[ There's so much to love about the sound of laughter, the way it begets itself even in the most intense moments — and it is intense, even if it's also short-lived. Kizuna responds similarly, stuttering out an undaunted, breathless laugh. He's freed in just enough time to partake in his orgasm as it comes desperately between them, messy and honest.
All the prettiness in the world can't compare to the effect of touch on someone deprived of it, affection given without restraint like rain on dry land. On his knees and still hard in Wolfwood's wet fist, Kizuna smiles at him, the mirth creased at the corners of his eyes nothing short of adoring. There's a sort of rawness Kizuna knows well, the sweltering chafe of kindness against wounds not old enough to scar; perhaps for men like Wolfwood, they would never scar, not with the way he selflessly carries them open and bloody, bullshitting the only levity he can afford. His insult lacks teeth, the noise of it prompting the shine he's taken to him to glow all the brighter. ]
Oh, good boy. [ It's near delicate, the way he reaches down to smear the flats of his fingers through his cum. What he does next is less so: he laves the taste of him off his skin with his tongue. Filthy and flirtatious all in one. ] I bet that felt incredible.
[ A flex of his hips highlights the firm length of his cock still held in his hand, velvet skin receptive to the full grip of him, his callused skin. Kizuna purrs a contented noise, unhurried. To be starved of touch means to be sensitive to it, after all. He thinks he can have him ready to go again in no time. ]
I like your touch on me too. [ A lean back, one hand sneaking below his waistband to tug provocatively at his pants. Hello, he is overdressed. And so is Wolfwood. ] If I lay back, will you keep going?
[ coming down from the high of coming harder than he ever has in a long, long time means he's vulnerable to the devastating one-two punch of kizuna's voice, of his fingers dragging through his spend to lick them off. wolfwood's head spins, his spent cock making a valiant attempt as it hardens again, made easier where it's still nestled against kizuna's. the good boy sinks into his brain, hooks him in his gut as he swallows hard, dryness clicking in his throat.
he wants to be good; he's always wanted to be. everything the eye took from him he can never reclaim, but they couldn't beat those instincts out of him. he feels — exposed, raw, and beneath all of that, relief. in his post-nut clarity, he wonders briefly how kizuna is even real as he watches the smooth flex of his abdomen when he leans back. ]
You're incredible, [ he says, aiming for his usual levity and landing a little too close to the glaring bullseye he only just tossed a blanket over. ] I can go all night, babe. [ he tacks on, as if that makes it any better.
but before he can make any more of an ass out of himself (again), he wipes his hand on the sheets below him and slips his hands beneath kizuna's waistband, tugging them down over his hips and thighs. it feels a little bit like he's been given a gift, undressing this beautiful man that really has no business being on his knees for wolfwood. it wars within him, the knowledge that he doesn't deserve this against the bigger part of him that wants to make him feel good, that wants to be good; that wants to selfishly keep that adoring gaze on him and be worthy of it. ]
[ For Kizuna, the high is just starting. It's in the magnetism of such opposing emotions: the unbridled desire to be something fate robbed him of, the struggle to feel worthy of it when that fate had turned out unimaginably cruel. If only Wolfwood knew, Kizuna thinks as he allows him to undress him the rest of the way, that his gaze on him is just as devastating. But he smiles as if things are so much simpler than that, easing back to return the favor and divest the other man of the rest of his clothing too. ]
Mhm. I'll hold you to that, darling. [ Now completely bare and skin to skin, Kizuna reclaims his spot on Wolfwood's hips. Only now he's slinking slightly higher on his body, a terrible shine in his eyes. ] Then I'll prove to you just how incredible I can be.
[ Like a promise, the answer to a prayer — leaning down on a palm pressed to the sheets at Wolfwood's side, Kizuna uses the other hand, fingers still slightly damp from the lap of his tongue, to tip his chin upwards. It's easier to kiss him like that, loose-lipped and hungry. He gives a slow rut against his naked body, erection pressed provocatively to his belly. ]
How fast do you wanna make me come? [ Purred low against smoke-scented lips, marked by kisses. ] I'll let you decide.
