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Snow Tart
270774
Ricardo wakes up before Pascal, for once, and it takes a while to coax him sleepily into the passenger seat. The rest of the trip is easier, with no pressing gossip to attend to or information to negotiate, and nothing they can do about any of their circumstances until they reach Vegas — and this second half is the one where everything looks the same, everything out their windows an endless flat expanse, all dyed blue in the night.
They end up easily distracted.
Pascal is still adamant that Ricardo’s first time receiving shouldn’t happen in the back of a van, even when Ricardo mildly points out that the amount of combined time they’ve wasted on sex so far would have at been enough to at least try. Pascal won’t budge, though, and he has a point, so Ricardo drops it without pushing — besides, it’s not like he’s dissatisfied with the compromises.
On the third night, there are no dreams, either, and Ricardo isn’t surprised, given that he’d practically fallen asleep on top of Pascal.
They’re nearing the end of the fourth day when Pascal, sitting on his thighs, shoves his hand into the condom box and then makes a face.
“What.” Ricardo is sinking his fingers into the soft swell of Pascal’s ass, nosing up the line of his throat. “Hurry up.”
“Ricardo, we are out,” Pascal says. “No more condoms.”
Ricardo stops in his tracks, then snorts. “Sorry, what was that? Sorry? Who was making fun of me —”
“Oh, be quiet.”
“Who was making fun of me,” Ricardo continues, pulling Pascal closer on his lap, “for buying a twelve pack, as if that was a fucking ridiculous number, sorry, can you refresh my memory on who was mocking me about that —”
“Be quiet! Ricardo, sometimes you are so annoying! I thought you would be a boring man, when we first met, but instead you are annoying which is almost as bad — stop it, stop it,” Pascal hisses, swatting at him, because he’s started to grab at Pascal’s sides to try to make him laugh. “No sex without condoms!”
“I know, I know.” Ricardo relaxes and lets his hands fall to Pascal’s legs. “Til I get vampire tested. By a vampire doctor. For vampire STDs.”
“They are normal diseases, Ricardo, it is just you have them in a vampire way.”
“Do you listen to yourself, when you talk,” Ricardo asks, mildly. “I’m not saying you’re not right. I’m just wondering if you ever listen to how batshit all of this sounds.”
“Batshit, haha, you are a comedian,” Pascal deadpans. He stretches, arms straight above his head, and Ricardo admires the curve of his torso for a moment. “Ah, well. We are only a little while from Las Vegas now, yes? It’s just as well.”
“Yeah, we’ll be there soon.”
Pascal slips off his lap and clambers back into the front, and Ricardo follows him. “Are you ready? Kel will not be easy on you. Probably she will be wanting to start as soon as we arrive.”
Speaking of Kel, Ricardo decides to check his phone — and sure enough, he has a message.
FROM: KEL
SILVER CROWN. ON THE STRIP. ALREADY GOT YOU A ROOM. YOU CAN’T MISS IT.
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~+*MOST VALUABLE RAIDER 804 AD - 1021 AD*+~
..:: AINT NO BITCH LIKE A GALLOWGLASS BIIIITCH ::..
“Yeah,” Ricardo mutters, as he clicks his seatbelt. “You’re right.”
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