Midnighter (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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om_main2014-12-09 05:16 pm
om_midnighter) wrote in om_main2014-12-09 05:16 pm
Entry tags:
Paul and Midnighter - Backdated
Let's face it, this is just smut - FTB, obviously. But it's very telling! About their dynamics! I swear!
Midnighter wasn't big on movies, so usually, when he got back to his room to find Apollo in front of his laptop, watching one of them, it took a split second for him to decide on something else to go and do. Today, though, for some reason - probably because there had been the sound of a fight coming from the tiny computer speakers, and his brain had already been running possible scenarios on what these sounds meant - he'd decided to walk over and join Apollo on his bed.
He barely noticed the scenarios running against Apollo anymore, used as he was to ignoring them when he came close to him. And he came close to him a lot. He liked being close to him.
What was going on on screen actually had fuck all to do with what the sounds had said was going on on screen, and he didn't manage to hold back the criticism for very long. That fight scene was fucking ridiculous; didn't anybody in Hollywood know how to fucking fight? Or wherever that movie came from, he didn't even know what it was.
But somehow, Apollo had decided that the best thing to do to shut Midnighter up was kiss him, and Midnighter had suddenly become very fucking thankful for ridiculous fight scenes. Thankfully, the movie was on pause, so there was no distraction coming from the laptop, and Midnighter focused as much and as many of his senses as he could on Apollo as they kissed.
His hand slid along the curve of Apollo's strong shoulder, gentler by far than the bite in his kiss, and Midnighter felt, not for the first time, as if he could lose himself in this heat for fucking ever.
"I take it back," he muttered against Apollo's lips, between one rough kiss and the next. "Amazing fucking movie."
Caught between laughter and the urge to speak, Paul gave himself over to kisses instead, briefly aware of gratitude that he didn't need to breathe. No reason to stop kissing to take a breath, or no reason worth stopping. Jason Statham and whatever he had been doing on screen didn't count as a valid reason to stop.
Movies were good. Movies still felt better to him than TV series did. He liked that they were self contained, mostly, that he could watch a movie and see the start of a story and the end of it all in one session, but the movie he'd been half-watching while he avoided writing yet another essay hadn't exactly been heavy on story. More on action, such as it was, and even that seemed slow watching humans after getting accustomed to sparring with Midnighter. Both of them moved faster than humans, reacted faster than humans, but things exploded more in the movies.
Fire and falling down buildings explosions, anyway. Kissing Midnighter kind of felt like explosions, heat and bright light and his heart racing, always aware of the risk of being close and not caring because it was worth it, worth that risk to get more kisses and more touch.
And okay, yeah, maybe he liked pushing at that risk when he gave up all pretense of paying attention to the movie and rolled over to stretch out against Midnighter instead, half on top of him.
Scenarios filed through Midnighter's mind at the move, even more urgent than the ones before had been, and a few weeks ago, he would not have gone so easily. Easily; it was all relative. He did not let Apollo roll them so much as he rolled himself and let Apollo roll with him, unable as he was to relinquish control of his body, not even to him. Not even to keep kissing, and feel the strength of Apollo all against him.
They'd been taking proximity training to the next level, and Midnighter fucking loved every second of it, no matter how his instincts felt about it. He slid his hand down Apollo's chest, appreciating every muscle under the thin cotton of his top, and around his side, grabbing his waist to pull him closer, biting up into that kiss. He felt like that sensation he'd come to think of as heat was spreading through the whole of him, and that just made him want - demand - more of it, as usual.
Fuck that movie; this was the best kind of action.
Never relinquished control, always shared, never wanted to take control of Midnighter. That didn't mean that Paul wouldn't keep pushing at Midnighter's control, testing it, finding out how far he could go and how Midnighter's body reacted, exploring what made Midnighter's muscles tense and relax.
At least Paul had learned enough of his own control that he didn't lose his grip on gravity every time Midnighter kissed him. Biting helped, the immediacy of it direct enough to keep reminding him. That and the warmth of Midnighter's skin under his hands, one curled around Midnighter's shoulder, one pushing under his shirt at his waist. "Decided to skip the gym?"
"That your way of saying I'm letting myself go," came the rough reply. Right then, fuck the gym, and fuck everything that wasn't Apollo, his mouth, his warmth. His hand slid under Apollo's top and across the wide expanse of his back, his other one hooking his neck and pulling him into another biting kiss.
