[janus sucks on the wizard's tongue and breathes in the wizard's breath, both of which are warm, only one of which is wet. they still remember the mass of ezekiel's body above them and the slender dish of ty's face in their hands, but somehow this is different in ways that have nothing to do with the breadth of arel's shoulders or the way his hair begins to deconstruct under janus' fingers and fall into his eyes. or perhaps it has everything to do with the breadth of arel's shoulders and the way his hair falls in his eyes.
this is just a long way of saying: at some point, janus opened his eyes and snuck peeks at arel's face while they were kissing, just to check what the wizard looks like. as expected, arel remains direly handsome.
their vision starts to swim at some point because they can't breathe, because arel is making them breathless and maybe at some point in a young hunter's life their tongue needs to go back in their own face for a couple seconds. janus breaks the kiss with a reluctant gasp. they have the resting heart rate of a hundred year-old tortoise, but their pulse is tripping parade music. high and bright and mighty.] Arel. [they inhale sharp and wander their mouth up arel's cheek, his ear. dragging their teeth gently around the velvety lobe, as if it's a piece of candy they'd rather melt than break with a bite.]
You make me think of growing old and staying young forever. It doesn't make sense. You make me very illogical.
[Arel closes his eyes when Janus speaks, feeling their lips, swollen by kisses, by Arel's mouth on them, on his ear, whispering into the shell of it. Under his fingers, Janus' heartbeat is fast and feels - happy, in a way, like Arel can tell. He can't, but he likes to think it is, happy and excited and comfortable. His index finger plays a rhythm in sync with it.]
Do you think it's a bad thing? To be a little illogical?
[Arel doesn't mind. He is pretty illogical himself and he knows it, guided by his emotions more often than not, letting them take over, even when they contradict themselves, from one moment to the other. It gives him the impression that he is being his best self, following his heart, instead of being led by his clan and their missions.]
I don't know. [janus' mouth slips away from the precious tidbit of ear they'd been worrying with their teeth. they duck their head slightly, nuzzle him instead. there are fewer nerves in one's nose than in one's lips, so it isn't pleasurable the same way, but it seems like a nice gesture to tell arel that they like him.
(so much.)
(their heart is beating so fast.)]
You need to be able to see clearer than an ordinary person to land hits. [they touch his hair very gently. smooth the short hairs down the nape of his neck.] A failure of deduction can lead to injury or worse. I think in some way, I was taught-- [a finger down the back of his shirt, fixing his tag.] To be illogical is to be weak. To be illogical and soft is even weaker.
[Arel closes his eyes, processes the words. Yes, he knows - everything but utmost precision, in actions and thoughts, is a weakness. Anything keeping your hand from being as steady as it should be is a weakness. Emotions, gut feelings, all of it - weaknesses.
Arel cannot subscribe to this philosophy anymore. He's never thought he made a great Hunter anyway, better at intelligence gathering than cold-blooded kills, but now that his clan is gone, he feels like the tenuous tether he had to the ideology has been entirely snapped. And now... hearing Janus' words, there's a part of him that wishes he could burn it all down to the ground, and free people like them.
He swallows hard. This isn't him.]
This - [He gestures between the two of them, then presses two fingers to Janus' chest again.] - this isn't about hits, and violence, and precision. This is messy, Janus. Not just the sex part, although that is definitely messy, but all of it is, too. You're not supposed to analyse your relationships with a clear eye and look at it as if it's another target. You're supposed to allow yourself to be blinkered by it, by what you're feeling. And it's - it's okay.
[He takes another deep breath.] You can separate the two. Be your analytical self when working, and allow yourself a small space for your feelings, and for messiness, when we're together. [He half-smiles, soft.]
It's not weakness. Not really. It's just - different.
[there's a day not too long from now when janus will look back on this moment and hate it. they'll be humiliated. they were accustomed to traps loaded with secret needles. poisons. traps built of wire and glass and illusory magic. they had not expected one with eloquent hands and long forelocks that carry a secret curl early in the morning and these silly rhetoric, that would persuade no one. one day, janus will remember the lopsided quirk of arel's smile and think themself an idiot. a harpy who fell for a trick no more complex than a scarecrow.
that day is not today.]
