[L doesn't ever presume that he's worth bragging about, shabby slip of a thing that he is, but Shōyō has a way of helping him forget that he's physically unimpressive, even if he is drawn out beyond the role of just some disembodied guy behind a computer. He tries not to let Shōyō forget what it means to have that role, newly inhabiting the land of the living among friends and lovers.
L doesn't bother with a thumb, choosing to kiss away the crumbs instead. It's hardly any trouble when it just amounts to a bonus treat, anyway.]
Of course; I liked the party a lot, but... I hoped that maybe we could have some time together. It's your birthday, so... you get to call the shots, of course, but I had some ideas of my own.
[ augh, how can he just—! shoyo feels so incredibly lucky! here he is, inhabiting creepy town, but: teaching volleyball almost everyday, having a friend from home, learning ninja things at ninja school, having a pocket monster and a boyfriend? it's more than he'd ever thought to see happening back home.
he does eye lazarus with the most expectant of gazes to playfully hush: ]
What kinds of things?
[ oh, was it volleyball? oh, if it's volleyball— ]
[ shōyō’s heart skips with a flutter, and his eyebrows raise. oh, yes, he’s caught it. proof that he has is that he’s trying his very best smolder. ]
C’mere, [ he gestures, he completes the space more than halfway, to able to encircle his arms until he’s got his over lazarus’. ] I’m not gonna let you have all the first time fun! We can pop it together.
[ —oh. oh. he made it sound like that and seems to sputter immediately after the realization. he is an adult. he can handle it (he can't, his blushing is proof). ]
—Then I'll pop it with you in spirit.
[ even though it wasn't work, it was fun, but he didn't want to remove any semblance of want from lazarus if that's what he wanted to do. he keeps the joke too, now aware of the innuendo but using it lightheartedly— it was always fun when they flirted.
well, go ahead! he's even starting to clap to batter up on the anticipation! ]
[L's smile is a coy and impish one, sitting oddly but sincerely on his pale features. If he's not blushing, it's only because he's rehearsed this many times, made sure that he's prepared to own all that it entails and take the lead.
Shoyo's like that, he's noticed over the last months. There are times when the vibrant athlete seems happy to let a featherweight nerd take the lead, and it makes him feel powerful and protective when he does.]
Let me take care of you. My birthday is in October, so. Lots of time to plan.
[In a place like Trench, that's almost a lifetime. L says it with the bittersweet understanding that it's entirely possible they will have parted ways by that point, but he keeps his spirits high, even if it's a little artificial.]
You know, to get a grip on this cork, a cloth would help a great deal. Your shirt, I believe, is made of cloth?
[ october is going to be banging, and shoyo makes sure that his point has been made with the slight touch of flirtatious threat in his tone and raised brows. what else! he's being asked for his shirt and lazarus is indeed sizing him up in a way that shoyo can't get his eyes off. the collar bone, the soft eyes! the intent in them.
the athlete follows along and makes the moment drag. he's being asked to strip, you see, and he wants to dip into the fun pool just as much and offer a show on top of a show. he's never exactly . . . stripped for someone before! so he's going to have to run on playful imagination (which he has plenty of). deliberately lifting the rim of his shirt and scrunching the fabric into folded lines, shoyo adds a little sway to the hips as he walks forth, a few sexy sound effects here (a very chill, hummed samba beat with the tongue, lips and teeth, mind you).
belly . . . abs . . . oh, wait up— teasing with a pause when the shirt is around his neck, he finally lifts it off and hands it over. top: gone. shoyo is showing off his tan line glory. ]
[As usual, when L asks for something, however playful or teasing, Shōyō rather overdelivers. His hand goes to his mouth briefly, where he's biting his lip to keep from grinning too broadly.
He said that Shōyō didn't have to work on his birthday, but he certainly appreciates the view, the fact that the shirt is still warm when he hands it over.]
How did you get so good at that? You can't tell me that your mind-body connection is just that good... you've had lessons, haven't you?
[Even with the grip the shirt gives him, the champagne bottle is very stubborn, or else his twig fingers are just weak.]
People at the beach taught me! [ there is just no way you can escape sambaing in the city of parties and carnaval! especially not shōyō who is bouncy and quite loose with his body. but look at that. he’s starting to inch closer— ] I’m gonna getcha’ . . .
[ you have a time limit lazarus!! quick! or face the consequences of a hug, because shōyō does happen to be shuffling behind him with his swaying moves— ]
[It's hard to keep a straight face. He doesn't think this is funny, necessarily, but there's just such an easy affability even to the way Shoyo seduces.
Not that that's even his job tonight! For the moment, he sets aside the champagne bottle.]
There are drinks named after what those people would be doing on the beach, I'm pretty sure.
[ he’s not much of a drinker at all to know that there is actually a drink called—
anyway, he’s sliding in, in slow motion, nice and easy . . . it looks like lazarus isn’t going to be slipping away too soon, once shōyō’s arms have found a drape to latch on to. ]
[ oh, oh—oh. the tips of shoyo's ears have already blasted a rusty red; he could feel the prickling heat beneath his eyes as the tickle of a thumb moves past a barrier in a crafty way. his attention cannot, for the life of him, leave the target sight: the profile of a slender face he's managed to keep at eye level because he's standing on his toes. closer also means they are very . . . back to chest, at this point, and—
this is all suggestions that cannot and do not go over his head. ]
Oh— [ he's struck speechless, and ends up saying, completely and utterly requited: ] You went hard there.
[ both a joke and in good spirits to keep their wordplay competitions alive, even . . . through this. a brave, but major dork. ]
—Wanna try something?
[ bright, elated, and definitely nervous was the bundle he was vibrating through, already growing hot all over. he's never done anything, with anyone.
[L smiles through a groaning chuckle, both humoring and appreciating Shoyo's team spirit when it comes to word banter. On another day, he'd deduct points for lifting essentially the same pun that L used, but it's Shoyo's birthday. He can be generous and giving in more ways than just one.]
I came here hoping that we could. Would you like to? Come, here, that is...
[He turns so that they're facing each other, hooking his other thumb in Shoyo's waistband near the other man's hipbone and the cut, chiseled muscle over it.
It seems like the wrong time to say that while he's never done this, he has spent a long time reading about it in the Archives. An absurdly long time; in all but manual practice, he's an absolute expert on the subject.]
[ alas. shōyō: a complete and utter fool in both practice and theoretical studies. oh, he knew, you know, a basic degree on information that was no more than universal. you do the thing, the thing feels good. ]
Yes— [ his voice cracks into a half-barked chuckle, now face to face, chest to chest once he’s spun to their fronts on the tips of his toes. shōyō follows suit, hands on the man’s hips and sucking in his lips in a soft little inward bite when they go to the small of lazarus’ back. bare, the subtle curve there. the way he just soft of . . . fits in front of him, nothing but from to front. agh. ] If, if that’s a we, y’know, [ his abdomen tickles, slimming with fine hairs that train down as he inhales and tells himself to stupidly stop talking. that much. although he can add, in a hush against the shell of his lover’s ear: ] right here.
[ shoyo is no stranger to a frightening thrill, even though his have generally always been about opposing teams, rivalries and being broadcasted on live tv. someone actually wanting his signature for the first time was so startling as much as exciting that he was afraid it'd come out with the worst of mistakes: too blocky or having the tip of the marker getting caught somewhere like fabric, or ruining paper.
it was alright, but it was the one he was most proud of. the rest were stroked with growing ease. syoyo, the h to his name upside-down to give it personality— and a smiley face at the end.
it brings him here, right now, sharing in the first-time jitters, it seems— but actually glad to be. heat was forming and tension was building, his heart practically drumming out of his chest with anticipation urges him the divide his glances between lazarus' gaze and his lips, before speaking quietly, but resolute in them: ]
Yeah. You and me.
[ the walls, the counter, the table—? and no one else. shoyo adjusts his nose to the side lazarus' to press forth and kiss him, tender and delighted. ]
[A great number of people in L's world probably want his signature. A great many also want to murder him outright, making it dangerous for anyone to know who he is, meaning that even someone knowing to ask would be alarming. He's always been bemused by what he considers easy celebrity, the relative certainty that one can exist in a world where one is seen, and not immediately targeted for elimination by a significant portion of the world's population.
Shoyo doesn't know, of course. He's taken great lengths to keep this from Shoyo, along with most of the details of what he did. He's maybe-French, maybe-CSI, definitely always happy to change the subject back to volleyball and listen raptly with secretive, liquid-dark eyes.
They've been here before, he thinks as there's another entity entirely present, inhabiting the blinking and glancing spaces between their bodies no matter how small. They'd been interrupted then, and perhaps carrying that memory, shy about pressing to that point again, but what if they had? What if they'd been able to?
