#this is set significantly after the phone sex fic and yes they are already completely stupid about each other

[space-writes]

grind

Obedience | E | Ashenivir/Rizeth | 1290 words

Tags: Modern AU, D/s, Dirty Talk, Trans Male Character, Grinding, Thigh riding, Established Relationsip, t-dick/clit referred to as cock

Summary:

Be a good boy and ride your Master’s thigh, won’t you? Written for twoof @absurdthirst’s kinktober 2024 prompts: ‘thigh riding’ + ‘dirty talk’.

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“You should go home.”

“Mm-hm.”

“I know for a fact you have a lecture this morning.”

“That’s later. Much, much later.”

Ashenivir moved his mouth up from Rizeth’s bare chest to his neck. The fact that one of Rizeth’s hands was still on the small of his back and the other was sunk deep in the early-morning tangles of his hair undercut every protest. No, he hadn’t meant to stay the night, he never did, and yet it kept happening. Hence his being in Rizeth’s lap, on Rizeth’s sofa, in Rizeth’s living room at seven-thirty am, instead of alone and miserable in his own bed across town.

He nipped at Rizeth’s ear. A low, warning hum came in response. “Behave.”

“Don’t want to.”

“And what exactly do you want?”

Ashenivir shifted his weight to grind deliberately against the hardness he could already feel through the striped fabric of Rizeth’s pyjamas. “To ride you again.”

Rizeth put a hand to his throat—not choking, just holding, in the way he did that had a tendency to shut down most of Ashenivir’s higher thought processes. “You want an orgasm, and that is all you want. You are not thinking of any pleasure but your own, as per usual.”

“No,” Ashenivir tried. Rizeth arched an eyebrow. “Maybe.”

“Absolutely.” Rizeth took him by the waist and lifted him until he was straddling one thigh. “Fortunately for you, my little brat, I have a certain fondness for your pleasure.”

Keep Reading: AO3 / Neocities / Dreamwidth

[ID - a decorative divider]

Obedience taglist: @foxboyclit @belovedviolence @thegreatobsesso (ask to be +/-)

[mendesmelancholy]

Iris [Part Two] - A Shawn Mendes Fic

Part One // Part Three Synopsis: Part two of Shawn meeting an interesting girl after one of his shows. Warnings: alcohol, swearing, mentions of sex, suggestive language Word Count: 4k Author’s Note: Part two of “Interesting”! I changed the title to Iris because I didn’t like the original one. Let me know if you’d like a part three! I’d love to do one. Taglist: @shawnsunflower @shwnmndsx @tnhmblive @someoneunimportantxx @justordinaryjen @versacebutera @xmtd5 @chubsluda @hehemendes @feliciaceciliamariajacobsson @lovingchildperson 

     “Who says I was trying to seduce you, honey?” He teases, picking up the small banter they had started. She quirks her eyebrow at him, realising he’s starting to play her game right back. And part of her wants to drop her act and beg him to take her the way she wants, but she’s not easy. She’s a challenge. And she embraces that.

     “Well, if you’re not…” she trails off, beginning to peel herself from Shawn’s grip, but his grasp on her waist tightens, pulling her back to him in a millisecond. Her own cheeks split into a grin, winning this round of her game. Shawn sighs deeply, pressing his forehead to her before looking her dead in the eye and whispering,

     “Alright, sweetheart, I’ve been sweet, but if that’s the game you wanna play, I’ll seduce you.”

     “You’re more than welcome to.”

     A glimmer sparks behind Shawn’s eyes and sets her soul ablaze in a way no man has ever managed to. A simple look has her resolve crumbling and she’s no longer sure if she wants to play her little game. His brown eyes are focused solely on her own and she gulps. Shawn notices the bobbing of her throat and grins to himself slightly, ducking his head to be even closer to her, their lips slightly blushing. The sight of Shawn’s grin makes Iris return to her original plan… to tease the living hell out of this man. She perks up slightly, pushing her chest even farther into Shawn’s torso.

     “Can I kiss you?” He asks, glancing down at her lips that has one tucked between her two front teeth.

     “Yeah… no,” she slurs, pulling back and twirling around. She’s drunk at this point, but the confidence surging through her veins keeps her upright and unwavering as she finds her way to the bar to buy herself another drink. She doesn’t even need to look behind her to know that Shawn is looking at her in complete shock. And he is. He can hear her friends giggling slightly before Alexandra approaches him,

     “She wants you to chase her.”

     “Fuck me,” he groans, running his hand through his hair and following her through the crowd of people. When he finds her again, she’s leaning against the bar, successfully catching the attention of the bartender. He’s clearly hitting on her and Shawn examines him quickly. He’s buff, tall and blonde with short hair and glasses. He feels a little twitch in his mouth as jealousy puddles in his stomach and the blood rushes out of his jeans. Shawn squares his shoulders and approaches Iris at the bar, confidently sliding his arm around her waist and pulling her tightly to him. He doesn’t look down at her as he orders their drinks,

     “Two shots of tequila, a Screwdriver and Henny and coke,” Shawn orders. The blonde bartender adjusts his posture and grunts, going to fix their drinks. Shawn’s lips pull into a smirk, seeing Iris looking up at him from the corner of her eyes. Her lush lips that he had just brushed were pursed to the side of her mouth, her chocolate eyes not quite glaring at Shawn but not looking thrilled either and she moves to put a hand on Shawn’s chest. This forces him to look at her and he quirks an eyebrow,

     “Pissing on your territory, Mendes?” She asks, clearly not happy with the way Shawn became possessive, “One thing you must know about me if you actually want to see me again,” she says in a challenging tone, “is that I’m not anyone’s property. I don’t do territory or jealousy.”

