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percywinchester27 · 4 years

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A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-34)

Word count: 3.4K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Feels, fluff

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23. I love you so much, darling <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

The rest of the week was hard.

There were things you wanted to do and then things that you had to do. Unfortunately for you, the Venn diagram of those two things were two circles that did not touch.

Normally, you loved your job, you loved studying and your classes. But sitting through Sam’s class was becoming a new, different type of torture. The pretension was wearing you down. You could see it grating him, too. You rarely spoke up in his class now, trying not to draw attention, neither did he call upon you like he did with other students.

The library was still your second home, though, thanks to the untimely desertion of the other odd shifts librarian, you were left to run double shifts. Molly was sorry about it, but she didn’t have a solution for you, not until she had a new hire. That meant you were stuck in the library all the time. The guys in the apartment were starting to miss you. Kevin came over one evening to inform you everything sucked when you weren’t around. His face had made you hug him.

As for you? Without the free evenings, you couldn’t go over to see Max. You missed him terribly and it would do no good to whine about that to Sam, since you were still unsure about how he would take your excessive attachment to his son.

Not that you didn't have the chance to talk to Sam. After Sam put Max to bed, each night he’d call. You would sit in the alcove of the library widow and talk to him for hours- about the day, the classes and everything under the sun. Sam told you about the cases he was working on, the judges he really disliked and the girl Chase was chasing. Sam thought he was named aptly. He was also your faithful informant about Max. Apparently the playground bullies were back at it with the mean words. You blurted out loud how you wanted to punch the kids and Sam piled on top of that. Cheerful conversations about shaking kids followed.

It felt so juvenile to talk with him over the phone, like when he worked in New York and you were stuck in Lawrence, but not quite. Now, it was exciting to imagine him blushing on the other end when you accidentally said something complementary. Or if a student decided to stay in the library late night, you had to giggle in hushed voices so they wouldn’t overhear your conversations. The thrill of it was exciting. Those few hours had become the highlight of your day.

So, when Madison asked you what you were smiling about in the last lecture on Friday, you had to make up a reason. You couldn’t very well tell her that the bruise Sam was sporting on his cheek was because Max outran him on the basketball court and Sam slipped and fell.

“Just thinking of something funny.”

“Wouldn’t have to do with the green eyed hottie from Monday, would it?” Madison wiggled her eyebrows.

“Who, Dean?” You burst out laughing. “Maddie! He’s married to my sister.”

She laughed with you, face apologetic. “Dang! He’s really hot. Is it bad that I’m sorry he is married?”

“Definitely not,” you giggled. The good old Winchester genes had caused many casualties.

On the dais below, Sam collected his things.

“Ooohh, Professor Winchester is heading out. I better catch him before he leaves. You wanna come? Talk about the assignment?”

“No, you go on.” Sam had given you a run down of the assignment last night. You wanted to pout that he was right. You could have done better.

“Still awkward about the whole drowning thing, huh?”

You looked away, not wanting to remember the pool.

Madison wasn’t paying attention. “You were… I don’t know, delirious. You kept calling him by his name and…” Madison looked at you warily. She did not complete the sentence.

“Y/N saw the opportunity and took it,” said Rebecca from the next row. “I would sell my soul to be lifted like that.”

You slung your bag around your shoulders and made a move to get up. For all you cared, Rebecca could get hit by a truck. Not only were you furious at her for planning that prank with Brad, it made you feel murderous when she objectified Sam like that, reducing him to some greasy creep of a professor. It was insulting.

“Wait up now, sweetie!” She came up from behind. “Don’t act so prissy now. We all know you’re not as innocent as you make yourself out to be.”

“Excuse me?”

“You think I’m blind? To not see how you’re playing with all these men to get what you want? First, you have Brad panting after you, so you get the attention? Then you’re dancing with some random blue eyed man at the induction dance. The very next day you’re swaying in the arms of Chase Lincoln of all people. The moment you touch the pool water, somehow Sam Winchester is miraculously saving you… and two days later you’re crying like a damsel in distress in the arms of yet another man!” She was counting off her fingers. “And people call me slutty! I’m going to find out what your secret is, Y/N. Because I know you have one! And when I do...”

“You know what, Rebecca?” You said as calmly as you could. “Why don’t you go screw yourself.”

With that you headed straight for the library. When Madison caught up with you, her face was red. “Can’t believe I was ever friends with that hag! Gave her piece of my mind.”

“Madison, you should catch professor Winchester before he leaves. I’ll be okay.”

She assessed your words against your expression, then nodded and left.

You wanted to be by yourself.

Thankfully, cataloging was time-consuming and tedious. It took your mind off of Rebecca’s awful words. For the life of you, you couldn’t understand why she was so mean to you.

“Excuse me, miss, can I borrow this book?” Enquired a sweet voice.

You dropped the marker in your hand and looked up. Max was standing beyond the desk, a huge grin on his face. You gave a little yelp of your own and hurried from behind the counter to throw your arms around him, kissing him on his cheek.

“Gosh, I’ve been dying to meet you,” you said, pulling back to look at him.

He was wearing a plaid shirt over a small faded t-shirt and jeans. Such a mini-Sam. You couldn’t resist the urge to lean over and kiss his other cheek.

Max started blushing, looking down at his shoes.

“What’re you doing here?” You asked, leading him to one of the benches.

“Alex broke her arm last night. She couldn’t come over today. Dad’s got work. He asked me to hang out here.”

“Oh, no, is Alex okay?”

Max snickered. “Yeah. She was trying to sneak out for a party and fell out of the window.”

You pursed your lips trying not to laugh with him. “Poor girl.”

“Aunt Jody’s super-mad!” He added and you couldn’t help the giggle that burst through your lips.

“Max, is that you?” Molly asked, sticking her head from behind the shelves. “Darn kid! It’s been ages. Where did you run off to?”

“Mechanics camp!” He told her. “I know where an engine goes now. And how to hot-wire a car.”

“They taught you that at the camp?” You asked, skeptic.

“No, uncle Dean did.”

This time you laughed in earnest.

“You know Max?” Molly frowned.

You nodded. “Remember my little friend I told you about?”

“The one you were holding a bake sale for?”

“Yep, he’s the one.”

Molly put her hand to her lips. “Well, no shit! Do you know who his father is?”

You and Max immediately looked at each other, confirming your secret with a tiniest of nods.

“He’s Sam’s boy, this cute little nugget here.” Molly pulled his cheek. To Max’s credit, he didn’t rub his cheek afterwards.

Which reminded you. “You wait right here, Max. I’ll be back in a minute.” You quickly found the stash of cookies you were saving for tonight's dinner and hurried back to him. Eating at the library wasn’t allowed, but Max was an exception to every rule. “Cookies for you. I know these are your favourite.”

Max’s entire face lit up. True to his nature, he offered you one before digging in. You watched as he took a few bites, sneaking looks to the book he was holding- Adventures of Sinbad.

“I read one of those when I was kid. It had a monster bird that carried Sinbad away to its nest.”

“Oh, the Roc! That one’s my favorite!” Max clapped his hand and the cookies clattered to the floor.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, trying to pick up the bag.

You stopped him with a gentle nudge. “Let me.” After cleaning the cookie crumbs from the carpet, you unwound the scarf from around your neck and used it to clean the crumbs stuck to Max’s mouth and shirt, fussing over getting it all away.

When you made him stand up to clean the hem of his pants, you noticed Sam standing behind you, arms crossed over his chest. He had a peculiar expression on his face- tender but also guarded.

“You’re not supposed to eat the library, young man!” Sam tried for stern, but ended up sounding amused.

You straightened up. “I make the rules here. Max can do whatever he wants.”

Max gave Sam a smug look, before running to him. In a motion that must have been more of less a reflex, Sam reached out and hefted Max up in his arms.

“Look, what I found!” Max showed him the book.

Sam made a face. “Sinbad again? That sixth voyage was lame.”

“I wanna find out how it ends. There’s only one adventure left!”

“Alright, but this is the last of Arabian tales for the year. I get second hand sea-sickness just reading about it. I’m starting to miss Charlie and the chocolate factory.”

“You hated Charlie and the chocolate factory!”

Sam smirked. “You’re this close to getting my point.”

Max turned the book over. “We’re out of authors,” he told you.

The words shook you out of your quiet and you smoothened your expression. The scene before you was making your throat close up. You had never seen them together before. Max’s entire body language changed- his shoulders relaxed and he became less polite… just a bit more demanding, the way a child should be. Sam on the other hand radiated contentment. His voice changed, becoming softer, loving when he spoke to Max. You were sure you had been staring at them hungrily as if you couldn’t get enough of the interaction.

“Any suggestions?” Sam asked, tone still mild.

“T-Tolkein,” you stuttered. “You should try The Hobbit.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Elven songs. Wonderful.”

Molly came over to greet Sam and you excused yourself to go back to the desk and take a stock of the emotions coursing through you. At any point it could get too much and you didn't want either of them to see that.

On their way out, Max waved at you. “Bye, Y/N!”

“Bye, Max.” You blew him a kiss. “You turned my day around, bud!”

There were too many people in the vicinity, so when it came to Sam, you nodded. “Professor.”

He mirrored your gesture. “Ms. Y/L/N.” And with a look full of promise of later, he walked away. You waved at Max till he was out of sight.

“Such a lovely boy,” Molly sighed. “Horrendous business what happened to him.”

“Yeah.” You cut the topic short, still unable to think of Max’s past without feeling faint. Thinking about it was so hard for you, Max had lived through it.

Molly was in no mood to change the subject.

“Sam’s an amazing guy to give up the lawyer life and settle down here for that kid.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What do you mean?”

Molly threw out her hands, slightly embarrassed. “It’s Sam’s personal choice and all that, but he had a solid career in LA. After that Simmons affair blew up in the media, he could’ve stuck around and bagged A-list celebrities as clients. He moved out to this place for Max’s sake- so there was some normalcy and stability in his life. Then, again, Sam’s had his share of downs.”

Your back felt like ice, knowing what was coming.

“I’m not supposed to talk about it but it’s just you.” Molly leaned in closer. “Did you know his wife left him?”

She must have interpreted whatever your face showed as shock, because Molly continued. “Don’t know much about the whole thing. I heard bits and parts from the grape wine. Some girl he met in Kansas straight out of Yale. Took a plunge in a couple of months and this girl bolted not even a year into the marriage. Can you believe that? I mean, look at him… What the fuck was she looking for that he didn’t have!”

You could taste the blood by biting into your lip too hard.

“Never heard of him dating anyone since. I think he’s still in love with her.” Molly whistled. “At least they have each other- Max and Sam. That kid spends a lot of time here. You’ll keep finding reasons to feed your little friend cookies.” Molly flashed you a grin. You couldn’t quite return it.

It was past twelve when your phone rang. You’d just locked the library behind you and had given up on all hopes of the call.

You hurried to pick it up.

“Hey,” Sam breathed. “Sorry it took me so long.”

“It’s alright,” you sighed in relief at the sound of his voice. The sinking feeling in your stomach since the talk with Molly began to dissipate.

“It’s your fault really,” Sam said. “Max liked The Hobbit too much and went to bed real late. How am I supposed to wake him in time for his class tomorrow?”

His concerns were so normal, comfortingly mundane. Sam made it sound so easy, when in fact, all this must have been so hard. One time you heard someone say a mean thing about Sam’s wife and it had you rankled. Sam must’ve lived through years of whispers, stories and ugly rumours. He must’ve had to defend his choice of staying committed so many times. Hadn’t the words shred his heart?

“Y/N? Everything okay?”

You cleared your throat. “Uh it’s just… it’s good to hear your voice.”

He was immediately on alert. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Weird day.”

“Where are you?”

You looked about your dark surroundings. “Crossing the playground, almost to my building.”

“Do you want to come over?” He asked, voice hopeful but unsure. “We can sit in the front lawn if you want.”

You made an impulse decision. “Yeah okay.”

Ten minutes later you were sitting on one of Max’s swings. Your tan sweater wasn’t helping much as you shivered in the chill, waiting for Sam to show up. Weird how you made it before him. He lived right there!

Noiselessly the front door opened and closed. Sam walked briskly towards you. He was dressed in dark grey sweatpants and a black full sleeve t-shirt. In his hand he carried an afghan, a thermos and two mugs.

“Here,” he handed you the afghan. It was the same one that was wrapped around you on the night of the pool party. The memory brought blood to your face.

“We don’t have adult juice around here today, but we do have hot chocolate.” Grinning impishly, he tilted the thermos in your direction. He sat on the ground in front of you, carefully filling up the two mugs with the rich, brown liquid while you wrapped yourself in the Afghan.

Eagerly, you took a sip and moaned indecently.

“Good, isn’t it?” Sam chuckled.

This was very close to what heaven would feel like.

“So, what’s the deal, huh?” He asked after a few sips.

You hesitated, not wanting to admit what the real problem was. It would be the case of a teapot crying to a boiler.

“You know you can tell me things, right?” His voice was soft, beguiling.

“It’s something Molly said after you left.” You gave in, selfishly spilling it all.

Sam listened to the whole story, then shook his head at you in exasperation and beckoned you with his hand. You blinked a couple of times, then gave up and went in willingly.

What the hell, right?

Sam tucked his arms around your shoulder once you slid on the ground next to him.

“You and I, we know what the truth is,” he said. “How does it matter what anyone else says?”

“Is that what you told yourself all these years?” You asked in a small voice, unable to meet his eyes.

Sam sighed. “Why are you doing this to yourself, Y/N?”

“You didn’t answer me.”

His fingers curled around your shoulder over the afghan. “No, I didn’t have to tell myself anything. I knew I loved you. That was enough.”

“I don’t know if I can be as strong as you.”

“That’s because you’re so much stronger,” he said. “None of those people have lived your life, they don’t know what you’ve been through. I can bet my ass, they wouldn’t have made it out of half of it in one piece. It’s easy to judge.”

“That’s not my problem,” you argued. “I don’t care what they think about me. But I can’t stand how it makes you look!”

Sam surprised you by chuckling lightly. “You’re cute when you’re indignant. Especially on my behalf.”

“Quit making this into a joke, Sam.”

“I seriously don’t know what else to do.” He put a finger under your chin, tilting your face up. “Look at me. I’m the happiest I've been in years! Do you really think I give a rats ass about what anyone’s got to say about me? My personal life has never been anyone’s concern except mine and yours. The only other person who has any say in this is Max. And that kid doesn’t shut up about you.”

Sam’s eyes were scorching, melting against the night sky.

“Molly’s wonderful, and I know she has a soft spot for me. But by the end of the day, it's just gossip. There’s no substance to it. So will you please drop it?”

At long last you nodded.

“That’s like my Y/N.”

A rustle from the other side of Sam’s fence made you stiffen. The bushes behind the planks began to shake.

“What’s that?”

Sam shrugged. “Probably Alex sneaking out.”

You frowned at him. “Didn’t she break her arm doing exactly that?”

He snorted. “When has that stopped teenagers? It does make life a bit difficult. Jody’s grounded her. She can’t babysit Max for a while and I got work tomorrow.”

You saw Alex creeping on the sidewalk in front of the lawn. She saw the two of you huddled and froze like a deer caught in the headlight. Sam winked and waved a salute at her. After a minute she unfroze, returned the gesture and went off on her way.

“Why don’t you drop him off at the library in the morning? I’ll keep an eye on him. I’m covering the first shift.” You worked to not sound too excited.

“Yeah, that still doesn’t fix the afternoon. I won’t be back before four.”

“Easy. I’ll wait with him here.”

Sam looked at you, hazel eyes wondrous. “You’d do that?”

“Sure. I owe him a pie anyway.”

“You’re a lifesaver!” He exhaled. “Seriously, I could kiss you right now!”

All you had to do was look up. Sam was right there.

Another crash sounded over the fence, louder than the first, followed by a muted ‘ow.’ You saw lights flare up in what must be the living room. From somewhere inside you heard Jody curse. “Jesus fucking Christ! Claire, what’re you doing on the ground.”

