[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.]
[As they kiss, as Vil's perfect hands start to slide the fabric away from his skin, the tension in Cater's body starts to melt away. He's here, right here, with Vil. Even at his worst, Vil doesn't so much as hint that he'd change anything about him. Cater felt like he'd just about shattered the good feelings they'd built up throughout the day but Vil doesn't miss a beat. They pick up right where they left off and Cater cups Vil's face in one hand while the other finds his waist and pulls him closer.
Maybe he's done this before, but the emotions he feels now are so new to him it's like starting over from scratch. And Vil, always so confident in everything he does, helps keep him steady and on course. He sighs into his boyfriend's mouth, his skin warm and craving more of those delicate touches.]
It feels right to have Cater relaxing underneath his touches, becoming pliant and willing. That's how he wants Cater to feel— that these hands are meant just for him, and that he's safe in their care.
With that first layer removed, he goes for the next, hands coming down to take the hem of the fabric. The kiss trails slightly when he breaks it before he moves to take that shirt off.
There will be nothing on his upper body after that, and Vil craves to see it.]
[It's so incredible to him, the way that Vil can so easily pull him out of his darkest moments. He shines so brightly, illuminating all the corners, filling him with warmth. His hands treat him with such a soothing gentleness at a certain odds with his tenacious personality...Cater can't get enough. Has never been able to, really, but certainly not now.
He wants to be the one kissing Vil all over, so as soon as the top comes off over his head, Cater goes back in, lips at the blonde's neck. As he opens his mouth to peek his tongue out and touch it to that flawless skin, his fang trails along with him, a teasing caress.]
[Vil only gets a glimpse of that beautiful body before Cater's diving right back in and he gives a soft gasp at the mouth on his neck. Letting out a slow breath, he tilts his head away, hand coming up to thread through Cater's hair and and wind his fingers through the wavy locks.
What a ridiculous man. Waiting for the point where Vil sees that he isn't worth it. If only he could feel how strongly he desired him, craved him, and how complete and clear his world felt with him at his side, giving him those beautiful, shy, genuine smiles.]
[The way that Vil breathes, that slow exhale--a sound of such contentment and such want at the same time, it sends Cater's heart pounding, his skin starting to visibly flush in his own unabashed desire. He dare not leave a mark on Vil's skin--not without expressed permission, but that doesn't stop him from kissing him again and again, like he's absolutely starving for it.
Vil's fingers feel so perfect in his hair. If he were pulling or scratching, Cater's sure he would adore it just as much. Still, those soothing caresses are perfect. Just what he needs right now.]
Vil...
[The name comes out on a breath like Cater just can't help but utter it. Vil Schoenheit. It still feels like a dream that they're here. Like it was just yesterday they were children saying goodbye, and Cater thought he'd never see him again. Well, if it is all a dream, he intends to make the most of it. His warm, lightly-calloused hands work on removing Vil's outer layers as well, so they can admire each other in the same state of undress.]
[The lips on him are heavenly. In this moment, he feels so light, so warm, so desirable, so beautiful.
Yet, something in him falters, and as Cater moves to undress him, Vil pulls back, a conflicted look on his face. This gorgeous ginger was just sitting in front of him, giving himself over to Vil so easily...
Why does he feel so unbalanced? Why does he suddenly feel so exposed? He certainly has not an ounce of shame over his body...]
[Cater's hands leave Vil the second he hesitates. He took it too far, didn't he? He got the wrong impression, probably? Shit. His green eyes scan his boyfriend's face, trying to find a solution to a problem that he hasn't figured out yet. Trying not to panic about it or get ahead of himself.]
Sorry. Was I moving too fast?
[Immediately, Cater has the urge to touch Vil again, but differently--more reassuringly. To squeeze his hands and kiss his face and hold him close. But, no, he pulled away, needs physical space, clearly. It's always so unnerving to see Vil not looking...in control. He always seems like he knows exactly what to do all the time. If he isn't feeling confident, who in the world could be?]
[He's so sweet. Too sweet. Too good. It almost hurts.
Can Vil get the words to escape his mouth, past his throat? It's so strange, feeling like this. For the most part, he was genuinely confident. Maybe to a fault.
Yet Cater's gentleness and understanding... It makes him itch. Something crawls underneath his skin. He wants to push him away. He wants to tell him to get out, and never come back. He wants to protect him so badly from himself.]
Poisonous thoughts. [He manages to murmur out. He struggles with more. Everything in him wants to refuse all of this. He's fine, he's fine, what's he getting all worried about? Cater's happy, Vil's happy, so why is he tempting fate?
He clenches his eyes shut. A tremble runs through his hands.
[Cater's smile stumbles and falls from his face as he squeezes Vil's hands more tightly. Poisonous? He both does and doesn't know what Vil means by that--he has them himself, doesn't he? But somehow it feels different. Vil's demons are not his own.
But that doesn't mean he doesn't have them. Honestly, Cater's surprised that he's only seeing them now. He supposes that even with how practiced he is at hiding himself, his dark thoughts, Vil's profession would make it even easier for him to pretend to be fine when his whole world is sinking.]
I've been broken for a long time, Vil. All you've ever done is help me start to pick back up the pieces.
