mylegacy | ic inbox ( ruby city )

[For a second he doesn't understand what's happening. He doesn't, not even a little bit; it's disorienting enough to be moving up instead of down, to be shorter instead of taller. He hadn't even considered the possibility of being moved. It just hadn't occurred to him.]

[So Joseph picks him up, just picks him up, and his mind completely stops. Shuts down, quits, refuses to process this for a few moments, because there's a difference between wanting and needing, and if he thinks about this too hard he'll realize how much he needs that to happen again, always, forever.]

[He doesn't even realize what he's doing until it's too late, until his ankles are hooked around the back of Joseph's thighs and he's got a hand in his hair and a hand tracing his spine under his shirt, and he is absolutely in no way going to stop now. That's — that, he wants that, he wants Joseph to do that, but only to him.]

Jojo, you—

[And then he just swears under his breath and bites Joseph's lip and kisses him, helpless and wordless.]

[Joseph wasn't entirely sure what was going to follow after that you, but he supposes almost immediately that it doesn't really matter because Caesar bites his lip and then he's kissing Joseph again like that's the only thing in the world that matters. Maybe it is. Joseph's willing to let it be the only thing that matters if that's how things are. After all, who is he to disagree with something like that?]

[They've touched so much since Joseph came to the city. So many countless times they've held onto each other in some form or fashion, trying to be as close to each other as the other will allow, as they dare. Joseph doesn't think that every time was for the sake of security and safety. Sometimes it was simply to be close to one another. But now, in some ways, it feels like they can't get close enough. Joseph leans in closer as they kiss, his hand on Caesar's knee moving up along his thigh to rest at his waist. It's all new places to touch because even as it seemed like they'd touched all there was to touch, there were still some things neither one of them had dared to before now. Joseph hums softly as his hand leaves Caesar's chest to run his fingers along the slope of Caesar's neck and the jut of his collarbone peaking out from the collar of his shirt. He wants to memorize it. He wants to memorize every inch of Caesar's body, the way it feels under his fingertips. It's not because he's fearful he won't get another chance, but he wants something to remember when they're not this close to each other. Because that part — separating again — is simply inevitable sooner or later. Hopefully later. Much later.]

[He jumps a little when Joseph's hand slides up to rest at his waist. Nothing about this should be surprising, at least not overall, because it's just kissing and touching, but — but everything's surprising him. He breathes in sharply at fingers brushing against his collarbone, eyes opening wide as he pulls away, just a little.]

[Except it's not pulling away to create space, or to make distance, or in any way to stop. He just . . . he thinks it's a good idea, what Joseph's doing, to learn like that. And maybe he has to stop for a moment to catch his breath, and maybe he spends that moment staring at Joseph's mouth again, but Joseph said he can take what he wants. And that's what he wants.]

[On impulse, he digs his heels in and pulls Joseph closer, tipping his chin up to give him more room. Not far enough that he can't look, though, because looking is part of what he wants. Touching is the other part, and he loosens his fingers in Joseph's hair to trace the shell of his ear, the line of his jaw. He ends up with his thumb tracing back and forth across Joseph's lower lip, mesmerized and torn between wanting to kiss him again and just wanting to look.]

[He makes a soft noise, feeling helpless all over again, and leans in to press a quick, light kiss to the corner of Joseph's mouth, next to his thumb.]

You smell good.

[—and then that, also, apparently.]

[This is so different from the way Caesar normally is. It's not that Caesar has such a tight control over himself that he never relaxes — though it is admittedly very rare to get him to relax all the way without a lot of effort going into it — but he always, always has a filter. He doesn't think about and choose what he's going to say before he says it, but he doesn't let everything that comes to mind slip out. That's more Joseph's thing.]

[And yet here he is, stammering at times and saying whatever comes to mind off the cuff instead of investing thought into whether or not it's okay to say it in the first place. Joseph can't keep the grin off his face even as he turns his head a little to kiss the pad of Caesar's thumb.]

Do I?

. . . Mmhm.

[He can't even mind the grin, not really. He should, but he can't. It's another thing he wants, he's pretty sure, for Joseph to grin like that at him, because of him, like this but also everywhere, all the time. He does mind that Joseph turns his head a little, and chases after him, cupping his jaw and kissing the corner of his mouth again.]

