At the touch of Jedao's hand, Gonou willingly lets his legs spread wider, a groan catching in his throat at the flicker of tongue and brush of cheek. He tosses his free hand across his mouth as Jedao moves his lips to even more sensitive skin, catching the skin on the back of his hand between his teeth as his fingers tighten a little, encouragingly, in Jedao's hair.
Even without Jedao's permission, Gonou would have ended up pulling his hair just then; his hand clenches hard in the soft strands and he makes a strangled sound through his teeth as he barely restrains himself from arching up off the bed. The wet heat of his mouth is shockingly good, almost too much, and Gonou can feel the faint vibration of his moan in soft lips and tongue.
Since he does have Jedao's permission, he doesn't let his hand fly guiltily open when he realizes what he's doing, only loosens his grip enough to avoid pinning his head in place.
"You feel so good," he whispers, letting his hand fall away from his mouth to grip the bedsheets.
Jedao whimpers in pleasure at the bright sting across his scalp. He had nebulous ambitions of trying to do something fancy with his tongue, but instead he just sinks farther down on Gonou's cock, swallows as much as he can, to better savor feeling Gonou stiffen in his mouth from half-hard to full.
The rush of sensation is overwhelming; Gonou's lightheaded with it, both his hands tightening again as the wave of it rolls over him. Up his spine to crash against his brain in little firework-bursts of pleasure; down again in a ripple of tension that ends by curling his toes hard against Jedao's sides. He's hard again already, and although he's trying to keep still, he can't help one tiny hitch of his hips that rubs the head of his cock against the yielding muscle of Jedao's tongue.
Jedao groans deep in his chest, leaning into it and taking Gonou deeper. He opens his eyes and reaches out to stroke Gonou's hipbone with his fingertips, wordless reassurance and encouragement. He tries to meet Gonou's eyes despite the angle, his mouth trying to grin as much as he can around his mouthful. He likes it; he likes all of it; he likes it so much.
The warmth in Jedao's gaze and the gentle tracery of his fingertips across Gonou's hip look like encouragement, urging him on to keep moving. Gonou's soft groan mirrors Jedao's, and he loosens his grip to make sure Jedao can move away if he needs to before moving again, a lazy slow arch up into the heat of Jedao's mouth.
And if Jedao does like that as much as Gonou does, he'll do it again and again, stumbling into an urgent rhythm as he leaks into Jedao's mouth and sweet tension starts to build again low in his belly.
Jedao moans almost continuously, a soft tremor of the breath he doesn't really need. He moves into the roll of Gonou's hips, until he's swallowing Gonou's cock completely. It's overwhelming in the best way, the pressure deep in his throat a relentless sensation that makes it hard to think, hard to be aware of anything but the heat and weight in his mouth, the dizzying knowledge that he gets to to do this, to have Gonou inside him. He loves it, needs it, has to get a hand on himself just for relief, already desperately hard again just from sucking Gonou.
Gonou cranes his head up from the bed, watching with his pupil blown wide as Jedao swallows him to the root on each thrust, as he reaches down to touch himself and moans with his mouth full. It's shockingly erotic.
He lets the bedsheets go, reaching down to catch the hand that's still on his thigh, to twine their fingers together and cling with desperate strength as he comes with a few last ragged thrusts and a hoarse shout.
This orgasm rips through him with a force that leaves him collapsing to the mattress, boneless and dazed but still holding on to Jedao's hand.
He wasn't actually sure if he'd be alright with swallowing, but ended up far too caught up in the act to worry about it. It's fine, though: Gonou finishes deep enough in his throat that he bypasses taste almost entirely. Jedao feels a rush of warm satisfaction instead, knowing he did that.
Jedao squeezes Gonou's hand and doesn't pull off immediately; there's something unbearably, wonderfully tender about continuing to suck as he feels Gonou soften.
Jedao's mouth still on him blends into the warm post-orgasmic haze at first, hot and wet in lingering intimacy, but it begins to tip over into too much sooner than Gonou wants it to. A muscle jumps in his thigh.
"--too sensitive," he manages, and tugs insistently at Jedao's hand. "Come up here?"
He's not sure he has it in him to get out of bed again tonight, but he very much wants Jedao in his arms.
He draws off slowly, cheeks pink in the aftermath, now that he's thinking again instead of just feeling. He hides his face against Gonou's thigh for a moment, takes a shuddering breath and leaves a soft scatter of kisses there before crawling back up over Gonou's body. He's careful never to put any weight on his ribs, although he ducks down for a deep, fierce kiss before carefully settling in beside him, his own renewed erection rocking against Gonou's hip.
