Who: Tony W and Kent Brightstar What: Watching Art & Soul, the hottest teen drama on TV, and discussing a career possibility, and then some adult activities. When: Tuesday night, April 16 (backdated) Where: Kent's room, The Bunkhouse Warnings: YES, LOTS. Sex. Consensual biting. Also feelings.
Things were getting steamy, literally, in the shower room as he moved through billowing clouds unerringly toward the only other person in the room, who was leaning against the wall with his head hanging low, his hands dangling and dripping. Red-tinted water swirled toward the drain below his feet. He glanced up, and for a moment their eyes caught and held, sparking with intense pain and even more intense need.
"You've been in here a while. Thought you might need some help," he said, and stepped forward, his hands going to take the taller boy's. The blood -- Velia's blood -- mingled between their fingers.
He pulled in a ragged breath. "Avery, I..."
"Shh." He reached up and pulled the curtain closed around them. "Don't talk, Leon. All you need to do right now is feel."
They stared at one another for a long, aching moment, and then reached for each other in the same moment; they kissed passionately, desperately, and the music swelled, the camera panning out on their entwined silhouettes behind the curtain...
Sitting on the floor of Kent's room with his head on his boyfriend's shoulder while they watched his show, Tony sighed happily. "High school was not actually like that," he commented, and tilted his head to grin at Kent. "I wish, though."
The stony look on Kent's face hardened imperceptibly as he pressed his lips tightly together. He was attempting not to make color commentary, more for his own sake than Tony's. While he could see the appeal--and he could really see the appeal right now (he had half a mind to offer to drag Tony into the shower right then and there)--he couldn't help the laugh that erupted from him. "God, no! Mm-mm, never. I was twelve when I graduated, so hard pass from me."
Tony laughed right back at him, squeezing his arm around Kent's waist. "Whatever, man. For those of us who were whatever the opposite of a super-advanced genius is, having that much sex in high school was the dream." He twisted his neck around so he could kiss at Kent's jaw, open-mouthed, scraping his teeth just slightly across the dark stubble there. "Do you like this show at all, or is it just not your thing, babe?"
While he wanted to shrug, Kent didn't dare to, not if it meant dislodging Tony even in the slightest from doing that again. He bit back a moan, but only out of sheer force of will. "I can understand the draw," he said slowly, extending more of his throat to the other man. "It really is sexy as hell. But high school for me? It was never like that. I never wanted it to be like that. Or maybe I did, but I knew it wasn't possible. Not for me. So, yeah. Maybe I get a little weird about things like this. I try not to think too hard about it, which usually results in me devoting hours to the subject. And anyway," he muttered, a touch mutinously, "Las pasiones is better."
"Undisputedly," Tony agreed, and nuzzled into Kent's pleasingly-scratchy jaw. He found a soft spot on his throat to bite and lick, and devoted himself to that for a moment while he considered. He had something to tell Kent that he wasn't exactly nervous about, but he wasn't sure how to bring it up.
He sat up a moment later and reached out to tap his hovering tablet, pausing the playback of the recorded episode. Before Kent could protest too much about him moving, he turned and swung a leg over his boyfriend to straddle his lap and grinned down at him. "To be fair, even for those of us who were actually teenagers in high school, nobody had an experience like the show. I mean, next to all the stalking, attempted murder, ancient blood curses, werewolf teachers, mysterious hidden rooms, accidental incest, and potions addictions, kids getting frisky in the locker room after hours is probably the most relatable thing on there." He brushed Kent's hair back, burying his fingers in the dark strands. "So… okay, I've got something to tell you. About this show. And I don't want you to laugh, okay?"
At this point, Kent was a completely pliant mass of jelly, especially now that he had a lapful of his boyfriend. His hands had gone immediately to his hips, and then trailed higher, over his waist and then to his lower back. Completely deadpan, he quipped, "See, the only difference there for me was the oversexed teenagers. All the rest? Totally legit. Stalking, murder, blood curses. Just trade in the accidental incest-ew-for a student-teacher scandal, et voila!" He leaned up to graze his lips over Tony's jaw, but pulled back to look at him with a raised brow. "I'm trying to work out if I should be offended that you think I'd laugh at you, or hurt that you evidently think I wouldn't support and encourage you."
