regalitie | ❄ 𝑶𝑷𝑬𝑵 𝑷𝑶𝑺𝑻.

( mathias doesn't want this kiss to end, wants to feel milo's lips against his for as long as he possibly can, wants milo to press closer to him — and his mind races with all of the possibilities, ones that leave his cheeks pink and warm, and he is less shy about how he leans into the hand at his jaw once their lips finally do part now that the line of physical contact has been crossed. there's no turning back now.

lashes flutter closed, unfazed by those glittering flakes that have taken over the room, and a soft sound leaves him, something between a pleased hum and a whine, and it surprises even mat, not that he lets that show in his expression, plush of his lower lip curled into a natural hint of a pout that he isn't quite aware of. their faces are still close, close enough for mat's lips to brush against milo's as he sighs, tries to gather his thoughts without much avail.

nothing had ever felt so dangerous as those men pursuing them, but the knot in mathias's stomach right now screams otherwise, like the wind has been knocked out of him — and his heart is still pounding, now for entirely different reasons altogether. )

Milo — ( he murmurs, soft as ever as his palm accidentally drift from the belt loops of his pants up to the fabric of his shirt so his fingers can curl into the fabric of his shirt at his lower back, pull himself a little closer and cling to milo even more. the question that leaves his lips is asked with very little pretense, a shy request. ) Kiss me again? You don't have to ... be shy on my behalf — or restrained, or polite — Please ...

[ he swallows around the sudden dryness in his throat. is he ...? does he really want ...?

milo will have to check to make sure but first. first he needs to kiss this boy without any restraint, without playing it safe. so he does, his gaze flicking down to that pouting mouth before he presses his own lips against it, gently nudging those lips apart with a prying tongue. he inhales, encouraging him to part his lips, mimic the way he tilts his own head so that they can kiss a little deeper, with more warmth and more obvious desire bubbling beneath the surface.

one hand presses against the small of mathias's back, pressing their bodies flush together. he follows the other boy's lead in these motions, not wanting to go overboard, not wanting him to regret wanting whatever this is. ]

You – you want more?

[ but before he can even get an answer, milo is already gingerly, slowly backing the other boy towards the nearest surface, not the couch – ah. after some stumbling, he can press him against the wall near his bedroom. they stand eye to eye, chest to chest, and he pulls away briefly to flash that lopsided smile, though his eyes have darkened with desire. ] Tell me what you want, Mat.

i think so? my cousin usually lets me crash at his place, but he might be out of town...

can i stay with you?

( oh — now this is precisely what mat has wanted but didn't quite know how to ask for, head tipping the direction opposite milo so he can meet that deeper, more insistent kiss and — his heart practically leaps into his throat and his stomach turns completely upside down when he just barely catches milo's tongue with his own. it's not what mat expected but it's good, and mat is a smart boy, nothing if not a quick learner, especially when it comes to what makes him happy, what makes other people happy.

he meets milo's mouth with a newfound eagerness, lips sliding against the other boy's, more than happy to follow his lead as milo licks into his mouth again, and —

he gasps softly as that hand presses against his lower back, bodies flush against one another and — goodness, he's so warm, warmer than warm, and it's dizzying, leaves his lips parted. the answer to milo's question dances on the tip of his tongue, but it's quickly vanquished by the feeling of his back hitting the wall, a palm grazing up over his back so it can curl around the back of milo's neck, needing desperately to hold onto something.

overwhelmed doesn't even begin to cover it, but the way that milo smiles at him, heavily lidded eyes betraying a lot more than the typical earnest boyishness of that grin, is enough to make him weak in the knees, to make his cheeks flood with warmth despite the cold in the air, to make his hips flex instinctively against the other boy's. )

Milo, I want — ( oh. words feel impossible as his mouth hangs open uselessly. it's embarrassing, maybe, to be rendered so speechless over such a simple question, but the possibilities alone are enough to make his cheeks flush even further. mat's head angles towards milo's instinctively, gaze lowering before his eyes flutter closed, fingers curling even tighter into the fabric of his shirt at his lower back. ) You. I want you.

[ it's like neither of them can stop repeating the other's name; milo wants to keep mathias in his head, on his mind. his days have been filled with this beautiful frost boy and he suddenly cannot imagine the rest of his days without him. and that's a lot. for once in his life, he isn't fidgeting, he isn't second-guessing. he's following his instincts and, more importantly, his heart.

his natural warmth balances the chill that mat has brought into this space and he revels in being the reason that blush is so deep on this boy's cheeks. they both have faces that look far too innocent for the thoughts that are surely running through both their heads, but that makes it all the more fun, milo thinks as his lips hover over the other's without kissing him yet. he is waiting on a response after all.

and once he gets it –

oh.

it's a simple thing but it strikes him like a bolt of lightning. there's such desperation behind mat's eyes, uncertainty over what to do with himself now that he's tapped into a few new ( or at least once-concealed ) parts of him. it would be uncouth to take advantage of his vulnerability and that is the last thing milo wants, having kissed him first to try to center him. his own blush deepens and he nods slowly. ]

I wasn't – I didn't want to – but. [ a soft titter follows his stammering. ] I want you too.

