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That Neon Glow

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by Mirath

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“Not like you to want to go out."

Donnie grunted, shoulders rounded, out of his comfort zone with his face feeling a little stiffer than he was used to. Maybe that was how women felt wearing make-up but he thought too that surely the UV paint (not quite in the colours that Xander had promised him at that time) was heavier and thicker again still, like a second coat and layer of skin that would have to be peeled back at the end of the night. His brown hair had been tied back to keep it away from the paint while it dried but it didn't seem right to have it hanging around his face while he had the paint on, seemingly for show and fun.

He wasn't sure what the fun in it was, the shapes and lines coming together in a mask across half his face that could have been beautiful, if only it wasn't on him and, well, if he wasn't out in public. It was late and the darkness should have been soothing, the light residual effect of twilight still casting a blue hue above the streetlights of the city, downtown clad in neon and flashing lights that demanding attention wherever he turned.

Whether it was his scene was by the by for it most certainly wasn't a place that Xander would have wanted to hang out either, surely, his friend a little tight-lipped even if there was, admittedly, a smile on them too. Like Donnie, he was most comfortable indoors and behind a computer screen, wearing a neckerchief with neon slashes on it as if it had been ripped apart with a jagged blade, spilling the guts of the fabric. His vest top was new, however, showing off the lines of paint trailing down his arms, although they would need to be under UV-lighting to really see the effect of them. Donnie had marks from the paint on his arms too, even a handprint that John had, jokingly, placed there, throwing off a snide remark about leaving his mark on Donnie before Xander's frown had sent him off rolling his eyes, bored of the interaction anyway. If raving was not their scene, it was even less John's unless he was drugged up out of his mind – so much so, of course, that he wouldn't even remember the event afterwards.

Someone pushed by and Donnie flinched, a scowl on his lips.

“Look, this isn't my thing, you know this."

Quiet. Quiet was what he liked. And just what was he doing going out where the pulsing music of the club that had to be their destination already pounded against his eardrums, hoping against hope that it would not be any further away than what it already was. It was not as if he was nervous or anything about being out or anything at all of that nature – he simply didn't want to be there. And that was okay too, or so he had thought.

Ah, but that tricky thing of wanting to please people around him really did trip him up at times and Xander trying so hard to get him out and about, out of his comfort zone... It did the trick, he had to admit, although he would have much rather have explored a little more of their changing, exciting – admittedly strange – relationship behind closed doors. Never had he been one for public exhibition, regardless of what he had been forced into (quite happily) with his brother from time to time.

“Look, just an hour, you'll get your blood pumping, get you moving," Xander said, although it sounded partly as if he was trying to convince himself too. “You can't sit coding all day and that shit, there's only so much we can do. And do you really want to have to try to go see a doctor for back pain from being hunched over for so long? You can get money for that with your gadgets and whatnot but do you really want to spend it on that?"

Donnie shuddered, though not because of the spending. The mere thought of hospitals and stuffy doctor's practices full of sick, coughing people really did turn his stomach into knots, serpents twisting and writhing, snapping and sinking fangs into soft tissue, soft tissue that he needed to stay healthy, as if they sought to tear his guts from his body. With his aversion to medical practices, however, it was a wonder that he drank and smoked and did so many other illegal substances, although it must have been that at some point the nuances of them all had become separated in his brain.

“Fine, just fine," he muttered, sullen and sulky. “Can it be that bad?"

Xander grinned, his paint not yet set off by the pink of his hair.

“Of course. But that's where the experience comes in! Don't hole yourself up, Donnie."

Yet he was himself for a reason and Donnie could not see any rhyme or reason to being anyone other than himself when it came to something like the club, sinking into the underground, seedy hole and letting the music pulse and throb through him. If he didn't think, it may not have been too bad, but he was not one for continued movement, wanting to be calm, static, quiet, stationary... Hands and bodies swept around him and the UV-paint on his body flared up on his face and arms in lines of green and pink, showing off his skin in such a way that he turned heads wherever he moved, hunching away from the spotlight.

But Xander wasn't going to let him give up so easily – he'd only asked for a little time, after all, and it was what would come later that would be the true fun of it all, the reason he'd gotten Donnie all painted up in the first place. It would be a relief from the stress and pushing one's limits came with an exhilarating thrill that sent him dancing, or as much in the way of dancing as Xander himself felt capable of doing. No one in the club was thinking of that, however, watching him for his dancing prowess (or distinct lack of), lights flashing, music blaring, the beat driving underfoot with a deep, throbbing pulse.

