#now everyone is blue ballsed

[papagrazza]

We’re all self indulgent here

[dutten-does-the-fanfic]

Beat that Record pt. 4

Title: “Beat that Record pt. 4″ (pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3) Pairing: Isak Valtersen/Even Bech Næsheim Word count: 22.057 Warnings: Explicit content, language, references to internalized homophobia

Notes:

me: *uploads pt 3 literal years ago* That is it! It is done! Enjoy! you guys: could you do a part where they beat the record? me: no also me: y e s

AO3

Isak is smart, okay. He knows that Even likes to joke that he’s a genius, but he’s got the grades, the inquisitive mind, and the ambition to show that he’s not really all that far off.

Being as smart as Isak is, he really should’ve figured it out, or at least figured it out a lot sooner than he actually does.

He should’ve known it would become a thing.

It starts – well. How it starts is quite well-known at this point. It’s how it continues Isak should’ve been paying attention to.

First it’s Jonas with the help of Magnus planting the thought in Even’s head that he can’t make Isak come untouched way too many times. Then Isak breaks up what very well could’ve been the next ‘moment’ like that when the boys came over to pregame.

And he’d really actually thought that was the end of that.

Isak is a goddamn idiot. An oblivious idiot. And hindsight is 20/20, after all, and it’s a lot easier to realize when Isak isn’t in the middle of having very great sex.

The next time it happens, Isak realizes now that he’s aware of its thingness, is at some house party the boys dragged Isak to, which means Isak dragged Even along so he wouldn’t have to suffer alone, and when the boys inevitably find someone to hook up with for the night he can just kiss Even. Win-win for everyone.

True enough, Jonas is the first one to abandon them, so Magnus is entertaining them by reenacting how fast Jonas moved when he found out Mia was at the party. Even’s laughing the most out of all of them. The vibrations of it feel nice against Isak’s back where he’s leaning up against Even’s chest, fingers curled in a loose hold around the arm Even has wrapped around his front.

Mahdi points out that not even Isak and Even were as desperate to get each other off as Jonas apparently had been. Isak punches Mahdi in the shoulder, his protests going unheard under all of their booming laughter.

He doesn’t mind too much, he finds, but still keeps up the pretense by scowling at all of them until Even has pressed half a dozen kisses to his cheek and promises that next party, they won’t even bother showing up because they’ll have started with each other so early they don’t make it out the door.

It’s enough of a promise to mollify Isak as Mahdi starts perusing over his options from the corner they’re in and Magnus bemoans how Vilde has an early workout session and also didn’t want to go to a party without the girls. Bringing Even had been a brilliant idea, Isak thinks, tilting his head back and stretching his neck out tantalizingly, knowing Even won’t be able to resist.

Predictably, Even presses his lips against his neck, just lightly moving his lips over the skin in a way more teasing manner than Isak had hoped for. He’s just about to see if Even wants to make something more out of it when Jonas comes bounding down the stairs and heads over to them straightaway.

His hair is tussled beyond compare, his lips puffy and his eyes a little sex crazy. There’s nothing subtle about him, and Isak can’t help but roll his eyes at him.

Jonas doesn’t even have the gall to be embarrassed about it, just flashes them all an obnoxious grin when Mahdi hoots and Magnus makes choked up laughing noises.

“Back already?” Even teases, presses another kiss to Isak’s neck before hooking his chin over his shoulder. It’ll do his back in if he keeps at it for too long, but Isak likes the feel of it so he lets him stay like that for now. “Don’t tell me that’s all the stamina you have.”

Jonas rolls his eyes good-naturedly. Isak almost expects him to stick his tongue out at Even because they’re both children, but he thankfully doesn’t.

Isak can tell Even is amused, though. Maybe he’d been thinking the same thing.

Jonas waggles his eyebrows instead. “Gave her a taste of what’s to come.”

Magnus wrinkles his nose. “You blue-ballsed her? Or – well – whatever the equivalent is – what is – what’s it called when you do that to a girl –“ turning towards Even until Isak’s glare makes him wrinkle his nose again.

“Nah,” Jonas shakes his head. “I gave her incentive to come home with me,” wiggling his goddamn eyebrows again.

Isak barks out a laugh that only intensifies when Even proceeds to wolf-whistle lowly and at the sight of Magnus still not getting it.

Jonas rolls his eyes. “I made her come and then told her all the times I’d make her come again if she comes home with me.”

“And just how many would that –“ Even grunts when Isak’s elbow firmly cuts him off.

Luckily, before Jonas can retaliate and Isak’s ass will take the brunt of it later, Magnus draws all of their attentions with an amazed noise. His eyes are as wide as saucers.

“Fuck’s sake, you’ve been gone for less than seven minutes!” Mahdi protests in sheer outrage. Isak bites down on his bottom lip to keep from laughing.

“6 minutes and 24 seconds, to be precise,” Jonas grins cockily, waggling his eyebrows and dancing out of the way from the shove Mahdi tries to give him.

Isak isn’t interested enough to know if that’s impressive. He’s definitely made Even come in less than that, but he doubts the boys will think it’s the same. What he is interested in is making as much fun of Jonas as he can before Jonas makes his goodbyes and heads home with Mia under his arm.

What he should’ve been interested in was how glossy Even’s eyes had gotten, the same way as when he’s come up with a big project that he just has to start working on immediately. What he should’ve paid attention to was how important it had apparently been to sneak away to a bedroom right before they leave, Even sinking to his knees, his mouth touching only the tip of Isak’s dick, his fingers tapping impatiently against his hole, not pressing in because neither of them had the foresight to bring lube.

When Isak looks back at that night now, it really is quite obvious what had been going on. But Isak had been wearing his pink panties that he knows how much Even loves when paired with the grey sweater he got for him, which, coincidentally, Isak had also been wearing despite how the weather was technically getting a bit too hot for sweaters.

Even had obviously known about Isak choosing to wear the sweater out, but he’d only gotten a peak of the lingerie right before they’d met up with the boys. Even having Isak lean back against his chest pretty much the entire night was both to hide the half-chub he’d been sporting ever since, and to intermittently press his hips forward, grinding softly into Isak just to remind him of what was to come.

And the fact that what came to be got split up in two parts because, for some reason, Even just had to get Isak off in less than 6 minutes and 24 seconds, just hadn’t registered in Isak’s mind.

It hadn’t been obvious at the time – probably mainly because Isak’s legs were shaking too badly from coming so quickly, but also because Even had at least had enough class to not bring out a stopwatch and time just how quick they’d been, which Isak figures probably would’ve been the way he would’ve noticed over his brain shutting down temporarily. Isak didn’t notice at the time.

He also doesn’t notice it the next time it happens.

Or the next time again.

Or the one after that.

Doesn’t make the connection between Jonas talking about getting a girl off with his mouth with less than 15 strokes of his tongue and then Even eating him out that night.

Even wins with two broad strokes, four kitten-like licks, and one so deep Isak hadn’t been able to do anything but come, all of them paired with a few well-timed phrases that sent Isak’s blood hot and thrumming.

He doesn’t make any of the rather obvious connections that he definitely should’ve made, which is just ironic in hindsight, because one time Isak actually got rather close to calling it out without realizing it.

Being a third year isn’t really all that different from being a second year. Well, unless you’re Vilde, who seems to have an entirely different point of view, but to Isak it’s still just attending school, doing his homework, hanging out with his friends and missing Even terribly now that he’s at university and Isak is still stuck at Nissen.

Whatever, Isak reminds himself as he shuts off his laptop, says bye to Sana and rushes outside. The school year is basically over and then he’ll get to spend the entire summer with Even. Small words of comfort that don’t really help him right now.

The last bell has just rung and Isak is dying to get home already.

It’s just – it’s just that things are so good right now. Isak can’t remember ever having felt so comfortable in his own skin, so secure in his relationship. Even finding out about… about everything hadn’t been the death sentence Isak had feared, and thinking back on it Isak just feels stupid for having been so afraid of Even.

Sweet, beautiful Even whom Isak is in love with, who saved Isak and let Isak save him right back. Who is so good to him that walking out of the front door in the morning doesn’t feel like putting on a second skin more appropriate for what’s expected of Isak, but instead feels like himself.

Isak sees the boys loitering by the benches and changes his direction towards them.

“Halla,” he greets, smiling because he’s in a great fucking mood.

Both Jonas and Mahdi slap their palms against his, grinning back. Magnus, however, when Isak turns around to face him last, does not.

Magnus stares at him in a scrutinizing manner, and Isak would probably be feeling unease with it if it weren’t for how comfortable he is in his own skin, and how little it actually bothers him if someone were to say something mean and demeaning.

It still sends a little kick through his system when Magnus finally musters up the courage and asks, “Are you wearing lip-gloss?”

Isak is in fact wearing lip-gloss. Has been for the entire day, but maybe the shine only reflects in direct sunlight or maybe the boys really are just way too oblivious to have noticed on their own.

It’s probably because of Vilde, Isak thinks, that Magnus has gotten used to noticing the small details so he can give her a compliment whenever she tries something new. Magnus is great like that.

Jonas and Mahdi’s heads snap towards them, the both of them frowning nonplussed as they stare intensely at Isak’s lips.

Isak rolls his eyes at the two of them and doesn’t slow his gait to let them gawk. He has places he needs to be, namely home. With Even.

“You are!” Jonas exclaims, something akin to wonder in his voice that Isak tries not to flush over.

“And you even matched it to your shirt, man,” Magnus points out, because Isak had matched the light pink lip-gloss with the pastel pink t-shirt Even had surprised him with when the weather got too hot for soft sweaters. “What gives?”

“Så kjekk,” Mahdi grins, eyes gentle even as he ribs at him, “Guess Even’s getting his dick sucked.”

Jonas chokes – on the air, on his own spit, Isak doesn’t know, doesn’t care, because he’s too busy fighting off a laugh at Mahdi’s reference and instead fix a scowl at him.

Magnus is just gaping wide-eyed at him, then switching over to Mahdi, and back to Isak.

“Is that it?” he asks. “But I thought it was the red color that – is it really?”

“Is what really?” a voice asks behind them, and Isak knows that voice.

He still whirls around when the other boys do, but whilst they’re gasping at being startled – Jonas still mainly choking, but Isak’s willing to acquiesce to call it a ‘gasp’ because of best-bro status – Isak is already beaming and tilting his head back a bit so Even can kiss him hello.

“Hei!” Isak greets brightly because Even is here, arms around him and body warm against his, lips pecking softly so as to not ruin Isak’s makeup preemptively.

“Halla, baby” he says between pecks, smiling when Magnus can’t help but comment, ‘Oh my god, it’s Even!’

“What are you doing here?” Isak interrupts himself with another peck.

“Finished my shift earlier than expected. Figured I’d come say hello,” Even grins brightly, leaning down once again just because.

Even goes to greet Magnus next, like always with a quick hug and a bright smile, but Magnus must still be too wired from the lip-gloss and possible dick sucking Isak’s supposedly about to commence to not blurt out, “That Isak’s wearing lip-gloss so he can suck your dick?”

Isak does flush at that. God, they’re in public, very much in public on a route Isak has to take five days out of the week.

Even blinks, stunned either at the topic or the bluntness, maybe both considering. Isak almost thinks Even won’t answer, or that he’ll hit Magnus with a mini-lecture about the damaging side-effects of constructing ‘masculine’ norms that he’s been reading about in a pointedly plain view whenever Isak can see the screen of his laptop, that Jonas would probably be all for.

But then Even actually answers, and Isak isn’t even surprised.

“Isak doesn’t have to be wearing lip-gloss to do that, he knows that.”

It’s only made better by Even slinging his arm over Isak’s shoulders and pressing a quick kiss to his temple. Otherwise, Even could’ve definitely said goodbye to any blowjob for the rest of the month, or at least until Isak caved.

Mahdi snorts so hard his eyes water a little. Isak’s mild annoyance at the topic fades a bit with the good-natured experience of having fun with his best friends and man of his dreams.

“But what about the dark red?” Magnus asks again, like that’s something that matters. Isak rolls his eyes, but lets it go when Even squeezes his shoulder. “I thought – I thought the red was the point?”

Another eye roll, another squeeze, but neither of them actually get to say anything before Jonas cuts in.

“Any color will do, Mags,” he teases, reaching over a bit awkwardly so he can puff at him with his elbow. “It’s just easier to see when the color is dark.”

Magnus frowns, goes back to staring at Isak’s lips like he’s never seen anything alike.

He’s definitely seen the frown before, Isak guarantees that.

“See?”

“On your dick,” Mahdi interrupts, having enough decency to lower his goddamn voice. He might be Isak’s new favorite – or second favorite, if Isak includes Even. Even should always be included in Isak’s opinion, but absolutely no one could compare to Even, so maybe it’s not technically fair.

“Has Vilde never done that?” Jonas asks, and Mahdi is definitely Isak’s new favorite.

Magnus shares enough information already, and Isak’s fairly certain he’s also shared intricate details about Vilde’s mouth when he’d asked if Isak had had any tips or moves.

Isak had spent the rest of the lunch period throwing pieces of his raisin bread at Magnus’ face, awarding himself five points every time it made Magnus stop talking, and ten points if he could get Magnus to accidentally catch it with his mouth.

Magnus frowns and goes still, like he’s actually going through every single moment Vilde’s gone down on him, cataloguing each experience in order to remember if there’d ever been any colored smudges visible.

“I don’t know?”

Mahdi snorts again, though not as hard. “Trust me, you’d know. It looks like a damn murder scene happened on your dick whenever they wear red lipstick.”

Even knows better than to laugh. Isak will admit that it’s slightly amusing in this context, but when they’re actually in the moment and he has Even staring down at him like he’ll never witness a sight prettier than the one he’s looking at now, Isak knows that the red smudges left behind on Even and the way the color exceeds the line of his lips is one of Even’s utmost favorite things about Isak going down on him, period.

Jonas, however, doesn’t know better.

“Man, you’ve got it all wrong,” he slaps lightly at Mahdi’s arm. “It’s the best thing ever. You can tell afterwards how far down you could get.”

That Even does snort at. “I think that says more about your size than it does than it does about the other person’s… abilities.”

A+ for not being overtly crude. Isak might reconsider banning blowjobs for the rest of the month if Even keeps this up.

Jonas grins mischievously. He isn’t any longer on the list of Isak’s favorites at all.

“Well, that just makes it even better, doesn’t it?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Jesus Christ,” Isak grumbles. “I swear to god, if either of you whip your dick out for whatever measuring contest this is –“

“Why, Isak,” Even exclaims dramatically, “we’d never!” and presses kiss after kiss against Isak’s cheek until he drops the stink eye he’s giving all of them.

He doesn’t notice the looks the boys share with each other. He doesn’t notice the suspiciously timed make-out session Even initiates when they get home, because – well, Isak’s rather distracted when that happens.

He isn’t even thinking about the stupid conversation when he kisses Even’s jaw, his neck, tugging down at the collar of his t-shirt to get further down his collarbone, his chest. All he thinks about are Even’s groans, how riled up he feels, how much he wants to hear what sounds he can get out of Even with his mouth.

So Isak sinks to his knees, right there by their front door, pressing a single kiss to Even’s naval before he starts working on his belt and jeans and boxers and finally his cock.

“Baby,” Even groans when Isak licks at the tip, pops it into his mouth and hums pleased.

When he draws back, there’s already a light ring of pink as his lip-gloss had gotten smeared from the multiple kisses Even hadn’t been able to resist giving him.

“God, look at you,” Even says, mouth already running rampant as Isak’s tongue joins the game. “Most gorgeous baby in the world. Faen.”

Isak bobs down maybe halfway, tightens his lips and sucks as he pulls back, his tongue pointed so he can slide along Even’s slit.

