#but all like fuckable somehow as god intended

[amosamess]

still not over the invite i got for a religious trauma themed birthday party on the weekend of easter

[thatsdemko]

like he would- l.stroll

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: Lance stroll x fem!reader

warnings: not intended for minors + long(I’m sorry for that) + teasing + begging + fingering( f receiving) + lighthearted jokes

a/n: I know the image is of toronto but this fic is based in Montreal. shoutout @oconso for letting me borrow your lance knowledge for parts of this fic! enjoy everyone☺️🫶

《 the following content has ideas that are not intended for minors. 》

it was supposed to be lights out and away we go, but instead you’re stuck in the pitch black with nothing but candles and cellphone flashlights during a power outage playing all sorts of games with the drivers.

lando sits to your left, Carlos on your right, Charles and Pierre sit across from you with Lance. the man who had somehow managed to snag a few drivers attention when he started asking you and Fernando bizarre questions out of pure boredom.

that’s how this game of never have I ever, truth or dare, fuck,marry, kill, and many others you couldn’t remember now began. it all began with Lance asking if Fernando would rather be a sugar daddy or a sugary baby. the answer surprised you both.

power outages like this don’t often happen in the middle of free practice. it was an odd event that the so called pinnacle of sports had something like this happen that lasted for over two hours thus far. boredom was hitting everyone, and that was how you all seemed to be gathered around in a corner of the Aston Martin garage.

“okay, so I think it’s Pierre’s turn to ask a question.” Carlos keeps track, finger pointing at the Frenchman who taps his chin scooping out his next victim.

“y/n! you’ve been awfully silent, Cherie.” his grin turns into a smirk as he adjusts his seated position on the ground more towards you. you can only see the glow of his beautiful blue eyes in the candles and lit up cell phone flashes, but he’s got a deviled look that makes your stomach twist in knots.

“who would you fuck, marry, and kill: me, Charles, or Lance.” he pulls his knees tight into his chest, chin resting against the top his kneecap, “pick wisely!”

you laugh nervously, not because of the question— god no it was so easy. you knew exactly who you’d pick in a heartbeat to marry, fuck, or kill. it was admitting it to all three drivers that became the hard part.

“well for starters, Charles I’m so sorry.” you turn to the Ferrari driver, who nods in understanding, “it’s not you, it’s me.” you say, it’s somewhat sarcastic and there’s some truth to it. you could never see yourself marrying Charles, he was far beyond your league and your personalities were a bit different. he was someone you’d maybe kiss, but never go any further.

“Pierre,” you mock his previous state, finger resting against your chin, “I’ll marry you.” you point to him shaking your finger up and down, “I think you’d treat me right.”

“and I wouldn’t?” Lance interrupts, hand resting to where his heart sits, he plays hurt that gets a laugh out of everyone in the circle, “I thought we had something?”

if you had it your way, you’d fuck and marry Lance, but you couldn’t admit that to them. you couldn’t admit that the man who sits directly across from you on the floor, criss-cross applesauce, was the guy you’d let fuck you until a headboard fell off, and then marry you the next day.

you and Lance had nothing serious. the occasional flirt, a text message here and there, but it never left the first stage. it never got any more serious than that, and despite the many hints at wanting the next level, like a date or something, he never got the very obvious message.

“we do—“

“but only fuckable?” he cuts you off, and you can tell he genuinely is upset. it was his idea of the silly little game. it was his idea to start asking fuck, marry, kill. but it was he who couldn’t stand the results.

“you’re not just fuckable, Lance.” you admit, lucky that the light isn’t back on for everyone to see your rosy red cheeks. the air around you was beginning to feel warm despite the cool temperatures of Canada, you were throwing off your teal green Aston Martin jacket to cool off from the heat of embarrassment.

“it’s a game, man, she wouldn’t actually kill me.” Charles reminds him with a smile and a pat on the back that seems to calm him, “I’m sure if Pierre said your name twice she’d pick you for marriage and sex.”

you’re not sure why he’s riled up, but luckily enough the emotions slip him and he’s back to his giggly self answering the questions and dodging the dares.

