[ 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. ]
[ The irony of missing each other time after time. Their morning schedules probably helped with the unintended ruse with Shouto waking up at dawn and Allen sometime after. If he'd known he was struggling with an identity crisis, he would have stayed to reassure him by sitting with him till he felt more like himself. He knows what it feels like to be at odds with yourself. To feel conflicted, though his feelings had never been one of them once he figured them out.
He didn't hide from Allen because he found his reaction disgusting. Surprising? Yes. A little embarrassing to find himself in that state? Again, yes. The thing is, he knows of Allen's propriety, not the extent of it, but it's not hard to gauge when he was still twitchy with him at times when they were nude. In response, Shouto gave him privacy. Turning away when they changed taking his cues from Allen whenever he could read them which he wasn't the best at. That's why he tried to understand him better. Started broaching subjects he hadn't in the past to figure out his thoughts on them. Being comfortable with kissing was one thing. Finding his bedmate sporting a massive hard-on while sharing the same space was entirely different. He would never press him with his needs. That was the last thing he wanted. So, he kept it to himself, more than happy with what they shared.
When he asked to talk to him tonight, he didn't expect an outcome like this. Not that he's complaining! He's more astounded than anything, especially after Allen veered away from the subject when he tried to bring it up when he thought he might feel the same way. Having him sit on his lap rocking into him more than got the message across. The way he boldly touched him further cemented he wasn't the only one affected.
Not with the way his spine curves in a beautiful arch that has him dropping his head to lay a line of hot kisses on every inch of his chest he can reach. He's seen his claws in battle but never felt them against his flesh. They make his skin prickle with anticipation, and he jerks hard against his hand, thoroughly aroused, not realizing he has no idea what that means yet as his cloak tightens around the panting mess he's become. It's such a suffocatingly wonderful feeling being surrounded by every aspect of him like being folded in by soft wings.
In contrast, he stops using his quirk, no longer capable of controlling it, and sticks to jerking him off over his underwear in long sure strokes that stutter to a complete and utter stop when Allen wrenches his underwear down and takes him by the most exquisite material he's ever known. Shouto's hips buck off the mattress, fucking Allen's hand, choking on the orgasm on the horizon. With molten heat pooling in his belly, ice runs down his arm and thigh, in parallel to the blaze racing on the other side that pulls the most obscene gasp from him while he frantically clings to-- ]
Allen—I can’t—
[ Can't control the burst of ice and fire that roars to life around him, clashing against his cloak. He makes a desperate sound, starting to splinter, but he can't let go like this. Starts hyperventilating unable to hold back the tide that sends red strands dancing in wisps of firelight, and white are encapsulated in icicles. He turns frantic near his ear, and the moment he finally shatters, a cold fire bursts across his chest in two intersecting red and white circles that make him look wild as his orgasm barrels into him and he spills into his hand. ]
[ He did end up sitting with Allen through it though, whether he realized it or not. He isn't one to have isolated over something like that, and it was on his mind when he'd curl up against Shouto to half-doze when he was reading. Taking comfort from his presence and using it as an excuse to study him and let his mind wander. It was what Allen needed at least, that and time to ease himself into, well... Himself. A him that had wants he didn't just shove under a rug and ignore anymore.
Something that is going to be forever impossible to put back in a box now. Not when Shouto snaps up into his hand with such a choked sound, and even when Allen gives a faintly disappointed groan at the lack of contact when he lets go and stops touching him, it dies on his lips to watch him splinter and come undone beneath him. That's -- oh.
No, he entirely understands what it means to look at someone and feel desire now. Pure, raw, hot, unfiltered desire to touch and make come undone, beautiful and disheveled, and it hits him with the subtly of a truck. His own uncomfortably aroused state means nothing by comparison, and Allen leans in to lick the shell of his ear with a hot puff of breath as he chases down Shouto's climax instead of his own and with a lot more gusto. Sucking hard on the lobe and rolling it over his tongue as his wrist pumps in a strong, smooth rhythm in sync with his hips, the Innocence of his glove gliding with fluidity over the hardened flesh, cool but also warm. The first creep of frost sweeps underneath his lips and he licks at that too for a moment, to momentarily banish it with the heat of his mouth before Shouto gasps in his ear. Before he feels the chill against his knee where it's pressed to his hip too and sees the flicker of firelight once again from the corner of his eye.
