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."
"We'll have to fall asleep together," Gonou agrees, brushing kisses against Jedao's cheek and forehead as he wriggles his way down, and feels with his toes for the edge of the covers. His bed had been neatly made. At the moment, the sheets are dislodged into a messy pile at the foot, but he manages to catch them and pull them up with one foot until he can reach them with a hand and draw them the rest of the way.
He tucks them in tenderly around Jedao's shoulders, drags his pillow back from where it had been shoved against the wall, and settles in, slipping his arm back under the covers and draping it across Jedao's waist in turn.
His other arm -- from long practice at arranging himself curled up around a lover -- he frees from the tangle of their bodies and tucks, folded at the elbow to make a pillow, under Jedao's head. He runs his fingers gently into Jedao's hair, and leaves them there, possessive and solicitous at the same time.
All tucked in, relaxing at last, a hard shudder catches him by surprise and curls him forward around Jedao's body.
Jedao kisses his shoulder idly, without even opening his eyes, squeezing for a quick hug mid-embrace.
"I promise not to disappear overnight if you promise?" he offers muzzily, simple tired happiness and complicated empathy ringing softly in him like bells.
Gonou's breath goes out as if at a blow, and he squeezes back, burying his face in Jedao's hair beside his hand.
"I love you," he whispers. Jedao's laid the complicated weight in his chest bare to the light in a few sleepy words: he couldn't see it himself, and yet-- that's it, love and joy so wound up in the fear of loss that they drag it with them like a ghost at the wedding. He shivers again, considering the whole tangled mess, and then kisses Jedao's hair.
"I promise."
The fear has its hooks in him as deep as the love and the joy, and it's not so easy to let it go, but they're in each other's arms now, and he can tell himself as he closes his eye that it's all right. They've promised. They will still have each other in the morning.
"Promise," Jedao echoes, lips curving into a small smile against Gonou's skin. "Goodnight, Gonou-shei."
It's easy for him to drift off, even moreso with Gonou's warmth pressed against and around him. He sleeps deeply and wakes suddenly and early, some unconscious habit from his predecessor, but doesn't mind lingering in the bed when he does.
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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."
no subject
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.
no subject
He shudders afterward, panting roughly, nuzzling his face into Gonou's hair and clinging desperately on even after the shocks and shivers subside.
no subject
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."
no subject
"Not if I fall asleep with you first," he mumbles, nonsensical as it is playful, draping an arm around Gonou's waist.
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He tucks them in tenderly around Jedao's shoulders, drags his pillow back from where it had been shoved against the wall, and settles in, slipping his arm back under the covers and draping it across Jedao's waist in turn.
His other arm -- from long practice at arranging himself curled up around a lover -- he frees from the tangle of their bodies and tucks, folded at the elbow to make a pillow, under Jedao's head. He runs his fingers gently into Jedao's hair, and leaves them there, possessive and solicitous at the same time.
All tucked in, relaxing at last, a hard shudder catches him by surprise and curls him forward around Jedao's body.
no subject
"I promise not to disappear overnight if you promise?" he offers muzzily, simple tired happiness and complicated empathy ringing softly in him like bells.
no subject
"I love you," he whispers. Jedao's laid the complicated weight in his chest bare to the light in a few sleepy words: he couldn't see it himself, and yet-- that's it, love and joy so wound up in the fear of loss that they drag it with them like a ghost at the wedding. He shivers again, considering the whole tangled mess, and then kisses Jedao's hair.
"I promise."
The fear has its hooks in him as deep as the love and the joy, and it's not so easy to let it go, but they're in each other's arms now, and he can tell himself as he closes his eye that it's all right. They've promised. They will still have each other in the morning.
no subject
It's easy for him to drift off, even moreso with Gonou's warmth pressed against and around him. He sleeps deeply and wakes suddenly and early, some unconscious habit from his predecessor, but doesn't mind lingering in the bed when he does.