“you should really apologize to Lance.” Carlos collides his shoulder with yours. his head nods in the direction of the Canadian across from you who lucky enough is engulfed in a chat with Fernando.

he can feel your eyes on you. it makes his skin crawl, his heart jump out of its cavity. he wonders what you’re talking about. he wonders if it has anything to do with him or if you just have a staring problem. he admits that being overly dramatic about the choice was wrong, but it still stung. the very idea of you even marrying someone that wasn’t him burned a hole in his heart.

he wasn’t going to just be fuckable.

—

“hey,” you enter his motorhome, to-go bowls of salad and soup rest in your arms as you carefully move up the steps, “brought some food for us.” you smile setting it all on the table and he joins you.

“you know, if you were my girlfriend, I’d kiss you for this gesture.” he unwraps the steaming hot container of chicken noodle soup, you find it cute that he warms his hands up over the steam.

“yeah?” you ask back, beginning to dig into the hot soup, “if I was your wife I’d slap you for that comment.”

he shakes his head blowing at the hot contents on his plastic spoon. you watch him carefully slurp the broth that burns his tongue and he spits it right back out, “too hot.” he quickly sips his water bottle before his eyes fall on you.

“do you need a kiss to feel better?” you fake a pout pretending to care that he burnt his tongue. he plays along nodding, “take care of me, y/n.” he frowns.

you move from your seat at the table, about to press your lips to his cheek when he turns his head, hands cupping your face, his lips land on yours. it shocks you for a moment, how smooth the move was. he’s pulling you down into his lap, each of the nerves in his fingers itch to remove your sweatshirt.

“Lance,” you break away from the kiss, resting your hand atop of your chest to compose yourself. the past thirty seconds had been much of a whirlwind. looking down at him, he’s out of breath too, chest visibly rising and falling, “we can’t do this on the bench.” you say removing your legs from around his body allowing him to sit up.

your words hardly have a second to register in the air, he’s already standing up once again cupping your face with his hand, lips hovering dangerously over yours, “so the bedroom then?” he asks, thumb pad swiping your cheek while his other hand pushes hair off your shoulder.

the bedroom in the motorhome was cramped and small. it was a full size bed with barely any wiggle room for movement in the room, it’s not the ideal place, but where else could you go? he had to be on the track in an hour, there was enough time to kill in that tiny hot space.

you just follow him in the room and watch him quickly discard his teal green shirt that clung to him. you watched his hands pull the back of the neck over his head to reveal the tattoo on his rib cage. your eyes scan his body up and down, tongue licking your bottom lip like you were ready to devour him.

“don’t be shy, we’re friends here.” he climbs onto the bed, lips connecting with yours, he carefully dips you down onto the mattress, his hands ride up the back of your shirt, and swiftly unhooks your bra, “I want to see you too.” he nibbles on the bottom of your lip, before pulling away allowing you to remove your shirt and bra.

his imagination was short of everything that’s underneath your clothes. he’d pictured every curve of your body, but when you finally revealed it to him it was somehow much different. your breasts were his fascination, seeing how beautiful they were, he couldn’t help but rest a hand on one of them.

“you’re beautiful.” he whispers, half naked body colliding with yours. his skin was warm, but his hands were cold, carefully you felt them ghosting your skin all the way down towards your naval.

you were tired of the kissing, the sucking on each others skin, you needed him in you. you needed to feel him. all of him.

“fuck me, Lance.” you pull away, hand pressing over his vocal cord you say it one more time, “fuck me.” you release your hand from his throat and watch him remove his joggers and boxers before rejoining you in bed.

his pointer finger trails down your stomach, stopping just below your jeans, “you sure?” he asks, his finger moves to rest atop the cool metal button holding everything together.

all you can do is nod, swallowing the nervous lump in your throat. his finger swiftly undoes the button and zipper, the jeans come off your body in one quick motion leaving you in just your wet panties.

he licks his lips before carefully pulling the material down your legs, your pussy throbs when his fingers touched you down there, you were impatient with how slow he was moving.

he carefully tosses your panties to the side, hand carefully spreads your legs apart for himself, he props himself up with his hands on both sides of you, his chain hovers over your lips, “what did you want from me again?” he asks, smirk tugging at his lips, you quickly smash yours against his to wipe it off.

