Even as Ventus turned his mind to the party that evening, he kept thinking back to his time in the work group.
Talking to Vanitas. Getting past his defenses.
Some of them, anyway. Their conversation hadn't gone anywhere deeply personal, but it had been an open conversation. It was something.
Aqua had definitely been spot-on when she told him he had a crush, but Ven wasn't sure what to do about it. Vanitas as the neighbor with a poor opinion of Ven who happened to be his TA had been a source of angst, but Ven was at a loss how to deal with Vanitas, his partner by default in Spanish class who seemed willing to open up to Ventus, even if it took some prodding.
He thought back to Roxas's text back on Monday, when Ven had told him about Vanitas's devastating opinion of him. 'My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever'. A quote from Pride and Prejudice—made by a character whose good opinion had definitely not been lost forever by the protagonist. Words of encouragement, telling him Vanitas might come around. Ventus wondered if his brother had already figured out Ven had a crush, before Ven himself.
Of course, Roxas had never met Vanitas. He had no idea what he was talking about—at least, that was what Ventus had told himself then. Now…he wasn't so sure.
"Hey, you with me?"
Terra's voice startled Ventus out of his thoughts. "Yeah. Sorry."
"Something wrong? Did something happen today?"
"Nothing's wrong," Ventus simply said. He guessed Aqua hadn't told Terra about their conversation over lunch, and Ven didn't feel comfortable sharing that himself. "I'm just distracted."
"You sure you still want to come with us?"
"Absolutely." And he meant that. Since his talk with Aqua—his realizations that he had friends here—he still felt ready to take on the world. The afternoon with Vanitas had been confusing, but it hadn't dampened that. If anything, Ven felt mostly positive about it too. "So what's the deal with this party, anyway? Aqua didn't tell me much."
"It's a 'we survived the first week' party." Terra gave an apologetic shrug. "The name could use some workshopping, but at least it's self-explanatory. It's organized collectively by DSU's sports teams, at an off-campus bar called Traverse."
"So, it's like…your party?"
Terra laughed at his question. "Not really. I barely helped with this one. I usually help with parties at the end of the semester. Which means I get to hang out with you all evening today."
"And you girlfriend," Ventus pointed out. "And all your football friends."
"Someone's jealous," Terra teased.
Ven scoffed. "You wish."
In spite of Terra's assurance that he'd stick with Ventus all evening, they drove to the party in separate cars—just in case Ventus wanted to go back early. Ven made sure to take his room key too, this time—being locked out one time was enough. He wasn't sure he'd need to, though. He still felt high on that newfound positivity of his, and he was dying to put it to the test.
People noticed his and Terra's arrival—Terra as a senior player on the football team with tons of friends, and Ventus as…well, Ventus Enix. But Ventus decided to take Vanitas's advice to heart, and own his strengths. Or rather, turning that part of him into a strength, and use it.
Sure, maybe most people who wanted to buddy up to him were in it purely out of self-interest. It didn't mean Ventus had to avoid them, or shun their company. Not everyone needed to be a true friend to him—he could still have fun partying with them. The two friends he had were enough. Other people's intentions didn't matter; as long as they talked to him, and laughed with him, and danced with him, it was all that counted.
Terra certainly seemed surprised to see him act this way, but he took it in stride, following Ventus into the thick of the party. As for Aqua, she remained on the sidelines, cheering them on as they started a dance-off with a pair drunk basketball players. Ven didn't think of himself as a great dancer, but since he wasn't drinking himself, he had an edge on everyone else on the floor—enough to make an impression and garner more than his fair share of support and applause.
And then he spotted him in the crowd, out of the corner of his eyes. Vanitas, a full cup in hand, looking at him from the back of the crowd—and smiling. A genuine smile, one that faded as soon as he noticed Ventus looking back at him. But even so, he didn't avert his gaze.
Ventus wasn't sure what the look meant, but it triggered an impulse in him. He excused himself, claiming he needed to get some air, and slipped through the crowd, and stepped out into the street, carried by a strange mixture of hope and nervousness. The feelings doubled in his chest when, a moment later, Vanitas walked out of the bar as well.
"Quite the show," Vanitas simply said.
