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in
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Beautiful Contradiction [Travis/Connor, NC-17]
Title: Beautiful Contradiction
Author: igrab
Pairing: Travis/Connor
Wordcount: 2,123
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The only problem about the new setup is that it makes having sex really, really difficult.
The Hermes cabin is kind of woefully empty now. It was already bad enough without Luke - now there's only a handful left, and hey, maybe their dad wasn't as much of a manwhore as they'd thought.
At first, it's great. They practically get half the cabin to themselves and it's wonderful, having so much space, even if said space is full of all kinds of miscellaneous clutter.
They're all quick to come to the realization that, despite the initial charm, it kind of sucks now.
"You know what," Travis says suddenly into the dark, knowing perfectly well that the whole cabin is restless and jumpy and wide awake. "Let's push all the beds together."
It's an amazing idea. Everyone jumps up to help, and they kick things out of the way, and push and push until there's just one huge bed on one side of the main room.
Connor's leaning on his shoulder, like he often does, and sighs, breath sliding over his neck. "Mr D's going to hate us."
Travis grins, and his hand reaches back for the sure presence of Connor's hip. "You bet."
And then they're all diving for it, tumbling over and under each other like puppies, and after an impromptu tickle fight, they all collapse into into a pile, and fall asleep just like that.
[ + ]
The only problem about the new setup is that it makes having sex really, really difficult.
I mean, before, they could at least put up curtains or something, and of course the entire Hermes cabin knows what they get up to whenever they go missing (even when they're only out hotwiring cars - okay, well, even then) but it's different when the entire cabin is sleeping in the same bed.
And, jeez, they have some standards. They aren't going to leave dirty sheets for their cabinmates, and they're sure as hell too lazy to wash them every time.
So, that's a problem.
But the Stolls are natural-born problem-solvers.
[ + ]
"You know," Connor says with a grin, "I kind of like this whole run and hide, kiss and run and hide sort of thing."
"Yes, but there isn't enough kissing," Travis growls, grinding down on Connor's thigh and closing lips tight around the lobe of his ear. He's always the pushier one, and Connor's pretty amused by that, always has been. He lifts his leg enough to provoke a strangled gasp, but then they both freeze - someone's coming.
"Run and hide, lover," Connor whispers, and he draws his fingers over Travis's lips before he can pull away.
"The forest," his brother mutters darkly, and he nods. He wants to chase that flush of his with his fingers and lips, but mostly he wants to make Travis happy. Getting cockblocked all day long does not make Travis happy.
When they reach the edge of the forest Connor laces their fingers together, and his heart's in his throat as he murmurs, "This way!" and the adrenaline rush of all their relocations is making him dizzy. He loves this, loves the sharpness and the secrecy and the heart-pounding, gut-wrenching feeling of we shouldn't be doing this, anyone could catch us. It's the same feeling he gets when they break into a shop, or a car, or when a prank's been laid and all they can do is wait it out. It's addictive.
Connor's pretty sure, though, that even if they were caught - even if it wasn't a secret any longer, and how was it possible that no one knew?? Because they were hiding in plain sight, weren't they, and no one looked further than ~brotherly closeness~.
But even then. Even without - this, and they're rushing through the trees now, stars wheeling, dancing around dry branches and they know this ground so well - he'd still be here, with him. He'd still do everything he wanted to do because he did want that, Travis's lust and his love and the close warmth of his body and heart in the long days and longer nights. He wouldn't be anything without Travis, and he'd no wish to be.
They fall against the rock where the Labyrinth once was, panting, exhilarated and breathless and still so painfully hard. Then Travis moves - he's got a one-track mind, sometimes, which might've been surprising - and he's pressing Connor back again, into the stone. And he's literally caught between a rock and a hard place and that makes him giggle, and Travis hisses at him to shut up and bites his throat but "Who's going to hear?" he whispers.
It's a good point. But it doesn't explain why Connor was laughing, which Travis somehow manages to convey with a deep, slow grind of his body. As Connor gasps and arches, he hears it - forms the words in broken exhales. "Rock - hard place," he finally manages, when his hands aren't grappling for the hem of Travis's shirt, then his pants, then giving up on coordination entirely.
And, predictably, Travis has to laugh, too.
"I love you," he breathes out, in little butterfly kissing all up and down Connor's neck and the younger one squirms, because they tickle, but he likes it.
"Love you too, dork," he agrees, but he's got to snap Travis out of this mushy thing before he forgets why they came here at all. "Here?"
"Yes," and now his voice is raw and edged again, and Connor licks his lips to see Travis looking so suddenly desperate.