“fuck me, stroll.” you repeat, and his body goes down on you, tip barely nudging your entrance you’re met with a gasp when you feel him in your center. the strokes are even, and slow, his hips grind against yours at a steady pace.

his chain is mesmerizing as it moves up and down across your face, you reach up with your teeth, pulling on it to bite from screaming. you can feel yourself clench around him, little moans and grunts escape both your lips, you feel him go further in your core, it’s painful but you’re greeted with an inkling of pleasure that makes your legs shake as they wrap around his torso.

“I haven’t even gotten to the good parts, baby.” he grunts looking down at you, your eyes are welling with tears, lips sucking the cool silver chain around his neck, he couldn’t think of a more beautiful sight to see.

you let go of the chain, throwing your head back against the pillow beneath you, he’s got one hand against your hip, the other holding him up above you when he bulldozes into your clit. the bundle of nerves send a shockwave through your body, his name rolls off your tongue that echoes back against the tiny four walls of the bedroom. he does it once again, this time his tip barely touches but it’s enough to make you whine.

“Lance,” you breathe out, watching his eyes focus on you, “touch me.” you beg, pulling on his chain and he dips his head down for your lips to touch his, “I’ve been so good.”

“have you?” he asks, quickly pulling out earning a breathy whine from you as your fingers dig into the skin of his shoulder blades, “do you want me to get Pierre? your husband? maybe he can treat you right?”

you shake your head, “no, no you treat me right.” you say, shaky hands cupping his cheeks, “you’re all I need.” you whisper, “but why don’t you touch me like my husband would? or should I call Pierre for that?” your smirk is a dare that he can’t turn down. he pulls away from your body for a moment, index and middle finger delicately wipe across your wet folds.

“Lance,” his name rolls off your tongue long and whiny, you’re squirming under his touch, “again.” you beg, legs spreading further apart, so he see the moisture between your inner thighs.

you’re more than just wet for him, you’re glistening in thick cum already. he can’t help the way it makes him feel, he takes his index finger and swipes some of it up for a taste, “you taste good.” he whispers before using the same index finger inserting it inside of you just like you asked.

your body tenses at the feeling of him. your hips buckle as you push them upward for him, “would he fuck you like this?” Lance asks, his fingers bump your clit for a brief second, “answer me, darling, could he fuck you like this?”

you shake your head, “no, he wouldn’t.” you reply feeling him touch you once more, legs convoluting your body releases the cum you can’t hold back anymore.

he’s smiling looking down at you before pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead, “good girl. now come on, mrs.stroll we’ve got to get clean up before we head to the track.”

[avengerscompound]

The Grind House - Chapter 1

The Grind House: A Bucky Barnes Fanfic

Series Masterlist

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x  F!Reader

Word Count:  2201

Rating:  E

Square filled:  @buckybarnesbingo​ - B1, AU- Coffee Shop, @star-spangled-bingo​ - coffee shop au

Warnings:  None for this chapter, future smut most likely

Synopsis:  When Bucky Barnes stops to get coffee and warm up at your coffee shop, he had just expected that caffeine might lift his mood a little. He didn’t expect to fall head-over-heels for you over a game of chess.

Chapter 1

Bucky wasn’t exactly in what he’d call a good mood.  Even for him.  Which was saying something really.   He wasn’t exactly sure what it was that had put him in that mood either.  He just sort of woke up surly and everything was just annoying him.  He had been tempted to throw Clint out the window when he’d started up on a website he found that rated the Avengers on fuckability.

It had been snowing.  That might have had something to do with it.  He hated the cold and as the flakes landed on the ground he pulled his coat tighter around himself.   He had to get inside.  Maybe coffee would help?  Caffeine might make the word a little more tolerable.  At the very least coffee was hot.

He spotted a place up ahead and beelined right for it.  It wasn’t a chain.  Or at least if it was one he didn’t recognize it.  The walls on the outside were dark wood with gold inlay acting as both decoration and spelling out the words ‘The Grind House’.

The large windows of the store were all darkened so you could barely even see inside.  There was a fireplace though.  He could see the light it was giving off even from down the street.  Everything about the place appealed to him.

