#....ever? cmon put some thought into it. and they take the muscle away too sometimes like girl go to hell

[pcktknife]

Yo! Do you use HoYoLAB, that social media app hoyoverse made? It is FOUL on there

hoyolab hurts the brain to be on for too long

[livvibee]

Three Times Tony Wanted to Kiss Peter and One Time Peter Kissed Him Instead

Pairing: Starker Rating: Mature (M) Notes: This fic fulfills my “First Kiss” square for @starkerfestivals​ summer bingo. Warnings: sexual content, Tony being an oblivious bottom Read here or on AO3.

Spring

It was the in-between time all insomniacs are familiar with, too late to be night and too early to be morning. The sun was barely flirting with the horizon, and the birds had yet to chirp, but the canopy of stars was beginning to fade from the inky blue sky. 

Tony was sitting in the courtyard at the center of the compound, with only the babbling of the water feature behind him to keep him company. His mug of coffee had long gone cold at his side as he stared blankly at the sky, keeping his eyes open in an attempt to avoid a tormented sleep. The stars that used to be such a comfort had their own set of bad memories attached, flying through the wormhole, being stranded in space surrounded by a sea of lights, cooling off on the lake house dock after explosive fights with Pepper. 

Tony heard the door swoosh open and quiet footsteps emerge. He looked over his shoulder to see a welcome sight. The object of his hopeless and quiet affections padding across the courtyard with two cups of coffee, steaming in the cool spring air. Peter was still dressed in his pajamas, muscled thighs below soft shorts, barely peeking out under the oversized tee that was threadbare with use, stretched out neckline drooping on one shoulder and exposing the razor-sharp edge of his collarbone. Fuck, he’s so pretty. 

“Can’t sleep either?” Peter held up the coffee like a peace offering for shattering the silence of the dawning day. 

Tony offered up a small smile but didn’t otherwise comment, taking the coffee in his sleep-deprived grip with shaking hands. Peter sat on the bench, shoulder touching with Tony’s as they relaxed and drank their coffee while the sun rose. Tony blinked away the film of exhaustion gathering in his eyes, finally ready to talk after countless sips of hot java. 

“What’s eating at you, Underoos?” 

Peter let out a soft sigh. “The usual. People I couldn’t save. Dissolving into dust on an alien planet. You know. Spidey stuff. You?” 

Tony tilted his head to rest against Peter’s and secretly thrilled at the additional point of contact. “Just thinking about the stars, Pete.”

They sat in silence again for some time before Peter shifted on the bench to face Tony, ducking his head a little in shyness. “Have you ever, you know, tried talking to someone about things? Sometimes I think I should, then I feel like I should be stronger, able to handle everything on my own.” 

Tony could see Peter starting to crack. “Hey, hey, no.” He put a hand on the other man’s to steady him, fighting the desperate urge to kiss Peter until the worry lines around his eyes relaxed. “You don’t have to carry everything on your own. It does help to have someone to talk to. You know, you can always come to me, or if you’d prefer a third party, I can help you find one. It wouldn’t be the first time someone on the team needed a little help, Pete.” Tony felt Peter’s eyes blazing into his own, searching his face for what, Tony wasn’t sure.

“Thanks, Tony,” Peter exhaled with shaky breath. “I think I’ll take you up on that.”

The two men sat together, quietly talking as the sun blazed orange into the sky, creeping up over the horizon and finally coming into view over the edge of the courtyard wall. Tony wouldn’t realize it until later, but their hands stayed touching for hours, until the complex was waking up around them, figures bustling to and fro visible through the windows. 

Summer

The Avengers annual summer cookout and pool party was the event of the season. The entire team would show up for hotdogs and hamburgers by the pool. Tony was sweating in the summer heat manning the small cabana bar, mixing up cocktails for his teammates and friends. Most of the team were relaxing by the pool, watching the younger set monopolize the diving board with cannonballs and flips, while Rhodey was chatting his ear off about the latest military gossip. 

Tony’s attention wandered as Peter rose out of the water like a Greek god, lifting himself with ease up the side of the pool. Tony was bewitched by the flex of his arms, and watched with hunger as the receding waters revealed Peter’s well built body, inch by inch. From the thick planes of his pecs to his rippling abs, down to his well defined quads and calves Peter was cut like a statue, some superhuman version of a man. Peter made his way across the patio toward the bar. 

