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Irving had no certain idea what would happen when he (or rather, his innie) became conscious outside of the severed floor. Where would he be? Home? With people? Dreadfully alone? Would he have family, what would his house look like? Apartment? He had so many questions, all of which were pushed far under the immediate reality of what he was actually supposed to do with his time outside: find someone, someone he trusts (does he have that?), and tell them everything he could about the truth behind severance.
His mouth felt dry in the elevator, his eyes closed before he was whisked away. It was only a second, as it always was, before he was conscious, anyways. He had no idea how much time had passed, and of course where he was, only that it had worked. Irving, his innie that is, had made it outside hell.
When Irving came to he was startled first by the loud music filling the room he was in, which was a paint studio? He was a painter? What was he painting? Why had he painted the same thing over and over again? It felt as familiar to him as he was sure it felt to his outie: so close to knowing, yet just beyond his memories, like a dream he had when he was kid - just there enough to picture it, but cloudy enough to not know at all what it was about.
He set down whatever was in his hands, moving on autopilot to turn off the overstimulating music. Whenever he came to, back to being conscious as his innie, he always felt a wave of lightheadedness and disorientation.
Irving took a minute to assess the room he was in, paintings, all of which were of the same image, were scattered around the room. Black paint oozed, finally making sense of Irv’s dreams (when he really shouldn’t have been napping).
Irving took small steps, unsure of his shaking legs. He managed to make it to what he soon found to be the bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took deep breaths to calm his mind. A hand soothed his forehead. He was finally calming down, until he heard a creak against old floorboards behind him.
“Are you taking a break or are you finished for the night?” Burt? Was that Burt G’s voice? Irving spun around fast, watery and hopeful eyes catching and locking onto pleasantly calm and warm ones.
“. . . Burt?” Irving’s voice cracked, he had tears threatening to fall as his body unwittingly stood out of surprise and mixed excitement. He didn’t think he’d ever see him again as long as he lived. He thought Burt would become some distant dream, something he’d made up in his wildest dreams, no matter how short and sparse they were.
“Yes, darling?” Darling. The word rang in Irv’s head like church bells, ricocheting around in his already pounding thoughts.
“I’m sorry . . . it’s just . . . Do I live here?” He knew he must sound crazy, Irv was sure of that. He already a million questions, which soon tripled and doubled and tripled again. Burt was here. His outie knew him. Burt’s outie knew his.
“Yes, as do I. Are you feeling alright?” Burt asked cautiously, concern know seeping into his voice as he slowly stepping across the floor to stand close to the other man.
“I- I have something to tell you. I- I’m sorry. This is going to sound crazy.” Irving started, but stopped when Burt took his hand as he helped him sit down, giving his wobbling legs a break.
“It’s okay. You know you can always talk to me.” Burt spoke calmly. It was only then that Irving looked down and noticed something that then made his mind implode, once more. Wedding rings.
“Are we- did we- oh! Are we . . .?” Irving’s voice trembled, his eyes could barley meet the others, locked onto their still joined hands. Burt’s other clasped on top of his own. Their rings matched, and felt warm.
“Married? Yes. We have been for quite some time. . . Irving, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Burt sounded more than concerned, and Irving was now fully aware how insane he must sound.
Of course, it would make sense that Lumon would make them take them off, they didn’t let their innies know anything about their personal life. Irv always thought that if (which he had highly doubted) he was married that he wouldn’t be allowed to wear the ring. He could almost imagine himself taking it off regretfully every morning before going to work. He had noticed an indent before, and his left finger did often almost naked, which he always chalked up to his loneliness.
“I’m sorry, I’ve gotten ahead of myself. I’m- I’m Irving’s innie.” Irving explained quickly, sporadically, how he and the rest of the MDR department made their crazy plans, and had somehow, miraculously, gotten to where they were. He told Burt about Mark, Helly and Dylan; about MDR and O+D; about Cobel and their treatment; everything he could.
