likethelight | IC Contact @ Deer Country

[ He's starting to learn the steps to this dance they started some time ago and shifts his knees down to let Allen settle on the bunched-up yukata tied to his waist. While he situates himself, Shouto breaks the kiss to nip at his ear, following the line of his neck to his collar. He's all bare skin and open promises. ]

Hmm?

[ He hums, lifting his head up when prompted, following Allen's lead without a misstep. He's quick to capture his mouth again, giving him no opportunity to answer. His fingers bunch up near his waist, too dirty to run through his hair, but he makes do by crowding him, feeling dizzy from the sheer heat accumulating in his chest. ]

[ They've had some practice, especially the last few weeks. Familiarizing themselves more with each other, slow and steady with a couple sheepish missteps from inexperience here and there, but finding the things they liked and Allen will always like being able to embrace him like this. Feeling so close and being able to touch him all over while still feeling surrounded by him, and his hands smooth across the open expanse of Shouto's bare back and knead the muscle there when he dips to mouth a line down to his collar. It makes Allen's breath hitch and catch already, and the way he lets his head fall to the side to encourage him to continue borders on wanton.

Ah. I want to do a lot more than just kiss you too— There's still a bit of a guilty twinge he knows enough to ignore, but it ignites something restless that had been simmering beneath his skin and Allen shivers lightly. It's distracting, and there's something he wants to say, except he doesn't even fully understand what it is enough to put to words. Something that grasps that tender feeling in his chest and pulls it down so deep within that it's suffocating. I want to keep kissing you always like this--

And I want you to keep kissing me too.

It's such a clear feeling, and yet one he feels like he only half understands. ]

I love you. [ It's soft, something he says breathlessly near his ear in a small gasp, voice delicately wrought as his hands grasp at the yukata that's folded over at Shouto's waist. Like he doesn't know if he wants to tug at it or hold onto it like an anchor.

Instead, he kisses his ear. Catching the earring there and sucking on it in a practice roll between tongue and lip that's just shy of being too hard. ]

Shouto. I love you---

[ They took the time to explore each other. Never hurrying. Avoiding the pitfalls that snagged the fast travelers. Allen always waited for him at the finish line, pausing to cross over together. It made every realization of his that much more poignant, filling his heart with adoration that turned to love. Not the distant one he'd known as a child, but the kind you can hold and know it's real.

His unfettered feelings cut through the curse, shifting his desires from the physical to the intangible. He lifts his head, breaking the kiss to settle back enough to see him. A tender smile graces his lips. Flickers of fire dance in his hair, ice-crystallizing on the roots of his hair on the other side. ]

Allen.

[ He lets go of his waist and sets his hands on his shoulders, leaning forward to place a kiss under his eye, over the thin red line of his scar. ]

Let's go inside.

[ He plucks his hand from his waist, raises it between them, and kisses the carapace armor with his eyes solely on him. ]

I want to love you, properly.

Edited 2023-06-02 21:39 (UTC)

[ For a while Allen would always have a momentary spike of nerves from uncertainty when the fire and ice would thread through his hair, breathtaking that it was, because it might mean he was becoming overwhelmed and it was about to spill over and what if they did burn down the house. But he's started to get a better feel for when it's just a beautiful indicator of the sentiment in his heart, and it seems like Shouto has too, and it's part of why he's always so happy to wait for him.

Properly? He flushes lightly at that, shivery, and can only stare with a soft and appreciative look when he takes his left hand to kiss it so sincerely. It makes his heart swell, more than he could ever properly put into words or explain. When did his life become so good?

No, really. When did it?

So he smiles, a little shy and secretive, as he gives a nod and draws close, letting his arms wind behind Shouto's neck. Something playful and loving a glimmer in his pale eyes, Allen bumps their noses gently in a fond kind of nuzzle as he's spurred on by a sense of sentimentality. Of everything coming around full circle, and lost in Shouto's he smiles knowingly because of it at asking something he never does. ]

Carry me?

[ Like the ice, the fire flickering through his hair feels natural and unobtrusive. A testament to how far he's come, no longer suppressing his quirk, but embracing it. Providing it an outlet, the same way he allowed himself to reach for what he wanted.

