Cater can't get over the way that Idia deepens the kiss first. He's far from being bold but it's such a difference from where they started it's hard not to be excited. Opening his smiling mouth, Cater loops an arm around Idia's shoulders, widening his stance to keep from slipping as he leans in. Happy and warm, he hums as their tongues slide together.
His diamond mark is running down his cheek in a blood-like trail, but despite where they are washing off is the farthest thing from his mind. Feeling playful, Cater pulls at Idia's lower lip with his teeth, grinning as he lets it go. If they were further along, he wouldn't hesitate to kiss his friend all over, exploring as much of his body as he could.
Idia sucks in a sharp breath through his nose at the nip to his lower lip, his pupils dilated. He dives back in for another kiss, both hands threading into Cater’s hair at either side of his head. He’s definitely learning, careful with his teeth and gently curious with his tongue. Still, he’s sensitive and easily aroused as to be expected from a newbie.
When he draws back, he cocks his head slightly with a curious little grin. “I always thought it was a tattoo, not makeup. Or even a brand, with how heated your Housewarden can get.”
He's getting so excited again already--their explosive round earlier had been satisfying but way, way too fast. Now, Cater just wants to take his time exploring Idia's body in a way he hadn't had the chance to.
"Ha, really? Yeesh, I can't imagine even Crowley of all people would allow his students to be branded." Even if it was a temporary, magical brand...talk about extreme! "Nah, we all paint our symbols on in the mornings. You should see how much trouble some of the freshmen have when they're still settling in."
Deuce's poor attempts at a spade were so laughable at first that Cater had to help him. In any case, Cater doesn't plan on wasting too much thought right now on anyone other than Idia. He reaches around him to grab the shampoo, definitely sneaking a squeeze of his ass in the process. You know, just to support himself as he leans.
Not that Idia has much of an ass, but there’s just enough for a nice handful. He jumps and squeaks, eyes widening briefly before narrowing at Cater. “You prank virus…,” he growls, grinning savagely and retaliating in kind before he can talk himself out of it. Only he uses both hands, nearly lifting Cater onto his tiptoes for a second or two.
Even with the progress that Idia's been making, he absolutely isn't expecting him to fully grab his ass. Underneath the shock (and the way his insides lurch) Cater's totally proud. This time it's his turn to squeak, though it's really more of a squawk as he actually does fall fully into Idia's chest, nearly losing his balance for real.
It's probably the dancing he does as part of the pop music club, but he's definitely got a nice, round tone to his cheeks. Even with the water going the red that flushes his face is easy to see. "Hey now!" Cater makes a show at chastising his shower partner, but the laughter that's still in his voice gives himself away. "Treat me like that and I'm never letting you out of here."
Anyone who's seen Idia gush about the things he enjoys-- gaming, anime, manga, technology-- knows that he can appear energetic and unrestrained under the right circumstances. He's simply discovered that Cater is now in the same category as those other things, which helps to mitigate his natural shyness. So he cackles as he holds Cater against his body with that double-handed cheeky (in more ways than one) grip.
"Our cosmetic layers will get all distorted if we stay in here too long." He chuckles and leans down to press his forehead to Cater's. The dichotomy between his sharp grin and the tender gesture is bizarre but so uniquely Idia. "But it's okay, we're still in co-op mode no matter what mission we're doing."
It's all those uniquely Idia traits that makes Cater feel so scrambled up inside. He's so close that Cater can't help but steal one more kiss, but this time he backs off before it can get too heated. One mission at a time. Squeezing some shampoo into his palm, he offers Idia the bottle and starts to lather his hair.
"Okay, okay. Our current mission is to clean ourselves up, but I plan on showing you something that'll really boost your ranking next time." By then, he knows he's going to be craving Idia all over again, but there's something fun about holding out. Even though the daily (and nightly) fantasies can be distracting...
Well, he'd be a liar if he said he didn't want to cum that hard again.
Cater's promise has Idia's eyes practically shining with interest, his grin going from teasing to eager. It takes a while for him to lather his ridiculously long hair but eventually he has tiny foamy bubbles sliding through the glassy strands. The rainfall shower panel does a much better job of rinsing than a normal shower, with Idia's hair it's pretty much a necessity. As enough of his scalp is rinsed clean that he doesn't have to tilt his head back anymore, he takes up the soap and washcloth to scrub his skin under the spray. It's not like it needs to stay on long to work, on and gone as he would say. That way he can rinse his hair and his body all at once. Yes, he's used to being efficient.
But now? Efficiency isn't what he wants. Idia hesitates with the soapy cloth in his hand, watching Cater carefully for a moment before reaching out to gently run the sudsy rough fabric over the other boy's shoulder. "It's okay...?" he asks quietly, suddenly shy about boundaries again.
