Not what I was expecting to write, but I wrote omg.
“No! I don’t wanna!”
Cassian sighed deeply. His daughter was only two, she couldn’t be this stubborn. But yet, here she sat on the middle of the floor, looking like her mother. Her arms were folded, her lower lip jutting out, and her silver blue eyes blazing.
“Orianna, it’s time to go. We don’t want to get to Illyria late.”
“I don’t want to go to Illyria!” She thumped her fists down on the rug for emphasis. “I want to stay in the library!” But library came out like “wibary” and Cassian tried to hold in his laughter.
“Don’t you want to go help Aunt Emerie in her shop? Mama is there waiting for us.” Cassian lowered himself onto the floor slowly, taking care not to spook Ori. She was quick on her feet and her wings and the House would aid her in escape.
“I wanna stay with Aunt Gwyn in the library!” Ori rubbed at her eyes furiously. There it is, Cassian thought, she’s tired. He reached out for her slowly, scooping her into his arms. “Aunt Gwyn is coming to Illyria with Uncle Az tomorrow,” he reminded her as he held her tight against his chest, “we have to beat them there. I’ll get you strapped in and you can take a nap.” He knew she’d be asleep before they made it out of the valley.
“I don’t wanna go to Illyria,” she whined into his chest, picking absently at the siphon in his leathers. “They’re mean and I don’t like them. I wanna stay in the library.” Ori’s wings drooped, from exhaustion and defeat.
“Who’s mean, Ori?” Cassian asked, as she nestled her head into his neck.
“The old females,” he little voice piped from his shoulder, Cassian met her silver blue eyes that were filled with worry and tears. “They call me half-breed. And ugly. The boys don’t do it anymore, ‘cause Nyx beat them up, but the females all say it.” Ori rubbed her eyes with a chubby fist before burrowing back into Cassian’s neck and chest her voice whimpered and muffled. “I wanna stay in the library.”
"All Grian wanted to do was sleep. He needed it. Who knew when Dogwarts would strike next? It could be tomorrow at dawn for all he knew, and he needed rest to be prepared, goddamnit!"
LOOKIE! A PARAGRAPH!! AND A COMPREHENSIVE ONE AT THAT!
A/N: AKA the long awaited mustache fic (awaited by no one but me, but still). I've had that little text convo at the beginning saved in my notes app for a long time, but I never quite knew how I wanted to follow it up. I still didn’t really know where I was going with this when I finally started writing it, but I should have known it would turn into filth. I’m not sorry, except to those of you who can't abide the 'stache (even though your opinion is wrong) <3 And btw, if you're thinking 'this reads like a bad porn flick', that is entirely intentional 😌 Hope you enjoy! Comments = love <3
****
C: be there in 30
S: I'll put a beer in the freezer
C: I love you
S: I know
S: love you too
C: and seb, just
C: don't laugh ok
S: huh?
S: why would I laugh
C: you'll see
S: ?? what does that mean?
C: be there soon 😘
Sebastian huffs, leaving his phone on the couch as he heads into his kitchen and pulls open the pantry door.
He doesn’t drink enough beer to permanently keep his fridge stocked with the stuff, and while Chris does love his beer (understatement), he’s trying to cut back. Or at least not to drink on weeknights. Too much. But since tonight is Friday and they have a whole weekend ahead of them in which they’ll be doing nothing but relaxing, ordering pizza, and watching movies, Sebastian figures they can start indulging a little early. He grabs a couple of beers from the bottom shelf, sticking them in the freezer to chill, so Chris will come home to a cold beer later.
As he returns to the living room and stretches out on the couch, bag of potato chips in hand, it occurs to Sebastian just how domestic it all feels. The thought makes him smile.
He’s never been very good at domesticity, which it’s why it’s even more surprising how much he likes it, this time around. He knows he shouldn’t get too used to having Chris in his space, he does, but it’s just too nice not to want to soak it up and roll around in it every chance he gets. The prospect of Chris staying at his place for longer than just a weekend makes something warm and giddy fizz in the pit of his stomach. It’s addictive.
For the next few months, Chris will be on stage every night in his first ever Broadway play, and for the duration of its run, he’ll be staying in New York.
Officially, Chris is renting a swanky place in Tribeca.
Unofficially, he’s staying with Sebastian at his tiny SoHo apartment.
The fact that Sebastian lives in New York played at least some part in Chris’s decision to do a Broadway play this year. They were both tired of only seeing each other whenever one of them could take a few days off to visit the other (under the radar, of course). Already, Chris spending an extended period of time in New York has done their relationship a world of good.
