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Azul is a good kisser. Objectively. Subjectively. In Jamil’s most humble opinion.
It took a bit of prying after their first kiss after Jamil was positively blown away at how naturally it seemed to come to him before Azul sheepishly confessed he’d done piles of research beforehand (which, honestly, is a very Azul thing to do).
Not that Jamil’s complaining or anything - it’s obviously paying off. Like now, for instance. Definitely now.
They’re curled up in the dark (how Azul likes it; part octopus habit, part low stimulus), sitting on Azul’s bed with the covers pooled around them like a messy seabed.
One of Azul’s hands cradles his chin between his pointer and thumb, nails ever so slightly poking his cheeks. The other rests on his thigh, and rubs back and forth, over and over again. Like a comfortable, sensual drift over the bare pocket of his school pants.
His lips are soft and sweet tasting, and when Jamil hazily opens his eyes, he can just barely make out the blurry dot of his beauty mark, posed perfectly under his lower lip. Jamil just loves his beauty mark. It’s one of the very first things he ever noticed about Azul, and one of the things that’s always struck Jamil as so uniquely him.
When he sees other people with similar marks or moles, it reminds Jamil of him. Invidiously, jealously - like how dare other people borrow his charm?
Azul presses a sweet kiss to the corner of his lips, his own dragging inwards to give him a proper one with open-mouthed peppered breaths. They tickle his skin and make his heart spike and leap in his throat, like it’s caught and stuck and he needs to swallow it back down.
Jamil tugs him forward by the knot of his tie, which earns him a delightfully startled noise from the back of Azul’s throat. His lips smoosh clumsily against Jamil’s as he tips forward, eyes squeezed tightly shut before he recovers and pulls back to lick his lips, wipe his mouth, and re-situate himself.
“You could just ask for me to come closer,” Azul huffs, abiding to Jamil’s wordless request all the same. Jamil shrugs, hand still loosely around his tie. He likes it there. Azul makes nice sounds with it there. Yes.
“You still knew what I wanted.” Jamil says simply, the grin ever so obvious when Azul moves to kiss him again.
“Still, an audible request would be appreciated.” Azul says in a tone that’s sharp but not at all upset - like thin panels of colored glass, sugar coated with pretty colors to compensate for all the sharp edges.
They slip back into their rhythm of kisses, pleased, heavy breaths and fabric shifting filling the silence. Azul tilts his head to properly slot his face against Jamil’s. Jamil used his free hand to clasp over Azul’s on his thigh. Azul moved a bit on the bed, setting one of his legs right between Jamil’s.
And oh, oh dear, it’s giving him a bit of butterflies.
Whenever Azul leans forward, his knee pushes perfectly against his groin and it’s impossible not to notice. Regardless, Jamil opts to ignore it at first - it’s just a one off thing. Well, four times off thing. Still, it’s not a big deal. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.
But it keeps happening. Over and over. And not in quick succession, either - Azul just keeps getting closer, subconsciously dragging himself further and further into Jamil’s orbit and additionally driving his knee further against his body.
It starts to make his heart beat faster and his stomach feel a different kind of fluttery. Not the ‘Azul got me a big, cheesy bouquet of flowers for Valentine’s Day’ way, but an ‘Azul sent a heated text while knowing full well I’m busy’ way. It’s uncomfortable in a familiar, insatiable way, sort of panging ribcage and nether regions and so on.
He’s getting turned on, to put it bluntly. There’s no other way to put it.
Azul kisses him again with the same languid fervor, but now it’s giving him more violent butterflies. When Azul tips forward, Jamil’s body twitches and meets his knee in time, and he has to bite the inside of his lip.
In his head, he’s relentlessly trying to calm himself down. He’s considerably slowed down in the speed of their kissing, and Azul’s bound to notice if he doesn’t get things under control.
‘Come on, just be normal!’ He chastises himself. ‘All you have to do is kiss him! It’s not like he’s doing this on purpose!’
His hands tighten a bit over Azul's tie and hand, eyebrows starting to pensively furrow together. ‘Think unsexy thoughts, think unsexy thoughts. I have to buy more conditioner. Floyd pantsed Ace at practice. Ace has ridiculous cartoon underwear. Sevens, who wears ones like that? They don’t even look comfortable, they just tacky and-‘
“Here, why don’t you sit like this instead?”
