james 'honey bunny' conrad (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} thetracker) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} crownplazaic,@ 2021-09-02 11:37:00 |
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| Entry tags: | !log/thread, james conrad, wesley gibson |
Who: Conrad & Wesley.
Where: Conrad's room.
When: Backdated, a few days ago.
What: Skull Island photos + modern music education.
Status: Completed.
Warnings: Fluff + dirty talk + FTB.
He wasn't used to getting up early. But these days Wesley was finding himself awake hours before noon. Sure, he was still stuck in the same place with the same people but these were people he liked. If it were anywhere else, it wouldn't have been the same and he would have gone out of his mind trying to leave. When Conrad told him about a dream he'd had about being stuck in another hotel, completely on his own, the first thing he did was grab the bottle of whiskey from under his bed. Wes was trying to drink less these days but this sounded like the exact situation whiskey was meant for. Conrad had left the bottle anyway after coming to comfort him not that long ago. He was just returning the favor.
It had sounded more like a nightmare the way Conrad had described it over the phone. Wes had his share of those, though not recently. So he only had one goal as he rushed out of his room; making sure Conrad was alright. And if he wasn't, that was alright. He was bringing over something that at least could brighten up those blue eyes a little.
The hotel had gifted him something extraordinarily bitchin' the other day and Wes had been dying to show it off. He stuffed the CD player in the outside pocket of his father's jacket, the headphones hanging half out, and carried the stack of albums with him under his arm while holding the Jameson bottle by the neck in his other hand.
He'd messaged before running over so the door was unlocked. Wes still rapped at the door in his usual strange pattern with the back of his knuckles still wrapped around the whiskey, just to make sure that Conrad knew it was him. "Hey, I've got presents," he called out as he swung up the whiskey while he used one leg to close the door.
Further in, he set the disc cases on the little table but held onto the whiskey. CD player still swinging precariously from his coat pocket, he turned towards Conrad to give him a look over. "Sleep any better?"
"Yeah, better. Though I think if you had been beside me, I would have slept like a baby." Conrad was quick to slip his arms around Wesley - careful of the many items in his hands and pockets - greeting him with a warm kiss to his lips. It was hilarious that Conrad had ever been in denial about this. About Wesley, about his own sexuality. They had only been officially involved for a month and nothing had ever felt more natural. Knowing that he had been fighting the truth about his feelings felt silly in retrospect. Especially since he could have been enjoying those kisses for well over a few weeks if he had let his guard down sooner..
Not that Conrad was completely over all of that. He still had days of doubt. But today was not one of them. Conrad was very open about how happy he was to see Wesley, kissing him one more time before turning his attention to these presents that he had brought.
"What's all this?" The Brit reached down, carefully taking the CD player into his hands and turning it over to inspect it. He didn't know what a CD player was, but he did pick up on the fact that it looked like a miniature record player. And those disk cases sort of looked like they might contain small records, so maybe he was right?
This wasn't the first time Conrad had brought up wanting to wake up next to him. And it wasn't the first time that Wesley wished it too. He wished he could have been there for him when that nightmare had finally ended and he was awake again, just to remind him that it had all been a bad dream. It didn't seem fair that he couldn't be around when his best friend needed him most. Wes frowned sympathetically. "You do look tired. We could stay in and rest for a-" then he was being swept up in a hug and kisses, his concern cut off. He forgot for a minute how worried he was and let himself bask under the sunlight Conrad's lips were offering him.
Talking about dreams ..was this how it could be?
Even when the kiss ended, Wes didn't pull himself away. The kiss itself was great, there wasn't a time when getting Conrad's mouth on him in any way or form was bad (seriously never), but it was the meaning behind it and every other kiss they'd ever had that made Wes lean into him. His head had fallen against Conrad's chest, almost nuzzling into him when he remembered why he was here. He straightened up as if pulled from a daydream, blinking several times. Shit, right, the CD player. Immediately, Wes grew excited again.
"These," he went for the top disc off the stack and twirled it for show. "-I grew up with. Some of them are new ones actually, I think even from my future but there are some oldies in here for you too." Spinning the album around, he showed Conrad that it was A Hard Day's Night. "Your song is on here, y'know." Wes wriggled his eyebrows playfully. "Lennon does a nice version but I definitely prefer yours. This is how I listened to music." He lifted the headphones. "I thought maybe you'd like a listen." And the distraction.
"Oldies?" Conrad frowned, though it was playful in nature. That was never not going to blow his mind: that the Beatles were considered to be oldies in the future. It made him feel older than he actually was. Like some grumpy old grandpa that only listened to the likes of Jimmy Dorsey or Glenn Miller.
Did Wesley see him that way? God, he hoped not.
Either way, he took the headphones, placing them on his ears. "Show me... Hm, show me your favorite. Something from your era, maybe?"
Conrad had drawn the conclusion that this was another hotel-given gift. It wasn't like they had been given an opportunity to go shopping, so that was the only explanation that Conrad could really think of. And while he was really displeased with the Crown Plaza because of that dream stunt it had recently pulled, he also knew that not everything the hotel did was god-awful.
"I have something to show you, too. The hotel developed the film that was on Mason's camera, including the pictures that I took here at the hotel. They turned out lovely, Wes. I can't wait for you to see them."
Conrad wasn't really that old. He was still very much in his prime. Exceptionally so. And Wesley wasn't that far behind him. What was a decade among friends? He honestly didn't mind the gap in their ages. As long as it was the only gap between them. No, Wes only teased Conrad about being old not because he cared about him being from a different time period or that it bothered him a little to think that if they were in the same timeline, Conrad would be old. No, Wes just really really how his friend's twisted so adorably in protest of it. Poor Conrad and his ruffled feathers. 'Course that just meant that Wes had the opportunity to soothe them.
He raised his hands to the collar of Conrad's shirt and smoothed his fingers down his shoulders, 'smoothing' it out like Conrad was a disgruntled parakeet. "The future moves fast, babe. I talked to someone who was from just ten years ahead of me and the music I listened to is considered old to them. Kids these days," he shook his head in feigned disappointment. "We can just be old together."
Conrad asked him for his favorite song. Wes whistled. He had left his Green Day CD in the player so that should have been easy. Picking his favorite song off his favorite album? He thought about it as he fussed with the headphones to make sure they were perfectly placed, tickling Conrad's ear just a little for fun before pulling them away. "Alright, this is one of my favorites. It wasn't the most popular song but I liked it." He was about to hit the play button on the player in Conrad's hands when Conrad mentioned photos. His finger paused.
Mason's camera. These would be pictures of Skull Island. "You mean, of Kong?" He chewed his lip. "You could show me while we listen to music?" Wes knew his way to Conrad's bed and plopped himself at the edge, hair flying, a couple of CD cases already in hand. Oh. Conrad had said that the hotel developed ALL his pictures. "You have the ones you took when you first got the camera too?"
We can just be old together. Conrad's expression fell a little. Not in a bad way, necessarily. He simply wondered if Wesley realized what that sounded like. What sort of implications that statement held. And if he meant it.
But Conrad wouldn't ask. As much as he adored Wesley, there were still subjects that Conrad was wary about bringing up, and their relationship was one of those matters. That, and Conrad didn't want to weigh down their conversation. They were having fun, discussing CDs and photographs. Best not to put a damper on things by digging up serious inquiries.
He nodded in regards to both of Wesley's questions, trailing along after him towards the bed. "All the pictures, yes. Including a few of you.." A smile returned to Conrad's features. Those may or may not have been his favorites out of the bunch. CD player in one hand, Conrad reached out with the other, fishing out that stack of photographs from the drawer of his bedside table. He handed them to Wes as he sat down beside him, encouraging him to flip through them.
"These here, on top -- These are from before the island. Mason was an anti-war photographer. Some of them are a little.. Heavy, emotionally? But she's good, isn't she? Most of the rest are from the island." The natives, the creatures, the wildlife.. And below those, of course, were the ones Conrad had taken. Some were of the lobby, or the graveyard, but the rest were entirely comprised of Wes. And while Wesley went through them, Conrad would press play on that CD player. He rested his chin on Wesley's shoulder, making commentary as he made his way through the stack.
"Oh no, skip that one. This one of me -- rubbish. Here, the next one.. That's Marlow, he's the one from Chicago. The one who got stuck on the island during World War II.."
The song he'd picked for Conrad started to play, the music playing loud enough that he could hear it through the headphones. Wes scooted closer once Conrad joined him on the bed.
"Skip a picture of the most beautiful man in the world? I don't fuckin' think so!" But Wesley let his attention be pulled to the other picture Conrad was trying to show him. Marlow. His friend that he'd found on Skull Island. He looked it over, astonished how clear the photo was in spite of its age. "He looks like a guy who knows how to have fun." And that wasn't just Wes saying that. There was a sadness to the man's eyes but also a bit of stubbornness stained across his face. This was a man who'd seen some shit. "At least he got to go home."
Wes wished he recognized the man. He wished for anything that would somehow connect their two worlds; his and Conrad's. As he'd gone through the photographs, he had to wonder if that was just a foolish wish meant for hiding underneath pillows and buried deep in his heart. There were more photos than of just the island. The very first few had been of a world that Wes only knew about from the weathered textbooks he'd been too bored to read through in school. War. Something he knew so little about. These pictures gave him the smallest glimpse. "These are amazing," he nodded, a little stuck in awe as he went through them one by one. How many of these faces made it off that island alive?
There was one photo seemingly of a wide valley with mountains and a river running between them with a heavy fog hovering above. The shape of something large could be barely made out in the fog. "Is that him?" It was hard to make out definitively but it had to be; Kong. If the island needed something as big as that to protect it, Wes didn't want to think about how big the mean guys were. "You're lucky you made it out alive."
And with the subject turning back to Conrad, Wes flipped back to the picture the blonde had tried to push him past. The one of himself. Wes smiled immediately when he saw it. "What's wrong with this one? You look amazing. I like the rugged look. Mm, very nice." He was trying to keep his tone light but there was a sudden heaviness in his chest that only twisted more the longer he looked at the photo. "Can I keep it?" He kept it in hand, pulling it away from the stack as he went through the rest.
Which was ...almost all him. He flipped through those fast, baffled by how many there were. "When did you take these? I don't remember this one. Oh. I look good in that one."
Conrad had been a tiny bit skeptical over Green Day initially. But the more he listened, the more he liked them. More than Queen, funnily enough. Which was probably some sort of musical sin, but Green Day - to his untrained ear - sounded more like what he was used to. He cuddled in a little closer, wrapping his free arm around Wesley's waist.
"Yeah, yeah that's him. See the trees? They only come up to his shins. He's massive. Mason got to touch him -- Touched his face. He came right up to us once. Well, I say us. I think he was only interested in Mason. Suppose I can't blame him. She's pretty, isn't she?"
There weren't too many photos of Mason since she was normally the one behind the camera, but there were a few scattered here and there. "I suppose I am lucky. Some of these men here.. they weren't so fortunate. And Monarch - the company that sent us on this mission - wanted to go back there. Can you believe it? Idiots, all of them."
Conrad's expression softened when Wesley asked to keep the picture. And again, he wondered if Wesley knew just how sweet it was, what he was saying.. "Of course you can," he whispered, nuzzling a kiss to Wesley's cheek, "But only because I get to keep all of these wonderful photos of you. I guess I'm sneaky, aren't I? I managed to catch you when you weren't looking in most of these. This one's my favorite," he paused, pointing towards one that featured Wes walking away from him down the hall, "I just think it looks nice. Poetic, maybe? Or perhaps I just like your ass."
He snickered, playfully bumping their temples together. "I have something else for you too, but I want you to try and guess what it is."