"You know you liked it," Ventus retorted with a grin.
"If you think that was sexy, you need a reality check. Just because you're above a bunch of drunk straight—or straightish—men doesn't make you a dancing queen."
The rebuttal didn't deter him—he refused to let it. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."
Vanitas took a sip from the paper cup in his hand, then tossed it aside. Ventus couldn't be sure in the dark, but he was fairly sure it hadn't been empty. "I can't deny there was something likable to it."
"Is it helping you make up your mind about me?"
"Hardly."
"Maybe I can tell you what I think of you, then." He shrugged. "Like you suggested this morning."
"It's not this morning anymore."
For the first time since leaving the bar, Ven felt a moment of hesitation. "So—don't you want to hear it?"
Vanitas observed him quietly, his head slightly cocked to the side. "Well, now you've piqued my curiosity."
"I think—" He paused, trying to find the right place to start. "I know there's more to you than you let on. I don't know why—all I know is, I want to find out what it is. I think you want me to find out, too." Vanitas's lips parted slightly, but Ventus didn't let him interject. "I'm not gonna pretend I'm not uncomfortable about the Unbirth. I'm sure you didn't tell me the whole story, but—even that's a problem. And you basically ruined my chances at a normal social life by letting the entire university know who I am, and I'm sure that was on purpose. And—"
"You're angry about that?" There was a tremble in Vanitas's voice—an hint of uncertainty, maybe even hurt or regret.
Ventus's momentum had been cut off, and the question gave him pause. He thought back to the party just now—to all these people, but also to Terra and Aqua. "I—don't think I am," he said, realizing it as he was saying the words. "It hurt, and it's been difficult dealing with the fallout, but—" He shook his head. "No. I'm not angry. It's made things more…honest, I guess. It's not your fault people are being greedy shits about it." He met Vanitas's gaze. "But that doesn't mean it was your choice to make."
"I know."
It wasn't an apology, but it was enough—for now, at least. "Did you know the entire time? Who I was?"
"I was fairly sure," Vanitas said, breaking eye contact to lean back against the bar's wall. "When you slipped and told me your full name at the party, it confirmed it. But I had my doubts."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
Vanitas scoffed. "I didn't want you to think I was hitting on you because of who you were."
The reply threw Ven off. "Oh." He wasn't sure what to say to that naked admission—he was short on breath, his heart was racing, but his brain felt empty. "Were you?"
"No. And I shouldn't have told anyone else who you were. I was angry, and—" Vanitas cut himself off, then said, "I'm also doing it to reconnect to my family."
It was too out of the blue for Ventus to make the conection. "You—what?"
"Learning Spanish. That's why I'm taking the class again. My birth mother was from Destiny Islands—like my foster father. That's how he came to adopt me. But he never let me get in touch with the culture. So, I'm trying to do it on my own." He glanced at Ventus, briefly, then averted his eyes again. "When you said that's why you were learning—I don't know. It seemed—" He sighed. "There. Now you can tell this to someone, and they'll spread it around until my reputation as an ice cold badass will be ruined."
Ventus gaped at him for a moment, processing what he was saying—unable to find something to say in response.
In the end, he gave up.
He leaned in forward, unable to stop himself once he'd started moving, until his lips were pressed against Vanitas's. The other boy tensed up against him, but before Ven could back away, Vanitas placed a hand at the back of his head, another at the small of his back, and pulled him in closer. He kissed Ventus back, gently first, then hungrily, sliding his tongue against Ven's lips until they parted.
Ventus's body went on overdrive, and his brain felt completely fried. He tried to respond to Vanitas's actions as best as he could, fumbling his way through. And yet Vanitas kept him close, kept kissing him, which meant he had to be doing something right.
Even when he had to pull away, gasping for air, Vanitas's hand on his back didn't move—firm enough to keep him close, but loose enough not to feel like a trap. Ven found that he didn't mind the proximity. "I—" he started.
"Yes?"
He felt almost embarrassed for a moment, then realized that, close as they were Vanitas could probably feel the hard line in Ven's pants—just like he could feel the one in Vanitas's, which was even visible through his eternal skinny jeans. "I want you," he said, breathless. "Can we—go back to the residence?"