[ it almost hurts a little, how it feels to have kizuna's bare skin pressed against his own: all smooth and supple skin, the give of it beneath his fingers. he wonders how it's possible to be unable to stop running his hands everywhere, to wish to be in two different places at once. there's the very real danger of pressing too hard, to leave his mark on kizuna even temporarily; would he regret it in the morning when he sees them, the dark evidence of his possession and hunger marring his perfect skin? wolfwood aches in a way he doesn't understand, something in his chest breaking and mending all at once, but he tips his head easily at the nudge of damp fingers, eager for the anointment of kizuna's affection.
wolfwood's orgasm hasn't banked the heat in his veins — if anything, it's only made it worse now that he's had a taste of it. he groans into his mouth, his hands settling once more on kizuna's hips squeezing briefly; a silent encouragement for another rut, and another. as much as kizuna is willing to give. ]
You don't gotta prove anything. [ he already has, as far as wolfwood is concerned. ] Not to me.
[ he's the last person that needs it. kizuna asks him how fast, but wolfwood's selfish desire rears its head again, wanting to prolong it for as long as he can. if he's only getting one night, he may as well make the most of it for both of them. when the kiss breaks, he finds himself staring into gold again, lets himself get lost in it as he brushes the back of his fingers reverently along the curve of one soft cheek. ]
Tell me what you like. [ and as if he hasn't damned himself enough already: ] I'll do anything.
[ So easily pleased, brought to heel by ordinary desires. With each slide of skin between them, that hurt amplifies. The ache rings in Kizuna's pulse points, its soft reverb making him all too aware of his own body's outline. He doesn't want his body to feel so separate from Wolfwood's, to have his reverence placed between them like a wall. If it would give him any sense of peace and belonging at all, Kizuna would gladly let Wolfwood blur his lines with the rigor of his touch, to coat him in his shadowed fingerprints. To be perfect is to be untouched. But when the touch comes and it's the gentle draw of knuckles across the height of his cheek, he sighs, tipping his head into it instinctively.
He's really something special. ]
Anything is a lot to offer. [ Not because Kizuna doesn't believe him, but because he does believe he'd do anything. ] But it's you that I like, so anything is fine.
[ He thoughtfully reaches to run nimble fingers over the other man's wrists, tracing the muscles of his forearms. A shiver runs though his inner thighs — what would it be like to have his weight given up to those hands? Like a prelude, he kisses him again, breath pluming warm and slow in consideration, tongue laying the words upon his mouth. ]
Your strength and your mouth. [ A cute click of his teeth. ] Those are what I want the most.
[ he doesn't have much to offer; not anymore, at least, and not that he's had a lot to begin with. what kizuna sees beneath him is all he gets, and wolfwood is self-aware enough to know that it's a shitty bargain. kizuna could have anyone eating out of the palm of his hand if he wanted, and he's here instead: kissing him and touching him like he's something desirable, like there's something of worth left beneath the blood and sand and grit caked into his skin; like there's still some resemblance of a human inside the monster that he was made to be.
he tips his head into wolfwood's touch so readily, so easily, and wolfwood swallows, his mouth suddenly bone dry. it's you that i like, he says, and wolfwood feels almost embarrassed for a mortifying moment before he's thankfully distracted by the soft touch of kizuna's fingers running up his arms, prickling his skin in their wake. ]
Yeah. [ the image burns itself into his brain, the idea of kizuna braced over him, backlit by the soft light of the room. radiant; divine. he mirrors that shiver, pressing his tongue against that click of teeth, his arms flexing beneath kizuna's hands before his own slide back down kizuna's thighs, palms cupping the backs of them. ] I can do that.
[ it's easy enough to pull kizuna further up his chest until he's directly above wolfwood's mouth. his hands bear most of his weight as he lowers him enough to run his tongue along the underside of his cock, over his perineum to trace the rim of that puckered hole. ]
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All the prettiness in the world can't compare to the effect of touch on someone deprived of it, affection given without restraint like rain on dry land. On his knees and still hard in Wolfwood's wet fist, Kizuna smiles at him, the mirth creased at the corners of his eyes nothing short of adoring. There's a sort of rawness Kizuna knows well, the sweltering chafe of kindness against wounds not old enough to scar; perhaps for men like Wolfwood, they would never scar, not with the way he selflessly carries them open and bloody, bullshitting the only levity he can afford. His insult lacks teeth, the noise of it prompting the shine he's taken to him to glow all the brighter. ]
Oh, good boy. [ It's near delicate, the way he reaches down to smear the flats of his fingers through his cum. What he does next is less so: he laves the taste of him off his skin with his tongue. Filthy and flirtatious all in one. ] I bet that felt incredible.
