Cater groans--there's an instant of relief with the movement at all and then nothing but misery. How did he get so good at this? No wonder he's Ignihyde's housewarden. Slapping Idia's arm slightly, he lets him go and tucks his head down into the crook of his own elbow. "I'm trying," he protests, sounding nearly close to tears.
With another noise of protest he raises his face to grumble out the next question. Clearly, he's not as upset as he sounds or he'd voice it. The two of them have established the importance of clear communication with each other, after all, and he wouldn't let something like this actually impact that.
Mostly, it's his cock doing the talking.
The next question gives him an easy recovery. He remembers that topic well thanks to a particularly sensitive brush of Idia's fingers against his prostate, so the answer comes with an almost flippant sort of confidence. Idia's right: he can do it. The difference in being teased to being denied is already doing wonders for reigning in his focus.
Idia sinks back in fully, like stepping into a warm bath. He kisses the side of Cater’s neck, catches the silver hoop in his boyfriend’s ear with a sharp tooth, strokes Cater’s forearm.
“You’ve still got a passing grade. Keep going, you’ve got it.” Gods, he wants Cater to pass this. He wants to bring them both to climax. He wants Cater’s grades to convince STYX of his worth. He wants them to be together through senior year and beyond.
He's never going to be a genius or a top-student, especially not so close to the end of his time of enrollment...but Cater wants to make Idia proud. His soft encouragements are so much more powerful than any amount of sexual teasing, and with those sweet touches he finds the willpower to breathe through his lust and read the next question.
Suddenly, it feels like he's hit a point where the material's clicked. The next few questions make perfect sense, and back to back Cater delivers a correct answer.
He’ll always be proud of Cater. With breathy praise he rewards the correct answers by rolling his hips, gently moving inside his boyfriend. It’s not enough but it’s so close, a promise of what’s to come with two more right answers. Idia’s breathing harder, struggling to hold back through consistent shallow thrusts, denying himself right alongside Cater.
“Almost… you’re right there, Cay, I can’t wait to stop holding back for you….” He hisses through his teeth, this stage of lazy motion almost too much. If Cater answers wrong, Idia’s not sure he won’t just fuck his boyfriend’s brains out anyway. Diligence can only go so far when desire is so powerful.
There's absolutely no, no way he can bear to mess things up now. Cater would be anxious if he wasn't riding on such a high, left hovering on an edge he can't overcome. He knows that he could blow with the smallest provocation but he wants that and so, so much more. And they're so close to the end of the review.
It's a little harder for him to answer the final questions, but less because of not knowing the answers and more that he's struggling to form words specifically. Okay, so maybe they're a little simplistic, but with his brain starting to short-circuit with need it's at least clear that he's understanding the material. Easy enough to assume that if he was a bit more clear-headed he'd be a bit more eloquent.
Even though he's sure he's right, his confidence falters under the weight of his need, and Cater can't help but beg. "Please, I can't take any more..."
Oh thank the Seven, Idia’s so damned proud of his precious boyfriend right now. “Congrats, you pass,” he growls in Cater’s ear, right before he braces his hands on either side of the other boy and starts thrusting in earnest. His core burns from the effort but it’s more than worth it, giving Cater the deep fucking they both crave. Neither of them will last but it doesn’t matter.
Cater’s going to breeze through that final and then they’ll come back to Idia’s room to cuddle and screw in celebration before they go on summer break. The finish line is right there, and after that they won’t be separated again. Idia wants to praise him further but he can’t form coherent words anymore, either. All he wants is for Cater to come so hard he can’t even cry out.
Completely unable to hold himself back either, once Idia starts thrusting he pushes his body back up against him, meeting the needy rhythm with his own earnestness. "Idia," he moans, "Idia, Idia...!"
At that pace, with how long he's been teased, Cater comes fast and hard, body jolting involuntarily as he shoots all over the towel beneath him. Still, he pushes through it as his moans pitch higher, limbs shaking as he wills Idia onward, insistent to feel the hot rod inside of him reach deeper and deeper.
Caught in the waves of his pleasure, his insides shudder, grasping Idia ever tighter. His hands have grabbed fistfuls of the bedspread beneath him, forehead pressed hard downward acting as an anchor.
