my lovely @easyupdate was having a rough start to her day, so i wrote her some hinckman fluff with a good ol’ fashioned sickfic 💙
ships: hinckman
cw: none!
The moment the stream shuts off, Kyle slumps down in his chair with a sigh and rubs a hand over his face. He ended fifteen minutes early, and he feels a little bad about it, but there’s not much to be done now that it’s off. He was losing it anyway, barely able to puzzle together the literal children’s game of the night. Probably better that he stop and get to bed.
The energy is gone from all his limbs though, and the most he manages is to lean his head back and close his eyes. Sleeping here would be uncomfortable and he would regret it tomorrow, but it’s so tempting with how tired he is to just stay here for a while.
“Planning on becoming one with the chair tonight?” The soft voice behind him is teasing and fond in equal measures, and he can’t help but smile. He nearly forgot that someone insisted on coming over to help take care of him even when he told them that he was fine.
He doesn’t move from his chair though, just shrugs in response. “It’s starting to sound really tempting.”
Ian laughs lightly and she steps closer to ruffle his hair with one hand while the other hand settles on his shoulder. Kyle relaxes slightly at the familiar touch and things are alright for a few moments. He can feel the tickle at the back of his throat though, the one that’s been bugging him the entire stream, and reluctantly pulls away from Ian to reach for his tea and hopes that does the trick.
Naturally, with his luck, he ends up half bent into his knees and hacking for a solid painful twenty seconds. He can feel a hand rubbing circles between his shoulder blades as he does, but it’s only a small comfort when he feels like his lungs are about to come out his mouth.
When the coughing finally stops he doesn’t move, makes a small noise that he knows he’d be embarrassed by if he could pull enough of his brain together. He gets about four seconds of unmoving quiet before Ian pats him on the back.
“Alright, up. Into bed with you,” she says.
He sighs but doesn’t protest, doesn’t really have the energy to, and peels himself away from the chair, wincing as he stretches upward. His whole body aches. When he turns and finally can see Ian, she’s got a slight frown on her face and Kyle can feel the lecture he’s going to get later. “I know, I know. Shouldn’t have streamed, all of that.” He holds his hands up to ward her off and gets a laugh in reward.
“Good, then I don’t have to fuss at you! Bed, go.” She reaches up to grab his shoulders and bodily steers him in the direction of his room, giving him a gentle shove. He can’t help the laugh it pulls out of him, even though a cough follows right on its tail.
The cool fabric of his comforter is a welcome feeling after sitting in his leather chair for the past two hours, and he goes horizontal almost immediately, curling up on top of the blanket. (He’s suddenly very grateful he chose to put on his pajama pants before he started the stream.) Once he’s down he’s pretty much down for the count, and he doesn’t know how long he lays there before Ian comes into the room.
She clicks her tongue softly and sits on the bed next to him, water bottle in hand. “Bossy, you’re pathetic.”
He snorts at that, turning his face into the pillow so it intentionally muffles his reply of “You like it.” No dice though, she laughs loud and delighted at what she clearly heard every word of. The heat rushes to his face and makes the stuffed feeling behind it even more unbearable. Wordlessly he reaches for the water bottle and she relinquishes it easily.
It takes a moment of readjusting himself upward, but finally he manages to get into a position where he can drink. Too much tea is the only way he knows how to get better, but he can’t deny how good the water feels on his throat. He downs nearly half the bottle before he’s done, screwing the cap back on and setting it on his nightstand.
Ian gives him a soft look. “Better?” He nods in affirmation, then begins to slide back down into the bed. “What did I say, pathetic. Get under the blanket, you big baby,” she says firmly, already getting up to yank at the blanket underneath him.
A small whine escapes him but he laughs a little at her insistence. “Okay, I got it, calm down,” he says, twisting up and away so he can pull the blanket down. Ian doesn’t look satisfied until he is fully under it, and he gives her an obnoxious face to pull a smile back on her face. “Happy?”
