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The fan creaked its neck to the left. Wilson closed his eyes, savoring the few seconds of slightly cool bliss that wouldn’t even budge the hair that was plastered to his forehead with sweat, barely ruffling his damp shirt, and sighed when the fan turned its neck to Claude.
Equally sweaty and lounging in a tank top, Claude licked a cherry popsicle, legs lazily spread apart on the couch, no doubt getting a better taste of the fan than Wilson was. His eyes fluttered whenever the fan completed another cycle, but never strayed from the screen.
Back and forth, this sweaty ritual continued as the fan tried its best to cool the two men lazing about and watching some movie Vanta had raved about. Wilson would open his eyes when the fan’s breeze left him, and Claude would still be dragging his tongue lazily against the frozen treat, a glint of silver peeking out. Not even the way Claude’s shorts were clearly getting to be a bit too small distracted Wilson from what was nestled in the middle of his tongue.
Claude hadn’t noticed Wilson’s glances yet, on account of the movie playing being a pretty good distraction to your bro checking out your tongue piercing, but that didn’t stop Wilson from subtly shifting in his seat, so that the other’s side profile was framed with the fuzzy lighting of whatever action sequence was going on. A part of the lips, waiting in anticipation as Claude was enraptured by some dialogue scene, and there it was again. A shining pinpoint snug in the meat of his cherry-tinged mouth.
Sometimes he’d stop mid lick, tongue half way out of his mouth for a second, as a particularly crazy scene played out, and Wilson was struck with the urge to touch it.
What was it like, having a piercing adorning your tongue all day? Does he have more than one? Does it always taste like metal? Did it rust? Okay, probably not, but he still wondered. Wilson couldn’t imagine feeling it in your mouth while talking, eating, drinking… other things…
He watched as Claude licked another lazy stripe, starting from the base of the frozen treat, to the top, and the little piercing winked again as the TV screen lit up. Despite how it was humid enough that the walls may as well be sweating too, Claude hadn’t stained a bit of his fingers with red, keeping the melting treat in check with his fastidious licks. Meanwhile, the electric blue one Wilson had polished off before they even picked a movie still melted all over his hand and lingered on his fingertips, making them feel tacky. He sighed softly.
“You’re not gonna ask me for a lick, are you?”
The haze vanished as Wilson startled at Claude’s question, and it took a moment to realize he meant the nearly-finished popsicle he was wagging at him, and not the piercing he became suddenly fixated on.
“What? No…” he said coyly, and made an effort to pretend to pay attention to the movie. That lasted about five seconds before the question bubbled up inside him.
“I was wondering though, how do you eat with that thing on?”
“This?”
Claude opened his mouth and curled his tongue, nudging his piercing and framing it between his teeth. It sat like a pearl in the middle of the muscle. “I take it out sometimes when I eat, but this is just a popsicle, so it’s chill.”
To demonstrate, he again dragged his tongue along the length of the popsicle, so agonizingly slowly that Wilson had a fleeting thought if Claude was teasing him on purpose or trying to embarrass him. It left a faint line in the slowly melting frozen treat. Wilson swallowed.
“I uh, I wonder what it’s like,” Wilson said.
“Oh, you want to get your tongue pierced…?” Claude opened his mouth and tapped a nail against the piercing. “I never took you for a piercing guy. And the tongue’s still kind of an out-there one, I don’t know anyone who’s done that for their first piercing.”
Wilson furrowed his brow, the prospect of Claude rolling his tongue and making those faces fading from his mind as he got mildly offended. “Are you saying I can’t take the pain?”
That earned a laugh from Claude, and the opportunity to show off the piercing glint again within the shadow of his mouth. “I’m saying even I couldn’t take it! Just between you and me, I may have cried like a little bitch during the healing process.” His expression became serious all of a sudden. “I mean it, keep it between you and me.”
“Okay, okay,” Wilson chuckled lightly. “If it was me though… I bet I could take it.”
“Uh huh?” Claude polished the rest of his treat off as he responded in monotone.
“Yup. Wouldn't even flinch. I think I’d get two.” Wilson stuck his own tongue out and tried to cross his eyes to look at it, the blue raspberry popsicle tint already fading away. “Or maybe a tongue ring. Do they do those? I think I’d look pretty good with one.”
The telltale smirk that curled around Wilson’s lips at that comment made Claude roll his eyes goodnaturedly. “Okay dude. But to answer your question, it’s not too bad, as long as you don’t bite yourself, or whatever.”
“Okay… I guess I mean, more along the lines of, how do you do… regular stuff when it’s in all day? It doesn’t feel like there’s a thing in your mouth all the time?” Wilson leaned forward in his seat as another idea came into his mind, and it immediately flew out of his mouth.