The music was too loud to pick out the words, deafening and screeching, the DJ clearly on fire, if that was the right phrasing to use. Neither of them knew, although Xander was older than Donnie and perhaps had more experience in less seedy parts of the world. Alcohol flowed and Donnie groaned, the sound of it swept away by the music, as it slipped down his throat, not even caring what he was thinking. Top shelf vodka? Well, he'd slip John the bill later, fucker deserved it really, he'd growl but pay the tab to clear it all from their records. That was the good thing about John, looking after him, keeping him safe...

There was too much noise to think and Xander dragged him to dance, although it was more a sort of swaying as the beat simmered down, glow-sticks seemingly produced from nowhere (just where had the others in the club been keeping those things?) loops and rings adding to the neon glow of their skin. Head thrown back, even Donnie laughed breathlessly, lighter than ever as the liquor soothed away any underlying worries that may have been present, softening the edges into a fuzzy, glowing blur. Not even the 'threat' of so many sweaty bodies crowding in on him from all sides could throw him off his came as Xander pressed up behind him, wickedly grinding and testing the limits of their relationship, how far they could push things.

And all Donnie could do as more liquor flowed down his throat, wonderfully hazy in the neon throng, was return it all in kind, revelling in getting to do things that simply were not possible with John. No, he had a thing with John, his brother, but that was not something that could be taken into the public eye by any means, their relationship fraught and sordid and, well, as illegal as other things they did together. But Xander was just another man and a kiss or two could be traded even there out in public without fearing any kind of retaliation, a hard cock pressing up against his backside and thigh even through the so-called barrier of Xan's clothing.

A break. His head swam, dipping and undulating. He needed a break.

Outside offered little respite in the cold lick of the night as he gasped and sucked in air that was not all that clean, Xander leaning back but not lighting up a stick of cancer. Donnie appreciated that, although he didn't know how often Xan smoked anymore. It wasn't a taste in his mouth, after all, that Donnie cared much for.

Alcohol, however, could illuminate as much as it clouded and he frowned, a nagging thought rising up from the back of his mind.

“What really made you want to head out tonight?" Donnie pressed, eyeing Xander out of the corner of his eye, the lingering aroma of cigarette smoke teasing through the air. “It wasn't just what you said."

Xander sighed. Too astute, as always. But that was one of the things he liked about Donnie too.

“Well, I wasn't going to hang around that amoral asshole any longer now, was I?"

Xan's expression soured and even Donnie had to roll his eyes.

“Why can't the two of you just get along? Is it that hard?"

The whiny note in his voice was impossible to deny but it felt apt as Donnie let out a sigh that spoke of far more incidents between Xander and John than just the one, the casino raid (however successful it had been) lingering with a foul memory hand in hand with it. Just what it was that had gotten Xander's back up about that he could not have said but he hadn't said John's name again since, leaving him as the 'amoral asshole' or simply 'asshole' if Xan particularly felt that his tongue was short on time. He wouldn't, after all, have wanted to waste breath on a man that he did not, by any stretch of the imagination, see eye to eye with. Black and white was only the beginning of it, the two of them coming from opposite ends of perhaps entirely different spectrums.

“Whatever," Donnie said, although the sigh in his voice was evident. “He's grateful for the help with the raid, the money and like, even if he won't say it. You should really try to get along with him."

It was futile, ultimately, but all that was proven in the span of a split-second as Xander's face snapped around to him, some of the blue paint, waiting to be set off again beneath the UV-lighting, smudged beneath his eye.

“What?" Against himself, Xan laughed. “That asshole hasn't been grateful for anything in his whole fucking life!"

He must have felt strongly about it to swear like that, although it was not as if either that Donnie was against swearing. But it was in him right there and then to shut Xan up, to show him that he wasn't going to take more conversation like that about John, if it could even be called conversation. Quieting him by yanking him into a kiss, forceful and harsh, however, was probably not quite what Xan was expecting, but it did the trick and Donnie growled into his mouth, hauling him back into the club with the expectation that he would be dragging him out again very soon.

Anyone watching them would have known just what they were up to in there, or what was going to happen next, and neither of them would have denied it, twisting and turning, gyrating... Yet no one was watching the two men ramp it up for a lingering night at home, hands slipping where less familiar ones may not have dared. In a fit of rashness, Donnie even thrust his hands, growling, into Xander's trousers, eyes intent as the club lights flashed over him repeatedly, illuminating his paint before then casting him into shadow again a moment later. Like with everything else, as Xan's cock thickened and teased him, forcing him to want him all the more, light and dark came together, hand in hand. Although he still would have rather have had the dark.