Vanitas gave off a small laugh. "Well, my ride ditched me anyway."
"That's not what I—"
"I know what you meant. Let's see about that once we're there."
It sounded like a challenge—like Vanitas was daring him to still want him after he'd had a few minutes of driving to clear his mind. Ventus doubted it would change a thing, but it felt childish to say that. "Come on, my car's over there."
He sent Terra a quick text to let him know he was heading back—with no mention of Vanitas—and turned his phone on silent as he climbed into his car. When Vanitas sat on the passenger seat, his heart began to race—at the thought of what he was doing, and what he was about to do.
"Eyes on the road, Ventus."
Vanitas's chiding forced him to snap back to attention—because yeah, he had been staring at Vanitas, and it wasn't the safest thing to do while driving. "Sorry."
"I mean, I'm flattered, but I'd rather not die." He let out a sarcastic laugh. "It's a curse to be this good-looking."
Ven snorted a little at that. "Is that your way of owning your strengths? Humility doesn't hurt sometimes, you know."
"Sometimes. This is not one of those times."
Ventus could feel Vanitas's eyes on him, and he was glad to finally take the turn into the residence's parking lot. Not because that feeling of being observed upset him—but he yearned to look back, hold his gaze, and go back to what they were doing outside the bar. And then—
Vanitas's hand brushed against his knee, sending sparks across his skin. His breath caught in his chest, and he almost rammed his car straight into a wall, barely stopping in time. If he hadn't already been hard just from thinking about Vanitas, that simple touch would have been enough.
From Vanitas's chuckle, he could guess he was being completely transparent. Vanitas looked much more in control, himself; yet when they left the car, he set a fast pace back to the residence that spoke of nothing if not hurry and impatience.
Ven managed to rein himself in until they stepped into the elevator. As soon as they doors closed, he was on Vanitas, pressing their lips together. Gently, Vanitas cupped the side of his face…and pulled away.
"What are we doing?"
Ventus let out an incredulous chuckle. "I—thought it was obvious."
"I mean, what do you want out of this?"
"To sleep with you?" He frowned, surprised at his own audacity, but confused that Vanitas was even asking.
"And that's it? No strings attached?" His face was unreadable.
Ventus hesitated only a moment. "No strings attached," he replied. It was just a crush—he just had to get Vanitas out of his system. They may have managed to talk to one another, but it didn't change all the ways they didn't like each other. "This self-important brat isn't going to demand anything of you," he added, as a reminder of that last part.
"Right," was all Vanitas said at first. Then he nodded. "Glad we're on the same page."
The elevator doors opened, and Ventus briefly hesitated, but Vanitas headed straight for his own room. When he noticed Ven was lagging behind, he glanced back, raising an eyebrow. "What? We'll have more room."
Ven couldn't help but blush at the implication, but he nodded, and for the second time, stepped into Vanitas's room. This time, though, he wasted no time looking around. He kissed Vanitas again and, tentatively, ran a hand up the right side of his chest. There were still a couple layers between them—Vanitas's leather jacket the thickest of them—but just that action felt more meaningful, more intimate.
With a hum against his lips, Vanitas hooked a hand behind Ventus's neck, and pulled him along as he backed into the nearby wall, allowing Ven to pin him against a poster. With his other hand, he unzipped the jacket, shrugging it to the floor. The t-shirt he wore underneath was made of light cotton, so thin it felt like Ventus could rip it without even trying. Delicately, Ven slid a hand under the hem, feeling the hard lines of Vanitas's abs under his fingers. He pushed upwards, along his side, brushing against his arm, gripping at his pectoral muscle, feeling it tense up under his touch. His thumb found the cold surface of the barbell pierced into his nipple, making him hesitate—but when he felt the shiver that ran across Vanitas's body, he gave in to his urge to prod, to touch, to explore.
Vanitas's hands moved down to the small of his back, tugging at his shirt. Ventus forced himself to step back a moment, barely able to contain his breathing as Vanitas lifted the shirt. He'd been shirtless in other people's presence, sure—but this, having someone undress him, with this intent in mind, that was new. New and exciting.
