✩˙˖ ꪖ ꪑ꠸ꪶꪶ꠸ꪮꪀ ꪻꫝ꠸ꪀᧁᦓ ˖˙✩

Letting out a groan at the feeling of nails at his back, its low gravel somewhat muffled against Shion's neck where lips had paused to let out the shuddery puff of a sound, his hands gave a firm squeeze to the other's plush backside as hips where dragged down to grind against his member, the unexpected and overwhelming feeling sending a jolt of pleasure down Mick's spine. "Fuckin' hell, baby." A few more nipped kisses, lips growing clumsy and somewhat frantic with desire as teeth bit down just a bit harder than intended into the crook of Shion's neck. "Fuckin' love th' way my name sounds outta yer mouth..."

「 ☆ 」 Shion always imagined sex would be like this… Heavy and hot and honestly a bit hazy, his mind struggling to memorize every detail yet drowning in a sea of sensations. But he hadn’t understood how easy it would be to get LOST in it. Micky’s breathless praise, the bruising kisses and wondrously demanding touch, all serving to sink Shion deeper into that subspace… — jelly-like feeling.

He’s not quite sure how else to describe it.

Only that the more he’s ground against Micky’s erection— neck stinging with teeth marks, warm spit only somewhat able to soothe the harsh bite —the harder it is to feel like his limbs belong to himself. Manicured nails digging into the other man’s back, thighs squeezing around Micky’s waist with a vengeance, every aspect of Shion clinging to him in a greedy fog of want. Yet Shion barely feeling in control of any of it. As if it’s only natural to rub and grab and moan and NEED…

❝ H-Huh? ❞

Tumbling from kiss-reddened lips, it takes a beat for Shion to piece together what Micky said. Words heard but not registering as such while dazed bright hues are pulled back to reality. Blinking dumbly, it’s easy to pinpoint the exact moment senses return. From the catch in his breath to the abrupt rush of pink shame cascading across delicate features. ❝ Right! Right— I can do that. I can toooootally find. the. lube. ❞

Stammered as he hastily starts to look around for it, apologies and excuses fumble from the virgin’s mouth. ❝ Sorry, Micky— I swear I was paying attention to you. ❞ Perhaps a little too much attention, validated by the damp spot tarnishing his poor lace. A bump of his own prominent beneath his skirt, even if Shion doesn’t doubt it could be easily overshadowed by Mick’s. Or nestled in the greaser’s grip. But that line of thinking isn’t helping the situation. ❝ aHA! Here it is! ❞

If Shion didn’t know he’d be too embarrassed to stay a second longer, he could cry from how relieved he is to hold that glorious little bastard of a bottle in his hand.

i haven’t posted any of my own work, in like, a year. sorry about that. not good at media socializing

(( Thank you so much for this, Anonymous Friendo! I just wanted to reply— on the chance you'll see it —to say that I am curious as Hell about who it is sitting in their little corner watching my silly little blog lol — I haven't written very consistently lately ( trying to get back on Tunglr ) but I am flattered that you enjoy what I do throw onto dash. I'm not very fast with replies or my messages ( gotta catch up on those too rip ) but if you're ever interested in reaching out ( or re-igniting a conversation if it happened to get lost or forgotten by time/squirrely-notifs ) then please feel free! ))

Still, Zooble might as well push the bounds of what they're able to do in the game. Everyone else seems to play it safe, so Zooble wouldn't be able to get any answers out of them, but Jax is different. He tests boundaries like a mad scientist (as well as everyone's patience).

Zooble isn't even entirely sure whether it's safe for them and Gangle to be openly dating. As far as Caine and the others know, they're just "very good friends". Jax is the only one they've shared this confidential information with (though that's because Jax walked in on them cuddling while trying to play a prank on Gangle). Caine never explicitly forbade new relationships forming in the circus, but they doubt he'd encourage it either. Relationships result in feelings...feelings that don't exactly line up with the game's squeaky clean image.

Kinger was lucky to have entered the game already in a relationship. If Queenie hadn't abstracted, he would've been able to go home with her. Zooble doesn't know where to begin finding Gangle outside of the circus. They'll never know the feeling of their skin making contact with hers, their lips pressing together, having Gangle see them for who they truly are...

It might be nice to be able to wear Gangle as a scarf and carry her around with no issue, but something feels missing.

「 ☆ 」 Zooble's reasoning isn't unfounded, considering that despite Caine's incessant attempts to keep them ❛ happy ❜ and stimulated in their wacky prison, the Ringmaster often misses the mark. His idea of pleasure coming in the form of unending and unpredictable adventures that only serve to break up whatever semblance of normal they try to create. Turning to sex for escape— all things considered —isn't the worst idea. Provided one has a partner willing to help with it... and they can figure it out.