“Why do you always have to catch me!” Claire whined in the darkness. “Alex just left!”

“What. The. Fuck!” Jody yelled. “Get in the fucking car! We’re going to find your sister.”

That did it for you as you buried your face in Sam’s chest, smothering the giggles. His arms wrapped tightly around you. Sam himself was shaking with silent laughter over you.

Yeah, this was pretty close to heaven.

*********************

A/N 2: Thank you for all the support over the last week.

Sam was right when he said- “You and I, we know what the truth is. How does it matter what anyone else says?”

I’m going to take his advice :)

If you want be tagged, you can send me an ask or add yourself to the taglist here.

Or here’s my side blog @percywinchester27-writes. You can give that blog a follow and turn the notifications on to know about updates.

ALLU taglist:

@gabavaldman @im-a-light-child @cosicas-cuquis @bllyjianne @hoboal87 @i-is-for-inspiring @daughterleftbehind @wackiekebab @mylovelydame21 @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba @superbadassnatural @babypink224221 @badlittlehabit99 @anathewierdo @sams-bubblegum-bitch @fandomoverdose666 @superstarmarvel @atc74 @aiofheavenandhell @rebel-author-chick @death-unbecomes-you @cookiechipdough @kbl1313 @linki-locks11 @miss-nerd95 @sunflowers-n-rocknroll @stoneyggirl @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @niyahgray @traceyaudette @blueaura @awfulmoons @waterlily502 @mrsbatesmotel53 @superblyscrumptiousdonut2 @spn-ficfanatic @threstalsaregood @shesnotmaria

#Sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester reader insert #sam x reader fluff #sam fluff #lawyer!sam #professor!sam #lawyer!sam x reader #professor!sam x reader #dad!sam #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #anawrites #anawritesspn #Ana writes ALLU #allu 34 #q

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supergirl-writingz · 4 years

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Betrayal

Lena x Daughter Reader

Request: A oneshot where when Lena is working with Lex he ends up hurting Lena's daughter, and thats where Lena ends up drawing the Line and finally leaving him. Her daughter is also really upset and crying because she finally had a family with Kara, Alex, etc... and Lena tthough well intentioned created a rift between them. Her daughter ends up making up with them and they welcome her with open arms because they know what happened wasnt her fault.

Your mom and your Uncle Lex had a... lets say complicated relationship. You hated him, and for the most part she did too. That’s why you couldn’t understand why she was working with him. But she assured you that it was for the best.. so you sucked it up and tried your best to keep an eye on him because you didn’t trust him one bit.

It also sucked because Kara, Alex, and the rest of your friends all found out and felt betrayed by you and Lena. You didn’t blame them, but you missed them a lot. For a while it was always just you and Lena, it was nice to have more people that you considered family. It hurt knowing they didn’t wanna talk to you or your mom.

You walked home and called out, “Mom?”

You walked in and saw your Uncle Lex and some other men searching through all your mom’s stuff.

“Hey! What are you doing? Get away from her stuff!” you screamed at the men.

Lex looked back at you and sighed, “She knows I’m here Y/N, she asked me to find something”

“Bullshit” you snapped back.

“It’s not” he replied calmly.

You grabbed your phone out of your pocket, “So you wouldn’t mind if I called her right now to confirm?” you asked.

“Come on Y/N, just give me the phone” he said inching closer to you.

“No” you said as you started to dial her number.

But before you had the chance to finish dialling, you felt him taze you until you fell to the floor. You’re vision was blurry and you were starting to lose consciousness. Right before you completely drifted off you heard, “I’m sorry Y/N, I just couldn’t have you ruining my plans”.

You slowly woke up to the feeling of being shook. You get the strength to open your eyes and they are met with Lena’s and you feel safe in your mom’s presence.

“Sweetie are you okay?” Lena asked frantically.

You smile at her and start to sit up when you suddenly remember everything that happened. Your smile quickly turns into a frown as you start to panic.

“It was Lex, he did this to me” you said with obvious anxiety in your voice.

“I know” Lena said sadly.

“I told you we couldn’t trust him mom, I told you!” you said starting to get upset.

“I know” Lena said, the guilt causing her voice to crack every so slightly.

“We lost everything because of him mom. We lost Kara, we lost Alex, we lost all of our family. How could you let him do this to us? How could you?” you said starting to spiral, blaming your mom for things you knew you should be more understanding about. You knew how guilty she must feel but in the moment you didn’t care. You were angry. You lost everything and were tased by your own uncle and it was all your mom’s fault.

“I’m so sorry Y/N. I know I failed you. But Kara and Alex are angry with me, maybe you haven’t lost them, maybe only I have.” Lena said, tears falling from her face.

You start sobbing, “I miss them”

Lena holds you close, “Me too baby. And I promise you, I will never trust Lex again. Not after he hurt you. I’m done with him.”

You sigh and try to forget your anger for a moment, “I love you mom”

She smiles, “I love you too. Let’s go talk to Kara and Alex”

You nod and she slowly helps you get up. You assure her you feel fine so she lets you go. A driver picks up you and Lena and you get to Kara’s apartment.

“Maybe you should wait in the car” you said.

This hurt Lena but she knew it was for the best. She didn’t want to take Kara and Alex away from you just because of something she did. She nodded and you walked out of the car up to her door, and knocked. Before Kara even opened the door, tears were flowing quickly from your face.

Kara finally opened the door and saw you there crying. She went to talk but you stopped her.

“Kara, I know you hate me but please just hear me out. I know my mom made a mistake working with Lex but her intentions were good. She just didn’t see clearly until Lex attacked me-” you started

“He attacked you?” Kara exclaimed.

“Yeah, I’m okay though. The point is, it’s been just me and Lena for a long time. And finally we have a family. Kara you’re family to me and I don’t want to lose you.” you said, crying hard.

Kara quickly brought you into a hug.

“Hey don’t cry little one. You’ll never lose me okay? Yeah things are complicated with your mom right now but you always have me and Alex. Always.” Kara said warmly.

You cried into Kara as she soothed you and rubbed your back.

“I don’t want you to hate my mom either” you said sadly.

“Oh sweetie I don’t hate her. I could never hate Lena she just did something to betray my trust but I understand nobody is perfect. I’m angry with her but everyone makes mistakes, we'll get pas it” Kara replied.

You heard footsteps behind you and spun around to see your mom.

“I’m glad you feel that way Kara because I am truly so sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me, I mean.. I haven’t even forgiven myself. But I am always thankful for you being such a positive influence in my daughter’s life, and not letting my mistakes get in the way of that” Lena said full of emotions.

“You don’t need to answer me, I’ll go now. Y/N, maybe you and Kara can spend some time together and catch up. I’ll pick you up later if that’s alright with Kara?” Lena added.

You looked up at Kara and she nodded. Lena gave you a sad smile and started to walk away.

“Lena wait” Kara said causing Lena to spin around.

“You should at least join us for dinner” Kara said, causing you to smile big.

Lena’s smile was almost as big as yours, “I’d love that”

Even though you all had a lot to work through, you were so grateful you all had taken this first step to get back to normal. You were so happy you got your family back.

#lena luthor #lena luthor imagine #lena luthor x reader #lena luthor x daughter!reader #supergirl #supergirl fanfic #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl fandom #kara zor el #kara danvers #kara x reader #kara danvers imagine #alex danvers

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prouvaireafterdark · 4 years

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See Something You Like? - Malex Sex Shop AU Part 2/2

I finally finished it!!! 🎉

God, writing this fic has been such a wild ride. When I got the prompt for it, I thought I’d write maybe a few thousand words and that’d be the end of it, but here we are, 14k words of gratuitous smut later lol.

Thank you all so much for your continued enthusiasm, patience, and support while I took approximately 500 years to write it 💜

Happy New Year, everyone!

Also on AO3! (Click here if you’d like to start with Part 1)

***

Michael finishes his shift in a daze, mind caught on the phone number burning a hole in his pocket. He knows there’s rules about how long you should wait to text someone once you have their number so you don’t come off as sad or desperate, but he’s still worked up from talking to Alex and every cell in his body is begging him to fucking call him.

After jerking off to the memory of him and several hours of overthinking it, Michael finally works up the nerve to send Alex a text at around 8pm.

Hey, it’s Michael, from Pandora’s Box, he types. Any chance I could get that review?

He presses send and sets his phone face down on his thigh before turning his attention back to finding something embarrassing to watch on his brother’s Netflix account while he finishes his grading. He settles on some soapy-looking teen show called Pretty Little Liars and presses play.

His phone buzzes a moment later and Michael’s heart rate picks up in anticipation. It falls just as quick when he sees that it’s just Isobel confirming the time for their monthly video chat with Max. He shoots off a response and tries to focus back on the short stack of exams he’s supposed to get through tonight while he waits for Alex to reply.

As the minutes tick by, that’s easier said than done.

The longest twenty minutes of Michael’s life pass before he feels his phone vibrate again. The way he scrambles for it is a little embarrassing, but he’s rewarded with the sight of Alex’s name flashing across his screen this time, so, whatever. Michael opens the message without delay.

Alex: Was wondering when you’d text

Michael bites his lip as he types out his response.

Michael: ‘When’? Not ‘if’?

Alex takes another minute to reply and Michael doesn’t even pretend to grade while he waits.

Alex: Well, you did spend the better part of an hour dirty talking me at work

Michael laughs out loud as he reads it. He types “Fair” in the message field, but Alex texts again before he sends it.

Alex: I figured I made an impression

Michael deletes his reply and types a new one.

Michael: Understatement of the year tbh

He can practically hear Isobel chastising him for coming on too strong, but there’s no use playing coy with Alex after all the things they’ve said to each other today. Luckily, Alex doesn’t leave him hanging.

Alex: Oh yeah?

Michael: Yeah. I’ve been thinking about our conversation a lot

Alex: Which part?

Michael: God, all of it

Michael: But especially the way you looked at me when we were talking about my favorite dildo

Alex: How was I looking at you?

Michael swallows, thinking back to that moment, to the almost predatory way Alex stared at him.

Michael: Like you were picturing it inside of me

Michael: Like you wanted to watch me take it

Alex’s reply comes back quick this time.

Alex: I was

Alex: And I do

“Fuck,” Michael breathes, his cock twitching in his jeans. He leans back against the armrest of his couch and stretches his legs out in front of him before he types the only reply he can think of.

Michael: Fuck

Alex: 😈

Michael: What about you?

Alex: What about me?

Michael: Have you been thinking about it?

About me? he doesn’t say.

Alex: Only every minute since I left

Michael grins wide at that.

Michael: Glad I’m not the only one with absolutely no chill here

Alex: Haha, what can I say? You made an impression on me too

Michael: 😎

Michael: So, have you taken that massager for a test ride yet?

Alex: I have

Michael gives Alex some time to elaborate, and sends off another text when he doesn’t.

Michael: How’d you like it?

His phone buzzes a moment later, this time with a picture message. Michael is very glad he’s alone in his apartment when he opens it.

It’s a picture of Alex, that much is clear from the satisfied smirk on his face and the septum piercing just making it into the shot. He can also see that his chest is streaked with come, all the way up to his neck. There’s a caption beneath it that says, You tell me.

Michael’s cock has never gotten so hard, so fast.

His phone buzzes with another message.

Alex: You were right about the noise, by the way

Michael stares at the photo and the messages beneath it for longer than he’d care to admit before he decides to just call him.

“Michael?” Alex’s voice asks when he picks up.

“Jesus Christ, Alex,” Michael says, swiping a hand over his face as he tries to ignore the throbbing in his groin. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Alex’s laugh is musical on the other end of the line.

“I feel like I should be asking you that,” Alex says. “Pretty sure my soul left my body for a minute there when I used it.”

That statement conjures all sorts of images to Michael’s mind, and it isn’t until he hears Alex speak again that he realizes he hasn’t said anything.

“Michael?” Alex asks. “Did I lose you?”

“No, sorry, I’m here,” Michael replies, cheeks darkening with a blush Alex can’t see. “I’m just—sorry, literally all I can think about is how bad I want to lick your chest clean right now.”

“Mm, kinky,” Alex purrs.

“Yeah,” Michael shrugs. “Think you knew that about me already though.”

“Haha, yeah, guess I did.”

There’s a beat of silence over the line where neither of them speaks and Michael’s curiosity gets the better of him.

“When did you take that picture?” he asks.

“About an hour ago.”

“Did you take it for me?” Michael asks, unable to resist.

“Nah,” Alex answers lightly, and Michael’s confidence falls a little before he continues, “I took it for the other guy who sold me a sex toy today.”

“Cute,” Michael comments dryly.

Alex laughs, sounding pleased with himself. “I try.”

“You know…” Michael starts after a beat. “I’ve got some more toys you can play with at my apartment, if you’re interested.”

“That’s sweet, but next time I think I’d rather play with you.”

Michael curses under his breath, his cock throbbing against his zipper. He presses the heel of his palm against it, suppressing a groan at the feeling.

“In that case, you free tonight? ‘Cause I’d really like to be played with.”

Alex makes a low, contemplative sound that hits him deep in his gut. Michael bites his lip in anticipation.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Whatever you want,” Michael answers easily.

“Anything?”

“Well, maybe not anything,” Michael amends, sinking further against the couch’s armrest. “I’m not gonna call you ‘Daddy.’”

“Yeah, that definitely will not be a problem,” Alex replies, and there’s something in his tone that gives Michael the feeling there’s a story there, but it’ll have to wait for another time.

“Perfect,” Michael says. “So, how do you want me?”

There’s silence on the line for a heartbeat too long before Alex answers.

“Before we start making plans…” Alex starts at last, hesitant and uneasy like he’s never sounded before, “there’s something you should know.”

Michael’s heart sinks. There just had to be a fucking catch, huh?

“I’m listening,” Michael says carefully, trying to ignore the possibilities flying through his mind. What, is Alex married? Does he live with his ex? Does he have an STD? Is he—

“I’m a combat vet,” Alex says, words short and clipped.

“Oh,” Michael says. He’s spent his whole life actively avoiding people in the military, so he isn’t quite sure what to say to that. Is he supposed to thank Alex for his service or something?

“I, uh, lost my leg on my last tour,” Alex continues, and before Michael can formulate a response, he adds, “Hope that’s not a dealbreaker.”

“What?” Michael asks. “Why would that be a dealbreaker?”

“You’d be surprised how often it is,” is all Alex says, and Michael feels a rush of anger for him.

“Well, those guys are assholes who don’t deserve you,” he replies.

“So… it’s not a problem for you?” Alex asks after a brief moment, sounding surprised.

If Michael ever meets the men who made Alex feel like his body was a problem for them, he’s going to redefine the word for them, but Michael sets his anger aside for now.

”Alex, the only thing that’s a problem for me right now is that I’m not touching you,” Michael answers honestly.

Alex is quiet for a moment, and Michael starts to worry he’s blown this somehow, but then he finally says, “Well, we should fix that then.”

Michael lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Your place or mine?”

“Yours,” Alex answers quickly.

“What should I be ready for?” Michael asks.

Michael lets Alex consider his question, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“I want to fuck you,” Alex says at last. “But first, I want to watch you use that dildo you showed me earlier.”

“Fuck,” Michael whispers, mostly to himself. His cock pulses in his jeans, desperate for contact, and he’s sure Alex can hear the uptick in his breathing.

“That sound like something you’re up for tonight?” Alex asks.

“Fuck, yes, Alex, oh my god,” Michael says, and he can’t be too mad at himself for being inarticulate when it gives him the opportunity to hear Alex’s laugh one more time.

“When should I come over?”

“Uh,” Michael pauses, looking over his messy apartment. “Give me an hour?”

“Sounds good,” Alex says. “See you then.”

When he hears the call end, Michael turns off his TV and jumps off the couch, eager to get started.

He straightens up a little before he hops in the shower. When he’s done scrubbing the day from his body, he towels off in the bathroom and heads back into his living space, drawing the blinds with his telekinesis as he reaches for the box under his bed where he stores his toys.

