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ic inbox ( ruby city )

"Leave a message, per favore; I'll be back before you know it."

[text|voice|video]

. . . 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—?

Yes.

[Joseph says it so quickly and automatically, he's very nearly surprised by it. And yet he's not. He's not at all because it's what he really means to say without a doubt, but it's so hard to focus on anything that isn't Caesar's touch. His head tipped naturally as Caesar kisses under his jaw and he couldn't even begin to hold back the slight shiver he felt as Caesar's fingers relax and retrace the marks he made on Joseph's back. Those touches, Caesar's fingers moving along his back, stood out as such a stark contrast from before. It's not just that it doesn't leave any tangible evidence that it ever was, but that it is so gentle. Caesar's been gentle numerous times before now, but never quite like this. Never quite in a way that makes Joseph feel like he's really the center of the whole world effortlessly. There's no one to compete with and there's nothing he has to do to having this place. It's simply his because Caesar's placed him there knowingly and willingly.]

[And now all he can feel are fingers pulling at his belt loops and Caesar's breath, voice, and mouth against his neck. These new sensations are quickly becoming things he doesn't think he can live without, that he questions how he's managed to go this long without knowing them, and they mingle with an ache that's at once familiar and just as new as everything else.]

Yes, [he says again,] I want you to.

[Some distant part of his mind thinks he should feel more self-conscious in saying something like that. And maybe somewhere in his clouded, hazy mind, he does. But it seems impossible that he should ever feel self-conscious about anything ever again with Caesar because maybe he's already laid everything bare whether he meant to or not. Maybe he just feel safe. Maybe it's both of these things, and maybe it's also something else. He doesn't know. He doesn't particularly care. All he knows is Caesar and Caesar's touch, and how much he wants both so very much.]

Oh, thank god—

[And that slips out too quickly, turning his ears pink once he realizes what he's said, because it's so stupid and clumsy and not like him at all. But it's too late to care at that point, relief and desire are flooding him, the overwhelming need to make Joseph feel as heavy with love as he feels.]

[Because Joseph deserves that, doesn't he — that and everything else, that and the world, and he'd give it all to him if he could. What he's got now is fumbling hands and artless kisses, at least to start with, seeking out Joseph's mouth to bite as he twists their legs together until he can push Joseph onto his back.]

[Crawling over him feels like the most right thing he's ever done in his life. He's beautiful, stunningly so, and in his beauty Caesar catches himself in a thousand little lies, reasons why he's looked before and touched before, reasons that weren't just he's beautiful and I want him. He doesn't have to lie now, which startles a soft noise out of him; one hand pins Joseph's wrist to the bed, loose and playful, as the other slides up the inside of his thigh, stuttering to a stop cupping him through his pants. He doesn't even mean to stop, he just has to, stunned into stillness and breathing helplessly against the corner of Joseph's mouth. Smiling, too, though, nipping at his jaw and then back to his mouth, kissing him softly enough that he can get a grip on himself again.]

Jojo, can I—

[He bites his own lip, Joseph's, his own again, and pulls away enough that he can look down at him. That's his. That's Jojo and that's his, and knowing that leaves him tugging Joseph's belt until it's finally coming free.]

Can I go down on you? Please.

[Joseph has to let go of Caesar when Caesar swaps their positions, and, okay, it's not the worst thing in the world because Caesar's still kissing him at least. But Joseph doesn't feel satisfied until Caesar really starts to settle over him and there's a hand holding his wrist — but not both so Joseph can run a hand along Caesar's side and back just to touch for the simple sake of touching — and there's another hand moving up his thigh and— oh God. As Caesar's fingers trail along Joseph's thigh, he shifts helplessly into the touch with a small noise. But when he feels Caesar cupping him through his pants, Joseph's breathing hitches and he's glad that Caesar doesn't immediately kiss him because he doesn't think he could do it.]

[Hell, he can barely kiss back even once Caesar does get around to it again, but he manages it while he debates whether or not he actually wants his heart to stop pounding so much. Caesar's talking though so it gives him something else — albeit temporarily — to focus on while Caesar is tugging his belt loose. Oh, but that doesn't help. Joseph tugs his wrist free so he can get a hand in Caesar's hair again while they kiss. Because foolishly he thinks that kissing Caesar will somehow help him settle back down, but it does very little to do that when he's kissing Caesar as desperately as he is. Joseph breaks the kiss off, resting his forehead against Caesar's.]

