GLITTER

Title: A Day Off
Author: Glossing
Pairing: SG/VK & JM (Takes place in Soupverse)
Rating: R

So apparently the lighting technicians are on strike in solidarity with the railroad porters and the union that represents the guys who chase pigeons out St. Mark's Square, so James has the day off. Hell, he might have several weeks off at the rate that Italian politics goes. By this afternoon, the porters might have broken off into a radical splinter group devoted to bringing steam engines back on the rails while the lighting techs adjourn to debate the quality of espresso and range of pastries available to them in the negotiations room.

And this is good.

This is a good thing.

Seth keeps reminding himself of that. A nonworking James is a more relaxed James, less prone to thwaps, more in the mood for fun and/or games.

But a nonworking James is really at his best in the mid- to late-afternoons. After however long it's been in this hotel, Seth's become like the Marlon Perkins of Marstersian ecology, habitats, and behavior. To put it kindly, it takes James a fucking long time to wake up, let alone regain the semblance of humanity that Seth knows he can wear.

A morning James is not a happy James. Seth has the hole in his shirt collection as evidence of this. And usually this isn't that much of a problem, since the film's Brazilian DP seems to be unduly fond of crack-of-the-morning shoots ("It's called in my country _el lumen_, Robbie Muller and I can agree on this only, that the light, she is the star of the picture") and Seth's either just falling asleep or long-afloat with Nemo in slumberland when James drags himself to work.

But a nonworking James is one who sleeps in, and Seth has to keep quiet, and it's *hard*. He's not a morning person himself, although three of his favorite hours in the day are those from 8:30 to 11:30 in the morning. He takes his walk then, with the early-rising senior citizen tourists and the actual Venetians who have to, like, go to work, does his whole circuit of coffee bars, and finds newspapers to take back to the room and pore over.

Yesterday morning James yelled at him for rattling the papers. Seth was going to make a collage, but had instead to beat a hasty retreat.

So this morning, he creeps into the room, breathing heavily from his walk, desperate for an espresso-induced pee, and already on his guard. He's carrying his papers and a couple paperbacks he picked up cheap from Lucrezio's bookstall in a plastic sack to cut down on rattling. Once the pipes are cleared, he bundles up in his favorite green V-neck sweater, wraps his muffler around his neck, and decamps for the balcony.

Lucrezio's really getting to know Seth's tastes; this morning's selection includes a truly kickass anthology of robot tales originally published in _Fantasy & Science Fiction_. From when robots looked like robots, all tin cans with bendy-straw arms. He's entranced and barely notices the cold except when he straightens up to take another hit off his pipe.

He gave up joints under the influence of the crazy DP's assistant and translator, Mario. He finally slept with someone named Mario; Seth's a third of the way toward completing one of his life-goals, but it's proving harder than you'd think to meet a Luigi, even in Venice. Let alone a Peach.

He's just finished the saga of an ungendered robot who crashlanded into a matriarchal alien society when a soft rap comes on the patio door.

Seth grins and pantomimes his good morning to Vinnie, who's wearing a long underwear jersey and his plaid jammy pants. His hair is doing a pretty good imitation of a squirrel's nest and he smiles sleepily at Seth. Seth gathers up all his stuff and slips inside.

Huh. Colder and a *little* more stoned than he thought he was, given how his head's throbbing but his knees are all stiff and creaky.

"Morning," he whispers and kisses Vinnie's bedwarm cheek. He smells like flannel and smoke and sex. Delicious, especially for the stark contrast it makes with wide blue eyes and baby-fine skin. "Left you -. Oh."

Vinnie already found this morning's bag of pastries, if the smear of raspberry jam and powdered sugar on his upper lip is any clue. He slides his arm around Seth's waist and they end up on the loveseat in Seth's side of the suite, Vinnie half-lying across Seth's lap.

See, it takes the kid almost as long to wake up as James, but he's quiet and cuddly about it. And hungry. He's got the bag balanced on his chest and he slowly munches his way through the almond rolls and lemon half-moons while Seth reads. This is probably one of his favorite parts of the morning, actually. Vinnie's better than any blanket, and when he stretches and yawns, Seth hands him the coffee he toted back from Galiazo's in a thermos.

"Sleep okay?" he asks when Vinnie's had several sips.

"Yup," Vinnie says, twisting over onto his side. "You?"

"Not terrible," Seth says, and presses his lips to the crown of Vinnie's head while turning the page. "Had the next installment of that Nick Nolte dream."

"He still driving the tractor after you?"

"Yeah," Seth says. "Only now the cornfields are alfalfa fields. Which is weird, because I don't know what alfalfa looks like. Do you?"

