dial tone

[formoftherapy]

It's a Saturday, nothing special about it.

Kite, having done all of the homework she plans on doing and unable to settle on what to do next, grabs for her phone.

She calls Tony's house. (Nothing special about that, either.)

Comments

[if_inconvenient]

"It worked," he notes, gesturing at the screen.

"Fuck," Tony mutters breathlessly. Then, quieter: "Run that by me again."

Sherlock does.

[formoftherapy]

Kite leans back, bracing her hands on the mattress.

"Extremely well," she murmurs.

[if_inconvenient]

"I... you... Sherlock..."

"A verb or two would serve you well here."

Clearly: "Fuck that."

This time it is Tony who kisses Sherlock, with breathless enthusiasm.

"And," says Sherlock, "that is where I began to learn how Tony Stark kisses."

[formoftherapy]

"Such a hardship for you," Kite says.

"All those long hours of study."

[if_inconvenient]

He chuckles.

"I managed to survive."

They are at the buttons of each other's jeans now, stumbling toward the bedroom door, then through it. Tony has more practice but it was all with girls; Sherlock is new and fresh and a quick study. They are very different in their approach but ultimately equal.

[formoftherapy]

"By the skin of your teeth, I'm sure," she drawls.

[if_inconvenient]

"Oh, quite."

Onscreen, the boys manage to get each other's pants open at more or less the same moment that they tumble into this very bed, all frantic kisses and hands sliding over each other's skin. They certainly didn't waste any time, it seems.

[formoftherapy]

"You watch these often?" she wonders.

"Your own personal study hall?"

She reaches out, drags two fingers down the back of his neck.

[if_inconvenient]

"Mm. Indeed."

He slides a little closer to her on the bed.

[formoftherapy]

"Yeah, I just bet," she murmurs, half laughing.

She repeats the gesture, lets it trail a little further down his spine.

[if_inconvenient]

Is either of them still paying attention to the mutual handjob going on in crisp high-definition video at the foot of the bed?

Sherlock isn't. (He's seen it already. He could tell you down to the second exactly when Tony is going to let out that delicious gasp.)

[formoftherapy]

Kite is. (Or she's doing a very good job of pretending so.)

Her hand drifts up and down Sherlock's spine, slow and light as if she's forgotten she's doing it. (You might believe it, too, if she didn't dig her nails in now and again.)

[if_inconvenient]

"Subtle," he murmurs approvingly.

[formoftherapy]

She glances over at him.

"I think subtle went out the window the minute you decided to show me your homemade porn collection."

Her nails twist in the small of his back.

[if_inconvenient]

"Nonsense. That is not subtle." He nods to the screen, where Tony's mouth is sliding down his chest. "You are admirably so."

[formoftherapy]

"Ah."

Kite spends a moment staring at the screen.

"In that case, thank you."

She strokes her hands across the width of his back, just over his hips.

[if_inconvenient]

His eyelashes flutter.

[formoftherapy]

Kite's eyes are on the television.

(Her full attention is not.)

"You ever watch these with him?"

Her fingernails catch slightly on his far hip before she drags her hand back.

[if_inconvenient]

"All the—"

(His breath catches in his throat.)

"—time."

[formoftherapy]

"You ever make it past the first five minutes?"



(Scrape.)

[if_inconvenient]

"Once in a while," he manages.

[formoftherapy]

She grins. "Good for you."


(Scraaaaaape.)

[if_inconvenient]

He gasps, soft and sharp.

Onscreen, Sherlock yanks Tony up for a rough, passionate kiss.

[formoftherapy]

Kite brushes her fingertips over the marks, soothing.

She tucks her feet up onto the bed, leaning a little closer to him.

[if_inconvenient]

While the boys in the video have a brief, breathless argument about condoms (Sherlock wins), the flesh-and-blood Sherlock turns towards Kite and presses a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth.