[L agrees; maybe a little bob of his very busy head is discernible, but another part of him selfishly wonders what it would be like to discuss something with Shoyo that they both have read. Would it be intellectually rewarding? Would he learn something new? He settles on the notion that he would at least hear a different perspective, but it takes longer for him to work his way around to that than it would for someone like, say, Light Yagami. An intellectual equal is something he's always hungry for, but Shoyo isn't alone in the world for not drawing even with his ideal. Most people can't; L's largely alone, that way.
He focuses on not feeling alone, now, with a warm cock in his mouth and the appreciative moans of his partner encouraging technique he's diligently studied before this point. This is another human being, one who thinks highly of him, admires him, and wants to please him, too. What more could he possibly want?
He's lucky to have this. He lets that thought form a pearl, nestling it for safekeeping in the front pocket of his mind as he works the mechanical components, connecting them, taking more time than he needs to for one long, slow, indulgent stroke.
He knows, from his studies, that stimulation is important, but variety is what turns simple pleasure into delight. His left hand slides from Shoyo's thigh toward his toned buttock, squeezing, digging in uneven fingernails as he takes Shoyo deeper, opening and relaxing his throat the way he's practiced with bananas.
He's learned the dimensions of his own mouth and throat, the place where his hard palate gives way to soft, and then to velar and glottal and uvular. He can envision it in his mind's eye, with the detachment of a spectator, even as he feels the blunt nudging of firm flesh against an impulse that makes him want to swallow.
He will, he's sure. He's decided upon it in no uncertain terms. He'd just prefer to refrain until he actually needs to.]
[ shoyo had the drawback of being an intellectual only where his sport was concerned. how many books has he read about meditation, the physiology of a good night's sleep, nutrition, biomechanics, and one center of balance. languages. volleyball monthly. so on and so forth! he could go on about that sweet spot. fine literature, mathematics— not so much. too active of a man to find enough time to relax and read a biography, or fantasy, although if given the instigation he'd surely want to give it a try.
he was getting too hot, here. he felt his cock pulsing and begging to have mercy, inclined and high in his throat, feeling the sweet, sweet pressure of being squeezed so gingerly between soft, slick tissue and only the reminiscent brushing of teeth protected by soft lips. shoyo feels that prickling heat beginning to rise too high. his cheeks burn, the apex of his thighs do the same, building up a tremendous tickling that— ]
—Wait, [ it's too soon, oh no it's way too soon. shoyo tenses from head to toe and could feel the curl of his digits, high and low, in his shoes and tousled in black hair. he wants to pull back he wants to stop he wants to— ] hold up, holdupholdupholdup—
[ continue, and lazarus could easily guess the repercussions. ]
[L considers himself a merciful man, and all systematic dispatch and goal-oriented achievement, he is prepared to make sure that Shoyo is ended, very completely and with sublime happiness.
That's why he's surprised when Shoyo asks him to stop. He does so as soon as he's registered the curl of Shoyo's fingers and the sound of his choked voice.
He raises his hollow eyes, uncertain, trying to figure out what kind of partner would ask not to come. Isn't that the goal? Not necessarily a speed-run, but it's some kind of achievement, right?]
Hey, uh... is everything OK?
[A sleeve comes quickly to his chin to wipe saliva, pre-cum, any remnants from view. L's not vain, but he seems to adhere to a certain standard of decorum when it comes to having things on his face. His eyes flick between Shoyo's flushed face and a cock that seems uncomfortably hard, still grasped in a loosened right hand.]
[ he's swollen and thicker than he's ever felt himself, seen himself, the tickling, pooling pressure at the base of him declining from the rapid oncoming almost-release. he just thought about this. he just thought about this, and first of all it was coming unbelievably fast, but! ]
I forgot to ask where I should— Go? [ is it impolite to shoot one in your boyfriend's mouth if they hadn't planned for it? huffing and between ragged breaths, shoyo keeps stupidly talking: ] I didn't know if I could, like, do it, if you weren't expecting it, and—
[L's large, dark eyes just stare for a moment, at Shoyo breathing hard and thinking to ask about a logistical issue, the propriety of it, the thoughtfulness of every possible emission.
He offers a slight smile, because laughing would be unkind; no response at all would be cruel.]
From the beginning, Shoyo... I was expecting "it."
[He says this gently, as if to point out the slight ridiculousness of putting something loaded in one's mouth, fiddling around with the trigger, and not expecting something to come out eventually.]
I'd prefer for it not to be in my hair, or on my face. Otherwise... I don't prefer or oppose anything else, but the neatest outcome seems to be finishing inside. So... I'll continue, then? If that's OK?