     “Feisty…” Shawn laughs to himself, nodding to the bartender who’s returned with their drinks. Iris goes to pay for her drink, but Shawn beats her to it, “Just add it to my tab.”

     He then turns his attention to her and he nods, “Understood.”

     “Good,” she smiles, “Now, do this shot with me.”

     “Can’t disobey the princess,” Shawn teases, picking up his shot glass and not missing the shiver that crawls up her skin at the nickname, “But, how about we make this more fun?”

     “And how could we do that?”

     “Get your friends over here and I’ll show you. You might want a crowd for this.”

     Iris furrows her brows, but obliges. Shawn watches as she walks away, noting the sway in her hips underneath the black silk of her dress. He groans to himself, feeling the blood rush back to his groin. He bites down at his lower lip, switching his shot glass for his whiskey and coke. He takes a long sip from it, ignoring the dirty taste of the whiskey and focusing on the sweetness of the coke. He thinks he should’ve gotten rum instead, but he doesn’t have time to reorder by the time Iris returns with her friends in tow. Even though they’ve been gone for a few minutes, the group appears to be significantly drunker. Shawn then wonders if it’s him who’s significantly drunker.

     “Alright, how are we making this interesting, Mendes?” She challenges, jutting her hip out.

     “Body shots.”

     Iris’s eyebrows raise to her forehead, jutting her chin out slightly as if she didn’t hear him, “Are you serious?”

     “As a heart attack.”

     “‘No offense, Scully,’” Alexandra butts in and Iris lets out an adorable snort at her friend’s addition. She wraps an arm around Alexandra,

     “You wanna do body shots, bub?”

     “Fuck yeah,” she cheers and it’s Shawn’s turn to raise his eyebrows,

     “Only way I’m doing body shots is if Iris does them off of me and I do them off of her.”

     “Calm down, Alpha. Alexandra is gonna do them off me and I’ll do them off her and I’ll get to you after.”

     Shawn contemplates this, but already knows his answer. As long as he gets Iris’s tongue on his skin, he doesn’t care if she also does them off her girl friend. Hell, she could kiss and make out with the girl for all he cares, but he needs her afterwards. All to himself, “Fine.”

     “More shots please!” Iris shouts at the passing bartender with a wicked smile on her face. The bartender rolls his eyes, clearly bitter about his flirting being cut short, but obliges. The group of friends make a circle around Shawn, Alexandra and Iris, waiting, phones ready, to film Iris doing body shots off The Shawn Mendes. But at this point, Iris doesn’t even see him as the man she just watched perform. He’s Shawn, who’s allergic to animals but pets them anyway and is absolutely stunning. He doesn’t carry himself like he’s famous. He’s just Shawn. 

     When the bartender returns with the shots, Shawn gives him a nod and the bartender lingers to see the two girls do body shots off each other. Alexandra jokingly pushes Iris’s shoulders so she’s seated in one of the few barstools around the countertop. Shawn hands Alexandra the salt shaker, where Alexandra pours salt in her left clavicle. She then feeds Iris the rind of the lime wedge, so the pulp is facing the girl about to do the body shot. Shawn nudges the shot glass to right next to Iris for easy access.      He watches intently as Iris makes eye contact with him, tilting her head back, exposing more of her collarbones and throat to Shawn and Alexandra. She doesn’t even flinch as her best friend licks through the salt line on her skin, grabbing the shot and downing it, before leaning forward and snatching the lime wedge out of her mouth with her own. Their lips don’t brush, but Shawn’s heart pounds at the sight. He curses himself inside for getting turned on at the sight of two best friends acting sexually towards one another, but he can’t help the tightening in his jeans. His eyes don’t leave Iris’s as he observes the way her eyes have become glossy and her pupils even larger from the amount of alcohol she’s consumed.

     “My turn,” Alexandra slurs. Iris breaks eye contact before standing up on wobbly legs and letting Alexandra take her place.

     “You know what would be fun?” Alexandra mumbles, clearly a lot more intoxicated than Iris.

     “Hmmm?” Iris hums.

     “If you put the salt on my nose and forehead.”

     “You have makeup on.”

     “Oh. Right,” Alexandra leans her head back like Iris did. Shawn doesn’t even watch her as his eyes follow Iris. She does what Alexandra had done with the lime and salt. She holds her shot in her hand as she flicks a look to Shawn. Iris winks at him and bends her head down, slowly running her tongue along the salt in her clavicle, allowing her tastebuds to collect absolutely every granule of salt left on her skin. She wordlessly takes the tequila shot, glancing over to Shawn as she takes the lime wedge from Alexandra’s mouth, lingering slightly. When she straightens her back, she removes the fruit from her mouth and Shawn can’t help but notice the little trickle of juice out of the corner of her mouth. He steps closer to her without thinking and presses his thumb to the stream. He runs his thumb along it before bringing it to his own mouth and sucking it off. She’s watching with intrigue before a devilish grin appears along her lips,

     “You want to go next?”

     “Yes, I do,” he replies, nudging her towards the seat. When Alexandra giggles and stands up, curling into the side of their friend Catie, Iris sits down again, parting her knees so Shawn can slide in between them.

