mush thoughts but sick!poly!141 who are almost always sick at the same time because none of them know how to keep their hands off of each other??
price is the guilty mf out of all of them, often the one doing the kissing and then sneezing up a storm the next day. the instigator, never really the sick one but is the first to catch the bug. he’s always the infected.
kyle who’s actually?? a bit of a germaphobe but god, does his lieutenant kiss him so well.. can’t help it, maybe a little sickness is worth it for the way simon melts in his mouth. he gets the smallest cough and absolutely whines about it.
simon riley who.. actually is immune. all this touching, all this kissing and the worst he gets is one (1) cough. and then he’s back to kissing his infected boyfriends.
and johnny mactavish, the main icky sicky train— always the trendsetter by catching the latest bug that’s roaming around the barracks. he really catches things like the plague and is often the neediest when he’s sick.
not that any of his boyfriends complain.. maybe kyle but that never lasts long.
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"Stop! That's enough! I cannot have any more people showing up here in floaty, flimsy, see-through clothing, begging to be let inside in this dreadful weather! It's becoming ridiculous!!" the prissy, aristocratic baritone behind the door sounded genuinely distressed, and a little petulant. "Go home."
"Ernest, darling," came a gentler, purring laugh that was full of amused fondness. "We've kept three local taxi companies in business by returning all these wandering humans back to their homes."
The castle doors swung inwards with the sigh of well-oiled iron hinges.
"Perhaps we could let this one stay for the night this time..."
It had started off as most things do; as an experiment.
In your private quarters, away from his brothers and far from the war, Hunter was naked. It was several minutes past the point of pillow talk and the afterglow had worn off with the raising of your hearts. Still, you continued to kiss and touch your man.
The kisses were sweet on the tops of his thigh and knees. His sigh rolls through his entire being and into your lips after taking him into your mouth.
“Might be a little soon…” he whispers to the ceiling.
His hand is heavy on your head. Rubbing through sweaty locks of hair to scratch at your scalp. His head is tilted back against the pillows, making it impossible to see your eyes raise up to look at him.
It’s easy to slip him from your mouth. Emphasizing hot and heavy breathing over his most sensitive skin. Turning your head to the right, another sweet kiss against the skin there. His legs lifts to encourage your mouth, bending his knee that you place a hand on. Pulling him closer to your waiting teeth.
“Kah-KRIFF!” He shouts, ripping at your hair painfully. That didn’t stop you from licking and sucking at the wound, creating a hickey he no one would notice without the access you had.
“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” You said, kissing over the mark. “You taste too good.”
His hand stays in it’s place while you crawl up him. Reaching your destination with a kiss to his lips. Pressing deeply against him until the both of you groan from the passion. He could still taste himself on your lips. The salt of his own sperm and the copper of the smallest bit of blood dragged from his thigh.
“That’s gonna chafe,” He says when you finally part.
To a normal person it was just a hickey in an awkward place. Maybe they’d feel it when changing the next day but that would be the extent. For Hunter it was a constant reminder of your mouth that he felt with every step. His blacks pressed against it sent the stinging feeling through him once again. With it was the reminder of your warm smile, of your tongue on his skin and of the smile that came with it all.
It became a tradition after that. Kamino was never short on secluded places. Closets with enough room for two people where one could kneel. Empty showers or quarters that no one would need to enter for some time. Even behind large boxes in the hanger could be an option. As the silent Clone code kept most from ratting any clones out for breaking minor rules.
“Commander, do you have a moment?” He’d ask.
“Absolutely, Sergeant. Lead the way.” You say back, following him without any hint of what was going on.
The trouble came with the rest of the Batch, who couldn’t be fooled like others. They knew the little code words eachother had with you. The phrases that asked for some private time away from anyone else, including the rest of the batch.
More than once Hunter was interrupted before he could ask.
“Commander, do you-.” He’d start.
“She’s going to be busy for a while.” Crosshair would say, a subtle hand on your back.
“It’d be better she helps me first.” Tech says, gesturing away.
“I’m sorry, Sergeant, but not just yet.” Echo said with more manners than the others.
“Hey, she came to me first.” Wrecker says, lacking the intricates of subtlety everyone else had mastered.
Unlike Master Ti you weren’t officially stationed on Kamino. Rather it was spur of the moment whether you’d be called from the temple to help with the mission. Because of this Hunter would have to survive his time without your little mark on the inside of his thigh.
This was meant to be a lot longer, but then my motivation left me
~~~~~~~~
It wasn’t uncommon for Tamaki to hide in you. Being social was hard for him, incredibly so. His anxiety made him feel drained and hollowed by the and of any major interaction. He had started taking comfort in hiding in the people he was comfortable with long ago.