Kong was as big as a mountain. He could have squished Mason and Conrad like a couple of bugs. "She got to touch him?!" Now Wes was jealous. And intrigued. At first he'd hated Mason a little when Conrad first talked about her. She was a part of his old life. Even if just for a short while, but it had been enough to solidify a bond between them. He'd been worried before about Mason showing up at the hotel and taking up Conrad's time. Now? He was sorry she wasn't around. The more he learned about her, the more he wanted to know about her. Anti-war photographer, huh? What a rebel. With the kindest eyes. "She's gorgeous." Wes bit his lower lip and grinned as he turned his head. Conrad had propped his chin on his shoulder, close enough that Wes could sneak a quick peck to the edge of his lips. "But not more than you." Yes, yes, he was biased. Put it on his tombstone; my boyfriend's prettier.
Except they hadn't started using that term yet, had they? Wes turned his attention back to the photographs, tucking the one of Conrad away to the side. He would make sure to not leave without it. Unlike the whiskey bottle he'd left on the floor between their feet that he'd already forgotten about.
He laughed as Conrad scoffed. "Idiots, huh? I'd probably be one of them. Guess it depends why they wanted to go back. If they were just going to exploit the people and creatures there, I might have to join Mason in some sabotage." Like he had the choice. As if he could just snap his fingers and enter their world. Though what use would an assassin be on a mission like that? Guess he'd make a damn good bodyguard.
He also made a damn good model apparently.
Wes was very entertained by the several snaps Conrad had taken of him. And absolutely charmed. He kept looking back and forth between the photos and Conrad. "You are very sneaky, sir. If I'd known you were taking booty pics, I would've worn tighter pants." And this one was his favorite? Not the one where he'd tried looking sexy. No, the one where he hadn't even known Conrad was taking a picture and just been himself. There was something very poetic about that. Something unbelievably sweet and wholesome. He rubbed at his chest, that ache becoming more of a nuisance the harder he tried to ignore it.
"A gift? For me?" He lit up, eager to distract himself. And to see what Conrad had for him. Wes leaned back, set the pictures down, and looked Conrad over. "Is it an edible thong?"
"God no, Wes. Even if you could go to Skull Island, I would never let you set foot on a boat that went there. I know you're skilled. Believe me, I know. But so were the soldiers that accompanied me on this mission. Promise me you wouldn't go. Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't right now. Because knowing this stupid hotel, it's listening to us and would send us there in a heartbeat. It's not worth it. Even if it does make for some damn good pictures."
On the plus side, if they did get sent to Skull Island, Conrad would at least somewhat know his way around in thanks to Marlow. But just because they had a shot at surviving didn't mean it was a good idea..
Conrad appeared rather pleased over Wesley's reaction to the photos, though. That look on his face soon turned absolutely wicked. "You would have worn tighter pants, hm? Well, perhaps next time I take pictures of you, we can skip the clothes entirely..." Now those would be some photos he would keep to himself. Not that Conrad was itching for nasty pictures. Wesley seemed pretty willing to get naked for him without needing a camera to give him a reason to. It was more about the trust and understanding that went into pictures of that nature that Conrad wanted.
The sort of trust and understanding that also went into the item he was about to give Wes.
"No, sorry to disappoint you. Not an edible thong." Which didn't exist during Conrad's time. But edible necklaces did and Conrad could use his imagination to fill in that gap. He hesitated a little, suddenly nervous as he pulled a brass key from his pocket. "It's something less exciting, I'm afraid. A key to my heart." Conrad smiled, offering it to Wesley. "Okay, to my room. But it's sort of the same thing. I hope this isn't too forward of me, Wes. But I want you to know that you're always welcome here. I mean that. Always."
Conrad's persistence against him going only Wes want to go even more. Not worth it? But, but- "Alright, alright. I promise I- come here," he cupped the side of Conrad's face and looked him straight in those darling blue eyes. "I promise I won't go to the island." A beat. He grinned. "Unless it's with you. And you better not leave me behind or I won't kiss you for a month." Ouch, that sounded drastic. And more of a punishment for himself. He wrinkled his nose. "A week. Maybe a day. The point is I'll be very pissed if you go without me." Hear that, hotel? Yeah, probably means he'll get left behind but a guy could dream. As long as Conrad came back, alive and in one piece, he would get over it.
Good fucking god. He'd somehow gotten the words edible thong to come out of Conrad's mouth. That wasn't supposed to be as cute as it sounded. His brain wasn't ready for that. It was still wrapping itself around Conrad's very vocal request for a boudoir shoot. Like Wes needed any excuse to ditch his clothes around this man. Taking pictures of him though. It was so sentimental. Where would Conrad keep them?
He watched impatiently as Conrad reached into his pocket and pulled something out. But then he frowned when he saw what it was. Wes didn't know what he was expecting but a key definitely wasn't it. Though it shouldn't have been that much of a surprise, right? He'd given Conrad a keychain when he'd come back from the resort. And why? It was something to show that he'd thought of Conrad when he'd been away, that even when they weren't near each other, Conrad was still a constant on his mind. And that every time Conrad used his key, he would think of him too.
It took him a few moments but eventually, he reached out and took the key from Conrad's hand. He held it, staring at it as though it were the Holy Grail. Like he couldn't decide if it were real or not. It was just a key. It was just a key. Not that big of a deal. He was over so much, a key only made sense. What if something happened and he needed to get in? Now he had a way to do that without having to break the door. Giving him this key was practical.
So why did he feel so stupidly happy about it? "You're not getting this back, you know." And there was the smile, coming back slow but bigger than before. He looked up again, turning to Conrad with shy eyes. "Thank you." He grabbed the front of Conrad's shirt and tugged him in, foreheads and noses bumping together. "I was supposed to be the one cheering you up today. Not the other way around. But I accept."
There was a delay before Wesley took the key and for those few seconds, Conrad panicked. Maybe he was rushing things. Maybe it was too forward. It wasn't like he was asking Wesley to move in with him. As far as Conrad was aware, that sort of thing wasn't even possible. But it was giving Wesley permission to enter his room at any given point, at any time of day, announced or otherwise. And maybe, Wesley just wasn't ready for that step.
So when he did take it, Conrad let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. A gentle laugh was soon to follow as he shook his head. "If I ever ask for that key back, then I've lost my damn mind. It's yours, dear. To use whenever you wish. This room.. I don't really see it as just mine anymore. It's yours, too. And Mike's, suppose."
Which was partially a joke. Mike didn't have a key to his room, but his ghostly neighbor didn't really need one since he could just pop through the wall whenever it pleased him. After the tethering incident and living out Mike's Dolphin torture, all sorts of barriers had been broken down between them. Point being, Conrad's room was definitely making it's way to being a communal area as opposed to his own private space.
But giving Wesley that key was different. It was asking him to use it, making it clear he wanted him here.
It's yours, too.
Wes thought his heart might just shoot itself up his throat and out his mouth. It could have been flopping and twitching like a dying fish on the bedspread and Conrad still would have had all his attention. He wasn't just being given a key. This was full access to Conrad's room. To Conrad. Whenever he wanted. Oh, he was already thinking of ways to abuse the privilege. Wes smirked, briefly looking over at the wall between Conrad's room and his neighbor's. "Poor Mike then. How do you let a ghost know that the room's a'knockin'? Do we hang a sock on the wall?" Great form there, Wesley. Someone gives you a key to their room and you make it all about sex. Typical.
He wanted to go back to the key and what it meant. Not just to him but to Conrad too. He'd said his heart first. Maybe it was on purpose. Maybe it had been a slip. But he'd still said it and it was obvious that he'd meant it. Did that make it ...their room? Or just yours and mine? There were two beds. There was also just Conrad's bed, obviously slept in. By obvious, Wesley meant that the bed smelled like Conrad still. It was faded by now. He wondered what it might be like to get to wake up next to Conrad every morning, smelling him. Feeling how warm he was. Being able to make him the first thing he saw when he woke up. Yeah, he wanted that. Even the stinky morning breath.
It was easy to imagine with the both of them sprawled over the bed together. Wes had moved up the bed more, dropping himself next to Conrad's side. Even though there'd been no request for it, he went for some forking. He slid his legs between Conrad's, hooking them together. "You like them? They aren't really the sort of songs you dance to. But when I felt lonely, which was a lot in school, listening to them made it feel like I wasn't." Wes started to doodle shapes into Conrad's chest, idle at first but then started to write out words like sweetheart and sexy.
He let a few more songs play on the album, the quiet of the room allowing him to hear the faint music even through the headphones. Now and then, he would hum along. Most of his focus was on Conrad though, not the music. He'd put the key in his pocket for safekeeping but it wasn't out of his mind. The album was nearly through by the time he tugged on the headphones. "You know you can come over any time to get me too, right?"
Conrad laughed again. "I don't think the sock is necessary, Wes. These walls are thinner than you think." Mike could probably hear them talking that very moment. Maybe not what they were saying, exactly, but the hum of their voices. Which absolutely implied that poor Mike had heard them getting intimate before. But Conrad tried to make up for it when he could. With booze and lots and lots of apology treats with poorly drawn decorations on them. Sorry, Mike.
The Brit closed his eyes as Wesley came to rest beside him, gladly allowing himself to be drawn into their favorite forked position. He wrapped his arms around Wesley, getting comfortable and clasping his hands behind the small of the other man's back. "It breaks my heart to know you were lonely in high school, Wes," he spoke, his volume low now that they were in such close proximity, "I'd say I wish I could have made that better for you, but I was an absolute shit in secondary school. You would have hated me, I was quite the brat. You know, sticking gum in people's hair and all.."
Not that he ever would have done that to Wesley, but his point still stood. "I picked on all the boys that I thought were cute. I couldn't actually flirt with them, but I wanted to get their attention somehow. And the best way to get someone's attention is to get on their nerves.."
Conrad soon let that lull settle between them. He loved this. Really, he did. The fact that they could just lay here together, without talking, doing nothing more than enjoying one another's company. It was nice. And relaxing. And romantic, in a way. He didn't open his eyes until he felt Wesley tugging at the headphones, finally lowering them from his ears since the last song was coming to an end.
"Not too sure miss Rogue would appreciate me turning up out of he blue," he spoke, his voice still soft. Conrad appreciated the sentiment, but he wasn't too sure this arrangement could work both ways. Conrad was sure there were plenty of things he didn't want to accidentally walk in on. It was likely best if he continued to text Wesley before he showed up.
He leaned down, pressing a kiss to Wesley's forehead. "You can tell me, you know. If it's too much. The key, I mean. I wasn't trying to -- It's too much, isn't it?"
He blushed. Hard. "So he heard ...everything?" Wes hadn't given it much thought until now. There hadn't been much of an attempt to keep himself quiet that night. Now he did feel bad. But only for a hot minute. Conrad had been loud too.
Wow. Ok. He was briefly distracted by the idea of Conrad actually being there in his school or vice versa. It was a nice thought, the two of them going to the same school and having the chance to know each other at that age. But would they have been friends? Conrad had been a brat. Wesley had been a matchstick; thin and ready to get set on fire at the slightest scratch. "You would have definitely got my attention. Pretty and mean? That's my weakness. You know this means that I would have just annoyed you back, right? I was always itching for a fight back then. Detention wasn't nearly as glamorous as all the movies made it look."
But it was true, wasn't it? Any attention would have been nice. Even if it was from a scrawny blonde with some unknown vendetta against him. "I would have absolutely punched you if you put gum in my girlfriend's hair though," he had to admit with an apologetic grin. "And then be a jerk to you until we graduate. Sorry. I hold grudges. Even against pretty boys who act like little shits."
