` ` Not Close Enough ` `

The night starts like any other. They follow their routines beside each other in the shared room. Vel sorts his questionable wares, and Isaiah plays with the curls of their hair.

A comforting silence hangs between them.

With a sigh, they shimmy out of their cropped jacket. It drops with a fwump, gaining Machiavelli's attention. The button-up is loose on their frame, and the collar hangs low on their neck. It's enticing.

She catches his gaze and gives him a questioning glance. He smiles, one that reeks of trouble. No matter how long or hard he resists, they'll always yield to the charismatic conman. Relenting, they roll their eyes and pat a spot on the creaky bed. Vel scrambles onto it, embarrassingly quick for their liking. His smile is wider now, love-stricken, as he reaches to cup Isaiah's face. They're both losers.

He does nothing to stop the other's advances, allowing Velli to touch his cheek tenderly. They hum and lean into the gloved hand. "Am I really that desirable?" Isaiah whispers out, face adorned with a light flush. Machiavelli's thumb caresses their face, mapping out each freckle that speckled their skin. "Of course." He says simply, like it was as easy as breathing.

They mumble something intelligible, probably some empty insult. Vel lets out an airy laugh, leaning in to lovingly peck their forehead, peppering kisses down to the bridge of their nose. A strangled noise escapes Isaiah, hands sliding from the waist up to wrap around his neck. It leaves Velli breathless, letting out a shaky, low whine. They stare into each other's eyes with desperate longing and overwhelming affection. He leans in again, leaving open-mouthed kisses on Isa's neck, trailing up to their lips. She shudders, gasping as they grip the back of Vel's shirt to steady themselves.

"You're gorgeous." He murmured into tanned skin, lips brushing against each other as he spoke. "Like some kind of a goddess, I'll worship you day in, and day out." Isaiah lets out a startled gasp just as Machiavelli captures their lips. The kiss is searing, full of adoration and desire. They part to suck in another breath, diving back into each other.

Vel inches in closer to Isa, caging them in with strong arms and a knee lightly pressed between their legs. He whimpers, allowing themselves to be overtaken by their partner, lover-their everything. Her senses are overloaded, his touch is warm and needy, his lips searching for something. What could he be looking for in them? What was there that was so special about Isaiah? They didn't understand.

He'd remind them each time without fail what they meant to him.