'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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[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?

[selfie_centered]

[Cater licks his lips, palming Riddle through his underwear. seven, he is pathetic, but there's no point in dwelling on that now. no way he can look any less thirsty.]

Thaaat's right~

[it's something like a song, something like a whisper. mischief, as Cater gives Riddle the lightest little squeeze, learning his shape by touch. pressing his temple to Riddle's cheek and feigning like he's hiding, Cater whines showily, leaning into Riddle's shoulder as if he's complaining.]

Every part of you is so cute, isn't it? That's not fair at all!

[even as he rocks Riddle backward a little, Cater wraps his other arm around Riddle's waist in this supportive hug, not letting them actually tip too far. just keeping it playful, casual, cool, even as his fingers coax at Riddle's dick.


it's fine. this is a way better way to keep himself from getting too in his head about it.]

[crimsontyrant]

[ It's perfectly fine that Cater's pathetic - because, in this moment, so is Riddle. He whines, his back arching as he curls in slightly towards Cater. His hands come back up to the other boy's shoulders, clutching onto him as he leans closer. Does it even matter that Riddle's straddling him if he's not taking advantage of the position to tease Cater?? He's practically lost to Cater's whims, for the moment.

Riddle's dick is, clearly, just about right for his body type. A slight bit under what may be considered 'average', and definitely the definition of cute. He follows Cater's lead, rocking letting himself fall back slightly.

Rather than whining and whimpering as he's been doing, Riddle lets out one of the first real moans he has offered, half hidden behind a little gasp. He can barely handle the touch, the attention, when it feels like he's been starved of it. ]

Don't-- call it cute.

[ Riddle complains, turning his head to let himself press a gentle kiss to Cater's temple. Small, affectionate, simple. Cute, probably. ]

Do you really want someone calling yours cute? Isn't that weird?

[ Yeah, he's complaining, but like! He's absolutely putty in Cater's hands, and the banter shows he's still Riddle, that he isn't uncomfortable and trying to save face. ]

[selfie_centered]

['just right' really is right. 'perfect for Riddle' is more correct. but then again, it's Riddle. anything would have been perfect, because it would be Riddle.]

Aw, c'mon. It's a compliment!

[the attention he's giving Riddle is somewhere on the spectrum between teasing and deliberate. there's no rush, he'd told Riddle, and he'd meant it. there's no reason not to take his time, to test out the limits— Riddle's and his own, really. he's switched to a slow, even stroke of the side of his knuckle up and down the curve of Riddle's dick.

aw, man. he doesn't usually get to play tutor to Riddle, huh?]

Lesson number one; 'cute' and 'hot' are not mutually exclusive.

For instance;

You are super-cute! And this—

[slow enough that Riddle could stop him if he wanted to, Cater dances his fingers over the waistband of Riddle's underwear and slips his hand through, craving that skin-to-skin contact. breathily against Riddle's ear;]

— is pretty hot.

[crimsontyrant]

[ Sure, Riddle said not to tease him, but this was different than the teasing from before. This was full of new experiences, and he was trying to savor each and every one of them. His breathing was ragged, shaky, as if he couldn't figure out how to steady it. Because he couldn't. He's so unfocused, unable to think more than a moment past this.

What is Cater even saying? A lesson? Riddle huffs, half amused half exasperated by his foolishness.

His body shudders under the sudden skin-to-skin contact, what he's been aching for, desiring more than anything.

And, really. It's increasingly attractive to hear Cater tell him he's cute, that he's hot. That breathy whisper doesn't help anything. or, more it does help, the way Riddle gasps out, the way he squirms to buck his hips up, craving more attention.

He likes that - keep telling him that. ]

I... Cater...--

[ Riddle lets out a soft whimpering moan of the other's name, unable to keep from squirming, from moving his hips and trying to get more and more and more. He's definitely not thinking anymore, leaning down to press his forehead against Cater's shoulder, his hands moving to let him rest them against the bed on either side of him. ]

Give me more, [ He demands, but it quickly turns into a little plea-- ] ... please.