Even hisses, one hand flying out in reflex and grabs onto Isak’s hair. He doesn’t squeeze, still isn’t too out of it to go that far already, just cards his hands through his curls and grabs a light hold if it.

It’s still enough to make Isak whine, to waver between wanting to press against Even’s hand and wanting to slide down, to let Even fill up his mouth.

He goes with the latter. Relishes in how Even is hot and heavy on his tongue, how he twitches whenever Isak does something particularly pleasing, how he’s able to keep up a steady commentary of how Isak looks, how he feels, how fucking lucky he is to have Isak.

Isak’s eyes flutter shut, and he presses himself down three-quarters of the way, holding Even there right at the border of being inside his throat until he finally pulls back, drawing in a large breath and swallowing heavily.

Even runs his fingers through Isak’s hair again. Isak twists sideways so he can nuzzle against his hand, then shyly peeks up at Even.

Who looks so fucking pleased and happy and in awe and seemingly can’t take his eyes off of Isak. He stops running his fingers through Isak’s hair, holds it there instead and guides Isak back to his cock.

Isak opens his mouth up happily, feels the head slide back inside then followed by the rest of the shaft.

And, again, Isak doesn’t notice. All he notices is the feeling of Even’s hand, big and warm and safe, pressing against the back of his head. Just a nice, soft, even pressure, and Isak slides down, down, down until he’s got all of Even inside him and he can just keep still.

His eyes flutter, his lips press against the soft skin of Even’s pelvis.

When he pulls back, coughing a little wetly as he gets his breath back, despite the light pink it’s still a very noticeable ring of color going smoothly all around the base of Even’s dick.

Looking back, Isak’s fairly certain the only thing Even and Jonas never did was having an actual dick measuring competition, because they’ve seemingly done everything else.

Number of times you can make your partner come. How quickly you can make your partner come, by hand, by mouth, penetration only. How desperate can you get them before they’re begging for release. How long can you keep them right on the edge. It goes on, and on, and on, and on. Isak can’t make it all out in his head, because they’ve clearly been subtle most of the time. It probably could’ve gone on for a long time before Isak started to suspect something.

But Magnus and Mahdi aren’t subtle, and Isak doubts Even and Jonas have gone through as much trouble to keep them from finding out about the thing.

Maybe Jonas and Even haven’t been all that subtle, either, and Isak’s just been oblivious or had his attention redirected – it doesn’t matter. What matters is that it isn’t Even or Jonas who explicitly let him know what’s going on, but Mahdi and Magnus who give it away by a complete accident.

It’s hot out, a proper summer’s day, and they’ve all taken refuge under a line of trees, hoping for the occasional blast of air to cool them down.

Isak’s wearing the pink t-shirt again, the material so soft he wants to squirm with it, and it’s a sure-fire guarantee to keep Even’s hands on him all of the time.

It’s nice – Even is a warm, weight pressed against his back as they lounge on the blanket Jonas borrowed from Eva, lying underneath a big oak tree that brings some shadow from the otherwise scorching sun.

Isak sticks his tongue out at Jonas when he throws some grass at them. As if he wouldn’t be doing the exact same thing if he had a girlfriend with him right now.

Speaking of girls –

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” Jonas protests halfheartedly. “If any of us have it easy with getting girls, it’s Issy over there.”

“Oh yeah, absolutely,” Isak deadpans, sending Jonas a mighty unimpressed look. “You know me, swimming in pussy.”

”Not with your ugly ass,” Mahdi kicks at him gently with his foot.

“Are you kidding?” Magnus yells out indignantly before Even can say anything. “Isak’s a pretty boy. Hands down. Anything else is a lie.”

“My pretty boy,” Even breathes into Isak’s ear, running his mouth gently along the curve of it just to make Isak shiver.

“Are you two seriously sexing it up over there?”

“Look, look, look! Another point to Even!”

Isak blinks. “…What?”

“That!” Magnus keeps pointing at Isak like that means anything. “You! He’s only said, what, a word and you already look completely fucked out!”

“It’s not exactly fair, though,” Mahdi points out, completely ignoring the way Isak is frowning at the two of them now. “Who is Jonas supposed to be making bedroom eyes at, me? You?”

“I’m a taken man, Mahdi, it would have to be you.”

“That wasn’t the point –“

“What?” Isak repeats, only to be ignored once again. It’s only Even’s fingers around his hip that placates him into not yelling louder at them.

“It’s not like it would matter, anyway,” Magnus says totally unhelpfully. “Jonas hasn’t got a chance.”

Jonas makes a disagreeing hum. “I could –“

“I’m telling you,” Magnus takes a swig of his beer, “you can’t beat Evak. You can’t. It’s impossible.”

“Weren’t you the one who said you and Vilde were cuter than them?” Mahdi calls out. Isak can see Magnus’ brain working as he tries to decide which is more important to him; his actual girlfriend or proving a point.

“I was wrong. The absolute wrong-est. Just – look at them, man!” his voice taking on a whine at the end.

Isak groans in misery at Magnus’ pointing. “Fuck off.”

Magnus frowns. “Although, the ‘Ev’ part of ‘Evak’ sure is a lot nicer than the ‘ak’.”

“Fuck. Off.”

“He’s such a grumpy boy,” Mahdi says, bypassing Isak to talk to Even. “You’d think he’d be in a better mood from all your winnings.”

“Alright, that’s it, time out,” Isak holds his hands up in a T. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Jonas snorts. “Isak, honestly –“

“The competition, or whatever you want to call it,” Mahdi says as if he’s indulging Isak by explaining something that has been going on between Even and Jonas. “You know, the sex thing.”

Isak blinks. The sex thing?

The boys are all in high spirits, but whatever expression comes across Isak’s face clearly shows that he is not, in fact, joking right now.

“You know,” Mahdi continues, a lot more hesitant, eyes flittering between Even and Jonas who look just as unsure of the situation. “Jonas brags about doing something with a girl, and then Even does it better with you.”

“I don’t brag –“ but whatever protest Jonas had wanted to make gets cut off by the choked-off noise Isak unwittingly lets out.

“Baby?” Even checks, but Isak can’t even look at him right now.

Magnus stares at him with the widest eyes possible. “You didn’t know?” he asks incredulously, then frowns inquisitively. “How? They haven’t been subtle!”

Mahdi nods in agreement as if, yeah, Jonas and Even have practically been screaming it to the world from a rooftop. “Especially that first time, remember?” he points out.

“What, coming the most times?”

Mahdi shakes his head. “No, the other time, the one at –“

Magnus snaps his fingers at him. “Oh, yeah! The, uh – what was it – coming the quickest, I remember!”

“Although,” Mahdi bobs his head, “should that even count? Getting a guy off in less than five minutes isn’t exactly a feat.“

“Excuse – hva faen –“

“Baby, are you okay?” Even asks him, causing Isak to whirl around so he can look at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks Even, who honest to god looks completely perplexed at Isak.

“I’m sorry,” Even tells him, sounding like he means it. “I don’t exactly bring up Jonas when we’re having sex.”

Isak jabs his elbow in-between Even’s ribs gently. “The rest of the time, then.”

“I’m sorry,” Even repeats, not even mentioning the elbow. He just holds out his hand in case Isak wants or needs it. “I genuinely thought you knew. We haven’t been subtle about it.”

“Isak, unnskyld,” Jonas cuts in. “It was my fault as well, I kept goading him on. Don’t be mad at Even.”

“Oh, I’m plenty mad at the both of you,” Isak points out huffily to his ‘best friend’ and his ‘boyfriend’.

He isn’t, not really. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling as he lies back down next to Even, staring up at the tree branches blocking out the sun and the blue sky. He allows it when Even carefully sweeps his thumb across his elbow, and then uses his left arm, the one furthest away from Even, to grab on to his wrist. He drags it over his stomach, then slides his hand up so they can intertwine their fingers.

“It was just a stupid game, baby,” Even promises, moving his thumb in small circles across the back of Isak’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“No more,” Isak tells him, them, because Jonas was part of this, too.

Even shakes his head in agreement. “I promise.”

“Of course,” Jonas nods, apologizing once again.

Isak nods to himself once. “No more.”

OOOOO

One more, Isak thinks as he finishes his purchase.

The package arrives on the day of Even’s very last exam, which is just the most perfect timing and also very last minute for what Isak has planned out.

Maybe it hasn’t been entirely fair, Isak reasons. After all, Mia hadn’t stayed a constant and learning the body of someone new whilst exciting also meant a lot of work that, not necessarily, was a bad thing, but also was probably a setback for Jonas despite his seemingly thrilling repertoire.

Even already knew all of Isak’s body, probably had every single inch of it catalogued in his mind. He knows every spot, every place to press, press, press until Isak can’t think.

Isak knows all of those spots on Even as well.

Maybe this will make it all a little more fair, Isak reasons. He’s not exactly interested in making Jonas go steady with someone just for the sake of being able to compare him and Even, so a little taste of his own medicine might do Even some good instead.

It’s getting late in the morning by now, the sunlight barely held at bay by their curtains. The room is already light when Isak wakes up before Even, which isn’t a usual occurrence unless something’s wrong. Nothing is wrong right now, though, Isak has just got plans.

Even had finished his last exam of the year the day before and had stayed up a lot longer than normal in order to wind down. Isak had known that would happen, because it’s what happens every time Even has to take an exam, and so he had waited patiently for this day.

Isak twitches excitedly at his plan, at what’s about to go down, pressing his smile into the pillows as he tries to calm down a bit. There are a lot of things he needs to prepare before everything is ready, no use working himself up so soon.

So he stays in bed, just takes a minute to look at Even sleeping. God, he’s so in love with him, so much it sometimes hurts. His face is smoothed out, lips parted slightly and moving with each breath he takes, his hair flopping sporadically either against his face or the pillows. Isak never wants to stop looking at him.

It’s not about revenge, per se, it’s not mean-spirited. Isak isn’t actually mad with Even, he wouldn’t be doing this if that were the case. It’s more about showing Even that he can play too.

He sneaks out from underneath the covers first, carefully pulling himself off of Even to not startle him into waking up. Even lets out a small grunt, twitches worryingly and frowns at Isak’s absence, but he doesn’t wake up. Isak waits with a baited breath for the long seconds it takes for Even’s features to smooth out again and for him to settle down.

The air comes whooshing out of him once he does.

The bed creaks when he gets up – as it always does, as if it’s literally telling him to stay, stay, stay, but Isak’s a man on a mission, so he gets up as slowly as possible, making sure to keep an eye on Even just in case.

Isak gets up, Even doesn’t wake up. All in all, so far a success.

He grabs the lube off of the bedside table, reminds himself he needs to remember to bring it back, and heads into the bathroom. He’d made sure to store the package in the bathroom – in the cupboard behind everything else, because Even hasn’t learned anything of Isak previously hiding stuff from him and still doesn’t check the apartment for any out of place packages – so as to not need to shuffle around right next to where Even’s sleeping and supposed to stay asleep.

Isak wonders if Even is ever as meticulous when he plans out something like this for Isak, but then he realizes probably not. Even is spontaneous at the best of times, but in this particular context Isak figures it’s all a testosterone-driven competition between him and Jonas.

The bathroom light is unforgiving when Isak flips it on. He nearly trips over a stray towel left behind from yesterday before his eyes have adjusted, but saves himself by slamming his hands against the counter.

He holds his breath, tries to listen for any movement coming from the bedroom, his heart loud in his ears making it very difficult.

Nothing.

Isak exhales.

God, no wonder Even relies on spontaneity instead – this is stressful and Isak hasn’t even gotten started.

Right, game plan, what does he need to do. Lube needs to be one of the last things, the one before last as he needs to put the real surprise on after everything else to not mess it up. He’d taken a bath and shaved yesterday so as to minimize the amount of noise he’ll have to make this morning and risk waking Even up before he’s ready, so he’s already soft and smells nice, curls floofed up the way he knows Even loves running his fingers through.

So makeup should probably be first next step. Isak opens the drawer, grabs the light pink lip-gloss, the brown eye-liner, the eye shadow palette and the mascara, foregoing the blush. He won’t need it, he knows, he’ll be pink cheeked enough just by thinking of what Even will look like when he wakes up and processes what is happening.

He traces the outer edge of his eye with a dark nude and then blends it with a lighter color closer to his skin tone as he goes further onto his eyelid. The brush tickles against his skin and it makes lines crinkle from smiling in the corner of his eyes, making blending the colors in a lot more difficult than it needs to be.

Isak takes a deep breath in to keep from smiling and the resumes his work.

He dabs a nearly white color along his tear ducts and the middle of his eyelid. And then has to recreate the entire process on the other eye and try and get it to match. Perfect.

“Faen,” he swears quietly when the edge of the brush reaches out further than he’d intended, leaving a dark smudge on his cheekbones. “Fuck,” he repeats as he struggles to get a wet wipe out, wrapping it around his pointer finger and lightly wiping the powder off.

God, so much effort, Isak complains in his head. Well, not complains, really, because along with all the excess excitement of surprising Even, all of this still feels as thrilling and perfect as it always does, and Isak can’t help but be pleased when he looks at his reflection once he’s dabbed on the last of the eye shadow, just topping it off with the tiniest amount of glitter to really make it stand out.

It looks fucking good.

He traces the pencil along the upper curve of his eye, letting it push out in a small wing to accentuate his features. Then lets the mascara brush slide along his eyelashes with deep, deep blinks to make sure each lash is equally colored in.

The colored tip of the wand glides easily over his lips, leaving behind a light sheen of pink that Isak is careful to distribute evenly. Maybe lip-gloss isn’t the best idea when he’s going to have his lips wrecked for the next hour or so, but he likes the feeling of it and the look of it, and he knows what it does to Even to see him with the color smeared all over his face.

Alright, not bad, he admits to himself. Isak pouts his lips, observing his reflection as he runs his fingers through his hair, making sure to follow the curve of his curls near the ends. Even would definitely be pleased if Isak were to finish here, but he’s got so much more planned and he doesn’t want to stop yet.

Still, it is a bit weird having to lube his fingers up as he stands there, alone in their bathroom, only slightly aroused at the idea of what’s to come.

This isn’t really something he does without Even.

Not as in he feels like he shouldn’t be doing this without Even, not at all. It’s just that when it’s with Even, it’s always so, so good, like, absolutely mind-blowing that he just hasn’t felt a need to do it on his own and therefore never got used to it by himself.

It just – feels a little awkward. The lube is cold, and he’s only vaguely turned on.

He has done this before – not the part where he’s in the bathroom and Even is asleep in their bed and he’s planning the biggest surprise of Even’s entire life, but he has opened himself up so he could surprise Even when he came home. He likes the idea, likes knowing that he’s making himself wet and open for Even.

A thrum of heat rushes through his body at that thought, and then it feels easy enough to slip in a second finger.

Isak muffles a groan by biting down on his wrist. The last thing he wants right now is to accidentally wake Even up now that his dick has decided to be up. He’s put too much work into this already for it to be ruined prematurely.

He makes sure to not curl his fingers despite the temptation, focuses on just spreading them as wide as possible. He takes care to not rush through the process, but he also rushes through the process.

Deep breath in, and then he works in the third finger, making sure to exhale slowly so he doesn’t tense up inadvertently.

It’s not quite the same feeling as when Even does it; his fingers are longer and he somehow always knows how to move them in a way that’ll drive Isak the most insane, but the general motion is familiar, so Isak tries to keep his thoughts on that instead of how cold the tiles feel against his feet by now.

The excess lube pops weirdly when Isak pulls his fingers out. He knows Even would’ve giggled had he heard it, which is apparently enough that Isak’s cheeks feel flushed as he smiles stupidly at the sink.

He grabs the bottle, smears a little extra around his hole and just inside of it to be on the safe side. Then he washes his hands thoroughly and makes sure they’re fully dry before he opens the cupboard door.