I don't know what it is, you just . . .

[And now he can't move away, somehow, stuck where he is mumbling against the corner of Joseph's mouth. He feels possessive and off-balance at the same time, a slight crease between his eyebrows as he tries to find words.]

You just do, [is where he lands in the end, and turns his head so he can kiss Joseph properly, soft and slow and thorough. Halfway through he realizes what he's actually said and feels a little mortified, but it's too late to take it back now.]

[Joseph doesn't make fun of Caesar for talking like that even though he could, and maybe it'd be a little predictable if he did. But he doesn't feel like it right now. He just feels like letting Caesar be because letting Caesar be means kisses like this where he feels like Caesar might be trying to steal his breath away. And he's more than happy to give it to him. He'd be willing to give the world to Caesar right now if he asked for it, if it was something he really wanted.]

You do, too, [he murmurs between the soft and slow kisses in a sigh. And he does.]

[While stealing Caesar's scarf has not been intentional, it's never been an unpleasant surprise once Joseph's realized what he's done. Because he's always been able to indulge in burying his face into it under the guise of protecting his face against the cold and inhaling the clean scent Caesar carries around all the time. Never would he have thought he'd find that smell so attractive and so pleasant, but in the mornings, he finds himself a little closer to the pillows Caesar slept on the night before. Especially if Caesar just got up and his heat is still there, making the bed feel a little less empty until Joseph can fall back to sleep.]

[Oh. Somehow he wasn't expecting that, either. He really should've — Joseph spends so much of his time just burying his nose in his hair, and that, at least, he's noticed. But it's such a strange thing to hear Joseph say. Is it strange like that for Joseph to hear it from him?]

[He's thinking all of this, but only distantly. It's hard to contemplate theoreticals when Joseph sounds like that, words coming out on a soft exhale. It makes him pause, readjust, cupping Joseph's face in both hands and petting his cheeks with his thumbs. He has to feel this out, he knows, because it's not . . . it's not like it was before. Not just because it's Joseph and not a girl, but . . .]

[He's not even thinking about the fact that he's dead and Joseph's alive, or how this isn't fair to other people. None of that. What he's thinking is that he feels right now as though this is the closest to feeling good, really honestly good, that he has in over a decade. Wanting someone and being wanted back, that kind of — of evenness, not having to be in charge of everything, he didn't know it would feel like this. And even if he wanted to, he couldn't get his feet back under him by doing any of the things he usually does, because Joseph would know and — and stop him, somehow, just look at him and stop him with a smile alone, probably.]

[He wonders how long Joseph's been in love with him. He wonders how long before that Joseph wanted him. Is there a difference, for Joseph? Is that why he was so angry that first day at the restaurant? Is it crazy, to think it goes that far back? But he doesn't know himself if he wanted something like that, doesn't know for sure that he didn't. That fight, it wasn't like this, but he just . . .]

[He wanted Joseph to pay attention to him. And Joseph wanted that, too. He remembers.]

[Thinking about it like that, it's a little too much. He shivers and leans up for another kiss, letting his hand slip down to rest at Joseph's waist, fingers tightening in the hem of his shirt.]

You taste good, too. Jojo. [My Jojo, he thinks, and he knows he doesn't have the right to say it out loud yet. But it still feels true.]

[It's subtle, but the way Caesar keeps saying his name, it's different from all the other ways and times that Caesar's said it before. It's a little more possessive, a little less willing to share. Or maybe Joseph's just noticing it now that he knows Caesar wants him, too. He said it the other night, didn't he? That he had been so frustrated when he first came here and Joseph wasn't because he was stuck with all these people who weren't him, and he hated them for it.]

[But then Joseph finally arrived and he had the Jojo he knows here. He didn't have to be angry anymore that Joseph hadn't followed him and he didn't have to be worried about the possibility of facing a Joseph who'd gotten old and changed. He had something — someone familiar to fall back onto and feel secure with.]

[So maybe some of that possessiveness had been there for a while now, but it's more pronounced and Joseph finds he likes it. He doesn't have or offer up any resistance to it with the way he leans into each of Caesar's kisses and touches from his hands. There are far worse things he could be than Caesar's.]

