"Let me take care of you," Gonou says, catching Jedao's hand as it makes its way past his wrist. "And then I'll let you take care of me."
He untangles himself with reluctance, and steals a kiss on Jedao's knuckles as he gets up from the bed. The wardrobe is only a few steps away; he feels a little prickling self-consciousness even to walk so far naked, but he also likes the idea of Jedao seeing him. He's not exactly showing off -- just pulling out the ceramic bowl, washcloths and plastic water jug -- but being naked around someone is a different kind of intimacy when they're not touching, and one that he finds oddly thrilling.
Jedao isn't at all surprised by the answer; he stays sprawled in the bed, making no effort whatsoever to clean anything, or cover himself with sheets, or even to smooth down his sweat-plastered hair. Gonou made a mess of him, and now he's Gonou's mess to deal with how he likes, which he rather things they're both enjoying.
He enjoys the view, too, shamelessly: Gonou's long legs and his cute butt, previously only admired through jeans; the way the muscles move in his back; the shape of his hips where Jedao rested his hands, that he would know now in the dark. When Gonou turns back to see him watching, he winks.
At the wink, Gonou smiles at him, easy and genuine and sunlight-bright, like he hasn't smiled in -- months, maybe more than a year; he is happy, and even if his fears and doubts find a way to sneak back in the next time he's alone, having this joy is worth it all.
He sits down on the bed next to Jedao, enjoying the view in turn with a long look down Jedao's body -- sweaty, hair in disarray, the long lean lines of his torso elegant even through the patchwork of scars marring his skin, the mess they'd left smeared over his stomach and thighs. He glances back up to Jedao's face, after the look, letting Jedao see the pleased heat in his gaze before he hands over the ceramic bowl with matter-of-fact practicality.
"Here, hold this," he says, unscrews the lid on his water jug, and hefts it to fill the bowl.
"Yes, sir," Jedao says cheekily, his own face warming again at the renewed desire in Gonou's gaze.
He holds it steady even as he sprawls back a little, looking at the ceiling instead, just for a second to breathe through it, the intensity of self-consciousness even as he likes Gonou looking at him, when he's never liked looking at himself.
"Tell me it was good for you?" he asks, knowing it's silly, but wanting to hear it anyway, a counterpoint to the stupid little rills of nervousness that keep brushing against him.
"Even better than I imagined," Gonou says -- he has imagined it, since the first moment they realized they both wanted each other. And it's true: really being with Jedao is easier, frees him of the second-thinking and guilt that plagues him when he's alone. All he has to do is look to know it's all right.
He dips his washcloth into the bowl, wrings it out, and begins to clean Jedao's chest first, gentle and thorough.
He glances to Jedao's face again as the washcloth passes over the one nipple he has, and adds with the slightest flicker of insecurity, "Was it for you?"
Gonou kisses back with a hint of relief, washcloth pausing at the center of Jedao's chest until their lips part again and he can go back to washing him clean.
He rinses the washcloth out again a few times before he reaches Jedao's waist and pauses, resting one hand on his knee to urge his legs to sprawl open and let Gonou finish cleaning away the traces of sex across his crotch and thighs.
"Is this all right?" he asks, soft. It is intimate, and if it's too much, Gonou can hand the washcloth over to him.
Jedao spreads his legs wider at the nudge; the blush goes most of the way down his chest, flaring in little archipelagos of unscarred skin like a range of beacons.
"It's a lot," he breathes, "But in a good way."
He remembers washing after, the first time with Dhanneth, sore everywhere he wasn't numb from the ropes, together and yet still so separate. This feels - different, in almost every way.
Another smile lights Gonou's face at the answer, and he leans over to drop a kiss on Jedao's knee beside his hand, deliberately a little silly as he starts to clean Jedao's thighs. He's gentle about it, not at all impersonal, darting little glances up at Jedao's face: half wondering, that he is allowed to do this, that he's welcomed, and the other half hot with desire.
Jedao smiles too, easy and bright, his calf jumping minutely at one point as water trickles down his thigh. He didn't know - he didn't know he was ticklish, because no one else ever touched him there with anything that wasn't a knife.
"Fuck," he chokes, caught between giggles and something that wants to be a sob. "Come here, come here -" His hands are reaching for Gonou, and he needs to kiss him, needs to feel Gonou's arms around him again. Jedao wants to crush him in the tightest hug he can, only just remembering Gonou's ribs in time, hands spasming tight in his hair instead.
Gonou drops the washcloth back into the bowl beside Jedao and follows those reaching hands, pulling him up into an embrace and kissing him hard, trying to warm away that half-choked hint of a sob under the laughter in his voice.
"Ticklish?" he murmurs against Jedao's lips, teasing, and kisses him again. "I am too -- on the bottom of my feet."
"I didn't know," he says quietly, panting after the third kiss, or maybe the fourth, voice quiet but steadier. "No one's ever touched me like that before."
He nuzzles Gonou's cheek, takes another slow breath. I didn't know, he thinks again, and isn't entirely sure what he means by it; the magnitude of possible referents, for the moment, surpasses him.
