Work Text:
The city was always loud at this time of day.
A symphony of chatter, needless conversations and idle blabber. Between that and the distinct sound of wind was the noise of metallic rumbling, less natural and more artificial, as if something was merely mimicking the clamor present in life by design.
Somewhere above laid the sun and all its golden glory remained uninterrupted. It seemed as if the clouds themselves parted for this very moment.
Or, more likely, it was that he tried to think of the moment as more grand that it actually was.
The worn-out, greyed concrete was sending heat from below his soles, having soaked it in over the day's hours. There was nothing that could grant anyone a proper shadow here, perhaps aside from the outlines of the cars and other vechicles, but it wasn't that he would stay hidden for long either.
Handling the heat was deemed as a doable sacrifice, even if his eyes began to burn lightly from the intensity of his stare or if the warmed metal right behind him was slowly causing him to lose his patience.
Somewhere in the distance, as small as it was, laid the building he took keen attention to. Taking in the details again—pink-ish walls and the rainbow logo at the front—the doctor allowed himself to frown. Magenta-dyed doors that decorated its very front seemed just as solid as minutes prior and despite the blurred outline, he knew they didn't budge an inch.
Pure Vanilla's hand swam back before he thought better of it, reaching for the phone tucked away in the back pocket of his jeans.
Unlocking it without much thought, he pressed his thumb to the smooth surface, before finally looking down.
How odd. The clock barely moved, yet it felt like he stood there for at least an hour.
Pure Vanilla's gaze flicked to the building anew, before swiping away the homescreen. Clicking the message button, he squinted at the brightness of his phone and opened the conversation he partook in most recently. The stark, glittering pink profile picture on his screen stared back at him as he scanned the screen once more today. The text was precise and to the point. As far as the physician knew—as he had checked about five times on his way—the street was correct, so was the number.
And yet despite these self-assurances, a part of him worried.
Pure Vanilla could drown in those endless self-assurances for an hour more if something in the corner of his eyes didn't shift.
Blinking leftovers of his focus, he let his mismatched eyes glance at the time for the last time, not remembering it and not caring to. His phone was slipped back into the backpocket and he crossed his arms over his chest.
The metal of his SUV bit into his shoulderblades unpleasantly and he quickly found whatever bothered him just seconds ago. Blurring at the edges at this point, the building of the small primary school stood as rooted as it had before—yet the doors which were securely locked moments ago have been opened, then closed.
Involuntarily and almost naturally, the physician's breath lodged inside of his throat.
First thing he noticed, from that oddly cherished yet unbearable distance, was the outline. There was a certain pattern he recognised in the hardly seen locks that pooled behind, their darkness and that familiar strange edge. Even as the contours of the face remained indistinguishible from the distance, Pure Vanilla found his mind filling in the gaps from memory.
A curve of a nearly permanent frown, perhaps even a mole that he could not see from so far, that would certainly make itself known if the distance were to be decreased. Not much changed, not even the fashion it would seem.
Maybe he could not yet see the scowl, but he was certain he could feel it.
It felt as if the lines of that moment became foggy, and momentarily, he could almost forget what he originally came here for.
Memory had a cruel habit of arriving uninvited, almost like he himself in this very moment. Just seeing the familiar figure in the stretch allowed something to slither between the present and the eye, as if blurring the old, ragged shapes until they became nearly palpable.
The edges of this form, something he half-yearned and half-resented, Pure Vanilla recalled from settings vastly different. On some days, bright or darkened, the very same silhouette leaned against used doorframes, bright with the patience of a lit match.
Even in this whistling silence, he became oddly aware of how the interactions sounded. As the wind beat itself off the frames of the cars, he could almost tell it apart from the low hum he almost forgot. Between that of course was the taps of fingers on tabletops born from anticipation, the endless waiting for the work to be finished.
In those isolated memories, rush or lack of patience never once held the name of annoyance.
Crowded corridors that sometimes went strangely quiet if he stayed long enough, the buzzing of fluorescent lights that flickered overhead as he gathered last of his work into his bag. Cleaning ladies urging him to leave for once so they could clean the corners of the college, and the oddly melodic laugh that told him to get a life.
He used to like the after-hours, even if for the purpose of staying where things were made possible. There was a comfort in the shadows, of the imbalance of their positions they both chose to ignore and of the unwise secrecy that they shared only by mutual implication. It was the face he saw so many times before from up close and from afar. There was a point in time where he hoped to familiarise himself with the lines of the other's cheeks well enough to sculpt them in memory.
Perhaps enough to come back to the very same face every time he'd return from work, once their status would finally change and rebalance itself.
Pure Vanilla needed no promises then, foolishly enough, but the cruelty of it was worse than the pain of closing the already growing gap between them all this time ago.
The recollection of the brushing shoulders and lips was vanished with the breeze, just as brief as the cold whisper on a summer morning. It came, and then it was gone. And Pure Vanilla was left to pick up the pieces of himself between these gaps of memory and the present.
It was strange to reminisce about college. It was stranger to focus so readily on his past teaching assistant.
Sobering up in the flashing sun, he blinked away the haze. What really ripped him away from these memories and the sour aftertaste of abandonment was the shift to the silhouette.
Because there was Shadow Milk, but there was also someone else.
In fact, the physician almost jumped where he stood from how close the other was to the parking lot. It hadn't come as a surprise, no but the image was something so unusual in the comparison to the sweet melancholy that he could forget his purpose there.
At the side, tugged and somewhat sluggish, was a figure smaller than he initially expected.
The image was clearing as the distance was shortened, at least. In contrast to Shadow Milk's wildly darkened curls and the frosty-blue appeal of the skin, the smaller one felt like sun stood next to moon.
Softened curls of cream-white that clung to the face yet dared to puff out at the sides, standing out starkly on the backdrop of soft, biscuit-hued cheeks.
The entire time, the child's gaze was stuck up, chin tilted to fully be able to glance up at the one leading, mouth moving in ways that Pure Vanilla couldn't make out from where he was. Waving the soft speech off, Shadow Milk shook his head and gave their small, clinging hand the slightest tug over.
Pure Vanilla's chest was tightening with each step, and it took him another moment to realise the worrying acceleration of his pulse. He shifted on his foot to further coax his shape into the shade of his SUV, deciding that startling the other this early on would only decrease the chances of a conversation.
It was then that the voice came clearer. Hearing the stern ''no" come from the other, and the obvious complaint of the softly pitched voice, he let his eyes trail over the car in front.
Maybe it was an overkill—bordering on disgraceful. Parking his vechicle right next to Shadow Milk's driver side door was simple strategy, however. Effective, even, if the physician just didn't feel this guilty about it.
He never meant to make the conversation look like a cage, but if his memorys served right, he was unlikely to get anywhere with it. Pure Vanilla's arms tightened around his chest. His fingers curled into his forearms, dipping the white material of his shirt and ruining all of the care he took in ironing it.
With the steps echoing closer and closer and the distinct leisure chatter approaching, each syllabe like a stone taken from beneath his feet. As seconds passed, his chance of retreating grew thinner.
Pure Vanilla drew in a shaky breath.
When the steps neared enough to be few paces away, he straightened abruptly. Pushing himself from the heated metal of the SUV, he turned on his heel to face the approaching figure.
The sudden movement drew in Shadow Milk's eyes, which were so focused on the smaller one that he was nearly oblivious. With the path cut short and the sudden change in the air, only surprise could gather on the lines of his face. First was his raised brows, his jaw opening, then closing and finally, his eyes narrowing.
It all happened within a flash, and as the physician's eyes trailed downward he saw the steady slip of Shadow Milk's fingers.
They locked around the child's hand tighter but the smaller, shining eyes seemed to have been glued to him now.
Pure Vanilla, against the weight in his chest that pulled like a bag of stones, prompted the edges of his lips to curl upward.