Things are good. Easy. If he’s being honest with himself, Sebastian can’t remember the last time he felt so content.
Since coming to New York, Chris has been going to rehearsals every weekday. Sebastian has sometime off in between projects, and he’s set to attend the premiere of Lobby Hero this Monday – ostensibly as an interested co-star, secretly in the capacity of supportive boyfriend. He can’t wait to see Chris shine on stage. Chris is nervous as hell, to the point where he’s wondered if blowing the whole thing off wouldn’t be better than letting everyone down, but there’s no doubt in Sebastian’s mind that he’ll knock it out of the park. Chris is a lot better than he gives himself credit for.
When a car door slams outside his apartment, Sebastian sits up, brushing the crumbs off his sweater – a soft, light blue one that Chris says brings out his eyes. When he darts a look out the window, Chris’s cab is just driving off. The man himself is keeping his head down, so all Sebastian can see is the top of the baseball cap he’s wearing.
Curious now, Sebastian gets up to greet Chris. Less than a minute later, the door to Sebastian’s apartment opens, Chris walks in, looks up, and –
Sebastian chokes on air.
The sound that leaves him is one he’s never heard himself make before; something high and squeaky and extremely embarrassing.
“Don’t,” Chris says instantly, a warning in his voice.
Sebastian gapes at him.
“You have a mustache,” he says faintly, once he’s remembered how to talk.
“Yep.” Chris lifts a hand to his face, fiddling with said mustache. “It’s for the role.”
Distantly, Sebastian registers he sounds a little off, and that’s when he finally notices the hint of apprehension in Chris’s eyes. Just the smallest glint of poorly concealed uncertainty.
Chris is worried, Sebastian realizes with a start.
Worried that Sebastian will laugh at him. That Sebastian might not find him attractive anymore.
Well. No need to worry about that, apparently.
Because for some unholy reason, that thing on Chris’s upper lip – big and bushy and only about half an inch on either side removed from being a handlebar mustache – is currently making Sebastian want to climb him like a fucking tree.
Not that he doesn’t normally want to do that, but urge is suddenly more intense than usual. By about three hundred and twelve percent.
“You look…”
“Ridiculous?” Chris supplies, self-deprecating as always. “Like my dad? A 70s porn star?”
“You look hot.” Sebastian doesn’t quite mean to blurt it out like that, but he does anyway. And. Well. That’s out there now.
Chris’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “I – what?”
“Fuck,” Sebastian breathes. He runs a shaky hand through his short hair, trying to gather his thoughts. “Look, I don’t know what this says about me, but uh. I am like, really fucking attracted to you right now. Even more than usual, I mean.”
For a long moment, Chris looks at him as if he’s crazy, or maybe like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, but once it becomes clear that Sebastian isn’t joking (if only he were), Chris’s expression turns into one of tentative amusement.
“You’re serious,” he says, taking a step closer. Keeping his eyes fixed on Sebastian’s face, he carefully runs his thumb and forefinger over the mustache in a gesture that kind of makes him look like he’s up to no good. “You like it?”
Sebastian swallows. “Uh-huh.”
“Didn’t know you had a thing for guys with mustaches.”
“Neither did I.” Sebastian takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I think it might even just be you.”
“Oh, really?” Chris asks, some of his usual cheek returning now that he realizes he isn’t going to get laughed at. Far from it, in fact. “Huh. What do you like about it?”
“Um,” Sebastian says, swallowing as Chris steps closer. Oh Christ, it’s even worse up close. Or better, depending how you look at it. And Sebastian is looking at it. Can’t tear his eyes away from it, actually. “It. Uh - it makes you look…”
Several words flit, unbidden, through Sebastian’s mind, each one worse than the last. Macho. Authoritative. Mean.
“…good,” he finishes lamely.
Worryingly, Chris’s smile grows into a full-blown grin, and Sebastian’s skin erupts into goosebumps.
Oh, no. Sometimes Sebastian really wishes Chris didn’t know him as well as he does.
Though when Chris takes off his baseball cap, tossing it onto the hallway table, Sebastian hisses. “Ah, okay. The hair is kinda bad.”
Chris snorts, running his fingers through the spiky strands. “Right? I look like an asshole.”
“Little bit.”
Chris gives him a calculating look. “So… does that mean the effect is ruined?”
Sebastian takes a moment to consider this. “I mean, it’s objectively bad, but…” he trails off. Ugh, he really should be used to this by now, but on some level Sebastian still can’t believe that Chris can make literally any look work for him. So annoying. “…no. Not ruined. Sadly.”