Burt sat silently for a moment. Taking in all the information that he’d just had spilled over him. His hands never left Irving’s, having at some point instead began rubbing over the other’s, mollifying his erratic explanation.
“Will you tell . . . him . . . for me?” Irving asked lightly, his breath coming back to him after a long and thorough explanation.
“Of course I will. We’ve been researching Lumon for years, now. We agreed to be severed to see if we could infiltrate the company, get closer somehow.” Burt replied as if every word wasn’t changing Irving’s soul by the second, a reckoning to his burning idea of existence itself.
“How long have we known each other?” Irv had to ask, he had to prod, to ask every possible burning question he’d have time to think of and get an answer for.
“Just around ten years, now. We got married shortly before being severed.” At Burt’s words Irving reverted back to being flustered, not that it had lessened much as he’d been talking.
“Do we . . . know each other down there?” Burt finally asked, and Irving felt his heart swell. His expression softened. Now that he had explained everything, had gotten the important stuff out of the way, he figured he could rely on the others to do the same - and Irv could finally find what he’d always been yearning for, what he deserved.
“Our apartments didn’t know of the other existence, until recently. We meet fifty seven days ago, however long that is up here. We’ve spoken twenty-three times. I remember every single word you’ve ever said to me.” Irving couldn’t help it. This was Burt, the only person he’d ever trusted, ever love-
“And are we together? Down there?” Burt smiled at him, and Irving felt his heart start to race.
“We- well, we are more than friends. I guess were, since you retired recently.” Burt nodded at Irvings words, somber in renaissance. But Burt smiled again nonetheless.
“I’ve been wondering about that. That wasn’t my choice, they just told me. I assumed I’d messed up and gotten caught.” Burt thought more out loud than really speaking to Irv, in that moment.
“Well, we did get caught . . . sort of,” Irving’s voice felt dry against his tongue, suddenly.
“So we got to fall in love all over again? That’s just beautiful, isn’t it?” Burt’s words had Irving’s shoulders relax just as much as they made them re-tense just as quickly, though for a different reason.
“We never said it, but . . . again? That’s- that’s-” Irving didn’t realize a tear had slipped out until Burt’s warm hand wiped it off smoothly. Without comprehending what he was doing, Irving leaned into the touch. Burt let out an almost inaudible gasp, surprised at Irving’s starved demeanor. It must be truly hell down there. Burt could only think how grateful he was that, at the very least, they knew one another down there, even it was for such a short amount of time.
“And have we . . .” Burt prodded, he was skilled in knowing Irving. It was a profession for him. To tease him, rile him up, to love and consume him.
“Have we what?” Irving knew what words went unspoken, but he couldn’t help himself. Nor could he fully actualized what was really unsaid.
“Well, I suppose in a workplace such thing are frowned upon, to say the least. But I assume I may have at least tried to kiss you. We kissed the first night we met, you were so scared then. I was your first.” Burt was doing that half smile, with one raised eyebrow, and decidedly coy words. Irving felt as though he’d experienced this tone before, but this side of him had never been, well, properly seduced before.
“I-” Irv had to stop himself. His cheeks flushed pink, and he had to break eye contact to shut his eyes and attempt to calm his now racing everything.
“S’okay. I’m sorry for rushing you.” Burt talked smoothly, but he held a sly smile and a playfulness in a not-so-hidden tone behind his words.
“No! No, it’s okay. It’s just that . . .” Irving felt suddenly incredibly embarrassed, a feeling that would not leave him no matter how much he tried to douse his thoughts with metaphorical cold water.
“We came close, very close. But I got- well- I got scared, and I couldn’t . . .” Irving hung his head in shame, he would have stayed there forever, just staring at their still connected hands, until the hand that had at some point lifted to his shoulder, moved to lightly pick up his chin.
“Just the touch of your hand had me . . .” Irving stopped himself, and Burt smirked. He was sure he had made the first move, and wished terribly that he could know what he looked like the first time he touched him, all over again.
