mylegacy | ic inbox ( ruby city )

. . . It tickled?

[He hums a little, considering, leans his head sideways to rest against Joseph's. It's sort of odd. He doesn't feel like he has to measure up to anything here, not really. Maybe part of that has to do with Joseph's relative inexperience, but mostly he just — he's comfortable. There are worries, of course, but they feel far away now, too far to touch him, to touch either of them. The only things here in front of him are simple concerns: what does he want? What does Joseph want? How can he give as many of things to both of them as possible?]

[After a moment's thought, he turns and dips his head to kiss Joseph under the jaw, lips slightly parted, not light enough to tickle. When he speaks, it's with a smile pressed against Joseph's throat, his hand sliding down to brush knuckles against Joseph's thigh again.]

I wasn't trying to tickle you. Tell me what's better? I want to make you happy.

[He should probably be more annoyed about that smile against his throat because it feels like in some ways, Caesar's starting to laugh at him. But those injuries to his ego are soothed somewhat by the assurances and the trust that he places in Caesar. He believes that Caesar is just trying to make him happy, to make him feel good, without question. So, Joseph comes out of hiding again to catch Caesar with a kiss on the lips and by the time he pulls away a little to break off the kiss, he's smiling again.]

You always make me happy, see? [Joseph kisses Caesar again, fingers tracing over the hard lines of Caesar's stomach over his shirt idly.] I didn't say tickling was a bad thing, for the record.

Not a bad thing.

[He realizes, on some level, that he's just echoing what Joseph's been saying. He knows that. He knows it's ridiculous. But he wants to be sure he's got this right, and more than that . . .]

[More than that, every time Joseph kisses him he feels like he has to double-check that this is really happening. Really real. His whole world's changed in something like half an hour. Joseph's said I love you; they've both said I want you, and now here he is, wanting so much he thinks his heart might stop.]

[When he recovers enough to look at Joseph again, his heart doesn't stop, but his stomach, it just flips over. He didn't realize — well, he did, he knew that Joseph was handsome, he'd thought that before, he's not blind or stupid, but . . . that smile.]

[He can feel himself going a little pink again, heartbeat loud in his ears, and so he surges forward for another kiss, fierce and overtly possessive (which isn't fair, he knows, he knows it isn't, but he doesn't know if he can be any other way right now). He arches into the touch of Joseph's hand against his stomach, murmuring approval as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.]

[And then his hands are moving of their own accord, down from Joseph's shoulder to trail down his arm; his breath catches unexpectedly when he feels muscle shift, and he lingers longer than he meant to before moving on, down again until his fingers fold over Joseph's on his stomach. He bites Joseph's lip, not hard, just gentle punctuation, and he can still hear his heart in his head but he does it anyway, guides Joseph's hand under his shirt to rest on bare skin.]

Always seems like a lot.

[It comes out breathless as he trails kisses down Joseph's jaw (half because he wants to, half because he isn't sure he wants to see Joseph's face right now). The last kiss lingers under his ear, a little tentative. Not a bad thing; hopefully a good thing.]

[This close, he can hear Caesar breathing and feel his breath in their kiss. But what brings Joseph's awareness to the little hitches in Caesar's breath is the twinges of muscle beneath Joseph's fingers. He's barely even aware of Caesar's hand trailing down his arm until it closes over his, and for a moment, he half-expects Caesar to take his hand away. But before that expectation can develop any further, Caesar brings Joseph's hand under his shirt to feel warm skin. Without meaning to, Joseph makes a soft noise that'd almost seem thoughtful if it didn't sound so pleased.]

[As Caesar kisses along his jaw, Joseph's hand slips out of Caesar's and slides further up. He's memorized by the feel of Caesar's skin, the warmth and the strength of muscle just beneath the surface. Joseph has to turn his head a little to see the small bits of skin left exposed as Caesar's shirt hikes up with Joseph's reach. In doing so, it gives Caesar a slightly better angle on his way up to to just under Joseph's ear. Joseph starts letting his hand move back down, shivering at the kiss that lingers just under his ear and inhaling sharply as his nails begin to dig into Caesar's skin without entirely meaning to.]

