'cause you're my king and I'm your lionheart

[selfie_centered]

♦️🌹

and in the sea that's painted black
creatures lurk below the deck
but you're a queen and I'm a lionheart

CODE

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[crimsontyrant]

[ The positioning, the quiet moment between the two of them. His eyes lock with Cater's fingers curling slightly against his shoulders, against the fabric of his sweater.

While thinking about what to say, how to reply, he finds that he's once again at a loss for words. Had the mood again shifted, and he hadn't noticed?

Or was his mind playing tricks on him?

He moves, leaning down, until their faces are oh so close again. ]

Do I get a reward, too?

[ His tone is quiet, careful. As if trying to stay collected. ]

[selfie_centered]

That is what happens when someone wins, huh?

[Cater lifts his arms to drape around Riddle's shoulders as Riddle had done to him before, tilting his head to the side almost imploringly.

it's a lot, to be in a situation like this with Riddle in particular. flirting and playing with other boys isn't so risky— not just because there aren't feelings at play. but he just can't imagine Riddle being truly ready for that, isn't sure it isn't Riddle trying to play by Cater's rules.

Riddle is so very close. and it was his own idea earlier, but...

Mr. No-Straight-Answers and his hypocritical self asks a rather straightforward question.]

What kind of reward do you want?

[crimsontyrant]

[ What... kind of reward did he want?

He can feel his face burning, getting a deeper flush by the minute. His lips part, as if to respond.

The words don't come out. They can't. He can't say them. What he wants, what he really truly wants, is out of the question. Can Cater feel the heat radiating off of his face? The way his fingers grasp a little harder onto his shirt?

He can't suggest that.
Even suggesting a kiss would be too far, too much for him to say out loud.

So instead? He tries to focus, tries to come up with any words, at all. ]

A reward of... a similar kind.

[ Is the answer he settles on. And... ]

I want to feel like I did that night. Just the two of us. Where I couldn't think even if I wanted to.

[selfie_centered]

[what is
happening?

things really had changed, hadn't they? those words are as terrifying as they are alluring, but there's something else, too. Cater can tell how tough this is for Riddle. it must be.... so difficult, to reach out for affection or care. Riddle is becoming a man just the same way most of them are. Cater knows how to get his needs met, whether it has to be through trickery or settling. Riddle doesn't have opportunities like that.

and Riddle trusts him. Cater. him. it can't be wrong to want to just help the little guy out, right? nothing shameful about that.

there's no breaking the rules when both parties involved are pleased to be what they're doing. and seven, does Cater know how blissful it is not to think. who could blame Riddle for wanting to be stupid again?

Cater gently tugs Riddle closer, leaning in to murmur before he kisses him;]

If that's what you want, then...

Yes, your majesty.

[crimsontyrant]

[ There was no being careful about this. No taking a step back and thinking about the consequences. All there was were the impulses, the desires, the need to feel cared for. To be adored and loved, even if it was all just pretend.

Pretending, with someone so dear to him, who he doesn't even know how to define the relationship they had.

Does it matter?

Riddle, atop of Cater, is easy to pull closer, his forearms settling against Cater's form as he's pulled closer.

He returns the kiss, with a nervousness that's telling: he doesn't know if this is okay, or if he should stop. Cater would have surely said something if he didn't want this, but what is the proper order for these things? Should they go out for tea, have a meal together, walk in the park? There's no time to think.

Especially when he said he doesn't want to think right this second.

Finally, he kisses back with more energy, a little more passion than the last. Getting the hang of the way he enjoyed moving his own lips, the way he liked to tilt his head just right. All of it was beginning to come to him, intuitively. ]

listen i need to make mroe icons eventually but for now

[selfie_centered]

[the lucky thing about kissing is that generally, what feels uncomfortable is easy to move away from. there's only so much Riddle can do wrong, when the right spirit is behind it. effort counts for a lot when it's someone you want to kiss.

it's Cater's turn to get his hand into some fire-red locks of hair, his other hand finding purchase in the fabric on the back of Riddle's shirt. he doesn't want to think either, and so he doesn't, instead letting himself sigh into their kiss as though it's a relief, like there's some weight he's been holding on to. hungry as he is for affection, for validation, he can't help it, no matter how much he reasons that it's all to sate Riddle's starvation instead.

it's such a shame that people have to breathe, really, because Cater doesn't want to pull away.]

