notrosecolored | Duplicity Contact Post

Midnighter returns from the bathroom after turning off the light. Thankfully, Scott hasn't moved from the bed, so he gladly slips back under the sheets, still warm from their combined body heat. Tucking his knees under Scott's, Midnighter envelopes the other man from behind and fits all six-foot-five of himself against him. He's still a little hard—the curse of having no refractory period—but he's not looking for another go 'round.

Instead he throws a big arm around Scott from waist to chest, burying his face into the crook of the man's shoulder. His lips don't keep to themselves, either. Softly they kiss and lick the sweat from his neck and shoulder blade.

Edited 2022-07-24 19:12 (UTC)

The sex really is pretty good (okay, good without a qualifier). It's not really his primary motivator, though. It is with Grayson or the likes, but Midnighter's something different and a lot more complicated than that.

He's not out when Mid leaves, though his eyes are closed behind his glasses. He stays aware of movement through that spatial awareness thing. When Mid returns to the bed and curls around him the novelty of someone who has a couple of inches of height on him strikes him and he actually, albeit softly, laughs.

Which turns into a tired groan at having his shoulder and neck licked.

He wraps his hand around Mid's forearm and gives it a gentle squeeze.

"I knew you'd be a cuddler. I'm mildly surprised you're not demanding I hold you, though." Soft, teasing, but still affectionate for all the snark.

"Demanding?" He stops long enough to act offended before his mouth turns back to Scott, mouth settled just behind his ear. He's careful not to hit his glasses.

"Please. I'm always a giver, Scotty," he tells him, and even though Scott can't see the obnoxious grin on his face, he can definitely hear it in his voice. "Next time you can hold me."

And that's the last he says before Midnighters buries his nose in Scott's short brown hair, warm breath puffing over the shell of his ear and the back of his neck.

"...Always a giver of what, exactly?" He sounds every bit as content as he is, though he does twist around a little to look toward Midnighter with bemusement. "I'm pretty sure you're more frequently the receiver of most things related to sex."

"Don't try and bottom shame me," he warns without an ounce of heat in his voice. "It won't work." His grip on Scott loosens when he feels him begin to turn, giving him more room to move.

"You know, I give my bod, my ass, my big safe arms. It's all giving." A beat, an amusing thought just coming to him. "Did I not give enough? Should I spoon you tighter?"

"I'm not trying to shame anybody." He turns back so his back is to Mid's chest and actively wiggles back into him, unapologetically. Hell, there's even a bit of a yawn, that's more relaxation than desire to sleep. "Though for the record I'm usually more sexually submissive than not. You just happen to be chaotic enough to make me need to impose some control, and no don't spoon tighter, Im claustrophobic."

...He's not.

No apologies necessary. He hums contentedly as the man rubs against his hairy stomach, arm repositioning to find a comfortable spot along his hip. Not too tightly this time, though.

"Chaotic enough to what, stick it in the wrong spot? Mistake your hands for grapes?"

"Chaotic enough to make me want to impose some control on you," he repeats, very deliberately being a bit of (snuggly) dick about it. Pay attention, Mid.

Okay, he actually does know what the question was, but still.

Also: "I'm a guy. What wrong hole, are you going to try to shove your dick in my ear?"

"Uh huh." That's not a good enough answer for him, but he would prefer holding Scott quietly than starting a pedantic meaning fight.

"Maybe. I'll try anything once. Probably twice." And just to be the perfect definition of a brat, Midnighter sticks his tongue in Scott's ear, then worries the shell between his teeth.

The sound that comes out of Scott at the tongue in his ear is absolutely not a happy one. Teeth on his ear? Better and relaxes him before he turns around to thwack Midnighter on top of the head, but also just. Just.

Ew.

He rubs at his ear, faintly irritably.

"How does your dominant put up with you?"

The smack is much deserved and much expected. The problem with the stick approach is that it only works if the pup is deterred by it. Unfortunately, Midnighter simply laughs in delight for getting a rise out of Scott.

"He had a better sense of humor than you, that's how."

"I don't believe you."

For many, many, reasons.

Midnighter laughs again, forehead pressing into Scott's soft hair from behind.

"Which of those words leave you so doubtful?"

"All of them, when used in that order and in response to that question." He sort of arches his spine and the result of that is him pushing back into Mid (including the back of his head into Midnighter's forehead), but he also gives the arm around him a slow, gentle, squeeze.

"He was goofy. Laughed a lot—at me and with me. Had a knack for calling bullshit faster than my precognition could work." He can't be certain he's even on topic anymore, but it's what comes out.

Then, after a beat: "I miss him."

There are two things there that are surprising. One is 'precognition'. The rest is the missing his dominant. Which means the dominant's gone, but also--

Okay, no, Scott knew a guy capable of being serious was in there.

"How long's he been gone?"

"Less than a month now. He put up with me like a champ," he tells Scott as Midnighter's fingers skim over his chest and tug at some of the hairs there.

"There aren't a lot of patient saints out there."

"Mmm." Non-committal noise, that, but pretty quiet. "You do spend a lot of time deliberately trying to push buttons because you think it's going to get you violence, sex, and violent sex."

Is he supposed to have noticed that or just think it's Midnighter's entire personality? He doesn't know.

"I was constructed to fight," he says automatically. This isn't the first talk he's had with friends about his overbearing behavior.

"This city doesn't give me a lot of options for an outlet. Not like back home. I could spend all night busting heads, finding missing persons, putting my anger to productive use."

He twists around in Midnighter's arms to face him, but follows that motion through to push Mid onto his back. Comes up and on top of him, kneeling astride him. Knees on the mattress, hands on Mid's shoulders loosely.

"Do you know why 'Cyclops' and the X-men exist?" Do you even know what either of those are

Now this gets Midnighter's attention. It's probably why Scott did it in the first place.

"Because people need labels to feel less alone and afraid in the big scary world?" Obviously that's not the answer, but why give Scott the satisfaction on the first try.

Obviously?

Scott tilts his head slightly to the side and considers that answer as though it weren't delivered in a snarky tone. Weighs it and then snorts in faint amusement.

"Pretty much, except the people who needed those two labels to be less afraid and alone was me."

Oh. Foot-and-mouth disease strikes again. Midnighter doesn't pretend to look sheepish because he has no shame to speak of, but his hands settle on the sides of Scott's thighs, thumbs stroking back and forth over his skin.

"Well, you were a kid. That makes sense," he offers up with less obnoxious snark. Kids always need something bigger than them to guide them forward or protect them, whether it's a person or an ideal.

He's pretty bendy for a guy his size - and has a lot of legs. He tucks his feet back more, and under Midnighter's knees, while leaving his knees on the mattress.

"I was sixteen, but close enough. Either way, I'm an adult now and 'Cyclops' was still created and the team was built around me to give me a purpose to keep me from slitting my throat in the shower. This City's shit for finding purpose and an outlet, but if you pay attention you can find better opportunities than pushing every button Logan has to get him to abuse you. Or at least people more willing to take you apart without taking themselves apart in the process."

"Sixteen's still a kid." At least, Midnighter thinks so. The brain hasn't developed yet. Frankly, it's the worst time to be anyone during that chaos of hormones and physical changes—at least that's what it seems like. He doesn't remember his.

"Was this all setup for a shovel talk about Logan?" Midnighter asks while he props himself up on his elbows to stare up at the other man. Is he offended? Checking... No. Could Scott have simply cut to the chase? Checking... Actually, no. Midnighter would see it as a challenge, wouldn't he?

"You know anyone, then? Because the average Dom can't take me apart. Logan can, and he's good at it."

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CW: Suicidal Ideation from here

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