Yet the music pounded, world spinning, turning without his consent or his will. Time passed and he cried out, more hours elapsing than he had been prepared to spend, want heightening with every passing moment. Under the lights, his skin transformed him into a painted hybrid, somewhere between reality and the dream of the unknown, forgetting everything else.

If only for a time.

Getting home – at least, to Xan's home – was a longer trip, shared gropes and pushes into alleyways heightening their lust. But the grime of the streets had already worn its way more than enough into Donnie's knees and palms for him to crave a little more comfort in the act of doing the deed and he insisted, however breathless and desperate, that they go inside, that they make their way there at all costs. Of course, the cost was just a delay of passion but it still felt like an eternity until they tumbled into the modest apartment just outside one of the most desirable areas of the city, train lines left wanting in their wake. They'd seen many a drunk stumbling off at a late hour but never before two like Xan and Donnie.

They wasted no time, lips crushed together, clumsy and messy in the heat of an alcohol induced and fuelled moment. They would have done the deed even if they had been sober but the lure of alcohol simply made it all the more exciting to them, Xander's hips rocking entirely of their own accord, searching for that hand to thrust into, grinding up against Donnie's thigh. More, they needed more, and they could have it too, trousers hitting the floor, shoes kicked off. Shirts were less necessary but Xander pushed on, recklessly shoving up Donnie's shirt and trailing his tongue lewdly down the centre-line of his body, between his nipples, the tiny trail of hair that lay along the line of his stomach guiding him down and down and down to the true object of his attention. Of course, sexuality only came into play after their friendship but it was exploring it too as Xander lustfully took Donnie's cock into his mouth that was part of what made their strange kind of relationship so strong.

They didn't have to explain it. They just had to get on with it.

Donnie groaned, leaning back against Xan's sofa as he gripped it, the plush fabric soft against his fingers, his palms. Everything seemed heightened even though it should have been dulled with alcohol, mind and body alike working overtime simply to keep up with everything that was going on. Barely able to breathe, he grunted and heaved, head tipped forward even as his shoulder blades tried to push back more and more. His glutes squeezed down and he caught himself, thrusting and grinding, teasing his length over Xan's tongue almost up into the back of his mouth – but not quite. There was time enough to push that limit later in the night.

But Xan wasn't going to let his cock out of his mouth again so easily, paint standing out from their faces and arms in starkly shocking definition as he growled and pressed his hands into Donnie's thighs, fingers curling around into the soft flesh to find the muscle beneath. He needed something and Donnie was going to give it to him as he sucked and hollowed his cheeks, eyes half-lidded in a frenzy of lust. Pre-cum pooled on his tongue, a tantalising drip, and he swallowed it all down eagerly, swirling his tongue around his mouth if only to savour it before it was forced to disappear down his throat.

Too much, all too much. Donnie twisted his head back and forth, gripping, hands seeking something to hold onto and only finding Xan's hair, his neckerchief, the bandana there that he always wore some manner of. They changed on a daily basis but there was one that he always came back to that Donnie hadn't seen in quite some time and he almost asked where it was before Xan gave his cock a particularly hard suck, bobbing his head so fervently that it was as if he knew just what was coming and was trying to stave off the question. And Donnie was not about to push the issue as he thrust lightly and ground, head throbbing with pleasure that was so blissfully and sweetly delivered, aching down the line of his cock.

Somehow, they managed to get into the bedroom, stumbling and laughing, hands all over each other's bodies. Shirts hit the floor, leaving them naked from head to toe, Xan cheekily swiping the tie from Donnie's hair and letting the strands fly loose again, sticking lightly to the damper nape of his neck. Sex was a messy endeavour and there was no point in pretending that it was always clean and wholesome, especially when they toppled onto the bed with Donnie on top, straddling Xander's hips, their inclination to make things even dirtier still growing by the second.

And Donnie had the chance to do just that in fine fashion, a can of paint beside the bed from when they'd gotten ready to go out earlier. That part, at least, of the evening had been fun regardless of how much Donnie had initially dreaded forcing himself out into an environment with other people that he was by no means comfortable in.

“What..."

It wasn't a question but a filler, Xander's hands sweeping down the muscle of his thighs and up to his hips, bone rising through to define the shape of Donnie's lean body. Donnie's hand closed on the can as he shook it, lips quirking up deviously.

“You got more of this stuff?"

Donnie smirked, uncharacteristically.

“Yeah..."

