wip ?

Guilt is a familiar friend. It darkens his doorstep more often than not, but on most days he's able to shove it down and button back up his suit of indifference. These past few days haven't been like most, though; Koji has spent them in their entirety being distant again— (through no fault of Yvan's, as much as he's certain to believe that it is again)— and stewing over the upset churning of his internals that comes to a head whenever he entertains the mere thought of being so close again.

Yvan doesn't know that he is a monster; doesn't know that he seeks comfort in only what seems familiar to him. The Ketixi that Koji pretends to be is merely a façade, and to let Yvan feel… safe as a result of it is—... dangerous. If not now, then inevitably it will be; even if Yvan has already somehow seen through the disguise and pleads ignorance to the danger that Koji poses to him just by being close.

Oversized fang-tusks bite into the forked tongue Koji puts between them. They punch through tender, glimmering skin— too-bright, too-thick "blood" (mutagen, really) beads up in the wound, is swept along his upper gum line, and coagulates. Claws wring together, still that of a Ketixi— and does he remember the original shape of them to bare them against Yvan? The secondary one, not his true form, too titanic for anyplace other than the seaside. Is he too afraid to present that self?

… almost. He has to clear the heady air visible only to him.

Koji swallows thickly, raps his knuckles against the bedroom door before he loses his nerve. (Will Yvan immediately pack up and escape? Does Koji want him to… ? Would he blame him?)

No matter if the door swings open or not, Koji still speaks, all hesitation and overly-measured syllables delivered from a downturned snout: "I've a… confession to make."

And Yvan had been hiding away, embarrassed, seethingly so; to be so vulnerable with someone he barely knows is dangerous. It was stupid of him to crawl to Koji like that, not with the truce he thought he'd forged not that long ago. No, now he's here, trying to pretend that night didn't even exist.

He never gets a knock at his door. Standing from the bed and with a wary gait, Yvan reaches the handle and slowly creaks it open, the faint concern on his face deepening harshly at mention of a confession.

Fuck. Fuck. He never should have gone to Koji's bedroom. He doesn't want things to change. That's bad. He just needs to have this kid and be done with it, and he can get back to his life, being alone and miserable without making other people miserable around him.

Fingers tense at the edge of the door. "About the other night?" It's serious, whatever it is. Yvan isn't prepared for it. But he'd put Koji in this exact situation, hadn't he? It would be hypocritical to think otherwise, and yet he can't stop the lump in his throat from forming.

Ears twist yet further backward at the look on Yvan's face, all harsh edges that Koji's sure will soon be sharp enough to cut once he gets this out on the table.

He must war against the lump in his own throat first, though— resist the temptation to beat around the bush and gambol at the edge of the subject, never to fully reveal what he must. His head shakes— once, twice— and he swallows deeply. "About something in general. It's... cruel for you to not know, if—..." Shoulders hitch upward. "The other night made me think of it," he admits, soft. "I've felt... guilty about it since then, because..."

Wouldn't it be better to just show Yvan? Present indisputable proof that cannot be taken back, unless Yvan decides to fall into denial and forget it'd ever happened? Is this a self-destructive act in progress made just because of this unwanted bond that's forming between the two of them? He's always been good at forcing an aching distance between himself and others for their own safety. (Never his own. He isn't scared of attachment—)

"I am not what you may think that I am and... sought comfort in the other night. ... and I am sorry that I allowed that." Inky lips thin into a harsh line. Koji braces himself, then gestures toward himself. "This is just—... a disguise, the looking like a Ketixi. I never truly was one."

Oh. So it isn't about wanting more cuddles or anything like that. Koji's legitimately worried, not coming to him for request, and Yvan's expression relaxes.

Why is Koji worried about this? Why would Yvan care if he's not a Ketixi? "I'm not human either," he points out matter of fact. "I don't care unless you're actively radioactive or something." Why should it be cruel for him to not know something? Koji doesn't know a lot of things. He lives with other people, so obviously he's not putting out some kind of invisible gas that's going to kill him in five years, or something.

Yvan shrugs again, just for good measure. "You don't need to tell me unless you're gonna somehow kill me." And surely he wouldn't.

Yvan is... at ease with that lead-in. (Was he overthinking it? Or is Yvan just oblivious to danger?)

'I'm not human either.' "I know," Koji huffs between points, thins his lips. "I'm not radioactive... a-and I would not ever think to intentionally bring you harm, but—" He glances down at his claws gain, willing them to shift and push himself upright so that he can show Yvan. "It... was out of my control, that, and... I'd rather you not have a false sense of security."

"You—... deserve to know what you're living with." His new (old?) center of gravity leads him to stagger in place for a moment, but he manages to catch himself and hunch over before his lengthening horns punch holes in the ceiling. A hand hovers over the beak covering the top of his mouth, then the dull grey bleeding-heart mark of his chest. Eyes land somewhere in the space behind Yvan, guilty and ashamed.

They slip closed as Koji dips his snout downward, avoiding matching gazes from so high up. "My... actual classification is Notion, and this isn't my... truest shape, but—..." He opens his eyes again, glances sidelong with an uncertain flick of the tail. "I'm sure you've heard of Aexend. You shift with mutagen."

