thinking fondly of your dissociation buck fic... i hope he is doing better <3
he is not :) he's crying and he has a headache <3
He didn't think it could get worse. He woke up what felt like ten years later, with a pounding headache. He groaned into Tommy's armpit.
Tommy jumped a little. ”What's up?” his voice sounded deliciously sleepy, but Buck wasn't in the right headspace to appreciate it.
”My head hurts.”
”Where do you keep your stuff?”
”Cabinet next to the fridge.”
Tommy gently eased out from under him and pressed a kiss to his forehead. ”Be right back.”
While he was gone, Buck breathed into the sheets. If he didn't move, maybe it wouldn't hurt as bad.
He heard the rattle of the Kirkland Signature five-hundred count bottle, before Tommy entered the bedroom.
”Did you get hurt?”
Buck held out his hand, eyes still closed. ”Please.” The bed dipped, as Tommy helped him sit up. He only opened his eyes long enough to locate the tablets and the water bottle, swallowing two. ”Can you get the acetaminophen, too?”
”Yeah, sure.”
He used to be more cautious, but after everything, his kidneys were the least of his concerns. Tommy handed him the other Kirkland Signature five-hundred count bottle. Buck swallowed two. Pain management was part of the job, but he could feel Tommy's eyes on him.
”Broke my ribs a while ago,” he muttered, eyes closed again. ”They still hurt sometimes.”
He followed the sound of the bottles being moved to the nightstand. Maybe his senses were coming back. ”Give me your arm?” He rubbed his palm along the length of Tommy's forearm. It felt real enough. When he touched his own, it felt dull.
”Better?”
”Not really,” Buck said. ”Can you?” Tommy took his arm and rubbed firmly. Forearm first, then up his bicep and shoulder. ”I'm not sure I know what it's supposed to feel like.”
”It's not the best way to gauge it anyway,” Tommy said.
His head felt too heavy for his neck. He held on to Tommy, afraid he'd tip over if he didn't. Carefully, he lied back down. If he didn't move, maybe it wouldn't feel as bad. He closed his eyes tightly, while Tommy lied down beside him. The movement of the bed wasn't nice.
As the movement stopped, Tommy touched his thumb to the skin between Buck's brows. He flinched at first, not expecting it. ”Sleeping didn't help, did it?” Tommy asked quietly.
”No,” he muttered, and turned his face into the bed. Tommy rubbed his back.
i keep thinking, if i was buck, this is what i would want to happen, but i'm adding these lighter bits in there, and i know that's realistic. you can have the worst day of your life and suddenly you notice your sock is inside out, and even though you're in a crisis, the only think you can think about is your sock — but if you've never been in a situation like that, you might not get it. which is not my problem, but i worry too much about the audience sometimes.
I was just feeling so weird and googling things like “why don’t I feel right?” And realized I was dissociating so hard and then I opened up tumblr and your fic popped up.
This is a weird way of me saying that I felt so incredibly seen in such a heartbreaking way and i absolutely loved the fic. Tommy grounding Buck was so sweet and was exactly what I needed to hear to help me grip a bit more onto reality. It was such a beautiful story ❤️
I started dissociating in 2020. With lockdown and everything, I didn't have access to help. I went online, but got no answers. "I don't feel real" doesn't yield much of anything. I was afraid and alone, and ranting about it online. Someone responded, calling it depersonalisation. Having a word to look up helped some, but most search results are about personality disorders, not dissociation as a symptom. I thought I was losing my mind, so it did help knowing what it was.
It took years for me to get a handle on it. I'm no longer afraid I'm in psychosis and I no longer have panic attacks when it gets intense, but it's still something I deal with a lot. It always feels special, whenever I come across dissociation in fics (which is not often).