     “Can I put salt on your neck?”

     “You’re more than welcome to,” Iris repeats for the third time that night and the devilish grin becomes even more evil.

     “Good,” Shawn says shortly, leaning down to her neck and using his hand to tilt her head to the side, exposing the left side of her throat to him. He grabs the salt shaker from the countertop and dips his head all the way to the bottom of her throat. He sticks his tongue out, starting small before flattening it and licking up the expanse of her neck. He can feel her moan slightly from the vibration of her throat as he runs it slowly, slowing down even more when he presses the spot below her ear. He uses his hand with the salt shaker to push her hair even farther over her shoulder and moves her hoop earrings. He pulls back, looking into her eyes and mindlessly allowing the salt to drip from the shaker all the way down her skin. Her eyes are hooded, but the confidence that lingers has wavered and Shawn can sense it. He bites down on his lower lip to avoid smiling at her submission to his actions and puts the salt shaker down. Her eyes have weakness and desperation lingering behind them and he so badly wants to drag it all the way to the front. To have her on her knees in front of him, the desperation so clearly scrawled on her face as he undoes the buckle on his belt.

     This time, he grabs his shot glass. He moves his other hand to collect her straight hair in his hands and bunch it to the other side of her neck, not letting go. He can feel her hands settle on his hips, digging her nails into his shirt and he smiles to himself. He continues to look into her eyes until he can’t anymore and his lips are too close to her skin. Iris closes her eyes and tips her head back, Shawn’s grip on her hair tightening and she can’t help but let out a weak whimper at his actions. She can feel him chuckle underneath her fingertips but she doesn’t care anymore. Her game has ended this very moment and she just needs Shawn to lick up her neck and to her mouth and to kiss her so hard her lips bleed. The huff of laughter blows across the wet strip on her skin, forming goosebumps along her thighs and forearms and she has to fight off the urge to shiver at the sensation. He breathes against her skin, once, twice, three times more before he fully presses his tongue to her neck and begins collecting the salt on his taste buds. He’s even slower than he was before, savouring the sweetness of her skin and perfume, mixing with the saltiness of her sweat that’s collected along her own hairline and the salt on her skin. She allows her lips to part the slightest bit at the sensation of his smooth, hot tongue running along her nerves. When he reaches that one spot under her ear, he tugs slightly on her hair before running his teeth along the spot and she gasps. The sound makes Shawn moan and glance at her closed eyes before he removes himself, downing that rancid tequila shot and leaning forward to clasp the lime wedge in between his own lips. And as he’s getting it, he makes sure his lips brush her own just slightly before he uses his teeth to pluck it out of her mouth and suckle on the bitter fruit. When he stands to his full height again, smirking down at her, who’s closed her lips. She takes a deep breath before opening her eyes. They’re hazy and glazed and etched with pure sex as she stands up and moves so Shawn can sit down.

     If he wants to play that game still, she can put on her best poker face.

     Iris draws out her movements, playing it off as being drunk, but it’s all deliberate. She parts his legs for him, slotting her hips in between them before reaching behind him and to the bar to grab the salt shaker. She makes sure she leans forward slightly, pushing her cleavage together and in front of his face. She throws a glance at Shawn and he can’t seem to take his eyes off of her bare skin. She smiles to herself before grabbing the salt and standing straight in front of him. Even in her platforms and with Shawn sitting down, she isn’t even at the same height as him. But, she hopes her posture and confidence compensates for her shortness. Shawn watches her every movement, lips slightly parted and if he didn’t close them soon, he would be drooling. His eyes are dripping with intrigue and lust as he admires her figure in her tight silk dress. His fingers itch to run the full expanse of her bare legs, caressing her skin with the tips of his skin. He wants to set her on fire the way she’s set him on fire.

     Little does he know, she wants the same thing.

     She slowly moves the necklaces from his chest, to the side and resting on his silk shirt. His breath hitches in his throat as he watches Iris. She bends closer to him, eye level with his chest as she flutters her eyes to look up at him quickly. Her left eye drops into a wink before she returns to her placement of salt. She takes a deep breath before licking the middle of his chest and up to his Adam’s apple. She’s slower than Shawn was, taking her sweet precious time, teasing the living hell out of him. She presses her tongue hard in some spots and removes most of the pressure in others. She rests her free hand on one of Shawn’s pecs, steadying herself and feeling his breath and heartbeat picking up with each inch she licks up his skin. When she reaches his Adam’s apple, she bites down slightly, making Shawn groan at the contact before she quickly soothes it with a faint kiss. Shawn can’t help but think how soft and lush her lips are, pressing against his sweaty skin. At this angle, she can smell his cologne and she has to resist the urge to roll her eyes into the back of her head at how good he smells. He smells expensive and luxe and musky and she presses her thighs together slightly. It makes her think of sleeping in his sheets with him, how they’re coated with his scent. It makes her think of burying her head into his neck as he’s fucking into her.

     When she stands up straight again, she makes eye contact with Shawn. His eyes are hazy and drooping, but they never waver from her. She gives him a knowing smile, beginning to pour the salt down his chest and throat. He tilts his head back slightly, giving her access to the area on his neck that she had run her tongue along. She follows his movements, making sure the trail of salt reaches his Adam’s apple. When she’s done, she puts the salt back on the counter and grabs the tequila shot and the lime. She taps Shawn’s lips with the lime and he parts them even farther as she places the wedge between his teeth. He gives her a small wink, making her quirk her eyebrow at him. If he thinks he has the upper hand, he was about to be extremely incorrect.  

