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Noe shivers at the feel of light puffs of air ghosting his ear. He can hear the jumps of Vanitas’s pulse this close, loud enough to drown out the sound of the man’s own noises as he writhes and pants under him.
God, could he be anymore in love with this man.
He tilts his head, placing his lips next to Vanitas’s throat once more to suck, kissing the delicate skin with fervor. Noe can’t quite recall how they ended up like this, with him pressing Vanitas down against the wall, the other man indulging his quest of mindless affection. His brain had officially shut down from the feeling of Vanitas’s fingers in his hair, tugging the strands and scratching his scalp with his nails.
When Noe pulls back, the slick sound of his mouth leaving Vanitas’s neck is loud. He continues to move, leaning in impossibly closer to breathe in more of him. The smell of his sweat, mixed with the scent of his blood and the lingering trace of afternoon tea in his breath. He lets out a soft exhale, blowing out hot air at Vanitas’s even more heated skin.
His head falls back in an absent-minded motion, allowing him to look up directly at Vanitas, his half lidded gaze meeting his own and his voice promptly dies in his throat.
Vanitas looked like a beautifully wrecked painting.
His hands, freed from Noe’s hair, had fisted onto Noe’s shirt, wrinkling the fabric there. His dark hair was everywhere, draping over his figure like fine silk despite being mussed up from their position, helped made wilder by Vanitas’s movements. His face and neck was deliciously flushed, glowing a pretty pink that contrasts his usual pale complexion. His eyes were watering ever so slightly, dilating with the brilliant blue swallowed by the black of his pupils. His mouth was open, lips kiss-swollen and soft as he warbled out another call of Noe’s name, mind hazy from pleasure.
Perhaps Vanitas will let him unravel him like this more often if he begged him.
Distracted in his thoughts, Noe startles when he feels Vanitas’s gloved hands grab him by the face, unceremoniously yanking him up to mash their mouths back together again. He can feel Vanitas nibbling harsly on his lip and he keens, pushing himself further into the other man’s embrace.
His focus shifts back to Vanitas’s fingers, snaking around Noe’s jaw to thumb at his ear, slow in their exploration and mindful of his embedded nails as he traces the flesh of it. Noe breathes out a sigh into Vanitas’s lips, melting into him.
Noe should kiss him more often. It was a better alternative than constantly head-butting him to get Vanitas to shut up and listen.