That earns him an eyeroll, but she does say yes. For a moment, Kyle isn’t sure what to do. He can feel the haze of being sick over his brain and body, but he also doesn’t quite want her to leave either. Of course she’s welcome to stay, but.. His thoughts trail off as he gives up on thinking too hard.
She answers his question on her own anyway as she walks to the door, and he tries not to think about the small spot of disappointment in his chest. Of course she should go home, it’s not like he’d be great company. She takes him by surprise though, as she flicks his light off and then returns to the bed, shedding her socks and shirt as she goes.
He makes a small noise of protest as she slides under the blanket with him, turning over to frown at her. She is going to get sick if she sleeps in the same bed as him, is she serious? Ian just laughs and places a finger over his mouth to shush him. “Shhh. It’s sleeping time.”
Kyle rolls his eyes but obediently stays quiet, can’t help the smile that crosses his face. He doesn’t want to admit it, won’t admit it, but he’s grateful she stayed. She nudges his shoulder and after a moment he gets the message, turns over so his back faces her. After a moment her arm snakes over him and settles there. The tension he didn’t realize was there starts to leak out of his frame and he can feel the layer of exhaustion sink in as he relaxes into his bed.
She’s going to get sick from this and he’s going to hold it over her head, but right now this is nice. This is comforting. “Goodnight, Ian,” he says into the darkness of the room, and she squeezes his waist in response.
Hey ya’ll, haven’t written anything in a while but @easyupdate inspired me to write this lol thanks casey !! 1500 words of hinckman for your reading pleasure.
Summary: Ian, Kyle, and a box of makeup.
--
“Bossy,” Ian drawled, “can I proposition you?”
They were doing absolutely and utterly nothing; a typical lazy Saturday in the Bosman-Hinck apartment. Sitting on the couch with some obscure movie playing, barely paying attention to it and cuddled up against each other like their lives depended on it. A thin blanket lay across the two of them, barely covering their well-worn pajamas and dangerously close to an old bowl of who-knows-what on the coffee table. Kyle was roused for the first time in nearly an hour when Ian spoke.
“What do you mean, proposition me? You have something fun in mind?” He squeezed Ian's hand in his own, enjoying her grounding touch.
“Well, we have nothing else to do.” She sighed, looking just a touch nervous. “I was thinking, if you're okay with it of course, maybe I could… do your makeup? I mean, I have my box of stuff and it's nothing special,” she started rambling, “but you have such good eyelashes and we could clean up your eyebrows, and maybe do a little bit of contour--” She was cut off by another squeeze to the hand. Ian raised her eyes to Kyle's, not even remembering when she had started to look down in embarrassment. She spoke softer this time. “If you wanna try it, I think you’d look really good.”
Kyle was slightly dumbfounded. Him, look good in makeup? Ian was always so stunning when she decided to put anything on her face, he wouldn't be able to live up to her! But he’d be lying if he said he'd hadn't thought about it, with all the compliments he got on his eyelashes. And if there was anyone he'd trust enough to do his makeup, it would be Ian. Yeah, sure. Why not.
The words came out of his mouth before he could overthink it any longer. “Definitely, babe, it sounds fun!” A ridiculous lopsided grin crept onto his face, and it was almost immediately matched by Ian’s radiant smile.
“Awesome, I'll go grab my stuff!” She hurtled off the couch and nearly tripped over Kyle’s feet on her way to their bedroom. After a few seconds of shuffling, she came back out with a relatively small box and sat back on the couch.
The box was pretty fancy, Kyle thought; not really his girlfriend’s style. It was white with gold trim and looked… quite expensive, to say the least. Ian seemed to read Kyle’s thoughts, providing an explanation as soon as she saw the puzzled look on Kyle’s face.
“Oh, Brad got me this a few year back for my birthday! He said it was his from beauty school days, but I think he might’ve just bought it at Sephora.” She shrugged and leaned into him, laughing her whole-body laugh that made Kyle’s stomach do backflips. “Either way, it's come in handy!” She flipped it open and pulled out a handful of colorful tubes. A soft pink one caught Kyle’s eye, and he took it from her hand.