"Is…" he was grateful that his voice wavered less than he estimated it to. He quietly recalled the conversation with someone about the best approach, before continuing. "Is that your child?"
"What are you doing here?"
Shadow Milk's voice was biting, tettering on the accusatory sharpness of frost on skin. He lightly pulled the child closer to the vechicle, their side pressed to the doors of the car. He fumbled with his bag, before slipping his hand into his side pocket. A metallic kind of ringing crackled from within.
No, he didn't—
Pure Vanilla took a closer step, his hip almost touching the front doors to the other's car. Blocking the way, even if only at the front, gave him a weird sense of courage.
"I was meaning to ask a similar thing, at first," the physician uttered quickly. "But it came cleared by itself."
The sharp eyes, cyan and cerulean, flicked over the blond. Shadow Milk fished out the keys, turning with a degree of restlessness, already aiming the metal at the keyhole. Tremors ran by his fingers, and with an abruptly hissed curse, the item slipped from his hold, bouncing off the ground.
Pure Vanilla leaned down before he realised it, head nearly bumping into Shadow Milk's when he plucked the object off the concrete. Something about the other seemed to have been sinking when the keys were steadily dropped into his pale palm.
They didn't let their fingers brush too long.
Straightening out the keys, Shadow Milk made a quick work of pushing them into the car.
When the other leaned inside, Pure Vanilla's view of the smaller one behind became clearer.
The child, not yet old enough to count their age in double digits, stared back. It seemed that they had this entire time actually, eyes unblinkingly wide in a feeling that couldn't come to Pure Vanilla's mind.
Lasting no more than a moment, the contact came broken. Shadow Milk took their wrist to pull them into the car wordlessly, and as far as Pure Vanilla saw it, he likely planned to move and leave as soon as it were possible.
His brows furrowed at the thought.
"So," Pure Vanilla cleared his throat. "How old are they? I've had no idea you had a child."
"In primary school," was all Shadow Milk replied with. He clicked the seatbelt in place, pulling out from the car in one fell move. His fingers hooked the doors to slam them to a solid close, but as his feet inched forth, his path was blocked.
The physician put great care into demonstrating that he was now leaning on the front doors.
"Primary…" Pure Vanilla murmured. His gaze moved to the building again, giving him the slightest chance to breathe in.
"…Yes, something children go to." There was an unrest as he said it, his foot beginning to tap lightly from something that no doubt began to brew in him.
"What's his name?"
Shadow Milk raised a brow, his inconvenienced response more than obvious, as if the other was a nuisance for even asking such things. His lips opened but it almost felt like he stopped himself from saying what he initially thought to say. "…Milkshake."
Leaving the softened topic for now, he decided to circle back. The slightest slither of hope he had asked him to try and catch the other on words, at least.
"Why here, though? I am certain I drove past schools in the city before. This one seems quite… far in comparison to your other options."
Shadow Milk frowned. The physician could feel in his gut that this, most certainly, was the wrong option for a conversation.
But he never had such a conversation before. He never wanted to have to have one. Even if he now wanted to pry for the reason behind sudden change in occupation, that path seemed to have blocked itself off.
Pure Vanilla tried something else.
"What were you up to? It's been a while."
"Work," Shadow Milk's arms crossed somewhat tightly. He looked over his fingernails as if to pin his eyes in place. "Not much else."
There was a temporary quiet that was almost gifted—as if time itself now permitted Pure Vanilla to asses the situation. He would be a fool to not take the opportunity.
Where the lines of Shadow Milk's jaw barely poked from beneath his bangs he saw all but rest. His jaw seemed to lay tight, his shoulders curled in a manner he could only write off as subconsciously defensive. The fingers dug into the fabric and the other looked almost ready to run.
While the doctor was trying to plan out his words—the shape to his side shifted. One hand seemed plastered to the window behind Shadow Milk but his focus was interrupted once more.
"Nice catching up," he said, spinning the key on his finger. He pulled himself upright, displaying the clean-cut intent to leave. "I've got places I gotta drive the kid to, so. Scoot."
Pure Vanilla's brow rose when the other vaguely gestured with his hand, something like shooing an animal away.
"Catching up?" The taller asked, lashes fluttering in a surprised blink. "Oh, you truly can't call it catching up. We barely talked."
"Maybe it's better that way."
"Is it?"
Straightening as well, he took a moment to regard Shadow Milk. Their mutually intense stare seemed to have been a mix of unstoppable determination and immovable will, but that kindling fire… it never quite went out.
He decided, just this second time, to give the other a chance to come clean.
"Look, I don't know what to tell you." Shadow Milk shook his head, hands stubbornly landing on his hips.
"Really? You've got nothing to tell me?"
The blue eyes that were boring into him just moments ago flicked away. Pure Vanilla remained perceptive, even noting the slight tug of the bottoom lip or even the odd way in which the frosty blue fingers twisted into the material.
Shadow Milk, stood like that, was an image of something that the physician no longer had the label for. The sun from above lightened the darkened curls into softened blues, and even the top of his lashes felt glitteren by the rays.
Somewhere there he found the image of hope. Somewhere there, his heart felt as if it could finally drop the weight, and accept the gravity of the situation—one that, it seemed, Shadow Milk was all too keen on avoiding.
Then, the words came. Pure Vanilla didn't know why he expected anything more.
"Nah," with a dismissive hand, the other slid his hand between the physician and the car, fingers making way to hook on the car's handle.
The taller's hand slammed onto the doors thoughtlessly. He didn't realise until the warmth bit his palm.
"Nothing?" he urged.
Shadow Milk's eyes widened and the movement seemed to have stunned his scheme. The taller's voice came lower, even though it was no secret that he whispered. In fact, maybe it was shame that kept him from airing the other's laundry.
"Not even the fact that you've had my child?"
His gaze, not lacking its softness, still came sharper as it bore down onto the other. Pure Vanilla focused on the edges of Shadow Milk's expression, taking in the frozen posture or the sudden loss of air.
He let the quiet give way, offering him another chance to talk—even if only prompted by wanting to fill the quiet.
"You're crazy," Shadow Milk stated once thinking was enough, willing to drag on this charade for as long as possible. "Your? Now, you are flattering yourself. Look, th—"
"I know its mine," he argued. "You thought no one would've told me eventually? Even if you tried to keep that under wraps, everyone with two eyes could tell that—"
"Don't."
Shadow Milk held a hand up but that wasn't enough to prevent what was to come. Pure Vanilla held his tongue before, he could still try to hold it. But maybe he did not want to—not at this point.
"Is that why…?"
"No—" the shorter pinched the ridge of his nose in two fingers, frustrated huff leaving. "I have no idea why you chose to come here now, but it's best you leave."
"I'm not leaving until we talk, Shadow Milk."
"After that long?" He scoffed. "You are ruining whatever little balance I've built, moron. Scoot, or it ain't ending well for ya."
Pure Vanilla had to take a moment to make sure he was hearing this correctly, the hand at his side moving to his chest. "Excuse me?"
"I've raised that thing, and it is mine. Move."
Steeling his hold on the door's side, the physician inhaled through his nostrils. There was hardly anything he could do now, if he were to tetter on the edge of what is legal and what is not. Pure Vanilla knew he came there with a heart open to possibility, but even that was taken.
Pushed up into the corner like that, he could only reach where he wished he did not have to.
"Shadow Milk," he said, though not wanting to come off as harsh. "You will talk to me willingly, or perhaps you will talk with my lawyer instead?"
The mere mention had the other nearly recoil. One of his feet inched back to maintain the distance, though the surprise was quickly replaced with anger.
"I don't want to go about it like that," Pure Vanilla affirmed right after. "But you are starting to leave me with no choice. All I want is to just… talk."