Azul rips him from his thoughts with hands set comfortably on his waist, helping him to sit directly on his thigh instead of against it. The pressure against him is embarrassingly exhilarating.
“Wha-excuse me?” Jamil all but sputters, hand gripping the longer part of Azul’s tie like a lifeline. His face has gone from feeling normally flushed to almost painfully red, his heart having dropped in his stomach. “What are you talking about?”
Azul gives him a small, knowing smile, equal parts fond and teasing. His head lulls to the right in thought, lips widening a fraction as he whispers, “I don’t think you’re going to be able to make yourself feel half as good by simply doing that.”
Jamil’s face must surely be on fire now. He’s sure of it. “That’s not what I was trying to do. You moved, and then your knee kept pushing against me, and-“
His eyebrows quickly shoot down for a glare directed straight at Azul, whose smile has grown into the most ridiculous, shit-eating grin. “Stop that! Stop…smirking like that and let me explain!”
“You’re more than welcome to, I’m just offering you the opportunity to indulge yourself.” Azul blinks at him all innocent like, big and stupid and sweet and gosh Jamil hates how much he likes this dork.
Jamil frowns, pulling his arms back to fold over his chest. “It was an accident. It was because of all the kissing, and moving, and rubbing, and-“ He loses his words, trailing off the longer he looks at Azul and the sheer genuinity in his gaze.
Azul doesn’t care. Azul really, truly doesn’t care that he’s turned on. It doesn’t bother him. He’s not disgusted, or grossed out or put off by the fact that all it took was a little friction to get him going. If anything, Azul is encouraging him to feed the flames of this small, backyard fire and give it all the proper kindling it needs until he’s satisfied to dwindle into sparks of charcoal.
Azul’s looking at him the same way he always does; nothing has changed his perception of him. Azul literally just wants him to feel good.
That revelation somehow turns him on even more.
“…Sorry.” Jamil mumbles out, looking away. His face is still hot, and he hopes Azul's crazy night vision isn’t good enough he can see it. “I’m just…embarrassed, I think.”
“I know.” Azul smiles all too sweetly, and pats the side of his waist. “That’s why I didn’t say anything - I figured it was best to just help you get situated.”
“Thanks.” He nods a bit, and takes as much air into his lungs as he can get. Hopefully it’ll help will the blush down. Jamil drops his hands to his lap, looking awkwardly between the way he’s sitting and then back to Azul’s face. “Is this right?”
Azul laughs under his breath at his shyness and gives him a short shrug. “Well, it’s a good start. Since you’re using another person as your stimulation though, you’ll want to sit closer like this-“ he motions with the heels of his palms for Jamil to sit forward until he’s situated as far up his leg as he can be, where his thigh meets his hip.
“-and put more weight into your pelvis like this.” He continues. He sets a hand on the small of Jamil’s back and gently pushes up so he straightens his back and presses his chest to Azul’s shoulder. Afterwards, he plucks Jamil’s hands from the tangled mess they’ve become in his lap and sets them on his shoulders, giving an approving nod. “And finally with your hands on my shoulders, you should have proper leverage to move yourself freely. How does that feel?”
Jamil stares pointedly at his shoulder instead of his face, not daring to make eye contact when he already feels this awkward. He shifts his hips a bit, face hot at the feeling. “Good.” His eyes narrow and he stares suspiciously at Azul’s cheek in lieu of his eyes. “How do you know all of this?”
Luckily for Jamil, the spotlight gets temporarily shifted. Azul flushes a pretty shade of purple, up his neck and cheeks and ears. Jamil’s always found it fascinating, that when Azul blushes he blushes all over. And purple instead of red. It’s very cute.
“Between mer anatomy and human anatomy, there was a lot to learn to acclimate.” He explains, voice wavery. “Imagine the intensity of my shock and confusion the first time I felt bothered and didn’t know how to relieve myself.”
Jamil nods, starting to feel a little sympathetic. That would be a big learning curve, especially since you can’t just ask about it.
“So I did some fairly…embarrassing research, looking for other’s experiences mer or otherwise without it getting too graphic.” Azul mumbles, voice tapering into a quieter and quieter hum. “And, well, eventually I found that you can just use pretty commonplace things. Like pillows, or even blankets in a bind.”
