Open Post

[obedientdog]

🐺 Hit me up on plurk or via PM if you have any questions/want to run an idea by me first/what-have-you.
🐺 General squick/trigger list.
🐺 m/m for anything shippy.
🐺 General headcanon for Skov. If you've got different headcanon/ideas for a psl, hit me with 'em; I'm flexible.
🐺 Skov's kink list.
🐺 This is open to everyone who wants to thread with me!

Comments

dreampack au!!!

[richspoiledrotten]

[It was easy to think that Skov and Eli didn't get along, that he was part of K's pack despite him and not because of him. After all, if you weren't part of the pack, it sure looked like they fought all the time. Which wasn't even exactly untrue, but it was a more complicated truth than it looked like. The truth was that they were both dogs, basically puppies in human form. So sure, they snarled and they snapped their teeth, and sometimes it was with each other's skin in their mouth, fingers scratching or pressing at someone's throat, and there were always bruises.

But it was just- playing, he guessed; burning off energy that had no place else to go. Maybe calling it a game wasn't quite right. But it was something other than it looked like, anyway.

With Skov.. well, Elijah knew that it didn't hurt him when they played rough. The other boy didn't seem to mind getting hit. It was like he came alive the same way that Elijah did. A pair of dysfunctional wires humming with the sensation of every impact. He wouldn't push any of the others like this- not even Swan or K. Certainly not Jiang or Proko. With Skov it was like he knew what Eli needed on hard days without the boy having to ask for it. He wouldn't even know what to ask for.

The truth was that no matter how bitter it might look, there was never malice in it when they hit each other. There was always blood... on someone's knuckles or in their mouths, bright copper, metallic on his tongue and it coats his split lip like the only lipstick he'll ever wear. Blood never felt like a bad thing with Skov, though. They were both boys too reckless to be called careful, but they cared enough that neither of them had ever ended up in the hospital. They'd never lost a tooth or broken a bone.

Things had shifted a bit since the night with the living embers that had fallen from his dreams. He was one of them, but before he'd been carefully letting them under his skin. Now it was like he'd jumped into them, suddenly tangled deep into these boys. Because K had held him and told him he was safe and not looked at him like he was different. And he hadn't told them his secrets. It made it all feel different in a way he didn't want to name. Elijah-- well, he still didn't want to talk about it.

He didn't want to make an announcement or have a fucking conversation about what was or wasn't in his boxers, or talk about it like things were any different than they'd been.

But at this point both Kavinsky and Proko are already aware. And K told him he was safe here, and Eli believes him, and he believes in the other boy, too. It's not that he doesn't want Skov to know, he just hates the vehicle of getting the words out. So he doesn't tell him. Instead it happens like this- Skov's topless and they're circling each other. That lull where Elijah usually pulls away before things can get weird. Before he gets too tempted to kiss the bruise on his cheek or let him taste the blood on his mouth.

Fighting like this always felt a lot like foreplay. Stopping always left him trembling, feeling one step from the edge, a drop he couldn't have explained. It felt like through punching him Skov could maybe pull out the feelings inside of him that didn't fit, but he didn't know what that would feel like. Skov at least has Swan, someone he can fuck through any residual weirdness. Elijah just has the furtive, longing glances he steals at Kavinsky when he thinks no one will catch him at it. He's not nearly as good at it as he thinks he is. But tonight he just pulls his shirt off and drops it to the floor like it's nothing.

He licks the blood from his split lip lazily, like nothing has changed, because for him it hasn't. He wouldn't wear his scars openly like this in the Aglionby locker room, but here-- in this space that was Kavinsky's, but also felt of the boys he cared for, it was different. K and his boys were different. Nervous as he was, he still knew this was safe. Home, whispers a voice, like a dream he's forgotten. K wouldn't have told him he was safe if the pack were going to turn on him.

He takes a step back, but only so he can wash down the blood in his throat with the rest of his half-finished beer, so the tremble on his skin is less obvious. Skov might not be the top of his class, but he thinks the boy can figure out what the scars mean. But the truth is that they don't mean anything: everything is the same as before. He's still a boy, still has a flat chest, still so rich he's planning on a classics degree with no particular intentions about what he might do with it. He's just also rich enough that he's been able to more or less bury things like sex at birth since he was sixteen. The scars don't mean anything- the fear is that Skov might think they do.

On bad nights, sometimes even Elijah forgets they don't matter.]

Up for another round? Or are you done already?

[obedientdog]

[A lot of the time, fighting was foreplay to Skov. And the times it wasn't- well, sometimes he could hide how it made him feel, and sometimes he couldn't. Every time he clashed with Elijah it made him feel desperate for more, made him want to get on his knees for the other boy or find himself bent over the nearest suitable surface. It also made him hyper-aware of things like the blood on Elijah's face or knuckles and that alone felt like an aphrodisiac.

