thingpuncher | @glavesworn.

Even with a brain sped along by a computer to think several times faster than the human mind is capable, it still takes Midnighter a few moments to process that. He stares for a few breaths, waiting for Nyx to squirm out of his shirt, but when he sees Nyx's face, it all comes rushing back. Affection-- love, genuine love-- crashes into him like a wave. He pulls Nyx close for far sweeter kisses than before, the edge of lust dulled momentarily in favor of short pecks peppering Nyx's face, his jaw, his cheek.

"You're perfect," he says, "All I want. The odds of me meeting you- I'm so fucking glad." I love you, I love you, I love you.

As soon as the shirt clears his head, Nyx is being pulled in by strong arms, Midnighter covering his face with light kisses.

"Trying to make me blush or what?" Another joke, a retreat to safer ground, but Nyx can't help the flush to his cheeks anyway, dropping his gaze. You're perfect. All I want. Had Midnighter always looked at him like that, so bright and adoring? How had he been so blind? Fuck, Nyx can't possibly live up to the devotion in his eyes.

But he wants to. More than almost anything else. (And maybe that's the worst part--)

He puts his arms around Midnighter's shoulders, a hand on the back of his head, fingers threading through short hair, the other firmly smoothing down the curve of his spine as he catches Midnighter's lips in a deep kiss one more, long and languorous until he finally pulls away, catching his lower lip with a little nip of teeth.

"Like I said. Lucky." His gaze is full of heat as he gives a little buck of his hips, sensuous and eager. "Said you wanted to feel me, didn't you? Tell me what you want." Nyx already has some ideas in his head, a heady jumble of images-- Midnighter half bent over in the shower, skin slick and gleaming, on the bed with his knees rumpling the sheets, bent over the damn counter currently digging into Nyx's ass, but more than that, he wants to hear it from Midnighter himself, the fantasies he has about Nyx.

Midnighter is already hard-- thanks, Nyx-- and only barely managed to pull up his pants when they stumbled through the portal. Nyx bucking his hips makes him whine, hips jerking back on instinct, ridiculous. "Fuck, I don't know, I-" But he knows, just like he knows he's stalling. He never had to ask, with Apollo, Apollo knew, and Matt didn't really care, and now- He kisses Nyx once more, hard and slow.

"Bend me over and fuck me. Hold me down, I- I don't care where."

All of Midnighter's fantasies with Nyx involve the word 'love' being spoken; he knows better than to ask for that.

It's the trust in Midnighter's request that leaves him aching, the knowledge of just hos much he's being given, and Nyx lets out a soft laugh as they finally pull apart from the kiss, hands on his shoulders as he meets his bright gaze. The sound is warm and delighted and full of every tender feeling he can't bear to put voice to, just that Midnighter is so, so much.

"The couch, then." Only because it's closer than the bedroom, and Nyx is impatient, hard and eager to get his hands all over Midnighter. And speaking from personal experience, getting plowed into on a hard marble surface is only fun about half of the time. This time, Nyx gives Midnighter a playful shove back toward the couch, just this side of rough. He's starting to get an idea of the kind of shit Midnighter enjoys in bed, things Nyx hadn't realized right off the bat.

Like talking.

"Come on, let's go. I can't- don't wanna wait a damn second longer than it takes to have you."

Midnighter lets himself be pushed backward, purposefully stumbling. Nyx is so fucking impossibly handsome, and he's here again, eyes bright and affectionate. Having him back is fantastic-- he'd known how much he missed him, in his self-imposed exile, but he hadn't allowed himself to feel it.

But here he is.

Midnighter sits back on the arm of the sofa and begins pulling off his shirt. "Fuck, I missed you. Shouldn't've put off talking to you." I'm sorry about that. But he doesn't say it, because deep down? He isn't sorry.

Nyx helps him tug the shirt off, reaching out to smooth an hand over his shoulder and bicep, even as internally he begins to panic a little.