He’s planning on just opening himself up with his fingers, but a flash of silver catches his eye before he shuts the box and Michael just can’t help himself. In addition to the galaxy dildo and his favorite lube, he grabs a thick, heavy stainless steel plug that looks just like the one he saw Alex staring at in the shop.

Michael lies down on his bed and picks up his phone off the bedspread. He unlocks it and pulls up the picture Alex sent him, the fingers of his free hand wrapping around his half-hard cock to stroke it lightly before skimming down passed his balls to tease at his hole.

It’s not long before the dry press of his fingertips isn’t enough, so he draws his knees up toward his chest and squeezes some lube onto his fingers before bringing them back to his hole.

Between Alex’s scorching hot selfie and everything they’ve talked about today, Michael is buzzing with anticipation as he efficiently works himself open. By the time he’s got a fourth finger pushing passed his rim, he’s a writhing mess, his cock so hard he’s a little worried he’ll spill before Alex even gets here.

The plug is cold when Michael finally lines it up with his hole and works it in, making him gasp. He clenches around it once it’s settled inside him, its solid weight filling him up and holding him open until Alex is ready for him. His cock drools lazily against his belly just thinking about what Alex will do with him. God, he can’t wait for him to get here.

It’s not long before there’s a knock at Michael’s door.

Michael feels his heart rate spike, excitement and anticipation blooming inside him. He heads to the door immediately, feeling the plug he’s wearing shift inside him with every step he takes.

Alex is waiting for him when he opens the door, somehow even more beautiful than Michael remembers. He’s still wearing the same leather jacket from earlier, and Michael notices that his dark brown eyes are now rimmed in black. It’s a great fucking look, made complete by his silver septum piercing and black skinny jeans.

“Hey,” Alex smiles, eyes flicking down to take in Michael’s state of undress. He’d agonized a little over what to wear before deciding on a pair of soft navy sweats and nothing else. The thought of putting on a flannel and squeezing into a nice pair of jeans after working a plug that size into himself did not compute, and besides—if all goes well, his clothes will be lying in a crumpled heap at the foot of his bed in a few minutes anyway.

Regardless, Alex seems to like what he sees.

“Hey yourself,” Michael says, leaning against the door frame as he really lets himself appreciate the view.

“Can I come in?” Alex asks, and it takes every ounce of Michael’s self control not to say, You can come wherever you want.

“Yeah,” he answers instead, pushing the door open wider to let Alex in.

Alex steps over the threshold, but pauses only a few steps inside.

“Wow,” he says as he looks around Michael’s apartment.

Michael tries to see what Alex is noticing and is hit with a sudden wave of self-conscious dread. He’d tidied up the space around his bed, but in his haste to get ready he’d forgotten the chaotic mess of papers he’d been grading that he’d left all over the couch and coffee table.

“Sorry the place is kind of a mess,” he apologizes, rubbing the back of his neck.

“What? No, it’s fine, I just—you have so many plants,” Alex clarifies, gesturing around the room.

“Oh,” Michael says, relaxing a little.

He looks around once more, taking in the vibrant green leaves sprouting from the pots on the shelves above his desk and scattered elsewhere throughout his space as if seeing them for the first time. It’s maybe a lot more than the average person would have in an apartment this size, but for reasons he could never quite understand, plants have always made Michael feel at home.

“It’s like a greenhouse in here,” Alex notes, voice soft and full of wonder. “How do you manage to keep them alive? I’m pretty sure I’ve killed every plant I’ve ever touched.”

“I’m an agricultural engineer,” Michael says by way of an explanation.

“Oh, really?” Alex asks, sounding intrigued, spinning around to face him.

“Yeah,” Michael says, huffing a laugh. “My grad school stipend doesn’t exactly cover the bills though, hence the second job.”

“Mmm, gotcha,” Alex nods.

Michael stares at him a moment before he takes a step closer.

“I’m feeling a little underdressed here,” he says. “Can I get your coat?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Alex says, shrugging off his leather jacket and revealing the thin maroon sweater he’s wearing underneath. Michael tries not to get distracted by the way the fabric clings to his chest as he takes the jacket from him and hangs it carefully on one of the pegs by the door.

By the time he turns around, Alex has migrated to the guitar case leaning against the arm of his couch.

“Do you play?” Alex asks, looking over his shoulder when he hears Michael approaching.

“When I have the time,” he answers, coming to stand at Alex’s side. “You?”

“Yeah,” Alex smiles. “I, um, I actually own a record store not too far from here where I give lessons.”

“Oh shit, really?” Michael asks, lighting up. It’s been a while since he listened to music off a record, but after countless summers learning how to fix cars at Old Man Sanders’ junkyard, he has nothing but fond memories of them. “Wait, I think I’ve passed it on the way to my sister’s place—is it Manes Street Music?”

“Mhmm,” Alex says, smile brightening as he turns to face Michael. He gives Michael a considering look before he adds, “You should come by sometime, if you’re interested. Let me return the favor with some album recommendations.”

“Definitely interested,” Michael says at once—spending more time with Alex isn’t exactly a hard sell—but the plug that’s been nudging up against his prostate for the last ten minutes has him taking a small, pointed step closer and adding, “Though… I was kind of hoping you could return the favor another way.”

Alex’s eyes flick down toward Michael’s mouth, lingering for a moment before he meets Michael’s gaze. He must see the desperation on Michael’s face because Alex’s eyes darken and his lips curl into a slow, smug smile that makes Michael’s heart race with anticipation.

“Oh yeah?” Alex asks, tilting his head to one side like he doesn’t remember why he’s here, in Michael’s apartment. “How would you like me to start?”

Michael takes a deep breath, the possibilities a little overwhelming, before Alex licks his lips and makes his mind up for him.

“Kiss me,” Michael answers.

Alex is all too happy to oblige.

The second their lips touch, Michael feels weak with need. If he thought the simple brush of their fingers was powerful, it has nothing on this—Alex’s lips are impossibly soft and the subtle scent of Alex’s cologne is so intoxicating that Michael has the wild hope that he’ll be able to smell Alex on his pillow after he leaves.

Alex makes a wounded noise in the back of his throat when Michael buries his fingers in his silky brown hair, and Michael can’t help but chase that sound right into his mouth. Alex opens for him easily, his arms tightening around Michael’s waist as he deepens the kiss, teasing the roof of Michael’s mouth with his tongue.

Michael feels Alex’s hands on the bare skin of his waist then, his touch firm and grounding as he pulls Michael closer until they’re chest to chest. The fabric of Alex’s sweater is a little rough against his nipples, which has Michael panting into Alex’s mouth in no time, his fingers twisting a little tighter into the short, fine hair at the base of Alex’s neck.

It’s a long moment before Michael pulls away with a soft, slick sound, blood still rushing in his ears as he catches his breath.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been thinking about doing that,” Michael murmurs against his mouth, thumb brushing against the stubble on his jaw.

“I think maybe I do,” Alex says, pulling back to look him in the eye with an amused expression. “What was it you said when you approached me?” Alex pauses for a beat, as if he needs to think about it before finishing, “Oh, right. ‘See something you like?’” in a tone that is at least 25% more suggestive than the one Michael is sure he used in the shop earlier that day.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Michael says, rather unconvincingly. “Was just doing my job.”

“Bullshit,” Alex says, and a wolfish grin breaks out on Michael’s face.

“Okay, you got me,” he says, bumping his nose along Alex’s cheek. “The second I saw you, I knew I had to find out if your mouth is as soft as it looks.”

“Well?” Alex asks. “Is it?”

“Mm, I don’t know,” Michael teases. “I think you might need to kiss me again, just to make sure.”

Alex shakes his head at him, an amused smile playing at his lips. “Come here,” he says as he hooks a hand around the back of Michael’s neck to pull him in for another kiss, and then another.

Michael groans unabashedly into his mouth when he feels Alex’s cock, hot and every bit as hard as his own, brush against him, but it turns into a whimper as Alex’s fingers dip below the rolled waistband on his sweats to palm his ass, stopping just shy of slipping between his cheeks.

“Tell me what you want, Michael,” Alex says when they part, and Michael can’t suppress the shudder of anticipation that rolls through him.

“Told you already,” Michael answers. “Whatever you want.”

Alex traps his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment.

“Okay,” Alex breathes. “Is it okay if I boss you around a little?”

Michael feels his cock thicken even more at the thought.

“Um, yes,” he says, communicating his enthusiasm with just a single syllable.

“Safeword?”

“Traffic lights work for me.”

“Okay,” Alex smiles. “And how do you feel about edging?”

“Love it,” Michael answers. “Feels good to hand over the reins to someone else like that for a while. Quiets the noise a little, you know?”

“Is that something you want tonight?” Alex asks, squeezing his ass a little as he pulls him closer. “For me to quiet the noise for you?”

Michael bites his bottom lip as he nods.

“Okay then,” Alex says, slowly extricating his hands from Michael’s pants. “Take me to your bed.”

Michael nods again before he takes him by the hand and leads him a little further back into his apartment, toward the corner where his bed is tucked away.

“What’s that?” Alex asks when they get there, taking a step closer to Michael’s bed.

“It’s a toy mount,” Michael answers as he steps in front of him, running his palms along his muscled shoulders and linking his arms around his neck.

The mount sits in the middle of the bed, Michael’s galaxy dildo sticking out of the slit in the black cushion. He’d felt a little ridiculous buying it, but (short of fucking himself with his powers) he’s found it really is the next best thing; It’s sturdy enough to keep the toy in place no matter how rough he rides it, and its design allows for deeper penetration than he’d get sticking the suction cup base to the wall or the floor.

Besides, Michael’s been working at Pandora’s long enough to have heard a few things and the last thing he needs is to lose his security deposit because of a fucking dildo.

Alex looks at him with wide, interested eyes and Michael shrugs, dropping his voice low when he says, “You said you wanted to watch, so I thought I’d give you a show.”

“Jesus Christ,” Alex says, gaze dragged back toward the bed over Michael’s shoulder. Michael guides him back gently by the chin until Alex is looking at him again.

“Want to see me take it for a ride?” Michael drawls, and Alex knocks noses with him in his haste to get his mouth on his.

Alex crowds Michael backward until his knees hit the bed. With a gentle shove, Michael lands on his ass, the plug inside him shifting abruptly and making him gasp. Alex is on him in an instant, his mouth slick and warm against his own while his fingers map the surface of his chest, dragging lightly through his chest hair. His knee plants itself on the bed between Michael’s spread thighs and Michael can’t help but clench his fist in the front of Alex’s sweater and press forward with his hips, desperate for some friction.

Despite their passionate start, Alex pulls away to trail slow, wet kisses down his jaw, content now to drag it out, and it isn’t long before Michael cracks.

“Please,” Michael gasps, and he feels Alex smile against the side of his neck.

“Begging for it already?” Alex asks him right before he dips his tongue into the hollow of his throat. Michael tries not to whine, but he’s fighting a losing battle.

“In my defense,” Michael pants, “you’re very hot and I’ve been hard for, like, over an hour at this point.” He looks up at Alex with pleading eyes when he pulls back to see his face, a smile still tugging at his lips.

“Fair enough,” Alex says, propping himself up with one elbow. Almost like he can’t resist, Alex reaches out and rakes his fingers through Michael’s chaotic mess of curls. Michael lets his eyes slip closed at the feeling, melting a little under Alex’s touch. “Where’s the lube?”

“Other side of the mount,” Michael answers without opening his eyes, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the far side of the bed. “There’s condoms too.”

“Then stay put,” Alex says, kissing him once before he stands up.

The room feels colder without Alex’s warmth against his chest, but he’s back in just a moment. Michael opens his eyes to see him tossing a condom and the bottle of lube on the bed beside him before he pulls Michael’s sweatpants down his legs.

Michael’s hard cock slaps against his belly as it’s freed, flushed and shining with precome, and Michael can’t resist the urge to wrap his fingers around it and stroke himself under Alex’s gaze. Michael isn’t sure what turns him on more, the slide of his fist around his dick or the way Alex is looking at him like he wants to swallow him whole.

“So fucking beautiful,” Alex whispers before he wraps his hand over Michael’s around his shaft and dips down to seal his lips over the tip.

“Oh god,” Michael whines, tossing his head back against the mattress as Alex starts to suck him. The wet heat of his mouth is nearly too much, and Michael’s other hand shoots down between his legs to grab Alex’s shoulder, his fingers bunching up the fabric. “Alex.”

Alex hums around his dick and takes him deeper, sucking hard on the upstroke and driving Michael further out of his mind with every bob of his head. It feels like barely a minute goes by before Michael’s hips start to twitch of their own accord, desperate with the growing need to bury his cock in Alex’s throat until he comes.

Alex anchors his free arm across Michael’s hips to keep him still, causing the plug he’s wearing to press harder against his prostate as he squirms and tries to rock against the bed.

“Fuck, Alex,” Michael pants, fingers gripping his sweater tighter. He groans again, his hole clenching harder around the toy inside him before he warns, “I appreciate the foreplay, but m’gonna come if you do that much longer.”

Alex pulls off of his cock, his lips shining in the light as he smirks up at him.

“Not without permission you’re not,” he says, gripping the base of Michael’s cock tightly between his thumb and forefinger to stave off his impending orgasm. Michael groans when he does it, but the sound is quickly muffled by Alex’s mouth on his.

“Did you prep yourself enough or do you want me to finger you before you get started?” Alex asks him when he’s through kissing him.

Michael nearly laughs then. “I don’t know,” he says, taking Alex by the wrist and guiding his hand lower between his legs. “What do you think?”

“Michael,” Alex moans when his fingers brush the base of the plug between Michael’s cheeks, eyes wild with desire and surprise. “Let me see.”

Michael rolls over onto his stomach and lifts up onto his knees, arching his back a little as he presents himself without shame.

“Fuck,” Alex says softly but with feeling as he grabs hold of Michael’s cheeks and spreads him open for a better look.

Michael might be embarrassed at the scrutiny if he wasn’t so fucking turned on by it. His cock throbs where it hangs between his legs and he can’t help but tighten up around the unyielding plug inside him.

“Saw you looking at a similar one at Pandora’s earlier,” Michael says breathlessly as Alex begins to tug on it, no doubt watching the way his rim stretches around it. “You like it?”

“I love it,” Alex says. He teases him a moment more, drawing the plug out an inch or so and then pushing it back inside him just to hear Michael whine, but soon he removes it from his ass and sets it down on the bed.

Michael feels uncomfortably empty without something inside him. His hole clenches greedily around nothing as he waits for Alex to uncap the lube and spread some over his fingers, his forehead pressed flush against the mattress behind his folded arms as he waits.

He feels two of Alex’s fingers sink into him, so easily he adds another right away. Alex spreads them as he fucks him, testing to see how open he is before he curls them, seeking out his prostate.

“Ah,” Michael gasps when he finds it, pleasure burning through him bright and hot. “Ah, fuck, Alex.”

“Right there, huh?” Alex asks, the pads of his fingers gently rubbing that spot.

Michael moans in reply and shifts his hips back, his knees sliding further apart as Alex continues to finger him. With his head bowed down against the mattress, Michael can see his cock dripping precome onto his clean sheets. He probably should’ve laid out a towel, but he can’t bring himself to care about that now.

Just when Michael is about to say “screw it” to his whole plan and beg Alex to just fuck him already, Alex eases off his prostate and asks, “Are you ready for it now? Or do you want another?”

Michael shakes his head; He was pretty thorough when he prepped himself earlier.

“I’m good,” Michael pants, peeling himself off the mattress after Alex finally withdraws from his body.

When Michael turns around and reaches for the lube, he catches sight of Alex, still fully clothed and standing at the foot of Michael’s bed. He remembers what Alex told him earlier about his injury and wonders if that’s why he’s still dressed. Before things progress any further, Michael decides he should check in with him.

Leaving the lube on the bed, Michael rises up on his knees and pulls Alex into a kiss, softer than Alex is expecting.

“Everything okay?” Alex asks him when he pulls away, his palms resting comfortably on Michael’s sides.

“Mhmm,” Michael nods. “Before we continue though, is there anything you want me to know? Anywhere you don’t want me to touch you?”