Hearing Cater chanting his name, feeling him clench and shudder through climax, pushes Idia over the edge. His thrusts quicken, erratic, until his brain shorts out and he muffles his shout of release by sinking his teeth into Cater’s shoulder. He holds on like a rutting beast, eyes clenched shut, thrusting right through every pulse of his orgasm.
And then the storm subsides into a calm, quiet fog of tired bliss. Idia sags fully onto Cater, softening but still buried to the hilt, the faint taste of blood on his lips.
The pain of the sharp teeth piercing his skin doesn't fully reach him, only heightening the sensations already overcoming his senses. Cater holds on and rides the waves that crash over him up until he can't anymore, collapsing, chest heaving from the force of his breaths. Idia's lanky figure against him is like a weighted blanket, keeping him comfortable and still.
Laying there, he needs a moment to steady himself. His shoulder is starting to ache more than he noticed before, but it still isn't enough to stop him from twisting his body so he can find Idia's mouth and kiss him hard. The sound of metal hits his own tongue but Cater doesn't care.
Idia’s still panting so the kiss is enough to make his lungs ache until he remembers breathing through his nose. He chases Cater’s tongue with his own, tasting the blood, but his brain is slow to react to that as well. It’s only when he pulls back, pulls out, does he notice the red smeared on Cater’s lips and shoulder. His eyes widen.
“C—Cater, you’re bleeding!” He touches the marks on his boyfriend’s shoulder, feeling the punctures there. They’re… but he doesn’t remember… but the shape…!
Cater looks blearily up at Idia's face, moving to lay on his back. Come to think of it, he does taste blood, doesn't he? And that throbbing he's feeling...
One of his hands comes up to touch the site of the bite wound, causing him to wince slightly, but Cater just gives a breathy, somewhat disbelieving laugh as he looks at the blood on his fingers. "So I am. Ha, I guess that was bound to happen sooner or later, right?"
Groaning from the effort, he sits up. Damn, he just wants to lay down and pass out, but he can't leave his shoulder like that. Probably shouldn't summon Ortho for medical attention, so he starts scooting to the edge of the bed. "First aid kit?"
Bound to happen? Because of his awful cursed teeth? Was Cater expecting Idia to lose control and hurt him sooner or later? But now he’s calmly looking for a first aid kit!
Idia whimpers, tears beading along his waterline. “I… I d—didn’t mean to… a—aren’t you m—mad?” Belatedly he jumps off the bed and stumbles into the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit, bringing it back in shaky hands. He’s quivering so much he’ll be practically useless for dressing Cater’s wound.
By now, he shouldn't be so surprised that Idia's having such a negative reaction to something like this--but after the intense lovemaking they'd had? It was hard to really consider some of those triggers. "Mad?"
But he repeats the question to a temporarily empty room as Idia fetches the first aid kit. He takes it, but sets it down beside them, instead going to cup his boyfriend's trembling face. "Hey," he says, "look at me, do I look mad?"
Even if those tears haven't started falling yet, he brushes his thumbs underneath those beautiful, often-tired eyes. "Of course I'm not mad."
“B—but I hurt you…,” Idia whispers, gaze darting between Cater’s eyes and the wound. “I d—didn’t mean to… I’m s—sorry….”
Even if Cater’s not mad, Idia is now painfully aware that doing certain things with his mouth is likely off the table. He won’t risk going down on his boyfriend because he can’t imagine the agony of his damned shark teeth on that particular piece of Cater’s anatomy. Ugh, this stupid curse! Every time he starts to feel better about himself, something like this happens.
Sniffling, he leans into his boyfriend’s touch. “I’m so… so sorry….”
Cater shushes Idia gently, pulling him in so he can wrap his arms around him fully, petting his hair and kissing his forehead. "There's nothing to be sorry for," he assures, his tone gentle. "It didn't hurt--I barely even felt it, I swear."
He knows that his reassurances can only do so much when Idia has such deep struggles about himself, but he voices them all the same. "Everything that happened tonight, for me, was perfect."
Huddling against Cater, the dominant confidence Idia displayed earlier has melted back into his usual shyness. It helps to know Cater isn’t in much pain and he holds no resentment, but Idia isn’t used to things like this. Hurting others reminds him of his Overblot, makes him wonder if that rage is more a part of him than he’d like to admit.
“I just want you to do well on your exams. But I got too controlling and it went to my head….”