Reassured, Chris slowly starts to advance on him. With every step that Chris takes forward, Sebastian takes one back, until his heels hit the wall of his hallway. He holds his breath, feeling like a bunny rabbit about to be eaten by a wolf, though presumably a little more turned on than said bunny rabbit would be at the prospect.
Stopping right in front of him, Chris leans in, placing his hands against the wall on either side of Sebastian’s shoulders.
“Hey, good lookin’,” Chris says, his breath ghosting Sebastian’s left ear. Sebastian shivers with his entire body – something which doesn’t escape Chris’s notice, and makes the grin turn into a smirk. “You come here often?”
Despite how turned on he’s rapidly getting, Sebastian snorts. “Yeah, I’d say so.”
Chris hums. “Funny how I haven’t seen you here before, then.”
“I have been saying you should get an eye test. You’ve been squinting a lot more lately.”
“Seb,” Chris huffs, fighting a smile. “C’mon, I’m tryin’ something here.”
“Right, sorry.” Sebastian clears his throat. “I, uh. I haven’t seen you before either.” Licking his lips, he adds, “Would’ve noticed if I had.”
“You would, huh? And why’s that?”
“Well, see…” Sebastian’s eyes drop to Chris’s mouth. Specifically, his upper lip situation. “It’s the mustache. Kinda hard to miss.”
Chris raises one eyebrow. “You know what else is hard?” he asks lewdly, rolling his hips.
Sebastian can’t stop himself – he lets out a helpless peal of laughter, throwing his head back and making it collide with the wall. He barely notices it, because the next thing he knows, Chris is on him, kissing up his throat and oh hello, okay, that feels weird. Good, but weird. He can’t even say why exactly it feels weird, since Chris’s beard used to tickle too, but somehow, when it’s just the ‘stache without the rest of it, it tickles more than it used to. Feels way more bristly like this.
Under Chris demanding mouth, Sebastian’s laugh morphs into a moan, and he slides down the wall a fraction, pressing into Chris and baring his neck a little further. Chris’s teeth scrape over his Adam’s apple, one of his hands wandering over Sebastian’s chest and squeezing at a pec.
“Sir,” Sebastian says, breathlessly scandalized. “Wh- what are you doing?”
“Just takin’ what I want.” Chris pulls back to look Sebastian in the eye, grabbing his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You got a problem with that, sweetheart?”
Sebastian gulps, blinking hard. “No, sir.”
“That’s what I thought,” Chris leers, leaning in to bite at Sebastian’s bottom lip and pulling at it with his teeth. At the same time, he runs his left hand down Sebastian’s side and abs, all the way down until it slips between his legs. He cups the growing hardness there, giving it a firm squeeze.
“Oh, fuck,” Sebastian breathes, hands flying up to Chris’s waist.
“How’s that feel, honey? You like that?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Yeah? You want me to keep touching you?”
“Yes.” Another mean squeeze. “Yes, please,” Sebastian amends quickly.
“How sweet.” Chris palms Sebastian’s dick again, tight and warm and so good, before abruptly pulling back his hand, leaving Sebastian to whimper and buck his hips. “Well, that’s tough, sweetheart,” Chris tells him, “‘cause you’re not gettin’ anything else till I decide you’ve earned it.”
Before Sebastian even has time to process that, Chris spins them around so that Chris is the one with his back against the wall, and then roughly pushes Sebastian down to his knees with a big hand on his shoulder.
Sebastian moans; a little for show, and a little because he genuinely likes being pushed around a bit. Usually, though, it takes Chris a lot longer to let go liken this. It tends to happen only when he’s getting close and his all he blood in his brain has relocated to his dick, but now, it seems that a little bit of clumsy role-play also does the trick.
Whatever it is, Sebastian thinks, he’ll be damned if he lets an opportunity like this pass him by.
Resting his hands on Chris thighs, Sebastian eagerly leans in to nuzzle at his crotch, mouthing at the hardening outline of his dick through his jeans. Chris hisses, hand scrabbling at Sebastian’s hair, trying to find purchase before seeming to realize that Sebastian’s hair is too short to grab right now (and doesn’t that make Sebastian suddenly regret cutting it immensely) and resorting to putting a hand over Sebastian’s face and just pushing him away instead.
“Did I say you could do that?” Chris’s asks. His usually easy voice is now laced with something dark, something almost menacing, sending a shiver down Sebastian’s spine.
He swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry, dick perking up eagerly inside his sweats. “No, sir. Sorry.”
“Damn right,” Chris mutters. “You’ll get it when I give it to you. Now, are you gonna be good for me?”
Sebastian sucks in a shaky breath. Goddamn.
“Are you?” Chris repeats, tapping Sebastian’s cheek to prompt him.
