orendalogs | IT'S YOUR DESTINY!!!

Entry tags:

IT'S YOUR DESTINY!!!

Who: Anyone, everyone? Aoba and Declan to start.
What: Destiny
When: After the House of Wolves, before The Taken King.
Where: Earth, The Last City, The Tower and beyond.
Warnings: Could be sorta zombie stuff (Hive), could be xenophilia? I dunno. Gen warnings, yo.

Earth. 700 years into the future, humanity is all but gone, huddled in a massive city in the mountains, surrounded by gargantuan walls and living in the shadow of the slumbering, perhaps dead, body of The Traveler. The massive being of benevolence and light that came to Earth bearing gifts of knowledge that would bring about the longest Golden Age in Terran history, hovering in geostationary orbit over The Last City of men, protecting what is left from The Darkness beyond with the remains of it's Light.

For those on Earth it is a well-known story. With The Traveler's dying breath it created Ghosts, fragments of living Light that in turn resurrected men and women across the galaxy, bringing to bear the Guardians, warriors to fight the Darkness. Earth and all the nearby planets are populated by humans, the Awoken, Exos and a variety of species of ever more distant origins, some less generous than others. The Guardians make their headquarters in a colossal spire at the edge of The Last City. There, in the Tower, the Vanguard and other factions of humanity work together to hold the line and fight the Darkness and every other threat to the known universe. The little understood Guardians rarely venture beyond the Tower, preferring the company of their brothers and sisters in arms, but all look to the Tower as a beacon of hope.

There is danger and adventure to be had; the likelihood of death and the possibility of rebirth. The future is uncertain, but all who walk in the Light know the Darkness is coming, and the wise life to the fullest.

[ Destiny Wiki ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

At least Aoba didn’t have the kind of embarrassment-fears that kept him from meeting Declan’s eyes. It wasn’t him that gave Aoba the jitters, after all. Just the deed. Not his first time, but his first time with another man, and the first time with someone he actually wanted to love….

The courtesy in Declan’s motions was unexpected, and unexpectedly welcome. What really got to Aoba, however, was feeling that hint of something unsteady in the Declan’s hands as they caressed his arms. Declan, the peerless Titan, the Guardian with countless commendations, who went fearlessly into battle against overwhelming odds…was just as tentative as Aoba was. Maybe even more so. He didn’t have any memories of having been with another this way.

It didn’t make Aoba’s nerves completely go away, but something unknotted in them just the same, loosened by the way his heart pounded with a surge of affections for the Awoken.

“Yeah,” he agreed, voice still soft as if it had also dimmed with the lights, but without rasping this time. “Go ahead.”

Nodding slightly, eyes glowing incredibly bright in the darkened room, Declan's hands moved over Aoba's body, light as birds. He peeled clothing away like some Archaeologist unwrapping a priceless artifact, careful not to drag or pull too hard, not to scrape. It was a slow process, deliberately so. It was supposed to be sensual, after all, and since Declan didn't have any personal memory of sensuality, his imagination had to do the engineering and his hands had to do the work.

The shirt and pants came off, but he left the underwear on, as much for his own sanity as because he wanted to drag it all out, because wherever skin was uncovered, lips had followed. He might add teeth some other day, nipping here and there, but for the moment he simply kissed. Slightly open-mouthed, tongue dipping out on occasion to taste clean skin; they had both showered, so it seemed perfectly acceptable. His teeth dragged here or there in random places, but never pressed. Aoba would be completely unmarred, so far as Declan had any say, and he was to do nothing but be taken care of. Any attempt to reciprocate was gently rebuffed, Declan's hands carefully grasping Aoba's and pulling them away with a small shake of his head.

"Please, lay down," he whispered, kissing the man's collarbones one after the other, pale eyes glancing up at hazel, always watching for any displeasure or distress, outside of what may be caused by his refusals.

It may have been Declan’s choice to move so slow, but it didn’t take much to prove there was hardly any need of it. Not physically, anyway. He had goosebumps at the first touch of fingers dipping under his shirt to expose his skin. The first kiss had him audibly catching his breath, and by a dozen of them in, not even the loosest pants in the world could have hidden his body’s most blatant physical response. Of course, that spoke nothing of the way heat flushed across his skin, almost as if brought to the surface by the tenderness of those kisses, in place of the bruising of teeth.