Can't—? His quirk. No, he means-- ]
It's alright. [ Even in his panting and wrecked state, Allen says it so softly against his cool ear, so lovingly, and squeezes as he continues to jerk him off faster. Even as the ice encases one knee and there's a bloom of fire to the other side that swirls and dances with the errant featherlike strands that peel off his cloak. Crown Clown reacts on instinct, spreading against and smothering the fire where it touches as they continue to move in tandem, insulating Allen, but letting itself become iced over as well to the other side. But with his chest partially bared where the cloak doesn't touch and one knee pressed against Shouto's hip, it might still burn him before Crown Clown can smother it in time. Maybe it has already but he's too overstimulated to process the pain correctly. And if that's so, he's okay with that. It's a price he's more than fine with right now, Shouto had warned him already, and it's why Allen hovers to his safer right side with his hood slung so low as to obscure his face, breathing sweet and soothing reassurances against his ear when Shouto starts to hyperventilate as his hand continues to work up and down his cock. Trying to coax him little by little into letting go.
I'm here, I'll be here, we'll be here for each other together-- Every step of the night he's wanted to find ways to say that and reassure him. Realizing he was being reassured of it by Shouto, even if it came in the form of a stack of papers. Trying to heal old wounds he didn't realize were still a little raw. This is not what Allen had in mind or where he thought it would go, not exactly, but the fundamental meaning behind it is still the same for him.
Every part of me -- I'm saying you have it.
The moment the heat cuts like someone flipped a switch though, when that cool white and red fire blossoms between them in conjunction with the light of Crown Clown and Allen's breath catches as it's directly under his face, unprotected from that angle yet not burning him -- he stares. Remembers seeing that before, blooming between them as well that night in that alternate reality of his world they'd been trapped in but had forgotten about with everything else that was happening. It's beautiful. He's beautiful, head thrown back in the moment, the most beautiful thing he thinks he's ever seen, and Allen stares in awe.
For a moment he almost thinks he's orgasmed too just from feeling himself emotionally tip over, and with the safer temperature he surges forward then. Mouth hot and sealing over Shouto's throat like a starving man feasting at a banquet, or the worship of the pious, and the bladed fingers at his back continue to hold him up tenderly while the firm but loving grasp of his other hand wrings the last of his orgasm from him with sweet and thorough attention. ]
[ Inadvertently, like most of their encounters, he saw him through a crisis without realizing it. Was that how their relationship developed? Him, one step behind, unaware of the deeper meaning behind their interactions? Allen, one step ahead, not minding the way he wandered off, finding another path that intersected with his? Maybe that's what drew him to Allen from the start. There was no script to follow. Just their feelings. A chance to 'be' without expectations. And if that was true, was he ever really behind?
You make me feel...
Too much. Fraying at the edges, he clings to him with every part of his being between frantic breaths. Squirming desperately in his arms when he attacks his ear, whispering words he's too far gone to understand. This time, he's the one squeezing his thighs around him, thrusting into his hand wrapped in the most delicate material he's ever known until something in him snaps, and he lets go.
Riding high on arousal, he draws on powers beyond his understanding and starts to tunnel a path straight for the stone made from his blood, unaware if he makes the connection before he implodes. A burst of cold fire ignites from his chest in two distinct lines. Burning fiercely against his cloak, Shouto engulfs Allen in a desperate yet tender embrace. Ardent and serene all at once.
Allen's attention prolongs the steady thrust of his hips, drawing out his orgasm until his head's abuzz with too many sensations. The heated mouth on his throat and bladed fingers at his back drag a breathy whine that expands the trail of flames dancing across his chest. Hungry lips seek his, urged on by a foreign craving surging through his veins. His fingers find him between cloak and fire. Slick and far too hard against his palm. ]
Your turn.
[ He whispers, still half-dazed and growing soft in his hands. No longer overstimulated, Shouto turns his attention back to Allen. Ever so gently, he pumps his cock in his hand. Slow and steady, skin slides against skin, matching the pace of his muddled mind. His lips find Allen's, kissing him delicately. Whispering his name over, and over, and over again, like a hymn of adoration. ]
Let go.