He didn't even bother to check what Vanitas did with his shirt; as soon as his hands were free again, he made quick work of Vanitas's own shirt. He paused then, staring at Vanitas's naked chest openly. He'd seen it, that morning in the bathroom, but back then he'd felt obliged to avert his gaze as much as possible. Now, he didn't have to.
Now, he could see the way Vanitas stared back, lips parted, the gold of his irises almost consumed with black, his skin flushed. Had that look been there in his eyes all along? Had Ventus been too self-conscious to see it? It didn't matter. He was here, now. And looking wasn't enough.
He closed the distance between them again, running his hands across Vanitas's stomach and up his chest, kissing his lips, then his jaw, following the trail of his tattoo down to his pierced nipple. Vanitas didn't say anything, but the hitches in his breath, the occasional, soft moans he let out, were enough of a guide. He lowered himself to his knees to kiss around the piercing in Vanitas's navel, to see what his reaction would be to that—and then, his hand brushed against Vanitas's belt buckle.
When the information reached his mind, he couldn't stop himself. Keeping his lips pressed to Vanitas's stomach, he worked the buckle open, then the button and zipper underneath, and he pulled. Once. Then twice. And then, finally, he moved away.
Vanitas's pants and underwear were a puddle around his ankles, but Ven's eyes were fixed elsewhere. Specifically, to his cock, free and erect and inches from Ven's face.
He wasn't sure what he'd expected, if anything at all, but in that moment, it looked perfect to him. Straight and smooth, slightly flushed. His foreskin was intact, covering the tip and strangely intriguing to Ven, who was himself circumcised. Vanitas's skin was shaved almost to perfect smoothness, but there were a few hints of blond growth around the base of his cock—another tidbit of information that surprised Ventus.
Vanitas grew tense, and Ven realized he was perhaps staring too long—not that he had any frame of reference. He reached out, almost religiously, closing his right hand around the base of Vanitas's cock, running it up its length once, then down. His foreskin came down with the movement, revealing the head. For a fleeting moment, Ven realized he'd almost expected to find a piercing here too, but there was none in sight. When he ran his left hand up Vanitas's leg, he felt small scars on his inner thigh, and a question formed in his mind.
He quashed the thought, though, and bent his head down, softly kissing the underside of his cock. Vanitas's knees buckled subtly, and he pressed his back more firmly against the wall, and that was all the encouragement Ven needed. He kissed up to the tip of Vanitas's cock, then, before he could psych himself out, wrapped his lips around it.
Almost instantly, it felt like too much. Vanitas didn't look that large, and yet it felt like Ven could barely fit any of him in his mouth. Still, he tried, sucking more in, pulling out for air, licking and teasing, and each of his experiments was rewarded by another twitch, another moan. One of Vanitas's hand combed through the hair on the side of his head—not guiding him or controlling him, just another point of contact to set Ven's skin on fire.
He relaxed, and tried taking more of Vanitas in, carefully. He had no experience, but he knew what a gag reflex was—and he had no intention to find out how sensitive his was. Still, it was enough for him to start moving, up and down, rhythmic to an almost hypnotic degree. He'd kept his eyes closed at first, trying to focus on his other senses, but he opened them then, looking up at Vanitas when he could. The look Vanitas was bearing down on him—desperate and amazed and just so, so overwhelmed, perhaps even more than Ven felt—was the most beautiful thing Ventus had ever seen.
Then, suddenly, Vanitas looked away. "Stop," he said, his voice hoarse and low. "I don't want to end so soon."
It took a moment for Ven to realize what he meant, but he did as commanded. Vanitas offered him a hand, and he stood back up, suddenly hesitant what should come next. Here he was, shirtless and rock hard in his pants, with a boy completely naked and seemingly right over the edge, and he wasn't sure what he should do.
Vanitas caught his befuddled look, and let out a soft giggle. He toed his pants and underwear off—a jockstrap, Ven noticed, of course it was a jockstrap—and closed the distance between them, bringing their lips together for a brief, yet deep kiss. When he pulled away, Vanitas licked his lips briefly, and Ven wondered if he'd been tasting himself—if that was even a real thing.