Not about to tell me it's impossible, are you?

[Not a bad thing at all. A very good thing, in fact.]

[The second Joseph touches him, the second he makes that sound, Caesar makes an echo of it, soft and breathy and a little overwhelmed. It's not that it's new, exactly, except for the ways that it is — except for the fact that Joseph's hand is big and there are callouses on his fingers. That's new. That's very new, and every tiny movement has his breath hitching against Joseph's neck.]

[His eyes flutter closed; he has to just breathe for a moment, breathe and nothing else, as Joseph's hand slides up a little, but when he's caught up with himself a little he manages another wordless sound, still soft but this time very approving, a slurred mmhm. He turns to let another kiss drag across the space under Joseph's ear, but then there are nails barely digging into his stomach and he arches and bites down by accident, still not very hard but more than he meant to do.]

'M sorry, [he mumbles, leaving another kiss there in uncertain apology, and lest he be misunderstood leans heavily against Joseph's hand, too, an unspoken but explicit request for more.] Not impossible. You can do anything you want.

[Which could mean a lot, considering. He doesn't have the wherewithal to specify.]

[The bite does come as a surprise, bringing Joseph's hand to a halt right where it is. It's not enough to hurt at the very least, but Joseph isn't immediately sold on whether or not he likes that abrupt roughness. Fortunately, he really doesn't need to reach an immediate decision as Caesar soothes it away with a slightly slurred apology and kiss. And with that apology and kiss, Joseph decides maybe that also wasn't quite so bad. Not if that was just all because he started dragging his nails over Caesar's stomach. It was just abrupt. Unexpected. Like so much of this has been.]

[Unexpected isn't bad though. Joseph's figuring that out really fast.]

Course I can, [he says, lazily and sounding entirely like the cat who got the cream without having to put very much work into it at all. Experimentally, he drags his nails a little slower over Caesar's skin, digging just a little deeper to leave angry red marks in their wake.] So can you.

Fuck.

[He does not sound lazy. He doesn't feel it, either; his whole body is tense, from his shoulders to where his knees are pressed against Joseph's thighs. It stings a little, the way Joseph's nails dig in, but he pushes against it anyway because it feels good, too, like his skin's on fire and Joseph's putting it out and making it worse all at the same time.]

[He doesn't want to bite again, doesn't know if it's okay, doesn't know if he should or shouldn't leave marks, can't think at all. So he doesn't. He just buries his face in Joseph's shoulder and tries to remember how to breathe, arms wrapped around his neck and holding on for dear life.]

[Joseph bites his own lip at the sound of Caesar's voice and the way he simply seems to curve his entire body around Joseph. He doesn't question whether or not this is a good reaction. He thinks — no, he knows if it was, Caesar would throw down the brakes just as quickly as Joseph would in the reverse. Neither one of them are necessarily all that aware of what should or shouldn't be happening right now, but they're still more than capable of communicating their limits. There just don't seem to be any right now. Not between the two of them.]

[Joseph turns his head, pressing kisses into Caesar's hair and wordless reassurances. His fingers drift back up, just the very tips of them ghosting over their initial paths before deviating away. He's not quite so hesitant or tentative as how he drags his nails down this time, curling his fingers occasionally to dig a little more and to slow his momentum down when he begins to feel Caesar pushing into his hand.]

[It feels like he can't breathe. Even in those moments when he remembers how, all he can smell is Joseph, like he's the only thing in the world. His heart is beating in his ears and he thinks it might beat so hard it explodes. He knew he wanted more and that's why he did what he did, but he doesn't know how to cope with this, with someone else doing this to him, with how it's left him speechless and trembling, leaning on someone else for safety.]