[ He whispers against his lips, engulfing him in white and red flames that burn lovingly against his Innocence. ]
[ The flames surge against his cloak in a quiet furor that sets the the ragged feathered edges of it dancing in the flickering light. No longer trying to smother the fire the moment it no longer posed a threat, they interlace and dance instead. Like partners caressing, burning bright and moving in mutual give and take.
Somewhere, dimly in the back of his mind Allen is aware of the shift in Crown Clown. Aware even more starkly when for a moment it feels like his mind connects with what he sees in Shouto and that takes his breath away, not understanding it or the role of the earring in the moment. He's also just far too gone for it to really register, and he whines with force when Shouto's hand slips between them to grasp him directly this time. Mind going blank from an explosion of foreign pleasure as the claws at his back twitch for a moment, pressing hard thin lines against his skin that threaten that fine line between drawing blood or not, and the cloak rustles around them both. He'd let go of him with his other hand when his hips finally slowed, wondering in a disoriented moment if and how maybe he should clean his hand, forgot what he was doing when embraced and kissed as all he wanted to do was fall into him and kiss him back, and forgets everything all over again when he begins to pump his cock so lovingly. So maddeningly slowly. ]
Shouto— [ Allen gasps. Moans as Shouto squeezes him so gently in a way that has his eyes rolling back into his head. Slings his still-human arm around his shoulders somewhat clumsily to balance, and tries to kiss him back like he so dearly wants to but entirely lacks the coordination for it right now. Instead his stomach tight as he tries so hard not to strain against him in search for a firmer touch, but can't help but roll his hips in time with his hand. Chasing after the feeling.
I feel... like I'm splintering. But like I could keep splintering like this forever. Feeling almost suffocated by the welling of affection he feels at how gentle he's being, murmuring his name like it's a prayer and slowly working him over with such a loving and delicate touch that leaves him writhing for more and stuck just shy of a precipice. Breathless. Finding pace with his hand and thrusting into it as they both find a pace that's both far too slow for him and yet all he wants, and clumsily he tries to kiss him back without losing his coordination. Pants and whines with tiny jolts from his gentle attentions that he has no idea what to do with except ride on instinct.
I love you.
"Let go."
Allen blinks. Shudders. His breath coming out in a shaky whine as he holds on tighter, hips bucking harder into his hand with sudden uncoordination as what little pretense of restraint he had frays. ]
I— [ His voice cracks, muscles trembling and starting to unravel -- and fighting it. But if I do, I—
He chokes as his hand finds a way to grip him that has him scrabbling at his shoulders with a ragged cry. A breathy plea, finally, panting against his lips as his hips begin to work into his hand with more desperation and Crown Clown tightens up, spreading out behind him and squeezing them tighter in its embrace. ]
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. ]
no subject
He didn't hide from Allen because he found his reaction disgusting. Surprising? Yes. A little embarrassing to find himself in that state? Again, yes. The thing is, he knows of Allen's propriety, not the extent of it, but it's not hard to gauge when he was still twitchy with him at times when they were nude. In response, Shouto gave him privacy. Turning away when they changed taking his cues from Allen whenever he could read them which he wasn't the best at. That's why he tried to understand him better. Started broaching subjects he hadn't in the past to figure out his thoughts on them. Being comfortable with kissing was one thing. Finding his bedmate sporting a massive hard-on while sharing the same space was entirely different. He would never press him with his needs. That was the last thing he wanted. So, he kept it to himself, more than happy with what they shared.
When he asked to talk to him tonight, he didn't expect an outcome like this. Not that he's complaining! He's more astounded than anything, especially after Allen veered away from the subject when he tried to bring it up when he thought he might feel the same way. Having him sit on his lap rocking into him more than got the message across. The way he boldly touched him further cemented he wasn't the only one affected.
Not with the way his spine curves in a beautiful arch that has him dropping his head to lay a line of hot kisses on every inch of his chest he can reach. He's seen his claws in battle but never felt them against his flesh. They make his skin prickle with anticipation, and he jerks hard against his hand, thoroughly aroused, not realizing he has no idea what that means yet as his cloak tightens around the panting mess he's become. It's such a suffocatingly wonderful feeling being surrounded by every aspect of him like being folded in by soft wings.
