sg_pollux (sg_pollux) wrote in supergleerpg, @ 2012-02-08 16:21:00 |
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Entry tags: | !type: thread, -2012: february, character: pollux stuart, former character: eoin costigan, ~complete |
Backdated Thread: Pollux and Eoin
Who: Pollux & Eoin
What: Pollux seeks violence, Eoin provides
Where: Quarry, Bar, then Eoin's place.
When: February 1st 2012 (Shhh Pol so still has those injuries. Dragon didn't forget to placeholder she swears.....)
Warnings: Blood, violence, language, sex
Pollux was still looking pretty as he headed to meet the huge redhead. His left eye was stained blue and black, his cheek bone much the same with faded yellow to match. His nose was taped up where it had been broken, the colored skin painting down his Under his clothing the bruising mottled his pale chest. He’s been lucky, the internal bleeding had stopped on it’s own. His ribs were only bruised instead of broken. He didn’t blink to the quarry. He decided to walk it to keep from straining his powers.
Eoin had considered getting his uncle to give him a lift to the quarry, but, at the end of the day, he decided he could use the walk. Clear his head a little. Since he’d stopped working out so often - since trashing the gym, really - he’d been feeling the lack of exercise, so why not? It meant he was slow, sauntering down to the quarry a little later than they’d agreed, but what was a couple of minutes, really?
When he saw Pollux, though, he stopped dead, hands in his pockets.
“You look like someone slammed your head through a brick wall and kicked you up the arse after,” he opinioned, with his usual delicacy and tact. “What the hell happened to you?”
Pol had been waiting, his mind working at it’s usual fast pace. He hated violence, it was a detestable part of this world, but he saw clear evidence that it was unavoidable. He turned, a small bitter smile pulling the side of his face. “Something like that. A misguided soul took an offense to my brother’s sexuality.”
“Oh, great.” Eoin rolled his eyes. “I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but I’m not seeing how I can go from Catholic school in Ireland to the land of the fucking free and find more goddamn homophobes here than there, it’s bullshit. You okay? That nose looks nasty, and that’s a hell of a shiner you’ve got there.” He gestured vaguely to Pollux’s eye, pulling a face.
“I’m okay.” He assured the other man. He looked the redhead up and down, taking in the height difference between them. Pol was not a short man, but next to the Irish giant he might as well have been a midget. “Let’s make sure next time I can give the other some marks to match.”
“Sounds like my kind of party,” Eoin agreed, with a grin. It had been a while since he’d really tried teaching anyone to box - hell, it had been a while since he’d done much proper boxing himself - but he was game if Pollux was. “First things first. Two questions; one, have you ever done boxing or wrestling or anything before, and two... you hurt anywhere that’s not obvious? I’m not breaking your goddamn ribs just for the craic.”
“I’ve never fought physically no.” The commune was all about non-violent resolution and quiet contentment. “Bruised ribs.” He pulled up his sweatshirt and shirt, showing his mottled chest.
Eoin frowned at the bruises, leaning back a little to take them in, and grimaced slightly in sympathy. “I hate people sometimes. Right, so I guess we’re taking it easy, then. Basic shit. Show me your fist.”
Pollux shrugged at the sympathy in the other’s face. He didn’t expect others to feel for him. He’s taken the beating with a purpose and every pain was a badge of reminder of it. It filled him with determination. Pol made a fist, but his thumb was tucked under his fingers and his are hung too low at his side.
“Well, shite, that’s a good start,” Eoin said wryly, but without rancour, reaching over to take hold of the smaller boy’s hand and reposition it. “Arms up here. Let your arms go slack, and that’s like painting a giant target on you; you can’t keep a guard up like that. And, more importantly, you don’t ever make a fist like that. Thumb goes outside, curves a little like this so it’s out of the way, but it has to go outside. Otherwise...” Wrapping his hand around Pollux’s, he squeezed, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to push his fingers in against that misplaced thumb. “Feel that? The way it pulls your thumb out of place? Now imagine how much force it takes to knock someone down, and imagine that much force pushing on your thumb like that. Throw a strong punch like that, and you’ll dislocate your thumb if you’re lucky, break it if you’re not.”
He let go, forming a fist of his own. “See? This is how you do it. Thumb outside, and when you throw a punch, keep your thumb out of the way as much as you can, it’s the easiest part of your hand to break and one of the hardest to fix.”
Pollux winced as the pressure was applied to his thumb. That would be a problem. He favored his right hand and the loss of the thumb would cause too many problems. He copied the fist, making sure he had his thumb proper. “Better?”