“Like, is it not weird if you’re, uhm, let's say, kissing someone?” His eyes shifted around as he stumbled over the sentence.
Claude considered it. “Mmm… no. At least, if the people I’ve kissed weren’t lying to my face, I think they actually kinda liked it.” Claude rolled his tongue and caught his piercing between his teeth, clacking it softly as his mind wandered. “It’s like an added sensation kinda? I mean, it looks good, and I like having it in, so it depends who you’re with, and if they’d like it too of course, you always have to consider these things...”
Wilson had already lost track of Claude’s run-on sentence when he pressed that silver ball against his teeth moments ago with that lewd tongue roll. It was getting to be too tantalizing at this point. Or was the heat driving him crazy? It must have been, for the next question out of Wilson’s mouth was-
“Can I see, then?”
Claude snapped out of it. “...See what?”
“Uh, if I’d like it? Kissing with- Or, I mean-”
“-Yeah? Oh, uh-”
Their sentences stumbled into each other and they both dissolved into an awkward laugh.
“Strictly in a homie way, of course,” Wilson blurted out. Save it, save it from this awkward hell…
“Just a bro kiss? Y’know, like what you already do with the others?”
That did the trick. The way Claude’s brow unfurrowed meant he saved it. Oh, and the way Claude was actually scooching over on the couch meant this was actually happening. Their knees bumped for a second as they twisted to face each other. Claude leaned on one hand, and Wilson was backed up against the arm of the couch, legs drawn up on the couch cushion.
The TV was still on, but Wilson couldn’t tell anyone a single detail from the movie, other than the way the blue hues washing over the room really made the highlights in Claude’s pale hair stand out. The hair that was in a loose ponytail, clinging to his collarbones, and, okay, he was suddenly having trouble making eye contact and was looking everywhere but his face.
“Were you joking?”
Claude’s vulnerable question made Wilson’s eyes snap up to meet his. He could be joking, that was the thing. You never know with Yu Q. Wilson. Not even he himself knew sometimes, when he’d blurt out questions that were better left as drafts in the back of his mind. But… Claude’s usual guarded, half-lidded expression was replaced by something a little more electric. His hand was dangerously close to Wilson’s already, and Wilson’s gaze darted down then back up again.
“No, not joking.” Wilson wiped his hands on his shirt, suddenly self conscious about how fucking clammy and small they were. And probably sticky. And, oh God, his mouth probably still tasted like blue popsicle. Would it be noticeable? Claude licked his bottom lip, and the little orb of silver poked in and out. Wilson felt locked in Claude’s stare. Does he lean in or do I go? Okay, he’s leaning towards me, and- Wilson felt himself fall back against the arm of the couch as Claude loomed over him. Wait, am I just frozen here awkwardly? Why am I on the bottom?
The last thought was so stupid he almost didn’t realize Claude was inches away from his face, his breath tickling the cold sweat on Wilson’s upper lip, as if he was wordlessly asking for permission. Wilson parted his own lips, and… they were kissing. Or better put, Claude was pressing his tongue against Wilson’s awkwardly pursed mouth, teasing the metal piercing against the other.
Holy fuck.
A jolt ran down Wilson’s spine, and he gasped involuntarily. Claude took advantage of the opening and slotted his tongue against Wilson’s, deft but gentle, as if Wilson would flee at any sudden movements.
It was a slow, agonizingly slow roll of Claude’s piercing-laden tongue against Wilson’s open mouth as they kissed, once, twice, wetly, briefly hanging onto Wilson’s lower lip before pulling back to make sure he was still breathing from how much his whole body was flushed, and his hands trembled.
Wilson couldn’t help but salivate. He licked his lips where Claude had just been and swallowed roughly, and the slight taste of cherry made his heart race and something below his stomach grow heavy with heat, already craving the sensory overload of kissing and feeling the metal rock against his tongue, teasing inside his mouth.
Claude leaned in for another round, and Wilson just took it. This time, Claude was bolder, and ran his tongue against the roof of Wilson’s mouth, teasing the ridges with his piercing before licking at it with the tip of his tongue, then kissed him again, gentle and sweet.
Another kiss before he started working his tongue against Wilson’s, sloppily licking at him and making sure to guide the metal all along the other’s mouth, massaging it, letting the bead gently clack against the inside of Wilson’s mouth until he was breathing hard and twisting his hands in Claude’s tank top, each clack rattling something in him that sent shivers down his face and neck, his eyes wrenched shut and his brain short-circuiting.
They parted lips again, and Wilson’s face was bright red as a string of saliva snapped between them.
