Amaranthine: Descent | WinTeam | Boyslove

Beguile

Win couldn't keep his hand from drifting to Team's thigh the entire drive back from the pool. His mind lingered on those moments in the locker room. How, once alone, the light caresses between them had led to a shared shower stall. The kisses they enjoyed while they washed the chlorine from their skin.

Those familiar butterflies were fluttering around in Win's stomach again. The thought he couldn't shake since their first time—to be the person to experience all of Team's firsts. Win hadn't wanted to love again, hadn't actively sought it out, still scarred from his past. The toxic "relationship" which held only misery and his own deluded version of what he convinced himself "love" was. No matter how many warm bodies he used to overwrite it, the diversions were always temporary. Superficial. If he only felt emptiness afterwards, then why try anymore?

Until Team.

Win didn't know why he was different. Why he fell so hard. Like some kitschy Christmas movie, the human made his heart swell in his chest. He realized early on he hadn't truly known romantic love. With the person whose fingers were twined tightly in his, he finally did.

Win knew it was a shitty situation they were in. And it hadn't been without a few hiccups, but he couldn't help being happy to have Team by his side every night. He had permitted himself to ponder on more than one occasion about a future when it was the norm, and not an exception. Win felt a pang of loss whenever he remembered how Team would return to his human life after this. How empty his room and bed would feel without him. Odd that he both wished A-wut dead, and yearned for just one more day that the bastard eluded them.

He didn't want to let go of Team's hand long enough to exit the vehicle and go inside the house, so how could he let it go at the end of everything?

The journey up to Win's room was a collection of pauses and delays. The pair took turns teasing each other, laughing into the crooks of necks, and yielding to kisses every few steps. Once Win thumbed the lock in his door, Team's t-shirt was off, Win's lay discarded somewhere downstairs.

The urgency of earlier returned, as if they had never left those four walls. Team's bravado had been stymied, no longer affected by his brush with bloodlust. His hands touched all the right places though, the both of them hard well before crossing the threshold.

"What if I'm bad at it?" Team stilled under Win's kisses on his neck.

"You aren't going to be 'bad at it.'" Win seized his mouth, channeling all of his desire into his lips while he gripped Team's ass. "Your hips definitely know what to do." He smirked a smile at his hesitant boyfriend. Win had zero doubts about Team's natural ability in this regard.

The flush reached Team's ears first, spreading to his cheeks a moment later. The shyness returning spurred Win's impish side, wanting to get a rise out of him. He leaned into the other, inhaling his scent and flicking his tongue along the shell of Team's ear.

"I can't wait to moan your name while you're inside of me." Win's whisper was husky, his breath—and words—sending a shiver down Team's spine. The points pressing into Win's bottom lip meant Team wasn't the only one affected.

Team mentally chastised Win. He knew what he was doing. The vampire had long figured out how to rile him up. Say the right things. Help him reclaim his confidence. Because, of course, now Team couldn't get the image out of his head.

His lips closed over the skin at Win's neck. Feather-light kisses mingled with the harshness of teeth. Win leaned into him, sighing in satisfaction each time Team rolled the soft flesh between his lips or sucked harder than he would appreciate for himself. The phantom feel of fangs had departed—he wouldn't dare to pierce Win's neck like earlier. Though based on the elated sounds assaulting his ear drums, Team was sure Win wouldn't care if he tried his luck.