Tonight wasn't much different, in terms of all of those things. He never pushed though, didn't bring up his weird attraction to everything they did when they fought. Swan was the one who usually dealt with all of his excess energy and built-up sexual tension. But tonight-

His eyes tracked Elijah's motions as he pulled his shirt off, taking in the new expanse of skin before him. It took him a moment or two to even register the scars, and when he did he was distracted, gaze flickering back up to Elijah's mouth, then down again. There was so much going through his brain all he could really think was a little oh. He felt a little tangle of emotions that pinwheeled through his mind before, like a tumbleweed, it broke apart.

Taking a slightly shaky deep breath, he flexed one hand, glancing down at his knuckles.]

I could go again. Unless you wanted to make out or something.

[richspoiledrotten]

[Fighting was foreplay to Elijah too, if he was honest. It was just... well, it wasn't like he'd ever been willing to take the risk and see what it could spin into before. It might be like foreplay, but he had literally no experience with what came after. But this was-- something, and his green eyes were magnetic, bright and alive as he grinned with a flash of perfect teeth. Almost wolfish as he looked at the other boy, seeming to actually consider it when Skov asked if he wanted to makeout.

It's like the tone of the tension in his body changes at the implied question, a slight shift so it's less nerves and more interest slowly laid bare. There's probably a dozen reasons to play by the same script that they always have, but Elijah can't think of a single one in the moment. Not with the way that Skov's gaze slides across his bare chest, and up to his mouth. He's never really had anyone look at him like this before. Looking at his skin, his exposed body, and not just seeing him for who he was, but wanting him.

For the first time in his life, standing in a room like this, being exposed, doesn't mean feeling defective. His breath is rough and it takes him a moment to gather his thoughts together for any sort of reply.]

I dunno. Maybe if you manage to hit me again.

[Not quite a witty reply, but he's not quite thinking straight. It's like an invitation, or like it could be a yes. Like the way his skin hums and the blood in his mouth makes him want it.

He knows they're crossing a line, he just doesn't quite understand what it is. But to be fair, right now he's more interested in following Skov step for step, seeing where this thing they've been doing leads. He's reckless with this, once he feels like he can be. Prone to following the chemistry instead of worrying about if it's a good idea.]

dreampack au - more kink talk;

[richspoiledrotten]

[Ostensibly Elijah, Skov and Swan are working together on their homework for class tomorrow.

In reality there's been maybe ten minutes actually devoted to the problems from class, and a lot more of Skov making out with Swan, and then they'd all called a break. Elijah and Skov were gathering up drinks and chips and some joints while Swan was putting on music that didn't suck and was conducive for getting high.

Eli was just grabbing a couple beers and a soda for Swan, when he looked over at Skov with a slightly soft edge to his eyes.]

Hey, so.. the fighting thing. That's kinky for you too, right?

[He lifts an eyebrow, almost like he's flirting- which, okay, he sort of is- but it's a genuine question, too.

Everyone else has said it, and Eli had felt it, but he wants to hear it. If they're gonna keep doing it, he wants to know for sure. And Swan had mentioned him having a safeword, and he also sorta.. wants to know if there's more he wants, or if it's just the fighting. And if that line about making out had been a joke, or if he wants that too. Eli has a lot of questions, really.

Because he's realized that he likes it. And he's still-- trying to figure out where everyone's lines are.]

[obedientdog]

[Of all the words Skov had expected to come out of Elijah's mouth, in that order- it wasn't what he got. He nearly dropped what he was holding, staring at Eli for a beat too long. It was completely casual and completely out of the blue- Elijah's question, not Skov's response.

He bit his lip, hesitated a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't going to lie about it.]

Yeah, it- it definitely is.

[It'd been kinky for him for a long time. Sometimes, it didn't have to be an all-out brawl; sometimes it could be simpler. A single hit, a backhand- enough to get his blood pumping. He'd been sort of ashamed of it at first. Sometimes, he still was. But he'd come to terms with the fact he liked what he liked. He wasn't going to change for anyone, and no one had asked him to. The pack accepted him for who and how he was.]

What, uh. Brought this up?

[richspoiledrotten]

I dunno. Fuck. I talked to Swan a bit, but- it's not really that, I guess. It's just...

[If it's any consolation to Skov, Elijah is clearly a mess about this. Casual as the question might have come off his mouth, talking about it doesn't come easy to him. It's just that he knows that this is something that he should talk about, so he's making an attempt- clumsy as it might be. And there are things here he wants to know, even if he doesn't quite know how to ask the questions. He takes a breath, bites at his bottom lip as he tries to work out what he's trying to say here, difficult as it might be.