He has to crouch down on the floor, the cold now settling into his knee as he tries to dig through the contents to get to the very back where he hid the package.

It’s not all easy – there’s the bottle of shaving cream Even uses, then there’s Isak’s lotion and a spare bottle of lavender body-wash, because Even had joked about it being the literal end of his life if Isak couldn’t get to feel pretty whenever he wanted to. So now, whenever Even does the grocery shopping, he’ll buy two bottles and Isak will tell him he’s a fool, and Even will tell him, ‘a fool in love’ in English and proceed to kiss any complaints Isak has straight out of his mouth.

Drawing the package is more difficult than it had been to reach his hand in; he’s careful not to accidentally have one of the corners of the crinkly bag catch on one of the bottles, causing a domino effect. Not when he is butt-ass naked, lubed up and with his face painted.

He sighs heavily once he’s got it in his lap, and then he spends a couple of seconds just running his fingers over the bag. It’s polyethylene so it just feels like plastic. He can’t feel the garment through it, all he knows is that it’s light, a lot lighter than he for some reason had thought it would be.

The adhesive makes the bag crinkle loudly enough that Isak winces in response. He can never tell if it’s better to rip it all off at once or if he should proceed slowly and methodically, taking care with each movement he makes. He winces as he gets another centimeter open, then tries for five all at once.

At least it’s a small package. It’s only one item he’s purchased, and the material is apparently easily foldable – that, or Isak will have very little to wear, or will at least be wearing something that covers very little.

It’s exciting, no matter what. Isak’s chest feels tight and his heart is pounding. He keeps wanting to laugh, for some reason. Nothing is particularly funny in that regard, but he likes this feeling, being so light like he could float to the ceiling. He can’t wait for when Even wakes up and sees him.

The last two centimeters. He pauses for a few seconds, tries to hear if Even’s moving about. He can’t hear anything through the closed door, though.

The clothing itself is wrapped in another bag, but this one is clear and hasn’t been sealed as firmly as the packaging had been. God, never mind that Isak’s heart is pounding, it feels like it’s stuck in his throat.

He can see the color, can see that it’s so pretty he could actually cry. It’s the lightest pink, just a bit pinker than a nude color, and it’s so goddamn beautiful, and Isak could cry from how well it matches his lip-gloss, honestly.

He nearly doesn’t dare open it. It looks so soft, so delicate, surely he can’t be worthy of touching it, but his fingertips are practically itching to get it in his hands properly.

He works it open even slower than he had the first bag, this time taking great care not for fear of being too loud, but from apprehension of accidentally ruining it before he’s had the chance to wear it.

Isak carefully folds a finger inside, feels the fabric slide against his skin smoothly, like he’s running his hand through a cloud. It’s slightly cold, probably from how light the material is. It’ll probably warm up once his body heat is transferred to it, or when he’s worked up a sweat as he’s sure he’s about to in a minute.

It practically glides out of the bag, the fabric alive and easily malleable, and then Isak is holding it in his hands, is holding it up, folded out and actually there to look and feel and wear.

The body of it is the light, nude pink that always serves to make Isak squirm slightly in his seat. The lace trimming is a lighter, creamy white that Isak had originally feared would make him look pale when he’d seen it on the lingerie website, but now that he’s holding it he can see that that isn’t the case.

It’ll be good – it’ll be perfect.

The lace runs along the waistline, transferring smoothly to the triangle-shaped cups. Isak carefully lets the tip of his finger follow the shape of it, running along the scalloped edge. Even the lace is as soft as the satin-like fabric.

Oh, yes. Isak can definitely play as well.

It almost feels wrong to put it on. Not wrong like everything had felt wrong at first, when Isak had felt wrong, but like it’s so much. Isak had never thought he’d wear something like this, that he’d want to wear something like this, but here he is and he wants.

He almost wants Even to be here, but that’s silly. He doesn’t need to hold his boyfriend’s hand to do this, and he also wants to surprise Even more than he wants someone else to witness this glorious moment.

It still takes a few more minutes before Isak’s worked up the nerve to get up off the floor. His legs feel like they’ve fallen asleep, and he’s colder than he would’ve like to have been.

He slips it on smoothly over his head, likes the way it folds over his body, how it settles along his waist, his hips, how the hem tickles his upper thighs. The chest doesn’t even bulge out oddly from his lack of breasts, just sits a bit loosely. He can see his nipples peeping through the see-through lace, knows immediately that Even is going to love that once he’s gotten over the shock of seeing Isak in a negligee.

God. An actual negligee. Chemise. So goddamn pretty.

Isak feels so goddamn pretty.

The bathroom door clicks open softly, the light pattering of feet tapping against the floor sounding at as Isak sneaks back into the main room.

He feels oddly exposed walking around like this, more so than he would’ve been had he been wearing nothing at all. Hearing Even’s deep breaths is calming, makes him feel like everything is okay and there’s no reason to be psyching himself out, not when everything is going so well.

Even sleeps on his back, too used to settling Isak’s weight on top of his chest to sleep any other way by now.

It had never been intentional on Isak’s part, but right now he’s terribly thankful for his clinginess as it makes what he’s got planned a lot easier than it otherwise would’ve been.

He places the lube onto the bedside table for easy access should they need it. Then he patters over to their dresser, carefully lights one of the matches he’d purposely left out for this.

The candle smells as good as ever, like freshly picked apples. It’s the same kind that Even had gotten him, a new one because they’d used up the old one but had gotten so fond of the smell, of what it meant to them, of what they’d started to associate the scent with.

It works now as well.

Isak watches carefully in anticipation, watches as Even frowns in his sleep, shifts slightly – not so much that he rolls over, just enough that he brings his right arm over his head, his legs spreading slightly. They’ve switched the duvet out for lighter, cooler sheets that are thin enough that Isak can already see the effect as Even’s subconscious registers what is likely about to happen as the scent spreads throughout the room, sees as he goes from half-mast to fuller and fuller.

Even groans in his sleep, shifts slightly again, unintentionally kicking the sheet lower and lower down his hips.

Go time.

Isak barely dares to breathe as he treads closer to the end of the bed. It creaks so loudly when he places his knee onto it, his right one next to Even’s left leg, that he’s certain Even will make an odd grunt and wake himself up.

He stays asleep, so Isak lifts his left knee onto the bed as well, on the outside of Even’s right thing, and then he slowly starts to crawl up, up, up, further and further. His breath hitches when he feels how hard Even already is against his inner thigh, almost praises that the sheet is still – barely – covering him up enough that he wouldn’t be able to accidentally feel the slide of the fabric against his skin. It’s bad enough that it feels torturously good against Isak, Isak does not need for Even to wake up too soon.

But now that Isak is settled with his thighs framing Even’s hips, just above where the sheet covers him up to and where Even is hard and temptingly perfect right underneath where Isak is sitting.

Even makes another sound, this time a lot deeper, his throat trying to figure out how to work after sleeping for so long, but nonetheless more pleased than anything. His eyelashes are fluttering, and this literally could not go any more smoothly than it is right now.

“Baby,” Isak says gently, placing both of his hands on Even’s stomach only to slowly, slowly slide them up towards his chest. “Wake up.”

Even groans again, but he’s shifting more, clearly on the cusp of consciousness. The sheets are wrapped around his thighs by now, and Isak wants so badly it hurts. He can’t remember the last time he was this hard – well, he can, every time, after all.

The hand Even had thrown over his head comes flying toward Isak now, landing heavily on Isak’s knee that Even immediately proceeds to squeeze upon contact. The relieved breath whooshes out of Isak – thank god he hadn’t accidentally caught the chemise and figured it all out in his mostly asleep state when he’d been flopping around.

“It’s morning,” he tries, a little louder this time. His thumb sweeps gently across a freckle. “It’s morning, and I love you.”

A pleased noise is rumbled from Even’s throat, so at least Isak knows he’s more awake than he was a few seconds ago.

“I love you,” the words are barely audible through the gruff of Even’s morning voice, but Isak knows what he’s saying. As if he’d ever be able to not recognize those three little words when they’re coming from Even.

Even cards his hand up Isak’s thigh, humming happily at having Isak in his lap.

“Baby,” he croons sweetly, eyes still shut, fingers trailing up higher and higher until, finally, he touches the soft chemise.

Even frowns. Isak’s heart feels like it’s beating inside his throat, he’s so close, he just needs to wait a few more seconds.

Even trails his thumb along the edge of the negligee, clearly mentally checking over that he does not in fact recognize whatever it is Isak’s wearing before he opens his eyes.

Now, Isak thinks, probably grinning like a lunatic as he raises himself onto his knees and then reaches behind himself to grab Even’s cock, holding it upwards to make the slide down easy and steady.

Isak whines when the head of Even’s dick pops past his rim. Even’s eyes are practically boggling out of his head, his mouth open wide as he stares at Isak incredulously.

“Baby,” he repeats, a lot more breathless and surprised, but still just as sweet. His hands clutch tightly onto Isak’s thighs, probably leaving behind white lines where his nails are scratching at him. “Baby, look at you.”

Isak hums happily as he slides down, down, down, tilting his head back and pushing his chest forward so Even can fully see his outfit.

“God,” Even mutters, hands grabbing onto Isak’s hips through the fabric. “Happy birthday to me.”

Oh god, the actual idiot. Isak can’t tell which is worse – that that is Even’s response to all of Isak’s troubles, or the fact that it actually startles a laugh out of Isak.

It tapers into a moan quickly enough once Isak’s cheeks meet Even’s hips.

“Such a dork,” Isak sounds more breathless than either annoyed or amused in his teasing. He swivels his hips in slow, slow circles, feels how he loosens around Even, how big he feels inside of him.

He makes sure to clench down when he sees Even open his mouth, because he is nothing if not petty. And this is his game tonight, after all.

“Baby,” Even moans in response, hands like vices but relentless enough to let Isak move as he pleases. “What – baby, what is all this?”

Isak hums, raises himself up just an inch only to sink back down again. It punches his breath out of his lungs, because, fuck, that feels good. The slide of it is smooth, and Even definitely feels much better than the three fingers Isak had worked inside of himself earlier in preparation, and he just loves this.

“What do you think it is?” he asks, a little bit because it feels like his brain has been fried, but also because he’s genuinely curious as to what Even would come up with.

“Uh – “ Even hesitates, actually trying to think, but then Isak raises up a bit again and he can see every thought Even has literally fly out of his head. “Summer – shit – exams are over?”

Isak shakes his head, draws up an inch higher and then stays there.

It’s torture, absolute torture, because Isak just wants to sink back down. Him pausing first makes Even think that something is wrong, Isak sees it as his eyes are frantically checking Isak all over before they settle on his face.

He raises an eyebrow in silent question. Isak hopes he looks suave as he grins and tells him, “Next guess.”

“Fuck,” Even groans, head tipping back against the pillows. He tries to push his hips up, but Isak follows the movement and only ends up sliding up another inch from Even’s efforts.

Just guess already, he begs silently, willing his legs to not shake just yet.

“Uh,” Even shakes his head as he tries to think, one hand carding through his hair as if to force his thoughts away from Isak literally on top of him. “I haven’t missed any anniversaries.”

It’s not a guess, so Isak doesn’t slide any further up at the wrong answer.

“You haven’t,” he confirms, just because he’s a nice boyfriend. But he also snorts, because no way would Even be the one to miss anniversaries.

“Okay, okay,” he takes in a deep breath, holds it for a few seconds before letting it out all at once. “I, shit, alright, I – have I said something that made you think about doing this?”

Isak slides up another inch, tries not whine when he has to keep still once again, when he is a little less full than he wants to be.

“Fuck,” Even moans in bemusement, staring up at Isak with wild eyes. “I need a hint, I can’t fucking think.”

Isak hums, swivels his hips again. It feels a little weird doing it when he hasn’t got all of Even buried inside of him, when he’s technically more so hovering in mid-air, but it makes Even lose his breath and composure that little bit more.

Giving Even a hint would probably speed up this entire process – depending on how generous Isak wanted to be with his hints. It’s not often Isak gets to see Even like this, though, as desperate as Isak imagines he himself looks a lot of the time because of Even.

“Have I –“ Even tries again before Isak has decided if he wants to comply or not. “Have I done something? Good or bad? Fuck, Isak, I don’t know –“

“I’ll give you a hint,” he decides on the spot, because he is impatient and he wants, and his thighs are too close to shaking for how early it still is.

Even is staring up at him with wide eyes, his hips twitching minutely as he tries to be good and stay still. His hands are on Isak’s thighs by now, rubbing up and down slowly and actually helping with the small tremors Isak is already feeling.

He’ll be nice with his hint, he decides, because, again, he isn’t actually mad at Even. This is Isak playing along, and it’ll only be much more fun once Even realizes what is going on.

So, naturally, the hint Isak decides to give Even is, “Jonas.”

“What?” Even’s eyes are comically wide by now, only accentuated by the frown on his lips as he stares up at Isak incredulously. “Isak, you know how I feel about talking about other –”

Isak grins down at him, rolls his eyes petulantly in a way he knows Even would’ve commented on had this happened under normal circumstances. “Your hint. It’s ‘Jonas’.”

Even blinks. His hips aren’t even twitching anymore, he’s actually lying stock-still, which only emphasizes how Isak’s thighs are actually trembling at this point.

He slides up another inch, to get Even’s attention but also to make him think quicker, damn it.

“’Jonas’,” Even repeats, actually cringing as he’s forced to think about Isak’s best friend whilst he’s inside of Isak. Best hint ever. “What the hell does Jonas – Oh.”

Oh. Isak hadn’t predicted this reaction from Even.

Even is looking softly at him, his hands now gentler than ever before on his thighs, running up and down almost as smoothly as the chemise of the nightgown feels against his skin. “Isak,” he says apologetically, “I really am sorry, I promise. It’s not an excuse, but I honestly didn’t ever imagine that you didn’t –“

Isak laughs. “God, Even, no, that’s not –“ Well, it is, but not in the way Even thinks it is. “I’m not mad.”

Even is still just looking at him, hands barely touching him as if he isn’t sure the touch would be welcome, looking so damn insecure Isak wants to lean down and kiss him were it not for the fact that he’s staying still right now.

“You’re not?”

“I’m not,” he promises. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I was. This isn’t what you’re supposed to do when your relationship hurts you –“ a positively hurt noise tears itself out of Even’s throat “– you’re supposed to communicate in those situations. This isn’t about communication.”

He draws up another inch to accentuate his point, clenches down when he feels that he’s a lot closer to the head of Even’s dick than he’d thought he was, not wanting for Even to accidentally slip out.

“It’s not?” Even asks, sounding breathless again and like he isn’t doubting everything in front of his eyes anymore.

“No, baby,” Isak ensures him, linking one of his fingers with Even’s before smiling devilishly at him. “This is about playing,” and then he sinks all the way back down again.

Even makes a noise like all the air inside of his body has been punched out of him. His dick keeps twitching inside of Isak, and it shouldn’t feel this good, but it does, and Isak can’t keep in his moan of appreciation.

“’Playing’?” Even questions, breathing hard and staring at Isak like he never wants to look away and lot like he’s barely able to pay attention to what he’s saying.

Isak nods, clenches down again just because. “Yeah. Playing. As in ‘I can do it, too.’”

Even is nodding madly, because, holy shit, yes, he absolutely can. “And, uh, fuck, what are the rules?”

Isak hums again, pulls up and goes back down quicker than before, then does it again. The tip of his dick already feels wet with pre-come, and he almost looks down to check if it has left dark spots on his dress, but the sight of Even is a much better view to be honest. “What do you think the game is about?”

Even groans pitifully at having to think again when everything in the world – i.e. Isak – is working against him, rendering him completely unable to focus on anything that isn’t his boyfriend.

“Is it – are you,” he tries, licking his lips as his eyes rake down over Isak’s form, groaning gutturally when he notices Isak’s pebbled nipples poking out through the fabric. “Isak.”

