[m] Sins falling from your lips

When Vince said he couldn’t do this, a deeper furrow formed on Ruìsāng’s brow as he leaned back, attempting to make sense of the situation. It was challenging to pinpoint where things had gone wrong. He was certain he hadn't coerced Vince into this, and this shouldn't have been a situation marred by first-time fears.

I lied.

Fuck.

The revelation hit Ruìsāng like a punch to the gut. He blinked in surprise, his eyes widening as Vince’s tears began to flow. Oh no. Why did this happen? He wasn’t the right person for this— or a good person at all. This wasn't his role. He wasn't the one meant to console a boy in distress. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He heard how Vince continued, saying this would be his first, and could feel his heart drop.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered, shifting one leg over Vince to sit at his side rather than straddling him. His hand withdrew slightly, though he kept it on Vince’s back and tried to push him up from his lying position.

“It’s alright. Nothing has to happen,” he reassured, feeling overwhelmed and struggling to find the right words to comfort Vince. Sitting back on one foot, hands on his own lap, Ruìsāng questioned whether it was even okay to touch Vince now.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Let alone twice in a damn week.

Inevitably, this was bound to happen. Ruìsāng couldn’t escape the thought that he, with his tainted essence, should keep his hands off delicate, beautiful beings like Vince. He hadn’t intended for things to end up this way, but it seemed to be an inescapable facet of who he was.

As Vince spoke, Ruìsāng's confusion deepened. The boy apologised and Ruìsāng wanted to interrupt—to tell him there was nothing to apologise for—but decided to keep quiet. Vince insisted that this had been phenomenal and that he did not want it to stop, but that it should transpire without deceit.

Ah.

Leaning forward, Ruìsāng gently placed his hand on Vince's cheek, tenderly wiping away a few tears with a soft smile. “Don’t apologise. I’m glad you spoke up,” he admitted. Many things could be said about Ruìsāng, but he would never want anyone to continue if they had the slightest of doubt.

“But…” Ruìsāng swallowed, his red eyes momentarily flickering to Vince's lips before meeting his gaze once more. Arceus, he despised the fact that he had a streak of decency in him. “But you shouldn’t want to. You deserve much, much better,” he added with a smile.

For once, perhaps, he could touch a beautiful flower without causing it to wilt.

The men with whom Ruìsāng typically spent his time were characterised by three key attributes: shallow personalities, deep pockets, and well-endowed. Vince, on the other hand, defied these conventions. At least the first one. The entire encounter had been a departure from Ruìsāng’s usual pursuits. He wasn't accustomed to entering a situation without the explicit expectation of it being… just sex.

Vince was pure—a quality untainted by the harsh realities of the world. Ruìsāng found himself reluctant to be the one to sully such an existence. He yearned for Vince to remain untouched, a radiant presence in a world so veiled in darkness.

However, when Vince spoke again, Ruìsāng couldn't help but notice the subtle lean into his hand. ‘I’m tired of people telling me what I do and do not deserve,’ Vince said, and in the blink of an eye, Ruìsāng found himself reclining on the couch, breathless as he looked up at the man.

Oh.

In a moment of instinct and without realising, Ruìsāng's hand settled on Vince's back, the other finding its place on his neck, pulling him closer. Without a shred of hesitation, he reciprocated the kiss with fervour.

‘Just… be gentle.’

A soft noise left his lips as the words were spoken, before Ruìsāng hungrily pulled the other back. “You…” he murmured against the other’s lips, “Are going to be the death of me.”

There was a part of Ruìsāng that was still very confused and couldn’t keep up with the whims of the moment. First, he found himself on Vince's lap, then tears were shed, and suddenly Vince displayed a newfound energy. Amidst the tumult of emotions, a lingering question persisted in Ruìsāng's mind.

However, Vince's lips met his again, and the chaotic whirlwind in Ruìsāng's mind subsided. The desire to ask the lingering question was easily overshadowed, since… Arceus. Was this the same Vince that had said people thought he was cute in a brotherly way? Fucking crazy.

To complicate matters further, a hand carelessly played with his hair, and Ruìsāng wanted nothing more than to flip them around, locking Vince against the couch and erase any lingering insecurities. But…

Fuck.

He’d never been good at being virtuous anyway.

With a swift motion, Ruìsāng flipped them around and switched their positions again, one hand protecting Vince’s head as they reclined sideways. His legs settled between Vince’s, one hand venturing under Vince’s shirt while the other held him in place on the couch.

“Tell me if…” he murmured, the warmth of Vince's breath brushing against his lips, “If it’s too much. We can stop,” he continued. Maybe he’d still figure everything out, but not now. He just needed to know that Vince wouldn’t push himself before they’d go somewhere he could not come back from.

Vince assured Ruìsāng that he would communicate if anything went too far, if the boundaries were pushed too far. Ruìsāng released a slow exhale, acknowledging the words. The hesitation dissipated, replaced by a newfound assurance. Their lips brushed against each other, reigniting the desire, prompting Ruìsāng to lean in and deepen the kiss.

How nice it was, to explore skin that didn't invoke disdain, in the sensation of kissing someone’s lips with an earnest yearning for more. It felt different, refreshing—a departure from the usual.

