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Constable Ichabod Crane (
2016-01-02 01:58 am (UTC)
Ichabod hasn't been keeping count of how many times they have been doing this, but he would be quite alarmed to hear the score. Sex is something he partakes in and enjoys, but it's still something new that he has to try to reconcile.
Often, the knowledge of these deeds gets tucked away deeply from Ichabod's thoughts; they're rarely appropriate for him to regard during most of his waking hours, and when it
appropriate, it's during the very act, which leaves little time to stop and ponder things. Thus, it's all still quite new for him, especially...well, the unprecedented fact of their same-sex setting. Ichabod is helplessly shackled by his stubborn nature and unrelenting old ideals, forcing him into reoccurring anxiety when alone with, or simply considering in his thoughts, his male lover. Thankfully this lover is a consistent voice of reason in these moments, quick to explain or reassure Ichabod's concerns and paranoia.
Ichabod is not always pleased with the hand-holding he apparently requires, though it is appreciated... Still, it's increasingly disconcerting feeling like an inexperienced adolescent in the throes of passion. Timid, Ichabod is honestly not -- even if he is often mistaken for being so.
He has spent a fair amount of time being lead by seduction, and reciprocating in earnest, but the training wheels that have been Hannibal's guidance are beginning to grow cumbersome. It feels empty to hold little initiative in such an intense area of a romantic relationship. Laid along his lover whose body consumes him with unreal heat, almost too tangible for Ichabod as it threatens to startle him, he finds himself slipping out of the slow rhythm his body had developed. The pace isn't too slow for Ichabod, but it's so familiar that it feels unsettling.
"--Hmm?" His tone is almost a little too high to be reasonable, even with his voice slipping through hastened breaths made louder against the crook of Hannibal's shoulder. "Ah, yes, I'm-- I'm fine."
To be truthful, there has been a small thread of guilt weaving itself through Ichabod's heart during these weeks while sculpting a physically intimate facet of their relationship. Not a guilt of morality or conscience -- Ichabod is still a completely consenting partner. But, for a man who he sees as his equal, especially within their romantic relations, Ichabod feels he has been acting quite selfishly.
"I..." Ichabod tries, shifting the bulk of his weight onto a forearm planted into Hannibal's mattress while a nervous hand grazes at the peak of a hip bone below. "Can... I'd-- I want to...touch you..." Thank god Ichabod is already flushed, or else he would look just silly right now. "...May I?" He has still only touched Hannibal in that way but a few times, and not since before their graduation to penetration. He wants to do more than just thrust away until climax, damn it...and wants to
provide his lover some pleasure while he does so.
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