#it does have to be somewhere that would have a dive bar and a sleazy motel but I figure most places have those lmao

[pizzaqueen]

Started a new fic that came to me basically fully formed and then I spent way too long looking up which bands would be on tour in 1989 that Steve and Eddie could go see even though the fic picks up after they’ve been to the concert so the band doesn’t even really matter lmao

I’ve torn myself away from Google for now but I know I’m going to get lost in the hole again

[malethirsty]

Beats, Alleys & Seats - Billy (Asphyxiation) / Kinktober 2020

Summary: Tired of coming up short at the bar, you decide to step out of your comfort zone, but when you entangle with the club’s bad guy Billy, you step becomes a massive leap. 

Warnings: Smut (21+), Bareback (Wrap Before You Tap!), Choking-BDSM (Have a safe word!)

Whilst it seems like a Gen Z thing, clubbing has been a tradition passed on through the generations, whether it be your folks at a punk rock bar, a disco lounge, or you at a nightclub with Dance music, the aim is still the same, arrive, drink till you get drunk, tipsy or have enough to still stay safe, dance around to the music, live in the moment and then leave when the times right with someone new on your arm, or head out alone, filled with the memories of how good the night was and crave the opportunity to return when you can. You had done the latter so many times that you’d become tired of constantly coming up short, so as you eschewed your usual nightlife clothes and donned something more risqué, coated in leather, striding down to the club on the side of the street of your apartment complex, one aim was on your mind: Get Thoroughly Fucked. You’d become a regular at the bar, so getting in through the line wasn’t an issue, and you were once again met with the thudding of EDM and strobe lights flashing an array of colours as people moved around in random patterns fitting their definition of the word ‘dancing’. You’d decided tonight instead of throwing yourself into the music, you’d strike right at the heart of the source of lonely patrons looking for a casual fuck: The Bar.

So you crossed over to the counter where people were collecting their drinks and moving along to tables so they could sip and relax, deciding spur of the moment on your order “Sex On The Beach please” you told the bartender, who immediately grabbed together the various juices, vodka and the cocktail shaker “Looking for some action tonight?” the tender quizzed as he shook the mixer, tossing it around a bit to wrangle the mixtures together “Yeah” you responded “You’ve got your work cut out for you. You need to approach the right person at the earliest hour, otherwise you’ll get waved on, clubbers are vicious, especially when it gets real late like now.” Whilst you nodded and gave a courteous ‘uh huh’ at his advice, innerly you realised how deep you’d have to dive in order to secure your catch of the night, however as you scanned the room, you caught sight of a table with one of the regulars drinking alone, he was wearing a leather vest, was decked in tattoos on his sleeves, and looked like he knew how to fuck someone up, both literally and sexually. You had recognised him as he was often in the bar on the nights you came, he didn’t usually stay for long, usually he’d leave with some girl, or get into a fight due to sleazy behaviour and have to be escorted out by the security guards, you knew he was hot, and had wanted to approach him before, but alongside his various exhibits, your nerves held you back, not tonight though. 

Your revery was interrupted by the bartender tapping you on the shoulder, you turned as he presented you with your cocktail of choice. You paid the tender and shot a thank you his way as he left to continue to take orders from the other patrons coming up the bar, taking the cocktail, you made your way over to your targets table, swerving around so as to not knock over your cocktail by colliding with passing raving clubbers. You eventually arrived without spilling a drop, and crossed over to the man, taking a seat on the lounge directly opposite his position on the table. He looked up as you took your seat, before staring down at his glass before commenting “Usually people ask if the seat’s taken before they sit with someone.” He seemed a bit disgruntled, brought on by the beers he’d been going through, but you didn’t come all this way to not stand your ground “If this seat had been taken, it wouldn’t be occupied for long, you’d be out dancing with the person, or fucking their brains out in the bathroom. And when were you such a stickler for this clubs rules?” He looked up “You a fucking staff member or something? Tailing me so you can get on my ass later?” You took a sip of your cocktail, the liquid seemingly giving you the confidence to retort “No just a humble fan who’s a regular here. And I’d rather you on my ass, but somewhere in private rather than get you thrown out again, eh?” “Feisty aren’t cha, I like em feisty, what’s your name pretty?” “Y/N” you responded, this was going well “Y/N” he repeated as if swishing the way it sounded around in his mouth “Well Y/N, my names Billy. You might wanna drink up before someone spikes your drink.” 

Taking his advice head on, you skulled the rest of your drink, not an easy task, given the fact your cocktail contained vodka, the Russian delicacy burning your throat as it went down. You hacked a bit, gulping for air, but you were determined to not let this break you “Damn, that shit’s strong.” You commented mattarfactly to Billy, as if you were making a comment about the weather, he raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed “Scrawny guy like you, didn’t think you’d be able to handle that, people like you pussy out and make it without the vodka so they can swig it better.” “Do they now? Well to tell you something, don’t let my looks fool you, I can take em hard.” You knew your innuendo had worked as Billy shifted on the lounge, due to the fact that his dick had begun to harden in his pants. Knowing you were getting to him, you continued “In fact, this is quite tame, but what do you expect from this bar, you have soft drinks, weak ass security, and one night stands who’s holes are so wide, they can’t even grip your dick properly.” “You’re a regular here, what does that say bout you?” Billy sharply responded. Damn, he was good, but you were better, you knew it so you did what you could to counter his smart retort “I told you, don’t let my looks fool me, I’m not one of the usual girls who flings their panties at you begging you to get your dick wet, I’m taking my time, working out what gets you off, so that when I get to ride that wave of orgasm later, I’m not the only one getting off.” “And what do I like Y/N?” Billy questioned, his voice now becoming very soft, his bravado dropping, as if testing you “You like someone to be on your wavelength, to acknowledge you, how sharp you are, how hot you are, but also someone who can sink beneath you so you are still in charge. And if you let me Billy, I can be all that and more, so, what do you say big boy?” 

Billy swallowed deeply, before letting out a heavy breath, leaning over the table he whispered in your ear “I say you should come over here, sit on my lap and give me a test ride Mr. Confident.” The dance floor at this point was packed with people, so thankfully the security couldn’t see you as you crossed over to Billy’s side of the sofa and sat on his lap, his erection prominent against the fabric of his pants. You slowly began to work yourself up and down, giving him his own personal lap dance to the thudding of the EDM coming from the speakers. It was softer in the sofa areas speakers, so you could clearly hear the pleasurable groans and encouragement Billy was whispering to you “Oh yeah Y/N, that’s right, show daddy what he’s working with.” After a slow but seductive performance, he gripped onto your ass cheeks and began to move you to the beat, a lot rougher than your initial pace “God this would feel incredible with your walls wrapped around me as I pump into your slutty ass, make you moan as I fuck you like the bitch you are, fuck!” He breathed the last part out in pleasure as he grabbed your right hand which you’d used to balance yourself on him and slid it in his pants, coming into contact with his dick, hard and pulsating in your grasp “That’s what your doing to me Y/N, you’ve made me so fucking hard, got me so close to coming in my pants.” You knew you had him in the palm of your hand now, there was no way you weren’t gonna get your back blown out tonight. “Take me out of here Billy, show me what a good time with you is really like.” He grinned at you “Now you’re really gonna get it you fucking slut, follow me.” He growled out, and gripping onto your hand, you both worked your way through the bar and made it outside, tension rising all the while. 

