altimit | [Closed] misteaks' mistakes

( "I don't think I can." Maybe he should do in the source of all this after all, game be damned.

But what Barrett has to say matters more than his scarlet thoughts.

There is at first surprise - and then relief, that Barrett wants to pull into him; and then, frustration, again, that something else is stopping him from holding him in full. And then, just—

He doesn't know what this feeling in him is; thick like water, overflowing his chest, into his lungs, suffocating.

His hand lifts, brushing hair from Barrett's face, caressing his cheek. It's hard for him to imagine from his own perspective, but he can only imagine how scary it is to come out of a haze with blood on your hands. He hasn't forgotten everything that came with that memory of Lily. )

... I hate... that you won't ( Can't? ) tell me things. I hate it when you run away from me. But I don't... hate you. I won't blame you, or resent you. I...

( He gazes at Barrett, small and afraid and anxious as Barrett is right now, and though he's frustrated, he believes him - and he resents every choice that led them unable to join here. )

... I wasn't afraid, then. I think I just felt... that you wouldn't hurt me; not you. But I was angry with myself that I couldn't fix it. I was angry I'm not... someone that makes you feel steady around, not more than your guilt. I feel... steady with you.

( He doesn't know how to do the same for him. Being there - in this case - just proved to be a symbol for the thing Barrett was scared of facing. )

[Morgan believed in him that much...

He knows he'd said as much when it happened, but adrenaline had rushed the thought from his mind. To be reminded of it quiets him, and to hear how much blame Morgan was pushing inward because of it just reinforces the idea he'd had from earlier: maybe it was a bigger mistake than he imagined to have hidden away.]

...It's not your fault. I don't blame you either, so I don't think you should blame yourself.

I don't know if I need someone to feel steady around. Feeling uneasy is... strange, for me. My brothers say I come across as disinterested, but I just try not to worry about things that don't really matter. When there's a lot that matters... I want to be the one people rely on. And if I can't...

[Well, it's not something he needs to reiterate. They'd talked about this much at the hospital, something he's been able to conveniently ignore now that he's back to two working legs. Being reminded of it again just picks at the still-healing wound.]

I think... it's hard to tell where I can speak my mind safely. Even with my family, I... I'm not always sure.

[The touch he holds at Morgan's hair leaves, finds that hand caressing him to gently take it up in his own. Careful, delicate, lacing their fingers together as he swallows hard.]

But... I feel safe with you.

That maybe, if I didn't feel so strong some days... I want to think I could come to you, and you wouldn't think any differently of me.

( It's hard not to think that there was some emotional failure on his part sometimes, because, well - just look at him as he is; look at him as he used to be. He believed fully Barrett told himself Mithrun was enough, but, in practice - was he? That's where Mithrun's belief faltered; not in Barrett, but in himself. In this regard, they might be similar.

So it gives him pause to understand a little better why, maybe, Barrett considers him enough. Through his expression is pensive still, his brows are knit slightly in the way they do when he's trying to listen and understand, no matter how foreign the language. )

... I wouldn't. ( He squeezes his hand, maybe a little too tight. ) I saw your struggles from the start and I still thought you were enough. I've only become more sure of it over time.

( Even if he may get frustrated with him, may get angry. And the thing is, if he didn't get angry with him - it'd mean he doesn't care at all; frustrating as that, too, is.

A beat passes, as he gathers his thoughts. )

I don't like you going away. I really don't like it. So don't choose to go. Don't run away. ( He can't avoid imperatives forever, sorry. But: ) But, if you have to go... Promise you'll come back. And I'll promise I'll be there to harbor you.

( He'll always have somewhere safe with Mithrun. And if Barrett wants to argue that's unrealistic, or too much to promise - well, Mithrun seems keen to argue back.

All this, at least, until he kills DV for making Barrett his secret-keeping errand boy. Then there won't be any problems anymore. )

[That tight squeeze gets a jerk of surprise, a careful run of his thumb against Morgan's palm as an unspoken response. Easy does it, it says. I believe you, it says.]