"No, I-" Shit, is it time to talk about feelings again? Is this how it's going to be every time now, when Midnighter says... the same damn sweet words he'd been saying to Nyx the entire time they'd known each other and Nyx has to rack his brain thinking of what to say back? Love is more than he deserves, more than he thinks he might be able to bear, and the last awful hour has been more emotional shit than he's had to deal with in the last five years.

But for Midnighter... he tries. "I missed you a hell of a lot too. Just..." Nyx trails off, with a little scoff and a shake of his head, "didn't wanna bother you. Thought you had more important things to do. But I was afraid I'd get deployed again before I saw you, just in case. Didn't wanna to miss a chance to see you."

Fear isn't something Nyx admits to often, if ever. But that doesn't make it less true, and Nyx feels like he owes Midnighter the truth, or something close to it. Fuck, he's a mess, and he's had enough of it. He'll just do what he's always done, taking things one day at a time, except maybe now with Midnighter beside him. For however long this fragile, beautiful thing between them lasts.

"Sorry," said with a short laugh, "I'm killing the fucking mood here, aren't I?" He leans in to press a kiss to Midnighter's stubbly cheek, then murmurs into his ear. "Turn over, I want you on your knees."

Midnighter looks at Nyx with an expression just this side of slack-jawed. It's sharpened into a ready grin soon enough, and his arms around Nyx grow tighter for a moment, drinking him in. He laughs and shivers-- can't help it-- when Nyx murmurs into his ear, hot breath tickling over his skin. Like everything in the last few minutes, it goes straight to his cock.

"How the fuck could you ruin the moment with a voice like that."

Midnighter doesn't turn around immediately, finally shucking off his pants and underwear. His cock feels painfully hard, but it's something he can savor, a sharpness he can ride out until the end. Or until Nyx comes, whichever's first. He tilts his head over an inch, gesturing to an end table a few feet away. "Get the lube and a condom, babe."

When Nyx returns, he'll find Midnighter turned around, a little tense, but no less ready to go. It's been a while, but he's ready.

As many people as he's bedded over the years, Nyx is about as good at reading bodies as he is bad at emotions. Scooting onto the couch, he leans over and presses a kiss to the nape of Midnighter's neck, trailing kisses gently down the bumps of his spine, a hand kneading at his shoulder, then lower, tracing the curves of muscle and bone.

"Mmm, love getting a taste of you."

Midnighter had asked to get bent over and fucked, and Nyx has every intent on making good on his promises. But before that, he wants to chase away every scrap of tension from the beautiful man before him, all the hard words and the harder truths that had poured out of the both of them tonight, make it as good for him as he possibly can, the only real way Nyx knows how to show how much he cares.

He's nuzzling into the dip at the small of Midnighter's back, one handed popping open the lube and squeezing some onto his fingers before he belatedly wonders if maybe...

"Hey, you ever been rimmed before?"

The tension doesn't disappear, but it lightens, Midnighter's back and shoulders loosening. He lets out a soft sigh as Nyx kisses him like some glorious thing, something to be preserved and protected. He's never known that, and he savors it. A part of him worries Nyx does this for everyone, and the rest of him knows he does. Nyx is a giving person, and this is more a statement of who Nyx is than what Midnighter is to him. But it's still nice, and Midnighter should be contented enough with that. He tries to be.

Nyx's question breaks him from his thoughts. "Uh- no." He'd never been with anyone who was interested, never really thought about it. He mostly knows what it is from videos he'd gotten off on when he was more horny than lonely. It had seemed very intimate to Midnighter.

At the moment, that has its appeal. He looks back over his shoulder, curious.

Nyx already has a hand on Midnighter's ass, giving him a teasing squeeze, and the smile he flashes up at him is warm and inviting, tinged with uncertainty. He remembers what Midnighter had said before about trying new shit, but also how the last time Nyx had gotten a little adventurous, nothing had gone quite as expected. Not that it hadn't still been pretty damn fantastic, but still. Screw the computer, sure, but maybe Midnighter wants to stick to what's good and familiar tonight.

