splitmemory | late night study sessions

Trey can't help but flush under the press of Riddle's lips, momentarily lost for words. It's not like Riddle to be so..... so demonstrative, is it? He really must be happy..... How can he not be in return, knowing how much Riddle clearly needed this?

If that's the case, then he probably needs all this distraction, too. Trey raises an eyebrow at him, slyly knowing. Is it even more embarrassing, or reassuring, the thought that Trey would so openly accommodate Riddle willingly coming to spend time with him like this more often? "In that case, maybe I should keep a few copies on my desk....."

What was Trey saying????? Riddle's face flushes even deeper, a further embarrassment overtaking him with the implications of such a statement. His hand lightly shoves at Trey, as if to tell him to go away or to push him away himself, even as he stays put right where he is.

"What an odd thing to suggest."

And, yet, he isn't saying not to do that. "Filling out too many of those forms on my own behalf - would that not be an abuse of power?" Even more, Riddle himself is suggesting he'd be here more often than not, perhaps.

It's rare that Trey has a laugh at Riddle's expense, isn't it? And yet, here he is, entirely too amused over Riddle acting as though he could push him out of his own bed. Is his smile perhaps a bit too smug, his tone a bit too light? Clearly, he has no qualms about bending the spirit of the rules, perhaps a bit too much.

"We don't actually have any rules limiting the number of times you can stay in someone else's room overnight, as long as the Housewarden approves every request. So technically, it would only be an abuse of power if there were one, and you were making special exemptions for yourself to get around it, right?" See? Even if Riddle constantly comes over, it's fine as long as they have the paperwork right there for him every time.

Trey had a point. Frustratingly, especially when Riddle was already embarrassed and overthinking what that might mean for them. It's not like he wouldn't have record of where he was each and every time he slips into Trey's bed, if they had the paperwork to prove it. There was sound reasoning, and yet Riddle finds himself overthinking it, thinking the most flustering of things about it rather than actually focusing on reality.

-- More than that. He wants to get back at Trey, now, for making light of this. For... he's not sure. Maybe he's letting himself be just a little silly? Or is he too tired to care?

"Why would you even want me in here that much?" Riddle asks, puffing out his cheeks. "You better not be having any unsavory thoughts, Mister Trey Clover," And back to nudging and pushing at him. He seems... annoyed, but a trained eye would notice he's actually having... fun, pretending to be just another silly student.

Well, well. Someone's getting overtired, hmmm? Or does Riddle just feel the need to prove himself, to reassert his own strength and authority, after showing such vulnerability tonight? Okay, then, he'll tussle with him, if it helps Riddle feel better. Just a little! "Have you considered I might need to keep an eye on you that often, to make sure you don't turn into a troublemaker yourself?"

"You know how important getting a good night's sleep is to staying healthy. What are we going to do with you if you start becoming an insomniac?" See, two can play at this game.

A little bit of both, really. Overtired, still scared of even trying to sleep, and wanting to prove himself and reassert that he was in control. Not that he was physically stronger than Trey by any means; in fact, he probably shouldn't be trying to mess with him physically, squirming and pressing his hands against him.

"Me? A troublemaker? In what world-- how dare you!" Riddle declares, moving to sit up slightly to give himself an upper hand - literally, because gravity would help him push and nudge.

... Really, it's reminiscent of the FEW times that Che'nya would be able to get Riddle to get physical and riled up, so the three of them would be tumbling around in the grass together and, in the end, fell into a pile of giggles and laughter.

It's been a long, long time since they've gotten to play together like that, hasn't it? Riddle may not be accustomed to physical play any longer, but Trey still is, even if they've largely grown out of it by now. He raises a challenging eyebrow at Riddle, reaching up to give him a proper push to the side; if he wants to keep gravity on his side, he'll have to work for it a little.

"Can you deny it? Heartslabyul can't manage with a consistently sleep-deprived Housewarden."

Well, Riddle might not be accustomed to physical play, but he damn well was talented physically in some ways. Were he using his legs, he might have an easier time, given all the time he spends riding horses for equestrian club. His hands and arms, however, aren't all that strong in comparison. He gasps, grabbing at Trey and trying to push him in return.