Isak forces himself to slow down. He only lets out a little, breathy oof when all his blood and body are doing is singing for more, more, more.

“Are you doing all of them yourself? All of the, uh, competitions?” he searches for the right word. “Are you repeating all of it on me?”

Isak wrinkles his nose. The scientific-part of his brain is thinking that that was a much better idea, because that is, after all, how you’re supposed to compare results, but this isn’t about comparing results, Isak reminds that part of him. “No.”

“Isak,” Even groans in defeat. “You are literally – fuck, look at you, baby. You’re so fucking pretty and you’re so wet and hot around me, and you’re making me think, baby, when I literally can’t. Such a gorgeous sight, I don’t think you have any idea how fucking beautiful you are right now, sitting there in that dress – fuck.”

The corner of Isak’s mouth twitches upwards. “So, does that mean you like it, then?”

Even just groans again in reply.

“The game,” Isak stresses, rising up again only to pause much to the bemusement of the both of them, “was to surprise you. I never expected for you and Jonas to go as far as you did, and you clearly never expected of me to do this.”

Even blinks at him.

So,” he pauses expectantly, “are you? Surprised?”

“I am,” Even agrees, sliding his hands up Isak’s thighs to get to his hips, slowly easing Isak back down with a groan. “I really am, I couldn’t even imagine the sight of you right now, wouldn’t be able to dream of it. Of course, now,” he grins, pushing his hips up when Isak goes back down again, Isak allows it magnanimously, “that you have provided me with this absolutely exquisite image, I hope to never dream of anything but.”

“Sap,” Isak complains, but not really. He could lean down to kiss Even quiet, but on the next push from Even’s hips the angle is suddenly just right and Isak positively melts at the feeling of it.

“Oh,” he breathes out, quietly, a lot more quiet than he usually is at the touch of Even’s dick against his spot.

Maybe it’s because this isn’t something they’ve really done before; not the position, but Isak directing the moves as much as he’s been doing this morning. It’s been fun, that’s for sure, and Isak will treasure the look on Even’s face as he tried to realize what was going on for a long time to come, but now that Even is helping him move, now that Isak’s bones feel like melted chocolate and his blood is sizzling hot, he thinks it might be nicer to let Even pull his load.

In a minute, he tells himself, spreading his knees a bit wider on the mattress so he can rise up and down in short bursts, barely losing the feeling of being so full for more than a second at a time.

“I don’t have to worry about any more surprises, do I?” Even asks him. “I can only take so much, baby. You’re going to kill me.”

Isak feels a lot like if anyone were to die right now, it wouldn’t be Even. “I want to come like this,” he tells him instead, “but that’s hardly a surprise, is it?”

Even smiles lazily up at him. His eyes are very dark. “Doesn’t mean I don’t love it. Because I do. I fucking love making you come like that.”

Isak loves coming like that as well, but he doesn’t get the chance to tell Even that as he’s got one hand leaving his hip, smoothing over the fabric and going up, up, up until he lands somewhere around his waist.

The warmth of Even’s hand feels distant underneath the coolness of the chemise, and Isak twitches and loses his breath from the sensation, his brain not sure what to do with the mix of signals.

Even’s thumb rubs soothingly along the bottom line of his ribs, but it only makes Isak whimper for a short second before he bites down on his lip.

“God,” Even breathes out, eyes going impossibly darker until Isak feels like he’s entranced by the look of it. “Baby, shit, want to make you come like this. Want to make you wet with it. You already are a bit, aren’t you, baby? I can see it on your pretty dress, so pretty, baby, where you’ve dripped with slick.”

Isak definitely whimpers at that, losing the rhythm he’d managed to build up for a beat too long. The hand remaining on his hip squeezes him comfortingly, slowly directing him back to it firmly, helping him tilt his hips right enough that the tip of Even’s dick slides against his spot when he pushes back in.

It’s like Isak is in control under Even’s guidance, where they get to share the reins, and it’s so much, it’s so much.

“Ev,” he whispers, nearly choking on his own spit when he tries to clear his throat. “Even, I’m so close, I’m –“

A whine slips out of his mouth when the hand on his waist slides up even further, the tips of Even’s fingers just plucking slightly at the strap of the dress, at the hem where it covers his chest, runs along underneath his arm.

Over the lace covering his nipple.

“Even,” he tries again, more petulantly, but also a lot more breathless.

“God, baby, me too,” Even tells him thankfully, eyes trained on where he’s got two fingers circling the pointed tip of Isak’s nipple, slowly getting closer and closer until he suddenly switches tactic and his thumb sweeps across the lace, dragging it against him.

“Even!”

“Fuck,” Even agrees, raising his knees until he can plant his feet firmly on the bed, pushing his hips up a lot harder, a lot firmer now.

Isak leans back against Even’s knees for support, to give his thighs a rest and his lungs a chance to get some air in them, but the change in angle just makes everything perfect. Synapses lightening up in response, and Isak keens with it.

“Baby,” Even pinches his nipple between two fingers, twisting it gently just once before he lets go in favor of returning to his grip on Isak’s hips, directing him all that more easily. “How fucking lucky am I. Look at you, baby, such a pretty thing, aren’t you, all decked out in lace and your pretty face colored in so nicely.”

Isak’s knees clamp together reflexively, stopped by Even’s body between them. The different movement from going up and down just accentuates how sore his thighs already are.

“God, I want to kiss you,” Even tells him, eyes now trained on Isak’s lips instead. “Would you let me? I’d ruin your makeup, baby girl, but I bet you’ll still look so pretty with that pretty, pink color smeared all over your mouth, wouldn’t you? It would get on me as well, you’d be marking me up.”

Isak should not feel as hot a surge rushing through his stomach as he does at the image of residue pink gloss all over Even. He shouldn’t but he does. He just feels hotter with it, and his dick twitches warningly underneath the fabric, the head of it dragging deliciously along the silk until Isak whines with it, almost curling in on himself.

It’s only Even’s grip on him and his hips now pushing up relentlessly that keeps him in place, making sure that Even’s doesn’t lose the angle that’s guaranteed to make Isak come a lot sooner than he’d thought he would be.

“You’re leaking with it,” Even tells him as if Isak doesn’t already know. “I can feel you, you know, every time you get so close you feel like it can’t possibly get better. It can, baby, I promise you it can. Just let me show you, please, let me make you come.”

“Please,” Isak begs, the world around him swimming, the only constant being Even, Even, Even. He clenches around Even, feels how he twitches inside of him, how big he always feels, and it’s so good and Isak is so, so close. “Please.”

“Baby,” Even coos, groans when he has to force himself not to come before Isak. “God, it’s not fair, baby, how you play. Can’t believe that is what I got to wake up to today. Fuck me.”

“Fuck me,” Isak rectifies, not even bothered when Even can’t help but laugh at that, because he immediately makes up for it by forcing Isak’s thighs through one last sprint, pulling him down when he pushes up.

“I already am, baby,” Even reminds him, barely sounding out of breath, the bastard. “Can’t you feel me? Can’t you feel me inside of you? God, I want to fill you up, want for you to be dripping with it, just as wet with it as you are now. Isak. Are you close?”

Isak can’t answer, but Even doesn’t need for him to.

“You are, I can feel it. I can see it on you, can feel it inside of you. You’re so good, you know, always letting me know how to make you feel good, even if you don’t actually say the words out loud. Love making you feel good, making you come. Always want to make you come, just, over and over again for the rest of eternity.”

It’s not fair, Even knows he shouldn’t be bringing up infinities or the universe at a moment like this, Isak is goddamn helpless to it in a moment like this.

He moans high-pitched and so deeply in his throat that it hurts a bit when he comes, jostled up and down when Even keeps moving inside of him, around him, still directing Isak along with it as he comes and comes and comes.

He’s floating miles above their bed right now, his body not remembering to breathe for how good everything feels. Even keeps moving to prolong everything, to make sure that it stays good when Isak can’t have a hand on him to help him along.

“Ev,” he whimpers with it, and that’s enough for him to feel Even fill him up in turn, moaning so loudly Isak’s dick twitches already, and that is definitely way too soon, fuck.

Even’s hips are still making small aborted thrusts when the sensitivity starts to kick in properly, Isak now back in his own body again, breathing harshly and body sore but feeling so good.

“Fuck,” he gasps, because it’s the only thing he can think right now, and then he bends forward, trying to get closer to Even’s face, tries to get to lie down on his chest. “Fuck.”

He hasn’t kissed Even all morning, he suddenly realizes, and he wants to rectify that immediately.

“Kiss,” he demands when Even tries to maneuver him back up to a sitting position.

The smile that breaks out across Even’s face makes Isak’s heart practically grow three sizes bigger.

“Baby,” he coos, properly this time, and then helps Isak push forward so he can rest his chest on top of Even’s, and then he can kiss him.

His thighs ache and it’s difficult to keep his balance like this. He’s got come cooling against his skin, making the chemise stick to his skin weirdly, and he can feel Even softening inside of him.

“Good morning,” he whispers against Even’s lips, then ducks down to kiss him again.

As far as morning kisses go, this one is a pretty good one.

“Best morning,” Even grins too wide to kiss Isak properly, but Isak’s laughing as well, so it evens out.

Even slips out sooner rather than later, the tip of his dick leaving a wet smear against Isak’s cheek in a way that definitely does not make his stomach clench hotly, and then Isak’s thighs literally cannot take it anymore, so Even helps him tip slowly onto his back over on the right side of the bed.

His entire body relaxes when his head hits the pillows, a content sigh leaving his body as he grabs onto Even to keep a hold of him in any way he can.

Isak feels loose-limbed and satisfied in the best of ways, still fighting to control his breathing, but otherwise totally relaxed. He isn’t even all that mad about the thing anymore – not that he had really been mad at the beginning either, more annoyed that this was apparently a thing he was unwittingly being drawn into.

Maybe he would’ve felt differently if it weren’t a thing Even was winning, which, technically, in turn means that Isak was winning. Or if Even had been sharing overtly personal details of their sex life with the boys, then Isak would’ve been pissed, but Even knows where the line goes – contrary to previous evidence.

Next to him, Even is staring at the ceiling like he’s having an out-of-body experience. Isak’s blood is singing in his veins, he’s still breathing too hard from the exertion.

“I can’t feel my legs,” Isak giggles.

“I can’t feel my whole body,” Even moans. “Holy shit, Isak.”

A flush predictably rises into his cheeks. It’s just Even – Even knows everything about Isak and would never judge him on anything, but he still feels the need to hide his face behind his hands.

“Hey,” Even says softly, twisting onto his side and folding his fingers around Isak’s wrists. “Baby, let me see you.”

Isak is still flushed, would probably be squirming at the feeling of Even’s eyes on his body, on his face, if it weren’t for how he still can’t seem to move his legs. He lets Even move his hands easily, though, but he doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Baby,” Even sing-songs, one hand cupping his face, his thumb sweeping gently along the line of his cheekbone. “Still absolutely immaculate.”

Isak knows he’s talking about his makeup, but that doesn’t make him feel any less squirmy. “Stop,” he whines, actually meeting Even’s eyes now. “I just came.”

Something in Even’s eyes go a little wider, a little darker. “You did,” he agrees.

Even’s hand rests heavily on Isak’s hip, warm and grounding. Isak’s skin prickles with sensitivity under the touch of it, his dick remaining half hard rather than softening up completely. Even’s thumb sweeps across the skin stretched taught over the hipbone, again and again in a rather hypnotizing manner.

In a completely hypnotizing manner, Isak rectifies, when he suddenly feels the fingers of Even’s other hand swirling softly over his hole.

It is reflexes that make Isak’s legs clamp shut, a slightly panicked, way too high-pitched noise coming straight out of his throat as he nearly flies up the bed.

“Shh,” Even shushes, keeps a hold on his hip to scoot Isak down the bed again, then hooks a foot around Isak’s left shin, the one closest to Even, and pushes against Isak’s right thigh with his hand to open his legs again. “Just making the clean-up easier, baby.”

“What are you talking –“ Isak frowns, not sure he’s understood what Even means, ‘making the clean-up easier’ when he hasn’t even gotten up to get a wet towel yet, and when Isak knows Even knows cleaning come-stains off of t-shirts or whatever article of clothing had been the closest is one of Isak’s pet peeves, but then Even’s let go of Isak’s thigh and is pushing his fingers against his hole again.

And then they’re slipping inside, easy as nothing, just a smooth slide in, two fingers at once, all the way to the knuckle until Even can curl them upwards.

His body unwittingly tries to squirm away, but he only manages to dislodge Even’s fingers for a second before they’re pressing back against his spot, unrelenting and unapologetic.

“You’re not, that’s not –“ Isak gasps, squeezes his eyes shut and fumbles with his hands to grab onto Even. “That’s not cleaning and you know it.”

“Au contraire,” Even says obnoxiously, like he should’ve been cast in an obnoxious, pretentious French film or French porno at the rate this is going, “I am making it easier.”

He pulls his fingers out to the first knuckle, then presses them back in, and Isak can feel the point Even is trying to make.

It’s not exactly uncommon that Even comes inside of him, it’s rather the norm. Isak can’t remember the last time they’d even went out and bought condoms, not since their test results came back, he thinks. They both prefer the feeling of Even being bare inside of him, and Isak likes how wet he feels when Even comes inside of him. The feeling afterwards isn’t as much appreciated, the come slowly sliding back out mainly just making him squirm uncomfortably.

Right now, though, he can’t tell if Even’s trying to push the come out of him or back inside of him.

“Can’t you feel it?”

Isak can, he can feel it. He can feel Even’s fingers inside of him where he’s still lose and wet, can feel the come bubbling out when Even presses in, only to be pushed back inside when Even swirls his fingers through it and presses back in.

“I feel,” Isak gasps when Even curls his fingers again, “how big of an asshole you are.”

Oh, he set Even up perfectly for whatever he wants to say, Isak can feel that and also see it with how much Even’s waggling his eyebrows.

“Oh, if you want to feel something of mine that’s big you’ve got to give me a few minutes, sweetheart.”

Isak huffs, tries to shut his legs closed again, but it doesn’t work when his left leg is still held immobile by Even. “Can’t extend that to me, too?”

Even presses a gentle kiss to his shoulder. “But baby,” he coos, “you don’t need a few minutes, do you? Just look at that, already,” he nods down to where Isak’s already fully hard.

Isak thinks his dick is a traitor. A traitor that has some kind of a trained Pavlovian response to Even and Even’s stupid ideas.

“You’re all wet, baby.” Even’s breath is hot against Isak’s skin, and he can’t help but flail again, he can’t. One hand curls around Even’s wrist, the one on his hip, and the other flies up to catch a hold of the pillows. “Such a pretty sight, aren’t you. You can’t really blame me for wanting to make you come again. You’re so pretty when you fall apart for me. Pretty all the time, but you’re goddamn radiant when I make you feel so good you can’t help it. It’s just too tempting for me not to make you come again and again.”

At this rate, Isak probably won’t even need a few minutes to come, let alone calm down so the overstimulation isn’t too ‘too much’. By the feel of it, Even also won’t need a few minutes before he’s hard enough to fuck Isak again, going off of the warm weight Isak can feel against the side of his upper thigh.

“You just woke up,” Isak gasps, doesn’t even try to shut his legs again even though his reflexes are trying to tell him to, “and you’ve already had a fucking great orgasm. Isn’t it a little too early for this much energy? Why do this now?”

“It’s all about surprises, isn’t it?” Even grins, leaning in close to bite his shoulder lightly, just next to where the strap of the chemise is threatening to slide down. “That’s what you told me, baby, what the rules of the game were. But I’ll let you in on this surprise – should it count?”

Isak mmphs, bearing down on Even’s fingers to get him deeper. “What?”

