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:
That's not what Idia was expecting to hear, not at all.
More than friends...? What does that mean? Roommates? But that would mean one of them has to transfer houses and Idia's never heard of it happening. Best friends? They're already that, as far as Idia's concerned. The only person he's closer to is Ortho but they're siblings. Wait, if they're not friends then is the FWB contract nullified? Does that mean they can't kiss and touch and move on to other things anymore?
Did Idia mess everything up by jerking Cater off?? Oh, if only they could load an earlier save file!
His heart beats faster and his breathing grows quietly ragged, his eyes wide. If Cater looks into them he'll see Idia is quietly spiraling into panic.
When Idia doesn't say anything, Cater starts to feel his good feelings drain out of him, replaced with the quick onset of cold dread. He really is going to reject me, he thinks. It seems both impossible and yet exactly what he expected, somehow. Really, the whole situation is inconceivable, isn't it?
He's afraid to, but he pulls away enough to look up at Idia's face, seeing that petrified expression. Naturally, he misinterprets it in his own, much more muted panic.
"Sorry, sorry, lets pretend I was JK, okay? It's really NBD if you aren't interested in being my boyfriend--SRSLY, totes get it, DW!" He feels like he's going to fall over, and he never made good on his promise to wash Idia in return, but now all he can think about is escaping. Cater gives a strangled laugh, too high-pitched and anxious to sound convincing.
The only thing that slaps Idia out of his panic and then growing despair over the broken look in Cater's eyes is a single word that echoes over and over again in his brain: boyfriend. If Cater is squirming to get away, Idia doesn't realize it, panic melting away into shocked wonder.
A boyfriend is more than a friend who's a boy. A boyfriend is someone you l--
Someone you...
Idia's eyes well up with tears, his lips trembling.
Shit! Fuck! This is the worst! How does he keep landing into these traps where when everything is going perfectly he throws it all into a furnace? Can he possibly get his foot any farther into his mouth?
"Idia, I'm so sorry, really, I wasn't trying to..."
To what? To make him uncomfortable by confessing his feelings? He clearly meant to confess his feelings! He should have just listening to that voice in his head that tells him all the worst case scenarios. He should have known that he'd still end up alone at the end of the day.
"I, I should leave, right? Please, don't cry. You can forget about the whole thing."
Instead of letting Cater go, Idia crushes the other boy to his chest as best he can with those noodly arms, body shaking with quiet sobs. No, he doesn't want Cater to leave, he wants him to stay! Stay as long as the ginger boy wants, stay forever, they've been so happy together and Idia selfishly doesn't want it to end. No, he wants to be happy, but he wants Cater to be happy even more. Ignoring the incredible swell of warmth in his heart is impossible, though.
"Y-- you... you really w-- want me to...." He trembles harder, fighting the surreality of the whole moment, when he wants to believe it's true. "C-- Cater, you... you l-- love me...?
Backpedaling upon backpedaling. Idia holds him close and he stops again, confused. Wait, what's happening? Wasn't he just rejected? Or, ah...oh.
He gulps. Love, Idia asks. Does he love him? It's a word that Cater had never actually let himself consider. He knows what he wants, knows that he wants it for the unquantifiable future. But is that love? The anxious slamming of his heart against his ribcage is close to painful. What is this? His brain can't find the answer, so his heart speaks for him, voicing a truth that he had blocked off from even himself.
"I think I've been in love with you for a long time," he says.
The enthusiastic chasing outside classes, the exuberant invitations to social gatherings, the more recent hangouts in Idia's room... the cuddling, the kisses, the FWB contract....
Cater never wanted to be only friends. The agreement came because it was the best they both thought they'd ever get. The other boy's been carrying this feeling for so long, hiding it because of his secret pain, but now he trusts Idia enough to be fully honest. The enormity of it crashes down on the tall Housewarden, who crumples under the relief of knowing his bad luck hasn't cost him the gift of being loved. Louder sobs echo in the shower as he cries into Cater's wet hair, clutching the other boy as if he's afraid Cater will vanish if he lets go.
Even now, no answer comes...but Cater feels himself relaxing. It is an answer, isn't it? Even if Idia doesn't love him back, if he isn't sure or he needs more time, he isn't pulling away. They're here, they're together, and Idia's tears aren't tears of misery. His feelings are being accepted, and no matter what, maybe that's enough.
Cater reciprocates the embrace, pulling Idia close, wanting to hold him warmly and with reassurance. "Come on," he teases in a wavering voice, "if you keep crying like that, you'll get me crying, too."