Being that Idia normally doesn't make moves to initiate, Cater's elated when he reaches to tentatively wash his skin. "Yeah! Go for it," he assures with enthusiasm. "You wash me and then I'll wash you?"
Because he definitely, definitely wants to run soapy hands all over Idia's body. Naturally, Cater had been planning on offering to at least get the other boy's back, but this is so much better than he could've even hoped.
The short flicker of insecurity ends as suddenly as it began. Happily nodding, Idia steps closer and slowly trails the washcloth over Cater's chest and shoulders. His touch is light, making the skim over the other boy's nipples an unintentional tease. Yellow eyes roam over Cater's body, Idia's gaze as worshipful as his careful hands.
"Super high CHA," he breathes. "Drawing you out of the gacha pool was once in a lifetime luck."
Did he just call Cater beautiful? Yes, yes he did.
Cater gulps as he watches Idia watching his body. It's all so much more erotic than he expected to be, especially knowing that Idia's admiration isn't sexual at all. Maybe that has something to do with it, ultimately. For all of that natural charm, he's never thought much of himself either way, often got sick of himself, even. Receiving compliments usually doesn't mean much--it's usually easy to throw up a V and a wink when someone does and then change the subject, ducking smoothly out of any territory that he doesn't want to traverse.
But Idia calls him some kind of miracle pull and his heart starts racing all over again. He doesn't want to say anything that might make Idia stop, but he feels like if he doesn't acknowledge the comment he'll regret it. It's so significant. He's kind of anxious.
"You're the only person who's ever made me feel seen."
Idia pauses long enough for the warmth of his smile to truly settle into Cater's heart. He reaches up to wash away the last traces of the red makeup on his friend's cheek. Without the diamond, without the blue flames, they're not Heartslabyul or Ignihyde but simply two lonely teens that found each other.
"You did the same for me. But even if you didn't, I'm... I'm glad I can make you happy."
The world Cater has shown him is big and different and more than a smidge frightening, but everything Idia has gotten from exploring it so far has been worth the risks. He still has that soft smile as he resumes washing Cater, the cloth sliding down the ginger boy's side to his hip.
Cater sucks in a breath. Someone who wants to make him happy. Him, for no other reason. His parents, his sisters, they'd never put his feelings in front of their own. Their love always felt like it came with conditions, like he only really mattered when he was putting himself out there for their sakes. He'd stopped expecting he'd ever mean much to anyone--that his life would involve anything other than people using people for their own gains.
They'd both been so scared, they'd both been hiding, but together they reached out between the cracks in their own walls and pulled each other free.
The farther that Idia's hands wander, the more aroused Cater gets, his body reacting to so much more than the physical touches. Feeling peaceful, maybe even a touch bashful, he goes quiet as he lets his friend explore. There's no denying the intimacy of the moment--a sort of sweet, healing sensuality that permeates the steamy setting.
There's no concealing anything like this, with nothing between them but soap, water, and air. Idia drags the cloth across Cater's solar plexus and back again, lower this time. His gaze drifts down, the blush rising solo to his cheeks with his hair extinguished. Instead of the soft-rough cloth, his other hand shifts to touch soapy fingertips to his friend's abdominal muscles. He's so close to the sign of obvious arousal, he needs to hear the sound Cater will make when his fingers close around it.
He wants to, but he's afraid to ask permission or to go ahead without it, afraid his voice will fail him if he tries. So he looks up again instead, yellow meeting spring green, asking with his eyes: may I touch you?
Cater's skin twitches underneath Idia's fingertips, ready for him and wanting. He senses the hesitation and is more than willing to give him all the time he needs--if he pulled away, he's sure he'd be able to manage. But instead of pulling away his eyes pull him in. Unable to find his own voice, he simply replies in kind. A small, encouraging smile creeps up on his lips and he reaches a hand up to rest at Idia's neck.
Idia's not even seeking his own pleasure. With their height difference, doing what Cater did to them in bed won't work, but Idia's only focus is to learn what makes his friend feel the best. Spindly fingers close around Cater's length, warmed by the water and slicked by soap. Though the tall Housewarden blushes, he doesn't pull back, drawing Cater to his chest with his other arm and pressing the washcloth to his spine. The first stroke is delicate, more suds than skin, but Idia soon curls his fingers tighter and draws firmer strokes that go slow and steady.
His eyes never leave Cater's face. Holding him with such tenderness, his shy touch working the ginger boy over, he watches to see what his ministrations will do. It's all he can do not to draw Cater into another kiss for fear he'll miss something wonderful in those bright eyes.