Before he could ask, though, Vanitas's hands landed on the buckle of his belt. Before he could properly think, Ventus took a step back. Even in the rush of the moment, the haze of lust he was swimming through, he still felt nervous at the thought of being naked in front of this boy. Of being judged—compared, even, perhaps. Of not being enough.
He realized Vanitas had frozen entirely. "Do you want to stop?" he asked, uncertain.
The question was earnest—he was giving Ventus an out, if he wanted to take it, in spite of how far they'd already gone. Did he? "I—" No, of course not; that wasn't the problem. "I've never done this before."
"Yeah, well, one-night stands happen. Don't beat yourself u—"
"I mean I've never slept with anyone."
"Oh." A flash of surprise crossed Vanitas's gaze. "And—you don't want me to be your first?"
"Fuck, I do," Ven said, mentally kicking himself for even stopping things at all. "I just—I'm nervous, okay?"
A familiar grin formed on Vanitas's lips, but no quip followed it. He reached out, placing a hand softly over Ven's chest. The warmth of his touch felt easy on his skin, and as Vanitas stepped forward, Ven relaxed. "You know, for a virgin, you give a pretty wicked blowjob." The words, strangely, made Ventus feel a little better. "I really want to repay the favor, if you'll let me."
He raised a questioning eyebrow, and slowly, Ven managed to nod. "Please?" he managed to whisper.
His belt came undone almost immediately under Vanitas's expert fingers. Ven froze when Vanitas removed his pants, but Vanitas didn't immediately reach for the waistband of his boxer briefs. Instead, he kissed Ventus again, running one hand up and down his back, bringing their body closer together. Ven could feel Vanitas's cock hard and flush against his own, leaking a little on his underwear. And on the other side of his erection was Vanitas's hand, pressed against him through the fabric. He wasn't moving, or even grabbing him—just touching. Just enough for Ven to relax at the contaxt, for his brain to process the way his nerves were on fire at every point where his bare skin touched Vanitas's.
When Vanitas hooked a finger into his waistband and pulled it down, it barely registered. Suddenly Ventus was naked, and he was too lost in the kiss and the deluge of other sensations to even realize until Vanitas's fingers wrapped around his length.
His breath hitched, and he couldn't help but break the kiss. Vanitas didn't seem to mind; he stepped back, and looked down. At Ventus's cock, with another tiny lick of his lips. But also at the rest of his body, his gaze roaming across his skin.
Ventus looked, too. He saw the way his body looked like a blank canvas next to the artwork that was Vanitas's, but the contrast seemed almost purposeful. He didn't shave like Vanitas did, sure, but the way Vanitas brushed the hairs on his body with his fingers made it seem unimportant—maybe even all right. His self-consciousness melted away when Vanitas grabbed both of their cocks and pressed them together, and Ventus found them near identical. One cut, one intact, but otherwise hardly any different.
Vanitas was looking him in the eye, forcing Ven to look up as well. "See? Nothing to be nervous about," he said, with a smile—a genuine smile, like the one he'd had at the bar earlier.
And then, without a word, Vanitas dropped to a crouch, and practically engulfed Ven's cock in his mouth, without hesitation, only stopping when his nose was buried in the sparse hair around the base of Ven's cock. It was too much to bear at once; Ven's brain short-circuited, barely registering the hand teasing at his balls, or the other on his stomach.
Vanitas bobbed his head up once, and sank back down, and before Ven could even form the words, he was already coming. He cried out wordlessly, feeling his muscles tense without warning, and nearly lost his footing. And still, Vanitas's mouth moved again, slowly, purposefully, as Ven felt himself send shot after shot down his throat. It was only after he was done that Vanitas let go, and looked up at Ventus, a ferocious glint in his eye.
"I'm—sorry," Ventus said.
Vanitas stood up—without waiting for Ven to help him—and grinned at him. "It's okay. First time, right? I'm surprised you didn't come in your pants, really."
Ven couldn't help but frown. "Really?" he asked, dubious
"Really. If you'd lasted much longer, I might have felt insulted."
