Chapter One Hundred and Thirty Six
...
Beau looked around the study hall, telling himself he was looking for somewhere to sit and not looking for Craig. Unfortunately, Beau was a really bad liar.
"He's at the table on the right, near the window. We've claimed it every week, so you should be able to find any of us easily there," Ethan said behind Beau, making him jump.
"Where the hell did you come from?!"
"The hallway. I needed a bathroom break. Any other questions?"
"How'd you claim a whole table?" Beau asked as he walked over with Ethan.
He shrugged. "We're a big group and while we're not popular, we do have the ability to be intimidating. It's due to Warren's leather jacket," he added with a grin.
"I heard that, Popsicle. Hey, Beau," Warren said, nudging a chair across from him so Beau could sit down.
"Hi. Where's Craig?"
That didn't look desperate or anything, really! He didn't even ask how the others were or what they were doing and just jumped straight to Craig. Super Jesus.
"Don't worry about it; we all get what it's like," Donny said. "We're fine. Most of us are working on our Mad Science assignments. Warren, however, is sulking because Layla is working outside with Wendy and the frogs, but Principal Powers is watching the cameras so he can't leave. Also, Craig is a puddle because he saw you and got nervous or something. It's actually really difficult to read someone's mind when they're a liquid," he added, poking at a puddle of water on the seat next to him.
"I believe he's worried you'll hate his attire. Someone already made a comment about it in front of half the school and the other half found out by the time we made it here," Ethan said.
"Someone was Will Stronghold, if you didn't guess," Zach added helpfully.
"Um... I'm not meant to guess what he's wearing, right? I mean, he could be in anything from Leeloo's outfit in The Fifth Element to that red robe thing from The Handmaid's Tale."
"No, it's not a guessing game. Dude, reform already; Beau's going to be upset otherwise," Adam said. "If this doesn't work, the next step is to offer food."
"We have a list of ways to get Craig's attention. Grant and Jewel have a private version that no one else wants to see," Ethan added.
Beau wanted to see, very much so, but he refused to say anything. Glancing at Donny, he tried hard not to think about it either, but probably failed.
"I heard food mentioned?" Craig asked as he reformed, the water making his body clear for a second. "Oh, invisibility!"
"You can literally turn into Invisible Girl, Cee," Warren said, rolling his eyes.
"That's not the point, I didn't know Eth could be invisible as water!"
"If I'm not mistaken, most people would notice a humanoid figure made out of water, Craig," Ethan pointed out.
Craig mused for a moment. "Not at Maxville's Modern Art Museum; people would think it's an exhibit."
Beau barely noticed the conversation because Craig was wearing a kilt.
"Super Jesus, I'm going outside," Donny said, gathering his things.
"I'll come with you," Warren said, standing and grabbing his things swiftly.
"Subtle, dude."
"Why're you leaving?" Craig asked, then saw Beau's slack jawed expression. He waved a hand in front of Beau's face but didn't get a response. "Are you okay? Did I kill you? Are you dead?" he asked somewhat hysterically.
"I... I'll be right back."
"The bathrooms have microphones, don't do it," Donny said. "I don't think I can bleach it, but I'll numb it for a while. Just... make sure you're alone when you get home, okay?"
Beau didn't really know what was going on but he nodded anyway. Donny pressed a fingertip to his forehead and the blush he'd felt creeping up his cheeks and the tightening coil in his stomach eased until he could breathe again. "Thanks."
"Can I forfeit Save the Citizen? Ugh. You couldn't have waited to wear the kilt, dude? We've only got two weeks to beat their score!" Adam muttered.
"Sorry, but also, not sorry. Beau likes me," Craig said, his cheeks red.
Adam rolled his eyes. "Duh. Everyone knows that, dude. Not to mention, everyone knows you have a date with him, Grant, and Jewel this weekend. You haven't shut up about it for five whole days."
Beau blushed but he couldn't bring himself to say anything because he'd been excited about it since they had organised their date, too. Sunday couldn't come fast enough, in his opinion. Maybe Craig would wear the kilt.
...
Layla smiled as Warren made his way outside with Donny, both boys talking about something quietly. She turned her attention to the mini rainforest she'd created, watching as Lorcan, Kiara, Maleah, and Najair jumped between the miniature trees and between vines and flowers. They looked like they were having the time of their lives, and Layla wondered what it would be like to be so small and yet so dangerous.
"What are those two whispering about?" Wendy asked, frowning.
"No idea. I can only get vague emotions from Warren, not his thoughts or ideas."
"Boring," Wendy said in a booing tone. "C'mon, work with me here!"