You walked a considerable distance across from the bar before Billy made a sharp abrupt turn into an empty alleyway, slamming you into the wall as he smashed his lips to yours. Whilst they were thin, he still made the kiss impactful, and it was easier for him to slip his tongue into your mouth, the two of you doing a mouthy tango with the other for a while until he wrenched you away “On your knees” he demanded, and adrenaline pumping through your system, you obeyed, sinking down, pulling his pants down as you went down, his thick cock dropping out, incredibly hard from both your dirty talk and the lap dance as well, precum slicked on it “While I love that your admiring my cock, it would be better if you were choking on it as I fucked your mouth.” The filth purring out of Billy was utter music to your ears, and without further ado, you sunk down onto his cock, pushing his length down as far as you could go “Yeah that’s right, get daddy all down your throat baby” Billy purred as you encased his length in your hot, wet mouth. With a good idea of how much you could handle, you began to suck, up and down you went, cries of lust coming from the bold man above you, shimmering in the dark light of the alley. “God damn, you’re fucking professional at this shit, you sure you’re not a whore?” You moved off his cock to respond “No I’m not” Billy’s hand suddenly surged down, grasping your hair and shoved you back onto his cock “I didn’t say you could stop, now you’re gonna take me right down to the base, till your lips are touching my balls” you now started to gag around him, spit flying from your throat onto his member “Fuck yeah, drool over this cock, get it wet for when I fuck you bareback, pump my load inside you!” 

As he continued to push you down on his cock, you began to get caught up in the moment, a light sensation ripping through you as you choked on his dick, whilst choking could be deadly and bad for your airways, for some reason, as you struggled to focus your breath in through your nose and not your mouth, it was as if you were floating on air, midway between the ground and the sky, you’d never experienced anything like it before but loved it immensly. Wanting Billy to experience the same high, you began to roll his balls, eliciting cries from the man above you “OH FUCK! Yeah that’s right, work those balls Y/N, Jesus Christ you’re gonna make me cum in your mouth!” You realised the sudden grip of your hair had gone, Billy’s hands now flat against the wall as he arched forwards, taking advantage, you pulled off his cock with a loud slurp, causing Billy to groan in confusion “Huh, what?” “I think you said something about wanting to fuck me, and if that’s the case, we should make the way back to your place so you can do that, I don’t want you coming until your balls deep.” Billy looked exasperated “My flat’s too fucking far, can’t I fuck you here up against the wall?” You shook your head, a better idea forming “You got a car?” Billy’s eyes began to glint as he saw where you were going “My my, aren’t you full of fuckin ideas. Alright, I’ll take you back, but” he pulled his pants back up “The spit on my cock will be your lube tonight, so you better hope it hasn’t dried by the time we get there.” 

As it turns out, it was an empty threat, as his car was parked down a couple more streets not too far from where you were. You let him walk up to the door and kept a distance as he opened the car, and pushed the front seat down. Getting in, he cocked his fingers at you, and obediently, you made your way into the car, shutting and locking the front door behind you. You straddled Billy as he rested back on his seat, whilst you pulled your shirt and pants off, giving him a show which he appreciated with a wolf whistle “Damn, you’re gonna look so pretty when you ride daddy’s dick like a dirty slut.” He growled out as you leaned down to his ear “Come on then daddy, show me what I’m working with” mimicking his flirty taunt in the bar earlier. He grinned up at you as he leaned up, pulling his best off, exposing his torso, also covered in tattoos, as you admired the art, you lifted yourself up so he could pull off his pants, leaving them in a bunch on the floor “You ready for this?” He said, grabbing onto his dick and slapping it against your ass, you nodded and he wasted no time thrusting into you, both of you crying out in pleasure, it was finally happening, you were getting fucked by a bar guy, and fuck did it feel good! You placed your hands onto his pecs, grabbing his nipples and tweaking them as you began to ride his cock, gazing down at Billy, seeing how into it he was, sweat forming on his forehead as he watched in lustful awe, mouth open and letting deep breaths out “Fuck yeah, ride that shit baby, take daddy’s cock into your ass, fuck it like it deserves to be fucked” He snaked his hands up and grabbed onto your ass, guiding you onto his cock, now setting control. You surged forwards, kissing him deeply, before moving down his neck, onto the tattoos on his torso, you began to trail your tongue around them, to the utter pleasure of the man now fucking you passionately hard “Oh fuck, damn you really like that shit?” You nodded your head up at Billy, who seemed too into it to tell you to be verbal, soon returning back to his tattoos. 

After a while, Billy’s hands left your side, making you resume the faster pace he had set, his hands trailed up to your neck, as he wrapped his big hands around your neck and pushed in harder, finding the sight of you being choked by him utterly arousing. Not that you were complaining, thanks to him, you were back on that high you had experienced in the alleyway when he pushed you onto his dick, you lost all focus of the situation, Billy’s pounding, his face, the car, everything, white spots were dancing in your vision as the lack of oxygen, sent you spiralling into a sense of a mixture of euphoria and nothingness. You had no idea how much time had passed, or even what was happening until Billy’s hand slapped you across the face, pulling you out of your revery. “I said do you like being Daddy’s fucksleeve? Answer me Y/N, or I fucking pull out and finish on your face like I should have done in the alley!” “No! No! I fucking love it!” You said in a panic, you’d come so far, that you couldn’t be left in the lurch now “Then. Why. Didn’t. You. Fucking. Answer?” Billy roughly said as he slapped his cock further into you, hitting your prostate on each stroke “I didn’t hear you, I was loving how you were choking me daddy!” It all came spilling out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, Billy suddenly halted, a mixture of shock and surprise on his face. You stayed like that for a moment before he caught his bearings and grinned at you “So you like being choked huh?” “Y-yes” you breathed out, not noticing you had been holding your breath “Oh this is gonna be so fucking nasty, but so fucking hot at the same time!” Billy cried out, like a man who’d struck gold in a mine, you had no idea what he was thinking until you heard the seatbelt being withdrawn forwards, wrapping part of it round your neck “You hit me on the chest if you need to stop, alright?” Billy told you and you nodded, showing you understood “That’s the spirit Y/N.” He said before pulling back. You began to choke again, yet under Billy’s control and full understanding of what made you tick, it didn’t hurt, once again it was like you were flying in midair, only this time it was as if you saw Billy flying across from you, at the same midrange position you were in “Fuck, you feel that Billy?” You gasped out “Fuck yeah I do! God your clenching around me so fucking tight, so fucking good for me Y/N.” He drawled out, deciding to tweak your nipples the same as you’d done to him, you drew a desperate grasp of air as you slammed your hand against the glass window which had begun to mist up. 

“Fuck Tiger, you look damn near ready to explode” Famous Last Words from Billy as high from the adrenaline, Billy’s cock, and the seatbelt contracting your neck, you came all over Billy, load after load splashing onto his tattooed torso “Fuck! Damn! You really needed that, didn’t you Y/N?” Billy loosened the seatbelt so you could respond to him, you coming slowly off of the high “Yeah, I guess I did” “Well your walls are clenching round me, so I’m ready to come as well, you gonna take all my load, take it all for me?” You nodded, though less throughly then before, a slight pain starting to form from your neck, Billy gripped onto your sides and moved you up and down as he ansi thrusted into you rougher than before, chasing his own orgasm “Fuck yes, so tight, bare down on me Y/N, fuck like that, oh fuck I’m gonna come!” Billy suddenly started groaning and growling in powerful domination as he shot load upon load, so much was filling you up, it was like a volcano had exploded in your ass. You didn’t think he would stop, but eventually the last of his load pumped into you, he let out a ragged breath, sucked one in, and let his hands give way, causing you to fall on top of him. He began to laugh “God damn Y/N, that was one of the fucking best orgasms I’ve fucking had, got to take you back to mine for Round #2.” You looked up at him “You sure you can go again? That seemed like a lot for you” He gripped your hair, albeit softer than the alleyway due to having climaxed “You don’t even know, you’ve never had a man as hot as me or can last as long as I can.” “Even if I sucked your balls instead of your dick for the second round?” You countered “Fuck now you’re asking for it, get into the seat and fasten up, I’m gonna give you a night you won’t fuckin forget!” As Billy started his car up and drove off to his apartment, you sucked in a deep breath, and looked across at him while he drove, both of you innerly counting the moments until both of you would ride the high together again. 