“Better,” Eoin agreed, with a smile. “Don’t clench too hard, though, the looser it is the more impact it can take.” He thought over what he’d said, then snorted. “And for once in my life, that innuendo was totally unintentional. Must be a day for firsts.”
Pol snorted at the innuendo. “I don’t need any lessons on that particular area. I’m well versed in angling that kind of impact to make a partner scream.” The joke loosened his tension, easing off the nerves that had led him to learn to fight. He loosened his hands, letting them ease. “Now how do I throw a punch?”
“Fists up closer to your chest, here. Get your feet apart a little, you’ll throw yourself off-balance like that. Then you just...” Shifting his stance a little, standing next to Pollux, he aimed a short jab at an invisible opponent. “Like that. Face is the best place to aim, in a real fight; obviously, my face isn’t a normal face-height, so just pretend your opponent’s the same height as you. The power’s coming from the elbow, there, and the shoulder. Give it a go. Just against the air, so I can see.”
Pol licked over his lips as he concentrated. He took a breath, shifting his mind to use his breath to push the force into the punch. He jabbed with a swift outward breath, his body naturally swift.
“Nice.” Eoin smiled, stepping out in front of the smaller boy, and held out one hand, the palm open towards Pollux, at about Pollux’s head height. “You’re twisting your wrist a little too much, but otherwise that’s pretty good.” He tapped two fingers against his open palm, then set his stance a little better. “Punch that.”
Pol eyed Eoin a bit sceptically at the offered body part for his striking pleasure. It didn’t seem terribly smart, but neither did punching anyone in general. He rolled his shoulders, adjusting his stance and wrist as instructed. His dark blue’s narrowed. Again he let out his breath in a fast ‘ha’ as he struck.
Eoin was pleasantly surprised by how strong the punch was, driving his hand back an inch or so before he stopped it; he hadn’t been sure what to expect from someone who’d genuinely never fought before, and it was good to know it wasn’t going to be a completely uphill battle. “Awesome,” he said, with a grin, flexing his fingers slightly. “How’d that feel?”
“It felt.. like flesh hitting flesh.” Really what else was it supposed to feel like? He could feel the reverberations through his hands, and through his chest as it protested his actions. It felt like a betrayal, a fall from faith of everything he ever was taught to believe. Violence begot violence. He felt it clench in the back of his throat. “It felt like I could hurt someone.”
“Good.” He’d been hoping for something like that. “You can. Maybe not badly, like that, but you can, especially if you take them by surprise.” His hands went back in his pockets, and he shrugged one shoulder. “I guess that’s good, but I’ve got to lean to what my da always told me; hurting people’s fine in the ring, but it’s never what wins you a fight. No point putting the other guy in hospital if you end up there yourself, and that goes double for real fights, out of the ring. Throwing punches is the easy bit. The key is not getting hit by them. Keeping a guard up, dodging, blocking, ducking... learn that before you learn anything else. Except the thing with the thumb, that’s important.” He smiled, pulling his hands back out of his pockets, and shaking them for a moment before forming them into fists and shifting back into a defensive stance. “First step is getting a guard up, like this. Middle of your chest, that means you can move quicker to block anywhere above the waist.”
Pollux mimicked, feeling his arms come up to protect his chest and face. He shifted his weight, finding a stance with bent knees. The idea of defense and avoidance wasn’t a lesson he expected. Violence seemed all aggression and pain, to make another human being suffer, “What now?”
Eoin reached over again, taking hold of Pollux’s wrists and shifting his arms slightly. “Like that. There. Turn your body a little, too, squaring off against someone just gives them more to hit. You’re right-handed, yeah? So... probably best to start off here, right hand and right leg back just a little, it’s counter-intuitive but it means you can keep your strong side safer and have a bit more weight behind your punches. You don’t always have to be turned that way, but try not to be facing your opponent square-on unless it’s mid-punch. Here.” Stepping in a little closer, he took hold of Pollux’s hips, twisting them a few degrees, then pushed back lightly on his thigh. “Bit better,” he commented, at last, moving back around in front.
Pol let the other man adjust him. He focused, trying to impress the memory of the stance into his body. If he got into a fight he would need to bring these skills out in a flash without thinking. He jabbed experimentally into the air. If someone came at him then there was less to be able to strike. “Alright. Less to hit on me would be a good thing.”