“Yeah,” Sebastian nods, a little dazed. “Yeah, I’ll be good.” He watches, fascinated, as Chris’s right hand deftly flicks open the button on his jeans, before slowly pulling down his zipper, inch by excruciating inch. Sebastian finds himself willing Chris to go faster, to let him see what he’s got in his pants, which is ridiculous, because Sebastian knows what Chris has got in his pants. He should, seeing as he’s sucked it plenty of times. But somehow, what they’re doing here feels all kinds of new and exciting. Makes his breath come faster, eyes glued to the bulge in Chris’s jeans and mouth starting to water in anticipation.
Once his zip is down, Chris lowers his jeans a little, just enough so he can comfortably cup his dick, giving himself a teasing squeeze. “You want this?”
Sebastian tears his eyes away from it and looks up at Chris, who’s looking down at him with a sardonic smile on his face.
“Yes, please,” Sebastian says, feeling his eyes go big and round almost of their own volition.
Chris groans quietly, stroking Sebastian’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Look at you. Such a pretty guy.” A devilish glint appears in his eyes as he adds, “Be a shame if something got you all dirty, wouldn’t it?”
Oh, jesus.
While Sebastian can’t do anything but watch uselessly, Chris takes himself out of his underwear, pulling down his boxers enough to hook the waistband under his balls but otherwise remaining fully clothed. His dick is all the way hard already, flushed that pretty shade of pink Sebastian loves so much, wetness pearling at the exposed tip. Sebastian’s mouth literally waters so much he needs to swallow. Once again, he leans in to try and get his mouth on Chris, and once again Chris pushes him back with an admonishing hand to the face.
“Now, now. Don’t be greedy.”
Sebastian huffs impatiently behind Chris’s palm. “Please.”
Chris chuckles, taking hold of Sebastian’s chin again and running the pad of his thumb over Sebastian’s bottom lip. Sebastian doesn’t waste any time in letting his mouth drop open, something thrilling inside of him when Chris slides his thumb between his lips and presses down on his tongue. Sebastian closes his lips around the digit, moaning softly as he suckles at it. It’s not quite what he wants, but it’s still part of Chris inside of him, and he’ll take what he can get.
Sebastian is all set to protest again when Chris pulls his finger out, but before he can say anything, Chris shuts him right back up again by taking his cock in hand and literally rubbing it in Sebastian’s face.
Sebastian makes a shocked noise, eyes fluttering closed and mouth going slack. He moans, louder than before, and it’s not for show this time. Not even a little bit. Fire licks up his spine, his dick giving a desperate twitch inside his sweats. Fuck, but that’s hot. It’s downright filthy, the way the wetness leaking from Chris’s dick feels on his clean-shaven cheeks. Makes him feel dirty and owned, helpless, desperate for it.
“Open up,” Chris tells him, tapping his cheek. “Stick out your tongue.”
Sebastian does, and then-- Chris puts his dick on it. Just rests it there, not moving. Like he has all the time in the world. Oh, god.
“Stay still.”
Sebastian tries – he tries so hard to keep still, to be good and wait until Chris tells him he can move, but his tongue seems to have a mind of its own, rubbing lightly along the underside of Chris’s cock. The action causes it to spurt out some precome, which drips down his throat, making Sebastian swallow involuntarily. If asked, he’d swear he doesn’t shut his mouth on purpose, but if his lips closing around Chris’s shaft happens to make Chris groan and push in deeper, then that’s just a happy side effect.
“Suck it.” Chris’s voice has gone all low and rough now – and the order should sound stupid, like something out of a bad porn flick, but then this whole thing is kind of like a bad porn flick. And while that would usually be a turn off, right now, it’s setting Sebastian on fucking fire.
“I said, suck it,” Chris repeats, when Sebastian doesn’t obey right away, and presses in deeper, a little rough with it.
Sebastian jolts into action, moaning feverishly as he starts to suck Chris off as if his life depends on it. He uses his left hand, his tongue, his lips, and choking a little when he takes Chris too deep in one go –
And then suddenly, he’s being pushed back again.
Sebastian whines.
“Easy, tiger,” Chris clucks, a little condescending despite his breathlessness. “I said suck it, not slobber all over it like some horny teen that’s never seen a dick before.”
The rejection stings, but it’s a good sting; one that makes the back of Sebastian’s neck burn hot and his dick strain almost painfully against the material of his pants.
“You know,” Chris continues, rubbing the tip of his cock over Sebastian’s slick lips, almost absent-mindedly. “If you can’t control yourself, I’m gonna have to do it for you.” Not waiting for a reply, Chris grabs the back of Sebastian’s sweater and uses it to hold him in place. The neck of it strains against Sebastian’s throat when he tries to lean forward, causing him to draw in a raspy breath. “Is that what you want?”
