Midoriya's teeth clack when Kaworu bumps him, but he only blinks mildly in surprise. He lets out a quick sigh of relief that breaks into a fond smile. Does Kaworu think he will be neglected? But Midoriya knows old phantoms don't have to make sense. Then Midoriya has to wonder just how much attention Kaworu wants, how much he can take, and what happens if that cup overflows. It feels like the kind of challenge he can't back down from, but one that may take more exploration than just one morning's fumblings.
He drags his hand out of Paul's hair and slips it under the curve of his back to catch the one rising against him. He's not sure what to do until Paul tangles his leg closer (and onto one of Kaworu's). It elicits a familiar response: Well-schooled in holding someone in another context, he clutches him bodily, traps Paul's leg with his thighs, and bears down with his weight. If Paul moves anything but his arms now, he will be met with a warm, firm pressure. It's--more electric than Midoriya anticipated, and the weave in his body tenses.
Kaworu's hip is jabbing more than it should, and a pained noise stumbles out from the back of his throat. He pulls up the hem of his shirt to discover (remember) a fist-sized bruise on his stomach from the previous night. He cracks an amused, hard-edged smile. He finds his focus again with a calm that uses his thundering heart instead of fighting it.
He buries his face into Kaworu's thin jaw. He kisses along it to the pink shell of his ear, into which he confesses,
"You both feel so nice." His breath is clumsy, but his hand knows where the nape of Kaworu's neck is, where to follow it into his spine, one shoulder blade, the side of his hip. He slides his hand up under his shirt and memorizes these shapes again more clearly.
no subject
He drags his hand out of Paul's hair and slips it under the curve of his back to catch the one rising against him. He's not sure what to do until Paul tangles his leg closer (and onto one of Kaworu's). It elicits a familiar response: Well-schooled in holding someone in another context, he clutches him bodily, traps Paul's leg with his thighs, and bears down with his weight. If Paul moves anything but his arms now, he will be met with a warm, firm pressure. It's--more electric than Midoriya anticipated, and the weave in his body tenses.
Kaworu's hip is jabbing more than it should, and a pained noise stumbles out from the back of his throat. He pulls up the hem of his shirt to discover (remember) a fist-sized bruise on his stomach from the previous night. He cracks an amused, hard-edged smile. He finds his focus again with a calm that uses his thundering heart instead of fighting it.
He buries his face into Kaworu's thin jaw. He kisses along it to the pink shell of his ear, into which he confesses,
"You both feel so nice." His breath is clumsy, but his hand knows where the nape of Kaworu's neck is, where to follow it into his spine, one shoulder blade, the side of his hip. He slides his hand up under his shirt and memorizes these shapes again more clearly.