Vinnie squints up at him. "I'm from Minnesota. Doesn't mean I know Prince, doesn't mean I'm a farmboy."

"Sure you are," Seth says. Nods as seriously as he can. "State law, you have to do 4-H *and* math. So spill. What do alfalfa fields look like?" Vinnie's mouth tightens and Seth tickles him under the chin. "Not making fun of you. Just wanna see if I'm psychic."

"I don't *know*!" Vinnie tries to squirm away from Seth's tickling finger but Seth holds him down with his arm across the narrow, heaving chest, and really tickles until Vinnie's gasping and wiggling and his mouth's wide open, wet and red. Seth presses him down harder, leaning and kissing him, because that's just an invitation that can't be ignored. Vinnie's still shimmying, but his arm wraps around the back of Seth's neck, holding him tighter, and only Vinnie could make assorted pastries, black coffee and toothpaste taste quite *this* good.

Seth's the one gasping when he manages to pull away to breathe. He flaps his book and sighs dramatically. "Do you mind? Trying to read here." Vinnie's mouth opens in a perfect, round pout and Seth sighs again. "Really, some of us -"

He can't get the rest out, except as a kind of muffled oooofuckow, as Vinnie tackles him and clamps his hand over Seth's mouth. "Shhh," he hisses. "James is trying to *sleep*."

Seth rolls his eyes and bites Vinnie's palm. He's not exactly fighting to get away as he wraps his arms around Vinnie's tiny waist and hauls him tighter against him until Vinnie's on his knees, looming - as well as the boy can loom, he's no Dave (thank fuck, Seth adds [his mind uses lots of parentheses]) - over him, brow furrowed and frown deepening, then twisting into a grin, as Seth thrusts up against him and nibbles along what he thinks is Vinnie's life-line.

"Such an ass," Vinnie whispers and Seth nods, emphatically, before pressing the flat of his tongue against the hollow of Vinnie's palm and rocking his hips nice and fast. He drops his hands to Vinnie's round ass and squeezes. More emphasis can never be a bad thing. This is a rule Seth likes to think he lives by.

Vinnie's hand tastes like baker's sugar and, oddly, maple syrup, as well as nicotine, and Seth swirls his tongue as he rocks until he's breathing heavily and Vinnie's cheeks are flushing oh so prettily as his head dips down, hair tickling Seth's cheeks as his mouth skates over Seth's left eyebrow.

He murmurs something about cinnamon and French toast and Seth can't believe he's *still* hungry, and he wants to say something about it, only he can't, because, hello, hand. So he tries to tip his head back, working his tongue up Vinnie's middle finger and *jesus*, the kid has long fingers. Talking Van Cliburn long here, and Seth's smirking now as he sucks the finger into his mouth and Vinnie's lips graze his temple, then his cheek, pausing every now and again for sweet, sharp little gasps, and Seth's rocking up and down, squeezing that tiny ass in counterpoint. Because you know what they say about a man's hands, and Vinnie's got longass hands and if you're in any doubt, there's a dick hardening against Seth's thighs.

"Buñuelos," Vinnie pants, and Seth slides his lips down over the second knuckle and suckles hard. "Mexican pastries. Cinnamon sugar, crisp tortillas."

Seth nods like he has clue one what the kid's on about, and he has to give Vinnie credit for the best one-track mind since his own, except he still wins, because *he's* thinking about sex whereas Vinnie's still on food. Mark of maturity, that. He scrapes his bottom teeth over the pad of Vinnie's finger, then takes the whole thing into the back of his mouth with a sudden wet slide.

Vinnie's still trying to explain - whatever it is that's on his mind. "That's hat you look like. Taste like. Buñuelos."

Seth kind of loses it. He's giving a kickass finger blowjob, and Vinnie's rubbing and thrusting back, and his head's filling with honey-sweet, star-bright static, but -

"No fucking way!" he whispers and Vinnie nods, grinning. His chest's starting to hurt and he thinks his own face might split open from the grin and he kisses Vinnie long and deep and thinks of those raisin-pastries that Vinnie looks like, and there's something Deep and Meaningful in his addled little marble of a brain about all of this, but it gets swamped for a second in the way Vinnie's kissing him back, wrapping his fingers in Seth's hair, and finally they break to breathe and Seth's still grinning. "Dude, that's like the sweetest thing anyone ever said to me."

Vinnie ducks his head and Seth squeezes his ass, slows the rocking, until he looks back up, smiling shyly. "Nah."

"Yeah," Seth whispers and kisses him again, just the lips, already swollen, but he nibbles his way down to the root of Vinnie's bottom lip until the squirming starts up again. "Totally serious here."

