altimit | [Closed] misteaks' mistakes

[Morgan was asking.

He wasn't leaving up to Barrett's choice, to Barrett's wants, broad consent without desire. Is this the first time Morgan's requested something like this from him? Is this the first time he's fully expressed that he does still have his feelings deep within his bones?

It leaves the redhead a little stunned, wide-eyed and breathless under Morgan's fingers. His demeanor doesn't lose the ragged weight from the travels of their talk. But the creases that dot his eyes and mouth as he lights up at least color him back in a less anxious light.

He doesn't even falter on the request. With Morgan settled in his lap, Barrett leans in - a gentle press of his lips to his forehead again. Then to his cheekbone. Then to the bridge of his nose, to the tip of it - chaste peppering, tired and gentle affection, pausing close enough that their noses brush, close enough that he absolutely could just press their lips together. But he doesn't - he holds that small glimmer of playfulness like a ray from the sun.]

Like that? Maybe some more?

( Mithrun, as ever, is an ambiguous read; he lacks surprise or pride that much suggest that he's aware of his uncharacteristic ask, and so it is unclear if he's aware at all - and he is. He is, but he's coming to dwell on it less, because the time he spends muddling in his thoughts is a little less time he spends in the moment with Barrett, and, like reflex, he's come to prefer this affection over the featureless expanse of indifference the professor left him.

He didn't expect any kiss in any particular way, but here is where surprise colors his features, because he didn't expect playfulness volleyed back threefold.

Mithrun's tired, too. But he's always been one to ignore his exhaustion for the things he can't help but stride toward. Each place Barrett had left a gentle, silly kiss feels faintly warm, a small smile curling his lips; he thinks he can nearly feel Barrett's own smile, too. )

... Maybe... a few more. Or else I'll decide where I get to kiss you.

( A threat....................(!?) )

[Oh.

He goes silent, the stalling of his brain practically visible as his imagination goes a little wild. It's not that Morgan hadn't kissed him before. So why was the idea of him being so bold something that had his heart suddenly ticking his heart faster in his chest?

His eyes lid slightly, the hand at Morgan's nape tightening just a little, running fingers carefully down muscle and tendon. He wants to, he wants to, but something more delicious has been presented, and he can't help it.]

...What if I want both?

... You have a big appetite.

( His fingers curl under Barrett's chin and tips his face up, their lips so lightly brushing - but it's not a kiss; when he presses in, his lips press against the corner of Barrett's lips - a tease in turn.

Then he leans up, in, bracing his palms against Barrett's shoulders so he can press a kiss to the soft of his cheek, the edge of his eye, his temple... Not peppering like Barrett had him, but a path suggesting a destination, and he leans a little more against him as he travels up, pressing Barrett against the back of the couch.

His lips pause there, brushing at Barrett's temples. )

... You have to trade me. But... don't stop even if I keep going.

( More kisses for Mithrun if you want more kisses for Barrett!! )

[He nods obediently, swallowing thick with mouth slightly parted as he lets his weight press backward. Morgan's veil pools around them like a delicate curtain, like anything that isn't Morgan shouldn't dare to be in view - the illusion of privacy that frames bare, scarred shoulders and silver hair and the softest of smiled under a dark, deep gaze.

With Morgan kneeling up overtop him, it leaves his face and his hands at the easiest, barest point, letting his hands press into the open shapes of Morgan's shoulder blades as he presses his lips to the inside of Morgan's neck. But he halts, just for a second.]

Before... before I do...

You flinched earlier, when I brought my hands to your face. Is... there anywhere I shouldn't touch?

[The last time had been their avatars, after all - horns and wings and idealized bodies. This was bound to be a little different.]

( A beat, where Mithrun isn't sure what he means, his lips parting from Barrett's skin. Then - ah, that...

Mithrun's weight seems to sink, as if the question had tired out his strength just from the asking, and though he lingers where he is for a moment, he finally sinks back into Barrett's lap, still leaning his weight forward.