[He never does that. He never, ever, ever trusts someone else this much. But Joseph drags his nails down again and he can feel himself shaking, helpless sounds slipping out of his throat like he's a girl or something. If Joseph stops touching him he might die. Or cry. He doesn't want it to stop. He feels stretched out thin like the tensest wire, and safer than he's ever been in his life.]

[(Is that love? Is it? Is love just safety and sex? He doesn't know. He can't think.)]

Jojo, [he manages,] Jojo, [and then he's remembered and lifted his head and he's kissing Joseph before he realizes he wants to, kissing him and pushing against him and tangling fingers in his hair because if this stops he will, without question, forget how to breathe.]

[Desperation and Caesar just aren't two things that necessarily go together in Joseph's mind. Mostly because he's always seen desperation somewhat as a weakness, and while Caesar can be many things, weak simply isn't one of them. Even at his lowest moments when Caesar is small and needs something to hold onto for a little while, he's not weak. But it seems that Joseph's going to have to alter his definition a little because there's nothing in the way he responds to Joseph's touch or kissing him that seems weak.]

[It seems like truly for the first time, Caesar's surrendering. That all of his walls and defenses have fallen down with nothing left but Caesar at his most raw and vulnerable. But nothing about that registers as weak. He's strong and he's beautiful and he's kissing Joseph absolutely breathless and to the point that he could very easily forget his own name with little to no effort. Joseph's hand shifts again, moving around Caesar's side to his back where he pulls Caesar closer with wordless demands into their kisses. The fingers in his hair feel good and Caesar's muscles underneath Joseph's fingers feel even better, but in some ways it doesn't feel enough. Not when Caesar's saying his name like that, like he's the only person left in the world.]

[His skin's still stinging, the muscle underneath still flexing in response to nails dragging down, when Joseph pulls him close. It makes him gasp, although it's almost impossible for him to differentiate what sounds are his and what sounds aren't, because it's so hard to focus. It's so hard, and it feels so pointless. What does it matter? If he makes a sound, it's because Joseph made it happen; if Joseph does, it's because of him. They're the only people here, the only people who matter. So yeah. Yeah, it doesn't matter. He doesn't have to care.]

[That's the thing, that's it. He doesn't have to care. He can feel whatever he feels, want whatever he wants, and it's fine, it's not bad, maybe even good. You can do anything you want, he'd said, and So can you, that's what Joseph said in return. So he doesn't have to worry.]

[For once, he doesn't have to worry about anything.]

[So he doesn't. He pushes himself forward with his heels against the cabinets until he's balanced on the very edge of the counter, leaning into Joseph with every ounce of his desire, fierce and insistent and wanting. Joseph is strong. He doesn't have to worry about protecting him or keeping him safe. He doesn't have to be afraid of letting go. Of anything.]

[Mine, he thinks, and the word feels like a snarl in the back of his mind as he kisses Joseph like he wants to eat him alive. My Jojo, mine.]

[As Caesar leans into Joseph, claiming him again and again with every kiss, Joseph doesn't even need to think about pressing back. And it's not a passivity with which he responds, even when the message back is simply yours, always yours. It's a choice to give the whole of himself to Caesar, to be whatever is needed or wanted in the moment in ways that are both different and more meaningful than they have been these past few months because Joseph's whole world, their whole world has shifted with three simple words.]

[It's obvious that Caesar is no longer thinking in terms of what's okay and what's not okay. He doesn't ask so much as he takes and Joseph's more than willing to give him whatever he wants. And just as they share in what they want, they share in that sense of liberation as well. Right now, it's okay to want Caesar. It's okay to want and to love him, to want to please him and be pleased by him. Whatever the consequences for any of this happen to be, that's something for beyond this moment. What matters right here and now is that they have everything. That Joseph's heart feels like it's running a race that it might lose but it's going to damn well try to win. That he can't seem to catch his breath because sometimes he tries, but he forgets what he was doing and it's Caesar's name he says in desperate pleas instead of taking a greedy gulp of air in. Eventually he just pulls Caesar completely off the counter, having to take a stumbling half-step back before trapping Caesar against the counter.]