[crimsontyrant]

[ Oh. Oh. The hand in his hair, against his back -- it's perfect. Riddle wants to feel more of that, to enjoy more of his touch, to touch him in return, but he's still so... shy. Unsure, what's okay and what would be crossing a line.

But all he can think about, the only thought that shoves its way forward, is the way his chest burns, with the need for oxygen. He breaks the kiss. Doesn't pull back really at all, as he opens his eyes partway to look down at Cater, breathless and unable to think of what to say.

So he doesn't say a thing for a moment, thinking it through, before finally asking: ]

Is this really okay?

[ Before Cater can respond, he presses another quick little kiss against his lips, his eyes searching for some sort of reassurance. He might be breathless and a little mervous, but he can't get enough. He presses another little kiss against him, this time smaller, against the corner of his mouth, giving him room to reply. ]

For us... to be doing things like this.

[selfie_centered]

[...okay. feelings aside, nerves aside, it's starting to sound like this is something Riddle should actually... talk about. talking is terrifying and all, but Cater's not sure if it's his own nerves he's reading or Riddle's. no, he's certain there have to be nerves from Riddle here, now that he's back to thinking.

so Cater doesn't pull away, but he does try to get a better look into Riddle's eyes, bringing his hands to the back of Riddle's neck. not quite firm or anything, but not really letting Riddle look away, either.]

Are you okay with this?

[he adds, trying to keep it playful;]

Not like it's against any rules.

[— but as he jokes, he realizes... wait.

is it against any of Riddle's rules?





is Riddle trying to break rules with Cater?]

[crimsontyrant]

[ Cater's hold is soft; comforting. Those hands on the back of his neck, keeping him from looking away completely. While somewhat making it difficult to be seriously focused, it helps him look into Cater's eyes, to confront this head on.

He swallows, pushing himself to sit up slightly, but not moving hard enough that it would break their connection. ]

I...

[ How was he supposed to say this?!? His heart is pounding -- this time from nerves of a whole other kind, rather than the ones that were all the more fun.

His bottom lip shakes, just a little. ]

I want to

...but we aren't supposed to do anything like this in the dorms. And-- and... It does not fit with what I'm supposed to be doing. School, this college - it's for learning not...

[ But he wants to. Desperately, he wants to break some little rule, open up in some small way, one that's easy to conceal as another secret with Cater.

The underlying problem is, then, not that Riddle isn't interested, doesn't want to explore anything past a kiss.

Lowering his voice, to almost a whisper, he continues, ]

I want to be adored. Kissed, held. To be stupid with you.
Is that really okay?

[selfie_centered]

[Cater has an answer all planned out. he's certain it'll be the right one, that he'll put Riddle right on the right track— about how it's okay to learn about yourself at school, probably, just a real Afternoon Special vibe— but he loses the thought as soon as Riddle nearly whispers.

You really feel that way? is one of the first thoughts that occurs to him. but he remembers Riddle's answer from before.

That, and more.

oh no.

what happened? what is he done? what is he doing? he can't even accept the idea that backing out is good for both of them.

riddle wants to be adored. he deserves to be adored. it isn't fair that he isn't adored by the person who should treasure him most. Cater may be lonely, but he doesn't live in fear of his own mother.

besides. Cater already adores Riddle. that much has to be okay, because it's happening regardless.

Cater's brows knit together and he looks at Riddle like he's sad, because it is sad. It's sad that Riddle would have to ask anyone for permission to even try. but the smile under those brows is still present, and attempt at being comforting. the finger twirling a lock of Riddle's hair around it is supposed to be comforting too, though perhaps not to Riddle.]