He's clearly not entirely comfortable with the subject just yet. But it's more like he's still working through his own feelings about it, not like he judges Skov for it or that he thinks it's wrong or anything like that. He sighs, catching his breath and he drags his gaze over to Skov: bright and raw, heated and complicated.]

-- I like it when it's with you. It's kinky for me, too. And that's different than just.. you know. Punching each other 'cause we're burnin' off someone's bad temper.

[His accent gets a bit more Southern, for just a moment there. Unease that comes off in the edges of his words. It's notable of course, that Eli hasn't said that they should stop, just that this is different. Elijah's still figuring this stuff out, and it's easiest for him to take it a step at a time. If he and Skov are both into this thing they're doing... then what does that mean?

Swan had said that he wasn't pissed about it, so- he figures that leaves it to the two of them to figure it out. And Eli wants-- he wants something, wants more, wants to know if Skov does, too. But that's a complicated question to ask. He sets the drinks down on the counter for a moment, a slight tilt of his head as he looks at the other boy. Unsure, but interested, warmth in his green eyes. He looks like he's about to reach out to him for a moment, but then just punches one hand into the other.]

It feels like it means something if we keep pushing it. If you still want to, I guess. Fuck Skov, I'd never even thought about kink before that night, when you asked if I wanted to makeout.

[Eli is a bit slow on the uptake. But this is something he wants to figure out one way or another. Even if he rather wishes that Skov would just shove him against the fridge and hit him a little, so he wouldn't have to keep talking.]

I did, for the record. Want to, I mean.

:eyes: it's the thinggggg

[dreamforger]

[Kavinsky isn't alone against the world anymore. It's a new thing. The sort of thing where he expects he'll ruin it, if he's honest. That he'll break something, break one of them; the fragile strings that tie them together. But for the first time in his life, he cares enough to try. He actively doesn't want to. Things between them are always a little strange, but they know who he is better than anyone else at Aglionby. They still stay.

Messy as the currents between them might be, loyalty runs deeper. They're his boys, his dogs not because he holds a leash, but because of their teeth. He's never really felt like he was King of anything that mattered until Swan and Skov.

He'd cut school today, trusted Swan would drag Skov to school anyway. But he stopped by before the last bell to leave both boys an envelope in their car- a plain key, and a note that simply said put it on your keychain babe in K's scrawling writing with a red gel pen. About twenty minutes after the end of school, it's followed with a text that's just a gps ping.

K is clearly in a good mood. Probably high (but when wasn't he?) but he's clearly trying to say something here. He's making an attempt, trying to say us, together even if it's in a grandiose gesture and not words, but it was almost Valentine's Day. The location is a warehouse, and K is in jeans and boots and a white cropped binder as he leans against the building. Reckless, almost inviting disaster, but he's impatient. And this area is as stolen away as the fairgrounds and the dream field. It's still in Henrietta, but the part of it that feels like the middle of nowhere. So he tells himself that it's safe.

It's his dead father's name on the lease, but that was a technicality. This was theirs. A place to go that wasn't home, where they could always find each other, spray paint the walls if they fucking felt like it. Maybe that meant more to K than anyone else, but he was hoping they'd appreciate the sentiment. He grinned when Skov pulled up, a shrug of his shoulders and a tilt of his head.]

Took you long enough.

[But he says it easy, his voice charm and not the vicious temper he could be prone to.]

/flutters hands

[obedientdog]

[Before Swan, before Kavinsky, Skov's loyalty hadn't lain with anyone. He'd had no friends and his family didn't really care about him. But everything had changed after Swan had fucked him and they changed even more after he'd introduced him to Kavinsky. It was strange, having friends, people he'd punch someone in the face for. He didn't know if he and Swan were dating- they hadn't exactly talked about it yet, but they sure had...something. And they had something with K, too.

Skov didn't know what he expected when he followed the gps ping, but it wasn't what he got. It wasn't a warehouse and K looking hot enough to kill (K always looked hot enough to kill, in Skov's opinion). Swan would be along shortly, he knew, but for now, it was just him and Kavinsky as Skov slid out of his car.

Raking a hand through his messy hair, he looked at the building, then Kavinsky.]

Are you planning a murder or is this supposed to be romantic?

[There was nothing romantic about a warehouse. And as far as planning a murder went...well, Skov knew what it was like to have your blood boil to the point where you wanted to beat someone's face in. He'd never lost control like that, but he was vaguely acquainted with the what if. He was also of the opinion that Kavinsky could completely murder him if it was in a sexual way and not a literal murder.]

[dreamforger]

[Kavinsky dropped the cigarette, and there's a moment where he looks a little bit unsteady before he takes a breath and pushes off against the wall so that he can close the distance between them. He knew that there was a thing between Skov and Swan, and most people would probably have the sense to back off, but K didn't really know how. And common sense had never been one of his strong suits, anyway.