“Yes,” Sebastian whispers. He’s not sure if that’s the right answer, but it’s the honest answer, and the only one he’s got right now.
Chris shrugs. “Suit yourself.” Hooking his thumb over Sebastian’s bottom row of teeth, he pries his mouth open, forces his jaw down, and proceeds to feed his cock back into Sebastian’s mouth. And this time, he doesn’t stop until the head hits the back of his throat.
Despite having had a bit of practice, Sebastian’s gag reflex kicks in. He tries to swallows, and that makes Chris moan real pretty, so of course he does it again. Chris hips stutter and Sebastian’s eyelids flutter, and Chris pulls out before then sliding all the way back in again, over and over until Sebastian’s eyes start to water and his vision goes blurry.
When Chris tentatively thrusts in a little deeper still, a little rougher and less controlled, Sebastian lets out what is quite probably the most wanton sound he’s ever made.
“Ohh,” Chris muses, low and a little mean. “You like that, huh? Like it when you’re chokin’ on my dick? Yeah, ‘course you do, pretty little thing like you.”
Ho-ly-shit. They’re no strangers to a bit of dirty talk, but this… this feels different. It’s borderline degrading, what Chris is saying and doing, and Sebastian finds himself going wild for it.
Who knew.
Undoubtedly noticing Sebastian’s reaction, Chris does it again, pushing in deep and holding there until Sebastian starts to splutter. “Take it, all of it,” Chris orders, sounding almost unaffected. “Thought you wanted it, huh? C’mon, open wider. Yeah, that’s it.”
Feeling hot all over, Sebastian does his best to do what is asked of him. He opens his throat and relaxes as best he can, breathing harshly through his nose while he takes what Chris is giving him. He honestly might come in his pants any minute now, just from this. Chris’s cock is hard and heavy on his tongue, dripping down his throat, his familiar, musky scent everywhere, clouding Sebastian’s brain with screaming lust. One big hand rests heavy on Sebastian’s shoulder, fingers digging almost painfully into his trapezius muscle, and Sebastian’s knees hurt, and his jaw hurts, and he’s sore, and he’s gonna be even more sore later, but right now, he doesn’t care.
He feels good, amazing even. The only thing that’s missing now is seeing Chris fall apart. He wants Chris to come so badly, more so even than he wants to come himself, that he can feel it all the way down in his toes.
He doesn’t notice that his cheeks are wet until Chris brings up a hand to wipe at the tear tracks, meanwhile keeping up the relentless rhythm of his hips, steadily pumping in and out.
“Hey.”
Sebastian turns his eyes up, meeting Chris dark and heated gaze, misty through the tears. For a split second, Chris looks at him like himself, quickly cataloguing Sebastian’s condition, before seeming to decide they’re still on the same page. His eyes turn mean again, and Sebastian’s already racing heart skips a beat.
Chris coos then, a soft aaww which makes Sebastian feel equal parts cherished and pathetic. “Should see yourself, honey. Cryin’ and drooling all over my cock…” Chris thumbs at the corner of Sebastian’s mouth, wet with a mixture of spit and tears and Chris’s slick. “Jesus, you’re a mess.”
The words are condescending, but Chris’s voice sounds awed despite himself, and Sebastian is lit up with it from the inside out. He can tell Chris is getting close. Can hear it in his breathing, feel it from the way his thrusts get sloppier and rougher, dick occasionally slipping out and rubbing against Sebastian’s cheek before making its home in his eager mouth again.
“Oh, that’s it, baby,” Chris groans, fingers tightening impossibly on Sebastian’s shoulder. “Gonna make me come. Shit.”
Sebastian moans, letting Chris know how much he wants that, willing him to go faster.
Chris curses again, breathless now, heavy lidded eyes locked on Sebastian’s. “So close, f-fuck. Gonna come all over that pretty face, baby. Ahh, fuck yeah.”
Chris thrusts in deeply one last time, his mouth dropping open. Sebastian feels the first spurt of his release hit the back of his throat, before Chris hastily pulls out and lets the rest of it spill on Sebastian’s face. Come hits his cheeks, his nose, drips down into his mouth, warm and wet and Chris. It’s accompanied by an acute sense of accomplishment, making Sebastian feel boneless and sated, like he’s the one who just blew his load.