It's a theme I keep coming back to in my own writing. Writing about it makes it feel less scary and more... normal? Dissociation/depersonalisation/derealisation is intense and an incredibly lonely experience. As much as it helps me to write about, I also hope I can make other people feel seen, so I'm glad to hear that you did <3
hellooooooo only if you want, can you talk a little about some of your teen wolf wips? i want to hear all about them :)
i will write you an essay :) (not really, but probably)
i write (usually) some combination of stiles/peter/chris. i know i have an older folder with older teen wolf wips, but i don't know where that is lol
update: i wrote too much and got shy :)
so! i love that chris and peter knew each other as kids, in some capacity. the hunter/creature dichotomy is so good. pressure from both sides to not associate and what that meant for their relationship is so intriguing. as an old man enjoyer, the two of them reconnecting all these years later, after all the tragedies they've both endured — i love when people connect, when they're old and jaded. like, yeah, you knew me when i was young and full of hope, and now i'm not, but all the parts you liked are still there, even though some of them look a little different. delicious.
what i write about, is typically "stiles left after high school and returns for [reason]." he's always changed drastically. i imagine all the trauma catching up to him, and him crashing and burning and likely dropping out of college — if he went at all. stiles has always been my guy. i love the tragedy of the friendships falling apart and stiles losing the people he spent all those years looking out for. like derek and peter being the only ones left alive, stiles gives me the same feeling. he tried so hard, but in the end, no one looked out for him. he's still so young, but he's all alone, drifting aimlessly — which peter/chris picks up on, when their paths cross. and they don't help him, exactly, they're just there. there to listen and be present (which is help in itself, of course). when your life is falling apart anyway, why not fuck your ex-best friend's dead girlfriend's father, you know? (and his weird on again/off again (also dead, but not) boyfriend?)
i have a couple of stories where stiles is sober or in the process of becoming sober. sometimes he relapses because beacon hills just sucks in every way imaginable.
(a lot of the stories are quite fragmented, which is why i'm not doing outright summaries.)
another flavour i love to write, is outside observer. chris/peter (often together) take note of stiles' behaviour and talk about what they think will happen when the kids leave for college or wherever they're going. i have one where peter is convinced stiles will go off to college and discover he's a dom, which they laugh about a lot, because baby doms are cute.
and daddy kink, of course! chris/peter being mistaken for stiles' father and stiles playing into it/laughing about it/turned on/embarrassed. yes, i've called you daddy in my head, but you said it out loud and made it (too) real.
gotta love a teenager seeking solace with a much too older man, because he feels jaded enough to look at an old man as a peer :)
i have one very specific au. stiles is a vocalist, who's been cycling through bands for a number of years. during one very sweaty summer tour, he runs into chris, who works behind the scenes, and peter, who is in a legacy band, who is way too good to be on the tour. stiles is on a downward trajectory, dealing with the usual substance issues and unaddressed stuff. mentally, he's already on to the next band, not caring if the current one throws him out or not. chris and peter, being veterans in the scene, observe him over the course of the summer and keep looking at each other, wondering, "who's gonna catch this kid? is it us?"
i think my favourite flavour, is stiles getting involved in whatever psychosexual thing chris and peter have going on. stiles is still in high school, but he has internet access and he has some ideas about himself and what he's into, but actually participating/letting himself respond to chris/peter coming on to him feels icky in the shame sense. here are two grown men who clearly know what they're doing, and then there's stiles, and why would they involve him in this (even though he gets week at the knees when they push).
i also have a sprinkling of pwps, because i am a (dom) top stiles truther :)
did that answer anything? i think this got away from me
i always feel weird talking about things that i'm not likely to finish, but i've been browsing some of my non-bucktommy wips, and i'm sad to say i think my favourite daddy dynamic i've ever written, is stuck in a modern setting steve rogers/natasha romanov wip :/
it's a great story, but i think i'm lacking the drive to do much with it — which happens a lot. i discover something i like and then i have a brief period of passion, and then it peters out. sometimes it comes back, but most often i just open the docs here and there, add a sentence or remove a comma, and go back to stuff that drives me more.
anyone else get super shy picking up someone else's idea, even though the post literally says TAKE THIS IDEA AND WRITE IT PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I CAN'T DO IT SOMEONE TAKE IT OFF MY HANDS PLEASE
thought i was going to finish a fic today, alas i did not :( so have some puppy play sequel instead (first snippet here & second snippet here)
”I have a challenge for you.”