Idia can't calm down right away, these feelings too raw and too new and so very strong. Eventually he does quiet, the edge of the rainfall running down his back and Cater's arms, the last of his tears soaking into his friend's-- hopefully his boyfriend's-- hair.
"... want to be with you, Cater." He's stuffy and mumbling but the words still carry, borne on his heart. "W-- will you be my Player 2?"
It's irrational, he knows, feeling like he'd never experience this. He knew he had the capability of love, knew that there was no reason someone could love him back...but he had always held himself away from it, too afraid of losing something before it ever happened. With Idia, it doesn't matter. All that anxiety, he'd rather just try and not risk losing his chance.
"Of course," he replies, really choking up now as he listens to the sound of Idia's heartbeat. "Of course I will. Let's face the main plotline together."
This goes far beyond co-op play, persisting past controllers being set aside and a console powered off. It's life experience, something Idia never imagined he'd have. With distant parents and his own grief, he knows his emotional growth is stunted, yet with Cater he feels like he's suddenly gone from a single chip to a full setup... no, from a sprout to a blooming plant, because he feels alive in a way he hasn't for so long.
"We need to finish cleaning up," he says softly, smiling through his tears and not making a move to do anything but continue holding Cater.
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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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More than friends...? What does that mean? Roommates? But that would mean one of them has to transfer houses and Idia's never heard of it happening. Best friends? They're already that, as far as Idia's concerned. The only person he's closer to is Ortho but they're siblings. Wait, if they're not friends then is the FWB contract nullified? Does that mean they can't kiss and touch and move on to other things anymore?
Did Idia mess everything up by jerking Cater off?? Oh, if only they could load an earlier save file!
His heart beats faster and his breathing grows quietly ragged, his eyes wide. If Cater looks into them he'll see Idia is quietly spiraling into panic.
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He's afraid to, but he pulls away enough to look up at Idia's face, seeing that petrified expression. Naturally, he misinterprets it in his own, much more muted panic.
"Sorry, sorry, lets pretend I was JK, okay? It's really NBD if you aren't interested in being my boyfriend--SRSLY, totes get it, DW!" He feels like he's going to fall over, and he never made good on his promise to wash Idia in return, but now all he can think about is escaping. Cater gives a strangled laugh, too high-pitched and anxious to sound convincing.
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A boyfriend is more than a friend who's a boy. A boyfriend is someone you l--
Someone you...
Idia's eyes well up with tears, his lips trembling.
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"Idia, I'm so sorry, really, I wasn't trying to..."
To what? To make him uncomfortable by confessing his feelings? He clearly meant to confess his feelings! He should have just listening to that voice in his head that tells him all the worst case scenarios. He should have known that he'd still end up alone at the end of the day.
"I, I should leave, right? Please, don't cry. You can forget about the whole thing."
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"Y-- you... you really w-- want me to...." He trembles harder, fighting the surreality of the whole moment, when he wants to believe it's true. "C-- Cater, you... you l-- love me...?
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He gulps. Love, Idia asks. Does he love him? It's a word that Cater had never actually let himself consider. He knows what he wants, knows that he wants it for the unquantifiable future. But is that love? The anxious slamming of his heart against his ribcage is close to painful. What is this? His brain can't find the answer, so his heart speaks for him, voicing a truth that he had blocked off from even himself.
"I think I've been in love with you for a long time," he says.
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Cater never wanted to be only friends. The agreement came because it was the best they both thought they'd ever get. The other boy's been carrying this feeling for so long, hiding it because of his secret pain, but now he trusts Idia enough to be fully honest. The enormity of it crashes down on the tall Housewarden, who crumples under the relief of knowing his bad luck hasn't cost him the gift of being loved. Louder sobs echo in the shower as he cries into Cater's wet hair, clutching the other boy as if he's afraid Cater will vanish if he lets go.
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Cater reciprocates the embrace, pulling Idia close, wanting to hold him warmly and with reassurance. "Come on," he teases in a wavering voice, "if you keep crying like that, you'll get me crying, too."
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"... want to be with you, Cater." He's stuffy and mumbling but the words still carry, borne on his heart. "W-- will you be my Player 2?"
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"Of course," he replies, really choking up now as he listens to the sound of Idia's heartbeat. "Of course I will. Let's face the main plotline together."
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"We need to finish cleaning up," he says softly, smiling through his tears and not making a move to do anything but continue holding Cater.
His boyfriend, his Player 2.
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