“Ooh, what's that one? It's so nice.”
“That one’s lipstick.” She gently pried it from his curious fingers. “D’you like it? I can use it on you if you want.”
Kyle hadn't thought he was going to be wearing lipstick by the end of this, but he figured he might as well go for it. I mean, hey, it’s really pretty.
“Yes. Yeah, definitely, I like that one.”
Ian smiled wryly. Next she pulled out a small bottle of concealer and waved it in front of Kyle.
“Okay, this one is to cover up any weird spots on your face, so we're just gonna slather it all over, y’know?” She giggled at her own joke, enjoying the redness that washed over Kyle’s cheeks and his small noise of disbelief. He mock-pushed her, but Ian was quick to lean in and press a small kiss to his pink cheek.
“Alright, that's the last one you're getting for a while, Bossy. I don't wanna ruin my beautiful handiwork.” Kyle gave a slight pout at that, but conceded.
“Okay, babe. Let’s do this.” He watched in amazement as his girlfriend proceeded to pull out item after item from the seemingly endless box.
A pair of tweezers. Oh no. Kyle instinctively pulled away from them when she brought them near his eyebrows, but Ian was determined. She softly gripped Kyle's jaw in one hand, and set about fixing his brows with the other. He pursed his lips at each small tug, relaxing only to complain at regular intervals.
“God, babe, how do you do this every morn--” he was cut off by another kiss, this one soft on his lips.
“I can't believe you made me break my promise this soon, Bosman,” Ian said under her breath, a smirk tugging the corner of her mouth. She pecked him on the lips a second time and got back to business. Kyle was quiet until she finished.
“Cool, what's next?”
“This stuff,” she said, punctuated with a shake of the tube she had picked up earlier.
She squirted some of the concealer into her hand and dipped a small makeup sponge into it. Kyle didn't even know they made sponges for makeup. God, he was learning so much.
He hissed when she pressed the sponge to his face, surprised that makeup could be so cold.
“Oh, don't be so whiny, babe. I'm just getting started!” She dotted the sponge all over his face, paying extra attention to his freckles for a solid minute and a half until she was satisfied. “See, you're already looking better!”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Kyle said, shifting on the couch. It was already getting so hard to resist touching his face, he didn't know how Ian did this almost every day.
Ian pulled out a palette of eyeshadow next. “Alright, which one of these do you like best? Except the green one, that would not look good on you.” Kyle rubbed the back of his neck in thought, eyes dancing over the colors. A nice shade of gold drew his gaze and he pointed at it.
“Would that one look good on me?”
“Oh, hell yes, Bossy.” Ian picked up her brush and got to work, making sure to remind Kyle every few seconds to keep his eyes closed. It was only a little uncomfortable, he thought, but soon enough Ian was finished. She studied his face again and retrieved a large, oblong tube that she tried to convince him was mascara.
“C’mon babe, it'll look great!”
“You are not putting that stick near my eyes. Ian, I’ll die.” Kyle was horrified that people willingly put these things near the softest parts of their body and somehow managed to not poke their eyes out.
“Please?” Ian stick out her bottom lip in a comical pout. “This is the best part!” Kyle still looked unconvinced as ever. She rolled her eyes. “I’ll kiss you again,” she added, and Kyle’s facade cracked. Ian could see him weighing his options before her very eyes.
He sighed. “Fine. But if I go blind today, I'm holding you personally responsible.”
Ian smiled, wand already near Kyle's lashes. “Now you have to keep your eyes open for this, babe. If you close them, it'll be ruined.”
“Alright, I can do that.”
He couldn't.
It took 4 separate attempts for Ian to successfully brush mascara onto Kyle's lashes, and the two of them were now surrounded in mascara-laden baby wipes.