A warm rush of butterfly wings rises up through Jamil’s throat at the insinuation. Azul, using pillows to pleasure himself. His eyes quickly dart to the fancy array of meticulously arranged pillows lining the head of his bed and then back at Azul expectantly. “Which one?”
Azul’s lips twist and press together like he’s tasted something sour and he flushes even harder. “None of them! I wouldn’t leave something designated for that kind of use out in the open!”
“So you do have one somewhere.”
“This is not about me, can we please get back to the topic at hand?”
Azul huffs, brushing nails through silvery curls. “Anyways, that’s why I know so much. I had to do some digging to find something that not only worked for me, but was comfortable - explicitly touching myself in a form I’m not used to feels far too foreign if not for cleaning purposes.”
Jamil nods in understanding, situating his arms over his shoulders so instead they’re loosely clasped behind Azul’s back. He rests his cheek on the arm closest to him, and looks off at the far wall. Experimentally, he shifts his lower body again. He decides it feels too good to stop now that he has the go ahead.
“Interesting,” he says softly, finding a rhythm to move in. He has to shut his eyes fairly quickly, too embarrassed to keep them open. With them closed though, he feels much more confident and relaxed. He turns his head the other way, lips pressed into Azul’s neck. “Can I know more about that?”
Azul’s hands on his waist pull lightly against the fabric of his hoodie, and a slight noise escapes his throat. “Wh-what in particular did you want to know?”
“Anything.” Jamil breathes, a warmer and warmer feeling crawling up his throat. “Do you take your glasses off? Or anything, for that matter?” His breath comes out uneven against his neck as he presses his lips just under his jaw in a genuine, sensual whisper with a grin. “Are you noisy?”
If Azul is trying to act unbothered by Jamil’s questions, it’s completely ruined by his squirming. “I-I always take my glasses off - it just feels weird with them on. As far as clothing goes, only my pants are removed-“ that gets a sudden giggly moan out of Jamil. The flush on Azul’s neck gets worse. “A-and I’m not noisy. I think that’s more a movie myth than anything, that stimulation always causes noise.”
He drags his hands in a slow path down his hips until they rest in the crook of Jamil’s thighs. His thumbs hang dangerously low, on the inside of his uppermost thighs. Jamil thinks he’s going to explode. “Are you noisy though, Jamil~?”
His hips jerk from the sudden touch, elbows hooking tighter around his shoulders. Azul basically answered his own question two seconds ago - stimulation doesn’t always equate noise. Jamil would have to agree that he never makes so much as a sound when taking care of things himself, but his inside thoughts are another story. Even if they never leave his own head, they’re always loud and frantic and only get more so the closer he gets to finishing.
So the answer is no, he’s not noisy. But, “Would you like it if I was?”
Azul’s fingers curl more finely around his thighs with a flustered, uneven laugh. “I-I won’t deny the thought is appealing. But you don’t have to be purely for my sake.”
Jamil shrugs half heartedly, pushing forward in time with his movements again. “I think noise helps. Keeps you in the mood.” He can’t help but laugh after, a bit shortbreathed. “And, I don’t know. I’d want to try it for you.”
That gets an actual, audible whine from Azul (which, does that disprove his theory? Jamil isn’t sure what counts), and he nods. “If you want to, I won’t stop you. But you’re not obligated to either way.”
Jamil nods in return, keeping his rhythm. “Okay. Tell me if I sound absolutely ridiculous though, in which case this never happened.”
He can’t see it, but Jamil is sure Azul is fondly rolling his eyes. “Okay, okay. Promise.”
Azul seems to take this all as his cue to give Jamil enough to make noise about, and starts massaging circles into his inner thigh. Jamil’s no expert on this stuff, like at all - but he allows his lips to fall open and to make a sound he thinks sounds reminiscent enough of a moan or a sigh or a something.
It’s not loud, Sevens no. He’s not that bold. But it’s a good first attempt, testing the waters and getting a standing ovation from Azul who continues his ministrations in time.
From there, it seems to come more easily. Azul drifts his hands to every odd space on his body he can think to touch, and it elicits an array of sounds from him. The pads of his thumbs rub acutely his inner thighs, palms drifting upwards under his hoodie and feeling up his waist, nails leaving a pin-prickling sensation along his skin.