It was endearing to watch Conrad actually relax and listen to his favorite songs. But this key business was becoming a mountain in his head. "Rogue's actually real chill. I mean, I'm not saying walk in. You walk in on your naked roommate once and you learn your lesson." He still felt bad about that. "But you can ...knock any time." That sounded worse. Wes pouted and grumbled under his breath. He didn't mean to be irritated. It was just unfair that he couldn't give Conrad the same freedoms. And it was frustrating that he couldn't voice why that bothered him. He knew that Conrad hadn't given him the key expecting him to give him anything in return. There were no strings attached to this. Conrad just wanted him around, as much as he wanted.
He sat up, pulling himself from the warm spot he'd made cuddling into Conrad's side, so he could look Conrad squarely in the face. "No. It wasn't too much," Wes smiled in spite of what was going on his mind. "It means a lot actually, that you'd give it to me. I didn't know how much until you had it out and I was holding it. You're giving me these pieces of your life. Letting me see who you are. Not just the person you had to be but the person behind that. The one you want to be. And it's amazing. You're amazing." His bravado failed him and his gaze dropped over Conrad's shirt, fingers going back to tracing shapes in the fabric. "I want that kind of life. Where I get to see that all the time."
You can knock any time. Conrad laughed again, but this time, it held less joy. It was so puzzling, this relationship of theirs. The more they talked, the more Conrad realized he had no idea where he stood with Wes. His dear assassin cared about him. That much was abundantly clear. That much was not in question. But you can knock any time left Conrad with an uneasy feeling. There was no guarantee who was behind that door and lord only knew what sort of negative reaction he'd have if Ciri answered his knocking. Yeah, better stick to texting.
Needless to say, when Wesley moved, Conrad kind of assumed he was getting up to leave. The Brit was still very insecure in that manner. That the slightest inconvenience would cause Wesley to call the whole thing off. Throw his hands up and be done with him in thanks to that age-old cliche of 'everyone Conrad had ever loved abandoned him in the end'. It was the sort of mentality that he actively tried to fight, because things had been getting better, both back in his world and at the Crown Plaza. But those doubts were damn persistent.
To his surprise, though, Wesley hadn't slipped off the bed. He wasn't giving the key back, wasn't scolding Conrad for being too forward. Instead, Wesley was smoothing down his feathers again without even being fully aware that they were ruffled in the first place. And Conrad couldn't help but want to believe that meant something.
"I fear you have it all wrong, dear," he spoke, taking that hand that touched his chest and brought it to his lips, kissing Wesley's knuckles, "In my thirty-six years of walking the earth, I've never met anyone like you. You've let me into your life in spite of the shit I've put you through, and that takes heart. And forgiveness, and patience. Unwavering perseverance. You're the amazing one, Wes." Conrad's hand tightened around his fingers, giving him the weakest of squeezes. His gaze had never broken away from Wesley's, those blue eyes of his absolutely warm with emotion. "Hey, come back down here -- kiss me."
"I'm also stubborn," Wesley gently teased him. "And you weren't giving me any attention in the bar. So I guess I brought all that shit you gave me onto myself. A sacrifice I'd happily make any time." There was only thing he regretted. If he'd known what would have happened in that dingy bar, he would have never let them leave the hotel. He lifted his gaze to meet Conrad's again. "Except for New York. Even if it got you to dance with me, I wouldn't do that again." That was the only thing he'd change. But it had happened and Conrad was still here, arms wrapped around him with a smile that made him forget everything.
The affections given to his hand made his whole body feel light as if every worry and troubled thought had left him. For now, at least. It was hard to feel angry or frustrated or anything bad when Conrad had him by the fingers so sweetly. And by the heart. He could feel it now, stronger than before. The things he would do for this man. The things he could do to him.
"Anything for you," Wes leaned down again, slipping their joined hands away but not daring to detangle them. He pressed his lips softly into Conrad's, pulled back, then hovered for a second as he let a smirk grow. "Honey Bunny." He couldn't resist a kiss to Conrad's nose. Just one though because his lips looked too damn tempting. And Conrad had asked so nicely. In fairness, he could have asked not so nicely and Wesley would have been damned if he didn't obey him still.
He lowered his mouth to Conrad's, smiling even before he could close their lips together. What he couldn't put into words, he let his mouth try to say in a different way. He wanted everything Conrad had to give him. All of it. Even the fumbling and brattiness. He'd love every inch of him, show tenderness around those rough edges. When he broke free to catch his breath, he waited just long enough for a small pocket of hair to hit his lungs before he started peppering Conrad's cheek with sloppy but affectionate smooches. "You never specified where you wanted to be kissed," he chuckled in between.
He leaned up, melting into that kiss. His heart fluttered in his chest, and all those doubts and fears over the key completely disintegrated. Everything was fine. They were fine. And James Conrad was a fool for ever thinking otherwise.
His free hand traveled down Wesley's side, pausing only once he'd moved past his hip, giving that exceptionally round rear of his a squeeze. Excellent timing on Conrad's part. Wesley was suddenly giving him messy, puppy-like kisses to his cheek so the Brit turned that grope into a spank, playfully swatting at the other man's ass.
"Mm, very well. Next time I'll be more specific as to where I want that misbehaved mouth of yours," Conrad grinned, sneaking a sloppy kiss of his own somewhere near Wesley's jaw. "Speaking of that mouth of yours -- You keep calling me Honey Bunny and I'll have no choice but to come up with something equally obnoxious for you. Like.. sugarbutt. Or cuddle bug. Or pookie." God, not pookie. He leaned away, amused that his beloved assassin was so into this pet name thing.
"Y'know, back in my day, I would have called you my old man. It's what all the tough girls called their boyfriends in London."
Oh. That was a slip-up, referring to Wesley as his boyfriend in that roundabout way. That tickled expression went serious extremely fast and Conrad cleared his throat. Maybe if he changed the subject, he'd get lucky and Wesley wouldn't notice. "I ah, couldn't help but notice that we're out of Green Day. What other CDs did you bring with you? Maybe.. show me something we could dance to?"
The smack to his rear was hardly the worst he'd felt but he still lifted his head from Conrad's neck where his mouth had migrated to give a very dramatic and exggerated- "Ow!" But then he wriggled, cheeks bouncing up into that playful hand, and smiled mischeviously. "Oooh, you can do that again." A spanking kink? Really? Was he that cliche? Apparently for Conrad he was.
Even Wes made a face at his lover's poor attempts at sweet name calling. "Don't call me pookie. It makes me sound like some poodle with an expensive haircut to make it look extra fluffy." But he liked that Conrad was trying to come up with names. And he honestly wouldn't mind whatever he came up with. It wasn't like he had to. Darling and dear were plenty sweet enough to woo Wes a thousand times over. Or at least he thought so until Conrad did finally come up with something that worked better than sugarbutt.
Boyfriend.
He'd tensed at the word, expecting to have some kind of bomb go off in his chest. That word had never been one of his favorites. It was just some stupid title that his ex had kept over his head for years. You're the boyfriend so you're supposed to do this. He knew it was bad to only hold onto the bad memories but it was hard to remember the good ones. If there had been any. He hadn't wanted to get pulled into that trap again. Except when Conrad said it in that sort-of-not-saying-it way, his heart didn't sink. It leaped. But his brain took too long to process that one damned word to his heart and before he could say anything, the conversation had moved on without him. It was really getting harder and harder to shovel all his feelings back behind closed doors. But he wasn't going to push the subject for now. Conrad wanted a dance.
"I might have something," he winked before going to look through the albums he'd brought into the bed. Ah. There was a new one he'd just listened to the night before. He exchanged the CD's in the player quickly, then started to move after pressing play. Wes pushed himself up and climbed over Conrad, saddling him for a few moments before stepping out of the bed. He did a twirl and then held out his hand for Conrad to take. "Captain, may I have this dance?"
Conrad practically heaved that sigh of relief. He really, really needed to start watching himself. That was the second time that day that he'd nearly needed to stick his foot in his mouth. Thank god for Wesley and his patience. Months prior, Conrad had pulled away out of fear of something happening between them. Now he was swinging too far in the other direction and it must have been incredibly tedious for poor Wesley to deal with.
But he was dealing with it. And that was far more than Conrad ever could have asked for.
"Decommissioned captain," he corrected, though his tone was far from a stern. No, Conrad was very much smiling as he made his way off the bed, taking Wesley's hand and tugging him close.
"Honey Bunny. That's from that movie, isn't it? One of the Disney ones we watched? What is it he called her in return? Love Cup?" Conrad leaned down, brushing the tips of their noses together. "Maybe I'll go with that one. Love Cup."
their sound so it was among the first he listened to. Most of their songs were alright. Catchy enough that he'd started dancing by himself in his room. But halfway through, he heard this song and it struck him. He listened to nothing else for over an hour. Even when it wasn't playing, the words were on a vicious repeat in his head.
Take the hourglass and drop it.
Why did everything have to remind him how little time he probably had here? He already knew. The hotel liked to keep that fact fresh in his mind. People appearing and disappearing. It hadn't happened to him yet but he knew that it would. Some day. He didn't want to think about it but goddamn, this place didn't give a shit what he wanted, did it?
His chest hurt as the song went on but he didn't let his face show it. He was getting Conrad to dance with him again so at least the smile wasn't hard to wear. "Decommissioned captain is still a captain. It just means you're a naughty one," he'd teased. "I bet you looked swell in uniform though."
Wes had gone ahead and taken the lead in the dance. The height difference only became a problem when he tried to spin Conrad around during the song's bridge. "Taking love tips from a cartoon rabbit? My cup runneth over then." He laughed as he pushed himself up on his toes so he could get both their arms over the blonde's head. After partial success of the spin, Wesley twirled them both and then braced his hand on Conrad's lower back for a dip. "I'll be your love cup as long as that means you'll be playing with all my handles."
"Oh yeah? You into that sort of thing? You like a man in uniform?" Not that he had it with him. But if he did, he'd absolutely slip it on for Wesley, if only for the sake of seeing that enamored expression on his face. "I think I wear the rugged look better, though. I never would have made it in high British society. Prim and proper never suited me. I like to get dirty."
And he had been dirty. Special Forces work wasn't exactly clean or by the books. But that wasn't really the sort of dirty he meant in that moment. Conrad helped Wesley spin him as best as he could, lowering himself so that Wesley could get his arm over him. He tried to help with that dip, too, though Wesley probably didn't need quite as much assistance with that. Conrad might have been tall, but he was thin as a rail, which made him easy to maneuver.
"You really going to let me call you that? In public?" It only seemed fair. Wesley called him Honey Bunny over the Network, which Conrad knew every guest in the hotel could see. "Careful, Wes. People might start thinking we're going steady." He was laughing, though. Partially because Conrad frankly didn't give a damn what the hotel thought of him and his totally-not-boyfriend at this point.
Conrad was also snickering because he knew for a fact that no one used the term 'going steady' anymore. The phrase was outdated even in the seventies. It had probably been fazed out completely in the future. Conrad wondered if Wesley had even heard of 'going steady' or knew what it meant.
Oh, James. Going steady wasn't that old. Wes knew what it meant and he knew why Conrad had said it. This dance between them was going on long before their feet hit the floor. Most times, it was easy to pretend like they weren't tip-toeing around each other. So light. Sometimes so heavy. But they never stopped. Round and round each other. Close but never close enough.
"You could wear anything well. You also wear nothing well." Wes slid his hand down over the fold of Conrad's shirt tucked into his pants. His fingers dipped between and under the fabric, just barely touching his warm skin.
What had they done in public so far? Flirting like a couple of twitterpated birds. Even Fox had rolled her eyes at them. Was it that much of a stretch for people to think that they were together? That they were dating?
He shrugged, pulling Conrad back into another slow dance. "Why not? People use nicknames for each other all the time. And I wouldn't mind." Wes had let his eyes wander but now they were focused on Conrad. He'd spent months now memorizing the lines on his face. Knowing how he looked when he was happy or sad. Upset. Aroused. It was a little harder to tell when he was lying. Conrad was good at hiding. But he'd been letting those walls down more and more around him. It was getting easier to see his tells.