Blinking, Xander shook his head but not even he could have anticipated Donnie's wickedness, daring in the moment as he sprayed the paint on his hands, making a mess in the process as the liquid aerosol squirted and sputtered. The lamp was on but it did not illuminate all that much of the bedroom, casting them into a state of half-light, shadows slanting. The paint splattered and Donnie rolled his eyes, although he was so far gone, pushing forward recklessly, that not even that was going to hold him up from what he wanted to do next.

“Ah... Fuck..."

His hands were on Xan before the man in question could ask what he was doing, although the mess produced by such a feat would be laughed at (admittedly with a sense of horror) come the light of morning. Leaving pink handprints smeared in his wake, he pushed Xan's legs up, bending them at the knees even as Xander hastily grabbed onto the metal headboard of the bed behind him. Donnie's cock pressed up to his pucker before he caught up with what was happening, although he welcomed him in regardless, the only lube that there was to hand being that of Donnie's pre-cum. But, like always, that was alright as long as they went slow, the sphincter designed to stretch, and he was well used (pleasantly so) to taking Donnie's length by that time, moaning as it pushed its way on deeper and deeper.

Still, the paint was there to be used and abused and Xander had the presence of mind to reach, scrabbling, to the bedside cabinet, the little, rickety thing that held just the one thing that could be found useful in that moment alone. His breath caught and he laughed even as Donnie's moan coloured the air, chest heaving and hips working, all for their ultimate pleasure.

Anyone, however, with a little passion for body paint and kinkily erotic endeavours of experimentation should have a UV-light to hand, of course, in Xan's opinion, although he barely managed to half set it on the wooden surface beside the bed before knocking it on. There, on its side, it would have to say, letting the neon lines and swirls on their body grow and glow, Donnie taking advantage of the extra element to paint lines on Xan's chest with his fingertip, leaving fading, pink trails in his wake.

“Unnff... This stuff...pretty cool..."

He could barely get the words out but they both knew what he wanted to say as he thrust and fucked, leaning forward over Xan's body, although he was not pushing up onto his knees but rather demonstrating a little more flexibility than normal and allowing them to splay out. With his buttocks closer to the bed, he could grind and thrust more sensually, long, deep strokes powering into Xander as he took him slowly as if he had all the time in the world. Playfully, he shot a smear of the paint between Xan's nipples and smudged it out with his hand, although he would not have said that he was anything of an artist. It was the sensation of touch that did it for him, all with an added twist and slickness of the paint, chest rising and falling rapidly as if he too could not catch his breath.

Grunting, Xander twisted lightly, managing to get one leg hooked higher up, the back of his knee pressed over Donnie's arm. He was not flexible enough, however, even at his young age of youth, to manage the other one too, although he had known some lovers in his time that had been able to get both of their legs up over his shoulders – a mean and hot feat indeed! That wasn't for them though as Donnie rocked into him, rolling his hips as they worked and Xan snatched up the paint for himself, lips quirking, although it was all he could do not to cum right then and there, his cock already throbbing.

“Unnff..." Xander grunted, eyes half-lidded, trying to retain enough sense of himself to keep them open. “Ah... Harder..."

Donnie's eyebrows shot up but he was perhaps one more accustomed to taking commands than Xander, even if he was the one topping at that moment. Hips working, he slammed in, leaning over him and putting a little more of his weight into the thrusts, although it was hardly something that he wanted to expend too much energy on when his orgasm was slow in building. That was the annoyingly funny thing with alcohol, how it dulled some senses. He could only be thankful, however, that it did not make him completely unable to cum but drew out the pleasure, allowing him to languish in the many moments leading up to climax with his partner, of which Xan was one of the best.

No other frenzied partners, friends with benefits, quick flings – they didn't match up to Xan and what he offered him, bearing down against his leg as Xander braced against him, lips parted in an 'O' of bliss. If he groaned, the sound rolled over Donnie as he parted his lips, grinding in with greater urgency, driven on by the lust crossing Xan's face. If there was anything that made him want to cum, it was the pleasure he gave to his partners, Xander trying, however weakly, to rock his hips up against him. It was not the position to fight back in, however sexual it was, and he was forced to relax down into the bed, his anal ring and passage conforming to the length of cock that he had near enough demanded pound into him to begin with.

But Donnie was not a partner to forget who he was with and he enjoyed the build-up as much as the ultimate climax, the heady onrush of pleasure that was a kind of explosion in itself. His hand found Xan's cock as if by instinct, closing around it and squeezing lightly, applying just the right amount of pressure as he stroked up and down, tugging the skin gently along with him. Xander moaned, grunting, knuckles turning white as he gripped the metal headboard, although his eyes were desperate for something else entirely as he managed to swipe Donnie's hand away, leaving his cock twitching and jerking noticeably as if he was about to cum hands-free.

