[He hates itâinstantaneously, those bespectacled widened eyes focused on him, staring him through. And his own fury trips into doubt; he could be imagining it, the truth mirroring itself in Miyuki, but not really existing there; but if he knows, Alois has got to backpedal, to cover it up.
There's no time to figure out how to assuage his imagined worries, to convince him that he's a normal, sound boy, even with his attraction to men, because in less time than he'll ever be prepared for the collar is robbing the other boy of his own oxygen. Alois is only in the process of meaning to go to him, heading to end of bed, not quite lowered but bending at knees, but it's over already: Miyuki's recovering. The younger one hesitates, wondering if he ought to commit, still leave the bed despite his uselessness.
Miyuki stands, and Alois still hesitates, until the second or third step, when he realizes his pace is swiftly increasing. It's then that he's standing again, backing where the head of the bed meets the wall, plans of dropping off one of the upper corners, but Miyuki is quicker than he anticipates, and has his arms, and Alois is giving him one word after the other which are only getting lost in the air between them. Or this seems to be the case, because the older boy is unresponsive.
As he pulls him down where needs him, Alois apologizes, says let's try the first way, apologizes, and apologizes, asks him to not be angry, it's not like this, and he's sorry, sorry, sorry. He tries to twist arms free with the shaky hope of grabbing Miyuki's hands back to move them aside. And before he knows it, his legs are trapped under the other captive'sâwhose very own self is also trapped in his private wayâand his little heart is a canary throwing its feathers and circling the cage of his ribs, under the pressure of Miyuki's arm to keep him still.
He does fight at first; and does it look like a show, considering everything? He's sincere, he's afraid. His legs cannot move, but his lower body still tries to lift, and he grapples with Miyuki's arm, trying to shove, trying to pull. He says, over and over, he'll try it like the first time. But Miyuki's already rubbing, then pumping his hand around him, and it starts painful and he's trembling, but there's no room for Claude, for a certainty in neglect, for abusing himself when mind and nerves have come together to reason out the the intensity of sensation.
Little by a little, steadily, what Miyuki set out to accomplish happens. The signs of it begin with guilt of himself, his anxiousness, his pleading first being concealed by thin arms giving up their struggle to cross over his own visage when the youth beneath him feels himself pulse excitedly within Miyuki's hard and hopeless fingers. A calm overtaking him, the rigidity in his formerly resisting self melting away. All but small, gently panting mouth is left masked, and he shivers under him, warm blood flooding through him to awaken his arousal completely.]
no subject
There's no time to figure out how to assuage his imagined worries, to convince him that he's a normal, sound boy, even with his attraction to men, because in less time than he'll ever be prepared for the collar is robbing the other boy of his own oxygen. Alois is only in the process of meaning to go to him, heading to end of bed, not quite lowered but bending at knees, but it's over already: Miyuki's recovering. The younger one hesitates, wondering if he ought to commit, still leave the bed despite his uselessness.
Miyuki stands, and Alois still hesitates, until the second or third step, when he realizes his pace is swiftly increasing. It's then that he's standing again, backing where the head of the bed meets the wall, plans of dropping off one of the upper corners, but Miyuki is quicker than he anticipates, and has his arms, and Alois is giving him one word after the other which are only getting lost in the air between them. Or this seems to be the case, because the older boy is unresponsive.
As he pulls him down where needs him, Alois apologizes, says let's try the first way, apologizes, and apologizes, asks him to not be angry, it's not like this, and he's sorry, sorry, sorry. He tries to twist arms free with the shaky hope of grabbing Miyuki's hands back to move them aside. And before he knows it, his legs are trapped under the other captive'sâwhose very own self is also trapped in his private wayâand his little heart is a canary throwing its feathers and circling the cage of his ribs, under the pressure of Miyuki's arm to keep him still.
He does fight at first; and does it look like a show, considering everything? He's sincere, he's afraid. His legs cannot move, but his lower body still tries to lift, and he grapples with Miyuki's arm, trying to shove, trying to pull. He says, over and over, he'll try it like the first time. But Miyuki's already rubbing, then pumping his hand around him, and it starts painful and he's trembling, but there's no room for Claude, for a certainty in neglect, for abusing himself when mind and nerves have come together to reason out the the intensity of sensation.
Little by a little, steadily, what Miyuki set out to accomplish happens. The signs of it begin with guilt of himself, his anxiousness, his pleading first being concealed by thin arms giving up their struggle to cross over his own visage when the youth beneath him feels himself pulse excitedly within Miyuki's hard and hopeless fingers. A calm overtaking him, the rigidity in his formerly resisting self melting away. All but small, gently panting mouth is left masked, and he shivers under him, warm blood flooding through him to awaken his arousal completely.]