S'that why you keep kissing me? [he practically slurs because words are far more complicated right now than just kissing Caesar. So, it's only after saying that that Joseph's attention is back to kissing Caesar. Kisses begin to stray from Caesar's lips, however, sometimes finding themselves only at the corner of them or on his chin and jaw.]

No.

[That comes out first, quick and easy, even if a little breathless. He chases after Joseph's kisses at first, automatically, letting out a soft sound of loss at the first one that moves away from his lips. It takes him far too long to realize what's going on, embarrassingly long. Later he'll look back on it and realize how desperate he was (like he's been since Joseph got here) not to be left alone again, even in the smallest way. For now, when he understands, he just frowns and bites his lip and leans his head against Joseph's, needing to feel him there, close.]

[Thinking is hard right now. Articulating his thoughts is even harder. But he feels compelled to try, in part because Joseph asked him and in part because he just plain wants to know. He wants a lot right now, more every second, and for once he's not questioning whether he deserves it. That's the gift Joseph's given him, that permission to just want.]

[He wants to figure out the words for whatever it is that he's feeling now, that thing that's one step behind love. He slips his fingers under Joseph's shirt and breathes out slowly at the warmth of skin stretched over muscle. It feels good.]

[. . . Yeah. He smiles crookedly at nothing.]

I keep kissing you because you make me feel good. And I want you to feel good, too.

[And that's the first time since Joseph said his true feelings that he begins to feel a little shy at hearing that, and he can feel his face starting to warm. He can't even begin to say why that out of all the things Caesar's said is what gets to him, but it does. No, that's not quite right. Joseph knows that between the two of them, Caesar's the one with more experience regardless when it comes to making other people feel good. So that maybe there isn't such a stark contrast as he thought there would be...well, that's good to know. Really good to know.]

[Joseph shivers a little at the fingers on his bare skin as he places a kiss just above Caesar's pulse, grazing gently with his teeth. Caesar's pulse... There'd been a lot of times at the beginning when Joseph was just fascinated with the fact that Caesar was breathing. He'd watch carefully, subtly, for every rise and fall of Caesar's chest, reach out to him just to be sure that his skin still felt warm. Now, he doesn't worry about that stuff nearly as much because he's solid and he's real. There's no denying that he's alive. Here.]

[It's still not fair. Joseph doesn't want to think about it, but it does come to him unbidden that it's not fair that he's only alive here and not back home. Joseph's not really worried about where this will all lead or how long it will last, but it's not fair that it's only here. It's just not fair and he doesn't think Caesar feels the same way because he's had plenty of time to accept it, to accept that he's...gone. But Joseph doesn't want to accept it. He doesn't know how to accept it. He wants to hold onto the belief that just because he's willful that maybe he can rewrite history, change Caesar's fate, but he can't do something like that, can he?]

[No, he can't. The most he can hope is that whenever it's time to go back — and there will come a time, he knows that even as much as he might pretend like it's otherwise — that he'll remember all of this. Is that selfish? It probably is, but Joseph doesn't care. He's never cared about being selfish. He wants what he wants and that's all there is to it. And he wants this. He wants Caesar.]

[Joseph's kisses beneath Caesar's jaw slow to a stop before he moves back close to Caesar's lips, just a hair's breadth away from another kiss.]

I always feel good when I'm with you.

[Maybe that's what it is. Or part of it, anyway — that desperation that lingers under every move he's making right now, every step, it comes from somewhere. It comes from knowing that in the end, there's some measure of futility to this. In some ways it's hopeless. Whether he loves Joseph or not, this won't last. Joseph will go back someday, and he won't. Which means, for all he knows, every kiss could be the last one.]

[He's not good at middle grounds, casual attachments. He either cuts himself off entirely or falls hard and fast and forever. The trouble with this is that forever isn't a possibility. The life he wanted, back when life was something he had, the family he hoped for — it was supposed to be with someone like Suzie, not Joseph. And now, even if he was able to choose, his choice doesn't matter. He's dead. Dead is dead.]