"Wanna give it a shot? No pressure or anything, just..." He can't help the way his eyes darken with heat, lust mingled with deep affection. This is a great look for Midnighter, and Nyx wants to savor what time they have together, make it as pleasurable as he possibly can. "I promise it's real fucking good."

Nyx knows everything about the computer, what it does, how it can make sex difficult. Still, he trusts Midnighter's judgement over it, lets Midnighter make the decisions for him. He ducks his head a moment, letting out a little sigh of... relief? Affection? Something deep and heartfelt at the pit of his stomach, that also happens to make his cock twitch.

He looks back again, reaching over to put his hand on Nyx's cheek, feel the stubble and the warmth there. "Go for it," he says, grin weak with anticipation. "Trust you." Love you.

Nyx covers Midnighter's hand in his own, turning his head to press a fond kiss to his fingers. Tenderness washes over him like a wave, and for once Nyx doesn't look away or close his eyes to try to hide it. Midnighter is right here. He trusts him.

"I've got you."

Leaning forward, Nyx picks up right where he left off, nuzzling lightly into the dimples at the small of Midnighter's back before teasingly rubbing the scruff of his chin against his skin and grinning at the faint red marks he leaves. Moving slow, he kisses over the curve of Midnighter's perfectly chiseled ass, expression admiring, hands sliding beneath to cup and spread him as Nyx leans forward, drawing the flat of his tongue over his entrance.

It's... a new sensation. His spine stiffens, as well as his cock (how the fuck could he get harder? What is Nyx made of?) and he lets out a surprised noise, a quiet gasp. Fights the reflexive urge to pull away.

It's a little like his first time with Andrew. He kept expecting everything to hurt, but it didn't, it just felt heavy and soft and confusingly good. He doesn't deserve this kind of life. It's almost illicit. The difference now, though, is that he's better at fighting the computer, at making sex what he wants it to be. Another breath, and he drops his head, mouth open, corners pinched in a smile.

"M-might be seeing the appeal."

Edited 2018-02-18 19:02 (UTC)

For a moment, he's not sure how Midnighter would respond, the way he stiffens against him. But the soft little sound he makes sends a thrill right up Nyx's spine, that and the way Midnighter relaxes beneath his hands, all that trust and willingness (love) that Nyx adores in him.

"Hey, you haven't seen nothing yet."

More confident now, Nyx leans forward, lapping at the tight pucker of his hole, and then lower, licking and sucking softly at sensitive skin. The shift of Midnighter's hips draws a contented hum from him, and Nyx pulls away just long enough to catch his breath, letting out a soft laugh before carefully pressing the tip of his tongue into his body.

"Uuh- fuck." Not a confident sound. Midnighter shakes a little, huffs, reaches down to tug at his own cock and take some of the edge off. That's- that's fucking good. And weird, a strange feeling he's never felt before. Unsurprising that he likes it, hungry as he is for new sensations and getting further away from the creature he is on the battlefield. This feels-- tender. Vulnerable.

It makes his heart race, his cock start to leak. He flexes the muscles in his thighs, an old trick to last longer, except he hasn't done it in fucking forever, never had to when he wasn't with Andrew, who knew every inch of his body and how to get every reaction he wanted. And this is Nyx, who's flying blind, trying something new on stupid confidence alone, and it's still-

"Jesus-" Midnighter's face hears. Was that his fucking tongue? Midnighter moans despite himself, moving a hand from his own cock to cover his mouth.

The sound that Midnighter makes goes straight to his own cock, now hard and straining between his thighs, but he doesn't want to stop, doesn't want to do anything that might distract from Midnighter's pleasure, the way he gives himself over to Nyx's hands, his lips and tongue. Nyx lets out an answering groan of desire, even as he curls gentle fingers around Midnighter's cock, thumbing over the head to distract him as he one-handed unscrews the cap to the lube once more.

"Haa- let me hear you. Wanna make this good, give you- everything."