"I'd like to, again and again," Gonou says softly, and kisses him for punctuation even though his voice is steadying again. "Every time you'll let me." He feels -- warm, fiercely protective at the thought that no one has been gentle with Jedao this way before and simultaneously flattered that he could be the first.
And a little intimidated, because he's only ever been with one person himself, and he's feeling his way through this by following Jedao's lead.
"Oh," Gonou says wryly, "I'm just thinking..." he clears his throat, because this is embarrassing to admit aloud, but-- "that I'm doing a lot of this for the first time, too?"
It's not that he hadn't done quite a few things with Kanan, but a different partner means different tastes, different expectations, different -- ah -- equipment: he's not very experienced, when it comes down to it.
Jedao blinks, then strokes his hand down Gonou's back.
"I know. Or - I assumed, anyway." Recognized, maybe, a kindred spirit, in their mutual devastation. "You're kind to me when things go - awry. I think that's more important than anything being perfect. And if you're worried about sex..." Jedao gives him an impish grin and squeezes a handful of Gonou's butt.
"...I have so much weird porn. We can try things, and laugh when they don't work and have a very nice time when they do."
Gonou jolts, taken completely by surprise, when Jedao grabs his butt, and then puts his head down against Jedao's shoulder and starts laughing helplessly.
"Maybe we should start with porn that isn't very weird," he manages, "all of my sex education and my only relationship was a man and a woman--"
He lets the last of his worry ebb away on a long sigh, lifts his head up, and kisses Jedao firmly.
"... and you're kind to me," he adds, softly, "first and always."
"Technically, my species are sequential hermaphrodites," Jedao mutters. "But I'm still pretty sure you can't get me pregnant without doing a lot of wildly unethical science on purpose, so we should be good there."
He trails his fingers back up Gonou's spine carefully.
"When I ask you to take care of me...I just like it. I like - the way you do it, it feels like proof that you want to be with me, that you - fuck, this is silly, but that you like me, not just want me. Even without Kujen messing with my head -" probably, maybe, "- I've wanted people I didn't want to want, you know? And - and done things in the heat of the moment that. I wish I hadn't done." Whatever Gonou is merciful enough to call it. "So I like - this. And I can tell you like it, too, getting to take care of me, and I want to give you that. But it doesn't mean you have to know everything about being with men."
Jedao cups the back of Gonou's neck, strokes the sinews there. "I promise I'll teach you how to take care of me any way you want to, okay? But there's nothing to be worried about. I trust you. And anything you don't know, I trust you to ask, and listen. And we'll figure it out. Yeah?"
"You'd make a very attractive woman, too, but I'm glad we don't have to worry about birth control," Gonou murmurs, leaning his forehead against Jedao's and letting his eyes slip half-closed. The hand on his neck is -- surprisingly soothing, though he wouldn't have said he was tense, before.
Perhaps he had been, a little.
"And-- it's not silly. I do like you, you know. I liked you before anything else." His hands settle, overlapping, at the small of Jedao's back, his thumb rubbing absent little circles into the skin. "And I trust you to tell me what you want."
He pulls away just enough to give Jedao a small, slightly wicked smile, meeting his gaze. "In fact, maybe you should just talk me through it once or twice...? Next time."
"Is that so," Jedao murmurs, his voice deepening, the sway of his accent getting a little thicker. That trembles on the verge of being a two-syllable word.
Jedao can feel the rag coming but doesn't realize until it hits how cool the water still feels against his warm skin; he shrieks and wriggles obligingly.
Gonou laughs, letting the last of his tension dissolve away as he puts a hand on Jedao's chest to push him gently back down to the mattress. He had been mostly done cleaning Jedao up; a few more swipes of the washcloth clean away the last of it, and he hands it across to Jedao despite the way he feels a sudden spike of nervous vulnerability at the idea of letting someone else clean him up.
Jedao leans up to kiss him again as he takes it, slow and sweet.
"You're so beautiful, you know?" he murmurs, nudging Gonou onto his side and gently swiping his belly clean first, eyes still on Gonou's face, rather than the scar there. "I want to kiss your calves and your collarbones all over. I want to bite your butt and see if you make that noise again."
Pliant, Gonou allows himself to be nudged, smiling at Jedao, helplessly fond. His ears are warming at the praise. He doesn't think he's beautiful, but he's also never spent time thinking about the attractiveness of his calves.
"I don't know what noise I'll make. You should try it and find out," he murmurs.
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He untangles himself with reluctance, and steals a kiss on Jedao's knuckles as he gets up from the bed. The wardrobe is only a few steps away; he feels a little prickling self-consciousness even to walk so far naked, but he also likes the idea of Jedao seeing him. He's not exactly showing off -- just pulling out the ceramic bowl, washcloths and plastic water jug -- but being naked around someone is a different kind of intimacy when they're not touching, and one that he finds oddly thrilling.
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He enjoys the view, too, shamelessly: Gonou's long legs and his cute butt, previously only admired through jeans; the way the muscles move in his back; the shape of his hips where Jedao rested his hands, that he would know now in the dark. When Gonou turns back to see him watching, he winks.