”Oh,” Evan perked up. ”What kind?”
”Endurance.”
”You mean like cardio?”
Tommy smiled. ”Sit.”
”Oh!” Evan looked at the couch behind him, and sat down. The smile dropped off his face the moment Tommy's knees touched the floor. ”I don't like this.”
”Sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do.”
Evan pouted.
Tommy rubbed his thighs, then pushed them apart, to make room for himself. Slowly, he lowered his face to Evan's lap.
Evan didn't quite manage to bite back an unhappy little sound. He stuck his hands under his thighs, so he wouldn't use them.
Tommy nuzzled him. Evan wasn't hard; he wasn't even firm. It surprised Tommy a bit. He figured Evan would react to the stimulation, even if he wasn't a fan of it, but there was nothing. It wasn't Tommy's go to, but he enjoyed the occasional cockwarming. He figured if Evan didn't like the act itself, he would appreciate the chance to show how good he was at holding back.
Evan squirmed – and sniffled. Tommy raised his head, only to see Evan red around the eyes. He was still sitting on his hands.
Tommy rubbed firmly up and down Evan's thighs. ”Hey, you're OK.”
”I don't like this.”
They had multiple safety features in place. Evan wasn't using any of them, but Tommy could tell he needed to. He sat back on his heels, putting space between himself and Evan's lap.
”We're stopping. I'm calling it.” Evan's bottom lip jutted out a little bit further. He clearly wanted to keep going, even though it was upsetting him. ”Talk to me.”
”You don't belong there,” he said firmly. ”It's my spot, you don't belong there.”
He pulled Evan's hands out from under his thighs. Evan instantly reached for him, grasping for any part of Tommy he could get a hold of.
Before he could spin out too much himself, Tommy did the only thing he could think of. He lied down on the couch and pulled Evan on top of him. Evan tucked his face into the crook of his neck, breathing heavily. His hands clutched at Tommy's clothes, never settling for too long.
Evan shuffled down his body, until his head was resting on Tommy's stomach, where he finally seemed to settle. Tommy was kind of glad for it. This way, Evan couldn't hear his heart racing. Evan was so easy going, it was harrowing to see him as anything but.
tagged by @thegingerparty <3 i'm always at least a day late with these things, so i'm doing a short silly goofy one, but at least it's on time!
”I can't find my phone.”
Tommy shifted, pulling his own phone out of his pocket, holding it out. ”Call it.”
Buck scrolled through Tommy's contacts, but couldn't find himself. ”You don't have my number in your phone?”
Tommy looked at him over the back of the couch. His neck was flushed. ”I do, but it's not under Evan.”
”Don't tell me I'm saved as Buckley comma Evan,” he said as he scrolled up.
”It's, uh,” Tommy paused. ”It's under sweet boy.”
Buck blinked at him. ”I'm what?”
”Lower case,” Tommy added.
He scrolled down until he found it. ”Oh.” Huh. He tapped the icon and listened.
”Sounds like the bedroom,” Tommy said.
Buck went to the bedroom, and found it under one of the pillows on the bed. Sweet boy. Tommy called him a lot of things, but he didn't remember sweet boy. Sweet and boy separately, but not together.
He tapped the end call button, and was brought back to the contact listing. Between the blurry nature of the photo, and the backwards cap he was wearing in it, he looked like an inadvisably young boy toy; especially with the words sweet boy right there.
i think both of them make an effort to embrace their feminine side, but for different reasons, and in different ways.
for tommy, it's an act of defiance. he makes an effort to embrace the parts of himself he's spent his whole life suppressing. for tommy, it's an active fight with himself to allow himself to do it.
for buck, it's easier. buck has been stuck in heteronormativity hell for most of his life, and for him it comes down to thinking certain things just aren't for him. most things are roughly divided between girl stuff and boy stuff, and buck hasn't had a reason to confront that. he's had a lot of strong women in his life, so he doesn't look down on feminine things, he's just brushed it off as being not for him.
