supra_et_ultra | (no subject)

(no subject)

Jiang is aware that he's always been sort of on the outside of the group, of any group, at Aglionby. He doesn't come from an up-and-coming family, like most of the Vancouver kids. He isn't white, like the rest of Prokopenko and Kavinsky's miscreants. But he is vital. He is reliable. He is dedicated to these boys.

He is aware that, in more than just what he looks like or where he comes from, he's a little outside of the group. It comes in waves, in whispers. In a tiny scowl when Skov sneers something nasty, or Swan assures that his watching Jiang at soccer practice isn't a gay thing. Jiang never says anything about it. He isn't, so it doesn't matter.

But his eyes linger. He looks at boys as much as he looks at girls, and that's probably pretty dangerous for him to do. So he's quiet and doesn't say anything about it.

Tonight, they're getting high in Kavinsky's weird in-home theater. Kavinsky has taken over three seats all to himself. Skov's wandered off to hit on Kavinsky's mom. Jiang has no idea where Swan is. But Prokopenko is nearby, half glancing toward Kavinsky's ostensibly sleeping form as if no one will notice. Jiang does. He pinches his joint between his fingers and sits down, offering it to Proko as he exhales slowly.

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"I am not your butler," he insists. Prokopenko lolls his head so he can actually see Jiang and grins at him. "Mom mad at you? She sounded pissed.

Jiang looks good standing there, this space fits him. Or he fits it. Something like that. Proko sits up and offers his open beer to Jiang.

Edited 2017-02-23 22:00 (UTC)

"They hate when I'm out and miss dinner," Jiang says with a shrug. There was a reason he and the guys never hung out at his place, really, when his parents were around.

He grabs his weed and bong from his desk and climbs onto the bed with Prokopenko. Casually, he straddles Proko's thighs and takes the beer to take a sip, then focuses on loading the bong.

Proko takes his beer back as Jiang works on the bong. "Do I look like a table?" he huffs, but there's a laugh on the edge of his voice. He stretches out to set his beer on the nightstand; he wants to be a mess but not from beer sticking to him.

"Little bit," Jiang says with a lazy grin. It's easy, comfortable. The closeness, the casualness, thrills in Jiang's chest, and straight down to his cock, half hard even after the lecture from his parents.

Or maybe just because he's sitting on Illya Prokopenko, who let him suck his cock, who wants him to fuck him.

He wants to maintain this high, just in case that's the only way this is happening. He doesn't want this to take a bad turn.

Proko sits up as much as he can, propping himself up with his arm so he can take a hit off the bong when it's ready. He doesn't need this to fuck but he's not going to turn it down, either. It's good, it's whatever. He just doesn't want Jiang to change his mind, to act like fucking is so different from sucking cock.

But Jiang gave good head, he has to have done it before, right?

After he takes a hit he tries to get closer so he can shotgun Jiang.

Jiang gives Kavinsky one single, silent blessing for that time they all went out to the old mines and practiced shotgunning. He thanks Proko's boldness back then, laughing and rolling his eyes at Skov's sneer about it; he thanks that nobody questioned when he lingered, just a little bit, on each shared hit.

He holds the bong out of the way and takes the hit from Proko, and then kisses him, slow and deep, filthy. All scraping teeth and tongue.

Proko gripped the back of Jiang's neck, holding him into the kiss as he licks into his mouth, chases the taste of him. "I'm fucking dying, man," he mumbles against Jiang's mouth, voice edged with need.

He grabs the front of Jiang's shirt, holding tight. "Why didn't I know your cock is so nice, huh? Holding out on me." Never mind that Jiang had good reason not to risk hitting on him.

"Haven't been peeking during gym, clearly," Jiang murmurs against Proko's mouth. He smooths a hand through Proko's hair, kissing him again and again, and then setting the bong aside on the bedside table because he needed this now.

He pushes Proko back against his mattress and rumpled sheets and grinds down against him.

Thank fuck the bong goes away. Proko keeps his fingers tight against Jiang's shirt as he ends up on his back again. "Fuck," he moans against his mouth, hips lifting urgently to meet Jiang's.

He adjusts his grip on Jiang's shirt to pull it off, breaking the kiss to wrestle it off over his head.

Jiang laughs at Proko's impatience. He makes quick work of Proko's shirt as well, and then of his pants, and then of his shorts. He just needs to get to skin. He needs to see the stuff that Proko is made of, from those uneven shoulders to those knobbly knees, and his long, slim cock.