And it's not... he doesn't know how to explain it. But he's not trying to tear them apart or something. He's a dick, yeah- Kavinsky makes a point of being a dick. He tends to think that if he's the biggest asshole in the room, no one will question the moments where he feels like a fake, like everyone can tell he's pretending. But he's not the sort of jerk that would tear them apart just to see if he could. He likes validation, but that's not what that would be. It's just.. he'd been interested in Swan when they'd first met. And then he'd shown up with Skov, and there was something in how the other boy looked at him.

So there was just this nebulous something between the three of them. Kavinsky's greedy too, yes, but he knows that the idea of choosing would be a question none of them would want to answer.]

Fuck man-- yeah, this is supposed to be romantic, okay?

[He shrugs his shoulders and scuffs the toe of his leather boot against the gravel, extinguishing the flame of his cigarette. A sigh as he runs a thin-fingered hand through his hair, his body taut with energy, feelings he has no place for.]

I suck at this shit, alright? But this-- it's ours.

You, me and Swan. Whatever we want. No nosy neighbors or noise complaints or any of that shit. We can paint dicks on the walls or string up black lights or handcuffs or whatever the fuck. I didn't put in a TV or any of that shit yet, because- I wanted us to figure it out together. We can make it anything we want.

[He reached out, just a slight touch of fingertips against the line of Skov's jaw, looking at him through dark eyelashes, K's eyes focused. He almost asked him if he would have rather had flowers and chocolates, red roses and pink carnations and white daisies, something that every other asshole was going to be doing in a day or two, but asking feels too vulnerable.

So instead he smirks and makes a joke of it, his expression wicked and playful, focused on Skov as he smooths over that flicker of insecurity. He trusts Swan and Skov more than anyone, but it still isn't easy.]

I can pick you up a shitty rose at the gas station if you're gonna be a bitch about it. And it is nice to know that you'd have shown up to a murder, too.

the thing, v2

[dreamforger]

[Kavinsky and Skov are in K's bed room, because his mother is out, and there's some stuff he wants to bring over to the warehouse. He thinks that if he just slowly moves out, that she probably wont notice. At least not until her drugs run out.

Ostensibly they're studying, but since Swan isn't around to keep them on track, there's very little actual studying happening. The open books seem to serve more as props, Kavinsky sitting on the floor near where Skov sits on the couch. He's nibbling idly at a twizzler as he sips at a can of beer, not really hungry but it's something tactile and it distracts him from the cravings. He'll probably roll a joint not too long in the future, but for now candy is a tolerable substitute.

There's a warm sort of tension on the air, like they could end up making out. But that's a much easier feeling, now. K is still trying to be careful of Swan's feelings, but- well, he likes Skov and he likes the idea of making out with him.

But for now, they're just talking. Even if the subject is a party that weekend, and specifically whether or not Kavinsky fucked the boy hosting it. But he's shaking his head, laughing faintly. He steals a look at Skov, meeting his eyes, the sort of look that says this is a truth, a secret.]

--Nah. Never. I hate to break it to you, but pretty much all of those rumors are bullshit.

[He grins, lifting an eyebrow as he looks at Skov with something like amusement. He's not laughing at him, he just finds the idea that Skov might have believed that stuff sort of charming. Heart-warming, maybe.]

What, did you really think I was some nefarious sex god that had tricked half the attractive teenaged population of Henrietta into bed with me?

[obedientdog]

[Skov definitely wasn't doing much studying. It was always hard to keep him on track and Swan wasn't around to playfully threaten him, so unless Kavinsky decided to step up and force him to study, there was no reason for Skov to try. Besides, their current conversation topic was way more interesting.

And then Kavinsky dropped a truth bomb on him. Skov stared and then stared some more. To say he was bewildered would be an understatement. He was also a little embarrassed, cheeks heating up.]

Uh, yes? Have you seen you? A lot of guys are really into the whole 'bad boy' thing, too. [Like Skov. Skov was super into it.]

Do you know how many daydreams I've had? About you? I mean, you've always seemed so confident- about everything. So I just figured- they're really all bullshit?

that verse, same as the first, v3

[dreamforger]

[Slowly, Kavinsky is moving out of his mother's house and into the warehouse he bought for him and his boys. It's in pieces, a little bit at a time, jackets and shoes, posters, his favorite tee shirts. He doesn't want to have a fight with his mom about it. He just wants to fucking disappear from her life and let her throw a fit about it too late when she realizes she'll have to find somewhere else to get her drugs.