Tony smiled down at him, charmed. "You don't even know what it is yet, you might want to laugh. I'm just warning you here. But thanks, babe, that's sweet." He tilted his head down to meet Kent's lips in a soft kiss. "So… while Cate and I were in San Francisco I met Orrin Holloway. You know, the showrunner? He's famous, you can look him up. Anyway, he was at this Flyboys party because his wife's nephew is one of the rookies. The Holloways are an old Quidditch family but I guess the kid is one of the few that chose the right sport." He grinned, shifting on Kent's lap to melt a little closer in, the hand that wasn't tangled in his hair landing on his chest to touch him absently. "So anyway. Kris -- that's one of my teammates -- she knows I'm a fan of the show, so she introduced me, and he looked at me and said 'Rafe DiAngelo!'" He looked down at Kent expectantly for a reaction.
A faint smile lingered after that kiss, but Kent still managed to follow the winding trail of Tony's story without difficulty. The name sparked a vague memory of something he'd heard his sister talk about to one of her friends when they'd met up for lunch a few months back. His brows knit and then cleared again. "Isn't that… the dead brother of what's-his-face?"
Tony beamed down at him proudly. "Yes! Well, no, he's not dead, but he got expelled and then vanished. Gabe's brother. Gabe is the cute one with the -- you know, that doesn't matter. So anyway, he wants me to be in the show, as Rafe. Orrin does. He was pretty intense about it. And…" He shrugged, breaking out in a grin. "I think it would be amazing. Like, how hard could acting be, right? Somebody tells you what to say and you say it. Emily Vang, she used to be my social media manager for the Flyboys, said I'd be a natural, and she could help manage the press and everything, because I've got a ton of fans and… you know, Juan Esteban Navarro never tried acting before he went on Las pasiones, and now look at him."
Tony trailed his fingers across Kent's chest, watching his face. "It's nothing solid yet. Orrin's got to talk to the scriptwriters and the producers, but he said he's been wanting to cast Rafe before the end of the season and he thinks my face is perfect. And it would just be like one episode or something, not like a big role. But… I don't know, do you think it's stupid to try it? With everything with Nat, and you and Catey, and it would be a lot of attention. The show's huge. But I am trying to figure out what I want to do with my life, you know? And you know how much I like my dramas. And I might be good at something other than Quodpot and tour guiding. Maybe I'm good at acting."
It sounded like Tony had spent a lot of time thinking about this, maybe even justifying it in his head. Kent loved that about him. For all the confidence that he exuded on a normal basis, sometimes there were tiny slivers of doubt that just barely poked through. "You just said it yourself, babe." His lip curled back as he made a face at himself. "It sounds weird when I say it. Words sound so much better when they come from you. And you use them all the time with the groups here. You do your job, and you're on all the time-- you're a natural. Ergo, you're going to be a fantastic actor. They'd be idiots not to cast you."
Tony smiled, relieved and buoyed by that response. "Yeah, I mean… right? I'm so good at talking. And that plus being hot is basically ninety percent of being an actor, right?" He laughed and leaned down to kiss him again, cupping the back of Kent's head in his hand, and when he pulled back again his expression was half teasing, half fond. "And you're not just saying that because it's what's gonna get you laid, right? Because I'd probably still sleep with you even if you told me it was a terrible idea and I was going to suck. Probably."
"Sadly," he said when he was released from that amused kiss, and still with that same smile, "I don't think you're wrong about the hotness factor. Just look at any TV series produced in North America, magical or otherwise. You'd think we were all nines and tens--which, let's face it, you're at least a fifty, and how dare you break the curve for the rest of us! So rude." Kent stuck his tongue out at Tony for a tiny second. "But, no, the thought hadn't even entered my head. My motivations were entirely innocent until just now. I hope you're satisfied with your corruption."
Tony gave his best dirty smirk at that, which was quite dirty. "Not yet." He ran his fingers down Kent's chest, dragging the fabric of his shirt down a couple inches. "But you can satisfy me later." His fist closed in Kent's hair, tipping his head back, and he looked down at him for a moment, studying his face like he'd never seen it before. "You're gorgeous, you know," he told him after a minute. "You know how Catey just… glows? You're exactly the same, only with you it's just dark, and hot, and really damn intense. It makes me want to just grab you and hold you and not--" Tony breathed in, and sharply out through his nose. "I dunno, baby, I've probably seen too many of these dramas." He chuckled and released his hair, leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose. "All those desperate romances. Maybe if I get to go on Art & Soul, I'll have some kind of romance. But I promise not to think they're anywhere near as gorgeous as you."