He did try to touch back, and the refusal did distress him. It knotted his brows, put confusion plain in his eyes, a voiced protest making it no further than ‘But-’ before the shake of Declan’s head silenced him.

Aoba didn’t like it. Most of Aoba didn’t like it. His mouth was dry, throat clicking at a swallow. He wanted to touch Declan too. He didn’t like being doted on without giving anything back, he just didn’t. Declan had given him too much already, it wasn’t fair for Aoba to ask for his attention and not give any—

We’re giving him us, came Desire’s throaty growl, pressing at his thoughts with the irritation of some great predator that wanted to be indolent and found itself disturbed. Anything, that side had said. He’d do anything as long as it was something.

So this time, Aoba had to surrender. Twisting his hands into the sheets was a poor substitute, and his discontent as he glanced briefly at his own white-knuckled grips was evident, but he slipped back into a recline just the same. Suddenly the peak in his underwear was the highest point of his body, and Aoba couldn’t help but find his sense of embarrassment surging again, eyes avoiding himself after that first glimpse.

"Shh. Please just let me take care of you this time..." Declan murmured, shifting on the bed until he was at the foot of in, large body hunched over as he reached, trailing his fingers lightly over miles of bare skin. He breathed out, relaxing visibly despite his still very obvious trepidation. It pleased him immensely to be able to admire Aoba so fully, and he eagerly anticipated seeing the rest.

"Let me have this. I want to worship at the altar of your body," the Titan's voice hummed, hands sliding down Aoba's sides, fingers barely dancing across ribs and belly, down his hips and thighs. Eventually he came to Aoba's ankles and he lifted one, pressing kisses in the crook of bones and tendon, kisses behind his knee, the softest uncovered part of upper inner thigh...

"It's something I can do that doesn't trouble me in the least. I've wanted to put my mouth on your body ever since the idea came into my head," Declan whispered as he turned his head just enough that his breath blew hot and moist across Aoba's covered erection. So tantalizingly close, and the nearer the Guardian got to his intended goal, the less afraid he felt, just like in the field pursuing a target. The rewards here were far sweeter than any stupid commendation.

"Do you want me to keep going?"

Yep. This was pretty much exactly what Desire had imagined at the first utterance of ‘worship’. Aoba could say he mentally didn’t like it, didn’t like the imbalance of receiving without giving back, but no lie in the world could have explained away how readily his body responded to it. He tried to watch Declan without watching himself, but anticipation had already become aching, the heat in Aoba’s skin so intense that he could feel the muggy onset of sweat upon his brows.

His body was all tension. Strained knuckles, curling toes, muscles flexing in a conflict of trying to move with Declan without resisting him, despite being unable to relax completely into his tending. His breaths had already quickened to keep up with the speeding of his heart, and something not too unlike an abruptly cut off whine caught in his throat when Declan kissed the inside of his thigh.

I’m going to die if you don’t! was Desire’s exclamation inside his head, somehow and apparently delighting in the torture of being left hanging so long, but all Aoba could manage on the outside was a struggling nod of his head, teeth clenched around the sounds he didn’t want to make any more of.

At the nod, Declan smiled one of those trademark faint smiles of his and lowered his head to trace the straining shape of Aoba under the fabric with his lips. Hands sliding up bare thighs snaked fingers under elastic and curled enough to hook, pulling down slowly and tossing the underwear across the room to smack silently against the shower and flop to the floor.

He stared for a moment as he leaned back, taking in the fruit of his efforts, Aoba digging into to bed and struggling not to fall over the edge. Declan's pale gaze drifted up, making eye contact as he crouched between Aoba's legs and slid his hands down and around, curling his arms behind the other man's knees. It was the only warning Aoba got before the Titan's muscles flexed and his hips were airborne, lifted from the bed and arching his body upwards.

Strong hands and iron biceps caged Aoba's legs so no amount of squirming or bucking would get him away, and the position robbed him of the ability to get any good leverage. He was effectively at the Titan's mercy, just as Declan wished it.

The Guardian's tongue slid hot and wet over Aoba's arousal, laving the skin without an ounce of the earlier misgivings. He tasted every inch of the most sensitive, most intimate places, tongue a firm, wet pressure peeling skin away before his entire mouth engulfed the man. Like riding a bike, he mused to himself, brows furrowing for only a second before he gave himself over to muscle memory, devouring his lover without a hint of shame.

