prismatica | text | un: fantasma

[Does he jerk up just a little when Abbacchio smugly lays possession on him? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it's nobody's business if he did or not, maybe it's getting to the point where his posturing's overtaken by pure pleasure.]

Like I won't f-fuck you once you're spent? Gimmie more credit than that.

[Anyway, he's almost there-- god, how couldn't he be after the way Abbacchio sucked him off, he'd have to have nerves of steel. Just a little more, and he jerks his hips up hard, chasing after his finish hungrily.]

[He likes the idea, that Polnareff would just fuck him through that -- but it's just an idea, which is quickly evident when shortly after he feels Polnareff finish. Not that the sensation is unpleasant, but fuck, he's so close himself, it's frustrating to not quite meet that peak.

Without giving Polnareff more than a minute to bask, Abbacchio is lifting his hips up, letting his cock slide out.]

Gimme your hand. Just-- put your fingers in me. C'mon.

[He could do it himself, but that's not what this is really about either.]

[Stupidly, it's that which makes him balk, just for a second, if only because it's suddenly so much more than it was a second ago. But in the next moment he's slipping his hand between his leg, two fingers slipping up deep into him, curling sharply as he stares up at Abbacchio, trying to read what's best.]

Yeah?

[His wrist snaps, his other hand bracing firmly on his thigh.]

[It's filthy and a mess, come slipping out of his hole, especially when Polnareff presses his fingers inside. It's muffled, but there's a squelching noise, which makes him shudder as he tries to grind down on Polnareff's fingers.]

Close, m'close--

[It takes just a bit of angling his hips and he feels Polnareff's fingers rub over the spot deep inside of him. He whines, his hips bucking--]

Fuck. [He strokes his dick harder, faster, almost frantic.]

[God, it's so, so tempting to pull his fingers away, just to see how badly Leone would fall to pieces. He'd shatter, whimpering and mewling for what he isn't getting-- or maybe he'd do the opposite, maybe he'd just take his pleasure forcibly, and god, but that'd be hot too.

But no, not this first time. His fingers jerk up faster, trying not just to bring him to the edge but shove him right over it, his eyes locked on him all the while. He'll come over him, he realizes belatedly, but right now that doesn't sound so bad. Messy, just like all this is, just like his own come slipping over his fingers, filthy-wrong filthy-perfect.]

C'mon--

Come for me, why don't you?

Ahh-- shit--

[Maybe it's the words of encouragement from Polnareff, or even being fingered just right, but whatever it is he's finally coming, coming hard, come running down his fingers and splashing over Polareff's belly.

He lets out a sigh, bracing a hand against the bed, just barely keeping himself up so he doesn't collapse right on Polnareff.]

Mm.

[Oh, god, and he slumps back, his hand dropping. He's covered in come, and he doesn't know if he finds that hot or off-putting, but it doesn't matter. He's already starting to feel that dazed, sleepy post-orgasmic haze, and indulging that is more important than anything.]

Hey.

[He says it quietly, blinking up at him, with his claws and tail and presence, male and very much real.]

Pretty okay, yeah?

Hm... yeah.

[Slowly, he finally brings himself down to curl up next to Polnareff. It's fairly catlike, his tail slowly twitching as he lets his head lay on Polnareff's shoulder.]

I take it back. Pretty good...

[He rubs his cheek a little against Polnareff's shoulder.]

What made you wanna come here and do that?

[Oh, hello, this is happening, and it's not something he'd ever ask for, but it's not that bad. Kind of cute, honestly, and he curls his arm around him, fingers sliding down the notches of his spine.]

I--

[Hm.]

Been looking around a while, that's all. Everybody does it.

[What a piss-poor explanation, but he's gone all rigid, so maybe this is harder than it sounds.]

It's not . . . it's just a thing here, it's not . . . nobody looks twice no matter what you do, or who you do it with. It's not like home.

Not everybody fucks someone the same gender as them, JP.

[His tone is very flat, but the hand down his spine is... hmm. That's soothing and it's nice. So instead of getting agitated, his tail flicks a little harder before he's settling back down.]

So what, you wanted to experiment?

I don't care if that's the case, but I don't want to hear any fucking excuses either.

Listen instead of snapping at me, asshole.