Oh my God, he’s coming over here. Play it cool, Tony!

“Hey guys, how’s it going?” Peter’s chirped, hair glistening wetly in the sunlight.

“Hey Spiderling, everything’s good here,” Tony blurted out. “Having a good time, care for a drink? I’m making mai tais!”

“Sure, that sounds delicious.” Peter smiled expectantly toward Tony, watching as he mixed the drink together and gave it a vigorous shake over his shoulder before pouring it into one of the patriotically themed cups. 

“Thanks!” Peter grabbed the drink and gave it a careful sip. “Mm, Tony this is delicious.”

Yeah, I’ll tell you what else is damn delicious. You.

“Sure thing kid, it’s my pleasure. You’ve got a little on your lip, just there.” Tony watched as Peter’s tongue ventured out beyond his lips and slowly traced his top lip, biting back a whine at how badly he wanted that tongue in his mouth. 

“Did I get it all?” Peter asked, the picture of innocence. 

“Yep!” Tony’s response was rushed and his smile wide and fake as he tried to get control of himself. 

Peter took another drink from his glass before smiling and thanking Tony again. The younger man turned to face the pool, adjusting his clinging swimming trunks then stretching his body like a cat as he walked, arms up into the sky, keeping his beverage carefully balanced. Tony hungrily watched the play of muscles along his back as his arms lifted before focusing his gaze on the two perfect round orbs inside his trunks as Peter walked away. Tony bit his lip as he imagined all that bulk holding him down, spearing him open to just-

“Tony! Earth to Tony!” Rhodey’s voice cut in and dropped Tony right out of his fantasy. “Are you through staring at Peter, or should I go and leave you alone with your thoughts?”

Alert! Deflect! Deflect!

“Peter?!” Tony sputtered, trying to gather his thoughts and come up with a plausible excuse. “Uh, I wasn’t staring at Peter, I was on a mental tangent about the latest StarkPad design.” Tony laughed nervously. “You know I’m always working on something, honeybear.”

Rhodey shot him an unimpressed look. “Cmon, Tones, I’ve known you longer than that.”

Tony crumpled under his best friend’s perceptive gaze. “You’re right, I’m pathetic. Lusting after a man so many years younger than me. It’s ridiculous really, I don’t even think he’s into guys.” He glanced hesitantly at Rhodey’s face, who still looked extremely unimpressed.

“I swear your genius intellect deserts you at the most infuriating times.” Rhodey turned to walk away, saying over his shoulder, “Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt, Tony”

Fall

Tony traced the line of Peter’s throat with eager eyes, watching the movement of his Adam’s apple as the younger man gulped down water. Rivulets of sweat were tracing down Peter’s shirtless form, collecting in the divots of his abs and tracing the vee of his obliques, soaking into the band of the sinfully tiny shorts slung from his hips. The golden autumn light from the window backlit the fine hair on his gloriously muscled thighs, and surrounded Peter with a shimmering halo from head to toe. Tony drank in all the details, burning them into his brain as he jogged on the treadmill. 

He’s so fucking hot. Soaked in sweat, glistening above those short-shorts. Honestly how much of this can one man take? Can the universe just give me one night? I just wanna grab at his-

“Hi,Tony!” Peter called across the gym, waving and trying to catch the man’s eye.

The sudden movement and attention startled Tony, and he tripped and went careening backward off the equipment, landing flat on his back and knocking his head on the floor. “Ow! Fuck.” 

“Oh my God! Tony!” Peter bounded across the compound gym and slid to his knees next to Tony’s embarrassed and sore form. “Tony, are you okay?”

Tony opened his eyes to see Peter’s face hovering above him. His warm brown eyes were round with concern, chestnut curls in disarray. Tony smiled up at him with a dopey grin, and lifted a hand to touch his cheek, desperately wanting to kiss away the frown on his perfect lips. “You are so gorgeous, you know that, right?”

A flash of something rose and sank in Peter’s eyes so quickly Tony couldn’t identify it. “Okay…” Peter said, drawing out the o. “Time to get you checked out, come on.” 

