Of Equal Strengths
He distantly noted that he tasted like several fruits, and he questioned this in the back of his mind, as he was vaguely aware that neither one of them had eaten such a thing today. Their mouths moved together in what may have once been a slow and steady rhythm, but somewhere along the line had transformed into something far more hasty and slapdash. As Sora broke away long enough to regain his breath, he noticed the slightly sticky substance smeared on his lips and the skin around them, and he almost laughed when realisation dawned on him. The blonde that he was holding so close – and who was holding him so close – panted against his neck whilst trying to fill the pause with chaste kisses to the underside of his jaw. He could already feel the trace amounts of that same tackiness on his chin.
If their intentions weren't already obvious – what, with the lack of clothing and closed venetian blinds – then the way Sora's company pushed him flat on his back against the mattress made it so. Roxas took advantage of their former positions, having been kneeling, to settle in the space between Sora's legs that naturally formed as he lay back. The brunet, however, grunted in dismay as he straightened his knees from being uncomfortably bent under him, and shot the best reproachful glare that his half-lidded and glazed eyes would allow. Already pressing their hips together and rubbing against him, Roxas either didn't see the look his boyfriend was giving him, or intentionally chose to ignore it. "You're delusional if you think I'm on the bottom again," Sora muttered, quietly huffing in offense at being disregarded.
At this point, he could visibly see that Roxas was already itching for friction and heat and sex in general. There came a groan at the inevitable objection. "Not this again, Sora," he whimpered; his complaints always sounded whiny once he was so aroused. After a failed attempt to roll out from under him, Sora resorted to forcefully pushing the other back into a sitting position.
"Give me one good reason why I can't top," he replied firmly, set on getting his way. It seemed like an eternity since their positions had last switched.
"Because everyone knows that the more feminine one is always the receiver," was the response, and it didn't appease Sora in any way, shape, or form. In fact, it made him scowl at the generalisation. They were both still panting – and hard – but he had always had more patience and self-control than Roxas ever did.
"And you think that's me?" He questioned sceptically.
"Well, you were wearing a pink shirt, dude."
After sparing an absent glance towards the various piles of clothes scattered on the bedroom floor, not all of which were his or possibly even from today, Sora pushed at the mouth that was tugging on his earlobe. "At least I don't wear lipstick!" He protested, his other hand moving to pry the fingers away from his nipple.
"It's not lipstick, Sora; it's lip balm. There's a difference." As if this settled the argument entirely, Roxas continued with his attentive actions; he kissed the side of Sora's mouth and trailed his fingertips down his abdomen. However, the older male wasn't satisfied with any of the answers that had been provided so far.
"I don't care. Watermelon and kiwi lips top pink polo shirts," he grumbled. Roxas finally paused long enough to survey him with a hard stare, and Sora watched as his nose wrinkled and eyebrows twitched as if they didn't know which emotion to portray, but he was aware of how his lips were pulled down into a definite frown.
"I'm not being bitch," he eventually spluttered indignantly.
"Well neither am I!"
A long silence promptly followed, and Sora decidedly defined it as somewhere between awkward and angry. But after a couple of minutes of nothing – no comments, no motions, no eye contact – Roxas was clearly ready to try his luck a second time, because he was leaning in to kiss him again; his hand unexpectedly pressed against the uppermost inside of Sora's thigh. Accepting it in spite of his resolve, Sora threaded his fingers through the other's hair, his eyes closing automatically. He heard a moan and smiled. However, when Roxas seemingly assumed that he'd forgotten all about his determination to be on top, Sora resisted against the hand that was pushing him onto his back again.
"I'm older than you are," he tried, but the blonde wouldn't have any of it.
"That counts for nothing," Roxas said, shaking his head. He poked Sora in the chest and earned himself a disgruntled growl. "You giggle."
"You cry at the end of The Notebook!" The brunet retaliated, concretely establishing a sort of back-and-forth squabble between them to prove who was more fitting to be on the bottom.
"That's a fucking sad movie, man!" The other insisted, "... I've heard you sing the Pokémon theme song in the shower."
"Hah! I've got you beat there, Roxy; you were dancing to a Hannah Montana song last Wednesday." Sora was visibly proud of his response, because he grinned as he watched his boyfriend's face darken with humiliation and defence.
"Honest to God, I will tie a rope around your balls until they fall off if you ever repeat that to anyone else."