Alex looks away and takes a breath, a puff of air exiting his open mouth on the exhale. Michael gives him all the time he needs to find the words to answer him.

“I think I’ll keep my prosthetic on…” Alex answers, meeting his eyes again, “but there’s nowhere you’re not allowed to touch me.”

Michael nods in understanding. “Can I take this off then?” he asks, smiling as he tugs lightly on the hem of Alex’s sweater. “It’s a great color on you, but I think it’d look better on my floor.”

Alex laughs at the terrible line before he says, “Yeah, sorry. Would’ve taken it off earlier, but you distracted me.”

There’s a quip on the end of Michael’s tongue at the assertion that Michael was the one distracting him just a few minutes ago, but it dies in his throat when Alex strips his sweater off and tosses it somewhere behind him.

Alex is somehow even more beautiful like this; His skin is smooth and golden, with just a light dusting of hair over his broad, toned chest. His jeans sit distractingly low on his hips, and Michael’s fingers itch to bury themselves in Alex’s hair again, already mussed from the careless way he pulled off his sweater.

“Is that better?” Alex asks him, pulling Michael to him by the waist until they’re skin to skin, close enough that Michael can feel the hard line of Alex’s cock pressed up against him.

“Much,” Michael answers. He runs his hands through Alex’s hair before they slide down his neck and over Alex’s pecs, thumbing his nipples as he leans down to kiss his collarbone. Alex shudders a little when he does it, so he does it again.

“Good,” Alex belatedly replies, sounding distracted as his grip on Michael’s waist shifts and tightens. “Is there anything I should know?”

“No, you can touch me anywhere,” Michael assures him, tongue sneaking out to taste Alex’s heated skin.

“Okay then,” Alex says. “Where do you want me?”

“Where don’t I want you?” Michael muses between kisses, and it’s only when he feels Alex’s chest rumble with laughter beneath his lips that he knows for sure he’s said it out loud.

“To watch you, I mean,” Alex clarifies. “Do you want me on the bed with you, or…?”

He’s about to say he doesn’t care when his eyes catch on the chair he keeps in the corner. It usually serves as the place he piles his laundry until he absolutely has to deal with it, but it’s free of clothes now and it gives Michael an idea; He’d love it if Alex stayed close enough to touch him, but the thought of him sitting back and enjoying the show where he can’t touch him is somehow even hotter.

“You’d have a nice view from that chair over there,” he answers, pulling back to gauge Alex’s reaction. “Or you can sit on the bed if you want. Your choice.”

Alex glances at it over his shoulder and considers his options.

“Do you mind if I move it a little closer?”

“No, put it wherever you want,” Michael tells him.

“Alright then,” Alex says. He lets go of Michael to retrieve the chair, placing it about two feet away from the bed before he takes a seat.

While he does it, Michael pulls the mount a little closer to the edge of the bed and pops open the cap on the lube. He pours some onto his open palm and smooths it over the galaxy dildo, getting it nice and wet. His eyes flick up toward Alex’s face as he lets his hand slide up and down the dildo’s thick, colorful shaft. He finds Alex watching his hands intently, his own twitching where they rest on his spread thighs, just inches away from where his erection is straining against the front of his black denim jeans.

Michael waits until Alex looks well and truly distracted before he asks, “Which way do you want me to face?”

Alex’s eyes jump to Michael’s, blinking once before his question seems to register.

“Towards me,” he answers. “I want to be able to see your face while you fuck yourself.”

Liquid heat rushes through Michael at Alex’s words. He bites his lip and nods eagerly, throwing his left leg over one side of the mount.

Michael hovers over the tip of the dildo and reaches between his legs to hold it in place as he lines it up with his hole. He bears down on it, gasping the moment its blunt head pops inside him, stretching his rim wide, and he sinks onto its thick length slowly, one hand braced on the front of the mount to keep himself steady.

“Jesus fuck,” Michael curses when he’s finally seated, stuffed as full as he’s ever been with his knees flush against the bed. He breathes through the stretch, letting himself adjust before he even thinks about moving.

He doesn’t realize he’s closed his eyes until he hears Alex say his name. His eyes snap open again to see Alex leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“How’s it feel?” Alex asks him.

“Fucking huge,” Michael answers, voice a little tight. He experimentally rolls his hips, and when the dildo shifts inside him, Michael feels it right where he wants it. He bites his lip to keep from crying out at the little burst of pleasure, but a whimper escapes him anyway. “It’s good, though,” Michael reassures him a moment later, starting to grind his hips in slow, shallow circles. “So fucking good.”

Alex watches Michael hungrily as he rocks his hips, gently at first, then faster and harder until he’s bouncing up and down on the thick cock inside him, the mattress squeaking painfully beneath him. While he does it, Alex unzips his jeans and starts to palm himself through his grey boxer briefs, more of a tease than anything else. Michael’s mouth waters as he watches Alex’s precome bleed slowly through the fabric, forming a wet spot near the head of his dick. Fuck, he wants to know what he tastes like.

Michael lets those thoughts distract him while he fucks himself until Alex decides to give him directions.

“Tilt your hips back and slow down a little,” he says, and when Michael’s eyes snap to his, he can see that Alex is trying not to smile.

“Alex,” Michael groans, knowing exactly what kind of torture that will be, but he does it anyway without further complaint.

Michael shifts his weight, bracing his hands behind him on the mount as he tilts his hips backward. In this position, the dildo puts more direct pressure on Michael’s prostate, making him groan and curse as he grinds down onto it over and over again. His mouth falls open, helpless to stop the sounds tumbling from his lips as his pleasure rises.

“That’s it, baby, get that dick right where you need it,” Alex says, eyes jumping between Michael’s face and where the dildo is moving in and out of his hole. “That feel good?”

“Yeah,” he pants, his thighs already beginning to tremble. “Fuck, yeah.”

Michael keeps riding the dildo as Alex instructs, speeding up and then slowing down or stopping altogether when he starts to get close, his orgasm kept tantalizingly out of reach. Every minute of it is the sweetest agony Michael’s ever felt and he’s so lost to the sensation that eventually his head tips back to hang between his shoulders as he fucks himself.

Alex calls his name then, demanding his attention. It takes effort, but Michael does manage to raise his head enough to look at him.

“Eyes on me, remember?” Alex reminds him gently, and Michael can see Alex’s hand moving where he’s shoved it down the front of his boxer briefs.

“Yes, sir,” Michael replies, just to see what Alex will do, and a smirk breaks out on Michael’s face when he catches the heated look Alex throws him.

As he watches Michael, Alex gives his cock a few more firm strokes before he finally pulls himself out where Michael can see him. When he gets a look at him for the first time, Michael is sure he’s never wanted to suck a dick so bad in his life; He’d known Alex was big after feeling him hard against his thigh, but to see him wet and flushed a mouthwatering shade of pink is something else entirely.

“Fuck,” Michael says, unable to tear his eyes away. He shifts his weight, leaning forward to sit up straighter, his hips slowing to a dirty grind. “Knew you’d have a nice dick. Why don’t you bring it over here?”

“Why?” Alex asks, somehow managing to sound smug and breathless at the same time as he jerks himself nice and slow from root to tip. Michael watches, practically mesmerized, as his thumb catches a fresh drop of precome leaking from the head and spreads it down his shaft. “Is one dick not enough? You want your mouth full too?”

Michael flushes, but nods, too far gone to play coy.

Alex gives him an assessing look before he stands up and crosses the short distance between them. Michael expects him to feed him his cock right away, but Alex surprises him with a kiss instead, one hand curled around the side of Michael’s neck.

“Don’t make me come,” Alex tells him when he pulls away.

Michael makes a disappointed sound. “Why not?”

“Because I said so,” Alex answers, stroking Michael’s full bottom lip with his thumb. Michael flicks his tongue out to lick it and Alex indulges him, watching Michael’s mouth as he slides the tip of his finger inside. “And because I don’t want to come til I’m inside you.”

Michael moans around Alex’s finger, sucking it harder. He knows Alex isn’t expecting Michael to let him fuck him raw—he brought a condom over after all—but the thought of Alex coming inside him with no barrier between them pops into his head anyway. He’s never let anyone do that to him before, too worried about the unknown quirks of his alien biology to risk it, but it’s suddenly all he can think about.

How would it feel?

Would Alex be into it?

Would he lean back to watch his come leak out of me when he’s finished, or would he rather plug me up after so I won’t spill a drop?

“Is that alright with you?” Alex asks, oblivious to Michael’s thoughts as he pulls his thumb from Michael’s mouth.

Michael has to take a breath before he answers, “Yeah, come on.”

Alex shuffles forward until his legs are flush with the bed, as close to Michael as he can get without climbing onto it with him. His bed is low enough that Alex’s hips are at the perfect height as Michael leans forward and braces his hands against the mattress below him so he can comfortably take Alex’s cock into his mouth. The adjustment to his position eases the pressure off his prostate, but the way he’s pitched forward makes his cock drag against the soft fabric of the cushion between his thighs, which is a blessing and a curse.

Once he’s ready, Michael begins to move, thrusting his hips back onto the toy filling him up and then rocking forward to sink down further onto Alex’s cock. The slide of both of them inside him is indescribable—an inexorable give and take that leaves Michael feeling perfectly used and hot all over, sweat pooling at the dip of his lower back and dampening his curls. It’s not his most coordinated blow job, but Alex doesn’t seem to mind.

“God,” Alex groans, swiping his fingers through Michael’s hair to push his curls out of his eyes so he can watch his cock slide back and forth between Michael’s spit-slick lips.

“So fucking good at this, Michael. Look how well you take it,” Alex says a moment later. Warmth spreads through Michael at the compliment, blood darkening his skin. “You ever done this before? Been fucked in two holes at once like this?”

Michael groans and shakes his head as much as he can. He’s thought about it, sure— wondered what it would feel like for a few guys to take turns with him, to be fucked while someone else uses his mouth—but he’s never had the opportunity. What they’re doing now isn’t exactly the fantasy he’s watched play out in porn, but with his ass stuffed full and Alex heavy on his tongue, Michael has no fucking complaints.

“You like it?” Alex asks him.

A shiver runs down Michael’s spine and he hums around Alex’s cock as he rocks back and forth, looking up at him beneath his lashes.

“Yeah, ‘course you do,” Alex says, fingers running through his hair once more. His palm stays there, a heavy weight on the back of Michael’s head as he sucks him, not quite guiding him along, but more reminding him he could if he wanted to.

Michael takes him down as far as he can go, showing off for him a little, and Alex curses, his fingers tightening around Michael’s curls until his hair is pulled taught in his grip. It just strikes that delicate balance between pleasure and pain, and Michael moans sharply, his cock pulsing between his thighs as he fucks himself harder.

“You like that too, huh?” Alex asks him, tugging on his hair once more, pulling him that little bit further onto his cock, and Michael doesn’t have to look to know he’s making a mess of the cushion beneath him, leaking precome all over it with every passing second.

It feels so good Michael doesn’t want Alex to stop, wants him to keep a firm grip on his hair while he uses his mouth, but he’s afraid it’ll push him over the edge if he lets him. Michael pulls off of Alex’s cock instead, resting a hand on his jean-clad thigh, and he feels Alex’s grip on his hair relax instantly.

“Color?” he asks.

“Green,” Michael gasps wetly against the soft skin of Alex’s lower belly, chest heaving as he sucks much-needed air into his lungs.

Alex hums and starts to pet his hair again as he catches his breath, so gently this time Michael thinks he might cry for a second.

“What do you need, Michael?” Alex asks him after a moment.

When he doesn’t answer right away, he feels Alex’s palm on his cheek, tilting his face up so Alex can look at him. Michael isn’t sure what Alex sees in his eyes, but it must reassure him that Michael really isn’t hurt or upset because he watches the concern on Alex’s face melt away, satisfaction rising in its place.

“Have you had enough of your toys?” Alex asks him, thumb tenderly stroking Michael’s cheek. “Do you need me to fuck you now?”

“Yes,” Michael answers, face burning as he grinds helplessly on the silicone dick filling him up. “Please, Alex, ‘m so close. Please let me come.”

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Alex whispers, leaning down to kiss him soundly. “I’ll give you what you need.”

Michael nods and kisses him again, relief flooding his system at Alex’s reassurance. His thighs tremble as he climbs off the mount, a soft hiss escaping his mouth as the dildo slips out of him. He feels so open and empty without it filling him up, but Alex doesn’t give him long to dwell on it.

“Come to the edge of the bed,” Alex instructs him. “On your back.”

Michael does as he’s told, sitting down and scooting closer to Alex until his ass is on the edge of his bed before he lies down flat against the mattress. He feels Alex’s hands on the backs of his thighs next, pushing them back and spreading them wide open.

“Jesus, Michael, fuck,” Alex says once he gets a look at Michael’s well-fucked hole. One hand disappears from Michael’s thigh and seconds later Michael moans as Alex slips three fingers into him like it’s nothing. ”So fucking hot,” he adds, thrusting them gently in and out of him. “Wish you could see how wrecked you are right now.”

“I can feel it, trust me,” Michael says weakly in response.

Alex curls his fingers inside him suddenly and Michael gasps, his back arching off the bed.

“Alex, please,” Michael whines, his cock throbbing where it drools against his belly. “No more teasing.”

Alex hovers over Michael’s face for a moment before he kisses him, nice and slow and deep. He swallows the wounded noise Michael makes when he lets his fingers slip free.

“As you wish,” Alex murmurs against his lips before he pulls away, and if Michael wasn’t feeling so strung out, he’d call him out for being a fucking nerd.

Instead, he watches through hooded eyes as Alex rolls a condom on his dick and slicks himself up with the lube he’d left on the bed. He shoves his jeans and underwear a little further down his hips before he holds himself steady in his hand and lines the head of his cock up with Michael’s hole.

Alex moans as he finally guides his cock inside him, sinking deep in a single stroke. He’s not as thick as the dildo Michael’s been riding, but he feels so much hotter, and Michael wraps his legs tight around Alex’s hips to keep him there.

He’s grateful when Alex doesn’t make him wait for it, barely giving him a second to adjust before he draws his hips back and snaps them forward, driving his cock back inside him as deep as it’ll go.

“Uh, fuck,” Michael groans sharply. “That’s it, baby, fuck me like you mean it.”

Alex doesn’t disappoint. He grinds his hips against Michael’s in a tight circle before he pulls back and starts to thrust, smirking as the movement makes Michael keen.

He keeps it up for another minute, watching Michael’s face with greedy eyes, before he seems to get an idea. He leans back and coaxes Michael’s legs from his waist, pushing his thighs toward his chest instead, practically folding him in half.

“Oh my fucking god,” Michael gasps, brow drawn tight as he squirms on Alex’s dick; With his thighs held closer together, Alex feels even bigger inside him. He can’t get any leverage like this either, can really only lie there and take what Alex gives him. After riding that dildo for so long, it’s exactly what Michael wants.

“Good?” Alex asks him, voice rough when he starts to move again, slow at first, but steadily gaining speed.

“Like you have to fucking ask,” Michael shoots back.

Alex laughs as he leans down to kiss him, tongue sliding along his for the briefest moment before he rises back up and gets to work.

The rhythm Alex sets is hard and fast, pushing desperate, little sounds out of Michael’s mouth with every rock of his hips. It’s all Michael can do to hang on for the ride, his fingers sliding along Alex’s sweat-slick skin as he seeks purchase on any part of him he can reach. Alex keeps his eyes trained on Michael’s face as he fucks him, hips searching for the angle that’ll have him writhing on his cock in no time at all.

It’s not long before he finds it.

“Yeah, there it is,” Alex says as Michael shouts and curses, his back arching off the bed as Alex hits that tender spot inside him again. “Think you can come like this?”

Michael nods, desperate tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. The pleasure is overwhelming already, tightening his gut as it warms him from the inside out, and his cock is so hard it hurts.

“Then go on, baby,” Alex tells him, finally giving him permission. “Take what you need, I’ll be right behind you.”