When Hermes had found out that his sons were doing it regularly - he seemed to have this uncanny knack for calling them right in the middle - he'd sent them a pair of pants, with pockets that could hide a ridiculous assortment of items. In other words, video game pants. The other Hermes kids practically cried with jealousy, and a few of them hooked up to see if they'd get a pair too, but it seemed to be a one-time thing.
The pants were... useful. Especially now, when all Travis has to do is slide his hand under Connor's thigh to the secret pocket there, fish around, and - and they'd always have a tube of KY handy.
They've got to have done this a million times before but it's never boring, not ever, and Connor props all of his weight between Travis and the rock and Travis makes a sound that probably means 'oh fuck yes' (either that or 'I just pulled a muscle', that had happened once and it was still funny, no matter what his brother said) and Connor's pretty sure that the long, quick fingers are a Hermes trait - he shouldn't think about sex with his dad but he wasn't really much of a dad, being a god and all - and then Travis knows what he's thinking and it's either in lust or jealousy (or probably both) that he twists his fingers, brutally, and Connor cries out and then laughs.
"You're such a prick," Travis growls fondly.
"Least I have one." And he can only smirk so much, not when Travis is doing his level best to unravel him from the inside out, not when he's grinding slowly against his leg without even realizing it, because he can't even help himself.
Connor shudders. What he said hadn't dignified a response and Travis doesn't give it, unless you count the urgent fumble at his own pants zipper, and shoving them down, and taking Connor at a slow, torturous pace that was a shitty excuse for revenge.
Connor tells him so, in the glide of one finger down his brother's cheek, and Travis is caught then, between affection and aggravation. It's a perfect moment, and Connor will remember this forever, this beautiful contradiction.
Then he bites his lip and grins, and braces a hand on the rock, and shoves back against him.
"FUCK!" Travis shouts, and it's on now, it becomes a contest of wills and they chase gravity back and forth, unable not to laugh in between gasps and moans and filthy curses. The battlefield is in their mirrored bodies - thrust and parry, attack and defend and counter. Travis leaves a red crescent at Connor's shoulder - he blocks with low moan and a twist of his hips, driving him deeper, and the next move is Travis's again. They trade in bites, and gasps, and when Connor whimpers Travis's name it all starts to crumble, they're falling in and out of each other and he can't tell where one ends and the other begins -
And this, this is what Connor loves most. To lose himself so utterly, to fight the feeling that they should never be apart, should never even have to have two bodies at all. Even the air between them is just unfair.
They come at the same time, or generally so, it would be hard to say specifically, when there's so much tightening and shouting and grabbing and slowly, slowly they ride it out, slowly they relax, muscle by muscle, slowly they pant until they match breath for breath, in and out, and their hearts beat in absolutely perfect time.
"....The hell."
Oh, whoever that is, Travis is going to kill them, Connor thinks. He doesn't even move. It's Travis's turn to deal with post-coital bullshit. He does feel Travis wave, though, and that's probably a good sign. No one's dying, anyway.
"Hiya Percy."
Okay, now it's a little funnier. Connor feels the giggle bubble in his chest, though it doesn't go farther, and Travis splays a hand over it, to keep him steady. "Sup, Percy?"
"Why are you - what - "
Percy looks utterly mortified. In fact, it's exactly what he'd probably look like if Annabeth ever started running around shirtless. Which would be pretty amazing in general, for that matter.
"What, never seen two guys going at it before?" Travis is smirking, and Connor hooks his legs tighter around his waist, which is actually pretty comfortable. He could get used to this. He absently nibbles at the base of Travis's neck, because he's bored now, and Percy's prudishness is only so amusing.
"Not - well not even - but you're - " He really actually seems incapable of stringing an entire phrase together. Connor is so glad that they were just that hot.
"Percy?" And Travis's smile is perfectly innocent - which is to say, innocence is the farthest thing from his mind, but this time, what's underneath is knives, not laughter. Malice. And Percy knows it. "Get lost."
"Right, absolutely, getting lost, on the double." He trips over his own feet as he heads off in completely the wrong direction to get back to camp, and Travis and Connor hold it in until he's out of earshot - and then they burst out laughing.
[ + ]
"...and then Travis said, 'Get lost!' and Percy was like, 'Right, absolutely, getting lost, on the double...'"
The entire Hermes cabin is piled on their bed, which Mr D didn't, in fact, complain about (which is another weird thing altogether, but then, he'd been a bit different since the battle), and Connor's got his back to Travis's chest, with their limbs entangled, and of course they have to tell the story. They're family and they want to know everything.
But he doesn't tell them about the way Travis looks sometimes, like he's lost his mind and Connor's the only one who can help him find it. He doesn't talk about how right it feels, how even a foot away is too far. Some things, after all, are theirs and theirs alone.
