Work Text:
What You Wish For
"I am reminded once again of the Terran expression…‘Be careful--’”
“--‘what you wish for’? Right.” Lyle squeezes Brainy’s hand as they enter the Time Institute, both of them blurring back into the visible spectrum simultaneously. He feels Querl’s finger go stiff in his grasp before slowly relaxing, and gives his new boyfriend a reassuring smile in response.
This sort of thing should probably be the last thing on his mind, Lyle reasons, what with the whole Superboy thing and Darkseid being around the proverbial corner. Hell, the entire universe could very well be at stake. But he can’t help himself. He’s captivated, utterly bemused by the warmth seeping through the fabric of his glove, the smell of Brainiac so near, veiled in a soft, almost spicy scent Lyle has never smelled on him before.
Querl has stopped and is pointing out an old holopic of himself on the wall when Lyle’s curiosity finally gets the better of him.
Sidestepping, he twists round to block Brainiac’s path, grinning when the other boy has to grab Lyle’s hip to keep himself from tripping. “Are you wearing cologne?” he whispers, inching closer so that Querl’s palm slides unconsciously along the curve of his waist. The gesture leaves Lyle feeling a little lightheaded, like every drop of blood in his body is rushing to the epicenter of the touch to burn and burn and burn.
“Why would you ask such a thing?” Brainy replies smoothly, eyebrow rising skeptically despite the fact that the flash in his eyes and the slight waver of his smile has already given him away.
“You are!”
“Obviously. I do not produce this odor naturally, after all.” Chin raised, he gives Lyle his most indignant sniff. “But your ego is astounding, Norg, if you’re insinuating I’d do so for your sake. Furthermore--”
Lyle is not listening. Sure, he’s watching Brainy’s lips move as he tilts in, is noting the way his eyes widen with confusion…but really? Really, he’s way too caught up in the immediate urge to bury his face behind the Coluan’s ear to pay attention to whatever inconsequential nonsense is coming out of his mouth.
Nonsense that comes to an abrupt halt as Lyle reaches his goal, the tip of his nose ghosting along the soft skin behind Querl’s ear to breathe in deep and slowly exhale, relishing the responding shudder. The cologne is stronger here, more pronounced. There are spices, just as he’d thought, but under those are green, growing things, traces of moss and oak and musk. But beneath even that, too distinct to be completely hidden, is the scent of Querl himself -- sharp, biting, tangy like the smell of an electric fire.
He’s not entirely sure when he crowded Brainy into the wall, but when he opens his eyes and finds the two of them up against one, he is genuinely surprised. Brainiac, for his part, seems frozen to the spot, arms hanging limp at his sides, his eyes locked straight over Lyle’s shoulder to the opposite side of the corridor. His expression is caught somewhere between bewilderment and petrifaction, and for a moment Lyle’s heart pounds wildly with the worry that he’s crossed a line, taken liberties that he hadn’t any right to or assumed things he oughtn’t.
“You like it then?” Brainiac whispers at last, his tone hesitant as he turns his head ever so slightly to regard Lyle through his eyelashes. The words, calmer than expected, are like a balm, easing Lyle’s anxieties and relieving the tension in his lungs. He can breathe again.
Chuckling softly, he sweeps his lips along the soft green cheek, letting their mouths meet without pressure so he can speak between them. The other boy’s eyes are startling from close up, eddying pools of deep alexandrite. “It’s not like you to ask such stupid questions.”
Querl’s lips are the fullest, most luscious Lyle has ever kissed. The bottom is plump and pouty, perfectly sized to take captive, to suck and lick and drag teeth along. Unable to resist, he gives it an enthusiastic nip, feeling Brainy inhale sharply against him in response before reaching up blindly to clutch at Lyle’s neck. Green fingers dig into his nape, igniting a fire that travels over every inch of the brunette’s body before coming to rest almost painfully between his legs. Brainiac’s hands may have begun to shake, holding onto his hair as if the strands were the only anchors in the torrential ocean of their mouths, but there is a burgeoning confidence in the way he moves, in the set of his body. A determination. Enough so that he’s apparently willing to throw caution to the wind and make out in an empty hallway when anyone could walk up and catch them. When they’re supposed to be working.
Wait. Brainiac 5 is making out with him instead of working. Maybe the world really is coming to an end.
“You’re worth it.” Lyle nods, smiling as he situates Querl’s jaw to keep their mouths just the way he wants them.
“W-what?”