"Fine, they're talking about... a double date."
Wendy cackled. "There you go! Speaking of awful things, where is Magenta?"
"Detention, apparently. She's meant to spend all of her free periods for the rest of this week and all of next week in detention, as well as go to detention in the afternoon. Her mother is not happy. Magenta, oddly enough, doesn't seem to mind," Layla said, somewhere between confused and surprised.
"Weird. Why would anyone enjoy detention?"
"No idea. I was going to borrow your boyfriend to find out why during Save the Citizen."
"Sure. Ask Donny, not me."
"I'll try it from here while Warren tells you what we were talking about," Donny said, dropping down by Wendy's side after checking there were no frogs jumping around.
"You can get her in the detention room?" Wendy asked curiously.
"I'm trying to go beyond my own limitations, so why not the power repressing beams, too?"
"All right, good luck," she said, kissing him briefly.
"Thanks."
Layla waited until Donny had closed his eyes before turning to Warren. "What were you talking about?"
"Whether it was worth stealing from the Maxville Modern Art Museum using Popsicle. I don't like modern art, so I wouldn't have any idea what's actually worth stealing."
"I've never been there," Layla admitted. "I never really had time or the inclination when my mother was alive. Frieda's gala was the closest I've been to modern art, too. I don't think I'm missing much."
Warren snorted. "Want to case the joint with me?"
"You sound like you've been reading pulp novels," Layla said, her nose wrinkling as she laughed.
"Is that really how you ask to go on a date?" Wendy asked, snorting a laugh. "Super Jesus, you two are disgustingly cute. If you want to know the value of modern art, ask Terrence. He knows all the art type things. Of course, that doesn't help your cute little date you've got going. Unless you take selfies in front of every single exhibit which is just suspicious."
"We don't have to go on our own. Double date and then split the exhibits up so we can all take photos at different ones."
"Or, with the amount of exhibits, a... quintuple date? Super Jesus, how many of us are actually dating and what does Craig's relationship count as? Also, are they dating Beau yet or is that not a thing?" Wendy asked.
"Too many questions, stop already," Warren muttered.
"Ethan and Zach, you and Donny, Warren and me, and... Craig and Grant and Jewel and possibly Beau; I think it depends on Sunday's date. Terrence hasn't said anything to Adam; Justina is pretending she's not interested in Geir; Ry doesn't seem interested in Alex, which is a shame because they'd look so cute together; Sarah and Mr. Bowie still haven't been married here, and... what?" Layla asked, trailing off when they both looked at her.
"You sound like Frieda, hippie," Warren said, shaking his head.
"More like Edith and her betting pools," Wendy snickered.
There was a flash of pink and then Najair was sitting there in his human form, grinning at them. "No, keep going; I want to know all the gossip," he said.
"Oh, and if you want to rob the Maxville Modern Art Museum, we're small enough to get in and out without being noticed by most people," Kiara said, reforming with a flash of blue.
"Yeah, but you can't carry shit around as a frog, can you?" Wendy asked, grinning.
Kiara considered it for a moment then shook her head. "I could go in with Ethan and poison anyone who tries to call a guard. Or just go for the guards themselves. I've almost got full control over my powers; I can increase or decrease the amount of poison I emit. Eighty percent accurate," she added proudly.
"Stop talking, I'm missing important details," Najair muttered, covering his sister's mouth with his hand.
Kiara rolled her eyes.
"Now, what's this you were saying about Sarah and Mr. Bowie?"
"They eloped and got married while they were on holiday. I think the mothers have devised the ceremony and reception as a form of torture to get their revenge. It's been almost six months and they still haven't had their ceremony yet."
"We've got English up next, don't we? I'm going to ask Mr. Bowie about it and see what happens," Najair snickered.
Maleah reformed in a flash of yellow and cuffed her brother on the back of the head. "You're an insensitive ass. Let me ask."
"You're no better than Naj, Mal," Kiara said, rolling her eyes. "Don't squish Lore, stupid!"
Lore reformed and pushed his siblings off his legs. "You idiots, get off me."
"You're an idiot, idiot."
"I know you are, but what am I?"
"An idiot."
"I'm going to put you all in a container without holes and see how long you last," Kiara muttered, flicking the three of them.
"Key, are you threatening them again? You know what Pepe said about that."
Kiara sighed as Freya made her way over. "Don't threaten someone unless you mean to follow through. I know."
Donny shuddered so violently that everyone stopped talking and looked at him in concern.
"Donny? What's going on? Get out of that cow's head. Come on, focus on me. Forget her. That's it, good. Hey, look at me. You okay?"