Jamil is soon a mess. Any poise or dignity he tried to salvage with seeming indifference or causality has long gone out the window. Every time he moves forward, the friction against his pelvis makes him stutter and elicit warm squeezes against his sides from Azul, and he is just an absolute mess.
His head is buried in the crook of Azul’s neck, eyes still squeezed shut. Before it was just biding time while chasing the high, but now it’s more like counting down the seconds until it hits.
Everything feels so fuzzy and hot and nonsensical, losing all real meaning like ‘propriety’ or ‘decorum.’ Azul’s neck pressed against his nose smells so nice, so familiar and homey and good.
It feels so easy to get lost in the hormonal head rush - to make noise and fill space and experiment with what feels best with the guiding, supportive hands of Azul still racing up his sides. He’s still making sure not to be overly loud - he doesn’t need people prying into pop their private lives.
But with Azul aiding his chase for pleasure, he just sort of wants to be audible. To give Azul at least a fraction of the dizzying sugar rush he’s feeling right now, because it’s just fun and nice and Azul responds so well to it all.
His hands shape and squeeze his torso, moreso a lingering massage than anything. But then Azul splays his fingers, intentionally letting his thumbs just barely brush over his nipples, and he knows he’s close.
“O-oh my-…” Jamil manages to get out, prompting more direct touching of his chest. He kisses his jaw, just short of his ear, a heady moan leaving his throat. If Azul’s going to try and prompt the noises, it’s only fair of Jamil to deliver, right?
“Mmh, ‘Zul…” He murmurs. Azul tucks the side of his head further into Jamil’s in embarrassment, attempting a scoff. “S-stop that…! You don’t have to say my name too…”
“Too much?” Jamil teases before a particular movement drives him that much closer and he quickly shuts up, not able to focus on talking anymore.
Azul gently raised the leg he’s on in time with his moving, running sensual circles onto his chest. “Speaking of too much…” he peppers slow, staccato kisses up the side of his head, lips dotting his hair. “Are you close?”
All of the touching, all of the moving and grinding and everything pushes him right over the edge. At some point his arms are locked on either side of Azul’s neck, riding out the high as it hits and everything feels blissful and sunny and amazing.
Jamil eventually slows to a halt, his hips stopping their gradual roll against Azul’s.
He feels…good. Relaxed. Honestly after all that, he could take a nap. It’s a bad habit of his, getting super tired after climaxing. He’s always chastising himself, reminding that one mistake is all it takes to fall asleep and then be left with either a disgusting mess to clean up or someone knocking at the door and being unprepared.
His eyes are still closed, hands having drifted down to the crooks of Azul’s elbows and hanging loosely while he recovers.
Speaking of Azul.
His hands on his body have gone still, drifting down back to his hips from under his hoodie. He opens his mouth to speak, voice a mix of surprise, awe, and teasing all mixed into one. “Jamil.”
Jamil’s eyes open and he furiously shakes his head with red cheeks that betray him. “Don’t even start-“
“Jamiiiil,” Azul sing-songs. His hands slide up onto his waist in a way that makes his current state that much worse, rising up his shoulders and resting on his cheeks. “Jamil, Jamil, Jamil~”
“Nope, nope, nope.” Jamil continues to weakly protest, even though he knows it’s all in vain. Azul Ashengrotto has him trapped, just as he always has - in his arms, in a ridiculously sweet and loving embrace.
“Jamil,” He says once more for emphasis, holding Jamil’s cheeks like he’s something precious. Azul looks about ready to burst, but he’s able to keep it under wraps as his voice drops to a syrupy, knowing whisper. “Did I make you cum?”
Yep. That’s it. Jamil’s actually going to die of embarrassment now. He didn’t think it was possible, but here he is.
Jamil’s not used to being so…Sevens, what’s the word? Embarrassed? Abashed? Self-conscious? Any of them work, really.
With Kalim attached at his hip, he usually just has to know things. Know what to do and say, either in response to Kalim’s nonsensical musings or to help supply Kalim with answers when he can’t find the words for something. He’s grown used to always being looked to for help, even unprompted - so it makes perfect sense why then he’d always be the one to ‘keep things together.’
But now, in situations with someone who is entirely meant to be his equal (because as he’s been slowly coming to terms with, relationships are a two way street, not weighted give and take), it’s just…weird. New. Being helped along the way, being doted on, being seen like this and having it be normal.