Maybe it would be less messy if you didn't put your blanket on the floor, and move around things you will have to clean up later. [their voice is light. janus tucks their elbows down on the floor, push themself up slightly. chest inclining under arel's touch, knees parting, opening around his hips. there's a smooth, almost serpentine flex of janus' narrow back against the floor. like a cobra striking in reverse, they roll the two of over on the spread blanket. in just as clean a single movement, they remove their shirt. one swift once-over of their arm.
they wonder if they can get his spell to flicker. just like arel, to miss his window into the future for the pleasure of the present.]
[ You aren't afraid? The question feels like a thunderclap through Arel's mind, and the spell does flicker, the stars blurry for a moment before he focuses, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth for a moment. Is he afraid to make mistakes?
Every single moment of his life. This, right now, is probably a mistake, all the things Arel can't tell Janus hanging heavily on his thoughts. Will Janus hate him if they ever learn the truth? That Arel's a liar, a coward, nothing as lovely as Janus like to build him up in their head. That Arel is a mess, hiding away what he really is to them.
Arel hates himself for it; he wouldn't begrudge Janus if they did, too. Janus - too good for him, probably, sitting above him without a clue, and it's unfair. Words clog up Arel's throat for a moment as he traces the incredible curve of Janus' waist with a reverent finger, trying to swallow it all down.]
I'm always afraid. Everybody makes mistakes, Janus. The harder part is forgiving - yourself, and others.
I'm a forgiving person, [janus says. it doesn't fully capture what they mean, but by now, they've come to realize that talk of their murder job is something of a buzzkill for most people— they decide to keep it to themself, the terrible crimes they have heard myths commit, the righteous anger that drove their blade, and the way they let go of it afterward. hunters are only naive in the most esoteric way.] I have a good compassion mantra. We can do it together, someday.
[they'll place a word to it, someday. this urge of theirs, to comfort arel when they sense his calm is disturbed, the turmoil inside of him rearing closer to the surface than normal. they think: there's no way he deserves it, whatever pain he's feeling. the way he touches them, you know he is innocent.
it moves their heart to protectiveness that would hurt, if they thought of it too closely. janus sets a kiss to arel on the tip of his chin, and drops their shirt aside. then they start to crawl backward over his body, knees and palm, moving with the same lithe coordination that they have when they're training out in the quad. in a moment, their lanky-limbed straddle is across their knees, and they're tugging at arel's fly, thumbing button through hole, dragging the tab of the zipper down through metal teeth. they know arel's body a little now, how his cock likes to make intimate friends with their tattooed fingers, their mouth, and they kiss him through the fine grain of his underwear.] Don't think of how you were, [janus tells him, their breath warm.] Think of what you like about yourself. Think about how I like those things too.
[Arel didn't expect Janus to move so quickly - graceful and effortless and it shouldn't surprise him, they are a Hunter, after all, but it does anyway. Arel never wants to stop being surprised by Janus and their sudden decisions, like they're spur of the moment when he knows oh so well that they've been weighing pros and cons, making sure that their hands are precise and their fingers aren't shaking.
Janus isn't about making mistakes.
Arel lets his eyes drift closed when Janus leans down, eyelashes fluttering as he exhales loudly, pleased, his dick giving a hearty lurch in his underwear, jumping from being mildly interested in Janus' weight on him to being fully interested in Janus' mouth on him.]
Tell me about the things you like. [Arel says, his voice rougher now, need transpiring in his tone and his words. It's not that being given compliments turns him on, but there's something about the way Janus voices things, so matter-of-factly and endlessly endearing that keeps on capturing Arel's attention, and Arel wants to hear more of it.]
nsfw, did we already mark this nsfw, it is definitely nsfw
[janus is silent for a little moment longer, consulting the secret horoscopes woven into arel's underwear, perhaps. it's hunter code. perhaps they're being foolish, but at least it's intended sweet when they lay their cheek briefly against the bulge of arel's cock and hum, thinking.] I like. How handsome you are when you aren't smiling. And then when you-- [they pick up their head and look up the tapestry's glut of ink swirling up his torso.] Your teeth are all even, not like a bunny. More like. A parrotfish, except your colors are prettier.
I like how your tattoos fade around your nipples, instead of stopping on a line. I like how you carry Emily here, [a slender hand on arel's stomach, sliding up the dorsal line, the groove between his abdominal muscles,] in your core, where your balance is centered, where your breath fills, where your strength begins, even though she also reaches your heart. I like-- your curly hair in the morning and your widows peak.
