mylegacy | ic inbox ( ruby city )

[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.]

[It's almost funny. Joseph had no idea how badly he wanted to hear Caesar say those things in the exact way he says them until they're actually spilling out of Caesar. When he does, it doesn't send a chill running through Joseph. It's almost the opposite with a pleased wave of warmth spreading over him and Joseph comes dangerously close to being swept up in the sensation to the point of forgetting what he was doing altogether. But the hand on his ass is surprisingly grounding, pulling him back so that it's barely a skipped beat in his kisses to Caesar's neck. Teeth graze Caesar's Adam's apple as Joseph tugs Caesar's belt loose.]

[At this point, he's no longer waiting for it. He's not waiting for things to abruptly shift and pull away like he had been in the kitchen. It was smart moving to in here, to their bed. It feels like there's no turning back now, but not in a bad way. There's security in maybe not necessarily knowing where you're going, but that you're going somewhere. You're going somewhere and it won't be alone. Wherever Joseph goes, Caesar's going to be there. There's no doubt of that anymore because they're in a place that is so undeniable theirs that there's simply no other outcome.]

[Joseph's kisses continue down Caesar's neck as he undoes first the button and then the zipper of Caesar's pants, listening to every sound Caesar makes, eager for the words and not at all minding when it's just a sound. He cups Caesar for a brief moment over the fabric of his underwear, trailing his fingers lightly up to the waistband to give it a tug.]

[There's something freeing about relinquishing control. Not all of it; that's not what this is. It's not that Joseph is entirely running the show here, not by a long shot. But he isn't, either — not planning his next move or word, or worrying about what's going to happen next, or thinking about anything other than exactly what's in front of him.]

[Which is Joseph. And that's right, isn't it. The most important person to him, his Jojo, is right here, touching him like he's everything in the world. It seems strange that that could go both ways, that anything in his life could align so perfectly. But Joseph doesn't lie to him — never has, never will — and anyway, this, this is honest.]

[He feels like everything is louder, brighter, sharper than it should be. Not in a bad way, but an embarrassing way, maybe. He's hyperaware of the sound of his zipper going down, of the soft slide of Joseph's fingers over his pants, of teeth against his neck, making him squirm. Where it catches him off-guard is when Joseph moves, and his hand is there and then gone — fucking agony, and half a plaintive moan gets out before he presses his lips together tight enough to lock back most of the sound.]

Jojo, fuck.

[He doesn't want to sound so desperate, but he has been from the start, hasn't he? He's overheated and glassy-eyed, one hand tight in Joseph's hair, legs wrapped around his to keep him in place, and it's stupid because nothing's even happened yet, but as he lifts his hips he feels like he doesn't even have to worry about something going wrong, because for once, nothing will. Nothing scares him, not when Joseph's got hands all over him, not when Joseph has his mouth on his pulse.]

[Everything about Caesar right now from the way he sounds to the way he's moving is encouraging to Joseph. He'd been nervous at the beginning. But somewhere along the way, it's almost like Joseph just forgot to be nervous altogether. The idea of a misstep before seemed like something that would off-set and just ruin everything. As Joseph doesn't like to think, he likes going into situations he doesn't know the outcome to already even less than that and telling Caesar his feelings was a pretty goddamn big unknown. But now it's just like it's always been, like it was always supposed to be, and he can't even really fathom why he was worried about anything at all in the first place.]

[So really, the only thought on Joseph's mind at this point is how he can get Caesar to moan like that again without holding any of it back. Joseph's kisses dip just a little below Caesar's collarbone and onto his chest for a moment as his hand moves down along Caesar's side, fingers and nails pressing a little harder as they trail over his hip. He kisses once again close to Caesar's ear before turning his head a little to look at Caesar through half-lidded eyes as his hand starts taking the long way. Past his hips, his fingers move over one of Caesar's thighs, to just a small part of his inner-thigh where the tips of Joseph's fingers just barely graze Caesar's skin. Then finally, Joseph wraps his hand around Caesar's cock with a slow stroke and captures Caesar's lips in a hungry kiss because he's mere seconds away from breathlessly saying it again and he's almost certain if he says it now, he won't be able to stop.]

