Welcome to Gaia! ::

Jakkoa’s lashes flicked with his eyes, studying the slow heat of Rham’s cheeks before humming beneath his breath and reaching to begin fingering open the clasps of his jacket. He took pause, however, at the later comment, and the corner of his mouth twitched, pulling up in a gradual, amused curve on one side.

“Flavor,” he repeated, and the tip of his tongue slipped to barely skim the top edge of his bottom lip before retreating again, and he settled back to lean on the palms of his hands, gaze tripping down in slow assessment over Rham’s lips, throat, collarbone—

He shut his eyes.

“I don’t suppose I remember. But.” When he opened them again, his attention was fixed on Rham’s face, expression some hybrid of invitation, inquiry, and something more akin to a dare. “You’re welcome to find out if the curiosity is sufficient to inspire you.”

Pink, pink, pink…

Even in the dim light, Rham’s blush was evident on his pale skin and more so when it heated and spread. The curve to Jakkoa’s lips pulled further, edging in on ‘smug’ though he kept that enough at bay to leave a playful glint in his eye as his attention trailed the movement of Rham’s fingers. And the removal of clothes. Slow. Cautious.

Curious, and receptive, certainly but from the way he moved in to how he sat, to the way he looked — eyes moving to Jak’s lips but then away — and words petering off, there was no mistaking it. The hand on Jakkoa’s knee was warm with nervous, inviting heat, but it didn’t move further than where it landed.

This boy was shy.

Jakkoa felt his chuckle bubble up — quiet and beneath his breath — but genuine as he shifted his posture. He slid his fingers in, touching to the hand at his knee and edging beneath it before lacing their fingers together. He lifted it when he rose, moving in and over Rham’s cross-legged self—and settling: one knee to either side of Rham’s hips, legs to each side of him and the rest in his lap. He moved their joined hands to his own hip, placing Rham’s touch there with intent, and then leaned.

One brush of the lips, so light and skirting it might have been a warm breeze, and slow enough to offer Rham full opportunity to change his mind. Then more pressing. With a small tip of the head, Jakkoa caught Rham’s mouth with his—still close-lipped and chaste, but lingering enough to feel the brush of each other’s breath and the heady contrast between the heat of direct contact, and the cool contrasting kiss of the chilling night air.

Slip, and—

—catch.

Jak smiled into the kiss. His toes curled, pinching closer to the pads of his feet in silent appreciation as Rham’s hand settled and pulled at the small of his back, holding and looping them together.

There was always a moment in initiation when, despite invitation, there lingered that pivotal question unhinged: Is this okay? Between the curve and catch of Rham’s hand, the burn of his blush, the grip of his fingers—and the wordless, encouraging parting of his lips—the answer seemed to be a relieving, resounding: yes. A prickle of heat traveled up Jakkoa’s skin, warm just beneath the surface. He shifted his weight, adjusting closer.

With curious, unhurried ease, he lifted his spare hand. The pads of his fingers settled at the skin of Rham’s throat, perching for a moment before brushing back, over the titter of Rham’s pulse and into waves of soft blonde hair. He parted his lips when Rham did. Opening. Catching. Sliding. Locking.

Next he opened his mouth, he nipped, catching Rham’s bottom lip between his teeth with the gentlest, leading pull. “Come, then…” he murmured into the curve of Rham’s mouth, and in a brief flick of invitation, skirted the tip of his tongue out, only just grazing skin before retreating.

Where?

Jakkoa blinked, uncertain for a moment if the other boy was kidding or—but no, he was completely sincere, and in a moment, his lips stretched, teeth flashing in a brief, nearly laughing grin. He shut his eyes, stifling any potential laughter with another soft, close-mouthed kiss.

“I meant…” he said against Rham’s lips, “…something like…” and, without pulling away after the words, Jak drew his tongue out again, this time skimming the length of the other’s bottom lip. Kiss. Lick. And, after encouraging Rham’s own lips to part again, he slipped in, fingers catching to clasp in the hair at the other boy’s nape as he ran his tongue in a slow, experimental line along the length of Rham’s own.

When he let it break this time, his gaze was curious and assessing, Rham’s pulse like a small wild bird trapped and fluttering beneath his skin.

“So that you could taste,” Jak explained, but his thoughts had moved elsewhere and after a moment’s debate, he finally added the question: “Have you ever done anything like this before?”

No.

Jak couldn’t say the answer was surprising. As though in pre-emptive answer to his next question, however, before he could voice anything else Rham was pressing forward again, catching at his mouth with energy and relish—if little coordination. Jakkoa could appreciate the enthusiasm, however. To a point. At that point, he nipped, effectively reining the other boy in, and a moment later, Rham’s face was to his shoulder, breath puffing out.

Jakkoa blinked at the apology, though, and in the next moment clicked his tongue, shaking his head before leaning—and brushing, lips taking advantage of Rham’s positioning in order to skim the outer curve of the other’s ear.

“Hush…” he murmured. “You have nothing to apologize for. However…”

Letting his hand drop from Rham’s hair, Jak skirted his fingers down over the front of the boy’s chest, gently at first, but then with intent as he shifted his own weight up—and pressed, until Rham’s back was to his bedding furs, Jak perched over him. He dipped, catching Rham’s mouth in an encouraging, open-mouthed kiss while the hand not bracing himself skimmed down, pausing and splaying over his navel.

“More important than whatever you have or have not done…is whether you like this…” Jak brushed his lips along the line of Rham’s jaw, to the niche where it connected with his throat, “…and how much you would like me to do.” He rose up, tipping his head and in the process creating a pseudo-curtain of blonde over his ‘company.’ “I wouldn’t want to make you nervous.”

Hands on his thigh, and up, gripping—

Jakkoa did not bother to contain the satisfied curve of his smirk while Rham’s hand moved up his body, and when his palm made it to Jak’s arse, however briefly, Jak leaned back into it. Equal parts encouraging and amused by the teetering balance between the other boy’s obvious nerves and the more base want there. To Jak, it was all a compliment. A compliment that Rham was indeed interested, a triumph that his body was appreciated, and continued, much-appreciated flattery to see his body and his behavior inspire that variety of reaction.

“Everything,” Jak repeated, letting the word hang there on his tongue for a moment as though taste-testing it. Then, he smiled. He slid the hand at the other boy’s stomach down, over the upper hem of his pants, and traced two fingers over the cloth-encased ridge there before dipping his palm, cupping, and pressing. “I think I can manage that. Let’s start with something simple, mm?”

And, without a word of further explanation, Jakkoa rearranged himself, slipping down the center line of Rham’s chest, and settling between his legs.

It promised to be an educational night, all told.