Or in Jax's case, stumble into it.

Unfortunately for Zooble, the rabbit would rather abstract right here and now before admitting to the circumstances that led to his... unique experience. It would be less of a mortifying ordeal.

Arms crossed, hands tighten on his limbs with a sharp instinctive intake of unneeded breath. Gaze flitting to the side while Zooble continues their lament, trying to ignore the uncomfortable prickling beneath his skin fur as the other's words fade into semi-coherent background noise. Merely a couple sentences already enough to put Jax on edge, a finger rapidly tapping in a discreet display of his discomfort. Ears purposely standing straight, body stock-still, feet firmly planted to avoid any embarrassing bunny-isms. The last thing he needs is any more questions aimed his way.

But he was getting a bit ahead of himself, Mick bringing himself back to the moment at hand as his shirt was removed, a smirk to settle firmly on his face at the reaction just his chest earned. He knew damn well how good he looked, it hard not to when as strong as he was, Micky having to wheel around almost two hundred pounds of weight between himself and his chair every day for over two decades now. What was a surprise was now nice Shion's touch felt, the careful exploration earning a stuttered breath out of the stuntman as his own hands reflexively squeezed at his partner's thighs. "Feels good, you touchin' me like that..." As much was heard in his voice, words low and lax as he leaned in to press a series of kisses along Shion's throat, fingers easing their way under his skirt with a playful snap of lace after a moment or two. "Turn 'nd face me, easier t' touch that way." An invitation to straddle his lap, his hands eager to manuver Shion into the new position with his touch to grow more bold once settling him into it.

「 ☆ 」 ❝ Oh? ❞ Shion muses at the stuttered admission, his own breath catching as large hands squeeze his thighs. A genuinely curious and relieved response, before he gathers his senses enough to try and take advantage of it. Mouth curling into a mischievous smirk— one he’s practiced many times for just such an occasion —as he gives Mickey’s pecs a purposeful press of his palms. Massaging into the firm spot in what he hopes in a sexy manner ( or at least a physically pleasing one ) . ❝ Then I guess I better keep doing i— ah!~ ❞

Shit.

Attempt at seduction is foiled by lips on his throat, Shion letting out a squeak that’s undeniably NOT a sound he planned on. Head tilting as his eyes shut on their own accord, shaky hands slide downward. Moving on instinct as curious fingers continue to map out the torso laid bare for him. His own body squirms in his spot, thighs pressing into one another as Mick wanders up to toy at his panties. Biting his bottom lip, tiny kitten fang threatens to snag at it.

Still, he can't deny the happiness that pops up upon hearing that he would be Shion's first in a number of ways, not because it meant he would be able to stake some sort of claim or something, but because-

"Good, means I can make sure you get treated right." Nevermind that it was technically a first for Mick too, if they got that far, the only thing on his mind was making sure Shion had a good time. "Was afraid that...I mean, it's...hah, I mean this in th' nicest way I can, but it's real obvious how bad you want male attention. 'm sure you already know I've had a few people, 'warn' me 'bout you, say it's kinda a thing with you, bouncing around and the like. I didn't pay them no mind, not my business what you do, was just...I was afraid that meant you might not've been treated like you deserve to be, y'know?" The implications were clear in his awkward tone, Mick giving Shion a slight squeeze of a hug to balm any hurt his words might have brought. "Sorry, I just...I'll do my best for you, you just gotta give me that chance. Even if it takes all night, just wanna do this for you, Shion."

Sentiment conveyed in that soft press of lips, Mick's body shifting to better allow the hand to travel under his shirt as his own inched careful fingertips under the skirt where he'd been fiddling with it. Not too far, just barely slipping under the hem, enough to show the desire to touch and be touched, Mick just waiting for the permission to do so.

"I really like you too, by the way. Only ever been with other people in chairs, never met anyone on two legs that wasn't family that, I dunno, gets it, y'know?" A nervous laugh, it more of a soft puff of breath than anything as teeth sheepishly bit at his bottom lip. "You uh, you pro'lly don't, huh? Just...all that yer doing, keep doing it. You don't gotta be afraid of hurting me, or making me mad, okay? I'll let you know what does and doesn't work fer me, in general and with...with this here, alright?"

「 ☆ 」 Hearing that Micky is aware of his… reputation, should be a mortifying blow to his confidence. Which it is, just not for the reasons one would likely expect. Instead of being ashamed for his habit of throwing— or trying to, anyway —himself at any attractive man that so much as breathes near him, Shion’s embarrassed groan stems from the fact that it hasn’t worked. Not until now, anyway.