He trails a finger over Proko's ribs. "Eat a fuckin' sandwich, son."

Proko rolled his eyes and shoved at Jiang. He's been trying to work on that. "Man if you're gonna be a dick I'll go fuck myself."

It's hard to sound like he's got conviction, though, because Jiang looks so good.

Jiang smiles, stripping off his own clothes and then grabbing the bag from the convenience store. A part of him wishes this were more organic, that they hadn't had to have that break of driving back here and Jiang having to deal with his parents.

He doesn't let himself worry about it. He nudges over to stretch out alongside Proko, dragging his hips close so they're laying back to front.

Proko wets his lips, watching Jiang strip down. God he's so-- he's good. He looks really good. He's still watching when Jiang settles down and moves him until Proko's back is pressed to his chest.

He's glad that the room is dim because he's pretty sure he's fucking blushing. It feels nice, though. Prokopenko reaches back, fingers pushing into Jiang's hair.

Jiang runs his lips and teeth over Proko's neck, his shoulder, and slicks up his fingers. He's desperate for it, but if Proko really hasn't gotten fucked before--and he can't imagine how, really, if Proko's into guys; he's sort of a gangly fucker, but aren't they all?--then Jiang's not going to rush getting him ready for it.

He eases the first finger in slowly. "Gotta be quiet, okay? Last thing we need is my dad coming up here."

Proko turns his head, trying to push his face against the bed to stifle a little moan. "Fuck you," he mumbles, grinning. "I can be quiet. Not gonna get my ass kicked by your dad."

Jiang's being so fucking gentle and Prokopenko feels warm all over. It's-- it's kind of nice, actually.

Jiang smiles against Proko's skin. "Yeah, we'll see about that."

He wants Proko to be noisy. Wants to see what it's like for him to come apart. Maybe if he puts on some music or something, they can muffle out the noise of fucking around. But he also likes the idea of them having to keep quiet. It's a little bit thrilling.

Proko is easy and relaxed, weed and beer in his system, and Jiang eases in a second finger.

He arches a little, nudging his ass back towards Jiang's fingers after the second one pushes in. There's a little stretch but it feels good.

Proko tightens his fingers in Jiang's hair, just holding onto him. "Don't stop."

Jiang laughs softly, but it's a gentle thing. Proko's voice, muffled into the pillow and thick with his accent, sounds pornographic. Jiang's cock twitches. He fucks him with those two fingers, scissoring a little, stretching him.

"You're gonna feel so good," Jiang promises against Proko's ear. "My cock's gonna feel so good in you."

Prokopenko is doing just fine until Jiang starts talking. What the fuck? He shivers, distracted from the movement of Jiang's fingers for a moment.

"Yeah it is," he breathes. Jiang's voice is heavy and warm and fucking sexy, what the fuck. "Gimme more," he mumbles. "You're fuckin thick."

Jiang chuckles, rubbing his cock against the back of Proko's thigh. "You weren't complaining when you were giving me road head, man. Seemed to like it thick."

But Jiang gives him another finger, trying to keep going slow when all he wants is to fuck Proko already.

"Really fucking like choking on your dick, yeah." It comes out as a moan, and it's fucking true. Proko shivers and tries to move his leg, tries to open up a little more to help Jiang's effort.

"Fuck, man," Jiang breathes, a laugh, a prayer. He hoists Proko's upper leg up, and then over his own thigh. It's not the best angle, but it opens him up as Jiang fingers him a bit deeper.

He, maybe, peers down at Proko's cock, just watching it for a second as it twitches. It's probably the prettiest thing about Proko. How fucking stupid.

Proko's free hand flies to his mouth, covering it as Jiang's fingers sink deeper. His cock is aching; he can feel little trails of precome from where it's brushed against his stomach. He uncovers his mouth and lets his hand slide down, just loosely holding his cock. He doesn't even try to stroke, not yet.

"C'mon," he urges, breathless.

"Shit, uh. Yeah. Holy fuck." Jiang laughs and sits up, not quite taking out his fingers yet. He needs a condom. He needs more lube.

He doesn't want any of that shit, but he needs it, if they're really doing this.

Proko gropes for the bag, trying to be helpful. He struggles with the box of condoms but manages to get it open, got one passed back to Jiang.

His arousal is biting through the haze of pot and beer and all he can think of is the way Jiang's fingers are filling him up, and how fucking hot he feels everywhere their bodies touch.