#arcane event

Week One: Fairy Tales/Sci-Fi (Examples: sleeping beauty, princes & knights, little mermaid, etc./cyberpunk, space, aliens, etc.)

Week Two: Eras/Professions (Examples: pirates, regency, futuristic, etc/doctors, lawyers, teachers, etc.)

Week Three: Occult/Super Heroes (Examples: vampires, werewolves, ghosts, etc./heroes, villains, superpowers, etc.)

It’s been a long day (and night) of wrangling gang leaders and brokering deals and the two leaders of the Undercity are happy to finally be home at the Last Drop. Vander immediately crosses the office to sprawl out on the sofa, tired but far too awake to sleep anytime soon. Silco leaves his long coat on the coat hanger and strolls to the liquor cabinet to pour them a night cap, eager to wind down and decompress. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to meet with those Topsiders tomorrow?” Vander asks lightly, palming a deck of playing cards from the table. “They need to think we’re serious about the mine deal and you have a shite poker face.”

Silco glares, pausing from pouring two whiskeys. “Excuse me? I’m not going to take criticism from a man who wears his bleeding heart on his sleeve.”

“It’s not a criticism! Think of it more as…an observation.”

He caps the liquor and returns to the couch, drinks in hand. “Whatever people may observe is simply what I allow them to see.”

“Oh my, apologies! Didn’t realize we had a master of deception over here” – there's a hard clink as Silco sets the glasses down on the table – “Fancy putting those skills to the test?” Vander challenges, waving with the pack of cards. 

Silco narrows his eyes and sinks down into the leather armchair. “What game?”

“Nothing fancy, just poker; five card draw.”

“No betting?”

“We’re a communist enclave, Sil. Your money already IS my money.” Vander grins cheekily, “Of course we could wager something other than coins...”

Silco crosses his long legs and takes a leisurely sip from his drink, considering the offer. It was late; the kids were asleep hours ago and glancing up confirms the rafters were empty of eavesdroppers, but he was still too riled up from the latest mission to sleep just yet. Why not have a little fun putting Vander in his place? Poker, after all, was a game of luck and skill.  And he did always enjoy dressing the large man down.

“Fair enough, I accept your terms.”

Vander eagerly opens the pack, shuffling the deck and spreading the cards face down on the table to mix them up, all under Silco’s sharp supervision. 

“What, worried I’ll cheat ya’?” 

Silco huffs, “As if you haven’t before.”

Vander shakes his head. “If anyone’s got an unfair advantage here, it’s you,” he muses, gathering the cards into a neat pile. “What are you wearing, like ten layers?”

Silco rolls his mismatched eyes and sets his glass down. “The same number as you, Vander, just of finer quality and taste.”

Vander chuckles and shakes his head, Silco never missed a chance to imply he needed a new wardrobe. But why fix what ain’t broken. “Starting bet?” 

“Vest.”

“Jacket.” 

Vander deals them five cards each, face down. Silco sweeps his up and orders them high to low. Not a bad start, he notes, his lip twitching up. With a little luck during the drawing round he’d be set. That is, as long as his opponent didn’t get lucky. He glances up at Vander only to find him leering back with a wide, toothy grin.  

“Good hand, Sil? Feel like upping the ante?”

He schools his expression into one of vague disinterest. “This game was your idea and you want to end it quickly?”

“Nah, just want to get to the good part,” Vander smirks, eyes tracing down Silco’s tight pants. 

Silco shifts in his seat under the hot gaze and runs the numbers, his odds were decent so he nodded. “Fine, I’ll up my bet. Tie.”

“Tie? We countin’ accessories as clothing now? Hah, in that case: belt.”

He discards two cards and draws their replacements. Useless. Damn. 

They play their hands and Vander wins the first round easily. He reclines on the couch, his muscled arms propped along the back. “Don’t make that face, Silco, just a bit o’ bad luck.” He drawls, motioning at his fine attire, “Now go on, pony up.”