     She also hands him the shot glass and he looks at her with confusion, but takes it.

     “You ready, honey?” She asks, her own voice dripping with honey and sweetness, but her eyes saying anything but. He just nods, licking his lips.

     “Okay,” she trails off. She crouches slightly, resting her hands on his thick thighs. She drags her hands up his thighs slowly, making sure to scratch her fingernails to juxtapose the softness of her finger tips. She’s watching Shawn and Shawn is watching her. He can’t take his eyes off her. His chest begins to heave as her hands inch closer and closer to his groin, brushing the fabric just slightly and ghosting her fingertips along his strained cock and he moans out loud, but none of her friends hear. Her hands then begin to coast up his torso, brushing over his abdominals and up to his pecs. When her fingertips reach the taut skin, she digs her fingernails into him slightly before beginning to lick up the salt trail on his chest. His chest hairs tickle her lips and are rough against her tongue, but she’s closed her eyes and is basking in the way his body is responding to her. His thighs are tight, his abdominals are flexed and his cock is so unbelievably hard. His heart seems to be pounding out of his chest and his breath is uneven. She did all of this to him and she’s so proud of herself. When she reaches his Adam’s apple, she moves her hands to the sides of his neck and tangles her fingers in the curls at the nape. She gives a tug as she begins to suckle at the bobbing part of his throat. She can feel him groaning, or growling, at the sensation, the vibrations brushing along her lips.

     Iris eventually pulls back, nodding towards the shot glass that Shawn holds loosely in his hands at his side. His eyes had been shut and his head had been thrown back at her touch, but when she removes herself, he opens his eyes. His whiskey coloured pupils are gazing at her, completely blown and drunk and horny, but he watches her intently. He brings the shot glass up and she uses one of her hands to hold onto his wrist. Her touch on bare skin feels even more intense than the fire of her touching him through his jeans and silky top. He feels like every cell in his body is vibrating and he can’t stop watching her. She guides the shot glass, still grasped in his hand, to her lips. She wants Shawn to pour it down her throat and he’s more than happy to oblige. She parts her lips as he rests the bottom of the glass on her lower lip and tilts the tequila to spill into her mouth. She has her eyes closed on purpose as she downs the bitter alcohol, the warmth and saltiness of it so comforting to her. When there’s nothing left, she closes her lips and opens her eyes and swallows, making eye contact with Shawn as she does this. She notices his own throat bobbing as he gulps at the sight of her swallowing, his mind clearly in the same place as hers. He takes away the shot glass, setting it behind him as she leans forward and prepares to take the lime out of his mouth. But right as she’s about to pucker her lips around the fruit, he drops it from his mouth and lets his lips press onto hers. 

     Iris is surprised, but welcomes the touch of his lips against hers finally. His lips are as soft and plump as they look, tinted with the taste of salt and tequila and lime. Her head begins to spin and she knows it's not from the alcohol. His lips send a tingling to not only between her legs, but throughout her entire body. Her entire body is hot with fire and intensity, his touch setting something alight inside of her that she’s never felt before. It is so much more than desire, it is a longing that is finally being fulfilled after so many years on earth. It’s perfect to her. And Shawn can feel the perfection too. His entire body feels like it’s floating, not only from the relief that he feels about finally being able to kiss her, but feeling a connection he’s wanted for so long. She moves to slot her lips between his and he moves with her. But after she initiates the slotting, he completely takes over. He finally places his hands on her lips, pulling her impossibly closer to him and digging his fingertips into the fleshy spot. He moves their lips in sync, adding pressure with each movement of their lips against one another. Her one hand in his hair tangles even further, tugging slightly at the roots as her free hand fists his green top in between her palm. His hands wander to her lower back and then eventually the curve of her ass and lord, is it incredible. Both let out gasps and whines as Shawn kneads her flesh in between his hands.

     When they’re both out of breath, Iris is the first to break the kiss. Her lips are brushing against his slightly as her chest heaves and lets out puffs of air she didn’t know she was holding in. Shawn’s doing the same, his hands still resting on her ass and her hands still threaded into whatever she can grab onto, trying to ground herself. Both of their eyes are closed as they snap out of their little bubble, the music from the club spills into their ears and the whooping and cheering and shouts of her friends bleed into the music. Their skin is sticky with sweat and want as they break apart even farther. The lights of the club flash against their tinted skin and a few flashes from her friends cameras. 

     They don’t say anything originally, lost for words and a million and one thoughts flooding their minds as they try and process the intensity of the moment they just shared. But their minds both end up in the same place. If a kiss is that explosive, what could even more be like?

     “Wanna get out of here?” Shawn asks tentatively, opening his own eyes. Iris’s are closed and decorated in an eyeshadow look that he loves on her. The silver and black contrast against her olive toned skin and dark eyes. When her eyelashes flutter open and she’s looking at him, the confidence has subsided and she reveals a small piece of vulnerability as she replies.

     “You really want to?”

     “Of course I do,” Shawn smiles, moving to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. She smiles, her vulnerability and confidence mixing as she looks into his eyes and nods,

     “I thought you’d never ask.”

