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You think this is gonna work?
( hao says it incredulously, kind of laughing because it seems so fucking dumb, squeezing conditioner into a bowl of faint pink powder before setting it down on the counter and flopping down onto the closed lid of the toilet. honestly, it would probably be quicker and easier to just, like, mix it up himself and run it through his hair and be done with it — considering he's dyed his hair a billion times before, but sitting there with an ultra plush towel pulled tightly around his shoulders, fingers curled tightly to keep it closed at his neck, and looking up at koby putting on a pair of gloves a little too big for his hands, it's kinda ...
something. nice, he guesses. hao doesn't really do nice unless he wants something out of it, but koby wants to do something nice for him ... for some reason? because hao nutted in him? because he just feels like doing something nice? there's a prickly kind of feeling trickling up his chest and it's annoying. so sure, whatever, he'll leave his fate in the hands of a hair dye virgin. )
I'm putting a lot of trust in you, y'know.
( hao says it incredulously, kind of laughing because it seems so fucking dumb, squeezing conditioner into a bowl of faint pink powder before setting it down on the counter and flopping down onto the closed lid of the toilet. honestly, it would probably be quicker and easier to just, like, mix it up himself and run it through his hair and be done with it — considering he's dyed his hair a billion times before, but sitting there with an ultra plush towel pulled tightly around his shoulders, fingers curled tightly to keep it closed at his neck, and looking up at koby putting on a pair of gloves a little too big for his hands, it's kinda ...
something. nice, he guesses. hao doesn't really do nice unless he wants something out of it, but koby wants to do something nice for him ... for some reason? because hao nutted in him? because he just feels like doing something nice? there's a prickly kind of feeling trickling up his chest and it's annoying. so sure, whatever, he'll leave his fate in the hands of a hair dye virgin. )
I'm putting a lot of trust in you, y'know.
I regret a few specific choices I made. But no. I know what I want and what I don't want. That's valuable.
[ So easy to talk about it in the past tense when he's barely seen him for a couple weeks. Anyway, ]
Nothing about this place is under our control. That doesn't mean we should ignore its blessings. What are you afraid of?
[ So easy to talk about it in the past tense when he's barely seen him for a couple weeks. Anyway, ]
Nothing about this place is under our control. That doesn't mean we should ignore its blessings. What are you afraid of?
[Koby is scrunching his fingers, trying to get used to the feeling of the gloves -- a texture he isn't used to, not leather or cloth, but some sort of clingy plastic -- but he pauses long enough to give Hao a flat look where he's perched on the toilet.] I dyed half my rug pink as an experiment. Yes, I'm sure.
[More or less -- fur isn't the same as hair, and the roots along the part of Hao's hair are darker than the creamy, champagne-hued rug in front of the fireplace in his room. Still, the result had been vivid, a bright, florescent, clearly artificial shade of pink that smelled faintly of lemons, so it stands to reason that it'll mellow itself out, right? Besides, if Hao keeps moping around the library, Koby's going to lose his mind.
Plus it's...a nice thing to do. Koby has his books, his quest for knowledge to keep him occupied, like Zoro has his training and Nami her maps and Sanji his cooking and Luffy the care and keeping of all of them. Hao is more of a mystery, his desires and motivations tangled up in the sharp-toothed grin that sends phantom throbs of stinging, giddy pleasurepain from that place on Koby's neck every time he sees it. He deflects, he insults, he pushes and teases, and the one thing he's expressed a desire for is hair dye, of all things.
So. Koby's finding a way. Because nobody deserves to have the one thing they ask for denied. He grabs the toothbrush he'd found packaged beneath the sink, clean and unused, the closest thing he could find to the brushes in the eight or so tutorials he'd found online, and starts mixing the conditioner with the several packets of pink powder] It's not going to kill you, you don't need to be dramatic. Hold that towel closed, though.