"I don't do careful a lot. You know me. I'm all about taking risks." At least these days he was. His heart quickened, anxious about what he was going to say before they even fell out. "You can call me sugarbutt. Or Love Cup. Old man. They all mean the same thing, don't they?"
The feeling of Wesley's fingers touching his skin lit him up like a firecracker. It hadn't been much, just the slightest hint of contact. But they had both established that they were embarrassingly easy for one another and that's all it really took to nudge Conrad into inappropriate mode. Mischief twinkled in his blue eyes.
"Nothing, hm? Perhaps we'll just take turns snapping naughty pictures of one another, then.." Because he wasn't letting that idea go just yet if Wesley was actually into it. Hey, they had the potential to be artistic and raunchy. No one said it had to be complete filth.
..but knowing them, it probably would be.
But what Wesley said next caught him off guard. Completely. And it showed. Conrad's jaw nearly hit the floor. He wouldn't mind if people thought they were going steady? Really? Did he mean that? Conrad tried not to slow them to a stop, but his smooth, elegant swaying noticeably became choppy and unfocused. Especially after Wesley clarified that he could call him his old man.
"Yeah.. yeah, they do all mean the same thing." But Conrad wouldn't specify what. He'd already said it once. He wouldn't say it again until Wesley did. Which might have seemed wary of him, but his body language was anything but. Conrad did eventually pause their dancing, but only so that he could lean in and give Wesley a kiss. A warm, loving, proper kiss, full on the lips. One that was slow and intimate and dripping with heavy emotion.
When he finally leaned back, there was a deliciously cheerful look on his features. "For the record, I like it when you call me Honey Bunny."
"You'll let me have a turn with the camera? On you?" Wes had to really contain his excitement. He bit his bottom lip but couldn't stop the cheeky smile. "Ooh, I don't know if I'll be able to keep my hands on the camera but it would be fun trying. Wonder how many pictures I'll get before I decide to get up close and personal with my model." How long would it take? It would be a miracle if Wesley survived more than ten minutes snapping pictures of Conrad naked and open to him.
They were moving slower. Barely at all. Wes draped his arms around Conrad's neck, letting himself swing with him. He was all fingers as he moved them up the back of his head, playing at the curls that gathered around the nape of his neck. They'd been a sweaty mess once, those little wisps of hair, when he'd been straddling him on the bed. The memory of that still made him go red everywhere.
Looking up into Conrad's face, there was a lot he could see. He was hesitating, careful with what he said. Or maybe just careful that he didn't say too much. They both had gotten into the habit of letting things slip that they didn't mean to. For one reason or another. Mostly because they were afraid of what the other would do or say. It was kind of stupid, wasn't it? Having so much to say and being too scared to run the other person off with it? Well maybe not that stupid. That fear was rightly placed. Wes knew his own experiences hadn't painted a pretty picture for things like this. Relationships. And after what Conrad had told him about his own attempts, he understood why he was holding back. Or maybe he was just waiting.
A kiss solved everything. At least for a little while. Ignorance was bliss. And he sank like an anchor into it. "Hm?" Wes blinked, pulling himself back out of the warm water Conrad's lips had pulled him into. The smile he gave was slow and daydreamy. "You aren't embarrassed by it? I could have gone with something more like cutie pie? Lover boy. Though," he nipped at Conrad's chin, still hanging off him. "Butterfly Lips is still my favorite."
"No, not embarrassed at all. You can call me anything you want. Even.. pookie." Saying it with a straight face was a different matter entirely. There was a crooked smile on his lips. He had a difficult time believing that one was going to stick, even if Wesley wanted to call him 'pookie'. "Still not sure Butterfly Lips is appropriate, though."
And just to prove his point, Conrad leaned down, sneaking in a few nips of his own to Wesley's collar. That decommissioned captain was far too rough to be called anything that might imply he was delicate.
All this talk of naked photographs and pet names had certainly altered his train of thought. The innocence of swaying to music and flipping through Mason's pictures had fallen to the wayside. Wesley's arms were up and around his shoulders, leaving his sides wide open and vulnerable. So Conrad slipped his fingers beneath the bottom hem of his shirt, inviting his touch to go much further than Wesley's had gone.
"Wes," he whispered into the curve of his neck, "Any way I could convince you to stay over again? You know, til we fall asleep? You can keep your clothes on this time, if you don't want to leave your underwear here again.. Even if I absolutely prefer them off."
Fuck. He actually giggled, the noise slipping out even as he tried to hide his face in Conrad's chest. "Pookie is off the table, please. You can call me anything else. Just, for heaven's sake, not that. Then you really will make me feel like an old man." But he was laughing. Wes didn't really care what Conrad called him. As long as he kept calling.
He still liked Butterfly Lips but maybe Conrad was right. For him, it didn't fit. It was more Wes' style, wasn't it? His mouth was constantly fluttering over Conrad's skin. Everywhere. Stopping only briefly to leave a mark, then moving on. He rarely could keep his mouth in one spot. But Conrad was prettier. More colorful. So Wes could call him his Butterfly.
Although now it was Conrad's mouth that was flying. Or biting. Maybe he was more of a hungry wolf than a butterfly, Wes mused. He rested his head back, tilting it for easier access. Not that Conrad really had to fight for land here. It was hard to focus on serious things and deep emotions when other feelings were rising to take over the moment. He felt Conrad's hands find their way under his shirt and smiled knowingly.
Wes leaned his whole body in, giving up almost all of his weight. "There are many ways you could convince me, James." A stupid amount. Wes wouldn't give up his dignity and say how many. Not tonight. Though if Conrad's hands tickled him some more, he might give up a lot. "Hey, that underwear was a trophy for you to keep. Maybe I'll leave my belt. Or a sock. Since I can't leave myself." He pushed his face into Conrad's shoulder, breathed in the smell of him from his shirt. "How are you going to convince me?"
"A trophy? Wes, that makes you sound like some sort of conquest.."
Though it had been a pleasant sight to wake up to: their clothes puddled together on the carpet, clear evidence of the night before. The reminder had been nice. The deep, dark purple bruises around his wrists had been even nicer.
How was Conrad going to convince Wesley to stay over? There was an unspoken convince me in there and while the Brit knew damn well it wouldn't take much coercing to get him to stick around, he would absolutely accept that challenge. He slowly slipped the headphones off of his ears, placing them beside the CD player on the bed. Those blue eyes then looked Wesley directly in the face, giving him a completely serious, "I'm going to get down on my knees and beg you."
It was relatively obvious what Conrad wanted at this point. And Wesley knew it. Surely he did. Conrad hadn't been fondling the skin beneath Wesley's shirt for no reason. And if Wesley was going to leave him another 'trophy', Conrad might as well work to earn it, right?
His mouth had returned to the other man's neck, kissing the soft spot just below his ear. Kisses that turned mildly aggressive within seconds, his teeth catching Wes' earlobe. And there, his descent began. He kissed along Wesley's collar, down the front of his shirt, over abdomen and stomach, until he was on his knees in front of his dear assassin, his face now level with the front of Wes' pants.
"Please, Wesley." Those bright blue eyes of his blinked up at the other man for exactly two seconds before he dipped forward. His lips met with the zipper of his pants, kissing and licking along that vertical closure. "Please, stay with me--"
Conquest. A shiver ran up his spine. Yes. He was something to be conquered. Climbed. Taken. Fought for. If the right soldier came along. Decommissioned and all.
"Then you better claim me."
And wow, did he ever. Wesley liked to think that he was a hard man to please. That it took more than a few sultry words and swift fingers to make him crumble. He didn't just let anyone join him in the secret garden. But Conrad didn't just have one key. He had all of them and he knew exactly where the locks were. Conrad had his teeth on his ear and he felt himself unlock so quickly, he could feel the gear and chambers click out of place.
There was something so primal and wicked about seeing another man on their knees for him. Conrad had been an unmovable oak when they'd first met. So prickly. So unyeilding. Wes hadn't minded. He'd seen something there past the coarse and unrefined. And he knew how to climb. It hadn't always been pleasant but when it was, it really was. Now Conrad was sweet as syrup.
"I'm going to run out of underwear at the rate we're going," Wesley said under his breath seconds before Conrad decided to take it when he looked up at him with those eyes. Air? Who needed it. He tucked Conrad's cheek into the palm of his hand, thumb grazing over the soft skin under those bright blues. "Someone could really write sonnets about your eyes." He almost laughed at himself. Sonnets? Really? "You're really turning me into a romantic, you know that?"
Stay? With Conrad pleading like this, how could he say no? As if he wasn't already planning to say yes. That wasn't going to stop him from still teasing his sweet honey bunny. He tucked his fingers up into Conrad's hair and gave them a rough but playful tug. "On one condition. Carry me to bed?"
"And what an awful thing to be, a romantic." Conrad winked up at him. "Just wait 'til I tell everyone my old man's secretly a bleeding heart."
He didn't immediately get up. Wesley's hand was in his hair, encouraging this naughty behavior. So Conrad leaned in again, mouthing kisses just above where he imagined Wesley's cock was. He'd already won, there was no need to keep convincing Wesley. He was just toying with him now.
And maybe work up some courage for himself. He'd never given anyone a blowjob before. This absolutely fell under the category of 'inexperienced, but excessively willing'. And if Wesley was going to allow him experiment, Conrad was biting at the bit to give it a go. Particularly because he knew he was going to like it. The opportunity had just never come up.
In contrast to his aggressive kisses and scrapes of teeth, Conrad was gentle as he stood up and lifted Wesley up into his arms. Happily, effortlessly. He carried him bridal-style over to the bed - the bed without all their belongings on it - kissing along the side of his face the entire way. When he lowered Wesley down to the mattress, he was equally careful, easing him onto the sheets. Conrad, of course, was quick to follow, crawling on top of him with feline grace.
As badly as he wanted to just rip those clothes right off of him, Conrad restrained himself. He looked down at him, his tone hopeful as he asked, "Any other conditions, Mr. Gibson?"
How could someone make him feel so heavy one moment and then so light the next?
He'd forgotten how strong Conrad was. It'd been awhile since they'd taken a tussle on the mat. Wes made a small noise as he was suddenly swept off his feet and into Conrad's arms like a cat being pulled from the floor unexpectedly. But surprise dissolved into delight once he realized what was happening. Bridal style!? Would that make him Mrs Conrad? Wes did his best to keep himself still. There was a bit of happy wriggling so the risk of getting dropped wasn't exactly low. But Conrad was a wonderful gentleman and placed him on the bed without any struggle.
Conditions sounded like strings. Wes grinned and shook his head. The rest of him and the bed moved with him, his eagerness showing. Restraint couldn't be a thing when he had Conrad hovering over him like low-hanging juicy fruit. "Absolutely none. Go wild," he insisted with a lick of his lips. His legs rose, knees bumping into whatever warm parts they could.
Wes didn't care what they did in bed. He didn't have any expectations or demands. This was still relatively new to both of them. They were just feeling out the boundaries with each other, finding what parts they liked and didn't like. However they ended up, as long as they were both satisfied in the end, he was fine with. If he stayed on the bottom, again there wasn't much complaining on his end. As long as Conrad had no regrets.
He grabbed at the front of Conrad's shirt and pulled him down, their noses crashing into each other before he could sneak in a small kiss.
"Wesley," he whispered into that kiss, "My dear, sweet Wesley -- Allan -- Gibson--" Christ, he felt so good beneath him. So warm and beautiful and inviting. Conrad tilted his head, bringing affection to his favorite spot, just below Wesley's ear, followed by a heated, "I want you."