“Would you like to? You’re exactly like him, you know. The Irving I know, I mean. When we met he was nervous, unsure of himself, and utterly terrified of intimacy.” Burt’s voice returned to that same playfulness as before, he knew exactly what his words would do to Irving before the man himself knew what was going on. It terrified him to no end just how well Burt knew him, better than he did himself (that was clear), he had complete control over him and it was making Irv increasingly excited.
“You’re just like him too. Strong, assured, intelligent and so beautiful. I’d- I’d like to . . . but I’ve never- I’ve never.” Irving’s voice was shaking, almost as much as his knees and hands.
“Let me lead, love. I know just how you like it. I could tell you about it.” Each individual word Burt whispered hung heavy in Irving’s mind: lead, love, like it, tell you about it. Irving felt as though he was going to float above the bed, and never come back down to earth.
He could only nod at first, his mouth was dry, voice leaving him as his eyes threatened to spill once again. Burt leaned towards him, his face coming dangerously close to his own. Irving did everything in his willpower to not pull away.
This would not be a repeat of last time. Irving believed that he’d never see this wonderful man again in his life, and now he had the chance to kiss him, now he knew about them! He couldn’t waste a single more second, he refused to.
“May I kiss you, Irving?” Burt’s voice echoed around the room, and around Irving’s brain. It was the five words he’d never known he wanted to hear so badly. Words he needed to hear.
“Please, Burt . . .” Irving’s voice failed him again. It was as if his words came from another, he had no control over them or his body. But when Burt leaned in more, Irving did so too, he couldn’t back away, not now.
When their lips met Irving’s world shattered. The softness of Burt’s lips against his own was a feeling so indescribable and wonderful that Irving knew that no matter what infractions they may face from tonight, he’d never forget the feeling of it.
Burt kissed him again, and Irving melted. He knew a muffled whiny noise was dragged out of him, and he did his best to pretended it didn’t happen. But then Burt slipped a hand around his head, thumb on his cheek as he held him close, not letting him go; Irving broke. He let out an uncontrollable whine as he had to break apart for air.
Burt’s eyes were satisfied, and he was greatly amused, as well as slightly saddened by how apparent it was of how deprived of affection Irving was.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-” Burt cut Irving off with another kiss, one hand resting on his neck, as the other came to rest on his thigh. This made Irving physically jump, after he pulled away his eyes bore into the hand on him, if he was shaking before it was nothing compared to now.
Irving tried to discreetly cross his legs, to hide a very apparent problem now hiding between his thighs. Burt saw this, or rather expected it, and his hand moved to his other thigh, lightly pushing it back down as his eyes dropped to where Irving’s own were now attached to.
When their eyes met again they both were heavily layered with practiced and recurring lust. Burt was used to it, enjoyed it, and knew just how to dig it out of Irving. Irving, on the other hand, was terrified, his eyes were wide and his mouth gaped with unspoken apologies and pleas.
“It’s okay. You’re okay.” Burt’s rough voice soothed Irving, who could only nod and tremble as the hand on his thigh began to inch closer to what simultaneously excited him to no ends, and terrified the hell out of him.
“What do you want, darling.” Burt had noticed what the name did to him earlier, just as he knew what his words could and would do to the other man. Irving’s mouth gaped open, he couldn’t get any words out, if he had a gun to his temple he’d remain speechless.
“I can tell you what you like. I know you well, and I’ve had years of practice.” Burt’s words sent Irving on fire, most literally. The hand on his leg found that special spot just before his groin, sitting right on the soft of his upper-most inner thigh, Irving had no clue when he had spread his previously tightly pressed together legs.
“Oh . . .” Was all Irving could manage, it came out less like a question and more like a half groan. He couldn’t help it, Burt made him feel exposed and open, free in a way he’d never thought he could be. It panicked him from his racing mind down to his fluttering heart.