"I cannot-- but I am not and never will be that far gone! Not a chance." Was Trey prepared for the move he's about to pull? The attempt to push his wrist back and away, to get Trey more vulnerable? The way he's turning to shove his leg between Trey's, to try and wrestle his way to force gravity to his side.

He's really in it now...! Watch out, Clover.

If anything, Riddle is more athletic than Trey is, these days--he hasn't done much sports since enrolling in Night Raven College. By all rights he should have the edge, height and physique aside. But sports alone aren't the only thing involved in building strength, huh? Hauling around heavy ingredients and lab equipment, spending hours on your feet in the kitchen or laboratory, working dough, stirring thick concoctions to make potions or candy alike..... Even hobbies that most people consider sedentary and intellectual, or even dainty and feminine can help keep you in good shape.

Not that Trey is particularly inclined to show that fact off, especially when his upper body strength is a fair bit more developed than his legs. Riddle's leg slides home, and Trey tumbles onto his back once more as he's flipped, arm swept wide and pushed against the mattress. For the moment, at least, he seems to be quite thoroughly pinned. "So you're saying I won't find you pulling any all-nighters, after tonight?"

There-! Riddle had the edge, pressing Trey's wrist down into the mattress, while his own legs straddle one of Trey's thighs, one pressing so carefully between his legs to try and pin him there. Where Riddle might have strength, he also lacks in one crucial area: weight. He's small, easy to push around, and if Trey really wanted to...

But Riddle isn't focused on that. Instead, he's focused on the attack he had been brewing on Trey, bringing his other hand to rest on Trey's shoulder, to keep him pinned down.

In a way, though, Riddle was the one caught, even when pinning Trey like this. "You..." Won't, is what he was supposed to say. He blinks, making a face. "That is hardly fair. One or two nights here and there wouldn't mean I'd be sleep deprived-!" He's arguing it, for the sake of arguing, running circles around himself.

It's a rather effective pin, for someone so small and light. Not effective enough to keep Trey down, if he really doesn't want to be--but good enough to keep Riddle distracted, until he realized he'd been talked into a corner. Go on, Riddle, look him in the eye and try to argue your point convincingly. He'll wait.

"Isn't it? Even if you aren't consistently sleep deprived, being exhausted will still make you struggle through the next day." People will notice, whether Riddle likes it or not. Trey, first and foremost--but also their other dormmates, his clubmates, their teachers.....

Why did Trey have to be so right? Riddle's grip tightens on his wrist, his jaw tightening as he clenches down, staring Trey in the eye. This... jerk knew exactly what he was doing, where he was going from the start, and seemed to be a good three steps ahead of Riddle.

"I-- it's hardly-..." Riddle makes a face, and instead of trying to argue it?

He brights that one hand up from Trey's shoulder to push at his face, try to cover his mouth, to get him to stop talking, stop pointing out the obvious truth. "Then, what? The solution is to come sneak into your bed each and every night? What if someone starts to suspect there may be something more going on here?"

Hah. Lost for words, is he? Riddle doesn't have a leg to stand on. He knows this isn't good for him; he's just reluctant to take the steps he needs, to reach for the help he needs, until he can rest easy with himself. Doesn't he already know what he should do, even if he's not willing to admit it to himself just yet?

Riddle's hand covers his mouth quite thoroughly, muffles his voice even if he does try to talk. So why should he, until he's actually able to be heard again? The way Trey smiles against Riddle's palm is the only warning he'll get, before Trey's legs tighten around Riddle's, before he rolls his whole weight to the side to switch out their positions. Who needs to push up against the pin, when they can add their opponent's weight to their own momentum instead?

--huh?

The smile against his palm, that little warning, wasn't enough to get him to realize his imminent doom. His eyes widen as, all of a sudden, they're tussling again. Or, well, they're rolling over, Riddle's grip loosening on his wrist and releasing it. Before he can think, he's lying on his own back now, their position swapped with an ease that, really, he hasn't expected.

His breath catches, his face still flushed with tinges of embarrassment from earlier and, now, the small hint of annoyance that's always made it's home on his face.

His own words hang in the air, as all he can really do is stare up at Trey, blinking away his own surprise.