[ loath to release him, he'll risk stumbling in the process as he gently guides mat towards his bed, hands on slender hips. his eyes never leave those bright blue ones and he gives his hip a squeeze as their legs meet the foot of his bed. ]

Sit down? Please?

( it's a relief, somehow, to hear those words slip past milo's lips that mathias can still taste — validation, perhaps, that these sudden feelings storming inside of him are legitimate, not just a product of the danger that has befallen them, except ...

except mathias is still scared, and the more he thinks about how afraid he was in that moment, about what was unleashed from his palms because of it, the more scared he gets. somehow, this new unknown with milo feels welcoming, a pleasant alternative that mat is prepared to dive headfirst into if it means forgetting about what has happened, if only temporarily, especially if it means losing himself in this boy that he's very quickly realizing he cares for deeply — even more deeply than he had thought possible.

it's overwhelming, this realization, a thought that makes his throat tighten until he swallows hard, forehead still nudged against milo's and holding onto him so very tightly as he's guided from the wall, backed into the bedroom that mat finds so familiar from the (admittedly more than anticipated) nights in which milo insists he take the bed versus the couch. his eyes are bright as ever as his calves hit the bed frame, a little startled by it, but he buries that surprise in another stolen kiss, a quick thing, so that milo can speak again — )

Alright, I — ( and mat swallows again, fingers dragging along the side of the other boy's neck as he sits at the edge of the mattress and can't quite reach any longer. the absence of milo's warmth pressed against him is staggering, and though the swirls of snowflakes that have ignored the boundaries of this new room and dance through the air and land on milo's furniture don't bother him, he's simply incapable of ignoring that need to have this boy close.

so his knees might part instinctively, newly free hand joining his other at the small of milo's back, tugging him needily towards him until he's flush between his thighs, and mat tips his head up to meet his gaze, bright blue peeking from behind tousled strands of silvery white, teeth catching his lip as he finds himself practically begging for more through his gaze alone, too shy to say it out loud, to verbalize anything other than a soft: ) Please ...

[ he doesn't think he has ever felt or seen mathias so fragile, but he knows that isn't the case; today proves what has been niggling at the back of his mind since they first met. he is strong and more powerful than anyone could have imagined. that combination – the contradiction – is doubly attractive to him. he likes the snow, he wants the snow and not just because he's some west coast boy who thinks 50 degrees is freezing cold.

mat's eyes are always so enchanting ( he thinks that's the right word for it ), almost unnatural on his face, but then again, it's not every day you meet a boy with naturally silvery hair and the ability to make the world freeze over. he doesn't expect the desperation from him and that single please is like a jolt of electricity below his navel.

jesus.

he's sweating and cold, ardent but cautious, pink cheeks beneath the fall of bright blue hair. slowly he lowers himself to his knees, hands pressed firmly against mat's slender thighs to keep them secure around him. where to start? he wants – naked. but mat also wants. so milo thinks quickly, sorting through his scattered thoughts as he slides his hands up the other's legs to undo his pants. ]

You can tell me when to stop, [ he says carefully, hooking his fingers into the hem of those pants, wanting to pull them down his legs. ] I won't be mad at all.

( milo lowers himself to his knees before him and mat watches with wide-eyed wonder, lips parted and hands wandering absently against milo's shoulders, his forearms out of sheer need to touch him, some way and some how, as palms caress his thighs almost reverently. he doesn't even realize that he's holding his breath until those deft fingers unbutton his pants — until mat exhales sharply, meeting milo's gaze and seemingly unable to look away.

there's a moment where he can hardly do anything but gape a little as he curls fingers into his waistband — but he finally nods emphatically, practically whispers out a soft, ) Okay.