“You like it when I tell you what to do. And you love it when I spread your legs and open you up slowly and-” Burt was too much, far too much for Irving to handle all at once. He put his face in his hands and whimpered, his legs were shaking hard, he couldn’t bear to look the man in his eyes at that moment, he was far too overwhelmed.
“I’m sorry. Too much?” Burt was back to concerned, but was most certainly amused with himself. Once again Irving could only nod, face still buried in his hands. He thought he might start hyperventilating, until a calming hand laid itself on his back, rubbing soothing and soft pressure against him. Irving let out a shaking but deep breath.
“It’s- I’m okay, I am. This is all just . . .” Irving let his hands slowly fall from his face. ‘Overwhelming’ was unspoken, but didn’t need to be verbalized to be understood by the other man.
“If you want more, we’ll take it slow. Okay?” Burt whispered, kissing Irvings temple, making the man finally turn back to him. His expression could be taken as worry, if Burt didn’t know him inside and out.
“That sounds just lovely. But I don’t- I don’t know how to- I’ve never-” Irving knew mostly likely, most definitely since they were married after all, that he’d had sex before; perhaps his body knew what to do, but at the rate where his mind kept tripping over every little bump, he knew he’d need some guidance.
“It’s okay, you’re alright. I was his first too. It makes me happy that I get to be your first, twice.” Burt inched back into his playful tone, the hand on his upper thigh began slowly massaging him, making Irving twitch harshly.
“Oh goodness . . .” Irving spoke in what was a little less than a whisper. Burt was overjoyed that he hadn’t overstepped too indelicately, and knew just exactly how to proceed - with caution, and great care.
“May I undress you?” Burt was calm, how was he so damn calm! Irving felt his heart thumping out of his chest, he thought he might very well explode, and Burt was relaxed as ever.
“Don’t be too scared, love, I’ve seen you naked hundreds of times.” Burt knew his words had the exact opposite effect of inflicting a calmness over Irving. Irving let out a weak, hushed sigh as Burt finally removed his hand from his thigh. The spot burned, in the wake of the touch.
Burt was careful with him, so overly gentle Irving felt like a precious object thought would surly shatter if dropped. Practiced hands carefully undressed him, taking great precaution when removing his shirt, and even more so when he got to his pants.
Irving couldn’t help the whine that left when Burt unzipped his fly, one hand firmly on his waist as the other was careful and intentional with it’s movements. Burt smiled to himself, utterly satisfied with the effect he had over the other.
To Irving, this was the first time he’d been stripped of his clothes in front of another. In Front of Burt, he couldn’t believe it. After being sat down against the edge of the bed Burt moved to stand between his spread legs, it took everything within himself not to look away as Burt moved to start removing his own clothes. He set his sweater to the side, as well as shirt, undershirt, pants, everything except underwear - leaving them in the same state.
For a long moment Irving just looked at the body before him. His eyes, his mind, had never captured the beauty before him. Without thinking he lifted his hand to Burt’s side, feeling the man’s skin and enjoying it’s softness.
“God. You’re beautiful.” Irving murmured, not going unnoticed to the man, who let out a gasp. Irving wondered what his outies frist impression was the first time he saw the man in such a state. The first time, god, he jealous of himself.
“You’re incredibly handsome, I love that I get to say that to you for the first time again. Everytime I see you it feels like the first time all over again, especially now. You’re gorgeous, Irving.” Burt spoke in a low tone, one Irving felt robbed of not hearing before, knowing he had before - not at all making it feel any less new.
Irving once more felt his throat closing up. Burt helped him lay down on the bed, moving to lay next to him. Burt wrapped him in his arms, holding Irving close as he kissed him again, soft and slowly gaining in ferocity. Irving, this time, was the one to grow ravenous.
With the helpful, groping, hands of Burt G. Irving found himself being pulled up and on top of Burt’s body. The man helped position him, and their clothed erections pressed together in a moment which once more ruptured Irving’s entire world. He broke the kiss with a low groan, he felt his back arch upwards, making their bodies connect even further.
