caycay | I've Been Lonely

After fully deepthroating Idia's stiffening member, Cater backs up and off to catch his breath. Already, that look on his boyfriend's face has his eyes gleaming. "What are you holding your voice in, for?" He teases, running his palm along the underside of the shaft once before he grabs the lube. "I wanna hear it all, you know."

Popping the lid of the small bottle, Cater pours a small amount on a finger of his dominant hand. "Sorry, this might feel a little cold," he warns before reaching down to press the lubricated digit carefully against Idia's anus, slowly inserting up to the first knuckle.

That first knuckle means barely an inch of penetration but it’s still something going in. It’s weird and cold and slightly uncomfortable but not painful, so Idia bites his lip and tries to breathe through his brain keysmashing. Fingers clutch the sheets at his sides. He wants this, wants Cater, and he won’t let his stupid cursed twiggy nerd body say no!

Keeping a watchful eye on Idia for his reactions, Cater moves his free hand to wrap around his shaft and treat it to smooth, soothing strokes. "It takes some getting used to," he says, hoping that the sound of his voice will help. The more distractions he can provide, he thinks, the easier it might be to keep Idia from hyper-focusing on any discomfort. "It'll feel better once that happens."

And when he reaches the prostate, of course, though Cater decides against being that specific. Instead, he keeps going, moving his finger deeper in inch by inch, gauging when he should pause based on Idia's expressions. Keeping his other hand busy, Cater seeks out the telltale indicator that he's found the gland, curling his fingertip upward to press in and stimulate.

Cater’s hand moving over his erection helps with the discomfort but still doesn’t erase the weirdness. Idia squirms, lip still clamped in his teeth and high, thin whines jolting out of him every time Cater’s finger pushes deeper.

It’ll be better when he’s really in me. The goal is worth the grind. I can do this.

And then Cater hits something inside him that sends a powerful shock through Idia’s entire body. The Housewarden chokes on a shriek, eyes flying wide open and his grip on the sheets tightening until his knuckles crack. His heels scrabble and slide on the sheets as his legs jerk. In Cater’s grip his cock pulses, twitches, dribbling pre-cum down his length and over his boyfriend’s fingers.

The reaction is so above and beyond anything that Cater was anticipating that he stops what he's doing immediately, holding both hands still and steady as he stares at Idia with wide-eyed concern. It was an incredibly hot display, mind you, and he feels a burst of immediate pleasure in his gut as he watches, his face flushing, but more than that is a worry that he'd done too much.

"I-Idia, are you alright?" He has no idea if the other boy will even be able to respond properly, but he has to ask. "I can stop, do you need me to stop?"

Two seconds after Cater stops moving, Idia collapses with a drawn-out "guuuuh," blinking owlishly. There's a rhythmic twitch in his left thigh muscle matching the throb in his cock. He takes a few deep breaths, his eyes slowly regaining some clarity.

"Wh-- what in the Underworld was that?!" Gods, it felt like Cater pressed a switch that set off a bunch of nerves at once. He'd gone from a slow simmer to feeling like he was about to erupt in an instant.

Oh, Seven. How to even begin to explain this? Even Cater, who doesn't get embarrassed particularly easily, feels a little silly putting it into words. "That was your prostate," he says, deciding that a clear and concise approach is probably best. "It, uh, it controls semen flow."

And it's basically the male equivalent of the g-spot, he nearly adds before realizing that it would be completely irrelevant information.

"It can be kind of intense, especially since you've never had it stimulated before. Sorry! I should've warned you!" Though he has a bit of a feeling that even if he had, it still would've thrown Idia for just as big of a physical loop.

"Gods...," Idia breathes, letting go of the sheets to rub his eyes with one hand. "I thought I shorted out. Read up on the operations manual but didn't check the system specs." Frankly, he was too embarrassed to do anatomical research. Meat bodies are so weird and messy compared to tech. He kinda envies Ortho for that.

He takes a minute to catch his breath, belatedly realizing Cater still has a finger inside him. Oh yeah, they're still in the middle of a start-up checklist. Puffing out his cheeks before blowing out a long breath, he nods to his boyfriend. "I'm okay, promise. Keep going?"