There's no shyness to his words, no bold statements, simply a recitation of what dwelled in his heart without the filter of social norms. He smiles at the request, his eyes briefly shifting to the bloodstone on his ear. ]

Are you reading my mind?

[ A tease. The closest he's come to the banter Allen seemed to excel at. Without waiting for a reply, he sets an arm around his lower back, rising to his feet in one smooth movement, taking up Allen's weight like he weighed no more than a pillow. The arms of his yakata drag on the ground, somehow still tied to his waist. Allen's fares better, giving him an enticing view of his chest.

Before they leave, Shouto reaches up to pluck a flower from one of the low-hanging branches and sweeps back the long white locks with the back of his hand to pin it just above Allen's ear. ]

I saw it blooming in the snow.

[ A chaste leisurely kiss, straight on his mouth without an ounce of shyness. ]

It reminded me of you.

Edited 2023-06-02 22:40 (UTC)

[ That gets a delighted laugh, Shouto doing what can only be teasing him, and Allen tightens around him as he's lifted up. He could almost reach up into the boughs himself if he didn't need to hold on, and blinks for a moment when Shouto brings one of the blossoms down and explains his thought process as he brushes one of the disheveled runaway strands of hair back to place it at his ear. You...

You think about him from even something so simple? But as soon as the awe touches him he realizes it also isn't surprising. He knew this. From that book in his heart full of little everyday thoughts about him, he knew. But it doesn't make it any less special, any less incredible each time he hears. Probably he'll never not be lightly stunned and so very touched.

(Though, will it ever be finding something manly about him? Will no one ever? He's mostly given up on that pipe dream and never placed actual worth in it, but every once in a while he has a vague whimsy that one day... And he does love flowers, as they remind him of Mana.)

Allen smiles though, and kisses him as an answer with the same gentle sweetness too, soft and delicate as a snowflake. Ankles crossing behind his back as he shifts around him and settles his weight more fully against him and trusts in the strength of the arm he's wound around his back so that his sole focus can be on kissing him. The yukata slips off one shoulder slightly, as it had been partially dislodged earlier when Shouto had been kissing his collar.

What he desires is this, always. This feeling of love and belonging. Other things, physical things -- they only mean something when they come from that place of affection. He's never questioned the former and the latter he already stopped doubting.

The thought he's been influenced by fruit -- it doesn't even register, even to someone as self-aware as Allen. This is already what he wanted. It just makes it easier to go with it. ]

Ah? [ His voice is soft as feathers, gentle and content as a summer breeze when he pulls back to regard him. ]

I'll wear one every day until they stop.

[ It could almost be light and playful banter still, except he says it so softly that it's a promise. ]

Edited 2023-06-03 00:29 (UTC)

[ It's not simple to him. He still thinks about the day they faced that soulless beast in the snow. Tiny shoes splattered with blood haunted his nightmares for months. Every time he saw red in the snow, his throat tightened, recalling that day. The feeling subsided over time, entirely supplanted when he first came across a tree covered in snow with flowers emerging from red buttons. The yellow dots of pollen reminded him of Tim. The white petals of Allen's cloak, and red not of blood but his arm, strong and supportive. Maybe he does think about Allen a lot more these days, but it's never simple, not to him.

(He's pretty sure, you can beat him in a fight. Isn't that manly? As for the flowers, his mother likes them, which means, so does he. It says more about him than Allen. If his mother liked knives instead, then you can be sure Shouto would compare Allens to knives. Would you like that?)

He meets the kiss with peaceful temperance. The urge to kiss him until they were both breathless subsided for a less frenzied desire. His eyes brighten with amusement at that answer. ]

If you wear them all, you won't have any fruit.

[ Where do you think the fruit comes from? He kisses him soundly on the lips, unhurried, as he steps onto the engawa, walking past Kizu and Tim. The feeling of merriment paramount in those mismatched eyes, as they stay on Allen, amused. ]

Edited 2023-06-03 02:07 (UTC)

[ Soulless? The akuma? He'd be utterly horrified to realize that and be quick to correct. That was a human they fought, a human soul. A human soul that needed to be released from what had corrupted it so far it had become something so tragic and terrible. Shouto is haunted by those it killed and Allen is too in his quiet, burdened way where he's seen a story like that so many times -- but Allen is haunted by the akuma most of all. The unseen tragedy no one mourns because they only see the monster it's become through no fault of its own. But he can understand why no one else sees it that way, because that is a hard thing, and if he didn't have his eye he's not sure he would ever have truly realized the truth of it. That isn't something he'll ever push or look for acknowledgement on. Not even with Shouto.