[He doesn't rise up, though, and his fingers don't stop.]

I'm saying I've . . . it's not a thing that people do at home. So it's not something I did. I like girls, I do, but I--

[Christ, and he exhales harshly, shoving a hand through his hair. It's flat anyway.]

I go both ways, all right? It's not-- believe me, it's not an experiment, I know what I am. I just don't . . . I never could at home.

[Abbacchio clicks his tongue; he's halfway tempted to be snide, tell him that's not what Polnareff told him before -- but he gets it. This sort of thing isn't easy to deal or process. He was already an outlier for enjoying his makeup, so the sexuality really didn't help his case either.

Not that he cares. Abbacchio is a complete fuck up in other ways, but not that.]

Some people play it safe. And I get that. I never could; that was something I didn't think I could lie to myself about.

Anyway. Here, nobody gives a shit. Which is a bit different than usual for both of us.

[There's no sneering accusation, or worse, no triumphant laugh or spiteful revenge (would Leone do that? No, but this is so new, so frightening, his heart in his throat and a thousand suppressed thoughts formed over a lifetime). Polnareff exhales slowly, a long breath, as the tension, if not leaves him, at least melts a little.]

Yeah, no kidding.

[He stares up at the ceiling, his fingers tracing pointless patterns against his back.]

I woulda fucked you that day, you know. If it hadn't gone wrong.

Yeah, and I bet you would've felt real fucking good, too.

[He shrugs, closing his eyes.]

If you weren't sapping me dry, I would've let you. But I was kinda under the impression you were straight.

[Abbacchio doesn't mean it accusingly either. But it's whatever. Sometimes it isn't easy for people to even be open to that.]

You and everybody else.

[And that's just the way he wanted it once. It was easier. He was busy chasing after Geil; who had time for a sexuality crisis? Way easier just to push the thoughts away, and if he noticed this guy or that, well. Nobody said looking was a crime, right?

And now he's here. He's here and it's normal, nobody cares, nobody looks twice, and it's not like he couldn't fight the world if he had to, but there's always a part of him that clings to what little normalcy he can carve out for himself. He likes watching sports and drinking beer and being ordinary, because the rest of his fucking life is so insane.

And now there's all this weird shit, and his bed partner is someone whose organization he advises in thirteen years, and he's got a tail, so why not just lean into it, right? Why not fuck him, or anyone, in face of all that? There's a line you have to draw, some arbitrary point where you just stop caring anymore.]

I'm just . . . me right now.

[Whatever the hell that means. He shifts, lifting his hand to comb it through his hair, tugging lightly.]

Hey, asshole, don't fall asleep. You think I'm done after one round?

[Is that a joke? Maybe. He definitely wants to kiss him again, though.]

You're the one who told me I'm not like that.

...But I get trying to figure yourself out. Or... I dunno. Wanting to convince yourself you're just like everyone else. It's safe.

[He got over that sooner than a lot of people is all.

Abbacchio's eyes open, and he smiles crookedly.]

Oh yeah? You got another in you for me?

[He's leaning over, pressing a kiss, lightly tugging on Polnareff's lower lip.]

[Maybe later they'll talk about it. Almost assuredly he'll text him at 2 AM some night with a whole list of questions, stupid and profound both. But it's way easier to just throw himself into action than to think, and so he wraps his arm firm around him, pulling Abbacchio atop him, so he can tip his head and return that kiss firmly, til his mouth is aching once more.

It feels good, is the thing. Chroma exchange aside, it just feels fantastic to be able to indulge like this after weeks and weeks of questing.]

You got another in you? I fucked you pretty good just now. You think you can take me twice?

All right, don't let it get to your head. You're the one who came first.

[He teases, mostly. Honestly, he doesn't really care who went first.]

You said something about wanting to fuck me over something?

A table, maybe. The bed'd work too, but I wanna see you spread out, you know? Hands flat on the table the whole time.

[That's not the only thing he wants. He doesn't know quite how to word this the right way, but god, he wants to blow him. Just a little, just to see what it's like.]

Think I could get you to go for that?

Kitchen could work. Or my vanity desk if you're feeling kinky about the mirror.

So yeah. I could go for that.

text | un: fantasma

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