“Wait..."

Xander grunted and twisted, eyes closed completely, squeezed shut against the onslaught of pleasure. Not yet. Not quite yet.

“No... No, too close... You cum first..."

Donnie gasped and licked his lips, breath cooling the moisture to be found there.

“What? Unnff..." It was hard to think with that hot hole clenched down around his shaft. “You... You sure?"

Of course, Xander was – he always was. And Donnie could not help but thrust and thrust, rolling his hips and working up into a rhythm that suited them both, teasing up against that spot deep inside Xan too that made him clench down, cock drooling and twitching even then. But Xan simply would not have been able to hold back with even a little more stimulation on his dick whereas his body naturally rebelled against the penetration, allowing him to linger there on the edge for just a little longer, building and building, panting and heaving, until Donnie ground in as deep as he could possibly go, paint staining the twisting writhe of their liaison, as he erupted inside his partner.

The paint can tipped and fizzed, spilling paint onto the bed, soaking the mess, cum drooling from Xan's strained entrance as he bore through it, howling and grunting, letting loose with the knowledge that the walls were soundproof enough. He hadn't gone for the place that he had for no reason, after all! And Donnie couldn't help himself, paint pooling beneath them, marking in evidence of their lustful tryst as he thrust and thrust, driving himself over into the spill of his ultimate, final pleasure.

Yet there was still one to please as he came down from his high, even though the afterglow itself was one of the best parts. Pumping Xan's cock without being held back, Donnie paid due attention to his partner, allowing Xander to relax back onto the bed, wrists and hands loosely held over the pillows as he relented. It could not come unless he was ready for it, of course, and the trickle of semen pushing from his anal ring with Donnie's softening cock still pressed within it was purely the icing on the cake as his pumping hand twisted him sensually closer and closer to climax.

“Unfff... Donnie..."

Saying someone's name – wasn't that cliché? But there was no one else that he would rather refer to in the heat of the moment, baring his teeth in a feral, sharp smile on the edge, pre-cum spilling out over Donnie's hand at the very pinnacle of it all. And then it was too late to hold back or say that Donnie had to go slower, cum bursting forth, Xan's balls churning, pumping, aching to spill what felt to him like every last drop that his nuts could possibly contain. Of course, draining a bloke's balls was a harder task than that and something that he would, perhaps, undertake with the right partner in fun-crime, but a climax was a climax, half of Donnie's body above him cast into shadow while the rest glowed in the illumination from the tilted UV-light, a beauty of a world that he did not understand humping and grinding, all for their mutual, sweetening pleasure.

And who could have possibly have known that such a night, which had started so awkwardly, could have come to such a sweet climax? Donnie grinned breathlessly, revelling in bringing Xan to climax, although not even he could resist the thick treat of lapping up what he could from his hand, allowing Xander's softening cock to relax down against his stomach and thigh, resting for the time being. Suckling off his smallest finger where semen had trickled a path around, Donnie chuckled around the digit, playing a more mischievous part than he may have normally, all in the name of ever so slightly kinky experimentation.

“Fuck... You know what you do to me..."

And Donnie had to relent, allowing Xander space to recover and breath, slipping from him as he grew too sensitive after climax. But the rest of their bodies could still come together in the afterglow, neither of them finding it in themselves to care as paint and bodily fluids mixed together, smearing and staining, pressed up close with exhaustion overwhelming.

“Hey, Xan..."

Donnie murmured, his head on Xander's chest, half-pink with the paint. That would be one that would be a right bitch to get off when they woke properly again but not something that either of them had the presence of mind to think about then.

“Yeah?"

“Next time... Let's just do this, not the club... Alright?"

Xander laughed but it was a sleepy kind of laugh and his murmur of agreement was lost in Donnie's snore, slipping away after sex into sleepy bliss. His cock lay soft against Xander's thigh and slipping away too seemed like just the right thing to do, breath coming in long, slow exhalations as he drifted into unconsciousness of the best kind. For sleep would bring sweetly soft rejuvenation and more fun still come morning, even if there may well have been an angry, seething John on the phone wondering why the hell Donnie hadn't come home – even if he maintained, as always, that he didn't care what Donnie did.

Fucking liar.

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Everything twisted and everything wrongly-right, Xander eased away with a smile on his lips, eyelids fluttering in dreams.

There would be something worth waking up for in the morning too, that much was sure.