( makoto’s senses are not nearly so sharp, barely anything about his body at all different from how it had been when he was fully human. he supposes he can identify kazuya’s taste by what’s absent, remembered from other demons that he has kissed: no coppery taste of blood, no sharp stain of wine or half-moldered richness of a meal eaten recently, no acridity or odd burning almost akin to spice (the demons he’s accustomed to ranged wildly in shape and size, and others as human as even J had appeared were very rare). it’s as he thinks of this that he realizes just how different this experience feels to all the dozens (hundreds?) of others he had gotten to by this point—barring fjord, whose own experience far outstripped his young (even for a demon) age, and robin (who he’s pretty sure is a vampire and has no idea what his actual age is), makoto has never been with another teenager before. predisposed to dealing with size and height disparity, monstrous and inhuman frames, weight and bulk that his scrawny body in sharp contrast, he would have to say it feels—nice. simpler, easier. the simple pleasure of not feeling as though you would have to contort yourself mentally or physically to fit another’s desires.
in being former humans made into demons, there is both a fierce-burning brand of similarity between them—and an ocean which separates their actual, lived experiences. but it’s enough. it’s enough to enkindle a powerful magnetism in him, something deep and innate that draws him inexorably towards kazuya. the other young demon’s teeth sharpen as that nature swims closer to the surface; the sharp pinch and small lance of pain that shoots from his caught lip causes makoto to break their kiss for just a moment with a gasp. he had been honest when he said he preferred to be the one to do the biting—being bitten by another demon, even one who would likely have been ranked as a distant superior, causes something indignant to arch its back and bristle within him. for now, he muzzles it, eyes opening to fix kazuya in a fierce stare. he doesn’t blink as he slowly licks over the welt, like how a big cat might swipe blood from its lips; it hadn’t been enough to break the skin, but it had been close.
a shiver runs down his spine. he does his best to regulate his breathing so that it doesn’t run away from him.
his hands shift to kazuya’s shoulders as he steps up onto the bed once space enough is made for him; he ends up kneeling on the mattress in-between his legs, sitting back on his heels. at the question, he leans ever-so-slightly into the hand at his cheek. )
…I feel like I should be the one telling you that. Though, ( a brief pause, and he almost looks sheepish—as if ashamed?—here, ) you might need to… ( he lifts one hand from kazuya’s shoulder to gently thump down against it, once, twice, three times, ) …just to make sure I hear you.
( he is well aware that he can get carried away.
a little bit like right now. his fingers tighten on kazuya’s shoulders—he leans forward suddenly, up from where he had been resting back on his haunches, leveraging his (admittedly negligible) weight to press the other young man against the wall that was a short distance behind him. he closes the distance to capture his mouth in a shallow, yet sultry, kiss, seeming like he might break early from it before he catches kazuya’s lower lip in-between his teeth. it isn’t a nip; there’s full intention, a few long heartbeats where there is only the catch, possessive and without pressure, before he slowly begins to bite down. he doesn’t aim on breaking skin here—he doesn’t want to travel so quickly, not trusting himself as much once the taste of blood begins to cloud his mind. no, as much as his own desires would have him bite down fully, to rip and rend, to greedily swallow down whatever he could tear away—he focuses instead on this exploration, seeing how kazuya might react. )
no subject
in being former humans made into demons, there is both a fierce-burning brand of similarity between them—and an ocean which separates their actual, lived experiences. but it’s enough. it’s enough to enkindle a powerful magnetism in him, something deep and innate that draws him inexorably towards kazuya. the other young demon’s teeth sharpen as that nature swims closer to the surface; the sharp pinch and small lance of pain that shoots from his caught lip causes makoto to break their kiss for just a moment with a gasp. he had been honest when he said he preferred to be the one to do the biting—being bitten by another demon, even one who would likely have been ranked as a distant superior, causes something indignant to arch its back and bristle within him. for now, he muzzles it, eyes opening to fix kazuya in a fierce stare. he doesn’t blink as he slowly licks over the welt, like how a big cat might swipe blood from its lips; it hadn’t been enough to break the skin, but it had been close.
a shiver runs down his spine. he does his best to regulate his breathing so that it doesn’t run away from him.
his hands shift to kazuya’s shoulders as he steps up onto the bed once space enough is made for him; he ends up kneeling on the mattress in-between his legs, sitting back on his heels. at the question, he leans ever-so-slightly into the hand at his cheek. )
…I feel like I should be the one telling you that. Though, ( a brief pause, and he almost looks sheepish—as if ashamed?—here, ) you might need to… ( he lifts one hand from kazuya’s shoulder to gently thump down against it, once, twice, three times, ) …just to make sure I hear you.
( he is well aware that he can get carried away.
a little bit like right now. his fingers tighten on kazuya’s shoulders—he leans forward suddenly, up from where he had been resting back on his haunches, leveraging his (admittedly negligible) weight to press the other young man against the wall that was a short distance behind him. he closes the distance to capture his mouth in a shallow, yet sultry, kiss, seeming like he might break early from it before he catches kazuya’s lower lip in-between his teeth. it isn’t a nip; there’s full intention, a few long heartbeats where there is only the catch, possessive and without pressure, before he slowly begins to bite down. he doesn’t aim on breaking skin here—he doesn’t want to travel so quickly, not trusting himself as much once the taste of blood begins to cloud his mind. no, as much as his own desires would have him bite down fully, to rip and rend, to greedily swallow down whatever he could tear away—he focuses instead on this exploration, seeing how kazuya might react. )