There it went, the release of all self restraint. Wesley had instructed him to go wild and he'd be an idiot not to follow that order. He leaned back, just enough to take his shirt off and drop it to the floor. Every article of clothing on Wesley's body would be next, if Conrad had any say in the matter. The Brit was already working Wesley's belt open, those fingers feverishly tugging at every closure that still kept them apart. He wanted Wesley naked and panting in his bed, gripping at the sheets with those perfect legs wrapped around him.
Which probably also meant there would be noise in the near future. The obnoxious kind that caused neighbors to knock on the walls and inform them to keep it down. Conrad would be baking Mike another apology cake after this for sure. Sorry, Mike.
It had sounded more like a nightmare the way Conrad had described it over the phone. Wes had his share of those, though not recently. So he only had one goal as he rushed out of his room; making sure Conrad was alright. And if he wasn't, that was alright. He was bringing over something that at least could brighten up those blue eyes a little.
The hotel had gifted him something extraordinarily bitchin' the other day and Wes had been dying to show it off. He stuffed the CD player in the outside pocket of his father's jacket, the headphones hanging half out, and carried the stack of albums with him under his arm while holding the Jameson bottle by the neck in his other hand.
He'd messaged before running over so the door was unlocked. Wes still rapped at the door in his usual strange pattern with the back of his knuckles still wrapped around the whiskey, just to make sure that Conrad knew it was him. "Hey, I've got presents," he called out as he swung up the whiskey while he used one leg to close the door.
Further in, he set the disc cases on the little table but held onto the whiskey. CD player still swinging precariously from his coat pocket, he turned towards Conrad to give him a look over. "Sleep any better?"
"Yeah, better. Though I think if you had been beside me, I would have slept like a baby." Conrad was quick to slip his arms around Wesley - careful of the many items in his hands and pockets - greeting him with a warm kiss to his lips. It was hilarious that Conrad had ever been in denial about this. About Wesley, about his own sexuality. They had only been officially involved for a month and nothing had ever felt more natural. Knowing that he had been fighting the truth about his feelings felt silly in retrospect. Especially since he could have been enjoying those kisses for well over a few weeks if he had let his guard down sooner..
Not that Conrad was completely over all of that. He still had days of doubt. But today was not one of them. Conrad was very open about how happy he was to see Wesley, kissing him one more time before turning his attention to these presents that he had brought.
"What's all this?" The Brit reached down, carefully taking the CD player into his hands and turning it over to inspect it. He didn't know what a CD player was, but he did pick up on the fact that it looked like a miniature record player. And those disk cases sort of looked like they might contain small records, so maybe he was right?
This wasn't the first time Conrad had brought up wanting to wake up next to him. And it wasn't the first time that Wesley wished it too. He wished he could have been there for him when that nightmare had finally ended and he was awake again, just to remind him that it had all been a bad dream. It didn't seem fair that he couldn't be around when his best friend needed him most. Wes frowned sympathetically. "You do look tired. We could stay in and rest for a-" then he was being swept up in a hug and kisses, his concern cut off. He forgot for a minute how worried he was and let himself bask under the sunlight Conrad's lips were offering him.
Talking about dreams ..was this how it could be?
Even when the kiss ended, Wes didn't pull himself away. The kiss itself was great, there wasn't a time when getting Conrad's mouth on him in any way or form was bad (seriously never), but it was the meaning behind it and every other kiss they'd ever had that made Wes lean into him. His head had fallen against Conrad's chest, almost nuzzling into him when he remembered why he was here. He straightened up as if pulled from a daydream, blinking several times. Shit, right, the CD player. Immediately, Wes grew excited again.
"These," he went for the top disc off the stack and twirled it for show. "-I grew up with. Some of them are new ones actually, I think even from my future but there are some oldies in here for you too." Spinning the album around, he showed Conrad that it was A Hard Day's Night. "Your song is on here, y'know." Wes wriggled his eyebrows playfully. "Lennon does a nice version but I definitely prefer yours. This is how I listened to music." He lifted the headphones. "I thought maybe you'd like a listen." And the distraction.
"Oldies?" Conrad frowned, though it was playful in nature. That was never not going to blow his mind: that the Beatles were considered to be oldies in the future. It made him feel older than he actually was. Like some grumpy old grandpa that only listened to the likes of Jimmy Dorsey or Glenn Miller.
Did Wesley see him that way? God, he hoped not.
Either way, he took the headphones, placing them on his ears. "Show me... Hm, show me your favorite. Something from your era, maybe?"
Conrad had drawn the conclusion that this was another hotel-given gift. It wasn't like they had been given an opportunity to go shopping, so that was the only explanation that Conrad could really think of. And while he was really displeased with the Crown Plaza because of that dream stunt it had recently pulled, he also knew that not everything the hotel did was god-awful.
"I have something to show you, too. The hotel developed the film that was on Mason's camera, including the pictures that I took here at the hotel. They turned out lovely, Wes. I can't wait for you to see them."
Conrad wasn't really that old. He was still very much in his prime. Exceptionally so. And Wesley wasn't that far behind him. What was a decade among friends? He honestly didn't mind the gap in their ages. As long as it was the only gap between them. No, Wes only teased Conrad about being old not because he cared about him being from a different time period or that it bothered him a little to think that if they were in the same timeline, Conrad would be old. No, Wes just really really how his friend's twisted so adorably in protest of it. Poor Conrad and his ruffled feathers. 'Course that just meant that Wes had the opportunity to soothe them.
He raised his hands to the collar of Conrad's shirt and smoothed his fingers down his shoulders, 'smoothing' it out like Conrad was a disgruntled parakeet. "The future moves fast, babe. I talked to someone who was from just ten years ahead of me and the music I listened to is considered old to them. Kids these days," he shook his head in feigned disappointment. "We can just be old together."
Conrad asked him for his favorite song. Wes whistled. He had left his Green Day CD in the player so that should have been easy. Picking his favorite song off his favorite album? He thought about it as he fussed with the headphones to make sure they were perfectly placed, tickling Conrad's ear just a little for fun before pulling them away. "Alright, this is one of my favorites. It wasn't the most popular song but I liked it." He was about to hit the play button on the player in Conrad's hands when Conrad mentioned photos. His finger paused.
Mason's camera. These would be pictures of Skull Island. "You mean, of Kong?" He chewed his lip. "You could show me while we listen to music?" Wes knew his way to Conrad's bed and plopped himself at the edge, hair flying, a couple of CD cases already in hand. Oh. Conrad had said that the hotel developed ALL his pictures. "You have the ones you took when you first got the camera too?"
We can just be old together. Conrad's expression fell a little. Not in a bad way, necessarily. He simply wondered if Wesley realized what that sounded like. What sort of implications that statement held. And if he meant it.
But Conrad wouldn't ask. As much as he adored Wesley, there were still subjects that Conrad was wary about bringing up, and their relationship was one of those matters. That, and Conrad didn't want to weigh down their conversation. They were having fun, discussing CDs and photographs. Best not to put a damper on things by digging up serious inquiries.
He nodded in regards to both of Wesley's questions, trailing along after him towards the bed. "All the pictures, yes. Including a few of you.." A smile returned to Conrad's features. Those may or may not have been his favorites out of the bunch. CD player in one hand, Conrad reached out with the other, fishing out that stack of photographs from the drawer of his bedside table. He handed them to Wes as he sat down beside him, encouraging him to flip through them.
"These here, on top -- These are from before the island. Mason was an anti-war photographer. Some of them are a little.. Heavy, emotionally? But she's good, isn't she? Most of the rest are from the island." The natives, the creatures, the wildlife.. And below those, of course, were the ones Conrad had taken. Some were of the lobby, or the graveyard, but the rest were entirely comprised of Wes. And while Wesley went through them, Conrad would press play on that CD player. He rested his chin on Wesley's shoulder, making commentary as he made his way through the stack.
"Oh no, skip that one. This one of me -- rubbish. Here, the next one.. That's Marlow, he's the one from Chicago. The one who got stuck on the island during World War II.."
The song he'd picked for Conrad started to play, the music playing loud enough that he could hear it through the headphones. Wes scooted closer once Conrad joined him on the bed.
"Skip a picture of the most beautiful man in the world? I don't fuckin' think so!" But Wesley let his attention be pulled to the other picture Conrad was trying to show him. Marlow. His friend that he'd found on Skull Island. He looked it over, astonished how clear the photo was in spite of its age. "He looks like a guy who knows how to have fun." And that wasn't just Wes saying that. There was a sadness to the man's eyes but also a bit of stubbornness stained across his face. This was a man who'd seen some shit. "At least he got to go home."
Wes wished he recognized the man. He wished for anything that would somehow connect their two worlds; his and Conrad's. As he'd gone through the photographs, he had to wonder if that was just a foolish wish meant for hiding underneath pillows and buried deep in his heart. There were more photos than of just the island. The very first few had been of a world that Wes only knew about from the weathered textbooks he'd been too bored to read through in school. War. Something he knew so little about. These pictures gave him the smallest glimpse. "These are amazing," he nodded, a little stuck in awe as he went through them one by one. How many of these faces made it off that island alive?
There was one photo seemingly of a wide valley with mountains and a river running between them with a heavy fog hovering above. The shape of something large could be barely made out in the fog. "Is that him?" It was hard to make out definitively but it had to be; Kong. If the island needed something as big as that to protect it, Wes didn't want to think about how big the mean guys were. "You're lucky you made it out alive."
And with the subject turning back to Conrad, Wes flipped back to the picture the blonde had tried to push him past. The one of himself. Wes smiled immediately when he saw it. "What's wrong with this one? You look amazing. I like the rugged look. Mm, very nice." He was trying to keep his tone light but there was a sudden heaviness in his chest that only twisted more the longer he looked at the photo. "Can I keep it?" He kept it in hand, pulling it away from the stack as he went through the rest.
Which was ...almost all him. He flipped through those fast, baffled by how many there were. "When did you take these? I don't remember this one. Oh. I look good in that one."
Conrad had been a tiny bit skeptical over Green Day initially. But the more he listened, the more he liked them. More than Queen, funnily enough. Which was probably some sort of musical sin, but Green Day - to his untrained ear - sounded more like what he was used to. He cuddled in a little closer, wrapping his free arm around Wesley's waist.
"Yeah, yeah that's him. See the trees? They only come up to his shins. He's massive. Mason got to touch him -- Touched his face. He came right up to us once. Well, I say us. I think he was only interested in Mason. Suppose I can't blame him. She's pretty, isn't she?"
There weren't too many photos of Mason since she was normally the one behind the camera, but there were a few scattered here and there. "I suppose I am lucky. Some of these men here.. they weren't so fortunate. And Monarch - the company that sent us on this mission - wanted to go back there. Can you believe it? Idiots, all of them."
Conrad's expression softened when Wesley asked to keep the picture. And again, he wondered if Wesley knew just how sweet it was, what he was saying.. "Of course you can," he whispered, nuzzling a kiss to Wesley's cheek, "But only because I get to keep all of these wonderful photos of you. I guess I'm sneaky, aren't I? I managed to catch you when you weren't looking in most of these. This one's my favorite," he paused, pointing towards one that featured Wes walking away from him down the hall, "I just think it looks nice. Poetic, maybe? Or perhaps I just like your ass."
He snickered, playfully bumping their temples together. "I have something else for you too, but I want you to try and guess what it is."
Kong was as big as a mountain. He could have squished Mason and Conrad like a couple of bugs. "She got to touch him?!" Now Wes was jealous. And intrigued. At first he'd hated Mason a little when Conrad first talked about her. She was a part of his old life. Even if just for a short while, but it had been enough to solidify a bond between them. He'd been worried before about Mason showing up at the hotel and taking up Conrad's time. Now? He was sorry she wasn't around. The more he learned about her, the more he wanted to know about her. Anti-war photographer, huh? What a rebel. With the kindest eyes. "She's gorgeous." Wes bit his lower lip and grinned as he turned his head. Conrad had propped his chin on his shoulder, close enough that Wes could sneak a quick peck to the edge of his lips. "But not more than you." Yes, yes, he was biased. Put it on his tombstone; my boyfriend's prettier.