...If I have to go, I'll tell you. As much as I can. And... I'll always try to come back. Always. I have too much to cherish to just leave it behind.

[His free hand travels from waist to chest, a gentle spread of warm fingers against the heart that beats underneath.]

I want to be brave for you. So I can be here to keep you steady.

[To be an anchor to return to, when Morgan grows unsure, in the turmoil of his head or emotions or the ever-changing chemistry of his identity. Barrett couldn't fulfill that role if he were to vanish.

There's a stretch in the silence, letting both his hands drop to rest against either side of Morgan's waist - keeping them close, not wanting to let the touch go.]

...It's late. I haven't eaten. I... imagine you haven't, either.

Would you come with me tonight?

( He doesn't feel certain, he doesn't feel settled; not yet, when no danger has passed, when he still doesn't know what vault of knowledge Barrett's been asked to stand vigil. But, Barrett's hand at his chest, hand at his waist, he feels - steadier. And he wonders if this feeling can stay. )

... And if there are times you can't... I'll be there, until you feel strong enough again.

( He says it, like he doesn't want Barrett to forget; like he wants Barrett to turn that maybe I could come to you into an I will. Because Mithrun will run himself raw trying to be more than what he is if what he is isn't enough.

But he doesn't force more as they sink into silence. His hands by now curled lightly into Barrett's chest, their breathing quiet. He feels muscle-sore, like he'd just cracked his chest open for someone to peer into - to see the things he hadn't even known were inside. He wonders if Barrett feels the same, too - or if there's more he hasn't seen yet, something else he's overlooked. )

... Okay.

( He guesses he'll only have to find out, however that knowledge comes. But, at least, right now, there's this. )

I still have food in my inventory. We can have that?

( They go wherever Barrett wants to go. It seems evident he has no strong preference; he's just partial to being with Barrett. )

Oh... the skewers. [His meat snack... damn, he'd never normally forget food like that. What was happening to him?

Still, it gets an immediate nod of approval.] Mn. We can start there. Those are pretty small.

[Thinking about eating, for once, is not on the forefront of his mind. He still has Morgan's weight under his fingers, breath and warmth and the heated tension that settled with their bodies so close. One hand lifts to trace knuckles against his jaw, leaning in just a little closer than he'd been before.]

...Can I?

[Can he break the distance here? For a moment or two?]

( Given everything else going on, that just happened, he can presume why Barrett's distracted, even if it's unlike him. But that thought doesn't linger much before Barrett distracts it with another.

Ah.

... His palms slide up, over the chest, and press light against either side of Barrett's neck, his fingers brushing light against the back of his neck, his hair.

And with his palms trailing up, he draws closer, too, noses nearly brushing. )

... Yes.

( Gentle thumps, deep in his chest. )

[It's all the prompting he needs to gently press himself forward, fingers taking just enough time to guide that jawline so he can immediately take Morgan's mouth against his own, lip and tongue and teeth and breath.

It's nowhere near the anxious pace as the ferris wheel, nor is it the careful and shy exploration from where they stood together in the ocean. This sits in the middle - a slow start, enough to try and catch Morgan's energy, before letting the closeness of their bodies fuel him to press further. A whetting of his appetite. A desire to express himself where words felt they were failing.

Let his affection be known, as well as his hunger. Let it add to the honesty Morgan desperately needed.]

( The second time he had kissed Barrett, he'd known Barrett had been gentle with him during their first. He doesn't expect a repeat of the second this time, nor does he expect the first again - he thinks that the two of them have shifted a little further on, and the way Barrett kisses him tells him the same.

Mithrun meets him with a desire to taste him, a desire to be tasted, too - maybe a little more than that - that small bloom grown some in their time since the ocean. His nails brush light at back of Barrett's head as he presses in, tongue and teeth met in kind, echoing a little deeper each time, as if to bait him hungrier. Without thought, his other hand finds slid down along his shoulder, his chest; and then along his shoulder blades as Mithrun presses for deeper at the lips - his fingers brushing light against where wings join skin.

