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beforewecame · 4 days

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koldy fingersucking. can we call it that

Matt would swear he doesn't mean for it to go that far. Like, okay, he's over at Hartzy's place and it's true Hartzy's living room really does not have nearly enough space for six, eight, ten full-sized hockey players, even if Shawzy is a too shrimpy to count. Spurge too, but you can only make too much fun of him because Matt's twenty-two and Spurge is his captain. He's managed to get a spot on the couch, just happy to have a spot with his bros. That's totally normal.

It's still totally normal when Kirill rolls up, late but with a six-pack of beer that he says is for Hartzy and Hartzy only. He's also Kirill, so he's not about to, you know, take a spot on the floor like any normal guy. He's apparently not in the mood to sit his fat ass right in Hartzy's lap after he sets the weeping beer on the coffee table and Matt tries not to take it as, well, anything other than logistical concerns for space when he sits on the arm of the couch (something Matt probably recalls Lauren asking them not to do but he's put it far enough out of his mind that it doesn't come up) and sort of...tips towards Matt, his arm settling behind him on the couch like some kind of high school movie and his thigh pressing into Matt's upper arm. Kirill's slacks are a little chilled from being outside but he's warm, solid beneath and Matt can feel it, the very core of the sun.

"Hey," Kirill protests, turning his attention to television screen, split into Mario Kart divisions. "You guys started without me."

"You were late," Duhaime points out, his bright blue Yoshi crashing into the barriers after being hit with a shell. Brods laughs and doesn't say anything, which is probably why he's winning, all crunched up on the floor at Faber's feet. It's sort of a random bunch of guys over at Hartzy's but Matt doesn't care. He loves it, every time.

Kirill pouts, leaning over further on the couch, tipping further into Matt. Dewar wiggles his elbow into Matt's side as Matt presses into them, Kirill trying to wedge his way into their space intentionally or not, but Matt can't exactly do anything about it, can he. "Next game?" Kirill asks.

"It's a bracket," Dewar says, and then rolls his eyes. Matt thinks his Waluigi is in third. "You're late, you're out." Dude. Brutal.

Kirill makes an unhappy noise but goes quiet, seemingly content to watch or to wait to beg Hartzy to make him some kind of drink other than the thin, light beer they're all drinking, not really diet-compliant but not far enough off to count. He's really tipped over onto the couch now, practically tilted half on top of Matt, elbow hooked around his neck, nearly a headlock.

"Bolds," Kirill says, almost into Matt's ear. Matt doesn't shiver but it's a near thing. He's kind of fidgeting with the front of Matt's t-shirt, pulling the soft cotton out place and then dropping it over his sternum, over and over again. "Boldy. Matt."

Matt turns to squint at him. "What."

"You should let me have your turn in the bracket."

"If you let him do that, you're automatically forfeited," Dewar says without looking away from the screen. In one corner, Brods passes the finish line in first place and does a fistpump. If Matt's not crazy, he's pretty sure Fabes just tried to pat him on the head like a dog. He's not getting into that.

"Hey," Matt protests, not really sure towards who. Kirill's moved up to his collar now which like, if he was a girl Matt was pretty sure he'd be like, wow she's eager, but it's Kirill which means he probably really is just bored. His fingers are a little cold against Matt's neck, but Matt doesn't really want to get into a wrestling match here and potentially lose his rapidly-shrinking spot on the couch.

"But I'm better than Matt," Kirill says. Matt tries to elbow him but he's really a bit trapped.

"Hey!" Matt says again, and Kirill creatively responds by sticking his hand down the front of his shirt. Weirdo.

"What are you doing?" Shawzy asks from the other end of the couch. He and Matt are up next in this so-called tournament, which he's pretty sure Hartzy has drawn up an actual bracket for and is now hiding from them because he went out in the first round.

"What?" Matt asks.

"Huh?" Kirill says, making a noise, and then pulling his hand out -- which, thank God because it was cold -- to instead paw at the side of Matt's face. Matt pats him on the thigh as a sort of....'I hear you' kind of thing, or maybe a, 'I don't know what you're doing but if you want me to acknowledge it I am?'

"Them's the rules," Dewar says, unconcerned. Shawzy quickly turns his attention to kicking Duhaime in the back so clearly whatever is going on with Matt and Kirill is not on the top of his list. Duhaime's already fallen to like, eleventh place and is the only guy who still hasn't finished the map, so if Mason's going for sabotage it's probably too late, but Matt isn't going to complain about the lack of attention.

Kirill's kind of left his hand on Matt's face and has seemingly accepted his fate of not playing in the next round. Some sort of controller roulette managed by someone who is definitely not Matt is going around and Matt ends up with one in his hands anyway. "Pick Peach," Kirill says.

"No!"

"Baby Peach?"

"No!" Matt usually picks Toad. It's not good luck to change these things in the middle.

"Go green."

Matt rolls his eyes, but he navigates to the green Toad for Kirill, like they're some kind of team in this, which they are so, definitely not. Kirill has been disqualified, even if he is kind of stroking at Matt's neck, the scratchy stubble underneath his chin, like Matt is some kind of cat. He doesn't even know if Kirill likes cats, though he's definitely a dog fan.

"Is that cheating?" Fabes asks.

Hartzy frowns, since he's become some sort of arbitrator with Dewar as his minion, though Dew would probably deny being anyone's minion. "Collaboration not collusion," he says, which just goes to show that he's been listening to too much of the news in his shitty truck on the way to TRIA. It should not be affecting Matt's life that Hartzy's AUX cord has been broken for a month, but, well. Case in point. Anyway, this time Hartzy's on his side so it's fine. Or, Kirill's side anyway, but Kirill is seemingly on Matt's team, so it all comes out even.

