touch (scintillas)
"Clover- c'mon-"
"What is it, Qrow?"
Red eyes burn with humiliation and bliss, torn and broken gasps spilling from thin lips unbidden. "Don't- Clover-"
Clover merely grins, pressing a kiss against a defined shoulder blade, upon two little freckles on protruding vertebrae. "I won't know until you tell me," he coos, his arm wrapped around Qrow's waist squeezing slightly. Fingers trace playfully across a quivering abdomen while his other hand focuses upon the heat wrapped around his fingers; he moves, slick digits stretching and stretching and stretching, joints curling and fingertips stroking, leaving Qrow gasping as he clutches the pillow under his collapsed torso.
Finally, Qrow looks back over his shoulder, glaring and desperate after so much focus put on preparation. "Please, Clover," he rasps, voice hitching slightly, face flushed. Unshed tears linger in his eyes.
Immediately, Clover leans forward, cradling Qrow's face in his free hand and kissing him gently. "Okay." And so, he moves behind Qrow, waits for the other man to steady himself, and lines up.
This sight- Qrow on his hands and knees, watching him in a daze over his shoulder, his broad, rippling back tense with eager anticipation, his body open and ready to swallow Clover whole- is perfect, and Clover has to take a breathless pause for a moment, carving it into his memory, for never before has he seen anything so desirable in his life.
He cannot leave Qrow waiting forever- he can scarcely believe he himself has been able to show this much restraint, for every inch of skin upon his body has been quivering with gooseflesh and sweat and needy anticipation for so long that it has become almost normal for him to be wanton. He prepares himself, wincing as cool gel covers sensitive flesh, before he grabs hold of bony hips, guiding himself forward. The initial press is gentle- careful, tender, as he bites back his own heady desire to plunge into the warmth which had coated his fingers for so long- until he can feel Qrow opening up, accepting him, and the heat of Qrow's body finally warms him up, too.
Qrow's gasping moans almost wreck him more than the fact that he is one with Qrow- that Qrow is his.
Carefully, Clover runs a hand across Qrow's back. "You okay?"
"'M fine," the elder whispers.
Clover waits anyways, leaning down as he pushes slowly, further and further in, inch by inch until his aching need is truly enveloped at last by such heat he almost succumbs. The feeling is indescribable- he lets out his own blissful sigh as he begins pressing kisses down an arching spine, nipping and biting and sucking to distract from the feeling that he knows cannot be truly comfortable at the start.
He will not leave Qrow hanging for long, however. Once the elder's tight shoulders relax slightly, growing more accustomed to Clover's presence, he begins to move; each motion is calculating as he searches, carefully trying to pinpoint exactly where he-
Qrow cries out, shuddering. Clover smiles.
From there, it is but a blur. He knows Qrow will not last long; they are far too spent after a day of this to push him, to demand too much. Qrow's face is already thrown back, brow scrunched together, mouth open, voice keening as Clover hits again, again, again- breaking Qrow's mind slowly but surely as hips grow faster, skin grows slicker, before Qrow gives up and collapses, his shoulders falling onto the pillow as his arms give way.
Clover pauses. Not being able to see Qrow's face- he doesn't want to do this, doesn't want to give himself pleasure if he cannot see the elder come undone, too.
So, without a word, he wraps his arms around Qrow's chest and pulls the elder upright, back flush against Clover's chest until the man is half-seated upon Clover's lap. Then, he begins his motions again, and Qrow crumbles.
The words tumbling from thin lips are practically unintelligible, but Clover knows the desperation, knows the desire and headiness that is spoken by the flush of Qrow's skin, the tears spilling from his eyes as Clover thrusts hard enough to make the elder sob, mouth falling agape. Clover fills that mouth with his fingers, finding a messy tongue and spilling saliva, timing his motions with his hips, the only sound in the room Qrow's whimpering cries and slapping flesh, so lewd it makes even Clover flush; it does not matter, though, for he reaches down, tracing his fingers over Qrow's heat, and the man falls apart in his hands, a choked cry escaping as he freezes, clenching so tightly around Clover that he almost breaks, too. There is not much mess made upon Qrow's stomach, for the elder is too spent, his high manifesting in trembling bones that turn to jelly as his sobs regain voice and strength, breath entering his lungs again as he comes down from his high, body collapsing into Clover's arms.