Scenarios kept filing through his brain; ways to take Apollo out more or less lethally as well as counter-attacks in case Apollo suddenly attacked him. Less urgent, a host of scenarios involving the students in the rooms around them, walking through the hallway or passing under their window. But fuck all of that, too; he was ignoring them all to focus on this, forcing himself not to let them make him tense - not tenser than this, anyway, this he could fucking handle. Tension in his shoulders and a constant readiness to spring to action, even in the middle of a fucking amazing make out session, but that much he wouldn't want to do without.
"My way of saying I thought you'd be there," Paul murmured back, and spread his fingers, curving around Midnighter's ribs even as he leaned in for another kiss. The laptop was still on the bed, somehow, but wouldn't be for long. There wasn't room for both of them as well as Midnighter's laptop on one of the dorm beds.
He shifted his weight, sliding his knee up between Midnighter's legs. Closer, always closer, hips canting forwards to press in against Midnighter's hip as well. "Pretty glad you're not."
His groin was vulnerable, much like any man's, with the difference that Midnighter would not feel the pain the way normal people experienced it, so the slide of Apollo's thigh triggered another surge of scenarios. He huffed out a breath, as much for that as for the arousal that twisted his guts, fingers curling into a hard fist on Apollo's back before he forced himself to spread them again. "Fucking glad I'm not," he retorted, loosening his hand on Apollo's neck, too, still keeping a grip but easing away from something that might have hurt even Apollo in time.
He shifted his hips, looking for friction, unnecessary breath short and, probably, hot against Apollo's cheek. His fingers curled in his hair and he pushed his head up, latching his mouth on a soft spot of that too tempting neck, not to hurt but for pleasure.
Not aiming for pain, giving Midnighter enough time to react and adapt, waiting for Midnighter to part his legs again before pushing his knee up the rest of the way, gentle, stopping with light contact, slow thrill working through him at the realization of how much trust Midnighter was offering him. Trust that was shared and returned with the arch of Paul's neck, baring his throat to Midnighter's mouth.
He knew, always knew, that any part of Midnighter's body was a weapon, and his teeth weren't any exception to that, but Paul trusted that Midnighter could control the urge to tear his throat out, just as much as he trusted that Midnighter could control the urge to defend himself from something that wasn't an attack. Not either side, just a surge of heat and need from the aching pull of Midnighter's mouth against his skin. Paul closed his eyes, tightened his hold, and tried to remember to stay on the bed.
Tension was easy to read; muscles tensing was the sort of thing Midnighter couldn't help but read, and it was no different with Apollo, for all that right now, they didn't signal an incoming attack. They were just the sign of what Midnighter was doing to him, and he fucking loved it, could have spent hours cataloguing the ways Apollo responded to him. What could he say? They were fucking beautiful reactions.
But they were stuck to a fraction of the width of the bed, and Midnighter forced himself to pull his mouth off of that warm spot (but all of him was warm) on Apollo's neck. "Get that computer off the fucking bed," he offered, a rumble of words against Apollo's skin, although he really didn't fucking want him to move away.
"Not telekinetic," Paul mumbled back. Couldn't move the computer off the bed without moving away, without letting go of Midnighter, but they had a twin room. A twin room meant two beds, and what he could do was move both of them to the other bed, carefully disentangling his leg from Midnighter's to wrap around Midnighter's hip instead, locking them securely together. "Hold on?"
Because, yeah, what he could do was let himself drift up, and take Midnighter with him.
"Get it done already," was Midnighter's only reply, rough and urgent, because he wanted more of what they had been doing already, and the last thing he needed was for Paul to be careful with him.
"Impatient," Paul chided softly, grinning, and kissed Midnighter's ear, lifting both of them. Up and across the room, down onto the other bed - with himself underneath, partly to cushion Midnighter's landing if he miscalculated, mostly because it was less controlling of Midnighter's position and less likely to register as a threat.
Back on top, and Midnighter attacked Paul's mouth again immediately, wedging his knee in between his, thigh pressing close. If there was a way not to be impatient about this, Midnighter had no fucking clue how to pull it off. The truth was, the sensations helped him ignore the scenarios, the knowledge of how vulnerable he was, and that was always a welcome extra.
Anything that helped Midnighter control or ignore his overactive brain was something that Paul was in favor of, as long as they weren't under any kind of immediate threat. Alone in their room was pretty low on the scale of threats, as far as Paul was aware, and it was kind of a relief not to have to think about them, just part his legs and wrap them around Midnighter's hips again, hands exploring down Midnighter's back, tracing over his skin. "Okay? Think the computer's safe now?"
