The sound he makes, low in his throat, is more vibration than noise as Jedao rocks forward. His eyes flutter shut, memory snapping into place with a jolt that runs molten down his spine, and he reaches down to press the heel of his hand against his dick.
Yes, he likes this, he's remembering just how much he likes this as he leans forward to chase Jedao's rock back, wordlessly urging him deeper, harder.
He gets a good grip in Gonou's hair with his other hand, not to pull but just to hold, firm and bracing. He pushes deeper into Gonou's throat, steady and slow, in and back and in again, relentless.
"You feel incredible, darling. I can go twice, if you want me to come in your mouth."
Gonou seriously considers it, half lost in the haze of sucking him, the steadying hand in his hair and the silencing weight in his mouth, but he taps a finger against Jedao's hip, pulling back to whisper.
"Maybe later. I want to touch more of you, the first time around."
Gonou kisses the hollow of his hip, getting to his feet in a smooth motion and stepping forward into Jedao's space first. Pressing against him, shoulder to ankle, he bends to find Jedao's lips and kiss him slow and deep.
When he finally pulls back from the kiss, he murmurs against Jedao's lips, "Now I'll get back on the bed."
Jedao laughs too, planting his hands on Gonou's chest 70% person to feel him a up a bit more and only 30% to help push him down into the blankets. Then he crawls over him, kissing him on the way and still going, his chest over Gonou's face as he reaches across to grab the lube out of the bedside drawer.
"Fast and rough it is," Gonou agrees with a wicked grin, squeezing a generous portion onto his first two fingers and leaning over Jedao to kiss him as he slips them down between his legs. He's not second-guessing the request: he presses right in, smooth and relentless as he deepens the kiss.
Jedao loses track of what he's doing in the kiss; the groan comes from deep in his chest, head tipping back, thighs flexing to either side. It's overwhelming in the best way, sudden and just enough to be a strain, to make him flex and ache and gasp the way he likes.
Gonou breathes in the sound from his lips, a shudder rippling through his shoulders in sympathetic hunger as his slick fingers pump in and out. As he feels the clench of muscle relax around his knuckles, he adds a third finger, and very deliberately leans down to nip at the skin over the pulse throbbing in Jedao's throat.
Jedao whines in his throat, arching up off the bed a little, his hands scrabbling at Gonou's shoulders - not to push him away or even pull him closer, but simple to have something to cling to.
"I want to mark you," Gonou whispers against his neck, not-quite-asking for permission. He knows Jedao likes it, but -- it feels so long ago. He wants to be sure.
"I heal fast," Jedao warn-reminds him, beaming up at him with a punch-drunk sort of delight. "If you want a bruise to last at all, it's got to be deep."
Yes, and don't be gentle about it, is what Gonou hears from that. He hums softly, and bites down, hard enough to be just shy of breaking skin as he curls his fingers deep inside.
The whispered affirmation jolts him into a shiver. He presses his lips over the reddening toothmarks, fingers stilling for a long moment.
Mine, he wants to agree, and feels the weight of that agreement too vast and heavy to risk. Instead, he dares the easier response, the one that feels simple and true, a disposition of what he has the right to arrange.
"Yours," he whispers back, and slips his fingers out, reaching for the bottle again so that he can slick his neglected cock. "Put me where you want me."
Jedao sits partway up, propped on his elbows, watching Gonou stroke himself with dark, heated eyes. After a few seconds, he moves, quick but carefully telegraphed to avoid startlingly him too badly. He flips them both, pressing Gonou's back to the bed with his full weight, gripping his shoulders over the scratches he's already put there. Jedao straddles him in the same rolling motion, sinking down onto him with a deep, indulgent moan.
Gonou's head falls back against the mattress, arching up against the solid weight of Jedao's hands on his shoulders as the tidal wave of sensation rips his own groan from him, lighter harmony to Jedao's deep moan. The hot easy slide of his body, the weight of him across Gonou's hips: the sting of sweat in the shallow scratches on his shoulders reminding him that this is real, and no dream about to twist into nightmare.
He lets the wave take him under, rolling his hips up until their thighs press hard against each other, deep as he can go. The pressure in his chest is almost unbearable, as if it could blow him apart into a blooming flower of flesh, bone-white and blood-red, his most secret parts quivering unprotected against Jedao's touch.
One of his hands clenches against the bedsheets, the other flies up to press over Jedao's hand on his shoulder, where the touch feels like it could sear into him like a brand. Words force themselves out, a hoarse spill to vent the pressure before he shatters.
Jedao crashes into a kiss, all teeth and tongue. When he's with anyone else, he's not supposed to have marks that show, but with Gonou he can, and he wants it both ways, wants anyone else who sees Gonou tonight to know someone kissed and bit his lips until they were tender and swollen.
His hand finds the arm that's only holding the sheets and pins it there in a tight grip as he starts to move, with deep heavy rolls of his hips, like he could grind Gonou through the bed and through the floor into the void. He wants to leave his fingerprints on Gonou's arm, the marks of his teeth on his mouth and throat, wants to change the alignment of his hips.