for buck, it's more joyous exploration, not defiance, but it's not free of shame. something like buying a fun crop top for pride; i'm sure the purchase is easy, but once the day comes, it turns out to be hard to actually wear it. for buck, it comes out as a voice in the back of his head saying i'm not supposed to do this. i imagine the gender exploration happens hand in hand with the bisexual awakening.
buck has met many queer people in his life, and has likely envied their lifestyles. maybe it's an appearance thing, or a confidence thing, or just throwing off the chains of the gender binary, but again, it's just one of those things. he thinks this is not for me, i'm not one of them. that kind of acceptance doesn't just happen. knowing he's bisexual doesn't just make all of that ok. he looks over his shoulder when he makes gay jokes, wonders how valid his queer identity is, when he's still mainly attracted to women. biphobia runs deep.
the sad thing is, i don't think tommy is helpful. not because he doesn't want to be, but because tommy doesn't take part in the discourse. tommy grabbed the first label he found meaning in, the end. tommy is gay and other people can do whatever they want, tommy doesn't care what other people get up to. for tommy, it has always been a very private thing. everything he does, he does alone. once he's figured it out, he can present it to other people, if he feels like it.
buck on the other hand, buck processes externally. most of what he does, happens in conversation with other people. i'm sure tommy's disposition bothers buck, because tommy can't help him, and buck wants to do everything with tommy. i don't know if it's possible for them to communicate well enough to meet in the middle, and if they can't, buck has to find the answers elsewhere, with other people.
for tommy, it's a deeply private thing. if he gets into something creative, like painting/knitting/whatever, he does it in the privacy of his home, until he's comfortable in it. i think he has to fight himself very hard to do certain things. buck wears pink so easily, but if tommy were to attempt the same, it would be something like pink socks/underwear, that he only wears alone, and only at home, and even then it's a challenge. and if he does overcome the hurdle, it could be a point of pride. i'm personally very fond of the idea of tommy in a pair of bright pink muay thai shorts, that he's extremely proud of himself for wearing, even if he won't admit it to anyone.
it's tommy, i showed interest in my grandmother's knitting when i was eight and my dad called it gay, so i'm gonna learn how to fucking knit and buck, i'm allowed to be soft and gentle and it doesn't take away from who i am as a man, it doesn't make me weird or wrong, i'm allowed to have feelings, even the strong ones, even the ugly ones.
are all of these things gender things? not necessarily, but they're part of it.
i also think buck gets a kick out of it, once he feels more settled about it. getting to do the gay jokes and the gay memes, and having a boyfriend who calls him princess when he's being prissy. i think it could be really meaningful for both of them, once they get to a point where they're honest about these things; to get to a point where they support each other in what they want to do, and assure each other that it's ok if today is not a crop top to pride day, or that whatever cutesy nickname they have going feels a little icky in public, so they keep it between them.
i love all your wips!!!! may i ask what the saddest thing is you are cooking up right now?
the saddest! oh, that's a good question. i write a lot of those.
i very recently started working on a story about buck and consent.
there's an external catalyst. a conversation, maybe something with tommy, or something happens at work; something that prompts buck to think about consent. buck's first course of action is always to look it up, and in doing so, he realises there's a lot of nuance that he wasn't aware of.
i'm not sure yet, but i think the way i'm going to do it is this: we see buck go through his daily life, and when something reminds him of a previous partner, he compares and contrasts. tommy is very clear when he asks for consent, for anything, which makes it easy to see how a lot of people haven't done that.
buck grappling with what words to use to describe his experiences, because consent violation and abuse and assualt feel violent to ascribe to things that have happened to him. it makes his foundation shake.
as these things do, it unravels into something bigger. he recognises the ways in which his parents and other adults in his life haven't afforded him autonomy or an inner world of his own. how buck has spent his whole life begging people to recognise him as a person, which in turn shakes loose a bunch of trauma that he hasn't properly processed, because he didn't realise he needed to. his medical trauma is something i think about a lot, so that will definitely feature.
