[ He can barely handle Allen with the barrier of too-stiff underwear. How was he supposed to handle him raw?! It's a miracle, he doesn't think about that, or he'd lose whatever thread of self-restraint he had left to wait for Allen. To do this together as he promised. It's pure self-restraint and his ability to regulate his body temperature to near freezing that lets him go this long without losing his mind.
This wasn't like one of the times he woke up next to Allen, stiff and hard, dizzy with arousal from vivid dreams he couldn't remember, yet found himself caught in the sensation of them. Wet dreams. They were the true reason he meditated so much. One day he wouldn't realize it wasn't a dream and reach for Allen and regret it.
Ice let him calm the raging fire coursing through him as he rolled away from their futon, sweaty and a little sticky. It helped calm him within moments, breathing heavily until his body regulated itself back to softness. Those times, Shouto took a bath upon waking, no matter if they'd just taken one the night before. Probably the source of his dreams. He liked Allen. His smile, his laugh. His soul. He also found him attractive. Not at first, but as time passed, and they started to get to know each other, he saw him in a new light.
His hair growing out became a fixation he often found himself distracted by, wanting to feel the light strands between his fingers. He repressed that feeling like he repressed his arousal. Then he started noticing his hands. Allen usually wore gloves but as time passed, he began to forget them in his presence, piquing his curiosity. However, nothing compared to his mouth. He liked his smiles. His laughter, bright and earnest, and he liked his kisses, even when they didn't always find their mark. He liked that too.
He never noticed when that feeling turned to love, lodged so deeply within him, he couldn't see it for what it was, even Kizu missed it, blind to the way she was more amenable to Tim than anyone else. That newfound feeling turned into kindling, igniting to life with simple kisses. Always, he could keep himself in check with his ice, but this time, it was impossible when Allen wanted as much as he did.
Slow and steady, he strokes him through the thin material, tasting his moan through the kiss. It makes him buck against him, completely losing himself in the sensation this time. He won't last long now, not with Allen sounding the way he does, moving desperately, or was that him? He can't tell. Doesn't care enough. It's not important. Touching him is, being touched by him is. He shudders into the kiss, mouth parting to release the building steam as he grinds against him desperately - this time he knows it's him.
He picks up the pace, his grip on Allen firming considerably, adding pressure. He strokes down the full bulge of him, as far as he can reach, adding a touch of cold. On his return trip back, he adds a touch of heat, drinking up his moans up until Allen finds the right pressure that makes him choke, sending him spiraling, losing himself in the pleasure that starts to crest. ]
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This wasn't like one of the times he woke up next to Allen, stiff and hard, dizzy with arousal from vivid dreams he couldn't remember, yet found himself caught in the sensation of them. Wet dreams. They were the true reason he meditated so much. One day he wouldn't realize it wasn't a dream and reach for Allen and regret it.
Ice let him calm the raging fire coursing through him as he rolled away from their futon, sweaty and a little sticky. It helped calm him within moments, breathing heavily until his body regulated itself back to softness. Those times, Shouto took a bath upon waking, no matter if they'd just taken one the night before. Probably the source of his dreams. He liked Allen. His smile, his laugh. His soul. He also found him attractive. Not at first, but as time passed, and they started to get to know each other, he saw him in a new light.
His hair growing out became a fixation he often found himself distracted by, wanting to feel the light strands between his fingers. He repressed that feeling like he repressed his arousal. Then he started noticing his hands. Allen usually wore gloves but as time passed, he began to forget them in his presence, piquing his curiosity. However, nothing compared to his mouth. He liked his smiles. His laughter, bright and earnest, and he liked his kisses, even when they didn't always find their mark. He liked that too.
He never noticed when that feeling turned to love, lodged so deeply within him, he couldn't see it for what it was, even Kizu missed it, blind to the way she was more amenable to Tim than anyone else. That newfound feeling turned into kindling, igniting to life with simple kisses. Always, he could keep himself in check with his ice, but this time, it was impossible when Allen wanted as much as he did.
Slow and steady, he strokes him through the thin material, tasting his moan through the kiss. It makes him buck against him, completely losing himself in the sensation this time. He won't last long now, not with Allen sounding the way he does, moving desperately, or was that him? He can't tell. Doesn't care enough. It's not important. Touching him is, being touched by him is. He shudders into the kiss, mouth parting to release the building steam as he grinds against him desperately - this time he knows it's him.
He picks up the pace, his grip on Allen firming considerably, adding pressure. He strokes down the full bulge of him, as far as he can reach, adding a touch of cold. On his return trip back, he adds a touch of heat, drinking up his moans up until Allen finds the right pressure that makes him choke, sending him spiraling, losing himself in the pleasure that starts to crest. ]