[cockasinthebird]

Stuck? Stuck.

This year for the senior weekend trip, Hawkins High students gets to enjoy a lovely stay at a hotel so cheap it's a risky gamble to even set foot there, and a Saturday trip to the Indianapolis Museum of Art, to which absolutely everyone is equally excited about.

Which is not at all.

Steve groans and sits up in the hard bed he has to sleep in for two whole nights, sharing his room with three other guys from his year that he swears he has never ever seen before, despite them all knowing his name and history quite well.

The drive here hadn't been that long, although it felt like hours, nerve ridden and anxious to not sleep in the safety of his own haunted mansion. Sure it's nice to be surrounded by people on all sides if he were to tell the truth, but...

Billy fucking Hargrove had been staring at him all day, sat two rows behind on the bus, and whenever Steve turned to look, he was met with an icy stare and suspicious grin. Billy had even actively gone out of his way to bump into Steve, push him around and kick his bags away, to which Tommy had laughed and patted Billy on the back, that fucking traitor. Sure they hadn't talked since after the fight with Jonathan, but Steve didn't know their friendship had been so fragile.

With an exhausted sigh and jittery hands, Steve carefully closes the door to his room, then heads down the hallway to find the elevator. He can never sleep when he's away from home, yet Dustin had convinced him that this is a great idea! Get out and have some fun! People always hook up on those senior trips! And then he did that Chewbacca wanna purr of a sound, prompting Steve to push his cap down his face.

The elevator climbs slowly up to his floor as he thumbs his lighter, on and off, on and off. Who here would he even hook up with that he hasn't already before he got together with Nancy? And now that they're over and Billy is running the school instead, Steve's odds had fallen even farther into the pits of hell.

He just needs to get out for a smoke, and maybe flirt his way to a drink or two at the sleazy bar; this place doesn't look like it cares about serving minors alcohol, what with the water stained ceiling and floor, the peeling tape, and the creaky as shit elevator, as it barely can manage a ding once it reaches the 4th level.

It whines just the same as he steps inside and feels it bounce dangerously underneath his weight. It requires several attempts and hard jabs from Steve before the ground floor button registers his attempts, and starts closing.

When just in the last second, strong fingers curl around the rusty metal and pries open the doors again.

That grin, those curls, the sun-kissed skin.

Billy fucking Hargrove.

“Where you off to, Harrington?” he asks with a flash of predatory teeth and steps into the limited space.

Suddenly Steve is feeling hot and claustrophobic, heart racing both from the presence of his enemy, and from the fear that the elevator might not be able to support both their weights.

“Why the fuck should I tell you?” he snaps and does his best not to meet those blue skies that just won't give him the same courtesy of pretending the other doesn't exist.

“Could be you wanted some company,” Billy says with a low tone that hints at something secret and suggestive.

“And why are you up?” Steve doesn't really care to know, but thoughts of why Billy might be up and about this late flows freely. There would only be one reason, and maybe it's the second floor where all the girls are located.

But he doesn't press the 2nd floor button. Simply puts his hands in his denim jacket and leans with his back against the wall.

“Oh you know exactly why I'm awake this late, princess,” Billy drawls out and licks his lips.

Which Steve doesn't notice, if anyone were to ask. He pulls up a cigarette from the back he has stashed in his back pocket, and slips it between his lips to save time once they're able to get away from each other again.

Yet it's gone just as quick, as Billy reaches out and snags it away, just to place it beneath his mustache. And Steve stares daggers at him, all too quickly he's angry, but really it takes no time with Hargrove around, as his mere presence in Steve's life in a constant source of pain and fury.

“What the fuck you asshole, give it back!” Steve frowns and clenches his fist with a strong urge to punch. It's been too long since he's felt the bliss of nicotine, and he can feel it in his blood. “Get your own shitty cigarettes.”

“Why don't you come over here and take it, then?” Billy muses with a cocky grin that goes from ear to ear.

“Yeah yeah, very mature, give me my fucking cigarette back, Hargrove. I'm almost out of smokes and patience with you.” Steve turns to stare at him now, a few feet apart filled with air so tense you could cut it with a fucking butter knife.

“Well that was quick,” comes the response as a mean spirited chuckle.

“Oh don't be like that; you've been harassing me all fucking day you shit!” And Steve steps closer, up to where he can feel Hargrove's breathing. “What is your deal with me?”

Billy lifts up his chin, looking all brash and smug. “Do I have to one?”

“Why else would you be making my life a living hell?” Steve's fists clench tighter. “Isn't it bad enough you stole my best friend and 'knocked me off my throne'?” he says with possibly the most infuriated air-quotes anyone could ever manage.

“Nope.” Short and crude, the p popping loudly despite the cigarette caught between teeth.

“Then what the fuck do you want?!”

And as Billy's grin somehow grows more sinister, he doesn't get to answer before there's an abrupt jump of the elevator and a nerve wrecking screech.

The loud whir of cogs and mechanics silent. The elevator has stopped.

“Are... are we...” Steve dares not say, as if that would make it real and not just his imagination.

Billy shoves Steve away and steps over to press a button, any button, and when there's no response, tries a second button, then a third, then every other option there. Punches the keys over and over and over-

“Fucking stop that! You're just making it all worse!” Steve shouts and grabs on to Billy's sleeve to tear him away.

“Oh like you know how a fucking elevator works!” Billy snarls back and pushes Steve hard for having even dared to touch him. “I know your grades, I've heard the questions you ask in class, I bet even Max could answer half the shit you can't!”

Steve doesn't even have time to think before he flings his fist after Billy, who catches it perfectly on the nose. Cigarette flies from his mouth, blood drips onto the sticky floor, onto Billy's dirty boots and his clean, white tee. And he continues being unable to think, as Billy fucking laughs.

“God damn Harrington, I can't believe you had the guts to do that,” he sounds near insane as he talks, swipes his tongue up to lick his upper lip clean of dark red. “You know you're gonna regret that now, right?”

“According to you I don't know shit.” Steve stands with his feet too far apart, shoulders raised and fists aching for more. As much as he would prefer not to fight, since he always gets his ass kicked, the rush of seeing blood flow from Billy's nose is invigorating.

No matter how prepared he thinks he is, Billy's fist still feels like a goddamn boulder against his eye, and barely has Steve staggered backwards at the brute force, before Billy grabs him by the collar of his striped polo and shoves him into a corner; caging him there with his own broad, muscular shape.

“You punch like a girl, Stevie,” his voice low and... oddly sensuous?

He reeks of cologne, teeth sharp and perfect like a wolf, body sturdy and thick, pressed into Steve with such intent that he can feel every inch of power.

“What are you gonna do now, Harrington?” Billy's chuckles like thunder in his chest as they stay flush together.

Steve feels his heart beat in his swelling eye, lumping in his throat, beating against his ribs like xylophones, and somewhere between his legs. Red really is a great color on Billy's lips.

