It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair. Marci had been nothing but good all night. He dropped to his knees when he was told, he opened his mouth, spread his legs, screamed when he was told to, and he didn’t even gag-- not once! He had been nothing but sweet and accommodating and giving and now he was left high and dry.
Just when a hand was teasing its way down his chest and they were interrupted with the annoying ring of the other’s phone and a promise ‘to be there soon.’ He absolutely couldn’t believe it as he lay blinking tears out of his eyes, stark ass naked in his bed, watching the younger shimmy into his jeans and promise to be back... eventually. What. But Marci let him go, he let him go because he wasn’t going to start something, didn’t exactly have the thought process at the moment, not as he was hot and hard and needy.
It wasn’t until the door closed with a soft click that he was finally spurred into motion, with shaky movements he searched the floor for a clean pair of sweatpants and yanked them on, whining softly into the empty room because, how could he do that? Just leave him here all strung out like this, to the point where the simple brush of the fabric was almost too much.
God, this was too much.
Flopping face first into his bed, Marci’s fingers patted the sheets for his phone and he debated if he should call Alec, he’d come over, right? Ah, but it wouldn’t be the same. Not when he was just craving Rufious, it wouldn’t be that same. So with a reserved sigh, his hand crept back to his side until he could tuck his arms under him and hopefully try to smother himself. Or his dick.
Marci wasn’t going to be picky at this point.
Maybe... maybe he could. An experimental shift of his hips and oh. Oh, okay. It had been a while since Marci had taken care of himself and while of course he prefers the hand of another, sometimes you just have to make due. So another jerk of his hips and there was a soft whine leaving his lips as his fingers curled into the sheets. It wasn't even minutes before one hand was snaking down, Marci shifting high on the bed to he could spread his legs just enough to slip a hand down the back of his sweats to continue with what Rufious left behind.
“Oh-- Oh, god.” Little whimpers muffled in the sheets, Marci’s squeezed closed, his free hand searching for the lube that had been tossed somewhere on the bed earlier. “Ru-- please.” He’d deal with how pathetic he probably was for this, but right now all he cared about was--
“Rufious?” All movements still, Marci craned his neck to glance toward the door. There was a knock-- it had to be Rufious, but... why would he knock when he knew so well just what he had left Marci to.
Fingers still curled in himself, Marci leaned up on an elbows, breath shallow and the hint of pleased mewls in this tone when there was another knock, louder. Okay, it had to be Rufious. Who else would be at the door?
Wiping his fingers in the sheets, Marci slowly sat himself up. In the mirror leaning against the wall on the other side of the room he could just barely catch his fucked out look and god, was the locker room going to be in a riot tomorrow when they get a look at his chest, trailing down to his hips and there are a set of familiar marks around his neck that he’s going to have to make the younger darken.
A third bout of knocking and Marci is finally hoisting himself out of bed, running a hand through his mess of hair and hurrying over to the door on slightly shaky legs, adjusting his sweats for just the right amount of tease to rile Ru up just right.
“I can’t believe you left right in the middle like that.” He breaths as he wrenches open the door. “I touched myself a little.” And there’s a bit of challenge in his voice, like he knows he’ll be punished for it and it’s exactly what he wants. Until he’s look up and coming face to face with someone that very much isn’t Rufious.
[text] It was an accident. & [text] You’re the worst thing to ever happen to me, thank you (its a lie)
tfln: accepting!!
[txt; Caution Kas] What was?[txt; Caution Kas] Kaspian, what did you do????
——————–
[txt; Caution Kas] Good afternoon to you too [txt; Caution Kas] It’s okay. You were the worst person I’ve even met too[txt; Caution Kas] And you were that good in bed. [txt; Caution Kas] Rufious is so much better than you are
It was a spring day-- nice and sunny and all around pleasant. It wasn’t really any surprise for Marci to be parked outside, sandwich in hand and sketch book on the other as he was much more focused on doodling the little bumble bees buzzing around the flower bed behind him than what was actually happening around him. The only reason he was paying half attention to the other students out and about around him was because not even an hour ago the group just a couple feet from where he’s laid out his blanket had knocked him in the head with their frisbee and he was sure he was going to have a bruise across his forehead now.
And it was the only reason that he even noted the other bright blonde spot crossing the courtyard and nearly choked on his bread to call out and catch his attention. “Alec! Alec! Come over here!” @fbxalistair @fbseraphina @fbxkaspian
❝ Stop being so cute and talented. It pisses me off. ❞
Meme status: pain (and accepting)
Post-breakup
His brush stilled on the canvas, creating an ugly splotch on the thin wispy blades of grasp that he had been working on. Shoot. He’d have to cover that up with a tree or maybe a cute little bunny or something. A sigh slipped out of his lips as Marcello balanced the brush on the jar of paint water and spun in his stool. “Well… if it pisses you off I don’t think I want to stop.” He tried not to think about how the other’s words still manage to make his heart flutter.
There is a minute of quiet, a minute of just Marcello watching Kaspian linger in the doorway and an unsureness coming with each’s hesitance to say the next word. Finally, he speaks up.
“What do you want, Kaspian? I’m busy and don’t really want to talk with you right now. No one is around so you don’t have to pretend to be nice to me– just tell me.”
Pre-breakup (bc I had an idea and I really couldn’t stop myself.)
A gasp, the thump of his head on the floor and he’s putting his hand right in a glob of paint. “Kas– Kaspian, please.”
It started out innocently with Marcello pinning his boyfriend down o paint on his back and Kaspian grinning at the end result of a beautiful night sky. It always starts out innocently and now he’s being pressed onto the floor, his hands sliding down over Kaspian’s back as he fights for some kind of purchase and effectively ruining the work he had spent hours painting onto the other’s back. There aren’t many things to pull off and his sweatpants are gone in minutes with handprint shaped paint smears right along with his briefs.