“What do you want, my dearest? You can have anything, just say the word.” As Burt spoke, his hands took control of Irvings hips and led him into a slow grind. Irving’s eyes opened wide, along with his mouth as he gasped.
“I-” Irving tried, but then one hand moved to lightly touch his ass, pushing him up against Burt. He let his head fall onto the other man’s shoulders, his hand gripped the sheets just above his head.
“I want you . . . inside . . .” Irving couldn’t look him in the eyes when he said it, though it was barley a whisper. The hand on his back stopped his movements, pushing himself against Burt but leaving him to squirm, not able to go anywhere. Burt let out unholy noises, throaty and high pitched whines and groans which Irving had no idea he was capable of making.
“It’s okay, love. Let me lead you.” Burt spoke low, turning himself and Irving back to their sides. He laid Irving flat, moving to reach for the side table in a practiced motion. He moved Irving to sit against the head board, and lifted his legs so he could sit between them. A bottle of clear liquid sat in his hand.
“First, I’m going to open you up slowly. Using my fingers. Second, I’ll make sure you’re comfortable and in a good positon. Third . . .” Burt cocked an eyebrow, and Irving felt his mind go ravenous, and boiled over with passion and need.
“I think you know what comes after that. Don’t you?” Burt asked, and Irving once more nodded, feeling dumber with every move of his head, when he was too overwhelmed and at a loss for words.
“Good, good. Does that sound alright with you?” Burt was cautious with his next words.
“Do you want me to start?” He spoke low, trying not to sound too overzealous.
“I’m going to have to remove this, is that alright?” Burt was back to excited, and did his best not to jump ahead of himself. Irving, the Irving he knows, often didn’t need any preparation, but Burt was always more than willing to do so, and greatly enjoyed doing that alone. But he needed to be slow with this side of him. This Irving didn’t even know how to have sex, let alone what it would feel like. He had to be careful, but he was far too practiced to worry about not being. He knew Irving inside and out, and right then he was about to comprehensively prove it.
When Burt pulled down his last protective layer, leaving Irving open and bare, it surprised both of them when Irving relaxed and let his embarrassment seep away slowly. Of course it was new, it was a first, and it was scary, but his body felt warm and safe. He was safe, and he was far too gone to care about being embarrassed any longer.
Then Burt wrapped his fingers around him. Irving’s entire back left the soft pillows behind him. From the first touch alone, the first touch he’d ever known, he felt like his the pool in his stomach was going to overflow and rupture like a geyser. His skin felt electric, the energy spiking as Burt’s other hand trailed lower, and lightly grazed against his entrance.
“Fuck-” It was the only word Irving could think of in that moment, it was the first time he’d used it - it had never been an appropriate moment to use it prior to right that very second. Burt wasn’t surprised by it, no, he was greatly amused. Now that he was unraveling, Burt could get him to the finish however he wished.
“Is it too much? I can do just this.” Burt offered, already knowing the man would reject this, but overly excited to see just how he’d do so.
“More. Please. More!” Irving moved his hands, which he hadn’t noticed had been gripping the sheets next to his propped up legs, to grab Burt’s shoulders as he pleaded with the man. He didn’t know it was a game, didn’t know Burt already knew what to do, how to do it, and just what to say to get him to exactly the point where he wanted him to be.
“Of course, of course. It may feel strange, just relax, okay?” Burt hushed him, he kissed the hand on his left shoulder, and lifted his hands off of Irving, to the man’s great dismay.
When a wet finger breached Irving, his first time having anything inside of him, it alarming did not feel strange in the slightest. He knew why, but it still felt so incredibly new. It was nice that he wasn’t nervous, and that it didn’t feel strange, all he could think was that he needed more.
“More.” Irving asked, before he knew he was going to, not even fully grasping what he was asking for. Nonetheless, Burt knew what he wanted, and slowly, somehow slower than before, a second finger slipped inside with the first.