He shook his head but couldn't formulate a verbal response, closing his eyes tight.
"What happened? Donny, breathe with me," Layla instructed, her hand on his shoulder and squeezing his brand gently, heat thawing and vines taking the paralysing brunt of emotions.
Just because the quadruplets had joined in their game of museum robbing, it didn't mean they were ready for the truth yet.
He breathed along with her, eyes still closed tightly and refusing to open them for a long moment. When he finally felt calmer, Donny sat up again, running a hand through his hair and trying to quell the urge to throw up.
"Donny, what the fuck?" Kiara asked, her eyes wide.
"Magenta... y'know what? I do need to puke. I'll be right back."
Everyone watched in stunned silence as Donny stood up and staggered away, throwing up a few metres away.
"That smell is staying where it is," Wendy muttered, keeping a breeze flowing to keep the smell away.
"Imagine if you threw up over the edge of the school? Some citizen's having a good day and then, bam!, they're covered in puke."
"Eww."
Donny made his way back, flopping onto the grass and shifting until his head was on Wendy's lap. "Magenta has a plan."
...
Magenta hated detention. Sure, she planned on planning her plan to get Lorcan to notice her, but she had her school notebooks and couldn't write in them. Her mother checked her homework and would want to know why pages were ripped out. Looking around the room, Magenta wondered why there were suddenly so many students in her detention.
"Oh, hey, Becky. It's me. Magenta? I sat next to you at Save the Citizen that time?"
"Oh, right. You're dating Will Stronghold, aren't you?"
"Yeah, I am."
"Why are you in here?" Becky asked.
Magenta blushed. She didn't know if she should admit the truth or not. "Kinda hoping to have Lorcan as more than a friend. This whole detention thing is just a misunderstanding," she added, glancing around nervously.
Becky's eyes widened. "What about Will?"
Magenta's blush deepened and she shrugged. "I can have him, too."
"Oh, my god. You want to have your cake and eat it, too? I love it! Tell me everything."
Magenta really didn't get that saying; what was the point of having cake if you weren't going to eat it?
The door opened suddenly, everyone sitting up straighter in anticipation of being dismissed.
"Students, this is a reminder to be quiet in detention. This is a time of reflection not interaction," Mr. Boy said.
Everyone stayed silent as the doors closed again and Magenta slumped in her chair. Becky picked up her phone and typed something quickly, showing Magenta the screen.
Tell me everything! My number is...
Magenta started typing Becky's number in her phone, checking Becky's screen to ensure she had written it correctly. As she did, an alert appeared on Becky's screen, stating that someone had replied to her WordJournal post.
An idea came to Magenta like a lightbulb glowing overhead, and she sent Becky a message that simply said 'later!' and started to formulate her plan.
Becky looked annoyed but eventually turned her attention to her own phone, Magenta typing away furiously beside her.
...
"It's ingenious, because my mother hates technology so she'll never see it, and apparently these things can be private, which is just what I need for the element of surprise! Although, what if Lorcan sees it by chance? He could love the planning and time I've spent on it. Besides, it also demonstrates how efficient and meticulous I can be, so obviously I'd get marks here for English, if anyone saw it."
"Are you finished yet, Magenta? We'll be late for Save the Citizen," Layla said with a brief smile. "Were you talking to yourself in the mirror again?"
Magenta blushed and shook her head, ducking behind a stall door and changing into her gym clothes. "I was just checking my teeth; I ate salad for lunch."
Layla frowned at the lie but forced herself to smile. "All right. Come on, then. There may not be any seats left near our friends by now," she mused as they hurried to the gym.
Layla was right and all of the seats around their friends were completely taken. Even Warren was stuck between people, looking seconds away from murdering them.
Layla eased his anxiety through their tattoos, and Warren relaxed by small increments. He'd been sitting there with a wide space on one side for Layla and then people he'd never met before had moved to sit beside him. Warren had looked at them to tell them to move, only to see their eyes glowing green and realising that Layla was controlling them. That fact was the only reason they weren't roasted.
"That's a shame. Let's sit up here. We'll get a better view into the arena."
Magenta didn't care so long as she wasn't called on to fight again. Sitting beside Layla, Magenta slipped her phone out of her pocket and started typing.
"Ooh, Kiara's fighting. Don't you want to watch?" Layla asked as Kiara headed into the arena with one of the scheduled sidekicks.
Magenta was torn between adding to her plan and watching Kiara fight. She could learn more about frogs then, which would impress Lorcan, surely. Looking into the arena, Magenta missed Layla's expression as she read the unobstructed screen.