Okay, yeah... [he breathes before he kisses Caesar again, his fingers slipping out of his hair and along his jaw. Joseph's heart's still pounding and he doesn't think it's going to get any better anytime soon, but it's not such a bad thing. And he knows what he wants and he knows he trusts Caesar with everything. Joseph nips at Caesar's lip.] Yeah.

[God, he's so . . . there aren't even words. Caesar doesn't know how to explain it, couldn't even if he had to, but everything Joseph is just makes him want him more. He can't stop kissing him, that's for sure, not for anything. It's better to just keep kissing him, fiercely and possessively, as he tugs his pants open and pulls them down around his thighs. It's so hard to focus.]

You're so good, [is what he manages in the end, murmured against Joseph's mouth. His breathing's ridiculously uneven, but he doesn't care, just kisses Joseph again, long and reluctant to move at the same time as he very much isn't, pulls away tugging Joseph's bottom lip gently with his teeth and just — looking at him.]

God.

[On second though, he kisses Joseph again. Bites his lip harder this time, nudges his chin up and nips at his throat. It's so hard to focus, but he's going to anyway, because he wants to give Joseph exactly what he wants. Maybe it's a little selfish, too, but Joseph is beautiful when he can't breathe. It's so stupid that he didn't see it before.]

[He drops kisses down Joseph's chest, letting his teeth drag along his ribs. He gets stuck at his stomach, caught on the way muscle moves under Joseph's skin when he does as little as breathe. He thinks he could do this forever, probably, and maybe he will sometime, but not now. Now he tugs Joseph's pants and underwear off and discards them who the hell knows where, over the edge of the bed, maybe, or not, they could have dropped into a black hole for all he cares, and kisses the line of Joseph's hipbone as he wraps his fingers around his cock and glances up at him, eyes dark, for permission.]

[Caesar's kisses seem like everything to Joseph right now, and he wants nothing more than just to lie here and kiss him until the world manages to reach its end. He gasps into a kiss as Caesar pulls on his pants, remembering just barely to lift his hips to make it easier. But Caesar can't keep kissing him forever, and so Joseph just makes a pitiful sound the first time he stops kissing Joseph. But then he comes back and Joseph draws in a sharp breath when Caesar bites his lip that hard.]

[All of it is new. New and overwhelming to the point he barely even knows what to do with himself, and so he doesn't do much at all. Certainly not restraining himself when Caesar's mouth happens to find a sensitive spot that even Joseph didn't know about, letting out low, near-pleading, and wordless groans when Caesar moves on. As Caesar moves down, Joseph's hands are forced to move up. But he keeps a hand on Caesar's shoulder in the end because he doesn't want to let go. He loves this, being touched, but he wants to touch, too. Even if it's only in a small, relatively insignificant way, he wants to keep touching back. His grip tightens as Caesar kisses at his hip, and he hisses a sharp fuck into the air. And God, why is he looking at Joseph like that?]

Caesar, please...

[It's closer to a whine than anything else, but Joseph isn't even trying to make it fall one way or another. It simply is what it is, and inhibition can be damned.]

[It feels like . . . falling from a high place and not knowing if you're ever going to land. That's what it feels like, when Joseph looks at him like that, begs him like that, when his stomach drops and his breathing catches. If he'd thought about it before he would've expected to feel triumph, getting Joseph to beg - about anything, not just this - but while there's triumph there, it doesn't even come close to one simple realization.]

[There's nothing in the world he wants more than to give Joseph exactly what he wants, and as much of it as he can take. This is exactly where he wants to be, maybe where he needs to be, right here with Joseph looking at him like that, loved and desperate to be loved more. He feels fierce and protective, simmering with the desire to make him do that again, to hear please until there's no need for either of them to beg anymore.]

[He wants Joseph to be happy. That's all he wants.]

[The realization hits him hard, harder than the fingers digging into his shoulder. He makes a sound, a helpless sort of snarl, pinned in Joseph's gaze as he is, bites down roughly on his hipbone and then kissing the inside of his thigh. It's stupid, how much he wants to leave marks everywhere, how much, at least in this one way, he wants to be remembered.]

Yeah, Jojo.

[His voice is low against Joseph's thigh, eyes bright and intent. He's pretty sure he couldn't look away if he tried.]

Whatever you want. Anything, yeah?

[Anything. But they've almost always been like that anyway, so this . . . it almost makes sense. And maybe he's wanted something more than this in his life, but as he kisses his way up Joseph's cock and closes his lips around the tip, it's difficult to think of what it could have been.]

