Have some youngins getting to know each other in their destroyed building of a home 🥰
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AFOFA/Moonlight/Smut
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The power is out. It usually is, whenever his brother isn't using a metapower to spark the wiring in the few electronics around their little space. It's a very high up space, so it's difficult for Yoichi to get down.
Zen, who can float, who can claw himself handholds in concrete, who can fly—he has no trouble coming and going. He can step out into the sky like it's solid ground.
The sky is dark now. This section of the city is meta-run; meaning that the local government has all but abandoned it. Power outages are frequent, and fires light the streets more often than streetlights do.
Tonight, there's no need for fires. The stars blink like brilliant diamonds in the darkness. The moon sits big and full and bright just outside the crater of their home, beaming moonlight in on them like a giant, glowing eye. Yoichi reaches a hand up and watches the moonlight stain his skin silver, sending a shadow of his spindly fingers across the ground. He makes a circle with his fingers, and now it looks like there are two moons; one in the sky, and one on the ground, smaller and cuffed by darkness.
The show that was on the crackling television earlier showed a woman making shapes with her hands, casting moving black pictures onto sheets in the light of a fire. She was smiling and telling stories, and a couple across from her had smiled and leaned into each other, their hands clasped together.
A hand snaps out and closes around Yoichi's thin wrist. He doesn't jump, merely turning his head to look at where his brother has awakened, red eyes spilling a paler shade of pink in the moonlight.
"Why are you awake," Zen says more than asks, staring at him intently.
"I can't sleep," Yoichi whispers back. The night feels strange if he's loud. Like he might be caught, though by what, he doesn't know. "The moon's too bright."
Zen grunts, acknowledging, and promptly yanks Yoichi closer by his arm, rolling on top of him and covering him with his large form. His shadow coats Yoichi like a second blanket, dousing him in darkness. Yoichi winces, the breath squeezed out of him in a wheeze as Zen drops his full weight onto him.
"Hm?" Zen questions, and Yoichi huffs.
"I can't breathe."
Zen doesn't seem very concerned by this. Possibly because he's got Yoichi's head tucked against his neck and can feel the flutter of every breath that escapes him. If it truly stopped, then his brother would heed him, but since it hasn't, he doesn't really care. Yoichi huffs again, annoyed, but doesn't protest.
It's silent for a moment, before Yoichi realizes that he's still not tired, so he might as well annoy his brother back. He starts talking, quiet but audible, about the things trotting through his mind.
"I was thinking about that movie from earlier," Yoichi begins. "The one with the woman who ran away from home and moved to a new country instead. France. She meets a man there, and he shows her all the different sights and things that she's never seen before. And she shows him how to do small things, like make pastries from her home country, and how to play card games, and how to have fun. That's how she put it—having fun."
Zen shifts over him, turning to peer down at him narrowly. Yoichi doesn't look at him, playing with the fraying threads or his brother's shirt.
"They did a lot of things that looked fun. Do you think you'd like card games, nii-san? Or baking? Well, we'd need an oven to bake, but surely we could find a pack of cards? And we could play games."
"We read together," his brother murmurs. "We watch movies together."
"But those aren't games," Yoichi insists. His hand twists in Zen's shirt. "I want to do the things they did."
Zen stares down at him moodily. He can tell that he's losing patience with him.
Yoichi peers back up at him, eyes wide. "There's one we could probably play now, but I've never seen anyone else playing it. Not even in other movies. But they played it at night, and the moon was full, like it is now."
That pale red eye rounds back out into something curious. Zen leans up a bit to peer down at him more fully. "A night game? In the dark?"
"In the moonlight," Yoichi corrects. The moonlight had seemed important somehow. There had been an image of clasped hands in a pool of moonlight on white sheets, like theirs, and Yoichi had felt his heart swell and his cheeks flush at the sight of it. "I think you need to be able to see."
"I can see in the dark," Zen points out needlessly. He cocks his head to the side. "How do you play the night game?"
Pleased with his brother's interest, but uncertain how to proceed, Yoichi hesitates. Then, he reaches up and cups a hand around the nape of his brother's neck, craning his own neck up. "I think...they started like this."
Touching his mouth to his brother's, Yoichi is surprised by how warm he is. How soft his lips are. Zen cocks his head to the side, curious, and murmurs against his mouth, "Are you trying to eat me?"
Tossing his head back down into the pillows, Yoichi looks up at his brother with a scandalized scowl. "No," Yoichi huffs. Even now the moon halos his brother's head, lighting up his white hair like a crown. Yoichi's expression falls from anger, and he says, "It's supposed to be more of...a tasting, I think."
