Strawberries and cigarettes //Quackbur

🌗nine🌓

Im backkkkk

No one's pov:

Quackity's face contorted, before he pulled it back into a neutral kind of smile. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, lighting it, inhaling deeply, steadying himself. Then he took Wilbur's hands, the cigarette slack between his lips.

"Close your eyes." Wilbur complied and everything was still, only the smell of smoke and quackitys breathing were noticeable. Quackitys palms found his face now, where they rested. They were warm, so warm. In fact they just kept getting hotter. Then with a burst of gold, a wave of heat, it was over.

"Open your eyes." Wilbur did, looking up at him an-... oh wow. He chuckled, I had said it out loud by accident, a strange half whisper, but not one of fear.

Crowning quackity in light, like a huge halo circling his torso, were these golden wings, not big enough to hold someone up, but so elegant. They were flexing and shaking slightly, but stayed perfectly still, only the slight quivering of the feathers.

They were... "Beautiful." Wilbur could only whisper, his voice sounding hoarse and croaky. His light filled with tears, his arms flying around quackitys  neck.

"You thought I wouldn't love you because of this?" Wilbur buried his face in quackitys neck, his boilingly hot neck. All of him was holding that strange static kind of heat, like touching a light bulb that's been on too long.

"It's not natural. Technically speaking im over. a hundred years old" He murmured, Wilbur looked up at him in shock. "When I was put in that place, I was fourteen, when I came out I was 26. I've been twenty six ever since."

"What year did you come out?"

"1903"

"So you were born in 1877? You're one hundred and three years old?!"

"Yeah that sounds weird when you say it like that." Wilbur laughed. "But seriously, you know this will never be normal. Normal is falling in love and going on a date, not whatever I am."

"Normal isnt falling for someone who pinned me against a wall in an alley, then railed me the next night, either, but here we are." Wilbur could feel his chest rise and fall quicker in a huff of laughter. "I was never good at normal anyway."

Quackity pulled Wilbur's face up, so he could look his lover in the eyes.

"I love you. I really love you, and your crazy fucking family and your fucking stupid trust of me."

"I love you and your stupid fucking belief that you aren't good enough because of these." At this, Wilbur ran his hand down the bone of the wing, only a small amount of skin and fluff between flesh and bone. Quackity shivered, a low noise rumbling through his chest.

Wilbur raised his eyebrow, a slight smirk pulling the corner of his mouth up. He did it again, pale finger tips glazing golden feathers, before his lips were caught in a fiery kiss, all love and passion and heat and gold. And it was golden and perfect.

Then he was being pushed backwards, strong hands running over his shoulders, his stomach, his thighs. Quackity slowed as he pulled Wilbur's top off, a new appreciation in his face, knowing that this wasn't a quick fling, that Wilbur wasn't going to run for the hills. He didn't need to hide his wings, or cool his heat, and he could just be him, or the version of him that had come out of that hospital, all those years ago.

"Besides, I've always found older guys hot." Quackity laughed, his full laugh, before pressing another kiss into Wilbur's lips, fiery and sweeter than the last. It was hot and steamy and it burnt both in a way that neither of them had ever felt before.

It was perfect symphony, sickly sweet bodies moving in unison, passion and fire and lust. Deep breaths in between the loud loving noises that they couldnt hold back.

The questions burning on Wilbur's tongue could wait, he would ask them tomorrow or the day after, or any day after that, because now they had time, and so much of it and now seemed the very appropriate moment to fuck eachother into oblivion.

⚠️Smut begins⚠️

It began with Wilburs length in quackitys mouth, his super human lack of gag reflex proving itself useful, as Wilburs eyes rolled back, and his lips uttered noises of the most unholy kind. It was the needy, desperate kind of fucking, rather and the loving slowness that would come later. Right now, they needed relief and this was the fastest way too it. They needed eachother.

Then it was Wilburs turn, his sweet hot lips trailing down quackitys ribs, over a strange tattooed symbol that Wilbur made a mental note to ask about tomorrow. He ran his tongue down quackitys stomach, then up his thigh, taunting, teasing. He bought quackity to breaking point then realised him again, he did this twice before quackity had enough, grabbing Wilburs curls with one hand, pulling slightly in a "please just fuck me" way. Wilbur complied, and after an impressive amount of time, he was swallowing, crawling back into quackitys arm and a fresh pair of boxers.