“I surprised you the first time,” Even explains, “when I made you come five times. You hadn’t expected that. I definitely did not expect the absolutely gorgeous sight I got to wake up to this morning, faen, baby. So now we’re going to add our two surprises together. And that means deciding if this one should count.”

‘This one.’ ‘Add our two surprises together.’ ‘This one.’

Isak’s eyes widen when he realizes just what it is Even’s planning on doing. ‘This one’, as in this one. As in right now, with three fingers inside, making Isak come like this, with nothing else touching him.

“You’ve done that before…” Isak trails off, not sure what Even’s trying to lead to.

Even smiles gently at him. “I have, that’s right, that’s not what I’m asking, though. I’m asking if it should count.”

If it should count? Count with what? Isak frowns and looks up at Even for a clue. He finds it in his dark eyes, at the upturned corner of his lip.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh god.

“It counts,” Isak blurts out, interrupted by a high-pitched whine when Even drives his fingers in a little harder. “It’s only – untouched, it’s – it counts,” wanting desperately to get the message across.

If Even makes him come on his fingers and it doesn’t count, Isak will have to come seven times tonight if Even wants to beat the record of five with his cock only.

Seven. It sounds terrifyingly high.

“It counts,” he repeats, close to begging at this point. He can’t do seven. He could barely do five – six still sounds impossible. Even’s had him do five twice by now – the first time and then the night after the club. Isak hasn’t had the time to mentally prepare himself for now being like one of those nights, let alone a time of beating the record.

Even hums like he still hasn’t decided whether or not it should count, and Isak can’t, he can’t – he doesn’t know how to convince him it should count because he can’t think, not with how good Even feels, how great everything feels right now. He’s so close, Even just has to keep moving his fingers for literal minutes and he’ll come again, he can feel it.

But then Even pulls his fingers out, and the whine that leaves Isak’s lips is a completely involuntary action.

“Shh, baby,” Even shushes him, helps him turn over on his side, facing away from Even. He’s so close, fuck. “I’ve got you, you’re okay, you’re so good, so fucking pretty, I never want to stop looking at you.”

Usually, Isak might’ve sassily made a comment about just what view of him Even doesn’t want to stop looking at, considering he’s pulling his back flush up against his chest, but right now he’s so on edge he can’t think, let alone speak in full sentences or banter with his boyfriend.

“Let’s solve the issue,” Even suggests, and the next thing Isak registers is the head of Even’s dick sliding against his cheek before it settles against his rim. He presses his hips back, tries to work Even inside without needing Even to move. It wouldn’t have worked, but Even helps him along.

Isak’s heart is pounding in his throat, he’s so keyed up, feels frantic to get Even as deep as possible, to fill him up, to completely surround him, to be as close as you can possibly get. He keeps making these tiny, huffy sounds to communicate what he wants, what he’s feeling to Even without actually saying any words. He’s so desperate he doesn’t realize just how close he really is, doesn’t realize that all he needed was the tip of Even’s dick sliding along his spot to make him come.

He moans like he’s dying. It’s so much, he’s so sensitive, and it’s so soon after the first one. He’s barely had any time to breathe.

Even swears behind him, one hand clamping down on his hip, except the negligee is caught in-between and has his hand immediately sliding down to the crease between his groin and his thigh.

The fabric is getting stickier with each movement that makes Isak’s come spread. Isak feels it as it slides along his skin, getting stuck momentarily and occasionally. Even swears once again when he notices it.

“Baby, look at you,” Even groans, and Isak can’t.

His cheeks are burning. He came from just having Even slip inside of him, he can barely breathe. All he’s seemingly able to do is clutch onto the arm Even wraps around him as if he’ll float away if Even lets go.

“You’re like a living wet dream, you know that?” Even’s breath feels hot against the shell of Isak’s ear. All of Even feels hot where he’s pressed against his back, hips now moving back and forth. Isak feels hot. “So gorgeous, and wearing something like that? Baby. Can’t believe how good you look right now, how much it means to me that you’ll let me see you like this. Do you know how jealous other people would be if they got to witness you like this? Got to see how good I make you feel, but know that they won’t ever get to touch you, because you’re mine, aren’t you, baby?”

“Yours,” Isak agrees breathlessly, turning his head into the pillow, into the crook of Even’s arm that he’s managed to worm underneath his body and fold around him securely. He smells like sweat and sex and them and Isak feels completely dizzy with it.

“Mine,” Even agrees, “just like I’m yours,” and then they’re moving.

Not as in Even picks up the speed, but as in he starts literally moving them whilst he’s still inside of Isak.

Isak lets out an alarmed, choked up noise and digs his nails into Even’s arm as he feels his center of gravity shift from his side as Even maneuvers the both of them onto their knees instead.

The slick fabric of the negligee runs along the dip of his back, leaving where he’s spread open around Even exposed to the warm, morning air, especially when Even shifts his weight more firmly onto his knees, pulling back and leaving Isak’s back exposed as well.

It gives Even a better angle, makes him sink in deeper than Isak would’ve thought was possible, makes him feel full and desperate all at once and way too soon.

“Beautiful from every angle,” Even tells him, and Isak’s cheeks feel scorching at the thought of the sight Even must be looking at right now. “This dress looks so good on you, baby, such a lovely color. It matches your pretty, pink lips, doesn’t it?”

Isak doesn’t have any air left in his lungs, can’t even moan to let Even know how pleased he is that he likes the negligee, so he tries to clench down on Even instead.

It makes Even groan deeply in his throat, but it also makes him feel so much bigger inside and it makes Even’s hips jump unpredictably. When Isak’s dick jumps in response it hurts because of how soon it is, but he’s already filling up, so much hot blood being pumped around in his system, all of it gathering around his center.

Even folds his body back over Isak’s, his lips pressing small, biting kisses along the straps of the chemise. Isak knows he’ll bruise from it, but right now the sting of it just makes his entire body sing, and Even being so close just makes it feel like he’s so deep, getting deeper and deeper every time he grinds down. He’s just moving his hips in small circles at this point, probably knows what he’s doing to Isak.

Definitely knows what he’s doing to Isak, Isak rectifies, when at the next roll his dick jumps to full hardness in mere seconds. Isak keens into the pillow in response. When he’s stopped, he hears Even tutting softly at him.

“Can’t have that,” he says, one hand curling underneath Isak’s chest, the other over his stomach – far up enough that there’s no danger of accidentally touching Isak’s cock no matter how much Isak tries to jerk his hips to make it happen. “I can’t have you muffle your noises, baby, not when they’re as pretty as you are.”

Isak doesn’t know what he expects will happen, if it just means Even will lift him up far enough to remove the pillows or what. He hadn’t thought that Even would move them again, not already, but he is. He’s pulling back upright, but this time he’s bringing Isak with him.

Isak’s back is plastered against Even’s chest, held in place by Even’s arms. The lacey cups scratch against his right nipple whenever Even moves the arm he has folded around his chest.

Like this, Isak’s practically sitting in Even’s lap, and it’s so reminiscent of how this morning started out, but now Even isn’t underneath Isak between his thighs, and Isak doesn’t have the leverage to move, to direct the angle and speed like he’d had this morning. Even can do that now, is the only one out of the two of them who is able to do it.

Even tightens his arms around Isak, slides them a little closer to each other, and then he lifts Isak up, a couple of inches off of his dick, and then helps him move back down again.

It’s painfully slow, and the chemise is the only reason why they aren’t currently getting a rug-burn from their sweaty skin sticking together, dragging against each other.

“Do you know what this reminds me of?” Even asks him, teeth grazing the back of his neck with every word.

Isak can only shiver in response.

“The club,” Even takes pity on him, probably aware that Isak isn’t in a state to play a guessing game. “How I had you against me like this, how we were moving exactly like this to the song they were playing. I remember how many boys were watching us, watching you, watching how lewdly you were moving your body, like all you wanted was me inside of you, like I already was inside of you, and you were being a little tease, just keeping me warm, not enough to make me come.”

Fuck. Isak’s hand twitches. He wants to reach down and touch himself, but he’s already come twice, it’ll be absolute torture to get any direct stimulation when his entire body is already wrecked with sensitivity.

“What if we went back there like this?”

Screw this, Isak does not even need a hand on his dick, he’s so close to coming already. He just got fully hard again, how is this possible? How does Even make him this desperate every goddamn time?

“Just like this. Just you wearing your pretty dress, looking absolutely stunning. They’d be able to see everything, wouldn’t they? They’d be able to see your pretty nipples through the lace, how puffy they get when I’ve had my hands on them for the entire night. They’d be able to see your clit, especially once I’ve made you come a couple of times. You’ll get the fabric so wet from how desperate you are that it’ll be see-through, they’ll be able to see everything. They’ll be able to tell how good you can be, not needing to touch yourself even once, that’s how good I can make you feel.”

Even’s hands slide down further, settling on his hips so he can move him quicker, picking up the speed until he’s bouncing in his lap. It means Even can’t keep him as firmly pressed against his chest, so Isak tips forward just far enough that he has to support himself with just his fingers against the mattress. It’s difficult now that Even’s pounding into him as quickly as he is.

His dick swings at the next thrust, slapping wetly against his stomach, making Isak keen. It’s not enough, not enough to make him come, but it’s still too much.

And then it’s suddenly more than enough, because Even is pounding mercilessly at the perfect angle, is probably leaving bruises behind on his hips with the grip he has on him, the dull throbbing feels oddly gentle through the chemise, and all it takes is a word from Even, telling him how good he makes Even feel when he comes, and then he’s doing just that. For the third time this morning. A weak spurt that makes his entire body tingle, all the way down to his toes, and turns all of his limbs into jelly.

Isak tips forward, can’t even help it. His body feels loose and like jelly, and it’s difficult to control. The bed sheet will mean friction, but Isak doubts it’ll even feel good at this point. It’ll just be one more thing that’s too much.

Even manages to catch him, one arm around his waist and one big hand pressed against his chest, and he’s still not touching his dick. He lowers him down until he’s hovering over the bed, then slowly pulls out so he can turn Isak around.

The sheets feel heavenly cool against his back.

Even’s panting where he’s hovering above him, his dick red and so fucking hard, Isak can’t remember the last time he saw Even this hard. It must be painful at this point, holding back for as long as Even has, long enough to make sure Isak will come six times in a row.

He places his hand on top of Isak’s stomach, just holding it there, a warm, comforting presence. He thumb sweeps against the line of his ribs, then along the edge of the lace.

Smoothes the fabric down, lets the silk rest against Isak’s skin before rucking it all up again. The slide of it tickles, but Isak can hardly move let alone do something about it.

“Like this,” Even whispers, “I love it like this, when I get to look at you. I love looking at you.”

Isak can’t move, but he sure can squirm. His body heats up way too quickly at Even’s words, because Isak likes it when Even looks at him. He can literally feel his eyes on him, knows when he’s purely admiring him and when he thinks he looks cute and also moments like this one where Even’s thoughts are elsewhere in another place that also involves Isak.

He can’t concentrate when he can feel Even’s eyes on him.

Right now, they seem to be centered on one place specifically. The whiteness of the lace just serves to make his puffy, sore nipples from Even’s fingers earlier stand out even more. He bites down on his tongue in preparation of Even doing something, anything as he’s wont to doing.

Isak just hadn’t expected that that something would be two things at once.

Even’s already between his thighs, and Isak is so lose and open he doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this before, but it still sends a shock up his spine when Even presses in, even as he goes about it kindly and softly enough that Isak’s oversensitivity isn’t protesting too much.

Normally, getting Even inside whether it be the first time or the second or the night of the night – or morning in this case – is enough to make something in Isak snap in the best way possible, but this time when Even’s hips are nearly pressed all the way against Isak’s cheeks, he leans down and gets his mouth along the edge of the lace.

Isak can see the traces of spit on his skin or remaining as dark patches as the fabric soaks up the liquid.

“Can’t believe I haven’t gotten around to tasting you yet,” Even murmurs, his lips moving against Isak’s skin in the worst tease possible, and then he closes his mouth around the bud through the lace.

Isak can’t describe the noise he makes. Can’t keep his body from trying to curl up, his knees drawing up high around Even’s waist when there’s literally nowhere for him to go for Even’s bulk pressing him down. It just makes it easier for Even to sink in those last couple of inches in one smooth go, which causes another array of noises to slip out of Isak’s mouth.

It’s so much. It’s too much. His dick is already trying desperately to get hard again, is succeeding in getting hard again despite how soon it really is.

“Three,” he mumbles through gritted teeth, not sure if it’s to remind Even or himself of it. It’s still then it hits him. “Halfway. Fuck, we’re only halfway. I’m going to die.”

Even laughs, his teeth catching against the lace. Isak whines.

“Imagine that eulogy, though,” Even points out, utterly annoying and so distracting when he decides to move his hips just so. “’Got dicked down so good by his boyfriend that he died right then and there.’”

“Shut up,” Isak groans, immediately wishing he hadn’t when Even decides to occupy his mouth in another way.

His body tries to curl in on itself, but it can’t, not when Even is covering him like this. It just opens his hips up wider, makes it easier for Even to sink in deeper and deeper until Isak physically cannot draw in another breath.

He wouldn’t be able to grab his dick like this even if he’d wanted to, so he busies his hands with Even’s hair instead, running his fingers through it until it stands up wildly.

“I’m serious,” Isak’s voice cracks when one particular movement sends him bouncing on the bed. His breathing is so goddamn loud and incredibly uneven. “Six – Even, I don’t think I can.”

He whines when Even pauses, stills when he’s only halfway inside of him. Isak tries to squirm further down the bed, tries to encourage Even to start moving again without saying anything.

But Even doesn’t start moving again. Not his hips, anyway, not the part of his body that Isak’s blood is begging for him to move. He does move his mouth away from Isak’s rather abused nipple, the cold air hardening the nub, making it a thousand times more sensitive than when Even had had his mouth on it as the wet lace drags across the peak.

“Isak,” Even shifts so he’s resting his weight on his elbows, bracketing Isak with them, making it so Isak has no choice but to look up at him. He makes sure to do it with dismay, though, at Even’s sudden decision of inactivity, even as it means it’s easier to catch his breath. “Do you really think we would be doing this, if I didn’t think you could?”

Something burns hot inside of Isak’s stomach at the words, at the thought that Even knows his body so well, knows his limits and where he can push, what is safe to do and what wouldn’t be. That he literally knows how to make Isak experience sensations he wouldn’t be able to dream about.

“N-no,” he stutters, not because he’s unsure, but because he wants.

Not that he hadn’t wanted it a minute ago, or the minute before that, or the one before that, or any of the minutes since Even had put the option out there for Isak to recognize.

There’s still a part of him, at the back of his head, gnawing at his brain that it’s impossible, literally impossible for Even to make him come six times, untouched or not, but it’s the same part that had said five times were too many times as well. It’s also very alike to the other part, the part that had told him he shouldn’t want to wear panties or makeup or to feel pretty, not when he was a boy.

“Isak,” Even groans, actually closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths, as if he has to force his body down from the edge.

Isak places his hands gently around Even’s biceps, waits nearly patiently for Even to open his eyes again. He blinks innocently up at him once he does.

“Do you have any idea of what you look like right now?”

It immediately feels like a punch to the gut, because the implications of Even looking at him always serves to make him feel hotter than the sun.

“Of what you looked like just then? You got so tight around me, baby, nearly made me come again. And your eyes got so dark. Were you thinking about it? About how you are going to feel after six times?”

Isak forces his upper back up from the bed, has to hide his face away in Even’s neck, has to. He presses his nose into the sweaty skin, lets all of his senses be filled with Even, with safety.

Even lowers himself down further to make it easier for Isak, being careful to keep his hips and stomach propped up the entire time.

His hold on Even’s arms surprisingly make it easier for Isak to keep himself from scooting up the bed when Even starts to move his hips in short, hard jabs that make Isak’s breath hitch.