What is there to be embarrassed about, Riddle? Only the thought that maybe people will suspect something untoward is going on between them, once they realize where you're going. Only to realize how fully you've made yourself straddle Trey's thigh, when he's pressed down against you and pinning you against the mattress. Released, Trey reaches to grasp Riddle's wrist, instead; his other hand splays over Riddle's chest, as much a pin as simply supporting his own weight on him.

"Did you have a better idea, then?"

That is exactly what there is to be embarrassed about!!!! Riddle's wrist is easy to grasp, and just as easily, Riddle begins to realize how thoroughly he'd messed up getting so cocky, thinking he couldn't be overpowered. Can Trey feel how quickly his heart was beating, with that hand splayed against his chest? Surely he can see the deep red flush that gets deeper and deeper with every passing second, the way the fabric of Trey's own cardigan holds against his small arms and splays partially out behind him.

He still has one hand free himself. Before he can think, he's reaching up to grab at Trey's shirt, curling his fingers and grasping a chunk of fabric in his hand.

"No. I don't. But there will be rumors. Surely... surely you see that."

Please, Seven, keep his mind from thinking too deep into this, from wandering off into a completely other realm.

Poor Riddle is on his own, for this one; Trey doesn't happen to find a pin particularly embarrassing, especially if he's the one on top of it. It's all too easy to see (and feel, for that matter) how flustered Riddle is getting, but..... well, wouldn't that happen regardless, if Riddle was pushed into a corner some other way? It's only natural, when Riddle finds himself scrambling to reassert his authority. At least he's wearing a loose, casual shirt for bed, rather than anything like his uniform.....

"Sure. But people talking is preferable to them questioning your health or prying into your affairs, isn't it? Or maybe you just need something to help tire you out and take your mind off of things before bed."

Something to help tire him out and take his mind off things. What in the world could Trey be suggesting?! Was he suggesting that they... no, he couldn't be. No, he wouldn't. Would he? Riddle's mind is racing, trying to keep up with the words of his childhood friend, to keep up with the thoughts he was having, the things he was suggesting. It's almost like his silent prayers were given something completely opposite to what he asked for; he's squirming slightly under Trey's pin, trying desperately to angle his hips back towards the bed, to avoid anything being felt by the other boy as he tries to keep his mind settled.

"To- tire me out? What sorts of things...?" Nope, he can't meet Trey's eyes. It's too much, there's something about the position, the hold, the way their legs are tangled, the press of Trey's weight over him, the words he chose to use-- how was he supposed to keep his mind from wandering, to keep his thoughts from becoming all too unsavory???

"And you're suggesting that you'd be the one to tire me out, then?" At least, he can try to turn it right back onto Trey, tilting his chin up slightly, forcing himself to try and meet his eyes out of some form of defiance.

Riddle seems..... restless. More than the suggestion really warrants, if he's honest; there's no need to be so uncomfortable that he can't even look him in the eye. Why? Does he really dislike the idea of occupying himself to help ensure he'll rest well? Was protesting the idea of crawling into bed with him more of a token refusal to save face, rather than not wanting to come spend the night with him? Or maybe--

"Me? I-I mean--" Oh. Oh. The clarification is suddenly enough to bring the whole issue into focus; Trey at least has the grace to flush, suddenly realizing the implications of his words. How had he managed to spout a line like that so obliviously, even after he'd needed to force himself to ignore the accidental innuendo of Riddle's request? And that isn't even considering the position they're in now..... Oh, geez. This is suddenly so much more awkward than he'd ever imagined it could be.

Sill, far be it from him to let something like awkwardness or tension get in the way. If he was able to be turned aside so easily, they never would have repaired their friendship to begin with, would they? "I meant exercise or busywork. You know, like..... cleaning? Cooking? Going for a run?"

Actually..... maybe Riddle doesn't know. Surely he wouldn't have been allowed to cook for himself, with his diet so tightly controlled, and his mother surely must have thought his time would be spent better studying than cleaning, at least until he had learned the sort of practical magic that would make cleaning a form of study in and of itself. Had he been allowed the time and opportunity for solitary exercise? Had his family employed housekeepers or cooks, given how busy doctors and medical mages so often were?

Trey's own flush shows he's realized exactly what he's said. He understands the implications, the suggestion made with such an easy phrase. In any normal circumstance, one where he wasn't as invested in the idea brought on by assumptions, Riddle wouldn't even be anywhere near this line of thought he was in the middle of.

