trying on a metaphor
Kiana Khansmith
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
#extradirty
No title available
Jules of Nature
⁂
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
ellievsbear
almost home
dirt enthusiast
$LAYYYTER
Three Goblin Art
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Discoholic 🪩
Misplaced Lens Cap
Mike Driver
No title available
ojovivo
KIROKAZE
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Albania
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Jordan
seen from United States
seen from Jordan
seen from Malaysia
seen from Singapore
seen from Germany
seen from Türkiye
seen from Australia
seen from Russia
@noah-divided
[DATABASE SMS: Reply to "Noah"]
It’s not like I want it, so it’s not a ridiculous request I’ll actually be making. Although I think that I should maybe be hurt.
You always think you should be hurt, you shit head. Such a sensitive bitch.
Alright, I'll see you tonight. Maybe locate your balls before I get home. I do pay for your cock services, after all. lol
[Direct Text] Reply to Photo Comment by "Fuckhead"
Yeah nothing soothes my soul like being hit below the belt.
Be sarcastic all you want, you're the one who agreed to date an insensitive shit. I was like this when you found me, remember. Your own fault.
[Direct Text: Reply to "Noah"]
You will never, ever catch me saying this again—by dear fuck you’re adorable.
I’m sure you could be persuaded to say it again. I am rather adorable, after all.
Christ. Why do I bother.
[Database SMS] Reply to Photo Comment from "Noah"
Suing yourself?
No you idiot, suing you. And Phoenix, probably.
It's a pretty penny to ruin my reputation.
I’m trying not to be, It’s just.. easier said than done. But, I think I’m getting better? Maybe.
You have been, actually. [A smirk] Slightly. [His grin is wry and lingers, eyes flashing with amicable teasing] But you have your moments. You were startlingly cocky when I fucked you. Well, cocky for Ezra, which is probably the equivalent to modest, for me. But still. Maybe you just need my dick again, [he teases]
[DATABASE SMS: Reply to "Noah"]
Please, they’re already basically giant phalluses anyway.
First you insult my vocabulary and now you say I’m not grand - keep digging yourself deeper.
Hahahaha. I can practically HEAR you pouting through the phone. For fuck's sake, Goldilocks, keep your panties on. You're grand, with a suitable vocabulary and a fucking marvelous cock. Happy?
Shit. Your mail order strap on vagina come yet? lol
[DATABASE SMS: Reply to "Noah"]
Ah yes, I resign myself to your peasant brutality.
You could. Or you could just call me a whore.
Can I not to both?
And I like the sound of my whore, better. As it turns out, there's a huge difference, and having you on reserve is it. Whoda fucking thunk, right?
[It’s undeniably true. He couldn’t have normal, and neither could Noah. And he didn’t want it, which is why he’d come here, chosen this - he’d run headlong from anything even remotely resembling normal and stumbled across this, across Noah, in his flight.
And he feels a little bit more at ease now that he’s turned the mirror to face Noah, now that he sees his own discomfort in the lines of Noah’s face. Tension bleeding out of him, his lips quirk up at one corner, hand reaching out and smoothing down Noah’s hip, grabbing and grounding.] I know. I knew.
[And he doesn't mind, not truly, that Parker's asking—despite his discomfort, he doesn't mind, because he doesn't mind a lot of things that Parker does, that he usually would mine were it anyone else, were the situation any different. That being said, he still prefers to veil his compassion for the blond with a reactionary response of irritability, even if it's transparent, because it's easier, to be that, to be classically 'Noah' then to present himself as vulnerable, or emotionally accessible.
The hand on his hip is grounding, and he appreciates it, wants to sink into it, lean into the touch, but he refrains, holding his ground, unwilling to make himself small. He's weak too often with Parker, and even with Parker, Noah still has a limit. He's almost uncomfortable with the frequency with which he's been openly sensitive with the escort now, but it keeps happening. It shouldn't be a bad thing, he knows logically it isn't terrible, but nonetheless he can't shake the nagging feeling of anxiety that comes with it.
He rolls his eyes, but there's a twitch of a grin on his mouth.]
Then why do you make me say it, you conceded fuck? [Insults to convey affection. It's a usual, between them.]