“What are my options?” he groans out and wants to move away from the insufferable heat that's gathering too far down.

Eyes jump around every one of Billy's strong features, looking like a damn model from afar and up close like this. Jaw square and stubbly, an ocean's view in his eyes, a thousand eyelashes that he doesn't deserve to have, freckles like a starry night that he didn't even know existed on Billy's perfect skin, lips so hopelessly inviting despite the wicked grin.

And maybe Billy catches how he's being admired right now, because his smile falters to a slightly slack jaw. “Doesn't seem like you have any,” he mumbles out, tone uncertain of something.

“I fucking hate you, Billy.” Steve can't move his head away, can't tear his gaze from where that tongue peeks out to lick his lips clean once more.

With a timid whisper, barely more than a breath, Billy utters out, “I hate me, too.”

Lips meet with obscene force, Billy pushing against Steve's mouth as if it's his only source of life, and immediately Steve opens up; tastes the metallic blood that still drips slowly down from Billy's wounded nose, and feels that captivating tongue intrude deep as it urgently memorizes every inch of wet heat.

It's as if they've both been starving for years, and now they're all too worried it'll end in the blink of an eye.

Billy bites and pulls at Steve's lower lip with a guttural groan.

“Fuck, Billy-” Steve nearly moans out and tries to buck out his hips.

“Shut the fuck up, Harrington, or I'll punch you again,” Billy growls and dives back in to lick where his teeth had just tortured sensitive skin.

“Mmh- ah-” and Steve pulls away to say, “Do it.”

“What?” Billy has never looked more dumbfounded.

“Fucking hit me again.” Steve licks his lips clean of Billy's blood and stares intensely down at him. “Slap me in the face.”

And Billy grins like the devil, bites down on his tongue, breathing staggered as he contemplates on whether or not Steve is serious. Then brings a flat hand across a pale cheek.

It stings and burns throughout his entire body, anger and lust confusingly mixing and making his blood pump faster, his cock growing harder. He pokes at the inside of that cheek where he can practically feel the red hand print form.

“God you're a freak, pretty boy.” Billy wags his tongue and stares with a confident brow. “This why Nancy Wheeler left you, huh? She couldn't keep up with your perverted desires.”

Steve doesn't speak, simply digs a hand in between them, and oh what an exciting bulge he finds there, one that forces out an “Arrh,” from stained lips and feels the hips below urge closer.

“Like you're one to talk.” Now Steve is the one to smirk, crooked and looking like the cat that got the cream.

Which Billy fucking hates. All he can do is press their lips together again and grind his full dick against Steve's hand caught between them. His movement irrepressible as he rolls his hips and swallows every single moan that spills from Steve's puffy lips, pleased and turned on by every syllable, irritated that Harrington can't just shut the fuck up.

It would be all too easy to get caught like this. But isn't that just exciting?

That thought strikes both of them at the same time it seems, because just as Steve moves his hand out of the way, Billy's flies down tear away at their belts, all the while maintaining the rhythmic dance of their ever so insatiable tongues.

Neither dares to utter a single word, because the wrong one could stop it all too soon, so they settle on hushed grunts and groans, barely a cursed word till Billy's hand shoves into Steve's trunks once his fly is down.

“A-ah- shit, Billy-” Steve moans out and closes both his hands in the denim jacket.

“Be fucking quiet, Harrington, I swear to God,” Billy hisses out with his gaze low.

Attention caught on how fucking long and hairy Steve is, the head of his flushed cock wet with pre. He doesn't waste any time with getting himself out as well, his own leaking erection girthy with clear veins snaking around. Not as long as King Steve's magnificent dick, but definitely wider.

“Fuck,” Steve breathes out hard at the sight of them both out in the open like that, shiny and standing at full size.

A moan cuts through him as Billy brings his free hand up to muffle every sound, with such force that it knocks Steve's head into the wall. The pure display of dominance that that move is, makes Steve leak even worse and struggles to keep his eyes open.

“I said shut the fuck up,” Billy's voice deep and threatening.

Steve feels as if he's staring death in the eyes, and all he can do is whine and thrust his hips into the iron grip around both their throbbing cocks. It's dry and uncomfortable, but fuck if it doesn't get him to where he needs to go.

And once again their minds must be in perfect sync, because Billy brings up his hand, and Steve watches intently as Billy spits into his palm, clear blue eyes never looking up to catch how burning amber stares.

Finally he gives in, when that slick hand twists around the two of them, and Steve's eyes roll back between fluttering lids as his mind goes blank with searing pleasure. A calloused hand, thick veins, hoarse groans, all of it the only things to matter in his world now, as every practiced jerk of his all too hard prick tears away at his self control and shoves him into the deep end of urges he never realized he had.

Urges he doesn't care to ignore.

Never before has he heard Billy go this long without insulting him, and he kinda misses it. He fights to open his eyes again, and catches how Billy's brows are raised high up and pinched together, his mouth wide as he barely manages to choke his own moans before they grow too loud, stare locked down where he's fisting them together with such fervor he could light a fire with it.

Steve is aching to hear Billy call him names, throw around abuse like it's nothing and shame him for something, anything. Perhaps tonight will give him new material finally, call him a queer or gay, just to then overpower him as he always does when they fight, now maybe followed by... a handjob? A blowjob? As long as his hands are on him, Steve won't complain anymore.

Can't complain when he's so close. He hadn't realized how badly he needed release at all till Billy had started pushing into him just minutes ago. Had their constant struggle just been pent up sexual tensions? Was this what it was all leading up to? An inevitability? Billy pumping his closed hand around them in a gross as all hell elevator, feeling every single inch of Steve's painfully intense erection?

“Fuck, ah shit, lift up your shirt,” Billy's quick to groan out with labored breathing that stutters as he speeds up his hand as fast as he can go.

And Steve doesn't hesitate to do as told, brings both hands from Billy's jean jacket to his own striped polo and lifts it up as high as he can, what with the way they're crammed together in a corner.

Feels the heat gather, the coil in his gut tightening till it's seconds away from springing, the vice grip around him doing wonders in pulling him to the edge, then shoves him off as he cums, hips shoving into Billy's rough hand with short bursts as he moans against the one stealing away his air, feels how he ejects wet heat all over his abs in a toe-curling feat.

Shortly followed by Billy as he empties all he's worth onto Steve's stomach, forehead pressed on top of the hand covering Steve's mouth, eyes still unblinking as he watches what a gorgeous mess they're making. He squeezes their spent dicks till the last drop drips down his broad fingers, and then lifts up his hand.

Ensures that Steve is watching, as Billy sticks out his whole tongue and licks his hand clean, sucking on the digits till there's not a trace left.

Steve moans into his hand at that, and despite the fact that he's been depleted of all his energy, still feels it jolt through him and burn into his memory for forever.

Finally Billy pulls his hand from Steve's mouth, and wipes the spit off in his jeans as he steps away.

And Steve nearly collapses without the support of thick muscles to keep him up, boneless in the afterglow of the best orgasm he's had in months. But... what's he going to do with the way they've painted his abdomen? There's no fucking towels or paper here, and he can't just take off his expensive polo shit and use that! He stares down in slight panic and gestures with his hands as if he's just going to, what, wipe it off?

When his sight gets blinded by something soft that reeks of musky sweat, and he catches Billy's shirt before it would fall to the floor. He looks up to see Billy put his jacket on again.

“Use that to uh...” He points to the cum that slowly runs down Steve's exposed skin.