He brushes a kiss over sensitive flesh before pressing his tongue in once again, probing and stretching. Fingers slick with lube, he goes right ahead and starts off with two, pressing them into the tight heat of Midnighter's body.

Midnighter's hips buckle, his hands scrabble on the sofa's arm, his back arches. This is too good, there's gonna be some other shoe about to drop, but it just keeps going. Nyx groans, and that might be the sexiest thing that's happened all night. And then there's fingers and tongue and Midnighter's head drops onto the couch's arm along with his hands, leaning a sweaty forehead against it.

"F-fuck, Nyx, you-" A hand on his cock- Midnighter stiffens, relaxes, gasps, and repeats the cycle. There's no respite from it; it's unbearable, and never quite enough to make him come. His head swims in it.

(The computer shows images of blood and death, flashing teeth, upturned bellies and twitching limbs. All turned aside in an instant, with the next twitch of clever fingers or a cleverer tongue.)

"Take m-me, fuck, I want it, I'm ready, Nyx, please." He's never begged like this with someone who wasn't Andrew, and some distant part of him is shocked he hasn't said his name. The rest is wobbling under the weight of unexpected pleasure, nerve endings firing hot with no release. "I need it- I need you. I can't- I can't take this, you're fantastic, I- I don't uhh-understand-"

Even before Midnighter's voice breaks into pleading tones, Nyx is already starting to fumble for the condom. Fuck, oh fuck, he's so gorgeous, and the way Midnighter shudders, shoulders slumping, trembling and desperate beneath Nyx is-- the hottest gods damned sight he's ever seen in his damned life. There's nothing, absolutely fucking nothing that Nyx wouldn't do for him, to him, anything Midnighter wants, anything at all--

It still feels like it takes an eternity to slip the condom on, haphazardly slicking himself up with lube, hands grabbing for Midnighter's hips and nails digging into his skin as he presses in with a long, drawn out moan. Can't help himself, half out of his mind with lust and something that burns even brighter and hotter, like a star lodged in his chest, Nyx's hips buck instinctively, driving into him in with hard thrust after thrust.

Midnighter's head is pillowed in his arm, his shoulders twitching, his back hunched. The sound he makes when Nyx finally, finally pushes inside him doesn't involve words; it barely sounds human, to Midnighter's ears. The world collapses into the feeling of Nyx shoving his way inside, the scrape of his fingernails, the fantastic stretching heat- Midnighter moves in rhythm, gasping with it, Nyx's name a new swear on his tongue.

Everything becomes jumbled. Sex and death and dying, the impossible pleasure of it, the love thundering in his chest, his heartbeat like a rocket in his ribs. He's going to die, he's going to break, it's fantastic. He tenses, gasping and cursing, twitching with need. His words are distant from him: please and yes and Nyx, mingled with more complex (but ultimately incoherent) thoughts, like I don't understand and I want you and defeat me and I love you. It probably doesn't make any fucking sense.

After one particularly hard thrust, Midnighter shoves himself back, gasping, and-- feels the arm of the sofa crack and fall under him. He falls forward, no longer able to support himself on furniture that rips apart under his hand.

He lies on the floor in a pile of upholstery and wood, panting and hard, utterly confused. After a dazed moment: "You broke my sofa."

One moment, he's plowing Midnighter into the bed, blood pounding in his ears, all tight clenching heat and sweetness and the entirety of his world reduced to the man before him. The next, there's a wrenching, splintering sound and something- he's not sure what- giving beneath his knees. His bare ass ends up on the cold floor and Nyx sits up naked and startled beside Midnighter, his thoughts a jumbled mess.

"I broke your sofa?"

He should-- he should be concerned, probably. Bits of wood litter the floor, they could get splinters, he's never seen Midnighter lose control like this before, is he alright, but Nyx isn't really thinking with his head right now (or at least, not the one that matters) and all he fucking wants is to just get the hell back to what they were doing, and screw the rest. He's already reaching for him, a hand on his shoulder to pull him close, leaning in to press a kiss to Midnighter's shoulder, his neck, his jaw, every part of him he can reach, and he's laughing all the while, helpless with it, the absurdity of it all and how beautiful Midnighter looks even now, wild-eyed and rumpled and sweaty beside him.