He tilts his chin down so he can peer through his dark lashes and shaggy bangs at Shoyo, nodding, agreeing to his first time doing something he never has, that amounting to "nearly everything."
He's not the only virgin here, but he's probably the one who's done the most research. So much that he'd felt his trousers tightening in the Archives, face warming as he reached for the nearest unrelated volume to press into his lap. The title had been, conveniently, A Diversion!, by Sir Ruptishus Péne.
He reaches for Shoyo's hand, uncurling his index finger, the same heat creeping toward his cheekbones.]
Let me...
[He leans forward, taking the finger into his mouth to the second knuckle. He's demure about it, almost delicate, running his tongue along the underside of the digit, slowly circling his tongue around the volleyball player's fingertip.]
[ shōyō came terribly unprepared. eager, with a reliance on whatever “felt” right and perhaps following a lead. his hand is being guided, guided to . . . ]
Ah— [ more like an ah? curious— until realization sets, and so does a wetness that slips to the middle joints of his fingers, ] Oh, [ the words, they escape him like a fleeing thing caught in a trap and running wild— only he doesn’t have to run from this, oh no, he hardly wants to do such a thing! the brick red color on his face invades and creeps down his neck. he feels a shiver that starts at his back, ends at his scalp and remains as a heated base at the very apex of his thighs. a start to the fact that this has become a turn on, with how the other’s tongue, hot and moist curl up and around—
shōyō feels his throat dry up. in a very good way. oh, is this how one thirsts—? if imagination had been the trigger, it was working undeniably well. ]
Is that what you’ll do—?
[ he doesn’t put his own breaks on and does not, thankfully, forget that there is no space to keep them apart. it was impossible to forget when the burn between his legs was getting his heart to start its race— all urged by the friction he beckons to create. just a simple pull of the other’s hips inward, and pushing his forward. ]
[L's keeps his gaze down, dark lashes grazing his cheekbones as he nods. When he draws back to speak, he glances up, spreading the slickness over the tip of Shōyō's finger with his own thumb.]
I'm going to take your knees out, so... why don't you lie down for this? The champagne can wait.
[ the my gods will never quite stop doing laps in his head, will they? shoyo feels another tingling slide rise up his spine and burst with the thrill of a great hunt— there is a hit out for him and lazarus is definitely going to take the bounty.
going to take your knees out. take all of him out. shoyo's eyes are growing wide with the rush, and in his quick stumbling he finds a chair to clatter out from underneath the kitchen table—
and sits on the table, instead, pressing slick fingertips into plush lips up to their delicate corners. ]
[The teasing is gentle and playful; this is a side of L that isn't typical to see, but has probably always existed, closely guarded and carefully protected. It's not something everyone can see, after all, because then they'd treat him like other soft, meek, and fragile things.
He brushes up alongside one of Shoyo's thighs, allowing him to press closer to his warm, bare torso for a soft, slow kiss on the mouth as tugs at Shoyo's waistband, beginning to shuck it down lower on his hips. The chill might be startling, but only for a moment, because L's hands warm nicely with the close contact of lips and shared breath. His grasp is also unexpectedly firm and sure, for someone who holds most items in a most finicky and absurd way.]
[ the best and possibly the oddest sensation could be allowing foreign hands to touch you. it was thrilling and, believe it or not, actually scary. he’s never had anyone do it after all, and it makes his heart skyrocket with its skips. shōyō’s breath hitches and holds as they share a sloping kiss once skin is no longer covered by fabric. bare, right there, for a moment— then cupped by heat to an already heated spot.
its impossible not to feel even the slightest bit tense, despite his absolute wish for this. that’s a hand, there, on a part of him that pulses. he realizes the strain in his shoulders and tries to ease up with every slip of his tongue and coax apart from his mouth. steady. feel it. enjoy it.
enjoy every bit of him.
he cups lazarus’s face to bring them to a starting point. he starts with a drag down to his neck, the bone of his collar, under his chin with both thumbs— next would be underneath his shirt. fingers adept in serving balls presses to the softness of his belly and rides up until the fabric hikes past his ribs. ]
[L's prepared for this, mentally rehearsing it to the point where he's sure he could hit all the beats, go through the paces, make sure everything falls neatly into place as planned and all the peaks and ebbs of pleasure are right on cue.