Shadow Milk's fingers twisted into fists, firm enough to whiten the knuckles. How he wished to take these hands and reassure them—but today was not the day. He doubted such would ever come.
His mismatched eyes flicked from Pure Vanilla, trailing over the SUV momentarily.
"We can talk. Not today."
Just as Shadow Milk seemed decided on pushing the other off to access his car, Pure Vanilla already reached for his phone.
"Great, let me just get your new phone number, and your address, and…"
.
In spite of what Pure Vanilla was hoping for, scheduling a meeting Shadow Milk was like pulling teeth.
The first date he offered, just a day or two after they clashed at the parking lot, was rejected swiftly. Shadow Milk claimed needing to wait for the weekend, so the stress would not clash with the extracirricular activities of himself and the child.
Once the physician suggested something after friday, or even during, his messages were guiltlessly left on delivered until midnight.
He couldn't explain why he was even checking his phone up until so late.
Seeing that the other was intent on prolonging, likely in hopes to achieve surrender, Pure Vanilla decided to do the step himself. He informed Shadow Milk of his arrival during sunday, and was met with a begrudging acceptance in the spite of slight disconnect.
He felt hyperactive when the morning came. His leg bounced while sat near the TV he usually looked at over breakfast, his fingers shaking as they pinned the buttons of another one of his pristine shirts in place. Pure Vanilla's feet led him to pace about all the while checking the clock and even his grip on the steering wheel caused his knuckles to ache.
He was a busy man now—he was a doctor. But even he made time.
It was that thought which lingered on the journey, one strangely prolonged. Pure Vanilla's eyes flicked over the buildings, over the shops and the stalls which grew all the more scarce as he approached the border of the city.
The red lights hardly broke his concenrationm and before he could comprehend it, the tightness of the civilization loosened. He came to the outskirts.
Pure Vanilla drove by the houses that lined the mostly empty streets, his gaze beginning to linger on the distant forests. For someone so distracted, he could not name nor recall a single thought.
That didn't change, even when his car came to a quiet slow.
"You have reached your destination," the robotic, feminine voice echoed from his phone. Pure Vanilla clicked it off, slipping it from the front of the car to his backpocket.
When his hand reached the belt, he found himself staring some more.
The house, small but not enough to warant worry, laid like all the other houses. The mailbox seemed to have been ripping at the seams, with whitened papers poking out of it like spikes. Whatever bushes used to grow in the front looked dried from the warm season, and the washed out paint outside was stained by countless rains.
A click followed when he finally found the courage to leave his car, absentmindedly locking it behind. When his gaze shifted back to the building, one of the curtains behind a lower window shifted.
It wasn't breeze.
Sucking in a breath of courage, Pure Vanilla moved on. He climbed the shallow stairs of concrete and raised a fist but the wood moved before any contact was made.
Shadow Milk's face stared at him from beyond, hand on the hip, his hair undone.
The blackened strands fell over his shoulders, the ends of them darker, damp and not yet dried. It made sense with the slight droplets that seemed to have soaked into the fabric of the grey blouse and as Pure Vanilla's eyes flicked back to the other's, he found his brow arched.
"What are you waiting on?" he urged. "Take your shoes off. I'm not gonna hold the doors for you forever."
"O-oh. Right." Pure Vanilla broke the contact, leaning down to quickly slip off his footwear. He placed it evently at the side, watching the other's figure already retreat.
He walked in right after, noting the way that the doors pulled themselves to a close by themselves. The hinges must've been ran dry, with no one to repair them, because the lock snapped loudly in place.
Shadow Milk kept his back turned to Pure Vanilla as he went, expecting to be followed. The blond did not think to defy.
Folding his hands in front of himself, the physician let his gaze linger around. There was some landscape painting laying above the small TV, the sofa in the living room covered by some sort of a decorative blanket. Some dried plants hung at the sides among the cabinets fillwed with books and other trinkets, and if he did not glance downward, he might've not noticed the curled rug right beneath.
Pure Vanilla managed to step above it before it could cause an ungraceful fall.
The stairs stretched out at the side, though he could not peer further into the smaller space before he was led to the kitchen.
It was a narrow space, fitting a table and chairs at one side—filled with a appliances on the other. One of the windows was open, bringing rays to the fridge that laid at one edge.
The metallic surface was filled with colorful shapes, smaller and bigger.
"He is finishing his homework," Shadow Milk said abruptly, walking in the space he grew to know. He took a kettle over to the kitchen sink, readily filling it.
"Homework," he leaned back, the side of the table digging into his hip. "What subject?"
The other craned their head back at Pure Vanilla, and the question seemed unanswered. He wondered if it was from avoidance, or from lack of knowledge.
Reaching up into the cupboards, Shadow Milk retrieved two mugs and a single glass. He fiddled around with the boxes that laid there messily, pulling out a single bag of tea.
"So, who told you?"
Pure Vanilla's sight was torn from the tea. He mulled the question over, deciding that it was less likely to make a difference at this point in time.
"One of my friends. She is dating your… past acquitance."
The tea bag was dropped down into the cup. The kettle was already set.
From the furrowing brows, Pure Vanilla could tell that the other likely knew the culprit. Instead of addressing that, Shadow Milk let his frustration stew. He pulled a hairtie from his wrist, reaching back to the bundles of his hair to loop them with ease.
Pure Vanilla glanced to the drawing that was pinned on the fridge by a magnet. The silence was starting to seep under his skin, less than pleasant.
"Do you… think we should tell him?"
"Oh, like. Today?" The shorter looked over his shoulder, beginning to prepare coffee for himself.
"Well… It would feel odd to do it later. If we do it now, there won't be any awkwardness in the future meetings."
Shadow Milk scoffed. Oh, of course he would find this as an idea to be something easily negated. Before he could think to argue it, or offer one of this mediocre solutions to maintain the distance, Pure Vanilla asked the question that pulled at his sleeves ever since years ago.
"Did you end up becoming a professor?"
The other's shoulders rolled up, slight turn of their torso following. One of his bottom eyelids twitched, though it was only because Pure Vanilla still recalled how to read his language.
"You came here for the kid, so quit naggin' me with—"
The sentence broke with the quiet patter of footsteps.
Both of their heads tipped to the doorway. Shadow Milk, recognising the small shape of a hand that moved over the wallpaper, inched from the counter to the center of the kitchen.
The young child had stepped in. His eyes of blue and yellow flicked to Pure Vanilla shortly after, as if only now taking notice to him.
Milkshake's posture curled, but he addressed Shadow Milk regardless, even if shyly.
"Mama, I finished drawing," he murmured.
Standing there like that, Pure Vanilla was at a loss of how to make it less awkward. The child trailed to the other, tucking themselves behind Shadow Milk.
One of the other's hands patted at the boy's head.
"C'mon, no need to be shy," he muttered, not as harsh as usually. "This is Pure Vanilla, an… old friend of mine."
The physician straightened somewhat, hands folded in front of him to resemble harmlessness. Taking a step closer, he carefully leaned down, stretching his hand out to the tiny figure tucked behind Shadow Milk's legs.
"Mm, you must be Milkshake?"
The blond boy's head tilted slightly. Despite their hand stretching shyly forward, they still managed another muster. "…Vanilla Milkshake."
Pure Vanilla blinked.
Oh.
Oh.
"Nice seeing you again, Vanilla Milkshake." He shook the child's hand gently once they took it, letting himself straighten to his full height once more. Shadow Milk ensured he was facing away.
Giving them both little time to come to terms with the situation, the boy spoke again, lightly tilting.
"Mama, will your friend stay for dinner?"
The hand at Shadow Milk's side tightened lightly. "Of course."
Pure Vanilla didn't need to be good at reading people to know it wasn't a sign of something contented with the answer. Still, he accepted the opportunity where it came.