( and there's a bundle of nervous energy that coils low in his stomach, but that is exciting to mat, this boy who has felt uncertain about most everything in his life, certain about something at last — about how much he trusts milo, how milo will take care of him, how milo is the first thing he thinks about when he wakes up and the last when he lays his head down to sleep. anything new is bound to be frightening, but they'll be together, just as they've been.

his hands leave milo's arms so that his fingers can curl into the blanket beneath him, hips lifting to allow milo to tug his trousers off of him, chest and cheeks flushing even further once he realizes just how much more of him is exposed, the curved stretch of cotton briefs straining against him entirely unsubtle. mat has been — turned on before, of course, but this is perhaps the first time that he's wanted to do anything about it other than willing himself to think about anything but.

no, milo still kneels between his legs, and mat thinks about his mouth with a jolt that practically makes his heart stop, thinks about that crooked grin, thinks about the warm slide of milo's lips against his, his tongue — nngh, gods, he's already leaking against the soft cotton, far too eager, and it's then that he's hit with a spark of courageousness which makes him lift his hips up again and tug down his underwear, a hand hastily reaching out to grab milo's, fingers linking together and squeezing once, as much of a reassurance to himself as it is to milo that he wants this — wants him. )

[ he's never done anything like this before – not the sex part. milo has had a fair share of partners despite what his youthful appearance might let on. not even his dreams could have prepared him for the heady rush of emotions he feels as their eyes meet, as he pulls his pants down his skinny legs. milo has spent years parsing out who he is, what his powers are, what he can do with them now that he has a handle on it. his initial intent had always been to help, having received fair warning of what was to happen: a beautiful boy, snow, danger.

he's old enough to know that sex doesn't always equal love and that sex is often more than a problem than it is a solution. yet every fiber in his being wants to show mat that he's cared for, that he's protected, that milo himself will do just about anything to ensure that he always feels good. milo is the keeper of a magical, mysterious boy who looks at him like he's hung the moon just for him and – how could milo not want him to earnestly, so ardently?

his hands begin to slide up bare legs when. oh.. mathias has begun to pull his underwear down and he can't help the way his eyes drop to his lap as he exposes himself, unable to help that very shameless licking of his own lips. any other nervous questions he might have had die instantly on his tongue and he smiles crookedly and reassuringly, squeezing their joined hands. softly, he lifts them to kiss mat's knuckles before resting their joined hands on the bed, reluctant to let him go.

it's just the confidence boost he needs to rise up quickly, stealing one of many kisses today will bring as his left hand leaves mat's thigh to curl around his ready length, stroking him slowly and gently to at least prepare him before he thinks to use his mouth. he licks the other's bottom lip, a small hint of what's to follow.

murmuring against his mouth, milo exhales: ]

I – I wanna make you feel good.

[ pulling away, he lowers his head and licks the head in his grasp tentatively, once, twice, waiting for the reaction. ]

( mat is reassured by each and every move that milo makes, the reassuring squeeze of his hand in return that assuages his nerves from fumbling with his clothes, the soft, tender brush of lips against knuckles that tell him that everything is okay. those very same lips meet his own only moments later, almost a surprise, but it's a welcome one, mouth pliable as he can feel milo pressing closer to him and — oh — )

Milo —

( it's gasped against the other boy's lips as his other hand wraps around his length, strokes him slowly, the sensation unlike anything he's ever felt; there's a little friction, but milo's hand slides easier against him as that precome coats his fingers. it's overwhelming — it's completely overwhelming — but milo touches him so slowly, so carefully, that mat is able to let that surprise give way to how good it feels, a heat bubbling low in his stomach that contrasts so sharply with the snowflakes that fall more insistently now from seemingly nowhere.

i wanna make you feel good, milo murmurs, and were mat coherent, he'd steal kiss after kiss until he could hardly breathe any longer, pant against his mouth as his heart races, and tell him again and again and again how good he's making him feel right now, every nerve ending alight, sparking more intensely by the moment.

it still doesn't prepare him for the feeling of milo's tongue, warm and hot and wet, dragging against the head of his cock, tasting him, licking him slowly, taking his time with mat ... and a sound escapes him, starting something like a moan and trailing off into a low whine, chin tipped backwards and lashes fluttered closed, his fingers squeezing milo's hand so tightly he may never be able to let go. there are about an infinite number of things that mathias wants to say, but his thoughts race endlessly, practically incomprehensible. but he wants to try, has to try, and it ends up manifesting in a soft, stammered: ) Milo, Milo, please, that feels so — I'm so — you're incredible —

[ snow clings to his hair, his clothes, melting instantly on his skin; it makes milo look otherworldly in his own right, like some neon sprite with all his colors. he can't help but look up again after shoe initial licks, the gleam in his cat-like eyes giving way to something much more darker though it isn't entirely out of place on milo's face.

