[If these were the lengths Clark was willing to go to in pursuit of a kiss Iroha hoped the urge to be kissed struck him every day hence. He laughed airily, amused by the purity behind the request and the juxtaposition of the state Clark's mouth was in: freshly fucked with the taste of his own come inevitable if he kissed him now.
Without delay, Iroha fulfills his promise. There is nothing to say when actions will speak for him. He presses his lips to Clark's, appreciative they may be tender or oversensitive, perhaps. He'd done that to him and the knowledge felt good. He couldn't reveal that a real part of him huffed mine like a muscle-headed bull after mating. Maybe Clark knew anyway or could sense that Iroha's kiss was as pleasurable a wish-fulfillment as he'd known in ages.]
[ Clark can tell, in his own special way, that Iroha wanted the kiss as much as Clark did. He's oblivious to a number of things, but there's a tenderness to his touch that he knows is genuine-- a sweetness that has him smiling against his lips as his hand comes up to touch his cheek instead. He hasn't been kissed like this in ages, and in some ways feels like he'd craved it even more than he did the release that Iroha had just guided him through.
It doesn't have to be slow or hot or dirty to make Clark's heart flutter. When the kiss ends he's still smiling, and when blue eyes meet Iroha's own that smile turns into a full-blown grin, enough for his dimples to show.
He really does like Iroha too much for his own good. Clark pecks him once more, a press of lips upon lips, and then thumps his cheek back onto his shoulder.
He realises way too late that Iroha's come has dried on his face. The fact still makes him blush, though. ]
[Aah, that was nice. And an adorable grin to top it off. Iroha strongly craved sweets for some reason now that they'd finished and Clark had had his moment. How gross their current state of skin and dress was hardly mattered to Iroha but once the aura of a good screw cleared and it was back to reality, it would begin to be uncomfortable even for him.]
I imagine you will want a shower soon, yes.
[Iroha agreed and started to move, even with Clark hung on his shoulder. He would have to accept that, sorry. He made some vital dignity-improving adjustments to his clothes and had one last glance at Clark's red underwear. Red! Remarkable.]
Free of charge, of course...unless you would prefer I hang on to this.
[He steps over to the delicate vase displaying three roses and plucks the florists' card from its mid-bouquet display.]
[ By the time Iroha's moved to pull away Clark is doing the same, although he mutters a soft 'oh no' when he realises that he's been exposed this whole time.
It's mortifying. There is a significant amount of dried come on his hand, which makes him clear his throat as he sort of fumbles through tucking himself away and messing with the fastenings to his trousers. When he glances up again at Iroha's words, his head tilts in question, and then he follows his movements up until Iroha's by the flowers.
His expression changes to one of enlightenment. He'd forgotten about his card. ]
So you used it too. [ But Clark doesn't sound angry about it-- just fondly amused, and he brings his hand up to cover his mouth when he laughs, except it's the messy hand, so he ends up blushing instead when he notices it.
Ahem. ] Oh, it's okay, Iroha. You can keep them.
[ Clark gets to his feet with a surprising ease, especially for a man of his age who's been on his knees for so long. It's a beat before he lets out an 'ow', bending slightly to rub the offending joints with his palms. ]
But I really think I need my, uh, card back. I mean, the bank... gosh, it's taken years to keep a good credit score, and your guys used my card for meat with gold in it.
[Watching him restore a percentage of common social decency was just another familiar sight to someone with more experience than his age suggested. Shame was a very distant memory and thus Clark's initial embarrassment, and every appearance of it since he had walked in the room, was either unnoticed or endearing.
Once the truth was out of the open (one more thing Iroha felt no shame to have done) he returned Clark's smile, expectations met. It was in poor taste for friends to issue tests, deliberate strains on a relationship to judge the other party's reaction. Buying himself flowers was something like a test - a cousin, maybe - and Clark behaved just as Iroha predicted.
If he wondered if Clark was making similar measurements of his character, Iroha would hope he didn't appear unattractively paranoid. There would always be facets of others he couldn't predict or failed to see. Like the way Clark took a second to register pain. Sometimes that happened - body parts did go numb! If he had a reason to be suspicious he might recognize what had just happened. He did it himself often enough. But how could he be suspicious of Clark? His knees were numb. Iroha saw nothing else.]
On it!