Except they hadn't started using that term yet, had they? Wes turned his attention back to the photographs, tucking the one of Conrad away to the side. He would make sure to not leave without it. Unlike the whiskey bottle he'd left on the floor between their feet that he'd already forgotten about.
He laughed as Conrad scoffed. "Idiots, huh? I'd probably be one of them. Guess it depends why they wanted to go back. If they were just going to exploit the people and creatures there, I might have to join Mason in some sabotage." Like he had the choice. As if he could just snap his fingers and enter their world. Though what use would an assassin be on a mission like that? Guess he'd make a damn good bodyguard.
He also made a damn good model apparently.
Wes was very entertained by the several snaps Conrad had taken of him. And absolutely charmed. He kept looking back and forth between the photos and Conrad. "You are very sneaky, sir. If I'd known you were taking booty pics, I would've worn tighter pants." And this one was his favorite? Not the one where he'd tried looking sexy. No, the one where he hadn't even known Conrad was taking a picture and just been himself. There was something very poetic about that. Something unbelievably sweet and wholesome. He rubbed at his chest, that ache becoming more of a nuisance the harder he tried to ignore it.
"A gift? For me?" He lit up, eager to distract himself. And to see what Conrad had for him. Wes leaned back, set the pictures down, and looked Conrad over. "Is it an edible thong?"
"God no, Wes. Even if you could go to Skull Island, I would never let you set foot on a boat that went there. I know you're skilled. Believe me, I know. But so were the soldiers that accompanied me on this mission. Promise me you wouldn't go. Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't right now. Because knowing this stupid hotel, it's listening to us and would send us there in a heartbeat. It's not worth it. Even if it does make for some damn good pictures."
On the plus side, if they did get sent to Skull Island, Conrad would at least somewhat know his way around in thanks to Marlow. But just because they had a shot at surviving didn't mean it was a good idea..
Conrad appeared rather pleased over Wesley's reaction to the photos, though. That look on his face soon turned absolutely wicked. "You would have worn tighter pants, hm? Well, perhaps next time I take pictures of you, we can skip the clothes entirely..." Now those would be some photos he would keep to himself. Not that Conrad was itching for nasty pictures. Wesley seemed pretty willing to get naked for him without needing a camera to give him a reason to. It was more about the trust and understanding that went into pictures of that nature that Conrad wanted.
The sort of trust and understanding that also went into the item he was about to give Wes.
"No, sorry to disappoint you. Not an edible thong." Which didn't exist during Conrad's time. But edible necklaces did and Conrad could use his imagination to fill in that gap. He hesitated a little, suddenly nervous as he pulled a brass key from his pocket. "It's something less exciting, I'm afraid. A key to my heart." Conrad smiled, offering it to Wesley. "Okay, to my room. But it's sort of the same thing. I hope this isn't too forward of me, Wes. But I want you to know that you're always welcome here. I mean that. Always."
Conrad's persistence against him going only Wes want to go even more. Not worth it? But, but- "Alright, alright. I promise I- come here," he cupped the side of Conrad's face and looked him straight in those darling blue eyes. "I promise I won't go to the island." A beat. He grinned. "Unless it's with you. And you better not leave me behind or I won't kiss you for a month." Ouch, that sounded drastic. And more of a punishment for himself. He wrinkled his nose. "A week. Maybe a day. The point is I'll be very pissed if you go without me." Hear that, hotel? Yeah, probably means he'll get left behind but a guy could dream. As long as Conrad came back, alive and in one piece, he would get over it.
Good fucking god. He'd somehow gotten the words edible thong to come out of Conrad's mouth. That wasn't supposed to be as cute as it sounded. His brain wasn't ready for that. It was still wrapping itself around Conrad's very vocal request for a boudoir shoot. Like Wes needed any excuse to ditch his clothes around this man. Taking pictures of him though. It was so sentimental. Where would Conrad keep them?
He watched impatiently as Conrad reached into his pocket and pulled something out. But then he frowned when he saw what it was. Wes didn't know what he was expecting but a key definitely wasn't it. Though it shouldn't have been that much of a surprise, right? He'd given Conrad a keychain when he'd come back from the resort. And why? It was something to show that he'd thought of Conrad when he'd been away, that even when they weren't near each other, Conrad was still a constant on his mind. And that every time Conrad used his key, he would think of him too.
It took him a few moments but eventually, he reached out and took the key from Conrad's hand. He held it, staring at it as though it were the Holy Grail. Like he couldn't decide if it were real or not. It was just a key. It was just a key. Not that big of a deal. He was over so much, a key only made sense. What if something happened and he needed to get in? Now he had a way to do that without having to break the door. Giving him this key was practical.
So why did he feel so stupidly happy about it? "You're not getting this back, you know." And there was the smile, coming back slow but bigger than before. He looked up again, turning to Conrad with shy eyes. "Thank you." He grabbed the front of Conrad's shirt and tugged him in, foreheads and noses bumping together. "I was supposed to be the one cheering you up today. Not the other way around. But I accept."
There was a delay before Wesley took the key and for those few seconds, Conrad panicked. Maybe he was rushing things. Maybe it was too forward. It wasn't like he was asking Wesley to move in with him. As far as Conrad was aware, that sort of thing wasn't even possible. But it was giving Wesley permission to enter his room at any given point, at any time of day, announced or otherwise. And maybe, Wesley just wasn't ready for that step.
So when he did take it, Conrad let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. A gentle laugh was soon to follow as he shook his head. "If I ever ask for that key back, then I've lost my damn mind. It's yours, dear. To use whenever you wish. This room.. I don't really see it as just mine anymore. It's yours, too. And Mike's, suppose."
Which was partially a joke. Mike didn't have a key to his room, but his ghostly neighbor didn't really need one since he could just pop through the wall whenever it pleased him. After the tethering incident and living out Mike's Dolphin torture, all sorts of barriers had been broken down between them. Point being, Conrad's room was definitely making it's way to being a communal area as opposed to his own private space.
But giving Wesley that key was different. It was asking him to use it, making it clear he wanted him here.
It's yours, too.
Wes thought his heart might just shoot itself up his throat and out his mouth. It could have been flopping and twitching like a dying fish on the bedspread and Conrad still would have had all his attention. He wasn't just being given a key. This was full access to Conrad's room. To Conrad. Whenever he wanted. Oh, he was already thinking of ways to abuse the privilege. Wes smirked, briefly looking over at the wall between Conrad's room and his neighbor's. "Poor Mike then. How do you let a ghost know that the room's a'knockin'? Do we hang a sock on the wall?" Great form there, Wesley. Someone gives you a key to their room and you make it all about sex. Typical.
He wanted to go back to the key and what it meant. Not just to him but to Conrad too. He'd said his heart first. Maybe it was on purpose. Maybe it had been a slip. But he'd still said it and it was obvious that he'd meant it. Did that make it ...their room? Or just yours and mine? There were two beds. There was also just Conrad's bed, obviously slept in. By obvious, Wesley meant that the bed smelled like Conrad still. It was faded by now. He wondered what it might be like to get to wake up next to Conrad every morning, smelling him. Feeling how warm he was. Being able to make him the first thing he saw when he woke up. Yeah, he wanted that. Even the stinky morning breath.
It was easy to imagine with the both of them sprawled over the bed together. Wes had moved up the bed more, dropping himself next to Conrad's side. Even though there'd been no request for it, he went for some forking. He slid his legs between Conrad's, hooking them together. "You like them? They aren't really the sort of songs you dance to. But when I felt lonely, which was a lot in school, listening to them made it feel like I wasn't." Wes started to doodle shapes into Conrad's chest, idle at first but then started to write out words like sweetheart and sexy.
He let a few more songs play on the album, the quiet of the room allowing him to hear the faint music even through the headphones. Now and then, he would hum along. Most of his focus was on Conrad though, not the music. He'd put the key in his pocket for safekeeping but it wasn't out of his mind. The album was nearly through by the time he tugged on the headphones. "You know you can come over any time to get me too, right?"
Conrad laughed again. "I don't think the sock is necessary, Wes. These walls are thinner than you think." Mike could probably hear them talking that very moment. Maybe not what they were saying, exactly, but the hum of their voices. Which absolutely implied that poor Mike had heard them getting intimate before. But Conrad tried to make up for it when he could. With booze and lots and lots of apology treats with poorly drawn decorations on them. Sorry, Mike.
The Brit closed his eyes as Wesley came to rest beside him, gladly allowing himself to be drawn into their favorite forked position. He wrapped his arms around Wesley, getting comfortable and clasping his hands behind the small of the other man's back. "It breaks my heart to know you were lonely in high school, Wes," he spoke, his volume low now that they were in such close proximity, "I'd say I wish I could have made that better for you, but I was an absolute shit in secondary school. You would have hated me, I was quite the brat. You know, sticking gum in people's hair and all.."
Not that he ever would have done that to Wesley, but his point still stood. "I picked on all the boys that I thought were cute. I couldn't actually flirt with them, but I wanted to get their attention somehow. And the best way to get someone's attention is to get on their nerves.."
Conrad soon let that lull settle between them. He loved this. Really, he did. The fact that they could just lay here together, without talking, doing nothing more than enjoying one another's company. It was nice. And relaxing. And romantic, in a way. He didn't open his eyes until he felt Wesley tugging at the headphones, finally lowering them from his ears since the last song was coming to an end.
"Not too sure miss Rogue would appreciate me turning up out of he blue," he spoke, his voice still soft. Conrad appreciated the sentiment, but he wasn't too sure this arrangement could work both ways. Conrad was sure there were plenty of things he didn't want to accidentally walk in on. It was likely best if he continued to text Wesley before he showed up.
He leaned down, pressing a kiss to Wesley's forehead. "You can tell me, you know. If it's too much. The key, I mean. I wasn't trying to -- It's too much, isn't it?"
He blushed. Hard. "So he heard ...everything?" Wes hadn't given it much thought until now. There hadn't been much of an attempt to keep himself quiet that night. Now he did feel bad. But only for a hot minute. Conrad had been loud too.
Wow. Ok. He was briefly distracted by the idea of Conrad actually being there in his school or vice versa. It was a nice thought, the two of them going to the same school and having the chance to know each other at that age. But would they have been friends? Conrad had been a brat. Wesley had been a matchstick; thin and ready to get set on fire at the slightest scratch. "You would have definitely got my attention. Pretty and mean? That's my weakness. You know this means that I would have just annoyed you back, right? I was always itching for a fight back then. Detention wasn't nearly as glamorous as all the movies made it look."
But it was true, wasn't it? Any attention would have been nice. Even if it was from a scrawny blonde with some unknown vendetta against him. "I would have absolutely punched you if you put gum in my girlfriend's hair though," he had to admit with an apologetic grin. "And then be a jerk to you until we graduate. Sorry. I hold grudges. Even against pretty boys who act like little shits."
It was endearing to watch Conrad actually relax and listen to his favorite songs. But this key business was becoming a mountain in his head. "Rogue's actually real chill. I mean, I'm not saying walk in. You walk in on your naked roommate once and you learn your lesson." He still felt bad about that. "But you can ...knock any time." That sounded worse. Wes pouted and grumbled under his breath. He didn't mean to be irritated. It was just unfair that he couldn't give Conrad the same freedoms. And it was frustrating that he couldn't voice why that bothered him. He knew that Conrad hadn't given him the key expecting him to give him anything in return. There were no strings attached to this. Conrad just wanted him around, as much as he wanted.