Kent found himself breathless on two counts, one right after the other. There was the way that Tony's eyes had been on him, the easy command of his fingers shifting him just so, and then the words he'd said. He blinked at the sudden change in his tone, and reached up to cup his cheek, drawing him close again. "Wait… 'Not' what? Grab me and hold me and not-what? Because chances are--me too. Tony, I--" It was his turn to break off, to kiss his jaw lightly and then settle back against the edge of his bed. "Even if you do get a romance, you do realize it'll be doomed, right? She'll have amnesia and secretly already be married. Or he'll be the royal in hiding who has to go back to his country, so your love can never be." He affected a rather convincing sad face. "Que lastima."
"Mm-hm," Tony agreed, drawing his fingers up Kent's arm to cover his hand with his own. "That's usually how it goes. Either that or I'll die tragically. Maybe in a broom crash. You think I could request that?" He grinned and followed Kent as he leaned back against his bed, shifting forward to kiss his cheek, his jaw, his temple. "I've got practice at making people think I died in broom crashes. I could do my own stunts."
He was absolutely ignoring that first question, because he didn't fully know how he'd intended to end that sentence, and joking and making out was just a lot easier than figuring out whether he'd started to say something serious there.
There was that smile again, the one that only Cate and Tony got to see--fond and content. His eyes closed briefly under the gentle feel of the other man's lips on his skin. "While that sounds like a marketable skill, I know a few dozen people who would rather you not. Chief among them might be Vang and Holloway, I'd say, if only for studio insurance issues." Kent captured his lips again and wound his fingers into Tony's hair, holding him there for a moment. When he pulled back, he was breathing hard, lips pink and slick. "And besides, if anything were to happen to you, how on earth could I be expected to make sure you were satisfied? I can't say that I find a persistent vegetative state all that sexy."
The second it was out of his mouth, Kent regretted it, and he went tense, watching Tony's reaction carefully. It was an awful thing to have said, all things considered.
Tony laughed; being a Quodpotter meant having a terrible sense of humor when it came to traumatic injuries. "What, you mean you'd break up with me if I got coma-ed again? Geez, for some people any little thing is a dealbreaker. I bet Catey would be right there holding my pale, tragic hand in the hospital." He sat up to grin down at Kent, and only then registered that he was tense underneath him. "Hey, what's wrong? I'm joking, babe. You two should go off and enjoy yourselves the second I end up like that. I wouldn't want you to waste your time sitting around in the hospital crying over me if I'm not even awake to enjoy the drama."
He relaxed by degrees, Tony's easy way a readily accepted distraction. Kent knew it was for what it was, and Tony was the rare soul that he didn't mind it from, that he relished it even. A chance to let go, to be drawn out of his own head for a bit. "You're not getting rid of us that easily, Wyrzykowski. If we did that, I know you'd lord it over us as soon as you woke up." He pushed at Tony's shoulder, but it was only so he could push them both up onto his bed and into a more horizontal position. "Just for giggles, maybe I should show you what you'd be missing if you decided to be coma-man again."
Tony went willingly, shimmying back into Kent's bed and stretching out to his full length on his side with his head propped up on one hand, his other one falling naturally to Kent's waist, delving under his shirt to stroke warm skin. "Oh yeah?" He smiled at him, watching Kent's handsome face as he ran his thumb up and down his side. "Considering Nat and Stevie would murder me with their bare hands if I ended up like that again, I'm gonna try to avoid doing that. But you're a good incentive to stay conscious, too, babe." He tugged at his lower lip between his teeth, locking his eyes on Kent's. "I think -- I'm not sure, but I think acting is actually less dangerous than Quodpot. I dunno, I could be wrong."
A little hum of approval left his throat, a shiver racing down his spine with the way his boyfriend--still amazing, would never not be a pleasant shock--was touching him. Kent tracked that bitten lip in rapt fascination and pulled himself closer. His hands skated over his side and across his arm, coming over his shoulder to rest against the side of his neck. "The only thing it might be more dangerous for is your ego," he teased. "But it's fine--not just anyone can carry the crown of the Tony W."