[He kisses the tip of Shoyo's cock, pressing it with his tongue and starting to take it back into his mouth, his grasp firming once more around its length.]
[ at the very least, lazarus has helped in not allowing him to feel stupid about the question. being on the same page was important, wasn't it? and if that was all under mutual agreement and he was sure of that— novice mistakes be damned. or maybe, forgiven. shoyo nods with flush rusty cheeks ready to look purplish in their deepened hue, but the corners of his bitten lips are curving upward and abashedly showing more teeth. ]
Okay. Yeah, I just wanted to . . . [ a shiver, brief, small but visible in the pause he gives erupts from the kiss to his susceptible member. ] Make sure, good to, good to knoh—
[ and that's the end of the conversation for him, shortly cut but sweetly taking his breath away, the chill from being out in the air and slick is enveloped with wet heat and gently pressured lips. no more interruptions this time. ]
[The more L thinks of it (and he can think, like this, it's in fact impossible for him to turn off the impulse), he's glad and grateful that Shoyo cared to ask. It says something about his partner, so much that L can't help but put his boyish virtue on even more of a pedestal.
He hums his understanding and acceptance, quickening the pace, the gentle vacuum in his mouth and throat dark and waiting as his left hand presses reassuringly against the other man's ribs.]
[ shōyō allows this to, as he had asked from the beginning, to finish him, and god had it been a climb. it wasn’t a difficult one, to get back into focus, now when he was so thoroughly teased to the point that, could he really meander his thoughts over to anything else? not with the hair between his fingers, a scalp being massaged and accompanying his dips up and down his slicked cock, pulsating in his mouth with each stroke from the base to the shaft. with eyes on the man and highly, highly visual (lazarus would notice, it’s not just his eyes shoyo was after), what softly dribbles from his mouth his an open gape.
the tremble and strain underneath was significant. shōyō never knew there was such a sound in him when it burst from his throat hoarse, high and fluttering with the highest chime of ecstasy. with one of lazarus’ deeper intakes, lips so tenderly sweet with his friction, he spills himself into the mouth that cups him. his knees give, his legs want to buckle down. when he pours, he feels like he could slip into a pile of gelatinous shōyō, and that he nearly does, had he not planted a hand behind him.
flushed, hot and released, the recovering gasp inward he gives follows the gentle cradling of the face crouched before him, careful to thumb for thick saliva or an accidental spill from lazarus’ lip line. just— ]
[L knows, from all that he's read about this, what to look for to know that the job is almost finished. He's still struck by the inescapable nature of it, the realization that once a certain point's been reached, the nature of the conclusion is inevitable.
He thinks about sex, it turns out, the same way he thinks of a lot of things. Enjoyment is certainly involved; all sorts of mental and emotional feedback are at play. But there's something frightening to him about what he's witnessing; it's fine in Shoyo, warmblooded and fully human, of course, but could he suffer himself to lose control of his muscles to the point where the spasm, his voice to the point where he's panting and moaning and close to begging?
Who, in the end, could be allowed to do that to him? He relishes the power he has in this situation, gripping Shoyo as long as he's hard, when he's at his very hardest. When Shoyo's filling his mouth and trembling, he releases his hold, bringing his hand to his chin out of fear that something will spill. It's a lot, which he understands to be a point of pride, but it also complicates his resolution to neatly swallow.
He does his best, breathless and slightly flushed from the effort, but before he can wipe his mouth, Shoyo's hands are at his face and doing it for him.]
Yeah?
[He straightens, joining Shoyo and wrapping him in an embrace that's half-hug and half-cuddle.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
He focuses on not feeling alone, now, with a warm cock in his mouth and the appreciative moans of his partner encouraging technique he's diligently studied before this point. This is another human being, one who thinks highly of him, admires him, and wants to please him, too. What more could he possibly want?
He's lucky to have this. He lets that thought form a pearl, nestling it for safekeeping in the front pocket of his mind as he works the mechanical components, connecting them, taking more time than he needs to for one long, slow, indulgent stroke.
He knows, from his studies, that stimulation is important, but variety is what turns simple pleasure into delight. His left hand slides from Shoyo's thigh toward his toned buttock, squeezing, digging in uneven fingernails as he takes Shoyo deeper, opening and relaxing his throat the way he's practiced with bananas.
He's learned the dimensions of his own mouth and throat, the place where his hard palate gives way to soft, and then to velar and glottal and uvular. He can envision it in his mind's eye, with the detachment of a spectator, even as he feels the blunt nudging of firm flesh against an impulse that makes him want to swallow.