Vinnie closes his eyes as Seth slides both hands under the waistband of his jammies and resumes his whole squeeze-thrust-squeeze schtick. "Like you," Vinnie whispers and pecks his cheek like Seth's his eighth-grade prom date. "A lot."

Seth tilts and gets one leg free from between Vinnie's knees, wraps it around the back of Vinnie's thighs, and kisses him. Little licks, kitten-urgent, and Vinnie finally parts his lips, lets Seth inside again, and there's remembered jazz unspooling around Seth's head, the taste of rainy air and port and cigarettes on Vinnie's tongue, the soft wet sound of both of them murmuring, the drier sound of their pants rubbing together as they rock their dicks against each other, the snap of elastic when Vinnie pulls his cock free, and Seth can hear Vinnie's breath whistling over his face as he parts Vinnie's cheeks, runs one finger down his crack.

"Mutual," he whispers and feels Vinnie shiver against him, mouth fastening on his throat. Seth frees his other hand, brushing the palm over Vinnie's cock before tugging down his zipper and lifting his hips to take his own dick out. "Know that, right?"

Gasping, smiling, Vinnie nods and wraps his hand around both their cocks, gasps again when Seth sucks on two of his own fingers and thrusts up hard. "Yeah, I know -"

Seth stills, lets Vinnie push and wriggle against him, as he rolls his wet fingers over Vinnie's hole. Teasing, retreating, he keeps it up until Vinnie's almost shaking, jerking them with rough, harsh strokes. Seth says, "Good. 'Cause you're both edible -" Licks Vinnie's throat as his head falls back, then corkscrews his knuckle slowly against Vinnie's hole. "- and palpable. Should know that."

"I do," Vinnie whimpers.

Vinnie's tight and hot around his knuckle, and Seth adds more spit with his other hand, keeps turning it this way and that, and his skin feels about as solid as smoke, sliding around as he kisses the other side of Vinnie's neck and rubs into his hand.

Weird dim blob over there.

Squinting, Seth raises his head from Vinnie's neck and can't help the sudden hard spasm that shakes him, gets him even, impossibly, harder when he realizes James is standing in the doorway. "You should," Seth hisses. "Glad you do."

Vinnie's bouncing into and over him, moans babbling out his mouth as Seth bites down on his shoulder, still peering at James. James crosses his arms and the smirk's right there, bright as day. Seth swears he must keep in a glass by his bed.

Then he rubs his hand over his jaw and the smirk gets fucking *bigger*. Looking right at Seth, he says, "Oh, don't let me interrupt."

Vinnie freezes, biting back a groan, and twists in Seth's hold, looks over his shoulder.

"Too fucking pretty," James says and waves his hand dismissively as he drops into an armchair opposite them. "And so *sweet* to each other -"

"We're just fooling around," Vinnie says and Seth tries to grin agreeably while surreptitiously rubbing a little.

James nods shortly as he taps out a cigarette. "You two don't sound like you're fooling around, little man."

Vinnie twists back and puts his hand over Seth's mouth before Seth can even take a breath. "Shut up -" he hisses at Seth and twists the other way around. "What do we sound like?"

"Couple of sweet little kids," James says. Slumps in the chair, one arm up holding his cigarette, other draped over his crotch. He sucks in a drag and lifts his chin at them. "Don't stop on my account. Go on, bring on the sugar."

*Bastard*. Seth's never going to figure out how James makes that asshole voice of his sound so fucking sexy. Seth squeaks loud enough that Vinnie finally releases him. Thrusting up hard as he presses his knuckle inside another millimeter, he kisses Vinnie until the kid moans a little and slides against him.

"You were comparing each other to pastries," James says. "In case you lost your place."

"Thanks," Vinnie throws over his shoulder as Seth digs his fingers into his crack and twitches his hips back and forth. Sighing loudly, Vinnie kisses Seth's face, then licks his palm before starting to jerk them again. "Cinnamon sugar -"

His spine's about as solid as sap right now, and Seth rocks harder, stroking the warm, secret skin of Vinnie's crack, working his finger inside, feeling his skull fill up with fizz and he can only nod.

"Sorry, what was that?" James says, leaning forward and cupping his hand around his ear. "Audio's out."

"Fuck off, Marsters -" Seth starts to groan, but Vinnie's twisting his wrist, pulling Seth off against his own stomach, and dropping his ass *hard* on Seth's finger. "Jesus. Vinnie, you're -"

Vinnie bounces, grinning, looking between their almost conjoined crotches and Seth's face, squirming around Seth's finger, and he's blushing, carnations and cherries. Seth bites his cheek, stupid with the orgasm that's fluttering like a cyclone around him, convinced he'll be able to taste fruit and sugar in Vinnie.