Nothing has ever been like this before. Their experience earlier had been new in its unabashed need and intensity, but this is the exact opposite. Tender, earnest, full of meaning. Cater had told Idia he felt seen and now he's being peeled back and memorized layer by layer.
As Idia's slender fingers possess his shaft he takes in a slight breath, letting it out on a pleasured, shuddering sigh. His body settles in, his other arm wrapping around the other boy's back as his arousal is brought out into a full erection. It's a little intimidating, keeping eye contact as spirals of pleasure begin to make their way through his body, but Cater can't look away either, can hardly bring himself to blink.
The movement is almost teasing in its slow deliberation, building his need like a house of cards, story by wobbling story. Cater's brows furrow, his lips parting as his breathing gets heavier, slight moans starting to escape. There are so many micro expressions in his gaze, from desire all the way to vulnerability.
With his head starting to swim, there's only one word on Cater's mind: Idia, Idia, Idia.
Idia doesn’t need to ask if this is good, he can see it in Cater’s eyes and the little twitches of his brow. He can hear it in those stuttering breaths and soft moans. He’s not sure when he learned that these things are good but he knows not to stop.
Maintaining eye contact brings something else to the table, too: Idia realizes how pretty Cater’s eyes are. They remind him of green glass bottles turned into sea glass fragments that sometimes found their way to the Isle of Woe. They’re new leaves or the lines of a circuit board. They’re bright and piercing and they saw Idia when everyone else looked through him.
He wants Cater to come apart in pleasure the way Cater took him apart earlier. He barely quickens his pace because he wants to witness his friend fall to pieces slowly. It’s a powerful, insistent desire and Idia lets it carry him away to a place where only Cater matters. He strokes and occasionally leans in to nip Cater’s lip, never once breaking eye contact.
It's a test of his own willpower not to beg for more. He'd never tried--never thought to or had the patience--to make it last this long. Chasing pleasure always got to a point where it became a race to the finish line. It's amazing the way Idia's grasp makes him feel like he's unraveling, and Cater's sure that someone else doing the same wouldn't have nearly as comparable an effect.
Each time Idia comes in for what's almost a kiss he tries to chase it, everything about him craving more and more physical connection. His pulse resounds throughout his body, his skin hot to the point where the line separating pleasure and agony is growing thinner. Each stroke feels like it's going to make him burst but when that doesn't quite happen his knees wobble, hips bucking slightly forward into that maddeningly slow touch.
"Idia," Cater moans, his name coming out unbidden and leaden with want. His hands grip tightly into the other boy's skin as he sputters, face contorting--he can barely keep his own eyes open. So close!
Wanting to ravage Cater's mouth, wanting to hear more of his name moaned in that voice, wanting to see the other boy come undone, want want want, and Idia feels selfish and yet so focused on giving. He offers mercy in the form of quicker, firmer strokes, remembering how he felt in Cater's hold. He studies Cater's face as if those expressions are the most fascinating thing he's ever seen.
Despite the bruising grip Cater has on his back, Idia barely notices anything except Cater's growing ecstasy. Carefully he urges his friend back to the wall, letting the steamy tiles help to keep Cater upright, and presses the pad of his thumb into the crown of the other boy's erection in rolling circles. It's like using a thumbstick on a controller, he's done it to himself before the few times he's bothered touching himself, and it always feels good so maybe....
Hot, hard, throbbing. All Cater can hear is the sound of the water, the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears. How can something so simple be so good--so incredible? It's like his whole body is pulled taught by a wire on the verge of snapping and damn if he doesn't want it to snap and let him go tumbling just as much as he doesn't want it to stop at all but allow him to stay suspended in time for more, more!
It hadn't been all that long ago that Cater had found himself fantasizing about the things Idia could do with those hands as he watched him manipulate a controller. Here he was, proving the theory right. In his heightened state it's beyond what Cater can take. His whole body tenses, a breath sucking in through his teeth and for an instant he's unbearably frozen before it all bursts forward at once.
Cater moans hard, head pushing against the tile behind him and feet scrabbling at the floor, kicking at nothing. He ruts helplessly into Idia's hand, wave after hot wave escaping his body through that one concentrated pinpoint. And through it all it's those eyes, boring down on him like melted riches.
The force of Cater's climax startles Idia, his smoldering gaze turning adorably surprised as he grips the ginger boy through every pulse of release. He hardly did anything and Cater just... that reaction! Only when he feels Cater's body settling down from the high does he wrap both arms around his friend, holding him tight until the other boy gets his feet securely under him again.
"A-- are you okay? That looked like a critical hit...." Idia bites his lip, unsure if he took it too far for his first attempt.