Silco furrows his brow. What face? He sits up straight and tilts his head back, watching Vander watch him as he trails slender fingers down his vest, plucking at the metal clasps, each undone fastener revealing more of the soft crimson fabric beneath. Vander’s attention never leaves his hands as he lingers on the leather straps at the waist, rubbing lightly at the gold embellishments. Silco licks his lips, he didn’t enjoy losing but it certainly did feel nice to be…appreciated. A warm flush tints Silco’s cheeks and he swallows thickly, suddenly glad to be removing his tie next. He frees the last strap and glides the vest off his narrow shoulders, carefully folding the garment and handing it to Vander to stow on the sofa. 

The slender man tilts his head back, barring his neck, and hooks a nimble finger behind the knot of silk at his throat, gently tugging it loose before dipping his thumb inside to catch the long end. He draws it out in one smooth pull then loops it back under, undoing the knot. He undoes the top button of his dress shirt and pulls the tie free, carefully rolling it before depositing it in Vander’s waiting hand. A nervous warmth blooms in Silco’s chest as their hands brush and he tugs at his loosened collar. Why does he feel like this? They’ve been fucking for years, for goodness sake. It must be the liquor. 

Vander gingerly places the silk bundle on the vest and turns back, eyes sparkling. “Again.”

Silco nods stiffly, “Boots.”

“Jacket, still.” Vander leans forward to deal the next hand. A strong hand, perfect start. Silco reorders the cards to his satisfaction, taping his foot. 

“Up the ante?” Silco offers lightly. 

“Hmm…nah, not feelin’ this one. You win.” Vander folds and Silco frowns as the large man shrugs off his jacket and tosses it over the armrest.

Vander rolls his shoulders and deals the next round. A pair of queens, not great. Silco discards three trash cards but fortune doesn’t favor him and Vander edges him out with a pair of kings. 

At Vander’s expectant look, Silco uncrosses his legs and slips his boots off, setting them to the side with care. 

Vander raises a brow, “Socks too, don’t be stingy.” 

Silco heaves a beleaguered sigh and leans down, rolling up the hem of his pants so he can snag the elastic loop of his sock-garter to pull it down with his socks. The larger man snorts and Silco pauses to glare at him. He shrugs apologetically. 

“Sorry-ah-it’s just, I love those silly little things. Please,” Vander waves him on, “continue.”

Silco rolls his eyes and efficiently strips the other set, rolling them both to tuck into his boots. 

The next two rounds go quickly and in Silco’s favor. He smiles faintly and knocks back the last of his whiskey, enjoying the pleasant warmth suffusing his limbs, before standing to get them both another round while Vander kicks off his boots and socks to join the wide belt in a heap on the floor. 

The fresh drink comes in handy in the next round, when Silco’s hard earned full house is beaten by a straight flush. 

“Looks like I won this round, babe.” Vander says, fanning his cards across the coffee table.  “Go ahead and unwrap my present nice and slow, eh?” 

A deep flush spreads down from Silco’s face, disappearing below his starched collar, as he fingers the brass buttons of the button-down. He smooths his hands down his front, flicking the buttons free one at time, revealing a lean chest with a smattering of dark hair that fades over a soft stomach and returns below his belly button to vanish into his slacks. He shrugs off the dress shirt, pale skin stretching tight over his narrow ribcage, before primly folding it to deposit in Vander’s beckoning hand. Vander accepts the garment with a hungry look, memorizing every freckle and scar of Silco’s exposed chest, and adds it to the growing pile of clothes. 

The next hand dealt is so disgustingly weak that Silco has to suppress a groan. This was not the hand he needed with only two articles of clothing left. ‘Perhaps Vander is cheating’, Silco muses, running his fingers through his hair, gently pulling at the roots. His only hope now was that Vander wouldn’t raise the bet so he could discard most of his cards and pray for a good redraw. 

