I know, [ toji growls back hoarse and low, halfway to a snarl, against a fresh bite on cain's collarbone. he still can't think, can't keep ahead of his own thoughts in the unfamiliar haze of his mind, muddled by the entirely foreign landscape of this encounter. it's uncharted territory, and toji feels like a man possessed by the ghost of himself, acting on compulsions he can neither control nor understand.
cain tells him he won't break and toji tells him he knows, because he does, he's known all this time. he's known since he first set eyes on cain in the woods and the snow in all his cocky irreverence. he let the boy fight, let him bleed, let the chill set into his bones, because it's clear even at a glance that cain does not break.
toji knows, and he doesn't care, because simply not breaking is not enough. not here, not for this, not with him. when did that become true? it was enough in the woods, and now—
it doesn't matter. it's true now. it's true now, and toji doesn't understand a goddamned lick of russian but he doesn't need to because he recognizes it as a plea. it's carried in the tone, in the way the syllables tumble from cain's lips.
toji doesn't want to just keep from breaking the marvel he has in his arms. he wants to build cain up, put him together right, take him as high as he can go, at least when it comes to toji. but cain is pleading, and these two compulsions are diametrically opposed.
cain wins out.
toji shivers, because it's a dangerous thing. he can't explain it, can't understand it, and it's a baffling, unspeakably dangerous thing.
with another low, animal noise, toji lets go of all that is left of his sense, of his self-control, of his better judgement. he sits up for leverage, flexes his grip on cain's waist, and then he gives cain everything he's asked for and more.
every muscle in toji's body works in symphony to drive him into cain's willing, pliant body, fucking into him in sharp, relentless thrusts as those broad hands drag cain back and forth in time with each stroke. each thrust flows into the next without pause, without rest, without mercy. ]
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cain tells him he won't break and toji tells him he knows, because he does, he's known all this time. he's known since he first set eyes on cain in the woods and the snow in all his cocky irreverence. he let the boy fight, let him bleed, let the chill set into his bones, because it's clear even at a glance that cain does not break.
toji knows, and he doesn't care, because simply not breaking is not enough. not here, not for this, not with him. when did that become true? it was enough in the woods, and now—
it doesn't matter. it's true now. it's true now, and toji doesn't understand a goddamned lick of russian but he doesn't need to because he recognizes it as a plea. it's carried in the tone, in the way the syllables tumble from cain's lips.
toji doesn't want to just keep from breaking the marvel he has in his arms. he wants to build cain up, put him together right, take him as high as he can go, at least when it comes to toji. but cain is pleading, and these two compulsions are diametrically opposed.
cain wins out.
toji shivers, because it's a dangerous thing. he can't explain it, can't understand it, and it's a baffling, unspeakably dangerous thing.
with another low, animal noise, toji lets go of all that is left of his sense, of his self-control, of his better judgement. he sits up for leverage, flexes his grip on cain's waist, and then he gives cain everything he's asked for and more.
every muscle in toji's body works in symphony to drive him into cain's willing, pliant body, fucking into him in sharp, relentless thrusts as those broad hands drag cain back and forth in time with each stroke. each thrust flows into the next without pause, without rest, without mercy. ]