(i have another one that is very sad, but i can't describe it much, without giving the whole thing away. bucktommy hook up and they don't stop hooking up. that one is much closer to being finished.)
fuck it friday saturday -> tagged by @corporatebanana & @rcmclachlan <3
i thought i'd posted about this more than once, but i guess i haven't. this is going to be so out of context, i'm sorry. AU where buck and tommy are at the 118 together. this wip is going in all sorts of directions and i guess we're doing gay chicken now?? enjoy!
Tommy was an asshole and a coward, but he had boundaries. Buckley wasn't a fighter; sparring with him was a mess of limbs and teasing, more often than not. They'd gotten along well today, Tommy had no motive, yet when he saw the opening he took it.
He side stepped at just the right time and took the kid down. Buckley exclaimed, but was too winded to enunciate. Tommy went down with him, easily flipping him from his back to his front, and put the entirety of his weight down on Buckley's body.
”Dude, come o–” He went quiet, as Tommy pressed his face to the back of his head. Tommy's nose was tucked into the short hair, right behind his ear. Tommy wasn't an aggressive person, but he found himself pushing his hips forward in a way Buckley couldn't misinterpret. He held the position for a few long seconds, listening to Buckley breathe against the mat.
Tommy exhaled forcefully. Buckley shivered at the feeling. ”Still wondering?” Tommy breathed against his ear. He pushed himself up, climbed off, and headed for the showers. His fingers tingled. Buckley could report him for that, but the more pressing thought was how perfectly his ass felt in the cradle of Tommy's hips.
He didn't look back, but there was no scramble of sneakers, no sound to indicate that Buckley got up.
The rest of the shift was quiet, not in terms of calls, but Buckley. He wasn't talking to Tommy, or anyone else. He caught Tommy's eyes across the room a few times, but didn't say anything.
At the end of the shift, they handed the house over to B-shift and got ready to head home. Tommy was dragging his feet. The night had been uneventful, so he'd fallen into a deeper sleep than normal. He felt groggy and not particularly fit to drive.
He thought he was the last to leave, but when he walked to his truck, Buckley was leaning against it. When he saw him approach, Buckley crossed his arms. ”What if I am?”
”What?” Tommy grunted.
”Wondering.”
It took a moment for Tommy to figure out what the fuck he was saying. ”I shouldn't have done that.”
”I would've wondered either way.” His face was unusually neutral.
”I have places to be. Move.” Buckley stood his ground. It was impressive how little effort it took for the kid to drive Tommy up the wall. Tommy took a step closer and repeated himself, ”Move.”
”Make me.”
Tommy's duffel slipped off his shoulder, hitting the pavement with a thud. He pressed his hand to the middle of Buckley's chest, pinning him to the door. ”You get off on people being mean to you?”
”What if I do?”
Tommy could feel Buckley's heart pound against his ribcage. He was equally aware of the CCTV in the parking lot. No one checked the tapes, unless they had reason to, but it made his neck prickle.
He curled his fingers in Buckley's shirt, yanking him away from the car. As tall as he was, there was barely any bulk to him. Buckley stumbled to the side, giving Tommy the opening to grab his bag and get into the driver's seat.
Buckley huffed and puffed a bit, but didn't grab the door, to keep it from closing. He had a lot to say, but for once he kept his mouth shut.
Tommy hesitated, but ultimately pulled out of the lot and headed home.
Evan grabbed his hand and held it to his abdomen. Tommy couldn't feel anything other than Evan's stomach. Maybe Evan could feel something – or thought he could feel something.
”You said you've done this before.”
”I have, but it's you.” He panted for a moment. ”It's you.”
Tommy had no idea what was happening, and he couldn't see Evan's face. Carefully, he moved back, pulling out.
”No! No, no, where're you going?”
Tommy tapped his thigh, ”Turn over.” Evan turned over with such force, the bed shook with it. Tommy took himself in hand and pushed back inside Evan's body. It was instant. Evan relaxed again.
Now that he had the freedom to do so, he wrapped his long legs around Tommy's waist. Tommy leaned over him, pressing their lower bodies to each other. Braced on his arm, Tommy said, ”Talk to me.”
Evan's eyes went a little glassy. ”You're in me.”
