amicably_absent | (no subject)

(no subject)

Six weeks is a long time for anyone. For Glitch, it is both forever and no time at all, depending on the exact minute.

Overall, it's been a long time. He's been glitching again, not severely, but more than he prefers. Going through his old labs in Central City, in the palace itself, he's remembering glimpses that flinch away as he reaches for them.

He has no concept of how long has passed. No one's thought to really remind him, he almost prefers not knowing. And no one was sure about when the Tin men would return, so no one really pushed it.

Which is why Glitch isn't waiting for them when they return. He's sitting in the garden, reading his old diaries and half listening to the whispers of Ambrose. He's still wearing Cain's hat though.

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"Why not here? No one will disturb us." He grins wickedly at Cain. "Come on, Tin man, live a little."

"You know what, Sweetheart? Someone just did, and I'm not roaring for an encore."

"They won't after that." Not by the time the servant mentions what he saw. He kisses Wyatt slow and deep, tender and wanting and with all the emotion of six weeks of 'I miss you'. One of those kisses.

One of those kisses that go right to Wyatt's head, and no necessarily the one that does the rational thinking. His eyes close, his arms go around Glitch again and pulls him close, because it really has been too long. Too many nights of being unable to sleep for the images that flash before your eyes and staying up watching the stars and the moons, wondering if Glitch is out dancing.

He moans despite himself.

He presses in close, close as he can, hands skimming Wyatt's sides as they kiss, slow and deep.

He's missed this. He remembers it, but the memory is hazy and only there from being re-written and re-read. He wants it fresh, like this, lively and real.

It's been fresh and vibrant and vivid in Wyatt's mind since he left; not being able to act on it is his problem. Now that he can, despite the risk of getting caught blaring through his head like a foghorn, he can't keep his hands to himself.

His lips close over every square of skin, along his jaw, down his neck, skimming his ear at a whim; his hands press through fabric to feel and map familiar ground all over again. He feels alive again.

Glitch kisses back, wild, erratic kisses on whatever he can reach at the time, clinging onto Wyatt tightly. "Missed you," he whispers. "Missed you so much."

His hands bunch up fabric, rush to the front to fiddle with buttons, then deciding he can't be bothered and instead pulls his shirt up. Why?

So he can kiss his way all over his chest. All over. This is something he's been wanting to do since they first went from kissing to making out like adolescents on the couch.

Glitch obliges, lifting his arms and then rolling them over, away from the gun so he's lying on his back, Cain over him, giggling like a teenager and arching into the kisses.

Somewhere along the way, Wyatt loses his hat and doesn't bother getting it back. He props himself up slightly to the side of the other man, running his hands over his torso and absorbing every last little sensation. Like the fact Glitch's ribs don't feel quite so sharp anymore, and that the muscles he could feel the last time they touched now seem more defined.

"I love you like this," he says with a warm smile, lips moving over still pale skin, just brushing over one taut nipple. "Happy and bubbly and full of spark."

Glitch lays back in the warm grass, smiling and bubbly with pure joy. He watched Wyatt's face with a fond gaze, sighing and pushing into touches. "I like feeling this way. It happens every time I'm with you- Oh!" He gasps at the lips on nipple, moaning slightly.

That warrants some...more extensive exploration. His lips close around it, tongue and teeth warring for which gets to join in first.

But what else it does is get him thinking; thinking back to what it felt like to wrap his fingers around Glitch's cock for the first time, the way it looked, the way they smelled. He wonders, suddenly, what it would be like to use his mouth down there, what Glitch would sound like if he did, what he'd taste like.

He wonders if it would short circuit his brain; he wonders if that would be such a bad thing.

He thinks maybe it wouldn't. One hand reaches down, down the hem of Glitch's pants, while his other hand covers the other nipple to rub the skin around it.

Glitch wriggles and gasps and smiles, reaching to hold onto Wyatt, panting softly and basking in attention and sunlight.

He writhes a bit more as hands stroke and touch and tug softly. "Oh Wyatt... don't stop, your touch is warmer than the sunlight."

He lifts his head for a quick kiss to the lips, and the softly spoken promise that he won't. Then he bends his head to Glitch's breastbone, and starts working his way down.

Slowly.

Painstakingly slowly, following the insistent rhythm of his hand around Glitch's cock. It's a promise he intends on keeping, unspoken or not.

Glitch moves with Wyatt, keeping his movements steady and breathing sharp and short as he was kissed. "Yes... Oh wow, wow, really, good. All so good."