Although hesitant for very good reasons, Steve does eventually wipe himself dry with Billy's tee, and awkwardly hands it back, as if he can really use it for anything now.

And a prolonged silence fills the air between them, as Steve remains in the corner and Billy struggles a bit with the doors; no clue what floor they're on anymore, and the counter above probably hasn't worked in years.

“What happens now?” Steve asks cautiously from where he's sitting in the same corner, a spot that he dares not leave.

Billy groans out a complaint and shakes his head at the immovable steel doors. Then goes to sit next to Steve with only slight space between their bodies.

“You mean if we make it out of here alive?” he laughs, and hears Steve give a tired chuckle as well. “That depends...” his tone grows wary and serious. “Harrington... if you tell anyone about this, I will fucking kill you, you understand?”

Their eyes meet, and in Billy's there's a storm of mixed feelings. Fear of getting hurt, premature anger of being found out about, and maybe hope? But that could just be Steve projecting his own thoughts and feelings onto the other.

“And what if I don't?” Steve swallows hard around the anxiety that clumps together in his throat. “What if I don't tell anyone about... us?”

One corner of Billy's rather stern grimace quirks up. “Then I'll see you tomorrow night.”

[silver9mm]

Another SPN dream I might have turned into a fic. cw: mcd, drug use

I work at a college library but didn’t go to school there and one day these two beautiful boys blow in. They’re Freshmen, but they both seem older and wiser in different ways. Brady---and I only know his name because his friend keeps elbowing him and giving him what the hell, man? looks---is super rude to me, downtalking and loudly fake-laughing at things that aren’t actually funny. The other one gives me apologetic eyes and quickly cuts Brady off, tells me they don’t need help, and steers his friend firmly away. I hear them bickering and somehow know they’re having sex with each other. 

The next day, the nicer one meets me in the morning outside the library with a small regular coffee and tells me his name is Sam and that’s sorry his friend is such a jerk, that he doesn’t know what’s gotten into him lately. The day after that, he brings me a piece of peach pie and I laugh and tell him that it’s from the restaurant off-campus that I live above, and that it’s pretty cool living there because the kitchen closes at midnight so I can play my music loudly without bugging anyone. He asks me what kind of music I listen to and I tell him classic rock and 90s metal and Sam’s face does a weird thing and I can’t tell if he’s into it or annoyed, but I tell him I also like to find new music through TV shows, that I pirate soundtracks from online, and the next day he brings me this usb with BtVS, Jericho, Angel, Firefly, and Constantine comics on it.

Maybe a week goes by and then Sam’s at my apartment. He’s been extremely polite to me up to now, but once he’s there in that little space with me, I realise how huge he is. I freeze up, intimidated, even though I know what I want---even when he asks me, “Do you want me to fuck you?” Of fucking course I do, but he doesn’t move, sits sprawled in a half-broken overstuffed chair and just waits for me to get close before he puts a hand out to me, pulls me down over him. After the first time---and what I remember the most is how blue his eyes were during, how they shifted back to green and gold after---he’s less proper with me, at least when we’re alone. He stalks me in the small space, seems to love grabbing me from behind and lifting me so my feet aren’t on the ground and I have to hold onto the counter, the window frame, but he’s the sweetest gentleman outside, and even shuts Brady down when he tries to talk shit to me, jealous now, but we’re both in the same boat because Sam’s leaving for basic training soon.

I have a couple of months with him, that’s all. He stays at my apartment almost every night, comes to the library during the day whenever he can, always brings me coffee or a Spring flower. One night, he tells me he has a brother but he doesn’t know where Dean is, hasn’t seen him in a year and doesn’t know if Dean knows he’s leaving for the military. He’s got a number but he’s afraid to call it, so I do it for him. I have it on speaker, and a grumpy voice answers and Sam panics so I hang up, but that was definitely his brother and I make Sam promise he’ll call him back. I think he does, because he seems agitated the next time I see him, a weird mix of giddy and nervous and sad, and I don’t think he sleeps much in the night for the next few days before he leaves for basic.

A year goes by. I get letters from Sam, a few phone calls. He hates it, being told what to do, misses his long hair, but he likes being part of something, having people who watch his back and stick by each other, no matter what. I don’t see Brady after Sam leaves, but I meet this older guy at a party one night. He’s there selling cocaine and everyone calls him Bob, but his real name is Balthazar and I let him pick me up because I’ve been looking for a new dealer and he’s got it all. We fuck and it’s fun but not great and the next morning we get breakfast, drink black coffee and smoke cigarettes, sitting next to each other so we don’t have to actually look at each other, but he tells me I can usually always find him at a dive bar across town. I start hanging out there occasionally. Balthazar is a shithead to everyone but we become friends with benefits and his circle of friends are welcoming enough, and I’m hanging out there when I get a call from a strange number.

I recognise the grumpy voice, but this time it’s shaking a little, and Dean tells me Sam’s been killed. I was the last number called on Sam’s phone, and Dean ended up with all the letters we had written, and asks if we can meet. I tell him how to find the bar and he says he’ll be there two nights from now. Balthazar, for once, drops his bullshit when he sees how upset I am and gives me a bunch of free mushrooms and ecstasy because he doesn’t have the emotional capacity to actually be supportive himself. I pocket them and spend the next 48 hours numbly waiting for Dean. It seems normal, somehow, like I knew this was going to happen the whole time, I knew Sam wasn’t going to come back, and I hate that it feels that way but I can’t do anything to change it. 

Dean’s already at the bar when I show up and even though they don’t look anything alike, I know it’s him immediately. We have a couple drinks and then the regulars start to show up, and Dean slowly starts to look like a trapped animal. He goes pale, his hands clench into fists, and he bolts for the door as soon as I suggest ditching the bar, but he’s waiting for me outside, smoking a cigarette, and I notice he’s got Sam’s phone in his hand like it gives him comfort to hold onto it. I take Dean back to my place and he relaxes, tells me he likes my Christmas lights and I offer him the little bag of coke Balthazar slipped me on my way out, and Dean shows me how to powder it by breaking my tea ball and using the end of a pen to grind the crystals through the screen. We talk for hours, but not about Sam, not at first. It’s nonsense, but I can tell Dean’s wound pretty tight, has a lot of secrets, or at least things he feels he can’t tell most people, and that he’s sizing me up, trying to figure out why Sam liked me so much. I’m too spun out to worry if he finds what he’s looking for, but Dean lets me drag him to my bed when the sun starts coming up and we sleep most of the next day away and eat cold Chinese food for breakfast-dinner when we wake up. He tells me he’s gotta go get his car, and I don’t really believe he’ll come back, but he does, and brings a bag with him like he’s intending on staying, and I don’t tell him he can’t. 

He starts to open up that night, tells me about losing his mom when he was a little kid, how his dad was in the military and Dean practically raised Sam by himself, how they were moved around constantly. Dean joined the military as soon as he could, because their dad expected it of his oldest son. 

“Sam didn’t want me to,” he said, “but I was good at it. Taking orders my whole life, being responsible for---for others. For Sam. He wanted me to stay with him, was always coming up with some shit we could do together, a family business, but I wanted to be like Dad. Sam thought it was so dumb, but I did it anyway, and I think he joined because he wanted to show me how it felt. How... How worried he was for me, how much he missed me, but all I felt was proud of him, even though I knew it wasn’t what he wanted to do. I felt invincible, so of course he would be too. Typical bullshit, right? But no one’s invincible and now Sam’s dead. What the weirdest thing is, it bothers me that there was so much of him. That he was so stupid tall and strong. I don’t know why that makes it worse, but it does.”