Peter hauled Tony up to his feet, ignoring his squawking protests that he was “just fine, c’mon, Pete” and hustled him into medical to get checked out.

Later, after being treated for his bumps and bruises, Tony was fervently grateful that Peter hadn’t listened to the besotted rambling he could fuzzily remember.

Ugh, c’mon, Tones, keep it together and leave the kid alone. You said he was beautiful and he reacted by taking you to medbay. Tony thought to himself with mild disgust, sitting alone on the edge of the medbay bed. You’ve gotta get over this!

Peter popped his head around the corner, startling Tony out of his thoughts. “Hey, you ready to get out of here?”

Tony tried and failed to stifle his blinding grin into something more appropriate. “You came back.” 

Peter laughed. “Wasn’t gonna leave you all alone to recover, but I was desperate for a shower after that workout. Let’s head back to your place, we can watch movies while you rest up.”

Winter

They were in the lab when it happened. Tony had just given Peter a new StarkPhone to replace his old, battered model with the cracked screen. As Peter’s apps and setting transferred over, Tony heard it. That sound. The unmistakable ping of the most popular gay hookup app. Peter didn’t even flinch from where he sat next to Tony, just kept going about his business working on a new suit modification as the notification sounded over and over. 

Tony’s mouth was dry, his heart pounding in his temples, sweating under his threadbare MIT hoodie. A momentous revelation was dawning over his head, and the kid was just sitting there innocently working like he hadn’t changed Tony’s life in a careless instant. This means... Peter likes guys. Oh my God, Peter likes men? 

“Uhhh, Pete?” Tony’s voice was soft and hesitant. “I think your phone is going off…” 

Peter was flippant as he answered, gesturing with the bright red candy cane he’d been sucking between his sugar-sticky lips. “Oh yeah, nothing important. Sorry, it is bothering you? Let me just put the phone on silent.”

“Oh, yeah, no it’s fine. I’m not bothered at all.” Tony delicately cleared his throat. “So… I’m surprised a man like you needs an app to find a hookup.”

Peter’s eyes boggled as he spun around on his stool to face Tony. “How did you… Wait, what?”

“I mean, not to be awkward or anything, but I couldn’t help but notice the notification sound.” Tony began, before delicately saying. “You seem to be very popular. I’m surprised a guy like you needs a hookup app to begin with. I mean let’s face it, you’re very, ah,” Tony’s voice squeaked humiliatingly as his mind flashed over thoughts of Peter’s physique. ”Attractive…”

Peter threw his hands up in the air, wild exasperation written across his features. “This! This was what got your attention? My notifications?!” Peter spun on his stool to face Tony directly, voice still raised as he waved his half eaten candy cane. “Tony, I’ve been trying to draw your attention to me being gay for almost a year! I’d practically given up!” Peter pointed accusingly at Tony. “Do you know the ridiculous things I’ve done? The outfits I’ve worn? I’ve tried to seduce you in the gym, by the pool, in the lab! Hell, I’ve been deep throating a candy cane for the past 25 minutes! An app! Unbelievable!”

“Uh, what?” Tony was completely floored by Peter’s ranting as his thoughts raced, trying to make sense of the conversation. Seduce me? He’s been trying to seduce me? What the fuck?

“And now you have the audacity to be shocked?” Peter was seething at Tony as he sat there stunned. 

Suddenly Peter grabbed Tony’s shoulders and pulled him into a furious kiss. Tony instinctively tilted his head as their lips clashed together, making a small sound of shock behind his closed lips. Tony’s lips parted as Peter’s tongue darted in delicately, stabbing gently inside Tony’s mouth. The older man moaned into the kiss, feeling heat spread down to the tips of his toes. 

Peter drew back and lifted his hands from Tony’s shoulder to grasp desperately at the sides of his head, mumbling against Tony’s lips. “You’re an incredibly infuriating man, Tony Stark.”

Tony panted quietly, half hard in his jeans and head spinning. He reached out to grab at the sleeves of Peter’s sweater and steady himself. 

“I… I didn’t know, Pete,” Tony whispered. “I would never think that you’d be interested in someone so much older and frankly you’re just so attract-” 

Peter gently shushed Tony and brought their lips back together for a series of light pecks, petting absently at Tony’s hair while they kissed. 