“Wait,” Wilson panted, and now he was the bold one. He lunged up to continue what Claude had started, yanking on his tank top and clashing their faces together, and if Claude didn’t react fast enough, they would have smashed their teeth together. They still did knock against each other a bit with the sudden hunger that drove Wilson to slam his tongue against Claude’s, seeking out the pearl of metal mindlessly, forgetting that a kiss wasn’t just when you licked the inside of the other’s mouth. He lacked the rhythm Claude had, but the puppy-like enthusiasm that was spilling out emboldened Claude. This was his doing. He practically had Willy unraveling beneath him.
When Wilson backed off, Claude closed in and licked Wilson’s kiss-swollen lips, ghosting the metal piercing against his flesh, and somehow even that was enough to make him moan loudly into Claude’s open mouth. And that’s what finally snapped Wilson out of the daze he was in.
“Fuck, oh fuck, I’m sorry,” the apologies tumbled over each other as he disengaged his hands from Claude’s clothes.
Wilson’s chest was heaving, and Claude had boxed him in, the two men nearly horizontal on the sweaty couch, with Wilson caged between his arms. Claude made an inquisitive noise at the abrupt change until Wilson tried to squirm away from under him, legs clearly pressed together, frantically adjusting his shorts, ears bright red from shame and arousal. Ah.
“Stop,” Claude shushed.
Wilson paused, face halfway buried in the crook of his arm, at the mercy of the man above him. He pried at the arm, uncovering Wilson’s expression, and studied it. He looked thoroughly fucked, with his bright hair sticking to the sides of his sweaty face, eyes squinting and watering with unfulfilled arousal.
Then Claude kissed him. Chaste this time, his piercing tucked away in his mouth as he tried to tease Wilson into uncoiling his body. Little by little, Wilson untensed and melted into the cushions with the sweet kisses being showered on his face, light whispers of “Good, you’re doing good,” slipping out of Claude’s mouth. Claude slowly sank lower and lower on top of the quivering man beneath him, until the thump of Wilson’s heartbeat knocked against his own, as he continued to kiss him, the sounds and his blood pressure rushing in his ears drowning out the TV noises.
Claude trailed down Wilson’s neck with kisses, and he felt the other’s muscles unclench with each one. A kiss on the bump of his collarbone. He lifted Wilson’s shirt up in one fluid motion, kissing once near his nipple, still keeping his tongue in check, kissing down his sternum, on his belly, and all Wilson could do was shake and try to control his breathing, lest he buck Claude off him with his twitchy legs every time he felt the warm exhales roll over his skin.
He had no idea what was going on, other than this felt insane. Like, could burst at any moment insane. Before he could process how good it felt, Claude would kiss him again and murmur against his skin, and Wilson would have to suck in a breath and recalibrate himself before Claude’s lips pressed against another part of his torso, just the slightest hint of a warm, metal bead teasing against him, enveloped in wet hotness. Those hands that dwarfed his own were now sliding over Wilson’s thighs as Claude went lower still, now effectively leading his kisses to a truly dangerous place.
Wilson flinched and squeaked when Claude’s ministrations reached his bellybutton, and then below it, and, oh okay that’s the hem of his shorts being pulled down- Wilson flung his arms over his eyes, unable to even face what was about to happen.
His dick was engorged, pressed up against the elastic of his boxer briefs and staining the front with pre cum, and Claude wasted no time in pulling that down too, making Wilson’s knees tremble as he now lay fully exposed, his wet skin cooling and his dick now enveloped in heat as Claude must have hovered right over it.
He couldn’t see, or he refused to see, looking at his bro’s face in the middle of this might be too much. His mouth must be open, that tantalizing piercing must be glistening with the saliva that pooled in his mouth. Hot breaths rolled over his dick. What was that- he could feel Claude’s face pressed up at his cock, nose bumping against it, - that was his lips just now, not even closing around dick, just fucking - teasing, whispering something. The piercing was cooled significantly from Claude sucking in a breath.
Claude then pressed his tongue flat against the underside of Wilson’s dick and swiped up, licking a single stripe up his length, and Wilson came with a pathetic shout.
That was. Huh. Wilson couldn’t really describe it currently, or string words together to form a sentence. It took him a moment to resurface from the sea of stars that swam in his vision, aftershocks still arcing up his spine from the mere sensation of the cold metal against his dick, and he shakily propped himself up on his elbows, just to be met with an astonished Claude, with his head still between his thighs, and his arms hugging Wilson’s lower body, a rope of cum dripping down his face. It even got on his forehead, narrowly missing his eye.
“You couldn’t warn a bro?” Claude’s voice was taut and high. The end credits of the movie scrolled up in the periphery of his vision.
Wilson flopped back down, and made an incoherent noise, still catching his breath.