“More to hit on me would be a good thing,” Eoin mused, his voice light. “Ninety percent of the population... it just doesn’t seem enough. Oh, you meant literally?” He flashed a grin at Pollux, acknowledging the cheesiness of his own joke, and combed a hand back through his hair, looking the smaller boy up and down. “Guess the next stage is dodging, but I won’t lie, the idea of just punching you until you learn to dodge isn’t that appealing, I might get done for assault again.” Again, that bright grin to reassure that it was a joke; he was ready to explain so, knowing how often Castor didn’t realise when things were jokes, not sure how different Pollux was in that regard.
Pollux understood, in fact as much as the new world was strange he could see and understand far more then his brother...most days. “Isn’t that the other way round? You hitting on the 90%.” The joke eased him, it was a way to know that this moment of violence would be out of the way. “Well let’s see. Take a swing big man.”
“Don’t talk bullshit. I hit on everyone. Ninety percent is for cowards.” Eoin smirked, then nodded briefly. “Right. Ready?” After a second to give Pollux a chance to prepare, he threw a punch at the smaller boy’s head. The advantage of all his practice with siblings was that he trusted himself to punch someone without hurting them, so he didn’t hesitate; the punch was well-controlled, and fairly slow. He watched Pollux closely, ready to pull back if he didn’t get out of the way in time. Breaking the guy’s nose wasn’t exactly what he was going for.
Pollux blinked. He was suddenly behind the redhead with only a waft of ozone left behind. He placed a light punch to the ginger’s shoulder blade. “That fast enough?” He was showing off... Eoin was quite the attractive man after all.
Eoin started, stumbling forwards slightly, and laughed - a slightly incredulous kind of sound - clutching overdramatically at his chest as he turned to face Pollux again. “Jesus Christ, give me a heart attack, why don’t you? Fucking cheat.” There was no rancour, though, only a kind of surprised humour.
Pollux smirked wide, the tension easing. “No fancy tricks to confuse you this time redhead, promise.” He took at the ready, body turned to give the least amount of target space possible.
“Better not be,” Eoin muttered darkly, or what would have been darkly if it hadn’t been interrupted by a chuckle, and shifted his stance again, smiling. “Right. Ready?” The same punch again, slow and pulled.
Pol dodged to the left, his hands still up. He was quick on his feet, but the concept of using the opening to strike back was lost on him.
Eoin noted the lack of response, and chose not to remark on it for now; first try, after all. “Okay. And if I aim here?” This punch was a little faster, aimed to the left a little, at Pollux’s stomach.
Pol moved, but he didn’t move his arms to defend or block away. He was just barely able to avoid it in time.
Eoin pulled his hand back, scratching the side of his head idly. “You know, if I wasn’t being nice to you, it would have been really bloody easy to just swing that around a little and whack you in the kidneys. Watch which parts of you are open, and if someone punches you there, you block it, or deflect it to somewhere it’ll hurt less.”
Pol nodded tersely. He experimented a few blocks? “How does this work?”
“Come at me. Let’s go with... gut. Punch me in the gut. I’ll show you how it works.” Eoin fell back into a defensive stance, with a smile.
Pol’s fist darted out. He didn’t have the control to pull his punches quite yet.
Eoin sidestepped a little, deflecting Pollux’s punch out to one side with a brief, economical shift of one fist. “We’re heading out of boxing a little here, but if you’re fighting for real, that’s the kind of thing you need to be able to do.”
“I’m not going to get in any prize fights.” He watched the motion of the block. He was trying to mimic as must as he possibly could.
“Not the way you fight, you’re not,” Eoin teased, but it was good-natured and there was obviously no real put-down intended. “Most important thing is to make sure you protect the weak areas - that’s your gut, solar plexus, face, and groin. If you can dodge or deflect so it lands somewhere bonier - an arm, a leg, a hip - it might hurt, but unless you’re facing off against Rocky Balboa or something, the worst you’re likely to get is a bruise. The soft parts, they can get seriously damaged by a punch. Especially the gut. That’s how Houdini died, you know.”
“Hou whati? Was he a boxer?” He tilted his head, suddenly looking very much like his airhead brother.
“Harry Houdini. Escapologist, at the start of the twentieth century. How the hell do you people get through life not knowing these things?”
“Never was told. Not being raised with television does that. Apparently he was some sort of historically important figure who died from a gut punch.” Look new random knowledge. “So protected the face, stomach, balls and back. Simple?”
“You never cracked open a book?” Eoin smiled sidelong, shrugging. “But, yeah, that’s basically it. Those are the bits to aim for if you want to incapacitate someone, too. There’s an acronym for it; SING. Solar plexus, instep, nose, groin. Add kidneys to that, and stomach, and you’ve about got it.”
