*Dance Central 3 fandom. Random MoCoy.
*Warning: THIS WAS HEAVILY INSPIRED BY MY MO OBSESSION, AND THE DISNEY STATION ON PANDORA RADIO.
This includes M/M INTIMACY. LIGHT LEMON.*
The very air was an intoxicating fume, fresh and invigorating.
Everything about life's hip beat was a surge of air, filling parched lungs as liquified diamonds flooded a canyon. Every bullet point on his agenda, from checking his email to dressing down for the night, was encased in a golden wrapper from Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. Every waking breath was the perfect note to the sweetest beat.
And it was all because of him.
For everyone's boy MacCoy, smiling wasn't ever wiped off the to-do list. Constantly being in the company of a brilliantly beautiful siren made life one sweet gig. Everything inside him ached with the urge to burst into song. The toprocker would've been a perfect fit for Disneyland's cast, as Mo made him feel like singing with every breath he drew.
It was the perk of being in Heaven's company. Dance Central fans all across the globe referred to the Brea several different ways, the most popular one being "Princess Brea", due not only to his unrivaled beauty but his personality as well. Heaven personified, Venus in male form-people all over the world celebrated Coy's boy in many different ways, and all were accurate.
Hi-Def's Founder was moonlight, snow and stardust encased in a rockin' beat.
Blue eyes were forever glazed in worship. The blonde toprocker adored the Brea on instinct; it was his duty to treat Mo like the exotic pearl he was. The end of a busy day didn't prevent Coy from honoring Mojo with his every breath; as a matter of fact, the Romanov wanted to keep his other half as comfortable as possible. He was succeeding: the radiant Hi-Def Founder was sitting across from him, tired from the day's events but eager to meet the new day. Wanting to ignore physical weariness in favor of more nighttime excitement.
And MacCoy was a source of happiness. A raging, boiling source of bliss so bright, the moon took notice.
Disneyland performances had just met their end. Dance Central 3 took everyone's favorite dancers on a joyride, eventually dropping them into the throes of Disney's Halloween festivities. But the third season wasn't all fun and games. The war against had just met its feverish pitch, introducing the shocked dancers to an enslaved Oblio-who, at the end of Dance Central 1, expressed wishes "to find the point of origin".
Oblio's appearance broke Mo's heart. It wasn't clear at the present, as there was only light coming from youthful, caramel eyes. But when Tan introduced the mentally corrupted Oblio to DCI's newest agents, jaws dropped and hearts shattered.
The sound of Mo's heart shattering was the loudest. By far.
Coy grimaced, as if a gladiator had driven his spear straight into the blonde's soul. Once upon a time, hewas responsible for dragging Mo's soul through the mud. He colored it twenty different shades of Hell, fucking it over in the worst ways imaginable. Now Oblio was the focal point of the Brea's distress. Obi, as Princess Momo called him, owned a "bad-ass" set of moves.
And he was a precious friend.
Jus' watch me, Gramma. I'm protectin' this smile.
There was a lot going on underneath. Coy sensed the volcano boiling within, and every wisp of fire stemmed from three things: Tan, Oblio, and having a certain blonde back in his life, after a three year absence.
MacCoy had been dead three long years.
"Ey. Ya lissenin', kid?"
Blue eyes fluttered, then absorbed a sight thousands of people would've killed him over. Mo had his hands entangled in Coy's, clothed in a pure white Armani suit. Complete with a smokin' white hat. Glitch mirrored the outfit, in accordance to crew customs. While he was the epitome of sexy, his mentor was innocence personified. Just as pure as snow, far more radiant than the moon-
"You c'n always count on me t' stay glued in, Yer Highness."
Mo's smile, which had the sun glaring in envy, vanished. "Ain't funny, yo," a pouty Brea whimpered, giving Coy a playful set of punches. The blonde had made a reference to the day's highlight: the Disneyland staff, along with Mo's many fans, wanted to make him an official Princess. A gentle, humble nature prevented the coronation from happening, but that did nothing to discourage fan worship.
It had nothing to do with gender. The world had no issue with calling him "Princess" because it suited him, from head to toe. But true to form, Mo didn't want people smothering him in even moreadoration. "Don't know why ya didn't take th' damn thing," a grinning Coy said, returning each of Mo's punches. And at those words, the Brea's face became that of a frustrated child's. The dancers continued the boxing match over verbal assaults, as they did during their small bit days.
"Didn't take it 'cuz I don't deserve no damn crown, man!"
"Says you! Birds flock t' ya whenever ya sing! Errthang's so damn sugary 'bout ya, princes from far away countries woulda sold their countries t' give ya th' best damn crown-"
"I ain't fittin' t' have nobody but 'chu up in this mug, dumb ass!"
With that, the battle came to end. Caramel eyes gazed into blue ones, embarrassed, loving, and eager. Blue eyes swallowed up an intoxicating sight with primal hunger, love and confusion, as MacCoy was unable to figure out how Mo could possibly exist. "Gotta ask ya somethin'," the Brea asked, after a moment of silence. His face was no longer that of an aggravated child's, but one of great nervousness.
"Think we're gettin' 'im back?"
"Obi? Yeah, we are."
