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Cotton Candy Pink

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Heads turn when they show up. They always do and Even never, ever minds. He knows that he's got the most beautiful thing in the room hanging off of his arm. The most beautiful thing in any room, anywhere. Isak's fingers dig harder into Even's upper arm and he sways in closer, tips his face upward and drops his eyelids, stands on his tiptoes for a kiss. Isak's not bashful, doesn't duck away from Even's wandering mouth and the hands he can't keep to himself. Not here and not when he's like this, when he's shed his hoodies and snapbacks and sneakers, traded them in for something a little softer. More frilly.

It's the kinda place that doesn't have a page in any tourist guidebook, tucked away in a section of town where the sidewalks aren't quite as clean and the streetlights aren't nearly as bright. The kinda place where a seventeen year old boy in knee highs and a short schoolgirl skirt can belly up to the bar and order a beer for himself and another for his boyfriend, and the bartender won't say a word.

The shiny lip gloss on Isak's mouth leaves pale, waxy smudges on the bottle. He makes a show of it as he drinks, plays with the mouth of the bottle, tongue touching the lip of it, cheeks hollowing out before taking a sip. Keeps staring at Even through eyelashes that are longer and thicker from the mascara Even pocketed for him from the drugstore, makes sure he's paying attention. And Even, as helpless and smitten with this fragment of Isak as he is with all the others, cannot look away.

Isak leans back against the bar, elbows propped up on it. It puts him on display, hikes his kid-sized t-shirt up to show off the structure of his skinny boy-hips, the soft trail of hair leading down to the waistband of his skirt. His strong thighs and the bruises still on his knees from the last time they were here, when Isak had fallen to them on the grimy floor behind a locked bathroom stall door, sucked him right to the edge and then had kept him there for what had felt like a year.

"Fucking tease," Even whispers directly into Isak's ear, and catches a hint of cheap vanilla perfume, the sort of stuff young girls like to wear. Sweet like candy. Sweet like Isak.

Isak arches an eyebrow, downs the last couple of swallows, fiddles his fingers down Even's inner arm, spiderweb touches until he gets to his wrist and then he pulls Even's hand to him, makes it form around the shape of his hip, crosses his ankles like the virgin he most definitely is not. "C'mon now, daddy. Take care of me right and you know I'll put out."

"What do you want? A pony? A kitten? I don't know if you're big enough to take care of it," Even says, playing along, touching Isak's chest to trace the writing on his t-shirt. Daddy's Little Girl spelled out in purple, sparkly letters.

The smile Isak gives him is coy, angel-shaped. "I was thinking I want your tongue in my mouth. Pretty sure I'm big enough to take care of that," Isak says and drags him off toward their favorite dark corner, an extra swing to his hips as he guides them through the press of bodies.

A sea of eyes follow them as they go, and Even doesn't mind that either. It gives him the chance to spread his fingers wide and possessive on Isak's stomach, latch his mouth onto his neck, show everyone who might think otherwise that this gorgeous boy belongs to him. That they can stare all they want, but Even is the only one who gets to touch, dig his fingers into soft skin and bury his nose into girlishly strawberry-scented hair.

Isak's mouth tastes like bubblegum and his tongue tastes like beer and his arms are strong when he pushes Even up against the wall then holds him there with his body. He kisses Even breathless, as one song bleeds into the next, sucks on Even's tongue, cracks his jaw open to take more, knots his fingers in Even's hair. Even can't hear his moans over the music, but he can sure enough feel them, the vibration of it like a mainline to his cock.

His pulse amps up to heartattack level as Isak breaks away, plasters his back to Even's chest and starts in on a slow, filthy dance, rocking his ass against Even's crotch, reaching up to loop his hand around the back of Even's neck. He's graceless, couldn't be more off-beat if he tried and it hardly matters, because now his skirt is riding up in the back, catching on the front of Even's pants, showing off more of his thighs and the tight, lower curve of his ass.

Isak isn't much of a dancer, but he's one hell of a fuck.

"They're looking at us," Isak says, and angles back to lick into Even's mouth again, suck on his lower lip and pull it between his teeth.

"Can't blame them," Even tells him, pulling Isak's hips flush against him, pushing into it. "I get to see you every day and I still haven't figured out how to look away."

Another hard grind down and now Even can feel the plug Isak has shoved snug in his ass, stretching him open and keeping him wet. Even sneaks his hand down to push Isak's panties to the side and toy with it, wriggle the skin-warmed glass, the dip at the center of the heart-shaped handle. Cotton-candy pink to match the color painted on Isak's fingernails, the adorable blush on his cheeks.

"Fuck," Isak spits, and another, louder, "Fuck," when Even twists it a little, and then Isak's dragging him along again, grip like a vice around his wrist, no flirty hip sway at all while he hauls Even toward the side door and into another of their favorite spots. A dark alley behind the place where everyone knows better than to let their eyes and their hands wander where they don't belong.

Now it's Isak's turn to be up against the wall, forehead plastered to it, legs spread and ass tipped up, the whole of him on display for Even alone, skirt hiked up to his waist, goosebumps forming on the skin under Even's hand.

"Gimme. I want it," Isak says, breathless already and Even has only managed to get his belt unhooked. A clumsy and shaky and one-handed yank at Isak's panties to pull them down to his thighs.

"Manners, sweetheart," Even reminds him, pushes his pants only far enough to get his dick out. He doesn't warn Isak as he takes the plug out of his ass, knows he doesn't have to, almost blows right there at the momentary gape it leaves behind before Isak clenches down, moans at the absence of it.

"Please, daddy," Isak says, a deep purr, turning his face enough that Even can see the smug smile spreading there, the dimples that Even wants to sink his thumbs into, well aware of the effect that kinda thing has on Even, how it'll get him anything and everything he wants. Every single time.

Even runs his dick along the crack of Isak's ass, nudges against his rim, says, "Such a good little girl, so fucking wet for me," then slams inside, balls deep from the start, a hard, jabbing move that shoves Isak up on his toes again, makes him claw at the rough brick wall. Even pulls almost all the way out then thrusts in again, fast and raw just the way Isak likes it. Slides three fingers into Isak's mouth far enough to make him choke and gag on them, because Isak likes that too. Keeps going until Isak's eyes are watering and he's heaving huge wet gasps that Even catches in his palm. Whispers a soft I love you into Isak's ear as he blows, because Isak loves that best of all.

He keeps Isak steady, gets him turned around for a proper kiss, leans heavy into the wall and his beautiful boy to keep them both upright, runs his fingers through the streaks of come Isak's left on his skirt, more of it dripping down his thighs from the mess Even's made of him. Even can smell them, sweat and spunk cutting through the clean night air, that small spike of vanilla still there.

Isak swipes his fingers under his eyes in a way that's almost dainty, tries to repair the damage done to his mascara, the sticky, shiny car crash his mouth has become. "Help me fix my face. I can't go back in there looking like this."

--end

 

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