[All of the things about this that aren't perfect are utterly, completely forgotten. This isn't simple, because nothing worth doing ever is, but it is good, and the goodness of it is more than enough to drive thoughts of anything but Joseph out of his mind. All the complicated shit doesn't matter right now. What matters is—]

[What matters is Joseph saying his name like that. God, it's not like this is the first time but at the same time it sort of is, like this is all new and crashing over him like a wave. It sure as hell feels like he's drowning in some moments, like when Joseph just takes hold of him and pulls him off the counter and pushes him back up against it and, god, the sound he makes is embarrassing.]

[There's no point denying it now: he wants all of this, but part of it is the power he can't not feel every time Joseph touches him. He's never thought about it, about wanting someone taller and broader than him, but maybe that's because he's an idiot. It feels good. It feels amazing. It feels safe. Joseph's hands on either side of him and he has to break away and pant for a moment because of how overwhelming it is to let someone else push him around, even just a little bit.]

Jojo.

[His voice comes out hoarse, like he hasn't talked in years, and then he's out of words. He still can't breathe right but he doesn't have any more words, he's got nothing, so he gives up and slides his hands down Joseph's back to rest at his hips and tug him close until there isn't any closer to get. It's only once he can feel Joseph from his hips to his chest to his lips that he remembers what he was going to say, and says it, want you into a fumbling kiss as his fingers dig into Joseph's hips probably a million times too hard.]

Edited (i forgot half my sentence) 2016-04-26 07:25 (UTC)

[There should probably be a rule or something against Caesar talking like that. It's too difficult to try and think about what he's saying and to listen to at the same time, so Joseph doesn't bother. He listens to it, he makes a noise of acknowledgement that gets swept up entirely into a seemingly abrupt bubble of laughter as he jolts forward a little when fingers begin gripping tight at his hips. It's only at the initial pressure that it tickles, but it still tickles and boy he wishes he could be less ticklish or caught off-guard by the way Caesar touches him, but it keeps happening.]

[This time, however, Joseph goes right back to kissing Caesar like nothing even happened and just tries to not feel the embarrassment. It should prove a much better plan instead of hiding away, and he doesn't think Caesar's going to mind it all that much anyway. At the very least, he probably won't be all that worried about it. Joseph probably should be though if Caesar's of the mind to catalog something like that for later use. And he probably is. He seems to enjoy remembering all of Joseph's embarrassing greatest hits to bring up again later. But not right now. Joseph can't bring himself to worry about anything right now. One of his hands leaves the edge of the counter beside Caesar to start tugging at his belt with mixed success at first because, quite honestly, they're standing too close to each other for it to be anything but slow-going. Which isn't ideal, but it's not something Joseph's about to get all that fussed about right now. Joseph's more than willing to trade speed for staying pressed close to Caesar.]

[It doesn't even register, honestly. He'd've pulled away if the laughter lasted longer, but as it is it's just a blip on his radar and then gone, his mind occupied with the way Joseph's pressed up close against him. This is too important for him to think about anything else, not revenge or teasing or what's going to happen when it's over; he just wants this, to feel good and be close and be loved, and they'll figure the rest out later.]

[What does register is Joseph's fingers at his belt. That registers a lot, and most of him knows exactly what it wants right away, because the second he feels that touch he cants his hips forward and gasps into Joseph's mouth, feeling again like he's falling away or falling apart or just falling. But there's another part . . .]

[There's another part that wants something else, not different but more, and he frowns a little, kissing Joseph a little more slowly until he figures it out. And then he shudders and puts his hand over Joseph's and nips at his lower lip a little, just to get his attention.]

. . . Hey. Jojo, can I —

[God, he's being stupid about this, he knows, he knows, but . . . this isn't — it's not just some physical thing. Not for Joseph, not even for him, he knows, even if he doesn't know the right words to put on it yet, he still knows. So he ducks his chin a little and glances sideways for a moment, then back up to meet Joseph's eyes.]