As Idia speaks, Cater continues running his hands through his hair. His body still feels like jelly, but with the sobering mood his mind starts to come back from that pleasured high. He rests his chin on the top of Idia's head. "I'm going to absolutely destroy my exams thanks to your help," he tells him. And then, in a more sultry whisper, adds:
"And you know what? I kinda like Idia on a power trip."
Idia shivers at that sultry whisper, the words getting to him through the cloud of his pessimism. It quiets his self-flagellation and brings a pink tinge to the ends of his hair. Ducking his head, he opens the first aid kit and gets out wound wash and gauze to clean the bite marks.
“Sorry if this stings,” he mumbles, dabbing at the wounds with the wet gauze.
Cater lets Idia treat the wound, careful to keep himself from hissing as antiseptic meets the bite marks. There's still a bit of tension he can't stop from forming in his shoulders as Idia works, but he keeps stroking his boyfriend's pale skin all the while.
"It's honestly fine, really. I like a little bit of pain here and there." He knows and is fully comfortable with being a little kinky, but it's still not exactly something they've actively talked about yet. "Would it help if I asked you to bite me?"
"Idia Shroud!" Raising his eyebrows as Idia looks up in his face, Cater gives him his trademark goofy grin, winking. "Are you underestimating the chaos of my bisexuality?"
He leans in, smile widening more wickedly as he keeps eye contact with his boyfriend. "Do it. Bite me again, right now."
Idia’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head and he drops the wad of gauze. The pink races through his hair, but there are faint touches of pale greenish-yellow here and there. Shaking his head fiercely, he grabs fresh gauze and tries to resume wound care.
"It can wait," Cater responds. The color is halfway encouraging and halfway a warning--he'll have to tread carefully from here. Instead of insisting that Idia bite him, he goes for a tackle to pin Idia underneath him. "What if I bite you?"
Idia tumbles back with a yelp, still looking like a deer in headlights. Through the alarm, he’s red to his ears. “C—Cay, let me… I’m trying to alt a healer here! You’re gonna get an infection!”
This boy’s going to be the end of him one day. Idia’s poor heart can’t take it!
Cater can't help himself from giggling. Idia protests, but that look on his face...
"Mmm, but you look so delicious, and I'm so hungry...wa ha ha ha!" Giving his best over-the-top villainous laughter, he comes down to run the edges of his own teeth along Idia's jawline and neck. "I simply can't resist such a tempting morsel!"
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With another noise of protest he raises his face to grumble out the next question. Clearly, he's not as upset as he sounds or he'd voice it. The two of them have established the importance of clear communication with each other, after all, and he wouldn't let something like this actually impact that.
Mostly, it's his cock doing the talking.
The next question gives him an easy recovery. He remembers that topic well thanks to a particularly sensitive brush of Idia's fingers against his prostate, so the answer comes with an almost flippant sort of confidence. Idia's right: he can do it. The difference in being teased to being denied is already doing wonders for reigning in his focus.
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Idia sinks back in fully, like stepping into a warm bath. He kisses the side of Cater’s neck, catches the silver hoop in his boyfriend’s ear with a sharp tooth, strokes Cater’s forearm.
“You’ve still got a passing grade. Keep going, you’ve got it.” Gods, he wants Cater to pass this. He wants to bring them both to climax. He wants Cater’s grades to convince STYX of his worth. He wants them to be together through senior year and beyond.
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Suddenly, it feels like he's hit a point where the material's clicked. The next few questions make perfect sense, and back to back Cater delivers a correct answer.
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“Almost… you’re right there, Cay, I can’t wait to stop holding back for you….” He hisses through his teeth, this stage of lazy motion almost too much. If Cater answers wrong, Idia’s not sure he won’t just fuck his boyfriend’s brains out anyway. Diligence can only go so far when desire is so powerful.
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It's a little harder for him to answer the final questions, but less because of not knowing the answers and more that he's struggling to form words specifically. Okay, so maybe they're a little simplistic, but with his brain starting to short-circuit with need it's at least clear that he's understanding the material. Easy enough to assume that if he was a bit more clear-headed he'd be a bit more eloquent.
Even though he's sure he's right, his confidence falters under the weight of his need, and Cater can't help but beg. "Please, I can't take any more..."