As if his strings have been cut, Chris slumps, sliding down the wall until he’s sitting on the floor. His eyes, still a little wild with the remnants of his ecstasy, roam over Sebastian’s face, wide like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathes, grabbing Sebastian’s head between his hands and kissing him, deep and filthy. His tongue pushes in, hot and demanding, licking the taste of himself out of Sebastian’s slack mouth. The mustache is rough against Sebastian’s face. It stings a little, and Sebastian relishes it.
Abruptly, Chris breaks the kiss only to pull him closer, practically into his lap. Sebastian is mostly boneless at this point, except for the bit between his legs, so he lets himself be pulled and arranged like a ragdoll until he’s sandwiched between Chris’s spread thighs.
Chris’s hand fumbles with the drawstring on Sebastian’s sweats, sticking a hand down his pants. When his fingers wrap around his aching dick, Sebastian nearly sobs with relief. He hadn’t even realized how desperate for release he was, too focused on Chris’s pleasure to even register his own need, but now that Chris is touching him, finally touching him, the need to come slams into him like a freight train. The angle is awkward, and Sebastian has trouble breathing because his throat hurts and Chris is still trying to sucking his face off, but it doesn’t matter. He is so on edge that after only a few strokes, he cries out and shoots off all over Chris’s hand. He buries his face in Chris’s neck, mouth open and slack against the warm skin beneath Chris’s ear, while he rides out the aftershocks.
Christ, that was good.
An indeterminate amount of time later, Chris starts rubbing circles over Sebastian’s back. It’s a calming gesture, soothing. Apologetic. “You okay?” he asks quietly. “Did I hurt you?”
Sebastian takes stock of his body. He’s sore as hell, but it’s a good kind of sore. Nothing hurts, in the bad sense of the word. “I’m okay,” he slurs, only it comes out more like, “Mmmhfgk.”
“You sure?” Chris presses. “‘Cause I – I got a little carried away there. Fuck, I didn’t even check if that was okay, I’m sorry.”
Sebastian scoffs, lifting his head. If there’s one thing Sebastian is certain of, it’s that Chris would have stopped immediately if Sebastian had given even the slightest indication that he wasn’t having a good time. He fixes Chris with a hard look – or at least, as hard as he’s capable of in his post-orgasmic state. “Did I look like it wasn’t okay? That was so hot, Chris. It was like, maximum okay.”
Chris makes a sound, reaching up to wipe at Sebastian’s cheeks with his sleeve. “Jesus, Seb.” He still looks a little stunned, wide-eyed and red-cheeked. The mustache makes him look a little dumb, and Sebastian really does kind of love it.
He lifts a finger, gently stroking it over the bristly hairs.
“Thanks for making me feel better about this thing,” Chris says, his eyes back to being soft and loving now.
Sebastian shakes his head. “My pleasure, believe me. I mean, I’m a little concerned about myself, but I’m glad it stopped you worrying.”
“I wasn’t worried.”
“’Course not,” Sebastian replies, patting Chris’s chest.
They sit there for a moment, catching their breath and allowing their minds to unmuddle themselves.
Suddenly, Sebastian jolts upright. “Oh, shit.”
Chris is on instant alert, gaze sharpening as he takes Sebastian in from head to toe. “What is it?” he asks, obviously assuming Sebastian has suddenly discovered that Chris did hurt him after all. “What’s wrong?”
“Your beer.”
Chris blinks at him. “My beer?”
“It’s still in the freezer. It’s only supposed to be in there for like, fifteen minutes tops.”
Chris rolls his eyes. “Fuck the beer,” he says, pulling Sebastian back into his chest.
“But what if it explodes and ruins my freezer?”
“I’ll buy you a new freezer, jeez. Dork.”
“Hey,” Sebastian scolds mildly. “Don’t forget I’m the dork who just made you come your brains out.”
“Trust me,” Chris says, leaning in to kiss him again. “I’m not forgetting that any time soon.”
“it's better than before.” (please don’t hurt me too bad!)
I think this was an angst prompt and my answer is... not. I don't know what it is exactly! Set in the revival, Mulder muses about life, changes and Scully. Wc: 1,966
Tagging @today-in-fic
Everything Old is New Again
The fake sunrise his alarm clocks projects wakes him at 6.30 am, like every morning. One of these days he’s going to find an old analog clock like he used to have. But that’s a task for another morning. Until then, he will wake up to this, believing Scully when she says it’s better for him. Even if the light is fake.
His body protests as he rolls over to switch off the orange light and the bird chirping that accompanies it. He doesn’t know how to turn off the incessant sound on its own. It just turns on every morning. There should be a manual for this damn alarm clock, but if there is, he’s lost it.