He freezes up a bit, now, because somehow he'd never really thought about his own clothes coming off. In response he squeezes Shoyo just a little harder, as if to make sure what's firm and ready doesn't deflate limply at the sight of what he imagines must be a lot like a bird with all of its feathers plucked.
He eats more nutritious food when he's around Shoyo; he's probably turned those nutrients into a bit of light muscle with the intense workouts their dates often culminate in, but he carries years of covering a frame that looks shocking in extremely baggy clothing and curling up tightly, his folded legs forming a fortress for his prominent ribs.
He's about to protest, push Shoyo's hands away, insist that it's his birthday and he's not meant to do any work. He thinks that making Shoyo pant and shake would satisfy him more than losing control so profoundly in front of another human being, when his body feels disconnected from him in so many ways. It's a hindrance, something that gets tired and hungry and messy and sick, and it's a complex private process to even feelShoyo's hands against his skin, as more than objects pressing against another object.
His breath hitches, because he's had more skin-on-skin contact in the last month than he has over the rest of his entire life. The things he touch have never touched back before, and it forces him to reckon with the fact that he is not touching a "thing", but a person, who doesn't struggle the same way to treat others as human.
He tries not to be too abrupt in his descent. He tries to make it seem perfectly natural when he pulls away from that touch, a progression and not a retreat. His kisses are placed on Shoyo's thigh now; maybe there's a trace of an apology in one or two of them, but he doesn't want to give Shoyo time to think too much about it. He doesn't want Shoyo to have the capacity to think at all, very soon.]
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L doesn't bother with a thumb, choosing to kiss away the crumbs instead. It's hardly any trouble when it just amounts to a bonus treat, anyway.]
Of course; I liked the party a lot, but... I hoped that maybe we could have some time together. It's your birthday, so... you get to call the shots, of course, but I had some ideas of my own.
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he does eye lazarus with the most expectant of gazes to playfully hush: ]
What kinds of things?
[ oh, was it volleyball? oh, if it's volleyball— ]
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[He's mysterious about it, but probably suggestive enough that Shoyo will manage to catch the gist.]
I believe you will. Let's open this champagne; have you ever done it? I actually haven't and I'm a little scared, in truth.
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C’mere, [ he gestures, he completes the space more than halfway, to able to encircle his arms until he’s got his over lazarus’. ] I’m not gonna let you have all the first time fun! We can pop it together.
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[His own brows raise, now, half-trepidatious and half-amused.]
It's your birthday. You shouldn't have to do anything resembling work. Let me take care of you, for once.
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—Then I'll pop it with you in spirit.
[ even though it wasn't work, it was fun, but he didn't want to remove any semblance of want from lazarus if that's what he wanted to do. he keeps the joke too, now aware of the innuendo but using it lightheartedly— it was always fun when they flirted.
well, go ahead! he's even starting to clap to batter up on the anticipation! ]
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Shoyo's like that, he's noticed over the last months. There are times when the vibrant athlete seems happy to let a featherweight nerd take the lead, and it makes him feel powerful and protective when he does.]
Let me take care of you. My birthday is in October, so. Lots of time to plan.
[In a place like Trench, that's almost a lifetime. L says it with the bittersweet understanding that it's entirely possible they will have parted ways by that point, but he keeps his spirits high, even if it's a little artificial.]
You know, to get a grip on this cork, a cloth would help a great deal. Your shirt, I believe, is made of cloth?
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[ october is going to be banging, and shoyo makes sure that his point has been made with the slight touch of flirtatious threat in his tone and raised brows. what else! he's being asked for his shirt and lazarus is indeed sizing him up in a way that shoyo can't get his eyes off. the collar bone, the soft eyes! the intent in them.
the athlete follows along and makes the moment drag. he's being asked to strip, you see, and he wants to dip into the fun pool just as much and offer a show on top of a show. he's never exactly . . . stripped for someone before! so he's going to have to run on playful imagination (which he has plenty of). deliberately lifting the rim of his shirt and scrunching the fabric into folded lines, shoyo adds a little sway to the hips as he walks forth, a few sexy sound effects here (a very chill, hummed samba beat with the tongue, lips and teeth, mind you).
belly . . . abs . . . oh, wait up— teasing with a pause when the shirt is around his neck, he finally lifts it off and hands it over. top: gone. shoyo is showing off his tan line glory. ]
For you, sir.
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He said that Shōyō didn't have to work on his birthday, but he certainly appreciates the view, the fact that the shirt is still warm when he hands it over.]
