supra_et_ultra | (no subject)

(no subject)

Spring arrives with rain in Henrietta, and baseball practice at Aglionby starts anyway. Jiang doesn't normally give two shits about most of the sports at Aglionby. But he has a special, quiet spot for baseball.

Mostly that has to do with watching Illya Prokopenko in tight white pants and a navy jersey that manages to make his shoulders look wide and his waist nipped in neatly. He looks handsome in the baseball uniform, even when his knees and ass are muddy. A lot of the guys do, but especially Proko.

Jiang is aware that he's got it, and bad. But he's not about to say a damn thing.

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Proko just grins and turns his head to get a kiss. "Yeah and you were real into it, huh? Maybe-- maybe someday you can breed the rest of me."

His face gets hot just saying it. But he doesn't care, because Jiang's-- Jiang's just really good. He feels okay saying it.

A shiver pulls at him, and Jiang has to laugh and groan all at once. He has to, or he's going to do something stupid, like try to fuck Proko again right now.

He nips at his lower lip and touches their foreheads together.

"Whatever you want, baby," he says softly. "I'm here for the whole package."

Proko tries to tuck himself closer, turns his head to kiss him. He murmurs something in Ukrainian, soft and almost slurred. He nuzzles their noses together, because he's fucking-- he's real fucking sweet on William Jiang.

He laughs a little. "You wanna keep watchin' this or should we find something with fewer cocks out?"

Jiang smiles and laughs. He eases Proko up, and onto a seat. "I'll go put somethin' on. Horror or action? Those are your choices, I don't make the rules, my guy."

Proko grins and pushes his hair back, lolling his head to look at Jiang. "Horror?" he suggests, watching Jiang. Just looking at him because he looks so fucking good.

Without Jiang getting up, the film cut off abruptly. The lights were still down. Jiang freezes, looking at Proko, brows slowly furrowing.

From the back of the theater, Kavinsky drawled, "Man, I don't give a shit if you two wanna get nasty in here, but do you gotta watch my porn?"

Proko's not sure what a heart attack feels like, but he's pretty sure he's having one. He whips around on the seat and he just fucking stares, trying to figure out how fucking long Kav could have been there. And he realizes that he got undressed - totally naked-- had Kav seen?

"Shit," he chokes, practically falling off the seat. He needs his fucking his binder, his shoes-- He falls right into Jiang.

Edited 2017-04-20 06:45 (UTC)

Jiang is getting to his feet, trying to think of something placating to say, and Proko is tripping over himself, and it all makes noise, but Kavinsky's drawl cuts through: "Hey. Hey. Jesus Christ, sit down."

Somehow, in the mix of it all, Jiang finds Proko's hand. It's still mostly dark, but he can see the sharp lines of Kavinsky's face. How long had he been sitting back there by the computer?

Boldly, Jiang snarls, "You get off watching, motherfucker?"

Something settles when Jiang's hand grips his. Prokopenko holds tight, stays next to Jiang almost defiantly as Kav's voice cuts through the panic, then Jiang's.

And maybe he shoots a string of curses, none of them in English, at Kavinsky. Proko doesn't handle surprises well.

"When the fuck did you get here, huh?" he manages.

"Whenever the fuck I wanted to, it's my house."

They stare each other down, some sort of rival here. Kavinsky unfurls himself from where he was seated, and goes to the light panel on the wall, bringing the theater lights up just enough that they can all look at each other.

Jiang doesn't let go of Proko's hand. He puts himself in front of him, just a little. Jiang knows Proko can fight, but that doesn't mean he won't try and slow Kavinsky down if this turns into one.

Kavinsky leans against the wall though, just looks at them. "Christ. Stop acting like you two are fucking subtle or something."

"Fuck you, okay?" Proko snaps from around Jiang, moving ahead of him a little. He's known Kav longer. Even so, there is part of him that is terrified. "What the fuck did you see?"

They'd been so fucking careful, even if Kavinsky was accusing them of being obvious.

For a moment, in the wake of those angry, terrified words, the world is still. Jiang can't breathe. He watches Proko and Kavinsky. Kavinsky watches him and Proko. Proko's eyes are glued forward, Jiang knows, a little desperate and a lot scared.

Kavinsky moves away from the wall. He approaches, and when he reaches Proko, he cups his ears like they share a sin.

"Didn't see nothing that anyone outside this room is gonna ever know about." Jiang doesn't let himself breathe just yet. Kavinsky is notorious.

Proko's trying to keep his breathing calm and while he manages to breathe deep, it shakes on the exhale. His eyebrows pull together as Kav holds his head like that, says what he says.

"They'll fuckin' kill me if they know, man."