If Wyatt has anything to say about it, it can only get better from here. Moving lower still, he stops for a quick nuzzle and lick to Glitch's belly button, then does the same right along the hem of his pants. Hoping the skin there is sensitive enough that it's a tease instead of a bore. The hand around warm, hard flesh squeezes tighter for the space of a heartbeat.

Hidden by the fact his head is ducked, Wyatt smiles, hearing the words tumbling from Glitch's mouth.

He squeaks and wriggles and giggles, tickling and teased and enjoying. He arches with a whimper at the squeeze. "Wyatt... oh sweet light, that's amazing. That's really, really good."

Blood thundering between his ears, he trails his free hand down to work on the buttons - buttons here, buttons there, he gets the fact they're safer if you like going commando, but they can be very, very frustrating.

"It'll get better." He looks up slightly self consciously, because he has only the slightest idea what kind of business he's about to get down to. Receiving is different to giving, or so he imagines. It's got to be. Pulling Glitch's pants down just enough to free his cock and sac, Wyatt allows himself a cheeky grin. Two can play that game.

He swallows, letting himself look his fill (even if he doubts that's even possible) before bending low to kiss the very tip of the glans. He'll work himself up from there. ...down. Down from there. He'll go from there.

And for some strange reason, Glitch manages those buttons generally. Maybe it's the size. Or shape. Or sheer familiarity. Or the fact he only need to undo the catch and wriggle them down, which he helps to do.

Glitch sighs softly, another giggle and moan, stretching himself and gasping as the kiss. "Merciful light, Wyatt... that's... nothing like this, never known anything like this..."

"Me neither," he murmurs, presses another kiss to the hot bundle of skin and nerve endings, and his hand still hasn't let go. Another kiss, and he isn't sure if it's impatience or being encouraged by Glitch's response, but the next kiss isn't just a matter of lips on skin. It's tongue, slowly squirming into the slight indentation where the foreskin connects with the head.

This is new, that's for sure, but he thinks he could get used to it. The shape, the taste, the fact he can feel Glitch's pulse at the very tip of his tongue makes something hot and tight clench deep within him.

Flicks of tongue tip soon becomes bold drags over heated skin, rather like one might lick the coating off a candied apple on a hot Summer's day.

Glitch whimpers again, breathless and still smiling, but only faintly so because his mouth is more concerned with gasping and being just a little slack, like that first moment when Raw touched him back to Ambrose, only it's a whole different kind of bliss.

He whines deep in his throat, legs shifting to try and wrap around Wyatt. "Oh gods, oh my- that's- Wyatt-"

There's not much trying about it when Wyatt obliges by helping Glitch's legs up onto his back, no trying at all when he takes Glitch's hand in his.

Funny how even space can cease to exist if you're focused enough on something else entirely. Taste, touch, smell and sight and hearing, all focused on Glitch, all of them combining to send Wyatt's heart triphammering in his chest. And still, his hand around Glitch's hard cock, still, his lips and tongue mapping it out. Lips closing on taut foreskin, just to feel it, then letting it go for attending to other, more pressing matters.

He opens his mouth, looks up at Glitch for the briefest of moments before he tilts his cock up; for a fraction of a second, his mouth hovers.

And then it takes the glans in. Just the fullness has him moaning around it, the heat even moreso, and the taste - thick and earthy and salty and pungent and so warm and soft and--

"Mmmmmmmm."

Glitch's world is reduced down to just touch with flashes of something else, brief glimpses of Wyatt, beautiful and sun touched. Then there's scent, low under his awareness of Wyatt's mouth.

Because that's all he can really feel. Soft lips and slick tongue and powerful heat, teasing and exploring in ways he can't remember ever happening before.

Then Wyatt engulfs and hums and Glitch wails his name.

Every breath is a moan around the hardness in his mouth, but as much as he loves hearing Glitch like this, and he really does love it, a sharp spike of awareness pokes and prods at the back of his head. This is between them, and no one else, no matter how much the risk of getting caught turns Glitch on. The hand holding Glitch's extricates itself and gently, ever gently, closes over his mouth to muffle his outcries.

It will have to do. It's the least he can do, because he can't bring himself to stop now that he's started.

He can't believe he's doing this, can't believe it feelstastessounds so good. He starts moving his hand up and down Glitch's cock, working him like he remembers, and - his brain supplies unhelpfully - it's almost as if he wants to milk him dry.

He takes the hint, using his free hand to cover Wyatt's, pushing his fingers into his mouth and sucking on them enthusiastically, tongue pushing between them and curling over each in turn, still moaning and gasping and whimpering but at least quieter. His legs tense on Wyatt's body, rocking slightly and moaning harder as he was stroked.