Learn to Live

Well, I'm not happy with this...but I figured I would post it and just get it over with. I might put up an edited version if I fix it enough. Oh well. The next chapter is already in progress + going much better. I love you all.

Chapter 22 - Give

Part of Alois feels guilty for not being careful; the angry red welts on Claude's back are probably going to hurt pretty bad soon - and part of him is thrilled, because Claude's eyes are rolling back in his head and he's pushing harder now, grinding their hips together, and everything is getting slightly fuzzy. Alois tugs forcefully at Claude' belt, chucking it to the floor; Claude pulls off his boots and socks, and places his hands at the hem of Alois' shorts, slowly dragging them lower. He's never wanted to be closer to someone in his life - he wants to breathe the same air that Claude breathes, occupy the same space, he wants to live inside of this man in a way he's unable to eloquently verbalize. It's a feeling that Claude seems to understand, and reciprocate; he slides his fingers across Alois' body like he will die without the texture of his skin, like his entire being depends on their continued closeness. Something in the pit of Alois' stomach is twisting uncomfortably, but he doesn't want it to stop - he knows what he wants. He wants Claude, all of him, and Claude wants all of him in return.

Alois has never been a particularly patient person, and he knows they have all the time in the world right now, but he seriously wishes that Claude would hurry the fuck up. But Claude is one of those people with patience to spare, and does he realize how torturous this is? Probably, since he knows exactly what Alois wants and that he has absolutely no self-control, that if he keeps moving at such an excruciatingly slow pacer, Alois is going to go insane, and he likes it. The boy can't help but take it as a challenge - Claude said himself that Alois had been the first to push him - so he takes it as a sign that Claude might like to be pushed. And if that's true, he is more than willing to push as hard as he possibly can. Alois does aim to please - and he likes to think he's pretty good at it.

Claude kisses him and a hundred spider-legs follow his fingertips down Alois' sides, making him shiver and smile and lean further into the older man's embrace, press their bodies tightly together, woven like mesh or the most perfect basket. Claude opens his eyes and looks Alois in the face, searching for a hesitancy that has long since passed - and when he finds so signs of it, he sees fit to finally assuage the child's desires and continue. He slides his hands back into the belt-loops of those little shorts, tugging them down inch by inch, and Alois can't help but wonder how the fuck is he so calm about this, but he can't find his voice to tell Claude pick up the pace, asshole. He thinks Claude gets it though, because he's started moving faster and he's working on his own clothes now; Alois runs his hands down the other man's chest, tracing the lines of his tattoos before finally resting his hand over the butterfly on Claude's hip. He smiles, separating from Claude long enough to bend down and kiss it softly, and Claude's breath hitches - barely, but enough that Alois notices.

While Alois is preoccupied with his mouth on Claude's skin, the older man takes the opportunity to change their positions slightly; he slides a hand behind Alois' neck and lays them both down completely. The boy makes a noise in question, which turns quickly into a low moan when Claude fits a leg between his, puts his hands back on Alois' hips, and glues their lips back together. And he thinks it's desperation he feels in the way Claude is pressing against him; his hips are so bony and it's beautiful and if Claude isn't careful he's going to cut through Alois' skin, and the boy will bleed to death in his arms - and as good as that sounds, Alois doesn't want to die yet. He knows Claude wouldn't let it happen anyway, so he loses himself in the feeling of their bodies, woven together like mesh, like a basket made of fingers and arms and legs - and he pushes back against Claude, feeling their hands touch. They are too close now, bones only separated by millimeters of skin, breathing the same air, and it's like they are the only thing in the world.

Alois has never felt so comfortable around anyone else - Claude still inspires a trust in him that is overwhelming and dangerous, but beautiful and a bit scary, although Alois wouldn't have it any other way. When his father had been alive, Alois had never been able to claim ownership over his own body, had never been allowed to feel good, or to take pride in himself or who he was - even after he's died, Alois had never fully recovered his confidence, or had a grasp on what the word truly meant. In his struggle for self-validation, he had found himself in Ciel, Hannah, and then Claude, and the older man especially had taught him that his scars were a part of him; Alois had never thought anyone would be so accepting of such a battered body, but Claude always seemed to be more interested in who he was than who he had been. Alois cannot describe how it makes him feel - there is a difference between the love of a mother or friend and that of a lover, and that latter was something he never thought he'd ever have, or be able to appreciate.

But he did now.

Claude seems to always know what he is thinking, and now is no exception; one of his hands moves to Alois' head, stroking his hair, and then all of a sudden something changes - his breathing is shallow, and when Alois takes the opportunity to roll his hips against Claude's, the other man pins him to the bed, grinding back into him, sending sparks though his body. Alois can't see shit; all he can feel is Claude's tongue on his neck, and Claude against him, and the rocking motion of Claude's hips, because Claude is his world in this moment and every moment after.

He's not really sure when things changed; he's not sure when they lost the rest of their clothes or when Claude reached over to his nightstand and pulled out a bottle of whatever-the-fuck-that-was, or when Claude finally stopped being so fucking careful, but that's not really important anymore, because he can feel Claude against him and they're both fucking hard and if he wasn't so eager to have the other man inside him, he'd want to come like this, just like this, with Claude pressing his body harder and harder against Alois and Alois matching his movements, because he could go on like this forever but he knows it has to end. It's now that he's grateful to Claude for taking things slow, because he's never had someone he enjoys looking at so much, never had someone he wants to do this with; he's never wanted to drown in someone's body a thousand times over and never come up for air - but with Claude, things are different.

Alois isn't sure how to describe what he feels for this man. It's like he's a music box and Claude's the only one who can open him, the only one who can make him sing. His father tried, and maybe broke him, and now Claude has put him back together and now he's working again, flourishing even. And now all he can see and hear and focus on is the man who put his life back together again, sewed him shut again - although, now Claude is pulling him apart at the seams, and he can't take it, can't hold on anymore; he hasn't done this in a while and he doesn't want to fuck it up but everything just feels so damn good.

Stop trying so hard, Claude says, but Alois is not used to someone giving him their everything - people have always taken from him, and he's never complained. But he hopes that Claude never leaves him because he could get used to someone being so selfless with him and he is not sure he could ever go back if things reverted to the way things were before. So he tries to smile and says well what the fuck am I supposed to do, just lay here? and he's not serious and Claude knows that but he replies essentially, and somehow manages to keep a straight face, so he knows the other man secretly means it. And he wants to protest but Claude's giving him a look so he decides he's going to be a good little boy and behave, and he wraps his arms around Claude's neck and touches their lips together lightly.

Bring it on.