From what she could see, Donny was right about Magenta's plan. The diary entry, labelled Step One, had bullet points of what to do:
- Wear makeup - less is more!
- Wear dress - tight and revealing
- Flirt with W when L nearby - look up how to flirt
- Make out with W when L nearby - lipstick too much?
- Ask L friendly & intelligent questions about South America - look up common questions online
Shuddering at the list, Layla looked at the arena as the buzzer sounded for the fight to begin.
Kiara and the sidekick were villains, Kiara shifting and jumping for the citizen as her sidekick ran for Adam and Craig.
Still in his kilt, Craig shifted to Ritchie's form, using telekinesis to move the whirring teeth away from the citizen. He shifted again to Milo's form and encased the citizen in a bubble, the dummy's cries blocked by the protective film. Satisfied that the citizen would be safe, Craig turned his attention to trying to find Kiara.
The sidekick was desperate to win. Whether to prove themselves or impress someone, Adam didn't know and didn't care. He had three more days to beat Speed and Lash's score, so he had to win. The sidekick had obviously been practising hand to hand combat, but Adam knew that wasn't the kid's power. He could do something small and... what was going on with his own body?
The sidekick grinned at Adam's look of surprise. "I make people sweat."
Adam wrinkled his nose. He'd forgotten that. Eww.
His acid built up in his sweat and the protective gear started to disintegrate on his body, the sidekick's eyes widening. In a matter of minutes, Adam was going to be standing in front of the whole school naked.
"Fuck. Craig!" Adam called, knocking the sidekick back as hard and as carefully as he could - it seemed that tai chi was good for that - so he wouldn't destroy the kid's gear and clothes as well.
Craig was beside him in a second, eyes widening as the breast plate fell off Adam's chest in scraggly pieces. "Dude, what happened?"
"Kid made me sweat acid. I need clothes super fast."
Craig changed to the Creator, producing an outfit and then turning to Larry's rock form so Adam could be hidden from the students. "My eyes are up here!" Craig called, getting the students' attention.
"Really, Craig?" Adam asked as he changed into the yellow crop top and basketball shorts.
"Too long? I can make it shorter," Craig snickered as he shrank to his normal size.
The buzzer sounded loudly, Craig and Adam looking over to the citizen to see it still safely encased in a bubble.
"Heroes win!" Boomer called to thunderous applause.
Kiara reformed and smiled. "Good game. You managed that bubble seconds before I could jump on her; Maleah would've kicked your asses. She's faster than me."
"We'll keep that in mind. Thanks," Adam said as Craig shook her hand.
"Stay sweaty, dude," Craig said with a laugh, shaking the sidekick's hand.
"I actually haven't heard that one before. Nice. Good game!"
In the stands, Magenta was trying not to show her disappointment. She and Layla were sitting up too high to see where Kiara's paperclip-sized poison dart tree frog had moved to, and the rest of the fight was just Adam. She'd wasted five minutes.
"What're you doing? You're never this distracted in Save the Citizen," Layla said quietly.
"Writing. It's... an English assignment. I'm trying to write the ideas down before I forget them."
Layla tried not to be visibly annoyed by Magenta's lie and smiled instead. "I can help you, if you'd like? We're still doing our study sessions so I know what Ethan and Zach are working on."
"Uh... maybe later."
Magenta slipped her phone in her pocket when she saw Mr. Medulla in the reflection of the arena's stands. She didn't want anyone to know what she was doing, not until it was all finalised.
"Um, Layla? You get paid for working, right?" Magenta asked, hoping to chat long enough that Mr. Medulla wouldn't tell them off.
Talking was allowed, being on phones for non-school business was not. The only reason Ethan was allowed to record the fights was because he was on the school paper.
"Yes. Most people get paid for the work they do, why?" Layla asked, frowning at the non-sequitur.
Realising she didn't really have a follow up question, Magenta fished in her brain for something, anything, that would make sense. Chewing on her bottom lip made her think of the makeup contract that Josie had told her about, and the conversation they'd had about money. "Does Ms. Peace ever talk to you about getting a joint account with Warren?"
Layla frowned deeper. "Um, no. It's my money. Warren has his own money from his job, and I have mine. If we ever did get a joint account, I'm sure it would be an equal one where we'd need both signatures for purchases."
Magenta hadn't actually expected an answer, and kind of hated that it was an answer she wasn't happy with. "Has Ms. Bettendorf told you where to invest your money?"
"No, I haven't opened a custodial account, and even if I did, Frieda wouldn't tell me where to invest. She would tell me how investing works and give me advice, maybe, but the actual investing and decision would be left up to me. How else could I invest my money in something that I believe in? If I didn't do my own research, I might end up investing in mining, could you imagine that?" Layla asked, laughing.