The younger man pulled away again to speak. “Let me show you how interested I am. Can I do that?”

“Yes!” Tony gasped as Peter leaned in to suck a livid mark into his neck. “You can do anything to me.”

Peter grinned against the column of Tony’s throat. “That’s an awfully big promise. I might make you regret it.”

Tony pulled Peter’s head up to look at Peter seriously. “I don’t think you could make me regret this, even if you tried.”

Peter’s eyes widened before he leaned forward desperately, knocking their mouths together again, finesse gone out the window. Their teeth clacked as the kiss deepened, Tony’s mouth being plundered once again. 

The next hour passed by in Tony’s mind in a blur of sin. Being spread over the lab table, pants down around his knees as Peter proved his tongue was just as talented in Tony’s ass- gasping at the slow penetration as Peter worked him open with strong fingers- crying out in pleasure over and over as Peter thrust in, deep strokes pressing across Tony’s sweet spot- feeling Peter’s hand wrapped around his straining erection, pulling Tony over the edge with rough strokes and a rush of white heat as Peter chased his own pleasure in Tony’s tightness. 

They ended up on the cold floor of the lab, Tony cuddled against Peter’s chest, sticky with sweat and release. 

“That… that was fantastic,” Tony sighed, hiding his face against the solid muscles beneath him. 

Peter’s grasp tightened where he was holding Tony close. “I knew it would be. Totally worth a year of slow seduction to wind up with you in my arms.” 

Tony let out a bark of laughter. “I guess Rhodey really was right, he was shaking his head at my idiocy all the way back at the pool party this summer.”

Peter’s chest under Tony’s head as he laughed. “Rhodey was totally right. He’d already given me a shovel talk by then, and I was beginning to think it would never be relevant. He pulled me aside after the party and told me not to give up hope, and explained all the hearts you’ve broken through sheer obliviousness over the years.”

“Yeah, he’s a good wingman,” Tony reminisced fondly before Peter’s words fully processed. “Wait, hang on, all the hearts I’ve broken through obliviousness?”

“Never change Tony, please.” Peter’s voice crackled with mirth before lowering into seriousness.  “Now that I have you, I don’t want to share you with anyone else.” 

[vowel-in-thug]

Black Sails Noir

for my dearest, darling, delightful @jadedbirch on her beautiful birthday!! el you are such a treasure to me and have been since i’ve known you, and i deeply appreciate you, even though that one time you showed me pictures of cute bunnies after i ate rabbit schnitzel, because you’re also cruel and unusual

and PHEW am i glad you liked the noir AU I wrote a couple days ago (which should be read before this because otherwise it makes no sense) because otherwise this would be awkward! i was gonna write you something else, but that was for the prompt you requested ages (and AGES) ago and that felt like a cop-out. but literally nothing happens here, so view this as PART 1 and PART 2, the answer to prompt (which couldn’t fit here and contains something of a Story) will be coming later

i hope you enjoy and i love you and i hope you had a great day!!! :-**

Silverflint, rated E because cmon it’s for El

Three days after they first met, Silver rolls out from under him and asks, “Hey, didn’t you want me to make you any liquor at some point?”

Flint stops sucking on his neck. “Anyone ever tell you, you got a good work ethic?”

“Really?”

Flint hums, begins moving lower down Silver’s body. “A good work ethic turns me on.”

A few hours later, he leaves Silver out smoking on the fire escape while he makes a phone call. He normally sleeps in the office above The Walrus, but it’s good to have a place to himself, too. His apartment isn’t lavish like the other men in his profession, but he’s never been a lavish man. Being a crook hasn’t changed that. It’s dim and quiet, too-often dusty. But he’s got a view of the city, and his favorite Chinese restaurant is downstairs. It’s the perfect place to lie low in case the heat is on, or in case he wants a little privacy. In all his time in Atlantic City, it’s always been the former. This makes for a nice change.

Plus, he can always count on the fact that, no matter the time of day, Billy the Bones will be held up in his office.

“I wondered where you’d run off to,” Billy says, crunching on some ice loudly into the receiver. “I thought you’d finally flung yourself off the pier.”

