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uakariBecause smut makes the world a better place.
This is, again, part of something longer for No.6b that I've been working on for what feels like forever, but fuck it I guess I will just post pieces of it all over until it's finished. Because that's how I roll. :D
Sex, of course, ruined everything, though not exactly in the way he had imagined it would. Sion had always been a…well, a sap was putting it mildly (complete and utter sap brought things a little closer, but was still wide of the mark), and Nezumi had held no illusions that any sort of physical relationship between them was destined to devolve into desperate soft touches and whispered nonsense and all of that other smarmy crap that was best saved for the stage. He had always just believed it would be Sion instigating it…
It would have been worse if Sion had instigated it. Probably, anyway. There would have, at the very least, been laughter involved and the whole thing would have ended very badly. He felt very certain of this.
Though in truth, it was difficult to feel certain about anything when he was still still sitting there in this god awful, awkward position, legs looped up over Sion’s and knees pressing into his shaking sides – half in his lap and half out – face pressed into the curve of Sion’s neck and arms teetering precariously over Sion’s bony shoulders and probably doing something horrible like flitting through the ends of his hair…
It was all he could do to breathe, which was harder than he might have expected, even with his mouth latched as it was on to salty skin and nose barely peeking over a shoulder and only flesh-warmed air, that’s neither satisfying nor particularly pleasing to drag down an already scorched windpipe, to work with . (Even harder when the trembling in his chest refused to stop because Sion blatantly refused to release him – either of them – and every stroke of his hand only dragged out more writhing, gasping, and twitching…as if he were reduced to some post-orgasmic gasping, twitching…thing.) His skin burned deep below its surface, though the cold air in the room was doing a good job of wicking away most of the sweat that had collected and making his hair stand on end with the chill. If his brain weren’t such mush, he might be able to do something about it – pull one of the blankets up from under them or move away from the window – but it was mush, just like his muscles, and it was almost embarrassing how much he wanted to stay like this forever-
Sion finally (finally - Nezumi wasn’t sure he wanted to know where this stamina had come from, but it was damned impressive all the same) collapsed against his shoulder with a low moan, teeth pricking into his shoulder where the airhead didn’t quite manage to close his lips around them, and stilled his hand. Nezumi hummed happily and let one hand drape down to trace across the scar winding around Sion’s neck, fingers tracing dry pathways through the sheen of sweat coating it. Lips pressed gently into the side of his neck and his eyes drifted closed. Finally.
Of course Sion would insist on ruining the moment with his squirming and proactiveness. Nezumi bit back the annoyed growl he felt building in this throat as Sion pressed his shoulders forward to try and shift Nezumi back (with very little success – it appeared his muscles were just as much mush) and snaked a hand between their torsos to grope blindly at the sheets around them. Instead, he dropped one hand down to catch Sion’s wrist in a death grip and shove it forcefully back between them. “No.”
“Hmm?” Sion’s voice was stupid with post-coital giddiness and just as clumsy as his hand, “No what, Nezumi?” he strained again to free his hand, to no avail. “I need the-” he sighed in exasperation as Nezumi’s fingers only locked tighter around his hand, “I’m all-”
“Stay,” Nezumi insisted, though if he had meant to put more force behind it, he only partially succeeded. It wasn’t any use, really; Sion would continue to wriggle about now that he had a goal, completely oblivious to Nezumi’s all consuming desire to just stay-
He supposed he could say something more, but that would be an admission he didn’t feel like voicing (or dealing with at all) at the moment, so instead, he exhaled exasperatedly and pinned both of Sion’s hands to the wall behind his back. Amidst loud complaints, and with far more grace and agility than Sion had managed, he groped with his free hand to find one of the many articles of clothing he knew were littering the knotted sheets (his own T-shirt was the first to meet his fingers, but that was fine). He managed a feral grin through his haze as he proceeded to wipe them both down and clean any last bit of mess that Sion might be compelled to whine about as thoroughly away as he could before tossing the shirt back over his shoulder and hopefully over the edge of the bed. “Better?” he mumbled, lazily dipping forward to bite at the skin over Sion’s Adam’s apple.
“Why are you-” Sion wondered, but was quickly silenced when Nezumi maneuvered him flat onto his back (making sure not to let go his grip on his wrists, because that would just be ceding the battle before it was fought) and forced his legs wide enough to settle his knees between them and drape himself over Sion’s torso, burying his face against the dip in the other’s chest. It was only once he was satisfied that Sion wasn’t going to start with the wriggling and escape tactics again that he released his wrists.