he isn't sure how much experience mat has had, not wanting to assume much about the holes in his memory. what he does know is that if this is the first one he's making here, he wants the first time to be meaningful and memorable. of course, he feels a swell of pride in his chest, in knowing that he is wanted, he has been chosen. mat has carved out so much space for himself in his life, in his thoughts, and while milo tries to manage the mundane everyday responsibilities along with it, he wouldn't have it any other way.

encouraged by the snow, the squeeze of his hand, the needy whimpers from the object of his affection, he parts his lips a little more so that he can take him in. not all the way, not yet, just enough for the tip to sit heavily on his tongue. his eyes remain closed as he sucks lightly, round cheeks hollowing around it.

it's a good feeling, a good taste on his tongue; he hadn't realized how much he had wanted it, far more concerned with getting to the bottom of this mystery they both have been solving. stress makes people do unusual things, though he would argue that sex as a release isn't all that strange; if anything, it's merely another step in this journey they're taking together.

after a beat or two, he lowers his head, throat adjusting easily to the intrusion. ]

( mathias is nothing if not unsubtle with each and every reaction that passes through him, chin tipped upwards and lashes grazing against his cheeks, practically white knuckled as he squeezes milo's hand, squeezes the sheets bunched up in his fist, as milo takes him into the hot cave of his mouth. there's another groan at the building pressure as those lips wrap around him so expertly, as milo's tongue lingers at the bottom of his cock, salivating around him ...

gods, this is unlike anything that mat has ever experienced before, a rapidly tightening knot coiling in his stomach, and his mind is already racing as he thinks about making milo feel this good in return, this boy who deserves the world and then some, who will get it if this boy has anything to say about it —

and then mat's brain effectively ceases operations as milo takes him deeper into his mouth, and he can feel the head of his cock bumping against the back of his throat as he bottoms out, inhaling sharply as his hand reaches out to curl into mussed turquoise locks, desperate for as much contact with milo as he can manage. he can feel a sensation building in his gut and it practically leaves him trembling, laying back against the sheets with silvery blonde hair falling in his eyes, lips seeming to be eternally parted. )

Gods, Milo — ( he practically whimpers, head lifting fruitlessly because he wants to watch milo, but with even the slightest, reflexive movement of milo's tongue against him, he's overwhelmed, head falling back against the mattress. a gust of wind bursts through the room, ruffling milo's hair even with mat's fingers curled into it, carrying with it snowflakes that land on mat's cheeks, stick to his lashes, coating the furniture, coating the blankets, starting to accumulate. )

[ he's careful and slow-moving, but eager as tears linger on his lashes because he's taking mat in so deeply, wanting him to feel every rumble from his throat as he groans around him, wanting him to feel the path of his lips as he resurfaces with a soft pop. it feels good, the way mat grips his hair and his hand, and he only ever wants to be that person this boy can cling to when nothing else seems to make sense.

but they do.

there is no question about that. he wouldn't let anyone into his house or into his heart so easily, but there is something that not even fate could have given in him his dreams, something there that wraps them both so tightly around each other. his full lips seem to shine even before he licks them, encouraging one of mat's legs to hang over his shoulder for a moment so that he can curve a hand around his thigh, pressing wet kisses against it. his instinct is to leave a mark but it feels wrong to mar such delicate, fair skin.

so he scrapes his teeth delicately against the sensitive inner skin, kissing his way back to his apex where he takes his cock in his free hand and strokes him slowly. ]

I – [ he's literally in the middle of sucking him off and yet milo still blushes. ] I could make you come like this, Mat. You want me to?

are you awake now, mat?

milo!
yes, i am.
i was thinking about going out to get an iced coffee because it's far too hot.

i already miss you in the office with me! but i also like seeing you sleep so peacefully...
you could always ice my coffee 😆☕🥤

oh, i will ice your coffee, alright.

i suppose you will be able to get more work done with me home, at the very least.

you're cute.

i like having you with me even for half a day. it's a lot quieter here.

[ selfishly, he loves hearing mat call the apartment 'home.' ]

they do say that absence makes the heart grow fonder...

i like working, though, even if you're my manager.
even if i don't get to spend nearly as much time with you at work as i'd like.

you want to work full days? with me?

yes!
then i'll make more money and can buy more iced coffees.

and i'll get to spend more time with you. :-)

and i can maybe put my hand in your back pocket sometimes... when no one's looking...
😘

do you want to meet me later for ice cream?

milo, you scoundrel.

of course i'd like to meet you for ice cream.
at least you can stand reassured that it won't melt in this heat with me around.

i can be bold sometimes! especially with you.

you keep me cool during this awful heatwave.

you're making me flush and i haven't even stepped outside yet.

does it always get this hot in california?

❄ 𝑶𝑷𝑬𝑵 𝑷𝑶𝑺𝑻.

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