Ah. I would've gone with "Butters" too, then. [...your name is Corrigan, how is that better than "Leopold"??
Corry makes a scrunched-up face of disgust, taking his hand away, but only so he can grasp Kyle's chin, firmly.] I'm telling the waitress you're cut off. No more champagne for you.
[If this were the first time they'd done this, if there weren't a history of snsrky comments and bickering and hookups, Corry might have believed the lie. It's more comforting, believing there isn't that deep a wound on someone he's (against all odds) sortt of beginnung to care about.
But he doesn't argue this time, not three mimosas in. He just squeezes Kyle's hand, then let's go to steal a bite of his omelet.]
I know. I don't think you're capable of fishing for compliments.
[Kyle keeps his eyes downcast for a moment, not entirely sure how to react. He's much more used to verbally sparring with Corrigan, to volleying insults back and forth. Sincerity is new and a little scary.
But it's also nice.
He finishes up and pushes his plate aside, finally looking back at Corrigan. He grins.]
[Corrigan absently scribbles some large tip on the receipt, then stands, checking his shirt for any syrup spots.]
You can thank me properly in a bit. [The smugness is back, the cockiness, evident in the way Corry’s hand settles on the back of Kyle's neck and squeezes possessively.]
[Kyle looks up, and for the briefest of moments he looks positively impish. But then he's getting up, fussing with his own shirt and pushing in the chair.]
Have I ever forgotten the hair rule? [He has. Multiple times.
Corry does that thing where he messes around on his phone and a big unmarked black car appears our of nowhere. But he holds the door of it open, like a true gentleman. Even if he bossily adds:] Don't touch the mini-fridge, you've had enough alcohol.
And it did! Sort of. Not ideally, but there was definitely definition!
[Corrigan chuckles in amusement, sliding into the car as well. As soon as the door's closed, he's reaching out, grabbing at Kyle's waist to drag him closer, practically into Corrigan’s lap. There's a note of something barely restrained, predatory in his face.]
[But the neck-kissing does feel good, as does Kyle's warm, lanky body in his lap. The car starts driving, and Corry leans back, exposing more neck and sliding his hands under the waist of Kyle's jeans.]
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[Corry slumps back in his seat, pouting again and returning to his pancakes.] You're a goddamn tease is what you are.
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What? No I'm not! I said I would blow you after brunch!
[NO indoor voice.]
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[Corry chokes on a bite of pancake, reaching out to smush his hand over Kyle's mouth.]
You don't need to announce that!
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[Kyle looks wide eyed, then... licks Corry's hand. Take that!]
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Corry makes a scrunched-up face of disgust, taking his hand away, but only so he can grasp Kyle's chin, firmly.] I'm telling the waitress you're cut off. No more champagne for you.
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I've only had two! I'm allowed three. [He's pouting.]
And nobody was listening, god. Don't be a prude.
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[Corry rolls his eyes, but nudges the as-yet-untouched pineapple mimosa over.] Brat. Fine. But stop making sex noises while you eat.
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[GASP! But oooh, mimosa.] I didn't! I was enjoying my food, that's all.
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[Corrigan huffs out a little laugh, polishing off the last of his pancakes. His expression is surprisingly soft when he glances over at Kyle.]
Just like you can't tell when you're being a hick, you have very poor perception about when you're being sexy.
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M'not sexy.
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Who told you that?
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[He shrugs.] It's cool. I've got lots of other good qualities. I'm really smart. Not a genius like my little brother or anything, but still!
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[Corrigan reaches across the table, taking Kyle's hand gently.]
I think you are. Do you believe me?
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So he lies.]
Sure.
Sorry, I wasn't like... fishing for compliments.
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But he doesn't argue this time, not three mimosas in. He just squeezes Kyle's hand, then let's go to steal a bite of his omelet.]
I know. I don't think you're capable of fishing for compliments.
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But it's also nice.
He finishes up and pushes his plate aside, finally looking back at Corrigan. He grins.]
This was really good. Thank you.
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[Corrigan absently scribbles some large tip on the receipt, then stands, checking his shirt for any syrup spots.]
You can thank me properly in a bit. [The smugness is back, the cockiness, evident in the way Corry’s hand settles on the back of Kyle's neck and squeezes possessively.]
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[Kyle looks up, and for the briefest of moments he looks positively impish. But then he's getting up, fussing with his own shirt and pushing in the chair.]
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Corry does that thing where he messes around on his phone and a big unmarked black car appears our of nowhere. But he holds the door of it open, like a true gentleman. Even if he bossily adds:] Don't touch the mini-fridge, you've had enough alcohol.
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[Oooh, fancy! But Kyle pauses before climbing in to be a brat:]
Oh, I'LL tell you when I've had enough!
[Huff! But he gets in the car.]
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[Corrigan chuckles in amusement, sliding into the car as well. As soon as the door's closed, he's reaching out, grabbing at Kyle's waist to drag him closer, practically into Corrigan’s lap. There's a note of something barely restrained, predatory in his face.]
In this car, sweetheart, you aren't the boss.
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[Kyle lets out an indignant squawk.]
Uh, excuse you, I'm the boss wherever I say I'm the boss!
[As he leans in to nuzzle Corrigan's throat.]
Like you're in charge. Pffft.
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[Corry arches both eyebrows, tugging Kyle easily to straddle his lap -- and so he can reacquaint his hands with the younger man's ass.]
Uhhhh, I'm always in charge. That's kinda my thing.
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[It really is a fabulous ass - surprisingly so, considering that the rest of Kyle is skin and bones. He wriggles a little bit, kissing Corry's neck.]
Bullshit. I'm clearly in charge.
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[But the neck-kissing does feel good, as does Kyle's warm, lanky body in his lap. The car starts driving, and Corry leans back, exposing more neck and sliding his hands under the waist of Kyle's jeans.]
Name one time you've ever been in charge.
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the amount of cumface icons I have is absurd
absurd... or perfect?
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truly tragic html on my part wow
My swipe-texting typo filled ass will never judge.
bless ur light
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