One of Sion’s hands fell immediately to rest at the nape of his neck, the other stroked along his bicep. Nezumi didn’t dare to look up – he was certain there would be either a concerned or amused smirk looking back at him and he didn’t have the patience to deal with either – and instead pressed the flat of his cheek firmly against Sion’s ribs and snaked a hand around and behind his armpit. It wasn’t the most comfortable of arrangements, and he would probably have to move it once the blood supply ran out, but for the moment it added nicely to the sensations of close, warm, mine-
At least until Sion started laughing and rollicking Nezumi’s head all willy-nilly across his chest. Nezumi growled and poked a finger into Sion’s side. “Shut up,” he pleaded. Irritation roiled through him at Sion’s completely inability to grasp that he needed this. His entire body ached for it; his eyes burned hot anger that he had no words to express. Just let me have this.
“I’m sorry,” Sion continued to laugh, though much more calmly, almost soothingly, “I just never took you for a post-coital snuggler.”
“This isn’t snuggling,” Nezumi insisted through gritted teeth. His hand groped around the edges of them – he knew there was a pillow lurking somewhere close-
“Really?” Sion murmured, and Nezumi felt most of the irritation melt away from him at how earnest he sounded. Or maybe it had not so much melted as it had focused itself into his grip on the pillow he had just managed to locate. “And what is - aaaAK!” Sion sputtered as the pillow smacked mercilessly across his face. Nezumi was only a little sorry that he didn’t look up to see the impact; he felt much better for the effort anyway.
“Aggressive spooning,” Nezumi informed him, and loosened his grip on the pillow.
“Shouldn’t the spoons-”
Nezumi shoved the pillow back into Sion’s face (it had obviously been a mistake to not hold it there in the first place), “Silent aggressive spooning.”
“Mmm,” came the muffled reply, and Nezumi breathed a heavy sigh of relief as Sion finally appeared to surrender and relax beneath him. Warm hands slipped down his back, all caressing palms and ghosting fingertips pulling them even closer together, and knees folded up to bracket the sides of Nezumi’s thighs. It was nothing more than a jumble of limbs – a Sion cocoon, for crying out loud – but the hormones (or endorphins or whatever other chemicals served to well to lull him into a relaxed state of idiocy like this) coursing through his veins insisted that it really was the nicest jumble of limbs he’s ever found himself wrapped in (not that they had much to compare it to, but they were very insistent nonetheless) and nothing else in the world really mattered so long as they continued to be jumbly and there.
This really was the worst state of affairs he’d found himself in yet. The world could come crashing down around them, and he was fairly certain that he wouldn’t be able to dredge up two fucks to give. If he had been thrown off guard by Sion in the past, he was surely ruined by him now.
Worse, he felt entirely at peace with that.
Fuck.
“Nezumi,” Sion coughed and patted one of his hands against the small of his back, dragging Nezumi out of his little lament and back into reality, “I can’t breathe.”
Nezumi reluctantly let the pillow drop, stuffing it down behind Sion’s shoulder and waiting patiently while Sion wiggled and shuffled it around to fit comfortably at the back of his neck. He breathed a sigh of…relief? contentment? as Sion’s breath slowed and his hands resumed their slow stroke across his back.
“You’re really funny, like this,” Sion mumbled quietly, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss against his brow.
“Your sense of humor is lacking in both discrimination and class.”
“Ah,” Sion leaned back into the pillow and teased one hand up across his shoulders and into the roots of Nezumi’s hair, “Coherency is returning, then?”
Nezumi considered this carefully and decided after only a moment that Sion was both evil and full of shit. Playing with his hair like that… “No,” he mumbled with finality. If anything, he could feel himself slipping over the edge into sleep.
Sion seemed to contract all around him then, squeezing out any last vestiges of foreignness between them as well as any air that had remained in Nezumi’s lungs (which escaped with a disturbing hum-gurgle that he’d be damned before he admitted came from him). “That’s probably for the best,” Sion yawned, “Sleepy. And I…” he trailed off for a moment, loosening his grip enough trace his fingers up Nezumi’s spine once again, “I don’t want to let go.”
“You’re a sap,” Nezumi slurred definitively, and slapped the pillow back across his face.
This is, again, part of something longer for No.6b that I've been working on for what feels like forever, but fuck it I guess I will just post pieces of it all over until it's finished. Because that's how I roll. :D
Sex, of course, ruined everything, though not exactly in the way he had imagined it would. Sion had always been a…well, a sap was putting it mildly (complete and utter sap brought things a little closer, but was still wide of the mark), and Nezumi had held no illusions that any sort of physical relationship between them was destined to devolve into desperate soft touches and whispered nonsense and all of that other smarmy crap that was best saved for the stage. He had always just believed it would be Sion instigating it…
It would have been worse if Sion had instigated it. Probably, anyway. There would have, at the very least, been laughter involved and the whole thing would have ended very badly. He felt very certain of this.
Though in truth, it was difficult to feel certain about anything when he was still still sitting there in this god awful, awkward position, legs looped up over Sion’s and knees pressing into his shaking sides – half in his lap and half out – face pressed into the curve of Sion’s neck and arms teetering precariously over Sion’s bony shoulders and probably doing something horrible like flitting through the ends of his hair…
It was all he could do to breathe, which was harder than he might have expected, even with his mouth latched as it was on to salty skin and nose barely peeking over a shoulder and only flesh-warmed air, that’s neither satisfying nor particularly pleasing to drag down an already scorched windpipe, to work with . (Even harder when the trembling in his chest refused to stop because Sion blatantly refused to release him – either of them – and every stroke of his hand only dragged out more writhing, gasping, and twitching…as if he were reduced to some post-orgasmic gasping, twitching…thing.) His skin burned deep below its surface, though the cold air in the room was doing a good job of wicking away most of the sweat that had collected and making his hair stand on end with the chill. If his brain weren’t such mush, he might be able to do something about it – pull one of the blankets up from under them or move away from the window – but it was mush, just like his muscles, and it was almost embarrassing how much he wanted to stay like this forever-
Sion finally (finally - Nezumi wasn’t sure he wanted to know where this stamina had come from, but it was damned impressive all the same) collapsed against his shoulder with a low moan, teeth pricking into his shoulder where the airhead didn’t quite manage to close his lips around them, and stilled his hand. Nezumi hummed happily and let one hand drape down to trace across the scar winding around Sion’s neck, fingers tracing dry pathways through the sheen of sweat coating it. Lips pressed gently into the side of his neck and his eyes drifted closed. Finally.
Of course Sion would insist on ruining the moment with his squirming and proactiveness. Nezumi bit back the annoyed growl he felt building in this throat as Sion pressed his shoulders forward to try and shift Nezumi back (with very little success – it appeared his muscles were just as much mush) and snaked a hand between their torsos to grope blindly at the sheets around them. Instead, he dropped one hand down to catch Sion’s wrist in a death grip and shove it forcefully back between them. “No.”
“Hmm?” Sion’s voice was stupid with post-coital giddiness and just as clumsy as his hand, “No what, Nezumi?” he strained again to free his hand, to no avail. “I need the-” he sighed in exasperation as Nezumi’s fingers only locked tighter around his hand, “I’m all-”
“Stay,” Nezumi insisted, though if he had meant to put more force behind it, he only partially succeeded. It wasn’t any use, really; Sion would continue to wriggle about now that he had a goal, completely oblivious to Nezumi’s all consuming desire to just stay-
He supposed he could say something more, but that would be an admission he didn’t feel like voicing (or dealing with at all) at the moment, so instead, he exhaled exasperatedly and pinned both of Sion’s hands to the wall behind his back. Amidst loud complaints, and with far more grace and agility than Sion had managed, he groped with his free hand to find one of the many articles of clothing he knew were littering the knotted sheets (his own T-shirt was the first to meet his fingers, but that was fine). He managed a feral grin through his haze as he proceeded to wipe them both down and clean any last bit of mess that Sion might be compelled to whine about as thoroughly away as he could before tossing the shirt back over his shoulder and hopefully over the edge of the bed. “Better?” he mumbled, lazily dipping forward to bite at the skin over Sion’s Adam’s apple.
“Why are you-” Sion wondered, but was quickly silenced when Nezumi maneuvered him flat onto his back (making sure not to let go his grip on his wrists, because that would just be ceding the battle before it was fought) and forced his legs wide enough to settle his knees between them and drape himself over Sion’s torso, burying his face against the dip in the other’s chest. It was only once he was satisfied that Sion wasn’t going to start with the wriggling and escape tactics again that he released his wrists.
One of Sion’s hands fell immediately to rest at the nape of his neck, the other stroked along his bicep. Nezumi didn’t dare to look up – he was certain there would be either a concerned or amused smirk looking back at him and he didn’t have the patience to deal with either – and instead pressed the flat of his cheek firmly against Sion’s ribs and snaked a hand around and behind his armpit. It wasn’t the most comfortable of arrangements, and he would probably have to move it once the blood supply ran out, but for the moment it added nicely to the sensations of close, warm, mine-
At least until Sion started laughing and rollicking Nezumi’s head all willy-nilly across his chest. Nezumi growled and poked a finger into Sion’s side. “Shut up,” he pleaded. Irritation roiled through him at Sion’s completely inability to grasp that he needed this. His entire body ached for it; his eyes burned hot anger that he had no words to express. Just let me have this.