He doesn’t bother replying. His mouth is busy again and his hands are wandering of their own volition, tickling down Brainy’s sides and past his waist to discover that his butt is just the right size to fill the Lyle’s palms. Exploiting the breakthrough, he gives it an explorative squeeze before tugging Brainiac forward, lining up their hips so he can apply a bit of pressure.
“Ah! Lyle!” Querl cries, his voice echoing down the hall as he breaks the kiss to wrench away his face. Undeterred, Lyle darts in and suckles at the earlobe instead, kneading the flesh with his teeth while pressing close enough that he can feel the other boy writhe deliciously against him. The sounds - gasps and cries and tiny groans - are making Lyle humid; he feels sticky under his clothes. Every rational thought as to why this isn’t a good idea has flown out the window as fleetingly as breath.
Though speaking of breath…
Brainiac 5’s is coming fast. Too fast. So fast, in fact, that Lyle sincerely thinks he might be close to hyperventilating. “You okay, B?” he whispers, getting it together enough to pull back, to reluctantly disengage and take stock of the situation. When the Coluan doesn’t unclench his eyes or even acknowledge that he’s been spoken to, Lyle tries nuzzling his cheek to get his attention. “Querl? Talk to me. What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“Nothing,” Brainy replies breathlessly, fingers digging reflexively into Lyle’s shoulders, holding on for dear life.
Raising an eyebrow, Lyle shakes his head. “Nothi--?”
“I-I can’t think at all. You’re making me so…” His voice sounds like it’s ready to shake apart now, the fear lacing his tone spotlighting the one small fact that Lyle has been unconsciously ignoring.
That being: Querl is a virgin. As in, pure as the newly fallen snow. As in, has virtually no experience with physical affection of any kind, much less the kind that goes on in an abandoned hallway.
As in, Lyle Norg could not feel like more of a colossal ass.
“Grife, I’m so sorry,” he says, stepping back, only to have Brainiac stop him with a hand to his sleeve and a level, suddenly determined gaze.
“Lyle.” Reaching up, Brainy gently cups his cheek, the pads of his fingers drifting lazily under one of his eyes. “Don’t be.” They trace further; they graze the tips of Lyle’s eyelashes in a feather light caress. “I’m not upset. I’m just…a little overwhelmed.”
“I know, that’s why I’m sor--”
“I liked it.” His pink tongue peeks out to slowly wet his lips, his words earnest and real. “A lot.”
Surely, Lyle thinks, his heart must have just stopped, regardless of the fact that his blood is pounding in his ears so hard that he can barely hear. How many times had he laid in his bed and touched himself to fantasies of Querl looking at him like that? How many times had he woken in the night to dreams of Brainy whispering every filthy thing that Lyle’s subconscious could conjure up?
Brainiac 5 likes this. A lot.
‘Overwhelmed’ doesn’t even begin to cover it.
The words that rise up in Lyle’s throat in reply are absolutely and unequivocally not right. They’re not right considering the current circumstances. They’re not right given how long they’ve been dating. They’re especially not right when Lyle isn’t sure how they’ll affect Brainy. And yet they’re right there, completely unbidden. Right there on the tip of his tongue. “Querl, I…,” he starts to say, only to be cut off mid-sentence by an unexpected green finger pressing into the center of his chest, nudging him back.
He thanks whatever deity has kept him from making a complete and total fool of himself.
Despite a nervous flush, Brainy’s face is pure mischief as he slides away, making sure to rub practically every inch of their bodies together in the process. Lyle is positive it’s intentional. He is also positive that his brain may have just short-circuited, because Brainiac is four steps down the hall and looking back over his shoulder before Lyle even realizes he’s still staring at the wall.
“Granted,” Querl purrs, stretching his arms lithely above his head to accentuate the line of his back. Again, Lyle is positive it’s intentional. “I think I’d like it even more if we weren’t in public. After a nice meal. Perhaps on a bed, hmm?”
…bed…?
A white-hot blush heats Lyle’s face all the way up to the tips of his ears as every explicit scenario under the sun goes parading through his mind. Some of them are even clothed. Most of them are not. “Your bed or mine?”
“Yours. I enjoyed the smell of your quarters.”
He half-jogs to take the hand that Querl is reaching back towards him. “Deal. I have a vintage bottle of wine with our names on it and I make a mean endive au gratin.”
“I don’t like Mornay sauce.”
“You’re not going make this easy on me, are you?”
“Well, it’s as you say.” Brainiac 5 leans in to drop a chaste kiss on Lyle’s cheek. “I’m worth it.”