marco "brave little hell toaster" lorin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
passengers) wrote2015-11-19 11:20 pm
passengers) wrote2015-11-19 11:20 pmgame inbox.
 FIGHT 'TIL I'M DEAD, AND THEN I'LL DO IT ALL AGAIN. text / voice / video / action. |
passengers) wrote2015-11-19 11:20 pm
FIGHT 'TIL I'M DEAD, AND THEN I'LL DO IT ALL AGAIN. text / voice / video / action. |
that's the plan sebstan
Hey.
[ He reaches up a hand, crooking a finger just a little. ]
Gonna stand there and be shy about it?
oops
Nah. It's too early.
[ Marco crosses the distance from the door to the makeshift bed, the sheets all bunched up under Tris's endless legs, and the mattress dips with his weight when he kneels into it, one warm hand taking its place on Tris's hip. Fingers trace over the lace patterns, over the ribbed lines of the elastic. ]
You bought these, [ he comments, a little breathlessly, because he knows what Nic wears and he knows what Harper wears; he's not seen this pair in the laundry before. These are new. These are Tris's, because he has slightly wider hips than Nic or Harper have - nature is strange and beautiful like that. ] They look good on you.
[ When he leans in, he doesn't kiss the obvious places. Not Tris's mouth, or his neck, or his shoulder - he kisses the rise of his cheek, the slope of his bicep, covers Tris with his body as he dips further in, braces his weight on an arm and bites over where his heart would be.
This is one of his favorite things in the world - the taste of Tristan's skin on his tongue. ]
Is it for me?
no subject
They'd better look good on me. I tried to use my best judgement... and I figured black's kind of my color.
[ He lifts a leg and carefully arranges it to place Marco between his thighs from where he's leaning over, nudging ribs with his knees to coax him further on as teeth close around the thinly-stretched skin of his chest, bringing his breath to catch. Marco's teeth cause a sweet pain, the kind Tristan feels sing between his gut and yoyo uncontrollably from there to his throat, over and over again until he's squirming a little under the attentions. Yes. He'd gone out and bought them. He'd spent more than a normal amount of time mulling over each option until this one seemed right. It seemed fair, it seemed Marco even.
The design is elegant, but the execution is simple and effective in all the right ways. ]
Yeah. It's all yours. Can touch it n' everything, if you...
[ He reaches forward and takes a hand in his, guiding his fingers to one of the spanning, lace-covered strips of pattern that show start on his skin beyond the dark shapes and twists and curves. ]
Wanna?
no subject
[ It's the promise people make when they get married, isn't it? One day, maybe, they'll find that person they're meant to be with, and they wouldn't be the ideal person but they'll be enough - Marco reminds himself everyday that this is how life is like, that you don't get everything you want, because life isn't fair and he's never been so lucky all the time for the slots to hit jackpot every time he reaches up and pulls the lever. Life is a game of averages - and all things considered, when he's here in bed with Tris, the language of his body soft and wanting, he's already pushed the luck of the draw to the hilt.
He pulls back, lets his hand be led to the straps, and Marco runs his fingertips over the stitching, scratching against them with blunted nails, peeling them back bit by bit. Marco nudges at Tris's mouth with his own, tip your head back a little he tries to say without saying, and kisses him full on, pushing his way in with a measure of patience.
Without ceremony or warning he takes his hand from the garters, and while he's kissing Tris he's also pushing him down onto the bed, by the hip, until the drawstrings of his sweatpants are tickling along Tris's waist from where he's hovering by an inch, likely less, his hand a heavy weight on the hard rise of bone. ]
You're really hot in lingerie, [ Marco sighs against Tris's cheek. Kisses the line of his neck. The jut of his collarbone.
He remembers a time when he'd snapped the garters of a set of panties on Tris's thighs, where they left red angry welts on his pale skin. Remembers how hot his blood had run then, how hard he'd gotten at the thought of Tris getting caught on the straps when he put it on for the first time.
It's almost hysterical, how the prevailing thought in his mind right now is I'm going to fuck you silly.
Marco slips his fingers under the lace, where the seat of the lingerie is cupping Tris's stones in a tight fit; he draws them out and squeezes, then moves on to the length of him and pinches the head of him, strokes him once, twice, pinches him again until a bit of wet slips out.
(I'm gonna burn whoever breaks your heart.)
He hooks his ankle against the one Tris has caught between Marco's legs, nudges Tris's free leg with his arm until he's spread at an angle; he shifts his weight, leans in closer, holds his own breadth in place in a way that keeps Tris from drawing his thighs together. And like this, he moves his touch lower, twitches the slip of silk that covers him, and pushes in two fingers in a steady drive.
Tris is lubed up. Marco makes a surprised sound against Tris's mouth, swallows any answering sigh as he curls his fingers up and in, pulls back, slips a third on the way back inside. This time he goes harder, scissoring against the muscle until he hits the prostate, and pushes. Holds fingers steady against it, even though he's up to the third knuckles, the shape of the bone pressed against soft skin. ]
This is all for me?
no subject
His hands are free and he doesn't waste that, fingers slipping up and curling in at the nape of Marco's neck before taking down in long sweeps over his back. He can feel the uneven lingering of a set of burns he gave him back in school, when they were uncontainable and when Marco--
Oh. ]
Surprise... [ he mumbles into Marco's mouth, still in full flush against his. He isn't letting Marco waste time, not like this, not when he can do it and get that choked off little sigh from him out of shock.
Three fingers still feels a lot. It always does. Even stretched out and he lets his body stretch for him, legs dragging up the length of him, ankle hooking tightly for a good hold while his other leg keeps at the designated angle, pushed aside by Marco's arm until he's open. So he digs in harder with his fingers, kisses deeper, hungrier with a heat that matches the bright red he draws throughout his back in the same sprawling and sweeping patterns. Marco is stilling, pressing deep and pushing just how he likes and staying there, fingers deep and tucked up in him.
His everything twitches, practically ripples inside from his stomach doing flip flops to the tight ring of muscle stretched over Marco's fingers, the breadth of which is still always wider than he anticipates. Spread open, he cants his hips upwards like an offering. ]
Fuck--mmhmm-- [ he feeds it into his mouth, every sound caught up to turn into a kiss. ] everything. Fucking everything's for you here-- [ and like a second thought ] Whatever you want.