That only meant he had more time to familiarise himself. It was harder to find an opening for it than he initially expected.
"Well, adults gotta talk," the shorter moved lightly from the child, taking the clear glass from the counter. "Want some juice? You can go watch a cartoon, or somethin'."
The boy looked between the two. His face lit up, momentarily, as what appeared to be apple juice filled the container up. Then came a sigh, too wise for the age.
"But I need to sharpen my pencils…"
Pure Vanilla raised a brow.
"I will even let you drink it in the living room," Shadow Milk suddenly offered, lightly shaking the glass. It seemed he aimed to divert the child's attention, but the doctor already felt doubt tinge the already delicate situation.
It was the opening he was looking for—although small. Hell, barely one at all.
"It's fine," Pure Vanilla held a hand up. "I can help, right?"
Shadow Milk gave him a sharper glare, as if refusing to relent on the choice. There was very little time for the physician to decide, as it seemed the other was already thinking of ways to diver the child's attention.
Glancing down to Milkshake, Pure Vanilla placed his hands on his knees to lean down better. "I'm sure with our combined powers, the sharpener will not be able to harm us."
Vanilla Milkshake glanced aside to gauge Shadow Milk's mood but he was met with a dismissive wave at best.
"I just vacuumed, so don't make a mess."
The child already took the liberty of whisking the physician away with himself. Heading off to the living room, Milkshake led them over to the sofa. It was stacked with some pillows as before, the blanket spread over more comfortably by tiny hands.
Pure Vanilla glanced behind, seeing only the last of Shadow Milk's face.
.
Minutes feel like seconds when time is well spent. Back then, hours seemed like brief caresses of wind when the two of them were alone, but now the cause for this weird shortening was vastly different.
The boy—his son—caused the conversation to swim by smoothly. He mentioned the show he liked, the things he loved and disliked about school. There was an occasional silence caused by hesitation, but in the end, he opened from the comfort.
Somewhere between that and the time that the food was ready, Shadow Milk slipped into the living room, entertaining the boy with colouring books. A glare was responded to with a glance, and in the end, the difficult efforts made the softened ground for reveal.
"I finish them really fast," Milkshake muttered, holding up a thicker book. The edges were already stained with uneven markers, yet he exposed it as if it were a trophy.
"Maybe I should bring one next time, too."
Pure Vanilla's gaze flicked from the cover of the book to the side. Shadow Milk was right there, for the moment, at the other end of the sofa. He would undoubtedly get back up once the pots called for attention, but…
For now, he could almost pretend as if that's how this was always supposed to be.
"No promises," Shadow Milk intercepted, hands clasped together. "Pasta should be ready right about… now."
He slipped away with less grace than expected, and vanished behind the kitchen treshold. It took minutes for his head to peek out to inform the dinner was ready, and even if he likely addressed Milkshake only…
No, he could not let himself think such things. Pure Vanilla moved only when the smaller did, trailing behind the eager patter of feet. The kitchen light was already flicked on, and Shadow Milk busied himself with laying out the plates on the counter.
While Vanilla Milkshake made his way to the table with an eager step, the physician decided to try and help, at the very least. Maybe he came there as a guest to the naked eye, but there was a reluctance in letting that status linger. It shouldn't be that he was served food he did not pay for, around ones he felt he owed something to.
And maybe in some way it would've been nice to lean on the counter and assist anyhow. Pure Vanilla wondered if there was ever a chance he could join near the same pot, and work on the same meal—and bicker about it, but finish making it regardless.
He stopped shy of the other, but was met with a quick dismissal.
"The kitchen is my domain, go sit down."
Of course. Some things just don't change.
Pure Vanilla, quite like a beaten dog, slipped his way over, taking a seat to the opposite side of Vanilla Milkshake. The boy seemed to have been waiting quite eagerly. His legs swayed back and forth up on the chair, at the very least.
"I love when mama makes this sauce," he said, leaning his elbows on the table. "I get to eat it while watching my cartoons sometimes!"
If Shadow Milk heard it, which he likely did, he chose to say nothing. Pure Vanilla prompted for specifics, but was easily cut short by the plate that was clinked down in front of his face. The conversation was silenced as two other plates were put down, and the homeowner sat at the child's side.
A thing in the other's gaze told of the silence that should follow during mealtime. And yet, against these odds, Pure Vanilla found a way to carry the conversation. Perhaps it was spoken between mouthfuls of pasta and between an occasional wipe at the mouth but Vanilla Milkshake did not wish to stay quiet, either.
He spoke of his other favourite meals.
"But not mac and cheese… it's hard to wash off if I don't clean it immediately…"
The drinks he liked most.
"Too much juice gives you canines," he said as he scooped up pasta on his fork.
"Cavities," Pure Vanilla corrected, nudging his fork on the plate. He still had plenty to finish, curse the slow eating habits he was always berated for, but the other two looked as good as done.
Scooping up his plate, Vanilla Milkshake slid off the seat to skip to the sink. He managed to push up a stool to stand on, running water. He glanced at the stovetop in passing, noting the open pot.
"It looks like there won't be any leftovers this time!" He exclaimed, all too happy to reach for the soap. Slight sound of a sponge scraping against ceramics echoed and Pure Vanilla was left to trace his gaze back over to the table.
.
There was something tender and familiar, about the way Pure Vanilla laid the boy down in the bed. He pulled the covers over him soon after, taking a breathless moment to simply look.
He wondered how many occasions just like this he had missed, or if there would be any that he could regain in the future. The thought was bitter, unlike the tea he drank not long ago.
The shadow that was cast from the doorway lingered like a ghost.
Ensuring that the covers properly tucked Vanilla Milkshake in, the physician straightened anew. He saw Shadow Milk lean on the edge of the doors as he turned, but his sole move was to walk over.
Pure Vanilla closed the doors behind himself in silence, the other turning on his heel.
As far as he could see it, Shadow Milk headed for the stairs. In some strange, quiet recognition, he knew he ought to follow.
By the time that some of the lights around were flicked off, they both found themselves back in the very same kitchen. The pots were already put away to be washed soon, the main light turned down in favour of the smaller ones.
The evening was filled with a dim warmth of yellow, but Pure Vanilla didn't feel inclined to sit. There were things to discuss, moments to mention—he would be a fool to allow himself the relax.
Shadow Milk, on the other hand, was all too content to reach for the fridge. He fiddled with the contents for seconds, finally withdrawing with a red bottle in his grip. He tilted it lightly.
"Fancy a drink?"
"No," Pure Vanilla crossed his arms. "I'm driving."
"…Suit yourself, eh?"
"As long as you don't drink enough to say things you won't recall telling me tomorrow."
The shorter's eyes narrowed visibly, but he shoved the bottle back into the cold in the end, slamming the doors with an intent. Seemed as if the temptation to drink his mood away was cut short, and he settled on finding something else to sip on.
A cold coffee seemed to do.
Shadow Milk shifted to sit at the chair, his open posture almost inviting Pure Vanilla to do the same. Instead of yielding, lest they get distracted, he pressed back into the counter.
"Did you even plan to tell me?" He inquired, tone touched with something that tettered on neutrality. "Ever?"
"Not sure."
"Not sure?" Pure Vanilla raised a brow.
Leaning back in his chair, the shorter exhaled slowly. As if he was stretching his patience by doing so. "When should I even know that the time would be right?" Shadow Milk replied, shrugging. "Never, so…"
"The best time would've been when you first learned that—" Pure Vanilla sucked in a breath. A part of saying this just felt wrong on his tongue, out of shape and improper. "—that you were having my kid."
Shadow Milk's eyes moved away, and he brought the mug to his lips. As if the cold, stale coffee could somehow whisper to him an answer to the dilemma he created. But the deities of coffea plant were dead.
