[ it's truly a shame the treasured rarity of perfect gold finch yellow is lost on sebastian. zetes will definitely have to arrange his priorities properly later!!! much later.
that said, zetes is slowly forgetting the importance of these boxers, mind making the jump over into gentle exasperation over the fact that they have to exist at all, thin but not quite thin enough under the drag of their hands. the kisses, on the edge of a kind of messy sebastian seems to save exclusively for situations such as these, provide a momentary distraction, but transforming into fuel to the raging fire in a matter of seconds. ]
I'm sure I asked nicely last time. [ mumbled against sebastian's cheek as that hand spans comfortably across his hip. and speaking of last time, zetes does invite himself to sebastian's lap, bare knees digging into the cushions on either side of his hips enough to summon back an impressive collection of residuals, the memories half his and half sebastian's. and maybe he can't quite make words line up in his head as easily as he can images, but from the flicker of flushed cheeks and wandering hands and red mouths he's sure he's had to make the unfair comment here on the couch before. he definitely would have mentioned that if every sudden recollection had not smothered him with old sensation made new. his breath shakes as he straightens up, drawing back enough to peer at sebastian's in a mock accusatory fashion. curse how good you are at this every single time.
he takes back his hand from where he'd been so diligently keeping sebastian busy—he expects that to keep up, thank you!—and tugs at the collar of his sweater, hauling it over his head and tugging his hands free from the cuffed sleeves before he turns away just enough to watch it drop to the floor.
zetes is back to sebastian in a moment, cupping his face with both hands and kissing him again, smirking into it. ]
[ it's too bad sebastian's parental issues are such a raging garbage barge, because this would otherwise be the perfect place for a "please, mr. thundercloud is my father," joke. as things are he snorts and trails light fingers up zetes' ribcage instead, which is probably better. his other hand is still occupied with follow through, except left to his own devices he tugs down the waistband of perfect goldfinch yellow and yet totally inconvenient boxers enough that they're just barely clinging to anywhere resembling zetes' waist, and sebastian can get to bare skin. the curl of his palm is bigger and warmer and tighter, but his strokes are just as slow, lingering interestedly over all the places he knows make zetes shiver and get all heavy-eyed. this level of familiarity with a lover's body has never sounded particularly appealing, but like every other kind of intimacy when it's with zetes it makes his heart race. the way his brain works renders that connection infinite, a mirror looking back into itself a dozen times in spiraling heat shimmers. ]
Only when it's raining.
[ as zetes well knows, but can feel sebastian smirk back against his mouth anyway. ]
Did you say please last time?
[ maybe the couch remembers! while zetes ponders that sebastian is going to run one giant palm up the line of his spine to squeeze the back of his neck, long fingers tangling tight in his hair to encourage more kissing. ]
[ a soft gasp gets lost somewhere between their lips once skin finds skin, a sound of shocked relief at the hem of his boxers sliding low over hipbones and the sudden, whole heat of sebastian's palm. there's a shrill voice in zetes' brain demanding more speed than sebastian seems willing to offer at the moment, but the rest of him eases instinctively into the lazy pace, waiting in anticipation at the tail end of each stroke only to find sebastian's thumb grazing over sensitive spot after sensitive spot without question. and immediately, slow is good, the cadence of the song in the background matching up in a way that continues to be unfair, the mention of rain from sebastian's mouth even more so. the smoky tones of the chorus are enough to send shivers rippling over his skin alone.
a thoughtful—and somewhat indecent—mmm gets mashed against sebastian's mouth at the question. the hand mapping the arch of his back up to his neck doesn't do much for his capacity to think, but he tries to dredge up some memory of the last time while he complies with more open-mouthed kisses. the couch would probably be helpful if he were not so entangled in the here and now, but he's definitely not going to start complaining about sebastian's ability to hold him securely in the present.
and following that line of thinking, maybe what he said last time doesn't matter. ]
Please. [ he says, hands trailing down the sides of sebastian's neck, thumbs skimming over the rough beginnings of stubble. what was he saying please for again? does it matter? ] Please.
[ his fingers twist into the collar of sebastian's shirt. he pulls back just enough to find sebastian's eyes again, red mouth quirking upwards after he pulls in a few long, fumbly breaths. ]
Pleeeeease, can we take this off now?
[ they are far past the point of needing shirts, ok!!! ]
[ Sebastian’s laugh is more a helplessly smitten huff of breath than real sound, expressive brows pointing out with no words needed that taking off his shirt means a pause in his highly invested strokes, but if needs must—
He hauls it over his head one handed and may or may not drape it over the back of the couch; may because fuck checking where it landed, he has a lazy handjob to get back to. And giving all those pleases whatever they want, even if he didn’t so much have specificities in mind either so much as hearing it just gets him hot. Because of course it does; it can’t possibly have been a surprise to discover he likes the gentle control of what sensation Zetes experiences when his day to day means he can exert control over so little of his environment itself. ]
Happy now?