"I'm Baby Bowser," Mason declares.

"Bowser Junior," Duhaime corrects. Dewar knees him in the shoulder. Deserved.

"Can we start?" asks Fabes, and then someone is pressing go and they're off.

Matt is good at Mario Kart but not great at it. He's a solid gamer but he's never been one of the best, even though he likes it. However, Kirill is definitely not helping him, like, at all. He's practically all the way on top of Matt now, for one, and he keeps trying to stick his finger into Matt's ear while giving him half-baked commentary on what Matt should be doing or maybe what Kirill would be doing if he were Matt. Matt's not sure. Kirill's so weird and none of them would give him up for anything. Matt's pretty sure most of the team would take Kirill over like, Gretzky, which is saying something. He would. Even if Gretzky might not sabotage his Mario Kart career by sticking his fingers in his ear.

"Kirill," Matt says. He can feel Dewar look over at him but he doesn't take his eyes off the screen.

"What?" Kirill says. "You should have shot your red shell there."

"Knock it off."

Kirill, to his credit, immediately takes his hand off Matt's ear. To his lack of credit, he then puts his hand over Matt's mouth, which like, hey. He was breathing?

"Hey," Matt says, which was a mistake because it gives Kirill an opening. On the screen, he skids over a banana peel. In his stupid, horrible, real life, where he is being crushed by his half-a-head shorter teammate, Kirill sticks two of his fingers in his mouth. This is maybe when it starts to get...less normal. And then Matt gets hit with the evil MarioKart shrink-ray. Rude.

"Dude," he tries to say, which definitely does not work, as he just ends up pressing his tongue up against Kirill's fingers which is like, so weird and also kind of hot, unfortunately. Kirill doesn't seem to think anything of it and tells him that if he were playing, even if he were playing the stupid green toad, he would not be in sixth place. Sixth isn't even that bad, but it's certainly not winning.

Matt grunts in response. Kirill presses down on his tongue, seemingly pleased. Matt...doesn't hate it. He doesn't like it either, especially not the way it's like Kirill has a line straight to his dick. He can't imagine why Kirill thought this was a good idea right now, but he's not really sure how to get out of it without completely throwing the game and like, he doesn't want to lose, okay. Kirill knows that. Kirill is so not helping.

"It's because you picked Toad," Kirill says. Matt has totally beaten him with Toad before, thank you very much, but he can't say that because of Kirill's aforementioned fingers in his mouth. Kirill's other hand has come up and is playing with his collar again. That man needs a fidget toy or something that is not Matt Boldy's face.

Matt closes his mouth to try and swallow before he starts drooling all over his chin and Kirill's fingers, which would somehow be more embarrassing than the fact that he's sitting here, losing Mario Kart, with his teammate's fingers in his mouth.

"Is that helping?" Dewar asks, helpfully. Matt's dick is hard like, right next to him. He did not ask for this. It is definitely not helping.

Matt rolls his eyes and then falls off the track. So much for sixth place.

"No," Kirill says, smiling his stupid, wide grin.

Matt makes a disgruntled noise as he finishes in a brilliant tenth place, which is at least better than Duhaime in the last round, he supposes.

"Bolds is out," Brods announces quietly. Also, not helpful Jonas. Faber should kick him out of some sort of solidarity but he's too busy, Matt doesn't know, petting Brods' hair or something. That is so not his deal.

Matt hands off his stupid controller to Dewar who takes it with the attitude of a guy who thinks he's going to win the whole thing but hasn't gone up against Jonas Brodin in full gamer mode, even though Matt knows he definitely has. That's hubris, right there. Kirill's still got his fingers in his mouth and he's fully encompassed Matt now, arm around him, forehead pressed to the side of Matt's face like he's something to watch.

"You should jerk me off in Hartzy's bathroom," Kirill says into Matt's ear, about as quiet as he gets. Matt has been trying not to think about that. Matt has been trying not to think about the fact that he's sucking on his liney's fingers around half the rest of his team and that he hasn't tried all that hard to fight it. He's just wearing sweats. They don't need to see all that, though if anyone really looks over to Kirill in his lap, they probably already are.

"Maybe," Matt tries to say around his fingers. He can feel a glob of spit slip out of his mouth over Kirill's fingers and onto his chin, the warm pressure of them unbearable.

Kirill grins and he can feel it. "Yes?" he says. "Hartzy won't mind."

Hartzy frowns over at them like he has super hearing. "Whatever you're planning, I can promise Hartzy will mind," he says.

Kirill turns his one-thousand-watt smile to Hartzy, his round, beautiful face. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Matt swallows again, can feel the red high on his cheeks as Ryan watches them. He tries not to shift. Too many of his cards are already showing and every single one of them knows it.

"Really sure?" Kirill asks.

"Yes."

Kirill turns back to Matt. "Well, there's always your car," he says, like Kirill didn't also drive here himself.

Matt sighs, his chin sticky with spit. Dewar and Fabes both are giving him the eyebrows. Hartzy is still frowning. This is humiliating. He loves it. He let it happen. "Fine," he says, into Kirill's hand, and Kirill grins.

This is maybe not totally normal. Matt loves him with the complete, stupid, intensity of team, just the same.

#this is so delightful. every part of it #baby peach supremacy

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