Over the last few minutes, Asmodeus has drifted from an arrogant lean on the doorjamb to a hip on Thuan's desk and then against his chair. Asmodeus's arm is now draped across the top of the chair, tips of his fingers barely touching Thuan's shoulder, and Thuan can feel the warmth of his body all along his side, hardly any air between them.
It gives Thuan a great deal of pleasure to continue writing a letter to Second Aunt and ignoring Asmodeus.
The fingers move, softly, ghostlike, from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, where Asmodeus knows very well Thuan loves to be touched. Thuan's breath catches in his throat as the shudder works its way through him like an earthquake, slow tremors moving outward, leaving devastation in their wake.
"Don't worry about me," Asmodeus says softly. "Finish whatever you need to finish. I'm in no rush at all." The fingers move again, distracting, disarming. There's a warning note in his voice; Thuan cannot tell how much of it is real.
"Won't be long," Thuan says, and writes as steadily as he can with arousal building and Asmodeus's hands lighting him up from the inside out. They're neither of them back to full health yet, but this morning he saw Asmodeus lifting a stone block to demonstrate something to a Hawthorn builder, and he thought: maybe.
He signs the letter and, with Asmodeus's eyes on him, carefully blots the ink, folds the paper, seals it with wax, seals it with a touch of khi. Then, finally, he looks up.
Before he can speak, Asmodeus kisses him. Swiftly, like he always does at first, so that Thuan follows him the briefest distance when he pulls away. Thuan has to want it more, it seems, for Asmodeus to allow it. That's all right: he wants it very much.
He puts a hand around the back of Asmodeus's neck and draws him back in. Holds him in place as he tempts his lips open. The kiss progresses hot and fast, with a faint ozone-scented taste of magic filling Thuan's mouth, overlaying the taste of Asmodeus's body and the perfume of bergamot and orange blossom, faint so late in the day. Asmodeus's long-fingered hands come up to Thuan's face, cupping his cheeks, holding him in place as Asmodeus's tongue drives hard and fast against his own. Thuan's breaths fill his lungs like a bellows, and his chest brushes Asmodeus's on the inhale, but only then. He could pull Asmodeus into his lap right here, or-- But no. It has been too long and he isn't sure he's quite healed enough for an armchair fuck, as delicious as that would be. He says, "There's a bed right over there."
"Is there," Asmodeus says. "How unusual."
"It's not my fault you molested me at my desk."
Asmodeus looks at him, almost as cool as always, only the fervid gleam of his eyes and the faint redness of his lips giving him away. "Oh, it is your fault," he says. "If you insist on looking like that. My little morsel." He runs one finger along Thuan's jaw and leans back in as if magnetised.
Thuan breathes in again, and does pull Asmodeus to him this time, so they press together at more than lips when they come back together. Asmodeus's hands slip to his hips, and then across the front of them, brushing Thuan's erection and then stroking through the fabric of his trousers. Thuan makes a noise in his throat and thrusts his hips forward into the touch. When they pull back, he can see the smallest smile on Asmodeus's face—a triumph to Thuan, to get any emotion at all.
He rises and goes to the bed, shedding clothing on the way. Asmodeus doesn't follow but simply watches, leaning against the chair, eyes tracing the skin of Thuan's body as it's revealed. Asmodeus's hand has drifted down to press at his own cock; Thuan thinks through the possibilities of where he'd like it today. There are many things they've avoided recently.
"On the bed," Asmodeus says. "On your back."
Thuan drops his undergarments to the floor and obeys.
Asmodeus stalks towards him, deadly grace. His eyes glint behind his glasses, and he doesn't bother to undress as Thuan did, just climbs up onto the bed and directly onto Thuan, so his weight presses him into the mattress as they kiss again. Thuan moans freely at the feel of him, the taste, the sight of the flush climbing his cheeks, more voluble than any voluntary sign Asmodeus has ever given him.
"What am I going to do to you," Asmodeus murmurs, stroking along Thuan's sides, then back up to the back of his neck; Thuan shivers.
"Take your clothes off," Thuan says.