What Declan lacked even an ounce of, Aoba had in tonnage.

It seemed—ordinary enough, Aoba thought in the vaguest fashion. At first. Declan had some hang-up about positions and wanted to use his mouth so…so that was what it was going to be. The fragments of just imagining that only added to Aoba’s tormented excitement, a whimpered little sound escaping him anyway when he was kissed through the dark fabric of his underwear. His heels pressed into the mattress except when they were lifted to get that last piece of his clothing gone, and then he was turning his head aside entirely lest he see himself. Declan could look all he wanted—an average-sized erection, an all-natural patch of hair just as blue as the hair on Aoba’s head—but the man that it all belonged to suddenly couldn’t stand to see it.

Thus he was all the more surprised and distressed when half his body got yanked up where he didn’t expect it to be. There was squirming from Aoba then, alright, complete with a shrill little sound choked in his throat as the rest of his body had to go scooting downwards, as it were, his shoulders and head dragged down off the pillows since he most certainly did not do anything to keep his back in that arch.

He did not like it. He did not like it. Desire was laughing, a raucous what the fuck!? somewhere in his head that belonged to them both in very different emotions and then-

Gold. The squirming stopped, replaced with heels striking Declan’s back as Aoba locked his knees tight as he could, throat unlocked as Desire’s laughter found voice. Of course, that was soon dissolved into delighted groaning as the Titan got to work, somehow managing to fetch Aoba’s dick from its graceless flop against his stomach and back up into that lavender-tinted mouth.

A minute, two, maybe even three at best. Too riled up and now too shameless to hold back, that was all it took before climax crested on him, Desire at least more than happy to be loud about it as pleasure finally flooded Aoba’s body and overflowed to the greed of Declan’s mouth.

It was a bit of a shock, initially, though Declan couldn't think of why, since it was the logical conclusion to their actions. There he was, hungry for his lover - ravenous, even - and fully prepared to continue working the man over until he was screaming, then it was over. Poof. Just like that. He'd been so thoroughly encouraged by the heels against his back and the raised voice that it hadn't occurred to him that Aoba might finish so quickly.

It hit Declan's mouth too fast for him to choose to pull back, maybe let Aoba come...somewhere. Anywhere other than his mouth. He hadn't thought that far and hadn't decided how he would handle it. Put on the spot and unwilling to stop servicing Aoba until he was completely spent, Declan held his breath and pressed in, letting cock and all slide down his throat with questionable ease. He waited until his lover was done before pulling back slowly, gently lowering the man's hips into his lap, pausing only to rub his mouth with the back of his arm. Afterwards, he simply gazed down at the other man's flushed body, admiring, fingers caressing the sides of his legs soothingly, waiting for him to come down.

The breathlessness that followed Aoba's ecstatic cry gave way, soon enough, to the return of laughter. Now it was more like wheezy snickering, though, as the man sagged into the mattress, legs still up in an ungraceful 'V', a calf braced against each of Declan's broad, white shoulders. Desire, for one, had no compunctions about looking across the length of himself, taking in the exposed position he found himself in, and pleased by the spit-slicked and spent look of his dick.

He didn't even care enough to mind that it hadn't lasted all that long, considering. Finally he had gotten some.

"You kinky bastard," he chortled up at Declan, combing his own faintly-sweaty hair back from his face with both hands in order to improve his view of the Guardian. "Of course you're a control freak."

He tensed slightly, Desire easily able to feel it in his shoulders, bright eyes blinking before looking away. Color rose to his cheeks and he reached up, carefully moving legs down and depositing them on the bed. He didn't think he liked that assessment very much, and suddenly felt extremely guilty. Should he not have done as he did? Was giving something without wanting anything in return not acceptable? Was he not allowed to provide while he worked through his anxieties?

"Excuse me," he murmured, moving to get up from the bed with the intention of rinsing his mouth and getting a warm, wet rag to clean Aoba with.

Desire was about as subtle and graceless as a semi truck, but Declan's reaction to his verbal jab told him what he needed to know. As his legs were lowered, he pulled himself back up to the pile of pillows and sagged into it, burying his hands under one or another at random, legs bent and turned at lazy angles in pure repose.