"That's true," Tony agreed, deadpan and with every indication of being completely serious. He slid his hand up Kent's side, pushing his shirt up. "I'm literally the only me. Nobody else compares, and don't you forget it." He grinned, losing every bit of his seriousness. "Being famous is pretty great, you know, babe? You get pretty people all over the place just throwing their clothes off for you." He tugged meaningfully at the fabric under his hand. "Speaking of…"
"Not even an Obliviate could take that away from me." It was supposed to be a joke, but as Kent said it was far more real than he'd intended. Couldn't be helped, and anyway he was pretty sure that they would soon be distracting each other well enough. Words could just be words. He could feel what he wanted and never speak their truth.
Even if he complied with Tony's hinted request--and quickly too--Kent still managed to turn the removal of his shirt into something of a show, especially considering that he had to curl up onto his side just to be able to tug it over his head. And curl he did. With no hands. The muscles there jumped and flexed as he threw the shirt off the side of the bed and then slowly eased himself back down, now supporting himself on an elbow and all but looming over Tony. "Does this make me pretty people? I'd like to be able to keep up--" he nipped at his lower lip before kissing the offended spot--"keep you interested."
Tony was busy devouring Kent with his eyes as he got rid of his shirt, his gaze hot and avid on all that exposed skin and the muscles flexing as he levered himself upright. His eyes fluttered closed at that bite -- maybe Njall had been right after all that he was fixated -- and he reached up without conscious thought to touch him, dragging his fingertips up over Kent's abs, up to his chest, tracing the curve of his pecs like he could see him just with his touch. "I told you, you're gorgeous," he told him, his voice gone husky. "And if I'm ever not interested then check my pulse, baby, because I'd have to be dead not to want you." He snaked his arms up over Kent's shoulders, tugging him down over his body as Tony rolled onto his back. "I want you right now." He lifted his head and kissed his lips with pretty good aim for still having his eyes closed, a hot, slow, lingering kiss as one hand meandered down Kent's back to slide under the waist of his jeans. He rocked his hips up, rubbing against him in a way that wasn't quite satisfying with all the layers of fabric between them, but the friction was good anyway, and he pulled away to take in a shuddering breath. "I want -- god, anything. Everything. Let's fuck now."
"I like now," Kent agreed, low and rumbling, like a growl of distant thunder, and wasted no time in reaching down to flick the button open on his own jeans and then Tony's. He got distracted by the chance to run his hand under the Quodpotter's shirt, mapping his stomach with questing fingers. He leaned down to kiss Tony again before blazing a fiery trail of lips and tongue and grazing, nipping teeth down his throat. His boyfriend was wearing too much, but it seemed as though Kent had quite forgotten how magic worked. Lust had already soaked his brain through, but beneath that was this tiny exuberant spark that very much wanted desperately for it to be known that this (perhaps sadly) was his longest relationship to date. Tucked into Tony's neck--where he seemed intent on testing the true efficacy of over-the-counter bruise paste--he muttered, "Definitely a big fan of fucking now."
It was a true dilemma: Tony needed to be naked five minutes ago, and he also needed Kent's teeth in his neck like he was some kind of especially sexy vampire and Tony was his extremely willing (and demanding) victim. He buried his fingers in Kent's hair to keep him right there, simultaneously trying to lift his hips so he could shove his pants down, but they were too entangled. "Dangit," he mumbled after a few moments of valiant struggle, and reluctantly shoved Kent off of him. His neck already felt hot and bruised, and he shivered as the air hit that spot, feeling very cool in contrast.
He wasted no time in shimmying his way out of his jeans and boxers and throwing them onto the floor, and sat up for a second to rid himself of his shirt too. "Now," he repeated, and hooked his fingers into Kent's belt loops to shove his jeans down as well. "Get back here, I need--" Rather than waste breath on words that could have been better spent elsewhere, Tony tangled his fingers in Kent's hair again and drew his head back down, turning his head to give him access to the other side of his neck.
