henchweasel | duplicity: inbox

Yeah. I - nnh - I know what you mean.

[A pause.]

...I'm mostly thinkin' about what else you can do with your mouth, to be honest. Never did that before.

[ Cringe averted. Fabian's really not used to... dirty talk, phone sex, communicating without being a raging dick, you name it, so this is kind of shaky territory for him. ]

Well... You've been missing out. There's something to be said for lavishing attention on such an intimate area. In my experience, it's an easy way to make a guy moan and beg for more. [ At least, that's what it does to Fabian, but it's already well established that it's not hard to pull noises out of him. ]

Have you ever even been touched there?

[ Has no girl ever tried to stick a finger in your ass while giving a bj??? ]

[In fact:]

Y-yeah. Girls, a couple of times. Even asked first once or twice. [He laughs shakily.] Felt good sometimes, just felt weird sometimes. Just fingers though, never -

Are you thinkin' you'd do that? To me?

The thought's crossed my mind. You're not the only one who... Well. [ Had invasive thoughts during a wank. ]

I wonder if what kinds of sounds you'd make. [ A pause, a labored little breath. ] If you'd be loud, or quiet about it.

I was - hhh - pretty loud the first fuckin' time a girl stuck her finger up my arse without warnin' me, but - not the good kind of loud.

[There's a pause, a few heavy breaths.]

I think you could get me the good kind of loud. You're - really fuckin' good with your mouth.

[ A somewhat breathy laugh. ]

Well that's just poor etiquette.

[ Aha oh no, praise, now he's definitely stroking himself. Don't fish for more compliments, don't fish for more-- ]

Is that why you were thinking about me?

Yeah. Not gonna get off to thinkin' that you're bad in bed, am I?

[A chuckle.]

Not that we've made it to a bed yet, but you - hn - you know what I mean.

We could try it sometime. I hear it's, ah, a great deal more comfortable than a public bathroom.

[ Or a train. Or... ]

And certainly better suited to taking one's time.

Yeah, just a bit. Even the beds in these fuckin' shared rooms they gave us.

[A pause. He's stopped touching himself.]

...You're still livin' here, yeah?

[ It's only now occurring to Fabian that they're even having this conversation in the same damn building. ]

I am.

[ Pauuuuse. ]

And I don't have a roommate.

Yeah? Lucky.

That an invitation, then?

...maybe.

6-B.

Gimme ten minutes.

[He is going to take a hurried but very specifically thorough shower before knocking on the door.]

[ It occurs to Fabian now that, for the first time, there aren't any aphros or strange phenomena at play. At least, not that he's aware of. Unless that bizarre psychic app is compelling them...

Is it, or is he in the process of developing a, what, friendship with benefits? He does enjoy chatting with the guy, even enjoys butting heads with him. And he has been making an effort to refrain from insulting humans around Eggsy, at least, which he likes to think is tremendous progress and should be commended by Nightcrawler or some other arbiter of morality.

Is he... Is he befriending a human?

There's a knock at the door, and Fabian immediately banishes all thoughts and inconvenient identity crises. He opens the door, smirking-- ]

Punctual.

[ --and tugs the other man inside. ]

Eggsy, for his part, is very studiously not thinking about the fact that there's absolutely no way for him to think he's under the city's influence; it hasn't even occurred to him that the app itself might be changing how he feels. He's just...going to another man's place for sex. Like that's something he does.

"Yeah, well. You seem like a busy guy, so."

He nudges the door closed behind him.

"Really, it's a wonder I was even able to pencil you in on such short notice."

Interrupting his truly busy schedule of reading his way through a book that purported to be Moby Dick, but is actually just 600 pages of romantic pining and sailors fucking.

Maybe he should have at least changed into something else. God, he's actually wearing lounge pants and an oversized hoodie right now. His hair's not even tied back as pristinely as usual, it's just in a quick bun.

Is this what depression looks like? Why did he go and impulsively invite somebody over in this state? Forget it, he's just going to pretend he's dressed as fashionably as he would be back home.

Fabian crosses his arms, looking like he's somewhat at a loss for a moment. Should he just demand Eggsy take his pants off, or like... make small talk or something. He's never even invited anyone to his quarters before-- not here, at any rate, and hardly ever back home.

"Normally I'd offer you a drink, but I don't have anything, so..."

"I'm the guest, ain't I? Would of been the decent thing if I'd brought somethin' with me."

He moves closer, stepping into Fabian's personal space.

"Ain't planned on anything all that decent, though."

He smiles a little, surprised by how nice it feels to have someone actually want to be in his general vicinity without any bizarre compulsions that he's aware of. Of course, it shouldn't be a surprise, given the fact that Fabian invited him here for specifically this purpose, but... Whatever, it still is. Learning how to act like a person again is just a whole weird process.

"I wouldn't know what to do with decent, anyway."

Is it too forward to grab a guy by the shirt and tug him down to the bed with you? Oh well, Fabian's going to go for it anyway. It's not like Eggsy doesn't know he's impatient and demanding by now.

Eggsy is - grateful, if not quite consciously so, for the impatience. He doesn't want to think about what any of this shit means and any kind of personal reevaluation he might need to do. It's a lot easier to stumble to the bed with Fabian, already kissing him hard and filthy by the time they hit the mattress. His hair is still damp from the shower, skin still holding the barest flush from the hot water.

Fabian's certainly happy to act as a distraction to (and cause of??) inconvenient questions and self-reflection. This is all perfectly healthy avoidance that he's indulging in, himself, after all. And it's just so easy to shut his brain off as their bodies collide.

He has that freshly showered smell, nice and clean, which Fabian certainly appreciates, given their conversation. Knowing that Eggsy prepared for this just makes Fabian kiss him back with a rough, needy hunger, his hands finding their way under the other man's shirt, seeking firm muscles and warm skin.

"I see you're ready for this," he breathes out with a laugh.

"Look, your said some stuff about eatin' me out," Eggsy points out, voice already a little lower for arousal. "Felt like bein' clean is just - manners."

They reach for the bottom of Fabian's shirt in turn, pushing it up and over his head.

The mention of manners pulls a slight grin to his face. It was a good call, certainly saves them some time, since Fabian would've told Eggsy to hop in the shower if he hadn't.

"You really are a gentleman."

He's all too happy to get his shirt off, figuring Eggsy will do the same in the meantime. He drags his fingers down the other man's stomach, with just the slightest friction from his neatly trimmed nails, and hooks them in the waist of Eggsy's pants.

"What else have you been curious about?"

"You know what the stupid fuckin' thing said," Eggsy grumbles, but he's grumbling and getting undressed at the same time, so he's clearly not too bruised. "But I'm gonna be shit at it cuz I've never done it before, alright?"

Fine, he knows, but it doesn't mean he doesn't want to hear it! Still, Fabian gets... insecurity and all that, since he pretty much lives that life 24/7, so he decides to be semi-decent for once and offer some assurance.

"It'll be fine. As long as you don't use teeth, anyway." Which doesn't really need to be said, he knows. "And anyway, it's... been a long time since I've done this, so." He might not be a world-class ass eater after going, like, a decade without doing it. Besides, most of his experience has been on the receiving end.

Basically, on this, they're in the same boat. Kind of. Sort of. Whatever, less thinking, more doing.

"On your stomach."

Rolling onto his stomach in the company of another man makes him feel briefly anxious in a way that has nothing to do with Fabian and everything to do with a lifetime of internalised homophobia, but...he still does it.

If nothing else, he knows he's got a nice arse.

"Alright?"

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