Tommy wiggled his hips to demonstrate. ”Yeah.”
Evan wrapped his arms around Tommy's shoulders, pulling him the rest of the way down. He kissed him with open eyes. ”You're inside of me,” he said with wonder.
It didn't clear anything up. Tommy had no idea what was happening in Evan's head. It seemed to have very little to do with what they were actually, physically doing.
”Can you go deeper?”
The answer was no, Tommy only had so much dick to work with, but he gave it a try. He grabbed Evan's thighs, pushing them up and back. It wouldn't do anything in terms of depth, but it felt different.
Evan sighed, hands finding his own abdomen again. ”Fuck.” He licked his lips. ”We need to do this all the time.”
There was a whole conga line of teasing jokes in Tommy's head, but he didn't want to cheapen what Evan was experiencing. Whatever it was, it wasn't an experience Tommy had had himself. He placed his hand on top of both of Evan's, pushing down lightly. ”How's it feel?”
Evan beamed at him. ”Feels right,” he said, and grabbed Tommy by the hips. ”Move.”
Buck returned to the table with water and a cocktail. Tommy was alone. He spotted their new friends in the corner, on the dance floor.
”What was that?”
”What was what?” Buck asked, and sipped his drink. Tommy made eyes at him. ”Someone had to be the first to bring it up.”
”Sure,” Tommy said. ”Did it have to be in public?”
”Am I wrong?”
Tommy sighed, but looked at him indulgently. ”You're not wrong. How can you tell?”
”I have eyes.”
”The fucking mouth on you,” Tommy muttered and gulped down half his water.
Buck scooched his chair closer to Tommy's and put his chin on his shoulder, to get his mouth close to Tommy's ear. ”You fall all over yourself, trying to take care of me, every chance you get. And you get pouty, when you miss your window.”
Tommy cleared his throat. ”Could be a service thing.”
”Mm. But it's not.” Buck moved closer, whispering, ”You wanna be my daddy so bad.”
As much as Tommy was trying to play it cool, he couldn't hide his goosebumps or the way his nipples went tight. ”I don't know what you're talking about.”
Buck pressed his palm to the outside of Tommy's thigh. As long as Tommy didn't shrug him off, he wasn't going anywhere. ”You think about it everytime you pick me up, everytime you take me on a date – you thought about it tonight, when you picked me up at my place. Your mouth said Evan, but your eyes didn't.”
Tommy turned his head, so they could look each other in the eye. He quirked a brow, but his flushed cheeks gave the game away. ”You have a vivid imagination.”
”Not as vivid as yours, I bet,” Buck grinned. ”How do I say it in your head? Do I say thank you, daddy? Or do I cry it while you fuck me?”
Tommy's lips parted, but no words came out.
Buck bit his lip. He glanced at the dance floor, but they were busy with each other, and there was no one else in the vicinity. He met Tommy's eyes again. ”You like it when I cry. I know you do.”
Tommy leaned in and kissed him. ”Can't help it, you look so pretty when you cry,” he said against Buck's lips.
Buck grinned, ”Turned on by snot, are you?”
Playfully, Tommy nipped his lip. ”It's the big fat tears pouring down your face. Makes your eyes look so blue.”
Buck pulled back. ”Oh.”
”Too much?”
”Are we … interrupting?” They both looked up. Their new friends were back from the dance floor.
”Uh, we were,” Tommy looked at Buck. ”We're gonna head home, I think.” Buck nodded. Tommy nodded back. ”Home, yes.”
”But we should totally get together!” Buck said. ”That running club sounds really fun.” He tried to ignore the impatience pouring off of Tommy, as they exchanged phone numbers. He typed his own name wrong three times, because Tommy was digging his fingers into his lower back.
He'd barely handed the phone back, before Tommy was steering him out the door.
”It's OK if you like being older than me.” Buck startled a bit at the volume of his own voice. He hadn't adjusted to being outside yet.
With a firm hand, Tommy led him to the car. ”We can't change how old we are.”
Buck poked him in the chest. ”It's OK to like it.”
”Thank you,” Tommy said mildly.