Seeing the strange opening to carry on, the frustrations slipped from the physician as fuzz does from a teddy bear that ripped at the seams.
"Is that the reason for silence?" He suggested, bit sharper. "You learned that you were…"
Pure Vanilla swallowed. It was not the time to falter.
"And decided to just… not tell me. Because dealing with all of this was the easier route—"
"Not like that." Shadow Milk interjected sharply. "You don't even know, so how about you quit assumin' and—"
"But what else could I assume, Shadow Milk?" He brushed his fingers through his hair, willing them not to stick to his face. He was growing agitated—hardly angry but noticeably frustrated. "You just… left. Without a word and I thought I must've done something. That maybe you grew bored, just to… to find about this."
Shadow Milk's fingers wrapped around the mug tighter, shoulders rounding in uncertainty. He'd leave if he could, but this was his kitchen and his very own four walls.
He was hardly given space to interrupt.
"And it's not as if I demand that you stayed with me, or even that you raised him with me. If you wanted to break it off, you could've told me. I would've even understood if it was someone else you desired, but—but at this cost?"
Shadow Milk couldn't meet Pure Vanilla's gaze, no matter how intense it was, no matter the narrowed eyes or the tight muscle.
"If you didn't want to be with me anymore—"
"I didn't say that." The mug was placed onto the table with a slam that resonated too loudly, hosting the built up irritation. Shadow Milk's voice snapped off the wall, but he quickly leaned his forehead on his hand. "I didn't—I didn't even know I was pregnant when you were graduating, for heaven's sake!"
Pure Vanilla felt as if the cold rush to his face was all it took to make his breath halt from confusion.
"…But then—"
"I mean, how do you imagine it?" Shadow Milk sneered, as if trying to make light of his own incoherence. He spoke with a disregard, hand thrown up carelessly—the chair sobbed when he pushed back to stand. "A teaching assistant, still fucking the graduate. Don't make me laugh."
It was as if the imbalance of the situation didn't even enlighten Pure Vanilla before that point. His brows furrowed, and he sank back into the counter.
"I never cared what that might seem like to others, you know that, right?" He didn't mean to let himself sound that outraged.
"Well, you didn't."
Pure Vanilla pushed off the stone countertop. his feet nudging him forward. His hand found the tables edge, and he tried to angle just enough to look at Shadow Milk's face.
"I don't understand," he whispered, urgent and harshened by impatience alone. "Why—"
"Ugh, you—" his mismatched eyes of blue finally snapped to Pure Vanilla. "Think!"
The physician quickly found it wasn't like Shadow Milk's usual theatrics. Before he could make an effort to spell it out for himself, the answer rolled like a stone from the heart.
"I mean, how do you imagine it? You were studying to save lives. You became a doctor," he blurted in defeat, leaning one hand on the table as well. Shadow Milk pressed his face into his other one, dragging it down his cheeks. "How do you think that would go, huh? I know you wouldn't have the balls to leave, much less focus on the things that are important, god damn it."
Pure Vanilla felt the heat in his face drain like water from a pot.
"I did what was the best choice, really. You should be thanking me." Shadow Milk breathed out. "There was no need to further complicate it when I learned you did, in fact, knock me up."
He wanted to interject. To say something—anything that could stop this outpour of blame.
The shorter just kept going.
"But I can't even blame you," he gave a laugh, humourless and dry. The dim light glittered against Shadow Milk's eyes from the strange gloss that was collecting, threatening to spill past the eyelids. "What did I honestly expect? I should've been more careful. So spare me all of your self-righteous nonsense. What's done is done, and what's important is—"
"You are important."
Shadow Milk's eyes widened. His lips parted to try and carry on his monologue but the sudden grasp at the sides of his shoulders forced him upright.
"Is that the issue, Shadow Milk?" Pure Vanilla urged, his eyes narrowing just a tad. And yes, he understood very well—the self-sacrifice, the difficulty of letting go by itself. And in spite of this compassion, he could not help the sourness that followed the sweetness. "Is that why you left? Because you told yourself you weren't important?"
"Hey, that's—"
"And then, what? You raised him alone, just because of petty pride?"
Shadow Milk swallowed thickly, his back pressed into the table with certainty. Pure Vanilla cast an unsteady darkness over him, a lenghtened silhouette that seemed tinged with anger by itself.
In any other circumstance, Pure Vanilla knew he would find himself forgiving—understanding, even. He could see the reason, past the facade, find the cause and then the cure. This time was different, if only because it wasn't the first time Shadow Milk decided things on a whim.
This entire theatre of vanishing wasn't the singular instance of the other doing whatever he pleased. He may as well be prepared to finally be cut short by someone who refused to bend.
"I would've—I could've helped." He mused. "Even if you didn't want me anymore. You are not the only one that's affected."
Shadow Milk averted his gaze, the guilt alone painting a pitiful image. Pure Vanilla felt his heart clench. He might've pitied the other but that wouldn't erase the sheer velocity of how fed up he was.
"Look at me when I am talking to you, Shadow Milk."
Stiffening his grip on the other, Pure Vanilla shook him lightly. He leaned closer until they were face to face, inches away. Guaranteeing proximity that would force the other to confront him.
Shadow Milk's brows narrowed with a twitch.
"You don't get to decide these things by yourself," he said, the corners of his lips downturned. For all he knew, Shadow Milk would continue ignoring the issue, just as he tried to do at the parking lot. It was that knowledge that truly, and utterly, made Pure Vanilla feel powerless. "Not if it involves others. Not if it involves my child."
"Your," He sneered, a defense as good as any. "I've raised him, so just because he has your DNA, or whatever—"
"Because you didn't let me." Pure Vanilla nearly exclaimed. "You don't get to pick and choose what you'll be sticking to—not anymore. Do you realise how twisted this has become? It's outside of just you and I, do you realise that?"
Shadow Milk could only round his shoulders, eyes flicking to look past the taller.
"How hard it must've been on our son? Do you know what I was thinking of these past few days?"
He didn't dare speak.
"I was busy trying to make this make sense in my mind. Do you even comprehend that this entire thing could've impacted Milkshake more than it did you?"
Shadow Milk's lip trembled, and he fought it to stillness with his teeth.
"Growing up without a parent. How busy were you to even maintain another person atop of yourself?" Pure Vanilla didn't mean for his tone to sound accusatory, for his syllabes to shatter and break apart. But this was not just about the other anymore.
"Do you know how it made me feel to know that you had to handle all of this alone?"
The shorter looked back to Pure Vanilla involuntarily, hearing the shaky sigh. Not quite letting go, the blond's fingers slipped lower on Shadow Milk's arms, to the elbows.
"Not just the pressure, but raising a child. By yourself. Your work, the other things you wanted to do—you don't get to just hide and blame me."
Shadow Milk sucked in a breath. "I don't—"
"And it breaks my heart to know you think you are not important enough for me to stay through that. Or maybe you just think I would've left regardless. Is that the kind of a man you think I am, Shadow Milk?"
Pure Vanilla's voice brushed the shorter's cheek, flying right past his ear in a warm breath. He wasn't let go, not quite, but the argumentative back and forth placed them at a proximity neither of them could've expected.
It was too late to slip free and change the topic. Something about this angered, insulted gaze that the physician held told of a decision set in stone.
"Because I'm not." his tone softened enough not to bite, but it still caused the shorter to stiffen. "I've thought about you since."
Shadow Milk shifted on his feet, eyes snapping shut. He was becoming afraid that once this delicate line would be crossed, he would do things he was likely to regret—maybe not really in unwillingness but simply because it felt outside of what was right anymore.
He tried to tip his head away when the edge of the taller's lip grazed his cheek, to free himself from the towering presence but Pure Vanilla's fingers readily caught his chin.
"You don't get to ignore me."
He watched as Shadow Milk's gaze dropped to his mouth then to his eyes again and the way he seemed to consider countless possibilities he preferred not to name.