[It's a good thing, probably, that Joseph kisses him when he does. It's good, because it would be too much too fast if he had to contend with everything that's happening and his own reactions at the same time. He's bordering on overstimulated as it is already, his heart pounding heavy in his ears. Joseph stares at him and his breath hitches, his whole body freezes, he's lost with how much he wants him and shocked at how he could have missed it until now. He lets out a quiet, wordless plea at the touch to his thigh, eyes wide and entreating, and he's trembling like he might shake apart.]

[So it's a good thing that Joseph kisses him when he does, because if he hadn't he might just lose it. If the startled sound he makes hadn't been muffled against Joseph's mouth, he might've given up and hidden his face entirely. As it is, he can feel his face heating up even more, somehow, at the way his hips jerk up, the way Joseph's breath on his lips makes him shake, the size of his hand, his body, the way he tastes.]

[His hand fists in Joseph's hair, fingers digging into his ass. Everything about him is possessive now — his kisses, too, which he returns somewhere between eagerly and desperately. He doesn't want to let any of these sounds out, but if he kisses and bites them into Joseph's mouth it won't be so bad. If he only loses control in the space between them, it won't be so embarrassing to press himself so insistently close (like he can't get enough, because he can't, and he doesn't think he ever will).]

Edited 2016-05-09 08:18 (UTC)

[Initially, it's difficult to split his attention in all of these directions at the same time. Whether it's the feel of Caesar's hands tightening their grips to the point it's almost painful, the sounds Caesar's making being lost in their kisses, or the very taste of Caesar's kisses, he doesn't want to miss anything and wants to impossibly give everything his full attention. But then again, maybe it's not that it's different directions. Maybe its that there's so much of Caesar here that it feels like Joseph could drown. And he would. Happily. Maybe he already is because he so willingly surrenders everything to Caesar again and again with every possessive kiss.]

[But as he strokes Caesar, he pulls away just a little from those kisses because he wants to look at him, too. Not for long because he wants to kiss Caesar, too. He wants to kiss him along his jaw and neck and on his lips and his chest and stomach. He wants to kiss every last inch of Caesar. But he wants to look at him at least for a few seconds, running his free hand through Caesar's hair as he rests his weight down on him.]

You're so fucking beautiful, [he murmurs against Caesar's lips before kissing him, his hand slipping out of Caesar's hair to hold his cheek.]

[He breathes out once, fast and sharply and almost painful. It feels like all the air in his chest's been expelled, like he's never breathed in his life and might never again. Too much was already happening, but the way Joseph's looking at him now, he doesn't even know what it makes him feel. Too much.]

[He bites his lip and curls his toes tight in the sheets, shaking his head. No, he's not, or no, Joseph shouldn't say that, or something else, he doesn't even know. He loosens his fingers in Joseph's hair, just a little, self-conscious about being too rough or too strange or too — and he still doesn't know. Too not good enough.]

[He can't stop thinking about Joseph's hands. Why wasn't he thinking about them before? He'll never stop, probably.]

You're perfect, [he manages after too long not knowing what to say, slurred and uncertain, hanging on and trying not to cling.] You feel perfect.

[At first when Caesar shakes his head, Joseph thinks maybe for a second that he said something wrong. It was okay to say how he felt and it was okay to say that he wanted him, but maybe calling him beautiful was some kind of boundary that he didn't realize was there. But it seems hard to think that there are any boundaries right now. Not with the way they keep kissing each other and the way they're touching each other. So maybe that's not it. Maybe it's...]

[Nah, that seems ridiculous. Caesar's not quite as self-centered and egotistical as Joseph thought when they first met, but it's also not like he hasn't been with a lot of other people before. At least a lot of women, anyway. There's no way he's not used to getting that kind of attention, right?]

Always gotta one-up me, huh? [he teases gently, pressing a kiss first to the corner of Caesar's mouth and then just beneath his jaw.] 'M serious though. You're beautiful.

[That can't be it. Right?]