“SING? How ironic.” He looked back at the other male, already beginning to feel the left over strain on his body. “Not much. I learned plenty of other skills. Like woodcarving.”
“Da tried to teach me that once.” Eoin looked reflective for a moment, then shook it off. “I was shit at it. Then again, so was he. But, yeah, that’s the stuff - basic self-defence shit, in no way learnt from chick-flicks.”
“Chick-flick.... I can only assume you mean movie meant for females? Or are you referencing your selection for tonight’s meal?” Pol’s eyebrows pulled together as he tried to muddle through the phrase. “If you want someone to teach you I carve rather well.”
“Crappy movies meant for females,” Eoin corrected him, with a chuckle. “And no, that’s all right. We can stick with Roisin being the arty one in my family, I should try not to eclipse them all in every way.”
Pol smiled, but it pulled a bit wearily at his eyes. The pain was still there, the fading marks badges of the fight as well as the recovery. “Every family has it’s roles. I don’t expect a man as big as you would be allowed more then one.”
“You’d be surprised,” Eoin remarked wryly. “I get to be the dad, the babysitter, the Prodigal Son...” He sighed a little. In the wake of the holiday season, and with the news that someone else had moved into their house in his place, he was feeling more homesick than ever - so much that it was becoming a real effort to hide it.
“You have them.” Pol said with the depth of sadness only a boy who had too many family gone in too little time could display. “Cherish them. No matter how far. You can still reach them...”
“Most of them,” Eoin mumbled, and sighed. “Whatever. We’re being way too serious about the wrong stuff here. Let’s get back to beating the shit out of each other, shall we?”
Pol swung, his punch darting toward Eoin’s collarbone like a dart.
Again, Eoin shifted, ducking forwards and to the side so that the punch sailed over his shoulder. The move brought him in close; close enough that he could feel the warmth off the other’s body. And Pollux’s guard was down on that side, he noted automatically; if he’d wanted to, he could have got a good blow in, but that would achieve nothing. Still, there was a part of him that wanted to rub in just how close he was and how open Pollux had left himself.
Oh, what the hell.
He kissed Pollux on the side of the mouth, a quick press of his lips, before darting back again with a smirk. “Watch your side. If I can get in that close, you’re fucked.”
Pol’s mind was on the action, on the learning of violence despite all of his raising. The kiss.. a more sweet intimate act threw him off. He pulled himself back. “Is that how you’ll teach me? Seems like a reward.”
“I like to keep people guessing.” Eoin chuckled, deep in his throat. “As long as you don’t sue for sexual assault, we’re golden.”
“No. It’s assault if I don’t want it. And I definitely want it.” He smiled as he licked his lips once. He tried the same move, only keeping his guard up this time.
Eoin ducked the other way this time, bringing up one fist to deflect the blow inwards. “I have to ask.... in that case, why are two gorgeously irresistible guys such as ourselves fighting in a completely non-euphemistic sense, then? Is this what counts as foreplay in Hippieville?” He wasn’t remotely serious, of course; he’d come to teach fighting, fucking was an optional extra. Not that he’d say no.
“Foreplay is never fighting. However I enjoy some more active physical play.” He shrugged casually. He knew this would likely end the night with he and Eoin against each other. “Of course if we are going to enjoy each other we might want to do it before my body gives out. I’m still healing.”
“Yeah, I see that.” Eoin pulled a face, looking at Pollux’s bruises. “How about we call it a day for now? I’ll buy you a drink.”
Pol nodded, offering his hand. Instead of taking the shake he brought it up to pet Eion’s cheek. “A drink sounds fine. Anywhere specific you want to go?”
“There’s a few places around mine they don’t even ID me any more.” Eoin shifted slightly into the touch, smiling, and reached up to touch Pollux’s hand. “Plus, you know. Easy to go on after.” Hey, no point in beating around the bush.
Pol let his fingers lace with Eoin. He moved to bring them down so they could walk with them clasped together. They were alone and about to have sex. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to him. “Lead the way.”
“It’s a bit of a walk,” Eoin warned him. “Couldn’t teleport us there, could you, Nightcrawler?”
“Night who? If you’re looking for nicknames wouldn’t something a little bright be wanted?” He stepped close into Eoin’s space, one arm slipping around his waist. “You’re bigger then who I usually blink.”
“Oh, damn, I forgot. No pop culture references around the hippies.” Eoin pulled a face, turning a little to wrap his arm around Pollux’s shoulder. “If you think you’re going to leave half of me behind or something, then I guess we can walk.”
“It’s fine. I just need to get the feel of your height first.” He pressed closer, able to hear Eoin’s heartbeat. “Close your eye and tell me where we are going.”