"Mmhmm," he acknowledged. "But you don't need to make that face. You come back and cuddle and get some constructive criticism, alright?"

Pausing beside the bed and listening without running away, the Titan nodded and slipped off. A little swishing and spitting later and he was back standing at the side of the bed and holding a steaming warm cloth out, eyes at least not downcast as he waited for Aoba to take it. He didn't think he had a right to clean the other man, sit on the bed or...really anything else, actually.

I knew I shouldn't have done anything. I should have just kept things the way they were. All this unease had to come from somewhere. I'm an idiot. Stupid.

Declan's thoughts whirred, battering him down more as he bit and chewed the inside of his lips, the only indication of his turmoil as he stared impassively.

Well, the impassive stare was a sign, too. Reason felt very small and uncertain, finding themselves at the end of that stare, and Desire held in the urge to voice one of his many groans of frustration where Declan could hear it.

“Okay. Okay,” he sighed, trying to think outside of his inherent nature as he sat up. He didn’t care about the washcloth. He wasn’t dirty. The traces of Declan’s mouth on him were already half air-dry, but he took it anyway and did his best to give himself a wipedown that was a step more than cursory before flinging it towards the shower and letting it smack off the glass.

He more cared about reaching out, grabbing each of Declan’s hands as he looked up at the Guardian with golden eyes something a bit less than their usual harsh intensity.

“You didn’t like me calling you a control freak. That’s not what you were going for, huh?”

Slowly shaking his head, Declan looked between the hands holding his, pursing his lips tightly for a moment. He tried to arrange his words quickly, knowing that the time it took him for things was far excessive compared to the time it took Aoba.

"It was important that I be allowed to do something for you without...reward? Without anything in return. To..." He struggled, looking up a moment, eyes squinting in a frustrated frown of concentration. The only word he had wasn't the one he felt exactly filled the vocabulary void, but it was the best he could do.

"...Service you? No. That sounds vulgar. Serve? I don't know..." He huffed a soft sigh, looking off to the side, head straining away a moment before he forced himself to look back.

"Maybe I am, though? Maybe you're right...maybe I don't know what I am," the Titan fretted quietly, though he never pulled away.

"There's this sense of...almost panic...somewhere. Back deep. I don't know from what. I shouldn't be afraid, I'm elated...but..." All those halts, all those long pauses and silent chokes.

"I'll probably just keep making it worse. I'm sorry, Aoba."

“Well nobody wants you to panic. You can’t even swap out like I can.” Because Reason had also panicked and Desire had taken his place, but now the matter wasn’t as simple as too kinky too fast for Aoba’s ultra-vanilla side. Light help them.

He gave those hands he had hold of matching tugs, aware of Reason suddenly very much there with him. All that shame and confusion went scattering, the priority of them so much less at the sight and sounds of Declan so distressed and struggling to explain himself.

“You have instinctive reactions. So do I. Two sets of them, even. And all three of us just screwed up. So, come on, big guy. Sit with me again. Please?”

He moved at the tug, so asking him to sit was hardly necessary. He was a well-trained creature on a well-made yoke. Anxiety aside, he wasn't going to stop loving or love any less; he just didn't know how to arrange things in his head any better then than weeks before.

"It isn't just about me. I scared you. You're upset. I don't care about my feelings on anything...I'll just do something different or nothing at all for myself...but I can't take back upsetting you like that," Declan mourned quietly, weight settling on the bed, eyes notably avoiding the nudity he had so recently lauded. Permission hadn't been extended.

“Okay, that right there, that’s something you need to stop. Caring about your feelings is not something to stop doing,” Desire did his best to say without sounding his own variety of out of sorts, frustrated by all these ridiculous little screw-ups even as he gave Reason the breather necessary to settle his own side of their self.

He wrapped both his hands around the nearer of Declan’s, perfectly indifferent to his nude state, himself. He cared as little about being pantless right now as Declan did being shirtless in his downtime.

“The only thing that ‘scared’ part of me was when you jerked me up without warning and didn’t let me move. I don’t know what Mac gave you to read, but that’s a pretty adventurous first time maneuver. I’ll roll with anything in the world that you want me to, but Reason’s not big on surprises.”

"Is it?" he asked, squinting again. "I didn't get that from Mac...Mac gave me a book about different positions mostly, for actual intercourse." Because that's a word for Declan, the man guaranteed never to drop an F-bomb.