”I had a girlfriend once, she–” He hadn't said it yet and his face was already getting warm. ”She'd wear frilly socks for me. Little outfits. And she'd do her hair.” Tommy's brows were climbing up his foreheard, so Buck cleared his throat and finished with, ”It's OK to like being older. I do, sometimes.”
”Socks, huh? Thigh highs?” Tommy asked, as he dug out his keys.
”Ankle socks. With lace and bows.”
Tommy looked at him for a second. ”Interesting.”
”Do not say that to me.”
”What? It is!”
”It sounds like an insult when you say it.”
Tommy rolled his eyes. ”You mean DDLG? Since you're not vanilla.”
”No.” Well. Buck tilted his head in thought. ”I mean.” He shook his head. ”No. No, not like that – although.”
”I don't think they make those on my size.”
”This is the other reason why I haven't brought it up – you're an asshole. I know you have another comment in there you're holding on to because you think it's too far.”
”How could you possibly know that?”
”You get this line between your eyebrows when you do,” Buck poked him in the chest. ”Say it.”
Tommy didn't look proud of it when he said, ”For you to be the older man, you'd have to fuck teenagers.”
Buck cackled. ”Oh, my god. That's so much worse than I thought.”
Tommy smiled and ducked his head. ”That's why I did the wrinkle instead.”
Buck wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. ”When you're twenty-five, two years is a lot.”
”Fucked a lot of twenty-five year olds, have you?”
”I'm not answering that.”
Tommy kissed him once more, then glanced around. ”Can we continue this in a private setting?”
Buck held on a little tighter. ”What's worse, strangers knowing you wanna be my daddy, or that your boyfriend likes little girls?”
Tommy's eyes went comically wide. ”We're leaving. Now.”
Buck had to look the other way, to keep from laughing.
Peter pulled off his glove. He tapped the base with his nail. He expected a sound, but the material was soft. He poked it. It felt like silicone.
That explained the odd placement of the fingers.
It was a sex toy. A fisting toy, to be exact. Probably hand poured in small batches. The sculpting was exquisite.
He wrapped his hand around the gauntlet and squeezed, testing the firmness of the material. It was on the softer side.
”Having fun?”
Peter startled. Wade was standing in the door to the living room, a can of Monster in his hand, smirk on his exposed mouth.
Peter gave the toy another squeeze. ”It's big.”
”I know,” Wade chuckled.
”Do you like that?” He didn't know why he asked. Didn't matter either way. There was no point in him knowing.
”No,” Wade said. ”Too much of a workout. I don't have the patience for it.”
”Why do you have it?”
”I'm a collector, Webs.” Peter looked around the living room, but it was the only item he recognised as a toy. Wade answered his unspoken question, ”I keep them in the bedroom.”
Peter went to the bedroom.
He'd been here before, in the bedroom. As he looked around, at the overflowing shelves, he wondered why he hadn't noticed. Wade's place was overflowing with stuff. Clutter everywhere. The toys were on display, in between plush toys and souvenirs and collectibles.
Wade came up behind him, as close as he could get, without actually making contact. ”I have one rule: I have to use everything at least once, otherwise I can't buy it.”
Peter swallowed. The gauntlet was wide across the knuckles. ”Why?”
”I'd be insatiable, I'd need a bigger apartment.”
Peter huffed and smiled. ”This isn't your only place.”
”Well, no, but it's the principle of the thing.”
He should head home. He was exhausted. If he didn't leave soon, he would round twenty-four hours. It was none of his business what Wade collected. Or did with his body.
”Which one's your favourite?” he heard himself ask.
”To use or to have?”
”Either?”
Wade hummed in thought. He walked to the other side of the room. The floor was covered in stuff, but Wade didn't look down, knowing the free path by heart. He plucked something off a shelf and held it up.
Peter had no idea what he was looking at. Silicone again. It looked like a plant. He couldn't tell what part was supposed to be insertable – if it was insertable at all.
”Her name is Ivy,” Wade said.
Between the size and the amount of colours, it had to be unbelievably expensive. Peter had never bought a sex toy, but he knew the good ones were way out of his price range.