He will, he's sure. He's decided upon it in no uncertain terms. He'd just prefer to refrain until he actually needs to.]
no subject
he was getting too hot, here. he felt his cock pulsing and begging to have mercy, inclined and high in his throat, feeling the sweet, sweet pressure of being squeezed so gingerly between soft, slick tissue and only the reminiscent brushing of teeth protected by soft lips. shoyo feels that prickling heat beginning to rise too high. his cheeks burn, the apex of his thighs do the same, building up a tremendous tickling that— ]
—Wait, [ it's too soon, oh no it's way too soon. shoyo tenses from head to toe and could feel the curl of his digits, high and low, in his shoes and tousled in black hair. he wants to pull back he wants to stop he wants to— ] hold up, holdupholdupholdup—
[ continue, and lazarus could easily guess the repercussions. ]
no subject
That's why he's surprised when Shoyo asks him to stop. He does so as soon as he's registered the curl of Shoyo's fingers and the sound of his choked voice.
He raises his hollow eyes, uncertain, trying to figure out what kind of partner would ask not to come. Isn't that the goal?
Not necessarily a speed-run, but it's some kind of achievement, right?]Hey, uh... is everything OK?
[A sleeve comes quickly to his chin to wipe saliva, pre-cum, any remnants from view. L's not vain, but he seems to adhere to a certain standard of decorum when it comes to having things on his face. His eyes flick between Shoyo's flushed face and a cock that seems uncomfortably hard, still grasped in a loosened right hand.]
no subject
[ he's swollen and thicker than he's ever felt himself, seen himself, the tickling, pooling pressure at the base of him declining from the rapid oncoming almost-release. he just thought about this. he just thought about this, and first of all it was coming unbelievably fast, but! ]
I forgot to ask where I should— Go? [ is it impolite to shoot one in your boyfriend's mouth if they hadn't planned for it? huffing and between ragged breaths, shoyo keeps stupidly talking: ] I didn't know if I could, like, do it, if you weren't expecting it, and—
no subject
He offers a slight smile, because laughing would be unkind; no response at all would be cruel.]
From the beginning, Shoyo... I was expecting "it."
[He says this gently, as if to point out the slight ridiculousness of putting something loaded in one's mouth, fiddling around with the trigger, and not expecting something to come out eventually.]
I'd prefer for it not to be in my hair, or on my face. Otherwise... I don't prefer or oppose anything else, but the neatest outcome seems to be finishing inside. So... I'll continue, then? If that's OK?
[He kisses the tip of Shoyo's cock, pressing it with his tongue and starting to take it back into his mouth, his grasp firming once more around its length.]
no subject
Okay. Yeah, I just wanted to . . . [ a shiver, brief, small but visible in the pause he gives erupts from the kiss to his susceptible member. ] Make sure, good to, good to knoh—
[ and that's the end of the conversation for him, shortly cut but sweetly taking his breath away, the chill from being out in the air and slick is enveloped with wet heat and gently pressured lips. no more interruptions this time. ]
no subject
He hums his understanding and acceptance, quickening the pace, the gentle vacuum in his mouth and throat dark and waiting as his left hand presses reassuringly against the other man's ribs.]
no subject
the tremble and strain underneath was significant. shōyō never knew there was such a sound in him when it burst from his throat hoarse, high and fluttering with the highest chime of ecstasy. with one of lazarus’ deeper intakes, lips so tenderly sweet with his friction, he spills himself into the mouth that cups him. his knees give, his legs want to buckle down. when he pours, he feels like he could slip into a pile of gelatinous shōyō, and that he nearly does, had he not planted a hand behind him.
flushed, hot and released, the recovering gasp inward he gives follows the gentle cradling of the face crouched before him, careful to thumb for thick saliva or an accidental spill from lazarus’ lip line. just— ]
Oh, oh, crap, that, wow—
no subject
He thinks about sex, it turns out, the same way he thinks of a lot of things. Enjoyment is certainly involved; all sorts of mental and emotional feedback are at play. But there's something frightening to him about what he's witnessing; it's fine in Shoyo, warmblooded and fully human, of course, but could he suffer himself to lose control of his muscles to the point where the spasm, his voice to the point where he's panting and moaning and close to begging?
Who, in the end, could be allowed to do that to him? He relishes the power he has in this situation, gripping Shoyo as long as he's hard, when he's at his very hardest. When Shoyo's filling his mouth and trembling, he releases his hold, bringing his hand to his chin out of fear that something will spill. It's a lot, which he understands to be a point of pride, but it also complicates his resolution to neatly swallow.
He does his best, breathless and slightly flushed from the effort, but before he can wipe his mouth, Shoyo's hands are at his face and doing it for him.]
Yeah?
[He straightens, joining Shoyo and wrapping him in an embrace that's half-hug and half-cuddle.]
Let's not just do this on birthdays.