[ooc: PG-13 for-- once again. Implied sexual content. This is what came to mind but I can write something less dumb/gay/whatever if you'd like, dude!]
"What is this?"
"A gay—"
"The thing I'm holding, Donovan, you incorrigible jackass of a man. What is this?"
"Can I say I don't know?"
"No-- yes. I—if you really don't know."
They stand in awkward silence, one mid-rep with a dumbbell too large for the other to ever dream of picking it up.
Sparks clears his throat in the manner of someone who has practiced doing as much so many times he can't help but sound too perfect. "It's a condom."
Wisely, Donovan says nothing.
"You do get what I'm implying, don't you?"
"But, baby, if he has my eyes, nobody will realize he's destined to glitter—"
"No! No. Fuck you, good sir, no. I am trying to politely and sincerely imply that we should engage in safe sexual intercourse for once in this miserable partnership. You do not get to talk about how homosexual I am when you are the one having sex with me. Is that clear!"
It isn't clear, but once again, Donovan wisely says nothing. He does, however, set the weight down and swagger his way over to the shorter, pinker male. That youth curls his upper lip in a soft snarl and leans against the doorframe.
Early in their dating, after a couple Strifes, it became obvious Sparks Castele might play the effeminate male beauty queen, but he's nothing if not all too eager to go for the dirty hit. So, they ceased that brand of dueling a while ago. Donovan's family jewels and throat needed time to recover.
"What's polite about any of this, grapefruit?"
"The Castele family stages of lust aren't unlike the stages of grief." It's a non-sequitur, but not a bad one. After all, Sparks is reaching up, curling his fingers into Donovan's hair. Coaxing him down into a peck of a kiss rather than forcing it. "First there's depression and anger and all that."
no subject
"What is this?"
"A gay—"
"The thing I'm holding, Donovan, you incorrigible jackass of a man. What is this?"
"Can I say I don't know?"
"No-- yes. I—if you really don't know."
They stand in awkward silence, one mid-rep with a dumbbell too large for the other to ever dream of picking it up.
Sparks clears his throat in the manner of someone who has practiced doing as much so many times he can't help but sound too perfect. "It's a condom."
Wisely, Donovan says nothing.
"You do get what I'm implying, don't you?"
"But, baby, if he has my eyes, nobody will realize he's destined to glitter—"
"No! No. Fuck you, good sir, no. I am trying to politely and sincerely imply that we should engage in safe sexual intercourse for once in this miserable partnership. You do not get to talk about how homosexual I am when you are the one having sex with me. Is that clear!"
It isn't clear, but once again, Donovan wisely says nothing. He does, however, set the weight down and swagger his way over to the shorter, pinker male. That youth curls his upper lip in a soft snarl and leans against the doorframe.
Early in their dating, after a couple Strifes, it became obvious Sparks Castele might play the effeminate male beauty queen, but he's nothing if not all too eager to go for the dirty hit. So, they ceased that brand of dueling a while ago. Donovan's family jewels and throat needed time to recover.
"What's polite about any of this, grapefruit?"
"The Castele family stages of lust aren't unlike the stages of grief." It's a non-sequitur, but not a bad one. After all, Sparks is reaching up, curling his fingers into Donovan's hair. Coaxing him down into a peck of a kiss rather than forcing it. "First there's depression and anger and all that."
"Mm."
"Then there's acceptance."
"I'm listening."
"And then I stroke your ego."
Challenge accepted.