[And even despite all that, he doesn't stop. Even if he weren't already in love, he'd be falling. Joseph's lips and teeth are against his throat, and he bites his lip and moves gently towards him, gently, unconsciously, desperately. Always desperately. This is the first time, probably, that he's wanted to be alive since he died. But wanting doesn't make it so.]

Then . . . just stay with me.

["Just", like it's easy. He blinks at Joseph and spreads his hand, so his fingers are splayed across Joseph's stomach.]

You will, won't you?

[Forever, except not forever. His hand rises and falls; he blinks again.]

I can feel you breathing.

[Joseph doesn't answer Caesar right away. He just kisses him again instead because he can, because there's almost this magnetic pull between the two of them and that sense of inevitability that doesn't feel quite so terrifying because Caesar is warm and safety and home. Home. Joseph desperately wants to believe, but he can't make himself cross that line. He hates that feeling of futility. Probably not as much as Caesar does because if there's one thing that he equates to worthlessness, it's futility. But Joseph feels it because he's used to everything coming easy to him. It doesn't matter what it is, everything comes to him almost naturally as soon as he decides it's what he wants. He'd nearly gone his whole life not having to fight for a damn thing.]

[By the time he breaks off the kiss with Caesar, his breathing is a little more ragged with greedier pulls of air.]

I promised you I would, [he breathes.] I won't leave you behind, Caesar.

[It's a dangerous promise to make. Maybe even an impossible one. Definitely not one that he should make. But he's drunk on the taste of Caesar's skin and kisses and lost on the feeling of wanting and being wanted that he can't see it that way. He can't look at the line he's coming close to crossing into beyond, the promise that's beneath the ones he's already made to stay at Caesar's side, to always be his friend through everything.]

[If he was still standing, this kiss would knock him down. As it is, he's safe. Safer than safe, pulled up on the counter with Joseph in front of him, Joseph tangled up in his legs, Joseph whose lips are hot and insistent against his. He squeezes his eyes shut and kisses back as well as he can, trying to muffle hungry, demanding noises against Joseph's mouth, hoping he won't mention them because he doesn't . . .]

[He doesn't want to think. He just wants to feel, he wants to want, he can't love anything or anyone right now because he's too scared but he can sense the edges of it, the beginnings, or some wicked mimic, and he wants that, too. Whatever this is, he wants it.]

[He doesn't want it to leave him behind.]

[And he gasps in the space between them, devastated in a stupid way for just a second when they're not kissing, and then he's going red and his hand's curving around until it spans the space between his hip and his stomach. My Jojo, he thinks, and leans in for another quick, rough kiss, one that ends too soon just so he can say what he needs to say.]

I trust you.

[Which is not I love you. But for him, it's close. And the thing that follows after — after months of saying go away, with his words and his actions — it's almost the same thing, too.]

Come here.

[He bites back I need you and says it with the spread of his fingers instead, tracing the line of Joseph's hip. Add that to the list of things he wants.]

[Joseph's hand finally leaves Caesar's waist so that he can hold Caesar's face in both of his hands. He doesn't need to be told twice, and practically wriggles in closer with the fingers on his hips. The sensation is completely new, at least in the sense that it's someone else—no, not just that. It's Caesar that's touching him there.]

[Trust these days, it's a rare commodity. Rarer even still coming from Caesar who, if Joseph had to guess, hasn't put his trust in anyone since he tentatively began putting it in Lisa Lisa to train him. And maybe some of it went to Joseph eventually, but it'd been shallow then. At least relative to this, to the way Caesar tells Joseph that he trusts him now. Joseph wants to say it back, but saying it back would mean not kissing Caesar, so he doesn't bother with it. He must know by now. He must understand that with love comes trust. Or maybe it's the reverse, he doesn't know. That seems like too much to think about right now when he could be focused instead on other things like the feel and taste of Caesar's mouth.]

[And he likes that, too. He's glad that he said something. No matter what the outcome ends up being, where things go, he doesn't care. He doesn't have to hide things or wonder if Caesar knows because he does now. Without a doubt, Caesar knows and has the whole of Joseph, and there's not a single piece that he's willing to hold back from him any longer. He's here in a more complete way than he's ever been.]