Hey, yeah,

[he tries to be reassuring, even if he isn't terribly confident himself. because—]

It's okay.

We're not hurting anyone, right?

[crimsontyrant]

[ The two of them were so complicated. More than complicated, even. To understand them would be a feat in itself - so what were they to do, when they both didn't know what to say?

When he could throw Cater's planned words into the garbage disposal with a few words of his own, a few that he never would admit aloud if he wasn't safe like this.

Okay-- this was okay.
Even if it wasn't something his mother would approve of, he's done plenty that she wouldn't approve of during his time here. Seven, even just eating the sweets that Trey prepares would be enough to throw her for a loop.

Plus.
This could just be another secret of theirs. It would be, inevitably. Especially if-- ]

Okay.

[ He nods, a soft nod against those hands that hold him. ]

We're not. It's just us.

[ Bringing his hand up, he carefully presses his thumb against Cater's cheek, brushing it along his skin. ]

So show me a damn good time. [ Doesn't even matter WHAT they do. ]

[selfie_centered]

[what?

was Cater supposed to be thinking? was he supposed to be anxious, or something? for a second there isn't room for that— not that he'd hear his thoughts over his own heartbeat flooding his ears, or past the overwhelm of the heat rising through the all of him.

Riddle's supposed to be his innocent little sheltered underclassman— so where does he get off, sounding like that?!

Cater swallows, his throat dry all of a sudden, and nods, slow and dumb. anything he could say sounds so— stupid, or too horny, or— just, not right, but he has to say something.]

Okay.

[twisted wonderland to Cater: queenie-pie's giving an order, honey! if Riddle's asking for a good time, then Cater's got to give it to him! he slides his hands down from Riddle's neck, down to grab the lapel of his shirt, tugging gently.

in a murmur, as if to assure Riddle they won't get caught, Cater instructs;]

Kiss me again, and I will.

[crimsontyrant]

[ There's a power that Riddle holds over Cater. Yes, the obvious power that comes with being his Housewarden, but it's something else. Something that made him so perfect to fit the role of the King.

Not that Riddle would vocalize this. Not in this moment; maybe not ever.

The obvious can stay obvious, and they never need to talk about it.

Here, they come to an important fork in the road. Riddle has two choices: kiss Cater and accept his own decision, or pull back from him, back down and decide he isn't ready for any of this.



He does kiss him. It's quick, hurried, as if he's afraid they'll be caught just from a simple touch of their lips. Can Cater feel the desperation in his kiss? As if they hadn't spent minutes on that conversation, as if they'd just continued to make out and he'd gotten worked up from that - no, he's trying to push past that, to spark back that energy they'd had.

It still holds that same Rosehearts sweetness, for sure. The tenderness of a boy who just wanted to love and be loved, without needing to ask.

Well, Cater? Your move. ]

[selfie_centered]

[fine. good. that's permission, isn't it? permission to return that desperation, permission to grip that collar harder. with a soft hum Cater tilts his head, just as eager to find that place they left off, no matter how awkward the way there might be. one hand lets go of Riddle's shirt only to cup Riddle's cheek, as if Cater does worry Riddle might run away. or maybe he's just glad he's where he is, under Riddle, holding on to him like a lifeline, so that he can't be the one to chicken out.

he fidgets with his legs, trying to find the right position for now, to get Riddle straddled right where he needs him to be. if Riddle wants to be loved, maybe he'll feel it in the shudder of Cater's breath, in the way his hand almost seems to tremble, the way he kisses Riddle like someone almost just as starving as Riddle is. as if getting to take in Riddle for himself is this overwhelming relief.]

[crimsontyrant]

[ Desperation thick in the air, Riddle can't help but squirm atop Cater, eager and needier than he could've ever imagined himself being. He tilts his own head, deepens the kiss, all while finally moving his hands from Cater's shoulders. Pushing at that sweater of his, as his own lips part, begging for something even more. To get to the point, the line, that they hadn't dared to cross before.

