priorcommitment | you may talk about your men of gideon; you may brag about your king of saul

In the absence of a regular job, Ishiah spent much of his time forging connections with individuals placed strategically around Darrow, doing his best to keep aware of new and unusual dangers within the city limits. Of particular interest tonight were rumors that had reached him about a Scitalis nesting in the sewer system, a creature Ishiah hadn't encountered in centuries — and, considering the fact that many species in Darrow were more iterations on a theme as opposed to being directly related to those he'd known before, Ishiah wasn't keen on jumping in blindly.

Most of the sightings had been reported within or around the Darrow High School campus, and so Ishiah felt a greater pressure to learn quickly of its abilities and either isolate or slay the creature, whichever was necessary to keep the city's children safe. The large television in his apartment played portions of security camera footage on loop, and his coffee table was littered with books and notes, a large pot of coffee on the side long having gone cold.

Tomorrow, he would set out for the first time in search of the beast, but having done most of what he could do to prepare, Ishiah leaned back on his couch and rubbed at his eyes, contemplating the idea of sleep.

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For the moment, Robin would have been happy enough simply with the delicious heat of the two of them pressed tightly together in Ishiah's slick palm, throbbing nearly together. A good feeling, to want each other the same way. But soon, Ishiah's hand moves away and returns a second later, taking with it a fitful growl from Robin's chest as Ishiah's wrist moves in precisely the way he most likes it, just a little too rough to be sweet.

"Oh, me," he says, entirely feeling his conviction about that. It's been a week for Robin, which is a week longer than he normally has the ability to wait, but he has, for Ishiah.

As soon as he's given instruction, Ishiah releases Robin's cock, still enough oil slick on his hands to reach down to his own and give himself a thorough stroke, just enough to cover his arousal. His eyes fall to half-mast in concentration, breath catching slightly when he finds Robin ready, skin flushed against Ishiah's paler complexion. Wings quivering, Ishiah quickly presses himself inside in one fluid motion, back arching as a groan rumbles deep in his throat, but he's quick to recover. Slick hands smooth up and over the span of Robin's back, pulling him up and slightly away from the mattress, an easier angle as he grinds in deep, and also one that makes Robin's neck more accessible to the worry of Ishiah's teeth.

His hands continue to smooth along Robin's spine, smearing oil over his skin as Ishiah's hips drive up, harsher than usual — more desperate. Forcefully, he reaches up to tug at one of Robin's hands, coaxing the puck's arms around his neck for better support, then wastes no time in capturing Robin's lips in another kiss, hard and wanting.

It's perfect, when Ishiah slides in, easily and all at once with only the barest edge of pain. A perfect discomfort, like scratching an itch he had no way of reaching in quite the same way on his own. He answers the depth of the pleasure with a soft and needy moan as large hands readjust his body against Ishiah's, large hands with confidence and comfortable ownership.

Exactly as they should be, exactly as Robin loves them best. He likes a big man better than a small one in every way, and moreover, he likes Ishiah.

Their shifted angle brings more weight to rest on the joinder of their bodies, and Robin moves fitfully against the sensation until he finds his arms wrapped around Ishiah's neck for leverage. Then they can move together, sharp thrusts meeting the gentle, sinuous ride of Robin, wrapped neatly against the other man.

He breathes into the kiss, dragging in the air that Ishiah has already breathed out, tasting, swallowing his own small noises. He waited. Now he deserves every moment of this, happy enough simply to feel as if he and Ishiah were one skin, crawled up neatly next to each other, sharing their space.

There's no better way to distance Ishiah from his thoughts than to be held in Robin's arms, laying his burdens to rest as he's enveloped by a soft, steady heat. The balance shifts from one moment to the next, tension ever heightening, and it doesn't take long before Ishiah's instincts start to surface. He weaves his fingers into Robin's thick curls, tugging sharply to expose the column of Robin's neck, pressing his nose insistently against the scent before he sucks sharply at the pulse fluttering underneath. His hips slow, though they continue to rock in deep as Ishiah shifts to press Robin down against the mattress, sucking at the delicate heat of Robin's skin where it rushes underneath the line of his jaw.

Fighting over dominion comes more easily to Ishiah when he forgets himself, hands dropping to Robin's hips as he picks up the pace, lips parted with a rush of breath. He wants to consume — no, he wants to possess Robin in whatever ways possible, a growl settling in the back of his throat as he smooths a hand over to pull on Robin's cock. Drawing his head back, Ishiah focuses his gaze on Robin's expression, eyes meticulously mapping out every reaction and using them to navigate. Whatever is possible to make this the best it can be for Robin, simply because Ishiah can.

His knuckles graze against the beat of Robin's abdomen, hot to the touch. "Robin," Ishiah murmurs, voice strained as his wings fold close to his back. "Gorgeous."

He groans when Ishiah steals the lead from him, doesn't fight against claiming hands when they press him down to the blankets, doesn't fight the stretch driving into him, brushing each time against something inside him which seems, he would swear to any god, made simply to make this better. Perhaps that's true. He is made for pleasure, however much it might not be an idea that Ishiah would be comfortable, were Robin to share it.

It certainly feels true, each motion inside him bringing him closer to sorely needed release, each stroke of Ishiah's palm scorching and building Robin to impatience, even as he concentrates on washing himself in the feel of it. Their breaths in the quiet room. The salt-smell of Ishiah's skin. The way their bodies slide together where Robin's warm skin was printed and smeared with the sweet oil of almond.

It is the one simple compliment from Ishiah that throws Robin over the edge he has been staring down, and he finishes with a shout, finishes with laughter at the feel of his own come beaded across his chest and belly as his stares up at Ishiah's intent face with fluttering lashes.

There's an exquisite pleasure that comes from watching Robin as he arrives first, just as requested, just as promised. For Ishiah, this is more the culmination than his own pleasure, watching the sudden seize and release of tension from Robin's limbs, and the brightness of Robin's eyes as he laughs in triumph. The air feels charged around them, the energy drawn over Robin's skin with every brush of Ishiah's fingertips — along his collarbone, down his sternum, coming to a rest near the slight softness of Robin's navel.

From there, everything is brief, a quick few thrusts into tight heat before Ishiah leans down against Robin's body, lips hovering a few inches away from Robin's mouth as he arrives, finishing with a soft groan and spilling deep into Robin. His hand never stops moving, though it's now with a softer touch, tracing to the soft hairs at the back of Robin's neck to help pull him up for another kiss, slow and indulgent.

By the time he pulls away, he's grinning, nuzzling against Robin's cheek and searching for Robin's smile.

you may talk about your men of gideon; you may brag about your king of saul

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