Dean doesn’t cry when he tells me these things, and I get the impression that he doesn’t have any tears left, that he’d parked his big black car somewhere the day he was told Sam was dead and cried every last tear he’d ever cry in his life out. He’s sitting in the same busted chair Sam was the first time we fucked, but this time it’s me who asks Dean if he wants to. He nods, and the coloured lights make his eyes change like Sam’s would. He lets me do whatever I want to him, practically begs me to come around him and even then doesn’t just take what he wants. He’s passive, submissive, but so attentive, lets me wear myself out over him and then pets me right back to life, over and over. 

We spend weeks like that. My job is out for the summer and Dean pays my rent. He disappears once in a while, but calls me before he shows back up and then sleeps for a couple days before he’s himself again. I don’t ask where he’s been. We eat magic mushrooms and play Tetris on my old Nintendo and I look up info on how those things help with PTSD, and he says that’s something Sam would do, research. We like the same music and I remember the face Sam made, and we go to the bar once in a while. Girls flock to Dean, but Balthazar distracts half of them with his drugs and his sleazy smile and I chase the other half away by just sitting in Dean’s lap, grabbing his ass in front of them. He pretends to be embarrassed but I know he loves the attention, likes that I’m forward and possessive over him. 

[thenickelportrust]

How would a scene where MC and RO are involved in a tickle fight but then it gets very steamy play out? Like, RO traps MC under them so they can't move or fight back and all of a sudden all these feelings come into play.

Finley: If someone asked you when you first started working at The Nickelport Rust if you ever thought you’d be getting into a tickle fight with your boss you probably would have laughed them out the door- intentionally or not. Okay, well, you maybe also might’ve questioned their motives for asking or even why the question came up in the first but, long story short- it would’ve been unthinkable. But then you worked there for four years and then you got to know Finley and then, on a particular late night when you were already kind of drunk off of exhaustion and word-based delirium and Finley was also there late at night and also looked equally tired and stressed and nobody else was there and both of you looked like you needed to blow off steam and… and then it was tonight. It became right now, in fact, and in this ‘right now’ you are in a tickle fight with your boss. Which in theory sounds odd and awkward but in practice has resulted in a lot of laughter, a couple of wisecracking jokes from both parties, lots of paper on the floor, and, currently, you lying on said paper with both of Finley’s hands on either side of your head and a sudden awareness of just how close they are to you and the fact that even now they somehow manage to smell like coffee- but not really in a bad way but more in a comforting, familiar way that makes you think of all the previous late nights like this- well… maybe not quite like this in your current, semi-awkward position- where you feel like death has its claws on your spine and the only good thing about it is Finley’s presence beside you. Er… above you, if you’re still talking in the sense of right-now. Finley- who nothing really ever slips by- also takes quick stock of the situation you seem to have gotten yourselves into. Their bright, crystal-clear blue eyes widen imperceptibly, and a red flush spreads over their nose- their cheeks- to the tips of their ears. You… you’re really not used to seeing them blush. Sure they’ve blush maybe… once or twice in the time you’ve known them but you’re still… It… It looks nice on them. “Oh, well, I- um,” Finley shakes their head, and suddenly they’re laughing again, even though you aren’t tickling them this time around. “Sorry.” One of Finley’s hands drifts away from your side, covering the upper half of their face. “Sorry it’s just- well, I was thinking about how this would look if someone walked in- so the best joke I could think of was ‘Well, good thing we’re alone tonight’. But, god, if that doesn’t sound like some sleazy dive-bar pickup line then frankly I don’t know what does.” Finley drags their hand away from their face- and they don’t look half as tired as they did when you first started the tickle fight tonight, “Honestly, that might’ve been my worst retort yet. I blame the work- it’s messing with my comebacks. But… thank you, really, I think I needed this. You… always know just what to do, don’t you?”

Raf: For Lucy and Raf there’s a minor split at the very end depending on whether or not they were your Ex. The rest would be pretty much the same, though.

It’s not often that you can get the drop on someone who can see the future. But luckily for you Raf wasn’t paying attention and you took full advantage of that moment to launch an attack- a tickle attack, that is. Raf jumps as soon as you latch onto him, but he recovers fairly quickly, and through stifled laughter tries to turn around and grab onto your hands. Your quick enough to dodge him for a while, but you make one fatal misstep when you end up trapped against the wall- a fact that Raf takes advantage of by returning the favor you’d given and tickling you in return. You end up bent over, one hand pressed over your mouth to try and stifle your laughter while the other easily bats away his hands. You grab onto one of his hands, and lunge back into offensive tickling, only to have your other hand grabbed by Raf. Your inopportune position fails you once more when he manages to pin your hands to the wall, and, through dwindling chuckles, declares a quiet, “Got you!” Your laughter dies down as well, and soon all you’re left with is a smile and the space between you two. He doesn’t let go of your hands. Not immediately. 

Non-Ex!Raf: You find yourself tracing the lines of Raf’s face with your eyes, the slight creases by his lips that remain with that still-present smile, and those lines that always crop up by his eyes, crinkling their edges in a happy manner. You almost wish he’d let go of you so you could trace them with your fingertips- just to see what those happy little lines feel like. As you watch a new line forms, one between his brows as they curve up quizzically, “What are you staring at?” Raf wonders, one last laugh rumbling as he watches your careful examination. You tap his hand with your fingers, and with a quiet, “Oh! I, uh, sorry.�� Raf releases your wrists- but he doesn’t get to step away quite so quickly, as you reach out and gently press against the lines on the sides of his eyes, tracing down those tired ones underneath them, past the nose to the smiling crevices at his lips. Raf seems a little shocked at first, but ends up leaning into your touch, and when your fingers splay over his cheek his presses his hand to the back of yours, with neither of you really willing to move.

Ex!Raf: It’s… you don’t know what it is. Familiar, of course, but at the same time so inherently different. Maybe it’s that space between the two of you that he still hasn’t closed, maybe it’s everything else that’s happened swimming around in the back of your head, breathing out nasty little bubbles that seem to pop and shock you back to the present whenever you find yourself drifting back towards the past. Raf seems to realize it too, his smile fades- quiets into little more than phantom lines by the corners of his lips. One of his hands, almost of its own volition, releases your wrist and drifts carelessly towards your face, gentle knuckles brushing over your cheek. It almost seems like an automatic gesture, learned from previous years of being together- little ghosts of the pasts that haunt both of your movements. With equally an unthinking, subconscious gesture you find yourself reaching out- towards those phantom lines. Your fingers are mere inches away from the edges of his lips when Raf clears his throat, then his eyes flicker away and you think you can see the faintest hint of red on his cheeks- but it’s cast away when his fingers loosen their grip… before drifting off of your wrist entirely. “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” Raf steps away, he rubs the back of his head awkwardly, looking… everywhere. Everywhere but at you. “I should- uh, I should go. I’m… I’m sorry.” 

