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

[priorcommitment]

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.

Comments

[goodfella]

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.

[priorcommitment]

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.