In contrast, he stops using his quirk, no longer capable of controlling it, and sticks to jerking him off over his underwear in long sure strokes that stutter to a complete and utter stop when Allen wrenches his underwear down and takes him by the most exquisite material he's ever known. Shouto's hips buck off the mattress, fucking Allen's hand, choking on the orgasm on the horizon. With molten heat pooling in his belly, ice runs down his arm and thigh, in parallel to the blaze racing on the other side that pulls the most obscene gasp from him while he frantically clings to-- ]
Allen—I can’t—
[ Can't control the burst of ice and fire that roars to life around him, clashing against his cloak. He makes a desperate sound, starting to splinter, but he can't let go like this. Starts hyperventilating unable to hold back the tide that sends red strands dancing in wisps of firelight, and white are encapsulated in icicles. He turns frantic near his ear, and the moment he finally shatters, a cold fire bursts across his chest in two intersecting red and white circles that make him look wild as his orgasm barrels into him and he spills into his hand. ]
no subject
Something that is going to be forever impossible to put back in a box now. Not when Shouto snaps up into his hand with such a choked sound, and even when Allen gives a faintly disappointed groan at the lack of contact when he lets go and stops touching him, it dies on his lips to watch him splinter and come undone beneath him. That's -- oh.
No, he entirely understands what it means to look at someone and feel desire now. Pure, raw, hot, unfiltered desire to touch and make come undone, beautiful and disheveled, and it hits him with the subtly of a truck. His own uncomfortably aroused state means nothing by comparison, and Allen leans in to lick the shell of his ear with a hot puff of breath as he chases down Shouto's climax instead of his own and with a lot more gusto. Sucking hard on the lobe and rolling it over his tongue as his wrist pumps in a strong, smooth rhythm in sync with his hips, the Innocence of his glove gliding with fluidity over the hardened flesh, cool but also warm. The first creep of frost sweeps underneath his lips and he licks at that too for a moment, to momentarily banish it with the heat of his mouth before Shouto gasps in his ear. Before he feels the chill against his knee where it's pressed to his hip too and sees the flicker of firelight once again from the corner of his eye.
Can't—? His quirk. No, he means-- ]
It's alright. [ Even in his panting and wrecked state, Allen says it so softly against his cool ear, so lovingly, and squeezes as he continues to jerk him off faster. Even as the ice encases one knee and there's a bloom of fire to the other side that swirls and dances with the errant featherlike strands that peel off his cloak. Crown Clown reacts on instinct, spreading against and smothering the fire where it touches as they continue to move in tandem, insulating Allen, but letting itself become iced over as well to the other side. But with his chest partially bared where the cloak doesn't touch and one knee pressed against Shouto's hip, it might still burn him before Crown Clown can smother it in time. Maybe it has already but he's too overstimulated to process the pain correctly. And if that's so, he's okay with that. It's a price he's more than fine with right now, Shouto had warned him already, and it's why Allen hovers to his safer right side with his hood slung so low as to obscure his face, breathing sweet and soothing reassurances against his ear when Shouto starts to hyperventilate as his hand continues to work up and down his cock. Trying to coax him little by little into letting go.
I'm here, I'll be here, we'll be here for each other together-- Every step of the night he's wanted to find ways to say that and reassure him. Realizing he was being reassured of it by Shouto, even if it came in the form of a stack of papers. Trying to heal old wounds he didn't realize were still a little raw. This is not what Allen had in mind or where he thought it would go, not exactly, but the fundamental meaning behind it is still the same for him.
Every part of me -- I'm saying you have it.
The moment the heat cuts like someone flipped a switch though, when that cool white and red fire blossoms between them in conjunction with the light of Crown Clown and Allen's breath catches as it's directly under his face, unprotected from that angle yet not burning him -- he stares. Remembers seeing that before, blooming between them as well that night in that alternate reality of his world they'd been trapped in but had forgotten about with everything else that was happening. It's beautiful. He's beautiful, head thrown back in the moment, the most beautiful thing he thinks he's ever seen, and Allen stares in awe.