[More or less -- fur isn't the same as hair, and the roots along the part of Hao's hair are darker than the creamy, champagne-hued rug in front of the fireplace in his room. Still, the result had been vivid, a bright, florescent, clearly artificial shade of pink that smelled faintly of lemons, so it stands to reason that it'll mellow itself out, right? Besides, if Hao keeps moping around the library, Koby's going to lose his mind.
Plus it's...a nice thing to do. Koby has his books, his quest for knowledge to keep him occupied, like Zoro has his training and Nami her maps and Sanji his cooking and Luffy the care and keeping of all of them. Hao is more of a mystery, his desires and motivations tangled up in the sharp-toothed grin that sends phantom throbs of stinging, giddy pleasurepain from that place on Koby's neck every time he sees it. He deflects, he insults, he pushes and teases, and the one thing he's expressed a desire for is hair dye, of all things.
So. Koby's finding a way. Because nobody deserves to have the one thing they ask for denied. He grabs the toothbrush he'd found packaged beneath the sink, clean and unused, the closest thing he could find to the brushes in the eight or so tutorials he'd found online, and starts mixing the conditioner with the several packets of pink powder] It's not going to kill you, you don't need to be dramatic. Hold that towel closed, though.
I see. [Again, Koby being physically there means that he can't hide the flat, eyebrow-arching skepticism of his expression.]
I promised Quentin that if he ever left here, I'd find a way to go after him. I wouldn't let him be alone.
I'm afraid of not being able to keep that promise.
I promised Quentin that if he ever left here, I'd find a way to go after him. I wouldn't let him be alone.
I'm afraid of not being able to keep that promise.
[ Shut those eyebrows up Koby, this isn’t about him! ]
Maybe not immediately. I know you don’t believe the same things I do about what all this is, but I believe you will both end up in the same place, eventually.
Maybe not immediately. I know you don’t believe the same things I do about what all this is, but I believe you will both end up in the same place, eventually.
Edited 2024-08-19 17:49 (UTC)
[ koby is perfect in all ways, their bodies heavy and burning together, his cock aching and twitching against every pulse of koby's dripping cunt. but the kiss is what does it, makes him moan heavy and low into the other man's mouth, chasing the taste of them and chasing for more even though he's molded and pressed against koby's back.
he wants to face him, wants to devour him again already even though his own body is wracked with sensitivity. it doesn't stop him though, from dragging away, chest pressed against the other's back, but his dick slips free. it's short lived, what for the way quentin reaches and encourages koby onto his his back. he can't be away from him long, refuses to, and slots himself between koby's thighs again, nudging inside him again, feeling the wet rush of where they meet and humming low.
the sheets are soaked beneath them, their bodies sweaty and sticky, but it changes nothing about the way he kisses koby, slow and deep, licking languidly into his mouth and chasing the taste of him on the boy's tongue. he slides one arm under koby's head, pillowing it against his forearm so his fingers can tangle in his hair again, the other braced on the bed so that he can grind his hips down against koby once again. ]
So good.
[ he breathes against koby's mouth, nudging their noses together and chasing little kisses over his lips. ] Wanted to see your face. [ a little breathless still, hazy in the afterglow and the simmering burn of more. ]
Missed you.
he wants to face him, wants to devour him again already even though his own body is wracked with sensitivity. it doesn't stop him though, from dragging away, chest pressed against the other's back, but his dick slips free. it's short lived, what for the way quentin reaches and encourages koby onto his his back. he can't be away from him long, refuses to, and slots himself between koby's thighs again, nudging inside him again, feeling the wet rush of where they meet and humming low.
the sheets are soaked beneath them, their bodies sweaty and sticky, but it changes nothing about the way he kisses koby, slow and deep, licking languidly into his mouth and chasing the taste of him on the boy's tongue. he slides one arm under koby's head, pillowing it against his forearm so his fingers can tangle in his hair again, the other braced on the bed so that he can grind his hips down against koby once again. ]
So good.