"Fuck the computer," Midnighter retorted against Apollo's lips, and dipped his head to bite reproachfully at the point where neck met shoulder, far away from anything life-threatening. Teach him to talk when they could be doing this. Not the best deterrent, given how much they enjoyed this, too, but there you went. Midnighter's strategy, when it came to moments like this, was a lot less efficient than it usually was.
Part of the whole not really needing to breathe thing meant Paul could speak where he was pretty sure he would have been breathless as a human. Meant he could laugh, too, happiness spilling over as he arched his neck, perfectly willing to bare his skin to Midnighter's teeth and the scalding heat of Midnighter's mouth, the pulse of pleasure and need that came from every touch as he curled his fingers, pressing nails into Midnighter's back. Not safely away from being a threat to Midnighter's kidneys, but at least away from Midnighter's spine. "Thanks, no thanks."
Midnighter actually growled against his skin at the press of fingers, both a turn-on and a challenge, more scenarios surging to the fore, all of them ignored. He shifted his hips and ignored his faint, dark amusement at Apollo's answer to kiss him again instead, pouring his pent-up aggressiveness into the heat of the kiss.
God, Paul loved that. Loved feeling Midnighter growl for him, knowing that Midnighter was controlling himself for him, almost as much as he loved those kisses and the press of Midnighter's body on his, loved that he didn't have to think too hard about holding back his own strength when he held on, that he could press hard into Midnighter's kiss without worrying about bruising Midnighter's lips. "Like this training."
"Like all kinds of training," Midnighter retorted, not bothering to hold much of his weight off of Apollo. He could take it, and then some. "Love this, though," he added, the next time he came up for air - so he could speak, if nothing else.
Paul grinned, bent his head up, and pressed a kiss to the side of Midnighter's neck, slow and sure. "More than sparring in the gym?"
Midnighter wasn't exactly relaxed as a rule, whether he was making out - or more - with Apollo or not. But at that kiss, he became noticeably more tense, but stayed in place, jaw clenching shut. He took a moment to rein in the scenarios, then admitted, his voice even rougher than before, "Fuck yeah."
Fucking perfect reaction, the tension, the shift, the change in the tone of Midnighter's voice, and Paul turned his head, kissing Midnighter's shoulder instead, just above his collarbone. "Me too," he confided, very softly.
"Good," Midnighter stated, took a few more seconds to adjust to the lack of that level of threat, then looked into Paul's eyes. "Do it again."
"Neck or shoulder?" Didn't really matter, both needed trust and control, and a low thrill rolled through Paul at hearing that Midnighter wanted it, wanted him enough to work for this intimacy. "Or both?"
"Neck," Midnighter replied without an instant's hesitation. Greater threat; greater need for control. It worked on two levels - both training, to make sure he could control himself, and satisfaction, at being able to control himself for Apollo. He didn't know what to make of that, but it was what it was.
No hesitation from Midnighter meant no hesitation from Paul either, leaning up to press a slow, lingering kiss to Midnighter's throat, eyes closing, breathing him in, and not moving away.
Midnighter's entire body tensed again, as he clamped down on the many scenarios running through his mind. He was breathing, slowly and evenly, so he would have something physical to focus on that wasn't Apollo's proximity. Fuck, but it felt almost unbearable and fucking amazing all at once.
Proximity was kind of the point, as far as Paul was concerned. Proximity because he wanted to be close more than wanting Midnighter to become desensitised to him as possible, make it easier for both of them, stop himself registering as a threat. Or less of one, anyway. He kept his eyes closed, feeling the steady, gentle touch of Midnighter's breath against his skin. "Too much?"
"No," Midnighter replied in a rumble of a word. "Fuck no." That was as close as he could get to explaining what it did to him, the way it gripped his (main) heart and gave it a squeeze, the way it clawed at his chest and shot straight to his groin, the way he wanted to rip into Apollo and for him to never fucking stop. The way it made his brain list all manners of lethal and ultraviolent scenarios, but they all felt so silent compared to the magnitude of Apollo's presence and this... thing, between them.
So good, so much hearing that, the tone as much as the words, the low roughness of Midnighter's voice so close to him, close enough he'd swear he could feel the vibration of it as much as hear the sound. Paul didn't open his eyes, did part his lips and lick Midnighter's neck, swift and soft and teasing. "And now?"