He kissed Ventus, pressing their bodies together once again. Vanitas was still hard, even as Ven's own erection was slowly receding, but that tought vanished when Vanitas prodded his lips open with his tongue, and the taste of salt filled Ventus's mouth. Salt, and other things he couldn't name, but knew, on a deep, instinctual level. 'Tasting himself'—it was a thing, he guessed.
That kiss didn't seem to end. Vanitas's hands grasped firmly at his back, while Ventus's hand found its way to Vanitas's cock, slowly caressing its length. He wasn't sure he wanted to make Vanitas come, but when Vanitas leaned further into him, resting most of his weight against Ven's chest, and he pushed forward with his hips, Ven upped the pace of his hand. After a few seconds, Vanitas broke the kiss, burying his face into Ven's shoulder. Almost immediately afterwards, he let out a strangled gasp, and came in hot spurts, covering Ven's hand, his stomach, dripping down his own cock and legs.
They stood there, motionless and filthy, for at least a full minute. Ven didn't even let go of Vanitas's cock as it became softer—it was like any motion would break the spell of the moment. He pressed his lips to Vanitas's temple, but that was as much as he dared to do.
Vanitas was the on who broke away first, stepping back with a smile. "You feeling good?"
"Uh, yeah," was all Ventus managed to reply. A nervous chuckle escaped him. "Yeah, I feel good. And I really am sorry I—finished so fast."
But Vanitas shook his head, still smiling. "Don't be sorry. This was—" He paused. "Intense."
Ven scoffed. "You mean short."
"I've had shorter. But rarely anything this satisfying. Even when it lasted longer."
"You're just—" Ventus started, then stopped. He observed Vanitas, studied the look on his face. "You mean it," he said. It wasn't a question—but he was still surprised to realize it.
"I do."
Baffled, Ventus gaped at him silently. "Um…thanks, I guess."
"I guess you'll be leaving now?"
Ven was getting used to hearing Vanitas speak in that uncertain tone—rare as though it seemed to be. He meant that question—and he wasn't sure what he wanted Ven to answer. Ven wasn't sure what he wanted to answer, either. He'd really just wanted to get Vanitas out of his system. But now…
"What if I don't want to go just now?" he asked, and a prideful part of him hated how uncertain he sounded himself.
Vanitas raised a teasing eyebrow. "We have plenty of time for a second round," he said. "And a bed that still hadn't been used."
They were soon making out on the bed, still naked, having barely cleaned up. Vanitas had him pinned down into the mattress, and Ventus couldn't help but relish the feeling of abandon that submerged him when Vanitas held his wrists above his head and just pressed their bodies together.
It didn't take long for both their arousals to return, and after that, not much longer for Ventus to feel curious again.
"Could we—" He bit his lip, uncertain how to ask without sounding too crass or too inexperienced. "I'd like to go all the way?"
"You want to try anal?" Vanitas asked, shameless in a way Ven wished he himself was. Still, he nodded in response, and an admirative look blossomed on Vanitas's face. "What did you have in mind?"
"I was thinking you could—" He cleared his throat, feeling ridiculous for even hesitating, and forced himself to speak plainly. "I was hoping you could top me."
"Of course I can," Vanitas retorted, grinning. "I'm surprised you don't want to try the other way around first, though."
Ven shrugged. "I wouldn't know where to start to make you feel good."
"Where were you when I lost my virginity?" Vanitas let out with an amused snort. There was a silent beat as Ventus processed the words, and, judging by the look on Vanitas's face, he realized what he'd said himself. He pushed himself away, straddling Ventus on his knees and averting his gaze, regaining his composure. "Well, it'd be my honor and my pleasure—literally."
Ventus didn't question that brief flash of emotion, filing it for later. "Thank you."
In spite of his attempt at confidence, Ventus couldn't help but feel nervous as Vanitas stood to fetch a condom and lube. Both of them were a relief, sure, but it still made his request seem that much more real.
Even more real, of course, was the feeling of Vanitas slipping a slicked finger into him. He went slow and gently, helping Ven ease into it, but it took him stopping briefly to kiss Ventus to truly get the job done. As they kissed, Vanitas proceeded by touch alone, working Ven's hole with a finger, then more, and Ventus focused all his attention on the kiss, and on staying relaxed.