“How sensitive do you think you’ll be?”

This is torture, absolute and utter torture. Isak bites down on Even’s collarbone, but it does little to nothing to deter him.

“Do you remember how much it was after five times? How you could barely handle me holding you close?”

Isak does remember. He remembers how his body had been begging for Even’s touch, but at the same time had been so overly sensitized that even the sheets against his back had made him want to cry.

“How do you think you’ll feel after six?” Even wonders, then covers Isak’s mouth with his own as if he can sense just how hard and how much Isak is about to swear at him.

Isak can’t handle much coordination right now, is failing rather incredibly at moving his lips in tandem with Even’s, but Even doesn’t mind. He loves this, Isak knows, loves when he gets Isak like this, and he loves that when they kiss like this – if you can call it kissing – that it’s practically just a way for him to smear Isak’s lipstick all over his mouth, make everything look slick and shiny and Isak himself completely fucked out.

Even groans when he pulls back to see it. Isak’s hands slide down his arms to his elbows, to his wrist, then left floundering in the air as he tries to grab onto something tangible. He ends up with his fingers curling into the pillows underneath his head, and it’s not until he’s got a proper hold on them that he realizes he’s practically spread himself out for Even to look at.

And Even is definitely looking.

“God, baby,” Even says, awed. A hand sweeps against Isak’s side, making him squirm from sensitivity. “You’re so wet,” and Isak wouldn’t even know where Even’s talking about – if it’s his dick steadily leaking, or hole so full of lube and come – if it weren’t for Even’s blown pupils staring intently at where Isak’s dick is lying hard against his stomach with pools of cooling come. It colors the chemise darker where it touches, leaving it even further translucent than it had already been. Approximately the entire bottom of the front is at this point see-through, Isak’s dick fully visible, the fabric going as far as sticking to his skin, molding itself to him.

Another drop of pre-come blurts out of his tip. Fuck, it shouldn’t be this hot, Isak shouldn’t feel this close again already, but he does.

And even worse, Even knows he does, because he always gets that infuriating, smug look on his face, so goddamn proud that he’s gotten Isak to this point, that he’s made him so desperate, that he’s made him feel this good. Isak tries to scowl at him in response, but he can’t, not when Even is being so good to him.

Or the fucking worst, Isak changes his mind, because Even knows him, and knowledge is a powerful, dangerous tool that makes it possible for Even to say, “Just look at your clit,” and it’s not fair. It’s not fair that all Even has to do is say five words – one word in particular – and Isak is coming again. For the fourth time.

It’s a wounded noise that tears itself out of Isak’s throat. He’s definitely bordering the line between pain and pleasure by now, and this time he seriously cannot get any air into his lungs.

Even must be able to tell, because he slows down, doesn’t just continue as if Isak hasn’t come yet, or like it doesn’t matter if he has or hasn’t come yet, because he’s there for Even to make him come again and again and again.

Isak’s dick twitches violently against his stomach, struggling to get hard again.

“Four,” Even whispers, soft and sweet and almost overwhelmed because of Isak.

Four, Isak repeats in his mind, feels his heart tug oddly at the number. It had technically been the goal the first time, because that’s how many times Jonas had managed to make a girl come untouched, and then Even had just decided to up the ante on the spot.

He still remembers how he’d felt the first time; how his body had felt like molten lava, how he’d been swimming in what he’d thought at the time to be utmost euphoria, how he’d tightened up like a bowstring when Even had started to wonder about the possibility of a fifth time.

He remembers how it had felt when he’d dragged Even home from the club, when Even had made him come for the fourth time, sitting on one of their chairs whilst he was still partly dressed, sweating through the tight clothes. The material of his trousers had scraped against Isak’s bare thighs, had made everything feel like so much more from the pain until Isak hadn’t been able to do anything but cling to Even. He remembers desperately thinking, ‘one more left’.

Now he has to think ‘two more left.’

It’s a startlingly large difference considering how it’s only one number higher.

One number brings, apparently, a very large difference.

“You’re dripping with it,” Even’s fingers dance over the wet fabric, down, down, down, over his hips, digging into his inner thighs.

It should be biologically impossible for Isak’s cheeks to burn hotter than they already are, but the implications of what Even’s saying. That it’s not only because Even’s made him come four times, it’s also that he’s literally dripping with it, his body so desperate to get Even inside that it’ll do anything to make the process go smoothly.

Suddenly, Isak doesn’t feel wet enough. He wants to feel like he’s actually ‘getting wet’ down there, wants to be dripping with it, like Even had said he was, wants for Even’s dick, his pubic hair, his groin, his thighs to be shining with slick when he pulls his hips back.

He wants for Even to know, to be able to see and feel how much he wants him, all the fucking time.

It’s like Even can tell what he’s thinking, Isak only has to whine at him once before he’s reaching over for the lube Isak had left on the bedside table when Even had still been asleep. The lid pops open as audibly as ever, just the sound enough to make Isak clench down on Even reflexively in anticipation.

He doesn’t even pull out to do it, just pours the lube directly over where they’re connected and then fucks it into Isak with every thrust. The noises are positively lewd and Isak blushes a bright red, cheeks heating up at the sound and the feeling.

“So fucking wet for me,” Even mumbles, and Isak can’t tell if he’s talking about the pools of come cooling on his stomach, about his dick still steadily leaking pre-come and raring to go despite how many times he’s already come by now, or about where Even’s fucking lube and his own come inside of him, over and over again.

No matter what, Isak shivers with it, dick twitching and doing its best to fill up entirely despite being so spent. He can’t stop making small sounds every time Even moves, every time he breathes. He feels like he’s floating and the only thing that’s keeping him tethered to the world is Even.

“I wonder…” Even mutters to himself most likely, Isak barely catching the words and then taking a while to understand them. His brain feels like mush.

If he hadn’t already come four times, he probably would’ve had the capacity of paying more attention, probably would’ve figured it out when Even grabs hold of both his wrists with one hand, his now free left hand brushing over his cheekbone, following the line of his jaw line, his throat, the sweetheart-cut of the negligee, his sternum, his stomach, hips, upper thighs. And Isak thinks it’s just to touch, to get a better grip, change the angle, maybe, despite not needing it and knowing Even also knows he doesn’t need to.

But there are so many other sensations to pay attention to – Even inside him, around him, on top of him, the cool chemise against his skin making his body sing from too much stimulation – that he doesn’t pay attention to when Even’s fingers start to move up. Up along his inner thigh, up to his groin, up to where Even’s splitting him open.

When he does notice, he thinks that maybe Even’s just going to curl them around the base of his own dick to starve off his orgasm until he’s made Isak come again. He does not think that Even twirling one of his fingers around in the mess of lube of come leaking out of Isak, tickling the skin around his rim, has any other purpose than just to touch.

Even taps his finger against the top of his hole, right below his balls and perineum and above where he’s split open and being used. Isak bites off a whimper at each tap, breath coming out short until he can’t keep in the sounds.

And then, on the next thrust in, both so quickly that Isak doesn’t figure it out until it’s happening, but so slowly that he feels every single bit of it, Even slides his finger in alongside his dick, all the way down to his last knuckle.

The wail Isak lets out doesn’t sound human.

He’s floating, everything is so much and yet faded from around him. Isak can’t even feel his own body, can only feel Even where he’s spreading his thighs open and where he’s hovering above him and where he’s practically splitting him open with both his dick and a finger, curled expertly and torturously against the overstimulated, swollen nub inside of Isak.

“Alright, that was a bit mean of me, wasn’t it?” Even coos, voice soft and completely unapologetic. “It’s okay, baby, you’re okay. Take a deep breath for me, it’s okay, you can stop crying now.”

Is he crying? He hadn’t noticed. Isak accidentally hiccups when he tries to let the deep breath out.

“There you go. God, what a sight you are. So fucking pretty,” and Even sounds… awed. And like he believes it.

Isak doubts there’s anything attractive about him right now. He’s sweaty and feels like someone has taken the inside of his skin and flipped it the wrong side out, he’s so overly sensitized. And if he’s been crying, his face will probably be red and blotchy.

Even’s hand is sticky where he’s placed it on Isak’s thigh. Isak hadn’t even noticed him pulling his finger out again. His dick is still inside of him, at least he hasn’t missed that much. He’s leaving a trace of lube on Isak’s skin where he’s softly, soothingly smoothing his thumb in gentle circles to help Isak calm down.

And then he naturally has to say something that will make Isak do the opposite.

“Can’t wait for the day where your body won’t be satisfied until you’ve come at least four times, where you’ll still want it, won’t stop wanting it even as your body screams for relief.”

Always want you, Isak wants to say, but he doesn’t have the air for it, can’t work out the muscles to do it with.

He can’t stop moving, literally can’t make his body stop shivering and shuffling. He’s thrashing so badly Even has to tighten his grip around his wrist and lean his chest down on Isak’s, keeping his lower half propped up awkwardly to avoid accidentally providing friction to Isak’s cock.

“Last one,” he gasps, reminds Even, he can’t even tell at this point. He has no idea how he’s managed to keep count.

Even cups his cheek in his hand, wiping over sticky skin from residue tears. He looks positively awed. “God, you’re amazing. How the fuck did I get so lucky?”

Isak is the lucky one, he wants to tell him, but then Even moves his hips in slow rotations that make Isak choke on his tongue and the words.

It’s so much. It’s so much. Isak can’t feel that he’s still lying on the bed, can only feel Even and the chemise somehow still able to slide against his skin, increasing every sensation by a thousand. He can’t tell if he’s hard yet or again or at all, can still feel the pleasure running through his body, feels how the sensitivity is making him cling to Even harder and harder.

Even, who is absolutely lovely. The loveliest person Isak has ever met, who is so unbelievably kind. He hasn’t moved away to get a better angle or better purchase on the bed or anything, has instead stayed down, covering Isak’s body with his own and has let Isak cling on to him as tightly as he wants to. Isak is sure that Even’s thighs must be shaking from the exertion by now, but he doesn’t complain, doesn’t say a word about it. Just keeps pressing tiny kisses to Isak’s hairline, his temple, the corner of his eye to lick away stray tears.

“Just one more,” Even reminds him, “then I’ll come inside of you again. Do you want that? Do you want to still be full of me once I’ve pulled out? Do you want to feel me inside of you, slowly dripping out?”

Isak whines, thrashes as much as he can underneath Even’s bulk, which isn’t a lot. His fingernails are leaving scratches down Even’s back in desperation. His body keeps telling him that this is too much, but his brain just keeps wanting more.

“One more,” he gasps, agreeing, commenting, he doesn’t know, he can’t tell.

He keeps making these tiny, little noises, he knows, because he can feel the vibrations of it in his throat, but the sound is distant, like it’s coming from another room. The only thing Isak knows with certainty is Even, so Isak opens his eyes – not sure of when he’d closed them – and focuses on Even.

His hair is curling around the edges from sweat and he is looking positively gorgeous.

He’s the most beautiful thing Isak has ever seen in this entire world. There’s almost something poetic in how he comes like that, looking wide-eyed up at Even in complete admiration of him as Even is carefully, methodically moving his hips in a pattern that should have him avoid coming before Isak has, but is also little enough that Isak still feels good from it, hasn’t fallen over the pleasure-pain edge to the bad side.

He comes with a hitched breath, completely dry, nothing left in his body to spurt out. His dick just twitches weakly against his stomach, barely anything more than half hard.

The noises come afterwards.

Isak keens. He thinks he might be repeating Even’s name, over and over again as if in a prayer, he can’t tell, can’t hear it over the many, many sensations his body is feeling, is trying to sort through.

The next thing he’s certain of is Even moaning in his ear, and after a thrust that had been harder than the previous ones Isak can feel him twitching inside of him, and then he feels a different kind of wetness inside.

If he hadn’t literally come six times already, he probably would’ve gotten hard from that.

God. God. Fuck.

Six times.

Six times. They actually did it.

“Oh my god,” Even gasps, still buried deep inside of Isak.

It’s starting to hurt by now. Isak tries to wiggle his hips to get Even to slide out of him, but he can’t move. He might’ve actually died after all, holy Christ.

He’s sticky all over, is practically leaking a mixture of lube and Even’s come, not to mention the many loads of come drying on his skin or already soaked up by the negligee. Isak will probably have to buy a new one, no amount of washing will be able to save that thing now.

“I love you,” Even tells him out of the blue, still inside of him and on top of him and starting to stick to him as well. “Do I tell you that enough? I don’t think I do. I’m so in fucking love with you.”

Isak can’t feel his toes. He can’t feel his legs; pretty much the only thing he can feel is where he’s still stretched around Even as he’s slowly softening inside of him and a few other parts of his body where he’s touching Even. He cannot move and he has precious little air inside of his lungs, and yet he’s so overcome with just how much he’s also in love with Even.

He’s chuckling with it, unsure of where he has gotten the breath to do it. It’s interrupted with a hurt, croaked hitch of air when Even is too soft to stay inside of him any longer, slipping out on accident.

Isak tries to work his thighs up around Even’s waist, tries to grab onto his arms, his back, anything to get him to stay where he is right now.

It’s painful, definitely way too many sensations and stimuli for Isak to handle Even being as close as he is right now, but the thought of Even pulling away, even if it’s just to lie next to him, is unbearable to handle.

“I love you,” Even tells him again, breathing a little steadier now, but Isak thinks his eyes may be wet. He can’t tell properly, because Even is too close, is too busy pressing wet, hot kisses against his temple as he tries to soothe him back to earth. “Isak, baby, with or without all of this, I fucking love you.”

Isak manages to turn his head far enough that he can press his lips against Even’s jaw. His slight stubble scratches against his lips when he starts to talk. “Does that mean you’ll buy me another negligee? We’ve ruined this one.”

Even laughs, a little too wet for Isak to believe he isn’t crying right now.

“Baby,” he coos, drawing back far enough that he can kiss Isak, again and again, tiny, little kisses that are bordering on too much still. “I’ll buy you hundreds, anything you want, it’s yours. And then I’ll make you come six times every single time you wear one. God, Isak, six times. I can’t wrap my head around it. Do you know how amazing you are?��

He feels it – six times, that is. And amazing, too, he thinks. It’s still too soon to be able to distinguish anything that Isak feels other than worn out, so he puckers his lips and waits for Even to kiss him again.

Even complies with a smile, because, of course he does. Just tiny, little pecks, nothing that actually requires for them to move too much, not even their lips.

It’s so good. It’s the best – or, one of the best things Isak gets to do with Even. Everything that they do is one of the best things Isak gets to do with Even.

“I love you,” he whispers, knows that Even will be able to hear him.

He expects to get another kiss, maybe another dozen or so. He does not expect for Even to pause, hovering over him, far enough away that Isak doesn’t have the ability to reach up and kiss him himself. He raises a questioning eyebrow instead, knows that even if Even isn’t kissing him, he’s still got all of his attention.

“Six times,” Even clarifies, except it isn’t clarifying at all.

“I know,” Isak says, a little too sassy for how worn out he is. “I was there. I’m very much aware of how many times six times are.”

Even shakes his head. “No, baby, six times. That’s more than five.”

Isak’s brain might not be the only one that’s melted during this experience.

Even’s eyes are a little wild, but there’s a teasing tilt to the corner of his mouth that Isak does not trust.

“We can’t high five as an answer when the boys ask what the record is anymore.”

Oh my god. Oh, my, god.

Even manages to keep a straight face despite the very something look that Isak is giving him. He sighs, world-weary and way too goddamn dramatic. “Well,” he draws out, “I guess we’ll just have to go for ten, two high fives.”

“Oh my god!” Isak can’t keep it in this time, pushing at Even with weak arms and legs to get him away. “Get off of me. Oh my god, I hate you, what the fuck, Even.”