Tonight, those pieces involve a couple fairly large plastic boxes, just opaque enough to make it difficult to pick out their contents. One of them makes rather peculiar sounds, like metal on metal, while the other features an assortment of brightly colored but strangely shaped objects. Kavinsky grins when Skov comes out to meet him at the car, leaning in to steal a brief kiss, just because he can. Just because he likes how Skov feels against him.

Honestly he felt a little weird about moving them to the warehouse, but he'd rather have the kink conversation with Skov and Swan as opposed to if his mother found them. It was one of the reasons he hated it when she was being a particular bitch and went through his shit looking for drugs. Both boxes are unhelpfully labelled Alligators!! Do not open!! but they'd mostly lived in the back of his closet anyway. But with K no one could entirely discount the possibility.]

Here, help me with this.

[K presses one of the boxes off on Skov so he can more easily manage to get through the doorway, and he's at least nice enough to hold it open for the other boy. If Skov tries to scrutinize what it is that he's carrying, he can probably at least pick out the pairs of handcuffs, maybe the ambiguous lengths of leather and chains, too.

Why yes, it is his sex toy collection.]

:eyes:

[obedientdog]

[Skov was only too happy to help. Especially if he got kisses for his troubles. He would've helped Kavinsky even if there hadn't been kisses involved though, just...because. There were a lot of reasons and most of them boiled down to; Skov was fond of him. Like, really fond. He didn't think that was surprising though, all things considered. It was just that Skov had never really felt this way about anyone else. There was Swan and Kavinsky and...that was all he needed. The three of them against the world. Three was a good number or something, wasn't it? Third time was the charm and stuff like that. Maybe there were other good things about threes.]

Sure.

[Skov took the box without complaint, peering over the top of it while he followed the other boy. Of course, curiosity got the best of him while he walked and he tried to squint at the contents through the mostly opaque plastic. He almost tripped over his own two feet when he made out a pair of handcuffs in the box.]

So, uh. Question. Are there handcuffs in here? I wasn't snooping, I just-

[He didn't have a good defense, really. He had been snooping, kind of.]

that verse, v4 now with cute shit

[dreamforger]

[Kavinsky seems a little bit jittery when he meets Skov and Swan at the warehouse afterschool. It's a Friday night, but the big party is next weekend. Tonight he just wanted to spend time with his boys. Movie night, was what he'd declared. Challenged Swan and Skov to pick their two favorites. They had an obscenely large screen, a sound system loud enough to challenge the industrial zoning, and rather than theater seats, he'd opted for a very plush futon-couch, because he liked the idea of something where it was an easy fix if they wanted to fuck and needed more room. K is still in his uniform because he'd spent time getting the gifts ready, and he can't help fidgeting with the tie he wears sloppily lose in his unbuttoned collar.

He's been sort of on-edge all day-- jittery and radiating nervous energy. But that was almost par for the course. But there is a reason for it, because eventually Kavinsky pulls out two boxes: long but thin, and they're wrapped in black wrapping paper, just a little bit un-expertly. Which is to say that Kavinsky had wrapped the boxes himself.]

I know this is probably- we've only been dating a couple weeks, but I just.. I wanted to anyway. So, go on, open them. I can't stand the wait.

[What he means is something like I love you both but I feel like the words will come out wrong, but he hands them over to Skov and Swan with a warm smile, something a little like nerves and a little like his heart pours over with the feeling. This was his love language almost as much as physical contact. Gifts; trying so hard to give someone the right thing that would light up their world, to dream something that mattered to the people he cared for.

True to the shape of the boxes, they're necklaces. Plain metal discs on a simple chain, with the cracks filled in with gold. And on the back, there's just a simple stamped date: the day Swan and Skov had agreed to go out with him. When he'd shown them this place for the first time, just walls and hardwood floors, and now it almost felt like home. It definitely felt more like home than his mother's house, the mansion in the suburbs where he tensed every time he heard a door close a little too loud. No, it was here. Not the warehouse itself, of course.

It was his boys, putting him back together like gold.]

[obedientdog]

[Skov, ever easily distracted, spent at least a solid ten seconds eyeing Kavinsky and the way he fidgeted with his tie. He wasn't actually imagining anything sexual though, unless wanting to kiss the other boy on the neck counted.

Blinking rapidly, he snapped to attention when Kavinsky held out the boxes, glancing briefly at Swan before reaching out to take one. The idea that not only had Kavinsky picked out presents for them but had wrapped them himself was-- it made Skov feel warm.

They both tore into the wrapping paper at virtually the same time, Swan neater than Skov, who wrestled with the box a little bit before getting it open. It dawned on Skov first when he blinked at the necklace. Kintsugi. Somehow, it made everything that they were doing, everything that'd happened, feel more real. More solid and- permanent.