Michael nearly sobs as he comes untouched a minute later, his cock jerking messily against his chest and stomach. Alex moans loudly when it happens, Michael’s hole clutching tight around his cock as his body trembles with the force of it. Michael’s eyes slip closed as he comes down, Alex’s hips continuing their steady rhythm between his thighs as he desperately seeks to follow him.

He feels fingers dragging through the mess that’s streaked across his chest a second before he feels them at his lips, wet and sticky with come. Michael moans weakly and opens his mouth for Alex to shove them inside. He eagerly licks them clean, sucking them like he did Alex’s cock, and it’s with the bitter taste of himself on his tongue and Alex’s fingers inching toward the back of his throat that Michael feels Alex’s hips finally stutter and grind to a stop, fucking him so full Michael is sure he’ll be feeling it for days.

When Alex pulls his fingers from Michael’s mouth, they’re replaced by his tongue a moment later as Alex’s body covers his. They trade sloppy, well-fucked kisses until Alex’s softening cock slips free. Michael whines at the sensation, missing the feeling of being full, and Alex smiles against his mouth.

“Sorry,” Alex whispers when their lips part.

Michael laughs a little hysterically, eyes still closed. “You don’t get to apologize for fucking me that good,” he says, voice raw.

“Good, huh?” Alex asks, sounding smug as he drags his fingers through Michael’s hair.

“You’re lucky I haven’t passed out yet,” Michael confesses, the fading pleasure of his orgasm making him lazy and slow, his tired muscles aching for rest.

“You sure you’re not about to?” Alex asks, and Michael can feel his thumb brush against one of his closed eyelids.

“No,” Michael laughs, opening his eyes to see Alex smiling at him. “Should probably clean up first, though.”

“Mm, yeah,” Alex says. “Bathroom?”

“Back by the kitchen,” Michael answers.

“Got it,” Alex nods. He stands up and walks away, holding the waistband of his jeans in one hand to keep them from falling down .

Michael sits up and looks over at the mount still sitting on the bed. He doesn’t quite have the energy to strip the washable case off or clean the dildo, so he picks the whole thing up and sets it on the floor to deal with in the morning. He also shoves the lube and condoms back where they belong, and when Alex comes back with a wet washcloth, he lets him clean up the sticky mess between his thighs.

“You gonna take your pants off and stay a while?” Michael teases him when he’s finished, head propped up by his right hand where he lies in the middle of the bed.

He expects Alex to laugh or roll his eyes, but he bites his lip instead as he considers his question seriously.

“Yeah, fuck it,” Alex decides after a moment, stripping off his jeans and shoes before he gets to work on taking off his prosthetic. The engineer in Michael is curious how it works, but that feels like a question for another day, so he crawls under the covers instead and waits for Alex to join him.

Michael snuggles up to him when he does, eager to feel Alex’s bare skin under his hands again. They share a single pillow as they lie facing each other on their sides, staring at each other for just a moment before Michael finally presses in close and brings their lips together.

They kiss like that for a while, soft and unhurried, until Alex pulls away. Michael lazily follows the curve of his jaw with his mouth, tired but not quite done with him yet.

“Mm, what time is it?” Alex asks, pulling him out of the moment a little.

“Uh,” Michael says, lifting his head off the pillow to look over Alex’s shoulder at the alarm clock on his nightstand. “About eleven.”

Alex lets out a soft, unhappy groan. “It’s getting late. I should probably get going.”

“You don’t have to,” Michael says, letting a fingertip trace a mindless path across Alex’s chest. “I’m not kicking you out.”

Alex bites his lip as he considers his next words, which is more distracting than it has any right to be.

“I didn’t really come prepared for a sleepover,” Alex admits at last.

“You can borrow some clothes if you want,” Michael offers. “We’re about the same size.”

“No, I mean… I have a routine, with my leg,” he explains, a little sheepish. “I don’t have what I need here.”

“Oh,” Michael says, feeling a little stupid for not thinking of that himself. “Okay.” He hesitates a brief moment before he adds, “You should come prepared next time, then.”

“Next time?” Alex asks, a hopeful smile tugging at his lips.

“Mhmm,” Michael hums, shifting closer to press a delicate kiss against his lips. “I make a pretty decent omelet. It’d be a shame for you to miss out when we do this again.”

Alex’s smile widens. “‘When’? Not ‘if’?” he asks, throwing Michael’s words from earlier right back at him.

“Shut up,” Michael laughs before pushing Alex back against the mattress, determined to kiss that smirk off his face.

Alex is happy to let him try.

#malex #malex fic #malex smut #michael guerin #alex manes #my fic #WE DID IT KIDS!!!#God I hope you guys like it haha #this took so much out of me i think i need to lie down lmao

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petrichoravellichor · 4 years

Text

Rebar Not Included

Written for Day 11 of the Supernatural Deserved Better Creative Challenge (prompt: hunting).

Summary: Jody and Donna help out the Winchesters by looking into an Ohio case involving masked vampires, and what do you know: not only do they manage to kill a certain side character from season 1 but they ALSO make it through without dying! Oh, and they kiss, just because they can.

(Read on Ao3)

********************

Jody was just settling down with a book for the evening when her phone rang; she smiled at the name flashing across her screen and swiped left to accept the call. “Hey, Sam.”

“Jody, hi. How are you?”

“Alone, believe it or not. Alex is working the night shift, Claire and Kaia are still on that case down in Miami, and Patience is staying over at a friend’s. Got the whole house to myself.”

Sam chuckled. “That...honestly sounds kind of amazing right about now.”

“How’s Cas? Is he feeling any better?” she asked. It had been nearly a week since Sam and Dean had returned from the Empty with one bedraggled former angel in tow. Jody hadn’t pressed too hard for details at the time—Sam had sounded pretty exhausted when he’d called to tell her they’d made it back safely—but from what she’d gathered, Cas was human now, and his time in the Empty had left him very much in need of recuperation.

On the other end of the line, Sam groaned. “Uh...yeah, you could say that.” A beat, then: “He and Dean haven’t come out of Dean’s room since yesterday afternoon.”

Jody had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. "Huh. Well, how do you like that: they finally figured it out.”

Sam sighed. “Yeah. Don’t get me wrong; I’m really happy for them. I just wish the Men of Letters had invested in sound-proof walls. But anyway,” he said, changing tracks, “that’s not what I called you about.”

“What’s up?”

“So get this: last night, a family of four in Akron, Ohio, got attacked home-invasion style. Whatever it was killed the dad and drained his blood.”

Jody frowned. “Vampires?”

“I think so, but there’s more. I called and spoke with the police sergeant, and according to her, the attackers left the mom alive but ripped out her tongue, and they also took the two kids.”

Jody’s blood ran cold; she glanced at the photo of Alex, beaming and holding up her nursing degree, over on the mantle. “They’re taking blood slaves.”

“Yeah, looks like it.” Sam paused, then: “The thing is, I don’t think this the first time they’ve done it. Back in ’86, our dad was looking into a string of kidnappings along Route 77, and it was the same thing: whatever it was took the kids and ripped the tongues out of any adult it didn’t drain. By the time Dad started digging around, though, the attacks stopped. Until now, anyway. Here, just a sec, I’m gonna text you something...”

A moment later, Jody’s phone chimed. She put Sam on speaker and tapped to open the message; it was a drawing of what resembled the front part of a skull. “What am I looking at?”

“The mom drew that, the one from the most recent attack; apparently, the perpetrators wore masks. Hang on, I’m sending you another picture. This one’s from our dad’s journal, back when he was working the case in the 80s.”

The second picture loaded, and Jody drew in a sharp breath: the resemblance between the two drawings was unmistakable. “It’s the same nest.”

“That’s what I’m guessing. They seem to always target the same type of home: outside town, isolated, kids between the ages of five and ten. If the pattern from last time holds, they’ll hit Canton next, then East Sparta.”

Jody swallowed. “You want me to look into it.”

“If you’re able to, yeah, that would be great. We’d go ourselves, but what with Cas still recovering and him and Dean...um…” Sam cleared his throat, then continued more smoothly, “I can call someone else if now’s not a good time.”

Jody chewed her lip for a moment, then shook her head. This felt personal. “No,” she replied, pushing herself off the couch and heading to pack a bag, “I’ll take care of it. Let me grab a few hours of sleep, and then I’ll head out.”

“Great, thank you. I’ll dig around online and text you a shortlist of properties around Canton that seem like likely targets.”

“Sounds good; thanks, Sam. Take care.” She smirked, adding, “And tell Dean and Cas I said hello. Whenever you see them, that is.”

Sam snorted. “Will do. Be safe, okay?”

“Always.” She ended the call, then typed out a quick message to Donna: Hey babe. Feel like teaming up to take down some vamps?

********************

The following night, she and Donna were crouched in the shadows near an abandoned barn in Ohio. Sam’s intel about where the nest would hit next had proven accurate, and by the time a black van carrying two masked vampires had pulled up in front of a rural home outside Canton, Jody and Donna were waiting. They dispatched both vampires easily, sparing one just long enough to learn the location of the group’s nest; now, the only thing left to do was clear out the remaining vamps and free the children who’d been taken captive.

“Okie dokie,” Donna whispered, “our toothy friend back there said they keep the kiddos in a room off to one side. We go in through the side door, then you take right, I take left?”

Jody nodded. “Works for me. Come on,” she said, drawing her machete, “let’s go save some kids.”

They crept over to the barn and entered.

At first glance, the place seemed deserted. They fanned out along the walls, searching carefully for any sign of life, but other than the occasional spiderweb, there was nothing. Then, as Jody neared the back of the barn, she heard it: a quiet sniffling sound coming from behind a latched door. She raised her hand and signaled to Donna, who nodded and hurried over; then, while Donna watched her back, Jody opened the door and saw two small, scared-looking little boys peering back at her. The younger one couldn’t have been much older than her own son, Owen, had been when he’d died, and the realization made Jody’s stomach clench.

She lowered her machete and crouched down to the boys’ level. “Hey,” she whispered soothingly, “hey, it’s okay. You can come out; you're safe. We’re not going to hurt you.”

No sooner had she ushered the two boys to her side, however, than she heard Donna’s warning: “Heads up, Jodes; we got company!”

Five figures were approaching slowly from the front of the barn, all armed with blades. Four of them, the two on either side of the central figure, wore masks similar to the drawings Jody had seen in Sam’s text messages. The fifth, however, was a maskless female vampire dressed in dark leather. As the group drew closer, she looked from Jody to Donna and back again with a scowl.

“You’re not the Winchesters,” she said, as though someone were playing a trick on her.

Donna flashed a grim smile. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Boys,” Jody said, low and urgent over her shoulder, “run.” She heard their frantic footfalls, followed by the slam of the side door. Good, she thought, hefting her machete as the vampires charged: she didn’t want them to see what happened next.

The first vampire lost its head the second it stepped in their space. Jody spun and slashed, Donna at her back, the clash of blades shattering the still air of the night. It was brutal work, bloody work, and Jody took no pleasure in it. Her only objective was to protect: the boys they’d freed, Donna, Sam and Dean. She had no idea what the vampires wanted with the Winchesters, and she didn’t care: whatever it was, she’d make sure they didn’t get it.

Jody had just relieved a second vampire of its head when something flashed on the edge of her vision; she pivoted, raising her weapon just in time. The female vampire’s blade crashed into her machete and sent a shockwave of pain up her arm, nearly causing her to cry out. There was no time for that, though: the vampire swung at her again and again, driving her back from the rest of the fight before rushing forward, barreling into Jody with the force of a tank.

Jody fell hard to the floor. Her machete flew from her hand, and she could only watch as a triumphant smile split her opponent’s face. The vampire raised her blade to deliver a final blow…and then her head flew off in a spray of red. Her body crumpled to the ground, revealing Donna, blood splattered and furious, machete still hovering at the end of its arc.

“Not my girlfriend, you bitch,” she panted, glowering down at the corpse as though sight alone could set it ablaze; then her gaze shifted to Jody, and all the rage seemed to drain out of her at once. “You okay, Jodes?”

Jody exhaled, nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” She peered past Donna, counting the bodies on the ground and sighing in relief when the total came to five. Donna reached out a hand, and Jody took it, allowing Donna to pull her up and into an embrace. They kissed then, slow, reverent, and it was several moments before Jody could bring herself to pull away.

“Come on,” she said quietly, brushing back a strand of Donna’s hair. “We should go find those boys, make sure they get home safely.”

Donna nodded, and they drew apart, then left the barn without looking back.

#dodio #jonna #jody mills x donna hanscum #donna hanscum x jody mills #spndbcc #spn femslash #spn ladies #jody mills #donna hanscum #wayward sisters #sheriff wives #spn 15x20 #spn spoilers #rebar not included #my writing

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stayextrafrosty · 4 years

Text

I’m Dying for a Taste of You

Summary: Alex Manes is a vampire hunter tasked with hunting down rogues who kill humans. His next target is Michael Guerin. Known to sometimes over-indulge at the blood balls and was placed at the most recent scene by witnesses. But this might be more than Alex bargained for. Top Michael. Bottom Alex. Alex POV. PLEASE READ WARNINGS

A/N: I just wanted an excuse to have the two of them flirt while a weapon is pressed between them. Because reasons. I’ve left this open for continuation but I want to finish my other AU before starting a whole new one. There are the beginnings of a plot but this truly is just porn. Cute ending though.

Warnings: Please be aware that the kinks featured in here get intense. Light masochism, biting, blood drinking, overstimulation, marking/claiming, Dom/sub, Predator/prey, possessive behavior. There are some soft moments but it is very much a rough and dirty sex fest. Read at your own discretion.

Read on AO3 // Masterlist

Alex was no stranger to the smell of blood but this place made even him want to gag. Scantily clad men and women wandered around shamelessly, blood dripping from various wounds on their body. More power to them he supposed but how anyone could enjoy being sucked within an inch of their life by a vampire was beyond him.

Blood balls were the equivalent of drug dens. Except these were technically legal. Alex looked back at the police officers positioned at the doors and around the room. No one was supposed to die here but someone clearly missed that memo.

He knew he was overdressed. As a donor at least. He wanted to cover as much of his skin as possible without drawing suspicion. He didn’t need his target sniffing him out before he had time to take the shot. Not to mention he needed to keep his gun concealed. There was also a retractable knife slid into the side of his boot.

He looked down into his glass, the whiskey inside colored red from the lights surrounding him. He hadn’t seen his target yet. Then again, maybe he was already here, back in one of the private rooms drinking and being sucked off by his next victim.

“Hey there. You must be new,” a sweet, feminine voice said. He looked up as the young woman sat across from him. Her corset pushed her boobs up in a way he was sure drove any straight or bi man crazy. Long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Tall, slender. She was beautiful. Or at least she was until he noticed the blood dribbling from the side of her lips.

“Sorry. I’m just observing today,” he said shyly, hoping it would get her to go away.

“Oh honey. Careful with that one. Remember where you are.” How could he forget. Her nails tapped on the table a couple times before she grinned at him, flashing her fangs. She made her way around the table to stand in front of him.

“Just a tip, the best way to know if you’re into this or not, is to jump right in. I’d be happy to go easy on you. Or, if I’m not your type… I know some sweet guys who would treat you right.”

His shoulders tensed. Not that this was a place where he should be nervous about being gay. Most vampires didn’t seem to care one way or another. The woman leaned in close, the smell of her perfume covering the blood pretty well.

“I also recommend leaving that gun tucked away,” she teased. His eyes darted around the room, checking to see if anyone heard her. But if she noticed, chances are the others did too. Was his cover blown before he even started the mission?

“Maybe you can help me then.” She raised an eyebrow. “I’m looking for a rogue vampire. He’s been killing women he takes home from this place.” She hummed and looked around.

“Does this vampire have a name or are you throwing around baseless claims, hunter.” Her voice was still sweet but there was an edge now. The nails on her fingers could almost certainly rip his throat out before he had time to react.

“The suspect is named Michael Guerin. Do you know him?” She barked out a laugh.

“You must be delusional. Michael wouldn’t hurt anyone. In fact, no one at this club does that kind of thing. If they do, we dispose of them ourselves.” He was taken aback. The woman played with the edge of her corset.