”The colours are custom. I asked them to add glitter to the flowers.”
”Interesting thing to collect,” Peter said.
”I got bored of collecting Smiskis.”
”What's a Smiski?”
Wade removed something from his pocket and threw it at the light switch, plunging the room into darkness.
”They glow in the dark.”
Peter looked around. There were little glowing figures all over. He was standing next to the light switch, but his spidey sense didn't so much as flinch. It was time to go home and pass out.
*
Peter woke up twelve hours later, from a dream about Poison Ivy. He was still half asleep, when he grabbed his phone and looked up artisinal sex toys.
The prices were even higher than he thought they'd be. The creativity was impressive. Peter was no stranger to porn, but the sizes were mildly alarming. He remembered how thick the gauntlet felt in his hand.
Supposedly, Wade had used it. Unless it was a joke.
But there were only so many reasons why someone would have a sex toy.
*
Peter was waiting for Wade in one of their usual meeting spots. He heard Wade a mile away. He was huffing and puffing, as he climbed up the fire escape.
”Three-hundred bucks.”
Wade's grin was obvious through the mask. ”Have you been thinking about it?”
”A lot of money for a shelf trinket.”
”Worth every penny,” he grunted as he cleared the top rung.
”Is it the biggest one you have?”
”Spidey. Didn't know you had it in you.”
”Is it?”
”I haven't measured, but I guess Ivy could be bigger, you know, if you,” he held his hands, like he was holding a bouquet, ”gathered her together.”
Peter sat on the edge, facing Wade. ”Does it actually feel good?”
”Anal?”
Peter laughed. ”The size. I know what anal feels like.”
”Do you now?” Wade cocked a hip. ”Just when I think I've figured you out.” He wagged his finger at him.
”Seems like a whole lot of hassle with no pay off.”
”You need to hit up a size queen for that kind of intel – which I am not.”
”Mm. Bragging rights?”
”Oh, hell yeah. Absolutely.”
Peter had a thought. ”Is it a healing factor thing?”
Wade plopped down beside him. ”No, sir. I don't break my insides for fun. Inside stuff hurts way more than outside stuff.”
”So you're into people with … appendages?” He hated it before the words had even left his mouth.
Wade shrugged. ”I'm into whatever. You?”
”Same, I think.”
Wade bumped their shoulders. ”Sounds like I'm on the table.”
”That's not how that saying goes.”
”What saying?”
Peter rolled his eyes and got to his feet. ”You coming?” he said and jumped off the ledge.
”That's cheating!” Wade shrieked and did a swan dive after him.
Peter doubled back, to catch Wade before he hit the ground.
*For the uninitiated, allow me to introduce to you, Sir Gawain by Twilight Meadow Creations
was tagged ages ago for wip wednesday by @sierranovembr & @capitalnineteen <3
today is monday
Buck smiled at him. ”Tommy's a daddy,” he said. Tommy choked on his beer and started coughing. Buck patted him on the back. ”It's really sweet,” he said, as if Tommy wasn't actively dying.
”A daddy? Not your daddy?”
Buck shrugged. ”We haven't talked about it. He doesn't want to push me into stuff.”
Tommy looked like he had a lot to say, but he couldn't get it out through the alcohol in his throat. Buck thumbed away a tear from his cheek.
”He thinks I'm vanilla, so he doesn't really share that with me.”
”Evan,” Tommy said, through watery eyes.
Their companions looked intrigued. ”Vanilla? Really?”
Flattered, Buck felt his cheeks heat up. He looked at Tommy, who wasn't breathing quite right yet. ”I'm not,” he said, addressing both the table and Tommy. ”But he doesn't want to seem predatory.” He turned and winked at the others. ”He's a little older than me.”
”Seven years is a lot,” Tommy coughed.
”It can be,” Buck smiled at him. ”Doesn't have to be.”
Tommy clearly wasn't comfortable talking about this, not infront of strangers. Buck pointed to his beer, ”Want another one?”
”Water, please.”
”You've got it,” Buck smiled and kissed his cheek.