[selfie_centered]

[it's fine— with Riddle's forehead pressed against Cater's shoulder, Cater can tilt his own head back and take a breath, collect himself. it's nearly overwhelming, this reality— is it real? It feels like it is— far beyond anything he could have fantasized. his imagination couldn't fill his hand with the sensation of Riddle bucking into his grip, couldn't distort what he knew of Riddle's voice before into the way his moans actually sound.

he tips his head down into Riddle's hair (isn't it unfair to smell so nice during something like this?!) and after laying a little kiss there, directs his eyes downward. his arm pulls down the fabric of Riddle's bottoms down enough that he can see the peek of Riddle's head in his own cupped hand and— oh, he's cooked, isn't he? this is something he's never going to come back from knowing.

oh well. already here, isn't he? his arousal has already long won.

gentle, coy, honey-sweet, he repeats again, slower and more drawn out;]

Yes, your majesty~

[it's so precious to hear Riddle command him. because it's not really a command anymore, is it? it's getting closer to begging, getting needier. if he could live in the feeling of being wanted by Riddle forever, maybe he would.

but as promised his touch becomes more insistent, his thumb and forefinger forming a ring around Riddle's head, coaxing just a little less gently than before. not to overwhelm Riddle.

not yet, anyway.]

[crimsontyrant]

[ It is overwhelming. For Riddle, this is completely beyond anything he would have ever thought about. Beyond the feelings he would expect to have, beyond any imagined fantasy between him ans Cater. He can't wrap his head around it -- which, actually, is a good thing. He could worry about all of the little questions later, grapple with the realization of how far they've gone into the deep end.

For now, he can't keep in his noises, but he can at least keep them quieter. Partially stifled by the position of his head, they're as needy as he was. His body was, frankly, too honest as he squirms and rolls his hips.

He can feel the cold air against his dick, against the head, but that hardly matters. Cater was going to see no matter what. There's no being 'embarrassed' about it anymore.

Except, Riddle's face burns, as Cater follows his order exactly. He gasps, fingers curling against the bedsheets under them, body shuddering with the change in pace. There's already pre beginning to form at the very tip, wetting Cater's fingers if he dares bring them up just a little bit higher.

Among the sensations completely distracting him, Riddle does manage to release the sheets, to instead bring his own hands between them, pressing them along Cater's hips. One of his hands grabs at his waistband, tugging on it a little, enough so Riddle can slowly drag the opposite down said hip. The tips of his fingers drag up against his groin as he brings his hand up higher.

It's his turn to tease, some. Unless Cater makes some indication that he wants him to stop. But. He wants to hear Cater fall into pathetic whimpering, moaning. To be just as needy as him - if he isn't already. ]

[selfie_centered]

[Riddle is treated to everything he wants, it must seem, because Cater is so responsive to him. he can't help it, though. it's really hard to weigh which is better between getting to touch Riddle and being touched by him. luckily, it's not as though he has to choose.

Riddle will find Cater stiff and aching, fully aroused, will hear Cater laugh in a way that almost sounds nervous— breathy, too. he might be bigger than Riddle, but only by the virtue of also, otherwise, being bigger than Riddle. Cater's more impressive in form than size, for sure, but that's probably not much of a problem here. he wiggles insistently, trying to get more from Riddle without even thinking of it. there's no sense of propriety anymore, no need to hold back. Riddle can already see Cater is breaking for him, can't he? what's it matter if he seems just a little more desperate? the cue to stop Riddle is waiting for doesn't come.

instead he bites his own lip, unrelenting in his touch. he does dare raise his fingers, quite deliberately wets them in that little bit of Riddle's slick, making it all the easier to keep rubbing at him. maybe he's terrible. maybe he is gross. but he likes the feeling, and especially loves knowing it's his fault.]