Of course Vander raises the bet. Silco has to immediately fold, tossing his cards on the table carelessly. 

Silco stands, absently wiping his clammy palms on the front of his trousers. The Hound’s eyes sparkle with mirth as he makes an exaggerated show of licking his chops. Silco fails to suppress a small bemused smirk even as his pulse quickened. He ignores the heat stirring in his loins and shifts his shoulders back, puffing up his chest as he undoes the buttons. He might not have Vander’s size or physicality but he was still proud of his body. After all, it kept him alive this long. His wiry arms could deliver an unbreakable chokehold and his lean, muscled thighs had carried him all over the Undercity, though he didn’t have to flee enforcers nearly as much as he used to. Perhaps, the desk work has softened his core and age has certainly left its mark, in the form of fine lines and gray hairs. But age was a lucky thing to gain in Zaun and those were the marks of a survivor, and his partner clearly didn’t mind. 

Silco peels off the tight trousers, folding them in half then half again before tossing them on the couch himself. He sits back down on the chair with all the confidence of a rightful king, naked besides his underclothes, and winks.

Vander bites his lip but it can’t stop the wide smile that spreads across his flushed face. “Showoff.” 

Another terrible hand is dealt but this time Silco bluffs instead of holding, upping the ante and it’s Vanders turn to fold. 

Vander whips off his tunic, tossing it on top of Silco’s neat pile. He holds his chin high, inviting Silco to drink him in and finally, it’s Silco’s turn to admire the view.  Vander was unusually tan for a lifelong resident of the Undercity. He had a healthy glow, a resiliency, that couldn’t be smothered, not by violent enforcers or the choking smog and pollution of their home. While still handsomely strong, he wasn’t the lean revolutionary of their youths and Silco was glad for it. Not that he loved him less then, just that it warmed his heart to cuddle close to that softness at night, to feel the physical proof that they had enough to eat now, that Vander could enjoy a cold beer after a long day. Life is good now. They were good now. Even after everything they’d been through. 

It was time to wrap this game up.

Silco throws the last hand, to Vander’s vocal amusement, and stands, fingers tracing the band of his underwear when the other man stops him.

“That’s my prize, love, now get over here.” Vander orders, patting his muscled thigh.

Silco smirks and steps over the coffee table in one long stride, landing directly between the large man's spread legs. He sways close and Vander reaches up and pulls him down for a hungry kiss. It’s all teeth and tongue and when they part ways, they’re both breathing hard.  Vander lets him go and slides off the couch into a kneel, snagging the band of his underwear between his teeth to pull it down with him as he sinks to the floor, freeing Silco’s straining rigid cock. It’s already heavy with arousal.

“I see you enjoyed the game,” Vander purrs, nuzzling his face against Silco’s hard length, tickling the sensitive skin of his stomach with his beard. 

“Hmm…just a little,” Silco said coyly, combing his fingers thru Vander’s soft tresses. His breath hitches, turning into a needy moan when Vander turns and presses an open mouth kiss to his cockhead, fat tongue pressing in to lap up the pre-cum beading at the slit. Silco’s thighs quiver with need and soft caresses shift to a tight grip as he threads his fingers thru Vander’s hair to press him closer. Urging him to let him in. The mountain of a man obliges, relaxing his jaw to take him into the hilt in a smooth, practiced motion that doesn’t stop until his lips are flush to Silco’s groin. 

Silco gasps and shudders at the feel of Vander’s mouth, hips bucking forward to demand more of that wet heat. Vander doesn’t so much as flinch as more cock is shoved down his throat, instead he swallows around him, groping his ass to pull him closer, demanding he surrender every inch to sate his appetite. The sensation of Vander’s throat working his length threatens to rip an orgasm out of him all too soon and he has to fight back, gritting his teeth as his balls tighten. 

“Wait!” Silco begs raggedly, “Please, please.”