Sora wrapped his arms around the other's waist and pulled him down, twisting mid-fall so that he could roll on top of him. He tried to kiss him to the best of his abilities, and although Roxas didn't struggle against him, Sora was smiling too brightly and keenly to make his lips move the way he wanted them too. But given how messy their kisses had been so far, neither of them really cared. Having switched positions by means of simply flipping them both over, he knew that he still had a leg on either side of Roxas, and he was now straddling his hips suggestively. Perhaps the blonde thought he'd won after all, because his expression changed yet again, and this time he appeared to be quite pleased with himself. Sora, on the other hand, had no intentions whatsoever of giving in that easily.
He moved up his body on his knees until he was directly above the upper part of Roxas' chest, and he smirked as he reached down to stroke his blonde spikes. Looking somewhat confused, Roxas merely watched with wary interest. Sora fisted his hand in the other's hair, gently tugging it up until he obliged and lifted his head, and then he lowered his hips enough to press the tip of his erection to Roxas' lips. Although he didn't obey the silent demand – because it was too forward to be a request – the slightly younger teenager evidently understood what was being asked of him – or told to him – because he pushed himself up into a sitting position against the headboard. Sora tried again now that their positions were more complementary; he rocked his hips forward. This time, instead of being met by unsuspecting and firmly closed lips, he felt the soft, wet heat of Roxas' mouth around the head of his penis.
"Ah, R-" Sora gasped, but he didn't manage to spit out the other's name. He was caught between the instinctive urge to tilt his head back and the want to look down and watch. In the end, he succumbed to the knee-jerk reaction and found himself staring at the ceiling for all of two seconds, before his eyes promptly shut to heighten his other senses. His fingers curled in Roxas' hair, eliciting a threatening growl from him as he pulled at it, but the vibrations from deep inside his throat only caused Sora to squeak and moan in ecstasy. Roxas had his hands positioned on the brunet's hips as a safety precaution, because he no doubt had a sneaking suspicion that he would try to buck into his mouth and choke him. It wouldn't be the first time, at any rate.
Chest heaving, Sora's lower body began to tremble with the efforts of maintaining his position; he unconsciously wanted to sit down to further stabilise himself. He finally managed to open his eyes and cast his gaze downwards, eager to observe Roxas' ministrations. A gurgling whine somehow rumbled from his throat at the sight. The blonde was – for some reason completely unbeknownst to Sora – blushing as he bobbed his head, and since his eyes were focused on the task at hand (or mouth), they looked like they were half-closed from Sora's perspective. He was gasping for breath by this point, and he swallowed shallowly to clear his mouth of the saliva that was pooling on his tongue. Transfixed, he couldn't look away from the rhythmic movement of Roxas' mouth, or more specifically, the way his erection steadily disappeared and reappeared between the other's red and intimately abused lips, and how his cheek swelled with every forward motion.
Much to his displeasure, Roxas seemed to simply glance up at his stomach when it tensed, and then he pulled away without a second thought. The intense heat and moisture of his mouth was gone within seconds, leaving a cold and not nearly as delightful kind of wetness in its absence. Sora voiced his contempt in the form of a rough grunt and whine, followed by a desperate attempt to get Roxas to finish what he started by pulling at his hair and guiding his mouth back to where it'd been. Unfortunately, the other just chuckled and turned his head away from his twitching erection. Roxas seized the control he had over Sora's hips by yanking him down to sit in his lap, but Sora tilted his head down and away when he tried to kiss him. Sulking in the wake of being left short of an orgasm, he only offered his cheek to the other's affectionate lips.
"I've got chest hair," Roxas stated upon discovering that he couldn't roll Sora onto his back again.
"You do not, you liar," Sora said, hitting his bare chest with a flat hand; he revelled in the smacking sound it made against his soft skin.
"Ouch!" Was the expected response, "What did you slap me for?"
Sora blamed the small part of him that was horribly vindictive, and Roxas deserved it anyway for leaving him hanging like he did. "You know why, jackass," he replied, smirking as he leaned forward to capture the other's bottom lip between his teeth.
--One way or another, after each had turned the other over several times, Sora found himself above Roxas again, pinning him to the bed with his hands above his head. The blonde wriggled fruitlessly, but his attempts to squirm out of the cinch he was in did nothing back make Sora laugh.
"I-I'm too stubborn to be on the bottom!" Roxas explained, "And, besides, you're far too nice to make me do something I don't want to." He looked up at him curiously to see if that had done the trick, and Sora returned his gaze as he considered what had been said.
