calling all the wildflowers i know

// i am heaven sent, don't you dare forget —

“Keep talkin’ like that and I’ll go wherever you want me to go.” Thorn purrs against Mateo’s lips, taking note of the feral gleam in the other man’s smile as he shifts and readjusts, setting harder on his hips. It’s a comfort that doesn’t last long, unfortunately, because not soon after does Mateo lead him back, maneuvering with the other man until they’re standing side by side and their hands are intertwined.

It’s his turn to let his grin shift a bit more feral, squeezing the botanists hand as if confirming that the smirk had been seen, and with it, Thorn’s attention to following dutifully like a lost dog. He cares little if it’s public, it is a brothel after all, and it isn’t like he hasn’t just been straddled across the other man, chasing the taste of cherries and the pressure of his grinding hips.

The side door is quite familiar and Thorn snorts — because of course the other man would also know his way around a brothel. “Mm, gettin’ cozier.” Thorn murmurs in a lower voice, one aimed just for Mateo as he’s guided, waiting for it to stop, and admittedly hoping it ends with him pinned hard against the wall.

thorn

— i am all you've ever wanted,
what all the other boys all promised //

champagne, cocaine, gasoline; and most things in between

"I would, but I assure you I can do much more interesting things with my mouth," Mateo replies automatically, and if Thorn wants him to form the words of the travelling tongue around the head of his cock, the botanist will happily comply. For now, though, they need to get moving, and it's down a short corridor and into a small lounge area that Mateo leads them.

He doesn't pin the other man against the wall, per say, but there is a conveniently placed table that he backs him up against, intending for him to sit so Mateo might stand between his legs. "Cozy enough?" he wonders, because if the courtesan wants, he's sure there's a supply cupboard or two that would make an even more intimate spot for this.

Not that Mateo gives him much of a chance to respond, because he's already leaning in for another hungry kiss, hands pressing against the top of the other man's thighs.

// i am heaven sent, don't you dare forget —

“Oh I bet ya can.” Thorn fires back, despite easily following Mateo’s guidance through Molly’s. And while it isn’t a wall they end up against, the lounge is warm and comfortable as he’s backed up against the table, taking the moment to hop onto it, spreading his legs to accommodate Mateo’s position. Smirking up at the dark haired beauty, Thorn lifts one leg a bit higher, curving around the botanists hip, lips parting to speak when he dives in for another claiming kiss.

Hands find his thighs and Thorn’s own wind around the other man’s neck, pulling him with him to blanket him as he leans back as much as he can without losing contact. Blunt teeth nip at his full lip, a small impatient whine escapes from his throat, as much of an answer as he’ll give him as his tongue starts to try to tangle with the botanist’s, as if trying to chase that long gone taste of cherry.

thorn

— i am all you've ever wanted,
what all the other boys all promised //

champagne, cocaine, gasoline; and most things in between

It's a response - or a lack of one - enough for Mateo to get the picture very clearly indeed, and it's with an indulgent smile into their kiss that he's happily ferried forward as Hawthorn leans back. "Gods," he hisses as they part however briefly, the botanist leaning in to blaze a trail of kisses down the side of his neck, fingers clutching possessively against his thighs as their hips press and grind together.

With his patience finally running out, Mateo steps back a fraction that he might be able to unfasten buttons and tug at fabric, freeing both of them from the confines of their clothes enough to grasp both of their cocks in one of his hands. Stroking a rhythm that wishes it could be so much more, his free hand curls around to press at Thorn's lower back, and he offers him a devilish sort of smile. "How do you want to do this?" he whispers.

Both men are clearly flexible in more than one way, and Mateo has no preference other than pleasure.

// i am heaven sent, don't you dare forget —

The second they part, Thorn is gasping a breath, mouth parting as he tries to catch more air as the botanist blazes a path down his neck. And he melts in the other man’s touch, shivering with delight, hands running all through dark hair and along broad shoulders and the brief jut of a spine beneath the muscle. In fact, he nearly whines when Mateo steps back a pace to get more space between them to work at their clothes, and Thorn is equally on top of it to focus enough to get the telekinesis to help drag the clothes further away.

The magic falls away the second Mateo’s stroking a languid rhythm of their hard cocks, and Thorn leans back to arch his spine over the hand at his lower back as if to show off the flexibility even more despite knowing that it wasn’t that they didn’t believe one another’s capabilities. He flicks his hand and a very light breeze brushes against the other man’s chest, shooting upward against the botanist’s neck, his voice hoarser with lust when he speaks. “M’yours tonight, Cherry, whatever y’wanna do I’m game.” A playful little pet name of the fruit that he’d been eating out of Aurora’s hand. “Just know it’s an exclusive, ‘cause I’m from the House of Midnight.” He purrs, rocking his hips up against Mateo’s hand for emphasis that seems to scream make your dreams come true, and if they don't then I guess you’ll have to come and find me later.

thorn

— i am all you've ever wanted,
what all the other boys all promised //

champagne, cocaine, gasoline; and most things in between

With a crooked smile as he realises there's magic at work as well, he glances briefly up at Thorn with an expression that's nothing but open admiration, before it promptly fades back into pleasure as his hand moves of its own accord, seemingly, to try and work at a faster pace. He's more than approving of the nickname, leaning in to gently nip at the other man's lower lip, before summoning some kind of self-control so this doesn't end before it's begun.