Asmodeus blinks down at him, unreadable. He doesn't always get undressed, even when they're alone in their own bedroom and not somewhere they can be discovered, but Thuan much prefers it when he does; he doesn't know if all the Fallen are like him, so perfectly made, but Asmodeus is so beautiful it still takes Thuan's breath away. After a moment he seems to come to a decision. He folds his fingers through Thuan's and brings their hands up to his lips for a chaste kiss on both sets of knuckles, sending Thuan's heart thumping with a mix of arousal and tenderness; then he presses their joined hands to the pillows either side of Thuan's head and lets go. "Keep them there," he says, nothing of the warmth of the kiss in his voice, and stands up to disrobe.
He is, simply, beautiful. Lean and muscled, wide through the shoulders and narrow at the hips, cock thick and full. Dark hair across his chest and then in a narrow line to the thicker concentration near his genitals. Thuan hadn't been fully sure, the first time they'd done more than kiss, what he'd have to work with; Fallen don't exactly have gender the way humans or dragons do, and their bodies, so suffused with magic, don't exactly work the way mortals' do either. But they aren't different in this. The sex isn't anything like the sex he had with dragons before his marriage, but that's all Asmodeus's mind, not his body.
Asmodeus gives his own cock a few quick tugs, a surprisingly earthy motion by such a serenely supernatural being; he retrieves the oil, and Thuan feels a thrill run up his whole body when he realises what Asmodeus is doing. Then he climbs back on the bed between Thuan's legs.
Without being asked, Thuan spreads them wider. The backs of Asmodeus's knuckles brush the inside of his thigh—that's thanks, he's learnt. One oil-slick hand wraps itself around Thuan's cock; Thuan's hands clench into fists, but he doesn't move them, obedient.
They haven't done this in a while, for them, but it's still easy for Asmodeus to slide two fingers inside him. Thuan wasn't sure he would until it's happening—Asmodeus is harsh and tender, strict and indulgent, by turns, and Thuan can take him without stretching and sometimes even prefers it—but he doesn't mind being tended to like this. The hand on his cock strokes inerrantly across all the places Thuan prefers.
Asmodeus is in that kind of mood, then. Thuan shifts his hips up into Asmodeus's grip, a test, and immediately Asmodeus moves to press him down into the bed again. "Don't move," he says. "You'll take what I give you, won't you, little dragon?"
"Yes," Thuan says. He's as tall as Asmodeus, and possibly older—he's never quite dared to ask—and yet getting called 'little' does something to him every time. Asmodeus has that kind of presence, all-enveloping, dictatorial. Thuan shivers and relaxes into Asmodeus's touches. Fingertips tease across his prostate, a thumb slides across the slick head of his cock, and Thuan considers begging.
Asmodeus's hand moves up his chest, to pinch and pull at his nipples. Too harshly, but the pain—
Thuan wouldn't have said, before, that he liked pain. Then, what he liked was a fun diversion with somebody who had the same goals, and he'd found more than enough willing partners in his lifetime. With Asmodeus... In the right situation, pain could be as arousing as any other kind of touch. It still isn't his preference, exactly, left to his own devices, but the act of inflicting it so clearly arouses Asmodeus that Thuan has come to appreciate it as part of what's between them. Asmodeus likes pain, enough that he can't hide it the way he hides most of his emotions. Even now, as Thuan's body reacts, Asmodeus's eyes are wide and fixed on him, and when Thuan glances down he can see how hard Asmodeus is.
"Asmodeus, please," he says. He lets himself sound out of breath for it, desperate, and Asmodeus stops and braces himself.
Thuan lets his eyes fall closed as he's breached. He's missed it, the thick, hot fullness as Asmodeus slips further inside, the rising speed of Asmodeus's breaths, a sign Thuan's affecting him. He groans and tightens and Asmodeus's hips jab forward, deeper, where Thuan wants him.
Asmodeus falls froward. Thuan wraps his legs up and around Asmodeus's hips, shifting so they both have a better angle to move, and Asmodeus's hands come up to twine their fingers together again, so they're mirrored. Thuan sucks in a breath. Asmodeus has something approaching emotion on his face, a faint trace of a smile with a thin line of concentration between his brows.
He draws himself out, almost all the way, and slides back in at the same pace.
"Oh, shit," Thuan groans.
The smile gets wider. There's Thuan's sadist again. It's nothing like the stimulation Thuan needs to get off, but it's absolutely overwhelming nonetheless, relentless and driving him higher without letting him reach any kind of peak. Waves of goosebumps cross Thuan's skin and Asmodeus leans down to bite where his neck meets his shoulder, hard enough to bruise. Thuan jerks and Asmodeus makes a soft, pleased noise against his skin.