[ ah, but two can play at this game of asking a question that has an extremely obvious answer. In this case the answer is probably (physically) Sebastian’s ludicrously good chest and (emotionally) familiar pendant hanging down to rest next to his heart. He palms his way up from Zetes’ hips to the chest he finds ludicrously good himself, just to feel the shock of heat reflected back in his own nerve endings. ]
You’re so fucking pretty.
[ He manages to convey more to Zetes in his entirety rather than, say, just his dick, which he could also be addressing due to his eyeline dropping there as his hand finds purchase again. The other reverses its previous path down from the back of his neck to cup his ass, hazel eyes gone dark gold with desire. He has to really concentrate to stay level headed in these moments, when it’s so easy for the smallest snaking tendrils of Zetes’ arousal to wrap his in bright green lines curling around his bones like latticework, but there’s familiarity in that, too, and half of what makes it so good is that he can feel how much pleasure Zetes takes in that it’s Sebastian touching him. The contention that sex is better between two people who love each other writ large and literal.
Naturally this heightens some of Sebastian’s more immediate and therefore more carnal sensibilities, because. Again. Of course it does. Turns out being absurdly in love with the person attached to all these erogenous zones is an enormous turn on. ]
Want me to fuck you?
[ this spoken as a genuinely interested inquiry; sure, that sounds amazing to Sebastian right now, possibly right here on this couch, but he also only cares so much what they actually do, as long as it means he gets to stay wrapped up in all the shades of warmth that halo Zetes like corona radiata. ]
[ zetes will forgive him the few seconds it takes for his shirt to find somewhere more useful to be, a) because zetes knew what he was asking for and b) he's repaid for any minimal hurt with plains of bare skin to touch. one hand lingers at sebastian's neck but the other follows the chain of that pendant down over sebastian's chest, fingers sliding through soft hair on the way. the path skids to the right once his traced over the pendant, thumb seeking to rub back and forth once over a nipple. ]
So happy. [ zetes says between kisses, failing to sound teasing at all because he is just. ridiculously happy. somehow he forgets to sound anything but sincere.
and then he's just a vehicle for breathless sound that could be giddy chuckles, riding a high of sebastian brand compliments and the eager return of his hand and its slow, diligent strokes. sebastian's head dips just a little as he returns to that aching pace and zetes presses a kiss to the bridge of his nose, knowing, from previous experience, that every climb of sensation and spark of adoration bounces back at sebastian. and that knowledge gives him reason enough to lose himself wholly in the up and down of sebastian hand for a moment, clutching sebastian but doing nothing else, pushing aside any lingering fear of selfishness. there's a time for everything, and now he needs sebastian to appreciate exactly the kind of effect he can have, zetes' heart stuttering in his chest at the precise swipe of one practiced thumb.
zetes tumbles out of his daze enough to huff, amused, at the question, the hand at sebastian's neck sliding up to touch his cheek, hoping to bring sebastian's gaze back to his. ]
Do I want you to fuck me? [ curious and contemplative, the emphasis here on fuck as his brow quirks and his lashes flutter. ]
Yeah. Yeah, if you wouldn't mind, babe. [ and he can't help the way his eyes go starry under low lids. ] That sounds awfully nice.
[ said as though he were talking about a delightful cup of tea in a novelty mug or the prospect of buying his favorite laundry detergent with a half price coupon except. nothing he can think of off the top of his head actually compares. ]
[ Ah, such is the power Zetes wields that Sebastian, for a moment, is moved to stop fondling the ass he’s very fond(ling) of, in favor of placing his much bigger hand over the one tracing down his chest, and it’s all such a warm, consumptive shock he can’t breathe. All those memories in the pendant, heated ones like this laid over top and around the simpler, gentler quiet kind: Sebastian can’t sense them, but he can sense what Zetes feels in response, along with, you know, the frank appreciation of his chest, one complementing the other like apples and cinnamon. The kiss to the bridge of his nose definitively qualifies as the latter, the low noise he makes in response possibly returned giddiness, possibly far more autonomic than even laughter. Nothing feels like Zetes letting go, trusting that everything glittering out of him and soaking into Sebastian’s skin is all the reciprocation anyone could ask for.
And then some. So he’s not exactly bored watching the slow steady pendulum of his own grip; he knows what Zetes likes by now, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop being at least tinily thrilled when he can feel he’s getting something especially right. Honestly, there might be some danger of not even remembering he asked a question, despite mild mounting need to know the answer, but then there’s that touch to his cheek. Their shared language, the way they center each other. Of course Zetes has all his attention immediately.