A bell over the door tinkled as he pushed it open and stepped inside.  It was warm and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee hung in the air.  Around the store were shelves. Some contained the usual coffee shop merchandise - bags of coffee beans, decorative mugs, boxes of chocolates and French presses - while others just contained decorative knick-knacks like model ships and well-loved teddy bears, board games that had been clearly used over and over, and books.  Around the shop were tables and chairs of various sizes.  Small coffee tables surrounded by large wing back chairs.  Large round dining tables with hardwood dining chairs and a hardwood bench with barstools along it.  Each place had at least one outlet.

Bucky shrugged off his coat and hung it on the coat rack by the door.  This was somehow both warm and cozy and incredibly cool and yet was remarkably empty.  There was a couple sitting at a coffee table playing a game of cards and gazing at each other lovingly over their decks as they sipped on large mugs of coffee.  And one of the tables had five elderly women playing Clue.  Delicate teacups sitting beside them cooling.

For a moment he wondered if he might have just found his new favorite place and then you walked out from out the back.

Bucky was a practical man.  He had lived a long time.  Too fucking long if you asked him.  He’d seen a lot.  He didn’t believe in things like soulmates or love at first sight.  So he had no idea what he was feeling as he locked eyes with you.  It wasn’t lust.  Or at least, not all of it was.  That was there, under the surface.  Lust always was when there was attraction after all.  He just knew as the two of you looked at each other, that whoever you were, he wanted to get to know you more.

It was a thought that startled him.  He hadn’t felt that for anyone.  Not since… well not since he’d been taken by HYDRA that first time.  Even as he’d followed Steve around fighting NAZI’s obliviously to the fact that yes, he could, in fact, go through something worse than his first experience as a human guinea pig and German POW, women just seemed abstractly attractive.  Like a painting.  You might admire it, but that didn’t mean you wanted to date it.

“Hi, there.  What can I get you?”  You asked coming over to the counter.

Bucky looked up at the menu.  “Large Americano I guess.”  He said.

“You started typing in the order.  Like it black, huh?”  You asked.

“Like my soul.”   He said.

You laughed.  It was warm and somehow completely genuine considering you had had to have heard that before.  “With those blue eyes?  That can’t be true.”  You said.

“Truth is, it’s the only way I’ve ever had it.”  He said.  His face felt warm and for a moment he wondered if he was blushing.  That couldn’t be right though.  The Winter Soldier didn’t blush.  He couldn’t remember ever blushing.

“Really?  Do you have a lactose intolerance?  We have other kinds of milk.”

“What?”  He asked suppressing the urge to laugh.  “No.  No… I just… Haven’t I guess.  Just used to drinking black coffee from a pot.  And my friend said Americano was the closest to that in a place like this.”

“Well, they’re right.  If you ever want to try something new let me know.”  You said.  “Did you want anything else?”

Bucky had a quick glance at the pastry cabinet.  He was a sucker for sweets and it was rare he could resist one if there was something on offer.  He selected one of the chocolate mousse cakes and paid.

“Is that to go?”  You asked moving to the espresso machine.

“No, I'll have it here.”  He said.

“Take a seat, I’ll bring it over.  And grab a book or a game if you like.  It’s kind of what we’re known for besides the coffee.”  You said as you started up the machine.

“A game?  But I don’t have anyone to play with.”  He said.

You shrugged.  “It’s pretty quiet if you don’t mind getting interrupted, I can play with you.”

Bucky went over to the wall and looked over the games.  He thought it would just be a cursory glance.  A lot of these games he didn’t recognize.  Scythe looked complicated.  Sushi Go looked silly.  And what the hell was Cards Against Humanity?  Not that it mattered, that game had a three played minimum.  He had thought he’d just look to be nice, and then wave you off saying it was okay, he could just enjoy his coffee alone.  That is what he intended to do, but as he browsed over the games, most of which he either didn’t recognize or were too complicated for one sitting, he started thinking this would be a good way to get to know you.  A really good way.  So he slid a chess board off the shelf and took it to a small table with leather wingback chairs on either side.

He set it up.  It was nothing special.  Just a cardboard board with a red and black grid and very basic standard plastic pieces.  He set it up and decided to save time he’d choose white and make his first move.  He pushed a pawn forward two spaces.

You came over with the coffee and small chocolate cake and put them on the table beside him.  “Chess, huh?  Well, I’m a little bit rusty, but I’m game.”  You moved the pawn opposite his up so they were directly next to each other.  “I keep thinking you seem familiar.  Have you come in before?”