After a moment, the latter didn't take that much effort—as Vanitas eased into a rhythm, Ventus found that his body was growing to like the feeling of it more and more. He felt a brush of fingers against a hard knot inside of him, and couldn't stifle a moan as he realized Vanitas had found his prostate.
Vanitas didn't seem in any hurry to hit it again, only touching it sporadically, seemingly by accident. He just kept up the movement of his fingers, until Ventus arched his back under a strong wave of pleasure. Only then did he break the kiss and revert to his position between Ventus's legs.
"Ready?" he asked. Ventus nodded, and Vanitas laughed. "No you're not," he teased, and as he said so, he pushed the tip of his cock into Ven's entrance.
He wasn't joking; Ven could never have been ready for this, the sheer feeling of being stretched. There was a hint of pain, although his body was relaxed enough to move past that; and beyond that feeling, was the heat, the pressure, the deep and intimate sense of connection between them. Vanitas pushed in, slowly, and Ventus fell filled—completed. Reunited, in some vague way he couldn't explain further than that..
Vanitas buried himself inside of Ventus, and Ventus took all of him. Every inch came with a mixture of pain and pleasure, but once Vanitas was all the way in and bent down to kiss Ventus, even as he pulled back then thrusted forward again, the pain seemed irrelevant. Not gone, just fading to the background, unimportant. Everything else, the touch of Vanitas's skin, the faint scent of his body, only perceptible over the more potent smells of lube and their earlier orgasm because they were so close, the black of his hair and the gold of his eyes, the sound his harsh breaths and the low growl of his voice—those were important. The hard pressure of his cock inside of Ven—that was relevant.
Ven had no idea how long he lasted. It was like he was fading into the act, like they weren't two boys sleeping together but just a singular experience, and it transcended everything Ventus knew. Everything in the world was Vanitas, and judging by the desperate way Vanitas was whispering his name, like a mantra, the feeling was mutual.
He felt his orgasm coming a mile away, this time. Building up slowly, a slight pressure in his balls first, then spreading across his body, his muscles. Gradually rising along the length of his cock, until Ven felt like he was hanging over an invisible edge, just waiting for the right moment to drop.
"Ventus!" Vanitas cried out, followed by a whining moan. He half-collapsed on top of Ven, catching himself on his hands as he kept thrusting through his orgasm. And that was the moment—the sound of his name. Suddenly Ventus was coming too, hid mind blanking out almost entirely, even as his eyes were locked onto Vanitas's.
Time seemed to stretch, then snapped back into place. Vanitas pulled out, and lay down on his flank next to Ventus, and the world came back into view.
For a moment, they said nothing, lost in each other's gaze as they caught their breaths. For a moment, Ventus felt vulnerable—and at ease with being vulnerable, because Vanitas was too.
Just as the thought came to him, Vanitas sat up. "Hang on," he said. He tied his condom and tossed it in the trash, then briefly vanished into the closet. He came back with a wet towel, and with a soft, gentle hand, used it to clean Ven's body up—his stomach, his crack, his legs. "There," he finally said. "All better."
Ventus couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed. "Thanks?"
"Aftercare is important. Just pay it forward whenever you actually do try topping," Vanitas said.
It was a dismissal, and Ventus didn't like the way it hurt. And yet, it was what they'd agreed to. Silently, he sat up himself, forcing himself to look Vanitas in the eye. "I'll be sure to," he said, even though he felt no confidence to back it up, and he knew it was obvious in the sound of his voice. Still, he stood up, walking to his discarded underwear. There was a drop of semen on his jeans, from Vanitas's earlier orgasm; he brushed it off, feeling a leftover bit of arousal at the memory, but mostly, annoyance.
"That's it, then?" he turned back to ask as he fished for his shirt.
"That's it. You should get to your room before your roommate comes back. I doubt you want him asking questions."
The message was clear enough, and Vanitas wasn't even looking at him as he said it. "I guess I'll see you around," Ven said, managing to keep his tone relatively light. Vanitas only hummed as he walked past him and disappeared into his closet again. Not even waiting for him to leave.
No point in Ventus waiting, either, then. Resolutely, he turned his back to the room, and walked out the door.