Kyle grumbled as Ian finally pulled away, but his noises were quickly replaced with silence when he saw the practically reverent look on his girlfriend’s face. His eyes were perfectly, beautifully framed now; the combined effort she had put in had payed off. The now-fading sunlight reflected softly off of his golden eyeshadow, bringing out the nuances of his eye color, and she let out a low whistle.
“Wow.”
“Huh?”
“Bossy, you're like,” she paused, “the single most beautiful person I've ever seen right now.”
Kyle flushed again, this time an even deeper pink than before, and looked down at his hands. “Uh, th- thanks?” He looked up again, locking eyes with Ian and making sure to flutter his eyelashes just a bit. “Can I have that kiss now?”
Ian laughed, incredulous. “Of course you can, babe, God.”
Kyle grinned, reaching his hand up to rest under her chin and tilting her head back, but caught himself. His eyes widened as he realized he forgot something. “Wait, what about that lipstick? Can you put that on me?”
Ian looked vaguely startled. “Uh, yeah, let me grab it.” She rifled through her box before pulling it out and uncapping it, rubbing the soft wand over Kyle’s lips until they were a soft, light shade of pink. “There... we... go! Now you're the Belle of the ball, Bossy.” She sat there in what seemed to be disbelief and awe for several seconds before Kyle finally lifted her chin up and leaned in.
Kyle was many things, Ian would say, but he was not a bad kisser. Slow and measured he kissed her, relishing the taste of her lip balm and his lipstick mingled together. With one hand he pressed Ian’s shoulder until she was laid back on the couch, her eyes open again when Kyle pulled away.
“God, Bosman, you're gorgeous.” She flung her arms over the back of his neck.
“Thanks. For that. For this.” He ducked down again to capture her lips quickly. “I feel really good.”
Ian’s smile turned to a slight smirk as she pushed Kyle off of her. She took his hand, leading him towards their bedroom and its closet.
“Okay, pretty boy, let’s get you in some nicer clothes.”
100 with a pairing of your choice? :) (hinckman if you don't want to choose? also welcome back! i remember you + thought i had recognized your icon! <3)
Yayyy! It makes me stupid happy that anyone remembers/recognizes me, so thank you so much! Anyone here’s one of my century-long prompt fills that I somehow manage to pass off as a “drabble” :))))
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*100: “You’re my soulmate?!” w/ Hinckman
“Hiiii!”
Kyle nodded to the camera with an uneasy smile, genuinely happy to be here but also unsure of what was to come. But that was just Easy Update for you…and really, Kyle for you. Ian tried not to grin as Kyle rolled up the sleeves of his yellow hoodie the same way one would an expensive suit and regarded the open laptop poised in between the two of them with the utmost sincerity.
“Alright, so, what is this again? What does it want from us?”
Ian laughed and crinkled their nose in amusement, “It doesn’t want anything, Bosman, it’s a computer program. You just put in some information about yourself, you know, like your mother’s maiden name, social security number…”
They smiled wickedly when Bosman’s eyes widened in alarm, “Kidding! Oh my god, Kylie, lighten up will you? You think I’d tell the Internets all of your private information?!”
“Yes!”
Ian was truthfully loving their little rapport they had going on, but they really did have a segment to throw slapdash together, so they pushed forward: “Bosman, do you want this incredibly sketchy and simplistic program to reveal your one, true love or not!? And say yes, because that’s what this whole segment is about!!!”
“…Yes?”
“Great! So, cats or dogs?”
At first, Ian had looked back at that afternoon fondly; an hour spent cracking up at rather vapid questions that definitely had nothing to do with partner compatibility. Once both of them had received the email confirming their data had been received and was “being processed and analyzed by love and relationship experts” (not without Kyle fretting about giving out ‘valuable information’ and making them promise twice that Ian would cut out his actual information from the episode), they’d turned off the camera and just talked. And that had been so nice, just having a directionless conversation without a camera in front of them.