There was a tiny scramble of movement--this was all utilitarian and zero finesse--as Kent got the rest of his clothes off. He didn't even mind not getting to fully enjoy the view, not when Tony was like this: insistent and determined and impatient. His lips curved into a dark smile, a wolf's grin that pressed right into his pulse point. He nipped there, then traced it with just the teasing tip of his tongue. But that was just a touch of torment, a preview. Next breath, he was there, sucking hot warmth into that soft skin with just the hint of stubble. He sank his teeth in with a groan that was far more growl than moan.
His hips weren't still either. Oh, no, they moved with definite intent, especially now that there was nothing but air between them. Kent's hands were restless, roving over any skin he could reach that wouldn't pull him away from the salt skin that drove him a little (a lot) crazy. The tug of fingers in his hair sparked little ripples of tingling pain that shot straight down. A whimper left him, but he didn't let up at all. Oh, no, he just went in all that much harder.
There was something about teeth on his throat that shorted out Tony's brain and left him a mindless, shuddering mess with no higher reasoning skills. Everything was heat and brilliantly shocking pain and the pure need that came with it, and Kent knew perfectly how to work him and pull gasps and moans out of him. His fingers tightened in Kent's hair, his nails digging into his scalp and clawing a hot path down his back as he made a desperate attempt to meld his body right into Kent's. It probably wasn't possible to do that, at least not without some heavy-duty, dangerous, illegal transfigurations, but logic had nothing to do with the deep, burning need he had right now to get inside his skin.
"Oh, god," he got out, shaky and choked. He hooked his legs around Kent's thighs, matching his rhythm without any input from his conscious mind as they rutted together, fast and messy. "Baby, please, I need-- need you to fuck me now."
A universe of blessings on the head of whatever soul created the kind of spell work that still worked when the brain and body were otherwise engaged in carnal pursuits. Although the begging threatened to stir him to reckless action, Kent still made sure Tony was good and ready for him. He was even kind enough to put his teeth to use on that gorgeous, toned expanse of stomach on display, before his mouth wound up lower and wrapped in tight, sucking heat around him. It was as much a tease for himself as it was for the man beneath him, but soon enough he pulled off with an obscene noise and sat back, gazing down at Tony with dark promise.
"Gonna take such good care of you," he assured his boyfriend, and proved his point by holding Tony's hips down and pushing himself in none too slowly. Kent didn't stop until he was buried deep, lip caught between his teeth and barely breathing. It had never been like this with anyone else, and he felt shivery all over. He bent down to smash his lips to Tony's, drinking him in, before leaning back upright and really starting to move.
Tony was never shy about letting it be known exactly what he wanted in bed, and he really appreciated a partner who took direction well, whether that direction sounded more like pleas or commands at any given moment. Even when he didn't have the brain to form words very well, like right now with Kent giving it to him with the same intensity he brought to everything that quite honestly took Tony's breath away and left him no brainspace for anything but wordless moans, he didn't hesitate to show him the rhythm he wanted, snapping his hips up to meet each thrust and urging him on to harder, faster, more.
It couldn't last particularly long like this, but that was okay; when he was in the mood to consider it, Tony sometimes thought he didn't even like sex as much as he liked those sweaty, sticky, overheated, oversensitive moments after sex, when they were still as close as separate people could ever get. After they'd both tipped over the edge, before they'd managed to untangle their limbs or catch their breath, he'd already hauled Kent back down into the cradle of his body to kiss him again and again between gasps for air. Tony couldn't see a thing for how much his vision was still blurred and full of orgasm-induced sparkles, but he didn't need to see Kent to know the look on his face when he came, or how dark his eyes were.
"Baby," he sighed between messy, breathless kisses. "Merlin, you're…" He kissed him again through a contented full-body shiver. "Amazing."
"Nah," Kent mumbled into the corner of his mouth, only tangentially aware that words were forming in his head and making their way past his higher reasoning. "You are." There were a few more drags of his lips against Tony's, and then his poor abused neck, where he breathed soft puffs of cool air against the purpled flesh. He traced the irregular line of one of the bruises with his tongue before mouthing it gently. "You're so good. Was it--"
Here he hesitated, pulling back just far enough to search his boyfriend's face. He ran a fingertip along edges before moving his fingers back into his hair. Kent watched him for a few seconds, just kind of drinking him in: the flush still high on his cheeks; the way the light caught on the sheen on his skin, making him glow. "Was it like this with Cate?"
