Reverse Jake: > Pounce boyfriend.

[fightingcargos]

[You never thought you would be the kind of fella who would stand idly by while someone beat the crap out of your heart's darling. Turns out, you're not! You're the kind of fella who beats the crap out of said darling himself.]

[You leap into Dirk's personal space, guns ablaze, and attempt to make up for his superior speed with your superior firepower.]

Take THAT you studmuffin!!

Comments

[sickheartbeats]

Vulcan brain, maybe.
Vulcan hair, no fucking way.

[You appreciatively run a hand up one very, very bare thigh and think that this is going extraordinarily well. Your fingers pass a distinctive tan line and you're suddenly smiling like a total moron.]

Since you've already got me down here, mind lending me a hand?
I'm all for equality in the nudity department.

[fightingcargos]

Jesus not at all.
Tilt your hips up?

[sickheartbeats]

[You comply, thighs tensing and back arching and yeah, that should do it. You don't even try to pretend you're not making a show of your jeans-clad legs right now.]

[fightingcargos]

[You discover that it is difficult--as difficult as you expected, even--to get into Dirk's trousers.]

[You undo his belt with a clink of metal that makes you shiver, feel the tension behind his zip, and end up having to look away so you can focus on things that aren't THE HOTTEST DUDE IN THE WORLD'S BONER. You shimmy his trousers down, sliding down his body as you do so and, at the end of it, coming face-to-head with exactly what you WEREN'T STARING AT.]

[You lick your lips without thinking.]

[sickheartbeats]

[The look on his face is both hilarious and illegally hot and your breath actually pauses for a second. Then you kick your pants off the couch the rest of the way since he seems occupied.]

[fightingcargos]

I...
May i...

[sickheartbeats]

[Half of you wants to make him use his goddamn words. The other half is perfectly aware that whatever he's got in mind, you'd tell him to go ahead anyway, and perhaps now is not the time to be a pain in the ass.]

You don't have to ask, dude.

[fightingcargos]

Oh.
Gosh.

[You crawl back up him, watching his body unfold before you like a pristine beach, or an unexplored jungle. Or...]

I feel... like youve given me first choice on a box of chocolates.
You know?

[sickheartbeats]

[You can't help it. You want to roll your eyes at him, but it feels half-hearted. The twitch of your mouth, however, is so genuine you don't even notice it happening.

You strain up to kiss his lips, fingers locking onto his hipbones, rubbing and tracing.]

[fightingcargos]

[You kiss him back, your hands on either side of his shoulders to keep yourself up and away from anything too sensitive just yet. You lower yourself on top of Dirk slowly and deliberately, wanting to feel every inch of contact as it happens.]

[sickheartbeats]

[Keeping your body relaxed is all you can attempt to do not to arch up into him, turn your shiver into a shudder, but he's bare and close and so heavy and good you don't have to wait terribly long. His mouth muffles a breathless sound you make before you cut off the rest and flex your fingers.]

[fightingcargos]

Mmmm...

[You bring one hand between you, brushing down his chest, stopping only at the dip of his hipbone in tacit question.]

[sickheartbeats]

[He's still not using his words AND you gave him a blanket go-ahead all of two minutes ago, which is reason enough for you to very decidedly not encourage him with words. It would figure you wouldn't get yourself to stop teaching him lessons even when you're both technically on equal ground.

You do, however, shiver again and mouth a couple of slow kisses over the corner of his lips.]

[fightingcargos]

[You curl your hand into a fist, steeling your resolve, before reaching for him.]

Jake: > Reach for him.

[You can't stop the little sigh from escaping, nor the little exclamation, as you wrap your fingers around its length:]

Oh fiddlesticks.

[sickheartbeats]

[Your mind blanks for a moment before going into overdrive analyzing HOW ODD IT IS compared to your own touch, no smooth heat against your palm to distract you from the sensation, and you conclude that all the masturbation in the world wouldn't prepare you for the thrill of not controlling this touch.

You interrupt your own revelation with a soft snort, because fiddlesticks.]

[fightingcargos]

What? What is it?

[sickheartbeats]

Just fiddle-fuckin'--ah--sticks.
Wow.
Don't you dare stop here to freak out,
You're good.
You're
All's good.

[You're babbling. You are a babbler. You wish you had a pillow to pull over your face.]

[fightingcargos]

[You can't bite back the beaming smile that inspires. It's busting out of you like a floodlamp.]

[You twist your hand, slightly, bringing your thumb to the head in the way you like on yourself.]

[sickheartbeats]

[You keep watching him even though it's almost too fucking bright in here, and that's probably because your pupils are blown wide as a stoner's.

You can't not look at his face. It is of capital importance that you see him react, focus on that, let your body handle the rest, and it pretty much does because you're twitching in his hand.]

Dirk: > Breathe out.

[fightingcargos]

[You exclaim, almost in surprise, at feeling his pulse though the heat in your hand. You stroke him slowly, trying to memorize the slide of skin. Before long, however, your instincts kick in.]

To hell with this.

[You lick your hand wetly and go to town.]

[sickheartbeats]

[You laugh and moan at the same time, letting your head drop back so you can even breathe at all, and you figure that is just what you signed yourself up for. Jake being impossible and somehow, it feels indescribably good in ways it shouldn't. You decide at the speed of light that you don't care about shoulds and shouldn'ts.

Before long, your hands find their way back to squeezing his buttocks. You're not very good at keeping them idle.]

[fightingcargos]

[You laugh and wiggle under his hands, kissing his mouth and his cheek and his neck, wherever you can reach--which is everywhere. Dirk is letting you explore.]

[Gosh do you love exploring.]

[sickheartbeats]

[His laugh is liquid reassurance -- not that you were freaking out, mind -- that this is not a big deal, you're best friends, you work together and this will be awesome. His enthusiasm, too, is something you're discovering you're kind of a sucker for, and when did that happen?

You want to touch him all over, so you get started on that, bright-eyed and flushed and nerves humming, but the sight of him helps you focus.]

[fightingcargos]

[You find yourself doing a fair amount of staring, both at his face and at his body. You try to even out your attention between both, and it's a challenge that you TOTALLY LOVE.]

Jake: > Map out his chest with your tongue.

[sickheartbeats]

[You let out a shuddery sigh as his mouth moves over you and reach up to thread your fingers into his hair, stroke it back, fluff it up, but you don't steer him. It's freestyle night.

Your other hand dips under the curve of his ass and anchors him closer.]