“I recommend you get out of here. You won’t find what you’re looking for,” she said, crossing her arms. He clenched his fists and stood slowly.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

He turned and ran into a hard chest that didn’t budge. He gazed into golden brown eyes. A sharp jaw and a scruff that clearly hadn’t been shaved in days. A crown of curls sat atop his head and a lazy grin sat on his lips.

His shirt had the sleeves rolled up and buttons left undone. There was an unmistakable red stain covering the shirt. His slacks hung low, button and zipper left open. Alex wanted to drool at the sight. He mentally scolded himself. There was nothing attractive about a vampire.

“Someone looking for me?” His voice warmed Alex in places he knew it shouldn’t have. This was his target. “Should we go to my private room? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable on your first time,” he said, shamelessly looking Alex up and down. His cheeks warmed and he couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Careful there brother. He’s a hunter,” the woman said.

“Thanks Izzy. I got this. I think that beautiful girl I saw you flirting with earlier is waiting.” Alex assumed she left. He couldn’t take his eyes of Michael. He must be using a charm of some sort. It was the only explanation. He was a professional damnit.

Alex shook his head and broke eye contact with him. Not all vampires could control minds that way but it was better safe than sorry.

“Please. Follow me,” Michael said, turning away from him. Alex’s head jerked up to watch him go. He shouldn’t follow. It was safer surrounded by people. But he was inviting him to be in close quarters, making it easier to kill him.

The two of them walked away from the slow throbbing music. They passed a couple. A man leaned over another, licking up the blood that had run down the other’s chest. The man being fed on was clearly into it. Their moans were vulgar and Alex turned away from them. How could anyone just do that in front of others?

Michael led him to a door, even going as far as to open it for him. He wanted to reach for his gun but pulling to early would compromise the mission. He had to wait until his guard was down. Vampires enter an intoxicated like state after feeding. That was his opening. If he had to spill a bit of blood to complete the mission then he would.

The door led to a long hall with several doors lining the walls all the way down. Michael walked down about halfway before stopping in front of another door. It had his name scrawled on a golden plaque.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to give me your gun mister hunter. I’m sure you can understand why. I’d hate to have to kill you before we get a chance to talk so best to just comply.” Alex met his stare for a brief moment before reaching inside his leather jacket to the holster for his gun.

He handed it over cautiously, praying that he didn’t just shoot him. Then again, Michael liked to drain his victims. There was never a single drop of spilled blood on the scene. Michael smiled and stepped inside the room. Alex followed him in and looked around.

The lighting in here was more normal though it still had a red tint. A loveseat sat to the side and a bed in the middle of the room, headboard pressed against a wall. Alex didn’t know what to do. The bed was too intimate. The loveseat reminded him too much of a casting couch from porn.

Michael fiddled with glasses at a small bar filled with various hard liquor and wine. He set the gun down next to an open bottle of bourbon. He must have been pretty confident to think that Alex couldn’t get it back from there.

“Well don’t just stand there. The bed and couch are cleaned between visitors.” Michael handed him a glass. He wasn’t going to drink it.

“I just have some questions for you. It wont take long,” he said.

“The first thing you say to me is a promise that I won’t get to enjoy this for long? Tell me, do you like to torture men?” Alex rolled his eyes but as hard as he tried, his flirting was getting to him.

“I just want to know if you’ve seen this girl,” he pulled the folded photo from his pocket and handed it to Michael. He looked at it for a moment and then shook his head.

“Can’t say that I have. Then again I don’t keep track of every person that comes here. And some guests opt to wear masks if you hadn’t noticed.” He had noticed. Which made this even harder. But this man had to be the killer. He was placed at multiple scenes by witnesses.

“How often do you leave with your food for the night,” he said, letting his disgust sneak through.

“Oh, I see. I’m a suspect.” Michael let out a heavy sigh, not seeming bothered by his comment in the slightest. He seemed more disappointed than defensive.

“Just answer the question,” Alex ordered. Michael’s nose twitched. He was moving into dangerous territory. This man could easily kill him if he wasn’t prepared. He shouldn’t be trying to piss him off but he couldn’t stop himself.

“For your information. We have rules.” He stepped closer. “We don’t leave with the donors. They all leave first.” Another step. “And we stay behind.” He was just a few inches away. “It’s also frowned upon to seek out donors outside of blood balls.” Alex’s breath hitched in his throat as he leaned in. Michael cursed under his breath and let out a heavy sigh. The tips of his fangs reflected the light.

“I don’t think you know how good you smell,” he muttered. Alex felt his cheeks flush. He tried backing up but his legs hit the loveseat, making him stumble back on it instead. Michael hovered over him, placing his hands on either side of his head. Alex couldn’t sink any farther into the couch.

Michael placed a knee between his legs on the couch, leaning into him. His eyes showed hunger and lust. Alex tried to squash down his own excitement. It was fucked up. He shouldn’t be feeling this way. He should be repulsed. But his body just wouldn’t listen.

Not wanting to ruin his jacket (at least that’s what he told himself) he shrugged it off and tossed it to the side. His heart raced when Michael groaned and ran his tongue over his teeth.

“I knew you liked teasing. I promise to be gentle.” Alex gripped the couch as his head moved to the crook of his neck. He tried to stay still but he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around him and pull him closer. Michael’s breath tickled his neck. “You can ask me to stop,” he said, voice shaking with need.

He wanted to. He didn’t want to.

This man was a murderer and he needed to end this before he was the next victim. Alex stamped down his desire and shoved Michael back. He wished he could have appreciated the surprise on his face longer.

He grabbed the knife in his boot, flicking the blade open. He tackled the vampire to the ground, straddling his hips, knife pressed to his neck. Michael just laughed and watched him.

“Now that you have me like this what exactly do you intend to do?”

“You will die here. You didn’t show mercy to those girls and I refuse to show mercy to you!” He pressed the blade into his skin, drawing a line of blood. This was it. All he had to do was pull and he would die. At least long enough to put a bullet in his head.

So why did he fucking hesitate?

“One second too long hunter.”

He was flung back. Or rather carried by Michael. His back hit the wall, knocking the air from his lungs. His hand wrapped firmly around his neck. Michael snarled at him, fangs on full display for Alex to see. He twisted the knife from his grip.

“Kill me if you want! There’ll just be more,” Alex threatened. Michael traced the point of the knife down Alex’s face, never pressing hard enough to draw blood. He shook his head.

“I don’t want to kill you. It would be a waste of a beautiful face.” he responded. His eyes flicked down. “Your body is far better suited for pleasure.” He knew he was blushing. What was this game they were playing? He dragged the knife over his neck and down his chest. His muscles tensed and he hated the way his cock responded. This had to be a spell.

“You don’t know shit about me! It’s not real pleasure if you have to put someone under a spell.” Michael’s eye twitched with annoyance. He pulled the knife away and released his grip on his throat.

What the hell?

“I don’t use that shit. It’s better if they actually want it.” He paused and shook his head. “I didn’t hurt those girls either. But you’re going to believe what you want.”

Michael turned away from him and moved back to where he had set the gun down. He picked it up after retracting the blade of the knife. He walked back to stand in front of Alex, holding out both weapons in front of him.

“Just leave hunter.” He took the gun and knife from him, wide eyed. They never taught them what to do when the vampire gives the weapons back. Especially not with a face that looked so crushed. Michael was back to pouring himself another drink

“Alex,” he found himself saying. Michael’s head turned slightly.

“What?”

“My name is Alex. So you can stop calling me ‘Hunter.’”

“Why tell me? We’re never going to see each other again,” he said with a humorless laugh.

“Well that would be a shame,” Alex joked back without thinking.

He wanted to eat his words. For a second he forgot he was dealing with a vampire. He didn’t want to flirt with him. But the way the muscles in his back flexed at his words made it hard to regret. He watched his hands grip the bar, knuckles turning white.

“Leave Alex. Or I might do something you don’t want.”

Alex should leave. He knows it. But that look was so lost. So broken. And so familiar. He’d seen that look on himself in the mirror. He dropped his weapons on the couch, watching Michael’s shoulders jump at the sudden noise.

He took slow cautious steps toward the vampire, watching his breathing grow more erratic with every step.

“Please, don’t come any closer,” he begged. Alex stopped. He was close enough to touch him but didn’t want to upset him further. “I told you that you smelled good. That was an extreme understatement.” Alex stood there quietly for a moment, heart racing.

“What do I smell like,” he asked quietly. Michael let out a strained whine.

“Like fucking heaven. Vanilla, leather, alcohol and about a million other things. I can hear your heart racing you know. I’m scared that if I were to taste you, it would never be enough.” Alex swallowed.

“Why?” Michael spun around and stepped into his personal space, their noses nearly touching. His fangs were fully extended

“Because I can tell. You’re blood would be like top shelf drugs. There’s other vamps out there that can smell you and are pissed they can’t have you. Don’t let any vampire have you, understand? Claiming would be inevitable.”

He had only heard the most basic information about a vampires claim. They usually did it with another vampire but sometimes they would claim a human. It was the equivalent of marriage. He didn’t know much about the actual process.

“I understand.”

Michael stepped back again, running his hands over his face, probably trying to make his fangs go away. Alex knew that wasn’t easy. Once they had been pushed that far, it was either feed or starve until you can distract yourself from it. Like an even worse form of blue balls.

The thing was. If Alex left right now, Michael would go back out there and find some other donor to satisfy him. The thought made him clench his fists. Why was he jealous? It wasn’t like Michael was his. He didn’t want anyone to drink his blood. Even if it was someone as beautiful as Michael.

Alex turned away from him to grab his jacket and weapons. They would never see each other again after tonight. He would keep looking into the deaths of the girls. But he knew for certain it wasn’t Michael. He picked up his jacket and held it on his arm. He looked down at the knife. Then the gun. Then the knife again. He dropped his jacket.

He picked up the blade and flicked it open.

Am I really going to do this?

Yes. He was. He pressed the blade to the pad of his hand. He sliced.

The knife was flung out of his hand and he was pressed against the wall once again. Michael’s eyes were filled with fury and hunger. Heat shot straight down to his groin.

“What the fuck are you doing? I just said—”

“Drink.” Blood dripped down his arm. Michael’s eyes were wide and desperate.

“Alex,” he groaned.

He pushed his hand closer to his face. Michael just turned away. Fighting every natural instinct he should have. Alex pulled his hand back, pressing his own mouth to his wound. His blood was warm and tasted coppery. Though he knew it would be different for Michael.

Michael gasped like he was in pain. Maybe he was. Either way he didn’t hold Alex down hard enough to restrict his movements. He lifted his non-bleeding hand to turn Michael toward him again. Their eyes met briefly. Alex leaned in slowly, wanting to give him the option to back out.

The blood on his lips should have repulsed him. Yet he was finding that none of this was repulsing if it was Michael. Their mouths pressed together. Michael tried to keep his tongue from licking at the blood on his mouth but it was no use.

A shudder ran through Michael. Then he was yanking Alex flush against him, tongue driving past his lips to taste his own. Alex whimpered as his fangs grazed over his bottom lip. Suddenly he was laying on the bed, Michael positioned between his legs and hovering over him.

“I’m sorry,” he said desperately. He leaned to lick up the blood that had dripped and Alex’s hips rolled of their own accord. Michael groaned, pressing his hips against Alex in return.

Michael sealed his mouth over the cut, tongue running over the shallow wound and sucking gently. His teeth scraped but never pierced skin. Alex pushed his shirt off one shoulder and Michael yanked his arm out and the other followed. He tossed it somewhere in the room and moaned when Alex ran his hand over his torso.

He watched Michael in awe. It looked like he was kissing his hand. It was beautiful.

After a minute or so, Michael pulled away, a drop of blood still on his lips. Alex leaned up to kiss him again, wrapping an arm around his neck. His hands found the hem of his t-shirt and pulled up. They broke apart to toss it away as well.

Their skin moved against one another so easily, like they were made for this. For each other.

Michael broke the kiss again, resting his forehead against Alex’s. His teeth still hadn’t retracted. Alex, stroked his face softly. Then he turned his head to the side, exposing his neck.

“Fuck Alex. I said don’t let anyone have you. That includes me,” he said, tracing his fingers over his pulse point. His mouth may as well have been watering.

“But you need it don’t you?” Alex glanced back at him, angling his head further, encouraging him. Michael pressed his mouth against his neck, licking slowly. He kissed and sucked but never bit him. Alex rolled his hips again.

“I can find another donor. I won’t hurt you,” Michael pleaded. His voice was strained. It was taking everything he had to resist. A stab of pain in his heart. He shoved Michael back and grabbed his face, forcing him to meet his eyes.

“I don’t want you to find another donor.” His eyes flashed red, bloodlust taking over him. Alex leaned in close, pressing a hard, fast kiss to his mouth. He wasn’t afraid. This beast could kill him but he wasn’t afraid. He dragged his lips down Michael’s jaw and neck until he got to his pulse point. Then he bit.

Alex was yanked fully onto the bed, arms pinned above him. He couldn’t move even if he wanted to. Pure power rolled off Michael in waves. Alex knew the dangers of triggering bloodlust but he did it anyway. He wanted it more than anything. Wanted Michael to just take what he needed. But he knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, Michael wouldn’t hurt him either.

“You want this, Hunter? Fine. But we do it my way.” He laughed, burying his face against his neck, teeth scratching gently. Alex’s jeans were too tight and he wanted nothing more than to have them ripped off of him. Literally. “Never thought I’d see the day a hunter would beg for it like this,” he teased.

“Shut up and kiss me before I change my mind,” he ordered. Michael just shook his head, leaning close.

“Bossy, bossy.” He kissed him again. All the vampires he had interacted with until now had been almost cool to the touch. But Michael… he was as warm as Alex. Maybe it was the bloodlust or the desire but fuck if he didn’t love it.

He dug his nails into his back, pulling him in. Other guys he had been with hadn’t been into that but vampires were different. They lived for the pain. Or rather, as he was learning, the line between pain and pleasure.

Michael moaned and nipped at his bottom lip. This time though, he let his fang catch, letting a drop of blood form before licking it away. His body shuddered at the taste. Alex didn’t know how he could be turned on but if he went to hell for the things he was feeling right now, then it would all be worth it.

Michael released his arms, dragging his hands down his body to the waistband of his jeans. His nimble fingers undid the button and zipper, yanking them down quickly. He broke the kiss again, making Alex whimper from the loss of contact.

“Patient hunter. I know you can be.” The nickname was no longer filled with suspicion and annoyance. Rather it sent another shot of need to his hard dick.

Michael went to pull his jeans completely off but stopped short of his knee. Alex froze. In all the tension and fighting, he had completely forgotten about his missing leg. He had never been so gone to forget that. What was this man doing to him? He looked down at Michael, worried this would make him stop all together.

“On or off?” It was such a simple question. But the fact that he had asked, while still very much in bloodlust had Alex relaxing back against the bed again.

“I can move better with it on. But if you want it off so you can have your wicked way with me…” Michael laughed and pressed his head against Alex’s thigh, nuzzling him.

“If you’ll let me, I’ll take care of you,” he assured. Alex nodded and sat up, beginning the process of removing the prosthetic. Michael moved to a different part of his body. He crawled around behind Alex and was kissing his shoulders, hands roaming all over his biceps and torso.

Alex tried to not get distracted but damn that mouth. His tongue darted out every now and then, wetting his skin. When he finally got it off along with the sock, Michael took it from him gently, setting it on the floor.

He resumed his attention on his shoulders and neck. Alex relaxed against him, whimpering sounds slipping from his mouth. Michael had found his pulse point again and was paying special focus on that one spot. His hands wandered down to his underwear and the very noticeable bulge. Alex groaned when he cupped him through the fabric. Michael didn’t tease long before he had pulled him out of the constricting material, rubbing him slowly.

“Fuck,” Alex sighed out. He felt Michael’s grin on his neck. Alex reached behind him, tangling his fingers in the beautiful curls, pressing his mouth over his artery. This pulled a moan from Michael.