     Shawn stands up, pressing her tightly to him as he bends down and drops a peck to her forehead before grabbing her hand and excusing himself from her group of friends. She follows along, threading their fingers together and saluting to her friends as they whistle and laugh.

     As they weave their way through the crowd back to his bodyguard, she hopes that Shawn actually does want to see her again. Because what she felt when she kissed him... she needs to feel it for the rest of her damn life.

[rosyredlipstick]

lovesick (1\1)

AKA the conchell sick fic i’ve been dying to write 

The sun is shining, the breeze is nice, and Mitchell has not murdered his younger brother yet. 

These were all pleasant facts, especially for said brother in question.

Sebastian had insisted on after-school burgers after their hellish pre-finals week. Despite the fact Sebastian hadn’t attended a full school day in weeks, he seemed very insistent on the fact of his mental exhaustion due to the upcoming exams, and Mitchell hadn’t had nearly enough fight in him to disagree with the statement. Like a student who actually had been attending his classes regularly, he was dead in every way but literally. 

So, there they were - some nameless side of the road drive through that advertised the cheapest burgers on this side of Cali. 

“What are you doing tonight?” Sebastian took a messy bite of his burger, smearing mustard all along the side of his cheek and Mitchell physically had to resist the urge to reach out and wipe it off, tucking his hands underneath his legs instead.

“Bi-weekly Skype date with Connor.” Mitchell grinned, excited. He passed over a napkin, hoping Seb would actually get the hint. He didn’t, of course, and instead threw the crumpled napkin in the backseat.

Mitchell didn’t bother to conceal his sigh, instead only going back to his own burger.

“You guys are an old married couple, it’s disgusting.” Sebastian licked a trail of grease off his wrist.

Mitchell rolled his eyes. “Just because we’ve been dating longer than you’ve ever kept a hairstyle doesn’t mean we’re boring.” Mitchell blew a huff of air into his bangs, “Nothing is ever boring with that boy.”

Sebastian hummed, flicking through his latest dating app, apparently done with the conversation.

Mitchell finished his food, singing along softly to the age-old song playing on the radio, grateful that Mitchell was the one actually doing the driving this afternoon. Their odds of reckless driving went up significantly every time Sebastian got behind the wheel, and Mitchell never enjoyed it.

He drove them home, Sebastian poking at him every few minutes to just hurry up Mitchell jeez as Mitchell safety, legally kept the speed limit.

He got them back alive - always counted as a win when Sebastian was annoying him into oblivion - and the other boy rushed to grab his things and get upstairs.

His phone was already dinging with notifications - probably Connor’s warning text that his skype invitation was about to go through - and Mitchell booted up his laptop quickly. Their skype dates - every Wednesday and Friday, occasionally Saturday - were Mitchell’s favorite hours of the week.

He finally managed to log onto his laptop, getting comfortable and settled at his desk chair, and grinned at the immediate notification that popped up. Connor icon - grinning and flipping off the camera, Travis’s cropped out grin barely visible in the small photo - greeted him. Mitchell ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up a bit like he knew Connor went crazy over, and accepted the call.

“Hey!” Mitchell grinned, shifting closer to the camera. It took a moment for the blocky connection to settle,

“Hey babe.” Connor’s voice filtered out through the speakers, the sound weak and tiny. The video was dim - too dim - and Mitchell leaned into the camera, peering at the screen with careful eyes.

Connor was in bed, that was obvious, his curls even more of a mess than usual. Usually, Connor walked and jumped around during their Skype dates, incapable of keeping still, usually hanging off the back of the couch or jumping around the living room. It was an amusing habit, one Mitchell usually laughed and teased about, and that only made it more stranger as Connor buried his face in his blanket.

Connor’s skin was pale, that was obvious even through the screen and dark lighting, and his eyes drooped weakly even as he spoke.

“How was school, Mitch?” Connor’s voice was rough as he spoke around a yawn, wiping at his eyes.

Mitchell narrowed his eyes, “...Are you in your pajamas? Did, did you not go to school?” Mitchell made a face of horror, “Are you sick?”

“The doctor said to rest.” Connor told him, his tone edging on dismissive. “It’s just pneumonia.”

“Just?” Mitchell’s voice was high and shrill.

“I’m fine.” Connor mumbled into the screen. “Just…tired.”

Mitchell bit his lip, staring at the other boy with hardly concealed concern. “You should get some sleep, sweetheart. I’ll talk to you later, okay? We can make up our Skype date later.”

The lack of protest was startling – usually Mitchell’s attempts to end their late night calls ended with several minutes of drawn out goodbyes and whines. But the other boy hardly blinked back at him before yawning goodnight and hanging up, leaving Mitchell alone and staring at his computer screen.

Mitchell stared at the empty homescreen for a long moment, just blinking at his reflection.

“Aright.” He said out loud, waiting another moment before shoving himself up. He pulled his duffel from under the bed, the essentials already packed. He knew to be prepared at this point.

“Sebastian! Come here!” He called over his shoulder, throwing his bag onto his bed. He waited a few moments, grabbing his phone and charger in the time, and shoved them both into the empty side pocket of the duffel.

“Sup broseph?” Sebastian asked, leaning on the doorway, barely looking up from the frantic tapping away at his phone.

Mitchell already had his duffel bag unzipped, looking through what he had already stuffed in his bag, and considering what else he needed. “Connor’s sick and I’m gonna go take care of him – I’ll be back Sunday night. Can you cover for me with Maria and Jacques?”

