ukan | IC CONTACT

"Oh, you don't have showmanship?" Lark scoffs, leaning down to kiss him. "Who was it that entered a drag show? Who was it who took over on 'pole night' at the Caberet?"

Alec accepts the kiss, but gives him the same poker faced look on the other side of it.

"Poppy Cox."

The name never, ever fails to make Lark laugh. Although this time he smothers it against Alec's neck. "Poppy Cox, who loves to blue balls me backstage. She's a bitch."

This is where Alec gives in to his grin, too, and laughs at the summary. He's not wrong.

"You loved it," he accuses in return. "And I'm still not convinced you didn't arrange for the entire thing to happen. It is not a coincidence that we just happened to be in town for the national pole dancing competition."

"I have never given you any reason to believe that," he murmurs, kissing Alec in the slow, self-denying way he had in Vegas. "It was pure coincidence. Why would I look at pole dancing competitions when you had never been on one before then?"

"Because," he returns, punctuating it with another kiss, as slow. "I've -" Another kiss, bringing himself up onto his elbows. "Met -" And another, pushing up higher on the bed again. "You. And I know that either you plan these sorts of things, or you take an opportunity when you see it."

"But have you met you?" Lark smirks, wanting to chase Alec with another kiss and restraining himself the moment before he touches him. "I can't plan anything around you."

Alec has learned the look of Lark testing himself by now. He stays right where he is, stays close, right where he might close the distance himself at any moment but he doesn't, smiling.

"But you love the challenge of trying."

"Because sometimes I'm right," he returns, enjoying this immensely. "Just like I know if I kiss you again, you'll blue balls me as much as you did in Vegas, and I'll take it out on the Barge. Think of the innocent passengers."

"But what happens if you kiss me twice?" he posits, tracing one finger almost playfully along the point of Lark's shoulder.

"And do you really want me thinking of anyone outside this room when it happens?"

"Like you'd think of anyone but me," he scoffs, and kisses him just to prove he can without losing his head.

"Mm," Alec agrees but then he's being kissed, and he knows exactly what kind of challenge that is.

He's shifted himself back up beside Lark by this point, and here is where he presses himself inch by inch, bit by bit up against Lark's side, sliding one arm around him to hold him close. Here is where he rubs one foot along his leg until he can slide it between them, and cinch them closer still, all in the same slow breath.

"I'm going to regret starting this, aren't I?" he murmurs against Alec's mouth, already running his fingers down Alec's back with a gentle hint his nails might do more.

It's the kind of threat that makes Alec smile, although he's usually amused by threats of all stripes. Just now he shrugs, and presses his knee slowly higher along the inside of Lark's thigh.

"I keep waiting for you to admit it," he teases. "But you insist that you never have."

"I have to keep practicing," he insists, kissing Alec's jaw, urging him to lift his head a bit so Lark can kiss his throat. "Remember that time at the opera? When we tried this at intermission and I gave in, caved like a boy at prom... we missed the whole second act... those expensive tickets, such a shame..."

"Didn't I win those tickets," he returns, relenting and opening up access to his neck only after making Lark linger a moment or three in front of his decision to do so. "Playing poker?" he continues with a low but encouraging sound in his throat.

"You know I still don't know why prom matters," he reminds him, sliding one hand in between them, down at the same pace as he snugs that knee finally right between Lark's legs where he wants it.

He hisses through his teeth and for a few seconds his grip on Alec's hip is bruising as he fights for and regains control of himself.

"I'd take you to prom but," kissing his collarbone now. "I'd stand out and probably get arrested. Maybe the Admiral will throw one."

Lark hisses. Alec grins. There has never been any shortage of evidence for how much each of them wants the other, how strongly and enthusiastically Lark responds to his touch, but it feels good all the same to know that he has that kind of effect. That someone wants him this much.

It makes him take his time rubbing ever so slightly back and forth right where he was when Lark's grip first went tight, eyes half closed as he focuses on Lark's breath against his skin.

"Or maybe he'll throw another Halloween party," he suggests, knowing exactly what he's doing.

The thought of it shakes his control again, because the memory of that night--the whole of it, not just the heels and the fishnets--has a safe space in his mind.

"October's so far away though," he mumbles, kissing his way back up Alec's neck. If he tries to kiss any lower he'll really end up struggling for control; best to regroup.

God help him, if Pagan calls him right now he'll scream (he'll love the challenge).

When Lark gets close enough Alec tips his head just enough to steal a quick kiss head on, mouths his way down his jaw to the space just below his ear himself.

"There's always my birthday, but costumes are more fun."

He presses just a little more firmly with his leg, fingers toying with the top edge of Lark's pants but not trying to remove them, not moving any lower towards the point of friction Alec is teasing at right now.

His head is tipped back to the headboard now, not unlike the way he often relaxes when Alec's mouth is much lower than this, and his pants are much less present. "And what kind of costume would that be?"

Control. Control. He won't let himself grind any closer, won't let himself shudder with want. Control the moment, ride the tension.

"What kind of costume would you want?" he practically purrs without lifting his head back, careful not to allow even the slightest scrape of his teeth even when they touch Lark's skin. His fingers trail idly along the thin skin just below Lark's navel, suggestive, but only that.

He's not playing as dirty as he can. Yet. Not even when he rolls his own hips where Lark won't.

"Not a bunny," he says a little quick, like he's thought about this before between meetings at work. His careful, controlled kisses turn greedier when Alec moves his hips and he pulls back a little, chuckling. Control.

"Are you going to let me get you off, or are you going to just run off when I'm miserable?"

Alec raises his eyebrows at both the quick answer and the question. Mischief flickers through his answering smile, when he has to do something or show his own interest in that mental image with how close they're pressed together.

So he switches tactics abruptly, pulling his leg back and throwing it over his lover entirely, rolling Lark onto his back and himself on top, squarely straddling him. From here he tangles up their hands, pushing Lark's to the bed on either side of his head, and smirks.

"What's my opening bid?"

There's something about their hands being entwined that always gets a reaction, even if he hides it. It's not even sexual; it's more intimate. So he feels Alec's hands, feels their rings clink together, and has to breathe carefully.

Even if he hides it with a smirk. "I offer to make you come, and you want me to bribe you for the honor? What kind of fucked up logic is that?"

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