And just in case-- just in case you think, um, [oh,] that my affection is strictly physical, [janus clears their throat and wiggles slightly on their perch over his legs. adjust their hands down to arel's underwear, with a few pragmatic tugs.] I also like how kind you are to strangers. The children who drop their books or look unwell. And how much you worry. And how you grieve. No set time, no rosary, no loud anniversaries. But you hold it inside of you, like you're the shrine and the tragedy deserves to be commemorated.
It's very romantic, if you like that kind of thing. [janus apparently does. :) :) :) this comment, they punctuate with a kiss on arel's hipbone, tracing their mouth down the diagonal cut of muscle that connects it to his groin.]
[ A parrotfish. Janus may be the strangest creature Arel has ever been given the chance to touch, but he is endlessly endeared and charmed by their metaphor and analogies; there's something so earnest and sweet about them, and Arel smiles, reaching down to brush fingers through Janus' hair.
His words about Emily makes Arel suck in a breath, stopped and amazed, a little. He stares at the stars on the ceiling, lets Janus' words - too kind, too honest, piercing right through every single one of Arel's lies like they know, like they're fishing him right out from underneath all the layers - wash over him.
He feels like he can't breathe, and that's why he pulls up at Janus' arms, getting them to move back up, to be able to kiss them, deep and hard and full of need, suddenly hungry. He doesn't deserve any of these words, any of Janus' own kindness. It burns through his veins, too much to handle, and when he pulls away from the kiss, he's panting, and the stars have faded from the ceiling. ]
I don't deserve you. [ He doesn't know what else to say. He wishes he wasn't lying to them, every second of every minute of every hour of every day. He wishes he could say the truth. He can't. ]
[plan is thwarted!! janus winds up back on arel's chest, zero dick in their mouth. instead, they have arel's mouth on their mouth, warm and lush as a new plum, not very much like a parrotfish at all. janus feels their ears begin to burn and their breath drop dizzyingly out of their lungs, partly because of the kissing and partly because arel's prodigious cock is poking them in the leg and partly because the pretend cover of night-time disappeared, leaving a funny feeling of exposure, and partly because they're in love.]
Are you fishing for compliments? If you're fishing for compliments, you should remember I already gave you the, um, the um parrotfish of compliments, [janus says, idiotically. feeling the red creep toward their cheeks from their ears. they spread their fingers over his shoulder and kiss him again so that maybe he won't notice how foolish they are being, how silly, how hopeful, how excited, how— pleasantly confused. janus suddenly isn't hungry. or if they are, it's not merely for delicious stir fry cooling gently in its glass container. they forget to breathe or to worry about whether they're using too much tongue or not enough.]
I'm not, [ Arel replies between kisses, finding himself suddenly hungry - not for food, either, but for Janus, just for Janus. He kisses them with that hunger bubbling in his belly, pushing him to hold onto their hair and angle the kiss, pushing him to dip his tongue inside their mouth, pushing him to touch, touch, touch, feeling starved for it.
His hips roll up into Janus', groaning into their mouth, his brain suddenly gone blank of anything else than his need for Janus. His free hand slides down along their back, to their arse, squeezing lightly when it reaches its destination. He pulls away from the kiss with a wet sound and a harsh breath, his lungs on fire. ]
[janus kisses him. their heart feels so full that it hurts, which is different to how it is when they kiss zeke or ty, or think of others maybe later. neither experience nor imagination have been large enough to contain even the faintest possibility of kisses like this. janus thinks about dying lots, for a sixteen-year-old, but they've never before felt like they could die here, now, and be happy.
i love you, they think but don't say. they don't want to spoil this with sad and broken promises. so they grind up their hips against him, thighs open to accommodate the shapes of both cocks meeting through their trousers. their bottom is pert in his hands, and manages not to seem too flustered about it. janus touch him how they think he'll like, tracing their blunt nails lightly along his inner-arms, his ribs, violining an uneven rhythm along his beautiful skin and perfectly formed nerve endings. syncopated to the kisses janus places on his face.]
I think I want you more than you want you want me. We can make it a competition. I like competitions.
[ Arel frowns, his free hand tracing the features of Janus' face; sharp cheekbones, jutting jawline, soft lips, a nose that looks like it should have been broken a number of times. Inquisitive eyes. Perfectly arched brows. Creases on his forehead. ]
Let's not. It shouldn't be. A competition, I mean. It's more like... A team thing. We're a team. We work together, towards the shared goal of mutual orgasms. Yeah?