Outside Influence | Parker and Noah
[Parker’s hands that curl into his sides, drifting over the divots of bone and skin, make Noah shift somewhere behind his ribcage. It’s a touch he’s familiar with now, and yet somehow still finds startling. Because the slide is always gently fond, and the way they settle, curl and grip remind Noah of how often it seems that Parker is trying to keep him, capture him and reserve him for himself. It’s interesting, this pull and push and though they certainly haven’t got a perfect handle on it yet, the banter that’s between them never seems to cease, even in moments so soon after vulnerability. Actually, perhaps especially so, as that seems to be a tactic they both use to get over something difficult, something less comfortable and at arm’s length.
Parker’s laugh brings a final sense of ease to Noah’s tense muscles, and he smirks in return as he’s told to shut up. Their affection always lies oddly placed. He says nothing, only cocks a brow in the silence as if to draw attention to the fact that he’s done as suggested, and he rocks up to the balls of his feet to find Parker’s mouth under his own, arms twining around his shoulders.
It’s with a quick hop—and he’s smug to note the startled tensing of the blond’s body—that he lands himself with legs wrapped around Parker’s waist, kissing him heatedly but leisurely.] Bed. Now. Good boy. [Another lingering smirk, which he drags across Parker’s mouth, as if too impatient to interrupt the kiss.]
[His teeth dig into his lip, stifling a bark of laughter as Noah - for once - does what he’s told, almost smug in his teasing obedience, his pointed lack of words. And he feels no trace of anger now, nor snarling defensiveness, not lashing out because he’s caught out and insecure, unable to hide behind the bravado he typically wears so well. It’s all given way and given itself over to heat, falling into this familiar and easy physicality, both a way to reaffirm their connection and a seeming reward for not digging in, squaring off, drawing blood.
Noah catches him by surprise. springing into motion and body colliding with his as he jumps up, Parker’s hand hooking instinctively under his thighs, lips working against Noah’s with new heat, grin pressed against Noah’s mouth at his words, at the orders passed into his mouth with a tease and a smirk, a stinging bite to Noah’s lower lip the only response he gives as he does as he’s bid.]
fin.
Witching Hour | Noah and Parker
This didn’t have to feel different. He didn’t have to let it. It would’ve been easy to pretend, to lull himself into a false sense of security with the fiction that tonight was like any other night, that it wasn’t the beginning of something new and terrifying, uncharted territory he thought he was content leaving unexplored. He could pretend that it was just a job, clear-cut and uncomplicated as the first time they fucked, that Noah could leave him feeling like he was cut open, secreting poison from the well of anger inside of him, deeper than he had ever imagined, but that it would be okay, because in the morning he’d be gone. He’d be putting it all under wraps again, burying down deep, black and festering hurt that he tried to never let see the light of day.
He was practiced at self-delusion, he could do it easily. Could lose himself in the feel of Noah’s mouth, the push and pull of their bodies against each other - could ignore the way that it had already begun to feel familiar and, more than that, craved. But it was, Parker’s lust for Noah warped and twisted and specific, because Noah had someone become more than just a warm, willing, and paying body to fuck, more than just a conduit for anger he’d never owned up to. He’d become someone real, someone that Parker wanted more of, more glimmers of his vulnerabilities, of truths given out so rarely, the catalog of his hurts that had made him this way, had shaped and whetted him into sharp and cutting angles, a blade that anyone would cut themselves on if they tried to hold onto. A blade that Parker was grasping with both hands.
Maybe, ultimately, someone that Parker saw hints of himself in. Of the basest and most reactive parts of him, concealed under bravado made of smiles and humor, of evasions and lies, a whore’s false confidence. Because Noah was hurt, Noah was snarling, Noah was angry - and parts of Parker were to, parts that clamored for recognition. And they were both scared, he could see that too, could see it in the way that they’d agreed to this in the first place - wild eyes and short breath and grips tight enough to bruise. Outside of the constant sparking and thrumming of their physical connection, nothing was easy with them, because they were too caustic, too secretive, too afraid of connection for this to be simple, for it to go smoothly. It had been a battle to get here, because Parker had started by trying to push Noah away, a panicked reaction to Noah getting too close, to seeing or wanting too much, and had ended up pulling him back instead. And maybe Noah was braver than he was, or maybe just more used to asking for and getting what he wanted, because while he’d been willing to walk away from Parker, to storm off when Parker had snapped, feral and defensive, that Noah was nothing more to him than his money could pay for, he’d also been willing to ask for this - to want Parker, to want him here, to want him close. To have him, and to try something that was maybe doomed to fail, to implode in on itself.
