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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"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.

He lets Glitch move as he needs to, but feeling his tongue around his fingers really isn't helping his resolve when it goes straight to his groin.

But it isn't enough. He wants more. He wants to work his way down the entire length of Glitch's cock, wants to hear him expressing his approval very loudly, but what he wants and what he can do are two different things right now.

Sucking gently, his own brand of encouragement in tandem with his increasingly firm pumps up and down hard flesh, Wyatt resolves to test the old adage of practice making perfect. One day at a time.

Clinging onto Wyatt's hand, sucking and tonguing and whimpering around his fingers.

He could try and last, but he's missed being touched and petted and this is so insanely new and wonderful and it's Wyatt. He gasps, teeth biting lightly on Wyatt's fingers as he pushes against Wyatt's hand and mouth, cry garbled on fingers as he comes.

In a perfect world, Wyatt would know exactly what to watch for. He'd be completely engrossed in what he's doing, yet perfectly capable of keeping track of the little hints of what's to come. While he is completely engrossed in everything Glitch, he forgets to watch for the signs that Glitch is racing towards the edge.

It takes him completely by surprise when teeth suddenly close around his fingers and hot, slimy, liquid sex gushes into his mouth in waves that seem to match both their racing hearts.

In a perfect world, it wouldn't leave him coughing and spluttering, but the world isn't perfect, and neither is Wyatt.

In a perfect world, they might not have ended up here, so god bless imperfections. Glitch collapses back with a groan, letting go of Wyatt's hand with his teeth and lips to pant and laugh breathlessly, tugging him to come up here for a kiss, please.

As soon as he catches his breath, the hacking soon turns into chuckles. He wipes his chin and mouth before he lets himself be tugged eye to eye with his lover. A kiss is so very little to ask for, and he gives it freely.

Also, his arms. They fit just so well around Glitch's body, wherever they roam.

Glitch kisses just as enthusiastically as ever, arms and legs around Wyatt and kissing deep and firm. "Wow," he murmurs against his lips. "That was really, really amazing."

And apparently, being outside kept him grounded enough to not glitch. Or maybe it was lavishing attention on Wyatt's fingers.

Or maybe it's a sign of Glitch's brain healing. Wyatt would prefer to think that's the case, at any rate, and will happily stick to that line of rational thinking. He reaches down, pulling Glitch's pants back up where they belong, hand coming around to between them to tuck him in before adjusting himself. "Yeah," he murmurs back. "I think we're quite something, don't you?"

"Mm." He hums and helps to get his clothes sorted out. He lays there, getting his breath back and then pounces suddenly, pushing Wyatt over and onto his back.

"It would be really selfish of me not to return the favour though..."

The very first thought to hit him at his back hits the ground is the mildly alarmed what've I gotten myself into. The one following almost immediately after, just from seeing that glint in Glitch's eyes, is a very encouraging line ofvery selfish, can't have that, it's only fair.

All he gets out is "Uh. Right."

Returning the favour. In broad daylight. Outside.

He goes bright pink in the face.

Glitch giggles madly and tries to pull open Cain's shirt by sheer violence of popping buttons, determined to get to his chest. He's watched that chest a lot, he wants to lick and taste and kiss and touch and know he gets to do it and no one else does.

"You're beautiful in sunlight."

Later, after having searched for every last missing button flying everywhere, Wyatt will wonder how in the world he'll explain it to anyone who asks. Then he'll decide not to explain anything. It's nobody's business but theirs.

But right now, he's much more preoccupied with the feel of Glitch's mouth on him. He's painfully hard already from going to town on his lover, but the pain is good in a way. It takes the edge off the pleasure, and he thinks he'll need that.

He swallows, throat dry. "So are you."

They're doing nothing wrong. They're a pair of lovers long parted and just reunited, there's a certain amount of enthusiasm and displays of affection expected.

Glitch nips softly, licks over nips and kisses them, wriggling down quickly to keep Wyatt from being worked up and over the edge before he gets to try this himself.

Pants hold him up, his lips teasing along his belt line while he tries and fails to get the belt undone. "Dammit... Wyatt, make everything open."

He breathes heavier just from the short journey of lips and tongue and teeth down to his pants, and he doesn't even hesitate to give Glitch a helping hand, even if they're just a touch unsteady from the renewed rush of adrenaline.

The belt is worked open, the zipper is pulled down and his thumbs hooked into and pushing the front down. Just enough to lay himself bare.

Glitch is only a limited amount of help, but he's enthusiastic and on the verge of drooling at the scent the promise of taste behind it, the sight. It never stops being a fantastic sight.

He groans and goes on instinct. He swirls his tongue around the crown, the tip probing delicately around the edge.

He shudders, long gone memories dashing their way to the surface, distorted hints of knowing what to expect, but not knowing it at all until he feels it all over again. There are words inside his head roaring to get out, and his mouth works in vain, because all he gets out is noise. He imagines this is what an volcano must feel like, building up for eruption over aeons at a time. Just, the look on Glitch's face.

"Hnnng-- ff--uh!"

Now he knows exactly why Glitch wouldn't shut up without his help.

Glitch giggles and presses his lips to the very tip, tongue flicking against the slit and rubbing softly. He moans as he gets a good taste, flavour rolling over his tongue and it's a hundred percent Wyatt.

His legs seize up, stiff as planks as he tries not to move, won't move, won't strain against anything because he's already enjoying himself enough.

But this is new too, despite the fact it isn't, it feels new, and he can't seem to get enough air down his lungs.

He squeezes his eyes shut, teeth bared in a grin skating the edge of pain and pleasure. He won't make a sound, he won't, he won't, not for anyone but Glitch.

One long fingered hand drops down and strokes over Wyatt's skin, wriggling into his clothes to cup and stroke his sac, even as he slides his lips to engulf the tip and suckle on it with another moan and faint giggle.

Through clenched jaws and gritted teeth: "Not. Funny."

He shudders again, but what's another quake when you have dark lips and a tease of a tongue doing things to you that no one has in over a decade?