Could've just shared, Desire grumbled after the water was running. He was unexpectedly louder than Aoba cared for.
It's not like this is a locker room. Besides... that would be more unkind to him than anything.
Level with me here, Reason. You really think the big guy just wants something physical? Do you seriously think after everything we've heard from him that he's the 'friends with benefits' type?
And here came the problem with intrusive thoughts having a complete consciousness of their own behind them. The nagging aspect went on, giving voice to some underlying current where they'd somehow become the same again, despite neither truly noticing.
I don’t—I don’t know! You said he was willing to ‘compromise’ with you!
Yeah, and did you catch the parts where he talked about friendship and care? I know you were zoned out at the time, but he also used the word ‘affections’. I mean maybe we’ve never actually been in a fuckbuddies scenario, but I’m pretty damn sure one wouldn’t be as sweet as he sounds when he’s talking.
And then Desire hit him with worse than just words. Suddenly came imagery. Declan in the shower with him, touching him with those large, always-gentle hands. Applying those pouting lips of his to things other than poetic words and reassurances. Crude though Desire was, his imagination between them didn’t warp the Guardian’s nature away from anything they’d learned of him.
And when Aoba found himself crumbling, sagging onto the shower bench with heat low in his stomach and ache building in his groin, it was harder and harder to just Reason away everything Desire was throwing at him. His baser yearnings shot holes through every excuse he had to keep them at bay. He was clinging to threads of denial instead of just speaking up and resolving it all.
Finally, he gave in. He couldn’t face it himself, but he gave in. So, golden-eyed, Desire left the water running behind them as he stepped out of the shower and to the doorway of the bunker/bath space, wet feet unquiet upon the metal. He stood in said doorway, gripping it with one hand, hair slicked to his skin by water and with more of it dripping down the lines of his body and pooling at his feet. The blue shades that Declan so admired were mirrored in the thatch between Aoba’s legs, which only drew all the more attention to the swollen interest he was sporting there.
“Oi, big guy,” he called across the space, steam billowing from behind him. “I want to talk compromises.”
And now, the non-canon
It's not like this is a locker room. Besides... that would be more unkind to him than anything.
Level with me here, Reason. You really think the big guy just wants something physical? Do you seriously think after everything we've heard from him that he's the 'friends with benefits' type?
And here came the problem with intrusive thoughts having a complete consciousness of their own behind them. The nagging aspect went on, giving voice to some underlying current where they'd somehow become the same again, despite neither truly noticing.
I don’t—I don’t know! You said he was willing to ‘compromise’ with you!
Yeah, and did you catch the parts where he talked about friendship and care? I know you were zoned out at the time, but he also used the word ‘affections’. I mean maybe we’ve never actually been in a fuckbuddies scenario, but I’m pretty damn sure one wouldn’t be as sweet as he sounds when he’s talking.
And then Desire hit him with worse than just words. Suddenly came imagery. Declan in the shower with him, touching him with those large, always-gentle hands. Applying those pouting lips of his to things other than poetic words and reassurances. Crude though Desire was, his imagination between them didn’t warp the Guardian’s nature away from anything they’d learned of him.
And when Aoba found himself crumbling, sagging onto the shower bench with heat low in his stomach and ache building in his groin, it was harder and harder to just Reason away everything Desire was throwing at him. His baser yearnings shot holes through every excuse he had to keep them at bay. He was clinging to threads of denial instead of just speaking up and resolving it all.
Finally, he gave in. He couldn’t face it himself, but he gave in. So, golden-eyed, Desire left the water running behind them as he stepped out of the shower and to the doorway of the bunker/bath space, wet feet unquiet upon the metal. He stood in said doorway, gripping it with one hand, hair slicked to his skin by water and with more of it dripping down the lines of his body and pooling at his feet. The blue shades that Declan so admired were mirrored in the thatch between Aoba’s legs, which only drew all the more attention to the swollen interest he was sporting there.
“Oi, big guy,” he called across the space, steam billowing from behind him. “I want to talk compromises.”