not_every_mage | Room 322, Tuesday Afternoon

Room 322, Tuesday Afternoon

If Anders was being honest, he'd have to admit that the tall box from Kathy that Ringo had given him some months before had fallen completely out of his mind.

It had started with good intentions: He'd dragged the parcel back to his room and stuck it in the closet so he could save it for his actual birthday and feel like Kathy was there, just for a moment. And then there had been the madness of trying to summon a demon, and the dull terror of the Circle, and by the time he was home again his birthday was some weeks past and the tall package entirely forgotten in a back corner of his closet. The fact thinking about Kathy hurt and he avoided it when he could had only added to his amnesia.

It might have stayed there forever, if Lachlan hadn't managed to hit one of his toy mice deep into the closet. Anders went digging through a mess of discarded paper to find it, and ended up bumping into the box. The tall, slender package wobbled worryingly for a moment before he was able to catch it.

And then there was nothing to do but open it. Lachlan's mouse was forgotten as he pried the paper off and found --

A damned fine staff. The kind he'd never expect to afford on his own. He could feel its power singing to him as he held it in his lap. Some part of him couldn't wait to get to a space where he could test it safely.

The rest of him mainly wanted to cry.

"Dammit, Kathy," he muttered. "Just ... damn it."

[OOC: Cracked door, open post.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"We always do," Anders returned as he grasped Dante's rod and worked his thumb around the head. He kissed Dante again, letting his tongue tangle with Dante's.

Dante made a soft noise in the back of his throat as Anders touched him, channeling the feel of it into the kiss. His hand pumped Anders slowly, until it slid further down still to play with his balls, but he wasn't thinking all that much about technique or-- any of that.

It was Anders' tongue that drew a shiver out of him, made him press closer, shutting his eyes and following Anders' lead entirely.

Even when Dante wasn't thinking about technique, his technique was nothing to complain about. Anders whimpered in need, toes curling against the sheets.

He kept working his hand over Dante's flesh, keeping his touches as slow as he thought Dante could stand.

Under other circumstances, Dante would've called him a tease. Right now, he suspected there was something else going on, and he didn't want to argue or joke about it. It was enough: enough to make his breathing speed up, enough to keep making him shift closer until his body was pressed up against Anders as much as it could without getting uncomfortable.

He kept one hand moving; not quite as slow as Anders, because he didn't have that in him and he never had, but still slow.

The other one slid up, brushed Anders' hair back, cupped his cheek. Settled there.

There was some teasing in Anders' motives, to be fair, and also wanting this to last as long as it could. Besides, Anders felt tired and fragile, and the energy for the kind of breathless fucking they sometimes went in for was beyond him.

So they'd be slow and gentle.

"You're being nice," he whispered, eyes meeting Dante's as his hand sped up the tiniest fraction. "I like it."

Dante sighed softly. "You looked like you could use a little nice," he said, just as quiet. "That's all."

He smoothed his fingers through Anders' hair, his hips moving gently into Anders' hand.

"You aren't wrong," Anders said, and behind the words his excitement was making it harder to breathe.

He slid his free hand down the back of Dante's pants to cup his ass, moaning softly as he did.

Dante leaned in and caught Anders' mouth again, unable and unwilling to resist. Took the lead this time, drawing it out, his hand on Anders moving just a little faster on each stroke, thumb lingering over the head sometimes.

The feel of Anders' fingers on his ass was nice, too, made him rock his hips against him some more.

"Dear Maker," Anders hissed, speeding his strokes and rocking his hips to match Dante's. His fingers gripped Dante's ass more tightly as he gave in to the wanting.

The wanting was good. It was always good, even if right now, for once, Dante wasn't the one who needed this distraction most.

He still didn't give himself to it as fast as Anders did, more concerned with making sure the other guy was having it good, that it was working-- it was when Anders' grip shifted and the expression on his face changed that he gave in, hand sliding out of Anders' hair, exploring warm skin and muscle that seemed to be getting more prominent every time they did this.

It became all touch and movement and build after that. He lost track of time.

Time was meaningless. Anders let it float away, gave himself to lips and hands and pleasure, and the steady feeling he was closing in on his climax.

"I'm close," he whispered against Dante's ear -- or something like that, anyhow. He wasn't making words so well.

Dante let out a quiet but shuddering breath. "Good," he whispered back, eyes still shut. "C'mon, then."

He tilted his head and bit gently at Anders' neck, struggling to hold on a little longer, himself. It wasn't working.

"Getting there," Anders said, a hint of amusement entering his voice. And then there were teeth on his neck, and he was gasping as he spilled himself all over Dante's hand. His movements grew erratic, but he did his best to bring Dante along with him.

A brat. Anders was amused because he was a brat, and Dante huffed a breathless flash of a laugh against Anders' throat because yeah, actually, it was pretty funny--

--and then he was whimpering as he gave up on holding on, and followed right behind.

The way Dante was laughing and whimpering was glorious, and Anders couldn't resist a pleased chuckle of his own as he rolled slightly to the side.

"Having a good time?"

Dante rolled onto his back. He wasn't exactly wiped, or anything, but he was happy to lay here for a second and wallow a bit. "Maybe," he said, turning his head to fix a lazy smile on Anders. "You're an asshole, by the way."

Insults like that generally landed better when you didn't sound fond while using them, but you couldn't have everything.

"Mmmm," Anders said, self-satisfied, and made a show of licking his hand clean. (He could wallow and smirk at the same time. It was a gift.) "Maybe, but I'm still the asshole who just came all over your hip. I win."

Dante let out a soft snort of amusement and quickly discovered it was hard groping around for a tissue in the nightstand while also watching Anders's tongue move. Near impossible, in fact.

"Yeah, well--"

You know what, Dante had just managed to tear his attention away from Anders, so he was going to finish that sentence after he finally got that tissue. Any second now.

"Yes?"Anders prompted, and propped his chin on his palm. "Go on. And pass me a tissue while you're at it."

It was amazing -- or maybe not -- how much the distraction had helped his mood.

Dante sighed loudly, passing him a tissue. He wiped himself off with practiced efficiency. "--I don't know," he settled on. "Shut up."

Scintillating argument, to be sure. (He liked Anders being the asshole who just came all over his hip. That was his Achilles heel in this conversation.)

"You're enjoying this," he accused instead.

(He was, too.)

"Of course," Anders agreed, and wiped himself down as well. "I thought that was obvious."

And then, following directions or maybe just convinced he'd made his argument, he gave Dante an affectionate nibble on the earlobe and settled in against him. It wasn't cuddling, exactly; he was just too lazy to get up.

Dante made a faint noise that sounded like he was trying to keep his totally disgruntled theme going, and failing miserably. He let go of it completely in the end, tilting his head up to kiss Anders lazily.

"Good," he said. "You deserved a break."

Once the kiss had broken, Anders was smiling easily at Dante. "So did you," he said.

"Wasn't my turn today," Dante said.

He wasn't great at cuddling. Partly because it was usually physically uncomfortable, partly because he didn't want to give people any weird ideas. The latter didn't feel so important in this context, and the former wasn't so bad yet.

So he didn't move much, besides patting Anders' hip. "Feeling better?"

"Yes," Anders said, sincerely, and went on to prove it by asking, "Wait. If I say no can I get you to blow me later?"

Not that Dante tended to turn Anders down, really. Or vice versa.

Room 322, Tuesday Afternoon

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