Mo attempted to throw in another set of punches, compelled by ever growing affection. Coy caught his fists mid-punch and kissed them. "You were always one t' sweat shit, Mojo," the blonde grinned, squeezing the other's hands.
"Chillax. Ya know how this shit's gonna go."
"No I don't," a frowning Mo said, squeezing Coy's hands back.
"You 'n the rest of us bad-ass agents are gonna kick Tan's ass and save th' motha' fuckin' day. That bullet point includes gettin' Obi back."
"But-"
"But nothin'," the toprocker retaliated, kissing the bridge of the Brea's nose. He then relieved Mo's head of his white hat, and flapped it in front of its owner. Mo, as a kitten would swipe at a ball of yarn, swiped at his hat and smiled when he got it back. Coy stuck out his tongue, but then returned to the issue at hand.
"You're gonna ace this shit, Mo."
"Says you."
"I know you are."
The Brea frowned once more, lowering his head. Judging from the look on Mo's face, and his following response, Coy knew the conversation could pack its bags and head South. In a heartbeat.
"Ain't perfect, Coy. Regardless of what you and th' rest o' th' world thinks."
Choose your words carefully, Coy, or else you'll frighten Mew.
"You are too. Yer Jus' too damn blind t' see it. Can't expect nothin' else, though, from somethin' straight from Heaven."
Coy inwardly took a sigh of relief. Mo's body language slackened, and blissful shyness overtook resignation. Beaming from ear to ear, the one with caramel eyes kissed the bridge of Coy's nose, then looked away-as if he had never before kissed a living soul. A glowing blonde covered the other's face in kisses, then continued:
"Yeah, you're all wrapped up in this crazy DCI shit. Like yer playin' Power Rangers or somethin'. Yer supposed t' be our Red Ranger, 'n things are crazy. I get that. But we got yer back. We're behind ya one thousand percent."
"Always makin' errthang sound so easy," the smiling Brea chuckled, while Coy lathered more kisses onto his cheeks. The blonde soon had the other melting in his arms, milk chocolate still clothed in moonlight.
"Wouldn't believe any of that shit, if some other cat had given it t' me."
"That's th' way it works," the Romanov purred, hands undoing the other's threads. Mo wrapped his arms around the other's neck, bringing time to a violent halt, then pressed Coy into a kiss that rendered everything else meaningless. "Ain't th' way it was fer three whole years," the Brea said into the other's shoulder. Shivers coursed through him once fingers traced the curve of his back, then gripped his behind.
Blue eyes pierced a frightened soul. "It ain't ever goin' back to that point," a warm yet firm voice promised, while tender hands peeled off a white suit. Hungry yet soft hands peeled off Coy's DCI uniform, heartbeats rose to a feverish pitch-
And in a single kiss, MacCoy re-discovered divinity.
The searing, sweet touch of Mo's lips cut through reality. Moaning, the blue-eyed agent returned the kiss as if he were a parched soul, drinking from the fountain of life. Sensations engorged the deejay's manhood once the Brea grabbed one of his hands and slid it onto hisaching cock, silently telling the bluebird of how long he had gone without sustenance.
Far too long.
Naked, hungry forms became one. Coy slathered kisses onto the other's face and collarbone, blushing over an overwhelming honor. Gripping Coy as if he were an anchor, Mo cupped the other's face and kissed him, rubbing against him in a demand for completion.
The deejay rode the HD founder as one rode a gentle ocean wave. He was soon on top of the other, welcomed by a world of possibilities. Blue eyes did nothing but stare for a moment, in awe of the sight underneath him, then kisses were gently laced across the back of a chocolate neck. The back was next.
The toprocker then draped himself across the other's glistening frame, eyes closed in silent revelry. Hands massaged a sacred frame, blissful bodies united through soft moans-
And an eruption consumed the Brea's soul.
Shivers scorched the Princess's being. Coy was inside him, throbbing, yearning, destructive yet immeasurably tender. The blonde soon filled his insides, releasing himself with a blissful sigh, tears lacing his eyes. Mo grimaced when the other withdrew himself, not out of pain but out of searing reluctance. But the blonde's next words erased disappointment.
"I love ya."
"I know," the Brea murmured, but Coy went on before he could return the magical trio of words. The blue-eyed agent rolled off of Mo and onto his side, then began to caress the other's face. "Ya mean so fuckin' much t' me, Mojo," Gramma's boy whispered.
"I dunno what it is when I look at 'cha, baby, but...when I look into these pretty eyes of yers, I know what I gotta do. I know what kinda man I wanna be. Gotta be. Love ya, yer highness."
Mo was halfway between a smile and bottomless fear. "Th' way yer talkin' is scarin' me, kiddo."
"Yer readin' too much into it. Jus' sayin' I love ya somethin' fierce."
They shared another kiss before falling asleep in each other's arms, on the sofa inside their hotel room. Cloaked in only memory and white milk, the toprocker and Princess soon drifted away on a bed of dreams.
Coy awakened at one point, disgruntled at having Mo sleep on the sofa-regardless of how peaceful he was. The Romanov swept the lightweight into his arms, and both ended up in their hotel bed, sharing sleepy kisses before slumber stole Mo once again. Coy remained awake, stroking the other's silken face-
Repeating an unspoken promise to keep his Princess happy, at every cost.