[Iroha corrects him, in a far better mood than he had started the day in, then hands over the florists' card. Clark's credit card is tucked behind it. They are the same size, almost the same thickness and practically identical shades of off-white. Nothing like the venerable 'right under your nose' to make something invisible.
The lovely cursive handwriting reads: To my favorite - past, present and future. With love, Clark Kent]
On it. [ Clark echoes the sentiment with another little laugh, finally straightening (as much as his posture allows him to straighten, anyway) and moving to push his glasses up his nose.
...only to realise he doesn't have them. ] Ope. Say, Iroha, could I have--
[ Except the florist's card is extended towards him, and Clark looks surprised by it before he recognises the credit card oh-so cleverly hidden behind it. His mouth opens in a gasp, blue eyes wide, and when he takes both of them, it's only when it's close enough his nearsightedness isn't a problem that he sees the words.
Predictably, Clark melts. His eyes flick from the card to Iroha's face and back again, his lashes fluttering fondly. Past, present, and future. It's a sweet, sweet idea.
And Clark is, without a doubt, a hopeless romantic.
He nods then, taking his credit card and pocketing it, but handing the other one back.
Biting the corner of his lip, Clark's smile is crooked when he says, ] I'm good at messages, aren't I?
[Iroha is a cautious romantic. Not so bitter as to be irredeemably jaded but jade-ish? A romantic, nonetheless. He closed two fingers over the card's gilded edge with a thoughtful expression that didn't last long before he dismissed whatever imaginings had caused it.]
The very best.
[The nearly-unnoticeable presence of Clark's glasses had become something akin to wearing a new necklace. At the forefront of one's mind initially until they blended in. He was almost unwilling to give them back but possessiveness was quickly worn down by practically and Iroha ended their vacation in foreign lands, unfolding the arms and giving them back.]
You will find a vacant room one floor above us and two doors west of where you stand. Shower, ready yourself to leave the floating world as needed. I hope you return to Kikuya soon.... Clark.
thank you so much for this thread! what a delightfully sinful surprise it was LMAO
[ Clark takes his glasses and slips them onto his face, blinking a few times to adjust before he looks back up to meet Iroha's gaze. His own, as open as it always is (Clark has never learned to control the expressions on his face, not really), is warm with a very quiet, very honest affection, punctuated with a soft laugh at the thought of return. ]
Iroha, [ he sighs good-naturedly, dipping his head, and maybe if his hand wasn't so ruined, he'd have started twiddling his thumbs ] you have my number for a reason.
[ But he knows he has to go. Iroha still has work to do-- Iroha has work to do, and Clark had just come on his floor. The thought of it shouldn't be as good as it is, not when it's so inherently dirty. ]
I'll see you soon. [ It's spoken like a promise, and Clark leans in to press one last peck to his lips before he starts to step back, wishing he didn't feel as bashful as he did. ] Enjoy the flowers, t-too.
[ One floor above us and two doors west. Clark is going to do his best to remember, but his head still spins just a little-- and he's lightheaded and silly and smiling like a fool from the moment he walks up the stairs to when he finally, finally gets home. ]
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no subject
Without delay, Iroha fulfills his promise. There is nothing to say when actions will speak for him. He presses his lips to Clark's, appreciative they may be tender or oversensitive, perhaps. He'd done that to him and the knowledge felt good. He couldn't reveal that a real part of him huffed mine like a muscle-headed bull after mating. Maybe Clark knew anyway or could sense that Iroha's kiss was as pleasurable a wish-fulfillment as he'd known in ages.]
no subject
It doesn't have to be slow or hot or dirty to make Clark's heart flutter. When the kiss ends he's still smiling, and when blue eyes meet Iroha's own that smile turns into a full-blown grin, enough for his dimples to show.
He really does like Iroha too much for his own good. Clark pecks him once more, a press of lips upon lips, and then thumps his cheek back onto his shoulder.
He realises way too late that Iroha's come has dried on his face. The fact still makes him blush, though. ]
Probably have to get off your floor, huh?
no subject
I imagine you will want a shower soon, yes.
[Iroha agreed and started to move, even with Clark hung on his shoulder. He would have to accept that, sorry. He made some vital dignity-improving adjustments to his clothes and had one last glance at Clark's red underwear. Red! Remarkable.]