At least this, he understands - the hunger Barrett feels for him, and the want Barrett grants him in turn. A need to be close - closer still - and maybe, even this doesn't feel like quite enough. )

Edited (making sense of the movement closes eyes) 2023-10-09 08:00 (UTC)

[Reciprocation in kind, and a far more aggressive type at that, has Barrett squirming with a heated exhale for a little more purchase... only to openly lock a quiet, heavy hum of noise between their lips at the touch against his back, wings twitching. The sensation shoots down him, like an electrical charge that leaves his limbs peppered with sensation and an odd warmth deep in his stomach.

He welcomes that deeper kiss like a drink of fresh water, hands travelling back up to tangle in Morgan's hair. Seated like this, he doesn't have much height over Morgan as if they were standing. But it's still substantial, and still something he uses to his advantage, tipping Morgan's head back to rest between the heat of his palm and the insistent press of his mouth, tongue searching. Just like the beach, tasting the start of a dish that was divine... only this time, he finds he doesn't want to stop.

His thumbs find the back of Morgan's ears as he cups him close. He remembers this. The breathy sounds when he spoke here. And in his fog, he tries to light those sounds again, a careful brush of touch against the tender cartilage, even as he pulls himself away for air, flushed and breathless and hungry.]

I... Come on. We shouldn't be out here.

[It's not a request to stop. Only a request to move.]

Edited 2023-10-09 11:07 (UTC)

( His ears are always the first to grow warmer, before his cheeks, and now they're hotter still. Barrett fairly wins the sound of his voice gasping into the kiss; it remains hot and low and soft as Barrett kisses him, dipped back like a feast, and his fingers curling into his hair, his wings, as if to hold tighter on.

He seems reluctant as Barrett pulls away, his teeth a light scrape as he goes - but the sight of Barrett flushed and hungry over him - ah, did he do that to him? - fills his vision, and for a moment it arrests him. )

... I don't mind here.

( The fatal flaw... letting Mithrun have a say. His want is localized here, to Barrett alone. He presses up, his lips pressing to the corner of Barrett's lips - not quite a kiss, but almost as if to speak into his lips with a murmur, like he wasn't going to share this with anything else in Fragment. )

... But... we can move if you want. I just don't want to let go.

( Not after Barrett had gone away so suddenly, not when he'd just returned. It's silly and childish but honest. It wouldn't be long from here to another place, but he doesn't have the desire to test it. )

[It's dangerous how enticing it's becoming. Every sensitive movement of their mouths, every shock down his frame when he feels Morgan's fingers start to tighten, the heat he feels cross his face and throat and stomach at the sound of his voice. He swallows it eagerly, still hot against Mithrun's lips even as he takes only to a corner of him, teeth grazing to barely catch the flesh of his lip in turn with a tight sound in the back of his throat - just shy of a growl, unsatisfied and wanting, a brief chase of sensation.

It's his stomach that interrupts, a low rumble that earns a press of his palm to his abdomen. Oof. Maybe the kissing wasn't the only thing leaving him a little lightheaded.

Breathlessly, he squirms his free arm to try and ease away the touch wrapped against his wings - a careful press of his palm against the crook of his elbow, guiding Morgan to take his hand.]

Then don't let go. [The smile he gives is a little lopsided, humored in its heat.] We can eat on the way back. Even if it's a little.

[His eyes glance down for a moment. The touch thats rested at his own stomach returns to Morgan - from waist, to hip, to a cautious touch against the line of his thigh that hesitantly knead, a resistance despite the desire to pull Morgan closer to him.]

...I want to savor you somewhere nicer. Somewhere just for us.

( It's best he's interrupted, because teeth and a growl kindle a sort of fire that's been working its way down from his throat to his stomach, and maybe in not so long his I don't want to might've turned into an I won't. He has no desperation for privacy, either, but - just for us gets him feeling warmish in a way he can't explain.