There had been a lot of tongue. The screen had zoomed in on it. There had been some biting too.
...To be fair to Zen, it had kind of looked like eating.
Zen cocks his head the other way now, and then leans down and drags his tongue over Yoichi's mouth. Yoichi gasps in surprise, and in doing so his brother's tongue slips into his mouth. A warm, squirmy feeling starts up in Yoichi's belly, igniting like a pile of dry brush the moment Zen licks across his teeth and taste his tongue with his own. Zen doesn't taste like much—maybe the cucumber sandwiches they'd filched from the konbini earlier, with a little bit of raw iron mixed in—but the heat of his open mouth spilling into Yoichi's is... It's—
Yoichi squirms. He grabs his brother's shirt, pulling him down and arching his own head back so that Zen can eat deeper into his mouth. It's a wet sensation, hot and slick, and Zen makes a noise that Yoichi has never heard him make before. Yoichi shivers.
He likes it. He wants to hear it again.
His brother shifts over him, looming, and his hands come up to grasp Yoichi's face, his fingers closing over his cheeks and jaw like a bear trap. When he moves, Yoichi's squirming has him slotting between Yoichi's legs, their hips pressing together with an electrifying pressure. A sound rips up from deep in Yoichi's belly, and he snaps his eyes open to see that Zen is already staring back at him, pupils blown wide. They're both making strange new noises tonight. Enticing ones.
Yoichi isn't really thinking about the game anymore. He's too wrapped up in the overwhelming sensation of his brother's tongue in his mouth, his brother's weight between his legs. But then Zen starts to roll his body against Yoichi's in a way that looks very much like the motion he'd seen on the TV, and it comes with a storm of heat and sparks that feel so good that Yoichi's eye roll back in his head. He pants into his brother's mouth, their breaths mixing together in a hot damp flurry against both of their faces, and reaches up to run his fingers through Zen's choppy hair, grabbing and pulling in turns.
"Nii-san," Yoichi gasps out between the slow, fiery rolls of Zen's hips against his, the fabric of their fraying pants scraping together as Zen ruts his bulge against Yoichi's own. His body rocks up with each thrust, but Zen's hands keep firm hold of him, knotting in his hair and clawing at his face to keep him where Zen wants him. And as his thrusts get faster, so do Yoichi's moans. "Nii-san, nii-san, nii-san—"
His feet scramble for purchase on their pitiful mattress, the sheets rucked up all around them, the blanket twisted, and when he finally plants his heels flat Yoichi uses the leverage to cant his hips up too, struggling to move in time with Zen. It feels so, so good—the motion, the heat, the pressure, Zen around him and on him and in him, the taste of ozone and the smell of skin and the scorch of moonlight rippling around them like brilliant waves in a pond. The way he feels is like something out of a fairytale.
Not in the way that romance films are, but rather the older ones. Like he's beneath a wolf in the forest on a cloudless night, being eaten with such ferocity and desire that he feels incandescent with it. Coveted. Beautiful in the way that only fragile, temporary things can be.
Pleasure coils up his spine and around his gut in a white-hot spiral. It's bright and almost painful, filling him with a foreign sense of desperation. It's terrifying. It's the best thing he's ever felt. He wants to play this game all the time, forever.
He wants Zen to want to play it too.
Yoichi cries against his brother's mouth, back arching, and feels that lovely pressure snap into something ethereal. His vision goes white. For several long moments, all he can feel is pleasure so hot it fries his brain, everything else disappearing in the wake of it.
He feels like he's been ejected from his body; like he's miles away, somewhere high up. Yoichi is brought back down by the sensation of breathlessness, choking—and finds Zen shuddering against him, his tongue so deep in Yoichi's mouth that it touches the back of his throat. Yoichi gags against it, his hands turning to claws against his brother's back, scrabbling like a trapped rat—and then Zen pulls back. His chest heaves, his eyes dark, and he stares down at Yoichi with something...something dawning in his eyes.
Yoichi shivers.
"...I like the night game," Zen says after a minute, looking down at Yoichi intently. Yoichi flushes, unsure why he feels so shy all of a sudden, but also inordinately pleased with himself. He squeezes his legs around his brother's waist.
"Me too."
Zen leans down until his forehead touches Yoichi's, eyes glittering. The barest hint of pink has touched his cheeks, and Yoichi stares at it, fascinated. "I want to play it again."
Yoichi's eyes widen. His fingers twist in his brother's hair, and he wastes no time pulling Zen's mouth back down to his own.
"Okay," he gets out between presses of lips, before falling quiet beneath the weight of his brother once more.