Vander pulls back, teasingly swirling his tongue around the twitching cock one last time, before sitting back on his heels to look up at him. Silco is already a wreck. His good eye is clenched shut while its red twin burns with need. Sweat drips down his flushed face, plastering strands of hair to his forehead. His chest is heaving for air and Vander can feel the fingers in his hair shaking slightly. Every muscle in his body is tense as Silco’s forces himself back from the edge through sheer willpower alone. 

It’s one of the sexiest things Vander has ever seen and he has to reach down to his pants and free his own straining cock. He palms his thick erection, giving it a few rough tugs as he watches his partner slowly pull himself back together.  

“You ready for more?” Vander whispers huskily and Silco shivers at the puff of his breath on his aching dick. 

He certainly doesn’t look ready, still trembling with barely contained desire, but he bites his lip and grabs at Vander’s shoulders to push him back towards the sofa. Vander acquiesces then grasps him by the hips to tug him down onto his lap. Silco has to spread his thighs wide so he can straddle Vander’s waist but soon they’re pressed close, stomach to stomach, chest to chest. 

Vander spits on his fingers and takes both of their lengths in one meaty hand, drawing another breathy moan from the smaller man. 

“I won't -ah- I won’t last.” Silco hisses out through gritted teeth, blunt nails clawing at Vander’s shoulders and leaving shallow, red scratches.

“That's fine, I won't either.” Vander starts to move, pumping his hand up and down. “Fuck I’ve been half hard since you took of your fucking tie.” The sensation, the friction, is heavenly and Vander’s head falls forward to rest against Silco’s sweaty forehead. “Your fingers, your hands, your –ugh– perfect fucking clothes, god damnit, Silco.” Vander grunts and works them together, each twitch and pulse of need feeding into their shared pleasure until it's all too much. 

“Vander!” Silco shouts harshly as his orgasm is ripped out of him by that calloused hand. He bucks, hips jerking, as he releases in a messy spurt on their stomachs. Vander groans as Silco’s desperate movement grinds hard against his own dick. He releases his grip just long enough to scoop up some of the cum to use as lube before returning, taking his throbbing cock and Silco’s softening one back in hand. 

Silco whimpers, sensitive from his orgasm and immediately overstimulated as Vander starts moving again in a quick rhythm. “Vander,” he whines, “I can’t– I can’t.” His soft pleas devolve into desperate little gasps as Vander drags his pleasure out, wringing him dry. All he can do is bury his face in the crook of Vander’s neck and hold on until the large man finally cums, shaking them both with the force of his orgasm as every muscle in Vander’s body tenses then releases at once. 

They collapse back onto the couch; a hot, messy tangle of limbs. Silco rests his head on Vander’s broad shoulder, thoroughly exhausted, and listens to the steady rhythm of his heart beat as it slowly returns to its normal pace. They smell like sweat and seed and he’ll need to wipe down the couch later but right now it’s all he can do to stay awake. 

“You got lucky, by the way,” Silco mumbles into his chest sleepily. “I have a great poker face.”

Vander hums thoughtfully and reaches up to pet Silco, gently smoothing back his dark hair. “Hmm, is that so? Well, I won’t deny that I'm feeling pretty lucky right now.” Vander shifts beneath him so he can duck down to kiss the top of his head.  “Might just be the luckiest man alive, in fact.”  He feels Silco smile into his skin. 

Silco tilts his head to gaze up at Vander, revealing that tiny, sappy smile that no one but him gets to see. He reaches up with his slender hand and cups Vander’s cheek, tracing the cheekbone with his thumb, before parting his thin lips to whisper rare, precious words, “I love you.”

Vander smiles back, the sparkle in his gray eyes softening from amusement to adoration. Silco doesn’t say it a lot, preferring to show his affections through actions or gifts but Vander knows. He’s known for years even if Silco only dared first utter that short confession a few months ago. How could he not?  It’s written all over Silco’s face.

…

“I love you, too.”