@deadawakening | Sinful thing ;;
Its always controlled, always carefully conducted, they don’t want Dog to make an appearance. Heine letting his guard up is almost impossible but even he had to let it go a little every now and then. He knows to be careful, knows how to operate but also how to teach. This wasn’t the other’s area of expertise, if anything the albino didn’t know a damn thing about it for the most part, and Raven certainly wanted to teach him. Touch is fickle, sometimes Heine allows the barest of it and others there’s a bit more involved.
He’s not going to push or pressure but he’s going to tug at limits like no tomorrow when he can to get them further out. Pull away the limitations and eventually they’ll die, if only between the two of them. Which he was fine with, some how he’s found himself a little growly towards others that get too close to him. Possessive? Jealous? Not really, Raven just doesn’t want anyone hurting him. Doesn’t want anyone getting too close just to rip him asunder. He knows the deal, he knows what his siblings are and what they’d likely do to get to him, demons always know the worst part of people.
Lithe digits found shoulders and he’s wrapped Heine’s hips in his thighs, deciding it would be better if he took the reigns to teach but gave every opening to leave as well. There’s no wings, no tails to confine, nothing of his demonic traits show because he’s small this way and small means the ability to be pushed off easily so there weren’t any slip ups. He bows forward, encapsulating his lips with his own, but it’s slow and languid to go along with the smooth rolls of his hips. Kisses like a profit’s fire lead down to the collar and he’s always avoided Heine’s neck.
Slipping downwards, it’s like a fluid acrobatics show the way he moves from being on top to being nestled between knees. Each action dedicated to laying a swarm of licks and nips along pale flesh as he pushes fabric out of his way. He’s settled in place, nimble fingers working more and more of that pesky jean away as crimson pools turn upwards to examine Heine’s expression and ensure it’s still within the scope of possibility to keep going. They’d stopped before, but there was no reason to yet this time.
For all his caution, he’s ravenous when he slides his fingers along inner thighs to push them apart a little more, covetous when he leans forward to dip his head down and trace that slick muscle across the other’s flesh. He knew what he was doing, slowly building up that gasping pressure to hook him in and bring him up to a level of euphoria. His teeth are shrouded as he further indulges, lips wrapped around the head of his cock to take long and soft drawls. There’s something sensual in a task often so dirty and without romanticism, his tongue swirling flesh as he grasped alabaster hips and brought him forward even further.
He’s not callous, not forceful, fingers shift and circle skin to trace trails of fire along his skin as he brings that hardened appendage into his throat and hums in delight. Bringing the other to higher hitched breaths and gasping moans only to stop short of that final push. He slips his frame upwards, clothing discarded in his wake as he easily and quickly gets himself ready. It’s just fingers and lubricant with a flick of the wrist and a slide of his palm across what he wanted. If he’s going to do this right then he’s going to make sure everything comes together.
Even if he’s not patient, even if he wants to pull him close and make sure there’s no gap at all, he knows better. His knees bury into the couch and he’s lined Heine’s jaw with his palms to ensure he’s looking at him. “Don’t think about anything else,” breathless words are spoken because he knows there’s issues on thin ice. He knows he’s got to keep him pinned but also make sure he’s not confined and there’s a balance, a balance he’s surely kept to. His frame bows and he’s closing that gap with a certain slowness, hitched breaths and soft sounds escape his throat and then there’s no space between them.
He’s voracious, hips moving and rolling as heavy breaths filled the silence and moans turned it into sound. To love someone so fiercely they’d want no space between is a dangerous thing for two like them. Both pained by this world and taken apart at the very seams but somehow still vicious enough to bite back. He turns his hands outwards, following the line of flesh to his sides as he kisses a line of warmth down the hollow of his throat. Its addicting, really, the taste of him on his lips as he meets shoulder and finds himself staring down those bandages from a minute distance.
They’re not disheartening, oh but they drive his hips further as he twines his fingers through white locks and brings it all to a close. Warmth spreads through his hips and he finds himself writhing for a moment before he shudders in delight and slumps even further into him. There’s small shows of affection, lazily done but still so sweet as he threads his fingers through the other’s hair and kisses his jaw to tell him he did well. Love is such a fickle thing, pitting two very strange phenomenas together. Raven wouldn’t have it any other way.