There's a long moment where Cater can still only hear the thrumming of his heartbeat. As it begins to subside, he rests his head against Idia's collar, breathing hard. "K.O.'ed," he confirms with a breathless chuckle. "Sorry, it's just because I want you so badly."
He's pretty sure that's it. Would such a simple handjob really have been so impactful, otherwise? Maybe it's too soon to say something so brazen, but Cater's feeling far too dazed to think too hard.
The way Cater described FWB it’s something they do when they want to have fun or they’re sexually frustrated. But this is different, isn’t it? Cater could have sex with almost anyone he wanted, he’s attractive and popular, but he wants Idia. It’s mind-boggling, even after all these weeks.
“Cater, even if we didn’t make that co-op contract… you still don’t want to join anybody else’s FWB party?”
Cater shakes his head slowly against Idia, quiet except for his still-hard breathing as he thinks over his words carefully. This is a moment, a big moment, one that's been on the tip of his tongue for awhile now but that he hasn't felt sure enough saying. Would Idia reciprocate if this was something bigger? And what about the future? Senior year? Graduation?
Still, somehow he finds he isn't scared. Part of that could be the orgasm but the rest of it, it's just Idia, isn't it? When did he stop feeling scared when he's with Idia? When did he really really realize that it had never been just about gratification? He can think of so many things to say in response to Idia's question, but ultimately it all boils down to one very simple concept:
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His diamond mark is running down his cheek in a blood-like trail, but despite where they are washing off is the farthest thing from his mind. Feeling playful, Cater pulls at Idia's lower lip with his teeth, grinning as he lets it go. If they were further along, he wouldn't hesitate to kiss his friend all over, exploring as much of his body as he could.
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When he draws back, he cocks his head slightly with a curious little grin. “I always thought it was a tattoo, not makeup. Or even a brand, with how heated your Housewarden can get.”
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"Ha, really? Yeesh, I can't imagine even Crowley of all people would allow his students to be branded." Even if it was a temporary, magical brand...talk about extreme! "Nah, we all paint our symbols on in the mornings. You should see how much trouble some of the freshmen have when they're still settling in."
Deuce's poor attempts at a spade were so laughable at first that Cater had to help him. In any case, Cater doesn't plan on wasting too much thought right now on anyone other than Idia. He reaches around him to grab the shampoo, definitely sneaking a squeeze of his ass in the process. You know, just to support himself as he leans.
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It's probably the dancing he does as part of the pop music club, but he's definitely got a nice, round tone to his cheeks. Even with the water going the red that flushes his face is easy to see. "Hey now!" Cater makes a show at chastising his shower partner, but the laughter that's still in his voice gives himself away. "Treat me like that and I'm never letting you out of here."
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"Our cosmetic layers will get all distorted if we stay in here too long." He chuckles and leans down to press his forehead to Cater's. The dichotomy between his sharp grin and the tender gesture is bizarre but so uniquely Idia. "But it's okay, we're still in co-op mode no matter what mission we're doing."
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"Okay, okay. Our current mission is to clean ourselves up, but I plan on showing you something that'll really boost your ranking next time." By then, he knows he's going to be craving Idia all over again, but there's something fun about holding out. Even though the daily (and nightly) fantasies can be distracting...
Well, he'd be a liar if he said he didn't want to cum that hard again.
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But now? Efficiency isn't what he wants. Idia hesitates with the soapy cloth in his hand, watching Cater carefully for a moment before reaching out to gently run the sudsy rough fabric over the other boy's shoulder. "It's okay...?" he asks quietly, suddenly shy about boundaries again.
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Because he definitely, definitely wants to run soapy hands all over Idia's body. Naturally, Cater had been planning on offering to at least get the other boy's back, but this is so much better than he could've even hoped.
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"Super high CHA," he breathes. "Drawing you out of the gacha pool was once in a lifetime luck."
Did he just call Cater beautiful? Yes, yes he did.
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But Idia calls him some kind of miracle pull and his heart starts racing all over again. He doesn't want to say anything that might make Idia stop, but he feels like if he doesn't acknowledge the comment he'll regret it. It's so significant. He's kind of anxious.
"You're the only person who's ever made me feel seen."
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"You did the same for me. But even if you didn't, I'm... I'm glad I can make you happy."
The world Cater has shown him is big and different and more than a smidge frightening, but everything Idia has gotten from exploring it so far has been worth the risks. He still has that soft smile as he resumes washing Cater, the cloth sliding down the ginger boy's side to his hip.
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They'd both been so scared, they'd both been hiding, but together they reached out between the cracks in their own walls and pulled each other free.
