*switches from thirst to angst to a sprinkle of softness on top* Parkour!
800 words of complicated post-route Dragoat feelings. You could say Alastor is having a hard time.
A lil spicy, but nothing actually happens, much to Lucio’s frustration.
(also I haven’t written anything in a while so this is more of an attempt to stretch that creative muscle)
---
“Luci–mmmph!”
Alastor could barely finish muttering out Lucio’s name when the man’s lips were on his, the clawless golden gauntlet on the back of his head holding him close. There was an urgency, hunger to the kiss, the kind of passionate need of someone reveling in every hasty touch and muffled moan. Alastor was pleasantly surprised to discover that Lucio did not seem to tire of him as quickly as he anxiously anticipated.
Instead, some of that hunger felt stronger with each passing day.
With a quiet growl that made Alastor’s blush spread all the way to his neck, Lucio pushed him to sit down on the bed of their now shared guestroom, immediately settling next to him, any moment of separation seemingly unbearable. Even through two layers of clothes Lucio felt hot, almost feverish against the magician’s body that was still recovering from a fight that decided the fate of the entire world. His mind was foggy, nearly drunk on his partner’s intoxicating scent. Alastor didn’t know what to do with his trembling hands, eventually burying his fingers into smooth golden locks when Lucio pulled him into another, open-mouth kiss.
Then another.
Then another, until both of them were out of breath, needing the air but unwilling to part any more or any longer than necessary.
Alastor had no idea if his own kissing was even any good. It was all new to him – on practice, anyway – the movements, the tongue, a few brief playful bites – a trick he admittedly picked up from Lucio himself. For a rare blissful moment he didn’t care, only reaching out for more.
But no matter how badly he yearned for that “more”, when Lucio’s right hand slipped under his shirt, the sweet fog of want in Alastor’s mind began to dissipate. No matter how good Lucio’s mouth felt on his neck, the thoughts returned to him one by one, a barrage of doubts and fears haunting him like another, much more malicious ghost.
This won’t go well. He won’t be satisfied with me. I look like a mess. I don’t really know what I’m doing. He’s got experience with people who look better, feel better, are better. He expects more.
When Lucio pushed him down further onto the bed-cover, an obvious erection pressed against his thigh, all Alastor felt was a cold pit in his stomach.
I’m not enough.
“L-Lucio– w-wait, please…”
“Whuh??”
His shaky voice must’ve given away his distress because in a moment Lucio propped himself up on the alchemical arm, breathing heavy and brows furrowed as he was searching for something on the magician’s face.
“Are you hurt?”
Ever fretting since Alastor collapsed in the crimson halls of the Devil’s realms. Oh how he wished that fatigue or pain would be the only thing making him pull away from his confused almost-lover. Alastor couldn’t hold eye contact for long and turned to stare at a wall as he carefully sat up, embarrassment and guilt quickly setting in.
“No, no, I just… I can’t do this,” he cringed slightly instantly after saying this, realizing how bad it sounds. “I-I mean, I can’t do this… now? Yet? Sorry.” he sighed the last word in frustration, struggling to explain himself.
Wrapping his arms around himself, Alastor risked a glance at Lucio, who looked a bit like he was presented with an advanced alchemical puzzle together with a refusal.
“You don’t want… sex?” he asked, as if the sole notion was hardly comprehensible to him. Alastor felt like there was something else hidden in the question that sounded a bit more careful than usual, but he couldn’t determine what it was.
Alastor shook his head, taking a few attempts before he could muster an answer.
“I– N-no, it’s not— It’s not that. I’m…”
He paused, closing his eyes for a moment. He couldn’t explain everything that was going on in his head – some parts he barely understood himself. The feelings of being insufficient, the disconnection and disdain he sometimes felt when looking in a mirror, the exhaustion from nightmares during the nights and worse memories during the days.
The fears of this relationship not lasting. Of it being fake.
“I’m not ready. I need some time, that’s all.”
Lucio was always terrible at hiding emotions, disappointment and frustration definitely not being exceptions. Still an attempt was made with an uneven smile and an arm around his shoulders, slowly easing some tension from the magician’s body with a simple touch.
“It’s fine, Al.” For once, Alastor appreciated the lie. “You don’t need to look this miserable about it, you know.”
The magician let out a short startled laugh – he must have resembled a sad kitten at some point, it wouldn’t be the first time Lucio made that comparison. Seeking comfort, Alastor uncoiled his arms from himself to wrap them around Lucio instead, careful to avoid frustrating him further. For now, simple physical closeness had to be enough.