Bucky tensed a little.  Was this why you were being nice?  That little gleam of recognition from seeing him on the news or on television?  Would the realization that he was an ex HYDRA assassin make you pull away immediately?  Or worse kick him out of the store altogether?

He huffed and moved his knight forward so it sat just behind and to the side of his pawn.  He might as well do this now though.  Off like a bandaid.  It wasn’t fair to you to force an interaction based on missing information.  “No.  You might have seen me in the news.”  He took off the leather glove he kept covering his metal hand and flexed his fingers.

Your eyes went wide and you pointed at him.  “Oh right, right.  You’re an Avengers.  You're - you're - Captain America’s friend. Umm… Oh… James Barnes.  Sergeant James Barnes.”

Bucky smothered a laugh and shook his head.  “Yeah, that’s me.  I prefer Bucky though.”

“Oh god, I’m sorry.  That was overboard wasn’t it?”  You said as you moved another pawn forward.

“Maybe a little.”  He teased.  “It’s okay, that’s not normally the reaction I get.”

“No?  But… you’re an Avenger.”

He assessed the board for a moment and brought the opposite pawn forward two spaces.  “Yeah, but I haven’t always been.  People don’t forget easily.”

You tapped your fingers on the table as you thought about your next move.   “That’s not fair though.  You save people.”

“I don’t blame them.  I mean… what I did was public knowledge.  It’s not… good…”  He took a sip of the coffee.  It was rich and full bodied.  Bitter but not overly so.  He hadn’t had a coffee this good in a long time.

“I see.  Still, blame yourself huh?”  You said. “Oh shit, sorry.  I’m a busy body.  You can ignore me if you like.”

He flexed his fingers and didn't say anything for a moment.  “You probably aren't wrong though.”

“Maybe but I'm not your therapist.  You don't need analyzing by some stranger.”

There was a tinkling as the door opened and a small group of people came in. You moved your bishop out so it sat diagonally next to his Knight and got up and returned to the counter to serve them.

As you took their orders and started to make them Bucky sat assessing the board.  His fingers drummed on the table as he thought both about your words and his next move.  He took a bite of the mousse cake and had a real urge to moan with how good it was.  Creamy and sweet and a little tart.  He suppressed it though and just started down trying not to watch you as you laughed and chatted with the new customers.

You hadn’t been wrong.  He didn’t forgive himself.  He wasn’t sure he ever could forgive himself.  His hands were stained in blood and he thought maybe that was permanent.

He took your pawn with his and sat back drinking his coffee and eating his cake.  When you had finished with the other customers you came back over.  “Oh taking a piece while I’m not looking.  Harsh.”  You teased.

“Sorry.  It was just the best move.”  He said.

“That’s okay.”  You said moving your bishop to take his knight.

“Oh, rough.  My poor knight.”  Bucky said and you laughed.

“Maybe that will teach you.”  You said.

“So is this place yours?”  He asked.

“Well, I’m a co-owner.  Me and a couple of friends.  I’m the coffee person, and there’s a cake person and a money person.”  You explained.

“Who’s the game person?”  He asked.

“Oh, we all are.  That was one of the things that sparked the idea.  We used to have game nights on Fridays and we’d drink so much coffee.  We decided to see if we can make money doing that.”  You said.

“You still do that?”  He asked, taking your bishop with his queen.

“Dude!”  You yelped.  “Yeah, we do.  Here.  And it’s a big thing.  It’s our busiest time.  There’s a lot of finger foods and competitions going on.  You should come sometime.”

Bucky wondered if that was a serious invitation or just one of those things people say.  “Yeah, maybe.”

“Guy can’t be an Avenger all the time.”  You said and took one of his pawns with yours.  “It would be cool to have you.  You can play with me and my friends if you like.  Or if you wanted to bring people we can set you up with something.”

“I guess you can’t.”  He agreed.  “I might see what I can do.  You know… missions and stuff.”

“Yeah, of course.”  You said.  He thought that was a look of disappointment on your face.  He was pretty good at reading people.  That was something that had been literally beaten into him.  But what could you be disappointed about?

“I’ll try and make one.”  He said moving his other bishop out.