"I want you to fuck me," he decides, his voice a breathy whisper against the courtesan's jaw. "Right up against this table. Gods, I want them to be able to hear us in the House of Midnight." Laughing breathlessly and forcing himself back away from Hawthorn if only so they might change their positions, Mateo gives himself a second so he might calm himself down from the urge to simply masturbate the time away.

Shimmying out of his pants (if they can be called as such, there's more hole than fabric) and kicking them to the side, he eagerly braces against the table and glances expectantly over his shoulder for the other man.

// i am heaven sent, don't you dare forget —

His lip is caught between Mateo’s teeth once he lists out the options, small puffs of sound and whines slipping from his nose and mouth as Mateo’s pace increases where he strokes their cocks together. A shiver races down Thorn’s spine and he practically purrs as he presses back up, offering his heady warning of being from the House of Midnight.

But the Botanist withdraws and Thorn pants for breath, swollen pupils nearly devouring the seafoam of his eyes as he slips off the table when Mateo moves to brace against it. Shedding himself of the rest of his clothes, it’s with Mateo’s words reverberating in his mind that his hands smooth down the botanists back, trailing along muscle and the swell and curve of his ass in an appreciative touch. “I can make that happen.” He purrs with all the confidence he has, realizing there’s no lube around, but it doesn’t prevent him from utilizing his magic as Hotaru had taught him to.

He makes quick work with loosening up Mateo for him, situating himself behind the other man with a press of his lips in between his shoulder blades as he lines his cock up, hands finding his hips to steady him as he starts to sink in with a shiver and moan pressed into the botanists back. The second he’s satisfied with how braced the other man is, is when one hand slips up and around to his chest, toying at a nipple before dropping down over his stomach to Mateo’s length, loosely wrapping a hand around it so that when he picks his pace, the botanist’s cock fucks into his hand.

thorn

— i am all you've ever wanted,
what all the other boys all promised //

champagne, cocaine, gasoline; and most things in between

"I do love confidence in a man," Mateo purrs, his smile audible in his voice as he glances over his shoulder at Thorn, blue eyes dark with expectation and arousal. And the other man doesn't disappoint - not that Mateo had ever expected him to - and as his body is revealed in full and he presses in and all around him, the botanist nearly melts into the touch. Moaning a breathless note of surprise at the clever use of magic, by the time he feels the head of Thorn's cock sinking into him, Mateo is more than ready.

"You feel fucking amazing," he moans, braced against the table and manoeuvred easily as Thorn's hands ghost across his chest and down between his thighs. "Fuck--" As the thrust of the other man's hips drive his own cock forward, Mateo has to fight against the sudden laughter rising like a scream in the back of his throat. "Gods, yes - just like that," he encourages, a flush of pink rising in his cheeks and down his throat, especially as he glances to the side to see someone hurrying past on the way to their next appointment.

// i am heaven sent, don't you dare forget —

The commentary of confidence is met with one of the most confident smirks that has ever graced the courtesan’s lips. He is experienced enough to know that his cockiness often had great results in the bedroom (or hallway, or closet, wherever anyone wanted him). And while it’s rare of Thorn to do the taking, he’s still quite good at it. He lines them up and sinks in, hands moving all across Mateo’s hot skin, and it’s with a warm pant of breath against the shell of the Botanist’s ear, that a hoarse sound akin to a laugh leaves him. “S’like y’were made for me.” With just how perfect he fits into Mateo’s ass, each and every sensation drawn to the surface having Thorn’s body shivering with pure delight.

The stillness doesn’t last long, not as he gets his positioning under way, hand wrapped around Mateo’s cock with just enough pressure that with each thrust sensation is drawn through the other man. His free hand rises to Mateo’s throat, fingertips pressing in gently against his heartbeat as his pace quickens and he too spots the person hurrying past to their next appointment, and it has Thorn moving in earnest now. Something about being watched or people knowing what’s happening only has the courtesan preening, and likely also beneficial for his work.

Each thrust, with their positioning, is enough to cause the table to bounce with low sounding thumps, and Thorn nips at Mateo’s earlobe with another breathy and throaty purr leaving him. “Look at you bein’ so good for me.” The hand at Mateo’s cock squeezes lightly with another thrust, as if emulating it isn’t just the two of them there.

thorn

— i am all you've ever wanted,
what all the other boys all promised //

champagne, cocaine, gasoline; and most things in between

"Maybe I was," Mateo purrs in return, head turning as if he might steal a quick and breathless kiss from Thorn's lips. At times like this, entangled as they are, it's easy to spill sweet nothings, compliments and affections and all the encouragements necessary to reach their end goal. Not that the botanist's mind stays there for long as Thorn's hips surge forward, and he breaks their kiss to gasp a note of bliss that he's sure the person hurrying past has stopped to listen to.

Back arching deliciously into the other man's thrusts, Mateo's head tips back to encourage the fingers around his throat, however gentle (or not) they might be, and his moans pitch higher as the thump of the table echoes around the room, as if they're both putting on a performance. (And maybe they are - he's no longer in a position to see if someone has stopped to watch, or to touch themselves, or to call their friends for the show).

"Mi scopi così bene," he purrs, his voice hoarse and his cock throbbing hard against the squeeze of Thorn's fingers. "Gods, I'm not going to last--"