promuseboxing | Misaki - Mikelo - Fushimi shenaniganry

[While the hospital may not be Mikelo's number one place to be (his to-go place when bored is more lively. Like a night club.), it's made up for the fact that he's with Fushimi. The air about the hospital doesn't bother him too much, at least.

The ever-present scent of blood leaves his normally hazel eyes a rich, brilliant crimson. A bit of a grin tugs at the corner of his lips as Mikelo slips one hand up and around his neck, fingers curling into his hair. He playfully nips at one of Fushimi's fingers, then pulls himself up against him to (try) steal a kiss. ]

I want to please you. . .

[The reply light, but eager. He nips at Fushimi's lower lip this time, hoping to break skin.]

And to be pleased by you.

You please me. [ Fushimi grips his jaw, not so gently as he pushes his head back and presses their noses together. At this proximity, the flawlessness of Mikelo's beauty surpasses his own expectations, and he wonders what it would feel like to reach inside and possess it.

A smirk, and he tilts his head, demonstrating how to bite and draw blood. He lets it well up until it heals. ]

I want - [ Murmured under his breath, Fushimi nips the same spot again and drags his tongue across Mikelo's lip. ] - to taste you.

[For the moment, the force only amuses Mikelo, and it shows upon his expression. The way Fushimi reacts is alluring with every word, even movement he executes.

Mikelo's other hand lifts to grasp at the hem of his shirt, tugging him closer, still.]

Then, please. Please do.

[He copies what was demonstrated, only on his own lip.]

As much as Fushimi-sama would like.

[ He considers ignoring his invitation and leaving him completely unsatisfied. Sometimes, it's much more fun for him to tease Mikelo in that way, but he's feeling too generous this night to be predictable. Fushimi smirks, stepping in so that there's no space between them now, and he braces an arm above Mikelo's head, trapping him in close. ]

Don't be greedy. [ He kisses him once, a light and almost gentle press of lips. ] Keep still, Mikelo. If you move, I'll stop.

[ A wicked curve to his mouth, a flash of fang, and he turns his head to scrape his teeth along his throat, tongue licking a path along the jugular and nuzzling. Fushimi takes a slow breath, kissing the skin once before biting into him. ]

[Even while so chaste, Mikelo takes as much as he can from the single kiss. Far too often has it been the only thing Fushimi leaves him with, playing on his desires only to leave him balanced on the edge. The demand is taunting, and Mikelo is near-desperate to be at his very best to oblige. It may very well be the thing to get him more.

He can't not be greedy, now.

The back of his head meets the wall with the way Fushimi presses forward. Reddened gaze growing heavy, it's the only movement Mikelo will allow himself when he feels the heat of Fushimi's breath, and the burn of razor-sharp fangs as they practically melt into him.

Even his breathing comes off light; an attempt at control that isn't exactly perfect, seeing how there's still a bit of a moan that sounds, purred through his thoughts alone. ]

[ His blood is both savory and sweet, warm as it slides across his lips and down his throat. Fushimi doesn't suck, letting it flow of its own accord and wanting to see how far he can push him until he relents. Mikelo isn't too terribly good with the rules he sets during these little games, and he smirks, drawing back.

A slow lick at the corner of his mouth, and the grin he gives him is stained red. ]

Do you want more? [ Leaning forward, he nips into the flesh of the other boy's mouth. Lets him taste his own blood as he kisses him. ] Mi-ke-lo.

[ Fushimi then steps up against him, hands sliding between them to work at the button of his jeans to get them open. A quick second, and he's tugging the zipper down. ]

[There's a prickling chill along his skin, a shiver that shoots through to his fingertips and down to his toes.

Truly, how can he not move just a little? Surely Fushimi can be a little less spartan here and there, right?

Regardless, Mikelo can't help himself when Fushimi kisses him again. The taste of his own blood both amuses, even thrills him, and he hungrily returns the gesture for as much as he's able to.]

More.

[Mikelo repeats. Both arms are kept flat against the wall, hands spread wide as he restrains himself from moving too much. Yet still, fingers and nails (more claw-like than not) scratch and dig at the concrete and tiles beneath.]

Please. . . more.

[Even Mikelo's thoughts seem breathy; restricted, despite the fire crackling through his veins. The desire to press back, kiss back; to bite into Fushimi, as well, or maybe even just to get at his clothing in turn.]

[ He expected that answer. There's a quiet chuckle, biting rudely at his tongue for being so insistent without the proper permission, and Fushimi tilts his head to the side, rubbing his nose along the curve of his jaw to his ear. He nicks at the lobe with the tip of his fang, tongue flicking to taste the blood there as his hand slips inside his pants to press hard against him. ]

I don't think you deserve it.

[ Slowly, Fushimi rubs like this, lips tracing a path down the side of his neck and returning to the spot already healing closed. He purposely breathes along his skin. ]

Tch. You're so disobedient. [ He molds his fingers to the shape of Mikelo's cock, stroking oh so lightly. ] If you behaved, I might consider using my mouth rather than my hand.

[While just able to hold back a hiss of momentary discomfort, there's no stopping the shiver, once more.

Mikelo's hands briefly tremble as he wills himself to remain more still than he had been moments earlier. Despite his defiance, he certainly knows how Fushimi is. If he keeps it up, there really is no saying how the other might leave him.]

Forgive me, Fushimi-sama.

[Quickly uttered; maybe even polite (or just desperate). He slowly, carefully releases a deep exhale, hoping it won't change Fushimi's decisions. His pulse races with each second passed. It's pleasing to listen to Fushimi's as well, bringing upon a curiosity in Mikelo of when his may pick up as well.

The temptation and desire to move still runs thick as Fushimi has his way, and Mikelo bites down on the edge of his tongue to continue the resistance. Arousal was present from practically the beginning, and the purposefully gentle touch makes it all the more challenging.

Another careful breath. Mikelo's eyes flutter shut to further let himself focus, and for a moment he's grateful how easy it is for him to slip deeper into his own thoughts. The idea and mental image of Fushimi using his mouth is all the more arousing.

Of course, more than that is something he's hoping for.]

Misaki - Mikelo - Fushimi shenaniganry

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