Burt was particular, and practiced with each twist, each push and spread of fingers. When Irving’s breathing had gotten to a pace where he wasn’t panting, Burt thought it was an appropriate time to introduce him to his prostate.
With a delicate and knowing curl at exactly the right spot Irving screamed. A fleeting thought of “I hope we don’t have neighbors” was gone within a fraction of a second after it’s formation. It was incomprehensible to describe, an entirely new feeling that made sense of a lot of things in his life thus far. How he lived without it made zero since, though he hadn’t known of the existence of such pleasure, any pleasure at that manner. It was the most fantastic thing he’d ever felt.
“Oh, please Burt! Please do that again!” Irving had his eyes screwed shut. A delicate touch lifted and positioned his chin. Burt leaned in and kissed him. When Irving’s eyes popped open and were locked hard onto Burt’s, he curled his fingers again, much harder this time.
From past experiences, many, many experiences, Burt knew that Irving could finish just from this, so he focused his efforts on opening him up further. Irving felt a pang of gratefulness, over the orchestra of pleading for him to do it again and again and again. They both knew the best was yet to come.
“How are you doing?” Burt asked, and Irving wondered how in the hell he’d expected him to answer while his fingers still pumped in and out of him. He nodded vigorously, until the movements within him finally halted, he whined as the fingers pulled out of him, a lewd noise accompanying it.
Burt straightened himself, kneeling, he pulled his underwear off, leaving him exposed. He wasn’t hesitant at all, showing himself to Irving for the first time. His underwear was discarded before he began moving.
For a long moment Irving sat still, just staring. Burt was naked. Naked and exposed and not at all embarrassed. He was very close to how he had imaged him, but far bigger than he would have ever guessed, and Burt smiled at his wide eyes, and blown out pupils.
“Come here, get on top of me,” Burt spoke calm, as he nonchalantly sat against the headboard next to Irving, who reluctantly and slowly moved to sit on him. He was breathless, sweating, and didn’t think he could do this if he wasn’t so far gone, already.
Burt helped position him, his tip sitting bluntly against Irving’s entrance. They shared a look of trust, openness, and overwhelming love. Irving sunk down slowly, with the help of Burt’s hands on his waist. The head popped into him with ease, and Irving threw his head back with a low groan. He let out more loud and continuous moans until their hips met, both men sighing contently at the connection.
Burt controlled the tempo. To get Irving used to the feeling he used his hands to have him roll his hips, before just lightly moving up just the tiniest bit before sinking him down again. Irving was a renowned quick-learner, and was for the first time happy his body knew what to do. Despite his fierce jealousy at his own self for being able to do this whenever he pleased to do so, he was very grateful that he didn’t have to think about it, he let his body move of it’s own accord, and it was magic.
“That’s it. You’re doing so well, Irving. You look amazing, do you know that?” Burt was so confidant, even now. Even when he had a flushed look of his own, and he was gone within the throws of pleasure, his words still held that same calm tone of sincerity and control.
“Burt! I- I- I don’t know how long I can-” Irving was cut off with a kiss, which was responded to with one twice the force and passion. Irving had one hand steadying himself on Burt’s shoulder, the other held onto his gorgeous face. He had to frequently stop to take in a long pant or two or three, before going back to kissing him, as if he would die if he did not. All the while his pace quickened.
Then Burt did something that made him feel as though he was jumping out of his skin, he lifted the man upwards until just the tip was inside and sat him down firmly. Irving let out a yelp, and did his best to do it again with his trembling legs.
“There you go. You’re doing so good. You’re so good for me.” Burt’s words had the most beautiful effect on Irving, with every word he seemed to get more and more lost, more and more gone and enraptured with the deep love and lust, long buried beneath work and responsibility.