For a moment he almost thinks he's orgasmed too just from feeling himself emotionally tip over, and with the safer temperature he surges forward then. Mouth hot and sealing over Shouto's throat like a starving man feasting at a banquet, or the worship of the pious, and the bladed fingers at his back continue to hold him up tenderly while the firm but loving grasp of his other hand wrings the last of his orgasm from him with sweet and thorough attention. ]
no subject
You make me feel...
Too much. Fraying at the edges, he clings to him with every part of his being between frantic breaths. Squirming desperately in his arms when he attacks his ear, whispering words he's too far gone to understand. This time, he's the one squeezing his thighs around him, thrusting into his hand wrapped in the most delicate material he's ever known until something in him snaps, and he lets go.
Riding high on arousal, he draws on powers beyond his understanding and starts to tunnel a path straight for the stone made from his blood, unaware if he makes the connection before he implodes. A burst of cold fire ignites from his chest in two distinct lines. Burning fiercely against his cloak, Shouto engulfs Allen in a desperate yet tender embrace. Ardent and serene all at once.
Allen's attention prolongs the steady thrust of his hips, drawing out his orgasm until his head's abuzz with too many sensations. The heated mouth on his throat and bladed fingers at his back drag a breathy whine that expands the trail of flames dancing across his chest. Hungry lips seek his, urged on by a foreign craving surging through his veins. His fingers find him between cloak and fire. Slick and far too hard against his palm. ]
Your turn.
[ He whispers, still half-dazed and growing soft in his hands. No longer overstimulated, Shouto turns his attention back to Allen. Ever so gently, he pumps his cock in his hand. Slow and steady, skin slides against skin, matching the pace of his muddled mind. His lips find Allen's, kissing him delicately. Whispering his name over, and over, and over again, like a hymn of adoration. ]
Let go.
[ He whispers against his lips, engulfing him in white and red flames that burn lovingly against his Innocence. ]
no subject
Somewhere, dimly in the back of his mind Allen is aware of the shift in Crown Clown. Aware even more starkly when for a moment it feels like his mind connects with what he sees in Shouto and that takes his breath away, not understanding it or the role of the earring in the moment. He's also just far too gone for it to really register, and he whines with force when Shouto's hand slips between them to grasp him directly this time. Mind going blank from an explosion of foreign pleasure as the claws at his back twitch for a moment, pressing hard thin lines against his skin that threaten that fine line between drawing blood or not, and the cloak rustles around them both. He'd let go of him with his other hand when his hips finally slowed, wondering in a disoriented moment if and how maybe he should clean his hand, forgot what he was doing when embraced and kissed as all he wanted to do was fall into him and kiss him back, and forgets everything all over again when he begins to pump his cock so lovingly. So maddeningly slowly. ]
Shouto— [ Allen gasps. Moans as Shouto squeezes him so gently in a way that has his eyes rolling back into his head. Slings his still-human arm around his shoulders somewhat clumsily to balance, and tries to kiss him back like he so dearly wants to but entirely lacks the coordination for it right now. Instead his stomach tight as he tries so hard not to strain against him in search for a firmer touch, but can't help but roll his hips in time with his hand. Chasing after the feeling.
I feel... like I'm splintering. But like I could keep splintering like this forever. Feeling almost suffocated by the welling of affection he feels at how gentle he's being, murmuring his name like it's a prayer and slowly working him over with such a loving and delicate touch that leaves him writhing for more and stuck just shy of a precipice. Breathless. Finding pace with his hand and thrusting into it as they both find a pace that's both far too slow for him and yet all he wants, and clumsily he tries to kiss him back without losing his coordination. Pants and whines with tiny jolts from his gentle attentions that he has no idea what to do with except ride on instinct.
I love you.
"Let go."
Allen blinks. Shudders. His breath coming out in a shaky whine as he holds on tighter, hips bucking harder into his hand with sudden uncoordination as what little pretense of restraint he had frays. ]
I— [ His voice cracks, muscles trembling and starting to unravel -- and fighting it. But if I do, I—
He chokes as his hand finds a way to grip him that has him scrabbling at his shoulders with a ragged cry. A breathy plea, finally, panting against his lips as his hips begin to work into his hand with more desperation and Crown Clown tightens up, spreading out behind him and squeezing them tighter in its embrace. ]
Harder...