prismatica | text | un: fantasma

bet i can

and if i cant i'll owe you one, yeah? knight's honor and all

well well well
i'll keep that in mind

hurry up
i got the place to myself and i'd better make use of the time

shut up

[But he's there fairly quickly, because he'd left not long after the first text. So knock-knock, hello, looking a little tense as he rubs the back of his neck.]

[The door opens, and Abbacchio is there waiting. His usual black nails are instead black claws, fur lining down his neck. It's also terribly hard to miss the large, fluffy tail he has going on.]

Hey. [Abbacchio is definitely purring.] Come on in.

[His eyes flick up and down his frame, a swooping gaze that lingers just a little too long on those claws.]

. . . hey. Nice tail.

[It's slightly stiffer than usual, his body rigid in face of Abbacchio's ease.]

So, uh . . . what kinda music would've made somebody fail that part of the questionnaire?

[This is going great.]

Rap. I fucking can't stand rap.

[sorry not sorry narancia]

Hey, don't worry. I won't scratch you. [The look he gives Polnareff can only be described as smoldering. He drags a claw up Polnareff's chest, then turns away to go back into the apartment.]

I mean, unless you're into that kind of thing.

. . . maybe not at first.

[Maybe he doesn't have to talk about this at all. Maybe they can just go and make out a little and see where things go and never, ever talk about it. Yeah, he thinks, shutting the door behind him, yeah, that's perfect.]

Couch or bed?

[Now that gets him curious. Abbacchio's smile sharpens, white teeth showing between dark lips.]

Bed.

[He really wants to see where this is going to go.]

[He's scowling faintly, he knows, which isn't great, but he has to do this one thing at a time. Walk to the bedroom first, aware of Abbacchio behind him. And then turn a little, face him, wait til he's close before taking his wrist and pulling him in.

So it's a kiss, swift and hopefully allowed to be completed, because maybe he can do this if he just doesn't think about it too much.]

[Well, this is considerably more than he was expecting out of Polnareff. Mr. I'm Not That Way, definitely not at all into men.

Abbacchio hums against his mouth and opens his mouth, pressing himself flush up against Polnareff's chest to deep the kiss, smearing his lipstick.

Definitely way better than the last time. It helps he isn't getting drained to hell now.]

[This is the second time they've kissed, and maybe he's not getting that extra zing from last time, but it's still real, real far from lacking. Abbacchio kisses filthily, aggressively, making it so all he can think of is what's happening, what he wants to happen next. His hands settle on his hips, fingers curling to lift his shirt a little.

He's still not that way, he knows he isn't, and this is just-- it's just helping out someone, that's all, it's nothing more than that, right? Yeah, no. That excuse won't last too long afterwards, but at least it's propelling him forward now. He walks back blindly, heading for the bed, til he feels the mattress bump against the back of his legs. He's not quite ready to let go in order to sit, see, and that's only barely because of his need not to discuss this.]

[There's a pleased little purr on Abbacchio's lips with Polnareff's fingers teasing up his shirt. It's not enough, and he knows he's being greedy and selfish with it, but he wants more.

He doesn't ask for permission. He's shoving Polnareff down onto the bed before he goes to sit in his lap, leaning back in to get back to kissing him. It's so nice and he wants as much as Polnareff is willing to give him.]

[Shit but that's hot, hot and new, he's never had a girl do that before, holy shit. He blinks up at him for a moment, just half a second, before they're kissing again. He's quicker this time around, his hands shoving his shirt up as high as it'll go. Then it's his turn to break the kiss, just a moment's pause so he can yank his own shirt off. It's tossed to some unseen part of the room, and then he's darting up again, fingers wrapping around the back of his neck to yank him in close and keep him there.]

[There's something in the back of his mind that wonders why Polnareff chose now to cross this bridge -- but fuck, that's not his problem, so he just appreciates that he's being dragged back into the kiss when Polnareff shoves his shirt off. He reaches up, dragging his claws lightly down Polnareff's neck, but in no way intending on piercing skin.

He gives his lower lip a playful tug before he's pulling back, licking his lips. Yeah, okay, he looks really damned good right now, lips all messed up from his lipstick. Abbacchio peels off his shirt, letting it drop back to the floor before he's eagerly pressing back in, giving a roll of his hips.]

[Shit those nails feel good. Terrifyingly so, because they really are that sharp, but it's the kind of terror he's enjoying. His hips jerk up in response to that little tease, but though he badly wants to, he doesn't go for Abbacchio's trousers just yet. That's a whole 'nother step, and he's doing the best he can.

Like this: like grabbing him by the waist and turning them both, shoving him down flat on his back on the mattress so he can crawl over him. Legs braced on either side of his hips, grabbing his wrist to pin it to the bed, and there's a real need to the way he bites at his throat. It's Cordis' time, sure, but there's a part of him that clings to the driftwood of at least being the man in this encounter.]

[In most cases, honestly, he's used to being the controlling party -- which, frankly, does not actually meet with Abbacchio's preferences anyway. So, finding himself flipped over onto his back with Polnareff biting at his throat does bring an honest groan from him.]

Well-- shit. You're really throwing me off my expectations here.

Guess you really are full of surprises.

[He squirms under Polnareff, arching his back. Shirtless now exposes his torso -- which includes the fist-sized scar on his abdomen, which mars his skin on his back as well.]

[He's still not like that, a thought that keeps niggling at the back of his mind, an insistent little caveat that he can't quite forget. But at least he's no qualms about who his partner is-- god, no, there's about three people he'd wanna do this with, and Abbacchio is one of them. He's dizzying, challenging without being dangerous, and maybe that's just what he needs right now.

