[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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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.
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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. ]
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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.]