Barrett takes his hand in his, and Mithrun slips the hand at Barrett's hair over the hand hesitant at his thigh, and gently presses it in as he shifts just a little closer. You can pull him close. At least - when they get to wherever this "somewhere nicer" is. )

... As long as you're still hungry when we get there.

( Until then, he's got meat skewers, chicken bites, and cream puffs in his inventory... though he may not necessarily tell Barrett to put the food away once they get there. )

Heh. Did you hear my stomach? I'll be hungry for the next five days. [It's a joke, dry and simple, but it breaks a smile out onto his face, even as he follows that press and lets his fingers sink. The contrast between fabric and leather and bare flesh just becomes more apparent when he can slip his fingers against the gap, tucking under the hem of his leg just enough to have all of his fingertips touching bare skin--

Curiosity drives right alongside hunger. The temptation to just stay put is so, so strong. But the tease, for both of them, remains a tease, and the touch retreats in favor of pushing himself up off the ledge and to his feet, helping Morgan along with him.

Tired excitement and deep affection has him leaning forward to press another kiss - softer, more chaste, a punctuation to his temple more than a journey against his lips. Both his hands lead Morgan now in a gentle pull, hand in hand. Not wanting the touch to stop.

He's here. He wants to stay.

That touch migrates as little as possible in the walk from gate to guild, freeing for the handheld amounts of meat and pastry that he scarfs down or feeds to Morgan like a baby bird. He's not sure how he can feel so ravenous, and yet... somehow, the food itself doesn't scratch the itch. It's not the taste he wants, even though his stomach happily takes it regardless.

Once they've made it into the guild proper, Barrett leads them off to the private rooms, unlocking his own door and keeping it held open with his back, nodding for Morgan to enter if he wants.

The armor covered in runes is gone, as is the lily-guilded spear. The room has changed very little other than that, outside some odd scribblings of numbers and dates pinned up in a corner of the room and a crude drawing of a large group of people set up near his mirror.]

I guess it's been a while since I brought you in here, right?

( Ah,

Though it's only a moment, he feels Barrett's touch even after it leaves his thigh. He hadn't thought anything of this skin - Barrett had complimented it, though he isn't sure what made this that much different than his other skins besides the aesthetic of each - but he thinks he might like it a little more, too.

Though some part of him would rather they eat as close to now as they can, he's mollified some by the kiss and their linked hands, willing to be patient, even if it's never been his strong suit. He extracts his brief selection of foods for Barrett's perusal, and eats when fed - in part to feel his fingers at his lips, his teeth scraping light over them, sometimes, as he takes a bite in. He keeps close, and he watches Barrett with a keen gaze when he eats.

He wonders - is it hunger that distracts him, or fear of loss? He understands faintly that what Barrett will give him won't end him, and yet - despite knowing it isn't the sort of hollowing out he'd envisioned when he first began to fantasize about becoming fully hollow, he doesn't find himself disappointed, or repelled. Why? )

... Mm. Not since the picnic.

( Well, after it, but that's more words than he can be bothered with. He casts his gaze across the room, studying what little there is - lingering on the numbers and dates, as if it were a puzzle; eye catching on the drawing, and wondering if that's his family? It's the largest group he knows, around Barrett - before his eye turns back to Barrett. )

You don't want to decorate it?

( He's not saying it like Barrett should (Mithrun's FF room, despite it being the primary room he uses as lodgings, is completely empty - likely not even a bed, if it didn't come with one) - but he's wondering because he wonders about Barrett. )

Edited 2023-10-10 05:07 (UTC)

...I guess not. Not until recently.

[His eyes drift to the picture - it's not a good one. Not in the slightest. Whoever drew it has probably less artistic ability than the average 6 year old. But there's at least some semblance of height, some semblance of whose hair is dark and light. Lucas's glasses, Matt's fur coat, Levi's headphones. Aiden with his phone, Damian with his pile of books. There's two others Morgan may not recognize, a man in a suit next to Lucas and a strange light haired boy by his brother Aiden, who has a long coat. Barrett is the tallest with a sun on his shirt, holding hands on one side with the dark haired boy that carries the scribbliest little crescent moon...