[ he breathes against koby's mouth, nudging their noses together and chasing little kisses over his lips. ] Wanted to see your face. [ a little breathless still, hazy in the afterglow and the simmering burn of more. ]
Missed you.
[Eyebrows continue, he sees you deflecting, Timothy, but he has a sleepy Quentin on him so he isn't gonna push it.]
I don't, but I wish
Sometimes I wish I did.
That I didn't lie awake wondering about what might happen if we go back to our own times and worlds and just
Forget.
Don't tell him.
Please.
I don't, but I wish
Sometimes I wish I did.
That I didn't lie awake wondering about what might happen if we go back to our own times and worlds and just
Forget.
Don't tell him.
Please.
Why would you forget?
I won't. That's not my place. But I could have this exact conversation with him, you know.
I won't. That's not my place. But I could have this exact conversation with him, you know.
That can't happen.
[ It isn't an option, and he won't consider it, and if you make him, he'll throw up, and the commotion will wake Quentin. He looks nauseous. ]
I'm nearsighted, not blind.
[ It isn't an option, and he won't consider it, and if you make him, he'll throw up, and the commotion will wake Quentin. He looks nauseous. ]
I'm nearsighted, not blind.
He's sweet to everyone, so it's not as obvious. But he's still here constantly. He looks at you like you're the most precious thing in the world.
[Oh god, he's red-faced again, but it's -- worse now. Here come the rationalizations:]
He IS sweet to everyone, that's just how he is.
And he's here because I have nightmares when I sleep alone and I told him about them and
It helps. That's all.
[Because that's...less gay, somehow?]
And he looks at sunrises and the lake and breakfast and the microwave like that it's not
He's just
I'm not
I'm me. I know what I am. I'm just me.
He IS sweet to everyone, that's just how he is.
And he's here because I have nightmares when I sleep alone and I told him about them and
It helps. That's all.
[Because that's...less gay, somehow?]
And he looks at sunrises and the lake and breakfast and the microwave like that it's not
He's just
I'm not
I'm me. I know what I am. I'm just me.
I've been here for two weeks. He knows you're not alone, he comes anyway.
I think he likes you better than the microwave, Koby.
I think he likes you better than the microwave, Koby.
Well, that could mean anything.
Okay, yes, better than the microwave, obviously, but
That doesn't mean he
I mean, I don't doubt he's very fond of me and has been a very encouraging emotional support and maybe I've done something similar, I don't know?
I don't know.
Okay, yes, better than the microwave, obviously, but
That doesn't mean he
I mean, I don't doubt he's very fond of me and has been a very encouraging emotional support and maybe I've done something similar, I don't know?
I don't know.
It means he's doing it because he wants to.
I know it's overwhelming. And probably unusual, for you sailors.
I know it's overwhelming. And probably unusual, for you sailors.
[Predictably, there is a soft, whining sound of protest when Quentin pulls back, when his cock slips free -- not yet, not enough, not done yet -- but then Koby's being nudged to his back, and he lets his shaky, trembling legs give, heedless of the damp cling of the sheets to his back, his thighs, spreading them wide, eagerly. He grabs at Quentin, clumsily, tugs him closer and kisses over his cheek, his nose, lips parting on a moan against the corner of his mouth when he nudges back inside, settles between Koby's quivery thighs like he was made to be there. Sensitive, breathless, he opens his mouth to each languid, lazy kiss, smiles into them, half-expecting Quentin to settle heavy and warm against him.
But he shifts, he moves, still hard enough inside Koby that his oversensitive body pulses, clenches, drips onto the soaked sheets, and one shift of his hips has him gasping, shuddering, back arching up, seeking that angle again. Quentin's -- not done yet, not quite, the texting and the heated coupling of moments before not enough. The realization makes Koby laugh breathlessly, arms up around Quentin's neck, holding him close enough that the gently, rhythmic grind of his hips hits just right, stirs that slow-glowing ember of pleasure back up towards a flame.]