With so much buildup, Yvan expects something much worse. Koji backing up and shifting into something barely any different isn't as dramatic as he's making it out to be. Yvan's even driven to shrug, to shake his head slightly as he tries to wrap around why this is bad.

"... oh. Yeah? Why would I feel bad about this?" If anything, Koji is tall. That's a positive. Aren't Notions kaiju-level beings? Yvan's eyes glance down before up to the doorframe, judging if Koji can even fit through like this.

"You don't know how many times I took the mutagen. Wouldn't do it if I didn't like Aexend." Nails tap at the wood of the door. "It'd be hypocritical of me to feel bad about this. I don't care. Actually, I'm surprised I was never turned into one, so it's not like it was never a possibility for me." He shrugs again, a little gentler this time. "You barely even look different from the Ketixi form."

The wheel bearings of his train of thought screech beneath the pressure of taking such a sharp turn; of veering so harshly off the tracks and skidding off into the endless nothing. He'd anticipated ire, distress, some flavor of confusion other than a succinctly (... bluntly) asked 'Why would I feel bad about this?' Though, of course, there's hardly any disdain for Aexent themselves anymore. Many are perfectly integrated into society and rarely receive the title of monster that Koji self-assigns, but—...

Koji swallows, averts his gaze further. It isn't as if Yvan knows. Should he answer that question? Does he have an answer for it? An idle hand loosely latches onto a fluffy, velvety ear. The tattoo lining its outer edge flips into visibility.

"Mm." He runs his tongue over his teeth— top and bottom. "... the fact that I was... hiding this from you. And—..." How could he possibly repeat what'd hap—

(The doctors wouldn't, he knows. He knows. He's just being irrational. It's as clear as day on those small glances of Yvan's face that he can manage.)

Tracing the embossed, tattooed I.D. on his ear, Koji shakes his head. "... it was inspired by this one. Ketixi are hardly different."

Hiding it? Yvan's face sours for a brief moment as he takes a step back, as if Koji can't see the entirety of him from the tall angle he has. With his free hand, he gestures loosely but obviously to his stomach, jaw clenching. "I was hiding stuff from you too," he points out for good measure.

But— he sighs, folds his arms. "I mean, you look fine." It's good that he's glancing away when the thought hits him: too bad he can't kiss Koji. His cheeks flush, eyes widen before he glares away, sets his jaw even further. "Do you prefer the Ketixi?" He's not sure if he can even look up to Koji now that the mere idea's circulating in his head.

No kissing. Of course not. Yvan doesn't like him like that. Right? Yeah. This just means he won't ask for a kiss, then. Yvan squeezes his eyes shut, as if it'll stop the train of thought that's welded itself to the tracks. He'll forget about it, but he'll just deal with denying it for now.

His gaze catches on the step back and the blatant gesturing before darting away again. "At least I managed to hide it better," slips out of his mouth, wry and sudden and punctuated by thinning lips and Koji squatting down to seat himself on his own haunches, knees to his chest. "... sorry."

Looking fine is the least of his worries, Koji thinks. His tail flicks uncertainly again, twitching in a steady path toward curling around his paws. "I don't know if I would say that I prefer it. It's... just where I landed and stayed, after coming into the physical world and living in this house."

That answer is dishonest by omission. He glances down at the floor between Yvan's feet and finds himself frowning at the lack of things to keep his eyes from wandering away yet again. "There were some Ketixi that I knew. ... before then." (And how are they now?) (He's hardly been able to keep tabs on them.) (That's a good thing, isn't it? Better if he can't possibly know.)

Yvan huffs with a smile at the comment. No, he didn't hide it well at all. His hand slowly raises just to touch at his neck, not yet ringing it but grounding in the motion. No more thinking about kissing.

Calling the world physical slowly draws him out of those thoughts. "Physical world?" He echoes, finally looking back at Koji. Some Aex are somewhat digital, Yvan knows, but are all of them? He doesn't know a lot. Should he know more? Frowning to himself, he clears his throat and looks back into the room itself.

"Do you want to sit on the bed? So you're not just in the doorframe, on the floor..?" Step one to having a decent conversation is to not be physically awkward, even if Yvan did just think about that, and— he huffs again to himself, lifting his hand to his lukewarm jaw to feel how warm his faint blush is.

Koji's probably be taller than him even sitting on the bed. His palm meets his lips as he covers both cheeks as best he can, avoiding eye contact fully. There's no reason to have a crush. Koji's barely even reached out to him, so it's not like he had much to even fall for. They don't know each other.

He has to nip at his own tongue to bring him back to the present. "And, uh— you don't have to stay like that, if you don't like it. I don't mind. I think you look fine." He just said that too, and his brows furrow for a moment in a brief wince at how he's already at a loss for coherent words.

Should he intercept the hands bothering at Yvan's neck? ... no, he doesn't want to reach any further across the distance than he has to; lest his overly cautious tracts of boundary draw ever-closer to being accessible to Yvan. And speaking of, there's a familiar creeping blush, and...

Koji does respond to the question— "My first few years were spent inside of a server. ... I'd not like to elaborate further than that—... for now."— but it's suddenly awkward, idle-sounding. "... nothing deeply traumatic." Viridescent eyes glance toward the doorway, to Yvan, to his own paws and half-coiled tail. They toe the line, looking for any reason to be enthusiastic about something as simple and hardly loaded with intent as sitting on a bed never implies— and more thoroughly, any excuse not to.