"Oh, right. Yeah, we wouldn't want that," Magenta said, trying to laugh and feeling like she failed.
"Are you all right, Magenta?" Layla asked with a worried frown.
Seeing that Mr. Medulla was telling off two students who were making out, Magenta just nodded distractedly and took her phone out again.
"Why don't you go to the study hall? There's less noise and people there," Layla added as several people cried out when Warren powered up suddenly.
Magenta couldn't believe she'd forgotten that the study hall was open during Save the Citizen. She nodded, pocketing her phone as she stood up. "That's a great idea. Thanks, Layla!"
She was gone in seconds and Layla walked down the stands to sit next to Warren, kissing his hot cheek.
"Someone touched my arm, hippie," Warren muttered sourly. "Did you get her to confess?"
"No, she lied to me. Twice, in fact. Oh, don't worry, I'll get... Ethan, are you recording?"
"Yes. I'll edit the video," he said over his shoulder.
"Or I could just stop incriminating myself," Layla said, laughing when Craig put on a show of choosing the next sidekick and hero to fight.
"Did you see that tai chi move? I taught Adam that," Ry said proudly.
"You taught all of us that move," Layla said.
"Aww, not the point."
"You're right. I'm very proud of you," Layla said, hugging him around the shoulders, Ry laughing.
Feeling a gaze heavy on her back, Layla glanced around to see Will glaring at her. Returning her attention to the game, Layla shifted to block Will's gaze on Ry.
"Can I roast him, hippie?" Warren asked, taking her hand and easing her flames.
"Soon," she promised, kissing him briefly, returning her attention to the arena before Mr. Medulla could tell them off.
...
"This way, Commander!" Jetstream called, flying overhead to help direct her husband.
God knew Steve needed all the help he could get with directions, whether in the air or on the ground or in a car with a very expensive top-of-the-line navigator.
The Commander turned to follow his wife's trajectory, punching out when she stopped abruptly. Liquid steel became solid as his fist connected, and there was a heavy thud as the villain was knocked unconscious. The Commander stepped forward to arrest the villain but Jetstream flew down abruptly. He stepped back, sure the villain was going to attack again or he hadn't punched hard enough - the whole thing with the Incredible Genius being in a medically-induced coma after one of his hits had made something awful settle in the Commander's stomach, and he'd been trying to ensure it didn't happen again.
Of course, he hadn't dared to tell Josie that, or Jetstream for that matter.
Instead of the villain attacking or being awake, Jetstream pulled out her power repressing cuff and cuffed the villain herself, smiling broadly and waving up at the camera. "Blue Steel, you are under arrest!" Jetstream said with a commanding tone.
There was no response as the metal-controlling super was unconscious.
Up close, with the villain knocked out and looking so innocent, the Commander could see that he was barely older than Will. He felt another heavy weight settling in his stomach at that realisation. He and Jetstream had fought Blue Steel fairly hard and he'd thrown some really heavy things at the kid, almost as heavy as the weights in his stomach.
What if the kid hadn't shifted in time? What if his power wasn't controllable, like Will's hadn't been for that week after the party? Would the Commander be responsible for yet another stranger's injury or death or medically-induced coma?
"Dear, are you sure you should be shaking him like that? What if he has a brain injury?"
"A brain injury?" Jetstream asked incredulously. "My dear Commander, this is a villain, they know what it means to fight us as heroes. If they are injured - through anything they have chosen to do against us and the citizens of Maxville - then that is their fate and a direct result of their choices."
His wife's words eased the heavy feelings in his stomach and the Commander nodded firmly. "Of course, dear. You're always right."
Jetstream smiled that special smile that meant he was going to get lucky, and the Commander smiled back hopefully at her, his worries and regrets easing entirely. Of course, it was all the villains' fault for fighting them.
...
"Darling? Are you here?" Connor called.
He'd received a text from Victor telling him he was getting ready and the door was open, but that didn't mean he didn't want to check.
"Upstairs!" Victor called back.
Connor decided to get their lunch started in the kitchen. Craig and Ry were at the Hive all weekend - Warren had to visit his father today and all of his friends wanted to be nearby to support him however they could, and Connor couldn't blame them for that - and Edith was having a sleepover at Frieda's with the twins, Babel, Hyacinth, Anita, Ida, Nina, Ellie, and even Yuki, Tilda and Ruby were attending. All of the women had determined they weren't too old to have a sleepover, even if they were too old to sleep on the floor. Honey had assured Connor that they were each getting their own bed, had several tonnes of popcorn, and a mix of movies that would make them cry or laugh. Or both, depending on who chose. Then she'd admitted that the twins would demand Rapunzel, which would probably lead the women down a Disney marathon. He doubted anyone would mind, except maybe Craig and Ry for missing out.