[Joseph bites at Caesar's lip, a little rougher than he intends to be, but he's quick to try and kiss it better before moving back to kiss at his throat. The little noises Caesar's been making have gone without comment, but not without notice and Joseph likes listening to them. So maybe, he thinks, not muffling them with kisses he'll be able to hear them better.]

[He's not thinking about it in any kind of linear way now, but in his own way he's glad too. He's glad because — because this is what trust is about, isn't it? Not just being honest when asked, but coming forward with the truth before it's requested. Being so honest you might hurt yourself. That's . . . that's what it is. He knows that's the kind of person he should trust.]

[He doesn't regret trusting Joseph. He regrets a lot of things, but not that. And maybe he'll regret not stopping now, or ten minutes ago, but for now he just wants what he said he wanted. This. Joseph. Making Joseph feel happy and safe and good.]

[It's almost impossible to imagine spending a single moment not kissing Joseph. The rest of time stretches out before him and it's just this, forever, Joseph lunging in forward to kiss him, the angle of his hipbone, the held breath as he scratches his thumbnail across it, as he kisses him with increasing need and decreasing precision. His fingers hook in Joseph's belt loops, and he scoots forward to the edge of the counter until he can wrap his legs around Joseph's waist, because fuck it.]

[That's it, honestly. There was a moment, a while ago, when he might have tried to deny how good this is, but it's long past. All he wants now is to fold himself inside Joseph's arms, to feel the way they fit together. That's trust, too, letting yourself be that close to someone. He trusts Joseph not to let him fall.]

[And there are teeth in his lip and a sound, surprised and too high to come from either of them, except it came from him, he realizes belatedly as he lifts his fingers to touch his lip, as his other hand tightens on Joseph's hip. He jerks Joseph forward reflexively, tips his head to the side to make room, like they planned this. Like either of them are really thinking anymore.]

Mm, Jojo?

[It's not really a question, just syllables released into the air for the sake of saying something. His hand falls from his mouth to rest in the hair at the nape of Joseph's neck and card through a little rougher than it otherwise might, at least until a kiss catches him right and he startles a bit, gasps, grins, murmurs approvingly.]

[It should be impossible, he thinks in a vague sort of way that doesn't really cohesively come together as actual words so much as a feeling. It should be impossible the way the two of them respond to each other. One gives and the other takes, but in a seamless sequence of events, those roles are fluid between the two of them. As Joseph looks for every spot that pulls a gasp or a soft murmur from Caesar, Caesar pulls him closer with a tight grip and makes it seem like the world might fall apart around them, but Joseph will still be right here close to him.]

[It's perfect. Or as close to perfect as either one of them can be in this precise moment, and maybe that's all that matters to make it actually perfect to Joseph. Normally, he might be irritated at the way Caesar is messing with his hair because he likes soft touches to his hair, but he likes it that Caesar's a little rougher than that. Caesar's never really treated Joseph like he was delicate. Sure, he's held the attitude that Joseph was inexperienced and immature, but he wasn't wrong then. (Maybe he's not even wrong to think that now regardless of the known outcome of the fight that's waiting for Joseph back home.) But those things are not the same was treating Joseph like he's fragile, like he can't handle it. Joseph doubts his own strength sometimes. It's natural that he does, and he's pretty sure that if he didn't, he'd be blindsided too quickly to be able to recover in time and come out on top in a fight. But Caesar never really seems to doubt him, not about anything anymore, but especially not about what he's capable of. Sometimes that feels like a big responsibility and sometimes it's like this where it feels natural and good.]

[One of Joseph's hands slips down past Caesar's neck to his collarbone, fingers tracing over the hard lines of muscle of his chest and his stomach over the top of his shirt. Caesar's strong, too, he thinks and he wonders if he's ever really realized that about himself before. It's different in the ways that Joseph's strong because Joseph's never had anyone depend on him, but it's still important. It's so important, and he murmurs wordlessly against Caesar's skin to tell him as much.]

[It's another surprising thing, the way Joseph doesn't seem shy in the least about touching him. Joseph hasn't seemed shy at all, like this is normal to him, or else too important to be shy about. Like he wants to be close like this and to touch too much to bother with any of that.]

