[Cater's whole body seems to light up at once at the use of the word, staring at Vil with saucer eyes that seem to wondrously question if he's sure. If that wasn't a mistake. Without realizing it, he's started leaning in, up on his toes.]
[It just figures that Cater had completely set himself to be swept off his feet. With most people, he knows how to be charming and flirtatious without batting an eye. With Vil? He's so thoroughly messy, he feels himself choking at the rebuttal.]
Then I guess we better...take these off...to, to you know, to double check...
[No he's totally lost the thread of his joke. His face is as red as a tomato.]
[Vil's suggestive response and teasing touches do absolutely nothing to calm Cater's flustered energy. He can't stop smiling, can barely talk between half-nervous, half-excited giggling. Around Vil he's like a puppy, tail wagging so hard he can't keep his feet still.]
Okay! Kinda feel like I should wear this out, it's doing so well for me.
[Cater can't help but freeze. Vil, oh Vil, do you have any idea what you do to him? Yeah, Cater's sure that he knows fully well. His face is already growing red again.]
I mean...
[The supermodel makes him bashful, but he's still an eighteen-year-old teenage boy.]
If you're in that kind of a mood, who am I to turn down that kind of suggestion?
[He feels so giddy, his stomach so full of butterflies that as they approach the register, hand-in-hand, Cater's completely forgotten about the forbidden price tags. He squeezes his fingers through Vil's, sticking close as the clothes are marked into the register and paid for, and all the while he can't stop gazing at his face.
It would be obvious to anyone looking how smitten he is--that the way he feels isn't just star struck infatuation from a fan to an idol.]
[Sevens, look at this man. His bashful little expression. The clear giddiness. Vil feels so ridiculously lucky.
It won't be long until they're back at the dorm and in Vil's bedroom. He comes up to Cater, boldly placing his hands on his chest and smoothing them down the apparel.]
Mmm... a fine choice. Such lovely and carefully crafted material like this must be handled with the utmost care...
[His hands come up to the first button, his voice lowering.]
We'll have to go extra slow to ensure not a single thread is frayed.
[Naturally, no one bats an eye at Vil bringing the other third year with him into his Pomefiore Headwarden Suite. They likely wouldn't even if their relationship hadn't been outed to the whole world. Cater's head is full of anticipated thoughts, wondering how exactly he's gonna slide smoothly into Vil's DMs, so to speak.
As it turns out, he needn't have thought so hard about it at all, because Vil expertly takes the initiative. And Seven save him, Vil's fingertips brushing his skin as he undoes that first button has his whole body tingling with nerves. He can't help being as worried that he'll underperform just as much as he's excited to be with Vil this way.
He won't judge you, he tells himself, knowing it's true. Anxious despite it. Just be yourself.]
You'll have to keep me in check. Never been very good at keeping still.
[Even now, as he reaches for Vil's waist and pulls their bodies closer together, his fingertips itch, impatient of their own accord, wanting--no, needing to fidget, to have a task, to do more.]
[Vil chuckles softly. It's not as if he'd ever done anything like this with anyone else before, but... Cater has always been Cater to him. His safe place, the person he could be himself with.
Yet underneath his hand, he can feel how that heart is fluttering. He'd be a fool if he didn't anticipate that at least some of it was from nerves rather than anticipation.]
That won't be a problem.
[He leans forward, then, pressing some soft, chaste kisses to skin, along his jaw and then slowly down his neck as he continues to unbutton him, one at a time.]
[Cater lets out a shuddering breath as Vil's lips hit his skin. He wants to kiss him more fully, but at the same time, doesn't want to interrupt where those lips are going now. Each one sends a new flush of heat blooming through his body as Cater feels his throat clench into a knot. He gulps, his own fingers looking for purchase underneath Vil's top as he speaks softly close to the supermodel's ear:]
Don't tease me too much, okay?
[He doesn't know that he can take it. Not their first time.]
[Without meaning to, Cater tenses at the question. It's a fair thing to ask, and that's all it is, really. Vil's just asking a question. Still, that familiar self-consciousness rises up, trying to snuff out the flame in him that Vil's started stoking.]
You won't think less of me?
[His own question, coming out in such a small voice, is an admission all on its own.]
[Vil could have anyone, and Cater never expected to be here with him like this--like any of this. There had been times where he'd just felt so alone with himself he just needed...needed to feel something. Anything. He got what he wanted, but the feeling was always shame.