Sebastian looked up from his phone at that, blinking a few times. “Wait, what? You’re what?”

“I’m visiting Connor.” Mitchell repeated, a bit impatiently.

“In…New York?” Sebastian clarified.

Mitchell huffed out a breath. “Yes. In New York. Because he’s sick. Can you cover for me with your parents or not?”

“I mean, yeah.” He shrugged, “I’ll tell them you’re spending the weekend at Naomi’s. But are you sure going to New York is like, the best idea?”

“You’re not going to talk me out of it.” Mitchell told him, looking for his jeans. Under his bed – great, they were probably dirty. He packed them anyways.

Sebastian held up his hands. “Hey, as a child of Aphrodite it’s basically a sin for me to try and talk you out of making this insanely adorable declaration of your love, but it’s a 40 hour drive. So. Consider that.”

“Who said I was going to drive?” Mitchell asked, throwing other his duffel bag. He began digging through his drawer, clothes flying everywhere in the process.

Sebastian huffed, “Still! That’s an expensive plane ticket.”

“Not a plane either.” He finally found what he was looking for, holding up a thin purple vial to the light, “I helped Lou with Micah’s birthday present in exchange for this baby. I was going to save it for our six month, but this is important.”

Sebastian gave him a judgmental look and Mitchell sighed, taking a moment to turn and explain.

“Listen Seb, Travis is a good brother but I am fully convinced he simply threw a bottle of cough medicine in Connor’s general direction and skipped town or something. Anyways, it’s Friday. I’ll come back Sunday night.” Mitchell shook the bottle, “There should be enough for two trips. If not, I’ll book a plane ticket.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, but began digging through his closet, hopefully to help him pack. “Fine, I’ll cover for you with the parents. But be careful not to sex him up so much when he’s sick, dear brother. I’ve been there, it’s not cute.”

“We’re not going to have sex!” Mitchell rolled his eyes, and paused. “Tonight. Probably.” Mitchell shrugged, “Not while he’s sick, at least.”

Sebastian gave him an incredibly dry look, reaching over and dumping a few condoms into his open duffel without breaking his gaze.

Seb zipped up the bag and shoved it in his chest. “Go before Maria gets home. Do you have his address?”

Mitchell nodded, peeling a post-it note off his wall and holding it up. “Right here. I’ll see you later, okay? I’ll Iris-message you tomorrow.”

Seb waved him off, pulling out his phone to probably call his thing of the week.

Mitchell held up the small vial to the light, studying the thick purple syrup. He trusted Lou, yeah, but…

Mitchell bit his lip, remembering the miserable flush on Connor’s cheeks, barely visible through the video chat. With this image in mind, he cracked the top and swallowed down a mouthful.

Mitchell spat the bitter taste out of his mouth, completely unprepared for how vile the potion tasted. Wasn’t magic supposed to be sweet?  

He adjusted the back hanging over his shoulder, staring up at the building in front of him. The potion had dropped him in a nearby alley, close enough that the surroundings were familiar enough for Mitchell to find his way. He quickly stopped by a nearby bodega , filling up a few bags full of supplies, and set out towards his building.

Mitchell had been to the shared Stoll apartment only once before, and has been much less interested in the space as they had been…preoccupied.

Mitchell shook the idea out of his head, shifting the crackling plastic bags over to one hand. The door was locked, most definitely. It was the middle of the day, Travis most likely out. He sighed. There was really only one choice.

The door clicked open easily, Mitchell glancing around before slipping the pins back in his pocket. He liked to be prepared, okay? It was nice to always have what you needed.

The apartment was cleaner than he expected nice open windows that set the sun gloss over the dark hardwood floor. He couldn’t even image the rent on a place this nice in New York City.

Just like he predicted, the apartment was nearly empty, Travis nowhere in sight. He headed towards the room he was pretty sure was Connor’s and shifted the bags over to one hand as he swung the door open.

Connor was there, in bed, sprawled across his mattress. He was shirtless, a shiny sheen to his skin. He barely lifted his head as Mitchell walked in, instead pushing his face into a pile of pillows. Mitchell crouched down next to him, a worried frown crossing his face.

“How did you get in?” Connor asked, his flushed face still buried into his pillow.

“Picked the lock.” Mitchell used one hand to smooth the other boy’s curls back from his forehead, frowning.

“That’s the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He declared, turning over on his back. He stared at Mitchell for a second, his eyes squinted and his voice drowsy. “What’s up?”

Mitchell held up the bags, smiling a bit. “I got you flu medicine, soup, and Gatorade.”

“Grape?” He asked hopefully, his eyes still closed and his face still buried in his pillow.

“Of course.” Mitchell answered easily, throwing down his duffel and grocery bags. “Here, drink some water before you fall back asleep. You’ll feel better, I promise.”

Connor did as told, draining the entire water bottle in one go before falling back into his pillows. “Night babe.”

Mitchell took the bottle from his loose fingers, “Night, darling.”

He took to cleaning up Connor’s room a bit, mostly just gathering up the loose crumbled tissues and taking out the trash. He threw in a load of laundry, knowing how much both boys detested the chore, and folded the pile on top of the dryer.

Cleaning always calmed him, soothed him in a way only complete order could. He wasn’t a neat freak or anything – he lived in a cabin with ten other teenagers – and his room back room was far from order – but it was always nice to work with his hands, and have something nice come out of it.

