[ The funny thing is that on a fair number of those mornings after Shouto had quietly rolled out before him, Allen would wake not long after and be utterly rooted in place out of horror at his own similar state. Forced to either painstakingly wait out his body to calm back down with great frustration and feigning sleep if need be until then, or furtively trying to figure out how to clean himself up and discard any evidence if Shouto was in the bath and he also really needed to use the bath to clean off, why are you in there when they just bathed before resorting to using a shirt to clean himself off with and being grateful for the fact that Shouto isn't one to do laundry himself. It's been a little stressful at points.
Why do you think he sometimes would get especially twitchy about being naked around him instead of just being slightly uncomfortable before telling himself he was being silly? Sometimes he just didn't trust his body to not be stupid. It was the cause of more than one minor identity crisis he kept entirely to himself and sweat out in private, and just got worse the more they began explore how the other liked to be kissed.
But that's all changed. Hands down each other's pants, there's a radical honesty letting another feel just how much you want them, and feeling just how much they want you too. Allen whines and feels pulled in two directions, wanting to keep rubbing Shouto, to feel more of him, but finding his coordination too scattered to fully focus, hips canting into how his fingers run across him in seeking more pressure. He squeezes the bulge beneath his palm more erratically the next time he rocks into his hand as a result, trying to find some rhythm again.
It's... not even about finding him attractive, you know? Maybe Allen would have actually questioned and doubted himself more if there had been a turning point like that for himself. Lying there in bed some nights when he woke up while Shouto was still asleep, he'd find himself memorizing how his arms looks when they draped around him -- solid, warm, and muscular -- or how their fingers might have stayed loosely slotted together. Or times when he'd get lost in how piercing his eyes were in a way that compelled him to study and notice how even his lashes were mismatched in white and red, laughing sheepishly if he was called out on it and kissing him on the nose then. How overwhelmed with the desire to kiss him he might get when those eyes warmed subtly or the rare occasions when Shouto might smile too, when he might laugh, and he'd try to drown him in a giddy sort of affection then and say he looked beautiful.
But that was different. It always came from such an intense feeling of love and connection, of wanting to cement and cherish that connection, to draw out more of that warmth and those smiles and that love, that it didn't feel the same as times in the past when he's found a girl cute or attractive. It wasn't anything that came from something he noticed about him physically. Something like that always made him incredibly uncomfortable and was very thoroughly repressed as he found people who followed those urges creepy or immature.
This was different, even when his body started to react with desire and he found himself wanting more than sweet and chaste kisses. It felt like the same thing that had always beckoned him towards Shouto. Something much deeper, and much more fundamental. Something in his soul that spoke out to and stirred Allen's, something even someone like Allen who understands the nature of and literally perceives souls could never articulate, that made him want first to just be near him. Then to kiss him, to tell him in his own fashion how he loved him and wanted to be there. And then to make him want to be near -- be with -- him physically too. Such an intense desire without boundaries that makes his heart and the cloak around them burn bright and radiant -- and one born entirely from wanting to just be together past even boundaries of flesh.
Togetherness, in every sense of the word. It's why he's never truly questioned himself and how he felt. Not when it came so naturally and so gradually from the sentiment he treasured almost more than anything else. The only relationship he can understand.
But Allen's -- not going to last long, no matter how much he wants to. Not when they've been working themselves up and down for what feels like hours, not he has no experience with pleasure like this, and certainly not when the sudden addition of first a cool and then a hot touch along his cock that has him first moaning and then crying out Shouto's name, spine arching until the cooler night air hits his chest and jerking against him for more. Clinging to him, the wickedly long claws of his left hand at his back briefly flexing against his skin as hard thin lines that press into, but don't break the skin. Crown Clown shifts around them, the cloak cool and soft as liquid silk as it begins to subtly tighten where it falls against their limbs. Caressing with a gossamer embrace.