I want you. I really do, but maybe . . . not here? Please.

[God. He tries to remember how to be cool about this. It's much more difficult with Joseph, which might kill him, because he knows it means something, he just doesn't know what. He buys himself a little time with another kiss, still needy and impatient because it's not like that's changed, it's just . . .]

Just, can we go in the other room, and then I want you. Right back where you were . . . okay?

[It feels like things have come to a grinding halt. No, it's more abrupt than that. It's more like a head-on collision into a wall. That's what it's like when Caesar puts his hand over Joseph's because for a moment, Joseph thinks maybe that's it. Maybe somewhere in the span of a few seconds when Joseph unwittingly crossed a line, Caesar's not necessarily changed his mind, but he wants to step back from this because he wants to think. The last thing he wants right now is Caesar thinking too hard on any of this, but there's not much he can do about it if that is the case.]

[Caesar starts trying to clarify and Joseph does his best to listen. It's difficult because his heart is still beating fast in his ears and he really wants to kiss Caesar even if they have to stop the rest of it, at least a few more times. But maybe they don't have to stop. That's the second thought to follow because Caesar's not taking Joseph's hand away and — oh they're kissing again. Joseph's not as quick to start kissing back and is almost a little hesitant in the way he returns it as it's starting to settle in what Caesar's saying.]

[...They're still in the kitchen, aren't they? Yep. Sure are.]

[Well.]

Okay, [he breathes.]

[Joseph's hand turns over in Caesar's to hold onto it as his other hand leaves the counter to hold Caesar's face instead. He doesn't make any immediate motion to start heading towards the bedroom, choosing to instead kiss Caesar. He wants to make up for the delay, the subtle panic that maybe Caesar was saying something he ended up not saying at all. Kisses seem to be the best way to do that. So, that's how Joseph chooses to lead Caesar out of the kitchen and back towards the bedroom. Joseph's hand slips down from Caesar's cheek, fingers grazing and curling along his neck until they reach the front of his shirt and give him a tug to follow.]

[For once, he's grateful for the lack of furniture and clutter in the apartment. Otherwise, he'd have to actually turn around and pay more attention to where he's headed. Instead, he can focus on keeping the kisses between them teasing.]

Okay, [he mumbles, almost before Joseph's finished saying the same, pressing himself into the touch to his face and squeezing Joseph's hand. He was worried, for a second, that saying something would bring Joseph to his senses, somehow, that it would stop, that he wouldn't be able to kiss him and touch him again, but that's not what's happening. Joseph's kissing him, and he sighs and hums into it, pleased and relieved and delighted and overwhelmed.]

[He doesn't seem to know what to do with his other hand, besides just hang on; it's curved against Joseph's cheek for a moment, then comes to rest on his neck, his arm. He spends a moment or two, as he stumbles after Joseph, tracing his fingers slowly and curiously down Joseph's chest and stomach, but it becomes really obvious really quickly that that and kissing are going to lead him to trip over his own feet. So he hooks his fingers into Joseph's belt loops and squeezes his hand and keeps the distance between them as small as he can, leaning up to greedily meet every kiss.]

Don't stop, [he manages, in a tiny space for breath.] Don't stop kissing me.

Mm.

[That's about as far as answering Caesar verbally as Joseph can get. A promise muffled by Caesar's lips on his that he won't stop kissing him under any circumstances. But it's not the statement of the promise that matters half as much as that it's kept, and Joseph sees to it that it is. Even though he's the one leading, the one that's supposed to be pursued with more kisses, there are times when he meets Caesar again before he even has a chance to chase after Joseph.]

