#geroini

gerome/inigo fic inspired by art (artist: azolitmin)  Title: Slip Summary: That mask should not be here, in this moment.  Rating: nothing too much but dicks are described  Characters: Gerome/Inigo 

They didn’t know they were going to do this. Neither of them had any idea they were going to go this far tonight. It was why it caught both of them so off guard when it was brought to the table. When Inigo smiled to himself about this loveable, stark, precious person, he realized that there was no way in hell he’d go any further without taking it off. But he knew that this thing was important– it was important in how Gerome built his character. It was important in how Gerome kept himself together in times where he felt vulnerable, in times where he felt he shouldn’t– can’t show emotion. Can’t show fear or pain. Or anything. Anything else.

Hands were heavy, skin was pressed hard. That’s what took it further– skin on skin. Any armor or cloth was as far as on the floor, in another world where it didn’t matter. It was as if once all of that barrier was gone, they couldn’t stop. They wouldn’t have, if they were asked, because the both of them felt ready and it felt right. There was no preparation for this night because it wasn’t necessary. They were happy in this moment and that was all that they needed, all that they ever really needed. 

It’s just that… Inigo wanted something more. He wanted a connection in this moment that he was gradually able to make more and more regularly, and that was with Gerome’s eyes. His eyes. They honestly fluster Inigo sometimes, because when Gerome looks at you it’s like he’s looking at everything that you are and try to hide. Well, that’s how Inigo feels, and anyone else is lucky to catch a glimpse. When Gerome looks at Inigo, Inigo blushes and stutters, forgetting anything witty he had to say, forgetting all of his practiced pick up lines and what color the sky is. He sort of gets quiet and stares right back into those fucking beautiful eyes because he wants to remember them. He wants to know how they look when he’s happy, sad, angry– when he’s horny like he is now, pressed over Inigo beneath the blanket and pushing kisses and bites into the crook of his neck. 

So when Gerome’s lips press to his jaw and he feels teeth, feels them move to his lips, Inigo’s eyes are open and he’s curious. He’s so curious it burns, right in the pit of his stomach where he feels it tugging him closer to Gerome. Wanting him more and wanting more of him. That mask he wears and is still wearing is keeping something from the both of them that Inigo knows Gerome wants but is too… afraid to take that step to get. They’ve gotten past most of those barriers, and as of right now all it is is standing in the way. Inigo is lifting his hips up off the cot they lay on, against Gerome who’s in between his legs and hot, slick (he isn’t sure who’s making more of a mess, but it fails in importance because it’s good, it’s what they need, what feels good), and Gods Inigo needs that little bit more or he isn’t sure he’ll feel complete. 

Inigo’s hips were slow, gyrating against Gerome’s, up until he gives one sharp thrust to gain attention and he hears Gerome muffle a groan. He’s shoving his hips back down against Inigo’s and fuck if that doesn’t make him shudder, bite his lip so hard he almost breaks skin. They’re both hard and they’ve been rolling in the cot for only a little while now. Inigo slides his hands up from where they were digging into Gerome’s back and up towards his face. That’s when Gerome tilts his head up and watches Inigo. He brings his own arms up, elbows resting on either side of Inigo and caging him in. Inigo likes that. It makes him feel safe and warm and makes his heart swell because he’s so… he’s so in love. 

Inigo doesn’t say anything. He calms his breathing (from panting and gasping, busying his mouth with other things), letting his fingers frame Gerome’s jaw, his ears. He can feel Gerome’s breathing slow and that’s when he knows he has his full attention. That’s when he hopes that Gerome is looking into his eyes, just like Inigo wants to look into Gerome’s. His fingers trace the edges of the mask and he smiles, hopeful, up at Gerome from beneath his lashes in a silent question of, ‘May I?’ 

Gerome doesn’t say anything. Not at first, and not for a moment more. Inigo can feel Gerome tense but he’s giving a nod and Inigo feels that rushing tug in the pit of his stomach again. He’s pushing the mask up with his thumbs and he sees Gerome trembling, and now with the mask pushed back his eyes are closed and he gives in. Gives in to the wild need to kiss Gerome, but– gently, even, and he does, the softest press of lips against soft, trembling skin. Gerome presses back and it’s almost like their first kiss should have been. Their first kiss was feverish, needy, because they were both excited and happy and overwhelmed and the only thing they both knew was this is what I need right now. 

This is a moment of exploration. Sweet, delicate exploration and Inigo moves his lips, hands cupping Gerome’s jaws and cheeks to pull him in, take more, take his mind off of that mask and show him that he wants Gerome so much. He loves Gerome so much.