"Mine," he growls as he trails from Gonou's mouth to his collarbone, dropping mean, bruising little bites as he goes, brave enough to declare the possessive Gonou couldn't. "My Gonou-shei."
He's not trapped by Jedao's weight, by the grip of his hands and the teeth marking his skin: he's confident he could fight free if he had to, and the confidence lets him surrender. He bares his throat to the sting of Jedao's teeth with a wordless moan, letting it pin him in his flesh against the swells of pleasure threatening to sweep him away.
He gets one foot flat on the sheets, knee raised just enough to give him some leverage as he matches Jedao's rhythm, a little harder, a little deeper as his heartbeat threatens to deafen him.
"Yes," he hisses back, hand tightening over Jedao's hard, and tilts his chin up a bit further, tempting Jedao's mouth back up. "Jedao-shei--" his voice breaks, and he keeps moving, wordless and shuddering.
Hakkai would win in any serious fight; he would lose if Jedao decided to kill him without fighting, but it would take truly terrible circumstances for him to be so cold-blooded, and Jedao wouldn't need to hold him so close, or so tight. That's just for them.
Jedao groans deeply as Gonou thrusts with him. He feels so full he can barely breathe; he feels molten inside, white-hot and liquid, unbearably alive. His body only halfway feels like his body most days. It's a shape that carries him about, that he knows how to use. But right now he feels like he's in it, of it, filling it from his curling toes to the backs of his teeth, like he's nothing but heat and want and motion. He kisses Gonou hard again, hand flexing on his wrist, and moves faster, rough and close and desperate.
Release crashes through him as a shock, sudden and overwhelming: his mouth falls open under Jedao's, losing the kiss, and his hand on the sheets tightens with such force the fabric creaks warning. It's the only noise he makes for the space of a frozen breath, before he finds Jedao's mouth to resume the kiss, open-mouthed and easy. His hips roll in a last few shuddering thrusts as the tension bleeds from his muscles to leave him unstrung, floating for a moment with his thoughts perfectly silent, knowing only the language of touch.
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Yes, he likes this, he's remembering just how much he likes this as he leans forward to chase Jedao's rock back, wordlessly urging him deeper, harder.
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"You feel incredible, darling. I can go twice, if you want me to come in your mouth."
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"Maybe later. I want to touch more of you, the first time around."
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When he finally pulls back from the kiss, he murmurs against Jedao's lips, "Now I'll get back on the bed."
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"Let me get you ready?" he asks, offering a hand for the lube.
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"I like it rough and I can take it really rough. Start with two."
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"Yours," he whispers in the moment after, hands shifting to stroke down the long muscles of Gonou's back.
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Mine, he wants to agree, and feels the weight of that agreement too vast and heavy to risk. Instead, he dares the easier response, the one that feels simple and true, a disposition of what he has the right to arrange.
"Yours," he whispers back, and slips his fingers out, reaching for the bottle again so that he can slick his neglected cock. "Put me where you want me."
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cw grotesque imagery
He lets the wave take him under, rolling his hips up until their thighs press hard against each other, deep as he can go. The pressure in his chest is almost unbearable, as if it could blow him apart into a blooming flower of flesh, bone-white and blood-red, his most secret parts quivering unprotected against Jedao's touch.
One of his hands clenches against the bedsheets, the other flies up to press over Jedao's hand on his shoulder, where the touch feels like it could sear into him like a brand. Words force themselves out, a hoarse spill to vent the pressure before he shatters.
"Hold-- tight. You can bruise me."
Don't let go, don't let me forget this is real--
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His hand finds the arm that's only holding the sheets and pins it there in a tight grip as he starts to move, with deep heavy rolls of his hips, like he could grind Gonou through the bed and through the floor into the void. He wants to leave his fingerprints on Gonou's arm, the marks of his teeth on his mouth and throat, wants to change the alignment of his hips.
"Mine," he growls as he trails from Gonou's mouth to his collarbone, dropping mean, bruising little bites as he goes, brave enough to declare the possessive Gonou couldn't. "My Gonou-shei."
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He gets one foot flat on the sheets, knee raised just enough to give him some leverage as he matches Jedao's rhythm, a little harder, a little deeper as his heartbeat threatens to deafen him.
"Yes," he hisses back, hand tightening over Jedao's hard, and tilts his chin up a bit further, tempting Jedao's mouth back up. "Jedao-shei--" his voice breaks, and he keeps moving, wordless and shuddering.
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Jedao groans deeply as Gonou thrusts with him. He feels so full he can barely breathe; he feels molten inside, white-hot and liquid, unbearably alive. His body only halfway feels like his body most days. It's a shape that carries him about, that he knows how to use. But right now he feels like he's in it, of it, filling it from his curling toes to the backs of his teeth, like he's nothing but heat and want and motion. He kisses Gonou hard again, hand flexing on his wrist, and moves faster, rough and close and desperate.
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CW gorey imagery again
Re: CW gorey imagery again
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