It's a night where Mick Rory's extremism is debatably soothed or fueled by pizza. 'When are we going to fuck?' had been a recent transmission between them, and while Hartley might have taken it in stride and given him a less than obviously engaging response...
Here he is.
Mick wants pepperoni and banana peppers on his side of the pizza. When it comes, he devours it in short order, in the sort of way that seems almost effortless. After almost an hour, five of the six pieces are gone and he's reaching for the last. What are they watching on the television?
It barely matters. He swallows the new piece in three bites flat.
"How's Echo?" Mick wonders, between his first and second bite of his final piece. Where's that horrible white rat that Hartley gave a damn about?
Mostly Hartley was still stunned by Mick's question from before, his mind reeling. Made it more difficult to actually focus on eating his pizza. He tried not to look at Mick, so the television was good for that, serving as a reason for why he stared at that instead of the man next to him. What was going on?
No wonder that him actually remembering his rat's name caught him off-guard. He did turn his head at that, eyebrows arched. "I didn't think you'd commit that name to memory. She's doing great, actually. Helps me work."
If helping meant climbing on him while he was fiddling with his gloves or other projects, but he considered it quite helpful.
Mick was over forty years old now. There were questions and quandaries aplenty when it came to sex and sexuality, but Mick was mostly beyond all of them, now. Frankly, he was too damn old to care about what anyone else thought with regards to what he wanted, or when. He'd felt a sort of draw to Hartley during their interactions, and god knew Snart had been playing more of an aloof game as of late. Why not just put it out there that he was available to the younger man? An offer he could truly take or leave?
Mick lounged and inhaled pizza accordingly, not totally sure if Hartley's invitation was now for some simple companionship or an acceptance of his offer. It didn't much matter. If Hartley didn't give him some signal one way, it meant that his answer was the negative. It was simple; easy. Either way, it gave him pizza and reality TV.
"I liked the name," Mick explains simply, pocketing the remnants of some piece of pizza in his cheek. "Thought I was too dumb to remember that kind of thing, huh?"
"What? No. I just thought you wouldn't care." Hartley frowned, looking at Mick and ending up caught somewhere between fascination with his ability to pack food away and a bit too much appreciation for his upper arms. There really was a difference between someone training for looks and someone training for power. "I don't think you're dumb. I never bother with dumb people, they just annoy me."
He shifted a little, turning until he could fully face Mick. Dumb, really not. Puzzling sometimes, especially tonight. "I thought you were with Len."
Mostly he didn't like the sound of 'Snart', but also given he's met Lisa and even kind of gotten along with her so far, it seemed weird to call her brother by their surname. Also, while asking Mick about him... He didn't even know how to do that. Seemed like a volatile topic and the answer was just confusing, because it didn't seem right.
Snart was such an inevitability, such a fixed point in Mick's life, that Rathaway was better off getting used to the name sooner rather than later. It helps and hinders, the fact that he's never said Snart. It means that Hartley has been thinking about it a lot more than him.
Right?
"A place where you wanna end up," Mick clarifies in that moment, easy enough. Maybe his fingers play upon the hitch of a leg as his fingers wander up a thigh. Maybe instead of the next bite of pizza, Mick pulls the younger man closer to him on the sofa, gently, but firmly, biting his inner knee over his trousers.
"I don't really know. Not much I can do, I'm discredited in my field. Might as well explore less lawful options. I don't know." And he knew even less now, because suddenly Mick is all over him and it wasn't really the kind of action he could just ignore. Hartley had never been passive, not in any sense of the word, but this caught him off-guards and for a moment he could just stare.
Then he got over it enough to move his own hands under Mick's shirt, not really bothering to hide that he wanted to feel him. Wanted to know what it was like to touch him. "You're hot." No pun intended, but the whisper is accompanied by a smile anyway.
It's not hard to recognize a babble, as uneducated as Mick might be. Maybe it's more the cadence than the content.