But they are not soulless no more than a Beast of this world. In fact, they are wholly soul and soul alone. Human still, deep down in a place where they can still be saved. And he would be very soft but very firm in correcting. Very sad.

They're precious to Allen too, and he forever exists to save them even when removed from a world being consumed by them. Is the only one who will probably ever want to save them. And as precious as this life he has now, and it will forever stay that way because of the indelible scars they've etched into him body and soul.

Because of Mana.

And that was probably the last akuma whose soul he'll ever be able to save -- which on some level... haunts him too. ]

I wouldn't pick them all. [ It's a playfully huffed reply, something he'd pout at if he wasn't being kissed. As it is he hums his appreciation for how their mouths seal together once again in a languid and unhurried kiss. Pressed up against him and able to explore each other's mouths with quiet enthusiasm at their leisure, as Allen finds he quite likes the unique experience of kissing while being carried.

Although it probably doesn't make navigating very easy. Which isn't a problem he has to worry about and it doesn't dissuade him from being distracting about it at all. In fact he winds himself tighter until they're entirely tangled together.

If it's the bathroom and the much-needed bath they're both overdue for that Shouto's heading for, he'll find the door shut of course from when Allen had been sneaking around. Inside, the bath has indeed been drawn and is waiting for them but up the walls and on the ceiling have been hung several dozen lights in finely cut glass jars, that twinkle and refract like starlight. Not candles or lunar lights, but something else he might recognize—the jars of hope that they once had collected and strung up in the rafters of Sanctuary for Tanabata. That they had sat and stolen kisses under when still exploring those first very new changes in their relationship.

Unlike the simple jars they had then, these have been more finely cut and angled like glass starbursts so they twinkle as they move. Motes of the essence of pure hope that glow softly and bathe the room not just in a soft, living light like the dance of fairies, but exude the emotion themselves.

Hope. Something so simple that's so sweet and calming.

Whenever they get to the bedroom, he'll find it's been decorated similarly but with much greater care, and with a great many more lights. Enough to simulate the night sky itself. And as they step past Timcanpy and Kizu— Tim watches Kizu atually. Seemingly contemplative for a moment.... before he rolls over and barrels into her. A surprise attack! He is ninja! And an invitation to then chase him as he flits off with a wiggle of his tail as incentive to join him in a night of play. ]

Edited 2023-06-03 03:04 (UTC)

[ Their actions are soulless, derived from corruption like the beasts of this world. He can understand their rampage by looking at it from that vantage point, and does not blame them any more than he would a child having a tantrum when their emotions got too big for them. Except their tantrums steal lives, requiring immediate intervention. Shouto may not blame the Akuma they faced for what it did, but neither can he forget the carnage of that day. It stayed with him long after that fight having never been exposed to that kind of grotesque before Trench.

Unlike Allen, the Akuma is not precious to him. He did not know it, in life or in death, but that didn't mean he wouldn't put his life on the line to stop it. Protect others from it, and protect it from others. Even if his encounter with the Akuma from Allen's world turned out different than he expected. Even though Allen explained it to him, he still can't fathom ever choosing to destroy it. It goes against years of entrenched indoctrination. Heroes protect. They don't kill. And even though they didn't kill the Akuma, that's what it felt like to him. Unable to see the soul released. His experience saving that Akuma wasn't the peaceable end Allen witnessed with his eye.