Really, he had little life skills before leaving the constant watch of his mother. Dance lessons, etiquette courses, studies of all sorts, all left no time to do anything that was not on the prescribed to-do list. Trey should know that more than anyone, enough to assume what Riddle might be used to, might be lacking in his own life.

And, having become Housewarden as early as he did? He didn't even have to experience being a card soldier for all that long.

The one free hand he has lifts, comes to grab the collar of Trey's shirt, tugging it to pull him down further. Enough that it might seem like he's trying to tussle more, to try using one hand to get leverage, but. Instead, that hand releases his shirt just as easily, once their faces are closer. Further and further up his fingertips slide, pressed against the skin of his collarbone, neck, and jaw, until finally he brings that hand to the back of his head.

He makes it a damn point to look him in the eye, lowering his voice to a murmur.

"... Right now, I like my idea better." Should he be even more bold? He doesn't know how Trey feels, he doesn't know if this is something he should be suggesting.

"and I think you should stop talking."

Bold, with a clear path that he wants to take, with the way he tilts his chin slightly up more, closing that gap even further. Stubbornly.

If Trey doesn't close that gap, Riddle will. It's obvious with the way he speaks, that he's testing him. Seeing what might land.

It's a very particular set of skills that Riddle had been instilled with in his youth. Ones that had served him well, if Trey has to be charitable--Riddle is well-suited to academics, and if he had any intention of staying on the life path so painstakingly charted for him? He would know everything he was required to know, really. Those practical (or would Riddle's parents say menial?) life skills he had been denied could be simply be delegated as a matter of convenience, problems that became easy to solve so long as you threw enough money at the problem.

Too bad it isn't so easy to simply hire someone to protect you from matters of the heart. When you've been left entirely in the dark in a situation where there are no rules or right answers, weak and vulnerable, isolated with nobody to reach out to.....

That's when the difference between mere aristocracy and true royalty makes itself known. A queen who has earned her crown knows how to lead her own card soldiers into battle, and has assembled a worthy court she knows she can trust. Tonight even more than most is showing quite plainly how hard Riddle has been working to grow into his role, even if buckling down and learning about all those missing skills and experiences is humbling and painful.

Is Riddle pulling him down to lock eyes with him like this just one more of those lessons, then? It certainly feels like a commanding, convincing demonstration of trading weakness for strength, when Trey only finds his face burning so much hotter under Riddle's touch, when he realizes his heart is racing against Riddle's chest as the space between them disappears. He'd only meant to offer Riddle a safe space, to give him options and advice, to help..... But maybe he should stop talking. Maybe this time the right answer really is 'Yes, Your Majesty!'

The hand holding Riddle's wrist loosens uselessly as Trey forgets himself, eyes closing and melting into the kiss. If Riddle really had wanted to start tussling again, would distracting him like this really be such a bad strategy?

Firsts happen for a variety of reasons. The first time Riddle dared to question why his home life was the way it was, why he wasn't allowed to go out and play with the other children who he saw right outside of his window, was brought on by the slow realization that what he was doing wasn't normal, was not usual. The first time Riddle opened up a book that held fictional material rather than something to study, finding a small sliver of an escape within the pages that so closely resembled the ones that were the instruments of his learning and disgust...

And the first time he'd learned what 'kissing' was, from that very same book. The question he'd asked, the answer he got, it wasn't enough. It was necessary, then, to reach to peers, to grab their sleeves, to ask a simple question, a request. Their first kiss wasn't now, in Trey's bedroom, after Riddle's initiation. No, their first had happened before, silly and childish and. The same embarrassmemt he felt all those years ago comes flooding back.

With a face burning with heat, Riddle waits. To see whether Trey will melt into the kiss, accept it, or pull away. Reject him, in the clearest of ways. In one that, frankly, Riddle expected. Instead, Trey defies all logic. Their bodies are pressed so close together, so much so that Riddle briefly wonders if Trey could feel his heartbeat too, the relentless muscle pounding away in his chest.

Regardless, his eyes slip closed as he focuses on their kiss, on the feeling of Trey's lips on his own. Riddle's quick to take charge in another way, by deepening the kiss already, by adding a perhaps shocking level of need behind it. The floodgates were open, leaving absolutely nothing behind.