[ A flex of his hips highlights the firm length of his cock still held in his hand, velvet skin receptive to the full grip of him, his callused skin. Kizuna purrs a contented noise, unhurried. To be starved of touch means to be sensitive to it, after all. He thinks he can have him ready to go again in no time. ]
I like your touch on me too. [ A lean back, one hand sneaking below his waistband to tug provocatively at his pants. Hello, he is overdressed. And so is Wolfwood. ] If I lay back, will you keep going?
no subject
he wants to be good; he's always wanted to be. everything the eye took from him he can never reclaim, but they couldn't beat those instincts out of him. he feels — exposed, raw, and beneath all of that, relief. in his post-nut clarity, he wonders briefly how kizuna is even real as he watches the smooth flex of his abdomen when he leans back. ]
You're incredible, [ he says, aiming for his usual levity and landing a little too close to the glaring bullseye he only just tossed a blanket over. ] I can go all night, babe. [ he tacks on, as if that makes it any better.
but before he can make any more of an ass out of himself (again), he wipes his hand on the sheets below him and slips his hands beneath kizuna's waistband, tugging them down over his hips and thighs. it feels a little bit like he's been given a gift, undressing this beautiful man that really has no business being on his knees for wolfwood. it wars within him, the knowledge that he doesn't deserve this against the bigger part of him that wants to make him feel good, that wants to be good; that wants to selfishly keep that adoring gaze on him and be worthy of it. ]
no subject
Mhm. I'll hold you to that, darling. [ Now completely bare and skin to skin, Kizuna reclaims his spot on Wolfwood's hips. Only now he's slinking slightly higher on his body, a terrible shine in his eyes. ] Then I'll prove to you just how incredible I can be.
[ Like a promise, the answer to a prayer — leaning down on a palm pressed to the sheets at Wolfwood's side, Kizuna uses the other hand, fingers still slightly damp from the lap of his tongue, to tip his chin upwards. It's easier to kiss him like that, loose-lipped and hungry. He gives a slow rut against his naked body, erection pressed provocatively to his belly. ]
How fast do you wanna make me come? [ Purred low against smoke-scented lips, marked by kisses. ] I'll let you decide.
no subject
wolfwood's orgasm hasn't banked the heat in his veins — if anything, it's only made it worse now that he's had a taste of it. he groans into his mouth, his hands settling once more on kizuna's hips squeezing briefly; a silent encouragement for another rut, and another. as much as kizuna is willing to give. ]
You don't gotta prove anything. [ he already has, as far as wolfwood is concerned. ] Not to me.
[ he's the last person that needs it. kizuna asks him how fast, but wolfwood's selfish desire rears its head again, wanting to prolong it for as long as he can. if he's only getting one night, he may as well make the most of it for both of them. when the kiss breaks, he finds himself staring into gold again, lets himself get lost in it as he brushes the back of his fingers reverently along the curve of one soft cheek. ]
Tell me what you like. [ and as if he hasn't damned himself enough already: ] I'll do anything.
no subject
He's really something special. ]
Anything is a lot to offer. [ Not because Kizuna doesn't believe him, but because he does believe he'd do anything. ] But it's you that I like, so anything is fine.
[ He thoughtfully reaches to run nimble fingers over the other man's wrists, tracing the muscles of his forearms. A shiver runs though his inner thighs — what would it be like to have his weight given up to those hands? Like a prelude, he kisses him again, breath pluming warm and slow in consideration, tongue laying the words upon his mouth. ]
Your strength and your mouth. [ A cute click of his teeth. ] Those are what I want the most.
no subject
he tips his head into wolfwood's touch so readily, so easily, and wolfwood swallows, his mouth suddenly bone dry. it's you that i like, he says, and wolfwood feels almost embarrassed for a mortifying moment before he's thankfully distracted by the soft touch of kizuna's fingers running up his arms, prickling his skin in their wake. ]
Yeah. [ the image burns itself into his brain, the idea of kizuna braced over him, backlit by the soft light of the room. radiant; divine. he mirrors that shiver, pressing his tongue against that click of teeth, his arms flexing beneath kizuna's hands before his own slide back down kizuna's thighs, palms cupping the backs of them. ] I can do that.
[ it's easy enough to pull kizuna further up his chest until he's directly above wolfwood's mouth. his hands bear most of his weight as he lowers him enough to run his tongue along the underside of his cock, over his perineum to trace the rim of that puckered hole. ]