[ Love is sure a competition outside of this; this tiny bubble they've created right now. Outside of it, people compete for attention, try to prove themselves as the most lovable, the best lovers, the most entertaining friends. A constant competition for time and attention. Arel only gets ahead sometimes due to his body; a body he didn't even choose.
Sometimes, he feels like he's barely his own person. ]
[if janus could hear the sad, soft babble of arel-thoughts, they would be sad. well-- shock and anger and realization aside&mash; they would be sad. but here it's quiet and arel's face (yes, handsome) disguises the chilly stream of consciousness, his dark memory and bad habit and immovable misfortune. janus has always assumed that arel runs from his fire dreams into such distractions as sex and working out, because that seems like what humans do. but they haven't ever imagined how temporary or uncomfortable those sanctuaries are.
from the outside, arel's life seems easy these days. no fires. emily, amnestic but still— emily. a bright future and desirable body. in no particular order of importance.]
Okay, okay. I'm afraid if I keep talking, I'll say the wrong thing again, [janus says. they place a kiss on arel right between his eyes. but they mean it. they give up the competition for now, their obsession with being better than they were, better than anyone else, the best.] I like working with you. Whether it's essay theses or-- um. Sexual matters. Whatever-- um, makes you smile.
[ Maybe this is what Arel should have expected, when he asked Janus on a date. A proper date, with food and romance and privacy; maybe he should have known. He should have known that they would slip into something like this, intimacy between moments fueled by adrenaline and hormones, words whispered like they didn't mean much, when they meant everything.
Arel looks at Janus, brushes his fingers through their hair, down along their temple, a tangle of feelings stuck in his throat as his eyes travel all over their face. ]
[kissing arel is one of janus' favorite times of day. it's different to all their other favorites too. just like they said out loud just now, even if it'd never occurred to them before in those terms— this isn't for once about proving themself, of excelling, of beating their opponent in competition. they close their eyes and lean into it, mouth open over his mouth, trying to be tender the way they have imagined he likes with charlie and the girls, but clear and strong the way they have imagined he likes with girls, but after a point they forget themself and they are just kissing arel, as janus, a little bit messy, a little bit giddy, til they have to stop and pull their head up and touch the corner of their mouth apologetically.
drooling again. a technical error. >:{
but next thing you know, their shirt is off, tossed over on the foor to deflate gently on the white blanket. and they're kissing arel some more, less wetly this time, optimistically trying to finger the studded shapes of his nipples through the fabric of his shirt, their meager weight rubbing a rhythm against the wizard's sex, through his trousersa.]
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no subject
this is just a long way of saying: at some point, janus opened his eyes and snuck peeks at arel's face while they were kissing, just to check what the wizard looks like. as expected, arel remains direly handsome.
their vision starts to swim at some point because they can't breathe, because arel is making them breathless and maybe at some point in a young hunter's life their tongue needs to go back in their own face for a couple seconds. janus breaks the kiss with a reluctant gasp. they have the resting heart rate of a hundred year-old tortoise, but their pulse is tripping parade music. high and bright and mighty.] Arel. [they inhale sharp and wander their mouth up arel's cheek, his ear. dragging their teeth gently around the velvety lobe, as if it's a piece of candy they'd rather melt than break with a bite.]
You make me think of growing old and staying young forever. It doesn't make sense. You make me very illogical.
no subject
Do you think it's a bad thing? To be a little illogical?
[Arel doesn't mind. He is pretty illogical himself and he knows it, guided by his emotions more often than not, letting them take over, even when they contradict themselves, from one moment to the other. It gives him the impression that he is being his best self, following his heart, instead of being led by his clan and their missions.]
I like it, myself. And it suits you.
no subject
(so much.)
(their heart is beating so fast.)]
You need to be able to see clearer than an ordinary person to land hits. [they touch his hair very gently. smooth the short hairs down the nape of his neck.] A failure of deduction can lead to injury or worse. I think in some way, I was taught-- [a finger down the back of his shirt, fixing his tag.] To be illogical is to be weak. To be illogical and soft is even weaker.
no subject
Arel cannot subscribe to this philosophy anymore. He's never thought he made a great Hunter anyway, better at intelligence gathering than cold-blooded kills, but now that his clan is gone, he feels like the tenuous tether he had to the ideology has been entirely snapped. And now... hearing Janus' words, there's a part of him that wishes he could burn it all down to the ground, and free people like them.