How did you get so good at that? You can't tell me that your mind-body connection is just that good... you've had lessons, haven't you?
[Even with the grip the shirt gives him, the champagne bottle is very stubborn, or else his twig fingers are just weak.]
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[ you have a time limit lazarus!! quick! or face the consequences of a hug, because shōyō does happen to be shuffling behind him with his swaying moves— ]
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[It's hard to keep a straight face. He doesn't think this is funny, necessarily, but there's just such an easy affability even to the way Shoyo seduces.
Not that that's even his job tonight! For the moment, he sets aside the champagne bottle.]
There are drinks named after what those people would be doing on the beach, I'm pretty sure.
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[ he’s not much of a drinker at all to know that there is actually a drink called—
anyway, he’s sliding in, in slow motion, nice and easy . . . it looks like lazarus isn’t going to be slipping away too soon, once shōyō’s arms have found a drape to latch on to. ]
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I've never had a sense for rhythm, but if you wanted to try to teach me, I'd try my very hardest to learn.
[He hooks a thumb in Shoyo's waistband; L's suggestive in a sly way, rather than particularly overt or forceful.]
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this is all suggestions that cannot and do not go over his head. ]
Oh— [ he's struck speechless, and ends up saying, completely and utterly requited: ] You went hard there.
[ both a joke and in good spirits to keep their wordplay competitions alive, even . . . through this. a brave, but major dork. ]
—Wanna try something?
[ bright, elated, and definitely nervous was the bundle he was vibrating through, already growing hot all over. he's never done anything, with anyone.
there was an undeniable thrill to it. ]
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I came here hoping that we could. Would you like to? Come, here, that is...
[He turns so that they're facing each other, hooking his other thumb in Shoyo's waistband near the other man's hipbone and the cut, chiseled muscle over it.
It seems like the wrong time to say that while he's never done this, he has spent a long time reading about it in the Archives. An absurdly long time; in all but manual practice, he's an absolute expert on the subject.]
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Yes— [ his voice cracks into a half-barked chuckle, now face to face, chest to chest once he’s spun to their fronts on the tips of his toes. shōyō follows suit, hands on the man’s hips and sucking in his lips in a soft little inward bite when they go to the small of lazarus’ back. bare, the subtle curve there. the way he just soft of . . . fits in front of him, nothing but from to front. agh. ] If, if that’s a we, y’know, [ his abdomen tickles, slimming with fine hairs that train down as he inhales and tells himself to stupidly stop talking. that much. although he can add, in a hush against the shell of his lover’s ear: ] right here.
[ dangerous. oh, he felt a skip there. ]
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"We...?"
[He seems, genuinely, not to have expected that, and walks the line between intrigued and kind of scared.]
Is that what you want for your birthday?
[He shivers appreciatively, the puff of breath against his ear doing more to him than it really has any right to, for something so small and subtle.]
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it was alright, but it was the one he was most proud of. the rest were stroked with growing ease. syoyo, the h to his name upside-down to give it personality— and a smiley face at the end.
it brings him here, right now, sharing in the first-time jitters, it seems— but actually glad to be. heat was forming and tension was building, his heart practically drumming out of his chest with anticipation urges him the divide his glances between lazarus' gaze and his lips, before speaking quietly, but resolute in them: ]
Yeah. You and me.
[ the walls, the counter, the table—? and no one else. shoyo adjusts his nose to the side lazarus' to press forth and kiss him, tender and delighted. ]
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Shoyo doesn't know, of course. He's taken great lengths to keep this from Shoyo, along with most of the details of what he did. He's maybe-French, maybe-CSI, definitely always happy to change the subject back to volleyball and listen raptly with secretive, liquid-dark eyes.
They've been here before, he thinks as there's another entity entirely present, inhabiting the blinking and glancing spaces between their bodies no matter how small. They'd been interrupted then, and perhaps carrying that memory, shy about pressing to that point again, but what if they had? What if they'd been able to?
He tilts his chin down so he can peer through his dark lashes and shaggy bangs at Shoyo, nodding, agreeing to his first time doing something he never has, that amounting to "nearly everything."
He's not the only virgin here, but he's probably the one who's done the most research. So much that he'd felt his trousers tightening in the Archives, face warming as he reached for the nearest unrelated volume to press into his lap. The title had been, conveniently, A Diversion!, by Sir Ruptishus Péne.