The way that Idia responds gives him a bit of a chuckle, and he leans over to give him a sweet kiss. "Okay," he agrees. "I won't hit it so hard this time. Not unless you ask me to."

Mentally noting to stick to lighter touches, Cater starts to slide in a second finger. He's careful not to stretch too wide, knowing that from here on out is where it's going to be potentially painful. With his other hand, he spreads around Idia's pre-cum, lubricating his palm to make his strokes feel even smoother.

There's that weird dichotomy again, uncomfortable stretch versus really nice handjob. Only now the dial's been turned up a bit and Idia's hips are starting to move in little spasms. It starts feeling better as the pleasure from Cater's stroking settles in, punctuated with sparks when Cater brushes his prostate and leaves Idia moaning past the lip he's biting again. At least his brain is finally accepting the whole concept of in so it's not freaking out with the increased pressure.

"Y-- you've had this d-- done to you?" Yes, please talk to him, Cater. The distraction might be odd but it helps Idia's brain not to focus on the lingering discomfort.

It seems as if they've gotten into a rhythm that Idia can handle, and in his relief Cater's own excitement begins to rise again. "Sort of," he answers. "My experiences have been a little different."

He doesn't want to get into the trials and errors, what he'd learned from his own accidents. It's not like Cater regrets his past experiences or partners--they've all been valuable for what they were, even if some mornings he'd wake up feeling lonelier than ever. What's important is that here and now, he's been able to take what he's learned and put it all to good use for someone he actually loves, someone who deserves to feel amazing in his own body.

"But I've felt the things you're feeling," Cater promises, gentle and slow and careful as he uses his two fingers to widen and stretch Idia's opening. A little bit more, and they should be good enough to go all the way. If they'd stuck to the original gameplan, Cater would've liked to give Idia more time to get his body ready to accommodate intercourse...but this is where they are; they'll have to make it work.

"Hnnn...!" Idia can't help jolting again as Cater stretches him, though it's far less dramatic than his previous one. His opening resists briefly before starting to ease up, and Idia's breathing goes from spiked to a more subdued but still turned-on panting. Okay, it's not so bad now, he's getting used to the weirdness. Cater's voice helps a lot, and isn't it funny how Idia looks forward to hearing his boyfriend talk, whether it's excited chatter or this gentle coaxing? Before, the sound of the other boy's cheerful voice would send the poor Housewarden into a panic, but now it brings him a sense of calm peace. How things change... this quest line evolved in a way he could never have predicted, and if there's anything Idia enjoys it's a good story.

It's their story.

"Feels better now, doesn't really hurt. Just feels... bizarre, I guess? But good, too." He sounds somewhat breathless, his hips thrusting shallowly to meet Cater's hand. Maybe he's not quite ready to come, but he's worried he will the second Cater fully seats inside him. It's not only the physical sensation of it but the mental and emotional weight of finally being so intimately connected. Idia's pretty sure he'll be instantly overwhelmed. "Don't want to climax too fast... don't let me ruin it for us."

Removing his fingers and letting go of Idia's shaft, Cater takes a moment to lean over him, hair spilling over his eyes as he gazes into his boyfriend's pleasure-stricken face. It feels impossible, just how much he loves the other boy, but he's still loving him more and more each and every day. How big can his heart get? How much of this can one person handle?

"Listen to me," he says with a soft sternness, smile playing on his lips. "You could never ruin anything for us."

Idia hasn't been someone who believes in himself for a long time. Praise and reassurance weren't for him. But now, coming from the person he loves? Idia can finally believe in something so heartfelt and kind directed at him. His lip quivers and his eyes go soft and damp, his fingers reaching up to toy with the copper locks hanging around Cater's face.

"Your Persuasion score is so high, I can't argue," he laughs softly, though his voice is thick with emotion. "I love you so much, you ridiculous extrovert."

There's no way that Cater can't kiss Idia when he looks like that, sounds like that. "I love you too, you absurd introvert," he counters, offering one sweet, loving kiss after another and only stopping himself when he threatens to lose himself in the gentleness of the comforting.