Riddle moves his body as needed. Shifts his hips to straddle Cater just right, to press them up against each other.

Similarities can be seen, between the way Riddle is moving, kissing him, and pushing them forward, in the same way he might do if he was dehydrated, desperate for a single sip of water. As if this was something he needed not only for fun, but for survival.

Without a second thought, he squirms atop him, grinding down on him in a demanding, impatient way that only Riddle Rosehearts could muster. ]

[selfie_centered]

[it's not like Cater minds moving fast. it doesn't matter, not to him, not when he's always chasing a feeling. it's just so unexpected. he didn't know that Riddle could be as thirsty as he is. especially not for him.

asking why over and over would only get in the way. instead Cater focuses on now, losing himself in this moment, in this secret. Riddle grinds against him and Cater gasps against his lips, pushing a heel down into the mattress to help contain himself. he grips at Riddle's shoulder as if for stability, but quickly decides that instead, he must, must get his hands on Riddle's skin. his fingers travel down that collar to a button, a second— and that's enough for now, at least, to slip one hand beneath satin, for his palm to cup the curve of Riddle's shoulder. he's been wanting to touch Riddle since that night, and this, too, is relief.

his body is much more honest than he is, and Cater answers the movement of Riddle's hips with an upward pitch, encouraging. loose, cozy lounge pants like he's wearing do little to hide how responsive Cater is to Riddle's desire, to being wanted, to that want coming from someone he can't stop himself from wanting back.]

[crimsontyrant]

[ Cater's so pathetic, in a way that's so so very lovely. Riddle can't say he isn't just as pathetic and needy in this moment, but hey. Let him point it out in someone else instead of owning up to it himself.

Skin on skin, several buttons of his shirt undone, the cold air snaking in to make him shudder under it, alongside the little shiver that Cater's touch elicits. It's new, after all. To be touched, felt up, even for something as simple as cupping his shoulder.

Riddle continues to roll his hips down against Cater's, his own arousal clear as day as he works them both up. Cater can feel it, right? How much he wants him?

He needs to break that kiss, to breathe-- and he does so. For a second. Then? He's diving right back in, his own trembling hands trailing down along Cater's chest and stomach, tracing the shape of him through that tee. ]

[selfie_centered]

[it really is obvious, isn't it? undeniable, even. Cater and Riddle want the same thing from each other, right now.

so if Riddle is going to be so forward as to touch him like this, after Cater's hardly had time to catch his breath— then Cater will get a bit more selfish, too. As Riddle's hands trail down to his stomach, Cater's hands open those last few buttons of Riddle's, until his shirt hangs open over his small frame.

there. that's enough room to get his hands on Riddle's collar, on his chest. to learn just how he feels beneath his fingers, all the while trying not to whine at the needy heat building between them.]

[crimsontyrant]

[ Another gasp is let out against Cater's lips, as those roaming hands get more selfish, more pointed. He feels like every touch makes his skin burn a little more, his heart race a little faster.

Okay, as much as he wants to keep kissing him, he has to pull back. It's overwhelming, intoxicating. Upon breaking the kiss, he can be heard panting quietly, squirming still atop Cater, almost as if he's unsure how to go to the next step. His fingers do end up trailing under his shirt, pausing right as his fingertips brush against his skin. ]

Cater...

[ Riddle whines out his name, soft as could be.

Once he's more used to this heat, this neediness that overtakes him, he might fall into it easier. To demand what he wants, when he wants it.

For now? For now he's at Cater's mercy. ]

Take off your shirt.

[ ... For the most part. ]

[selfie_centered]

[for someone who struggles so much with his identity, Cater is being reminded he so does love having a name in this moment. it sounds so perfect in Riddle's breath. at first Cater just nods, catching his breath, catching up— and then, despite the necessary squirming, almost hurries to pull his shirt and sweater off at once. his arm gets stuck in the sweater hole and he shakes it off, the pile of shirt and sweater slapping unceremoniously onto the floor.

very cool very collected very sexy. fuck. whatever!

it's fine. once Cater's hands are free, he's back to trying to get Riddle's off as well, sitting up enough to kiss at Riddle's jaw while he flips the collar of that shirt back off Riddle's shoulders, down his arms.]