He sat up, pulling himself from the warm spot he'd made cuddling into Conrad's side, so he could look Conrad squarely in the face. "No. It wasn't too much," Wes smiled in spite of what was going on his mind. "It means a lot actually, that you'd give it to me. I didn't know how much until you had it out and I was holding it. You're giving me these pieces of your life. Letting me see who you are. Not just the person you had to be but the person behind that. The one you want to be. And it's amazing. You're amazing." His bravado failed him and his gaze dropped over Conrad's shirt, fingers going back to tracing shapes in the fabric. "I want that kind of life. Where I get to see that all the time."
You can knock any time. Conrad laughed again, but this time, it held less joy. It was so puzzling, this relationship of theirs. The more they talked, the more Conrad realized he had no idea where he stood with Wes. His dear assassin cared about him. That much was abundantly clear. That much was not in question. But you can knock any time left Conrad with an uneasy feeling. There was no guarantee who was behind that door and lord only knew what sort of negative reaction he'd have if Ciri answered his knocking. Yeah, better stick to texting.
Needless to say, when Wesley moved, Conrad kind of assumed he was getting up to leave. The Brit was still very insecure in that manner. That the slightest inconvenience would cause Wesley to call the whole thing off. Throw his hands up and be done with him in thanks to that age-old cliche of 'everyone Conrad had ever loved abandoned him in the end'. It was the sort of mentality that he actively tried to fight, because things had been getting better, both back in his world and at the Crown Plaza. But those doubts were damn persistent.
To his surprise, though, Wesley hadn't slipped off the bed. He wasn't giving the key back, wasn't scolding Conrad for being too forward. Instead, Wesley was smoothing down his feathers again without even being fully aware that they were ruffled in the first place. And Conrad couldn't help but want to believe that meant something.
"I fear you have it all wrong, dear," he spoke, taking that hand that touched his chest and brought it to his lips, kissing Wesley's knuckles, "In my thirty-six years of walking the earth, I've never met anyone like you. You've let me into your life in spite of the shit I've put you through, and that takes heart. And forgiveness, and patience. Unwavering perseverance. You're the amazing one, Wes." Conrad's hand tightened around his fingers, giving him the weakest of squeezes. His gaze had never broken away from Wesley's, those blue eyes of his absolutely warm with emotion. "Hey, come back down here -- kiss me."
"I'm also stubborn," Wesley gently teased him. "And you weren't giving me any attention in the bar. So I guess I brought all that shit you gave me onto myself. A sacrifice I'd happily make any time." There was only thing he regretted. If he'd known what would have happened in that dingy bar, he would have never let them leave the hotel. He lifted his gaze to meet Conrad's again. "Except for New York. Even if it got you to dance with me, I wouldn't do that again." That was the only thing he'd change. But it had happened and Conrad was still here, arms wrapped around him with a smile that made him forget everything.
The affections given to his hand made his whole body feel light as if every worry and troubled thought had left him. For now, at least. It was hard to feel angry or frustrated or anything bad when Conrad had him by the fingers so sweetly. And by the heart. He could feel it now, stronger than before. The things he would do for this man. The things he could do to him.
"Anything for you," Wes leaned down again, slipping their joined hands away but not daring to detangle them. He pressed his lips softly into Conrad's, pulled back, then hovered for a second as he let a smirk grow. "Honey Bunny." He couldn't resist a kiss to Conrad's nose. Just one though because his lips looked too damn tempting. And Conrad had asked so nicely. In fairness, he could have asked not so nicely and Wesley would have been damned if he didn't obey him still.
He lowered his mouth to Conrad's, smiling even before he could close their lips together. What he couldn't put into words, he let his mouth try to say in a different way. He wanted everything Conrad had to give him. All of it. Even the fumbling and brattiness. He'd love every inch of him, show tenderness around those rough edges. When he broke free to catch his breath, he waited just long enough for a small pocket of hair to hit his lungs before he started peppering Conrad's cheek with sloppy but affectionate smooches. "You never specified where you wanted to be kissed," he chuckled in between.
He leaned up, melting into that kiss. His heart fluttered in his chest, and all those doubts and fears over the key completely disintegrated. Everything was fine. They were fine. And James Conrad was a fool for ever thinking otherwise.
His free hand traveled down Wesley's side, pausing only once he'd moved past his hip, giving that exceptionally round rear of his a squeeze. Excellent timing on Conrad's part. Wesley was suddenly giving him messy, puppy-like kisses to his cheek so the Brit turned that grope into a spank, playfully swatting at the other man's ass.
"Mm, very well. Next time I'll be more specific as to where I want that misbehaved mouth of yours," Conrad grinned, sneaking a sloppy kiss of his own somewhere near Wesley's jaw. "Speaking of that mouth of yours -- You keep calling me Honey Bunny and I'll have no choice but to come up with something equally obnoxious for you. Like.. sugarbutt. Or cuddle bug. Or pookie." God, not pookie. He leaned away, amused that his beloved assassin was so into this pet name thing.
"Y'know, back in my day, I would have called you my old man. It's what all the tough girls called their boyfriends in London."
Oh. That was a slip-up, referring to Wesley as his boyfriend in that roundabout way. That tickled expression went serious extremely fast and Conrad cleared his throat. Maybe if he changed the subject, he'd get lucky and Wesley wouldn't notice. "I ah, couldn't help but notice that we're out of Green Day. What other CDs did you bring with you? Maybe.. show me something we could dance to?"
The smack to his rear was hardly the worst he'd felt but he still lifted his head from Conrad's neck where his mouth had migrated to give a very dramatic and exggerated- "Ow!" But then he wriggled, cheeks bouncing up into that playful hand, and smiled mischeviously. "Oooh, you can do that again." A spanking kink? Really? Was he that cliche? Apparently for Conrad he was.
Even Wes made a face at his lover's poor attempts at sweet name calling. "Don't call me pookie. It makes me sound like some poodle with an expensive haircut to make it look extra fluffy." But he liked that Conrad was trying to come up with names. And he honestly wouldn't mind whatever he came up with. It wasn't like he had to. Darling and dear were plenty sweet enough to woo Wes a thousand times over. Or at least he thought so until Conrad did finally come up with something that worked better than sugarbutt.
Boyfriend.
He'd tensed at the word, expecting to have some kind of bomb go off in his chest. That word had never been one of his favorites. It was just some stupid title that his ex had kept over his head for years. You're the boyfriend so you're supposed to do this. He knew it was bad to only hold onto the bad memories but it was hard to remember the good ones. If there had been any. He hadn't wanted to get pulled into that trap again. Except when Conrad said it in that sort-of-not-saying-it way, his heart didn't sink. It leaped. But his brain took too long to process that one damned word to his heart and before he could say anything, the conversation had moved on without him. It was really getting harder and harder to shovel all his feelings back behind closed doors. But he wasn't going to push the subject for now. Conrad wanted a dance.
"I might have something," he winked before going to look through the albums he'd brought into the bed. Ah. There was a new one he'd just listened to the night before. He exchanged the CD's in the player quickly, then started to move after pressing play. Wes pushed himself up and climbed over Conrad, saddling him for a few moments before stepping out of the bed. He did a twirl and then held out his hand for Conrad to take. "Captain, may I have this dance?"
Conrad practically heaved that sigh of relief. He really, really needed to start watching himself. That was the second time that day that he'd nearly needed to stick his foot in his mouth. Thank god for Wesley and his patience. Months prior, Conrad had pulled away out of fear of something happening between them. Now he was swinging too far in the other direction and it must have been incredibly tedious for poor Wesley to deal with.
But he was dealing with it. And that was far more than Conrad ever could have asked for.
"Decommissioned captain," he corrected, though his tone was far from a stern. No, Conrad was very much smiling as he made his way off the bed, taking Wesley's hand and tugging him close.
"Honey Bunny. That's from that movie, isn't it? One of the Disney ones we watched? What is it he called her in return? Love Cup?" Conrad leaned down, brushing the tips of their noses together. "Maybe I'll go with that one. Love Cup."
their sound so it was among the first he listened to. Most of their songs were alright. Catchy enough that he'd started dancing by himself in his room. But halfway through, he heard this song and it struck him. He listened to nothing else for over an hour. Even when it wasn't playing, the words were on a vicious repeat in his head.
Take the hourglass and drop it.
Why did everything have to remind him how little time he probably had here? He already knew. The hotel liked to keep that fact fresh in his mind. People appearing and disappearing. It hadn't happened to him yet but he knew that it would. Some day. He didn't want to think about it but goddamn, this place didn't give a shit what he wanted, did it?
His chest hurt as the song went on but he didn't let his face show it. He was getting Conrad to dance with him again so at least the smile wasn't hard to wear. "Decommissioned captain is still a captain. It just means you're a naughty one," he'd teased. "I bet you looked swell in uniform though."
Wes had gone ahead and taken the lead in the dance. The height difference only became a problem when he tried to spin Conrad around during the song's bridge. "Taking love tips from a cartoon rabbit? My cup runneth over then." He laughed as he pushed himself up on his toes so he could get both their arms over the blonde's head. After partial success of the spin, Wesley twirled them both and then braced his hand on Conrad's lower back for a dip. "I'll be your love cup as long as that means you'll be playing with all my handles."
"Oh yeah? You into that sort of thing? You like a man in uniform?" Not that he had it with him. But if he did, he'd absolutely slip it on for Wesley, if only for the sake of seeing that enamored expression on his face. "I think I wear the rugged look better, though. I never would have made it in high British society. Prim and proper never suited me. I like to get dirty."
And he had been dirty. Special Forces work wasn't exactly clean or by the books. But that wasn't really the sort of dirty he meant in that moment. Conrad helped Wesley spin him as best as he could, lowering himself so that Wesley could get his arm over him. He tried to help with that dip, too, though Wesley probably didn't need quite as much assistance with that. Conrad might have been tall, but he was thin as a rail, which made him easy to maneuver.
"You really going to let me call you that? In public?" It only seemed fair. Wesley called him Honey Bunny over the Network, which Conrad knew every guest in the hotel could see. "Careful, Wes. People might start thinking we're going steady." He was laughing, though. Partially because Conrad frankly didn't give a damn what the hotel thought of him and his totally-not-boyfriend at this point.
Conrad was also snickering because he knew for a fact that no one used the term 'going steady' anymore. The phrase was outdated even in the seventies. It had probably been fazed out completely in the future. Conrad wondered if Wesley had even heard of 'going steady' or knew what it meant.
Oh, James. Going steady wasn't that old. Wes knew what it meant and he knew why Conrad had said it. This dance between them was going on long before their feet hit the floor. Most times, it was easy to pretend like they weren't tip-toeing around each other. So light. Sometimes so heavy. But they never stopped. Round and round each other. Close but never close enough.
"You could wear anything well. You also wear nothing well." Wes slid his hand down over the fold of Conrad's shirt tucked into his pants. His fingers dipped between and under the fabric, just barely touching his warm skin.
What had they done in public so far? Flirting like a couple of twitterpated birds. Even Fox had rolled her eyes at them. Was it that much of a stretch for people to think that they were together? That they were dating?
He shrugged, pulling Conrad back into another slow dance. "Why not? People use nicknames for each other all the time. And I wouldn't mind." Wes had let his eyes wander but now they were focused on Conrad. He'd spent months now memorizing the lines on his face. Knowing how he looked when he was happy or sad. Upset. Aroused. It was a little harder to tell when he was lying. Conrad was good at hiding. But he'd been letting those walls down more and more around him. It was getting easier to see his tells.
"I don't do careful a lot. You know me. I'm all about taking risks." At least these days he was. His heart quickened, anxious about what he was going to say before they even fell out. "You can call me sugarbutt. Or Love Cup. Old man. They all mean the same thing, don't they?"
The feeling of Wesley's fingers touching his skin lit him up like a firecracker. It hadn't been much, just the slightest hint of contact. But they had both established that they were embarrassingly easy for one another and that's all it really took to nudge Conrad into inappropriate mode. Mischief twinkled in his blue eyes.