God, this was going to be an absolute pain to clean up.
Another needy sob and it’s really amazing just how easy Marcello was to break down into a pleading, simple compliments and burning touches from his boyfriend were the only things it took. Propping himself up on his elbows for only a minute Marcello watched as Kaspian trailed hot kisses up his thighs, falling back with a loud whine as his hand wrapped around his cock. There’s an idle thought in the back of his head that tells him the slide of Kaspian’s palm is too slippery, but it’s pushed away when he twists his wrist exactly in the way that makes him arch his back a little and fail to choke down the other’s name.
Paint stained fingers curl into the sheet under him and his thighs only fall open more at the urgent nudging.
And then as one slim fingers teases at his entrance, Marcello gasps, jerking away as it finally hits him. “O-oh my god!” He yelps, heels digging into the ground and pushing himself away from his boyfriend’s touch, hand flying over his head to smack around for the bottom drawer of his bedside table.
“You are not using paint as lube!”
Pushing himself up, he musters enough heat to shoot the other a glare and dig around in the drawer until he can whip the bottle of lube right across the room to smack Kaspian square in the chest. And then another groan, less aroused and more unenthused fills the room as Marcello frowns down at his own cock. “Seriously?”
The sheepish grin Kaspian gives him does nothing for the frown on Marcello’s kiss swollen lips as he yanks the towel over to him and carefully wipes away all of the deep blue paint smearing his skin. “I honestly can’t believe you–” Except he never gets to finish his scolding before a hand wraps around his ankle and he’s being tugged closer, Kaspian being kind enough to even hold up a now clean hand, fingers shining the evening light filtering through the window– nothing but lube.
A sigh deep in his chest and the boy is letting himself get comfortable on the floor yet again, trying to remain as impassive as ever at his boyfriend pushing his thighs apart again. It doesn’t last, his hands folded over his stomach and blank expression as Kaspian slides a finger in quickly followed by another easily breaks the boy’s facade and it’s not long before there’s little yips and breathy moans spilling out of Marcello.
“More. More– please. More.” In the minutes that follow, Marcello is left feeling empty as Kaspian moves away from him, leaning over so he can rifle through the drawer himself for a condom. “I want it– I want you.”
Marci takes this opportunity to slide his hands up Kaspian’s chest, over his shoulders and drag down his back, blunt nails digging into skin and his palms only getting sticky again with the paint still drying on the other.
Once Kaspian sits back and his fingers are holding Marcello’s chin tight, sure to leave some bruises that he’ll pretend to worry about and his voice, deep and raspy and wrecked gets the boy every time. “What do you want?” He demands and Marcello can only sob in reply as the question is repeated, large hand sliding down to curl fingers around his neck.
“You.” Marcello gasps, hand flying up to grab at Kaspian’s wrist, but he doesn’t make a move to pull his hand away. There’s a small shake of the other boy’s head and Marcello knows exactly what he’s supposed to say– exactly how dirty and inappropriate he is supposed to be. It makes his cheeks burn and sends a hot wave of arousal through him every time. “Kaspian– please. I want you. Your cock. I want it– in me. Please. Hard. Make me scream. Bruise me. Please just– do something.”
It’s mostly babble he’s spouting at this point, always at this point with a hand around his neck and after Kaspian has fingered him to the edge.
“Alright. Since you’ve been such a good boy…”
Marcello squeezes his eyes shut, fingers tight around Kaspian’s wrist as he pushes into him with a vulgar sound and a groan on the other’s lips. It was too much, way too much for him to handle– but then again that’s what he said every time.
The pace that’s set is rough, hard and bruising as the only sound in the room is Marcello’s wrecks sobs and the slap of skin on skin. His fingers scramble for something, anything to hold onto and he settles for the sheets, head tilted back and Kaspian’s fingers tight around his neck. There would be fingerprints blooming on his skin tomorrow that he was going to have to explain.
Kaspian’s other hand wraps around Marcello’s cock for just a second before it’s being yanked away and he’s gasping, “No! No– please…. untouched. Make me cum untouched– I want… I want it.”
“Fuck.”
The snap of his boyfriend’s hips into his is brutal and there’s a split second where Marcello is quiet before an ungodly wail leaves his lips as Kaspian finds his prostate and he’s arching his back sharply, gasping, “Again. Oh my– again!”
It only takes a few more thrusts on Kaspian’s part before Marcello is nearly shaking, wriggling at what he’s getting right now and he’s spilling right onto his stomach, cock twitching and hand coming down a little belatedly to tug himself through the last waves of his orgasm until he’s hissing from the feeling and there are more tears spilling down his cheek.
A dirty hand is pushing at Kaspian’s chest and the boy sits back after a moment, letting Marcello shift and tumble into his lap. “I’m gonna–” is the only warning given as Marcello is swallowing his boyfriend down, the tip of his cock hitting the back of his throat with no problem. Minutes– maybe not even that, is all it takes for Kaspian to groan, low and loud just how he knows Marcello likes it and only a bit of cum catches his tongue before he pulls back and lets ropes of white paint his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose– some even landing on his lips as his tongue peeks out to catch it.
The room then lulls into silence, the only soft sound is the couple’s fight to catch their breath. And then Marcello speaking up, thumb catching a bit of cum that’s about to drip off his cheek and lapping it off his finger.
“We ruined the back painting. I worked hard on that.”
But there isn’t any heat in his words as he gives Kaspian a tired and stated smile before nuzzling his thigh.