The Akuma killed. Was out of control. They tried to stop it. And it was destroyed in the end. The soul within released, but that's not what he witnessed. The ending he saw was not a kind one. For someone like him, who knows nothing of Allen's world, it's difficult to comprehend such an ending. Rationally, he understood what happened in the end. That it was good but he did not feel it. Not the same way Allen did. ]

Edited 2023-06-03 05:19 (UTC)

[ Navigating the familiar corridor of their home comes easy, letting him keep up with the conversation and nose at his throat without needing to look up every few steps between languid kisses. ]

[ When he opens the door to the bath, Shouto stops in place, puzzled by the jars strung up all over the ceiling. They light up the room in a delicate silver light. Twinkling like the night sky, it jars a memory loose. ]

Are those...

[ He recognizes them now. The orbs of light he collected for the festival the night... Oh.

His easy smile fades, and the merriment in his eyes recedes remembering that night. He grows quiet. Different from his usual pondering silence. ]

Jars of hope.

[ Said quietly, his thoughts elsewhere for a moment before remembering to ask. ]

Where did you get them from?

Edited 2023-06-03 04:55 (UTC)

...?

[ That isn't... the reaction he expected. Did it... sadden him somehow? The soft glow of happiness fades and leaves Allen quiet too, watching Shouto's expression closely and trying to read it. ]

Sanctuary has a stockpile of them its kept. I'll return them tomorrow, these are only some of them but... [ He trails off, uncertain. ]

Are you alright? We can take them down if you want--

[ But why would they be upsetting...? He thought it was a good memory, the Tanabata festival. ]

[ He nods silently, lost in thought. Someone collected the jars he gathered that night, he remembers belatedly. Seventy-two, shy of the one-hundred he meant to collect. ]

I didn't know they would keep this long.

[ Or else he would have tried to collect more than the 100 he allotted himself, not that he reached that figure anyway, so it was a moot point.

He shakes his head lightly, turning to Allen for the first time since he spotted the twinkling lights. ]

I like them where they are.

[ He utters, more reserved than usual, but walks into the room, closing the door behind them. ]

Thank you.

[ Many people collected the hope in jars to stockpile, knowing they would have important potential for reducing corruption harmlessly in others who may need it. At one point more than a thousand had been collected by Sanctuary, hence being able to fill even its large halls with a night sky, though that number is smaller now as they've needed of course to use them. But Allen's also unaware that's what Shouto had been collecting that night. After all... he was dead for the next two weeks. But even so...

... yes. Some of these may very well be the ones he collected that night. Not that, of course, Allen has any idea.

His expression remains thoughtful, recognizing something happened there, there's some deeper recognition he had, but not knowing what that could be. It cools the passion in his veins, concern ever trumping that no matter the scenario, as he's not sure if he believes you... but, ultimately, takes Shouto at his word. Reaching up to touch his cheek faintly, stroking it thoughtfully. ]

Hope isn't something that fades like that.

[ He says it softly, applying just enough pressure to encourage him to look at him. Gentle and earnest. ]

Looking at you gives me hope too. Whether we're under a sea of stars full of possibilities to wish on or not.

[ For Sanctuary to have this many jars makes sense. After all, he was one of many who went out to collect the orbs. Walking through the starlit room, memories of the festival foster to life. Allen walking once more. The paleblood stone he had made for him. Allen agreeing to wear it for the night. Most of all he remembers the night sky that day. Spending the night looking up at it with Allen at his side.

At the touch of cheeks, his eyes shift to him, and the distant look in his eyes fades, replaced by a tender look. ]

You're right.

[ He gently touches his forehead to his, no longer far away, but present. ]

Hope is what lets us dreams.

[ He relaxes at that then, the anxiety in his heart letting up to see Shouto come back from whatever place he'd gone with a gentle look once again. Lost in thought-- in memories, perhaps? Ones maybe Allen didn't know about—or didn't realize what might have actually been going through Shouto's head at the time.

You might not say it all the time, but you think a lot.

Craning up into where their brows touch and relishing the sentimental contact, he smiles softly. Kissing first one corner of his mouth very gently-- ]

Yes. [ --and then the other. The hand that had been at his cheek slipping back to sift through his hair and touch his ear, rubbing the bloodstone band—the one made of Allen's blood—gently. With his own kind of faraway thoughtfulness as he stays nestled very comfortably in his embrace.

One year ago, you held him in this room and he touched your cheek to try and pull you back from heavier thoughts too before they bathed. A quiet and nebulously intimate moment, one of their first. ]

Kiss me?