Present day, all fondness was dead and gone, in Ian’s eyes at least. Because three days ago, Ian had opened up their email only to discover that their “LIFE ALTERING results” were in. Which also meant that Kyle’s “LIFE ALTERING results” were probably in. “This is crazy. I’m crazy!” Their blue eyes scanned the page that was beyond repair at this point, and almost difficult to read. Golden curlicue lettering read: “And the soulmate of” with an ugly, blocky Ian Hinck shoved in the space between of and a colon, followed by a paragraph in bold, red. Frustration continued to build the further down Ian read, and finally Ian couldn’t take it anymore. With white teeth grit, they pounded on Kyle’s front door like it had offended them, only very narrowly avoiding sending a fist flying into a tired(er) looking Kyle’s stomach.
“Oh, jeez! Kyle, I-sorry-”
“Ian?” Kyle rubbed at his eyes with a frown, his lack of sleep making his brain a bit more sluggish, not putting two in two together until he’d glanced down at the clammy, crumpled piece of paper in Ian’s hand and up into Ian’s clammy, angry face.
“Is this about-”
“You’re my soulmate?!”
Kyle scratched the back of his stupid(ly) charming bed head ridden…head, “Well, funny you should say that-”
“And the soulmate of Ian Hinck is,” Ian began to fire off in a vicious tone, “…someone driven, a hard worker who tends to work too hard! Someone serious with a goofy side, or maybe goofy with a serious side might be more accurate!! You’re attracted to contrasting features: dark hair, but light eyes, strong jawlines but more slender men-I knew I shouldn’t have put my gender as female; heteronormative piece of-
“IAN!” Kyle snapped in a tone that meant his patience had worn thin, “Shut up and come inside! Please?”
A command followed by a plea was so damn Kyle that Ian’s blood pressure rose a bit, but they did as instructed/asked. Flopping in a heap into Bosman’s armchair, they fixed their mop of curls impatiently, and waited for Kyle to get whatever he’d scurried into the other room for. Their own eyes grew and their heart sped up as Kyle returned with an equally crumpled looking paper in hand. Bloodshot eyes glanced up through long eyelashes apologetically.
“Sorry, it was in the trash, which is…gross. But… ahem, the soulmate of Kyle Bosman is a creative type, someone very much in tune with their own emotions. You like your women confident, successful career women tur…ahh, make you happy, but you also tend to respond to more rebellious, subversive spirits. You’re a more traditional man; blondes with blue eyes, and curves never hurt and-Ian, do you see what I’m saying?”
Yes. Hell yes, Bosman, I see exactly the thing you’re saying to me here, right now in your weirdly tidy yet somehow also messy living room at ten p.m. “You too are heteronormative garbage?” They snarked instead, because Ian knew what they wanted to be hearing, but Kyle couldn’t be possibly entertaining the same notion. Right?
“Oh, c’mon, don’t make me read out the bit about appreciating musical ability, needing someone who can ‘take me down a peg’, someone who appears cold with a soft side-”
“Shut up, I’m a nightmare…” They grumbled fighting a smile.
“A soft one. Monsters can be soft: blob creatures, the Stay Puffed Marshmellow man from Ghostbusters-”
“BOSMAN, what are you saying?”
That stopped him in his tracks, blinking down at Ian like he’d never expected such an obvious question to come up, as if Ian would’ve just left once Kyle’s finished listing off a dozen or so monsters, satisfied.
“It means….it means….uh.”
“I think,” Ian rose and stepped forward just to watch him stumble back a bit, “it means we both have some thinking to do.” They kept walking until they were nearly toe-to-toe, and this time Kyle allowed them in step into their space with zero resistance. His eyes flickered across their smiling, calm face, first clever, blue eyes and full, smirking lips. He was waiting to see what Ian would do.
“Y-Yeah?”
Ian laughed a little and for some reason Kyle looked like he’d been shot in the chest, “Yeah.” That being said, she moved past him to his front door and threw a teasing goodbye over her shoulder, a million and one thoughts flying through their brain.