Midnighter's muscles shifted with his hips, a slow roll against Apollo's, grounding himself in the moment and doing nothing for the hoarse quality of his voice. "Keep going," he nearly growled, hands bunched tight in the bedsheet on either side of Apollo.
"Love to." Just as long as Midnighter was comfortable, or at least confident. And as long as Paul could keep some kind of ability to think, harder to do when Midnighter pushed down against him like that, hips fitting together, bodies pressed close. "Want to try touching me back?"
"Already thought I was," Midnighter pointed out, because they were pretty fucking definitely touching all over. Still, he could give in to one temptation - no scenario - and kiss Apollo again, suppressing any answer he might have made and eliciting another roll of Midnighter's hips.
"Hands," Paul prompted, muffled and laughing, and hooked one leg around the back of Midnighter's, slow and smooth, hopefully enough time to Midnighter' to acknowledge and accept the movement without having to react to feeling trapped. "Your hands. On me. Please."
Fuck, that laugh. Even quiet, it was full of so much warmth and it just... yeah. What Apollo said around it didn't help, or the slide of his leg against his, more scenarios to ignore. "You're so fucking -" Beautiful? Perfect? Breathtaking? Midnighter bit at Apollo's lips, shifting his weight to the one arm so he could move his other hand, immediately sliding it under Apollo's shirt. "Infuriating."
"Yeah, you'd get bored if I wasn't." Paul grinned back, entirely unbothered by being called infuriating. From Midnighter, it was probably more of a compliment than anything more conventional would have been. He ran one hand down Midnighter's back, slowing as he drew lower, considering for less than a second before closing it over the perfect muscles of Midnighter's ass.
"Try me," Midnighter retorted darkly, and leaned in for another kiss in order to pour into it the growl elicited by the slide of Apollo's hand. His hips rolled again, slowly, controlled, as his hand stopped on the edge of Apollo's ribcage - for now. He couldn't focus on everything at once, so something had to give, if only temporarily.
"Why would I want to?" Boring Midnighter was nowhere near Paul's aim. Kissing Midnighter again was, though, fierce and hot and unexpectedly triumphant, something like joy warming his chest as he pressed up into it, flicked his tongue against Midnighter's teeth, giddily chasing more growls, more sounds, anything more that came from pure uncalculated response and reaction.
Midnighter wasn't big on movies, so usually, when he got back to his room to find Apollo in front of his laptop, watching one of them, it took a split second for him to decide on something else to go and do. Today, though, for some reason - probably because there had been the sound of a fight coming from the tiny computer speakers, and his brain had already been running possible scenarios on what these sounds meant - he'd decided to walk over and join Apollo on his bed.
He barely noticed the scenarios running against Apollo anymore, used as he was to ignoring them when he came close to him. And he came close to him a lot. He liked being close to him.
What was going on on screen actually had fuck all to do with what the sounds had said was going on on screen, and he didn't manage to hold back the criticism for very long. That fight scene was fucking ridiculous; didn't anybody in Hollywood know how to fucking fight? Or wherever that movie came from, he didn't even know what it was.
But somehow, Apollo had decided that the best thing to do to shut Midnighter up was kiss him, and Midnighter had suddenly become very fucking thankful for ridiculous fight scenes. Thankfully, the movie was on pause, so there was no distraction coming from the laptop, and Midnighter focused as much and as many of his senses as he could on Apollo as they kissed.
His hand slid along the curve of Apollo's strong shoulder, gentler by far than the bite in his kiss, and Midnighter felt, not for the first time, as if he could lose himself in this heat for fucking ever.
"I take it back," he muttered against Apollo's lips, between one rough kiss and the next. "Amazing fucking movie."
Caught between laughter and the urge to speak, Paul gave himself over to kisses instead, briefly aware of gratitude that he didn't need to breathe. No reason to stop kissing to take a breath, or no reason worth stopping. Jason Statham and whatever he had been doing on screen didn't count as a valid reason to stop.
Movies were good. Movies still felt better to him than TV series did. He liked that they were self contained, mostly, that he could watch a movie and see the start of a story and the end of it all in one session, but the movie he'd been half-watching while he avoided writing yet another essay hadn't exactly been heavy on story. More on action, such as it was, and even that seemed slow watching humans after getting accustomed to sparring with Midnighter. Both of them moved faster than humans, reacted faster than humans, but things exploded more in the movies.