[ Not at that exact moment, but that was the first day he realized he wanted to kiss you, you know. ]

Edited 2023-06-03 09:26 (UTC)

[ The orbs of hope hold two distinct memories for him, opposite in every way. Memories of the dead. Of souls fading and returning from the sea. Memories of celebration. Of souls, brightly burning, embarking on a new voyage. ]

I was collecting them. The jars of hope that day. [ He tells him, no longer far away; present in the telling. ] The day my brother turned into a beast. The day you fought him.

[ He breathes deeply, letting those memories slide back into the folds of his mind. They still hurt. Seeing his brother turn into a twisted version of their father. Seeing Allen struck by his ice, bleeding and fading in his arms. Memories of that day still haunt him. Still clog his throat, still overwhelm him. When he walked into the room decorated with those jars, that long-ago feeling of loss overtook him, overshadowing the burgeoning feelings of affection tied to them too. ]

I forgot [ he admits, expelling a shaky breath ] they were at the Tanabata Festival, too.

[ Overwhelmed by affection, the corner of his mouth tugs up, even as the corner of his eyes well up with a hint of tears. ]

Thank you for reminding me. That bad memories can also be good.

[ His eyes glitter with affection, regarding Allen with a soft look brimming with more than those burgeoning feelings tied to the jars strung up around them. They had taken root since then, matured. Developed into a kind of secret correspondence of the heart. He kisses him, loving how natural it is to kiss him. Loving the certainty in his heart, no longer conflicted over details, knowing this feeling was so deeply entrenched it would always be a part of him.

All those feelings, he pours into the kiss, no longer afraid when his quirk fluctuates between fire and ice. He lets it bleed into his fingers that gently touch his face. Lets it bleed into his hair, letting one side dance in flames and the other freeze in frost. Lets it bleed into his mouth, tongue half-cold, half-hot. Trusting his heart to sort it out on its own. ]

Edited 2023-07-01 01:34 (UTC)

[ Shouto... that was why? Allen's eyes widen when he explains that was what he had been doing the day his brother turned-- ...the day he died. With mild dismay at first, because of all things that's not what he wanted to remind him of with the gesture. But he keeps talking, explaining his feelings as he works through them and-- oh.

He stares, transfixed by the soft sheen in his eyes. Are you..? Shouto. His own throat threatens to clog over and everything he wants to say -- he can't. No, he has no idea what to say, even if his heart is full of too many things he wants to express. Too awed by the depth of Shouto's own feelings, to be looking at him like that and speaking so gently. Too overwhelmed by his own and finding his body not able to contain them all. So his eyes begin to well for a second too, before Shouto leans to kiss him and Allen meets him halfway like it's everything he's been waiting for, something he expects as naturally as breathing. Delicate and sweet, desperate and earnest. A balanced contradiction like he is. Wholly welcoming of the chill tingle and flicker of warmth that dances across Shouto, no longer hesitating or worrying if it meant he might be losing control of himself.

And even if you do, I'll stop it. Less apprehensive of invoking Crown Clown for such a purpose, and there's a small hum of power from the crystal in his left hand as he slides one hand along his jaw, into his frosted hair, and tips his own head to kiss him better. Softly and unhurried, exploring the kiss and his mouth with the same eagerness as the first time and the languid thoroughness that comes from sharing a hundred such kisses and knowing there'll be a thousand more. Opening up and encouraging him to kiss him more deeply with that half cold and half hot tongue before somewhat cheekily licking it with his own, thighs tightening around his middle to hold himself up as he winds closer and presses into Shouto's bare chest. Shifts, loosened yukata gaping, until they're skin-to-skin, chest-to-chest.

But they've shifted over time, haven't they? Those kisses. Something... easier. Something he can't quite put his finger on, but... you don't doubt yourself as much when you kiss him, do you? ]

I love you. [ It's whispered softly and a little breathlessly as they part and prepare to meet again, within the secret space between their lips. Peppered with gentle, loving touches to his face as Allen tries to seek him out and catch his eye. ]

So much. [ So much, he can't even articulate it right.

Through the good memories and the bad both. And all the memories still to come. ]

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