Jacob: “Hm? What are y- h-hey!” Jacob breaks down into laughter even before you really begin tickling him. For a while he seems incapacitated by raucous laughing but as soon as he gains some semblance of control back he turns it around immediately. Whipping on you with as ferocious a barrage of tickles as you did to him. It quickly turns into warfare, soft, non-bloody warfare with the two of you equally matched in both finger-wiggling speed and strength. Somewhere in the fierce battle he ends up knocking you over- or maybe you pull him down- or maybe both of you end up flopping forward but somehow Jacob’s won the upper hand. And by upper hand you mean he literally has your hands, and is holding them over you in a semi-triumphant stalemate. “Got you!” The victor of the crusade declares successfully, “Can’t get me anymore now, can you?” Indeed, it appears as if the bloodshed- or laughshed, in this case- has come to a grinding halt. Yourself the defeated- and currently immobile, considering how Jacob’s now got you somewhat pinned on the floor. A fact which seems to hit both of you at the same hit, considering how a quiet, “Uhh…” escapes from Jacob as he very quickly releases your hands and hops to his feet, hands fidgeting nervously as he readjusts sleeves that were already in place, face tinted a bright red with laughter that sounds a little less carefree and a little more bashful than before. “Y-yeah! So, um, that was… fun… I guess I, um, I won.” His eyes flicker towards you, still lying on the floor registering what just happened and, even if it was for the smallest of moments, how close the two of you were. Jacob clears his throat, and extends a hand your way, “Well… here. I’ll-… I can help you up,” He appears to recover fully, flashing you that carelessly bright, lopsided smile he wears with ease, “We should… do that again sometime? If you want too, of course, but… I dunno, I guess you might want a rematch, yeah? I’d be more than happy to win once more.”

Lucy: For Lucy and Raf there’s a minor split at the very end depending on whether or not they were your Ex. The rest would be pretty much the same, though.

Perhaps you should have known better than to try and get into any kind of fight with one of Nickelport’s strongest- hell, not even strongest villains but strongest people in general. But while hindsight is always crystal-clear your foresight was just muddled enough to think that, hey! Maybe you could win a tickle fight. Yeah… That was before she ended up swinging you into the air, her arms wrapped around your torso, with loud, raucous, joyous laughter reverberating around behind you as she hoists up high as she can. You wiggle and squirm and twist but it doesn’t do much in the way of freeing you from her grasp. “Guess I win, eh?” Lucy grins up at you that crooked, confident smile of hers, the kind that’s often coupled with a quirked eyebrow and a snicker stifled behind her beaming teeth. She walks lazily to the side, kicking her feet out far in front of her as she dances from heel to toe, pacing with you still held tight in her arms, “Now I could let you go but where would be the fun in that? Nah… I think I’ll keep you up there for a minute lon-” You stick your leg into her path, Lucy stumbles over it and releases you as her own arms fly out in front to catch her fall- a fall that takes you down with her. With a groan, Lucy pushes herself up off of the floor- off of where you lie beneath her, “Sorry about that are you-?” She falters, mouth opening and closing just inches above you. You don’t notice it at first but it seems as if the tips of her ears have been tinted a dark shake of red half-hidden by her long curled hair.

Non-Ex!Lucy: “Y’know, we always manage to end up like this, somehow,” Lucy brushes her hair back, slyly smiling down at you, “I’m starting to wonder if maybe you’re doing this on purpose. Not that I’d complain, of course. I may or may not be guilty of it myself.”

Ex!Lucy: “Well… this feels familiar.” Lucy’s radiant, bright smile becomes a little… well… dimmer isn’t the right word. Not really. It seems to shine just as bright as before, but it’s less… Less… Less something. The only thing that comes to mind is a blurred image that was once crystal clear- or glasses that fogged up while staring at the sun. The sun would still shine just as bright, but it’d be different, spread thin and soft through the haze. Lucy’s hand twitches beside you, just an inch closer as her eyes scan your face, a searching, cautious look to them. “If you want me to move, I will. But… But if you don’t mind staying like this, then… I would… I’d like to.”

Yolanda: Yolanda definitely wasn’t expecting a tickle fight, at least, not if the expression of nearly pure surprise is anything to go by. However, it doesn’t seem as if she was entirely unprepared for such an outcome, because almost as soon as you think you’ve got the upper hand she turns it around on you, wrapping her own hands around you, fingers dancing over your neck. In an act of self defense, you curl in, which only makes her follow you, and results in the two of you toppling over onto the ground- Yolanda pinning you with your cheek pressed against the ground. You roll over- but still she remains hovering over you, a sly smile pulling the edges of her red-painted lips upwards. Somehow you didn’t expect Nickelport’s darling to be up for a tickle fight. Yolanda seems to sense this- and a light, airy, wind-chime laugh, “What is it, dear? Didn’t expect the lovely Yolanda Waltz,” She draws out her own name almost mockingly, “To surpass you in something so juvenile as a tickle-fight?” Yolanda rests her elbows beside you, cradling her chin on interlinked fingers as she smirks down at you, “You’ve forgotten, darling, that I grew up the oldest of three. I’ve plenty of experience with this. Although…” One of those hands slip undone, a single painted nail gingerly brushing down the side of your cheek, tracing your jaw, “I have to say that this is so-far much more pleasant than of those childhood follies… Mm, I suppose we’ve you to blame for that, now, don’t we?”

Eileen: Eileen’s too busy laughing at first to really realize just how close the two of you have gotten- literally. Her bright eyes open, and she tucks a strand of hair that had been dangling in front of your face away with a smile. The two of you seem caught there for a moment- almost entranced by just how many small details you can make out in her face. From the freckles that scatter across her cheeks like tiny dark stars to the flecks of brown that tint the inside of her green eyes. The trance is broken, though, when her face tints a bright red, and she apologize with a quick, “Oh- oh oops! Sorry, didn’t meant to crush you there!” She scurries to the side, her face still tinted red. Eileen folds her legs together and sits beside you for a while, casting fleeting, shy glances your way. Eileen seems to sigh, and she flops down on the floor next to you, tucking one hand under her arm when she rolls to face your way. “You know… I don’t think I say thank you enough.” One soft hand presses against the side of your cheek, “Moving to Nickelport hasn’t been all sunshine-and-butterflies but… You make what sunshine there is shine even brighter. So… thank you. For being here.” Her eyes flicker away from you, that same rosy flush covering a few of the freckles on her cheeks. Then Eileen leans over, and presses a small kiss to the side of your cheek, “With me.”

Informant: “Oh no you don’t-!” Somewhere in the tumble, you and the Informant end up tumbling to the floor, at this point he decides the best course of action is to wrap you up in a large hug, pinning your arms to your sides as he rolls onto his back, keeping you pinned to his stomach. Still chuckling from your recent tickle-assault, the Informant tilts his head up to look at you with a lopsided smile, the sunglasses sitting crookedly upon his face, “Looks like you’re trapped, hm? Can’t get me now, can you?” Sure enough, you try wiggling and twisting but each time his arms only tighten a tiny bit more- never enough to hurt, but just enough to prevent your escape attempts. Finally, you give in, resting your head on his chest with a frown. “Well would you look at that? Seems like I won.” The Informant gives you a self-satisfied smile, his arms relax, one even folds behind his head, propping it up so that he can look at you, but the other still rests on your back comfortably. You find yourself in no hurry to move either, and instead just fold your hands under your chin, holding the Informant’s gaze as you feel the rise and fall of his chest while he breathes. As if on a whim, you find yourself reaching forward, removing the glasses from his face so that you can look into the Informant’s eyes- he makes no move to stop you. Dark-tinted sunglasses off, you can clearly see the ways his eyes soften when they look at you, the way his gaze flickers around your face, and settles on your own stare. Your hands press against the floor and you lift yourself closer to his face- the Informant’s hands slide up from your back to your head, until they’re cradling either side of your cheek. You don’t really know who moves first, you don’t really care- maybe it was you, maybe it was him, maybe you both moved at the same time, but your eyes are closed- and you can feel his lips on yours.