Travis brushes his fingers over Connor's lips on his way to reach for a water bottle, and he knows that means, Thank you.
if you liked that, try these:
Sex is the Game That Everyone Wins . What Keeps You Awake
Author: igrab
Pairing: Travis/Connor
Wordcount: 2,123
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The only problem about the new setup is that it makes having sex really, really difficult.
The Hermes cabin is kind of woefully empty now. It was already bad enough without Luke - now there's only a handful left, and hey, maybe their dad wasn't as much of a manwhore as they'd thought.
At first, it's great. They practically get half the cabin to themselves and it's wonderful, having so much space, even if said space is full of all kinds of miscellaneous clutter.
They're all quick to come to the realization that, despite the initial charm, it kind of sucks now.
"You know what," Travis says suddenly into the dark, knowing perfectly well that the whole cabin is restless and jumpy and wide awake. "Let's push all the beds together."
It's an amazing idea. Everyone jumps up to help, and they kick things out of the way, and push and push until there's just one huge bed on one side of the main room.
Connor's leaning on his shoulder, like he often does, and sighs, breath sliding over his neck. "Mr D's going to hate us."
Travis grins, and his hand reaches back for the sure presence of Connor's hip. "You bet."
And then they're all diving for it, tumbling over and under each other like puppies, and after an impromptu tickle fight, they all collapse into into a pile, and fall asleep just like that.
[ + ]
The only problem about the new setup is that it makes having sex really, really difficult.
I mean, before, they could at least put up curtains or something, and of course the entire Hermes cabin knows what they get up to whenever they go missing (even when they're only out hotwiring cars - okay, well, even then) but it's different when the entire cabin is sleeping in the same bed.
And, jeez, they have some standards. They aren't going to leave dirty sheets for their cabinmates, and they're sure as hell too lazy to wash them every time.
So, that's a problem.
But the Stolls are natural-born problem-solvers.
[ + ]
"You know," Connor says with a grin, "I kind of like this whole run and hide, kiss and run and hide sort of thing."
"Yes, but there isn't enough kissing," Travis growls, grinding down on Connor's thigh and closing lips tight around the lobe of his ear. He's always the pushier one, and Connor's pretty amused by that, always has been. He lifts his leg enough to provoke a strangled gasp, but then they both freeze - someone's coming.
"Run and hide, lover," Connor whispers, and he draws his fingers over Travis's lips before he can pull away.
"The forest," his brother mutters darkly, and he nods. He wants to chase that flush of his with his fingers and lips, but mostly he wants to make Travis happy. Getting cockblocked all day long does not make Travis happy.
When they reach the edge of the forest Connor laces their fingers together, and his heart's in his throat as he murmurs, "This way!" and the adrenaline rush of all their relocations is making him dizzy. He loves this, loves the sharpness and the secrecy and the heart-pounding, gut-wrenching feeling of we shouldn't be doing this, anyone could catch us. It's the same feeling he gets when they break into a shop, or a car, or when a prank's been laid and all they can do is wait it out. It's addictive.
Connor's pretty sure, though, that even if they were caught - even if it wasn't a secret any longer, and how was it possible that no one knew?? Because they were hiding in plain sight, weren't they, and no one looked further than ~brotherly closeness~.
But even then. Even without - this, and they're rushing through the trees now, stars wheeling, dancing around dry branches and they know this ground so well - he'd still be here, with him. He'd still do everything he wanted to do because he did want that, Travis's lust and his love and the close warmth of his body and heart in the long days and longer nights. He wouldn't be anything without Travis, and he'd no wish to be.
They fall against the rock where the Labyrinth once was, panting, exhilarated and breathless and still so painfully hard. Then Travis moves - he's got a one-track mind, sometimes, which might've been surprising - and he's pressing Connor back again, into the stone. And he's literally caught between a rock and a hard place and that makes him giggle, and Travis hisses at him to shut up and bites his throat but "Who's going to hear?" he whispers.
It's a good point. But it doesn't explain why Connor was laughing, which Travis somehow manages to convey with a deep, slow grind of his body. As Connor gasps and arches, he hears it - forms the words in broken exhales. "Rock - hard place," he finally manages, when his hands aren't grappling for the hem of Travis's shirt, then his pants, then giving up on coordination entirely.
And, predictably, Travis has to laugh, too.
"I love you," he breathes out, in little butterfly kissing all up and down Connor's neck and the younger one squirms, because they tickle, but he likes it.
"Love you too, dork," he agrees, but he's got to snap Travis out of this mushy thing before he forgets why they came here at all. "Here?"
"Yes," and now his voice is raw and edged again, and Connor licks his lips to see Travis looking so suddenly desperate.
When Hermes had found out that his sons were doing it regularly - he seemed to have this uncanny knack for calling them right in the middle - he'd sent them a pair of pants, with pockets that could hide a ridiculous assortment of items. In other words, video game pants. The other Hermes kids practically cried with jealousy, and a few of them hooked up to see if they'd get a pair too, but it seemed to be a one-time thing.