“Did you send out a search party?”

“Nah,” says Billy. “I’ve never known you do something you didn’t mean. Final wishes, and all.”

“I found a bootlegger.”

“Drowning would have been less of a surprise,” says Billy. “I thought this day would never come.”

From the desk in his parlor, he can see Silver out the window. His hair is a wild mass, too curly to properly style, and he likes the way it sits at the nape of his neck. He’d forgone a shirt entirely, sweat getting trapped between his skin and suspenders, and every so often he’ll shift to idly scratch the itch. He looks like the worst fever Flint ever had. Looking at him gives Flint the shakes.

“Yeah, yeah,” says Flint to Billy. “It needed to happen. Can’t afford to keep losing cargo to the waters. Anyone ever hear from Rackham?”

“Hell, you really have been under a rock these last few days. Feds picked up the Ranger two miles from the Florida coast.”

Flint sighs. He can’t let himself feel more than a trace of sympathy for them, but he feels it. They more than knew the risk involved, after all. At least he can be sure they didn’t drop a dime on him, or else he’d have heard from Billy days ago.

“All the more reason to go in on our own,” Flint says, rubbing his forehead. “Our own joint, our own supply. It’ll be simpler this way.”

“Yeah, as simple as a bullet to the brain.” They call him Billy the Bones because he breaks them, but also because he’ll speak to you plain. Which sometimes means stating the obvious. “We’ll still have the A.C. Feds on us, especially without Miss Guthrie paying ‘em off.”

Flint needs a smoke, but his case is empty. He’d given his last to Silver, but that’s fine. He’s been thinking about using Silver’s stomach to roll his cigarettes ever since he first took his shirt off. “I’ll smooth things over with her,” Flint assures. “She likes me.”

“She likes your money more.” There’s a pause over the line as Billy helps himself to more of Flint’s private stash of booze. “You sure about the guy? You really mean to do this?”

Silver finishes his cigarette and crawls back in through the window. He tries to be casual about it, not let his embarrassment show at how awkward his wooden leg makes his movements. Flint enjoys the show, however. He likes the way the muscles in Silver’s arms move.

Once Silver gets inside, he ignores Flint on the phone. He picks up Flint’s hat, much nicer than his own, and tries it on in front of the mirror. He’d probably look more dapper with a shirt on, but Flint’s not about to give him any ideas about putting on more clothes.

“I never do anything I don’t mean,” Flint says, eyes on Silver. “How long?”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, a faint scratch of pencil. “I can probably get us off the ground by the end of the week.”

“Probably?”

“I can get us off the ground by the end of the week,” says Billy, still scratching. “When do I get to meet this guy?”

Flint doesn’t want to admit that he has no idea what day it is. He thinks it might be a Sunday. Or maybe it just feels like how a summer Sunday afternoon is supposed to feel. The sound of mandolins from the restaurant downstairs twinkle into the apartment, somehow audible over the bells and hollers of the busy city street. The sun creeps in through the windows like a burglar, hotter than the devil, and Silver strolling by with Flint’s hat still on, heading to the kitchen to run some water over his face again. He pauses to run a hand through Flint’s hair as he goes by. It definitely feels like a Sunday afternoon.

Flint says, “Soon enough. You know I like to get to know a guy before jumping into bed with him.”

“Who were you just lying to?” Silver asks once Flint’s off the phone. He’s running a wet rag over his bare neck.

“The man arranging your distillery.” He unsticks himself from his chair. He probably should have put some pants on before calling Billy. He’d moved into the apartment in January. There’d been no telling then how fucking brutal the summers are

“Good thinking, not putting any clothes back on.” Silver drops the rag, comes over to grab his ass and chew on his ear. “It’s good to know I’m going into a business with a man who has that kind of forethought.”

Flint hustles him over to the couch, and they neck for awhile. He clings to Silver’s suspenders like a half-remembered dream, rubbing his cock against Silver’s pleated trousers which, on closer inspection, might actually be Flint’s. They stay that until the sun starts to lower, night rising slowly in the sky like a new bruise. He can’t remember the last time he’d gone this long without holding a gun. He never before knew how exhilarating it is to feel calm.