Skov blinked back tears, scrubbing at his eyes with one hand, and Swan bit his tongue to avoid teasing him about being emotional. Of course, it wasn't that Swan wasn't touched, too, but he was smiling.

With a sniffle, Skov stepped over to loop his arms around Kavinsky's neck, crumpled wrapping paper in one hand and necklace box in the other, and tuck his face against his shoulder.]

Thank you.

[Working the necklace out of the box so he could put it on, Swan said-]

You know, you're the gold in this equation, too.

in which ronan probably still fails to apologize;

[threesecrets]

[It's after he talked things out with Kavinsky and Adam.

Which means that he starts showing up to the racing nights more blatantly, like he thinks he belongs there again, like he's allowed. He'd raced Jiang a few times in the space in-between, but that always felt like stealing something, like he didn't belong, like a secret. Tonight, a Friday night loud and busy with races and money, the purr of engines and profanities shouted from the sidelines of metal railings and asphalt parking lots and his body almost shakes with it. Like his heart syncs to the BMW's engine.

Kavinsky isn't here yet, but he figures he'll show later, so he can make his arrival like the King he is. Of course, his court is already here, which includes Skov and Swan. He watches them, lets his eyes follow them, though it's Skov he focuses on. Watches him in a subtle way that isn't really subtle at all before he works up the nerve to ask him to race.

And it's a good thing that it isn't really about the race, because he ends up looking at the other boy's fucking tail lights far more than he's normally comfortable with. He has realized to an extent that K was being nice to him, but he hasn't quite realized the extent. Normally it would feel like venom, like acid in his veins -- but he's getting better about that, slowly. Realizing that Kavinsky wasn't just about the racing, made it easier for the racing to be just about the racing.

So when he pulls his car up next to Skov on the shoulder, the rowdy gathering of boys is left a mile behind them. Sometimes, for more scheduled races, there'd be people waiting at the other end. It had been like that sometimes when he raced Kavinsky, though it never seemed to tarnish his legend. If they didn't think they could touch me, no one would race me he'd pointed out once. He'd thought he was just being an arrogant dick, but now he isn't so sure. They're not quite in the middle of nowhere, although anywhere in Henrietta that isn't in town sorta feels that way. No headlights on the road except for theirs.

He flings the door open, sitting sideways in the driver seat, tossing off the seatbelt and then dragging himself to his feet so he can lean against the door. His face is slightly flushed and he beckons to the other boy. His heart still felt like a tachometer, surging with every shift, like they were still racing. He's on edge, and yeah, racing still gets him hot even when it's not about K. Or maybe it's just that it's Skov. Maybe Ronan was just sort of a mess when it came to boys and racing.

But that's not what he wants to talk about. So he takes a breath, tries to remember the realization that had come with realizing he'd been a dick to Kavinsky -- that he probably wasn't the only one that Ronan had been a dick to. And it wasn't like they'd ever really talked about it after Ronan had his cock in his mouth, either. So while he'd ignored Swan too, it felt.. he didn't know. Like he'd been worse to Skov, like he owed it to him to try. And he hadn't.]

Hey. Will you- talk to me?

[He takes a breath, trying to steady himself again.]

I know I'm never good at saying this shit, but- I was an asshole to you, wasn't I?

[obedientdog]

[After all the times Kavinsky had told Skov to play nice and shit and let Ronan win when they raced, it felt good to not hold back. It was good to win. Especially, after the way Ronan had ghosted him. Especially, when Skov thought he was hot AF and pretty good company on top of that. Point was, it hurt to have someone drop out of your life. He knew Ronan had hurt K and maybe by extension, Skov should've gotten his hackles up and been a good dog. But Kavinsky hadn't told him to be aggressive towards Ronan so...Skov hadn't been. Kavinsky was happy with Adam and Skov was happy for the both of them.

So when Ronan pulled up next to him, Skov was practically trembling with adrenaline. Which meant their conversation, as he opened his car door and slid out, could go one of three ways. It could be completely normal. It could take a sexual turn. Or it could take a violent turn. Sometimes, the last two weren't mutually exclusive with Skov. He was trying to behave though. He'd talk to Ronan, hear him out.]

Yup. You sure were. You hurt K and ghosted me? Rude as fuck, man. You know, I told K I'd punch you if he wanted me to.

[Skov shrugged, drumming his fingers on his leg.]

Since I never punched you, you might be able to guess what he said.

off to the races;

[silkensupra]

[It's after the races, after most of the winners and losers have been decided, but not so far afterwards for the noise and adrenaline to have died off. So there's still flashing lights, and Jiang is laughing as he slides into the passenger seat of Skov's parked RX-7. He teases him a little, and then they kiss- easier now than it had been that first time at the party, no longer clumsy and Skov not realizing what he'd asked for.

