[Isn't this nice? To let people believe in a lie? To let them share emotions, to entrap them within them? Why doesn't it feel nice? What is this uncomfortable sensation, this stifling, constrictive feeling?]
[Douman doesn't understand. They can't understand. There is no capability to understand...is there?]
You... [A gritting of the teeth - Douman lets out a choked noise.] Omi...
[They pull back...only to crash lips against lips.]
[Its meant to distract them from the weight of strange feelings in their chest. But it doesn't seem to be doing much at all.]
[It feels like it should help. Physical pleasures are always worthwhile, for a hedonistic soul like theirs.]
[And yet the irritation grows when nothing feels resolved. Douman breaks it finally, resting their head on Omi's shoulder, expression hidden as they murmur.]
...Let's go back to our room. [Their arms move around the other's waist, grip tightening.] Please.
[Douman doesn't even look back. They wordlessly open the door with their phone - as they enter, they start to strip piece by piece, layer by layer of their robes.]
[Feels different? It's sex. It shouldn't feel different. Its just lust, plain and simple. It should be.]
[The bite makes them shudder as they reach forward to grasp Omi by the shoulders, letting out a low exhale. Douman moves to press their lips over Omi's cheek, murmuring:]
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What do you think?
[He'll echo it back, softer, gentler.]
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[A repeat of the question. Confusion abides. And then a heat, a warmth in the cheeks, but there's a rise of anger, too, as what says next-]
Are you mocking me...?
[Why would it be anything else? Why would anyone do this to them, for any other reason?]
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[Maybe he sees a little bit of himself there, in those memories. In those dark thoughts given form.
Maybe this is something he wished somebody would've done for him back then.]
I care about you.
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[...They should be taking pleasure in this.]
[Isn't this nice? To let people believe in a lie? To let them share emotions, to entrap them within them? Why doesn't it feel nice? What is this uncomfortable sensation, this stifling, constrictive feeling?]
[Douman doesn't understand. They can't understand. There is no capability to understand...is there?]
You... [A gritting of the teeth - Douman lets out a choked noise.] Omi...
[They pull back...only to crash lips against lips.]
[Its meant to distract them from the weight of strange feelings in their chest. But it doesn't seem to be doing much at all.]
[Maybe more is needed.]
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So he lets them. He kisses back. Do they need this? Is it helping?
Is it nothing more than a distraction?
Omi is willing to follow their lead.]
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[And yet the irritation grows when nothing feels resolved. Douman breaks it finally, resting their head on Omi's shoulder, expression hidden as they murmur.]
...Let's go back to our room. [Their arms move around the other's waist, grip tightening.] Please.
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Alright. Our room.
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[They eventually tear themselves off Omi, turning to walk down the hallway towards the rooms. They aren't going to wait to see if Omi follows or not.]
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[All doing it silently the whole time.]
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He'll strip out of his own clothes.]
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[They gesture to Omi.]
Come here. [A placid smile, a pause.] I want you.
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Do you?
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[Again, silence. Their hands grip the blankets.]
We do this often, Omi. It shouldn't be any different, now.
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[Still, he cups Douman's cheek to them, light and soft. Before moving down, biting at their neck and leaving a mark.]
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[The bite makes them shudder as they reach forward to grasp Omi by the shoulders, letting out a low exhale. Douman moves to press their lips over Omi's cheek, murmuring:]
...Take me however you wish.