He didn’t have to think about it now, but it was hard not to. Because he had a key and his belongings in the bedroom down the hall, waiting for him to unpack, to settle in and slot his things in alongside Noah’s like they belonged there, like Parker belonged there. Because no matter who else he might sleep with, who might hire him, he’d be coming back to Noah afterwards, because Noah was now something constant in his life, because he had chosen this and wanted him there. And it all coalesced into a pit in his stomach, twisting and gnawing, telling him that while he didn’t think it was a mistake now, that could change so rapidly. And he’d given up some measure of his defenses, so that realization would come too late, would come after he’d been hurt - because Noah was close enough to strike out hard and fast and immediately, close enough that Parker didn’t have a hope of defending himself against him, against pain accidental or intended, or against Noah worming his way deeper.
"And here I thought foreplay was for old fuckers who took forever to get it up." There’s a breathless edge to his banter, alcohol and arousal and the unknown, fingers twisting in Noah’s hair again, smirking as he bucked the petulant and wordless admonishment of Noah batting his hand away, twisting and tugging at the dark and unruly strands as he encouraged Noah forward, smirk fading and giving way to a stuttered out groan as Noah swallowed him down.
Hand in Noah’s hair, he guided him backwards as he shuffled closer, moving with a modicum of composure and grace, drunk as he was, knees threatening to buckle with the heat and suction of Noah’s mouth, greedy and consuming, nothing held back. His knees hit the mattress, caging in Noah’s torso as he walked them upwards, pushing Noah back until his shoulder blades hit the mattress, Parker’s knees on either side of his shoulders, hand wrapped around the base of his skull to fuck into Noah’s mouth, the hot and eager swallow of him, the combination alcohol and heady arousal making him freer with his words and reactions, babbled out strings of curses and hitching breaths, “Jesus, fuck - your mouth.”
Noah had given himself to a lot of men.
But he'd never been touched. Not really. He'd never allowed for it. He'd been nothing but hard edges and a hot mouth, bony corners and a tight hole, asking for it. No, demanding for it, but he'd never been touched, never been human. He'd turned himself to stone, rutting and lifeless and unmoving and though every cheating, angry thrust into his body had made him feel more alive, more real under his cold, clammy skin, he'd never let himself truly feel. Never played connect the dots between physicality and mentality and he'd never, ever let anything resembling emotion become a factor.
The only thing he'd cared about then, was both remembering her face, and forgetting it.
So never, in all his months of handing himself out on chilly, autumn nights in the shadow of tool sheds or in the stick of bathroom stalls, had he ever truly been had.
But Pheonix was already taking Noah in a skidding, horrifying way and Noah didn't even know his name.
Already, he was not only bending over, but lying down, and sure he did so snarling, he did so with spitting, acrid direction and demands and played the part of being in control so well, but in the end, Phoenix was owning Noah in a way that Noah had never intended, not even when he'd kneed him in the gut and told him to man up and take him already. But this kind of taking he hadn't been able to predict, and he'd found himself defenseless by the time he realized it was happening. Eyes wide shut, far too late.
He was somewhere between drowning in the feeling and floating far away from it, when Pheonix curled sure fingers behind his neck and walked him backwards onto the bed, knees crawling over him, body limber, taught, and edible over Noah in a way that Noah was more or less powerless—just the way he liked to be. The force behind the young man's cupping hand, the earnest and unforgiving thrust of his hips into Noah's throat—they were things that had the Master grunting around a thick cock that he somehow wanted more of even though he was already taking enough to make him gag a time or two. But he wasn't complaining; he'd never complain about it, because he was so fucking aroused by the confidence with which the escort was fucking his mouth, that Noah, in this moment, was the closest to submissive he'd ever felt. Relinquishing of power, if only for a couple minutes, because his snarling askance for rough hands and selfish hips was no longer necessary. Phoenix was moving on his own accord now, taking in ways and times which Noah hadn't even suggested, and it should have been terrifying that Noah was watching the control slip from his fingers, but while a salted head scraped the roof of his mouth and sensitive back of his throat—it wasn't.
Not yet, anyway, not while he was this powerlessly taken, this blissfully forced to forget and think of nothing but the rich musk of the blond's coarse curls, but the healthy girth of his pitching prick. Nothing but the sound of him, breathless and pleased and praising Noah's mouth like it was something to worship.
Because damn, fucking, straight it was.
Outside Influence | Parker and Noah
[He wonders if this will ever get easier. If he’ll ever be able to have conversations like with this one without feel raw, abraded, like a layer has been scraped off his skin. Maybe it can’t - not for him, not for Noah, not without some kind of divine intervention or them actually learning to cope with their issues (and maybe, really, divine intervention is the more likely of the two). Wonder how many conversations like these they’ll have, conversations that feel momentous but that really only take them miniscule steps forward, laboring along the path to feeling secure with each other, less hissing and defensive at any perceived threat.