He's not all over Hartley, not yet, but he's obvious, to be sure. Mick doesn't mind being damn obvious for him after a few drinks and some pizza.
A hand makes its way under Mick's shirt and his green-blue eyes flicker with interest, torso flexing and stretching subtly under Hartley's hand. There's a lot of skin there for the younger man to grab; a lot of muscle to put his nails into. And of course, just as Hartley mentioned, he was hot as a furnace.
"Think you can handle that?" Mick draws a leg along his side and leans towards the younger man, slow and predatory, letting Rathaway get a little more feel for his torso while his own hand reaches between them, undoing Hartley's slacks while his other hand slides down an outer thigh.
There was the question of how likely it was that Captain Cold would freeze him for this, but as reasonable as that might be, it was very much pushed to the back of his mind now. Hartley didn't feel like playing coy, he was never that good at it anyway, so once he'd decided what he wanted to be doing, he didn't hold back. Instead he tightened his grip on Mick's hip and leaned forward, dipping his head so he could kiss his neck. "You'd be surprised by what all I can handle."
Cockiness, much more his style. "Bring on the heat."
That said he lifted his head so he could kiss him. Sometimes there were rules about fucking, sucking and whatever else, but no kissing, but that wasn't how Hartley played. He liked kissing. He was good at it. And if someone wasn't ready to kiss him, they just weren't ready for him.
Lips landed on his neck and Mick rumbles a little, soft, before the request comes to bring on the heat. It's not hard for him then. He spreads Hartley's legs like he belongs there, and fits there, so hot and burning over his torso. He has a hand around Hartley's throat, trying to press him back.
Mick kisses him. He likes that part too and it's heated. The younger man is good at it; he moans quietly into his mouth even as he tries to force him down, force him back into himself, but he's not so stubborn he doesn't give way to Hartley a little. His hands go everywhere, riding up against skinny thighs and hips and a ribcage. Damn, he's a little livewire, isn't he? Mick sinks his teeth sweetly into that lower lip even as he scrapes blunt fingers agains Hartley's thighs, trying to drag the fabric with his touch down to the younger man's knees.
Maybe this was exactly what he needed right now. His throat moved against Mick's hand as he swallowed, perhaps a little too into being held down like this, perhaps a little too into all of this. His legs had parted very readily, but they also wrapped around Mick's waist, making sure to keep him close and when he bucks his hips, they're at just the right angle for some friction.
Only when he felt Mick pull at his jeans did he relax his legs, moving them to help with that. No need for any clothes here. He pulled back from the kiss, tugging on Mick's shirt. "Off." Simple instruction, very clear. If that wasn't enough incentive, his hands pulling it up and his head dipping down so he could kiss his chest might help along.
Mick understood quick enough that what Hartley seemed to need was someone who would do everything for him. Fortunately for Hartley, Mick loved being the horrible force that slammed down the too-good mind, like the hammer loved the nail.
Hartley's legs wrap around his waist. Mick rides against his friction harshly for a few pumps before Hartley says "Off".
It's then Mick pushes his pants off, and Hartley's too. He rides his thick cock up against the younger man's, fitting one hand between them to join them in a way that belies some experience.
"Fuck. You want me?" He pants, nuzzling up against a jaw, biting an ear. "Inside of you?"
"I want you everywhere." Looking down at him, them, hell, he wanted to lick him, suck him, fuck him, sure. All of it. Hartley didn't really go just halfway with wanting someone. Especially not someone like Mick, because larger than life was putting it mildly.
He reached down to run his fingers first along Mick's shaft and then around them, feeling him, thick and heavy, pulsating against his skin. An experience that definitely made it difficult to focus on anything else. Priorities, damn it.
I want you everywhere, is such a damn dangerous statement to someone who just wants to take every little thing literally.
Mick breathes softly, just for a moment, before his hand catches behind Hartley's rich crown and he forces him back down; either he'll be nuzzling against Mick's thick cock, or sucking it, or both in turns.