Jojo, you don't have to--

[. . . What? He doesn't have to what? Joseph hasn't done anything wrong, not really. That's what you're supposed to say, isn't it? When you're trying to get someone into bed.]

[Except they're already in bed, and Joseph never was trying, never lied, Joseph never lies, so why . . . ? People have called him handsome before, but beautiful? And here, now?]

[He's never been here or now. Not just in the obvious way. If this is love he thinks he hates it, with the way he feels so wrecked inside, like he wants everything but his ribcage isn't broad enough to hold it all. He feels warm and frozen and pained and immortal and he thinks if Joseph ever stops touching him or looking at him he might cry.]

[He doesn't have words. Just pulls his wrist up to his mouth and bites down on it a little to keep from asking again - You love me, don't you?]

[It never mattered before, but it does now. That's what beautiful means. It means I love you, which hurts, even though it shouldn't.]

[It seems impossible to Joseph that Caesar isn't used to having someone love him, or at the very least love him like this. But with the way Caesar reacts, it seems like that's exactly it and maybe Joseph has a blindspot because it seems so impossible to think or feel about him any other way now.]

It's okay, I know, [Joseph murmurs softly and places a gentle kiss to Caesar's forehead.]

[And he thinks he does. Even with the limitations in his understanding that will always be there because he hasn't led the life Caesar has, Joseph thinks what he knows is enough to fill in most of the picture, or at least enough of it to matter. He nuzzles noses with Caesar for a brief second before kissing the other side of Caesar's wrist. He keeps carding his fingers through Caesar's hair gently.]

. . . Stupid.

[Joseph kisses his wrist, and he cracks a grin behind it, wrung out and overwhelmed as he is. It seems like he's feeling everything he's ever felt before all at once, the good and the bad. Except anger. He doesn't feel angry now. There's peace in his heart somewhere, nearly accessible. That's what Joseph gives him, all the time.]

[He reaches out, curling his fingers around the back of Joseph's neck, and pulls him down again. Kisses him. Lets his hand slide down Joseph's back, feel the way his shoulders swell with muscle, the implicit strength of him. It's not familiar. But the dip at the bottom of Joseph's back is; he's put his hand there before. His fingers dwell there for a moment, rubbing light circles, before he gives himself a moment of air, tugging at Joseph's bottom lip with his teeth.]

[Jojo loves me, he thinks. What a thing to think.]

You're driving me crazy. You know that? I just want—

[God. His fingers drift down to curve at the waistband of Joseph's pants; he doesn't know what to focus on.]

How come I want you so much?

[Caesar calls him stupid, but he does it with that fucking grin and there's something so warm in the way he says it that Joseph can't even begin to be offended by it. Besides, Caesar kisses him so quickly that even if his ego were somehow bruised by the comment, it'd be soothed over so quickly, it'd be like nothing even happened in the first place. And all Joseph wants to do is just kiss Caesar maybe until the end of time, and he shivers a little at the touches down along his back. When Caesar finally stops kissing him and lets go of his lip, Joseph can't really stop himself from kissing at Caesar's jaw and neck.]

[It's probably at this point that he should — or normally would, in any case — have some witty (or a close approximation to witty) and egotistical response to the question, but for once Joseph is far too preoccupied to bother with much talking, only humming his acknowledgement of the question against Caesar's skin. He catches Caesar's mouth in a kiss again, his hand picking up the pace with his thumb occasionally skating over the head of Caesar's cock.]

[It's when he's not really thinking about it anymore, between kisses, that Joseph breathes,]

I love you.

[And he feels better saying it even when he thinks maybe he should hold back on saying it because the few times he's already said it are probably more than enough for right now. But he's sat with it long enough and he wants to say it. He wants Caesar to hear it and feel it.]

[His breath hitches again, but it isn't a tense, painful thing this time, not so awfully full of impossible feelings. This is pure goodness; Joseph's hand feels amazing, better than it should, and he can't tell if it's because he's just that overwhelmed or because he doesn't know what he's doing or because he loves Joseph. He thinks he might. God, he thinks he might, and the thought makes him whimper helplessly, canting his hips up and biting his lip, Joseph's, his own again.]