He does pause as that scar is revealed. Is that what Kakyoin looks like? Maybe. God knows they all of them have scars, although the ones littered over his body aren't nearly as large. His eyes flick over it for a few moments, but he's got more important things to focus on. More important people, and he rocks his hips down, kissing him hungrily. He's desperate for more, but the slow, steady grind of their hips is enough for one. Sort of. It's something, anyway, as he gasps softly and breaks the kiss.]

So you wanna revise that opinion? Oh, JP, you can't give me what you want, you wanna change your tune now?

Tell you what. If I get what I want, then you get a real apology out of me.

[But fuck, he really is pleasantly surprised. For all of Polnareff declaring that he doesn't like men that way, he's definitely pushing himself. But that's not Abbacchio's problem.

He slides up a leg, rubbing it up against Polnareff's before hooking around his hips, hugging their hips close.]

Show me what you're made of, huh?

[He inhales sharply, because it's been nearly three months and he still hasn't gotten laid, and that's not even including how long it's been before then. Months and months, and fuck, but Abbacchio feels so good beneath him right now, all coiled strength and searing heat. There's a certain savagery to the way he looks, his lipstick smeared and his eyes bright, something that makes Polnareff all the hungrier to consume.]

You keep--

[He interrupts himself, diving down to nip at the line of his jaw, pressing heated kisses against his pulse.]

--running your mouth.

[One hand fumbles between them, tugging at the fastenings of both their trousers, shoving his own low on his hips so he can free himself. Sitting up, he stares down at him for a few moments before edging forward.]

Keep it open, yeah?

[Because he's going to sit close enough to drag the tip of his cock against Abbacchio's bottom lip. Just to start with, to see if that's okay. It's okay. Right? Yeah. It's fine. It's not gay unless the balls touch, probably. It's fine.]

[Gladly, he wriggles out from the leather of his pants, but he pauses when Polnareff gets ballsy enough (no pun intended) to inch up to press his dick against his lip. If anything it just makes him give Polnareff a curious look, his eyes heated.

Opening his mouth, he slides his tongue over the tip of Polnareff's cock. Even after, he keeps his mouth open, practically inviting Polnareff, keeping in mind his words. Keep it open.

Fine. He will.]

Fuck . . .

[It's breathed out as he straightens up, rising just slightly. Fingers wrapping around his dick, he presses down slowly, watching the slick slide of his cock against Abbacchio's mouth. And then further in, pushing into his mouth proper, his eyes locked on the other's, because he won't forget with whom he's doing this.]

That's-- mm, not, not bad to start, but you can do better.

[His gradient eyes peer up at Polnareff, sharp and interested. He'd say something in return, a biting remark, but his mouth is terribly occupied.

So he opens his mouth more, teeth carefully tucked under his lips before he leans up a bit, taking more of Polnareff's cock into his mouth. His tongue rolls under the hot dick in his mouth, unconcerned with the girth.

Grabbing onto Polnareff's hips, he tugs at him, encouraging him.]

[It's fun to taunt while Abbacchio can't retort, if only to watch the way his eyes widen and narrow, utterly entranced. But fine, if he can take it, then they'll do it like this: with one hand braced on the backboard and the other knotting in Abbacchio's hair; with his hips rocking forward at a slow pace, dipping in deeper at each pass; with his mouth dropped open and his breath hot as he pants out his approval, sweat already shining faintly on his skin, the lines of his body highlighted as he fucks Abbacchio's mouth eagerly.]

Like that . . . you're a lot more agreeable when you've got something in your mouth, you know that?

[There's a pleased groan rumbling around Polnareff's dick. He loves that kind of talk, he really does, even if he's usually the kind of person to scoff and bite back -- but his mouth is full so he all he does do is just take it and take it.

Abbacchio reaches around, squeezing Polnareff's ass, fingers digging in. He feels spit running down his chin, making a modest mess, but he can't give a damn about it.

Abruptly, he does move his hands to stop Polnareff's hips, his eyes narrowing as he peers up at him. Drawing his head back, he comes off of his dick with a lewd pop, then drags his tongue over the head. Giving the tip a light kiss, he opens his mouth and starts take his cock back in again, dragging Polnareff close until his nose bumps against his belly.

Then, he lets go of his hips, letting Polnareff decide what he wants next.]

Christ.

[He swears softly, the word starting as a curse and ending in a moan. God, he knows even now he'll be thinking of that for ages to come, his cock twitching and jerking even as the show continues, as Abbacchio grips his ass and takes him entirely in. Fuck, and honestly, honestly, it's a wonder he doesn't spill down his throat then and there. But this is too much fun to end so soon.

His fingers fist tightly in Abbacchio's hair, and for a long moment he does nothing but linger there, his body trembling slightly, his eyes wide and locked on the sight of him. His lips wrapped so firm around his cock, the wet trail of saliva and precome dripping down his jaw, his eyes so dark-- god, and he swears again as he draws his hips back slowly. It's just to watch the slow slide of Abbacchio's lips, the lewd, wet noises he makes as he moves.]

'S like you're made for this.

[It's absolutely a compliment, breathed out as he rolls his hips forward a little, fucking his mouth lightly.]

Fuck-- you look so good doing it, fuck, Leone--

[It's an acknowledgement of who he's doing this with, and that's a big thing, for him, at this time. But god-- he draws back wholly with enormous effort, til the tip of his cock is dragging against his lips.]

You wanna fuck me? Or let me come like this?

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