“Murphy’s. Irish pub, on the outside of town. You know it?” It was the only place he’d found so far with Guinness that tasted like proper Guinness, even if the over-the-top Irishness grated on his nerves a bit.
“I know it.” He glanced up at Eoin one last time before they blinked.
In the next instant they were across the street from the bar, pressed tightly together. “Open your eyes.”
Eoin opened them, slowly, and grinned just as slowly, running one hand back through his hair. “Fucking awesome,” was his considered assessment, accompanied by a short, barking kind of laugh. “You’re a useful guy to have around, huh?”
“To some.” He took a step back from Eoin, unfortunately remembering some of the unspoken rules of this place. Men don’t touch.
“Chill,” Eoin said, looking at Pollux with a slightly raised eyebrow. “You’re with me. I don’t get messed with.” Well. He did, occasionally. The difference was, he didn’t care. It all went with the image, and he could laugh it off. With a little shrug, he led the way to the bar.
“I learned a swift and brutal lesson about what stepping outside of the Judeo-christian morals means in this town. I’m not ready for another round.”
“Fuck Judeo-Christian morals. Some people just jump on any excuse to ruin people’s fun.” Eoin pulled a face, shrugging again, as they headed inside. “What’re you having?”
“Beer, let’s start there and see how deep we get.” He smiled easily, allowing himself to walk a little closer to the Irishman. “Whichever you drink. Might as well be adventurous.”
“Guinness it is. ‘S what this place is best for. Proper taste of home.” Eoin headed up to the bar, leaning his elbows on it. “All right, Jack? Two pints of the black stuff, yeah?”
The cheerful bartender slid over the drinks without a blink. Pol found himself sipping and quite enjoying the taste. “So this your normal place then?”
“One of.” Eoin nodded, taking a long drink; it slid down his throat, cool and dark and a great relief. He hadn’t had a drink all day. “I get around. But here’s close to home and it does a good pint. Plus it’s a good place to hang around and meet up with some others from the old country. Hate the whole ‘Irish pub’ idea, though, this place isn’t like any pub in Ireland I’ve ever been to. How’s the Guinness?”
“Tastes good.” He smiled looking around the bar. The group seemed familiar with eachother, a quiet little place to just be. He shifted to face Eoin a little more face on. “You miss your home. I can sympathize.”
Another little shrug, followed, after a moment, by a shake of the head. “I’ve been away from home since I was twelve. Boarding school and all. I miss my family. Fucking timezones, man.” And fucking Christmas... Christmas without Sean getting overexcited about his stocking, and without the noise, and without trying to fit everyone around the table, and without the arguments over who had to wash up... Christmas with just him and Skype and ever-increasing empty bottles around him. That had been hell.
He shook it off, taking another long gulp of beer. “What’s the deal with your home, anyway? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Commune.” He waited a beat before trying to cut off the usual disbelief. “We lived in a commune, grew up in a place where limits didn’t exist. It was...peaceful.”
“Sounds nice.” A little smile, an acknowledgement of his slight surprise. “...Weird. But nice.” He was halfway through his drink already.
“It was. We learned to work the land, I carved wood, Cas danced and tended to the gardens. No anger, no jealousy of partners, no violence.”
“Awesome.” He couldn’t imagine that. It was a million miles from anything he’d experienced, and, if he was honest, it didn’t sound possible; to him, it sounded really unhealthy to be somewhere where nobody was ever angry. He knew what it was like to not let yourself be angry. It built up inside you, made you tired, made you dangerous.
But clearly it had worked for Pollux. So well he can’t even fight, he thought, and felt horrible for thinking it.
He cleared his throat. “Makes sense, I mean. Nothing like I’ve ever been around. No communes, just lots of communalism.”
“Not many people have. It was.. wonderful. But it broke down. I’m not sure why, either the life was unsustainable, or the wickedness of the old life could not leave the elders hearts.” He sighed and leaned toward Eoin. “Communalism? Big family?”
“Big family, small town. Tiny place on the coast, miss it like hell.” Eoin shrugged, finishing off his beer, and put the empty glass back on the bar. “Moved to school in Dublin when I was twelve, so it was a big city, but the school wasn’t huge, all the boarders knew each other. Knew most of the girls across the road, too.” He chuckled, briefly, trying not to think too hard about those girls, and shrugged again. “Coming here’s the first time I’ve had a bedroom to myself, put it that way.”
“I hate my single bedroom. I still stare at the ceiling and pretend that my brother’s breath is beside me. ” Pollux finished his own drink, feeling the warmth from the alcohol in him. “I try to be out of that place when ever possible.”