He moved onto the rest of the house next, wiping down the slightly sticky counters in the kitchen and throwing out some probably-sentient take-out.

Mitchell had just begun cleaning up the minimal mess in the living room – more tissues, a few plates left out – when he heard a few rough coughs from the direction of Connor’s room, and the bed creaking from obvious shifting.

He threw the dirty plates in the kitchen – a mental note in place to wash them later – and grabbed the grocery bags he came in with to check on the other boy.

“Hey, how ya feeling?” Mitchell asked, shifting through the bag to pull out the still-chilled Gatorade. He cracked the cap and held it out. But Connor, red-cheeked probably from his fever, only stared at him in bewilderment.

Connor blinked, sitting up and staring at him with wide eyes. He looked more surprised than Mitchell would have expected after speaking to him barely an hour ago.

“I…You’re here?”

Mitchell pressed the bottle into Connor’s hands, “Drink.” He ordered, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You’re not getting dehydrated on my watch.”

Connor was still blinking at him. “I…thought I was hallucinating. You’re, uh, you’re here. Wow, um. Hi.”

Mitchell smiled fondly at him, poking his arm. “Hey hun.”

Connor pushed himself up, his comforter falling to pool at his waist. “You’re actually here. We should – we should go do something. You’re here, we should have fun.”

Mitchell reached out, gently pushing the other boy back. Even from the soft touch of Mitchell’s fingertips, he could feel how hot and clammy the other boy’s skin was.

“Lay down.” Mitchell ordered softly. “I’ll be here all weekend. But first, you’re gonna have to focus on feeling better.”

“I feel fine.” Connor told him, despite his fluttering eyes and flushed skin. “Seriously, we shouldn’t waste this visit –“

“It’s not a waste if it’s for you.” Mitchell only told him, tipping back the water bottle a bit so Connor would actually drink it.

Connor took a long drink and passed it back. Mitchell smoothed back his curls, enjoying the way Connor leaned in heavily to his touch.

“Let’s take your temperature.” He pulled out the red bag he found in their bathroom, the white cross distinctly familiar as the first aid kits kept at camp. He found the thermometer easily, still in the plastic. He ripped it off, playing with the buttons for a moment. “Open your mouth, c’mon.”

Connor groaned, “You know, I usually love to hear those words from you. Now, not so much.”

Mitchell smiled at that, “It’ll only take a moment. Now, tongue up.”

He complied, making a scrunched up face that warmed Mitchell’s chest a bit. The thermometer beeped after a moment, the display glowing a soft blue.

Mitchell hummed. “102.1”

Connor fell back onto his pillows. “That’s…not good?”

“You’ll feel better when it goes down.” Mitchell told him instead.

“I have to pee.” Connor said after a moment, pushing himself up. He moved slowly, shoving off his blankets with weak hands, and settled his feet on the carpet, looking unsure.

Connor stood, wobbling worryingly for a moment. Mitchell was at his side in a second, his hands hovering over the other boy’s skin. “Do you need help?”

Connor frowned, “No, I don’t need –“ He paused, the flush in his cheeks paling. He fell forward, Mitchell’s hands catching him, and stumbled towards the bathroom.

“I’m going to be sick.” He gasped, before doing just that, barely making it to the toilet in time.

Mitchell pulled Connor’s curls back, using a rubber band to tie his curls back while rubbing circles into the other boys back.

Connor finished, coughing a few more times into the toilet as Mitchell stood, grabbing a dishtowel from under the sink and running it under the cold water. He had a water bottle within reach, thankfully, probably forgotten there as he was cleaning.

Connor wiped at his mouth, exhaustion in every line of his body as he fell back against the wall. “You’re the best Mitchell, and I’m so happy to see you, but you should go. This can’t be very fun for you.”

Mitchell passed over a wet cloth and water bottle, “I deal with sick kids all the time. If I couldn’t handle a little puke, there’s no way I could survive as a camp counselor.” Mitchell settled down next to him, the bathroom tile cold and hard under his damp palms. He smoothed back Connor’s messy curls, holding them out of his face as Connor wiped his face off. Connor reached for the mouthwash on the counter and Mitchell helped him lean over carefully and spit it into the shower drain.

“I haven’t eaten in like, two days. How is throwing up even possible.” Connor groaned, his head dropping down onto Mitchell’s shoulder. “This is horrible. I feel horrible.”

Mitchell hummed sympathetically, his arm coming up to curl around Connor’s shoulders. Connor’s cheek was hot against his skin, his breath huffing against Mitchell’s neck.

Mitchell ran his fingers through Connor’s curls, and pressed his dry lips to Connor’s heated forehead.

Mitchell took a deep breath, giving the other boy one more moment. “Brush your teeth and use the washroom. I’ll go put on a movie, come on.”

Connor looked up hopefully. “Monster Inc.?”

“Your favorite. Already set up and ready to go.” Mitchell grinned, pulling him up. He gave Connor a few minutes alone in the bathroom, listening to the faucet click on and off and the toilet flush as he leaned against Connor’s bedroom wall. It was only a few more minutes until the door swung open, revealing the other boy with much, much fresher breath.

Mitchell held out his arm, letting Connor come to him. The other boy leaned heavily on him, his arm coming up to hang off Mitchell’s waist.

Mitchell helped him to the couch, dropping him off easily while the other boy groaned and curled on the cushion. Mitchell gave him a fond look before speaking.