"Yeah ... You're right," he mumbled, and he let go of the boy's hands. Shuffling backwards, he ignored the combined expressions of confusion and triumph that were brightening up Roxas' face. But as he stepped off of the bed, they both promptly disappeared.
"What are you doing?" Roxas asked; Sora was sifting through the clothes idly with his foot.
"I'm too nice to make you do something that you don't want to, and you're too stubborn to be on the bottom," the brunet recited casually, "so I guess we're not getting anywhere, now are we? I think I might go make some tea. Would you like some?"
"But ..."
--Sora was already at the top of the stairs, wearing nothing but Roxas' boxers – since he couldn't actually locate his own – and his necklace with the crown pendant, which he'd taken off prior to their session of essentially nothing in particular so that it wouldn't hit Roxas in the face at any given moment. He was just about to begin his descent when he heard the thunder-rumble of fumbling footsteps. Glancing over his shoulder just in time, he saw a flash of blonde before he was brutally knocked backwards and pressed against the wall. Suddenly, Roxas' mouth was nipping and sucking and kissing his neck, and he might have been confused if this kind of pace wasn't already something he'd come to expect of him. He wanted to push him away and complain, but Roxas was hard and steadfast, and it felt really good anyway. But Sora was confused, because he thought they'd met a rift, and what was to point of continuing something that wasn't going to amount to anything? So he said, "What—"
"Screw it; I want you so badly," Roxas interrupted, predicting what he was going to say. Sora frowned.
"I'm not going to be—" He started, but was stopped mid-sentenced by the hands that cupped his face abruptly.
"Just shut up and fuck me."
"Are—"
"Yes, yes, yes! Stop talking already and just do it."
Sora wondered if his boyfriend had maybe taken an aphrodisiac when he wasn't looking.
--"Mm, Sora!"
They were on the floor on the landing, because they'd quickly discovered that having sex against a wall required far more effort than they were willing to provide, and Roxas thought the bedroom was just too typical and uninteresting by this point. Of course, there were already stains on the cream carpet from the lubrication and such that they would have a hard time explaining later, but Sora knew that Roxas would "accidentally" spill something like coffee or a ridiculous amount of nail polish on it before his parents came home. And they probably wouldn't even be surprised, because that was just the random kind of thing Roxas might do when left to his own devices. In the meantime, the blonde's legs were hooked over the nook in Sora's elbows, and Sora's hands were gripping his hips firmly.
Every time he thrust into him, regardless of whether or not he managed to brush against his prostate, Roxas would tremble and squirm and moan in such a way that he was nearly shouting nonsensical babble. It spurred Sora on. He was panting hard and pushing harder, watching as Roxas writhed beneath him and clawed at his upper arms and shoulders, but he couldn't see his eyes because they were squeezed shut. If his body didn't automatically close them, Sora preferred to keep his eyes open so that he could see the way his boyfriend reacted to things, and also because he always pulled a face when he orgasmed that drove him wild.
"S-S-S-Sor-RA!" Roxas shouted, his speech perforated by the jerk of his body with every push and pull. If he weren't so close to his own climax, Sora would have laughed at the peculiar strangled whine-slash-moan that Roxas emitted as he came. And when he did follow suit – which wasn't long after, thanks to the contractions and convulsions that Roxas' muscles underwent around him – he bit his lip to muffle the sounds he knew he'd make, but the panting mass of heat and sweat and euphoria beneath him punched him in the chest, and they all came tumbling out. Roxas' name was slurred and careless, but the boy himself appreciated it just as much, by the looks of it. He was grinning as he gasped for air.
Once the noise had died down and they were motionless, save for the way their chests heaved desperately, Sora let Roxas' legs fall to the floor. He noticed how he flinched at the movement. "Sorry," Sora muttered apologetically, pushing himself onto his hands and knees and shifting to lie on the ground beside him. Neither of them spoke again for a number of minutes; they just lay where they were whilst they tried to regulate their heartbeat.
Sora curled up against Roxas once he'd caught his breath, resting his head on his chest and drawing intricate patterns on his messy stomach with his index finger; he didn't care if it was slick with drying semen or cooling sweat. The blonde wrapped an arm around him lazily, hugging him to his side, and Sora kissed his skin with the corner of his mouth.
"Next time—" Roxas began, but a soft hissing sound courtesy of Sora hushed him.
"Next time, we'll just draw straws," Sora finished, and he smiled as the blonde shifted around him to lie on his side, arms tight around him, and placed a quick peck on his forehead.