@easyupdate and i were discussing a fairly extensive illegal allies au and while this isn’t that it’s a small piece of it? aka look for more to come of this when we finally finish it (title is from a jukebox the ghost song of the same name)
ships: hinckman
cw: mentions of blood, but not anything beyond that
Kyle stumbles along next to her as she half drags him by the collar to the car. He can hear Ben impatiently revving the engine and he grits his teeth against the pain in his side as he tries to force himself to run faster. It only half works, and he nearly falls right over onto his knees again with the dizzying rush of pain that accompanies the extra effort. The only thing keeping him on his feet is Ian – beautiful, reliable, reckless Ian – grunting as she hauls him back up again.
She shoves him in the backseat of the car unceremoniously (definitely not the Shafter, the blue isn’t bright enough) before leaping in herself and yelling for Ben to drive already.
Kyle has already tuned them both out, focusing fully on keeping his breathing even and his hand clutched to his side. He’s terrified to look down, knowing that if he moves his hand it’s only going to come away covered in blood. He’s been shot before, definitely, but he doesn’t remember it hurting this bad.
He finds himself cursing the whole stupid lot of them, himself included at the very top of the list. This is why he never gets this close to the action, this is why he only ever takes up post on a nearby rooftop with his belly on the ground and an eye glued to the scope of a sniper. He’s good cover, not so good in close quarters. But there hadn’t really been a choice this time around. Brad had had to sit out because of an unexpected run in with the flu, with Kyle the only one available to take his place in their already too-small crew. And they couldn’t exactly reschedule the murder of a local fascist leader.
So into the midst of it, Kyle went.
His attention is drifting too far already; he doesn’t register the way Ian turns her attention on him as soon as the car is moving, flying down the road and away from their assassination turned disaster. He also doesn’t notice her repeated attempts to peel his hand away from his side until she’s leaned in close, muttering under her breath.
He recoils at their sudden proximity, shaking his head at her. He doesn’t need her help, he just needs to get back to their safehouse and he’ll be fine. He can deal with this himself. “I’m fine. Ian, I’m fine, I promise.” He goes for a reassuring tone, but he can’t hide the pained rasp in his voice. Judging by Ian’s face, he misses the reassurance mark by a mile.
“Bullshit, they shot you! Let me fucking see, Bossy,” she demands, reaching for his hand again. Her hands are gentler than her tone would ever imply, feather light against his side even as she finally manages to pry his own hand away.
He keeps his face turned toward hers, fairly sure that if he makes eye contact with that much of his own blood he’ll be sick. On the other hand, he’s not sure her newly dark expression is any better. Okay, well, maybe he’s worse off than he thought. Still, totally fine. He’s totally fine.
He tilts his head back against the seat and closes his eyes. Maybe if he doesn’t look, then he can pretend it’s not happening. There’s a rattling next to him and Ian is mumbling rapidly to herself under her breath – she must be looking through their unfortunately meager first aid kit. Thank god someone had thought to stow that in the getaway car. He takes a slow, painful breath and can feel himself drifting. For a moment, he thinks it might be a relief. Sleep it off, right?
“Bossy. Bosman. Kyle!”
Ian’s voice jerks him back into full consciousness mentally and physically, and he hisses as the sudden jolt upward pulls at the wound in his side. She gently presses a hand to his shoulder, easing him back down against the seat.
“Easy, easy. Stay awake for me, okay sweetcheeks? We’re almost there. Also, if you die, I will become a necromancer just to raise you from the dead so I can kill you again myself.” She smiles that brilliant, bright smile, although the edges of it look a little frayed. Because of him? Shit.
He chokes on a laugh, immediately regretting the movement. It takes him far longer to speak than he would like, but he can’t just let her get the last word. “Got it. Because spending the rest of my afterlife with you would be so bad.”
She snorts, pushing his sweat-slick hair away from his forehead. “Remind me to get you on your deathbed more often, you’re nicer this way.”
