lips, as though his heart had just leapt from chest to throat in mere seconds. The tightening of fingers from the hand that was momentarily occupied with your ass, and these words: weak, whispered, wanting: ]

Babe, [ He's broken away from your latest assault on his mouth; his head feels full of static, white noise and you. His skin feels like a straitjacket wound about the furnace of his blood caged by muscle and bone. ] Please don't tease.

[ There is a set dance between you both and he's gotten no inkling from your end that you'd be willing to switch your roles around. He is also very, very bad at asking for the things he'd like to try where it concerns coming together with you in bed if he isn't sure of you wanting it too. His needs, you see, he's used to putting them on the back-burner. ]

Edited 2015-02-12 06:00 (UTC)

[ Interesting.

What you'll first get in response is your boy moving his mouth away from yours, settling for planting kisses right at the corner of your lips, and then moving along your jawline, up across one side of your face. He only speaks once he's sure that you can feel his breath, warm and heavy, in your ear. ]

You mean you'd like me to do more?

[ The hand that he has on you has not moved. His fingers are tracing the length of that crack nice and slow. ]

[ His head has dropped to your shoulder, forehead pressed to your skin like he'd like to hide away inside of you. That familiar flush is creeping up the back of his neck, staining the tips of his ears as he breathes in -- sharp, alert, hyper-aware -- as a response to what you're doing.

( He would like to blame Arcadia for these thoughts, he really would. Except he can't, because the blame would be misplaced and he'd be lying to himself. He's watched you fall asleep in his arms, has tried to brand the image of you moving above/beneath/against him in the numerous times you two have come together to forget everything but each other. He's wondered about the things you let him do to you, the things you've asked of him when the look in your eyes and the shape of your lips as you writhe in response to his ministrations has gotten his blood up.

He's wondered, quietly, secretly, those thoughts squirreled away and wrapped up in deflections and distractions -- he's wondered what it might be like if you were giving and he receiving.

He suspects he would enjoy it. It's both terrifying and enticing. )

Forgive him, Hikaru. It seems his tongue has forgotten how to shape the sounds so that he can speak. ]

[ He's going to revise that previous thought: this is very, very interesting.

Watching all of these tiny little reactions with a mix of amusement and fascination, and while he's doing that, he is still keeping that hand in place. After a moment, though, he's moving his other hand, wrapping his fingers underneath your chin and tilting your face up towards his. ]

You know, I never tried to do these things to you because I didn't want to push you too far.

[ You are most welcome to worry about the way he's smiling at you now, and the look in his eyes. ]

[ What does it say about him that his reaction to what you've just said and how you're looking at him right now is to go incredibly still, eyes at half mast considering that his gaze keeps getting drawn towards your mouth.

( You said "these things". Are you referring to his reactions to how he cannot ignore the way your hand/fingers feel? Or... or-- ) ]

I didn't think-- [ Yes, Josh. You only kind of wished.

Swallowing now, and doing his best not to shift his weight.

What you're getting on your end is probably the equivalent of the kind of embarrassment that stems from being caught whilst jerking off to the thought of you when he thought you weren't looking much less in the same room. ]

[ Now he really has to kiss you, slow and deep and thorough. Like so. ]

You didn't think what?

[ And he stays close to you as he speaks, his eyes never leaving your face, his mouth tantalizingly close to yours. His grip is firm and imploring at exactly the same time. The fingers he has along the valley between your buttcheeks is now rather close to your entrance. ]

Edited 2015-02-12 07:28 (UTC)

[ He never thought that he'd know the kind of nearness that cut, that could make a body crave so much more. What he feels is the equivalent of being trapped in the dark with only a tiny patch of light in a high place, and that light is also the only means for air to seep in for his lungs to inhale hungrily.

Your fingers are so close and he could choose to shift his hips to bring them closer, invite you in and sate a need that's been the itch he couldn't quite reach all on his own.

Swallow again, Josh. It's just one sentence. How hard can a confession be? ]

I didn't think you wanted me like that.

[ Of course you would think that.

His hand is leaving the general vicinity of your ass now, and moving up. You can trace the progress it makes from your arm all the way to your face, where his fingers then start tracing your jawline all the way down to your neck, then back down over the curve of your shoulder. You may recognize the gesture. It's almost like, while his body is contemplating an action, his mind has already been resolved on what he intends to do --

-- if you'll let him, that is. ]

It was never about not wanting you, love. [ The words are soft and gentle, even if the look in his eyes is clear in their need for you, in his hunger for your skin. ] I wanted to be careful. [ A beat, punctuated by a small chuckle. ] You were pretty convinced that you were straight for a long time.

[ And he wanted to be careful. He's always careful, because he's afraid that somehow, in some way, he might hurt you. He might be the reason why you break. ]

[ How is it that a gesture so simple as your fingers over his skin is enough to rob him of breath and coherent thought? He's pretty sure this isn't just Arcadia's effect on him, because as he voices in a soft and incredibly honest tone: I guess I still have a long way in understanding how a relationship like ours works.

He knew some in theory, but he always did ascribe to what was between two people was private and not something he should think too hard on because it felt intrusive.

His hand is coming up to catch yours, and what he does next is to bring your palm to his lips so he can press a tender kiss to it's center. ]

You don't have to be too careful with me.

[ He means it. He means it with every cell in his body and every thought in his mind. You've introduced him to some pretty unconventional things in the bedroom over the course of the months spanning this whirlwind of a romance between you both. He might have hesitated, but it was always and ever about him being afraid that he might hurt you.

Your minds are linked now, and you'll feel all that: the night after the Hour, the little flirtations that ended in his bedroom; the eve of your birthday. ]

I trust you. [ He always has. ]

[ First, after seeing you the way you respond and hearing you say that, he's going to kiss you. It'll be a slow and thorough explanation of your mouth, like he intends to show you that he loves the way you taste, and that he can drink from nowhere else.

Then he's going to slide his hand away from yours, curl his fingers under your chin and lift it up, so that you can't look anywhere else but into his eyes. That is a gesture that you usually do.

Truly, it is becoming evident that it's high time that he stops being so, ah, considerate, or so careful of the fact that - even after everything - there is still so much that is new to you with regard to the two of you. Maybe, after tonight, there won't be any further need to be. Nevertheless... ]

Are you sure?

[ He has to ask just one more time. ]

Edited 2015-02-15 16:07 (UTC)

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