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Cater’s going to breeze through that final and then they’ll come back to Idia’s room to cuddle and screw in celebration before they go on summer break. The finish line is right there, and after that they won’t be separated again. Idia wants to praise him further but he can’t form coherent words anymore, either. All he wants is for Cater to come so hard he can’t even cry out.
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At that pace, with how long he's been teased, Cater comes fast and hard, body jolting involuntarily as he shoots all over the towel beneath him. Still, he pushes through it as his moans pitch higher, limbs shaking as he wills Idia onward, insistent to feel the hot rod inside of him reach deeper and deeper.
Caught in the waves of his pleasure, his insides shudder, grasping Idia ever tighter. His hands have grabbed fistfuls of the bedspread beneath him, forehead pressed hard downward acting as an anchor.
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And then the storm subsides into a calm, quiet fog of tired bliss. Idia sags fully onto Cater, softening but still buried to the hilt, the faint taste of blood on his lips.
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Laying there, he needs a moment to steady himself. His shoulder is starting to ache more than he noticed before, but it still isn't enough to stop him from twisting his body so he can find Idia's mouth and kiss him hard. The sound of metal hits his own tongue but Cater doesn't care.
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“C—Cater, you’re bleeding!” He touches the marks on his boyfriend’s shoulder, feeling the punctures there. They’re… but he doesn’t remember… but the shape…!
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Cater looks blearily up at Idia's face, moving to lay on his back. Come to think of it, he does taste blood, doesn't he? And that throbbing he's feeling...
One of his hands comes up to touch the site of the bite wound, causing him to wince slightly, but Cater just gives a breathy, somewhat disbelieving laugh as he looks at the blood on his fingers. "So I am. Ha, I guess that was bound to happen sooner or later, right?"
Groaning from the effort, he sits up. Damn, he just wants to lay down and pass out, but he can't leave his shoulder like that. Probably shouldn't summon Ortho for medical attention, so he starts scooting to the edge of the bed. "First aid kit?"
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Idia whimpers, tears beading along his waterline. “I… I d—didn’t mean to… a—aren’t you m—mad?” Belatedly he jumps off the bed and stumbles into the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit, bringing it back in shaky hands. He’s quivering so much he’ll be practically useless for dressing Cater’s wound.
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But he repeats the question to a temporarily empty room as Idia fetches the first aid kit. He takes it, but sets it down beside them, instead going to cup his boyfriend's trembling face. "Hey," he says, "look at me, do I look mad?"
Even if those tears haven't started falling yet, he brushes his thumbs underneath those beautiful, often-tired eyes. "Of course I'm not mad."
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Even if Cater’s not mad, Idia is now painfully aware that doing certain things with his mouth is likely off the table. He won’t risk going down on his boyfriend because he can’t imagine the agony of his damned shark teeth on that particular piece of Cater’s anatomy. Ugh, this stupid curse! Every time he starts to feel better about himself, something like this happens.
Sniffling, he leans into his boyfriend’s touch. “I’m so… so sorry….”
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He knows that his reassurances can only do so much when Idia has such deep struggles about himself, but he voices them all the same. "Everything that happened tonight, for me, was perfect."
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“I just want you to do well on your exams. But I got too controlling and it went to my head….”
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"And you know what? I kinda like Idia on a power trip."
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“Sorry if this stings,” he mumbles, dabbing at the wounds with the wet gauze.
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"It's honestly fine, really. I like a little bit of pain here and there." He knows and is fully comfortable with being a little kinky, but it's still not exactly something they've actively talked about yet. "Would it help if I asked you to bite me?"
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But human mouths (even? especially? cursed ones) are filthy. What if Cater gets an infection? What if he scars? Is it really okay?!
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He leans in, smile widening more wickedly as he keeps eye contact with his boyfriend. "Do it. Bite me again, right now."
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Idia’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head and he drops the wad of gauze. The pink races through his hair, but there are faint touches of pale greenish-yellow here and there. Shaking his head fiercely, he grabs fresh gauze and tries to resume wound care.
“I—I’m still t—trying to c—clean this one!”
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This boy’s going to be the end of him one day. Idia’s poor heart can’t take it!
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"Mmm, but you look so delicious, and I'm so hungry...wa ha ha ha!" Giving his best over-the-top villainous laughter, he comes down to run the edges of his own teeth along Idia's jawline and neck. "I simply can't resist such a tempting morsel!"
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