But maybe they’ve already gotten better at it. Because this conversation had gotten heated, sure, but it had come back to this. And he’d talked more than he’d gotten defensive, more than he’d exploded, words flying around like shrapnel. And Noah had listened, and Noah had come back with him, and they’d reached some kind of tentative understanding of each other. Productive, almost shockingly so.
And he doesn’t know if Noah feels as relieved as he does, but the lips he’s nipping at are stretched in a smile, the clash of their mouths familiar and comforting in its heat.]
Please. With us, I’m pretty sure all roads lead to fucking. [He says archly, hands playing along Noah’s sides, up over the hollows in between his ribs, petting over taut skin and protruding bone, thinner and more fragile than his glare and spitting personality would have one believe. His grin widens to match Noah’s, head ducking down in a laugh that’s amused and a touch incredulous, before his hands curl around Noah’s ribs, gripping his chest tightly on either side as he pulls him back in.] You can shut the fuck up.
[Parker's hands that curl into his sides, drifting over the divots of bone and skin, make Noah shift somewhere behind his ribcage. It's a touch he's familiar with now, and yet somehow still finds startling. Because the slide is always gently fond, and the way they settle, curl and grip remind Noah of how often it seems that Parker is trying to keep him, capture him and reserve him for himself. It's interesting, this pull and push and though they certainly haven't got a perfect handle on it yet, the banter that's between them never seems to cease, even in moments so soon after vulnerability. Actually, perhaps especially so, as that seems to be a tactic they both use to get over something difficult, something less comfortable and at arm's length.
Parker's laugh brings a final sense of ease to Noah's tense muscles, and he smirks in return as he's told to shut up. Their affection always lies oddly placed. He says nothing, only cocks a brow in the silence as if to draw attention to the fact that he's done as suggested, and he rocks up to the balls of his feet to find Parker's mouth under his own, arms twining around his shoulders.
It's with a quick hop—and he's smug to note the startled tensing of the blond's body—that he lands himself with legs wrapped around Parker's waist, kissing him heatedly but leisurely.] Bed. Now. Good boy. [Another lingering smirk, which he drags across Parker's mouth, as if too impatient to interrupt the kiss.]
[DATABASE SMS: Reply to "Noah"]
If I did, it’d just be to see how long you’d last before I fucked you out of character.
You seem to be under the impression I'd actually comply to that kind of ridiculous request. I have way too much pride for that.
[Direct Text] Reply to Photo Comment by "Fuckhead"
Yes, Noah, it’s all I dream of. Being a glorified fuck toy.
….who apparently gets verbally abused. Shut up you love it.
I could say the same to you. Shut up, you love my verbal abuse. It soothes your maudlin soul.
[DATABASE SMS: Reply to "Noah"]
Maybe I’m curious to see what you’d come up with, all horny and frustrated.
Oh fuck you my vocabulary is magnificent. It’s not my fault if you’ve been too preoccupied with my cock to notice.
You mean a cock sky scraper? Oh yeah, my boss would love that.
I was rather inferring to the fact that I can't imagine you ever grand enough to be benevolent. Big shoes to fill. Your vocabulary only took a hit for the sake of my mockery. You can tell it I send my apologies. Innocent bystander.
[DATABASE SMS: Reply to "Noah"]
You can’t stop me, I’m on a roll. Besides, hitting me is such a peasant’s response.
Depends on who does it. With you, guilty.
You're the one fucking the peasant.
"With you, guilty." I could frame that confession.
Well, Superman had super speed didn’t he? [Kieran cocks an eyebrow,] you give me one instance where super speed is a good thing whilst getting fucked. That’s why you’s never screw Flash either.
And to which would usually say; what’s wrong with the wall or the floor?
Precisely. I'd more go for the Hulk.
Absolutely nothing. The wall or the floor rank high on my list of must-frequently-dos. In fact, I'm so fond of them you'll find I have a whole slew of walls in my apartment. Imagine that.
They should give you a Peabody Award for that.
… no one ever said ‘hung as a goat,’ though. And if you ever call me Goat Boy, I will strangle you in your sleep.
My existence demands many awards, honestly.
[He laughs] Alright, fair. I'm not so on board with calling you 'Horse Boy' either though? It sounds remarkably unflattering for someone I'd so willingly fuck.