"I'm f-fine where I am, but if you— need to sit because..." A vague gesture's made toward his own stomach. Entirely up to Yvan to make the choice, if he's willing, because otherwise Koji might just suddenly choose flight instead— "T-this is fine  too. Just... a bit like unfamiliar clothes."

Shoulders drop a few centimeters. "I'm not shouting across the whole room. Come in." He doesn't mind not talking about the server— and he suspects the reason for not talking about it is more along the lines that he might be able to understand it. He's only organic.

In any case, he doesn't want special treatment just because he's pregnant. "We can both sit on the bed." It's not like that's anything special. It's just a bed. People sit on beds together all the time, for school projects or for anything else, really. "It's not like me standing for five minutes is gonna make my legs collapse."

Leaving the door, Yvan meanders towards the bed and carefully swings up to sit on the covers. His gaze is expectant over the end of it, out to Koji at the doorway as he sits up and crosses his legs. "You don't mind, right?"

Just like that, any reasonable excuse is pulled from beneath his feet as a magician would a cloth. Yvan makes himself comfortable opening an obligation to continue talking despite dwindling.

... at least with how Koji sees it, as eager to disengage as he now finds himself.

"It's fine." He's sure that his tone of voice betrays his hesitation louder than his coiling tail or withering posture ever could. Shoulders stay hunched forward as he negotiates a moral path through the doorway, walking in on his fingertips before standing back up more properly again— though still with a pronounced slouch, holding his head down and away from the precious ceiling.

Koji hesitates at the bedside, glancing down at it but not sitting down quite yet. "... I'm out of things to talk about."

Socializing will be good for either of them. Koji is still a ball of nerves, even with the grand reveal that wasn't so grand at all. He hovers at the edge of the bed, and Yvan frowns to that. "Sit," he urges as he pats the covers. "How many times have I sat in your bed? I'm not gonna fall asleep on you this time. Promise."

Arms cross and rest loosely on top of his stomach. "I'll figure out something to talk about." He glances up to the ceiling in thought, just for a moment, until he looks back to Koji. At least the sudden crush has ebbed a little. "How tall is your other form?" Notion are tall, aren't they? Hopefully Koji doesn't mind answering, because it's all he can think about now.

How many forms does Koji even tend to use? There was the humanoid before, and the Ketixi is already pretty big too. A shared tendency between them, probably, and yet they're nice.

Yvan would like to see more of them, but he should be patient. Koji's not a piece of meat to just ask things to. ... but at least he can try?

As if he knows how to socialize when there is no extremely pressing matter to address or distract from.

Koji stews in a moment's hesitation before seating himself on the bed. He hardly has to hike a leg up, and the mattress groans predictably beneath the inclusion of his weight. Bracing a palm against the bed, he shuffles closer to the middle and settles for sitting side-saddle and hunched over onto that braced palm.

An acknowledging flick of the tail greets Yvan's question at first. Viridescent eyes take a moment to crawl away from the minimalist grey covers and meet his gaze again, squinting— in contemplation this time, at least. "... it's been... mm, probably more than a decade since I last used it. It's likely grown since then."

What's a good metric for scale, from what he does recall? "Far too big to fit in this house, for certain. Notion are known as 'sea serpents' for a reason."

Yvan makes room for Koji as he climbs up— or, more accurately, falls onto the bed. He's dwarfed by Koji, and he doesn't particularly mind, dipping his head to briefly glance at how Koji decides to sit.

Brows furrow as he contemplates the mental image. "You can't control the growth?" is his first question, followed soon by, "and can I see it sometime?" They are by the ocean, after all. "I'll show you some of the forms I don't use too, if it helps." Idle fingers scratch his leg before resting over his stomach. "Or now, if you want. I don't have any huge ones."

"Mm, not... instinctively, I suppose. It can certainly be smaller, but—... it's somewhat like my truest form." Koji frowns slightly at the follow-up question, merely confused. How is it that Yvan is just curious about this? Not morbidly fascinated, not frightened, but curious. He's almost certain that it could take a turn at any moment. "... like completely and utterly 'letting go' of any other shift that I am putting on. It's vaguely akin to relaxing your muscles, I think."

As for showing it off? Koji delivers a half-hearted shrug, gaze noncommittal and distant. "Another night, maybe." A purposefully vague, indefinite answer. This alone was a vast overshare of personal details for him.

"... your offering doesn't encourage me. I'm just... wary. If that much were not already obvious." Lips draw thin. The wings, still small and still useless, at his back shuffle in place. His beak dips low.

"Mm." Yvan idly stretches his spine, rolls his shoulders as he settles up near the head of the bed. It's not comfortable, but nothing really is, and he's left frowning for a moment until he realizes and fixes his expression back to its dull normal.

"Didn't mean it as a transaction. I just meant that I haven't shown a lot of my stuff recently." He picks at the sheet instead of looking at Koji. "It's not like you're gonna turn me just by being around me. I mean, if something bad would've happened, it would've already, right? ... you don't have to show me though. I guess it's like if you asked me to undress here and now or something."