Jiang nuzzles in against the side of the other boy's neck, nipping lightly at the skin, mostly because he knows that he likes it. He's half drunk, but more than that, he's aching and Skov looks gorgeous under the lights. He wants to burn every roll of film he has on him to the way the LED light off of someone else's car catches on his eyelashes- but his last roll was empty hours ago.]

You looked gorgeous like that, you know- ruining some asshole's night. One of Kavinsky's Princes.

[Jiang knows that he is too now, but he knows it's not quite the same as the others. But he doesn't mind, doesn't feel less-than for it. They're sharper, but Jiang says the things that come harder for them- he cares earnestly, like he's been dying for someone to care for his whole life. And there was that night he hit someone in the knees with an empty kegger for going after Kavinsky. He wasn't a pacifist, and he'd fight when he thought it would matter, he just knew he was more likely to get hurt.

But he understood the thrill. But for him it was all bottled up in racing, in competition on either side of a dotted line, stoplights and cheering and curses and the way his pulse raced in time to the pistons of the engine as he floored the gas. It was better than bruised knuckles.

And tonight, he's burning. His dark eyes bright and he climbs into Skov's lap, easy to slide against him between the steering wheel since he's smaller than the other boy. They've fooled around a little bit before, but he wants more than that. He wants-- he doesn't know how to put it into words for once, but he can feel it. He wants to push the seat down and see if Skov can show him.]

Is this okay? I want-- I want you.

[He says it guilelessly, like he'd understand no matter whether Skov said yes or no, like he'd rather say the truth than be safe in silence. Most of the time, at least. There were feelings in his chest he didn't know how to say, things that weren't as easy as want and desire. But he murmurs his name like a plea.]

[obedientdog]

[Skov was still pumped, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He took compliments easily but they meant more coming from Jiang. They weren't just compliments from him; they were genuine, and genuinity burned brighter than someone trying to get on his good side. Though those sorts of compliments were nice, too; he wouldn't turn anything down.

But that combined with the way Jiang nipped at his neck had his adrenaline refocusing from thoughts of racing to dirty desires. Grinning brightly, he said-]

Flattery will get you everywhere.

[Skov might have been a prince, but so were any of Kavinsky's boys, Jiang included. Jiang would have been a prince anyway, though maybe Skov was biased. He was sweet and gorgeous and driven and- basically everything Skov wanted in a guy.

When Jiang maneuvered into his lap, Skov slid his arms around him, pushing his hands up under the back of his shirt. He should have eased his seat back a bit in case Jiang was crowded, but after his hands were on his skin, well... that was all Skov could think about.]

Fuck yeah, this is okay. I want you, too.

[He nuzzled against Jiang's cheek before kissing him, starting off sweet and slow.]

monogamy with benefits verse;

[threesecrets]

hey
you wanna hang out?
i can bring ninos to you guys' dorm

[This was a little unusual for Ronan. Not that he'd never hung out with Skov and Swan, or even brought pizza, but such acts were usually impulsive, spur of the moment. This was intentional, although Ronan admittedly had some vague intentions here, as well. Namely, actually talking to Skov. It might be one of his least favorite things in the world, but Skov at least deserved a conversation, even if Ronan was fucking terrible at them.]

and i apologized to k for being an asshole
so you dont have to punch me either

unless you want to

/nyooms

[obedientdog]

[Skov was suspicious. He hadn't really heard from Ronan since the whole...thing...with Kavinsky, and now he wanted to hang out? The thing was though, Skov couldn't figure out why he was suspicious. What could Ronan want?

So he just laid there on his bed, squinting at his phone for a long minute like it could fork over some answers if he stared long enough.]

yeah okay
no pineapple on that pizza or ur a traitor tho

[It was relevant because Swan loved pineapple on pizza. Skov, on the other hand, felt it was an abomination.]

and i wont punch you

you know what verse;

[richspoiledrotten]

[It's the day after, and Elijah can't help thinking about everything that had happened the night before. It's really Skov that he's worried about, because Skov was.. he didn't know exactly, but sometimes when they scuffled it felt like it meant like something. And not just because he wanted to kiss the blood from his mouth, even if he thought that Swan might punch him in the face for it. He sorta wanted to kiss Swan too though, because he was a fucking gay disaster and not blind.

He thought about texting Skov first, but it seemed stupid when they were in the same fucking dorm building, anyway. So he just walks down the hall, not even bothering to grab his jacket or put on his shoes, because once the idea is in his head he needs to do it now. Although he does grab a few butterscotch candies on his way out the door so that he has something to suck on, something to do with his hands- a way to distract himself from all the ways that this could go bad.

So he knocks and just stands there until someone answers the door, trying to look casual, but he fidgets, subtly shifting from foot to foot.]