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He sits down on the bed next to Jedao, enjoying the view in turn with a long look down Jedao's body -- sweaty, hair in disarray, the long lean lines of his torso elegant even through the patchwork of scars marring his skin, the mess they'd left smeared over his stomach and thighs. He glances back up to Jedao's face, after the look, letting Jedao see the pleased heat in his gaze before he hands over the ceramic bowl with matter-of-fact practicality.
"Here, hold this," he says, unscrews the lid on his water jug, and hefts it to fill the bowl.
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He holds it steady even as he sprawls back a little, looking at the ceiling instead, just for a second to breathe through it, the intensity of self-consciousness even as he likes Gonou looking at him, when he's never liked looking at himself.
"Tell me it was good for you?" he asks, knowing it's silly, but wanting to hear it anyway, a counterpoint to the stupid little rills of nervousness that keep brushing against him.
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He dips his washcloth into the bowl, wrings it out, and begins to clean Jedao's chest first, gentle and thorough.
He glances to Jedao's face again as the washcloth passes over the one nipple he has, and adds with the slightest flicker of insecurity, "Was it for you?"
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"It was wonderful for me," he promises.
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He rinses the washcloth out again a few times before he reaches Jedao's waist and pauses, resting one hand on his knee to urge his legs to sprawl open and let Gonou finish cleaning away the traces of sex across his crotch and thighs.
"Is this all right?" he asks, soft. It is intimate, and if it's too much, Gonou can hand the washcloth over to him.
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"It's a lot," he breathes, "But in a good way."
He remembers washing after, the first time with Dhanneth, sore everywhere he wasn't numb from the ropes, together and yet still so separate. This feels - different, in almost every way.
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"Fuck," he chokes, caught between giggles and something that wants to be a sob. "Come here, come here -" His hands are reaching for Gonou, and he needs to kiss him, needs to feel Gonou's arms around him again. Jedao wants to crush him in the tightest hug he can, only just remembering Gonou's ribs in time, hands spasming tight in his hair instead.
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"Ticklish?" he murmurs against Jedao's lips, teasing, and kisses him again. "I am too -- on the bottom of my feet."
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He nuzzles Gonou's cheek, takes another slow breath. I didn't know, he thinks again, and isn't entirely sure what he means by it; the magnitude of possible referents, for the moment, surpasses him.
"Thank you."
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And a little intimidated, because he's only ever been with one person himself, and he's feeling his way through this by following Jedao's lead.
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It's not that he hadn't done quite a few things with Kanan, but a different partner means different tastes, different expectations, different -- ah -- equipment: he's not very experienced, when it comes down to it.
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"I know. Or - I assumed, anyway." Recognized, maybe, a kindred spirit, in their mutual devastation. "You're kind to me when things go - awry. I think that's more important than anything being perfect. And if you're worried about sex..." Jedao gives him an impish grin and squeezes a handful of Gonou's butt.
"...I have so much weird porn. We can try things, and laugh when they don't work and have a very nice time when they do."
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"Maybe we should start with porn that isn't very weird," he manages, "all of my sex education and my only relationship was a man and a woman--"
He lets the last of his worry ebb away on a long sigh, lifts his head up, and kisses Jedao firmly.
"... and you're kind to me," he adds, softly, "first and always."
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He trails his fingers back up Gonou's spine carefully.
"When I ask you to take care of me...I just like it. I like - the way you do it, it feels like proof that you want to be with me, that you - fuck, this is silly, but that you like me, not just want me. Even without Kujen messing with my head -" probably, maybe, "- I've wanted people I didn't want to want, you know? And - and done things in the heat of the moment that. I wish I hadn't done." Whatever Gonou is merciful enough to call it. "So I like - this. And I can tell you like it, too, getting to take care of me, and I want to give you that. But it doesn't mean you have to know everything about being with men."
Jedao cups the back of Gonou's neck, strokes the sinews there. "I promise I'll teach you how to take care of me any way you want to, okay? But there's nothing to be worried about. I trust you. And anything you don't know, I trust you to ask, and listen. And we'll figure it out. Yeah?"
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Perhaps he had been, a little.
"And-- it's not silly. I do like you, you know. I liked you before anything else." His hands settle, overlapping, at the small of Jedao's back, his thumb rubbing absent little circles into the skin. "And I trust you to tell me what you want."
He pulls away just enough to give Jedao a small, slightly wicked smile, meeting his gaze. "In fact, maybe you should just talk me through it once or twice...? Next time."
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Then he reaches over to recover the washcloth from the bowl and splat it against the back of Jedao's neck.
"But I wasn't done!"
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"You're so beautiful, you know?" he murmurs, nudging Gonou onto his side and gently swiping his belly clean first, eyes still on Gonou's face, rather than the scar there. "I want to kiss your calves and your collarbones all over. I want to bite your butt and see if you make that noise again."
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"I don't know what noise I'll make. You should try it and find out," he murmurs.
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CW: brief weird gore fantasies
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