“Oh.”

Well.

Two could play at that game.

Onyx replaces the cow dress in the closet and moves on autopilot, walking quickly but measuredly across the room to the bed. Moving the ramen bowl, he scoops Andres under the arms, lifts him, and slides in behind him, replacing him directly in his lap over his very obvious situation.

“Yes you do,” he says, arms coming around Andres’ lap to hold his midsection and pull him back against him, nuzzling into the warm skin at the nape of his neck.

When your opponent tries to outplay you it is important to know their weaknesses.

“It’s a very good surprise.”

[attr="class","mintag"] andres buenaventura
Cuddle monster engage

Onyx sears bright red marks into Andres’ neck and shoulders with his teeth, fingers roving over his hips and abs and obliques with no purpose except to feel, to map his body, this miraculous, unattainable, wonderful thing that he has before him. His fingers dig into his lower back and he pulls them together, caught in the heat and the gravity of it, nosing into Andres’ skin like he’s a starving man and this is the first meal he’s had in years.

And he can’t say it— because the implications of it are terrifying— but there’s a part of him that thinks it, the taste of Andres’ skin on his tongue and the way their bodies mesh and balance:

How could this be anything other than love?

“Yeah,” he says, on half a laugh, because he fucking hated that thing the first time he saw Andres in it, when they’d sat shirtless on his couch and watched a scary movie and Andres had crawled into his lap and he’d worn Andres’ clothes and felt comfort for the first time in ten years. “Yeah, I am.” He drags his fingertips across the flimsy sequins, one hand rucking up the skirt.

“I get to appreciate it fully this time.”

[attr="class","mintag"] andres buenaventura
bottoms up lets go round 2

That hits Onyx in the gut so hard he’s surprised he doesn’t double over. He does do a rapid doubletake, from the cow suit to the sick boy in the bed and back again, and he’s-- and he’s--

--he’s literally. So instantly turned on he’s amazed he doesn’t fall over, what with all the blood rushing you know where.

“You got this… for me?” His voice does a weird high-pitched-but-also-husky thing that he thinks he would rip his own vocal cords out if he could. He shakily reaches back into the closet and hangs the cow dress back up, the little bell tinkling at him in vicious mockery.

[attr="class","mintag"] andres buenaventura
cow dress time

He's slow to rise because of the stiffness in his back (not to mention between his legs) but he follows Andres to the bedroom.

Leaning against the inner doorframe, he makes it in time to see Andres turn in full get-up with his jacket hanging off his (wonderful, amazing) broad shoulders and Onyx thinks maybe he could cry.

"Yeah," he says, voice thick with emotion, "yeah, that's it, baby." The way Andres' thighs look in that stupid skimpy skirt and he's wearing his jacket. Onyx thinks this is what euphoria feels like. He fucking floats across the floor to slide his fingertips along the cheap waistband and press kisses into Andres' neck.

"You look fucking amazing."

[attr="class","mintag"] andres buenaventura
bottoms up lets go round 2

Onyx grins, the napkin falling well short of where he’s standing. Whatever dirty little secret he’d just drummed up was well worth it to see Andres’ face flush red and hide his head in his hands.

Fucking adorable.

He almost doesn’t catch what Andres says, so caught up in how fucking cute he is in the moment. But he does, and he blinks, the smile stagnating on his face.

“Surprise?”

A coil of jealousy lashes through him. He tries to fight it, push it down. It could be... a gift, for someone. But knowing Andres and his history with scandalous outfits... he's not overly convinced of that.

[attr="class","mintag"] andres buenaventura
cow dress time