“I’m sorry,” Sion continued to laugh, though much more calmly, almost soothingly, “I just never took you for a post-coital snuggler.”
“This isn’t snuggling,” Nezumi insisted through gritted teeth. His hand groped around the edges of them – he knew there was a pillow lurking somewhere close-
“Really?” Sion murmured, and Nezumi felt most of the irritation melt away from him at how earnest he sounded. Or maybe it had not so much melted as it had focused itself into his grip on the pillow he had just managed to locate. “And what is - aaaAK!” Sion sputtered as the pillow smacked mercilessly across his face. Nezumi was only a little sorry that he didn’t look up to see the impact; he felt much better for the effort anyway.
“Aggressive spooning,” Nezumi informed him, and loosened his grip on the pillow.
“Shouldn’t the spoons-”
Nezumi shoved the pillow back into Sion’s face (it had obviously been a mistake to not hold it there in the first place), “Silent aggressive spooning.”
“Mmm,” came the muffled reply, and Nezumi breathed a heavy sigh of relief as Sion finally appeared to surrender and relax beneath him. Warm hands slipped down his back, all caressing palms and ghosting fingertips pulling them even closer together, and knees folded up to bracket the sides of Nezumi’s thighs. It was nothing more than a jumble of limbs – a Sion cocoon, for crying out loud – but the hormones (or endorphins or whatever other chemicals served to well to lull him into a relaxed state of idiocy like this) coursing through his veins insisted that it really was the nicest jumble of limbs he’s ever found himself wrapped in (not that they had much to compare it to, but they were very insistent nonetheless) and nothing else in the world really mattered so long as they continued to be jumbly and there.
This really was the worst state of affairs he’d found himself in yet. The world could come crashing down around them, and he was fairly certain that he wouldn’t be able to dredge up two fucks to give. If he had been thrown off guard by Sion in the past, he was surely ruined by him now.
Worse, he felt entirely at peace with that.
Fuck.
“Nezumi,” Sion coughed and patted one of his hands against the small of his back, dragging Nezumi out of his little lament and back into reality, “I can’t breathe.”
Nezumi reluctantly let the pillow drop, stuffing it down behind Sion’s shoulder and waiting patiently while Sion wiggled and shuffled it around to fit comfortably at the back of his neck. He breathed a sigh of…relief? contentment? as Sion’s breath slowed and his hands resumed their slow stroke across his back.
“You’re really funny, like this,” Sion mumbled quietly, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss against his brow.
“Your sense of humor is lacking in both discrimination and class.”
“Ah,” Sion leaned back into the pillow and teased one hand up across his shoulders and into the roots of Nezumi’s hair, “Coherency is returning, then?”
Nezumi considered this carefully and decided after only a moment that Sion was both evil and full of shit. Playing with his hair like that… “No,” he mumbled with finality. If anything, he could feel himself slipping over the edge into sleep.
Sion seemed to contract all around him then, squeezing out any last vestiges of foreignness between them as well as any air that had remained in Nezumi’s lungs (which escaped with a disturbing hum-gurgle that he’d be damned before he admitted came from him). “That’s probably for the best,” Sion yawned, “Sleepy. And I…” he trailed off for a moment, loosening his grip enough trace his fingers up Nezumi’s spine once again, “I don’t want to let go.”
“You’re a sap,” Nezumi slurred definitively, and slapped the pillow back across his face.
no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 10:43 am (UTC)I love love this! I love how even though he's trying to snuggle AND VERY MUCH NOT THINKING ABOUT THAT THANKS he's rationalising it and mentally bitching about Sion. WHY WON'T HE JUST LIE THERE AND BE WHAT NEZUMI NEEDS HIM TO BE GOD?
THIS KILLED ME DED: “Your sense of humor is lacking in both discrimination and class.”
DO NOT STOP WRITING OMFG <33333333
no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 03:14 pm (UTC)I think most people underestimate how much I enjoy writing sarcastic, snippy, but not-really-angy Nezumi....AMGILOVEIT Poor boy suffers from some serious author appeal, which means he is going to be abused and confused and possibly dropped into a bathtub at some point. AND I AM GOING TO LOVE EVERY MINUTE OF IT. YES.
RIN RIN RIN
:DDDDDDDDD
no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 04:18 pm (UTC)I'm soo looking forward to the rest! Especially the part with the bathtub. \(`♥´)/
no subject
Date: 2012-02-10 09:32 am (UTC)RIN RIN AMANDA! :DDDD