Even is laughing, the bastard, the absolute idiot, Isak can’t stand him.

“You love me,” Even teases, already turned onto his side so he can kiss Isak’s cheek, his temple, his jaw, anywhere that he can get close enough to for Isak’s flailing arms.

“I’m leaving you,” Isak counters petulantly. “As soon as I can feel my legs, I’m leaving you.”

“You can’t feel your legs because I fucked you so well,” Even reminds him, voice suddenly an octave deeper. He’s so warm where his skin is touching Isak, even through the now ruined chemise.

Isak’s breath gets caught in his throat. He’s aching all over, his skin still feels like it’ll be preferable to just tear it straight off, Even shouldn’t be able to do this to him.

“I will fuck you up,” Isak threatens, but it comes out too soft, nothing like a warning at all.

Even looks at him particularly adoringly. “I’m already fucked up over you,” knows it means I love you.

Isak groans. He can’t even turn around to bury his head in the pillows so he won’t have to look at the deplorably loving look on Even’s face, the absolute sap.

“I can’t tell if I want you to never touch me again or if I want you to kiss me,” he tells him instead.

It’s not a lie, and it’s not even because Even is horrible and the most wonderful person Isak has ever met who says such stupid things. It’s because he can’t tell that he’s lying the right way around on the bed, can’t even tell that he is in fact lying on the bed. It’s because Even made him come six times in one go, and he literally cannot think because of it.

Even smiles at him softly, reaches one hand out and places it on Isak’s head, behind his ear, as if he’ll run his fingers through his hair. Isak won’t be able to handle that, though, not so many sensations as that’ll bring, and Even knows that, so he just rests it there, doesn’t card his hand through sweaty, golden curls. He does drag his thumb against the shell of Isak’s ear, just lightly enough that it doesn’t make Isak try to squirm away.

“Kiss you,” Isak decides before Even can suggest something else, like going to sleep. He doesn’t want to go to sleep, even as he’s already feeling his eyelids practically fall shut. “I want to kiss you.”

“Okay, baby,” Even says, slowly shuffling closer. “Just lie there. Be good, and I’ll kiss you. And if you fall asleep, that’s okay, too, baby.”

“Won’t,” Isak protests, wants to lean closer to get Even’s lips on his faster, but Even had told him to stay there and be good, so he does that instead. “I’m going to kiss you. I’m not going to sleep.”

“Okay,” Even agrees without a fuss, but Isak can tell he’s doing it just to placate him.

He doesn’t complain, though, because then Even is kissing him, tiny little pecks again, just lips dragging against lips.

Isak stays awake long enough that his body isn’t tingling with nerves anymore, long enough that he can handle Even gathering him closer, can handle being pressed against Even’s chest. It feels a little weird, and it takes an embarrassingly long amount of time for Isak to realize it’s because of the chemise keeping his skin separate from Even.

He falls asleep with his lips still pressed against Even’s.

OOOOO

“Who ended up winning the game, by the way?” Magnus asks out of the blue when Mahdi scores another goal against Jonas.

It’s just embarrassing at this point.

“Huh?” Isak wrinkles his nose. “They’re still playing. Are you feeling alright?”

Magnus rolls his eyes and bats Isak’s hands away as he goes to check his temperature. “No, not the match, the game. You know, between Jonas and Even. Who won?”

Isak blinks as Magnus’ words catch up to him. Then – “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Magnus.”

“What?” Magnus knocks his arms out dramatically, accidentally catching Mahdi on the shoulder. “Am I the only one who is curious?”

“Yes,” Isak grumbles as Jonas just laughs at him.

Magnus rolls his eyes at him whilst, deliberately this time, he puffs at Mahdi’s shoulder to prompt him to agreement. “Come on,” he groans. “It went on for so long, and now, nothing. I know nothing about Evak’s sex life anymore.”

Isak’s entire face is scrunched up at this point. “Just like you shouldn’t?”

“Lighten up, Issy,” Jonas’ elbow digs its way into the arch of Isak’s foot, not willing to stray his attention away from the screen for any more than that. “We’re just teasing.”

Magnus grimaces. “No, I genuinely want to know.”

“Magnus –“ Isak groans, but doesn’t get to finish his complaining for Mahdi breaking in.

“I had expected it would end in, like, some big finale,” Mahdi admits, tossing the controller at Jonas when his players on screen do a victory lap around the field. “Not as abruptly as it did.”

“Well, if you two hadn’t blabbed…” Jonas reminds them, laughing harder than Isak would’ve expected from someone who just lost a FIFA match to Mahdi.

“It literally wasn’t a secret!” Magnus points out indignantly, turning to Isak as if he expects him to agree.

Honestly.

He turns his attention back to Jonas instead when he realizes that that definitely isn’t happening.

“Are you seriously telling me you and Even haven’t worked out who is the winner?” Magnus asks Jonas who, thankfully, suddenly is very busy picking out a new team to play as.

“Bro…” Jonas starts, but doesn’t finish. That is why Isak knows Jonas is a traitor who has been conversing with Even over who the ‘winner’ is.

And now everyone else in the room knows as well.

Magnus squeaks loudly a little too close to Isak’s ear for him to not flinch away, jumping around on the bed, and Mahdi is clapping and shouting like a madman.

“Tell me, tell me, tell me,” Magnus begs, belly-flopping onto the mattress that decidedly does not fit four fully-grown teenage boys. His torso lands across Isak’s legs, and Isak only takes mild enjoyment in the knowledge that it had hurt Magnus more than it had hurt him. “Jonas, tell me!”

“We know literally everything else,” Mahdi points out, and Isak’s cheeks do not heat up, they don’t. “Seriøst, just tell us.”

Jonas shrugs, but he’s laughing goofily, and Isak can’t tell if he’s looking over at him from the corner of his eye or if he’s looking anywhere but at Isak.

“It, uh –“ Jonas licks his lips. For every second he doesn’t speak, Isak’s heart rate spikes. “It really isn’t all that important.”

“Uh,” Magnus protests, “yeah, it is. Come on. Be a bro.”

Isak snorts and starts to push Magnus’ body off of his legs. “Stop. All of you.”

“I didn’t even do any-“ Jonas starts to protest.

“All of you,” Isak insists, curling his legs up when they’re finally free from Magnus’ bulk. “No more questions, no more inquiries, no more whatever you want to call it –“

He’s interrupted by the front door opening and Even yelling out, “Halla,” and giving Isak specifically a soft, “Hei, baby.”

He’s got his schoolbag slung over his shoulder and another bag in his hand, because today’s shoot required so many different tools Isak had lost count as Even had gotten ready this morning.

“Even, please,” Magnus begs, masterly avoiding Isak’s hands when he tries to shove him into the mattress. “Tell me who won!”

Even’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, a little bit of a shy smile slowly unfolding across his face. “What?”

“The game!” Magnus insists unhelpfully. “Who won?”

“They won’t tell us,” Mahdi finally tries to help, scooting forward towards the edge when Isak tries to kick out at him. “Who won, you or Jonas?”

“Oh!” Even’s mouth drops open comically in the perfect ‘o’-shape possible as he slings off his backpack.

Isak groans. “Do not –“ but he doesn’t get further than that before Even the name of the winner has left Even’s mouth.

“Isak,” Even replies without any hesitance whatsoever. He doesn’t even react when Magnus’ eyes go comically wide and Jonas goes a bit pink and Mahdi glances suspiciously between the four of them as if they’re setting up a prank.

“Huh?” Magnus asks, looking intensely at Even before his gaze switches over to Isak, then back to Even. “Huh?”

“The winner,” Even shrugs. “Isak won.”

“How?” Mahdi asks. “He wasn’t even aware of the game! He didn’t participate!”

“Well –” Jonas starts to object to just what degree Isak had been participating, technically, but stops when all he receives for his troubles is Isak’s foot digging into his lower back.

Magnus’ finger digging into Isak’s side draws his attention away from Jonas.

“What did you do?” he asks, poking him again before Isak can bat his hands away. “How did you win – what did you –“

“Magnus,” Isak interrupts, tone serious. ���I am telling you right now, you do not want to know what I did.”

Magnus blinks. Blinks again. Then a wide grin splits across his face as he waggles his eyebrows.

“No.”

“Oh, come on, just one thing, just tell me one thing!”

“Trust me, man,” Jonas begins a new match despite no one holding the other controller. Hopefully this just means he’ll actually get to win for once. “I know the bare minimum, and I am telling you right now, don’t ask questions.”

Isak levels a glare at the back of Jonas’ head. He knows he’ll be able to feel it. “And you are to never repeat any of it.”

“Holy fuck,” Mahdi swears, holding his head in his hands. “I can’t believe – Jesus Christ.”

“Better start believing it, then,” Even says, finally putting down the last bag. “Because Isak won the game. But –“ he bounds over towards the side of the bed where Isak is perched up against the wall. “– in terms of real life, I am the obvious winner because I get to have this wonderful boyfriend –“

“Ugh,” three of the boys immediately groan.

For once Isak doesn’t complain. Mostly because he’s too busy kissing Even quiet.

“I’m also the winner there, though,” he protests, raising an eyebrow teasingly at his boyfriend.

Even only gets his mouth open before Mahdi interrupts. “If the two of you start some weird, lovey-dovey version of a 90’s chick-flick, ‘no, you hang up first!’ I will walk.”

“Okay,” Even replies, worming a knee between Isak’s thighs so he can tower over Isak. “More room on the bed, then.”

“Do not –“ Jonas warns, but he’s laughing, even as Isak manages to smash one of the pillows into the back of his head.

Even is the one who gets hit in return, but only because he’s hovering over Isak, covering his body so he can kiss him the way Isak particularly likes.

Yeah, Isak thinks as Even is laughing, pulling back so he can throw the pillow back at the boys. Isak really is the winner.

[balillee]

honestly if they had literally like a calendar where they could say 'hey, we need this plot point to happen next, and these people need to be there, when are you all earliest available' would be better scheduling and communication than whatever hodge-podge operation they've got going on rn.

lore could be every week, every two weeks, every four months, i don't care - just make it like a consistent thing that we can look forward to rather than just something that i keep hoping for and getting blue ballsed for months on end. all i hope is for like even the tiniest amount of transparency and admittal that they're not good at scheduling this kinda stuff, and hoping that they make any kind of consistent schedule for this kind of stuff with allotted times for planning n shit.

either that or just put it on hiatus until there's a decent period of time where a lot of people are free and they can do stuff for the smp. i think it wouldn't just be beneficial for frustrated viewers, but also good for the smp in general because i tell it's something they're all passionate about and want to see finished, and making a concrete decision would benefit everyone.

i've roleplayed in groups before when i was younger - it was a big collaborative effort, about twelve of us and we made a schedule and it worked well for us, omitting times when people weren't available bc of irl stuff. i have an smp now that is a hodgepodge of people doing things all the time, but there's no schedule. there hasn't been a story on there for like weeks now, my character hasn't been introduced to literally anyone - we could do with a schedule lmao. i could also do with a fanfic schedule, i could do with a schedule for absolutely everything. scheduling will always help with a project when you want to see it to completion, or, if you don't have the time or the current motivation, shelve it until you do like what happened with voltz wars.

if the dream smp just had a schedule - fucking one lore stream a week (which really isn’t asking a lot. like, at all) - would satisfy LITERALLY EVERYONE.

people would get to do the lore that they want free of scheduling conflict

proper pacing, something we haven’t had since january

anticipation and a steady stream of content so that the audience isn’t just pining for content that almost objectively won’t happen because all we have is fanworks

fulfilling the obligation to this project that has been ongoing for over a year and it’s audience

motivation for people to get involved with it again because something is happening, and motivation to wanting to continue it not just for the sake of the audience but because you love it again

LITERALLY JUST MAKE A SCHEDULE. one lore stream a week, every two weeks, whatever - i don’t care. just churn something out regularly so that it doesn’t bleed interest like a month old stab wound.

when you create something, you have a degree of obligation to that something - either you work on it, you make a schedule, you update it, you put it on hiatus, shelve it for later, give it to someone else who can work on it, or at worst you just scrap it.

when that something has been exposed to over a million people for over a year, you have a degree of obligation to that audience that cares about this something. either you continuously update that something, you hype up future events for that something, you tell them there’s gonna be a delay, you tell them it’s going on hiatus, you tell them it’s being shelved, or you tell them that it’s ended and it won’t be updated anymore and why.

when you create something you have an obligation to it so if you are truly committed to wanting to finish this project as a group that you don’t want to admit is dwindling in motivation and interest, MAKE A SCHEDULE AND YOUR PROBLEMS WILL BE SOLVED. make deadlines and hold yourself accountable for them. tell your audience something because that month old wound is gonna keep on bleeding.

if i could invade the dream smp discord and give them a schedule i would. i could whip up a schedule for them if they asked me to. spending time for figuring out who’s available and who needs to be there, what plot points need to be covered, what needs to be hinted at or foreshadowed, what’s going to happen, who’s going to stream it and when and in what order, then finding the time to stream it (and this would obviously be a bit different for tales since that requires a bit more organisation like getting people to build sets and make skins and come up with original oneshot characters and things). just make a schedule or shelve it until you’re all motivated and have the time. JUST STOP GIVING ME FUCKING BLUE BALLS EVERY TWO MONTHS. PLEASE

[sixmorningsafter]

Chapter 14 Review - Intimacy and evasiveness in equal measure

Thank you so so much for this chapter; you are freaking awesome. At this point, your fic is longer than most PhD thesis. You’re completely bonkers, in the absolute best way. Please never change. Seriously, the level of interactivity in this fic is such fun and thank you for encouraging that. Some of the recent fancasts have been beyond amazing.

Gabi: “the level of interactivity in this fic is such fun” - you mean how I take fifty fucking years to respond to reviews that legitimately make my life!?!?!?!?! THAT LEVEL OF INTERACTIVITY!?!?! LMAO, gurl, can I just say before I dive into any of this that this review literally made me go back and edit some parts, that’s how helpful it was, and yet here I am, answering it an entire CHAPTER LATER!? For some reason the feedback for fourteen was really slow at first and then all of a sudden like 10 giant reviews came in at the same time, and I just took way too long to get around to all of them and kept answering the short ones first (because they take less thought/time), and then once I was done answering the short ones I was drained because I’m weak and wouldn’t survive the winter. BUT HERE I AM. Ten years later. Ready to friggin go. LET’S DO IT.

Firstly, I can’t believe you stopped before the Steroline sex! Rude. I would have been devastated (melodramatic OTT much) had you not given us one of the best SC kisses ever. Honestly, I think I might have sighed a little out loud. And after Stefan’s stupid assed, jealousy mental meltdown, Caroline demonstrates exactly why he has no need to be jealous in one sentence - “Damon could do all those things without it once being intimate.” It’s really obvious that ‘intimate’ is a mental thing for Caroline, I loved watching the switch click in Caroline’s mind from non intimate to intimate. Oh Caroline - you poor silly girl, you’ve got it bad!

Gabi: So, the plus side of answering this once 15 is already up is that I don’t have to feel bad about blue ballsing anyone anymore, muahahaha. Steroline sex is officially up and out there and there’s no taking it back now. Re: 14, though, love alllll of these insights and the particular moments of theirs that you choose to compare and contrast. They’re both stupid levels of in denial here, but the good news is the end of 15 and hopefully the majority of 16 is a bit of a new era for them - one where they actually try, I don’t know, communicating? It’s going to be wild. 

The part where they are watching YouTube videos together and eating Caroline’s secret food stash (naughty Caroline keeping treats from the other inmates of 2B - tsk, tsk) was very sweet and surprisingly intimate in it’s own right. I love how they have elements of easy friendship that they don’t even seem to recognise. I’m very interested in how their sexy timez are going to go because they could be hot, sweet or kind of silly/jokey or maybe all three. I think it’s going to get intimate whether Caroline likes it or not; Stefan may even bust out some of his Disney Prince romance vibes. I’m so intrigued as to who their third wheel could be.