Thuan feels like he's turning inside out with the slow, maddening fucking.
Asmodeus bites another bruise onto the side of Thuan's chest, without stopping the motion of his hips. "Shit," Thuan grits out again.
"Sweet boy," Asmodeus says. "You shouldn't let me do these things to you."
"Asmodeus," Thuan says, feeling him jerk at the name, "I want to let you do them."
Asmodeus brings his head up to stare at Thuan. "Why?" At last he stills, thrust deep in Thuan's body, and Thuan kicks him in the buttock with a heel; he refuses to move.
Thuan sorts through and discards any number of explanations. "Do you think I truly couldn't stop you?" he finally says, letting antlers shimmer into being above his face.
Asmodeus stares at them, mesmerised. "Are they sensitive?" he asks.
"Yes," Thuan says. He lets them go. Asmodeus looks down at him, maybe—disappointed? "Some other time. We're busy." He kicks Asmodeus again.
Asmodeus disentangles one hand to pinch Thuan on the hip, hard enough to hurt. "Behave," he says, low harmonics resonating in his voice, and Thuan feels his cock throb and squeezes his thighs tighter instead. Asmodeus sighs through his nose and goes back to fucking Thuan, sliding on the sweat they're building between them; these are shorter and harder thrusts than he was using before, nailing Thuan right where he needs it.
Asmodeus looks him in the face and, expressionless, wraps their fingers together again.
"I like them there," Asmodeus says, and leans in and takes his mouth again.
As distractions go, getting kissed by Asmodeus is about the most distracting Thuan knows. He arches up into it, presses back on Asmodeus's driving cock, lets arousal fill his body till he feels translucent, ready to burst. "Please," he finally gasps out, and Asmodeus makes some decision, inscrutable as ever; and strokes him, within and without, relentless, until Thuan tightens and gasps and comes and comes and comes.
Asmodeus continues fucking him, gentler and shallower. If they hadn't been at this for more than year, Thuan might not even know he's come when he does: he makes a noise scarcely louder than his usual, and closes his eyes for a brief moment; the key is in the tightening of his fingers. He stills after a few more thrusts, staring at Thuan in concentration, like he doesn't understand.
Thuan lets the moment linger in appreciation, then breaks it before Asmodeus can. "Can I move now?"
Asmodeus doesn't look away. "Can you?"
Thuan fees his hands, wraps his arms around Asmodeus's back and draws him down. Asmodeus tucks his face into the side of Thuan's neck, where he bit him earlier; he puts his teeth to the bruise but doesn't sink them in. He likes to wait before withdrawing, and the little moment he always needs makes Thuan feel tender and too soft, like he should be guarding his heart more than he is. He presses his lips to Asmodeus's hair.
"I missed that," Thuan says, after a moment.
Asmodeus mutters something into Thuan's skin that Thuan can't catch. No matter.
Slowly, Thuan begins to stroke Asmodeus's hair. His back is a furnace from the exertion under Thuan's touch. His body feels intimate in a way Asmodeus hardly ever does. Thuan knows, of course, that Asmodeus is not sleeping with anyone else; it would be bad for House cohesion, regardless of any feelings Asmodeus might or might not actually have. And as remote as Asmodeus is, Thuan can still feel that he's closer to Thuan than he is with anyone else. So he knows there is...something, between them, that isn't just wishful thinking on his part. But like this, his body stripped bare, not able to look Thuan in the face while he gets himself under control but also not able to move away...this is the time Thuan knows it for sure.
After a quick wipe down, they manage to make it under the covers. They've been sharing a room for real, and not incidentally after sex, since the damage to the House from Dân Chay. They've never discussed it; Thuan is grateful for it regardless. Asmodeus stares Thuan full in the face for a long moment, silent. "Is there anything I need to know about your aunt?" he asks finally.
Thuan suppresses a sigh: his pillow talk could still use work. "Nothing new," he says. "We'll see how she replies."
"All right," Asmodeus says.
Thuan reaches over and placed his fingertips, gently, against Asmodeus's lips. They look at each other, and Asmodeus moves slightly, almost a kiss, before he closes his eyes and settles into the pillow instead. Thuan draws his hand back with a secret smile, kisses his fingertips where Asmodeus had, and goes to sleep.