As Vince tugged at Ruìsāng's shirt, a smile played on Ruìsāng's lips. Undressing would prove a bit more challenging in his current work attire, which, though stylish, was less conducive to swift disrobing. Worth it, though, as he looked great.

A hint of dissatisfaction escaped Ruìsāng's lips as he softly pulled at Vince's shirt, before realising he should use his words. “Take it off.”

Now, Vince appeared better prepared, swiftly discarding his shirt. Ruìsāng leaned back slightly, granting him both space and a more enticing view of what lay beneath. It baffled him that someone so captivating had so many insecurities, a testament to the cruelty of a world that could blind a boy to his own allure.

“Enjoying the view?”

Surprised by the unexpected words, Ruìsāng looked up into Vince's golden eyes, breaking into a soft laugh. He settled back, letting his finger trail slowly down Vince's chest, lingering at his pants. Red eyes traced the path back up to meet Vince's gaze.

“I am,” Ruìsāng confessed with an easy smile after a pause. Leaning forward once more, he propped himself up on one elbow, claiming Vince's lips in a passionate kiss. His other hand explored Vince's bare waist, fingers dancing lightly against his skin.

Ruìsāng acknowledged that he wasn't a saint, fully aware of his less-than-angelic tendencies. However, in this moment, with a boy so visibly insecure yet undeniably good and beautiful, he yearned to make the other feel desired. Just this once—to break free from the confines of his behaviour and uplift someone's spirits. Words might not be his forte, but he knew touch. Whether it would prove helpful or not, it would most certainly be satisfying.

“One for one,” came the response when his finger lingered near the man's pants. Ruìsāng chuckled briefly before leaning back in.

As Ruìsāng's hand traced over the boy's side, a sudden yelp escaped Vince, prompting Ruìsāng to look at him in genuine surprise. Blinking with realisation, a smile played on Ruìsāng's lips as he realised: the boy was ticklish.

Breaking apart momentarily, Vince voiced concern about Ruìsāng's (amazing) tongue and cheekily inquired if he wasn't allowed to see more. Responding with a soft noise of complaint, Ruìsāng pressed another kiss to the boy's lips before finally leaning back.

Undoing the buttons on his vest and the white button-up beneath, Ruìsāng revealed his own upper body, muscles well defined due to frequent fights and rigorous training. With an air of confidence, he asked, "Happy now?" sporting a cocky grin on his lips. Without bothering to fully remove his shirt and vest, he leaned back in, now settling his hand fully on Vince’s hip so he wouldn’t lose his tongue.

Ruìsāng found himself torn between creating a night that Vince would carry in his memories forever—one that would make him see stars and question why he'd waited so long. Yet, this wasn't solely for Vince, Ruìsāng wasn’t selfless like that. He craved it himself. He yearned for the taste of Vince's skin, revelling in the sounds Vince would make once he’d be out of breath—

But, he still felt like he had the boy’s tears at the tips of his fingers. He didn’t want Vince to make a hasty decision and later regret that night. Selfishly, he wished not to be the source of Vince’s regret. Just this once, he didn’t want to contribute to someone’s misery.

“Tell me…” he whispered against Vince's lips, his words a gentle plea. Pushing himself up slightly, he met Vince's golden eyes, letting his hand trail toward the boy's pants. “How much have you done?” he inquired, his voice a low murmur, eyes narrowed with a hint of concern. He had to know what was okay and what the boy did know.

Ruìsāng yearned for a glimpse into Vince's thoughts, a way to discern whether the hesitation was mere nerves or rooted in something deeper. The responsibility to decide hung heavily on Ruìsāng, having offered an exit before. Vince hadn’t taken it—saying he was sick of people telling him what he did or did not deserve. But he did and it ached within Ruìsāng. So, he asked.

As Ruìsāng voiced the question, Vince’s body tensed beneath his touch, he studied the boy’s expression. Vince confessed to a few kisses, mentioning attempts by a few girls to go further. Ruìsāng hummed softly, pressing his thumb under the fabric of his pants and moving it in slightly, taking in Vince’s expression as he did.

“What do you want?” he inquired, leaning in to plant a tender kiss on Vince's jaw, moving down to his neck and pressing light kisses against warm skin. “We could leave it here,” he murmured, shifting down slightly. “Or I can make you feel good,”  he continued, smirking against the boy’s skin as his thumb moved lightly against Vince's skin, aware of the potential ticklish sensation.

Yet, tonight, nothing beyond this would happen. He aimed to worship Vince, ensuring the boy felt good. Perhaps, in granting Vince just that, there would be no regrets.

This was very unlike Ruìsāng, but gentleness came easy to him that night. It was easy to touch Vince like he was something worth keeping, perhaps explaining why others had rarely extended such kindness to him.

Earlier that evening, Ruìsāng had made a commitment to help Vince discover his true desires. And so, he inquired—moving at a deliberate pace, allowing the inexperienced Vince to catch up, adapt to each touch, and communicate his wishes to stop, pause, or continue. Planting soft kisses on untouched skin, Ruìsāng lingered his lips in the curve between Vince’s shoulder and neck, offering the boy two choices.

No. Please.

A single chuckle sounded and Ruìsāng pressed another skin against Vince’s skin, before humming softly. “Please what?” he drawled, deliberately slow, agonisingly so, trailing down with gentle kisses, his hand hovering around the edge of the boy’s pants. “Use your words.”