The men had decided to do a similar get together at Curtis' place, Sonny and Morgan ensuring they had the weekend free, and Patrick deciding he could take the weekend off as the owner of AAA Construction without any negative repercussions. Zach had cooked enough nutritious food at Anita and Ida's insistence for each of them to eat, and the selection of movies that Adam had provided on a portable hard drive were as diverse as their friends. It also included a Disney marathon at Craig's insistence, and Honey had laughed and hummed I'll Make a Man Out of You.
Connor had been set to go with them and watch movies and try not to hold his breath at the ones with excessive violence and gore, but Victor had begged their leave to their friends. Andy had wolf-whistled in the background and Connor was still ninety-percent sure that Yuki was organising a gift basket with edible underwear from the Sweet Spot, though he had no idea if it was meant for him and Victor or herself and Andy. He really didn't want to know.
So, with everyone occupied, Connor and Victor had the rest of the weekend to themselves. Connor had organised lunch for them, planned on ordering pizza for dinner since he didn't have to share with hungry teenagers, and anticipated breakfast with a protein pancake mix. He was hopeful for a night of cuddling and kissing and probably sneaking into Victor's shower to wank when he inevitably woke up hard as a result of the beautiful man in his arms.
By the time he'd finished making their sandwiches without seeing or hearing from Victor again, Connor was getting concerned that Victor had fallen over or he was hurt in some way. His heart pounding in his chest at the thought, he hurried upstairs. "Victor, darling, are you all right?" Connor asked, knocking on the door even as he opened the door wide without waiting for an answer. Stopping short, Connor just stared at the scene before him.
Victor tugged at the hem of the notorious blue shirt, his cheeks red, and he didn't really recognise the colour but awe radiated from Connor, mixing with pink love turning a deeper red lust. "Surprise?"
"It certainly is. I... do you mind if I sit down, darling? I don't think my legs are going to last much longer."
Considering Victor had seen Connor do a wall sit for three minutes without straining, he felt a bubbly anticipation at affecting him so much. "You can sit. I just... I thought it would be easier to show you than tell you, which isn't really fair, especially since you work so hard to talk about things with me, and - "
Connor sank on the chaise lounge with a small amount of relief, his gaze drawn to Victor once more and trying to process everything he was feeling without just jumping the poor man. "Darling, this is... fuck, you've got no idea what I'm feeling right now, seeing you wearing this for me."
He could guess.
"Are you sure? I just... want you to be sure, darling," Connor said, a sudden fear taking over.
"I'm sure, Connor. I even used that... douche thing. God, I hate that word. But I did it. I'm ready," Victor said firmly.
He'd been so eager to get the shirt on that he'd forgotten to take the label off and felt the piece of cardboard digging into his back. Victor ignored the feeling, focusing on Connor and the colours he could see emanating from him.
Awe, love, hope, lust, eagerness, more lust, even more love. Every other colour was tinged with pink love and Victor had to breathe at the intensity and his own feelings in response. His hands shook, but whether it was nerves or from the damage done by his torture, Victor didn't know. He'd prefer nerves; that meant this was as important as it felt.
"Darling, I'm going to kiss you and then I'm going to go down on you and give you the best orgasm you've ever had to date. Sound good?"
Victor grinned and nodded. "Sounds perfect."
Connor stood, his legs steadier now, and crossed the short distance to kiss Victor. His kiss was as intense as his emotions, tilting Victor's head back gently and devouring his mouth like he wanted more and everything he could give him. Victor kissed him back eagerly, letting Connor lead him back towards the bed, and deciding that wanting more with Connor wasn't a bad thing. Not today, not ever.
"Lean over the bed, darling. I don't trust either of our legs to hold us up at the moment," Connor murmured, his hands sweeping along Victor's arms, chest, back, grabbing his ass in two large handfuls, and rocking his hips up against Victor with a controlled precision that belied his words.
Victor was already trembling from their kiss alone and it didn't take much effort to sit on the bed, nor to turn over, his stomach pressed against the edge of the mattress. Connor made a pleased noise at the sight of him, his hands hot against Victor's spine, even with the material between them.
Jesus, he couldn't cum just because Connor was touching his back.
"Connor, please," Victor groaned. He couldn't see Connor's colours like this, but imagined he was covered in teasing tan and pink love, maybe even red lust and yellow excitement.