“I’m dying for a taste of you. Please, can I have you,” he begged. Alex felt his teeth again and his cock jumped in anticipation.

“Yes,” he breathed out.

Michael didn’t go straight in like he thought he would. He pulled away from his neck, a tight control on his movements. He readjusted so that he sat behind Alex, legs on either side, body pressed flush against Alex’s. His slacks did nothing to hide his obvious arousal and it pressed against Alex’s lower back.

“Lean back against me and relax as much as you can,” he ordered gently. His hand continued stroking him, though it was more a second thought. Alex did as he was told, running his hands over what he could reach of Michael’s arms.

Michael’s free hand held his jaw gently, tilting his head to the side. He locked his lips over the spot again but still didn’t bite. He sucked and massaged with his tongue, serving only to work Alex up, making him thrust into the hand still wrapped around his cock. When he was satisfied, he pulled away, speaking low next to Alex’s ear.

“This might hurt at first. But it’ll get better. Trust me.” And he did. Alex didn’t know why, but he did.

Michael licked his neck again. Desire coiled in his stomach. A light pinch, then a throbbing pain. He gasped as Michael’s teeth sunk into him. His first instinct was to yank himself away but the warmth spreading throughout his body called for a different reaction.

His hand found its way into Michael’s curls again, holding him in place. His eyes fluttered shut, getting lost in the feeling of having Michael attached to his neck. He felt more than heard him groan. His hips jerked up into his hand again.

The dizziness set in quick, as though he had been drugged. Every part of his body felt like a nerve ending and all he wanted was Michael’s hands everywhere. The hand wrapped around his cock stroked with more purpose. Alex moaned loudly, not caring if anyone heard. Maybe even wanting people to hear.

He could feel Michael’s tongue licking at his neck where the blood dripped. His hips stuttered, struggling to keep up with the pace Michael set. Alex cursed and tugged on his hair. Desire twisted in his stomach and every muscle in his body flexed.

His orgasm hit harder than he expected. His back arched away from Michael though he was held in place. White stripes spurt over his torso and Michael’s hand. His body shuddered as he kept working him, overstimulating to the point of pain.

“Fuck! Michael…” he gasped out. He felt Michael detach from his throat. He pressed his tongue to the wounds, slowing the bleeding. He released his cock, running his hands up over his torso and through the cum. Alex whimpered at the touches. Every nerve in his body screamed for more while simultaneously making him want to run away for a bit of relief.

The waves kept rolling through his body, as though he hadn’t come down from his orgasm. He dug his fingers into Michael’s head and twisted his other hand into the sheets. The small moans only seemed to urge Michael on. He ran his hands over every part of Alex he could reach. He pressed gentle kisses to his neck.

“Shh… it’ll pass. Just relax,” he whispered to him.

“What… did you… do…” Alex panted out as his cock attempted to reharden.

“It’s my venom. I use it to take away the pain.”

Vampire venom. Sold on the black market as a party drug. When used in excess, it can put someone out for almost a day. In small doses, an aphrodisiac. When injected straight into the bloodstream…

“Fuck I feel everything… it’s too much, damnit!”

“It’ll wear off in a couple minutes. I’ll let you go until then.” Michael released him. He moved fluidly, not even brushing against Alex as he got off the bed. Alex scratched at his skin. He reached in the direction of the vampire. His fingers brushed against strong abs.

He refocused his eyes and took in the beautiful sight of him. His slacks still hung low and open. Enough that Alex could tell he didn’t have any underwear on. His muscles tensed under his fingers. He dragged his gaze up his body and finally landed on his face. Blood dripped from his lips and his pupils were dilated. His teeth had retracted so they only looked slightly longer than normal.

Alex grabbed his wrist, pulling him back onto the bed and on top of him. Michael let his surprise show when Alex grabbed him and kissed him. He hesitated at first but soon he was kissing Alex with all of his pent up need.

Alex grabbed his slacks, yanking them down to free his cock. He needed Michael inside him. Prep be damned.

“Fuck me. I need you to fuck me,” he pleaded, trying to pull him closer. He kicked off his own underwear in the process. Michael groaned and kissed him again. Alex felt the prick of his teeth.

“Damnit,” he cursed, pulling away from the kiss and hiding his face. Alex had caught the briefest glimpse of his teeth. Alex reached up to pull the hand away from his mouth. The teeth were already back. “I knew you would be a fucking addiction. I’ve had you and now... It doesn’t help when you say things that make me want to claim you,” he growled as he nuzzled against his shoulder. Alex’s heart flipped. He knew it shouldn’t have but this man turned out to be an addiction for him too.

“I need you Michael,” he mumbled again, taking his hand and dragging it down his body. His cock was half hard again. He was ready. Michael felt this and gave a low laugh.

“Who am I to deny you, hunter?” Michael was gone for less than a second before he was settling between Alex’s thighs, a bottle of lube in his hand.

Michael kissed his thighs as he coated two fingers with lube. Alex tried to keep as still as possible but the venom still working its way through his system had him thrusting toward wherever Michael touched him.

Michael rubbed around his puckered hole, the cool temperature of the lube a startling contrast to his own body. He pushed himself up on his elbows so he could watch Michael. The sweat that had formed on his neck rolled down his chest.

“Fuck, you smell even sweeter down here. But I feel like you’ll be pissed if I mark you up too much,” he said, nuzzling the soft inside of his thigh. He pressed a finger inside him, moving slowly. Teasing.

Alex let out a strained moan, the sound catching in his throat. He had to know what he was doing. How drawing this out drove him so crazy. He’d always been a patient person but with Michael, it wasn’t fast enough. He grabbed Michael’s hair, forcing him to look up at him.

“Mark me up as much as you want. But move your damn fingers faster or I might kill you,” he threatened. A sinful smirk grew on his face.

“You really know how to get a guy going,” he teased back. Alex would have responded but the finger that had been teasing him curved up, pressing against his prostate. His head rolled back as he released Michael’s hair and a second finger pushed in with the first.

The damned things fucked him open as he felt Michael’s tongue on his thigh. A quick nip then the sharp pinch of his teeth. The pain was hardly there compared to the first bite. The warmth that had been subsiding roared back to an inferno. His brain didn’t know what to focus on.

Michael decided for him as he scissored his fingers and began pushing a third in. He massaged the muscles, rubbing against Alex’s prostate more with every thrust. He was close again. Twice in less than ten minutes. It had to be a record. For him at least.

“Gunna… come…” He mumbled out. His hips moved with the thrusting of his fingers, forcing them deeper. Michael groaned and lifted the leg he was attached to over his shoulder, opening Alex up and giving him a better angle.

Michael seemed to bite down harder, sending a sting of pain through him. The not unwelcome feeling made his cock jump. He panted, reaching down to tangle his fingers in Michael’s hair again. He cursed as the fingers buried inside him spread him open. They twisted and curled to press against all the right places.

It was the press of a fourth finger that sent him spiraling over the edge again. His vision went white as it pushed in with the others. A choked sob ripped from his throat as his hips jerked, adding to the mess covering his torso. Alex fell to the bed, back arching as he gripped the sheets and Michael’s hair.

He felt Michael detach himself from his thigh, licking at the wounds to stop the bleeding. He pulled his fingers out of Alex’s ass slowly, careful to not press against any more sensitive areas. Alex’s head was spinning. Was it the orgasm or the loss of blood?

His hand fell from Michael’s hair as he crawled up his body, hovering over him. Alex’s half lidded eyes let him take in the beautiful man. He looked every bit like a predator deciding how to kill its prey. The blood that ran down his jaw and neck only made Alex want him more. He belonged to this man now. There wasn’t a single doubt in his mind.

Michael leaned in close, nuzzled the side of his neck that he hadn’t bit. Alex whimpered as his head rolled to the side. He would let this man kill him if he wanted. Michael exhaled a laugh, pressing soft kisses to his jaw and over his cheek. A gentle finger turned Alex’s head back to face him. Michael kissed him gently.

“No more. Don’t need you passing out from blood loss.” He brushed a piece of hair off Alex’s forehead, smiling sweetly. “You ok?”

Alex didn’t know if he could give an answer. He felt more than ok but also very obviously not thinking clearly. His body burned from the venom but he found that it wasn’t like before. He wasn’t desperate for more but Michael’s hands on his body were a welcome feeling rather than a painful one.

“I think so. What did you do,” he asked slowly when he found his words again.

“I took back some of the venom. While another vampire might be able to handle going a third round right away, I’m well aware you’re just a human,” he joked, rolling off and propping himself up on his elbow.

Alex looked over at him in all his naked glory. He was still rock hard and Alex felt bad that he hadn’t gotten off yet.

“You saying I’m not as good as another vampire,” he teased half-heartedly. Michael rolled his eyes and leaned in, speaking low against his ear.

“You far surpass any vampire. But if you were one… I could fuck you all night.” His heart hammered in his chest. Michael’s fingers traced patterns over his arm and torso, placing featherlight kisses to the spot under his ear and his jaw.

“You’re saying you want to turn me?” Michael froze in his movements, his body tensing.

“Careful Alex. Even suggesting it - especially when I’m high on you - the temptation is there. The idea of having you with me forever… fuck I want it. But you don’t deserve that kind of life.”

His heart skipped a beat. The idea didn’t exactly make him cringe or feel disgusted. Anything to keep this man next to him. His brain wasn’t in a right state and he knew it. As much as he wanted to believe it was.

He didn’t respond to the words. Just turned to face the vampire. He pushed him to his back slowly, pressing kisses to his collarbone and moving down his torso. Michael sighed happily, gently running his hand through Alex’s hair.

He nipped at the muscles on his sides, earning him a mixture of laughs and quiet moans. Alex wrapped his hand around his hard cock, rubbing slowly as he kissed his abs and down to his hips.

“Fuck Alex,” he breathed out. He felt himself grin. He moved and licked the head of his cock. Michael groaned and rolled his hips slightly. Alex took him into his mouth, using his hand to control how deep he went. The weight was heavy on his tongue and the salty taste made him moan. He hadn’t given head in a long time and he was remembering why he loved it so much. Then again, maybe it was just Michael.

Alex moved his tongue to massage the length of him. Michael rocked his hips slowly, never rushing him, just petting his head softly. He occasionally pulled but never hard. Alex relaxed his jaw, taking in more of him every downstroke. The head eventually hit the back of his throat. He held him there for a moment, loving the feel of him throbbing in his mouth.

Alex looked up at Michael through his eyelashes. He groaned and his hips jerked, making Alex gag slightly.

“Your mouth is a sin, hunter. I don’t know how long I can keep from fucking it.” The words sent desire straight to his cock. Though he wasn’t quite ready to have Michael abusing his ass again, he could at least give him a good blowjob.

Alex moaned around his cock, removing the hand wrapped around the base to run over his thighs. He dug his nails into the soft skin and scratched. Michael’s hips jerked again but he didn’t gag this time.

“You want me to fuck your mouth? Use you? Take what I want?” Alex groaned at the thought. That was exactly what he wanted. Michael pulled him off his cock. He released him with a wet pop and smirked at the vampire. He shook his head before climbing off the bed and standing at the edge.

“Lay down you damn brat.” Alex positioned himself on his stomach in front of him. He looked up at him, waiting for instructions. Michael ran a hand through his hair and down his face, looking at him almost lovingly.

“Tap my leg twice if it’s too much.” Alex nodded. “Words,” he ordered. Alex shuddered at the demanding tone.

“Ok.” Michael smiled and leaned down, pressing a kiss to his mouth. He pulled back slightly, still close enough for their lips to touch when he spoke.

“Now open your mouth and look at me the whole time.” Alex watched him as he stood up. He opened his mouth as ordered, waiting for any further requests. There were none as the fingers in his hair tugged gently and Michael was slipping his dick into his mouth.

Alex wanted to let his eyes close to focus on the feeling of him but he didn’t want to disobey him. Somehow he thought he might regret it. Michael moaned and started rocking his hips, slowly at first. He did the same as Alex had done earlier, working himself all the way in as to not choke him. Though Alex wouldn’t have minded it.

Michael hit the back of his throat and he shuddered at the feeling. His fingers tightened in his hair and he thrust his hips forward. Michael moaned and did it again. Curses tumbled from his lips as he fucked into his mouth. Alex groaned around him, causing his hips to stutter in their rhythm. Alex’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Look at me.” The order was practically growled at him. His eyes popped open and Michael forced his cock deep, triggering his gag reflex again. He gripped Michael’s thighs, attempting to control his thrusts. Unsuccessfully.

Michael thrust into him hard and fast. His own cock was starting to feel neglected and he rubbed himself against the sheets, looking for friction. Michael laughed and smirked above him, never faltering in his movements

“Is your cock hard already? You’re so fucking good for me. I don’t know how I’ll ever let you go. Maybe I won’t.” Alex moaned again, rocking his own hips. Michael panted above him, watching him the whole time.

Alex glanced down at his slightly elongated canines. They weren’t like before but Alex knew he was craving something. He met his gaze again and Michael growled placing a hand over his eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Alex didn’t know what he saw but he didn’t have time to dwell. Michael’s thrusts were losing their pattern, getting deeper and harder.

Then he was calling out. Moaning loudly and shoving himself to the back of Alex’s throat. Hot spurts coated his mouth as he swallowed as best he could. The throbbing against his tongue had his own hips picking up speed. He was past the point of caring that he was dry humping the bed like a teenager.

Michael pulled away and was hauling Alex up to his knees, crushing his mouth to his. His tongue darted out to taste himself. Michael wrapped his arms around his waist, keeping most of his weight off his legs. Alex groaned at the pressure of his cock being trapped between them, pressing against Michael’s abs.

“You’re so sexy... So responsive… Drives me crazy,” he punctuated each phrase with a kiss. Alex took his face in his hands, running his fingers over the stubble. He pressed his forehead against Michael’s, just breathing him in. He smelled like rain. He ran his thumb over his lips, and when Michael’s mouth opened, slipped one inside.

He brushed it over his tongue and back out. He did it again, this time pausing to catch his thumb over one fang. Michael took in a shaky breath, as though this was the most intimate thing they had done since meeting.

Alex could no longer imagine his life without Michael in it. He refused to have this be the only time they saw each other. Despite all his training to kill people like him. He was beginning to think it was all a lie. What had these people really done? Just because they drank blood from willing doners? Sure some of them killed people and they should be held to the laws of the government, just like anyone else. But to generalize a whole group? That sounded too familiar.

The pad of his thumb caught on the point of his tooth, drawing blood. He hissed, more out of surprise than pain. But Michael didn’t see it that way. He took Alex’s hand and pulled it away from his mouth, holding it to his chest.

“Sorry. You shouldn’t mess with those. I don’t want to hurt you unnecessarily.” Alex smiled and shook his head. He tugged his hand out of Michael’s and pressed his thumb to his lip, just as he did earlier with his palm.

He kissed him softly. Michael whimpered as he licked at his lip. Alex found himself being lifted then placed on his back on the bed. Michael had settled between his thighs and he could feel him poking his hole. Michael bent his legs back to have easier access.

“I need to be inside you before I do something stupid,” he said with barely contained restraint.

“Stupid like what,” Alex couldn’t help but ask.

Michael leaned over him, kissing and nuzzling his marked neck. Alex turned his head as though it was instinct now. He couldn’t stop it even if he tried. Michael moaned quietly.

“You’re making it really hard not to claim you.” Alex wrapped his arms around his neck. Some part of his brain thought through his next words but it certainly wasn’t the rational part.

“Then do it.”

Michael jerked back from him, an almost terrified look on his face. But even that couldn’t hide the joy dancing in his eyes. He shook his head.

“Alex. You don’t know what you’re saying.” Alex blinked and sat up, running his hands over Michael’s torso and shoulders.

“Maybe. But it feels right, doesn’t it?” He leaned forward, pressing kisses to his chest. Michael groaned softly then pushed him back down to the bed, bending his knees back

“It’s the venom talking. If you still feel that way after I fuck you, then I’ll consider listening.” Michael pressed himself against his ass again. He grabbed the lube bottle again and coated his dick.

