[ The touch is distracting, in a way that's pleasant, a sort of background buzzing in his nerves. The warmth he feels is entirely different to that of exercise, but it is not wholly unfamiliar.
Daithi pulls away, and Lasulahn's chin tips as though he means to chase the kiss, though catches himself and stills. He watches through his lashes, a few breaths' pause to steady himself.
A shift, then, curling upwards to bring his shoulders off the mat and allow the oversized garment to be tugged off and away. Once aside, Lasulahn meets Daithi with a kiss, so brief as to be almost chaste, and offers a smile not quite shy as he reaches again to curl fingers into the hem of Daithi's own sweatshirt.
( Daithi's turn, then, to chase the kiss, not catching himself so much as Lasulahn interrupting.
Daithi smiles, self amused, and raises his arms to help remove the garment. he takes to his undershirt, crumpled in the process, and that strewn aside with Lasulahn's sweatshirt... Daithi returns to Lasulahn's mouth, palm against neck, heedless of any injury Lasulahn might observe: the bandage about his left wrist or the patchwork of bruises that mark his frame, fading and fresh, working low toward either hip. )
[ Lasulahn is not without the odd bruise or two himself, mostly across his hip and one on his ribs - consequence of working axels into his routine, a staple but technical and demanding in ways he has difficulty with. Skating is not without its toll, and Lasulahn knows he is here precisely to aid with the injuries Daithi has accrued approaching his final season. Seeing them bared is a little different, but he makes no outward note save to touch gently across the blooms of discolor, palm sliding along Daithi's abs and chest, more defined than his own.
Fingertips ghost featherlight down spine as their mouths meet once more, and he leans into it readily. His touch strays towards the waistband of the other's sweats and then shies away again to run palms flat across the plane of Daithi's back before coming to rest against either side. He's as inexperienced as the first time (and feels equally as clumsy though all the same, this is as though some treat he has only sampled once and long wished to have again). In the same measure, he is eager too, forgetting and remembering to breathe in turns. ]
( on his knees, a steady lean into Lasulahn through the kiss, Daithi guides Lasulahn to the floor.
there, he kisses Lasulahn another moment, long and deep, then lifts himself away... merely to plant another to the apple of Lasulahn's throat; the hollow beneath that; his sternum and a particularly wet attention to one swell of flesh, travelling low and lower until his breath is hot and humid at Lasulahn's waist.
Daithi's gaze shifts, a crooked and knowing smile for the inescapable outline in Lasulahn's leggings (a bold choice in Daithi's opinion), but after the pause, he remains silent, making better use of his mouth in open, shapeless kisses that leave the fabric of Lasulahn's leggings damp. tugging the waist, whatever is or isn't underneath, just enough aside, Daithi returns to Lasulahn's growing arousal, tongue against the underside. )
[ He leans back, perhaps more absent than pliant, ignoring most else for the kiss. When the other pulls away, Lasulahn watches, managing to catch a whine of protest between pressed lips before it escapes. He tilts his head readily to feel kiss and breath against his throat, eyes sinking closed.
His fingertips tighten for the tease of attention and Daithi's steady drift downwards, until he can no longer reach comfortably and one hand comes to rest light on the other's shoulder, the other against the mat beneath them. He lifts his head to feel breath across his navel. That smirk that he has always loved to see does him no favors now for the heated flush suffusing his cheeks. And although Daithi's general intent might have been obvious, Lasulahn cannot entirely muffle his reaction. A pitched 'mm!' slips, half-startled for the sudden sensation but pleasured all the same.
His fingers curl uselessly against the other's shoulder, finally drifting to find careful purchase in golden hair. Head once more against the mat, his thighs part as though that might somehow make the sensation of tongue through layers of fabric more direct. Lasulahn's frame tenses, partially in reaction to the pleasurable friction and partially to keep himself from rolling his hips against the open-mouthed teasing.
Feeling the waist of his leggings and underwear tugged aside, he shifts slightly to make it easier. When he looks down once more, a little dazed, he forgets himself enough to watch with lips parted, chest rising with quickened breath. The feel of the other's tongue, direct this time, sudden and hot, earns a short exclamation. Then, a moan, soft but less restrained. ]
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Daithi pulls away, and Lasulahn's chin tips as though he means to chase the kiss, though catches himself and stills. He watches through his lashes, a few breaths' pause to steady himself.
A shift, then, curling upwards to bring his shoulders off the mat and allow the oversized garment to be tugged off and away. Once aside, Lasulahn meets Daithi with a kiss, so brief as to be almost chaste, and offers a smile not quite shy as he reaches again to curl fingers into the hem of Daithi's own sweatshirt.
no subject
Daithi smiles, self amused, and raises his arms to help remove the garment. he takes to his undershirt, crumpled in the process, and that strewn aside with Lasulahn's sweatshirt... Daithi returns to Lasulahn's mouth, palm against neck, heedless of any injury Lasulahn might observe: the bandage about his left wrist or the patchwork of bruises that mark his frame, fading and fresh, working low toward either hip. )
no subject
Fingertips ghost featherlight down spine as their mouths meet once more, and he leans into it readily. His touch strays towards the waistband of the other's sweats and then shies away again to run palms flat across the plane of Daithi's back before coming to rest against either side. He's as inexperienced as the first time (and feels equally as clumsy though all the same, this is as though some treat he has only sampled once and long wished to have again). In the same measure, he is eager too, forgetting and remembering to breathe in turns. ]
no subject
there, he kisses Lasulahn another moment, long and deep, then lifts himself away... merely to plant another to the apple of Lasulahn's throat; the hollow beneath that; his sternum and a particularly wet attention to one swell of flesh, travelling low and lower until his breath is hot and humid at Lasulahn's waist.
Daithi's gaze shifts, a crooked and knowing smile for the inescapable outline in Lasulahn's leggings (a bold choice in Daithi's opinion), but after the pause, he remains silent, making better use of his mouth in open, shapeless kisses that leave the fabric of Lasulahn's leggings damp. tugging the waist, whatever is or isn't underneath, just enough aside, Daithi returns to Lasulahn's growing arousal, tongue against the underside. )
no subject
His fingertips tighten for the tease of attention and Daithi's steady drift downwards, until he can no longer reach comfortably and one hand comes to rest light on the other's shoulder, the other against the mat beneath them. He lifts his head to feel breath across his navel. That smirk that he has always loved to see does him no favors now for the heated flush suffusing his cheeks. And although Daithi's general intent might have been obvious, Lasulahn cannot entirely muffle his reaction. A pitched 'mm!' slips, half-startled for the sudden sensation but pleasured all the same.
His fingers curl uselessly against the other's shoulder, finally drifting to find careful purchase in golden hair. Head once more against the mat, his thighs part as though that might somehow make the sensation of tongue through layers of fabric more direct. Lasulahn's frame tenses, partially in reaction to the pleasurable friction and partially to keep himself from rolling his hips against the open-mouthed teasing.
Feeling the waist of his leggings and underwear tugged aside, he shifts slightly to make it easier. When he looks down once more, a little dazed, he forgets himself enough to watch with lips parted, chest rising with quickened breath. The feel of the other's tongue, direct this time, sudden and hot, earns a short exclamation. Then, a moan, soft but less restrained. ]