That’s why you weren't all that surprised when you found Tamaki hiding in your lap when you woke up. He seemed perfectly content just laying on your thighs in silence, entertaining himself by playing with your pants or playing on his phone, so you decided to leave him that way. You only reached down and combed your fingers through his hair to let him know you were awake. He responded with a small hum in return.
You lightly asked him why he was so tired today, to which he responded that he had a lot of meetings of conferences yesterday. Be that with the media or the other staff members of his hero agency. It was just a lot of high-stress interaction, with lots of sensory overloads, and he was exhausted today because of it.
You accepted the answer and opted to continue a book you had recently picked up, as per Tamaki’s recommendation. He even went with you to make sure you got the right book. He worries a lot about things going wrong, so you always offer the option of letting him tag along to make sure things go right. Telling him his worries were irrational didn’t help anyone, especially Tamaki, so you offer alternates instead. He’s gotten a lot better at knowing his limits over the years.
Soon Mirio emerged from the bathroom, hair freshly done and fully dressed (for once), pressing a kiss to your forehead before crouching and pressing one to Tamaki’s as well after smoothing out his hair. Tamaki fidgeted with one of Mirio’s fingers, which were offered gently to him, as Mirio glanced up to you.
“Staying home today?” He asks.
“Yeah,” you sigh and reach down to pet Tamaki’s hair. “He’s feeling pretty exhausted today, so I’m staying behind to make sure he remembers to eat.” At this comment, Tamaki flips over and buries his face in your stomach, grumbling.
Mirio smiles, patting Tamaki’s shoulder once before standing. “Well, you two have fun! I wish I could stay too, but I still got some work I gotta take care of before I can do that. Don’t eat all the ice cream without me!”
Then Mirio left, and the room fell into silence once again.
You used Tamaki’s head as a rest for your hands while you read. Tamaki has expressed multiple times in the past that he doesn’t mind when you do this, so you don’t mind either. Turns out the book was an excellent read, an old book translated into Japanese from English about a dystopian society where only one person bears real pain, and you almost got so immersed you missed Tamaki’s shuffling.
“What’s wrong, Tama?” You ask, running your fingers through his hair. At your words and actions, Tamaki stops shuffling and stills.
“Am I too much?” He asks.
“What? No, why would you ask that?” You set the book down and grab Tamaki’s face, making him sit up and face you. He kept his gaze to the side and let his head sit limply in your grasp.
“You’re staying home for me today, I... you don’t need to worry about me.”
You purse your lips, your eyebrows scrunching the tiniest bit. “Tamaki, I care about you. That’s why I’m staying. I know you’re exhausted and want to be here for you in case you crash.”
You can see Tamaki about to object, so you push a kiss to his forehead. He relaxes immediately, hands timidly coming up to hold onto your sleeves. You press a few more kisses around his face, on his nose, his ears, and his soft baby cheeks. Tamaki has gotten to the point where he’s comfortable enough with stuff like this that his face isn’t burning, and you’re so proud of him.
“I love you, Tamaki. You deserve to be able to stay home and rest if you feel exhausted, okay?” You whisper, pressing your foreheads together.
Tamaki nods, his eyes avoiding yours. “Thank you,” me humbles.
You smile, pressing a small kiss to his lips. “You’re welcome.”
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A Dragon Age commission fic for @radflannel and @reaperskillerthighs, featuring Dorian and Varric.
***
"What do you think of this? ‘With a flare never before seen in the royal court of Ferelden, the mage crossed the floor to the throne. Sparkling lights danced at his fingertips; women swooned as he passed; and every man there wished he had even a fraction of the mustachioed masculinity he exuded with every step.’"
"It's dreadful. The Orlesians will love it."
Varric chuckled, setting his quill down as he twisted to look over at his companion. Dorian lounged in their bed, ankles crossed, one hand behind his head, his own book held aloft in the other as he read. Clothing was apparently optional for today. The Tevinter mage glanced down from his reading, raising a brow in sardonic amusement.
"My dearest dwarf, I do realize I am quite the arresting sight, but I was under the impression that you needed to write today," he said, his smile almost winsome. "I am even proofreading this appalling dross that keeps you supplied in paper."
"Don't let Cassandra hear you say that," Varric warned laughingly. "Every word of that dross keeps her sweet."
"You should never have let her introduce the sisters in the Chantry to this syrupy nonsense they call romance," was Dorian's stated opinion. "Though I must confess, it is rather delightful to know that the holiest of holies down here in the south is all but addicted to a serial bodice ripper written by a dwarf she cannot stand."
"I'll have you know Cassandra and I have settled our differences for the most part," Varric retorted, his low voice gruff with amusement. "She doesn't order any Exalted Marches on Kirkwall, and I don't write anything subversive about the Chantry. It works for both of us."