“It’s shitty,” Eoin agreed, looking up at the ceiling; he looked uncharacteristically serious, and more than a little lonely. “Too quiet. I still can’t sleep properly on my own.” And, just like that, the moment of seriousness was gone, and the flirty, slightly silly smile was back. “Just as well, with my stunning good looks and bundles of charisma, I never have to. Now, d’you want another, or shall we head on? I have a single bedroom to get back to. And so do you.” It was just a little ambiguous, but the intent behind it was pretty damn obvious.
Pollux watched the serious, taking the memory of it into his mind for later understanding. It was clear this man hid behind his humor, perhaps he could help ease him out of that in the future. He knew the connection between their experiences would bring them back together even beyond the needs of the night. There was far too much similarity not to. “To a single bedroom it is. The only question remaining is which has better sound proofing.”
“Who gives a fuck, my aunt and uncle’ll be out anyway.” Eoin grinned, tipping a jaunty little salute to the bartender, and offered Pollux his arm with a ridiculously over the top flourish. “Come, my good sir. Let us away, to pastures new!”
Pollux had to laugh, the playfulness bringing his smile easily to the front. He walked with Eoin arm in arm until they were a decent distance away. “what street is your place on?”
“This one,” Eoin shrugged, pointing vaguely down the street. “This is my normal pub for a reason, not just the Guinness. Nice short distance to stagger while shitfaced at three in the morning.”
“Clever.” He walked, glad not to have taken in too much. He preferred remembering his lovers, not that he’d had that many. “What’s your preference?”
“What for?” Eoin shrugged, hand in his pocket.
“There’s the boring basics of top or bottom. Then there’s the more fun things like frott or fingering while sucking. Even more fun are restrains and impact play. There’s gagging and that high that you can only get when your brain floats through it’s need to regain oxygen. Or there’s my usual preference. The simple movements of bodies together, mouths tangled to swallow into ourselve’s eachother’s pleasure and very breath.”
“Bit poetic for my tastes, I usually just fuck.” It wasn’t a response he’d thought through, but, frankly, thinking was overrated anyway. Honestly, he didn’t have a preference - besides the things he could never do without thinking of Ellie any more - but that sounded far too much of a reasonable thing to say, and he wasn’t in the mood to be reasonable. “Take penis. Take partner. Hijinks ensue. Sexy, sexy hijinks. C’mon, this is my place.” He dug in his jacket pocket for the front door key, letting them in. “You want another drink or anything?”
Pol chuckled over the response. “You remind me a little of Man-Mountain.” He could imagine that kind of response coming out of the man if he ever had the moment for a one-night-stand. “I’m good.”
He headed further in, looking around curiously at the habitat of the man about to become a lover of his.
The hall, like the rest of the house, was fairly neat and sparsely furnished - Aunt Katie was something of a neat freak, and so was Eoin, although he would never have admitted it - with plain white walls; a photograph of Katie and Brendan’s wedding hung near the door, and a little further along the hallway, a large bookcase stood, but otherwise, there was little indication of the personalities of the people who lived there. Eoin kicked off his shoes at the door, shrugging off his jacket at the same time, and headed for the stairs.
Pol shucked his jacket and slid his shoes off. He then pulled off his shirt, or at least he tried. His ribs protested the movement of his arms over his head. He hissed and took a breath to get into the room before he had to ask. “Help me out of this?”
Eoin chuckled, low in his throat, and drew Pollux further into the room (a little less pristine than downstairs, with photographs of his family pinned to the door and the walls still showing the scars of his outburst a couple of months before), pulling the other boy’s shirt off in the same movement. Tossing the shirt aside, he leant down for a kiss, fingers tangling their way into Pollux’s hair. “Better?”
Pol’s head bent back to accommodate the other man’s height. He opened easily under Eoin’s lips, calm in his beginning explorations. His hands petted over Eoin’s chest before pulling up the hem of his shirt to slide long fingers along the redhead’s stomach.
The scars Ellie had left on Eoin’s stomach were pretty minor, certainly compared to the ones on his back, his chest, or his legs, but they were there; thin, raised lines of knotted tissue, just about noticeable by touch. He wasn’t really worried that Pollux would have a problem with them - didn’t seem like the type - but still, he paid close attention even as he kissed him, waiting to see the reaction. Some people were surprised, some were disgusted, and some were curious, and he really hoped Pol wouldn’t be one of the latter, because after that little moment of seriousness in the pub, he was already feeling like the guy had got too far under his skin.
