since phantom apparently gets on his knees *a lot*, have you thought about him getting on his knees for mountain? how much smaller he'd look? how mount would be SO pleased with it??
perhaps........boots..............
It's not that Aeon is small, exactly.
He's...slight. Lanky like Rain, but narrow like Dew. Doesn't take up much space, visually speaking. Or physically. Not with the way he can bend and contort himself.
He can usually be found in the most awkward positions possible in the common room; scrunched up against the arm of a couch, or curled around himself like a pillbug in one of the armchairs. Not to isolate, it's just how he's comfy.
Mountain doesn't understand it. Has no idea how anyone could be comfortable wrapped up into a ball of their own limbs, not when something as simple as crossing his own legs can make him feel claustrophobic. He does find it endearing in Aeon though, a little quirk that he can bundle up and keep in a water-spotted mason jar in the back of his mind.
Aeon isn't exactly small, but he enjoys making himself look that way.
Between Mountain's legs, he looks the smallest.
It's been a while since Aeon knocked on his door, interrupting his thrilling evening activity of dozing off in front of the fireplace. Most of that time has been spent on his knees, though not in the way Mountain is used to.
The room is quiet, save for the crackle of dying logs and the dull rasp of horsehair on leather. Aeon's hardly spoken the whole time he's been working, now well on his way to getting Mountain's boots to a mirror shine. Mountain's fingers glide through Aeon's soft waves while he watches his shoulder work, blending the shock of brilliant white near his horn into a sea of black for something to do.
Aeon hasn't spoken a word since he cracked open his tin of polish. Hell, he'd barely explained himself in the first place, slotting himself between Mountain's knees and asking where his boots were. Mountain hadn't woken up quite enough yet to do more than gesture towards the closet.
He's awake now, though. Has been since Aeon shoved the awful things onto his feet and laced them tight. Mountain can't stand his uniform boots under normal circumstances; they cut him off from the song of the earth and their slight heels make his ass sore. They're relegated to the depths of the closet between tours, wearing them an inconvenience at best and a nuisance at worst.
And yet he'd let Aeon put them on him. Let the other ghoul brush them, scrub them, apply some sort of cream to them and start the cycle all over again. It's a process Mountain never bothered familiarizing himself with - Rain has always polished his boots for him - but seeing the meticulous way Aeon works is fascinating.
As is the not-small tent in his pants.
It's obvious with the way he's kneeling, legs tucked tight under him with the sole of Mountain's second boot on his thigh, just to the left of that flannel-covered bulge. The first has already been polished glossy, firelight reflected in its gleam. Aeon's posture is tight, strained, but his hands move with the same relaxed precision as they do on his guitar.
"You really like doing this, huh?"
Mountain rubs at the base of one horn and Aeon gasps through his nose. He nods slowly so as not to dislodge the hand on his scalp, but doesn't answer. It's a shame not to hear that shake Mountain knows will be in his voice, but it's graced his ears enough to be easily imagined.
Aeon looks up as he swipes his brush over the toe of the boot, leaves shine in its wake.
Mountain thinks his eyes shine brighter.
They're heavy lidded and blown nearly black, pupils ringed with shimmering violet. His long, dark lashes flutter over flushed cheeks, a light dusting of color painted over the bridge of his nose. Spit-slick lips sit parted, exposing just the tips of his fangs. He looks like he's been ravished despite the fact that Mountain hasn't so much as kissed him yet.
It's lovely.
"Pretty little thing," Mountain coos, dragging gentle knuckles along the hollow of Aeon's cheek. He sighs and leans into it, nuzzles the back of his hand like an affectionate cat. His tail supports that imagery, wrapped around Mountain's forearm and squeezing gently. "You almost done down there, moondrop?"
Aeon nods again, the pink tip of his tongue flicking out between his fangs as he refocuses. It's not that he's rushing the other ghoul to finish, but Mountain wants to hear his voice. Wants to know why, exactly, Aeon shuffled his way here in his pajamas with his leather care caddy and decided to give his boots the royal treatment.
Mountain scratches at his scalp, Aeon shivers, and a sweet little wet spot soaks into his flannels.