[It's a familiar feeling, if that's what it is. He was shy and uncertain a few minutes ago, but now he accepts it, that this is where he's meant to be, right now in this moment. He could almost believe, feeling like this, that there was a purpose to him coming back here. This moment is the purpose. Joseph is the purpose. Or the two of them, maybe; the two of them together are the purpose.]

[He arches a little and pushes into Joseph's touch, murmuring wordless approval that mingles with Joseph's. It's impossible to get away from the smell of him, this close, except even now it's impossible to put a name to the smell. There's soap and detergent and a little sweat, but there's something else, too, something there aren't words for but that make him think of wide smiles and good food and exertion, a warm note, overtly masculine. He wants to fall into it. He wants to wrap it around him. He wants to never go without it again.]

[So, because he's allowed to take what he wants, he lets his head fall sideways a little, presses his face into Joseph's hair and kisses the side of his head. My Jojo, he thinks, mine, and runs his knuckles down Joseph's thigh and back up again.]

[The trouble is he can't seem to turn that off, my Jojo. And Joseph's ear is right there, and there's a kiss just under his jaw that he's not remotely interesting in taking lying down, so he closes his teeth lightly around the lobe and nips at it with a satisfied hum.]

[Joseph's so intent on what he's doing and his attention is far more trained on the feeling of Caesar's knuckles against his thigh that the nip to his earlobe catches him off-guard. He makes a surprised noise, something that could maybe qualify as a high, muffled and unintelligible hey, that disrupts one of the kisses to Caesar's neck. He doesn't pull away per se, but he does move a little to close off some of the space between his shoulder at his ear out of an almost ticklish reflex. Which, of course, means that he feels almost immediately embarrassed the moment it sinks in what he just did and sounded like.]

[Of course, the worst part is that he doesn't know how to recover from said embarrassment in a way that isn't going to just draw more attention it. So, he can only somewhat helplessly flush a slightly darker shade of pink to red.]

[...Which is probably only bringing more attention to it. Maybe if he just hides his face in Caesar's neck for a second. That seems like a better idea, and maybe Caesar will just leave it alone then.]

[Oh. That's not what he meant to do at all. He pulls back a little in alarm, but he doesn't get far, because Joseph's burying his face in his neck and so he's sort of stuck. Not in a bad way, but he wants to see Joseph's face, to make sure that everything's okay.]

[Hesitantly, he brings one hand up to rest at Joseph's hip again, one to comb through his hair. After a moment, he presses a kiss to Joseph's jaw as well as he can manage, trying to be reassuring.]

Not good?

[Well, as far as having Caesar leave it alone, Joseph's brilliant plan of just hiding his face in Caesar's neck fails spectacularly. But he doesn't mind it quite as much as he thought he would because he likes it when Caesar is gentle towards him as well. Before he arrived here, he wouldn't have really thought Caesar could be gentle. One might make the assumption with all the womanizing he's done that he might have picked it up somewhere along the line, but Joseph never really saw any of that. It was more just like slowing down his momentum than being gentle.]

[But Caesar's gentle with Joseph a lot and he likes it because it never feels like Caesar's coddling him or trying to be a condescending jackass. He uses his gentleness sometimes as a means of apologizing. Sometimes it's just a way of checking in. Sometimes he just wants Joseph to feel better. Whatever his reasons for doing it, it always feel safe. Like maybe the rest of the world might want to consider watching out if Caesar finds out it's behind whatever's upset Joseph or it plans on trying to.]

[Joseph closes his eyes for a moment while Caesar's fingers are running through his hair as he just focuses on the feel and scent of Caesar. And he means the real scent of Caesar, not just the things that Caesar wears that when Joseph smells out of context reminds him of Caesar like soap and freshly cut flowers. It's what's right beneath that that Joseph hadn't really noticed until he got close and realized what he felt. Caesar's not an entirely warm person. If anything, he can be cold and distant. But he smells almost like a warm summer day, the kind where the heat's not too harsh to do anything but all you want to do is take a nap under a tree anyway. Joseph opens his eyes after that moment or two, turning his head a little, coming out of his hiding place only a little.]

No, it's fine. It just... [He disappears back into his hiding place, bye. Mumbling, he finishes,] It just tickled a little.

. . . 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.]

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