Mulder groans as he sits up in bed, running a hand over his face. It’s Friday. Once, days of the week didn’t matter. Weekend was an idea rather than a fixed set of days. Nowadays, he works Monday to Friday, like one of these agents he used to think of as lazy when he himself was younger. He wonders what young agents think about him now. If they think about him at all.
In the bathroom, his Bluetooth speaker greets him with a mechanical good morning and hits from the 70s, 80s and 90s. You can take the man out of the decades, but not the decades out of the man.
He showers quickly, his shower head made to save water. Less than five minutes later he’s done. Gone are the days of long, hot showers. Now there’s only efficiency. Scully got him the shower head last Christmas and he, against all odds, had hoped it meant she wanted to take more showers here, at their house. His hopes were crushed when she told him she had a date for New Year’s Eve.
He spent long days waiting to hear about the date, about the new man in her life. It never happened. Over a month later, when her birthday drew near, he asked her about it, pretending his heart wasn’t pounding. She merely shrugged, said it was only one date and nothing more. The nameless man remained so. As did the next, and the one after him. Then, in May, Scully told him about Paul. A guy she went on more than one date with. Five, to be exact. Mulder tried counting backward to find out when it had started. Whether something had changed then. Had she smiled more? Had she seemed happier?
“I hope you,” she had said, taking his hand in hers. “I hope it doesn’t bother you. I will keep my personal life out of the office. I just wanted you to know. I owe you that much.”
So he knew. May went by in a blur and June promised to be the same with Scully asking for a week off. He didn’t ask and she didn’t say, but he knew she was going to spend it with Paul. Mulder threw himself into work, didn’t allow himself to think about her, or about what she and Paul were doing.
When she returned, a soft tan on her face, she looked guilty and Mulder was deflated. Once, they had gone on vacation, too. Away from the darkness that had followed them. No matter how much sun there was, how much love they made, it hung over them like a rain cloud. They both knew that one day it would break and drown them.
Paul was history by late June. Scully told him in passing while they were getting ready to board a plane. He just nodded, trying to keep his face neutral when in reality he felt like bursting into song.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“You’re not,” Scully replied, but there was a twinkle in her eyes and a lightness in her voice he hadn’t heard in a while.
He took her hand as the plane started, knowing how much she hated that moment. She didn’t pull away and Mulder knew that things were changing.
His coffee grows cold over his musings, but he downs it anyway before he grabs his car keys to leave for work. The sun – the real one – has just woken up and is blinking through the gray September clouds up above. Mulder turns on the heat in the car, feeling a bit chilly.
He hooks up his phone, tells it to navigate him to work and starts his car. How different this used to be. Back in the day, he knew the way to the Hoover building by heart. Now he isn’t sure he’d find his way without his phone. Scully keeps telling him to not use it as it will make his brain shrink, but it’s just easier this way. And it gives him time to think. About Scully.
Today is the day. He’s planned it meticulously. He will ask her out. An old-fashioned date, just the two of them. No cases, no excuses, and no Pauls. No bees either. He grins, humming along to the song on his playlist. Another one of those things. He and Scully used to find tapes in their rental cars from time to time, listening to them in excitement. They never knew what the next song would be. He misses those days, sometimes. Misses the unpredictability of it all.
Mulder stops in front of the coffee shop he and Scully have started frequenting. It’s a far cry from the places they went to back in the day. There are seven different varieties of milk now, not just one. A couple of weeks ago, he ordered a coffee with cow milk and Scully threw him a look, reminding him that plant-based milk is better for the environment and for him.
Ever since then, he’s been taking his coffee with unsweetened almond milk. After all, Scully is a medical doctor and he trusts her. In every conceivable way. He orders his coffee and Scully’s and buys two sandwiches for lunch, too. Vegan, of course.
Scully is already there when he enters the office. She gives him a smile, sitting on the edge of their desk, reading through a file. His stomach somersaults, putting a huge grin on his face that takes him back at least 20 years. She has that effect on him. Then, now and always.
“Good morning,” she says. “I’ve been wondering where you are.”
“Huh?”
“It’s late, Mulder. Late for you anyway. Was there a lot of traffic?” She takes a sip from her coffee as she waits for his answer.
“Um, no. I was just- getting read took a bit longer this morning.”
“You’re not sick, are you? When was your last check up?” Asking about his check ups is the best way to remind him that he’s getting old. That he is old already.
“I’m not sick,” he assures her. “Just lost in thought. That happens when you wake up to a sunrise and birds chirping.”
“It’s good for you, Mulder. It’s a gentle way of waking up.” He’s heard her explain it to him plenty of times and so he just smiles at her, nodding.
“How are you waking up these days?” He asks her, taking a nip of his coffee.