Eventually, Silver shimmies up the couch, forcing Flint up. Somehow, he’s managed to keep Flint’s hat on, although it’s cocked over his eyes. He pushes his suspenders off his shoulders, the top button the trousers already loose.

“I wasn’t lying before,” Flint says, eyeing the rest of the buttons like they’d done something personally to offend him. “I do like to get to know someone before getting into bed with them. Only it’s a figurative bed, in this case. I take my business more seriously than – whatever this is.”

It’s the kind of thing that might offend a dame, but Silver shrugs. “Of course.” He also stops unbuttoning his pants. “Although, I’m not ashamed to say, I’ve never stuck around so long after a fuck. I’ve never been in anyone’s arms without keeping one eye on the closest exit. So that….might be something.”

“Me too.” Flint says, though he is a little ashamed to say it. “About the sticking around thing. Did have someone once, a long time ago. That was before the war.”

Silver doesn’t ask him for any specifics, which Flint appreciates. “Never done anything like this, this fast either,” Silver admits, with the smallest of smirks. “It’s not so easy with a fella. It’s either a quick blow in a back alley somewhere, or dancing around him for months to see if he’s even kind of interested in pulling. Either way, it can be a pain.”

Flint curls his fingers over the edge of Silver’s waistband, and finally tugs them down. They must be Flint’s, the way they slide down easily over his hips. He finds he’s fallen madly in love with Silver’s legs, but he can’t figure out how to tell Silver that without pissing him off. Sure, he’s only got one and a half now, but Christ, they’re working overtime to make up for it. He loves the muscle, the pale skin visible beneath the dark black hairs, how good they feel clenched tight around his waist. For some reason, the foot has always struck Flint as the most masculine feature, more so than even the cock or the chest. Silver’s foot is long and slender, finely haired and veined, perfectly arched and one-of-a-kind, like the fucking Arc de Triomphe.

“If either of us were a dame,” Flint says, tugging the trousers delicately over the edge of Silver’s wooden leg. It doesn’t bother him, but Silver removes it anyway, “no one would bat an eye at us tumbling to bed right away. Hell, by now, people would be expecting wedding bells already.”

Silver pauses in unbuckling his boot. “You asking me to marry you?”

“No, I’m asking you to go into business with me,” Flint says. “Almost the same thing. Great risk of financial ruin, codependency, emotional strife, but at least this way there won’t be any fucking kids in the mix.”

“It’s not that easy,” Silver says. “It can’t be.”

“You came into my life just as I was contemplating a change,” Flint says. “And you got more change than a piggy bank, doll.” He sits back on the other end of the couch, content to just look at him for awhile. “I don’t need to tell you, but there are two things you learn, being stuck in a trench.”

“How not to panic and blow your brains out when you realize the man you’ve been speaking to for twenty minutes hasn’t had his lower half attached to his upper half the entire time?”

“Okay, three things.”

“That there is no God and there never was, but that sure as Hell doesn’t mean there isn’t a devil.”

“Okay, four things. Will you let me finish?”

Silver presses his toes into Flint’s stomach, trailing down. He smiles in a way that implies he’s seen the way Flint looks at his foot. “Sorry.”

“Thank you.” Flint twitches in an effort to keep still, as Silver’s foot moves over him. “You learn that your country has no goddamn respect for you, your life, your potential, your future, and that it hasn’t actually done anything to earn the same.”

“Wow. You mean to tell me you were an upstanding young citizen before the war?”

“You bet your sweet ass I was.” He pours himself over Silver like a thunderstorm, grabbing said sweet ass. Silver’s foot is still braced against him, drawn up on his thigh. “You weren’t?”

“”Fraid I’ve always been a cad,” says Silver, arching into him, sliding his leg over Flint’s back. “What’s the second thing? Or fourth thing?”

“That life is too short and too fucking ridiculous to pussyfoot around with what you want,” Flint says. “That the only thing you can plan for is the sunrise and the sunset, and any other attempt in between is just bathwater.”

Silver cups his neck, bringing him forward to kiss. “Well, that’s jake,” he says against Flint’s lips. “But I’m sorry to say I already made plans for us this evening.”

“Is that right?”