“You should try and drink some broth and crackers, see if you can keep it down.” Mitchell grabbed the fleece blanket off the arm chair and draped it over his legs, tucking in the sides like he always did for the younger kids.

“Food is probably the worst idea you’ve ever had.” He declared from his place on the couch, but he sat up slightly and stared at Mitchell with tired eyes. “Like, actually the worst.”

“Well, you’re gonna try and keep it down.” Mitchell told him sweetly, ripping open one of the instant soup packets he picked up from the store. It only took hot water and a minute in the microwave to make – and it was probably horrible high in sodium – but it was the same, familiar brand the camp store held, which he knew the other boy would appreciate.

Mitchell caught Connor peeking over the couch arm with interest, the heavy scent probably making its way over to the other boy already.

He smiled softly, adding a bit of spice to the soup. Hopefully, the spice would help clear out Connor’s congestion – it was always a popular trick with the sick Aphrodite kids. He quickly bowled it and made it back to the living room where the selection screen for the movie was already on loop. He had put in the DVD earlier when he was cleaning, already planning to persuade Connor into dragging his feet to the couch so Mitchell could clean up his room.

“Eat.” Mitchell instructed, smoothing out the blanket before passing over the warm bowl. He settled next to Connor, their bodies brushing, and reached for the remote.

Connor caught his wrist before he could press play, focusing intensely on the soup in his lap.

“What’s wrong?” Mitchell frowned, his hand coming up to brush Connor’s cheeks and forehead. “Is your fever bothering you? I can go grab an ice pack if you want.”

Connor glanced up at Mitchell, catching his hand before he could pull away. “Thank you for this.” Connor told him softly. “You know, Mom’s always busy with work and Travis is great but he’s horrible with sick people and…I don’t know. I haven’t had someone take care of me in…years.” Connor gave him a half-shrug, his eyes glassy. “It…means a lot to me, Mitchell. You being here.”

Mitchell blinked a few times. “Of course Connor. I…” Mitchell’s eyes flickered away and back in a nervous movement. “I love you. Of course.”

Connor smiled, the movement a bit weak and hazy. “I love you too, Mitchell.” He burrowed his face into Mitchell’s neck, “Tell me again when I’m not super gross and I promise at least like, three blowjobs are in order.”

“Will do.” Mitchell laughed, pressing the other boy a bit closer. He grabbed for the remote, flipping on the movie, and Connor was asleep – his bowl drained – before Boo made it into Sully and Mike’s apartment.

Mitchell finished watching the movie, keeping his laughter low at the familiar jokes. It was nice, having this. A familiar movie playing, a warm, sleepy, albeit sickly boy at his side, his arms curled around Mitchell’s waist.

Connor was already drooling onto Mitchell’s sleeve. At least he was mostly cute.

Before the movie was over - right before the scene that always had Mitchell sniffing into his sleeve - the lock in the door clicked and turned, and Mitchell glanced over in time to see Travis dunking through the doorway.

“Hey Mitchell.” Travis greeted, his voice casual. He held up the grocery bag dangling from his hand, “Got you some of that strawberry milk you love.”

Mitchell sighed, carefully pushing the sleeping boy off of him and standing.

“Of course you did. Because you knew I was here. Of course.” Mitchell answered in a breezy voice, collecting Connor’s empty soup bowl, fixing the blanket to settle across the other boy before walking over. “And keep your voice down, Connor’s sleeping.”

Travis nodded, wrinkling his nose. “Good. He was vomiting all night, it was disgusting.”

Mitchell rolled his eyes, almost hip-checking him as he dunked past to throw the dishes on the sink. He turned on the tap, warming up the water, and dumped a glob of soap on the sponge.

“How’s Katie?” He asked, because he really did enjoy the other girl’s presence, usually in the midst of some poorly thought through Stoll ‘adventure’.

Travis jumped on the counter, letting his feet hit the cabinets as they swung. “She’s bored. Living in Kansas can do that to you. I’m thinking about visiting her this weekend. She wants to pull a prank on one of her teachers and could use the backup, I think.”

Mitchell nodded slowly. “That’s…nice of you. When was the last time you two met up?”

“Two weeks ago. I missed her, thought why not.” Mitchell shot him a surprised look that had him laughing.

Travis winked at him, “Mom’s an airline stewardess. We fly free.”

Mitchell blinked, “Oh, yeah. I forgot. Well, that’s nice. Tell her I said hello and that she’s my favorite.”

“Will do.” Travis told him with a grin, turning his head so he could spy on his younger brother passed out on the couch. ”Monsters Inc.? How’d you know?”

Mitchell shrugged, scrubbing at a plate stain particularly hard. “He mentioned it once. It’s his favorite sick day movie.”

Travis raised his eyebrows in amusement. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been forced to watch it twice a year or so since we were kids. What’s yours?”

Mitchell snorted. “Spaceballs.” He shrugged at Travis’s laughter, rinsing off the bubbly dishes. “It’s a classic.”

“Can’t fight that. I always been more of a Good Burger kind of guy.”

Mitchell nodded in approval. That was one of Asher’s favorites, and he’d been forced to listen to the dialogue play in the background of their cabin for years. He finished up the dishes, feeling completely at home in the apartment, and tried not to bicker with Travis too loudly.

Later, his boyfriend would wake up lovingly tucked in in his own bed, Mitchell curled into his side, and he’d smile a bit too softly to be anything but lovesick.