He swallows hard. This isn't him.]
This - [He gestures between the two of them, then presses two fingers to Janus' chest again.] - this isn't about hits, and violence, and precision. This is messy, Janus. Not just the sex part, although that is definitely messy, but all of it is, too. You're not supposed to analyse your relationships with a clear eye and look at it as if it's another target. You're supposed to allow yourself to be blinkered by it, by what you're feeling. And it's - it's okay.
[He takes another deep breath.] You can separate the two. Be your analytical self when working, and allow yourself a small space for your feelings, and for messiness, when we're together. [He half-smiles, soft.]
It's not weakness. Not really. It's just - different.
no subject
that day is not today.]
Maybe it would be less messy if you didn't put your blanket on the floor, and move around things you will have to clean up later. [their voice is light. janus tucks their elbows down on the floor, push themself up slightly. chest inclining under arel's touch, knees parting, opening around his hips. there's a smooth, almost serpentine flex of janus' narrow back against the floor. like a cobra striking in reverse, they roll the two of over on the spread blanket. in just as clean a single movement, they remove their shirt. one swift once-over of their arm.
they wonder if they can get his spell to flicker. just like arel, to miss his window into the future for the pleasure of the present.]
You aren't afraid? Ever. Of making a mistake.
no subject
Every single moment of his life. This, right now, is probably a mistake, all the things Arel can't tell Janus hanging heavily on his thoughts. Will Janus hate him if they ever learn the truth? That Arel's a liar, a coward, nothing as lovely as Janus like to build him up in their head. That Arel is a mess, hiding away what he really is to them.
Arel hates himself for it; he wouldn't begrudge Janus if they did, too. Janus - too good for him, probably, sitting above him without a clue, and it's unfair. Words clog up Arel's throat for a moment as he traces the incredible curve of Janus' waist with a reverent finger, trying to swallow it all down.]
I'm always afraid. Everybody makes mistakes, Janus. The harder part is forgiving - yourself, and others.
[Hypocrite.]
nsfw hella
[they'll place a word to it, someday. this urge of theirs, to comfort arel when they sense his calm is disturbed, the turmoil inside of him rearing closer to the surface than normal. they think: there's no way he deserves it, whatever pain he's feeling. the way he touches them, you know he is innocent.
it moves their heart to protectiveness that would hurt, if they thought of it too closely. janus sets a kiss to arel on the tip of his chin, and drops their shirt aside. then they start to crawl backward over his body, knees and palm, moving with the same lithe coordination that they have when they're training out in the quad. in a moment, their lanky-limbed straddle is across their knees, and they're tugging at arel's fly, thumbing button through hole, dragging the tab of the zipper down through metal teeth. they know arel's body a little now, how his cock likes to make intimate friends with their tattooed fingers, their mouth, and they kiss him through the fine grain of his underwear.] Don't think of how you were, [janus tells him, their breath warm.] Think of what you like about yourself. Think about how I like those things too.
[they probably
aren't just talking about his cock.]
no subject
Janus isn't about making mistakes.
Arel lets his eyes drift closed when Janus leans down, eyelashes fluttering as he exhales loudly, pleased, his dick giving a hearty lurch in his underwear, jumping from being mildly interested in Janus' weight on him to being fully interested in Janus' mouth on him.]
Tell me about the things you like. [Arel says, his voice rougher now, need transpiring in his tone and his words. It's not that being given compliments turns him on, but there's something about the way Janus voices things, so matter-of-factly and endlessly endearing that keeps on capturing Arel's attention, and Arel wants to hear more of it.]
nsfw, did we already mark this nsfw, it is definitely nsfw
I like how your tattoos fade around your nipples, instead of stopping on a line. I like how you carry Emily here, [a slender hand on arel's stomach, sliding up the dorsal line, the groove between his abdominal muscles,] in your core, where your balance is centered, where your breath fills, where your strength begins, even though she also reaches your heart. I like-- your curly hair in the morning and your widows peak.
And just in case-- just in case you think, um, [oh,] that my affection is strictly physical, [janus clears their throat and wiggles slightly on their perch over his legs. adjust their hands down to arel's underwear, with a few pragmatic tugs.] I also like how kind you are to strangers. The children who drop their books or look unwell. And how much you worry. And how you grieve. No set time, no rosary, no loud anniversaries. But you hold it inside of you, like you're the shrine and the tragedy deserves to be commemorated.