[He draws one of those hands to his mouth, kisses Vil's palm.]
We might get some cuts along the way...but those'll heal.
[A shiver runs down Cater's spine. He feels himself torn in two ways: on one hand, beautiful, talented, amazing, perfect Vil...looking at him like that, touching him like that...how could you not fall into a spell? If he offered him poison by his own making, Cater isn't so sure he wouldn't drink it.
But no. It's not Vil, not really. Just like Cater isn't Cay-Cay. Vil Schoenheit, the villain. The character that he plays because it's what everyone expects of him. It gets so easy to lean into that role.]
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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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Maybe he's done this before, but the emotions he feels now are so new to him it's like starting over from scratch. And Vil, always so confident in everything he does, helps keep him steady and on course. He sighs into his boyfriend's mouth, his skin warm and craving more of those delicate touches.]
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It feels right to have Cater relaxing underneath his touches, becoming pliant and willing. That's how he wants Cater to feel— that these hands are meant just for him, and that he's safe in their care.
With that first layer removed, he goes for the next, hands coming down to take the hem of the fabric. The kiss trails slightly when he breaks it before he moves to take that shirt off.
There will be nothing on his upper body after that, and Vil craves to see it.]
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He wants to be the one kissing Vil all over, so as soon as the top comes off over his head, Cater goes back in, lips at the blonde's neck. As he opens his mouth to peek his tongue out and touch it to that flawless skin, his fang trails along with him, a teasing caress.]
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What a ridiculous man. Waiting for the point where Vil sees that he isn't worth it. If only he could feel how strongly he desired him, craved him, and how complete and clear his world felt with him at his side, giving him those beautiful, shy, genuine smiles.]
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Vil's fingers feel so perfect in his hair. If he were pulling or scratching, Cater's sure he would adore it just as much. Still, those soothing caresses are perfect. Just what he needs right now.]
Vil...
[The name comes out on a breath like Cater just can't help but utter it. Vil Schoenheit. It still feels like a dream that they're here. Like it was just yesterday they were children saying goodbye, and Cater thought he'd never see him again. Well, if it is all a dream, he intends to make the most of it. His warm, lightly-calloused hands work on removing Vil's outer layers as well, so they can admire each other in the same state of undress.]
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Yet, something in him falters, and as Cater moves to undress him, Vil pulls back, a conflicted look on his face. This gorgeous ginger was just sitting in front of him, giving himself over to Vil so easily...
Why does he feel so unbalanced? Why does he suddenly feel so exposed? He certainly has not an ounce of shame over his body...]
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Sorry. Was I moving too fast?
[Immediately, Cater has the urge to touch Vil again, but differently--more reassuringly. To squeeze his hands and kiss his face and hold him close. But, no, he pulled away, needs physical space, clearly. It's always so unnerving to see Vil not looking...in control. He always seems like he knows exactly what to do all the time. If he isn't feeling confident, who in the world could be?]
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No... no, you're perfect.
[He leans forward, touching their foreheads together. The implication is obvious, isn't it? He's the problem.
Nevertheless, his hand comes up to caress Cater's cheek. To comfort him.]
I'm sorry.
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Hey.
[He reaches for Vil's hands, putting his own over them and slowly curling his fingers over those slender, far more soft ones.]
You don't have anything to be sorry for. I'm right here with you every step of this thing--we're figuring it all out together, right?
[Not so much the sex as intimacy in general, both of them so inexperienced in a myriad of ways.]
Seven know I nearly lost my mind a few minutes ago, and you haven't gone anywhere. So...my turn, now. Tell me what you're thinking?
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Can Vil get the words to escape his mouth, past his throat? It's so strange, feeling like this. For the most part, he was genuinely confident. Maybe to a fault.
Yet Cater's gentleness and understanding... It makes him itch. Something crawls underneath his skin. He wants to push him away. He wants to tell him to get out, and never come back. He wants to protect him so badly from himself.]
Poisonous thoughts. [He manages to murmur out. He struggles with more. Everything in him wants to refuse all of this. He's fine, he's fine, what's he getting all worried about? Cater's happy, Vil's happy, so why is he tempting fate?
He clenches his eyes shut. A tremble runs through his hands.
He whispers out:]
I'll break you, Cater.
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But that doesn't mean he doesn't have them. Honestly, Cater's surprised that he's only seeing them now. He supposes that even with how practiced he is at hiding himself, his dark thoughts, Vil's profession would make it even easier for him to pretend to be fine when his whole world is sinking.]
I've been broken for a long time, Vil. All you've ever done is help me start to pick back up the pieces.
[He draws one of those hands to his mouth, kisses Vil's palm.]
We might get some cuts along the way...but those'll heal.
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It is not a soft smile, or a happy smile or anything of the sort. There's a certain sharp coldness to it.]
They will, will they?
Sweet Cater. There is a reason I'm always cast as the villain.
[His fingers trace over his lips.]
And you're coming dangerously close to finding out why.
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But no. It's not Vil, not really. Just like Cater isn't Cay-Cay. Vil Schoenheit, the villain. The character that he plays because it's what everyone expects of him. It gets so easy to lean into that role.]
I know you better than that.
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