The farther that Idia's hands wander, the more aroused Cater gets, his body reacting to so much more than the physical touches. Feeling peaceful, maybe even a touch bashful, he goes quiet as he lets his friend explore. There's no denying the intimacy of the moment--a sort of sweet, healing sensuality that permeates the steamy setting.
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He wants to, but he's afraid to ask permission or to go ahead without it, afraid his voice will fail him if he tries. So he looks up again instead, yellow meeting spring green, asking with his eyes: may I touch you?
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I'm all yours, he seems to say.
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His eyes never leave Cater's face. Holding him with such tenderness, his shy touch working the ginger boy over, he watches to see what his ministrations will do. It's all he can do not to draw Cater into another kiss for fear he'll miss something wonderful in those bright eyes.
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As Idia's slender fingers possess his shaft he takes in a slight breath, letting it out on a pleasured, shuddering sigh. His body settles in, his other arm wrapping around the other boy's back as his arousal is brought out into a full erection. It's a little intimidating, keeping eye contact as spirals of pleasure begin to make their way through his body, but Cater can't look away either, can hardly bring himself to blink.
The movement is almost teasing in its slow deliberation, building his need like a house of cards, story by wobbling story. Cater's brows furrow, his lips parting as his breathing gets heavier, slight moans starting to escape. There are so many micro expressions in his gaze, from desire all the way to vulnerability.
With his head starting to swim, there's only one word on Cater's mind: Idia, Idia, Idia.
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Maintaining eye contact brings something else to the table, too: Idia realizes how pretty Cater’s eyes are. They remind him of green glass bottles turned into sea glass fragments that sometimes found their way to the Isle of Woe. They’re new leaves or the lines of a circuit board. They’re bright and piercing and they saw Idia when everyone else looked through him.
He wants Cater to come apart in pleasure the way Cater took him apart earlier. He barely quickens his pace because he wants to witness his friend fall to pieces slowly. It’s a powerful, insistent desire and Idia lets it carry him away to a place where only Cater matters. He strokes and occasionally leans in to nip Cater’s lip, never once breaking eye contact.
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Each time Idia comes in for what's almost a kiss he tries to chase it, everything about him craving more and more physical connection. His pulse resounds throughout his body, his skin hot to the point where the line separating pleasure and agony is growing thinner. Each stroke feels like it's going to make him burst but when that doesn't quite happen his knees wobble, hips bucking slightly forward into that maddeningly slow touch.
"Idia," Cater moans, his name coming out unbidden and leaden with want. His hands grip tightly into the other boy's skin as he sputters, face contorting--he can barely keep his own eyes open. So close!
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Despite the bruising grip Cater has on his back, Idia barely notices anything except Cater's growing ecstasy. Carefully he urges his friend back to the wall, letting the steamy tiles help to keep Cater upright, and presses the pad of his thumb into the crown of the other boy's erection in rolling circles. It's like using a thumbstick on a controller, he's done it to himself before the few times he's bothered touching himself, and it always feels good so maybe....
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It hadn't been all that long ago that Cater had found himself fantasizing about the things Idia could do with those hands as he watched him manipulate a controller. Here he was, proving the theory right. In his heightened state it's beyond what Cater can take. His whole body tenses, a breath sucking in through his teeth and for an instant he's unbearably frozen before it all bursts forward at once.
Cater moans hard, head pushing against the tile behind him and feet scrabbling at the floor, kicking at nothing. He ruts helplessly into Idia's hand, wave after hot wave escaping his body through that one concentrated pinpoint. And through it all it's those eyes, boring down on him like melted riches.
"Idia...I-Idia...!"
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"A-- are you okay? That looked like a critical hit...." Idia bites his lip, unsure if he took it too far for his first attempt.
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He's pretty sure that's it. Would such a simple handjob really have been so impactful, otherwise? Maybe it's too soon to say something so brazen, but Cater's feeling far too dazed to think too hard.
"I'm better than okay. I have you."
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The way Cater described FWB it’s something they do when they want to have fun or they’re sexually frustrated. But this is different, isn’t it? Cater could have sex with almost anyone he wanted, he’s attractive and popular, but he wants Idia. It’s mind-boggling, even after all these weeks.
“Cater, even if we didn’t make that co-op contract… you still don’t want to join anybody else’s FWB party?”
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Still, somehow he finds he isn't scared. Part of that could be the orgasm but the rest of it, it's just Idia, isn't it? When did he stop feeling scared when he's with Idia? When did he really really realize that it had never been just about gratification? He can think of so many things to say in response to Idia's question, but ultimately it all boils down to one very simple concept:
"I want to be more than friends."
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