Yvan huffs a half-laugh to himself, genuine despite the quietness of it. A smile and a glance out of the corners of his eyes are spared to Koji before his gaze rests fully on him again. Not that it'd be unusual— Kyoko's had to examine him, and it's not like Koji would mean it in any inappropriate thing.

Not that Koji would want him to undress. He's too worked up about this, anyway. (And he should stop letting his mind wander down these paths, but by now all he can do is set them aside and ignore them as hard as he can. It's barely working.)

"It's not like you're gonna turn me just by being around me."

Koji chokes down the irrational, sudden, compulsive returning thought that he would; wrings it out of a free-hanging ear as one might a wet cloth. Whatever Yvan follows up that remark with fades into the background static of Koji trying to convince himself otherwise.

(The doctors promised him that they would never again do that. To him or anyone else. He (is and) isn't a monster just on his own that's in his head "it isn't your fault koko-chan"—...)

"No, it isn't," he forces out in self-reassurance, certainly too late for it to be a response to that and not being undressed or anything similar. He blinks, glances sidelong— snout still held low, as if that'll mask the grimacing frown beneath his beak— "... did you say something else?"

Yvan slowly leans forward as Koji takes his ear into his hands again. Concern is plain on his face. Is it really something to be this worried up about? Koji isn't a living bomb, nor is he going to catch rabies and start biting him.

He doesn't think he's said anything else, but that's besides the point. Carefully, he shuffles around and comes around to Koji's front by way of hands and knees, sitting up and leaning in to reach to his ear. "Hey." He tries to pry his thumb under Koji's fingers to get him to let go. "Stop that. It's fine."

Maybe he doesn't look purely compassionate with the worried lines creasing his face, but this is more for the action than anything else. Doesn't that hurt? Koji'd said it hurt before.

There is a rhythmic push and pull, now. Yvan leans forward. Koji leans back involuntarily. Yvan crawls closer, draws nearer. Koji runs out of room to escape into lest he sit upright and hit the ceiling; squeezes his hands in retaliation against Yvan's prying thumb— and winces with a soft, noiseless gasp.

Claws break away from his ear, hover in the air with fingers hooked and frozen into place. They squeeze once into fists, then unwind as Koji sighs and condemns his hands to clinging to his lap instead.

There's a guilty look on his face now. "I don't want to explain a-and—... and color your perception of..." His ears pin back at their bases. "... categorically bad things have happened because of what I am before. There's not a way that they'd repeat themselves, but... I—..."

Brows furrow as Yvan remains in Koji's space, still leaned in once his ears are free. "You don't have to explain anything." He figures that Koji must have bit someone before, especially with all this guilt behind it all. "I don't care whatever's happened before."

He perches a little more on his knees, straightens up to bury either hand into the spacious fluff of Koji's cheeks. "I'm alive. You're alive. I'm not in danger. Stop acting like I'm going to be. I've been around Aexent, you're not any different, okay?" His palms squeeze into Koji's fur. "I love—"

His voice chokes and he's off of Koji in an instant. Hands fall down into his lap and he clears his throat. "I like you. What you are doesn't change anything. I really, honestly, do not care." Shoulders hunch up as he's now the one to lean away, burying his chin down to the side as he avoids eye contact. Fuck, he's thinking too much with things that don't matter.  Koji's emotions matter more than this crush.

Koji's hands are at Yvan's wrists— (forearms, more like)— before the latter allows his mouth to run quicker than his conscience and he breaks away; but not before such a response could be considered delayed. It comes with a startled breath and wide- and glassy-eyed blinking— eyes darting left and right at the touch— an instinctive sitting more upright. His hold on Yvan's loose and hardly anything that could be considered real resistance, but it's certainly enough to get the message across.

(You shouldn't touch me. Please don't touch me. Where's the sting? The bite... ? I didn't get a chance to count to three—)

"I—..." Koji swallows down the strain in his voice. Hesitates. Hesitates. Hands disengage, hovering freely in the air— not reaching, not withdrawing. Hesitating. "... haven't given you much to like."

His breath is shuddering a little, frayed at the edges as he hides into himself. "I'm sorry," he prefaces as his hands bunch up his shorts. "I— ... now wasn't a good moment." A distant huff of a laugh, and he's looking forward to Koji's chest instead of anything else.

"... I'm not used to people caring for me." It feels like he's said this before, but does it matter now? That emphasis- having anyone care for him instead of him having to work himself to the bone just to make other accept him? People who don't care? People who let him be?

It's more than he ever could have asked for. Maybe that's why he likes Koji— not because he's running from what he is too, not because he has a good network of doctors, but because he doesn't ask for anything in turn. With Yvan having not much to give, despite willing, despite offering at every chance he get, Yvan's just allowed to be himself.

Koji should expect the same out of him, too. Even if Yvan's in his debt, what else can he do but fawn?

Yvan shakes his head, laughs again with disbelief across his face. "Forget what I said. I don't want you to feel like shit in your own home." He forms fists into the material of his shorts. "I never meant to make you uncomfortable with me."

His smile's nothing but bitter; something more like a grimace than any vaguely mirthful expression. Claws fall into his own lap again, clinging again. "I'd rather talk about that than me," Koji confesses. "It's always easier to talk about anything but me directly." Yvan has no eye contact to avoid, fixated as Koji's own sights are on the twist of hands against the seat of the other's pants.