You m-missed me? [Still a little slurred, still trembly with aftershocks, fingers seeking out the sweat-slick curls at the back of Quentin's neck, tangling into them, chest hitching at the slowly-building sparks of pleasure.] M'right here. Not going anywhere. [It's the endorphins -- a word Koby knows now from a few too many biology books, from reading and studying pleasure and sex like it can somehow explain what happens when he's spread out in the sheets, when he feels hands on his body, on all the places he believed nobody would ever want, when this man kisses him. It hasn't, yet -- but his face is raw in it's pure adoration, in the worshipful way his free hand comes to cradle the side of Quentin's face.] I'm not going anywhere.
But he shifts, he moves, still hard enough inside Koby that his oversensitive body pulses, clenches, drips onto the soaked sheets, and one shift of his hips has him gasping, shuddering, back arching up, seeking that angle again. Quentin's -- not done yet, not quite, the texting and the heated coupling of moments before not enough. The realization makes Koby laugh breathlessly, arms up around Quentin's neck, holding him close enough that the gently, rhythmic grind of his hips hits just right, stirs that slow-glowing ember of pleasure back up towards a flame.]
You m-missed me? [Still a little slurred, still trembly with aftershocks, fingers seeking out the sweat-slick curls at the back of Quentin's neck, tangling into them, chest hitching at the slowly-building sparks of pleasure.] M'right here. Not going anywhere. [It's the endorphins -- a word Koby knows now from a few too many biology books, from reading and studying pleasure and sex like it can somehow explain what happens when he's spread out in the sheets, when he feels hands on his body, on all the places he believed nobody would ever want, when this man kisses him. It hasn't, yet -- but his face is raw in it's pure adoration, in the worshipful way his free hand comes to cradle the side of Quentin's face.] I'm not going anywhere.
Nothing.
[ Barely above just mouthing it. ]
Just that you move around a lot. "Someone in every port," you know.
Do you want me to back off? I didn't realize I'd be interrupting a honeymoon.
[ Barely above just mouthing it. ]
Just that you move around a lot. "Someone in every port," you know.
Do you want me to back off? I didn't realize I'd be interrupting a honeymoon.
I know, I'm just teasing.
But I mean it, Koby. If you want it to be serious, I can figure something else out, it's a big house.
But I mean it, Koby. If you want it to be serious, I can figure something else out, it's a big house.
Just the every port thing. The rest of it is completely true 😊
That’s how it’s always been for me.
[ they both know damn good and well Tim’s only ever been serious about one person, but that's not the point. ]
I felt bad just texting with Quentin, when I was with Hawk. For a minute, I thought that was why he was leaving. “Room for other people” isn’t done, where we’re from.
That’s how it’s always been for me.
[ they both know damn good and well Tim’s only ever been serious about one person, but that's not the point. ]
I felt bad just texting with Quentin, when I was with Hawk. For a minute, I thought that was why he was leaving. “Room for other people” isn’t done, where we’re from.
[Have a scowl, Tim, and a meaningful look at one of the nearby decorative pillows.]
I know it isn't. We're from very different times.
Did you really? Is that what he said?
If what you're saying Quentin feels is true -- and I'm not saying it is, so stop smiling -- then him enjoying himself with other people isn't going to change that. Because it hasn't, yet.
People are complex enough to feel multiple ways about multiple people I think.
I know it isn't. We're from very different times.
Did you really? Is that what he said?
If what you're saying Quentin feels is true -- and I'm not saying it is, so stop smiling -- then him enjoying himself with other people isn't going to change that. Because it hasn't, yet.
People are complex enough to feel multiple ways about multiple people I think.
No, he didn’t, but his explanation didn’t make any sense, so i thought it was something I’d done. It wasn’t. I was just scared.
Won’t it? You can have all the love in the world in your heart, but only so much time and energy. If it were me, I’d want to give my partner all of it.
Won’t it? You can have all the love in the world in your heart, but only so much time and energy. If it were me, I’d want to give my partner all of it.
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