It's not hard to carry Ivar. He'd gotten used to it rather quickly, though been a strange thing to do and he'd been worried about doing so. He managed not to hurt the teen thus far, though.
Heahmund isn't getting cold feet but he does think that he's doing something wrong as he gets into the van and even as Ivar pushes him onto the mattress. The van is hardly comfy but nothing is particularly comfortable now days. Every once in a while an abandoned house that's easily fortified but they can't afford to stay in such luxury for any long length of time.
Ivar's voice is low and harsh as he speaks to Heahmund. "If you say anything like that one more time, I swear to God I will hit you." How very romantic. Still, if Heahmund didn't want this, he would have already said so or pushed Ivar away. He hadn't done either, so at least they were on the same page about this.
Ivar leans down and kisses Heahmund again. There's heat and passion behind it, the pent-up emotions of the previous months all finally coming to the surface. Ivar is tired of being cautious, knowing each day might be his last. He wants to feel pleasure, to be alive if only for one night.
He runs a hand underneath Heahmund's shirt and across the hard muscles of his chest. His fingers linger over the few scars his companion has. He's never told Ivar how he got them, just another thing to infuriate the teen.
"And that will get you what you want," Heahmund snorts a bit sardonically. But he doesn't say it again even though he's thinking about it. He's thinking about what he should be doing and that they're putting themselves in danger this way, in many ways. But he doesn't pull from the kiss and doesn't do the responsible thing this time.
He reaches his hand behind Ivar's neck, gripping firmly as he kisses him back and the other's intensity crashes over him in a wave. He feels the other's hand under his shirt and the fingertips over scars that are rarely touched, and even more seldom Heahmund being willing to speak about them.
Heahmund doesn't make his own exploration yet, simply curling his hands harder against his neck.
Ivar is slow, wanting time to last as long as possible. There might not be another time, for Heahmund might build up his walls again, or he might die tomorrow, leaving Ivar all alone again. So his kisses build up in a leisurely manner, his lips meeting Heahmund's softly at first before pressing harder. As much as he wants to greedily explore Heahmund's body quickly, instead, he takes his time.
His fingers move over his skin, letting the warmth be absorbed by his fingertips and the nails scrape along the contours of his body. Ivar's always relied on his hands, so they're quite sensitive to the touch. Eventually, he starts to pull Heahmund's shirt off, eager to move his mouth over his chest.
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Heahmund isn't getting cold feet but he does think that he's doing something wrong as he gets into the van and even as Ivar pushes him onto the mattress. The van is hardly comfy but nothing is particularly comfortable now days. Every once in a while an abandoned house that's easily fortified but they can't afford to stay in such luxury for any long length of time.
"This isn't wise."
no subject
Ivar leans down and kisses Heahmund again. There's heat and passion behind it, the pent-up emotions of the previous months all finally coming to the surface. Ivar is tired of being cautious, knowing each day might be his last. He wants to feel pleasure, to be alive if only for one night.
He runs a hand underneath Heahmund's shirt and across the hard muscles of his chest. His fingers linger over the few scars his companion has. He's never told Ivar how he got them, just another thing to infuriate the teen.
no subject
He reaches his hand behind Ivar's neck, gripping firmly as he kisses him back and the other's intensity crashes over him in a wave. He feels the other's hand under his shirt and the fingertips over scars that are rarely touched, and even more seldom Heahmund being willing to speak about them.
Heahmund doesn't make his own exploration yet, simply curling his hands harder against his neck.
no subject
His fingers move over his skin, letting the warmth be absorbed by his fingertips and the nails scrape along the contours of his body. Ivar's always relied on his hands, so they're quite sensitive to the touch. Eventually, he starts to pull Heahmund's shirt off, eager to move his mouth over his chest.