Mountain's own cock twitches against his thigh at the sight. He's remained mostly soft for the duration of this, despite the effect it's clearly having on the other ghoul, but the reveal of Aeon's lust-slacked face was enough to have him chubbing up. He rubs at the ridge of the head through his jeans, noting with a smirk the way Aeon's brushing hand stutters.
Mountain massages himself with a lazy hand, rests the other on Aeon's downturned face, caresses his cheek. Drags his thumb along a fang-swollen lip and makes a pleased sound at the way Aeon licks at the tip of it. Mountain stares at the other ghoul's clothed stiffy while he plays, watching it strain against the seam of his pants. He'd like to reach down and give it a good squeeze, but he resists. Wouldn't want to interrupt.
He sticks his thumb into Aeon's mouth instead, and the groan it earns him is well worth the silence he's endured.
The scratch of the brush stops soon enough. Aeon picks up a discarded chamois for one last bit of polish, a few swipes over the calf and along the zipper, finishing his self-imposed task with a pleased sigh. He doesn't move Mountain's foot, leaving it resting heavy on his thigh while he sets his supplies back in their places. Mountain watches him with a smile curling at the corners of his mouth - Aeon sucks at his thumb the whole time, drool slipping out around the invading digit to wet his hand.
"If I take this away," he murmurs, hooking his thumb behind Aeon's lower fangs, "will you tell me what's gotten into you?"
Mountain hooks a finger under his chin and drags Aeon's gaze upwards. He's flushed darker now, sweaty along his hairline, stunning eyes nearly closed. Mountain grips tighter, gives his head a shake, and he swears he can hear Aeon's brain rolling loose in his head.
He gurgles out an uh huh and Mountain chuckles, pulling his hand away. He wipes Aeon's drool off on the other ghoul's shirt and Aeon bites his lip, quivering hands sliding up to rest on Mountain's knees. They'd started shaking the moment he'd finished his work. Mountain watches his throat work as he swallows, still palming his head through rough denim.
At length, sounding drunk on something Mountain is intimately familiar with, Aeon speaks.
"Wanted to...for a while now," he murmurs, idly squeezing at Mountain's legs.
"Wanted to polish my boots?"
Aeon's eyes flick between the place Mountain works his cock and the shine of the leather. He chews his lips and nods again, narrow chest heaving more and more as the minutes pass.
"You don't take very good care of them," he chides, a surprisingly stern tilt to his voice. Mountain raises an eyebrow. "It's a shame," Aeon continues, tilting his head to further admire his work.
"Didn't realize you were such a stickler for uniform maintenance," Mountain teases, tapping Aeon's other leg with his toe. "I hardly wear the things anyway, I don't -"
"You should," Aeon interrupts, eager and a bit breathless. "They suit you." His slim hips move of their own accord, a quick, pointless little hump and Mountain could not possibly mistake for anything else.
"Is that so?"
Aeon nods, lithe fingers drifting from Mountain's knee to ghost over supple leather. He can see the pale reflection of the other ghoul's hand in it - he really did do an incredible job.
"They're hard to play in," Mountain complains, flexing his ankle. It pushes the sole of his boot into Aeon's thigh and the kneeling ghoul sucks air though his teeth. "Not flexible enough."
"Just gotta break 'em in," Aeon offers, and there's that shake Mountain wanted to hear. His smile morphs into something devious when Aeon shifts enough to spread his knees, looking up at him with frank desire. Couldn't be more obvious if he tried.
"And how would you suggest I do that, little star?"
Aeon sighs, grips his ankle, and guides Mountain's foot to rest against his crotch. He hisses, brow furrowing at the first hint of contact, and the ghoul leans forward to rest his cheek on Mountain's knee. He reaches an elegant hand up to fondle Mountain's visible tip, rubs it with two fingers, and with a groan Mountain presses the toe of his boot into Aeon's stiffness.
"Fuck, just like that," Aeon gasps, hips hitching forward immediately. "Don't hold back," he encourages, peering up at Mountain through those thick lashes, "treat me like your kick drum."
Aeon gives him a squeeze, and Mountain does.
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