Pol’s hands traced the scars, curious but he kept the words to himself. Scars were evidence of battles, whether in the mind, soul or body. His callused fingers were gentle as they traced each one as if creating a memory.
Eoin smiled a little, deepening the kiss a little more for a moment before he pulled away. “Going to give myself a crick in the neck like this,” he remarked lightly, taking Pollux’s hand and pulling him towards the bed. “Lying down’ll be comfier for both of us.”
Pollux chuckled a little. “Bet you say that to all of your lovers.” He moved to the bed, his hands going to his own belt to remove any other obstructions to their fun.
“Well, yeah. It’s simple logistics.” Smirking slightly, he knelt on the bed over Pollux, pushing him gently back onto the covers. “Leave that, I’ve got it covered,” he murmured, and leant in for another kiss, fingers moving down to Pollux’s fly.
Pol’s compact body was mottled with bruising. His chest was the most obvious, the skin that was not pale and milky was blue or yellowed with the fading marks. He licked into Eoin’s mouth, busying his hands with the other’s thick neck, circles of nails gently making their presence known.
Eoin smiled, letting his eyes slide closed, and kissed Pollux back slowly, then pulled away a fraction to kiss his way down that slim, bruised chest, careful of the injuries, as he slid Pollux’s trousers and underwear down together.
Pol lifted his lips to help with the slide of the pants. He could already feel the sweet jolts of arousal roll through him. He reached out to trail a hand down Eoin’s muscled chest, enjoying each row of tight skin. “Beautiful.”
“I know I am.” Eoin raised his head briefly to say it, with an enormous smirk. “Fucking Adonis. I suppose you’re not bad either...” He stuck out his tongue, chuckling, and tossed Pollux’s pants to one side, drifting his fingers lightly along Pollux’s cock.
Pollux arched appreciatevly at that pet. His body was all lean strong muscle, a light patterning of blond hair over his stomach led down to slightly darker straight pubic hair. His manhood was uncut, a benefit of living in a commune without the force of childhood circumcision. “Talk talk. You’re going to keep that up aren’t you?”
Eoin pretended to think about that, but only for a moment. “No, I don’t think so,” he replied, with a mischievous kind of smile. “I was always taught it was bad manners to talk with your mouth full...”
Pol’s brown eyes went wide, dilating in response to what he knew that meant. “By all means. manners must be observed.”
Eoin laughed, kissing Pollux’s stomach gently, and wrapped his fingers properly around the smaller man’s cock, stroking gently. “Exactly. So I figured I’d get my talking in now, before it got to be...” He dipped his head, darting his tongue over the head of Pollux’s dick. “...rude.”
Pol hummed happily over the attention. He arched not unlike a cat toward Eoin. “We can’t have rudeness. I’ll mm have to fill the silence for you.”
Another laugh, low in the back of his throat, and Eoin slid a little further down the bed, bringing his mouth back down to swirl his tongue, teasingly lightly, over the tip of Pollux’s cock. He’d be pretty disappointed if he couldn’t get Pollux to fill the silence anyway.
Pol took the cadence and sound of Eoin’s laughter into his mind and impressed it into his memories. This moment of connection cause his mind and body to connect properly. It couldn’t be told by him if it was Eoin’s heated mouth or that laugh that caused the joyous bubble of gasping from Pol.
That sound only served to widen Eoin’s smile; it was always good to know what you were doing was working, after all. His free hand sliding over Pollux’s thigh, he lowered his mouth around the shaft, running his tongue slowly along the vein on the underside. It had been a while since he’d sucked a guy - hell, it had been a while since he’d had a guy in his bed at all; it had been mostly women lately - but it was funny how it all came back to you.
Pol’s hand pressed down into the short red hair. His nails scratched lightly at the scalp before him. “Feels good... Eoin just lovely.”
Eoin hummed around Pollux’s cock, partly in acknowledgement and partly because experience (albeit mostly from the other side) told him that was something that felt good. Speaking of things that felt good, he wondered if he could still do that thing with his tongue...
...Yep.
Pol’s moan tipped with a bit of pain as he arched more violently at that sensation. That was amazing! “Eoin. Please ahn!”
Eoin slid his mouth off Pollux’s shaft, slowly, and raised his head just long enough to say “Hey, now. Careful,” before dipping back down to go back to work. He didn’t want the other guy coming just yet, of course, but right up to that point... yeah, he was fine with making Pollux scream. He just didn’t want it to be with pain.
Pollux was red, his pale skin lighting with desire that brushed his throat and threatened to dip lower. He tried to keep himself against the bed against the onslaught. His body sang, denied of this for some time.
