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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"Shit," Jiang breathes again, more strained and broken than the first laugh. He doesn't know how many times Proko has done this, or where he learned, but he's good at it.

And Jiang has always been easy about it.

"Fuck, Proko," he grits. "You're gonna make me come, fucker."

He moans around Jiang's cock - permission, a dare, whatever - and hopes it's really fucking clear that's what he wants. He fucking wants Jiang to come, impressed that it might be so quick; he wants to taste him.

Proko's other hand braces against Jiang's knee, holding tight as he goes down as far as he can, trying to stay down through the brief gag.

"Oh, fuck," Jiang groans. There's another little swerve. The transmission growls as they build up too much speed. He barely manages to ease back down, arching hips up to fuck into Proko's mouth as he comes.

Prokopenko backs off just enough to avoid making a total, drooling mess as Jiang comes. When he's sure Jiang's got nothing left he pops off of him, wiping around his mouth to make sure he's not wasting anything.

"Shit," he laughs, voice raw as he sprawls back in his seat.

Jiang breathes out, shaking a little bit. His cock is still hanging out of his jeans, and he does absolutely nothing about it for a second.

He glances over at Proko, and laughs.

"Just like that, huh?" He smiles. "Should I park...?"

"Just like that," he answers, pushing his fingers through his hair. Then Proko drops his hand, squeezing himself through his jeans. "Can you get it up again?"

Jiang tracks Proko's hand with a hunger that he doesn't bother to control. He nods, licking his lips.

"Yeah. Yeah, I can--shit." He laughs again, shaking his head, and turning to head toward the public high school. He knows the parking lot is largely unlit this time of night.

"Good, I want it," he says as Jiang settles on a direction. It's such a nice fucking cock, he's not giving that up if he doesn't have to. He tries not to fidget too hard, tries not to touch himself too much because if he does he's afraid he'll just give in and finish himself off or something. But he's fucking excited. He adjusts himself, maybe loosens his jeans a little bit to try and ease the pressure.

The school parking lot is, as expected, abandoned. Jiang parks far from the buildings and any street lamps, and turns the engine off, but leaves the car running, bass pulsing around them.

He leans toward Proko, just for a second, but stops, a breath away. His eyes scan over Proko. He looks away, into the backseat.

"Think we'll both fit?"

Proko closes the little bit of space between them and licks Jiang's lips. Not quite a kiss but a tease. He looks at the back seat. "One way to find out, right? We'll make it work."

He pushes Jiang so he can climb back first, making sure to get the hell out of the way so Jiang can move without hitting him anywhere really inconvenient.

Proko's mouth is a terrible vice, a tease, a black pool of desire. Jiang chases for a moment, though he gives enough space for Proko to haul himself into the back seat. He watches him, his pot-fluid movements, his bony legs.

He follows after him and, when he's near enough, in the dark of his backseat, he kisses Illya Prokopenko like he could sink into his soul, deep and filthy and a little possessive.

He moans under the kiss, grabbing whatever he could: Jiang's shirt, his belt loop, hauling their bodies together because he's fucking dying and Jiang is his last meal. Proko adjusts their bodies until he's got Jiang between his thighs, until he can rut up against him like an animal.

Their mouths slide lewdly and there's an edge of possession in the kiss that makes heat sink through him, and he's finding he doesn't feel all that opposed. Suddenly he wants Jiang to mark him up.

"Fuck," Jiang breathes, like life, into Proko's mouth. He grinds down against him, having never put his cock away and already half hard again.

He brings his hands up, thumbs smudging Proko's cheekbones a moment, before he pushes him back. It's only so he can get at him. He pushes at his shirt, tugs at his jeans. "You ever...?"

Proko shakes his head a little. "Not a real dick," he mumbles. He pulls his shirt up, lets it bunch under his arms but gives up on it when Jiang goes for his jeans. He reaches down, trying to help. "I wanna, though."

He hopes that's abundantly obvious but he's willing to spell it out, too.

"Shit," Jiang breathes, leaning against Proko as he gets his jeans open and shoves them down, trying to get to Proko's cock. When he does, he strokes him slowly.

"Gonna have to go slow," he mumbles. "No lube. Fuck."

Maybe he could take him home; he thinks of it briefly. His parents are asleep, and his room above the garage is private. But it's thrilling, to be here.

Prokopenko sounds pained when Jiang finally touches his cock. God he's fucking dying, he's sure. He bites his lip, just trying to focus a little.

"So we go slow," he mumbles. He's going to just start carrying that shit on him, just in case Jiang is down to hook up again. He rocks his hips up, trying to meet every slide of Jiang's hand.

Jiang stroked Proko, slowly. His body ached for it. Could he make it home? Could Proko. He kissed him again and bit at his mouth. He wanted it so bad he could almost taste it; Proko felt the same way.

He smiled against Proko's filthy bow of a mouth. "How about," he said against his lips, "I suck you off. And then swing by somewhere to get some lube. I wanna get you wrecked, son."

He's nodding his head before he can figure out the right way to say the word he wants: "Yes," he breathes. His cock throbs in Jiang's hand. Part of Proko thinks he can wait but he doesn't fucking want to and he knows he's good for it.

So he nudges his hips up and tries to kiss Jiang again, soft but obscene. "Do it, please," he moans.

It's the please that would send Jiang to his knees, if there were that kind of space. Instead, he kisses Proko filthily, then helps him sit up a little bit, so Jiang has room to fit down against the backseat and put his mouth to good use.

It's less clumsy than Proko, in part because he's not sucking dick over a gearshift. Also, because Jiang's done this a couple times outside of Henrietta, and he's learned what to do with a cock in his mouth. Proko is long and slim, gangly like all the rest of him, and Jiang strokes while he sucks at the head obscenely.

"Fuck, Jiang," he whines, tangling his fingers up in Jiang's hair when he starts in on him, fucking slick and perfect and a goddamn tease. Proko tries to push his hips up, tries to get deeper.

"Don't fuckin' tease me, man. Not right now. Shit when did you learn to suck dick?"

Jiang murmurs something in Chinese, pulling off Proko for a second to spread the slick of his spit and Proko's precome around. He lays his fingers, splayed flat, against the root of Proko's cock, and then bobs his head to take him down.

"Oh shit." It's obscene, and he can barely see what Jiang is doing in the dark but he can feel it. Jiang's head is bobbing down again and Proko drops his back, groaning when it hits the side of the car. "Don't stop," he breathes. "Been hard since I touched your leg."

His accent is heavier but he's still talking, still trying to. He pushes his hips up as much as he can with Jiang's hand against him; all he wants to do is ride his face. He says something in Ukrainian; repeats it: "I'm close."

Whatever Proko has to say, Jiang will take it. He's not used to chatty partners and he finds, the instant that Proko lays into it with that accent and those words, that he really likes it.

He's absolutely going to fuck this boy tonight. For now, he keeps sucking him, determined and desperate, rutting into his own backseat.

Proko wanted to get closer but his fucking jeans were keeping him from moving to much. He stopped talking, voice edging every breath in moans and whimpers. It didn't take him long. He had to find out where Jiang learned to suck cock, how long he'd been doing it. He wanted to know fucking everything.

He curled forward, grabbed Jiang wherever he could as he came. He pushed as deep as he could, as deep as Jiang let him, before he dropped back, trying to catch his breath.

It was over almost as fast as it began, and Jiang does want he can to swallow everything. Some of it gets on his chin, a little too much for him to handle. But he does manage to swallow, something he lets himself be impressed by.

He sits up and kisses Proko filthily, pushing him back against the side of the car. A laugh slides out of him. "Holy shit, man."