[Joseph uses his foot to bump the bedroom door open the rest of the way, not breaking his stride over toward the bed. He sits on the foot of it, starting to pull Caesar down in front of him. But then he changes Caesar's trajectory entirely, tossing Caesar down on the bed on his back beside Joseph. It means a break in the kisses, of course, but there's not much of a delay between Caesar being tossed down onto the bed and Joseph crawling over him with a crooked grin. He can't tease, not entirely, when he wants so badly to be as close to Caesar as possible. He reaches between them as he leans back down to hungrily kiss Caesar like his very life depends on stealing the air right out of Caesar's lungs, experimentally moving his hand over Caesar first over his pants and then under his shirt.]

[He's worried, in a distant and nagging way, the way he worries sometimes about inconsequential things, that the journey from the kitchen to the bedroom would feel like it took a thousand years. That the waiting between the first instance of being pinned flush against Joseph and the second one would drag on, that he'd agonize. But he doesn't. It's a stupid worry, because the whole way Joseph's kissing him, stealing his breath away, and he feels like he has to run to catch up even though he isn't, and then no time passes and they're there.]

[They're there, and Joseph's pulling him and then — yeah, he's done that move, you wait until they're a little off balance and sweep them off their feet. Somehow knowing it, and knowing how unscripted it is coming from Joseph, is more than enough to make his heart catch in his throat, even beyond the momentary weightless sensation and that grin, that fucking grin. Joseph's moving over him, kissing him, the weight of his body not pressing down entirely but the promise is there, right there, and it's going to kill him.]

[And then Joseph's touching him and he can't hold back a soft sound at that, a quiet moan that dissolves into bilingual curses against Joseph's mouth; he lifts his hips a little, quietly demanding, and bunches both hands in Joseph's shirt, pushing it up insistently in wordless request.]

[It's a little hard to satisfy both of Caesar's requests at once because one requires him pulling a little further away and the other, the opposite. So, for a few moments, he attends to neither and while he tries to make up his mind, nips at Caesar's lip before letting his kisses trail down along his chin and jaw. He knows he can't leave Caesar hanging on a decision forever, however, and it's with a high degree of reluctance — and a soft, put-upon whine — that he pulls away to pull his shirt off the rest of the way. It's a little clumsy at first, having to first pry it away from Caesar before he can get it off himself, but once he's got the hem of it out of Caesar's grasp, it's off and tossed somewhere on the floor in an instant.]

[It's stupid, too, the way he thought for whatever stupid reason that there was some threshold for this, some upper limit, that once he hit it he wouldn't be able to want Joseph anymore. He'd get there and that would be it, he'd just stay there and it would be fine, no more surprises, nothing. And it's not as though this is something he's never seen before, it's not that, it's just—]

[The feeling, the wanting, the possessive way he looks Joseph over, it's . . . not new. It's not the same not new as everything else, as the wanting in general; this, this specifically, looking at Joseph like this isn't new. It's just increased exponentially, but the feeling isn't totally foreign, and that terrifies him for long enough that he freezes and stares, feeling his heart pounding in the back of his throat.]

[When he comes back to himself, all of him moves at once: he pushes up on his elbows and surges up to close the tiny amount of space between them, one hand sliding up Joseph's back to grip at his shoulder, the other dragging nails across his stomach, slow and deliberate, as he works kisses up Joseph's chest to nose against his clavicle, teeth grazing as he drops barely-intelligible words against Joseph's skin. Guardati, Jojo, and he breathes in deep like if he doesn't have the smell of Joseph in his lungs he might just die.]

[At first, Joseph isn't entirely sure what to make of Caesar's staring. It's not that he feels self-conscious or anything like that, but he thinks maybe he took a little too long to reach a decision and it wasn't the right one because there's something in Caesar's gaze that speaks to some discomfort and it doesn't feel like the get your pants off right now kind of discomfort. He almost asks if Caesar's okay, but then something seems to settle and Caesar closes the distance between the two of them.]