Hiding his face against Micky’s neck when the greaser pulls him into an apologetic hug, he groans like a petulant child. Overdramatic noise befitting the muffled words that come next, ❝ Ugh, it’s so embarassiiiiiiing… I’ve been making it clear I’m on the market for years— ❞ Even to people he likely shouldn’t have, Shion having set his sights on a teacher or two before Hope’s Peak. ❝ —and no one’s taken a bite at the bait. No guy has given me so much as a nibble! ❞

Indignation only proving Mick’s point, Shion pulls back to look at Micky as he complains, ❝ Don’t get me wrong, as far as first times go— I’m glad I hit the jackpot. But when going through a drought, you start to wonder if the problem is you. I mean— am I not cute? Shouldn’t any guy want to snatch me up and do naughty things to me? ❞ The phrase ❛ snatch ❜ doesn’t offer much confidence, Shion and Mick having VERY different opinions on what he deserves.

And yet, those eyes heat up his cheeks regardless, it feeling different from the stares he was used to, even if he didn't actually believe there was anything behind it other than it that was just...how Wallace looked at everyone. Or at least, every guy. So, not knowing what to do with said look, Kyle simply moved on, a folded up packet being pulled from the pocket of his battered and worn leather coat and set onto the table in front of him, like he couldn't hope to recount the information within it without actively reading it all over again.

"Give 'r take, yeah." He flips over a page, it easy to see, even when upside-down, that it's a summery of his medical records spanning back to his childhood, with there numerous broken bones and other 'minor' injuries from 'unknown incidents', those being the ones where his father had hurt him, but his mother was too afraid to say just what had happened, but she knew, everyone knew, and no one ever tried to help them until it was too late. Following those are what one would expect; broken noses and hands from fights with his peers, hockey injuries from over the years, dumbass stunts from being a dumbass kid/teenager, and finally the first of his deaths, the paper being turned so he could point it out; it unsurprisingly being the Fire that had scarred him. "That's number one, 's what fucked up my face. Dad got pissy I was learning 'sissy shit', didn't like I wanted t' be a nurse like my mom. He goes to hit me, mom steps in front of it, she hits her head on the fireplace 'nd dies. I tried to go after dad, he hit me in th' head, I played possum since that usually got him t' leave me alone, thinking I was knocked out 'r something, only he must've thought he killed me too 'cause th' next thing I know he's dumping gasoline on me 'nd mom 'nd striking a match."

Talked about casually, like it wasn't the largest trauma of his entire life, like he just...couldn't feel the emotions that were meant to come with it, nor was he able to register that this...wasn't exactly something one casually tells a near stranger like he was. "Dunno how I made it out 'f that fire, 'r well I do, crawled into th' fire place like Indiana Jones." A chuckle as he pulled the paper back to flip to the next page. "Made sure he didn't make it out, though. Wish I didn't pass out so fast, would've loved t' listen to 'im scream 'til he died."

Turning the paper back, he points out Number Two: his overdose in the hospital after the fire, it detailing the negligence and racism he was faced with at the hands of his doctor. "Don't remember that one, though guess that's not really a surprise. Don't remember a lot of stuff anymore, actually. Guess I'm just gonna have to get used to it..." Something that was explained with the next and final page: his accident. It doesn't say exactly what happened, only that he'd crashed his van into a tree, and the injuries he'd gained as a result. The removal of his arm, the physical therepy he'd been going through after the fact and had since stopped going to after learning how to use his arm Enough to get through his day to day, and finally his TBI, something only recently discovered to have been present since the day his father had struck him before the blaze, made all the worse now by the crash as well as the passing of time, unaddressed at that.

「 ☆ 」 Initial reaction is actually rather respectful. Wallace glancing down at the concernedly-large packet, before looking back up at Kyle's face once he realizes the information it holds. Studying the other's expression for a breath, waiting to see if he brings the packet closer ( hides it behind an arm like a child trying to prevent a peer from cheating ) or just offers a look that claims Wallace should keep his eyes where they belong. But when no such reservations come, well...

It'd be more awkward NOT to look at it, right?

Looking back down, eyes scan over the surplus of frankly overwhelming information. Far more injuries than one man should have endured, let alone in the short span of time some of them show. Sipping his drink as Kyle meanders down a morbid memory lane, he emits a long soft whistle. Managing to say ❛ dang ❜ far better than any statement could. Even if the approach may not be quite appropriate for the scene. But it's not as though Kyle's demeanor is either, the other man talking about death in the same manner one would order a coffee.