Inching closer, almost magnetised, he felt the ticklish sensation of Shadow Milk's cheek on his lip.
"Tell me to leave you alone," Pure Vanilla said quietly. He only received the soft thum of a swallow in response. A hand came up, brushing the blond's shirt, almost as if the other was readying himself, lightly clinging to the material.
A waiting period of a few seconds was all the grace Shadow Milk was allowed. The very moment the blond inclined and their lips met, it was as if some sort of an ancient hunger came unsealed.
Pure Vanilla pressed into the other's lips in a timed kiss, mouth parting to catch Shadow Milk's, hands slipping down to grasp at the other's waist. He kept him pressed to the wood in the wake of this shock, an urgent hum was all he gave to encourage the other to reciprocate.
He didn't need to be asked twice.
Tangling his hands into the other's shirt, he leaned up to meet the exchange, eyes snapping shut. The kiss remained experimental only in the very first few breaths, quickly spiralling into something more fierce by Pure Vanilla's courtesy.
Shadow Milk rasped for a breath when their lips parted, immediately feeling the blond move down to his jaw, mouthing down its edge to meet the neck.
He sucked at it thoughtlessly.
"H-Hey—" the shorter had the guts to interrupt. "No marks—"
Shooting a sharper glare up, Pure Vanilla's teeth brushed on the other's skin. His lips latched down, and a small, shuddering breath left Shadow Milk at the sudden pressure.
No room was left for negotiation when the taller straightened, hands slipping to the edges of the waistband that held Shadow Milk's shirt in place.
"W-Woah there," he murmured, yet did not stop the other. "Quite hasty, huh—"
Pure Vanilla groaned. He caught the line of the older's waist to move him onto the table in a sudden movement. Taking the clue, his hand shifted to cradle the back of the other's head, tangling in the hair to tilt him with ease.
"You had your chance to back out," he mused decisively, inching down to the collar of his shirt. "You don't get to complain now."
With lips on Shadow Milk's neck once more, mouthing at it as if he were a vampire, Pure Vanilla pressed forward. Hardly any space was left between them, chest to chest, hip to hip, yet he still found ways to tug the other to himself.
The movement of the physician's hips was subtle, almost unnoticeable, spare for the distinct ache that was digging itself through the material of Shadow Milk's pants.
He had to bite his lips not to moan from the grinding alone.
"H-Haa… y-you always used to do this—" Shadow Milk tightened his jaw from his uncertain stuttering. "Before class, grindin' up into me like some pup—"
The kisses were paused, dreadfully yet intentionally, as if dropping a period in the middle of a sentence. "Keep talking like that and you won't be able to say a word when I am done with you, Shadow Milk."
Oh stars.
Pure Vanilla did quick work of pushing the other back—forcing him to lay out on the table like some sort of a meal, dressed yet tempting just by being there. The younger man fiddled with the hem of Shadow Milk's zipper in an impatience, watching the button pop down.
It gave enough time for the shorter to take a look at the lighting in the room, and he decided something unspoken.
A hand was laid over his suddenly.
"Not here—" Shadow Milk uttered with as much of authority as he could. Pure Vanilla's displeased frown sent some sort of a strange heat down his gut somehow. "I—I mean, c'mon. Can't tell me that's where you wanna do this?"
The physician arched a brow. A moment was left to consider—indeed, a kitchen table would hardly be an ideal place ro rekindle things that were buried in Pure Vanilla. It wasn't just longing, yearning, however else he could frame it.
It was frustration, it was anger, it was everything that would likely render the table entirely unusable in minutes.
"I was thinkin living roo—"
"Bedroom it is."
Giving no explanation, Pure Vanilla's hands suddenly swam under Shadow Milk's back, other arm bracing his knees. He was lifted as if he weighed nothing, but the suddenness had him grasping at the taller's shirt already.
"Hey, no— it's upstairs, and Milkshake—"
"You will just have to be quiet, then." Pure Vanilla scoffed, moving with no thought. He didn't even glance back at the items he left there, already turning from the kitchen to step to the stairs. "I'm sure you mastered this by now."
Shadow Milk frowned. "Stop pointing my mistakes out, damn it."
"Someone has to."
The physician's hands tightened on the other as they climbed the steps, mindful of his movements as he tried to navigate the dimly lit area.
He knew by then what was behind one of the doors, and he assumed the one's nearer would be a bathroom. Pure Vanilla headed to the very end.
"Come on," Shadow Milk said. "Downstairs is fine—"
Pure Vanilla scoffed, stopping near the doors. His side faced the wood so he could slide his elbow over the handle, prying the doors open just enough to slip inside.
He used his foot to close the entry as soon as he could do so.
The glance over the bedroom was quite brief, however. Just the wardrobe in the corner that he saw as he inched to the bed, some decor that he could hardly see.
Dropping the shorter down on the mattress with a measured gentleness, Pure Vanilla wasted no time in climbing up.
Shadow Milk shifted back just enough to get his head on the pillow, but the blond already set to sit between his legs, parting them with a decisive hold. He was between the headboard and Pure Vanilla before he could scheme a grand exit, and his fingers sank down into the duvet beneath.
The physician's hold slipped from his thighs, grazing upward to the line of his waist once more. His fingers pressed in to draw the shorter closer to himself in a statement that needed no words.
That brief, soft yet not awkward quiet, gave Pure Vanilla more time to look at Shadow Milk properly. His hair was lightly ruffled on the pillow from the movement, eyes hardly visible in the dim light of the evening.
Shooting his hand to the nighstand, he flicked the small lamp. Warm light graced each edge and contour with a soft, creamy click of the plastic and there came the time to stare even better.
Shadow Milk seemed less than pleased. "Ugh, can't be serious."
His hand stretched to the side, hoping to reach the wire and pull the plug, but Pure Vanilla was faster. He caught the other's wrist and pressed it into the softness of the pillow.
"I suggest you don't make me any more annoyed tonight. It stays on."
"No."
"It does."
"Doesn—"
The blond frowned, a twitch of an eyelid visible. It was the kind of a look that Shadow Milk simply couldn't recall from the past, yet one that held a degree of… certainty. No, that was an understatement.
Assertiveness.
Pure Vanilla's lips were easily anywhere. His teeth brushed the arch of Shadow Milk's neck, open-mouthed kisses cascading down and feeling the other's quickened pulse.
The physician pressed into him with a certain fervor, his breathing unsteady as he ground his hips into the other. His hands made quick work of grabbing at the little amount of buttons on the shirt that Shadow Milk wore, parting it impatiently to expose more of the collarbone.
"M…Mmm…" he muttered, mostly to uphold a sense of control. "Slow down…"
Grumbling something under his breath, Pure Vanilla tugged the material of Shadow Milk's top from beneath the low waistband, already peeling it upward.
A pair of hands suddenly bolted onto his sun-kissed hands.
"That stays on," Shadow Milk insisted, gaze flicking aside. "Haven't even taken my pants off yet…"
"It does not." What Pure Vanilla said was final. He sucked in a breath as his hands rolled the edge of the shirt, the bunch shoved right up to Shadow Milk's chest—
The shorter could do little as his midriff was exposed to the warm air, the line on his skin that he tried to tuck into hiding visible as starkly as a cloud on an otherwise blue sky.
Right above where his pants started, there was a mark of the past. A darkened scar that laid horizontally, maintained little and loved even less.
Pure Vanilla's gaze faltered, the sternness faded for a flickering moment.
"Shadow Milk…"
A caserean section.
He didn't need to say anymore for the shorter to avert his gaze, managing to pull the top down to decrease the shame by one of a tenth.
The silence would've been awkward, if not for Pure Vanilla's mind rolling through countless scenarios.
