altimit | [Closed] misteaks' mistakes

[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. )

[A warm exhale falls from his lips at the sight of it, letting the rest of his fingers go slack to allow Morgan to explore the taste of one. It's tracing more across both of them, a mess against his palm dripping down his wrist, a mess against Morgan's lips that travels to the line of his chin...

Only when Morgan withdraws up to the fingertip does Barrett press both of his coated fingers purposefully back to Morgan's parted lips. He swallows hard, a thick and needy noise that matches how bright his eyes have turned despite the cloud of heat.]

...The other one, too. [It's quiet, voice a little rougher, syllables sharp with anticipation.] Show me what it tastes like.

( Ah, surprise flickers across his expression when he feels Barrett push, a certain sort of warmth catching in him when he does - warmer, still, at his low noise, and an expression to match it.

Some part of him finds itself inclined to trace the cream dripping down his palm, but the rest of him finds it hard to resist the fingers at his lips, the sugar sticky against his lips, skin warm against his tongue. His gaze hoods a little lower and he swallows hard, quiet, still, but Barrett can feel that his breathing's grown slower, hotter. He presses in and draws his tongue broad along the length of the underside of both, dragging it slowly up, like he's savoring it slow, leaving his fingers wetter and stickier than they were before.

Until he reaches near the tip, and it seems for a moment he might double back to taste the rest, but - his gaze flicks up, catching Barrett's bright gaze with his own, and he takes his fingers in, dragging his tongue first along the top, and then again in between, his mouth small but no less hungry as it swallows around him when the sugar's too much to keep in. He doesn't break his gaze; his eye, a deep black, but maybe not so much in indifference, but a steady-building hunger for Barrett's taste. )

[It's something he's never really experienced before - the feeling of someone's mouth maneuvering a part of his body like this, with the scent of sugar noticeable in the space between them. His lips part slightly as Morgan guides them both in, tracing, swallowing, keeping that fierce gaze on him as he does so that makes Barrett's face feel just a little hotter, color starting to fill in his skin.

His own tongue traces against his lower lip, unable to draw his eyes away. The fingers drawn into Morgan's mouth press into that exploring muscle, gently, cooperatively, scissoring open just enough to let him take every drop he could.

But for once, he's feeling impatient. His free hand presses to Morgan's thigh as Barrett shifts his weight, leaning up on his knees with breathing that starts to come a little fast, eyes trained on his mouth. His fingers pull away, sliding down to his chin as Barret leans in to let his mouth take over, a firm lick up the line of his jaw, teeth and tongue following the peppered mess of sugar until their lips meet. The sweetness and heat, the slight salt of skin that vanishes once he enters Morgan's mouth.

The kiss, ravenous as it is, lasts only a few moments at first, before Barrett breaks it to trace up the rest of the sugar on the other side of his face, tilting his head, tongue tracing his chin, down to the bump of his adam's apple - broad and thorough, refusing to waste, letting his mouth and teeth suckle where sugar has coalesced and hardened. Once it's clean, he tilts right back into another kiss, as though to share the flavors.]

( In that brief moment of scissoring, Barrett can see Mithrun's mouth split open just that much wider, his tongue pressing up, hungry, along the taste of Barrett even once the sugar becomes only an aftertaste, his tongue pressing into the tight space between both fingers with wet, messy sounds; quiet, but not silent.

But they're gone almost as soon as he'd taken them in, and before he can feel their absence he feels Barrett's tongue against his skin, his heart skipping a beat in anticipation, a flush building at his ears and threatening his cheeks. He kisses back, hungry, no matter how brief it lasts, and he hooks his fingers into whatever fabric he can find against Barrett's chest, his chin tilting up as Barrett works his way down, his neck exposed bare - as if inviting him to indulge as much as he likes.

He gasps, soft and sharp, where Barrett's mouth lingers and sucks, and this time he seems keen on tasting everything Barrett has to offer when his lips return to him. Deep, deeper; tongues and teeth with a blooming heat in his chest, in his stomach, that seems to hope Barrett will want more in kind. )

[With privacy on their side, Barrett doesn't pull away from how deep the kiss starts to push, pushing right back as though testing Morgan's appetite. Nails scrape back through his scalp, one continuing down the exposed skin of his neck until it meets fabric, feeling Morgan pull his own shirt down past his exposed collarbone, the swell of muscle visible under an already lowe neckline.

It's the ache of knees against the floor that get him to break away, panting for air - not wanting to stop, but having enough of a braincell still left to realize they have a better place to do this.]

...Mn. Bed. Will be more comfortable. [Except they're still close, slightly entangled, and it tastes so delicious... he can't help but let his lips drift, mouthing up the line of his cheekbone, breath ghosting his ear as he noses at the rim of it - planting a kiss, then another, before his teeth and tongue start to take up the cartilage like the gentle knawing off meat off a bone.

It's in between the motions of his mouth that he whispers.]

...I want more. [Another gentle press of his teeth, catching the soft skin at the earlobe and letting the warmth of his tongue ease the pressure away.] If I gave you more... more of that cream to guide my tongue...

Can you show me where I can taste you?

Edited (typos) 2023-10-11 05:51 (UTC)

( Ah, ah, ah, before he can even think to bother answer Barrett's mention of the bed, he's wholly distracted; the gasps come soft and wet if audible at first, before they become a little bit louder, a little bit more - and sharper, still, with the teeth, his nails digging into Barrett's exposed skin, dragging down sharp there with slightly trembling touch.

His voice against his ear while it's teased only draws a sharp inhale from Mithrun, who exhales shakily, audible - enticed that much more by a promise by more, an anticipation that knots hot in his stomach, and lower still.

Where can he taste? Anywhere, anywhere - don't make him think while Barrett's getting his head all hazy, the remark about the bed by now forgotten. )

... Yes... ( His answer comes an exhale, a flush worked across his face. ) ... If you follow the trail down, as it drips...

( Where would he let it start, where would he let it go? If he began at the fingers again, they could begin again what had been paused at the picnic; else - could start at the neck, start at the chest, start at the stomach - but all that drips down, down between the legs, if Barrett would even follow it that far, and Mithrun hasn't even thought that deep about it. He's still stuck on the sensation of his mouth, his tongue, his teeth at his ear, each sensation a distracting shockwave that rushes across his body and reverberates back, leaving him sensitive. )

... I told you... you could have all of me. ( He swallows. ) So it's just... it's just a matter of where you want to start.

[There's a tight hum, low in his throat, at the nails that dig red against his chest, at the sounds that echo from Morgan's mouth. A new language he's just starting to learn, enticing in its tones. It has him pressing himself slightly more flush into Morgan's touch for a brief moment as a shiver goes down his back, heat already gathering tight in the pit of his hips.

Easy. Easy, he presses at himself, an urging through the rapidly climbing fog. Don't do anything stupid.

One of his hands grips at Morgan's touch against his chest, skin hot, pulling him with a gentle urgency as he adjusts his kneel to push up onto his feet.]

Bed. Please. That's where we start.

[He's already shedding his own jacket to toss to the side as well as kicking his boots off, though his hands hesitate as he tries to guide Morgan to sit against the mattress, thumbs catching against the neckline of his top. He lets his fingers pull slightly, as though to bring the clothes to attention.]

...Can I? [They can start small. He doesn't need to see Mithrun bare before him if Mithrun isn't ready for it. But some bare skin was required if they wanted to chase the melting trail of sugar.]

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

(hungry)

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