[ the mingle of sweetness and intensity strikes him as not entirely new, but — novel. rarely felt, even more rarely acted upon but once it's there, it's there. he can't see anything but it: in the furrow of Keigo's brow, his fingers tightening and clutching and desperate, the brown of his eyes when he watches him and refuses to look away, tracing the way the light catches on his features and breaks them into a hundred individual pieces he could spend this entire time studying. ]
[ muscles of his back rippling as he moves, his other hand raises, fists in Keigo's hair and pins his head to the bed; it isn't so tight that it grips, merely holding — forcing his gaze to stay exactly where it lands as Guanshan fucks him slow and deep and doesn't sever eye contact. his chest is a blooming storm violent and twisting, his guts are winding up tighter and tighter with every sound he hears and every time he bottoms out inside of him, and his embrace is a fierce thing that makes sure Keigo understands this — that there's no going back from this new level of connection and intimacy. ]
[ if it feels like a death sentence, it should. maybe he knows Keigo's greedy ego will lap it up, that he's even attracted to him because of it, because of a loyalty that means he'll kill for it — but it doesn't matter what he knows when Guanshan's the one who has to show it, has to make sure he feels it. ]
Keigo—
[ the name's molasses on his tongue, burnt and sweet, a whisper quieter than anything he's said all night. just for his ears, like a spell that won't work if anyone else heard. he's dizzy, skin splotched with freckles and sweat and flush, grunting deep and husky when Keigo takes him in full, a velvet tight grip around his cock that's making him fall apart. too good — too hot — ]
[ too much. ]
Shit— Keigo, yer gonna make me come.
[ pining him, fucking him, holding him down, it doesn't matter when he's got the chisel to his chest opening up the cavity, the responsibility a heavy burden lain on the man beneath him. the fault of it all. his thrusts are getting erratic, less of a dance they both take part in. a relationship that had started as a business exchange where Guanshan did his best to perform for someone else has devolved into this: a permission to be selfish, a shedding of shame in taking what he wants. Keigo's always let him, like he has a body that was meant to be shared, an openness Guanshan's never been able to master. ]
[ he's shaking, he realizes, shoulders trembling as he tightens his grip, sweaty palms sliding against one another that he refuses to relinquish. hips pump, core stiffening, his balls drawing up, all that tension springloading. ]
no subject
[ muscles of his back rippling as he moves, his other hand raises, fists in Keigo's hair and pins his head to the bed; it isn't so tight that it grips, merely holding — forcing his gaze to stay exactly where it lands as Guanshan fucks him slow and deep and doesn't sever eye contact. his chest is a blooming storm violent and twisting, his guts are winding up tighter and tighter with every sound he hears and every time he bottoms out inside of him, and his embrace is a fierce thing that makes sure Keigo understands this — that there's no going back from this new level of connection and intimacy. ]
[ if it feels like a death sentence, it should. maybe he knows Keigo's greedy ego will lap it up, that he's even attracted to him because of it, because of a loyalty that means he'll kill for it — but it doesn't matter what he knows when Guanshan's the one who has to show it, has to make sure he feels it. ]
Keigo—
[ the name's molasses on his tongue, burnt and sweet, a whisper quieter than anything he's said all night. just for his ears, like a spell that won't work if anyone else heard. he's dizzy, skin splotched with freckles and sweat and flush, grunting deep and husky when Keigo takes him in full, a velvet tight grip around his cock that's making him fall apart. too good — too hot — ]
[ too much. ]
Shit— Keigo, yer gonna make me come.
[ pining him, fucking him, holding him down, it doesn't matter when he's got the chisel to his chest opening up the cavity, the responsibility a heavy burden lain on the man beneath him. the fault of it all. his thrusts are getting erratic, less of a dance they both take part in. a relationship that had started as a business exchange where Guanshan did his best to perform for someone else has devolved into this: a permission to be selfish, a shedding of shame in taking what he wants. Keigo's always let him, like he has a body that was meant to be shared, an openness Guanshan's never been able to master. ]
[ he's shaking, he realizes, shoulders trembling as he tightens his grip, sweaty palms sliding against one another that he refuses to relinquish. hips pump, core stiffening, his balls drawing up, all that tension springloading. ]