Before he can get another word in, she leans in to kiss him gently, one hand still pressed against his shoulder as if to keep him from following when she pulls away again. Kyle resigns himself to it, slumping back against the seat. They’re just being dramatic (he hopes), mentioning death, but it was a small comfort to know she would be fighting for him anyway.
/ringing a hand bell/ hINCKMAN! GET YA’ HINCKMAN HERE! Also I think I actually managed to write an actual short, concise drabble so there might be a God out there fellas!
Ian pantomimed leveling her character’s pistol at Kyle’s character’s head: “You’re hot, shame about the personality.” She drawled in her Fiasco character, Bella Hexe’s, alluring French accent.
“Woah!” Jones crowed to her left, “I felt some real emotion in that one!”
Both Ian and Kyle ignored their all-too observant and amused boss, gazes trained on one another. “Well maybe,” Kyle’s character began patiently, “if you didn’t have such a terrible attitude all the time…”
Brad “Ooooh!-ed” from behind his hands, but still neither of the other two broke character. The only thing that betrayed their seriousness was the glint in Ian’s eyes and the small grin that kept fluttering acorss Bosman’s face.
“It’s all a front, Anabelle!” Ian/Bella revealed with dramatic flourish, “Do you want to know why you always got it the worst from me? It’s because, really, I like you best, and that terrifies me! Why won’t you get that through your beautiful, thick skull?!”
Now there were no more remarks from the rest of the table, the peanut gallery had fallen into stunned, awed silence.
“You really think I’m that self centered?” Kyle asked softly, abandoning Anabelle’s higher pitch for his own, “Oh, you think you’re so secretive and mysterious, don’t you? You act like I haven’t known for months, heck, YEARS even-”
“That what?” Ian demanded, sitting up straighter in her chair, the glint having changed to an intense burning.
You could hear Sophie drop a pin in the Jones’s garage as a beat passed in which not a single soul said a word. Finally, Brad coughed and Brandon said:
“Uh, sooo are we still playing the game or-”
“THAT I’VE KNOWN YOU WERE WORKING WITH THE MOB BEHIND OUR BACKS, HEXE!” Kyle/Anabelle blurted, pointer finger raised high in the air for dramatic effect.
“O-Oh yeah! Yeah, of course-” with a show of difficulty, Ian wrangled their voice back into a somewhat more German than French accent, “Of course I was working with the German mob! What, you thought this was a french accent?! You FOOLS!”
Ian thanked high heaven as Brad and Brandon cracked up, and play resumed as normal. Just…with a few more private glances to her right.
Kyle drove almost on autopilot, ears still ringing from the noise of the awards, the stress of the night, and he hadn’t been there for more than a minute before his phone beeped.Saw your headlights. You coming in?“Sorry,” he was already saying as Ian opened the door, and she folded him into a hug without answering, her robe draping around him. “It’s just…I haven’t slept in ages.”“Missed you.” Her voice was rough with sleep, and it was so easy to curl against her, just like when everything had fallen in on them, and close his eyes.
Ian halfexpected Kyle to leave after the first time, to go all stiff and awkward andmumble something about having made a mistake and bolt out of Ian's roomhalf-undressed with one shoe on. Instead, it's like all the tension has drained out of him, like he'sturned into the utter cliché of the man who can't find his brain after he'sgotten off, and he curls warm and sleepy against Ian's side, one arm tossedacross her waist. She curls her fingersinto the base of his hair and he lets out a soft sigh against her skin, and ofcourse she has to completely ruin the moment by saying, "God, Bossy, whycan't you be like this all the time?"