For one—such a scar is not standard procedure. He knew it, Shadow Milk knew it. It spoke not just of a hardship, but of danger, and in spite of the guilt that was already gnawing at Pure Vanilla like a vulture on a carcass, the only thing that grew was his frustration.
Aside from the strain right below his navel.
"See?" Pure Vanilla finally scoffed. "You made everything more difficult."
He plucked the shirt straight from Shadow Milk, ignoring the gasp as the material went over his head. It was easily discarded somewhere aside.
Being a doctor, he was awaye of the implications—the strain of childbirth, the danger to health. It just made him all the more angry, and it was as if that bitter simmer just added on top all of the other winces that accelerated his heartbeat.
Pure Vanilla's hand slipped down, knuckles shifting over the scar, hooking at the waistband of the pants soon after.
"Could've asked me nicely…"
The blond cocked a brow, undoing the zipper. He tugged the material right off Shadow Milk's hips. "Would you have listened?"
Shorter gave no answer when the material was slipped past his knees, shook off his calves, and discarded. Only once Shadow Milk was in the underwear did Pure Vanilla let himself pick it up where he stopped.
His hands braced at the sides of Shadow Milk's body, leaning in to capture his lips again. It seemed he slowed down slightly, fingers grazing at the other's ribcage, sending a shiver that collected in the other's shoulders.
Shadow Milk's fingers crept up the length of Pure Vanilla's arms, face tilting to allow more access as he held on. A single thigh moved to brace on the taller's waist.
It did little to keep Pure Vanilla in place.
He mouthed down at the edge of Shadow Milk's lips, cheek, jaw—tenderly sucking on the side of his neck. Hearing a hitch of breath, he moved even lower, up until he could pass the sternum.
It seemed that this is where Pure Vanilla's stop was, warm mouth pressing lingering pecks to the side, grazing at Shadow Milk's nipple.
The attention to detail was bound to make the shorter squeamish.
"H-Hey—" Shadow Milk let out a quiet hiss, fingers sliding from Pure Vanilla's shoulders to his head, tangling through the creamy locks. "Thought you'd grow out of it—"
"Out of what?" He questioned, taking the time to nudge the soft skin into his mouth, the nub easily hardening when he gave it a sudden suckle.
He heard the distinctly shuddering breath.
"Mh..mhm… all that…" Shadow Milk tilted his head back, a hand pressing to his hip to still him. "You'd always do that, just can't settle for something quick…"
Pure Vanilla hummed around the nipple, letting it go with a pleasant, wet pop. He kissed down right underneath it. "And you always pretended to hate it."
His lips went lower, to where the ribcage ended and the softness of the midriff started. Shadow Milk tightened his hold on his blond locks all of a sudden.
When their gazes met again, he was unable to tell the blond why. The way that his eyes flicked away fast was a telltale of its own.
"You have nothing to be ashamed of," Pure Vanilla murmured, wiping his lips by mouthing at the side of Shadow Milk's thigh. ttered, bitter. "Aside from doing everything in your power to suffer alone."
"That's… not—"
"Well, that's what I see. You will let me do things my way now."
Shadow Milk sucked in a breath, the softness of Pure Vanilla's lips suddenly brushing at the edge of his scar. It felt ticklish when he moved over the tissue, humming an incoherent praise, before dipping lower.
Hands came to the sides of his thighs, parting them just enough for the physician to make himself comfortable.
It wasn't as if they hadn't done this before. Things changed. He changed. The strange sensation wasn't something that Shadow Milk was willing to express, resorting only to looking away.
Pure Vanilla caught it fast, however, the corner of his lip pulled up. He pressed his cheek to the heat of the inner thigh, pressing a chaste kiss right at the top of his mound.
"So pretty, but so stubborn."
"Less talking—"
"I missed seeing you like this."
A kiss trailed down, to where the petals of Shadow Milk's slit started—Pure Vanilla's lips parting to nudge his tongue between. He made a show of swiping it upward, feeling the other's thighs tense from the teasing sensation.
"Hn…"
"You liked it back in the day…"
He set to answer right away. "O-Obviously, but—"
Pure Vanilla pressed in, his mouth snugly enclosing around his clit, stealing both breath and words. Mean enough to not let Shadow Milk finish his sentence, he suckled on his aching nub, hands digging into the shorter's hips to still him.
"H-Hha… y-you—" His fingers tightened on his hair but Pure Vanilla didn't budge. His hum vibrated on Shadow Milk's clit.
There was no time given to adjust. None of the frustration dissipated, leaving Pure Vanilla to get it out in different ways. He heard the way that Shadow Milk inhaled with a sharp drag, using the opportunity.
Pure Vanilla suddenly increased the pressure, drawing in the other's sensitive nub tightly—lips rolling against it in spite of the suction. A shuddering sob was all he heard in response, thighs clamping around his face in defense.
He hardly stopped, not until he saw the other twitch, eyes half-lidded and glossy when he tried to push himself up on the bed.
Just in time to truly be cruel, Pure Vanilla let his lips part with a pop, leaving Shadow Milk to groan from frustration at the orgasm that was not granted.
His arm went over his face to cover up the heat that pooled in his cheeks, lips open in a scowl.
"Don't give me that look," Pure Vanilla mused. "You hardly deserve it."
The blond pecked at the cesarean anew, fingers slipping up from the hip to the waist.
It laid there for his eyes to see, and for a brief moment, it gave him the sequence of thought he didn't wait for.
Pure Vanilla didn't understand his irritation, spare for whatever hints of it he received. Seeing Shadow Milk’s body stretched in front of him like that, tempting and maybe reluctantly inviting, he was slowly realising the true cause.
His touch came lower, a thigh pulled open wider as he leaned over the other better.
"Have you been with anyone in the time apart?" He asked, tone neutral enough to warrant suspicion. Shadow Milk blinked away the gloss, reluctant.
"No," Shadow Milk mustered. "But don't big yourself up over it."
Pure Vanilla’s head tilted, locks framing his face as he hovered near the other's face. He was already dipping back to Shadow Milk’s shoulders, fingers tracing the edge of his leg, lightly brushing the folds of his heat.
"No?" He mused. "Are you just saying that so I go easy on you?"
Shadow Milk hissed, an answer cut short by the tingling sensation. Pure Vanilla’s fingers brushed through the other's warms petals, slipping past the clit—down to where the other was embarrassingly slick.
"…No," he mustered.
"Good."
He left lingering kisses at the top of his shoulder, fingertips rubbing into his arousal, slipping past the treshold of the entrance with an ease. Pure Vanilla bottomed up to the knuckle, fingers hooking to rub just right.
Shadow Milk’s breath hitched, brows knitting together as he closed his eyes anew. Pure Vanilla always dragged it on, but for the first time, he was almost glad for it.
There was a certain sharpness as he set down a sudden nibble on the other's skin.
"M-mm-"
But Pure Vanilla wasn't quite listening. His fingers ground in deeper, the palm of his hand pressing up to Shadow Milk’s clit to ensure friction. His digits withdrew by an inch, sinking back in quick, shallow thrusts.
He could almost dismiss the wet echo or the shudder beneath.
Ah, how many moments like that had he missed? Not just being with Shadow Milk—kissing him as if devouring him.
Pure Vanilla’s brows furrowed lightly, his teeth inching up his neck.
How many events passed by without his notice? Their son's birthdays, the school, the kindergarden. The child's first words and the first times they played with toys they have never seen before.
It was that slow realisation that allowed him to know what truly pushed him out of character today.
He gave little mercy, pads of his fingers digging into Shadow Milk’s heat each time the sickened whisper of thrusts followed. He moaned something incoherent, clinging to Pure Vanilla—taking his judgement, taking his punishment with grace.
How many doctor appointments has he missed? Why did he never get to watch Shadow Milk bloom with the pregnancy?