Gonou returns the kiss, open-mouthed and pliant, and rolls back onto his side as Jedao settles next to him. He can taste himself in Jedao's mouth, musky and a little bitter. It's not so bad, he thinks, tongue flicking over his lips; he'd like to find out how Jedao tastes, next time.
"You're so good," he murmurs, stealing another kiss as he throws a proprietary arm over Jedao's waist. He shifts his hip forward, nudging against Jedao's erection, and adds with a little smile, "How should we take care of this?"
He's aware, at least, that the reflexive self-deprecation of you don't have to probably wouldn't go over well. Gonou isn't Mahar; Jedao doesn't repulse him, and his desire isn't an imposition. Still, it's hard to think.
"I want," Gonou says, and hesitates, flushing as he meets Jedao's gaze. "...I want to feel you. Like this-" he nudges his knee between Jedao's, pressing his thigh up against the hard line of his cock- "or between my thighs from behind...?"
"Ah -" Jedao rocks into it, sliding against sweat-damp skin, whimpering for a moment. "Like this? I like - seeing you." Seeing Gonou's face, even though neither of them can seem to stop blushing. It feels safer, feels - known, wanted.
"And you could mark me up some more," he offers, a little bit cheekily.
"Mm," Gonou agrees, stretching out to press himself against Jedao from shoulder to ankle. "Yes -- just like this."
He steals a kiss, quick and light, and then nips just under the angle of Jedao's jaw.
"I want to leave marks where they'll show," he whispers, his breath hot against the marks of his teeth, and seals his mouth against the skin again for a long moment, sucking hard enough to bring blood rushing to it. "I want everyone to know what we're doing."
"That I'm yours," Jedao breathes in between little gasps. He doesn't know if they can get the marks to last, but he doesn't want to ruin the fantasy for either of them by wittering about it; it'll work or it doesn't.
"That you're mine," Gonou agrees fiercely, and moves down a few inches, setting his teeth into unmarked skin for the space of a long breath before he whispers, "And I'm yours."
He strokes his fingers through Gonou's hair and down the back of his neck, murmuring, "My Gonou-shei," experimentally, before hissing between his teeth and rutting against Gonou's thigh again, harder and faster, spurred on by every bite.
"Yes," Gonou says: he doesn't know the honorific Jedao's using, but it's beautiful in his voice, liquid and sibilant. His arm tightens over Jedao's waist, trembling as he scatters marks down the side of Jedao's neck like fallen petals, thigh pressing into each thrust of his hips.
Jedao whines high in his throat, head tilting up and back arching as he moves, driving faster, cock dragging and sliding, leaving uneven streaks of precome against Gonou's thigh.
He imagines Gonou biting harder, taking chunks out of him. (In his imagination, the chunks are red. Soft and wet, tender.) He imagines being butchered, sectioned, taken apart into neat little pieces, consumed and kept, savored and saved, easily tucked away under Gonou's ribs.
His blunt fingernails drag down Gonou's back as he whimpers. "I love you," he whispers into Gonou's hair, bringing himself back to reality, to the wonderful man who just wants to have him and be good to him, the strange lovely miracle of it, the soft heat of his lips, the deep perfect ache of his teeth. "Mine."
Gonou is, has always been, half of a pair: he'd been born that way, he'd known through the long years of solitude that his other half was waiting, he had found her and he had lost her forever. And after that he hadn't been, hasn't been, whole. He had been half a structure, torn beams and creaking floors, tilting towards collapse.
With Jedao in his arms, rocking against him and fingernails scraping his skin, salt on his skin against Gonou's tongue -- with sweet words and whimpers in the air, Gonou's muscles unstrung with pleased lassitude already --
-- he feels for the first time that he could be whole again: different, but whole, not just a ruin shored up against destruction.
He's taking little hitching breaths against Jedao's throat, hungry for air, hungry for him, wanting again to blur the distinctions between them, to wrap himself in Jedao's skin, to belong.
"Yours," he whispers, "come on me, please," and sets his teeth over Jedao's pulse like a tiger, offering himself and claiming ownership in the same breath.
Something roars in his chest; he snaps his hips so hard that it hurts, and comes immediately, messily, in jerking stripes. He wants to come on Gonou everywhere, not just on his thigh and belly and soft cock, but on his chest, on his back, on his face, on the backs of his knees and the soles of his feet. He wants to grind himself into Gonou's skin in a way that can't be washed out.