"For all my confidence," Koji swallows again. "I-I'm... socially inept. I'm—... always going to be uncomfortable. Or feel like shit. I'm not used to people that haven't known me since before I was made, or... being liked." His snout turns sidelong, gaze fixating upon nothing but the space between atoms. Would one split if he stared at it hard enough? Would it explode and take just the both of them out? "I don't think that I would know how to return the favor. The... effort's wasted."

Is this even past the point of not talking about Koji? He's still the main subject. He's what's been on Yvan's mind, ways of devising even bringing this up, even trying to be closer, and yet he never has any of the confidence that he should to even propose anything.

And why should he not have confidence when Koji doesn't, either? He's denied himself at every turn, and Yvan's sick of it.

"Kiss me." His words come blunt. "If you want to return the favor, kiss me." There's a knot in his chest that winds ever tighter as he goes on, unrelenting. "If you don't want to, then I'll forget about it. I'll go home when I deliver. We can forget each other. But— you've already paid me enough. I want to try."

A sharp breath in is followed by Yvan's muscles tensing. It's a sudden ultimatum, but one that's weighed on him, eaten at his heart. Would Koji even want this? Yvan wants to put in the effort, but would Koji even receive it?

And in one vengeful— (not on his part, but the universe's)— leap, Yvan strikes out any vote of confidence and self-assurance; lays down such a daunting challenge that Koji finds himself drawn to as a moth might be to a fire. Does that moth care if he beats his wings against the flame?

Should he? Lips draw into a thin, taut line. Does he secretly crave intimacy? Harbor anything more than the bare minimum of friendliness toward Yvan? Ambivalence?

Koji grapples for a stronger grip on himself, grounding so incompletely. This is an unexpected leap. "I've n-never—..." How boyish is it to find himself worrying about something as intimate-seeming and sacred as a kiss? It isn't as if it's intercour—

"I don't know if I want to— I've never..."

Does he fear crossing the divide that may never again be uncrossed, even if he bows his head closer and negotiates?: "... and if I don't like it?"

To hell with it. Koji is taking too long.

Holding his breath, Yvan shoots forward and plants either hand back on Koji's cheeks, weaved under his ears as he drags him back down to Earth. Not a moment is given for Koji to wallow in thoughts as Yvan presses his lips to the sharp edge of his beak.

He's not stupid. He knows not to press in his tongue, to not beg for lips to share anything back, but this is enough. If Koji doesn't resist his hold, Yvan keeps him close, sinks forward, begging, searching for more as he refuses to back away. As long as he doesn't swallow any of the venom, he'll be fine.

And finally, he's kissed Koji. Perhaps with a little less able to be given in return like he'd expected in all his thoughts, but how was he to know?

It's fast. Startling. A meteorite hurtling through three ceilings and two floors to meet him by the proverbial television set. The touch at both sides of his skull is what he notes first, measures between the lines of— it's new, frightening, and he wants to pull away from it, but—

Yvan digs deeper, so soft against the sharp, hawk-like edges of Koji's beak, and Koji inhales sharp enough to make his fangs whistle. "Be careful."

He lurches away after offering no reciprocation, tries to sit upright and out of reach again.

So it's a no, then. Sitting back, Yvan lets Koji go without a second thought, hiding the disappointment that struggles to persist on his face. "Ah." There's a faintly distant smile. Koji didn't want to be kissed.

Yvan has overstepped the boundary that'd been put up.

Heart at his throat, Yvan slides away until he's dangling a foot off the bed, slowly turning so he's making to stand. It's a slow process— he doesn't have any of his balance anymore, so he's left perching with either hand on the edge.

"Sorry." He can't seem to make eye contact. "I'll leave you alone, then."

Yvan drifts away. Koji doesn't follow.

Koji twists the covers beneath himself. If he were to grip any tighter to himself otherwise, he'd certainly begin to bleed. His claws bite at his palms even through the blankets. "... careful of the venom," he  rumbles, murmurs. Ineffective. "Don't... run away from your own room. Tell me to leave, if you need to."

"But—" In the wake of Yvan's hidden disappointment, his drawing away: There's another boyish-seeming thought— one better asked of any of the doctors (of parental figures) than the one who's fancied him for months and grown no closer for it.

It blurts from his mouth despite his restraint. "I'll— try it again, but not like this. And not until I know: How do you... know that you... like a person more than usual? How do I know? Intuition?"

He doesn't want to make Koji leave. Gritting his teeth, Yvan stares downward, frustration clear in how he hunches forward.

"I don't know," he confesses to the boundaries between like and love. "I know this isn't just me trying to pay you back. I want to get to know you. I like you. I can't explain it."

Yvan sighs, stands up a little straighter with a hand on the bed to keep himself balanced."You don't have to like me back. Don't force it on my account." Even if he's finally facing Koji, he can't help but let his eyes wander away from contact. "My due date's in less than a month. I don't want to wait until then, but if this—" and he gestures to his stomach— "affects anything, I can. It doesn't help that it feels like I'm— mm. It's just been bothering me recently, and it's affecting stuff like this."

He inhales and steels himself. "I'm not thinking with my head."