"Nothing, hm? Perhaps we'll just take turns snapping naughty pictures of one another, then.." Because he wasn't letting that idea go just yet if Wesley was actually into it. Hey, they had the potential to be artistic and raunchy. No one said it had to be complete filth.
..but knowing them, it probably would be.
But what Wesley said next caught him off guard. Completely. And it showed. Conrad's jaw nearly hit the floor. He wouldn't mind if people thought they were going steady? Really? Did he mean that? Conrad tried not to slow them to a stop, but his smooth, elegant swaying noticeably became choppy and unfocused. Especially after Wesley clarified that he could call him his old man.
"Yeah.. yeah, they do all mean the same thing." But Conrad wouldn't specify what. He'd already said it once. He wouldn't say it again until Wesley did. Which might have seemed wary of him, but his body language was anything but. Conrad did eventually pause their dancing, but only so that he could lean in and give Wesley a kiss. A warm, loving, proper kiss, full on the lips. One that was slow and intimate and dripping with heavy emotion.
When he finally leaned back, there was a deliciously cheerful look on his features. "For the record, I like it when you call me Honey Bunny."
"You'll let me have a turn with the camera? On you?" Wes had to really contain his excitement. He bit his bottom lip but couldn't stop the cheeky smile. "Ooh, I don't know if I'll be able to keep my hands on the camera but it would be fun trying. Wonder how many pictures I'll get before I decide to get up close and personal with my model." How long would it take? It would be a miracle if Wesley survived more than ten minutes snapping pictures of Conrad naked and open to him.
They were moving slower. Barely at all. Wes draped his arms around Conrad's neck, letting himself swing with him. He was all fingers as he moved them up the back of his head, playing at the curls that gathered around the nape of his neck. They'd been a sweaty mess once, those little wisps of hair, when he'd been straddling him on the bed. The memory of that still made him go red everywhere.
Looking up into Conrad's face, there was a lot he could see. He was hesitating, careful with what he said. Or maybe just careful that he didn't say too much. They both had gotten into the habit of letting things slip that they didn't mean to. For one reason or another. Mostly because they were afraid of what the other would do or say. It was kind of stupid, wasn't it? Having so much to say and being too scared to run the other person off with it? Well maybe not that stupid. That fear was rightly placed. Wes knew his own experiences hadn't painted a pretty picture for things like this. Relationships. And after what Conrad had told him about his own attempts, he understood why he was holding back. Or maybe he was just waiting.
A kiss solved everything. At least for a little while. Ignorance was bliss. And he sank like an anchor into it. "Hm?" Wes blinked, pulling himself back out of the warm water Conrad's lips had pulled him into. The smile he gave was slow and daydreamy. "You aren't embarrassed by it? I could have gone with something more like cutie pie? Lover boy. Though," he nipped at Conrad's chin, still hanging off him. "Butterfly Lips is still my favorite."
"No, not embarrassed at all. You can call me anything you want. Even.. pookie." Saying it with a straight face was a different matter entirely. There was a crooked smile on his lips. He had a difficult time believing that one was going to stick, even if Wesley wanted to call him 'pookie'. "Still not sure Butterfly Lips is appropriate, though."
And just to prove his point, Conrad leaned down, sneaking in a few nips of his own to Wesley's collar. That decommissioned captain was far too rough to be called anything that might imply he was delicate.
All this talk of naked photographs and pet names had certainly altered his train of thought. The innocence of swaying to music and flipping through Mason's pictures had fallen to the wayside. Wesley's arms were up and around his shoulders, leaving his sides wide open and vulnerable. So Conrad slipped his fingers beneath the bottom hem of his shirt, inviting his touch to go much further than Wesley's had gone.
"Wes," he whispered into the curve of his neck, "Any way I could convince you to stay over again? You know, til we fall asleep? You can keep your clothes on this time, if you don't want to leave your underwear here again.. Even if I absolutely prefer them off."
Fuck. He actually giggled, the noise slipping out even as he tried to hide his face in Conrad's chest. "Pookie is off the table, please. You can call me anything else. Just, for heaven's sake, not that. Then you really will make me feel like an old man." But he was laughing. Wes didn't really care what Conrad called him. As long as he kept calling.
He still liked Butterfly Lips but maybe Conrad was right. For him, it didn't fit. It was more Wes' style, wasn't it? His mouth was constantly fluttering over Conrad's skin. Everywhere. Stopping only briefly to leave a mark, then moving on. He rarely could keep his mouth in one spot. But Conrad was prettier. More colorful. So Wes could call him his Butterfly.
Although now it was Conrad's mouth that was flying. Or biting. Maybe he was more of a hungry wolf than a butterfly, Wes mused. He rested his head back, tilting it for easier access. Not that Conrad really had to fight for land here. It was hard to focus on serious things and deep emotions when other feelings were rising to take over the moment. He felt Conrad's hands find their way under his shirt and smiled knowingly.
Wes leaned his whole body in, giving up almost all of his weight. "There are many ways you could convince me, James." A stupid amount. Wes wouldn't give up his dignity and say how many. Not tonight. Though if Conrad's hands tickled him some more, he might give up a lot. "Hey, that underwear was a trophy for you to keep. Maybe I'll leave my belt. Or a sock. Since I can't leave myself." He pushed his face into Conrad's shoulder, breathed in the smell of him from his shirt. "How are you going to convince me?"
"A trophy? Wes, that makes you sound like some sort of conquest.."
Though it had been a pleasant sight to wake up to: their clothes puddled together on the carpet, clear evidence of the night before. The reminder had been nice. The deep, dark purple bruises around his wrists had been even nicer.
How was Conrad going to convince Wesley to stay over? There was an unspoken convince me in there and while the Brit knew damn well it wouldn't take much coercing to get him to stick around, he would absolutely accept that challenge. He slowly slipped the headphones off of his ears, placing them beside the CD player on the bed. Those blue eyes then looked Wesley directly in the face, giving him a completely serious, "I'm going to get down on my knees and beg you."
It was relatively obvious what Conrad wanted at this point. And Wesley knew it. Surely he did. Conrad hadn't been fondling the skin beneath Wesley's shirt for no reason. And if Wesley was going to leave him another 'trophy', Conrad might as well work to earn it, right?
His mouth had returned to the other man's neck, kissing the soft spot just below his ear. Kisses that turned mildly aggressive within seconds, his teeth catching Wes' earlobe. And there, his descent began. He kissed along Wesley's collar, down the front of his shirt, over abdomen and stomach, until he was on his knees in front of his dear assassin, his face now level with the front of Wes' pants.
"Please, Wesley." Those bright blue eyes of his blinked up at the other man for exactly two seconds before he dipped forward. His lips met with the zipper of his pants, kissing and licking along that vertical closure. "Please, stay with me--"
Conquest. A shiver ran up his spine. Yes. He was something to be conquered. Climbed. Taken. Fought for. If the right soldier came along. Decommissioned and all.
"Then you better claim me."
And wow, did he ever. Wesley liked to think that he was a hard man to please. That it took more than a few sultry words and swift fingers to make him crumble. He didn't just let anyone join him in the secret garden. But Conrad didn't just have one key. He had all of them and he knew exactly where the locks were. Conrad had his teeth on his ear and he felt himself unlock so quickly, he could feel the gear and chambers click out of place.
There was something so primal and wicked about seeing another man on their knees for him. Conrad had been an unmovable oak when they'd first met. So prickly. So unyeilding. Wes hadn't minded. He'd seen something there past the coarse and unrefined. And he knew how to climb. It hadn't always been pleasant but when it was, it really was. Now Conrad was sweet as syrup.
"I'm going to run out of underwear at the rate we're going," Wesley said under his breath seconds before Conrad decided to take it when he looked up at him with those eyes. Air? Who needed it. He tucked Conrad's cheek into the palm of his hand, thumb grazing over the soft skin under those bright blues. "Someone could really write sonnets about your eyes." He almost laughed at himself. Sonnets? Really? "You're really turning me into a romantic, you know that?"
Stay? With Conrad pleading like this, how could he say no? As if he wasn't already planning to say yes. That wasn't going to stop him from still teasing his sweet honey bunny. He tucked his fingers up into Conrad's hair and gave them a rough but playful tug. "On one condition. Carry me to bed?"
"And what an awful thing to be, a romantic." Conrad winked up at him. "Just wait 'til I tell everyone my old man's secretly a bleeding heart."
He didn't immediately get up. Wesley's hand was in his hair, encouraging this naughty behavior. So Conrad leaned in again, mouthing kisses just above where he imagined Wesley's cock was. He'd already won, there was no need to keep convincing Wesley. He was just toying with him now.
And maybe work up some courage for himself. He'd never given anyone a blowjob before. This absolutely fell under the category of 'inexperienced, but excessively willing'. And if Wesley was going to allow him experiment, Conrad was biting at the bit to give it a go. Particularly because he knew he was going to like it. The opportunity had just never come up.
In contrast to his aggressive kisses and scrapes of teeth, Conrad was gentle as he stood up and lifted Wesley up into his arms. Happily, effortlessly. He carried him bridal-style over to the bed - the bed without all their belongings on it - kissing along the side of his face the entire way. When he lowered Wesley down to the mattress, he was equally careful, easing him onto the sheets. Conrad, of course, was quick to follow, crawling on top of him with feline grace.
As badly as he wanted to just rip those clothes right off of him, Conrad restrained himself. He looked down at him, his tone hopeful as he asked, "Any other conditions, Mr. Gibson?"
How could someone make him feel so heavy one moment and then so light the next?
He'd forgotten how strong Conrad was. It'd been awhile since they'd taken a tussle on the mat. Wes made a small noise as he was suddenly swept off his feet and into Conrad's arms like a cat being pulled from the floor unexpectedly. But surprise dissolved into delight once he realized what was happening. Bridal style!? Would that make him Mrs Conrad? Wes did his best to keep himself still. There was a bit of happy wriggling so the risk of getting dropped wasn't exactly low. But Conrad was a wonderful gentleman and placed him on the bed without any struggle.
Conditions sounded like strings. Wes grinned and shook his head. The rest of him and the bed moved with him, his eagerness showing. Restraint couldn't be a thing when he had Conrad hovering over him like low-hanging juicy fruit. "Absolutely none. Go wild," he insisted with a lick of his lips. His legs rose, knees bumping into whatever warm parts they could.
Wes didn't care what they did in bed. He didn't have any expectations or demands. This was still relatively new to both of them. They were just feeling out the boundaries with each other, finding what parts they liked and didn't like. However they ended up, as long as they were both satisfied in the end, he was fine with. If he stayed on the bottom, again there wasn't much complaining on his end. As long as Conrad had no regrets.
He grabbed at the front of Conrad's shirt and pulled him down, their noses crashing into each other before he could sneak in a small kiss.
"Wesley," he whispered into that kiss, "My dear, sweet Wesley -- Allan -- Gibson--" Christ, he felt so good beneath him. So warm and beautiful and inviting. Conrad tilted his head, bringing affection to his favorite spot, just below Wesley's ear, followed by a heated, "I want you."
There it went, the release of all self restraint. Wesley had instructed him to go wild and he'd be an idiot not to follow that order. He leaned back, just enough to take his shirt off and drop it to the floor. Every article of clothing on Wesley's body would be next, if Conrad had any say in the matter. The Brit was already working Wesley's belt open, those fingers feverishly tugging at every closure that still kept them apart. He wanted Wesley naked and panting in his bed, gripping at the sheets with those perfect legs wrapped around him.
Which probably also meant there would be noise in the near future. The obnoxious kind that caused neighbors to knock on the walls and inform them to keep it down. Conrad would be baking Mike another apology cake after this for sure. Sorry, Mike.