[crimsontyrant]

[ Cater's lucky that Riddle doesn't laugh at his struggle. Sure, he lets out a small huff of a breath, but that's clearly him focusing on breathing! Not teasing Cater or making fun of him or laughing at him! No, he's too focused on the heat rushing through him to actually care how sexy or unsexy something is.

Besides. The shirt is off.

It's hard to contain any other noises when Cater begins to give him more attention. The kisses make him gasp, whine, tilt his head into them. The touch? Oh, he's moving his body with Cater, helping him get that shirt off of him.

FOCUS, Rosehearts.

He presses his hands back down against him, this time full palm against his skin, fingers splayed, his touch gentle, yet sure, tracing the curve of his waist down to his hips. Admiring him, with his hands and his eyes. ]

That-- feels good.

[ How daring is Cater feeling? What is he going to do next? Riddle can only guess, grasping at straws. ]

[selfie_centered]

[Cater hums against Riddle's skin, pleased with the reassurance. but he knows the positivity-based reinforcement is necessary both ways, and he speaks against Riddle's skin as his hands settle on Riddle's waist, his thumbs rubbing above Riddle's hip bones.]

Does it~?

Good,

[it would be stupid, stupid to leave marks on his queen, so Cater ignores the impulse to do more than he should. but he does let his teeth graze Riddle's neck, quickly followed by another and another kiss. he lets Riddle examine him, leaning a little into the touch. if it's just his body, then Cater isn't so terrified for Riddle to learn more and more and more about him.

he flips one of his hands, still at Riddle's waist, so that his forefinger can tuck under the waistband, circling around to the front and then back to the side teasingly, temptingly. surely Riddle will stop him if he doesn't want to let Cater's hands wander more— and if he doesn't, then Cater won't hesitate to take the opportunity.]

[crimsontyrant]

[ It's hard to focus, to think. That's what he asked for, but it's still such a new feeling that Riddle finds his breath catching in his throat, his eyes half-lidded as he looks down at Cater through his lashes.

And, they flutter closed as Cater's teeth graze his neck, followed by those sickeningly sweet kisses. His head tilts as if to give him more room, losing focus on where his own hands were going altogether.

His eyes peek back open as he feels the tease of Cater's finger, head tilting enough so he can look back down at him.

Would it even be possible to get his pants off in this position? Riddle squirms atop him, his face burning as he tries to articulate the few little thoughts he has. ]

Don't tease me. You know how little patience I have.

[ Is that a warning?... Yeah, a little bit, but he's just! Really worked up and impatient! Don't call him on it. ]

Should I move? To get them off..???

[ aaaand there goes any threatening presence he had in that last comment. ]

[selfie_centered]

[cute... cute! even if Riddle feels a bit embarrassed, he's completely disarmed Cater in the moment. his shoulders shake with a soft chuckle, and that finger draaaags back around to the front of Riddle's waist. Cater bats his lashes and leans just enough away that he can look into Riddle's face.]

You can if you want.

But! There's no rush, y'know.

[there's, anyway, that he can slip his hand into Riddle's trousers, probing, curious, and perhaps a little bit selfish.]

[crimsontyrant]

[ No rush... right. Right, they didn't have to rush through this and get right to the main event. Seven, if they didn't want to go all that way, that was fine too.

With Cater's hand slipping past the waistband, anyways, there's really no reason that Riddle wouldn't get distracted. And, damn, is it probably easy to find the source of Riddle's arousal, to feel just how worked up he'd gotten through their little messing around. There is another layer preventing Cater from touching him directly-

But Riddle's going to gasp, when his hand brushes against him, rolling his hips forward against Cater's hand. His fingers curl, nails digging in against Cater's skin. ]

This is... embarrassing. You can see everything from there and... feel it all, can't you?