The pants were... useful. Especially now, when all Travis has to do is slide his hand under Connor's thigh to the secret pocket there, fish around, and - and they'd always have a tube of KY handy.
They've got to have done this a million times before but it's never boring, not ever, and Connor props all of his weight between Travis and the rock and Travis makes a sound that probably means 'oh fuck yes' (either that or 'I just pulled a muscle', that had happened once and it was still funny, no matter what his brother said) and Connor's pretty sure that the long, quick fingers are a Hermes trait - he shouldn't think about sex with his dad but he wasn't really much of a dad, being a god and all - and then Travis knows what he's thinking and it's either in lust or jealousy (or probably both) that he twists his fingers, brutally, and Connor cries out and then laughs.
"You're such a prick," Travis growls fondly.
"Least I have one." And he can only smirk so much, not when Travis is doing his level best to unravel him from the inside out, not when he's grinding slowly against his leg without even realizing it, because he can't even help himself.
Connor shudders. What he said hadn't dignified a response and Travis doesn't give it, unless you count the urgent fumble at his own pants zipper, and shoving them down, and taking Connor at a slow, torturous pace that was a shitty excuse for revenge.
Connor tells him so, in the glide of one finger down his brother's cheek, and Travis is caught then, between affection and aggravation. It's a perfect moment, and Connor will remember this forever, this beautiful contradiction.
Then he bites his lip and grins, and braces a hand on the rock, and shoves back against him.
"FUCK!" Travis shouts, and it's on now, it becomes a contest of wills and they chase gravity back and forth, unable not to laugh in between gasps and moans and filthy curses. The battlefield is in their mirrored bodies - thrust and parry, attack and defend and counter. Travis leaves a red crescent at Connor's shoulder - he blocks with low moan and a twist of his hips, driving him deeper, and the next move is Travis's again. They trade in bites, and gasps, and when Connor whimpers Travis's name it all starts to crumble, they're falling in and out of each other and he can't tell where one ends and the other begins -
And this, this is what Connor loves most. To lose himself so utterly, to fight the feeling that they should never be apart, should never even have to have two bodies at all. Even the air between them is just unfair.
They come at the same time, or generally so, it would be hard to say specifically, when there's so much tightening and shouting and grabbing and slowly, slowly they ride it out, slowly they relax, muscle by muscle, slowly they pant until they match breath for breath, in and out, and their hearts beat in absolutely perfect time.
"....The hell."
Oh, whoever that is, Travis is going to kill them, Connor thinks. He doesn't even move. It's Travis's turn to deal with post-coital bullshit. He does feel Travis wave, though, and that's probably a good sign. No one's dying, anyway.
"Hiya Percy."
Okay, now it's a little funnier. Connor feels the giggle bubble in his chest, though it doesn't go farther, and Travis splays a hand over it, to keep him steady. "Sup, Percy?"
"Why are you - what - "
Percy looks utterly mortified. In fact, it's exactly what he'd probably look like if Annabeth ever started running around shirtless. Which would be pretty amazing in general, for that matter.
"What, never seen two guys going at it before?" Travis is smirking, and Connor hooks his legs tighter around his waist, which is actually pretty comfortable. He could get used to this. He absently nibbles at the base of Travis's neck, because he's bored now, and Percy's prudishness is only so amusing.
"Not - well not even - but you're - " He really actually seems incapable of stringing an entire phrase together. Connor is so glad that they were just that hot.
"Percy?" And Travis's smile is perfectly innocent - which is to say, innocence is the farthest thing from his mind, but this time, what's underneath is knives, not laughter. Malice. And Percy knows it. "Get lost."
"Right, absolutely, getting lost, on the double." He trips over his own feet as he heads off in completely the wrong direction to get back to camp, and Travis and Connor hold it in until he's out of earshot - and then they burst out laughing.
[ + ]
"...and then Travis said, 'Get lost!' and Percy was like, 'Right, absolutely, getting lost, on the double...'"
The entire Hermes cabin is piled on their bed, which Mr D didn't, in fact, complain about (which is another weird thing altogether, but then, he'd been a bit different since the battle), and Connor's got his back to Travis's chest, with their limbs entangled, and of course they have to tell the story. They're family and they want to know everything.
But he doesn't tell them about the way Travis looks sometimes, like he's lost his mind and Connor's the only one who can help him find it. He doesn't talk about how right it feels, how even a foot away is too far. Some things, after all, are theirs and theirs alone.
Travis brushes his fingers over Connor's lips on his way to reach for a water bottle, and he knows that means, Thank you.
if you liked that, try these:
Sex is the Game That Everyone Wins . What Keeps You Awake