The answers given are inconclusive— and therefore unhelpful— for deciding whether to just improvise and go along with this; even if for fear of intimacy, for that still very conscious fear that his poison will seep into Yvan's bones with one wrong move or one stray move by a third party. Yvan's merely knowing, though, had been the most immediate stopblock between them; the titular reason for walling himself off. Now that it's gone and that acceptance has been reached— 

Koji doesn't believe that he will know unless he tries. Is it forcing if it's exploration?

Little as he knows, he's sure that Yvan has, at some point, thought with his head and not hormones or any innate urges and instinct to find a suitable guardian for his offspring— surrogate or not. It can't be obligatory courtship that's kept him so occupied with Koji for so long; if that Ketucari half has any influence on him at all. Is he, Koji, even capable of such feeling? He cares, certainly, and doesn't mind Yvan's presence so much now (and how could he, as many late nights as they've gone on by now, as nonjudgmental Yvan has been about relatively stupid grievances that Koji has held onto for years).

He's never been compelled to... kiss someone, not even when Kyoko or Asou had done so when he was younger. Yvan had gone for the mouth, and perhaps that's some sort of Ketucari or Rixixi thing of intimacy, but—...

Inky lips draw into a thin line, drawing tight as he shifts forward onto a still-clenched fist. His forked tongue runs along his gums, gathering all the mutagen that he can and swallowing it down. The horizontal distance between them's crossed with hardly any effort, though Koji's forced to hunch over and bend his bracing elbow to press the uncertain end of his snout against Yvan's forehead— forehead, leaning right temple.

Even with him rambling, he quiets down as Koji seems to stew in it rather than push him away. He's thinking, and Yvan won't interrupt that, watching and waiting to see if anything will change.

He's certain he's warm to the touch once Koji's reciprocating. Relief floods through him, and he hums, lifts his hand to press it gently back into the fur on his cheek.

Koji must be worried about mouth to mouth. That's fine. He could always kiss elsewhere, and he does as he pulls Koji down just a little bit more, stretches so he can kiss the underside of his jaw. "I'll find a way to properly kiss you, alright?" Maybe that would help any of this resistance to actually try. He stretches up to kiss Koji's cheekbone. "Is this better?"

The touch at his cheek is fond, gentle— this time. It's familiar and more comfortable than it should be, and Koji finds himself tentatively leaning into it even before the direction's given to come down a little closer to Earth.

Lips meet the underside of his jaw, then his cheekbone. Soft words disturb the downy feathers in their way: A simple question. "Mm," Koji answers even more simply, brows furrowing.

Yvan's warmth is certainly one that can be felt, but—... is there supposed to be some sort of feeling invoked by this contact? Anything more than closeness and proximity? More than the physical sensation?

Tipping his snout downward again, he pulls away from where he's somewhat leaned into Yvan's open palm. "It's... all right." He blinks. Furrows his brows again. "... would it be easier if I were also human? For you?"

Yvan huffs to the offer. "No, it'll be more tempting to kiss your lips." It's here that he breaks away, perching his hand down on the bed to heft himself back up to it. "I've only got normal condoms. I don't think they make any for your face."

Back on his knees in front of Koji, Yvan puts either hand on Koji's thighs as he leans in. He's not pushing into anything Koji doesn't want, right? "Lean down again," he prompts. He won't go too far then, let things naturally develop, because he doesn't want to lose this little opening that Koji's finally given him.

Koji's demurring "Would be easier to avoid my teeth—" is cut sharply by a harsh, almost startled "Hah... ?"— because, really, what is an appropriate response to Yvan's comment? "No, I suppose not," hardly seems effective enough.

He remains malleable, even with the uncertain twitching and ruffling of feathers as Yvan closes the gap between them and rests both weight and trust on his thighs; even with the lack of internal feedback and encouragement to keep entertaining this.

"Lean down again," is a command easier said than obeyed, being so close, but Koji tries: He bends at the hip and either elbow, halfway caging Yvan in his forearms. "Lest I fold myself in half..."

"Stop being so tall, then." Not jerking away is enough encouragement for him. It's like breaking a wild horse— he imagines so, at least, because Koji's still so hesitant in all of this.

Careful lips are pressed against the underside of Koji's snout again, only to be followed by a soft peppering down to Koji's neck. Yvan reaches out to brace, to hold, hands smoothing back under Koji's arms to wrap around as much of his broad chest as he can.

If Koji's never kissed anyone before, Yvan can deem this as okay. It's not the world's greatest kiss, with not a lot reciprocated, but he can guide with a gentle prompt of "hold me."

"You denied the offer."

Embracing and being embraced is something that he's far more acquainted with. Yvan's weight settles further into him as he tries to no avail to wrap his arms all the way around Koji's back. The pressure is— nearly unpleasant, perhaps nearly unwanted, but...

Lips against the dense fur and feathers of his neck prompt an involuntary shiver. Skin twitches beneath all of that fluff, invisible goosebumps rising to stand it all on end. Koji forgets, for a moment, to oblige the request to embrace Yvan in kind.

When he at last remembers to, it's a simple movement— leaning to one side to brace his weight upright while his other hand comes to rest at Yvan's back; and he takes note of how curled fingers wrap around the other's shoulder and how the padded heel of his palm ends at the opposite side of the other's spine.

Perhaps he is too big for this.