“Hm? Not with a sunrise,” she says, throwing him an amused look. Now’s his chance.
“Hey Scully, what are you doing tonight?” His heart is hammering against his chest. If he were to tell Scully, she’d probably worry he’s having a heart attack. He’s at that age now, as she not so subtly reminded him a while ago. With his questionable diet and his inability to kick his sunflower seed habit, he should be careful. But right now, unbeknownst to her, his heart is in her hands.
“I don’t have any plans,” she says.
“In that case… would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”
“I’d love to, Mulder,” she answers without hesitation, rendering him speechless. “Are you okay? You do look a bit green.” By now, she’s walked over to him and she puts her hand on his cheek, gently caressing it.
“I’m just surprised.”
“That I want to have dinner with you?”
“That I didn’t even have to persuade you,” he replies honestly.
“I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out again,” she says and color shoots into her cheeks. “I was ready to ask you to dinner myself.”
“Why didn’t you?”
She shrugs, stepping closer to him and fully invading his personal space. He doesn’t mind one bit and puts his hand on her waist. They’re skipping steps, jumping ahead, but they’ve been here before. This isn’t new. It’s merely a restart of something old and familiar.
“I was scared,” she admits.
“Scared? Of me?”
“Of you saying no.”
“Scully, I will never say no to you. I’ve been waiting too, biding my time. When you told me about Paul…” Scully groans and presses her head against his chest.
“That was a mistake,” she says against his tie. Her head resurfaces and he falls in love all over with her. With the way her fingers play with the lapels of his coat, contemplating how much she allows herself here in their office. With the way her eyes dance when he smiles at her, putting his hand on the small of her back to draw her closer. He doesn’t care that they’re in the office. Or that it’s not even 9 am.
“I hope I’m not a mistake,” Mulder says softly.
“You’ve never been a mistake, Mulder. Not once.”
“Would kissing you now be a mistake?”
“Not if I kiss you first.” And she does exactly that. He’s dreamed about kissing Scully many, many times. Back when they were first partnered and he didn’t yet know how she tasted or what she liked.
He dreamed of her when he was hiding from the world, missing her and their son. Dreamed about her when she made the choice to save them and leave so that he could get better, and she could, too. Now they are. Her mouth fits against his as perfectly as it ever has. He knows how to kiss her, how to move his lips, and how to tease her with his tongue so that she moans and presses herself against him. Some things haven’t change, won’t ever change.
“I missed doing this,” she says when they break for air.
“Making out in the office?” He presses another soft kiss against her lips.
“We never really did that, did we?”
“There’s still time.” He grins at her.
“This is a work place.” But she, too, is grinning.
“It’s Friday anyway. We can leave early.” He kisses her again and she responds in kind. When they break apart this time, she sighs.
“What are you thinking?” He asks her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“When I thought about this – us – I didn’t think… I wondered how it would happen. How we would be.”
“Is it how you thought it would be?”
“I didn’t think it would happen in the office,” she says. “I didn’t think it would happen in the morning. You taste like almond milk, Mulder.”
“No more cow milk for me. You said so. So… what’s the verdict?”
“Let me just-” She kisses him again, her tongue teasing him. His eyes flutter close and he wonders what Scully would say if he reminded her of his office sex fantasy. But maybe it’s too early for that anyway.
He wants to give her sunrises in bed, fake or otherwise. Orgasms, too. But only real ones. He wants to share his new favorite songs with her. Wants to drive around with her, Google Maps be damned. He just wants to be with her, in whatever way she lets him.
“It’s better than before,” she says and he knows she’s right.
I wrote something non-academic for the first time in months. It is, really, nothing, in that it doesn't need to be in the main story. But I wrote it so I guess I'll do something with it. Nicolette and Alyss live again!
Nicolette woke to Alyss crying. It sounded breathless, wet, in the dark of their shared room, more silence than noise. She wanted to do…something. That’s what you were supposed to do for a crying person, right? Nicolette, as always, didn’t have a clue what to do. So she did nothing but listen as a half-stranger cried to herself in her dreams. She stared up at the paneled ceiling, tracing the grain of the wood by lamplight. After a half-hour, maybe more, the sound of crying faded to background noise, and a memory wormed its way up through the gravel in her head. She remembered crying like that not too long ago. She remembered the feeling of her chest sucking in with each sob. She remembered Daisy, wrapping a blanket around her, bringing cold water, caring. Nicolette blinked up at the wood grains again, Alyss now sleeping quietly. The quiet was worse than the sobs.
Its not much but its honest work @thetruearchmagos @italiangothicwriteblr