He throws his head back and watches, thick, rough fingers peeling through Hartley's dark hair. He makes pulls at his own pockets.
"Condoms, only a little lube. That ok with you?"
He does pulse, thick against Hartley's wandering hands. He wants him.
Women and Leonard never really needed as much; they liked the pain.
At first Hartley just breathed against his cock, enjoying the feeling of someone this strong holding him there. It's what he wanted, so there was no actual force behind it, but he could certainly enjoy the intent and strength. Not surprising then that he opened his mouth and took him in, not bothering to go very deep and instead sucking on the head, but that with all the more enthusiasm.
He leaned his head back when Mick asked his question, smiling around his cock before moving up enough to reply. "That's okay." That said he stuck his tongue out and bent his neck again, licking along Mick's length. He hadn't been lying, he did want.
Hartley takes him in; Mick can't help a little moan of encouragement, hitching his hips just so to fill Hartley's mouth and throat all the more with his thick cock. He'd gotten some hints before the younger man made these sort of moves, but it was still truly the crucible in the end, make or break. You would like cock or you didn't then; nothing mild about it, even if it was relatively assured.
In comparison to theory, Hartley is already an expert. Damn. The fact the younger man could simply fit him in and shape his cock was a little astonishing. There was suction against Mick's head--
His strong body tenses and shudders a little, accordingly, biting back the sound of a whimper.
In the end, there was a long moan, fingers digging into Hartley's shoulders, sides. "You'll have a break... Soon enough."
"If you need a break, big guy." He really was much more at home with the cockiness. Hartley was smirking, lapping at his cock and, now that it was a bit less hard, he relaxed his jaw and throat and took him back in again, swallowing around him and then pressing his tongue up, a low moan sending vibrations. Oh, he liked cock just fine, no need to embellish there.
He chuckled as he pulled back, resting his head on Mick's hip bone and blowing some air on the beautiful cock glistening with various fluids. It was fun to watch it twitch. "Are you going to fuck me or do I have to do everything myself?"
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no subject
Here he is.
Mick wants pepperoni and banana peppers on his side of the pizza. When it comes, he devours it in short order, in the sort of way that seems almost effortless. After almost an hour, five of the six pieces are gone and he's reaching for the last. What are they watching on the television?
It barely matters. He swallows the new piece in three bites flat.
"How's Echo?" Mick wonders, between his first and second bite of his final piece. Where's that horrible white rat that Hartley gave a damn about?
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No wonder that him actually remembering his rat's name caught him off-guard. He did turn his head at that, eyebrows arched. "I didn't think you'd commit that name to memory. She's doing great, actually. Helps me work."
If helping meant climbing on him while he was fiddling with his gloves or other projects, but he considered it quite helpful.
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Mick lounged and inhaled pizza accordingly, not totally sure if Hartley's invitation was now for some simple companionship or an acceptance of his offer. It didn't much matter. If Hartley didn't give him some signal one way, it meant that his answer was the negative. It was simple; easy. Either way, it gave him pizza and reality TV.
"I liked the name," Mick explains simply, pocketing the remnants of some piece of pizza in his cheek. "Thought I was too dumb to remember that kind of thing, huh?"
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He shifted a little, turning until he could fully face Mick. Dumb, really not. Puzzling sometimes, especially tonight. "I thought you were with Len."
Apropos of nothing.
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"I'm not with anyone," Mick returns, in a way that is simple. It's not the whole truth, but it's not a lie either. It's simplified.
"But I'm curious about you. Do you even have an end goal?"
The younger man faces him; in turn, Mick frames his hips with his hands.
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"An end goal? To what?"
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Right?