Fire and falling down buildings explosions, anyway. Kissing Midnighter kind of felt like explosions, heat and bright light and his heart racing, always aware of the risk of being close and not caring because it was worth it, worth that risk to get more kisses and more touch.
And okay, yeah, maybe he liked pushing at that risk when he gave up all pretense of paying attention to the movie and rolled over to stretch out against Midnighter instead, half on top of him.
Scenarios filed through Midnighter's mind at the move, even more urgent than the ones before had been, and a few weeks ago, he would not have gone so easily. Easily; it was all relative. He did not let Apollo roll them so much as he rolled himself and let Apollo roll with him, unable as he was to relinquish control of his body, not even to him. Not even to keep kissing, and feel the strength of Apollo all against him.
They'd been taking proximity training to the next level, and Midnighter fucking loved every second of it, no matter how his instincts felt about it. He slid his hand down Apollo's chest, appreciating every muscle under the thin cotton of his top, and around his side, grabbing his waist to pull him closer, biting up into that kiss. He felt like that sensation he'd come to think of as heat was spreading through the whole of him, and that just made him want - demand - more of it, as usual.
Fuck that movie; this was the best kind of action.
Never relinquished control, always shared, never wanted to take control of Midnighter. That didn't mean that Paul wouldn't keep pushing at Midnighter's control, testing it, finding out how far he could go and how Midnighter's body reacted, exploring what made Midnighter's muscles tense and relax.
At least Paul had learned enough of his own control that he didn't lose his grip on gravity every time Midnighter kissed him. Biting helped, the immediacy of it direct enough to keep reminding him. That and the warmth of Midnighter's skin under his hands, one curled around Midnighter's shoulder, one pushing under his shirt at his waist. "Decided to skip the gym?"
"That your way of saying I'm letting myself go," came the rough reply. Right then, fuck the gym, and fuck everything that wasn't Apollo, his mouth, his warmth. His hand slid under Apollo's top and across the wide expanse of his back, his other one hooking his neck and pulling him into another biting kiss.
Scenarios kept filing through his brain; ways to take Apollo out more or less lethally as well as counter-attacks in case Apollo suddenly attacked him. Less urgent, a host of scenarios involving the students in the rooms around them, walking through the hallway or passing under their window. But fuck all of that, too; he was ignoring them all to focus on this, forcing himself not to let them make him tense - not tenser than this, anyway, this he could fucking handle. Tension in his shoulders and a constant readiness to spring to action, even in the middle of a fucking amazing make out session, but that much he wouldn't want to do without.
"My way of saying I thought you'd be there," Paul murmured back, and spread his fingers, curving around Midnighter's ribs even as he leaned in for another kiss. The laptop was still on the bed, somehow, but wouldn't be for long. There wasn't room for both of them as well as Midnighter's laptop on one of the dorm beds.
He shifted his weight, sliding his knee up between Midnighter's legs. Closer, always closer, hips canting forwards to press in against Midnighter's hip as well. "Pretty glad you're not."
His groin was vulnerable, much like any man's, with the difference that Midnighter would not feel the pain the way normal people experienced it, so the slide of Apollo's thigh triggered another surge of scenarios. He huffed out a breath, as much for that as for the arousal that twisted his guts, fingers curling into a hard fist on Apollo's back before he forced himself to spread them again. "Fucking glad I'm not," he retorted, loosening his hand on Apollo's neck, too, still keeping a grip but easing away from something that might have hurt even Apollo in time.
He shifted his hips, looking for friction, unnecessary breath short and, probably, hot against Apollo's cheek. His fingers curled in his hair and he pushed his head up, latching his mouth on a soft spot of that too tempting neck, not to hurt but for pleasure.
Not aiming for pain, giving Midnighter enough time to react and adapt, waiting for Midnighter to part his legs again before pushing his knee up the rest of the way, gentle, stopping with light contact, slow thrill working through him at the realization of how much trust Midnighter was offering him. Trust that was shared and returned with the arch of Paul's neck, baring his throat to Midnighter's mouth.
He knew, always knew, that any part of Midnighter's body was a weapon, and his teeth weren't any exception to that, but Paul trusted that Midnighter could control the urge to tear his throat out, just as much as he trusted that Midnighter could control the urge to defend himself from something that wasn't an attack. Not either side, just a surge of heat and need from the aching pull of Midnighter's mouth against his skin. Paul closed his eyes, tightened his hold, and tried to remember to stay on the bed.
