twitcher
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Black ink. Bold as sin. Stark against the wet, delicate skin, tucked in a place that no one sees unless they’re invited to look.
CUM DUMP
“I got it freshman year,” he says. Simple. Honest. “After spring break.”
Saxon flinches.
Freshman year. As in two years ago. As in this wasn’t some impulsive drunken decision from last weekend—this has history. This has context.
This has a body count.
“Why,” Saxon says, low and hoarse, “would you do that.”
Another shrug. A sip from the bottle. “I wanted to.”
or: it's been too long and Lochlan's changed—he's got a tattoo, a sexual history that curls Saxon's toes and a camera roll full of proof
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"We both blacked out," he manages, tries very hard to make his voice steady. The words taste like acid as he says them.
Chloe, sat in his lap. He'd blamed his dick being soft on booze, on drugs. She'd kissed him and touched him and squeezed him. Saxon couldn't get it up. Just couldn't. And—
His voice, faint and feverish, that much he recognises. He didn't talk much.
Chloe, he'd said. Right? Or—
Lochy.
or: Saxon remembers, spirals, and reaches his own personal nirvana
Series
- Part 2 of all i wanted was you
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Saxon is beside him, legs pulled up to his chest, hands braced loosely behind him. His face is tipped toward the sky, pupils blown wide, mouth slightly open. In the flickering light, he looks almost childlike—lost in something bigger than himself, in the impossible beauty of the night.
Lochlan doesn’t watch the fireworks.
He watches Saxon.
or: Lochlan doesn't know what he wants, except that he totally does
(i think mostly? compliant with episodes 1, 5 & 6)
Series
- Part 1 of all i wanted was you
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Jaskier decides, within these circumstances, that perhaps it is time to panic. Just a little.
or: the boys find a leshen, or it finds them--and brings company! -
in the upside down frown of the dark by twitcher
Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
22 Sep 2020
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"Look at me."
The shifty green of Geralt's irises is even more astonishing up close. A soft lock of dark hair has fallen on his forehead, boyishly charming.
"Kneel."
It's the first time Geralt hesitates; he flinches, but doesn't dive at the order. Jaskier parts his legs further. Pats the inside of his thigh invitingly.
"Kneel," he repeats, holding Geralt's skittish gaze.
or: Jaskier gets dragged off the Path to train the new litter of witchers. Geralt is his very favourite pupil.
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Lochlan’s eyes are closed, his mouth screwed up in one of his little pouts, and his hand comes up to push his damp curls out of his eyes.
“Hot.” is all he says, whining. “’m so hot.”
And he looks it, face flushed uncomfortably, spreading down his neck across the top of his chest. Saxon puts a hand on the pillow next to Lochlan’s head and yeah—it’s damp.
“Okay, Lochy, okay, one second—” he soothes. He puts a hand to Lochlan’s forehead and nearly has to jerk it back. His brow is a million degrees beneath the back of Saxon’s hand.
__Chloe's drugs do something different
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This is what happens when you take away Saxon's iPad.
Or: escalating sexual activities, every night in Thailand. Brothers being brothers. Brotherly love. Jerking it together for fun.