Mischievous_Prism

i don't mean like absolute silence. obviously in an ideal community, there would still be sound and noise from people and music and work etc. but it haunts me that when i camp in the forest i can hear the howl of semi trucks on the interstate miles away. and the people who live beside it never know quiet. it haunts me that many people will live their whole lives never seeing the stars in the sky that were fully visible with NO electric light pollution as recently as my great-grandparents' childhoods.

so much of our lives is bright bright unnecessary noise. neon mcdonalds signs 200 feet in the air so we can see it from the road. led lights over billboards. parking lots lit up like sports stadiums at closed office buildings. advertisements playing at gasoline pumps. streets lined with led porch lights and decorative garden lights that genuinely threaten entire species of wildlife. music blaring outside pharmacies to deter homeless people. everything always shining and wailing for no purpose but profit and cruelty.

Made me think of IceMav staying together and having to hide away any hint that they're in a relationship whenever people come over.

Maverick taking down a picture because he's paranoid that the way they're slung over each other looks like more than buddies.

Iceman removing any sign that two men live in the house. Tucking away an extra coaster, hiding one of the toothbrushes and praying that no one asks why he has two kinds of milk, because they can never agree on which one to buy.

Pete takes his blanket off of the back of the couch as Tom excessively pats down the cushions in hopes that no one asks who he's been snuggling up beside from the dip in the couch. He grew up paranoid that people can read it on his face, he can't have anyone asking questions so he'll scour the house until he's covered every last detail that he can find.

Maverick watching the man he loves stress himself to the point any other man would he in tears, but not Ice. Ice just tugs his own hair at the root and grinds his teeth until his entire jaw aches.

All for the night to end, for Pete to drag Tom to their bedroom and strip the man of his clothes before pulling him onto bed. They can't fuck, Tom's too wound up and not in the fun way. Pete lies there with Tom's head against his chest and plays with the blonde's hair until the tension in his shoulders isn't tight like a bow string.

"It was fine."

"Barely."

"You're overthinking it. Go to sleep, sweetheart."

He's not entirely sure that Iceman and Slider know they're dating, or that they're all in a relationship. When he asks Nick, his RIO tells him that Ice and Sli think their "friendship" is normal.

Pete thinks that if he made fuck-me eyes at Goose like Slider does at Iceman, Carole would have every right to beat his ass.

It only starts to dawn on the tall fuckers that they're all entangled when Pete shows up at Tom's uninvited one day. He walks in, nips at Tom's cheek when he walks by then kisses it better. They don't falter. When he does the same to Ron, he gets to watch them have a silent conversation that consists solely of wide eyes and eyebrow twitches.

Yet, no one says a word about it. Ron cooks, from what Pete knows, it's a rare occasion. With great amusement, he watches the RIO lick sauce from Tom's lips half way through dinner. The blonde huffs, but makes no move to push him away. Ever the overdramatic diva.

Later, they retire to the couch and Pete, subtle to his core, parks his ass on Ron's lap. Enough alcohol has been consumed to lower Tom's guard and he gets the utter pleasure of hearing him snort. Ron simply rests his chin on Pete's shoulder and mutters, "S'a good thing you're fucking pint-sized."

He'll never truly understand the extent of the Iceman and Slider relationship, not that it bothers him. They've been a pair for years before he started eyeing their asses in the shower. And they never question his familial relationship with Nick, no amount of honeys or dears exchanged is enough to spark an insecurity in either man.

It's a little funny, though. The day Slider walks into the bedroom post shower and asks, ever so bluntly, "Wait, if I let you blow me does that make me gay?"

"We've been dating for three months."

"That doesn't work, you're dating Ice."

"So are you."

“Yeah?” Ilya asks and Shane just blinks because his eyes are burning and they aren’t tears not really and then Ilya I asking, “we are good at making you feel good yes? And making me feel good yes?” And to that Shane nods because yes. “Mm then, let me show you this trick too Hollander, how good it feels for both of us” he kisses Shane’s mouth twice and pulls back, gripping his cheeks tighter before softening his touch.

Shane stays where Ilya has pulled him, still on his knees. “You like being good, so be good and listen to me” Ilya whispers and it feels warm, like praise and Shane says “okay” and Ilya says “you want it again?” And Shane nods, flushing and says “yes” and then “please” and Ilya groans and he’s rubbing his cock over Shane’s mouth before pushing in, thumb gently hooking the corner of his mouth. “Like this da? Let me give you it Hollander, you can take it, so good at taking me inside, here too just relax now and breathe” and Shane breaths and focuses on relaxing is jaw, throat, eyes closed and Ilya is giving him little by little. It makes Shane whole body buzz to go slow, but he does, inch by inch as given to him by Ilya.

“There we go” Ilya mutters half to himself and Shane shivers when he feels Ilya in the back of his throat, takes a slow breath instead of letting it spasm, thinks about the wet hot warm pleasure of taking Ilya inside his hole and how he’s made to take it. He is. “Ah. Fucking pretty” Ilya whines and it makes Shane’s ears tingle, cock so fucking hard it’s dripping onto the carpet below him. “Doing good Hollander, fuck. You love it, being good at things, good at my cock” and Shane nods, swallows and lets Ilya sink him all the way down, until he gags soft, able to swallow and relax and breathe.

He stays pin still when he finds a point he can hold Ilya, where his mind whites out and his body starts to fall away from anywhere but where he is holding the shape and weight and size of Ilya, where the saliva is pooling at his lips and chin already.

Ilya’s words are Russian then, cooing low and his hand not hooked by his thumb into the heat of Shane is combing through the top of his hair and then down over the back of his head, petting rhythmically and Shane just sinks and sinks and sinks, heard Ilya mutter “of course, perfect here too” before he cums hands free, messy shooting hot drips that he doesn’t even feel rip through him like an orgasm but more crash through him sweet like a wave and pulling him deeper under tide tide tide. Ilya whines, some of Shane’s cum had hit his feet, shins and he pets Shane’s cheek, warm palm rubbing. He slides his thumb out and traces his wet mouth perfect deep seal.

“Fuck, you’re dripping” Ilya praises and Shane thinks he means his cock but then he feels Ilya’s hand under his chin, smearing wet saliva from under his bottom lip over his throat and down his chest.

Shane’s hard again or maybe never was soft and it makes him fuss, rock his hips and the shifting makes him gag, a small splutter and Ilya is easing him up up. Shane fucking whiiiines at the loss and shakes his head and hands fly up to grip at Ilya’s thighs and Ilya croons, hand cups the side of his face and thumb rubs at his earlobe on the right. “Just half, just half Hollander, god. Then you can have it again. Such a good slut” and Shane is appeased, hums when Ilya’s hand tangles with one of his own.