He can play off a lot of things, but Prokopenko is pretty sure that that is true. Skov, Swan - some other fuckhead at Aglionby. It seems monumental enough to have Jiang know, never mind Joseph Kavinsky.

"Nobody's gonna fuckin' touch you, man," Kavinsky says, and it's with such sincerity, such certainty, that Jiang, standing and watching them, can almost believe him.

Kavinsky lets go of Proko's ears, ruffles his fingers into his hair. For a moment, Jiang is very aware of how small Proko is, of how his body is put together.

"New rule, motherfuckers," Kavinsky says, and it's with an almost exhausted sigh. "If you're gonna break into my house for a cheap thrill, you tell me so I know to hang out somewhere else."

Proko sniffs hard, trying to hold back the sudden wash of feeling. He's not going to fucking cry in front of these two. Or anyone. But he feels the sting in his eyes and he pushes his brow against Kav's to acknowledge his promise, since he's pretty sure if he opens his mouth he might just sob.

When Kavinsky pulls back, Proko leans into Jiang, needing it after that rush of adrenaline. He manages a laugh. "Fuck you," he mumbles, but he's smiling. Relieved. "You've done shit in the back of my car."

"Can't prove it," Kavinsky says, eyebrows raised. He tussles Proko's hair before got all the way back to Jiang. With the weight of hi there, Jiang wraps his arm around him.

Kavinsky stares at them, quiet, speculative. Baldly, he asks, "This a thing, or you two just fuckin'?"

It feels good to have Jiang's arm around him and he almost closes his eyes. Instead, he rolls them at Kav and just stares for a second. He isn't sure how to answer that question; he knows how he wants to.

So he does.

"We're a thing. And we fuck. Maybe in your bed next, huh?" He grins, because he has to give Kav shit. Because that's normal, and he needs as much of that as he can get just now.

Something in Jiang's chest swells for a second in that brief moment before Proko says anything and he realizes, as Proko answers, that he was desperately worried Proko might say it was just fucking. He doesn't move an inch.

Kavinsky rolls his eyes and heads back to the computer again, pulling up Netflix.

"You fuck in my bed, I better be invited, maĭka."

Jiang snorts, and buries the laugh in Proko's hair.

"Maybe you will be, huh?" Proko lifts his eyebrows, then grins and turns his head to kiss Jiang's jaw, almost in defiance. He looks at Kav again. "You got anything I can change into?"

Hey, he'll take a pair of fuckin shorts or something if he can get them."

Kavinsky pointedly doesn't watch them, and Jiang notices how pointed it is. He says nothing about the invitation, or tease, and neither does Jiang. Maybe later, when they're alone.

He proves he was in here long enough to hear that conversation about what to watch though, as he pulls up horror movies.

"You know where my room is," Kavinsky says. "Or am I being sent out of the room?"

Proko slides away from Jiang and bumps his shoulder into Kavinsky on his way out of the theater.

He heads into Kavinsky's room to change out of his practice gear. A pair of boxer briefs, jeans that are too long on him, and a t-shirt. His binder is still in the theater; he'll put it back on before he leaves.

He considers a moment, then smirks and leaves his jock on Kav's bed. He's got other ones.

Feeling a bit more put together, Proko wanders back to the theater by way of the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water on the way. He's drained half of it by the time he gets there, and he offers the other half to Jiang.

Alone for a moment, Jiang and Kavinsky are quiet. Jiang watches him from across the theater. "How long were you watching?" he asks, terrified of the answer. He hadn't meant for this to happen. It felt like a betrayal of trust to Proko, to have put him in this position.

Kavinsky shrugs. "Long enough that neither of you noticed me coming in." Then, he pins Jiang with a sharp, dark stare. "How long have you two been doin' it?"

"Almost a year," Jiang answers truthfully. Kavinsky's eyes flash, but he doesn't get a chance to say anything. Proko's back, headed straight for Jiang. Jiang catches him by a belt loop and hauls him in to give him a slow, hungry kiss.

The way Jiang grabs him, and the kiss, startles a noise out of him. He holds Jiang by the back of his head, smiling as much as he can as they try to devour each other. "Asshole," he mumbles against Jiang's mouth.

He looks over at Kav. "We hangin' out or are you kicking us out?" Kav's been chill so far, he just... wants to ask.

Jiang keeps his hands on Proko's hips, a challenge. Kavinsky just stares back, face impassive, eyes dark.

"This isn't Netflix and chill, motherfuckers," he says. "If we're hangin' don't get nasty about it. You had your cheap thrill, think about Jesus and be fuckin' holy for two hours while we watch snuff."

Jiang laughs and tags Proko gently into a seat, settling beside him.

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