[His breath shakes and he shudders as Caesar drags his nails along his body. Coupled with kisses, teeth, and words he doesn't really understand, Joseph forgets all about touching back because his whole world becomes narrowly focused on just the sensation of Caesar touching his skin and breathing him in. Joseph doesn't take anything back so much in words, but he leans into each of Caesar's touches as best he can with wordless murmurs and a soft moan whenever his nails start to dig just a little harder. Somewhere along the way, Joseph's hand tangles itself up in Caesar's hair, but it's another moment or two before Joseph swiftly and abruptly remembers. His other hand on the bed that had started to take to bunching up the blankets, releases them to move to Caesar's hip. He grabs the hem of Caesar's shirt and starts pulling it up, his other hand leaving Caesar's hair to join the effort.]

[He's too focused, too intent on tracing Joseph's collarbone with lips and teeth and tongue, to be able to prioritize anything right now. Which is good; he'll think that later, even when the panic sets in, he'll think back and he'll remember feeling free to totally lose himself and he'll realize how new that is, how unexpected and unprecedented and strange and perfect. But in the moment, all of him is focused on closeness, on the way muscle shifts under his nails when he digs in, on the sounds Joseph makes, which are all, every one, utterly perfect, which make him whine in response, increasingly desperate each time to make them happen again.]

[But there are hands in his shirt, then, and his first instinct is to frown, because the part of him that's paying attention knows he'll have to move, for several entire seconds he'll have to move his hands and his mouth and he hates that, he hates it a lot, but. Joseph wants, and he wants Joseph to have what he wants — to give him everything, all the time, always — so after a moment he relents. Comes back to himself, bites down on Joseph's shoulder a little sulkily before pulling back far enough that he can help tug his shirt over his head. It gets thrown away, too, somewhere in the corner of the room, and then he's just looking up at Joseph, eyes wide and bright, breath heavy, just leaning up in eager anticipation as his hands land at Joseph's hips.]

[It's worth it in the end to Joseph. That's not to say that it's ideal that Caesar has to move away from him, to stop touching and kissing him, just to get his shirt off. But it's worth it because Caesar is beautiful and he needs a moment just to look. To look and to feel warm skin underneath his hands as they both drift up from Caesar's stomach and over his chest. He can feel every shift of muscle, and it's almost enough to throw off every attempt to catch his breath. And that's about all he can take before he has to kiss Caesar again, pushing him back down onto the bed and following him to effectively pin him this time with a soft, pleading noise. His kisses break away from Caesar's lips back down along his jaw and to his neck as a hand travels down once more. Joseph's nails trace over the earlier lines he made on Caesar's stomach before finally reaching his belt again.]

[This time, he kind of knows it's coming. He knows from the way Joseph's looking at him, like he can't look hard enough or long enough, and from the way he touches, so attentive it's almost reverent. It feels like love, being touched like that, and the sound that slips out is soft and surprised and overwhelmed.]

[So he knows Joseph's going to push him down. That doesn't mean he's ready for it, though, not by a long shot, because there's knowing and then there's feeling, and this, here — it's better than in the kitchen, better by a long shot, more right. He wants this, to be here in their bed that smells like them, Joseph holding him down and kissing him and touching him and, god, he doesn't know how this happened but if it hadn't, would he even know how much he was missing?]

[His breath hitches, hips shifting at the touches to the sensitive scratches on his stomach. More when Joseph's fingers start pulling at his belt again, and he has to catch his bottom lip in his teeth and Joseph's hair between his fingers to keep from saying something stupid, like please a thousand times. But he can't just say nothing, he feels overflowing with words, stupid sweet things that are embarrassing but that he means, and then some things, more possessive, that he can't entirely hold back.]

[His fingers tighten in Joseph's hair and he licks his lips. It's a kiss on his neck that knocks it out of him in the end, low and rough and almost a growl: mine, Jojo, sei mio, and he reaches down and grabs Joseph's ass with a sharp sigh, closing his eyes against the desire to say words he isn't sure he means, yet.]

[Sei mio, at least, is easy. Unquestionable. Sei mio, there's no doubt, and there never will be.]

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