He reaches for Shoyo's hand, uncurling his index finger, the same heat creeping toward his cheekbones.]
Let me...
[He leans forward, taking the finger into his mouth to the second knuckle. He's demure about it, almost delicate, running his tongue along the underside of the digit, slowly circling his tongue around the volleyball player's fingertip.]
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Ah— [ more like an ah? curious— until realization sets, and so does a wetness that slips to the middle joints of his fingers, ] Oh, [ the words, they escape him like a fleeing thing caught in a trap and running wild— only he doesn’t have to run from this, oh no, he hardly wants to do such a thing! the brick red color on his face invades and creeps down his neck. he feels a shiver that starts at his back, ends at his scalp and remains as a heated base at the very apex of his thighs. a start to the fact that this has become a turn on, with how the other’s tongue, hot and moist curl up and around—
shōyō feels his throat dry up. in a very good way. oh, is this how one thirsts—? if imagination had been the trigger, it was working undeniably well. ]
Is that what you’ll do—?
[ he doesn’t put his own breaks on and does not, thankfully, forget that there is no space to keep them apart. it was impossible to forget when the burn between his legs was getting his heart to start its race— all urged by the friction he beckons to create. just a simple pull of the other’s hips inward, and pushing his forward. ]
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I'm going to take your knees out, so... why don't you lie down for this? The champagne can wait.
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going to take your knees out. take all of him out. shoyo's eyes are growing wide with the rush, and in his quick stumbling he finds a chair to clatter out from underneath the kitchen table—
and sits on the table, instead, pressing slick fingertips into plush lips up to their delicate corners. ]
Please end me.
NSFW lol
[The teasing is gentle and playful; this is a side of L that isn't typical to see, but has probably always existed, closely guarded and carefully protected. It's not something everyone can see, after all, because then they'd treat him like other soft, meek, and fragile things.
He brushes up alongside one of Shoyo's thighs, allowing him to press closer to his warm, bare torso for a soft, slow kiss on the mouth as tugs at Shoyo's waistband, beginning to shuck it down lower on his hips. The chill might be startling, but only for a moment, because L's hands warm nicely with the close contact of lips and shared breath. His grasp is also unexpectedly firm and sure, for someone who holds most items in a most finicky and absurd way.]
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its impossible not to feel even the slightest bit tense, despite his absolute wish for this. that’s a hand, there, on a part of him that pulses. he realizes the strain in his shoulders and tries to ease up with every slip of his tongue and coax apart from his mouth. steady. feel it. enjoy it.
enjoy every bit of him.
he cups lazarus’s face to bring them to a starting point. he starts with a drag down to his neck, the bone of his collar, under his chin with both thumbs— next would be underneath his shirt. fingers adept in serving balls presses to the softness of his belly and rides up until the fabric hikes past his ribs. ]
"serving balls" hhhhehehehe
He freezes up a bit, now, because somehow he'd never really thought about his own clothes coming off. In response he squeezes Shoyo just a little harder, as if to make sure what's firm and ready doesn't deflate limply at the sight of what he imagines must be a lot like a bird with all of its feathers plucked.
He eats more nutritious food when he's around Shoyo; he's probably turned those nutrients into a bit of light muscle with the intense workouts their dates often culminate in, but he carries years of covering a frame that looks shocking in extremely baggy clothing and curling up tightly, his folded legs forming a fortress for his prominent ribs.
He's about to protest, push Shoyo's hands away, insist that it's his birthday and he's not meant to do any work. He thinks that making Shoyo pant and shake would satisfy him more than losing control so profoundly in front of another human being, when his body feels disconnected from him in so many ways. It's a hindrance, something that gets tired and hungry and messy and sick, and it's a complex private process to even feelShoyo's hands against his skin, as more than objects pressing against another object.
His breath hitches, because he's had more skin-on-skin contact in the last month than he has over the rest of his entire life. The things he touch have never touched back before, and it forces him to reckon with the fact that he is not touching a "thing", but a person, who doesn't struggle the same way to treat others as human.
He tries not to be too abrupt in his descent. He tries to make it seem perfectly natural when he pulls away from that touch, a progression and not a retreat. His kisses are placed on Shoyo's thigh now; maybe there's a trace of an apology in one or two of them, but he doesn't want to give Shoyo time to think too much about it. He doesn't want Shoyo to have the capacity to think at all, very soon.]
i'm a serious adult
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