Like earlier, he went tense all over, because this was the epitome of uncharted territory for him. Kent wasn't sure what was okay to ask about, but he burned to know.
Even the softest press of Kent's lips on those marks on his neck was too much right now; Tony hissed and shifted his head just a little to dislodge him. "Shit," he said, even that curse sounding blissful in his post-coital lassitude, lifting his fingers to just hover over the rapidly-forming bruise like he could tell by the heat of his skin what it was going to look like. "Ummm… like this? No."
He blinked a few times as his vision cleared and his lover's face came into focus. Kent looked a lot less unreservedly happy than he normally liked to see in somebody who'd just come inside him, and that made Tony's brow furrow. He reached up and traced his thumb over Kent's lips, pressing up into the corner like he could make him smile that way. "It was nice with Catey," he said after a moment, searching Kent's eyes to see if that was what he wanted to hear. "It was fun. I don't know, babe, what do you want me to say?" He smiled a little. "I can't think right now. Your fault."
"Accio!" Kent muttered, and a jar of bruise paste flew into his waiting hand. He warmed it between his hands and then settled them around the sides of Tony's neck. "Sorry. Only maybe kind of not? Okay, maybe some." His jaw worked, even as that one edge that his boyfriend had prodded stayed stubbornly up. It might have looked a little smug, but it resolved into something much warmer and far more tentative. He brushed a thumb up the column of his throat, marvelling for the millionth time that he got to do this. He was terrified of fucking it up. With both of them. "I just want you happy. And maybe… Iwanttowatchsometime. I keep…"
He broke off with a small puff of exasperated air. "Cate and I haven't--" he gave a shrug. "I'm not jealous." This was a firm point. "It's just… With you, I get it. I don't know why or how, but it works. We work. But Cate-- I can't even articulate it. I have all these words, and none of them fit. Head full of knowledge, and I'm the king of idiots when it comes to love."
The bruise paste going on made Tony sigh, his eyes floating closed at that blessed cool relief. He turned his head a little to press a kiss to the inside of Kent's wrist in thanks, even as his gut twisted a little at those last words. He'd known for what seemed like forever but had really only been a little over a month that Kent loved Cate; it had been out there since before he and Kent had ever hooked up. It shouldn't have made him feel weird to hear Kent talking about his love for Cate, but right now, holding him like this with the sweat not even dry on their skin yet, it gave him a churning feeling in his stomach that he really hoped wasn't jealousy, because he didn't do jealousy, and this whole thing wasn't going to work if he started going around feeling things.
He shoved that feeling away and shifted, pushing Kent off him so he could roll up onto his side and look at him. "You should go for it with her," he told him seriously. "Just… it's not gonna be the same as with me. Anatomy-wise, for one thing." Tony grinned, just a brief flicker that was gone in a moment to morph into something a little less amused. "And it's not gonna be the same as me and her. But if you want to see us together, if that's really what you want, then…" He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug, casual, smiling a little even as his stomach tied itself in another knot. "I'll never mind getting her naked. And I want to help you two. You're great together, you know?"
Being an admittedly bad student in the school of love also extended to the school of human reaction, but even Kent could detect an unease in Tony's face, a subtle shift in the way he was touching him now. Like there was a careful distance where there'd been no space before. It had been the wrong subject to broach, he saw that now. He ached to realize what he'd done and leaned in to kiss him, slow and reassuring--as much for himself as for Tony. "I'd like to think we're great together," he said low when he emerged moments later. His arms were around the other man, holding him close. "Don't you know I'm a royal idiot when it comes to you too?"
Tony was a sucker for a good kiss, and by the time it was over he was melted again and any worries he had seemed farther away. It didn't matter if Kent and Cate were going to end up together in the end, because he had Kent right now and that was all he wanted. He just smiled at his question, shaking his head. "Don't get sappy on me now, babe," he warned him. "You know that's not my style." He yawned, cracking his jaw, and snuggled into Kent's arms, holding him tight again. "Thanks for the bruise paste. I've gotta get cleaned up. You wanna follow Leon and Avery's example and go make out in the shower?"
The easy dismissal stung a little, but having a warm and willing Tony in his arms went pretty far in soothing the pain of it. "I'm okay with being a slave to your artistic muse. You're gonna kill it--the part. They're going to love you." But not as much as I do.