[He can't say it yet because he isn't sure. Because he wants to be sure, to be as honest to Joseph as Joseph has been to him. But it's impossible to think, and he's speaking without really meaning to, his breathing heavy and accelerating as he buries his face in Joseph's shoulder.]

I know, I know -- you're mine, Jojo, I need you, yeah?

[He can feel it, ti amo perched on the tip of his tongue, and he can't say it yet, he can't, no matter how much he wants and needs and suffers from not having, no matter how erratically he's moving or how embarrassingly overcome he feels. Something about Joseph, or maybe everything about Joseph, has taken him out of his comfort zone entirely.]

[He doesn't think he can go back wafted this. Whatever he was, he's not anymore, because Joseph loves him so much he can't stop saying it. And he can't stop saying Jojo now, and then fuck, breathless and surprised as he trembles and buries his face in Joseph's neck and lets himself go entirely, nails digging his desperation in lines down Joseph's back.]

[It's not the same thing as saying I love you. He knows that. Rationally. He does. He knows that's not what Caesar says and so he shouldn't feel a swell right in the center of his chest every time Caesar says his name. He shouldn't feel so eager to say I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours with his words and his touch like his whole world will fall apart if Caesar decides even for a fraction of a second that he doesn't want Joseph anymore. But he wants him. He does. He wants him and he needs him, and Joseph wants and needs Caesar, too, because he loves him. So it's complicated knowing something so horridly rationally, but feeling something else. Or maybe not else. More. Yes, that's it. Something more.]

[Caesar's face is buried in Joseph's neck and so any chance of kissing him properly is lost, but it seems hardly relevant with Caesar digging into his back like that. Joseph inhales sharply, his hand stuttering to a brief halt. It's too blatantly unplanned that he can't even write it off in his head convincingly that he's just trying to tease Caesar, never mind the only thing he can think to do right now is try to give Caesar everything in the world that he could possibly want and maybe more than that. And that's why Joseph recovers as quickly as he can. Because Caesar's trembling against Joseph and moving his hips with need and he can feel the heat of Caesar's ragged breaths against his neck and Joseph loves him. Joseph loves him so much that it should be terrifying, but it isn't. Joseph turns his head a little to bury his face in Caesar's hair, kissing him once.]

[He wants to say it again since it was okay that he did just a second ago, but he doesn't this time. He doesn't because he can feel the difference. Caesar's tightly wound right now, but it's different from before because even though he's hiding his face in Joseph's neck, he's not trying to really stifle anything anymore. He wants and needs Joseph so blatantly it... God, he wants it to be love.]

[Breathing seems like an impossible task for a moment. The only thing that makes it possible, when that moment passes, is that all he can smell is Joseph, his skin and his sweat. All he can feel is Joseph, the pleasant weight of him, the warmth of him, the feeling of marks dug into his back under Caesar's fingers. It makes him shudder, startled at how much such simple things are affecting him, have been affecting him. If he could see Joseph's face right now, he thinks he might lose his mind entirely.]

[He's got the strangest urge to apologize. For making it weird, for moving too fast, for wanting Joseph too much or in the wrong way, somehow. For not being good enough, for ruining things. But he doesn't. It's not that he can't, but he feels that he shouldn't, because every single time Joseph has said I love you he's meant it from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. That seems like a sacred thing. Caesar can't contradict it; he can't and shouldn't ask for more than that.]

[So he doesn't. He turns his head and kisses under Joseph's jaw instead, slow and shivery but not at all hesitant. Joseph tastes like sweat, in a good way. It's going to be a problem, he's pretty sure, if they ever train together again. He's not going to be able to focus, thinking about the slope and taste of Joseph's neck.]

[His fingers relax gradually, fingertips running over the marks dug in Joseph's back. They're kind of nice. They make Joseph his, don't they? That's got to be what they mean.]

. . . Hope I didn't hurt you.

[He mouths at Joseph's Adam's apple, humming low and thoughtful, then lets his fingers trail down to tug at Joseph's belt loops in uncertain request.]

Can I—?

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