It's part of why he hooks two fingers into the waistband of Shouto's underwear then, and without a second or even a first thought, neatly yanks them and his pants partway down.
And why, sealing their mouths together again with a renewed fervor and soft moan at the continued exploration of his hand, he wraps his Innocence-gloved fingers around him directly as he gives a firm pump of the shaft. ]
no subject
Why do you think he sometimes would get especially twitchy about being naked around him instead of just being slightly uncomfortable before telling himself he was being silly? Sometimes he just didn't trust his body to not be stupid. It was the cause of more than one minor identity crisis he kept entirely to himself and sweat out in private, and just got worse the more they began explore how the other liked to be kissed.
But that's all changed. Hands down each other's pants, there's a radical honesty letting another feel just how much you want them, and feeling just how much they want you too. Allen whines and feels pulled in two directions, wanting to keep rubbing Shouto, to feel more of him, but finding his coordination too scattered to fully focus, hips canting into how his fingers run across him in seeking more pressure. He squeezes the bulge beneath his palm more erratically the next time he rocks into his hand as a result, trying to find some rhythm again.
It's... not even about finding him attractive, you know? Maybe Allen would have actually questioned and doubted himself more if there had been a turning point like that for himself. Lying there in bed some nights when he woke up while Shouto was still asleep, he'd find himself memorizing how his arms looks when they draped around him -- solid, warm, and muscular -- or how their fingers might have stayed loosely slotted together. Or times when he'd get lost in how piercing his eyes were in a way that compelled him to study and notice how even his lashes were mismatched in white and red, laughing sheepishly if he was called out on it and kissing him on the nose then. How overwhelmed with the desire to kiss him he might get when those eyes warmed subtly or the rare occasions when Shouto might smile too, when he might laugh, and he'd try to drown him in a giddy sort of affection then and say he looked beautiful.
But that was different. It always came from such an intense feeling of love and connection, of wanting to cement and cherish that connection, to draw out more of that warmth and those smiles and that love, that it didn't feel the same as times in the past when he's found a girl cute or attractive. It wasn't anything that came from something he noticed about him physically. Something like that always made him incredibly uncomfortable and was very thoroughly repressed as he found people who followed those urges creepy or immature.
This was different, even when his body started to react with desire and he found himself wanting more than sweet and chaste kisses. It felt like the same thing that had always beckoned him towards Shouto. Something much deeper, and much more fundamental. Something in his soul that spoke out to and stirred Allen's, something even someone like Allen who understands the nature of and literally perceives souls could never articulate, that made him want first to just be near him. Then to kiss him, to tell him in his own fashion how he loved him and wanted to be there. And then to make him want to be near -- be with -- him physically too. Such an intense desire without boundaries that makes his heart and the cloak around them burn bright and radiant -- and one born entirely from wanting to just be together past even boundaries of flesh.
Togetherness, in every sense of the word. It's why he's never truly questioned himself and how he felt. Not when it came so naturally and so gradually from the sentiment he treasured almost more than anything else. The only relationship he can understand.
But Allen's -- not going to last long, no matter how much he wants to. Not when they've been working themselves up and down for what feels like hours, not he has no experience with pleasure like this, and certainly not when the sudden addition of first a cool and then a hot touch along his cock that has him first moaning and then crying out Shouto's name, spine arching until the cooler night air hits his chest and jerking against him for more. Clinging to him, the wickedly long claws of his left hand at his back briefly flexing against his skin as hard thin lines that press into, but don't break the skin. Crown Clown shifts around them, the cloak cool and soft as liquid silk as it begins to subtly tighten where it falls against their limbs. Caressing with a gossamer embrace.
It's part of why he hooks two fingers into the waistband of Shouto's underwear then, and without a second or even a first thought, neatly yanks them and his pants partway down.
And why, sealing their mouths together again with a renewed fervor and soft moan at the continued exploration of his hand, he wraps his Innocence-gloved fingers around him directly as he gives a firm pump of the shaft. ]