Right now, neither of them had titles or expectations. They were just two students, two dumb kids, fully succumbing to what their bodies were asking of them. Cater moans softly as Rayne's knee adjusts between his legs, as fingertips slide underneath his top and find his skin. He wanted him, wanted this boy so damn badly, he couldn't control himself anymore.
Cater finally lets go of Rayne's tie so he can instead grab the other boy by the waist, pushing himself up against his leg. He wanted to pull that tucked-in shirt out of Rayne's pants, wanted to touch him more and more.
Was this what the other students got up to in their free time? Was this what it was like to let your body take control, to fall into the alluring grasp of desire and need? As Cater moans against him, Rayne can't help but want more, want to hear his voice, to feel Cater shiver under his touch--
And that's when he starts to think again, as Cater's hands grab his waist, as he pushes himself up against his leg. The shock of hands on him jump starts his brain, takes his breath away even more than how much he'd already had it taken by the kiss itself.
Under Cater's touch, Rayne tenses. His body regains that constant tension, as if it'd forgotten where he was, who he was.
Both of Rayne's hands press against Cater's shoulders, shoving him back into the door with a harder shove than he needs to, breaking the kiss and getting Cater off of him in one movement. Once he's off, Rayne shifts to press his forearm against Cater's neck, pinning him against the door with a heavy pressure. Panting heavily, Rayne stares at him for half a second, seeming more shocked than anything. That is, until his expression shifts, flitting through a brief sadness and, finally, landing on anger, annoyance.
"Don't." We can't. This can't happen. Rayne can't let it happen.
His arm lets up. He pulls back completely, hand slipping back to grab his wand. Rayne's opposite hand lifts up to his mouth, the back of it pressing against his lips. What the hell had he been thinking?
Turning his gaze away from Cater, he moves to go. What else was there to say, when he couldn't even understand why he'd gotten that involved with the kiss in the first place?
Sure, Cater had been waiting for Rayne to break the kiss, but he had expecting something natural. Like, he ran out of breath, or he got too nervous, or he didn't know how to proceed. Getting shoved fully back takes him so off guard his head spins, breath caught in his chest. Rayne's arm cuts him off before he can exhale, and he's as dizzy and confused as he is hurt.
It all happens so fast, he misses that important change in expression, seeing only that familiar, hateful look. A chill flows through his body--how could he have gone from being so hot-and-heavy with him to fixing him with such a cold look? Cater stares with open confusion, pained, and his face starts to redden from the pressure against his throat.
But then Rayne lets up, and he gasps for air, a hand coming up to hold at his neck. The smart thing would be to just let Rayne go and try and unpack all of this from the safety of his dorm...but after the day they had, and how good that kiss had felt, Cater can't help himself.
"Wait, Rayne," he starts, hoping to talk things out, to apologize, or something. On instinct, he reaches for the other boy's sleeve, not even processing that Rayne had taken out his wand. "Don't leave like this."
The only option was to let Rayne go, if he didn't want to be on the receiving end of his anger, his frustration, his confusion. Whatever these feelings in his chest were, whatever Cater was making him feel, they weren't things he should be leaning into. Weren't things that he could safely allow himself to feel, without cutting them off.
His name is heard. Rayne doesn't turn to look at him, doesn't even glance over his shoulder - doesn't stop. It's only when he feels the hand grab his sleeve that he turns, that he reacts.
"Three Percent Partisan." The signature spell is cast. Three large swords are summoned and, with a flick of his wrist, put into action. One moves to Cater, the flat of the blade pushing his arm up to force him to let go of Rayne's sleeve. The other two then slam into the ground, forming a cross in front of Cater, to keep him from going any further. One blade is over his thigh, the other directly behind his knee, trapping his leg in place.
With how violent of a spell, how harsh of a casting, one might expect Cater to have some form of an injury. Not even a single cut would be found on his skin. It wasn't like Rayne actually wanted to hurt him. All he wanted was to scare him, to stop him. Of course, his sleeve on the other hand... those blades were sharp, gentle as he wanted to be. The other teen's sleeve may have been cut, torn, by the quick movements.
The first blade vanishes, having completed the task it was formed to do. Rayne turns back, continuing to walk away. Only when he's out of sight would the blade vanish, leaving Cater with... probably far more questions than answers.
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splitmemory2024-05-20 12:26 am
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Cater finally lets go of Rayne's tie so he can instead grab the other boy by the waist, pushing himself up against his leg. He wanted to pull that tucked-in shirt out of Rayne's pants, wanted to touch him more and more.
no subject
And that's when he starts to think again, as Cater's hands grab his waist, as he pushes himself up against his leg. The shock of hands on him jump starts his brain, takes his breath away even more than how much he'd already had it taken by the kiss itself.
Under Cater's touch, Rayne tenses. His body regains that constant tension, as if it'd forgotten where he was, who he was.
Both of Rayne's hands press against Cater's shoulders, shoving him back into the door with a harder shove than he needs to, breaking the kiss and getting Cater off of him in one movement. Once he's off, Rayne shifts to press his forearm against Cater's neck, pinning him against the door with a heavy pressure. Panting heavily, Rayne stares at him for half a second, seeming more shocked than anything. That is, until his expression shifts, flitting through a brief sadness and, finally, landing on anger, annoyance.
"Don't." We can't. This can't happen. Rayne can't let it happen.
His arm lets up. He pulls back completely, hand slipping back to grab his wand. Rayne's opposite hand lifts up to his mouth, the back of it pressing against his lips. What the hell had he been thinking?
Turning his gaze away from Cater, he moves to go. What else was there to say, when he couldn't even understand why he'd gotten that involved with the kiss in the first place?
no subject
It all happens so fast, he misses that important change in expression, seeing only that familiar, hateful look. A chill flows through his body--how could he have gone from being so hot-and-heavy with him to fixing him with such a cold look? Cater stares with open confusion, pained, and his face starts to redden from the pressure against his throat.
But then Rayne lets up, and he gasps for air, a hand coming up to hold at his neck. The smart thing would be to just let Rayne go and try and unpack all of this from the safety of his dorm...but after the day they had, and how good that kiss had felt, Cater can't help himself.
"Wait, Rayne," he starts, hoping to talk things out, to apologize, or something. On instinct, he reaches for the other boy's sleeve, not even processing that Rayne had taken out his wand. "Don't leave like this."
no subject
His name is heard. Rayne doesn't turn to look at him, doesn't even glance over his shoulder - doesn't stop. It's only when he feels the hand grab his sleeve that he turns, that he reacts.
"Three Percent Partisan." The signature spell is cast. Three large swords are summoned and, with a flick of his wrist, put into action. One moves to Cater, the flat of the blade pushing his arm up to force him to let go of Rayne's sleeve. The other two then slam into the ground, forming a cross in front of Cater, to keep him from going any further. One blade is over his thigh, the other directly behind his knee, trapping his leg in place.
With how violent of a spell, how harsh of a casting, one might expect Cater to have some form of an injury. Not even a single cut would be found on his skin. It wasn't like Rayne actually wanted to hurt him. All he wanted was to scare him, to stop him. Of course, his sleeve on the other hand... those blades were sharp, gentle as he wanted to be. The other teen's sleeve may have been cut, torn, by the quick movements.
The first blade vanishes, having completed the task it was formed to do. Rayne turns back, continuing to walk away. Only when he's out of sight would the blade vanish, leaving Cater with... probably far more questions than answers.