Riddle would, too, take advantage of the way Trey's grip loosens on his wrist, but not to get back to tussling. No, instead, he slips his wrist down, out of that hold, to take Trey's hand in his own, lacing their fingers together slowly. Sliding his hand up back in place by his head, back of it pressed against the mattress, Riddle demands one thing: care, affection.

There is no world where his mother would approve of this... but he'd be damned if he let her take it. To take him all over again.

It's difficult not to remember that first, so many years ago. How clumsy they were back then, how awkward and embarrassing it was, nearly knocking off his glasses trying to figure out how to keep from bumping their noses and foreheads together..... It wasn't much of a kiss, looking back on it, struggling to mimic what he so often saw his own parents do to show Riddle what it was supposed to be like--what it was supposed to mean. It had been silly to ever imagine he could convey something like that at their age, hadn't it?

It feels different this time. Their hearts are pounding just the same, he's no less flustered than he had been, but even so. Even so! He knows more now, now, knows better. He may not be the best kisser by any stretch of the imagination, let alone as eloquent and expressive as plenty of people he knows, but..... Even if he hasn't had that much more practice kissing, he's had plenty of practice in showing love, in ways both small and large, loud and silent.

This is..... intense, in a way he hadn't anticipated. (As though he'd anticipated literally any of this?) It's not hard to take control; if anything, Trey falls into line remarkably easily, lips parting to welcome Riddle deepening the kiss, squeezing Riddle's hand once their fingers lace together. The hand pressed into his chest gives way, instead letting him sink down more fully atop Riddle. Is this what Riddle wants? For them to be bodily pressed together--tangled around each other, even--from head to toe, breathless and uncomfortably warm, wholly engrossed in kissing him--in Riddle himself, attention as thoroughly commanded as though Riddle had tied him to the bed.

Even just a taste was enough to ignite a fire in him, a fire that burns bright. Brighter, even, than most of the fires that burn within him. This one is fueled by the freedom he feels in this moment. They weren't breaking any written rules, and even if his Mother wouldn't approve of him being around Trey like this...? She would hardly approve if he was with ANY other boy, if he let his feelings do the talking.

It doesn't matter. All that does right this second-- is what he wants. What Trey wants, too, if this is something he wanted-?

Riddle pulls back from the kiss right as he's about to deepen is further, leaving Trey's lips with one little brush of his tongue against his bottom lip. His lips stay parted, his eyes fluttering open so he can look at the other boy, to take in the flush on his face.

He ...
Has no clue what to say.

The hand he has against the back of Trey's head adjusts only slightly, coming up further to let Riddle carefully pet his hair, his eyes staying half open, only half focused. Distracted, thinking, trying to figure out what to say.

In the end, it's a quiet murmur, a demand.

"Tell me -- do you want me? ... Have you ever?" One question, then the other, softer, quieter. Nervous energy invading his confidence in one fell swoop.

It's a little embarrassing in and of itself how breathless he is by the time Riddle pulls away, how tempted he is to chase after the younger boy's lips. It's not the sort of fire he's used to feeling, in himself most of all. He's never burned bright or hot or passionate, after all--always been the moon to his friends' suns, freshly-turned earth and dark still waters. Even so.....

Even he can be..... unsatisfied by the tranquility he's usually so content with, admire the animated spark that seems to drive so many of his friends forward, even if it so often feels equally overwhelming as enviable.

Trey can't help but want to squirm awkwardly in the face of the question, even as his racing heart starts to calm. Has he ever wanted him? It's..... hard to say. Had those years of wistful wondering and nostalgia spoken to desire, or merely guilt and concern? He'd done his best to put Riddle out of his mind as quickly as he could in those days, knowing how futile thinking of him was--it wouldn't change anything, after all. Riddle was still essentially a prisoner in his own home, one he would surely never see again. And him.....

He might enjoy stories, but he's always been more the practical sort than someone full of fanciful ideas. Riddle hadn't been some princess in a tower waiting to be saved, and he hadn't been some knight in shining armor. If anything, he was the witch or dragon who had forced Riddle to be away to start with. And once Riddle had been released, well..... Trey's gaze drops, self-conscious and almost shy. ".....Yeah. I couldn't stop thinking about you, when I found out you had enrolled here too."

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