“I- I can’t keep- I’m going to-” Irving tried to warn the other, but Burt took the words as incentive. A hand came to wrap around him, the other still a unyielding grip on his waist. Irving threw his head back as he rode the man hard, his release coated Burt’s chest, who didn’t seem to even blink. He continued to move until he physically couldn’t, the overstimulation causing him to let out long held tears from now satisfied eyes.
Burt’s hand stilled, still holding him gently. Irving took a long minute to get his breathing back down to a normal rate, his heart-rate slowing down and no longer pounding in his ears. He was still fully seated on the other, who was still very much hard and throbbing within him. Burt was slow with him, still, though he must be feverishly aroused now, and Irving came off of him with a gasp. He collapsed next to him for a long moment, before doing something daring, and completely out of character (the character he thought he was, that is).
Despite the throb that coursed through his entire body, Irving laid down, and positioned himself between Burt’s legs. This time, he surprised the other. It was Burt’s turn to have his eyes grow wide, and dark.
Though he had no idea what he was doing, Irving leaned forwards and kissed Burt’s leaking head. The effect was immediate, even if not for the twitch of the man’s member, he knew he’d done something pleasurable from the look alone he’d been graciously awarded with.
Irving took him into his mouth and once more let his body do the thinking. He knew immediately that this was far from the first time he’d done this. He wondered about the mornings where he thought he’d had a sore throat, but didn’t feel sick; and about the mornings where his back hurt, but not in the way the other’s described (Dylan would say it was painful, where as Irving felt more on the lines on . . . used, and empty).
“Irving . . . you’re spectacular.” Burt encouraged him, and Irving took more of him inside. He was surprised at how much he could fit, and tried to take all of him.
He had once noticed the lack of a gag-reflex after Mark had elbowed him by accident while he was eating fruit on a plastic fork, the thing shooting to the back of his throat; he had pulled it out, and continued eating like nothing had happened, and was only confused (at the time) by the confused and intrigued stares of his fellow MDR co-workers. He could faintly remember Petey laughing to himself, Irving having no clue why at the time.
Irving quickly realized that his outie must greatly, greatly, enjoy this activity. For he surly did. Time passed in slow motion, and he was grateful of that. His eyes never left Burt’s as he swallowed around him again and again. His body knew what to do, where to use his tongue, how fast and how slow to move, how to use his hands to cup the man’s testicles as he engulfed him time and time again.
And somehow he also knew when the other was growing close, and just what to do to get him to the edge and right over. Irving didn’t know he was capable of such movements, of swallowing a man in such ways, and with such vigor. Burt seemed surprised too, which was only visible in small moments which were immediately taken over with pleasure riddled and uncontrollable expressions of his own.
When Burt finished, Irving swallowed without a single thought. He continued for a long moment, until a hand weakly landed on his shoulder, and Irving reluctantly pulled off of him.
“I didn’t know I should have- Sorry I didn’t ask before-” Irving was suddenly very aware of everything that just occurred, but was silenced as he was pulled abruptly back up to the man, and kissed so tenderly and lovingly he once more melted and was made anew.
“Thank you . . .” Irving said, without really knowing why. Burt shut him up with another kiss.
The two laid down, Burt enveloped him up his arms as he kissed him slow and affectionately, Irving wrapped his body around the other. Their legs intertwined, and Irving held on for dear life.
“I never had the chance to say it, down there, with you. But . . . I love you Burt,” Irving felt tears forming back up to his eyes, the storm calmed when a light kiss was placed delicately at his temple.
“I love you too, Irving.” Burt kissed him again, and Irving felt his mind go blank.
Within one second, Irving B. was gone, shut back inside the recesses of his mind, his outie taking the front seat once more.
“Burt? What- what happened? I was just- Did we just-” Irving was confused, he was just standing in his studio, painting. Now he was in bed? What had happened? Why does his body feel like- wait, why was he naked?
“I have something to tell you.” Burt smiled a little, more to himself than to his husband. He kissed him, and held him close as he began to explain to him the unexpected events that had just occurred.