And now Vil's trying so hard and being so good to him and he's totally bringing them both down.]
[Yeah, he totally ruined the whole mood, didn't he? Cater groans, hanging his head as he follows Vil to the bed, sitting obediently beside him. How is he so patient with him?]
It's nothing, really...I'm just...
[He doesn't know how to put it into words, really. Maybe it happened when he learned his UM. Maybe every time he uses it, he fissures another crack into his own self-image. Split on split on split. Broken. Bad luck.]
I don't want to ruin this. And I don't mean having sex. You make me happy in a way I literally couldn't imagine and I can't stop myself from waiting for the point where you realize that I'm not worth it.
[You know. Nothing. He finally looks up at Vil, pleading in those green eyes.]
[He watches and listens quietly. At the end of it, he hums softly and thoughtfully, carding his finger through the red locks.]
Hmmm. I think I see what's happening.
You've definitely been improving. However, when a significant change is occurring, it causes anxiety, which in turn brings the negative thoughts back up.
[And then he hesitates.]
Ah... sorry, I hope that wasn't too clinical.
[After another moment, he draws closer, touching their foreheads together again. His hand comes up, petting Cater's hair. His voice lowers, warm and tender for his boyfriend.]
Breathe, Cater. Focus on now and here. Focus on me.
[Cater gives a huff of a laugh, clearly not offended. He shakes his head.]
No...you're right. I'm used to going through changes, but they've never been easy for me.
[This is the first real change he's had that's been an undeniable positive, but that doesn't seem to be stopping his anxiety. It must be a learned, subconscious behavior. And then Vil draws them together and Cater lets out a slow breath, basking in the warmth generated between them.]
I am. I'm right here with you.
[He doesn't want to be anywhere else. Knows that as long as it's Vil, he isn't going to feel ashamed.]
I want you more than I can put into words.
[So instead of words, he nuzzles his face in closer, seeking out Vil's mouth with his own.]
[Vil seems to relax a little at Cater taking his observation well. And the following words have his heart swelling, feeling light and warm and tingly all at once.
A pleased hum escapes as Vil accepts that mouth, kissing Cater slowly. It doesn't seem like Vil really knows what he's doing, but his relative lack of anxiety may make him seem fairly self-assured in his exploration.
Either way, his hands are now moving to gently remove that first layer of clothing.]
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I certainly am fortunate to have you as a boyfriend.
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[Cater's whole body seems to light up at once at the use of the word, staring at Vil with saucer eyes that seem to wondrously question if he's sure. If that wasn't a mistake. Without realizing it, he's started leaning in, up on his toes.]
Me?
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You.
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[Gasping as he receives the peck, he keeps his boyfriend (his boyfriend!) close so he can whisper conspiratorially:]
I think it's the outfit. It must be made out of boyfriend material.
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Please...
[And then he leans and whispers back:]
I'd much rather you with nothing on.
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Then I guess we better...take these off...to, to you know, to double check...
[No he's totally lost the thread of his joke. His face is as red as a tomato.]
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He brings a hand up, running a finger down Cater's nose, onto his lips and then down his jaw.]
I would be more than happy to help when we return to the Dorm.
[The benefits of their relationship being outed means no one will think twice about Cater visiting or going to Vil's room.]
Shall we wrap things up here?
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Okay! Kinda feel like I should wear this out, it's doing so well for me.
[You know. Until Vil takes it off.]
Where to, next?
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Vil gives a thoughtful hum, hands coming up to slightly straighten the outfit on Cater.]
On the one hand, you do look quite sharp. On the other, there are some things we simply can't do while we're out.
[A devilish smile.]
What would you prefer?
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I mean...
[The supermodel makes him bashful, but he's still an eighteen-year-old teenage boy.]
If you're in that kind of a mood, who am I to turn down that kind of suggestion?
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Then let's buy these threads so I can admire you in them while I can.
[His hand comes down to take Cater's, gently tugging him towards the register.]
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[He feels so giddy, his stomach so full of butterflies that as they approach the register, hand-in-hand, Cater's completely forgotten about the forbidden price tags. He squeezes his fingers through Vil's, sticking close as the clothes are marked into the register and paid for, and all the while he can't stop gazing at his face.
It would be obvious to anyone looking how smitten he is--that the way he feels isn't just star struck infatuation from a fan to an idol.]