"And yet you persist in trying to capture my glorious personage on parchment as a means to tell the world that your contraption lost out to a terrifying magister." Dorian's chuckle was warm with pleasure. "If I didn't know better, I'd imagine you were even proud of taming a Tevinter trickster."
"Sparkler, you and I both know there's nothing tricksy about you," the dwarf countered, rising from his desk to make his way back to the bed. "You're all front."
"I would venture to suggest you rather like my front," Dorian said, lowering his book with a grin as Varric climbed onto the bed with him. "You certainly have a way with it."
"I don't really have a choice these days, do I?" Varric chuckled, stretching out on the rumpled bedclothes with a comfortable groan. "Not since you showed me what my chain was really for."
Dorian laughed, laying the book aside to roll over and drape an affectionate arm about his diminutive lover's waist. The only thing that could possibly make this time even more wonderful would be the presence of the third member of their loving trio. Sadly, Odinel's mission to seek out Solas had not allowed him to take even a day to join his lovers on this rare reunion.
"I refuse to believe that you did not know that," he said cheerfully. "Honestly, amatus, wearing it so openly and still refusing to acknowledge what it said so succinctly about you? I was shocked."
"I doubt that," Varric countered, propping his head on his hand as his thick fingers stroked up and down Dorian's arm. He liked these quiet moments, though they were too few and too far between these days. "How long before you go back this time?"
Dorian sighed, his smile fading as he contemplated the many burdens waiting for him back in Minrathous. The Lucerni were slowly becoming a coherent political faction, with Maevaris' help, but with that coherence came a greater danger of assassination. The more others listened, the more the corrupt would seek to silence them. The Magisterium was not a place for the faint of heart, nor for the slow of mind. Indeed, he likely would not be able to leave again for quite some time.
"A few more days," he said finally. "Maevaris can hold down the fort a little longer without me, especially since Cullen's volunteer templars took up their positions in the various households we are holding together."
"You know the Merchants' Guild have been pushing for a representative in Tevinter for a while now," Varric began, but Dorian shook his head swiftly.
"It is too dangerous," he said bluntly. "Between the inevitable scandal of our association and the stranglehold Kal-Sharok insists on maintaining for our supply of lyrium, you would be utterly surrounded by enemies on all sides. I will not have it."
"You think I like knowing you're in that same position, miles away from me and Bianca?" Varric asked rather pointedly.
"The difference, my dearest dwarf, is that I am a mage, and a person of influence within the Magisterium," Dorian reminded him. "In Minrathous, you would be seen as a means to weaken me, at best. I have no great desire to place you in such a position. At least here you have your guards and the love of your people to protect you."
"I don't like it," Varric muttered, unhappy to be shut down so sufficiently and with such clarity of mind.
A warm hand curled to his cheek, drawing him into a tender kiss.
"Stay here, amatus," Dorian whispered to him. "Stay safe. I can face anything knowing that you are here, waiting for me to brighten your days with my sunny personality."
Varric snorted with laughter, letting himself be kissed once again.
"You know, Sparkler ... you have a real way with words," he mused. "Care to wager on whose personality is sunniest?"
"You know me." Dorian grinned, nuzzling close as Varric's arms enfolded him. "I rather think I will win that bet."
So remember that silly piece of “everybody lives and is happily macking on the partner of their choice while wearing fancy clothes” fluff I wrote last month? Yeah, it decided it needed an even fluffier epilogue featuring Doug and Dominik and gratuitous smooching. Enjoy.
title: not a single thing
rating: PG-13 for smooching
summary: If he'd known this was a possible outcome, he would have acknowledged his friends' collective hotness ages ago.
As he felt the car bump over the curb and into the driveway, Doug roused himself from the light doze he’d slipped into. Lifting his head from where it rested on top of Renée’s head, he smoothed down her hair and looked around.
“Dom?” he asked, voice slightly fuzzy with sleep.
“We’re home, Doug,” replied Dominik from the front seat. “You conscious, or do I have to carry both of you inside?”
“I’m - ” His answer was cut off by a yawn. “I’m good. Are you sure you’re okay with me crashing here, dude?”
“Of course, Doug.” Dominik turned around in his seat. “I wouldn’t have invited you if it wasn’t okay. And you know you’re always welcome here.”
Doug yawned again. “I really appreciate that, Dom. Just toss me out if I’m overstaying that welcome, ‘kay?”
His friend sighed. “Someday we’ll convince you that we’re telling the truth. And that will be a wonderful day.”
“Sorry,” murmured Doug. “It’s still kind of a new concept to me. Anyway, want some help getting Sleeping Beauty here inside?” He gestured to Minkowski, still asleep on his shoulder.
Dominik nodded and shut off the ignition. Handing Doug the keys, he got out and opened the rear door. “You unlock the front door. I’ll get the girl.” He winked at Doug as he scooped Renée out of the back seat.