Touch across his back leaves him gasping lightly, stiffening every muscle. It settles in then just how big Koji is, and he hums with fluttering eyes. Nursing his kiss into Koji's neck is reward, encouragement for overwhelming him with just one hand.

Perhaps he's going too fast for all this. He's still straining for more, breathing long and warm as he teases at feathers under his teeth, tugging Koji as close as he can possibly get him.

Hands trail down his sides as he navigates blindly, lost in finally indulging in every little thought that's haunted him. Fingers dig into the fur and fat of love handles, of Koji's hips, leaving his chest pressed into Koji's abdomen as he breaks away from his neck to reach.

"Can I kiss your chest?" It's a quiet ask for permission instead of coaxing. It's best to go at Koji's pace, as eager as Yvan is, as willing as he is. He's not even sure if a condom will fit Koji. He'll make do in the meantime, drawing this out and seeking as much as he can, just this once.

He cannot imagine that his feathers are easy on Yvan's mouth, soft and fine as the barbs on them are. Yet, he continues to mouth them and bury his muzzle in them. Koji wonders how they could possibly become even closer as Yvan pulls. His own snout's forced upward and out of the tangle, neck exposed even further than intended.

Fortunately— or not, perhaps— for him, Yvan moves southward, distracting his attention elsewhere. Fingers latch onto his hips, hooked solidly into place. Koji is certain that they could easily be disengaged, but the sensation's not... terribly unpleasant; not too close to unwanted.

Yvan asks this time, and Koji hums his initial response. Considering. Weighing— "... I'll let you know if I dislike it." The hand he holds at the other's shoulder shifts, readjusting to hold him by the small of his back in one hand. It's just so that his elbow can rest on the bed while he sits a little more upright, baring a little more of himself.

"M'kay." Yvan pushes back briefly, debating and turning over in his head the idea that he'd like Koji to lay down, just do he could be on top of him. It's not feasible with how big he is and how small the bed is though, and he frowns to that, ducking his head so it's not visible.

Thought processes are halted entirely as he shudders to the readjustment. Another hum, and he's closing his eyes, kissing under Koji's dewlap as he kneads his thumbs into the hollow of Koji's hips. "Touch me," escapes him before he can think to stop it. He winces a little to himself— it's not a fantasy to play out, and he's just trying to kiss Koji, not do anything further.

He'd like to. He'd love to. It's not appropriate though, is it? Even with him finally getting attention, won't Koji decide it's too much eventually? Yvan's just horny and lonely and doesn't need to lay it out on Koji to fulfill.

But they're already here, and it doesn't take more than a moment for him to let it go and lean into it, lean back into Koji as he peppers kisses anywhere on his chest that he can reach.

It'd be feasible if Koji were willing to essentially become the mattress, legs hanging off the end of it and hocks comfortably to the floor. Yet, here he sits, occupying most of the space on it and frowning as Yvan shivers beneath his hand; but, the other doesn't move further— he merely hums and continues, pressing feather-light kisses lower and lower down Koji's chest.

"Touch me" is a request met with confusion— along with a mild, gentle uncertainty about contact there, feather-fur being so fine down there and his skin being sensitive.

Koji furrows his brows quietly, unsure. "Am I not already touching you... ?"

That gives him pause.

Koji's touching Yvan, but not enough. How does he emphasize it's not enough? Saying he wants to have sex is going to startle Koji out of it, and yet if he moves his hand down his pants, would that be consensual? Yvan's wrenched out of whatever lewd state he was going into, staring into Koji's chest like it owes him answers as to why its owner is so clueless.

Eyes dart away. "Nevermind," he mumbles, disheartened. He tried. Tonight just isn't the night for that, then.

Was he not obvious enough? He tried everything he could. Does he need to be more blunt, like he'd been with Harley? But this isn't Harley. Yvan and Harley were both in the mood the first time, and here he feels out of his depth, unsure how to even explain the concept of foreplay to the subject of this crush he's been nursing.

Yvan leans back and away, tucking his chin into his shoulder. "I'll see if I can kiss you properly another time. I don't think my condoms would've fit you anyway." His hands break away to rest back on the sides of his own thighs. The disappointment is so blaringly obvious in his voice, and he hates it. Now just isn't a good night if Koji hasn't picked up on the desire by now. It's fine, he's convinced, because he's waited this long already. Best to let him come to his own conclusions.

"Nevermind."

Koji makes no move to pursue Yvan as he draws away, but an effort is made to suppress the thing resembling relief that crawls beneath the skin that's no longer being touched; no longer having attention lavished upon it. His conscience briefly spins beneath the pressure of missing that touch, but that is... hardly anything new. He's experienced it before, after deeming himself supported enough and breaking away from the Doctors' affections and assurances.

The gentle hand holding Yvan breaks away in the move. It drifts back down to the mattress, lying flat to brace Koji upward and let him sit more upright— an accidental blessing for the further straightening-up that nearly has him grazing the ceiling as Yvan continues.

Shoulders hunch forward, wings shuffling too loud for even his own ears, much less Yvan's. Oh.

Yvan had been pursuing more than just kissing and affection; or, at least, had switched gears toward it at some point. How could he have touched him more... ? Would he have even wanted to? The ghosting sensation of contact is already beginning to fade across ruffled feathers. Would he ever want to experience more of it... ?