Gabi: I really enjoyed writing that scene for exactly that reason - that somehow, these two super awkward people with a bunch of confusion and tension between them keep finding themselves in random moments of easygoing camaraderie, and all it really takes for that to happen is time and/or a distraction. I’m trying to hint at a possible future for them that doesn’t have all of this drama, that’s actually driven by a genuine enjoyment of spending time together and light-hearted banter and a warm hum of affection, but their poor coping/communication skills from their past experiences are just getting in that way of it. And hahaha, re: sexy timez, now you know! Disney Prince romance vibes definitely happened and Caroline, well... had some conflicts with it. As for the silly/jokey thing, I wouldn’t rule that out just yet for future scenes.

I know you are trying to achieve balance between your characters. At this point, I feel I know a lot about Stefan, Bonnie and Caroline, but with Damon, he’s still a mystery.

I both love and hate that we don’t know more.

Love - because I know you are being all clever and writery and keeping it from us on purpose. That having us see Damon through the other characters’ eyes is a clever way of 'revealing’ titbits without revealing them. Even Damon’s internal monologue is super evasive and kind of shallow (compared to Bonnie’s about him which was downright hilarious and completely nuts especially the hitman, Bonnie the world’s most boring mark lmao).

Hate - because I am such an impatient spoiler seeking nut bag, I need to know everything! Look honestly though, if you had told me before this started that I would actually be interested in Damon as a character himself, not as Bonnie’s boyfriend or Stefan’s brother, I would have scoffed at you. See Gabi, this is the power you wield. Use it wisely! Mwah ha ha.

Gabi: SOOO it was definitely still in the typical evasive flashes-of-insight format that Damon’s PoV tends to operate in, but I think 15 hopefully gave you a little more of what you were looking for regarding him? His guard was forcibly down for a bit, and his head went more into his complicated relationship with his mom, and part of the reason why I didn’t tie his panic attack fully up in 15 was because I’m carrying that arc into 16. There’s definitely aftermath, there’s definitely Bonnie the Hufflepuff making him feel unsettling things and think more about his life, and there’s also some Kai/Damon stuff that’ll have echoes of Damon/Tyler. So much more Damon ahead! And GURL, you don’t even know how happy it makes me to hear that re: ‘if you had told me before this started that I would actually be interested in Damon as a character’. That’s like the biggest compliment to me for some reason, like it gets me so hyped, so thanks so, so much for telling me! It’s tough to get people to like characters even when they’re blank slates, so getting someone to actually come around to someone they weren’t about before is like YAAAAAAS. 

In all seriousness, Damon didn’t deserve the kicking he got from Stefan in the opening scene. Sorry Stef, that was uncalled for even if Damon did start it. While this scene was all about Stefan’s pov and his reactions, Damon’s evasiveness is totally in character. Even though he’s oh-so-not-bothered, Stefan’s assessment of him has to smart a bit. I hope these two crazy kids work it out. I need my drigh!brotp back together. (Quick aside about Stefan – I hope at some point, he’s going to fess up that it wasn’t about Damon, Bonnie, Caroline or even Elena. It was about his own feelings of insecurity. It’s like Bonnie’s rampage of self-destruction as the person most hurt by this is himself. It’s actually very canon Stefan.)

Gabi: He definitely didn’t deserve it, and I wanted to write it that way because I wanted to show that Stefan, like everyone else in this godforsaken headache of a story, is a flawed character who gives into emotional reactions and insecurity sometimes and acts out. Like I really wanted to make it clear that Stefan was in the wrong there, and I really wanted to do it at Damon’s expense because at the shallowest of glances, Damon would be the guy you’d assume can be asshole sometimes and Stefan would be the guy you’d label as the patient, understanding saint, and 14 chapters in, I really wanted to flip that. As harmlessly trolly as Damon can be to Stefan about Caroline, turns out that Stefan is the one who drew first blood between them, you know? And I think you’re totally right about the oh-so-bothered-but-not-really thing re: Damon - he’s been called terrible things his whole life, so he’s learned how to let them slide off him like butter, but even butter leaves a trail, you know? They definitely add up to a perception he has of himself that’s probably darker/less flattering than it needs to be, and Bonnie absolutely confronts that in 16. She’s kind of like, ‘hey, newsflash dark and twisty, you’re a good guy’. She has a little speech I’ve written out that I really like. Lots of feelsiness coming in 16, man. Including Stefan insights and realizations about insecurity!

I’m still super interested by Damon’s two identities. Are the two different dates of birth significant? Him not mentioning anything after Bonnie fessing up to poking in his wallet - evasive much? So he doesn’t take his Fell ID out normally? I need more details, here, stop trying to kill me.

Gabi: lololol, got a little more of this in 15! I’m not sure how much was obvious from the story because Damon’s thoughts about his past always come out super jagged when I write them (and obviously I know the whole thing ‘cause I’m making it up, lmao), but I think I gave enough to kind of explain why he had that ID on him? Maybe?

Bonnie telling him all about her sex dreams had him speechless and I loved that. Yes, he was very much – that’s ok Bon, sexy daydreams are fine, but I still think there was an element of him being chuffed about it. That was really cute; I liked that his reaction wasn’t to grab her and lay one on her - she did that instead (oh Bon, you saucy minx). I loved their kiss, so hot; I really like their connection, it has a more brutal honesty to it than Steroline’s. By that I mean that Caroline lets Stefan get away with more introspection because that’s what suits her, whereas Damon pushes Bonnie to lay out her soul for him because he really wants someone to do it back to him, deep down. I may be over analysing this and be completely wrong.

Gabi: LMAOOO, ‘you saucy minx’ - she really is. And Damon is all about it. And no, you’re 100% spot on in your analysis of the two ships, assss usual - I think that’s a brilliant way to put it. Damon doesn’t wonder as much about Bonnie because he pushes, in more ways than one, till she gives him answers. He’s confrontational. Blunt. And Bonnie needs that, because her insecurities and problems are so deeply, deeply entrenched into her that they’re basically covered in layers of cement. You can’t slowly uncover that, you need a jack hammer (vs. for Caroline and Stefan, the wounds are still a little too fresh and shallow for a jackhammer to do anything except make it worse. They need the gentle discovery). Damon’s a bit of a paradox in that he’s either 100% blithe and flippant and dgaf, or he’s 100% blunt and real talk, and generally he uses the first mode to evade and the second mode to investigate. Problem is, Bonnie’s a bit of a jackhammer herself, and I think 15 was the beginning of the tide shifting to Damon being the one under the spotlight. And we’ll see how he likes that moving forward. Payback’s a bitch.

Did I detect that Damon might have a slight bird phobia? A dove in your shower is never good, but he seemed more than a little nervous. Also how is his hand doing? Dr Bon needs to follow up her patients better. I am kind of surprised how prompt he was for Kai’s dinner. Does Damon have immaculate time keeping? Or he is genuinely terrified of Kai? I guess I’m kind of struggling to find Kai scary, a bit loopy, somewhat odd, but I was really surprised that Damon would be scared of him (I have blanked out the crossbow in his face episode). We know he can handle himself in a fight (thank you for that Caroline) and he’s survived that gunshot as a child. Damon strikes me as being hard as nails (except around Bon) - Kai should be a cakewalk. Does he recognise something in Kai that he might have experienced in his past? Chapter 15 should be illuminating - I really hope we get plenty from his pov. I can’t wait.

Gabi: You did and it was totally unintentional. I actually went back and read over the way I’d written it after this feedback and totally got the same vibe (it was meant to be humorous but definitely came across as a little deeper than that), so thanks so much for pointing this out! I did a few little edits that I think put forth a more accurate picture of both the bird reaction (annoyance, bafflement, Damon in general being a growly diva) and his immaculate time-keeping (which was definitely supposed to be the focus more so than any actual fear of Kai, which, lmao, I think 15 makes pretty clear doesn’t exist). I think I could maybe argue that getting attacked by a dove in the shower could carry a bit of trauma from his basement-with-rats days, but even so, he’d hide that, so. Edited and more accurate thanks to bomb feedback!

ANYWAY, THIS IS ONCE AGAIN 600 YEARS LATE but oddly, it was kind of fun answering it with 15 already written? In any case, I’m so friggin’ sorry it took me this long to respond, and your feedback, as always, is one of my fave things about writing this fic because it’s always so hilarious and insightful. Thanks so, so much for this review, and hopefully 15 delivered the things you were after and 16 will deliver them even more. LOVE YA, BABE!

[bryanclaesch]

An Open Fan Letter to RWBY: Why Weiss is My Favorite Character

So, assuming you guys haven't been living under a rock, surely you must know that RoosterTeeth released a character short for Volume 5 today and it featured everyone's favorite little snowflake--and I don't mean those bozos who are still butt hurt over Trump winning the election. I mean Weiss Schnee from RWBY.

Personally, I was very happy to hear about this. I mean, I wasn't jumping up and down with excitement, but I was excited. Not just because I am a fan of RWBY, but especially because Weiss is my favorite character in RWBY. I mean, sure, Ruby is the cutest and has the best post-timeskip costume, Yang is the hottest, even with the robit arm, and the battle for who has the coolest weapon is a tie between Ruby and Qrow, but my favorite character is still Weiss. Why? Well, because I identify with her.

To some that probably sounds a little weird--I mean, a dude identifying with a female character, but Weiss being my favorite character has nothing to do with her gender. I mean, it doesn't hurt as I am oddly drawn and more sympathetic to female characters, either because I've never had a meaningful relationship or it's just my natural male aptitude, but... A-Anyway, I'm losing the plot. Why is Weiss my favorite character? Well, let's break it down.

1. She comes off as stand-offish, arrogant, and spoiled.

When we were first introduced to Weiss, she was the stereotypical spoiled rich girl--in other words, a total Bitchface McGee. But as we learned more about Weiss, one of the things we learned is that because she's from such a high class family, she is almost a sort of princess or nobility. As a result, she was raised to be reserved, refined, mannerly, and always conduct herself with the highest degree of dignity.

Now, I'm not rich. In fact, I was raised in the middle class, and the lower middle class at that. As time has gone on, things have gotten better, but I've never been well off. But, I totally get that Weiss' default personality is to act refined. My parents weren't high class either, but I was raised with an expectation to do well in school, to be mannerly and respectful in public, and to act like a civilized member of society. Now, this manifested in a stand-offish, almost arrogant personality because I am, like my parents, an Introvert, but that's how Introverts act in public. So, when I see Weiss interacting with her friends, teachers, and others, that's more or less the way I act.

2. She looks up to her sister.

When we were introduced to Winter in Volume 3, suddenly all the blocks fell into place about why Weiss was Weiss--she adores her older sister. Weiss looks up to Winter and tries to emulate her, constantly seeking her approval. And sometimes, Weiss fails and Winter punishes her.

Now, I've never been struck by either of my older siblings, and at times, we've been the worst of enemies, but there was a time when I too sought the approval of my brother and sister. The thing about my brother and sister is that they are two years apart while I am nine and seven years behind them. It was just the two of them for a long time, and in that time, they shared a lot of experiences together and grew together in ways I can't possibly imagine. But one of the ways in which they did was that they both have similar senses of humor and I've always found them hilarious. They are seriously two of the funniest people I know. But when they're cracking jokes and they're on a roll, and I try to add my own bit in there... crickets. That's not every time, but it is often enough that I'm sure everyone has noticed. So, I get Weiss trying to be like her big sister.

3. She tries to be serious, reserved, and respectable, but her best friend is a loon.

No one in the whole world except for maybe Weiss herself will deny that Ruby and Weiss are BFF's. Hell, they're super besties-better-than-the-resties. But they are an odd couple. Weiss is ambitious and driven to succeed almost at any cost, while Ruby is just fine with being herself and spending time with her friends. But Weiss is better at dealing with people and social situations in general whereas Ruby's no good at it. In some ways, Ruby is a huge goofball and kind of awkward.

But in those social interactions, despite Weiss' impressive breeding, people tend to overlook her for the more charming, honest, and friendly Ruby. I have a friend named John, and while he is not awkward in the slightest, he's not above being a bit of a goof. He acts weird and gets laughs. He acts weird and people are charmed. He act weird and the girls smile at him. I do my thing with being refined and respectable, and I'm overlooked. Just like Weiss, I think myself amazing and worthy of recognition, but people tend to prefer our goofy friends over us.

4. Weiss' ambition to be the best and resulting humiliation after losing out to someone who seemingly barely tries or doesn't "deserve" it.

Speaking of thinking you deserve recognition...

When Weiss went off on Ruby in Volume 1 because she thought Ruby was too immature to be team leader, I completely understood where Weiss was coming from. We've both put in the time and hard work to be accomplished as we are, and although we don't show it outwardly, both Weiss and I are super competitive with our eyes on the prize. And although our humiliation may not be public, it can be absolutely crushing to fail and lose to someone who seemingly doesn't "deserve" it or was only victorious because of sheer dumb luck.

It's tough to be ambitious in a world where natural skill and ability can surpass ambition and hard work like they don't matter.

5. She's pursuing a vocation that her parents don't support.

Volume 2 is almost certainly my favorite volume of RWBY for two reasons: Dance, Dance Infiltration and Search and Destroy. DDI is awesome because it finally gives a release to the epic blue ballsing that is ship Arkos, and Mountain Glenn is awesome because it has character development. Character! Development! See, I'm a writer, and I love character development. Hell, I bop my baloney to that shit. But the best thing about character development is finding out why characters do what they do. And finding out that Weiss saw being a huntress as her "duty," rather than springing for a cushy job in Atlas was pretty cool.

But then when we found out in Volume 3 that Weiss wasn't supported in her endeavor to be a huntress by her father, well, it really hits home for me. As I've mentioned in an earlier blog post, my parents don't support me in my dreams to be a writer. They think it too difficult and too luck based to be a good life choice. But, writing isn't just simply a job to me--it's my purpose, my calling, my vocation, it is the reason why I exist. I am because I write, and I write because I am. So really, Weiss and I are in the same boat there, and while we're disappointed that our parents can't be there for us, we won't let that stop us. Hell, our parents' disappointment is one of the driving forces behind why we do what we do... because we have to prove them wrong!

6. Weiss has the best and most adaptable weapon and semblance.

Weiss isn't the best huntress or strongest or even the coolest, but Myrtenaster and the Schnee Glyphs are easily the most adaptable and best weapon and semblance in all of RWBY. I mean, think about it: the Myrtenaster has a spinning revolver full of different types of dust that can be used to charge the blade and be used to attack or defend. In one moment, Weiss is using a firebrand and setting forests on fire, the next she's blocking an enemy's chainsword or encasing herself and her team in a protective ice cocoon.

Then, there are her glyphs. They can be used as shields, platforms, control momentum, defy gravity, do time dilations, and of course, summon those she has struck down in battle to fight by her side. And, she can combine her semblance with the Myrtenaster and just break the system. Weiss can be a front line soldier, she can play defense, or she can support the other members in her team from making Ruby fly or run up Beacon's CCT to allowing Blake to move at speeds so fast she can slice and dice missiles. Tell me: what can't Weiss do? Maybe she can't absorb the energy of her enemy's attack and deal it out twice as hard back, but when you've got glyphs and a multi-action dust rapier, you don't need Yang's semblance.

Well, those are all the reasons why Weiss is my favorite character. If you guys haven't seen the RWBY Volume 5 Weiss Character Short, you can see it here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bZAS_rzgCE0

And if you want to see the video critique I did of it, here's the link to that:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J-_UM0FZMX4&feature=youtu.be

Keep writing, my friends.

 Read the original post here: https://blaeschportfolio.blogspot.com/2017/07/an-open-fan-letter-to-rwby-why-weiss-is.html