Eoin kept at his work, eyes half-closed and hands on Pollux’s thighs, until at last, licking a couple of drops of pre-come off the head, he slid back up the smaller boy’s body to kiss him soundly again. “You taste good,” he said, with a smile, forehead against Pollux’s, and reached down to undo his own trousers. “Haven’t lost my touch, huh?”
"Advantage of Veganism." He panted as he chased Eoin's lips to have another taste of the man. He tugged at his lower lip. Pol let his hands release the bed and move down to push the pants down away from Eoin's body. His pressed across Eoin's hip, over to squeeze his muscled ass.
Kicking his pants to one side, off the bed, Eoin grinned, fingers tangling in Pollux’s hair again as he kissed him long and deep. He was, in all fairness, pretty well-endowed, and currently sporting a fairly impressive erection, which pressed up firmly against Pollux’s thigh as he smiled down at him, pulling away just a little. “Top or bottom?”
"Only fair I get to spend time on you." He pushed up on his elbows. Eoin's hardness rubbed against his skin setting his nerves to dance. "Get on your hands and knees."
That wasn’t a phrase Eoin had any particular fondness for, but he didn’t say anything, just did as he was told with a smile indistinguishable from the real thing. “Go for it.”
Pol kissed the small of Eoin's back. He let his long fingers trace his spine all the way down to his tailbone before nipping. "Where's your lube?"
“Top drawer, should be some condoms in there too.” Eoin fumbled for his bedside table, arching up against the touch.
Pol took the supplies before turning his full attention back to the handsome body below him. He teased the skin over Eoin's hips with kisses and nips. He squeezed out a glob of the lube onto his hand and made his mouth ease a trail down to Eoin's tailbone. Pol's hand began to circle and gently ease his fingers inward. He didn't want to assume the overly flirtatious red-head was used to the sensation. His free hand petted down Eoin's back. "Okay?"
“‘Course.” Eoin turned his head, smiling back at him; his colour was high and his eyes bright, and if he was still uncomfortable about the scars littering his back, he sure as hell wasn’t showing it. He let out a low hum in the back of his throat at the press of Pollux’s fingers, grinning.
Pollux pushed another finger in, keeping his pace gentle but insistent. He stretched and petted and placed kiss after kiss on every part of Eoin that he could reach. Finally he slid them out. "On your back."
Eoin pulled away, rolling onto his back with his legs splayed. “You’re pretty good at this, huh?” he murmured, his smile rather less silly than usual.
"I try to make it as good as possible." Pol couldn't imagine doing things any other way but like this. He leaned down to kiss his lover since Eoin's long torso would make that impossible once he was inside. The kiss was just as tender as his touch. Once he finished he found his length sinking slowly into the very prepped Eoin.
Eoin smiled, pushing back against Pollux’s cock, and ran his fingers through the blonde’s hair with a little sigh. “Nice job,” he murmured, letting his head drop back against the pillows.
Pol began the rhythm set in time. He pushed in and out of Eoin without ever looking away from his face. Sex was about connection, about opening yourself up to joy and pleasure. His right hand remained on Eoin's hip to steady him while the left explored the chest before him.
Letting out a low sigh, Eoin met each thrust, his fingers digging lightly into Pollux’s scalp and running down the back of his neck. Between them, his cock was hard and throbbing; god, it had been way too long since he’d last got laid.
Pollux turned his head to kiss Eoin's arms as they movement. He released one hip to bring his right hand around Eoin's length. His hand fisted in time with his thrusting. "Close. Come with me Eoin."
Eoin bit down on his lip, hips pushing between Pollux’s hand and Pollux’s cock, and still managed to smirk. “Hey,” he gasped out, fingers running back up into Pollux’s hair, “lay on, MacDuff. Ready when you are.”
Pollux laughed happily, the emotion shifting into awe. "Eoin!" He spilled, the pleasure rocking through him as he elevated beyond the world.
Eoin let go of his own orgasm a moment later; no words to his, just a kind of low sound somewhere between a grunt and a cry as he came, arching off the mattress for a moment before he fell back, panting and grinning.
Pollux gently pulled out. He tied off the condom and slumped down close to Eoin's heart. He kissed the other boy's lips gently. He floated gently in the glow, a hand pressed over Eoin's heart.
Eoin smiled, kissing the smaller boy back, and lay there for a moment, arm looped idly around Pollux’s shoulders as his breath steadied. “Well,” he said, a moment later, “I could definitely get used to teaching you fighting. You’re a very... fun student.”