If Nyx is laughing, Midnighter can't think of a reason not to. He returns the favor, gathering Nyx up into a warm embrace. "You made me break my sofa," he murmurs, trying to catch his breath. "Luckily I- I like you better than the sofa."

And because he remembers last time, has a flash of how excited Nyx had been when Midnighter told him what he wanted, he scoots them over a little, away from the wood and bits of upholstered fuzz, onto a carpet with a fashionably minimalist pattern.

He lets go of Nyx, and lies flat on the rug, legs spread. His expression is warm, eyes still crinkled with humor. "There's a fireplace setting for this wall, if you're into that." It's incredibly tacky, wanting to be fucked in front of a fire on the floor; don't worry, he's aware. But tacky shit has its appeal, right?

"Made you break your sofa?" Nyx repeats, eyes bright and dancing, teasing with mock indignation. Not that he's able to keep it up, with the way Midnighter all but scoops him up in his arms and deposits him on the carpet and then-- stretches out before him, utterly handsome and touchable and all his to enjoy.

(It's fucking strange, thinking of Midnighter as his in any way. Strange but true.)

The mention of the fireplace has him grinning. If that's what Midnighter's into, well fuck yeah, not like Nyx is one to judge when it comes to tacky shit. He already has his hands all over Midnighter, running over his chest, giving his nipple a playful tweak before shifting downward, pressing his thighs apart. Lucky the condom had stayed on, Nyx doesn't really want to go hunting around for another as he gets back into position.

"Yeah, let's do it." He realizes he's biting his lip in anticipation, sucking in a low breath and with a lift of his hips pushes in, feeling the air escape his lungs in a hiss. "Ah- I wanna see you. All of you." All he wants of Midnighter, what he can't put into words, every sweet and good thing he'd never asked for, never thought he deserved.

Midnighter palms the wall, taps a few briefly-lit panels, and it roars to life, with the heat of a freshly lit fire and the crackle of burning lumber. The Gardener even programmed in the smell of burning wood. Midnighter is maybe far too into it, but that could also be Nyx pushing into him without warning. Usually, that sets off the computer, gets Midnighter jumping with decidedly unsexy panic. But they've been together enough times, the surprise is more hot than harmful. He groans, wrapping his legs around Nyx's hips, needy and impatient.

"Then fucking look." Being coherent enough to talk is nice, even if he wants that raw feeling again, like he really is malfunctioning. He reaches over his head, gripping into the carpet, trying for that wanton pinup thing Nyx does. It doesn't entirely work, he's sure, but Nyx can't judge him for shit.

"C'mon, baby, really give it to me." He gasps from another rough shove of Nyx's hips. "Fuck, like that. I wanna feel you. Give it to me."

Oh, it works, if the look of warm amusement and fondness that crosses Nyx's face is any indication. The flames of the fireplace warm his skin, throws dancing shadows across the room, outlines Midnighter's face and body in bright and flickering gold, and Nyx is suddenly reminded of that moment during the Festival of Storms, when he'd thought fuck it and just let himself indulge, drown out the doubts and worry and pain in the heady sweetness of Midnighter's kiss.

Is that when he'd realized...?

"Next time, I'll bring you a coerlskin rug. Just lay you right down on it and-" Punctuated with another surge of his hips, hard and deep, Nyx leverages the motion to lean sharply forward, a hand on either of Midnighter's shoulders to pin him down, just as promised. "-have my way with you."

"What the fuck is aaaaah, oh, fuck, oh fuck-" And then coherent thought goes right out the window, and Midnighter's bucking his hips in motion with Nyx's, gasping and sighing along with him. He falls back into the rhythm of it quickly, arching upward.

His legs are a vice-grip around Nyx's hips; he likely couldn't escape if he tried. "Do whatever you want to me, I- fucking- defeat me, please-"

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im sorry.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

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