He looks a little troubled, a little puzzled - unhappy, being reminded of him in this moment. )

... Anywhere is fine.

( The standard answer. At least, he thinks so. Thought so.

... )

Can you try running your hands through my hair? Just lightly.

...

Hey... you don't need to say that if it ever stops being "fine". Okay? I won't be mad.

[But he takes the statement as intended and lifts a hand as requested, letting fingertips find the barest give in long locks of hair near a higher point of Morgan's head. The gesture stays gentle, cautious, following the flow of it down the frame of Morgan's face.]

... Mm.

( He doesn't say more, but the reassurance is easing. He hadn't thought Barrett would be upset with him, but having pause to express care - still feels nice. Nicer, still, since all of this still feels new to Mithrun.

The touch at his hair is gentle, but the reaction is more palpable with the prolonged touch - it's subtle, but the way his expression scrunches in, he looks a little like someone in slow recoil after being struck.

The professor never did have to raise a hand against him, though.

As Barrett's hand falls away, Mithrun looks peeved. He didn't think he'd mind it if anyone but that man touched his hair. His hair, at the length it'd been when he'd known him...

Muttering: )

... He'd touch my hair all the time. Especially when I was feeling sick, or hurt, or in pain...

[His motions slow as soon as he sees that subtle flinch again, withdrawing to instead let his touch rest back against Morgan's shoulder. It doesn't let go, even as Morgan's face turns to irritation at himself.]

Then we don't have to do anything with it. [Quiet, but firm.] He doesn't belong here. You do.

...

Could I tuck it behind your ears? Would that be okay for now? If you're not sure... then there's plenty of places I can touch to still show you I care.

Edited 2023-11-15 20:04 (UTC)

( "He doesn't belong here. You do."

Mithrun seems to soften, a little. )

... Not now, but... later... I don't know if I want to carry this part of him with me. I think it should go.

( It hadn't mattered all this time, but now - that it bothers Barrett, causes a stutter in a closer moment between them... he minds now, he thinks. What was the point of sticking around if he had to compromise on... these things that he might want, after taking so long to recognize that he might want them, that he could want at all?

But right now they were tired and it wasn't the time to reverse engineer exposure therapy or otherwise. Besides... )

... But, for now... behind my ear is fine. Touch me... as much as you want.

( He wants to feel it - all the ways Barrett can express he cares. )

[Barrett's far from a therapist, far from the kind of person that knows how to handle something delicate like this. All he knows is that the touch reminds Morgan of a horrible part of his life, and Barrett wasn't about to press that. He could draw a firm line if it meant Morgan could stay comfortable.

When his hands lift back up to cup Morgan's face against his fingers, he tries to keep it simple. The careful push of two fingers to each side to catch what strands of hair frames Morgan's face, pushing it back as he lets his touch trace his ears, the locket earrings getting a careful touch of curiosity as well before he moves back down to his jaw.]

I think I liked what we were doing before. And now I can see even more of you this way.

So... can I keep kissing you?

( The shift of topic comes with the shift of touch - carefully pushing back his hair to the more affectionate touch at his jaw.

He exhales, quiet but deep. Letting go of the memory, the past, if only for this moment, because... this is more important than that, he thinks. )

... Yes.

( Please, his tone almost seems to ask. )

[He doesn't need any further prompting, taking back the small distance between them to press their lips together. A light kiss, then a second, a third, before he nuzzles the heat of his face into Morgan's neck. Mouthing at one heated earlobe, the redhead quickly buries himself into a peppering line of kisses beyond the sheer coverage of the veil, hoping quantity would earn him a reward for his insistence.

His hands travel down to squarely rest at Mithrun's hips, eager to go further and find that warm pocket of exposed leg that he could feel against his own thighs. But he waits, content with tasting.]

[Closed] misteaks' mistakes - the sequel (catchall)

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