Silver hums. “First, I was gonna blow you while wearing this swell hat of yours,” he says. “And then I was gonna have you go downstairs and fetch me some of that chop suey I like.”

“And who’s saying I’m not getting to know you?” asks Flint, already falling backwards again onto the couch. He’s been half-hard since they first started kissing on the couch, after his phone call, but he’d felt no rush to deal with it. He could acknowledge it without caring too much, like the financial section of the papers. A cursory glance, but he’d had other headlines to read.

Silver crawls panther-like over him, settling in between his thighs with his stupid fedora still on his head. He grips Flint’s cock and runs his wet lips from tip to base, before leaning under to nuzzle his balls. Flint moans, curling forward. He wants to grip his hair but the damn hat is in the way, so he squeezes Silver’s neck instead.

Silver’s hum of pleasure at being held hits Flint like a good song – the fine hairs on his arms all stand on end and he finds himself wanting to hear it over and over, knowing instantly he’ll never tire of the sound. Then Silver kisses up Flint’s length with obscene smacks before sealing his lips over the head and sucking down.

“Fuck!” Flint cries out, legs closing tightly around Silver’s head instinctively. He feels Silver moan against him, and then Silver suddenly stops sucking. He grabs the inside of Flint’s thighs and wrenches them apart, keeping him there with a strong hold.

“Don’t crumple your hat,” Silver pulls off to say sternly. “It costs more than my entire apartment.”

Before Flint could respond, Silver swallows him down completely. Flint curses again, back arching, but with Silver’s hold on his legs he can barely thrust forward into Silver’s generous mouth. The joints in his thighs ache at being held open, and he feels aggressively exposed like this, unable to do much else beside pant and curse and scratch at Silver, digging his heels into his shoulderblades.

Silver keeps pushing down on Flint’s thighs, fingers spread and pressing into the freckles there like a pianist who fell asleep at the keys. All Flint hears is a loud, echoing, vibrating din in his heart. He’s hoping their endeavor together is successful, but one way or another he thinks Silver might ruin him.

He comes looking down at Silver’s eyes beneath the hat, blue and nimble as a melody that’ll stick in his head for the rest of the night. When he finally lets go of Flint’s thighs, they’re slow to come back together. The stretch always feels good, in the end.

He’s breathing like a man late to his own confession, watching Silver wipe at the corner of his lips with his thumb. Silver taps the brim of the fedora with a finger so it’s tilted back over his head. It’s not the first time he’s sucked Flint’s cock since their isolation began, but every time afterwards he looks to Flint like he’s waiting for a shiny blue ribbon.

Flint reaches for him. “Let me…”

Silver pushes his hand away. “Later. Gives us something to do after dinner. Chop suey, if you please.”

When Flint slides this trousers on, the same pair Silver had on earlier, Silver pulls him down by the waist to kiss him. He hasn’t put his leg back on yet, and is lounging naked on the couch like Cleopatra. He plops the hat back on Flint’s head, even though he’s just going downstairs, wearing an undershirt and no shoes.

“I want you to know I’m taking this seriously,” Silver says. “Our partnership. I know you’re putting a lot on faith, with me.” He tucks an errant red curl behind Flint’s ear. “It’s a risk. You’re gonna catch a lot of trouble with troublesome people, I wager.”

Neither of them have found time to shave these last couple days. Flint likes the soft hiss of their stubble brushing together when he bites the corner of Silver’s mouth, far more than he likes the words coming out of it. “No worries, doll. We’re in the clear with this.”

Silver smiles against him, barely enough space between them for a tune to pass through. “Hell,” he says. “That bad, huh?”

When Flint’s walking back up the tiny, dark staircase to his apartment a little while later, delicious food warm in his hands, he has to pause at his door. The only light in the hall comes from the small windows above each entryway, and his is glowing hot and yellow. He rests his forehead against the chipped wood, feeling the noise. Since he stepped out, Silver has found his Columbia Grafonola and got it working. He can hear the muffled lilt of Lee Morse seeping through the cracks in his old home, and even though he’s listening to it from the other side, it sounds clearer than any bell he’s ever heard. His place seems alive for the first time in a very long time, just from the knowledge that there’s someone else on the inside of it.

It’s not that bad at all. There’s no way it could be.