His phone chimed and he picked it up.  There was a message from Steve telling him he was needed back a the tower.  He groaned and drained his coffee.  “Shit, sorry.  I gotta go.”

“Was that them?  You got Avengers stuff?”  You asked.

He risked a smile and nodded.  “Yeah, something like that.  Sorry about the game.  I wanted to finish it.”

“Take a photo and the next time you’re here we can start up again.”  You said, moving your knight out.

“Really?  Yeah.  Okay.”  He said and took out his phone, snapping a picture of the board.  “I’d like that.”

“So would I.”  You said with a smile. “It was nice meeting you, Bucky.  Just leave the board and I’ll pack it up for you.”

“Thanks,”  He said getting up.  “I guess I’ll see you again.”

“Soon, I hope.”  You said with a smile.

He grabbed his coat and shrugged it back on, watching as you started clearing off his table.  Whatever had put him in such a bad mood was well and truly gone.  Now he just had to figure out whether he was ready to ask someone out on a date.

// NEXT

[kiruuuuu]

I’m not even ashamed to admit this hit me right in the thirst, @taleously! I adore these two, so thank you for this :) (Rating T, humour/fluff, ~1.5k words)

.

“- without even realising, I am holding the grenade all of a sudden and all I hear is this choir of dudes chanting ‘hot potato’ over and over -” Bandit breaks off as soon as he collides with Smoke who froze directly in the doorway to the workshop, so the two stumble inside, basically falling over each other and cursing under their breaths. “Hey, what’s wrong with you?!”

Since they attracted everyone’s attention except for two people who continue talking as if nothing happened, Smoke feels free to simply stare for a bit longer, feast his eyes on the human masterpiece illuminating the entire room with his dazzling appearance. Despite knowing nothing about art, Smoke is dead certain he’s witnessing a magnum opus which has come alive and somehow found its way to their base, a walking and talking sculpture currently engrossed in something technical and too high for him, utterly unaware of its own grace.

“Yo, Porter. Is someone else using your brain? Hello?”

He ignores Bandit a little longer in favour of basking in the presence of such ravishing beauty. He lacks the words to convey just how smitten he is, how pure and innocent his admiration, how deep the impression runs which has been left behind by the image before him, how permanent the imprint in his mind. It’s impossible to put into simple terms as nothing speech produces will ever adequately describe what he’s seeing but he makes the attempt nonetheless, scrapes together every last bit of wit and wisdom left over after his composure has been short-circuited, shattered upon entering to express his wonder.

Smoke blurts out: “He’s so fucking hot.”

Bandit looks at him weird and follows his gaze to the corner of the room where Twitch and Mute are working together on something resembling an engine. Probably due to the nature of their work today, they’ve both donned more casual clothes that are intended to get dirty, and dirty they did get. Mute’s sleeveless undershirt has long bidden farewell to its pristine white colour, making way for greasy handprints and a variety of smudges and yet it’s the most appealing thing Smoke has seen in his entire life. He’d give a foot to be allowed to wear it. Not only does it flatter Mute’s physique, it also draws attention to his upper arms which are usually maliciously hidden from the rest of the world – clearly with ill intent as the mere sight of them probably cures depression at one glance. It certainly does with Smoke. Mute’s hair is sweaty, dishevelled and falling into his eyes, and the fact that he looks like he just bit into a lemon doesn’t diminish Smoke’s urge to bite into him.

“We have to break the air conditioning”, Smoke adds and pictures it in his thoughts, fantasises about sweat dripping and white fabric turning transparent and -

“There’s no fucking air conditioning, you perv. Stop leering and move.”

“If I have to take my eyes off him for a single second, I’m literally going to drop dead.” He cranes his neck to keep watching Mute’s every move even as Bandit drags him to a table at the other end of the room. “Holy shit. Look at him. Where’s my guarantee that no one else is gonna flirt with him? What happened to the slightly arrogant but still totally fuckable nerd?”

“You mean the guy who has to be physically restrained so he doesn’t mount you immediately?”

“Yeah, that one”, Smoke agrees distractedly, his eyes steadfastly glued to Mute who’s pushing a few brown strands back but ends up smearing more soot onto his forehead which Smoke would lick off without hesitation were he allowed. “He so wants me, Dom, I’m telling you. Maybe he’s trying to flirt with me, maybe that’s what’s going on. Jesus Christ, this has to be on purpose. Do you think he sucks good dick?”