Yeeee

[obedientdog]

[Skov looked...ruffled when he opened the door. Literally ruffled; hair messy, clothes wrinkled, barefoot like he'd just crawled out of bed. And maybe he had, all things considered.

When he saw Elijah he froze for a moment, then reached out to pull him into a hug. Skov was normally a hugger, but this was- it wasn't just because he was glad to see the other boy. He held onto him for longer than was necessary but he couldn't help it.]

Hey, man.

[With great reluctance, he let go, taking a step back.]

What brings you to, uh...here?

just an idea that climbed into my brain and wouldn't get out

[threesecrets]

[Ronan had sort of- he had a thing with Skov and Swan. Which was to say that the boys were all friends and sometimes they had sex. Swan and Skov knew Ronan well enough to be able to handle him so that he didn't flinch, and so that when he did he came back after. A few months back, he'd had a chance with a beautiful boy, and he'd messed it up. And Skov had been the one that caught him and kept him from self-destructing entirely.

And then one afternoon when Ronan was running circles in his own head, and Skov had been held after class, Swan had managed to get Ronan to close his eyes, unhook him from his tangled thoughts. He'd used the only language Ronan spoke in moments like that- skin and hands and bodies. So it was a thing. More than what most people saw as friends, but certainly not more.

But tonight was- different.

Last week he'd been supposed to hang out with Skov Friday night. But the other boy had ended up stuck after class, finishing math homework he hadn't done the night before. Ronan sympathized; Skov's professor was impossibly strict. By the time he got back, there hadn't really been time or energy for the things they'd planned.

So they'd settled for just heading to K's party -- which was a thing that Ronan got to do again. They were friends. Not friends like he was friends with Skov or even Swan, but it was okay. He was glad he was happy. But at the end of the night, in the grassy field that passed as a parking lot for most of Kavinsky's parties, just before Ronan headed back to the Barns while Skov and Swan headed back to the dorms, he'd leaned up behind the other boy: I'll make it up to you later.

There had not been any discussion since of what Ronan making it up to him might look like. In fact, he'd come up with this all on his own. Which was why as soon as he heard Skov's footsteps and the door opening he of course immediately started to second-guess the whole thing.

But he didn't flinch.

So when Skov opened the door, the view was this: a dark room, but lit warmly by orange-gold lights that flitted lazily in the air, like the suspended sparks of fireworks. It was somehow moodier than candlelight, or maybe that had to do with Ronan Lynch, laid out on Skov's bed in nothing but the black ink of the tattoo that rippled over the muscles of his shoulders, or the handcuffs that Ronan wasn't wearing, but were dangling from one of the bars in the headboard. Skov definitely couldn't see it, but there was even a plug Ronan was wearing.. so he was really hoping that the other boy didn't want him to put his clothes back on. But waiting wasn't exactly sexy, and it had seemed like an easy sort of distraction- up until he started to reconsider the whole idea, at least.

He was trying for something like seductive, like one of those gay erotica magazines he'd flipped through once, but would never have the courage to buy. Personal centerfold, laid out just for him. Swan had even agreed to give them the room for a while. But Ronan's face was flushed, and there was something in his blue eyes- this wasn't the sort of thing Ronan did for a friend, even one he was sleeping with. Not that Ronan knew how to feel that, let alone admit to it. But it hung in the air, regardless.]

Are you gonna get in here, or wait for someone to take pictures?

[obedientdog]

[Skov didn't know what he'd been expecting when he opened the door, but it wasn't what he got. He lingered in the doorway for a long moment, mouth not quite hanging open but the sentiment was there. He hardly knew where to look, attention at first drawn to the flecks of light and then to Ronan and Ronan's everything. He swallowed.

This was- it was romantic and moody and sensual in ways he'd thought only happened in media. He was tempted to pinch himself, to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Because this was also the sort of thing he would daydream about, especially when it came to Ronan. His hands trembled faintly.

Only snapping out of it when Ronan spoke, Skov blushed. Not because he was embarrassed, exactly, but- he'd been staring and staring was supposed to be rude, right? He tripped over his own two feet as he came into the room, stumbling a little, and closed the door behind him, taking care to lock it. He felt distinctly overdressed in this situation, even while he kicked off his sneakers.]

You say that like pictures aren't a bad idea.

[He was teasing, mostly. He might not have been a real photographer like some, but he did, occasionally, enjoy snapping pictures on his phone.]

You did all this for me?

[He asked it even while the little voice in the back of his mind said no shit, Sherlock.

Finally making his way over to the bed, still entirely overdressed, he leaned down to skim a hand along Ronan's arm, like Skov was making sure he was real. Fuck, but Skov was both ridiculously touched by this and ridiculously turned on, heat crawling along his skin.]