"It was just...something. Something I thought of based on something else I read and something else already in my mind. But...everything I've read implies what I did was extremely common and fairly, uh, tame." Lavender crept into alabaster ears, pale eyes fixed on the nearby bunk wall, teeth grinding the inside of his cheek.

"I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

“Putting my dick in your mouth? Sure. Crotch-first in the air and not letting go? Need to tell a guy who’s never had a boyfriend before, before springing that on him. That’s all.”

With a sigh, but a softer and less frustrated one, Aoba listed sideways and rested his cheek against Declan’s bare shoulder. It was its own kind of exhausting, for Desire, to be the only one fully confident both in his feelings and in acting on any shape of them, but to also to feel held back by the needs of the other two. More than that: to allow himself to be held back.

“…I love you, you know?” he said after a set of quiet moments, putting the classic words together with his usual easy confidence.

Eyes darted back quickly with those few words, the brightness lost returning. Dismal gray clouds blew away and the Titan's mood visibly improved, lips curving slightly in an unsure smile.

"I love you, too." And that was all that mattered, he supposed. He'd learn. He wouldn't do anything like that again, at least not until requested. in the meanwhile, he didn't have to beat himself up over it. Aoba wasn't mad, and he wasn't precisely scared, either, since he was talking so candidly.

Though doubt still clung to him...

"...I ruined our first time, though..." And that was what really stuck in his craw, more than anything else. Something that should have been pleasant and memorable would forever be negative in their memory, and it was his fault.

“Nah, nothing like that,” Desire dismissed the statement easily, turning his head to look up at Declan without actually giving up his ‘pillow’. He stroked the pale hand between his own. “I bet you most people getting together for the first time do something that goes awkward on them.”

A round two would be easy. For Desire, anyway. He figured he could even be sweet about it, since it was Declan. But…maybe too much. Too much of a push for two people still figuring out themselves as well as each other. For the time being, Desire would just have to be content…with what he’d gotten, and with being loved.

He reached up, stroking his fingers along the side of Declan’s head, teasing his hair a bit.

“I’m willing to sleep on it. Long as you’re still holding me ‘til morning.”

"If you'll still have me, of course I will," Declan answered, glancing down at Aoba a moment, then across the floor at the underwear there.

"Do you want to dress again, or sleep like this?" he asked, clearing his throat softly. "I...actually prefer sleeping without any clothing. I only started wearing anything because you started living with me. It feels unnatural," he admitted, shrugging slightly and look back to Aoba.

"I can still stay dressed! Especially if you'd be uncomfortable. I'm just saying, I don't mind you being nude if you like it. I'll still keep you warm."

…Don’t laugh at his priorities. Just don’t. And somehow, Desire managed—but it helped that he was Aoba, and not Desire alone.

He still grinned, though, and his hand in Declan’s hair turned into an outright ruffling.

“I’m flattered you’re still thinking about how naked I still am,” he couldn’t help. “I wasn’t. And I also don’t care enough to change it. I don’t have anything to hide from you, even when we’re not doing anything with it.”

Wrinkling his nose slightly at the ruffling and leaning into it anyways, Declan shrugged it off. He was always thinking about Aoba. Him being naked just made him think very specifically about things. Looking around the room again and having an intense urge to clean, the Titan eventually shook it off and reached for the blankets instead, tugging them up to cover both of them as he maneuvered around to curl against Aoba once more, same as he'd been before it all started.

"...Did...Did I do alright, though?" he asked, low voice hardly above a whisper, asking the question he didn't want to. He didn't need the affirmation of his skill for his own ego; he needed it to salvage something, to know that even if the timing was poor and the execution was misguided, the act itself was satisfactory. If he couldn't please Aoba, what was the point in all of it?

“I came, big guy. That’s your answer right there,” Desire answered, classy as always.

But Aoba was something more tender, in the way he wriggled around enough until he was someplace he could loop an arm over Declan’s neck, putting ruffled hair in place with careful finger-combing. ‘Aftercare’ wasn’t a word in his vocabulary, linguistically speaking, but he instinctively understood it emotionally. Definitely more Reason than Desire, there, but Aoba was Aoba, ever more in flux.

He kissed Declan’s chin, and the corner of his mouth. Sweet, gentle, and without excitement.

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