"I know, darling. I promise to take care of you. Do you trust me?" Connor asked, his hands sliding under Victor's blue shirt to stroke his back.
"Yes."
"I'm going to do my best to keep your trust, darling," he murmured against the nape of his neck, pressing a kiss to his skin before dragging Victor's trousers down over his hips without warning. Victor groaned in response to the cool air and heat from Connor's body, the sound muffled against his forearm, and Connor tutted. "Now, darling, you know I love your noises. I want to hear everything, every breath and groan and syllable that falls from your gorgeous lips."
"Okay. I... I can do that. I just... I'm already feeling too much."
Connor's hands stilled. "Too much in a good or bad way, darling?"
"Good. Definitely good."
Connor hummed softly, his hands resuming their ministrations of stroking Victor's hips, his hands curled around Victor's pert ass like it was made to fill his palms. "Do you know the traffic lights?"
"Um... the ones outside?"
"The colour system. It's a way of getting consent and making sure you're enjoying this as much as I am. I like when my partner's as turned on as I am," Connor said, squeezing his ass firmly.
"God!"
"Concentrate, darling. Traffic lights: red is stop, yellow is pause, green is go. Understand?"
"Yes."
"So what colour are you right now?" Connor asked, his hands still once more.
"Green, go. Please, Connor. I need you."
"I'm glad to hear that, darling. I'll ask you again, and I expect a verbal answer each time, good?"
"Okay. Green."
Connor manhandled Victor until his pert ass was in Connor's face. "Good boy."
Victor made a soft whining noise, even as Connor kissed each cheek, the whining noise turning to a gasp as his ass was held open and Connor licked his hole with a determination that had Victor clutching the bed sheets. Victor lost all sense of time, could only feel the sensation of Connor's wet tongue and rough beard against him, and it wasn't until he was begging for more that Connor stopped. Victor cried out at the loss, trying to move, to apologise, to press back against Connor.
"Victor, darling, stop."
There was an authority to his voice that Victor couldn't help but obey instantly. His muscles relaxed, he stopped moving, and he let out a soft sigh as Connor stroked down his back and over his beard-burned ass.
"Colour?"
"Hmm?"
"Colour, darling?" Connor prompted again.
Oh, right. The traffic lights, not what he could see in his mind.
"Green. Don't stop now."
"Bossy brat, hmm?"
Connor's tone was teasing and playful, but Victor didn't know how to respond. Was he meant to argue, agree, or do something else entirely? Apologising seemed like a good start.
"Sorry."
"No need to be sorry, darling. I like you being a brat. Sometimes," Connor added, and Victor thought he was grinning while he said it.
"Okay. So... you're not stopping, right?" Victor asked hesitantly.
"Not at all, darling. I'm just getting lube. I'm going to take my time stretching you so you'll fit me, okay? I want to hear you beg for me again, darling."
"Ungh."
Connor laughed, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades, right on the square of cardboard. "Darling. Do you still have the tag on this shirt?"
"Um... I think so?"
Connor tutted softly, his hand sneaking beneath Victor's shirt and up his spine to check for himself. "That can't be comfortable. Do you want to take it off?"
Victor thought about it for a moment; he was already getting sweaty and they had barely started. Wet cardboard stuck to his body wasn't exactly something he wanted in his future. "Yes, please."
Connor laughed again and guided Victor to his feet, turning him and unbuttoning his shirt all in the same movement. Victor's breath caught in his throat as he watched Connor - still amused, an amber colour swirling - and saw the colours he'd expected: pink love, red lust, a hint of puce determination, and yellow excitement. He wanted to keep watching the colours, to see and understand everything Connor was feeling at every moment, to see if it matched what he felt, but he couldn't bring himself to voice the words. As much as he wanted that, Victor also wanted to feel it all and not be influenced or worried about Connor. He knew that Connor would take care of him and would ensure they both enjoyed every minute of this; even now, amethyst anticipation was starting to build up in Connor, his fingers slipping to the final button on the blue shirt.
"There we are, darling. How are you feeling?"
Victor pressed a kiss to Connor's mouth rather than respond verbally. Well, either way, he was replying with his mouth.
Connor surged up against him, their bodies falling back against the mattress, Victor trying to touch as much of Connor as he could without breaking their kiss. He tugged at Connor's shirt, somehow managed to contort his body until he got his foot in Connor's sweats and pushed them down. He needed to feel Connor naked against him and he needed that more than he needed oxygen.
Far too soon, Connor pulled back from their kiss. "Darling, breathe. We're taking our time with this, remember?"