"A place where you wanna end up," Mick clarifies in that moment, easy enough. Maybe his fingers play upon the hitch of a leg as his fingers wander up a thigh. Maybe instead of the next bite of pizza, Mick pulls the younger man closer to him on the sofa, gently, but firmly, biting his inner knee over his trousers.
no subject
Then he got over it enough to move his own hands under Mick's shirt, not really bothering to hide that he wanted to feel him. Wanted to know what it was like to touch him. "You're hot." No pun intended, but the whisper is accompanied by a smile anyway.
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He's not all over Hartley, not yet, but he's obvious, to be sure. Mick doesn't mind being damn obvious for him after a few drinks and some pizza.
A hand makes its way under Mick's shirt and his green-blue eyes flicker with interest, torso flexing and stretching subtly under Hartley's hand. There's a lot of skin there for the younger man to grab; a lot of muscle to put his nails into. And of course, just as Hartley mentioned, he was hot as a furnace.
"Think you can handle that?" Mick draws a leg along his side and leans towards the younger man, slow and predatory, letting Rathaway get a little more feel for his torso while his own hand reaches between them, undoing Hartley's slacks while his other hand slides down an outer thigh.
no subject
Cockiness, much more his style. "Bring on the heat."
That said he lifted his head so he could kiss him. Sometimes there were rules about fucking, sucking and whatever else, but no kissing, but that wasn't how Hartley played. He liked kissing. He was good at it. And if someone wasn't ready to kiss him, they just weren't ready for him.
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Mick kisses him. He likes that part too and it's heated. The younger man is good at it; he moans quietly into his mouth even as he tries to force him down, force him back into himself, but he's not so stubborn he doesn't give way to Hartley a little. His hands go everywhere, riding up against skinny thighs and hips and a ribcage. Damn, he's a little livewire, isn't he? Mick sinks his teeth sweetly into that lower lip even as he scrapes blunt fingers agains Hartley's thighs, trying to drag the fabric with his touch down to the younger man's knees.
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Only when he felt Mick pull at his jeans did he relax his legs, moving them to help with that. No need for any clothes here. He pulled back from the kiss, tugging on Mick's shirt. "Off." Simple instruction, very clear. If that wasn't enough incentive, his hands pulling it up and his head dipping down so he could kiss his chest might help along.
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Hartley's legs wrap around his waist. Mick rides against his friction harshly for a few pumps before Hartley says "Off".
It's then Mick pushes his pants off, and Hartley's too. He rides his thick cock up against the younger man's, fitting one hand between them to join them in a way that belies some experience.
"Fuck. You want me?" He pants, nuzzling up against a jaw, biting an ear. "Inside of you?"
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He reached down to run his fingers first along Mick's shaft and then around them, feeling him, thick and heavy, pulsating against his skin. An experience that definitely made it difficult to focus on anything else. Priorities, damn it.
"Let me get condoms and lube."
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Mick breathes softly, just for a moment, before his hand catches behind Hartley's rich crown and he forces him back down; either he'll be nuzzling against Mick's thick cock, or sucking it, or both in turns.
He throws his head back and watches, thick, rough fingers peeling through Hartley's dark hair. He makes pulls at his own pockets.
"Condoms, only a little lube. That ok with you?"
He does pulse, thick against Hartley's wandering hands. He wants him.
Women and Leonard never really needed as much; they liked the pain.
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He leaned his head back when Mick asked his question, smiling around his cock before moving up enough to reply. "That's okay." That said he stuck his tongue out and bent his neck again, licking along Mick's length. He hadn't been lying, he did want.
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In comparison to theory, Hartley is already an expert. Damn. The fact the younger man could simply fit him in and shape his cock was a little astonishing. There was suction against Mick's head--
His strong body tenses and shudders a little, accordingly, biting back the sound of a whimper.
In the end, there was a long moan, fingers digging into Hartley's shoulders, sides. "You'll have a break... Soon enough."
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He chuckled as he pulled back, resting his head on Mick's hip bone and blowing some air on the beautiful cock glistening with various fluids. It was fun to watch it twitch. "Are you going to fuck me or do I have to do everything myself?"