Tension was easy to read; muscles tensing was the sort of thing Midnighter couldn't help but read, and it was no different with Apollo, for all that right now, they didn't signal an incoming attack. They were just the sign of what Midnighter was doing to him, and he fucking loved it, could have spent hours cataloguing the ways Apollo responded to him. What could he say? They were fucking beautiful reactions.
But they were stuck to a fraction of the width of the bed, and Midnighter forced himself to pull his mouth off of that warm spot (but all of him was warm) on Apollo's neck. "Get that computer off the fucking bed," he offered, a rumble of words against Apollo's skin, although he really didn't fucking want him to move away.
"Not telekinetic," Paul mumbled back. Couldn't move the computer off the bed without moving away, without letting go of Midnighter, but they had a twin room. A twin room meant two beds, and what he could do was move both of them to the other bed, carefully disentangling his leg from Midnighter's to wrap around Midnighter's hip instead, locking them securely together. "Hold on?"
Because, yeah, what he could do was let himself drift up, and take Midnighter with him.
"Get it done already," was Midnighter's only reply, rough and urgent, because he wanted more of what they had been doing already, and the last thing he needed was for Paul to be careful with him.
"Impatient," Paul chided softly, grinning, and kissed Midnighter's ear, lifting both of them. Up and across the room, down onto the other bed - with himself underneath, partly to cushion Midnighter's landing if he miscalculated, mostly because it was less controlling of Midnighter's position and less likely to register as a threat.
Back on top, and Midnighter attacked Paul's mouth again immediately, wedging his knee in between his, thigh pressing close. If there was a way not to be impatient about this, Midnighter had no fucking clue how to pull it off. The truth was, the sensations helped him ignore the scenarios, the knowledge of how vulnerable he was, and that was always a welcome extra.
Anything that helped Midnighter control or ignore his overactive brain was something that Paul was in favor of, as long as they weren't under any kind of immediate threat. Alone in their room was pretty low on the scale of threats, as far as Paul was aware, and it was kind of a relief not to have to think about them, just part his legs and wrap them around Midnighter's hips again, hands exploring down Midnighter's back, tracing over his skin. "Okay? Think the computer's safe now?"
"Fuck the computer," Midnighter retorted against Apollo's lips, and dipped his head to bite reproachfully at the point where neck met shoulder, far away from anything life-threatening. Teach him to talk when they could be doing this. Not the best deterrent, given how much they enjoyed this, too, but there you went. Midnighter's strategy, when it came to moments like this, was a lot less efficient than it usually was.
Part of the whole not really needing to breathe thing meant Paul could speak where he was pretty sure he would have been breathless as a human. Meant he could laugh, too, happiness spilling over as he arched his neck, perfectly willing to bare his skin to Midnighter's teeth and the scalding heat of Midnighter's mouth, the pulse of pleasure and need that came from every touch as he curled his fingers, pressing nails into Midnighter's back. Not safely away from being a threat to Midnighter's kidneys, but at least away from Midnighter's spine. "Thanks, no thanks."
Midnighter actually growled against his skin at the press of fingers, both a turn-on and a challenge, more scenarios surging to the fore, all of them ignored. He shifted his hips and ignored his faint, dark amusement at Apollo's answer to kiss him again instead, pouring his pent-up aggressiveness into the heat of the kiss.
God, Paul loved that. Loved feeling Midnighter growl for him, knowing that Midnighter was controlling himself for him, almost as much as he loved those kisses and the press of Midnighter's body on his, loved that he didn't have to think too hard about holding back his own strength when he held on, that he could press hard into Midnighter's kiss without worrying about bruising Midnighter's lips. "Like this training."
"Like all kinds of training," Midnighter retorted, not bothering to hold much of his weight off of Apollo. He could take it, and then some. "Love this, though," he added, the next time he came up for air - so he could speak, if nothing else.
Paul grinned, bent his head up, and pressed a kiss to the side of Midnighter's neck, slow and sure. "More than sparring in the gym?"
Midnighter wasn't exactly relaxed as a rule, whether he was making out - or more - with Apollo or not. But at that kiss, he became noticeably more tense, but stayed in place, jaw clenching shut. He took a moment to rein in the scenarios, then admitted, his voice even rougher than before, "Fuck yeah."
Fucking perfect reaction, the tension, the shift, the change in the tone of Midnighter's voice, and Paul turned his head, kissing Midnighter's shoulder instead, just above his collarbone. "Me too," he confided, very softly.