"We can take our time later."
"Brat," Connor murmured, laughter in his tone as he nuzzled against Victor's skin and pulled away to see the beard burn he'd left behind.
"If it means you'll fuck me faster, I'll be as bratty as you like," Victor said eagerly.
"Brats don't get rewards, darling," Connor said, raising an eyebrow, tan teasing and silver serious mixing.
"You'll have to explain this later, Connor. I don't... I don't know what I should do."
"We'll have a proper discussion about it after I've fucked you, hmm? Is that what you want?"
Victor nodded so quickly that he almost headbutted Connor. "Yes. Please."
Connor grinned, a broad and loving smile that would never not make Victor breathless. "All right, darling. Just this once, I'll reward you for being bratty."
Victor kissed him eagerly, not even complaining when Connor manhandled him so he was bent over the mattress once more. "I can be good, see?"
"Such a good boy," Connor agreed, slipping a condom over his already straining dick.
Something in Victor relaxed at Connor's words, warmth spreading and his muscles easing once more. He didn't have time to analyse or even think about that, as lube slicked Connor's fingers, his body tensing as he circled his rim slowly, teasing and deliberate. His free hand stroked Victor's spine, gently working to calm and relax him, until he could ease his thick finger inside without resistance.
"There you go, darling. It's not so bad, is it?"
"Mmm."
"Colour?"
"Green," Victor said, starting to wriggle back against Connor, eager for more.
Connor soothed him with a broad palm stroking down his back, then started to move his finger, continuing until he could fit two, then three. By the time Connor could comfortably fit three fingers, Victor was sobbing and desperate beneath him, his words long gone and his breath coming in short gasps as Connor teased his prostate without rhyme or reason. He could anticipate a pattern, but there was none. Instead, he would be trying to relax around Connor's fingers, trying to beg for his cock without being able to form the words themselves, and his prostate would be hit, making his body arch and tense in response. Connor would soothe him back down, only to do it again, three or four or eight or eleven thrusts later.
"Connor!"
"Yes, darling?"
Jesus, how did he sound so put together and calm?
"Need... you."
"You've got me, darling," Connor said, and Victor was too far gone to recognise the teasing lilt to his voice, he only recognised that he wasn't immediately agreeing to fuck him with his cock, as he'd promised...
Wait. Connor hadn't said actually anything about fucking him with his cock. But God, he'd die if it was only fingers, only temporary pleasure when he knew Connor was hard right there behind him.
"Fuck me," he whined, high and needy, the words punched out of him.
"All you had to do was ask, darling," Connor murmured.
His fingers were gone and Victor mourned their loss, even as Connor slowly filled him. He moved excruciatingly slow, in fact. Stars were born and died in the same time it took for Connor to be fully sheathed inside Victor, but God, it was worth every second when he felt Connor breathing shakily behind him, his body trembling, Connor's fingers threading between his, clutching his hand tightly.
"I've got you, darling."
Victor didn't doubt him for a second, turning his hand around to squeeze Connor's hand in return, trying to promise the same in return. Connor pressed a kiss to his shoulder, and Victor felt like he understood even without the words.
Connor pulled his hips back, driving into Victor with a sharp movement, both actions a far cry from the slow tantric pleasure that Connor had been providing so far. Was he feeling just as needy and desperate for this as Victor? It was a heady thought, but that was the last thought he could conjure for some time, feeling taking over every last part of his brain and body. Victor could feel Connor's hot breath against his skin, the slam of his hips as he thrust into him again and again and again, his own hips and cock slamming into the mattress, the friction mixing pain and pleasure and yet it still wasn't enough. He needed more.
He tried to move his hips back into Connor, but Victor found his hips held firmly by Connor's free hand. The fact that Connor had enough strength in one hand to hold him down was such a turn on that his whole body shuddered at the realisation. Connor murmured words, lust or love or something else entirely, Victor didn't know. He did know that Connor's voice was like finding a cave in the middle of a storm, keeping him safe and warm and - oh, fuck, those earlier brushes against his prostate were nothing in comparison to this.
"There you are, darling. Come on, you've been so good, taking me like this. Just a bit longer, I want to make you cum untouched. You can do that for me, can't you?"
"Yes. Fuck, yes," Victor groaned, not even ashamed as Connor smiled against his shoulder.
"Good boy."
Connor slammed against his prostate, again, again, and then once more, Victor's whole body going taut and his mouth dropping open in a wordless cry as he came hard against the mattress. His mind whited out completely as he collapsed against the bed bonelessly and blissed out.
...
End of the hundred and thirty-sixth chapter.