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It won't be long until they're back at the dorm and in Vil's bedroom. He comes up to Cater, boldly placing his hands on his chest and smoothing them down the apparel.]
Mmm... a fine choice. Such lovely and carefully crafted material like this must be handled with the utmost care...
[His hands come up to the first button, his voice lowering.]
We'll have to go extra slow to ensure not a single thread is frayed.
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As it turns out, he needn't have thought so hard about it at all, because Vil expertly takes the initiative. And Seven save him, Vil's fingertips brushing his skin as he undoes that first button has his whole body tingling with nerves. He can't help being as worried that he'll underperform just as much as he's excited to be with Vil this way.
He won't judge you, he tells himself, knowing it's true. Anxious despite it. Just be yourself.]
You'll have to keep me in check. Never been very good at keeping still.
[Even now, as he reaches for Vil's waist and pulls their bodies closer together, his fingertips itch, impatient of their own accord, wanting--no, needing to fidget, to have a task, to do more.]
Seven forbid I damage anything designer.
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Yet underneath his hand, he can feel how that heart is fluttering. He'd be a fool if he didn't anticipate that at least some of it was from nerves rather than anticipation.]
That won't be a problem.
[He leans forward, then, pressing some soft, chaste kisses to skin, along his jaw and then slowly down his neck as he continues to unbutton him, one at a time.]
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Don't tease me too much, okay?
[He doesn't know that he can take it. Not their first time.]
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So he pulls his lips away, asking as he undoes the rest of the buttons:]
Have you done anything with anyone else?
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You won't think less of me?
[His own question, coming out in such a small voice, is an admission all on its own.]
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He pauses after undoing the last button, a hand coming up to cup Cater's cheek. His expression is equal parts gentle and flirty.]
On the contrary, I prefer having you all to myself.
Besides, I hope you wouldn't think less of me for the same.
[Vil had no interest in doing anything with anyone... until Cater. And it had remained that way.]
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[He leans in, pressing their foreheads together.]
You're all I've ever wanted.
[Vil could have anyone, and Cater never expected to be here with him like this--like any of this. There had been times where he'd just felt so alone with himself he just needed...needed to feel something. Anything. He got what he wanted, but the feeling was always shame.
And now Vil's trying so hard and being so good to him and he's totally bringing them both down.]
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Come here. Silly man.
[He guides him over to Vil's bed to sit them down on it.]
Let's get things straight, shall we?
[His hand comes up to brush the bangs out of Cater's face.]
Tell me what's bothering you. Completely and honestly.
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It's nothing, really...I'm just...
[He doesn't know how to put it into words, really. Maybe it happened when he learned his UM. Maybe every time he uses it, he fissures another crack into his own self-image. Split on split on split. Broken. Bad luck.]
I don't want to ruin this. And I don't mean having sex. You make me happy in a way I literally couldn't imagine and I can't stop myself from waiting for the point where you realize that I'm not worth it.
[You know. Nothing. He finally looks up at Vil, pleading in those green eyes.]
It scares me.
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Hmmm. I think I see what's happening.
You've definitely been improving. However, when a significant change is occurring, it causes anxiety, which in turn brings the negative thoughts back up.
[And then he hesitates.]
Ah... sorry, I hope that wasn't too clinical.
[After another moment, he draws closer, touching their foreheads together again. His hand comes up, petting Cater's hair. His voice lowers, warm and tender for his boyfriend.]
Breathe, Cater. Focus on now and here. Focus on me.
Be with me.
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No...you're right. I'm used to going through changes, but they've never been easy for me.
[This is the first real change he's had that's been an undeniable positive, but that doesn't seem to be stopping his anxiety. It must be a learned, subconscious behavior. And then Vil draws them together and Cater lets out a slow breath, basking in the warmth generated between them.]
I am. I'm right here with you.
[He doesn't want to be anywhere else. Knows that as long as it's Vil, he isn't going to feel ashamed.]
I want you more than I can put into words.
[So instead of words, he nuzzles his face in closer, seeking out Vil's mouth with his own.]
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A pleased hum escapes as Vil accepts that mouth, kissing Cater slowly. It doesn't seem like Vil really knows what he's doing, but his relative lack of anxiety may make him seem fairly self-assured in his exploration.
Either way, his hands are now moving to gently remove that first layer of clothing.]
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