#milly cw

[masonverger-rising]

adventures in ikea || dissociativedesign

dissociativedesign

Billy stared blankly at the pieces on the floor, then slowly squinted.  The fuzzy alcohol haze he typically stayed in around Mason was wearing thin, but somehow the shit seemed like a good idea.  Mainly because nothing else seemed like a better one.  Sleep didn’t seem like a pleasant idea at the moment either.  Oh well.  He liked working with his hands more or less, just not necessarily on anything that could be called manual labor.  He gave a snort and a shrug all the same.

“Sure, I got a toolbox.  I’ll be right back.”  He rumbled out and then turned to half drag his feet out of the room.  

“Good.”

Mason’s beginning to think that the instruction booklet he’s been given isn’t meant for the parts he has. He holds them up while Billy’s gone, trying to figure out how they should all fit together.

At least three parts look like they’re meant for something else entirely.

He frowns and sits on his heels, his chin propped on his knee while he turns a screw over between his fingertips. Billy is handy -- or at least he owns a toolbox. Maybe he’ll have better luck.

[masonverger-rising]

dissociativedesign

Billy’s nude besides his shirt, unbuttoned and barely on his shoulders.  He scratches at his stomach, fingering his navel idly as he considers what he might do if Mason wasn’t through pouting or..whatever it was he was doing.  Glad he doesn’t have to think about it he shrugs his shirt off as he pushes in the bathroom beside Mason, pulling the other man’s back against his front.  

“What’s up with you anyhow, huh princess?”  He mutters against the back of Mason’s neck.  “You comin’ down off’a something?”  Not that he particularly cares, but it fells good to keep talking as he rubs down Mason’s sides and hips to find his thighs.  He squeezes over them and sighs, unsure if he was feeling sedated or simply sleepy himself.  

“Jesus fuckin’ Chris’ a’m hard as hell.”  He grumbles as if surprised by the fact, running his tongue over the side of Mason’s neck, hooking his arms around his waist and grinding forward.  

Mason looks down at himself, limp, soft cock, and he can see Billy’s hands on him, fingers pressing into him. He likes that Billy can throw him around, manhandle him, he really does -- but sometimes Billy grates on him.

He arches his spine, pushes back when Billy grinds up against him, “You’d get hard off a stiff breeze, Fred,” and to be fair the same could be said of Mason most of the time, “try harder.”

He digs his own fingers into Billy’s rump, twists back to set his teeth against his bicep -- he’s not sure what he’s after, what kind of reaction he wants to provoke, but that part of him that wants other people to hurt is straining at the bit.

Mason rakes his nails over Billy’s backside, he feels skin piling under his nails and his lip curls and he sinks his teeth into Billy’s arm at the same time.

[masonverger-rising]

"Ow, why do you keep doing that?! I said ‘no teeth’!"

Realistic Sex for Sexual Sunday!

"Why do you keep pulling my fucking hair -- I said don't," Mason sits back on his heels and wipes his mouth with the heel of his hand, "naw, I'm done -- why don't you go to the kitchen and find your fucking peanut butter, I'm sick of this." He slides off the bed and goes into the en suite, slams the door behind himself.

[masonverger-rising]

dissociativedesign

Billy sucks on his teeth and wonders where Mason was going with that line of questioning to begin with—but, then, what does he care? They weren’t much for talking and he fucking liked it that way. 

"What color y’want?" He asks over his shoulder, pulling a duffle bag from under the bed. He roots around in it, pulling out a few little glass bottles. "I got purple, green, an’ red…an’ this glitter shit." He holds the last one up as he turns back around.

Mason hums for a moment and then laughs, "Glitter shit," he sips his drink, "absolutely, do your worst," he's a little surprised that Billy has the polishes just in his duffle bag -- he'd been expecting to have to treasure hunt through Margot's room to find some.

He'd only been teasing Billy -- it's so easy to rile him up, he hadn't expected anything to come of it. He files this little tid-bit away for the future and curls his toes, pressing his soles against Billy.

[masonverger-rising]

"You're a fucking idiot!"

Send "You're a fucking idiot!" to see how my muse reacts.

Mason aims a wobbly kick but his foot only glances off Billy's thigh, he bares his teeth and sneers, "You're one to talk."

[masonverger-rising]

Kiss me, quick!

13. Behind the ear

Billy is still sleeping, his face pressed into the pillow and Mason squirms closer, one hand pushing across the smooth, hot skin at the small of his back and the other tracing over Billy's hip, his belly, down to circle his cock.

He hums softly, nosing at the damp curls behind Billy's ear, breathing in the smell of clean sweat and warm skin and he presses a kiss there, then ducks his head to rub his cheek over Billy's shoulder, cat-like.

[masonverger-rising]

dissociativedesign

i don't remember exactly why i made this now

but im sure i had my reasons

[masonverger-rising]

dissociativedesign

[text] I’m not fucking phobic you piece of shift

[text] Shit

[text] And probably not

[text] We just did coke in the bathroom

[text] Are you bored or is the whole spying on me thing something normal for you?

[text] sure thing fred i believe you

[text] ... we're in the same club, i am sitting here looking at the beer you left behind

[text] i would hardly call that spying

[text] 'just coke' sure

[text] weren't we supposed to be picking up girls? i kind of thought that was the reason we came here?