Uh. Not that he didn’t before, it’s just more in a vein of actually exchanging words now; speaking of, if you wouldn’t mind gets this face only Zetes can induce, which is painfully charmed and painfully turned on and painfully an emotion that can only be expressed as jesus jumping fuck, or whatever blasphemy Sebastian is employing today. ]
You’re an atrocity.
[ did you know that sentence and I love you so damn much have the same number of syllables? Because they do. ]
A fucking pretty atrocity. [ go on... ] Full of wiles.
[Is Zetes laughing loudly at this? Hopefully yes, because Sebastian wants the fact that he is about to stand up and more or less throw him over his shoulder to be a little bit of a surprise, at least. When they make it to the bedroom Sebastian pretty much just drops him onto the bed - carefully, but definitely still a drop - and pounces, pinning Zetes down with infinitely conscientious weight on his wrists. ]
So, if you had to make a guess - life or death, no take backsies - would you say I mind?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
that said, zetes is slowly forgetting the importance of these boxers, mind making the jump over into gentle exasperation over the fact that they have to exist at all, thin but not quite thin enough under the drag of their hands. the kisses, on the edge of a kind of messy sebastian seems to save exclusively for situations such as these, provide a momentary distraction, but transforming into fuel to the raging fire in a matter of seconds. ]
I'm sure I asked nicely last time. [ mumbled against sebastian's cheek as that hand spans comfortably across his hip. and speaking of last time, zetes does invite himself to sebastian's lap, bare knees digging into the cushions on either side of his hips enough to summon back an impressive collection of residuals, the memories half his and half sebastian's. and maybe he can't quite make words line up in his head as easily as he can images, but from the flicker of flushed cheeks and wandering hands and red mouths he's sure he's had to make the unfair comment here on the couch before. he definitely would have mentioned that if every sudden recollection had not smothered him with old sensation made new. his breath shakes as he straightens up, drawing back enough to peer at sebastian's in a mock accusatory fashion. curse how good you are at this every single time.
he takes back his hand from where he'd been so diligently keeping sebastian busy—he expects that to keep up, thank you!—and tugs at the collar of his sweater, hauling it over his head and tugging his hands free from the cuffed sleeves before he turns away just enough to watch it drop to the floor.
zetes is back to sebastian in a moment, cupping his face with both hands and kissing him again, smirking into it. ]
Happy now, Mr. Thundercloud?
no subject
Only when it's raining.
[ as zetes well knows, but can feel sebastian smirk back against his mouth anyway. ]
Did you say please last time?
[ maybe the couch remembers! while zetes ponders that sebastian is going to run one giant palm up the line of his spine to squeeze the back of his neck, long fingers tangling tight in his hair to encourage more kissing. ]
no subject
a thoughtful—and somewhat indecent—mmm gets mashed against sebastian's mouth at the question. the hand mapping the arch of his back up to his neck doesn't do much for his capacity to think, but he tries to dredge up some memory of the last time while he complies with more open-mouthed kisses. the couch would probably be helpful if he were not so entangled in the here and now, but he's definitely not going to start complaining about sebastian's ability to hold him securely in the present.
and following that line of thinking, maybe what he said last time doesn't matter. ]
Please. [ he says, hands trailing down the sides of sebastian's neck, thumbs skimming over the rough beginnings of stubble. what was he saying please for again? does it matter? ] Please.
[ his fingers twist into the collar of sebastian's shirt. he pulls back just enough to find sebastian's eyes again, red mouth quirking upwards after he pulls in a few long, fumbly breaths. ]
Pleeeeease, can we take this off now?
[ they are far past the point of needing shirts, ok!!! ]
no subject
He hauls it over his head one handed and may or may not drape it over the back of the couch; may because fuck checking where it landed, he has a lazy handjob to get back to. And giving all those pleases whatever they want, even if he didn’t so much have specificities in mind either so much as hearing it just gets him hot. Because of course it does; it can’t possibly have been a surprise to discover he likes the gentle control of what sensation Zetes experiences when his day to day means he can exert control over so little of his environment itself. ]
Happy now?
[ ah, but two can play at this game of asking a question that has an extremely obvious answer. In this case the answer is probably (physically) Sebastian’s ludicrously good chest and (emotionally) familiar pendant hanging down to rest next to his heart. He palms his way up from Zetes’ hips to the chest he finds ludicrously good himself, just to feel the shock of heat reflected back in his own nerve endings. ]
You’re so fucking pretty.