"Good," Midnighter stated, took a few more seconds to adjust to the lack of that level of threat, then looked into Paul's eyes. "Do it again."
"Neck or shoulder?" Didn't really matter, both needed trust and control, and a low thrill rolled through Paul at hearing that Midnighter wanted it, wanted him enough to work for this intimacy. "Or both?"
"Neck," Midnighter replied without an instant's hesitation. Greater threat; greater need for control. It worked on two levels - both training, to make sure he could control himself, and satisfaction, at being able to control himself for Apollo. He didn't know what to make of that, but it was what it was.
No hesitation from Midnighter meant no hesitation from Paul either, leaning up to press a slow, lingering kiss to Midnighter's throat, eyes closing, breathing him in, and not moving away.
Midnighter's entire body tensed again, as he clamped down on the many scenarios running through his mind. He was breathing, slowly and evenly, so he would have something physical to focus on that wasn't Apollo's proximity. Fuck, but it felt almost unbearable and fucking amazing all at once.
Proximity was kind of the point, as far as Paul was concerned. Proximity because he wanted to be close more than wanting Midnighter to become desensitised to him as possible, make it easier for both of them, stop himself registering as a threat. Or less of one, anyway. He kept his eyes closed, feeling the steady, gentle touch of Midnighter's breath against his skin. "Too much?"
"No," Midnighter replied in a rumble of a word. "Fuck no." That was as close as he could get to explaining what it did to him, the way it gripped his (main) heart and gave it a squeeze, the way it clawed at his chest and shot straight to his groin, the way he wanted to rip into Apollo and for him to never fucking stop. The way it made his brain list all manners of lethal and ultraviolent scenarios, but they all felt so silent compared to the magnitude of Apollo's presence and this... thing, between them.
So good, so much hearing that, the tone as much as the words, the low roughness of Midnighter's voice so close to him, close enough he'd swear he could feel the vibration of it as much as hear the sound. Paul didn't open his eyes, did part his lips and lick Midnighter's neck, swift and soft and teasing. "And now?"
Midnighter's muscles shifted with his hips, a slow roll against Apollo's, grounding himself in the moment and doing nothing for the hoarse quality of his voice. "Keep going," he nearly growled, hands bunched tight in the bedsheet on either side of Apollo.
"Love to." Just as long as Midnighter was comfortable, or at least confident. And as long as Paul could keep some kind of ability to think, harder to do when Midnighter pushed down against him like that, hips fitting together, bodies pressed close. "Want to try touching me back?"
"Already thought I was," Midnighter pointed out, because they were pretty fucking definitely touching all over. Still, he could give in to one temptation - no scenario - and kiss Apollo again, suppressing any answer he might have made and eliciting another roll of Midnighter's hips.
"Hands," Paul prompted, muffled and laughing, and hooked one leg around the back of Midnighter's, slow and smooth, hopefully enough time to Midnighter' to acknowledge and accept the movement without having to react to feeling trapped. "Your hands. On me. Please."
Fuck, that laugh. Even quiet, it was full of so much warmth and it just... yeah. What Apollo said around it didn't help, or the slide of his leg against his, more scenarios to ignore. "You're so fucking -" Beautiful? Perfect? Breathtaking? Midnighter bit at Apollo's lips, shifting his weight to the one arm so he could move his other hand, immediately sliding it under Apollo's shirt. "Infuriating."
"Yeah, you'd get bored if I wasn't." Paul grinned back, entirely unbothered by being called infuriating. From Midnighter, it was probably more of a compliment than anything more conventional would have been. He ran one hand down Midnighter's back, slowing as he drew lower, considering for less than a second before closing it over the perfect muscles of Midnighter's ass.
"Try me," Midnighter retorted darkly, and leaned in for another kiss in order to pour into it the growl elicited by the slide of Apollo's hand. His hips rolled again, slowly, controlled, as his hand stopped on the edge of Apollo's ribcage - for now. He couldn't focus on everything at once, so something had to give, if only temporarily.
"Why would I want to?" Boring Midnighter was nowhere near Paul's aim. Kissing Midnighter again was, though, fierce and hot and unexpectedly triumphant, something like joy warming his chest as he pressed up into it, flicked his tongue against Midnighter's teeth, giddily chasing more growls, more sounds, anything more that came from pure uncalculated response and reaction.
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