And a little girl, who holds the other.

...

Barrett takes some time at the locked chest to the side of the room - private inventory, as he sits and deposits what he doesn't need right now.]

It hasn't been home. Or... I guess, it wasn't home.

Maybe I don't want it to turn into that. I'm not sure.

Edited 2023-10-10 15:59 (UTC)

( He comes with Barrett toward the chest whether or not Barrett draws him there. His vision traces the figures in the drawing as he goes, his eye eventually turning to Barrett at work instead. )

... You could put things you like in here. It doesn't have to be styled like home.

( A compromise. A personal lounge rather than a private place. )

But I don't like complacency, either.

( So he gets it. Signs of acceptance toward their situation peeve him - not that Mithrun isn't the picture of being difficult toward any and all parties, so. )

Edited 2023-10-10 18:45 (UTC)

[...]

It's okay. I don't think this is where I'd want to keep things that are too important.

[He pulls out a creampuff from his chest inventory, popping it into his mouth before closing the box up.]

I do bring things I like here sometimes, though. Even if I don't put them on the walls. I've always liked being around the things I like, instead of just reminders.

[A pause, as he wipes his own mouth with his thumb of crumbs and sugar.] ...Though... I like you. And you're in here now.

Does that count?

( Hm. Doki. Maybe.

In the shadow of complacency, there is this. Is this complacency, is this distraction? )

... It does to me if it does to you.

( He kneels... down beside him, taking up his sugared hand, the crumbs and sugar smearing, rather intentionally, across both. )

... I can come here again.

( Like a fixture, like a reminder - no, neither of those words seem right. Like a...? )

[He allows it, confused but complacent, stickiness smearing between the heat of their fingers.]

Would you? [His smile is bright despite its weariness.]

I could always keep the door open for you. Even if it isn't very homey... I'd like if we could both be comfortable here.

... Okay. If you're here...

( This room has meaning. Without the people in it, a home is just a house; without Barrett to lend this meaning, this room is just a room.

He brings up their joined hands to his lips briefly like they're cupped, and he lets his lips brush against Barrett's sweet and sticky palm. Not quite a kiss, but a feeling he doesn't have word for - so this will have to do. )

... I think I'm comfortable with you.

[He can feel his heart rate tick up in his throat, hand twitching slightly against the warmth of breath and skin.]

...I... um... I'm glad. For that.

[What was he doing? He suddenly can't remember. He just lets his fingers go obediently slack against Morgan's grip. If that sugar was on his lips now, then...

...

He can feel something deep in his chest heat up like a furnace, fumbling with his freehand for the chest again.]

...Morgan, can... I try something?

( He gazes up at Barrett with a "?," but Barrett's expression not lost on him. A sense of anticipation brushes against his heart, where he feels Barrett touch him. )

... Yes. As much as you want.

( No need to hold back. His words are warm against Barrett's palm, his face lifting from his palm enough that Barrett is his main focus, now. )

[Another creampuff is produced from his inventory... and promptly ripped open. Half goes into Barrett's mouth, but as he swallows it, the hand at Morgan's mouth is pulled away, long enough to scoop out enough filling against two of his fingers.

The creme is held up - pressed and spread against Morgan's lips in the barest of touches, holding there as though to give him an option.]

( He watches Barrett scoop out and swallow the cream a little more fixedly than he intends, his attention drawn to Barrett's other hand once he lets his go.

The cream is cool and a little moist against his lips, and he doesn't know what Barrett wants to try, exactly. But he's been taught habit well enough since his time here, and his lips part against Barrett's fingers automatically enough that he doesn't have to think about how, maybe, this choice isn't just habit, but wanting to know the taste of Barrett's fingers, topped with cream.

He runs his tongue along the length of a finger, finding it larger, somehow, than he expected; the cream is sweet, though, and he finds himself inclined to run his tongue from base to tip, the cream from the other fingers smearing against his soft lips as he gives excess attention to the one. )

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cw: NSFW it begins etc etc just gonna slap that up to be safe

(hungry)

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