[ He manages to convey more to Zetes in his entirety rather than, say, just his dick, which he could also be addressing due to his eyeline dropping there as his hand finds purchase again. The other reverses its previous path down from the back of his neck to cup his ass, hazel eyes gone dark gold with desire. He has to really concentrate to stay level headed in these moments, when it’s so easy for the smallest snaking tendrils of Zetes’ arousal to wrap his in bright green lines curling around his bones like latticework, but there’s familiarity in that, too, and half of what makes it so good is that he can feel how much pleasure Zetes takes in that it’s Sebastian touching him. The contention that sex is better between two people who love each other writ large and literal.
Naturally this heightens some of Sebastian’s more immediate and therefore more carnal sensibilities, because. Again. Of course it does. Turns out being absurdly in love with the person attached to all these erogenous zones is an enormous turn on. ]
Want me to fuck you?
[ this spoken as a genuinely interested inquiry; sure, that sounds amazing to Sebastian right now, possibly right here on this couch, but he also only cares so much what they actually do, as long as it means he gets to stay wrapped up in all the shades of warmth that halo Zetes like corona radiata. ]
no subject
So happy. [ zetes says between kisses, failing to sound teasing at all because he is just. ridiculously happy. somehow he forgets to sound anything but sincere.
and then he's just a vehicle for breathless sound that could be giddy chuckles, riding a high of sebastian brand compliments and the eager return of his hand and its slow, diligent strokes. sebastian's head dips just a little as he returns to that aching pace and zetes presses a kiss to the bridge of his nose, knowing, from previous experience, that every climb of sensation and spark of adoration bounces back at sebastian. and that knowledge gives him reason enough to lose himself wholly in the up and down of sebastian hand for a moment, clutching sebastian but doing nothing else, pushing aside any lingering fear of selfishness. there's a time for everything, and now he needs sebastian to appreciate exactly the kind of effect he can have, zetes' heart stuttering in his chest at the precise swipe of one practiced thumb.
zetes tumbles out of his daze enough to huff, amused, at the question, the hand at sebastian's neck sliding up to touch his cheek, hoping to bring sebastian's gaze back to his. ]
Do I want you to fuck me? [ curious and contemplative, the emphasis here on fuck as his brow quirks and his lashes flutter. ]
Yeah. Yeah, if you wouldn't mind, babe. [ and he can't help the way his eyes go starry under low lids. ] That sounds awfully nice.
[ said as though he were talking about a delightful cup of tea in a novelty mug or the prospect of buying his favorite laundry detergent with a half price coupon except. nothing he can think of off the top of his head actually compares. ]
no subject
[ Ah, such is the power Zetes wields that Sebastian, for a moment, is moved to stop fondling the ass he’s very fond(ling) of, in favor of placing his much bigger hand over the one tracing down his chest, and it’s all such a warm, consumptive shock he can’t breathe. All those memories in the pendant, heated ones like this laid over top and around the simpler, gentler quiet kind: Sebastian can’t sense them, but he can sense what Zetes feels in response, along with, you know, the frank appreciation of his chest, one complementing the other like apples and cinnamon. The kiss to the bridge of his nose definitively qualifies as the latter, the low noise he makes in response possibly returned giddiness, possibly far more autonomic than even laughter. Nothing feels like Zetes letting go, trusting that everything glittering out of him and soaking into Sebastian’s skin is all the reciprocation anyone could ask for.
And then some. So he’s not exactly bored watching the slow steady pendulum of his own grip; he knows what Zetes likes by now, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop being at least tinily thrilled when he can feel he’s getting something especially right. Honestly, there might be some danger of not even remembering he asked a question, despite mild mounting need to know the answer, but then there’s that touch to his cheek. Their shared language, the way they center each other. Of course Zetes has all his attention immediately.
Uh. Not that he didn’t before, it’s just more in a vein of actually exchanging words now; speaking of, if you wouldn’t mind gets this face only Zetes can induce, which is painfully charmed and painfully turned on and painfully an emotion that can only be expressed as jesus jumping fuck, or whatever blasphemy Sebastian is employing today. ]
You’re an atrocity.
[ did you know that sentence and I love you so damn much have the same number of syllables? Because they do. ]
A fucking pretty atrocity. [ go on... ] Full of wiles.
[Is Zetes laughing loudly at this? Hopefully yes, because Sebastian wants the fact that he is about to stand up and more or less throw him over his shoulder to be a little bit of a surprise, at least. When they make it to the bedroom Sebastian pretty much just drops him onto the bed - carefully, but definitely still a drop - and pounces, pinning Zetes down with infinitely conscientious weight on his wrists. ]
So, if you had to make a guess - life or death, no take backsies - would you say I mind?
[ no. ]