Once more, and for what he hopes will be the last time for as long as they can possibly stand, Cater pulls up and away, settling back on his knees. Taking the bottle of lube in hand, he pours out a sizeable dollop to coat his own erection in--the action alone causing him to take in a breath, his eyes fluttering closed. It only takes a few passes before he's fully coated and glistening, and with that done he moves into position to line himself up with Idia's opening.

Finally, this was it. He locks eyes with Idia, one hand braced on his thigh. "Ready?"

His heart's beating so fast it feels like it's vibrating, shaking his ribs. This is it, it's actually happening, he can feel Cater right there and all it will take is one light push. Knowing he could say no and his boyfriend would respect that is an enormous realization, yet Idia knows he won't refuse. They've both wanted this, first as something new to experience as friends, now elevated to a lovers' bonding.

He's going to come apart and he welcomes it.

"Ready," he whispers, his legs coming up to loosely bracket Cater's hips and his arms draped around his shoulders. "I'm all yours."

Cater lets out a breath. He can't help feeling anxious, too. As much as he chastised Idia for worrying that he'd ruin this, Cater feels the same insecurity. What if it hurts too badly but Idia doesn't speak up? What if he can't control himself?

But they love each other. And Idia's arms around him, his legs pressing in, gives him the courage he needs to see this through in turn. Slow and steady, Cater pushes the head of his shaft into Idia. Even slick with lubricant there's of course resistance, but he keeps an eye out for sounds and signs of pain even as the immediate sensation of those walls of skin clamping around him makes his own knees weak.

Moaning sharply, Cater bows his head. It's harder, way harder than he thought it would be, to stay steady. His head swims, and everything inside of him instinctually wants to push in further, to press their bodies together until they can't be joined any closer.

Oh oh oh it's happening and Idia's arms tighten around Cater, a quivering groan sticking in his throat. It's different from the fingers stretching him, firm yet softer and with a greater girth. But it's not only the physical difference, it's the almost gleeful echo of happiness in his head: He took it it's gone oh I'm finally really his! Now he knows why characters in ero-VNs make such blissful, unrestrained sounds, because it feels so incredible to be connected to someone this way when you love them.

His body constricts, squeezing Cater, urging him deeper. Idia's breath goes higher, less even, those gangly legs of his folding over Cater's thighs to cling to his boyfriend and to hold himself open. It burns a little but Idia wants to cry because it's worth the momentary discomfort with every bit of depth Cater gains to know they're joined. Color floods through his flames, bright purple and a bolder shade of pink, those burning locks flickering wildly among the sheets.

"Cater...!" Idia gushes, every fiber of his love and desire for the other boy pouring into the sound. Those hazy golden eyes look at Cater like he hung the sun, moon, and stars in the sky. Can this really get any better? What will it be like when his boyfriend bottoms out? What will it be like when he starts to move?

How is this so incredible? Did he simply overestimate himself and his own stamina, or is it just that he loves Idia so damned much that makes this all so overwhelming? It feels like his whole body is trembling against the urge to pull their pelvises together. He wants to kiss him, to draw his body close, but the sensations are too much for his focus to account for much else.

Idia runs so naturally cool but his insides are just as hot as anyone's, tight and gripping and seeming to beg him in as far as he can get. "Idia, oh, Idia," he moans in return, breathing hard as he presses his forehead into his boyfriend's collarbone. It helps, having that stability. It helps, feeling the press of Idia's arms around him. Once he's all the way inside, it can't have been very long at all but it feels like he's gone through some kind of formative journey, and he wraps his arms underneath Idia as well, hugging him tightly.

Best day ever, best feeling ever. Tangled together with Cater, arms and legs and hearts, bodies locked in the most intimate way, Idia almost sobs with relief. His brain swims in oxytocin, he’s dizzy with lust and love, his hikikomori heart lives forever within Cater’s own and he never wants to leave. He buries his face in his lover’s hair, kissing the top of his head.