[Distantly, Joseph thinks that he shouldn't be that sensitive. Whether it's touches, kisses, or bites, it shouldn't stir any strong reaction out of him because they are simple things. Simple things that become greater than their sum because it's Caesar who bites at his hipbone and kisses his thigh. It's Caesar's voice that vibrates against his skin and— Joseph has to bite his lip, but it's not to keep himself quiet. Honestly, he doesn't think he could even with a sincere effort because nearly every little touch from Caesar's mouth is enough to wordless pleas from Joseph.]

[It's that he wants to watch. He wants to, but he doesn't know if he can. For starters, it's not like he's ever done anything like this before, and as much as he'd never want to admit it, he still feels a giddy sort of nervousness resting right in the bottom of his chest. Which is strange because it's not coming coupled with hardly any worried thoughts rising to the front of his consciousness. He trust Caesar. He trusts Caesar with his life, with his everything. He loves Caesar. If any single one of those things weren't true, this wouldn't be happening either because Joseph or Caesar wouldn't allow it to happen. So, it's the energy of the nervousness that's trying to settle more than anything, and as Caesar's kissing along his cock, Joseph's fighting every urge to squirm and fidget. His breathing's all gone to hell, but he could care less because he remains relatively still and that's what's important.]

[But oh, he can't watch. Even biting his lip to give him something else to focus on, Caesar's lips on him override any other sensation, and Joseph has to look up at the ceiling just for a few seconds as he sucks in a breath and simply forgets that he's supposed to breath out. Next time, he thinks. Greedily. He realizes that's a greedy and terribly selfish thing to think that there will be a next time when he hasn't had an answer beyond I want you. Which isn't a bad answer. It's given Joseph hope, and he's allowed himself to believe there's a chance that even if it doesn't really mean I love you, I'm just not sure, it might someday mean I love you. He lets the breath go and it's a jagged, rough thing, but it's gone and he remembers to breathe in again somewhere in there, and it's then that he manages to work up the nerve to look again.]

[It's funny. Later, he'll wonder why he wasn't worried about this. He worries about almost everything, he worried when it was Joseph touching him, so why not worry about this? The answer's simple, of course: he never had time to think about it. For once in his life, he just felt something and went for it, and there was never a moment when he stopped wanting and started worrying about how it might all go wrong.]

[He just wanted Joseph. He still doesn't understand how he can go from not noticing it to being unable to notice anything else in the space of an hour, but he doesn't care. The taste of Joseph, the smell of him, the way he moves under Caesar's hands, the sounds he's making: those are the only things that matter. Giving him exactly what he wants, that's what matters, so much so that it doesn't even remotely matter that Joseph can't look. Caesar can still monitor the way he's reacting, the way his muscles tense and his breathing shakes. They're still both here. That's what matters.]

[In the meantime, he takes his time. He's hovering perfectly between desire and curiosity now, his need to find out exactly what Joseph wants most dovetailing with his need to make him squirm. He moves forward a little, humming at the unfamiliar sensation, and then pulls back, his hand stroking slowly as he kisses and licks in turn, thoughtful and experimental.]

[Oh, and Joseph's looking at him again. He glances up and smiles, warm and hazy. That's mine, he thinks, he's mine, and hums again, flicking his tongue against the underside of Joseph's cock.]

[Nope.]

[Nope. Nope, nope, nope.]

[Nope.]

[Nope, looking was a mistake. A great, beautiful, dizzying, and wonderful mistake, but holy shit that was a mistake. It's tough enough just feeling Caesar touch, kiss, and lick him. It's another to see him do it. To see him do it with that smile . . . Joseph wants to die. Only a little. Maybe that's weird. Maybe it isn't. But he wants to die a little because he doesn't think he can take Caesar looking at him like that with that handsome smile by itself let alone making eye contact with him while he's—]

[Joseph hisses a sharp curse and looks back up at the ceiling. And without even really meaning to, he squirms. He squirms and lets out a helpless little noise as his grip on Caesar's shoulder tightens enough that blunt nails are starting to dig. Joseph sucks in his lower lip, biting it again. But it's no use. That look in Caesar's eye and the curve of his smile are stuck in Joseph's mind and he knows it's going to be a while before he'll be able to not think about it and feel it all the way from the top of his head to his toes. Joseph squeezes his eyes shut tight, unsure if he's trying to shake the image away already or if he's just trying to focus on it more.]

[It shouldn't be this easy to drive him crazy. He thinks. Maybe. Maybe it doesn't matter. He doesn't know and he doesn't have the energy to put into thinking about it. So right now, it doesn't matter when he has to focus this much on remembering to take at least somewhat regular breaths of air.]

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