"Watching you," Vinnie gasps, leaning back out of reach, pushing Seth into the cushions, and it's what he always says, like he knows exactly what it does to Seth - okay, he probably does know *perfectly* what effect it'll have - and it's true, his eyes are fastened on Seth's, and James has faded back to a dim blur - one that's miming shooting up - James is on heroin? Oh, insulin, ha - and Vinnie's licking his lips, stroking his thumb back and forth over their cockheads. "Like watching you come - *Seth* -"

That squeal, helpless and long, that Vinnie gives as his hips bear down, then snap forward and he collapses against Seth's chest, coming and coming again, Seth matches - "*Vinnie* -" - a moment later, slapping Vinnie's ass so hard his palm stings and grinding against Vinnie's come on his stomach. He pushes and comes, shooting, and pulls his hands free. Cradles Vinnie's head rolling against his shoulder, soothes with a shaking palm the twitches and spasms running down Vinnie's back.

He kisses Vinnie's cheek, licks over the bite mark he left, and closes his eyes. James, for once, isn't saying anything. He lets himself breathe, imagines the red streamers and flames running through him, and then Seth opens one eye, squints it, and sees James with his pants open, jerking himself off.

Glaring at them. Black holes, lava rocks, stars in James' eyes and Seth opens his other eye, kisses along the dip of Vinnie's shoulder and strokes his hair. "Beautiful," he says, loud enough for James, and kisses back up Vinnie's shoulder. "Love touching you -"

Vinnie murmurs against him, then, shivering, slides off. He usually ends up curled around Seth, warm and wet and loose. He glances at James and his eyes widen.

"Sweet as candy," Seth whispers in his ear and Vinnie nods, slowly, licking his lip.

He hugs Seth tighter, resting his head on Seth's shoulder, running his fingers in swirls through the come on Seth's belly. "Like being nice to him," he tells James. "Not being sweet, just -"

James' eyes squeeze shut and he groans, once, hard, before they open. His hand's a blur on his cock and his mouth's twisting like a flag in the wind.

Seth kisses Vinnie's cheek, leaves his face buried in his hair, keeping one eye on James, and hugs him back. "He tastes like almonds and whipped cream," he tells James. "Love tasting him. Love making him come."

Vinnie's mouth drops open, and Seth shudders. He said the other L-word, and, yeah, he's usually talkative around Vinnie, he usually feels like he's willingly drowning himself in maple syrup and hot fudge, he usually tells Vinnie everything he likes about him, but ever since that near-asshole experience in the other hotel room, he's been careful to stick with like.

He's learned a couple different, equally hard, ways that love means something totally foreign for most people who aren't, you know, *him*. And like's not that bad a substitute, all things considered, but here, sweaty and trembling, pressed against Vinnie so tightly he might as well be glued to him, watching James bite his lip, thrash his head against the chair, and push his hips up into the air, Seth's forgotten the substitutes and moved onto the authentic. Vinnie's sucking on his neck and squirming against him, and Seth knows the word went right to the kid's nerve-endings as sure as it did Seth's.

"Fucking goddamn Jesus*bitch* -" James' face is as red as a pack of his Marlboros, his mouth a black gash, as he comes.

And then it's silent except for James' gasps.

Vinnie's breath squeaks as he exhales, hard, and kisses Seth, deep and wet, pulling Seth down as he slithers off the loveseat. He whispers, "love it, too", before dropping to the floor and Seth stretches out, arms folded behind his head, watching Vinnie crawl into James' lap. Pet his cheek and hair, kiss him, as James tries, fails, tries again to get his arm around his boy's waist. Vinnie's whispering, giggling, and James still sounds like he's trying to remember how to breathe.

"Could you two keep it down?" Seth says, tugging up his pants with one hand and lifting his book with the other. "Trying to read?"

James flips him off over Vinnie's shoulder.

"Serious here," Seth says, wiggling deeper into the cushions. "Some of us have morning *rituals* -"

"Shut up, Buñuelo," James growls before Vinnie hushes him. "Asking me to kick your cinnamon-sugared *ass*."

Seth grins. His skin's warm and tingly, and he can't quite remember why he ever would have dreaded James having a day off, let alone saying that word. The one that starts with a letter near the middle of the alphabet. The one he feels like a mudbath surrounding him right now. He's as loose as Silly-Putty and he can't stop smiling. "Good morning to you, too, sunshine."

He blows a kiss and gets it airborne well before James wrenches a throw pillow from underneath him and heaves it toward Seth.

-End