“Clearly, he chose to wear this for no reason other than to turn you into a randy ferret. And I don’t know, want me to ask him for a demonstration?”

“Keep your bloody hands off him. Not that it matters, he’s obsessed with me, but don’t even think about tainting him.” Smoke bites his lip as he watches Mute stretch, the muscles in his arms showing. “Oh man. He wants me so bad.”

“How come you’ve not asked him out then?”

“Because he’s so fucking far out of my league he might as well be playing a different sport entirely”, Smoke replies absent-mindedly and only realises what he’s just said when Bandit cocks an eyebrow at him. “I mean – that’s probably what he thinks. Or rather the image he has to uphold. You know, he’s this studious, serious, skilled teacher’s pet who shouldn’t get this turned on by an idiot like me, but there he is, dick rising as predictably as the morning sun whenever he sees me and nothing he can do about it.”

“So he’s currently consumed with desire, is that what you’re telling me?”

Both of them glance over to where Mute is fastening some screws while apparently joking around with Twitch, both of them visibly comfortable with each other and the sight feels like a stab to his heart. Like this, covered in grime and working with his hands, he’s painfully sexy and much more approachable than when he’s reading anything with a title which already flies over Smoke’s head – he looks like someone Smoke would actually chat up and that’s the whole problem. Because usually, everyone chats up the guys he likes. “Yeaaah”, he says very slowly.

The German opposite him snorts. “He’s pretty good at hiding it, isn’t he? What if he’s really a prude?”

“He can be a pillow princess for all I care, all he has to do is take it. I’d make his pretty body dance under my fingertips, you know? Play him like a fiddle, make him beg, make him scream, that sort of thing.”

“Is that so? Let him know, why don’t you?” And, much to Smoke’s horror, he turns to the person in question and yells: “Oi, Mark! Got a minute?”

“No no no, wait, wait”, he whispers and breathes a sigh of relief when Mute replies without even looking up: “I’m busy.”

“See, he’s busy, you best not disturb him, he gets cranky when -”

“Trust me, you’ll want to hear this. Porter is just telling me all the things he’d like to do to you.” This time, all conversation halts. Pairs of eyes slide over to Smoke who can feel blood rushing to his cheeks even as he tries to stay nonchalant and let none of his actual panic show on his face. He suspects he’s failing horribly, however, judging by Mute’s entirely unimpressed expression.

The young man says something to Twitch, making her laugh, and then walks over and if Smoke wasn’t dying inside already, now it’s much worse. Because not only does he have no idea what to say but also Mute’s so close all of a sudden, radiating heat and smelling like grease and heaven. “Shoot.” He’s looking down at Smoke expectantly and with a look of go on, I dare you to embarrass yourself.

“I uh”, Smoke responds and ignores Bandit’s wide grin, “how about – let’s go for some drinks? Later? If you have time? That’s, uh, I’d like to go for a few drinks. That’s it. I mean, that’s all. Don’t listen to Dom.”

“I’m not even saying anything”, Bandit murmurs, highly amused.

Mute examines him thoughtfully for a few seconds during which Smoke’s cheeks darken considerably. “I’m not deaf”, he announces, “and you’re a twat. You pay, but talk about me like that again and it’s cancelled. Deal?”

His face is burning by now because oh God Mute heard him and how much did he actually hear, so it takes a moment to register that he actually agreed. Stupidly, he babbles: “Yes, of course, thank you, I’m – yes. Deal. Let’s do it. Yes.” Mute just shakes his head again with an involuntary smile and returns to his previous task, leaving Smoke gaping and staring after him, marvelling at the back view of his body which is no less phenomenal than the front and he did it. He asked him out. He can panic later, for now he needs to contain the tremendous joy bubbling up in him.

“He likes you”, Bandit comments with a smirk, “fancy that.”

Oh I fancy him alright, Smoke’s brain provides helpfully while his mouth blurts: “I told you he’s thirsty for my cock.”

“Aaaand cancelled!”, Mute calls from the other side of the room.

Smoke can hear Bandit laugh the entire time he quietly pleads to his teammate, begging him to reconsider as Mute’s grin simply grows the longer he talks.