Free of charge, of course...unless you would prefer I hang on to this.
[He steps over to the delicate vase displaying three roses and plucks the florists' card from its mid-bouquet display.]
no subject
It's mortifying. There is a significant amount of dried come on his hand, which makes him clear his throat as he sort of fumbles through tucking himself away and messing with the fastenings to his trousers. When he glances up again at Iroha's words, his head tilts in question, and then he follows his movements up until Iroha's by the flowers.
His expression changes to one of enlightenment. He'd forgotten about his card. ]
So you used it too. [ But Clark doesn't sound angry about it-- just fondly amused, and he brings his hand up to cover his mouth when he laughs, except it's the messy hand, so he ends up blushing instead when he notices it.
Ahem. ] Oh, it's okay, Iroha. You can keep them.
[ Clark gets to his feet with a surprising ease, especially for a man of his age who's been on his knees for so long. It's a beat before he lets out an 'ow', bending slightly to rub the offending joints with his palms. ]
But I really think I need my, uh, card back. I mean, the bank... gosh, it's taken years to keep a good credit score, and your guys used my card for meat with gold in it.
no subject
Once the truth was out of the open (one more thing Iroha felt no shame to have done) he returned Clark's smile, expectations met. It was in poor taste for friends to issue tests, deliberate strains on a relationship to judge the other party's reaction. Buying himself flowers was something like a test - a cousin, maybe - and Clark behaved just as Iroha predicted.
If he wondered if Clark was making similar measurements of his character, Iroha would hope he didn't appear unattractively paranoid. There would always be facets of others he couldn't predict or failed to see. Like the way Clark took a second to register pain. Sometimes that happened - body parts did go numb! If he had a reason to be suspicious he might recognize what had just happened. He did it himself often enough. But how could he be suspicious of Clark? His knees were numb. Iroha saw nothing else.]
On it!
[Iroha corrects him, in a far better mood than he had started the day in, then hands over the florists' card. Clark's credit card is tucked behind it. They are the same size, almost the same thickness and practically identical shades of off-white. Nothing like the venerable 'right under your nose' to make something invisible.
The lovely cursive handwriting reads:
To my favorite - past, present and future.
With love, Clark Kent]
oh that's really cute, i'm infuriated
...only to realise he doesn't have them. ] Ope. Say, Iroha, could I have--
[ Except the florist's card is extended towards him, and Clark looks surprised by it before he recognises the credit card oh-so cleverly hidden behind it. His mouth opens in a gasp, blue eyes wide, and when he takes both of them, it's only when it's close enough his nearsightedness isn't a problem that he sees the words.
Predictably, Clark melts. His eyes flick from the card to Iroha's face and back again, his lashes fluttering fondly. Past, present, and future. It's a sweet, sweet idea.
And Clark is, without a doubt, a hopeless romantic.
He nods then, taking his credit card and pocketing it, but handing the other one back.
Biting the corner of his lip, Clark's smile is crooked when he says, ] I'm good at messages, aren't I?
:3c
The very best.
[The nearly-unnoticeable presence of Clark's glasses had become something akin to wearing a new necklace. At the forefront of one's mind initially until they blended in. He was almost unwilling to give them back but possessiveness was quickly worn down by practically and Iroha ended their vacation in foreign lands, unfolding the arms and giving them back.]
You will find a vacant room one floor above us and two doors west of where you stand. Shower, ready yourself to leave the floating world as needed. I hope you return to Kikuya soon.... Clark.
thank you so much for this thread! what a delightfully sinful surprise it was LMAO
Iroha, [ he sighs good-naturedly, dipping his head, and maybe if his hand wasn't so ruined, he'd have started twiddling his thumbs ] you have my number for a reason.
[ But he knows he has to go. Iroha still has work to do-- Iroha has work to do, and Clark had just come on his floor. The thought of it shouldn't be as good as it is, not when it's so inherently dirty. ]
I'll see you soon. [ It's spoken like a promise, and Clark leans in to press one last peck to his lips before he starts to step back, wishing he didn't feel as bashful as he did. ] Enjoy the flowers, t-too.
[ One floor above us and two doors west. Clark is going to do his best to remember, but his head still spins just a little-- and he's lightheaded and silly and smiling like a fool from the moment he walks up the stairs to when he finally, finally gets home. ]