Though he is without context for something like foreplay, Koji does understand; and Koji does blurt by way of murmuring from his downturned, grimacing snout, "I... have nothing. ... for one to go onto."

Maybe he's a bit frazzled. There are much better responses for this situation than that one. Koji frowns harder, self-directed.

Fingers knead into his lap as Yvan still avoids eye contact. "Oh." If Koji doesn't have a dick, then that makes it easier, doesn't it? He doesn't want to hurt himself pursuing something he shouldn't, because he would've tried to take it, no matter the size. It's probably best to wait for that.

There's a nervous swallow as he darts his eyes back towards the chest he'd been so close to. "Do..." He frowns, furrows his brows in consideration. How do Aexent reproduce? Is it only through their bite? "Do you have anything?" Probably not a prostate. A vagina? Does Koji just elect to not have any of it?

It'd make sense, probably. Maybe he has no drive for sex, and just has nothing. That's a little more than disappointing if it turns out to be true, especially with all the variations on each little fantasy he'd had in his head. If there's nothing he can use to give Koji pleasure, what then? How can he pursue more?

He sighs lightly to himself at the conundrum he's fallen into. "Would you have even wanted to?"

All that frowning said and done, though, there's no... inclination toward taboo; Yvan already knows the worst part of his biology, and there is nothing there to note that would be appropriate. "There's not been any need for me to be... mm—" viridescent eyes avert, head bowing slightly— "equipped."

As for wanting to have sex, isn't it so clear? "I haven't thought much about—... intercourse." Brows furrow deeper, honest despite his slipping into more formal-sounding word choice to mask his uncertainty. "... nor do I know anything of it. I wasn't anticipating..."

He offers a vague gesture of a hand, out of sight if Yvan's still staring at his chest.

Has Koji just never tried? Is there no want for it? He's evidently never been with anyone before, but not even self-exploration?

"I see." Yvan sighs and debates trying to get up again, but he doesn't want to make himself more sore than he already always is. "Sorry. I've been a lot more... wanting, for sex. I didn't mean to push you." He rests his hand on his belly, trying to blame it than anything resembling true interest in Koji. "I don't think your first time should be with a pregnant guy, anyway."

He's too disappointed, painfully self-aware on how dismissive he's being, but he's pushed Koji too far. It's on him to not do that. Koji shouldn't feel bad for his own mistake in assuming he'd be interested. Besides, he's not even sure if he could take sex, not with his hips or the crushing weight of the hybrid in him. Not to mention fatigue, and it's suddenly looking like a far dimmer prospect to even chase anything like this.

"I don't want this to change your opinion of me," he nearly mumbles. "I can forget it."

Of course, the blunt formality is also just a learned thing, even if it's been nearly two decades since it was last ever necessary. It isn't as if Yvan is a doctor studying him and needing any sort of report to go along with those acquired through diagnostic data; it isn't as if Koji is bound to something like imagined social norms.

It certainly is, though, as if Koji is responsible for the turn toward apologies and dismissal once again. Once again, their conversation circles the drain— and perhaps it is Koji's fault for allowing it to veer into this direction and for not "anticipating" intimacy. (Had it been wanted? Unwanted? He needs to ruminate or ask someone—) Perhaps it's his fault for letting so many walls down at once and breaking so many rules just for the sake of morbid curiosity. It makes him want to withdraw back into himself again. Maybe for an infinite eternity, this time.

He needs to escape, first.

"Don't apologize," Koji manages as he shifts backward onto his haunches, stretches a leg out to meet the floor. "... and don't forget it. Just—"

Huddling his figure downward, he slides off the bed effortlessly and onto all fours— beak shifting into snout and horns growing just that small bit more mild and palatable. Viridescent eyes hesitate to seek contact with Yvan's from the bedside, and shift toward the door once it's made. His tail flicks, feathers rustling too loudly in the crushing silence of this room. "I... need to think about it. If it does change my opinion."

It takes everything out of him to not ask Koji to stay. Pure, seething frustration sparks through him and settles in his core like a vat of poison, waiting to bubble up and consume him whole. He never should have taken advantage of Koji opening up, it wasn't time for it, it wasn't appropriate.

Yvan's chest stings as Koji slips away. He can't bear to face him. All he can do is turn halfway towards him, palm on his bed and face staring forward instead of properly looking to Koji. "Um," he starts weakly, "You shouldn't hide your Aexent form. ... you look good." Is that too much? Is he still chasing? It's the truth, and Koji shouldn't feel guilty about who he is, if he even accepts that form.

He's such a hypocrite.

Leaving Yvan like this might be cruel, but—... It's better if he does, isn't it? Koji's lips draw into a thin, awkward line as he plods a few halting steps toward the door. His head hangs low, features warping then into a frown. "... I'll consider it."

He shouldn't have said anything. "Alright." He stops twisting so much, looking back foward as he dips his own head. "Goodnight."

"Oyasuminasai," Koji murmurs, wincing at the reflexive formality of it. Another few shuffling steps bring him to the doorway, where he hesitates again— ("Thank you," he mutters, too vague for it to have clearly meant 'for accepting me as what I am')— before shouldering the door further open and slipping through, nudging it to nearly shut behind him.