Why was he left out of seeing Shadow Milk waddle about?
Why was he not permitted to help the other through this hard time?
It were all the things he missed and could only hope to make up for. In the end, it was not his fault—
Pure Vanilla bit the other harder before he realised that his mind was setting him ablaze more, feeling the other clench around his fingers.
The muscle of his forearm was growing tight from the relentless pace, he didn't even know when he set it.
"Pure Vanilla—" he whined, back arching. He was hiccuping some nonsense, thighs twitching from the imminent high. "G-mngh… p-please please please—"
He was so close. Pure Vanilla clicked his tongue.
Shadow Milk whined out when his fingers suddenly withdrew, the pressure on his clit vanishing in an instant. All of the wonderful aching he was subjected to was tugged from him, and he could do nothing but dig his fingers into Pure Vanilla.
"Stars, stop—" he urged, shifting on the mattress. "Just… just let me come—"
"The only way you'll be coming is on my cock," Pure Vanilla said, sitting back to take a better look.
And most woefully of all, he regretted that he did not get to see Shadow Milk pregnant.
His fingers went to remove his own shirt with ease, undoing the buttons in a way that teased very little. The moment he was able to, he pulled it over his head, already reaching down for the belt.
He was hard and aching and they both knew why.
"Not even that. Maybe you shouldn't come at all."
Shadow Milk complained something incoherent, the sound quietening when Pure Vanilla finally's hand lowered, pulling the zipper enough to reveal the hardness that bulged out his boxers.
He gave the shorter little time to admire the shape or the distinct edges of his abdomen, freeing his cock with a quiet hiss, wrapping his hand around it to soothe himself anyhow.
"Don't… be cruel." Shadow Milk whispered.
Inching closer, the flushed tip of Pure Vanilla's length scarcely brushed between the slickened folds. The warmth had him shudder, but he leaned down to the other anyway.
"You haven't seen me cruel yet."
The physician leaned just enough to press his member into Shadow Milk’s entrance, giving off a delightful sigh as he inched in, the soft twitch of the other not going unnoticed.
Single hand came to hold onto the other's hip, decreasing the distance with a faintly sharper thrust, the smaller's face contorting in a relief.
"You are sucking me in as if you were hoping I'd shove you in your place," Pure Vanilla breathed, a slick hicc breaking through when he finally bottomed out. "Mm… you feel delightful…"
Whatever restrain the taller had to not grab the other and manhandle him was fading, almost slipping off the table of posibilities entirely. Pure Vanilla ground into him, watching him archas he hovered down enough to grasp his chin.
The shorter steadily glanced aside, a whimper following at the insistent nudging of the other on his cervix.
"Open," the blond muttered.
"Mmmhm…"
"I said, open."
Shadow Milk's jaw widened, a thumb pushing on his bottom lip to aid him. "D-Don't get so corny—" he tried to muster, but his mouth was easily caught in yet another kiss.
The taller's grip tightened marginally, fingers moving back to tangle in the back of Shadow Milk's hair. Once Pure Vanilla made sure his hold was secure—he doubted he would have the patience to set the other straight anew—he withdrew his hips.
"H-hn-nh…" Shadow Milk felt noise slip into the kiss as he was thrust into anew, the pace set in sureness.
Everything was warm. The skin-to-skin of the other's thighs, the moans that slipped out of him each time his cock dragged through Shadow Milk, even the duvet beneath seemed to make the heat worse.
Stopping for a breath, the older pulled aside to break the kiss.
"M-Mm," Pure Vanilla hummed in protest, fingers tightening on the other's scalp to pull him right back, devouring his lips in spite of the oxygen that was slowly trickling out of his mind.
But the mild pace was already working to drive the physician insane. Unsatisfied with just that, he offered Shadow Milk a harsher thrust, catching the pleasured cry onto his tongue.
By the time he did relent on the nuzzling, he heard a sharp intake of air.
"W-Why do you always take this long—" Shadow Milk all but whined, impatiently curling his fingers onto him.
He did not like the tone, nor the accusation.
"Let me enjoy what you are due," Pure Vanilla tugged on the other's locks, watching his neck present itself. A soft groan spilled when he snapped his hips forward. "H-Hhh—You deprived me of… of so many times I could—could've been doing this—"
"A-Ah-"
He snapped into Shadow Milk again, brows kniting in concentration. The feeling of the other snug around him like that was already making his mind go sideways, to the places he likely would not dare consider sober.
Stars, no, maybe he would, but not like that.
"Could've b-been kissing you—" he mustered, hand tight on the other to the point he might've bruised. "Selfish—you're so damn selfish—"
Shadow Milk's hips twisted, the insistent, growing pace having his abdomen tense. Amidst Pure Vanilla's self sufficent talk and all these whispers which were meant to degrade him, he found his body aching more.
"M-Mm… Please pleasepplease… I'm s-so—"
"Fuck—" Pure Vanilla winced, dismissing the slight creak of the frame beneath. He never got to watch Shadow Milk grow further as a person, never got to help him in this situation—
Never got to live together, never—never got to watch him pregnant—
"Y-You feel so good it's almost as if—as if you're trying to milk me." He hissed, his knuckles aching. "Maybe I should come inside you, hm—or you w-won't come—"
Shadow Milk's lips parted, but it was only to whine. He gave little coherent reply, fingers dragging down the other's back.
"I bet you—you looked so good swollen with my child." He muttered, the low of his abdomen tensing. Oh he could only watch Shadow Milk's eyes gloss over inrecognisably, but it only further spurred him.
He wasn't shoved. Or denied that right, for that matter.
"D-Don't ssay such—hHaa~ thhings—"
"Mm, 's true—" Pure Vanilla leaned enough to suck at Shadow Milk's jaw. "M-Mm— I'm c-close—"
"Pplease— please please—"
Oh he could almost see it now; how the other would look right now if he were to be swollen again, round with a new life. And as a doctor he found the thought beautiful—but as himself, he could only feel his cock twitch urgently.
"Nh… 'm g-gonna cum in you and get you all round again, hm-m?"
Shadow Milk whined. He clenched—he was so close. So near.
"G-Give our son a sibling, you—cruel…"
He thrust into him harsher right before Shadow Milk suddenly cried out, hips stuttering unevenly as he choked on the air. His heat clenched all around Pure Vanilla involuntarily, and that was enough to have the taller shuddering.
"S-Shadow Milk—" his voice thinned, and the whiteness of bliss exploded in his vision before he realised it. His his bucked into the other shallowly as he groaned, the warm tightness utterly pulling the pleasure out of him as he filled the other, as deep as he could. "H-hhn—"
The pleasure brimmed, both from the abstinence earlier and the longing that seemed to have culminated in this very moment. Pure Vanilla released his hold with an unsteady breath.
When he finally had enough courage to pull back, his eyes softened fractionally. Shadow Milk's arms remained dropped above his head, his thighs still spread and still full of him. He blinked away some gloss with a pleased hum.
Pure Vanilla was reluctant to withdraw. In the end, he pulled back (as much as he wanted not to, to really ensure that his goal was met), letting himself slide to Shadow Milk's side.
He wrapped his arms around the other's waist as soon as he could.
"We still have to talk later," Pure Vanilla muttered to put it on the record. He heard a soft scoff in response, followed by a kiss of a quiet.
Nothing but their breaths steadying and their hearts slowing.
"Did… you mean all of that?" Shadow Milk finally asked, turning his head over slightly.
It felt… good to be in the same bed again.
Too good.
"Yeah, but…" he traced a finger down the shorter's stomach. "That's… something other to discuss."
Shadow Milk muttered whatever came to mind. "I've always had a feeling you wanted to knock me up, even back in college."
With his eyes widening, Pure Vanilla could only offer a sheepish, almost a shy smile.
"You… weren't wrong."