It still doesn’t feel quite normal - it’s embarrassing as all get out. But fortunately or unfortunately, Jamil doesn’t have the time to let that all get to his head as Azul’s growing excitement bubbles over and he soon peppers Jamil with kisses.
“I had a faint idea you were rather sensitive-*mwuah*-but I had no idea it was to this extent! *mwuah* This is a great revelation, so much to plan! *mwuah* We’ll have to conduct some more tests, to see what brings you the utmost pleasure *mwuah*. Are hands and words alone enough? *mwuah* does a lack of clothes provide more stimulation? *mwuah* Or what parts of your body are the most susceptible to sensitivity? *mwuah* I’d love to know all of these things, and-“
“Azul!” Jamil clamps his hands over his mouth, cutting him off. His face feels like it’s hotter than a human being’s skin should be able to handle.
“…Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself.” Azul says against his palm, shoulders relaxing after Jamil removes his hands. He takes his own from Jamil’s cheeks for a bit of reprieve, moving them to hold his. “I’m just very excited, is all.”
“Very is an understatement.” Jamil mumbles, looking away. “And I’m not sure why you are, anyways. It was embarrassing.”
“What? I didn’t think so.” Azul frowns. His hands squeeze around Jamil’s, lacing his fingers between the gaps of his. “To me, it means I’m able to give you the highest form of pleasure. I should think that’s an incredible feat.”
He kisses the corner of his lips with a sheepish hum. “And in addition to that, you sound very good when you’re being satisfied.”
Jamil’s brows furrow more into sharp, annoyed caterpillars, but Azul pays it no heed. Instead he takes the fact Jamil is partially in his lap and uses it to his advantage, pulling him down onto the mattress with him and tangling his arms and legs with his.
Jamil’s face is still burning hot, in addition to his body now feeling sluggish and tired. His lips are fully situated in a pout, half hidden in Azul’s bangs. “My pants are a mess, you know.”
“I know.” Azul responds all too proudly, arms squeezed around his middle. Against his chin, he mumbles, “Mine are too.”
Jamil’s cheeks retain their warm, vibrant glow, and his legs hook more firmly around his boyfriend’s. “You came…?”
Azul shakes his head with a slight huff. “No, but I’m suitably wet now after all of that..”
Jamil blinks. For some reason, he hadn’t been expecting that. This entire thing had been great, yes, but it didn’t go without its due embarrassment. They’ve kissed and kissed for all sorts of durations before, and being turned on or otherwise bothered has made its way into passing conversation before - but this is really the first time either of them have ever came or come close to it when they’re together.
Jamil had been so caught up in his own head and all the potential ways Azul could secretly be feeling about him and what just happened that he hadn’t even considered it affecting Azul. Duh. Of course all that movement and moaning and whatnot was going to have at least a little bit of an effect on him.
He cracks a smile, right over Azul’s bangs. He relaxes in Azul’s ridiculously clingy hold, and allows himself to finally fully relax. All things considered, he laughs, and Azul tugs at his hoodie and makes a grumbling noise. “Hey, why are you laughing? Just what is so funny about-“
Jamil cuts off him off with a kiss, lips melting into a pleased grin upon Azul’s flushed expression when he does. “Nothing. Thanks, ‘Zu.”
Azul rapidly blinks, face growing a deeper and deeper purple. He cozies up closer, voice barely a low murmur. “I don’t know what you’re thanking me for but…you’re welcome regardless.”
They spend a little longer curled up in bed before Jamil starts to point out needing to change pants and undergarments again. Azul grumbles but ultimately agrees - it’s not the most comfortable arrangement.
The walk down the hall to the washrooms is humbling, to say the least, with bunched clothes in their hands (and Jamil tasked with carrying their boxers in his hoodie pocket).
Azul’s face and neck are, against his better judgment, still flushed a noticeable purple. Jamil bumps his arm with his elbow when there’s no one else in the hall and whispers, “Your face is gonna give us away, Zu.”
Azul’s lips immediately crook down into a frown, and he gives a sideways glare to Jamil. Regardless of his heedings though, Azul’s poor face does not let up in color.
Oh well - they’re doing it all together. They’ll figure it out somehow.