It's very romantic, if you like that kind of thing. [janus apparently does. :) :) :) this comment, they punctuate with a kiss on arel's hipbone, tracing their mouth down the diagonal cut of muscle that connects it to his groin.]
yes we did
His words about Emily makes Arel suck in a breath, stopped and amazed, a little. He stares at the stars on the ceiling, lets Janus' words - too kind, too honest, piercing right through every single one of Arel's lies like they know, like they're fishing him right out from underneath all the layers - wash over him.
He feels like he can't breathe, and that's why he pulls up at Janus' arms, getting them to move back up, to be able to kiss them, deep and hard and full of need, suddenly hungry. He doesn't deserve any of these words, any of Janus' own kindness. It burns through his veins, too much to handle, and when he pulls away from the kiss, he's panting, and the stars have faded from the ceiling. ]
I don't deserve you. [ He doesn't know what else to say. He wishes he wasn't lying to them, every second of every minute of every hour of every day. He wishes he could say the truth. He can't. ]
no subject
Are you fishing for compliments? If you're fishing for compliments, you should remember I already gave you the, um, the um parrotfish of compliments, [janus says, idiotically. feeling the red creep toward their cheeks from their ears. they spread their fingers over his shoulder and kiss him again so that maybe he won't notice how foolish they are being, how silly, how hopeful, how excited, how— pleasantly confused. janus suddenly isn't hungry. or if they are, it's not merely for delicious stir fry cooling gently in its glass container. they forget to breathe or to worry about whether they're using too much tongue or not enough.]
no subject
His hips roll up into Janus', groaning into their mouth, his brain suddenly gone blank of anything else than his need for Janus. His free hand slides down along their back, to their arse, squeezing lightly when it reaches its destination. He pulls away from the kiss with a wet sound and a harsh breath, his lungs on fire. ]
I'm just being honest. And, fuck, do I want you.
no subject
i love you, they think but don't say. they don't want to spoil this with sad and broken promises. so they grind up their hips against him, thighs open to accommodate the shapes of both cocks meeting through their trousers. their bottom is pert in his hands, and manages not to seem too flustered about it. janus touch him how they think he'll like, tracing their blunt nails lightly along his inner-arms, his ribs, violining an uneven rhythm along his beautiful skin and perfectly formed nerve endings. syncopated to the kisses janus places on his face.]
I think I want you more than you want you want me. We can make it a competition. I like competitions.
no subject
Let's not. It shouldn't be. A competition, I mean. It's more like... A team thing. We're a team. We work together, towards the shared goal of mutual orgasms. Yeah?
[ Love is sure a competition outside of this; this tiny bubble they've created right now. Outside of it, people compete for attention, try to prove themselves as the most lovable, the best lovers, the most entertaining friends. A constant competition for time and attention. Arel only gets ahead sometimes due to his body; a body he didn't even choose.
Sometimes, he feels like he's barely his own person. ]
There's enough competition in the world, Janus.
no subject
from the outside, arel's life seems easy these days. no fires. emily, amnestic but still— emily. a bright future and desirable body. in no particular order of importance.]
Okay, okay. I'm afraid if I keep talking, I'll say the wrong thing again, [janus says. they place a kiss on arel right between his eyes. but they mean it. they give up the competition for now, their obsession with being better than they were, better than anyone else, the best.] I like working with you. Whether it's essay theses or-- um. Sexual matters. Whatever-- um, makes you smile.
no subject
Arel looks at Janus, brushes his fingers through their hair, down along their temple, a tangle of feelings stuck in his throat as his eyes travel all over their face. ]
You. You make me smile. [ It sounds stupid and cliché - a cheesy line even for Arel, who wears this kind of cheesiness on his sleeve unashamedly. But the situation right now feels too big for him, like he doesn't know how to deal with it, hasn't been prepared for it. So instead of saying anything else, he uses his hand on the side of Janus' face to pull them down into another kiss, trying to convey what couldn't be said. ]
no subject
drooling again. a technical error. >:{
but next thing you know, their shirt is off, tossed over on the foor to deflate gently on the white blanket. and they're kissing arel some more, less wetly this time, optimistically trying to finger the studded shapes of his nipples through the fabric of his shirt, their meager weight rubbing a rhythm against the wizard's sex, through his trousersa.]