C – Cum
"I wantto go down on you." He says it somatter-of-factly, his hands on her thighs, already dropping to his knees infront of her, and she lets her legs fall open almost on instinct. "I – " she manages, and he looks upat her along her body. "If youdon't want me to," he continues, "we can do something else, but Ireally want – " "Yeah," she interrupts him, the word choked offat the sight of him kneeling there, the way he catches his lip in his teeth ashe looks up at her. "Yeah?" He looks pleased,almost smug, and she can already tell he's going to be insufferable about it,going to feel so good about himself for getting her off, but he's leaning in,pushing her skirt up around her hips, pressing his mouth to her through herpanties, and she can't help but let out a quiet gasp. She can practically feel his lips curvinginto a smirk against her, and it shouldn't be hot, but it is. "Shut the fuck up," she tells him,even though his mouth is otherwise occupied, and she sinks her fingers into hishair. She expects him to be delicateabout it, cautious, but instead he goes at it wholeheartedly, hot and wet andmessy, and she's shaking by the time she tugs on his hair, gasps out,"Bossy, hey. Kyle. I'm – " but he doesn't pull off, doesn't back away, just swallows around her asshe comes, and does, in fact, look unbearably smug when he finally settles backagainst his heels and looks up at her.
J – JackOff
She doesn'tmean to hit a nerve when she asks to watch him get himself off, but he looks ather like a deer in the headlights, seemingly completely at a loss for wordsuntil he finally goes with, "Oh. I…don't,really." "You…don't?" sherepeats, and he shrugs. "I don'tknow, it seems like kind of…a waste of time? I like it with someone, but by myself itjust feels…unnecessary." "Huh," Ian replies, and she can see the way he's curled in onhimself a little, like he's waiting for her to say something awful, so insteadshe just shrugs. "Okay." She reaches across the bed for him. "Then can I…?" He looks at her, relief tangled up with anticipationin his eyes as he nods eagerly. "Please?" he says.
T – Toys
Kyle goes redthe first time Ian pulls out her toys, but he's honestly curious about them,asking questions, carefully starting to use them together when she wants, andit never really crosses her mind that they could be theirtoys, not until he's the one to bring it up, sitting on her bed one eveningafter he's gotten her off and taking out one of the other toys, touching itthoughtfully. "So," he says,still looking at the toy instead of at her, "I know you don't want to –" and he makes a vague gesture that she knows means stick it inme, but could honestly be anything in the world, "but how wouldyou feel about maybe…" he looks at her then, over the toy, and she beamsat him. "Kyle, are you asking me tofuck you?" The question gets the desiredblush, and she grins wider. "Yes,yes yes yes, and also yes." Shereaches out to slap him lightly on the ass. "Flip over, boyfriend." He's laughing as he complies, but he soon stops, laughter replaced bychoked gasps as she fingers him so slowly and teasingly, taking him completelyapart until he's rocking back against her touch, his pleading words tanglingtogether so badly she can't even make them out before she slides the toy in,slick and smooth and wringing a desperate moan from his lips.
Y – Yearning
She has ahigher sex drive than he does, wants it more often, more urgently, and it tooka while for her to get used to it, to be okay with the nights when he'd get heroff with his mouth or his hands or a toy and then settle contentedly into bedwith her, still half hard but seemingly perfectly happy to lie there in the darknessand drift off to sleep with her. She'dlie awake instead, long after his breath had evened out, afraid that she'd donesomething wrong, that he didn't actually want her, that he was with her out ofsome sense of pity, and it wasn't until they fought over something completelyinconsequential that she snapped it at him, sharp and brutal, how he didn'twant her anyway, couldn't even stand to have her touch him sometimes. He held her gently that night, afterward,both of them exhausted, her eyes still stained with tears, his hands stillunsteady, and he pressed kisses to her neck as he whispered that he alwayswanted her, that she was stunning and attractive and "a stone cold fox,okay, Ian, for real," and that sometimes he didn't feel like having sexand it had absolutely nothing to do with her, except for how he was sorry thatit hurt her, and that when he did want sex,he wanted it with her, wanted to feel her against him, to touch her and kissher – and eventually the words melted into actions, into his hands and mouthall over her, his body against hers, and he gasped her name against her skin ashe came, shaking and overwhelmed by how desperately he wanted her.