Ricky: Fun fact time: Y’know I honestly tried to find a way to work Ricky into this ask as it was said. I knew there was no way in hell that he’d ever willingly participate in a tickle-fight so I figured that the MC’s gotta be the one to initiate it and he just joins in to make them stop- so I was trying to think of his reaction and all I could think was ‘Is Ricky even ticklish?’ to which my mind immediately jumped to the reply ‘There’s not enough joy in him to be ticklish’. And so my mind then tried to remedy the situation- and I came up with this caveat to your original ask: that maybe Ricky wasn’t fighting back so much as he just grabbed the MC’s arm because they would stop and told them to stop and that’s how they end up in this little predicament you’ve mentioned. So his answer is a li’l different, and I apologize for that, but Ricky is Ricky and he continues to be my trouble-boy. (Side fun fact: I have silly li’l shorthand nicknames for each of these characters and that’s become Ricky’s nickname over the months. The troublesome boy.) Anyway, long-winded fun-fact-explanation over, here’s the answer to your ask-ish:

“For love of all that is good- would you stop that already?” Ricky snatches up your wrist, turning around with a glower crossing his face, “I have no idea what it is you’re trying to get out of annoying me but how many times do I have to repeat that no, I am not ticklish and your repeated attempts to disprove such a statement have so far done nothing but annoy.” Sadly for you, you weren’t quite prepared for him to whip around so quickly, which ended up in a rather awkward one-two backstep followed by an equally unceremonious tripping over your own feet and dragging Ricky down to the ground with you via-hand-on-wrist in what is perhaps the most disjointed dance routine you’ve ever had the luck to participate in. The wind escapes you as you hit the floor- luckily Ricky has some of the wherewithal to swing out his hands and try to catch himself- which means he doesn’t slam down atop you- but it does mean the hand he had held before of yours is now pinned above your head. “Ugh…” Ricky pushes himself off of your chest, his free hand pressed against the side of his forehead, “Well, now, didn’t that work just spectacularly… Are you alright?” He leans his hand back down to the space just beside your head and- uh… well, it doesn’t take very long for either him or you to realize the rather… compromising position you’ve been put in. And while Ricky is left seemingly searching for some word to say- you’re left staring up at his face- tinted a rare shade of red for Ricky, with his hair for once no-longer neatly slicked back but knocked forward by the tumble. You can’t do much- he still hasn’t let go of your hand, and you’re kept from turning away due to his arm on the other side of your head. An odd and sudden urge fills your thoughts from who-knows-where- your fingers twitch, then your reaching up towards his cheek, your mouth opens as if to speak- what do you say? What should you say? Apparently nothing- because your fingers are just inches from the side of his cheek when Ricky snaps away, hand releasing your wrist as he hops to his feet, already smoothing back down his hair. “Well, I’ll just- just assume you’re alright then. Now… I…” He clears his throat, “I hope you’re… satisfied, knowing I’m not ticklish so it would be… Useless to try, either way.”

V: From the smirk on their face and the fact that they definitely don’t look at all apologetic for having “accidentally” pinned you down at an almost uncomfortable close distance you’d take a wild guess and say that V probably planned this. Their hands rest loosely on your wrists- if you wanted to, you could easily pull them out and roll away- break away from their green-eyes gaze that seems to be growing slier each moment you stay. The silence hangs between you like a curtain, weighing down on your chest- say something, you want to tell them. Saying nothing, V releases one of your hands, their own brushing up the side of your neck, to your cheek and then your chin, they trace the bottom edge of your lip, stare once more flickering up to your face. The silence still weighs on your chest, on your throat and your voice. You nod your head, and V’s broad, roguish smile becomes even broader. They lean down and… kiss you on the cheek- all before promptly breaking out into hearty laughter and sitting back, up, and off of you. “Sorry, dear. What can I say? I simply couldn’t resist.” V gives you a crafty wink. “Tempting as it is.”

[tetrahedrals]

Finally finished the game last night! Scattered thoughts below (major spoilers)

- I was wayyy overpowered for that final fight. Probably did not need to grind all those extra levels.

- I’m so happy my brother is ok! I think the Ryder family dynamic is one of the strongest parts of the game. I hope we have him as a companion in future games.

-To expand on that: the ‘Ryder Family Secrets’ questline was probably my favorite (aside from Liam’s loyalty mission, obvs), especially around the 4th memory. It was the only part of the game that gave me chills. An exciting mystery to solve! I wish they had done more with it. That final revelation is pretty devastating though: this whole time Sara/Scott has been thinking, ‘hey my dad sacrificed himself for me, maybe he actually did care’ and really it was for Ellen, all of it, even keeping them alive. 

- I wish there was more exploration of SAM as a family member/third sibling. SAM’s first experiences are shaped by being part of Alec and Ellen- in a way it is just as much their child as the twins. And come on, the names, Sara, Scott, SAM. I wonder if Sara/Scott resent SAM at first, for taking up so much of their parents’ time/focus. And when they become Pathfinder, they think it’s because Alec wanted SAM to protect them. But eventually they figure out it’s the other way around; he wanted them to protect SAM. Anyway, as you can see, I’m having fun with all this family angst.

- Drack is my favorite companion, I took him everywhere. I headcanon Ryder having a huge inappropriate crush on him. Maybe they have a conversation about it at some point (’Kid, you’re 22.’ ‘Actually I’m 622!′). 

- Favorite planet: Kadara. Finally, a sleazy space dive! AND a bar that references the underworld (Tartarus, you’re no Afterlife, but you’ll do). As soon as I got to Kadara port I was like, ‘I have found my people’. 

- 2nd favorite planet: Elaaden. I love the krogan colony so much, protect them, nurture them. But what the hell was up with that ‘fight’ between Morda and Jorg. I was expecting this epic smackdown, and  then they started flailing at each other like toddlers on the playground. My cat has gotten into scarier fights with her own reflection.

- I like Jaal, and I’m happy for everyone who enjoyed his romance, but he is not what I am looking for in a space boyfriend/girlfriend. I think I can pinpoint the exact dialogue moment where I realized it too:

Ryder: ‘I love that you can be so open and vulnerable with me!’

Jaal: ‘You make me feel safe!’

Me, staring at my screen: ‘…I’ve made a huge mistake.’

I like the thought of my Ryder meeting his family and thinking, ‘oh shit, this is never going to work.’ Her family isn’t open about anything! Her dad literally left her a folder of death-secrets. Can you imagine her in that room full of angara trying to bake her pie and ask about her relationship, and trying to make conversation like, ‘so, where do you folks keep your death secrets?’. (I know this is subjective, like I’m sure some Ryders would be grateful to be welcomed into a family that was so open and outwardly caring.)

- I really liked the credits song

- I liked all the stuff they introduced at the end of the game, with the quarian ark, the archon being ‘severed’ (does that mean his consciousness is potentially lingering somewhere in Meridian?), and ESPECIALLY the little detail they tossed in there at the end about the first human biotic (’Subject White’) !!! I want to know more, immediately. 

- I made Morda the ambassador, obviously. (Still not clear on what the ambassador does? But whatever it is, I’m pretty sure Morda could do it. Unless of course it is ‘fighting other krogan with dignity’. Hmm.)

Overall, I thought this was a good ‘introduction’ game, though the main plot questline felt pretty short. I’m trying to remind myself that it’s not fair to compare it to the ME trilogy, since it’s only one game. But it’s hard to compare it to how I felt about ME1, because I only played that after playing through 2 and 3, at which point I was fully invested in all characters. 

Ah well, I like Ryder and her companions well enough. Excited to remove all my blacklist filters and read how the rest of the fandom has reacted to stuff.