He shudders afterward, panting roughly, nuzzling his face into Gonou's hair and clinging desperately on even after the shocks and shivers subside.
Gonou's shivering too, brushing his lips against the marks he's left on Jedao's neck before he simply presses his face into the soft junction of neck and shoulder, slipping his other arm under Jedao's side so he can pull him into a full embrace. They're both messy again, and he doesn't even know where Jedao put his wash bowl, but he can't find it in himself to care, not past the dazed, pleased lassitude pulling him down into the mattress. He wants to wear that mess, right now, the smeared marks of Jedao's pleasure left on his skin just like the marks of his teeth stand out in red and white on Jedao's throat.
He's aware that the Cho Gonou of tomorrow morning is going to be annoyed by having to pick dried semen out of his leg hair. The Cho Gonou of tonight thinks it's worth it for the romantic fantasy of it all.
"I want to pull up the covers," he whispers against Jedao's throat, "and fall asleep with you just like this."
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He slides his mouth over the head, sucking gently, eyes falling shut as he moans.
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Since he does have Jedao's permission, he doesn't let his hand fly guiltily open when he realizes what he's doing, only loosens his grip enough to avoid pinning his head in place.
"You feel so good," he whispers, letting his hand fall away from his mouth to grip the bedsheets.
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And if Jedao does like that as much as Gonou does, he'll do it again and again, stumbling into an urgent rhythm as he leaks into Jedao's mouth and sweet tension starts to build again low in his belly.
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He lets the bedsheets go, reaching down to catch the hand that's still on his thigh, to twine their fingers together and cling with desperate strength as he comes with a few last ragged thrusts and a hoarse shout.
This orgasm rips through him with a force that leaves him collapsing to the mattress, boneless and dazed but still holding on to Jedao's hand.
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Jedao squeezes Gonou's hand and doesn't pull off immediately; there's something unbearably, wonderfully tender about continuing to suck as he feels Gonou soften.
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"--too sensitive," he manages, and tugs insistently at Jedao's hand. "Come up here?"
He's not sure he has it in him to get out of bed again tonight, but he very much wants Jedao in his arms.
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"You're so good," he murmurs, stealing another kiss as he throws a proprietary arm over Jedao's waist. He shifts his hip forward, nudging against Jedao's erection, and adds with a little smile, "How should we take care of this?"
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"However you want?" he says instead.
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"And you could mark me up some more," he offers, a little bit cheekily.
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He steals a kiss, quick and light, and then nips just under the angle of Jedao's jaw.
"I want to leave marks where they'll show," he whispers, his breath hot against the marks of his teeth, and seals his mouth against the skin again for a long moment, sucking hard enough to bring blood rushing to it. "I want everyone to know what we're doing."
No shame -- no secrets.
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CW: brief weird gore fantasies
He imagines Gonou biting harder, taking chunks out of him. (In his imagination, the chunks are red. Soft and wet, tender.) He imagines being butchered, sectioned, taken apart into neat little pieces, consumed and kept, savored and saved, easily tucked away under Gonou's ribs.
His blunt fingernails drag down Gonou's back as he whimpers. "I love you," he whispers into Gonou's hair, bringing himself back to reality, to the wonderful man who just wants to have him and be good to him, the strange lovely miracle of it, the soft heat of his lips, the deep perfect ache of his teeth. "Mine."
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With Jedao in his arms, rocking against him and fingernails scraping his skin, salt on his skin against Gonou's tongue -- with sweet words and whimpers in the air, Gonou's muscles unstrung with pleased lassitude already --
-- he feels for the first time that he could be whole again: different, but whole, not just a ruin shored up against destruction.
He's taking little hitching breaths against Jedao's throat, hungry for air, hungry for him, wanting again to blur the distinctions between them, to wrap himself in Jedao's skin, to belong.
"Yours," he whispers, "come on me, please," and sets his teeth over Jedao's pulse like a tiger, offering himself and claiming ownership in the same breath.
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He shudders afterward, panting roughly, nuzzling his face into Gonou's hair and clinging desperately on even after the shocks and shivers subside.
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He's aware that the Cho Gonou of tomorrow morning is going to be annoyed by having to pick dried semen out of his leg hair. The Cho Gonou of tonight thinks it's worth it for the romantic fantasy of it all.
"I want to pull up the covers," he whispers against Jedao's throat, "and fall asleep with you just like this."
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