Cater doesn’t even have to move yet. This alone, the sweetly heated union between them, is perfect as it is for now. Besides, if it gets any better, any more intense? Idia’s sure he might be permanently KO’ed, no respawn.

For a long minute that's all he does, sit deep inside Idia, their bodies tangled, breathing hard where he rests his head against him. When he finally looks up he smiles, coming in to steal a kiss--this one powerful, full of all the unspoken emotion they're sharing. Together like this, it feels like they have a single pulse. Idia's throbbing cock is sandwiched between their stomachs and every minor roll of his hips could threaten to make both of them explode.

He'll work his way up. Instead of going straight into a slow thrust, Cater starts to roll and grind his hips. Even that much fills the pack of his own eyelids with sparks.

Immediately, Idia's eyes roll back and the groan he unleashes vibrates right into Cater's chest from his own. He might not be sure how to move but instinct does its job just fine, his legs clutching and hips grinding back in kind. Even that easy stimulation has him clenching again and again, pulling sharp breaths out of him each time. Their heartbeats truly are matched, and Idia would marvel at the wonders of biology if his brain could grasp anything but the sheer bliss of making love. Because that's what this is, isn't it? It's not sex anymore, not FWB or anything casual, they confessed and accepted mutually and transformed the act before it began.

Idia's hair is a riot of brilliant color, the rich purples and pinks flooding out the last of the blue even as their hues bleed toward something different even from the orange-red of Idia's rare ire. Crimson deeper than Heartslabyul's roses, bolder than Scarabia's magestones, flows from the Housewarden's scalp to light the bed and the pair entangled upon it in the glow of passion.

Bit by bit, Cater's resolve crumbles. He uses his own body to guide Idia's as the grinding motion of his hips begins to evolve into proper thrusts. They're shallow for now as he keeps himself deep inside, like the head of his cock is trying to burrow newer, unexplored depths. When he's not sharing in his boyfriend's breathing he can't tear his eyes away from those beautiful colors. Such a dark red--it puts every other color he's ever seen to shame.

His lips scour Idia's ear, jaw, neck. He can't bring himself to pull his body away by even an inch but wants to touch and taste him all over. It's inexplicable, overwhelming, how he can feel so incredible all over--so full to bursting with pleasure and at the same time hungry for more and more.

Idia whimpers as grinding becomes short, slow thrusts, his body seeking this new rhythm and guided into it by Cater's careful movements. It's still a little awkward but by letting Cater move in him and only pushing back against his boyfriend occasionally, they set a comfortable pace together. Oh gods, the slide in and out as he grips the other boy tightly makes his brain spin. Even the shifting of Cater's body against his inner thighs is sweet torment. Ah, it's no wonder people find themselves risking all sorts of scandal and heartbreak to do this whenever possible, it's addictive in the way a perfectly crafted game is... no, even if it's top-tier nerd sacrilege to think so, this is better.

The kisses all over his face and neck feel way more sensitive than they ever have before. His entire body is alight, zinging with sparks of pleasure. He catches Cater's mouth in a tongue-tangling kiss, feeding his boyfriend another desperate moan. In the crimson light of his hair, Idia's eyes are ringed in shadows, their golden centers shining like obols when the kiss breaks and they open again and stare into Cater's very soul.

"More...," he rasps, lifting himself into one of Cater's thrusts with the grip of his long legs. "More, please!"

There's a rumble at the base of Cater's throat. When Idia begs him like that, how can he do anything but give him what he wants? His arms protest against raising himself away but he does so, pulling up just enough so he can take Idia's arms and pin them in his own, gripping their entangled fingers tightly as he falls into that pleasured, desperate gaze.

He won't go hard, doesn't think he could last more than a few strokes if he did, but picks up the pace, using the leverage of Idia's legs wrapped around him to provide fuller, more complete thrusts. Each time their bodies come together he makes sure his abdomen slides against Idia's shaft, wanting to increase the pressure from both sources.

If he wasn't moaning so hard himself, each breath a heavy pant, he'd be showering Idia with all the adoration in his head, in his heart. Instead, all he can do is keep eye contact, trusting that their shared intensity communicates more clearly than any words possibly could.

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