There is a certain sense of pride in Clover- childish, haughty, but pride nonetheless- in the fact that he has taken Qrow so completely like this and still managed to hold out, to hold back. He was lucid to see the beauty of the elder, and that pride shall last forever.
He is prepared to slip out, to lay Qrow to rest so he can take care of himself whilst the elder calms down, when Qrow's shaking hand reaches up, locking into Clover's sweat-soaked hair. "Come," he whispers.
Clover freezes. "Wh- what-?"
"Inside." He smiles, barely lucid- canines bared in a sleepy, yet still wicked smile. "Fair, right?"
For a long moment, Clover can only swallow dryly. Then, he smiles, a laugh burbling up from within as he buries his face against Qrow's nape.
Qrow's cry- almost a scream, guttural and hoarse and shocked- is like a drug as Clover begins to move freely, abandoning all reason in order to reach his peak. He can feel the elder squirming in his grasp on instinct, sobbing as overstimulation and surprise and desire all fight for dominance within him as Clover moves, sinking in deeper, striking harder with every push, until they are melded together, a blur of flesh and skin and sweat and heaving breaths.
Clover releases, his body shuddering, curling, wrapping Qrow's trembling form with his own muscular build as he drags Qrow onto his lap as far as he can, swelling within until they are trapped, locked together, his body clenching and seizing as blinding ecstasy rips through his entire core.
It was warm inside Qrow before- now, it burns.
Exhausted, Clover rolls onto his side, dragging Qrow down with him as he deflates, relaxes, the tension easing from his muscles leaving him a boneless mass. Clumsily, he turns Qrow's pained, tear-streaked face towards him, wiping off his cheeks and kissing half-opened, drunken eyelids. "Brothers, Qrow, god, I love you," he whispers against pink skin. "You're perfect, oh god-"
There are a few minutes of quietude, where Clover can only whisper praise and affirmation as he strokes Qrow's hair, skin, cheeks, kissing every part of his head and neck and shoulders as he comes to terms with what Qrow had just allowed him to do. The sight of the elder's tear-drenched face, sobbing and begging as Clover takes him, pushing him beyond his limits, destroying him-
He shall remember it for later. For now, all he can do is take care of his old crow.
Finally entering some state of lucidity, Qrow rasps out a chuckle, meeting Clover's lips with his own briefly. "Mind pulling out, shamrock?" he laughs against his lips.
Flushing, Clover obeys, heat rushing through him in a dizzying wave as he sees himself drip down pale, toned thighs. It just seems too unreal, too good to be true.
Now freed, however, Qrow is content to turn over, to roll into Clover's arms and kiss him properly, locking his ankles gently with Clover's. "You're not half-bad," he croaks.
Clover rolls his eyes. "I'm sure I can improve with practice," he says, still heady from every point of contact between their bodies.
Qrow's eyes flutter shut. "I'm sure I can help with that," he murmurs, nuzzling against Clover's bicep. "I was a professor, y'know."
"The best of the best, I'm sure," Clover affirms, pulling Qrow tight, unable to hold back his own breathtaking smile as he watches Qrow fall asleep in his arms, utterly exhausted from it all.
They belong to each other, now. They will need to clean themselves up soon- but as Clover onehandedly sets an alarm on his Scroll for an hour later, he smiles, for a little nap will not hurt them; and if Qrow feels safe enough to collapse in his arms, covered in both of their messes and snot and tears, then Brothers be damned, Clover will cherish it.