He used the excess on his fingers to slip them back into his hole. One finger, then two, then three, making sure he was still ready. Alex moaned but knew not to get too used to it. Michael pulled his fingers out and guided his cock to replace them.

He pressed forward slowly. Alex’s back arched as he stretched around him, marveling at the fact that just the head could make him feel so good. He heard Michael curse from above him as he tried to go slowly. Alex’s fingers twisted into the sheets.

Michael thrust forward firmly but not rough. Alex groaned and tried to move his hips toward him but Michael held him in place. He pushed again and the head of his cock rubbed against his prostate, making him whimper and moan.

“I’m fine, Michael. Fuck me,” he pleaded. Michael trembled as his hips thrust forward roughly. Alex yelped in surprise. He felt so full and his cock leaked with precum.

“Do you have any idea how good you look right now? Spread open on my cock, leaking, begging me to fuck you.” Alex moaned when he thrust forward as he spoke. Everything faded to the back of his mind except for Michael and the way his body moved against him.

His thrusts picked up speed and he grunted with the force he used. Alex could hardly think about anything other than the way he pounded into him. He tried to watch Michael above him but every thrust was sending shockwaves of need through his body. His eyes fell closed as he got lost in the feeling.

Little moans slipped out every time Michael sank into him again. The headboard of the bed bumped against the wall. Alex felt a hand wrap around his throat, fingers carefully avoiding the bite. He opened his eyes to Michael staring at him a small smirk on his face. He lifted his hand to cover Michael’s, squeezing his fingers around his neck.

“You are so fucking perfect, Alex. How has no one snatched you up yet,” he said, leaning forward as he squeezed the sides of his neck. Not giving him time to respond, Michael kissed him with an open mouth. The dirty sound of them separating made Alex whine. “You are mine now. Do you understand?”

Alex normally hated this kind of entitlement. He always insisted that he didn’t belong to anyone. But something about it coming from Michael’s mouth made him want it more. These were obvious red flags but he couldn’t help himself. He moaned against Michael’s mouth.

“Yours,” he gasped out.

After a few more hard thrusts, Michael pulled out, though Alex didn’t have time to complain. He flipped him over and pulled him up on his hands and knees. He pressed down on his shoulders, forcing him down on his forearms.

He spread his ass and slid into him again, not bothering to go slow. Alex buried his face in the mattress in an effort to muffle his moans. Michael grabbed his hair and pulled him back up.

“Don’t you dare. I want to hear you. I want the whole place to hear you.” Alex shivered and his own cock jumped. Michael fucked him ruthlessly though he was almost sure he was still holding back. The desire that coiled inside him was ready to snap.

“Michael,” he moaned out, only managing his name. Then he was being pulled up so his back was against his chest. Michael wrapped one had around his cock and stroked. The other was in front of his lips, bleeding from a small bite on the heel of his hand. The same place Alex had cut his own.

Alex pressed his lips to the wound, licking at the blood. He should have been disgusted but again he wasn’t. Michael pressed his lips against the spot he had bit earlier, grunting out his words.

“Tell me you want this. That you want me to claim you.” His voice was pleading. The rational part of his brain told him to say no. But every other part of him screamed yes.

“Please. Claim me,” he whimpered out.

Michael’s teeth were sinking into him before he even finished talking. It wasn’t as intense as before but there was a dull pain. Then the warmth was spreading again. So much hotter than before and taking over every part of him. Michael fucked him hard and he could feel every groove and twitch of the cock inside him.

Alex’s third orgasm rocked through him, making him call out Michael’s name repeatedly. He came all over the sheets but his body wouldn’t stop burning. Michael detached himself from his neck and pushed him forward again. He seemed to let himself go, slamming into him at an abusive rate. Alex’s cock tried to come again but there was nothing left as it twitched helplessly. All he could do was moan and take whatever he gave.

With one last deep thrust, Michael cursed and came inside him. He ground his hips against him, using Alex to milk his cock. He rocked his hips gently a few extra times before pulling out. Alex’s legs shook and he felt Michael trialing kisses over his spine.

He let himself down slowly, laying on his side and panting hard. The burn had turned into a dull smolder and was quickly fading. Michael curled around him, leaving kisses wherever he could reach.

“Are you ok,” he asked after a moment. His mind was starting to clear. What had just happened? He lifted is fingers to run over the bite mark on his neck. At first, a panic started to build, but it was overtaken by comfort.

“Yea. I’m just… processing.” They were silent for a couple minutes.

“You regret it,” he said, a sad certainty haunting his voice. Alex felt him start to pull away. He turned toward him immediately grabbing his hand and holding it to his cheek.

“No. I don’t regret it. The whole thing was just—”

“Intense,” Michael finished for him. Alex nodded. He glanced down at his mouth. Before he could think better of it, he kissed him. Their first non-desperate, lust filled kiss. Michael held him gently and Alex ran his fingers through the curls. They broke apart after a moment.

“I suppose now would be a bad time to make you promise not to kill me, hunter,” Michael joked. Alex snorted and ran his hands over his arms, feeling the muscle.

“I promise.” He paused. “What did you do to me exactly?” Michael sighed and propped himself up on his elbow. He ran his fingers over the mark on his neck.

“They don’t teach you that in training? Man, the academy is sure going downhill.” Alex rolled his eyes. He wanted a real answer.

“Michael,” he scolded gently. He sighed again, running his hand through Alex’s hair.

“Basically, my blood will heal you if taken alone. But I also injected you with my venom. Well over the amount needed to cause a blackout, mind you. But with my blood in your system, it forms a bond instead.” Alex nodded, covering Michael’s hand with his own. He smiled and leaned in close, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“No other vampire will dare to touch you unless they want to deal with me. I can keep you safe.” Alex chuckled as the vampire planted kisses all over his face and down his neck, eventually landing on the mark.

“I hardly know you,” Alex pointed out.

“But this feels right. And I can’t wait to get to know all of you,” Michael responded, lifting his head and gazing down at him with the softest expression Alex had ever seen. He pulled him in again, kissing him lovingly.

Alex was essentially married to this man. A man he was supposed to hate but didn’t. He knew nothing about him except that this wasn’t a mistake. That maybe he was finally making the right choices.

Alex ended up falling asleep. He didn’t know how long. Just that when he woke up, he was covered in clean blankets and Michael was right next to him.

#malex fanfiction #malex fic #roswell new mexico fic #malex #michael guerin/alex manes #roswell new mexico

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sunset-bobby · 4 years

Text

Title: You Mean the Holograms

Summary: Julie invites Carrie over to tell her the truth about her band, and maybe her dad, but what if she already knows

Word Count: 1886

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27822940

If there was one thing Carrie Wilson was good at, it was acting as if she was not aware of things. People often assume because she is the daughter of Trevor Wilson and shallow, which she is sometimes and is working on it, that she is not in tune with what’s going on in other people’s lives, but she is. So, when Julie texted her to come over saying she ‘needed to tell her something’. Carrie had a pretty good idea of what she was getting herself into. After all her dad is Trevor Wilson, and well he’s a terrible liar no matter how hard he tries. So that is how she found herself at Julie’s studio on a Saturday afternoon sitting on a chair, with Julie pacing in front of her nervously.

“Okay, so I called you here to introduce you to my band,” Julie stated and Carrie nodded along.

“The holograms?” she asked her in a false tone that made Julie believe she was clueless.

“That’s the thing. They aren’t actually holograms,” she paused and Carrie looked at her in anticipation., “ They’re ghosts.” Carrie gave her a look that was a mix of disbelief and confusion, but before she could say anything Julie cut her off.

“Before you say anything, let me show you,” and she heads off to the piano. Now Carrie can’t actually see the ghost, but she is already aware of their existence, so she sends a small smirk to the air and hopes one of them is catching on and finds this as amusing as she is. However if what she already knows about them is true the one most likely to catch on, is freaking out. Julie plays a piano riff that Carrie is familiar with before a faint whooshing sound comes in and before stands the face of 3 teenage boys that she is secretly very familiar with. Julie stops playing and the boys as well. Something new Carrie was not ready for. Point ghost.

“The new abilities are hard to explain as of right now, but they can now be seen after we play as well,” Julie explains and Carrie nods along once more.

“Okay, so Care this is-,” but Carrie takes the opportunity to expose her own secrets now.

“Luke, Reggie, and Alex. Formally of the early 90s rock band Sunset Curve, currently of the up and coming band Julie and the Phantoms,” she says and her tone is dripping with that false innocence she uses to really push certain statements over the edge, and from the looks on both the boys and Julie’s face it seems she has. The blonde one, Alex, is the first to speak.

“H-how does she know that?” he looks around at his shocked friends before looking back at her, “how do you know tha?” She smiles, not fully she doesn’t want it to seem like she’s finding amusement in his obvious sense of panic, but just enough to where they know she’s planned this.

“Did you ask your dad about it?” Reggie, the bassist, asked recovering next, and Carrie decided to add some more to the drama.

“My dad? Why would he be involved in this?” Her smile has dropped giving the illusion that she is serious about her confusion. The boys and Julie blubber out multiple excuses to each other trying to come up with the same story, and she lets them for a while, before cracking. A laugh escapes her lips drawing their attention back to her.

“I’m joking, no my dad told me everything,” she says in between laughs, but the others just continue to stare.

“So you already know everything?” Luke asks and there is a slight emphasis in his voice that makes her realize he is asking for something specific, and she knows what it is, but she isn’t going to let that out just yet.

“Oh do you mean how Alex likes to join me for Dirty Candi performances?”

“How did-”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve walked through you and that chill is pretty hard to miss,” she answers, interrupting Alex’s question. She looks over at Luke and his face is hard to read, but he’s definitely riled up.

“Or are you talking about if I know that you’re connected to Julie because of her mom, whom you met 20 mins prior to your, um….” she trailed off, she didn’t know if their passings were a sensitive topic or not.

“Wait, really?” Julie asked, and Carrie was not aware that she did not know.

“Um, yeah it’s how our parents met. However they didn’t become friends until your mom picked my sobbing dad up off of the streets of Sunset Boulevard, or at least that what he said,” she said nonchalantly. This topic was something her dad discussed multiple times. He was very open with his experience with grief, although she thinks it’s because Dr.Crystal advises him too. She takes another look at Luke, and by now she thinks he can tell she’s avoided the topic purposely. She sighs as he opens his mouth to speak, and talks before him.

“Fine. I know you want know if I am aware that the songs on my dad’s first two albums are Sunset Curves, that he didn’t credit you, and is legally not allowed to discuss it with anyone who doesn’t already know, because somehow his dumb 21 year old self didn’t know how to read through a contract,” she told him exasperated, but was shocked when she did not get an immediate response from the boy in return. Then again none of the others said anything either.

“Oh, you didn’t know about that detail did you?”

“No,” Luke said quietly, “no we did not.”

“Carrie if you knew all of this why didn’t you tell me. At least about the music part when we were friends?” Julie asked, and Carrie did not realize how this would look to her.

“I didn’t know until middle school, and I thought you knew too. I figured your mom was going to tell you.”

“I didn’t know she knew.”

“I’m sorry Juls. Maybe it was for a good reason. I only found out on accident,” Carrie offered and Julie nodded.

“Is there anything else you might know?” Reggie asked her, but the answer was a little iffy. She knew a lot of things thanks to her dad’s shrine to them, which she still finds weird despite the fact he’s also in the pictures.

“Maybe you should just ask me questions, and I can see what I can answer,” she suggested and they nodded. Alex started.

“Do you know anything about our families?”

“Some things, yes. Uh how sensitive is this topic though?” she wanted to make sure she covered all of her bases before continuing.

“It’s relatively sensitive, but we wanna know,” was all she got in response.

“Um okay, well despite the fact he did not credit you guys, my dad still gave money to your families, or at least those who deserved it. I don’t know much about your family, I’m sorry Reggie.”

“It’s okay,” he said, but she had a feeling it wasn’t. She did not want to over step.

“What about me?” Luke asked, “I know Julie and I saw my parents a couple weeks ago, and I try to visit them often, but I-,”

“You know,” she started cutting him off, “Ms. Emily is always telling my dad it does not do well to keep replaying your mistakes.”

“You’ve met my mom?”

“Yeah I saw her earlier in the month with my dad. We were continuing a tradition he and Julie’s mom started,” she explained.

“What tradition?”

“They bring her flowers on special occasions. I think it was a birthday or something. He’s never gone alone before. If Rose couldn’t go, he’d send them by mail, but he says that anniversaries are hard. I think that’s why he took me too.”

“Oh.”

“ Hey, I don’t know your story, but I don’t believe you should keep blaming yourself.”

“I’m not.”

“You are, I am very familiar with that look.”

“What about my family?” Alex asked, however his situation was a little different, and Carrie was not sure when the right time would come again.

“My dad doesn’t really like to talk to all of them. Mainly just my mom, but-”

“Mom!” Alex exclaimed, cutting her off.

“Yeah, my mom is Alyssa Da-”

“LYSSA, she’s like 10 years younger than him. I can’t believe he…” The boys looked at one another in disgust, but Carrie and Julie, just bubbled with laughter, causing the disgusted looks to turn into confused ones.

“What’s happening. Why are you laughing at the fact that Bobby defiled Alex’s little sister?” Luke asked.

“Okay, can we not say it like that,” Alex grimaced.

“Alex, don’t worry, he didn’t do anything with your sister,” Julie stated.

“Yeah, despite the small resemblances, he isn’t my biological dad,” she added.

“Then why-”

“She had me when she was 16, but instead of putting me up for adoption, she gave me to my dad. I don’t really know everything, but my dad told me when I was 7.” Alex nodded.

“Okay, but earlier you were laughing?” he asked, and Julie giggled beside her.

“Because I’m pretty sure we both thought of the same response,” Julie answered, and looked at Carrie.

“He says it whenever anyone asks about his relationship status in interviews,” Carrie also added.

“ Honey, I haven’t touched a woman since 1999,” they both quoted in sync before breaking out in a fit of laughter once more.

“Bobby is gay?!” all three boys shouted.

“Bi actually,” Julie corrected.

“With a preference for men...guitar players specifically,” Carrie continued.

“Not that any of them last very long according to tabloids,” Julie said aimlessly.

“Yeah, well you know dad is always picky. Apparently he has this thing where they have to match his talent,” Carrie said and she and Julie looked at one another again silently confirming if they were thinking the same thing, before turning back to the boys who were flickering.

“I guess this is our goodbye,” Reggie joked and Carrie cracked a smile.

“For now,” she added.

“Do you think you can come back? Tell us more about your dad and what we missed?” Luke asked, and she shook her head yes.

“Yeah, or you guys could come to mine and I can show you my dad’s Sunset Curve room that he likes to cry in sometimes.” That didn’t really get the laughs she thought it would, and she scolded herself for not remembering that joking about trauma was a Wilson thing, but the boys were gone before she could even back track, so she turned to Julie.

“Well I know they’re still here, but I drove myself so if you wanna hang out I could stick around,” she suggested, and Julie smiled.

“Yeah, I’d like that. Besides I think we have some things to talk about.” She led her out of the studio and Carrie happily followed, knowing that there were most likely three teenage ghosts following her. So yes, sometimes she does pretend to be clueless, because she likes being underestimated, but sometimes it’s good to show all of her strengths, because you might be able to mend a couple of friendships.

#julie and the phantoms #reggie jatp #alex jatp #luke patterson #julie molina #carrie wilson #trevor wilson #jatp fanfic #jatp #bobby jatp #sunset curve #rose molina #ray molina #carlos molina #flynn jatp #nick danforth evans #caleb covington #willie jatp #carrie and julie

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duckymcdoorknob · 4 years

Text

Two Pints ‘A Sam Adams.

Prompt: The night after the Winter’s Ball, the guys hang at Laf’s house to discuss their luck. A very drunk John gets the blues when he learns Alex met someone. Until Laf gets an Idea...

THIS IS A TICKLE FIC!

Warnings: drinking, tickling, A N G S T Y.

Ships: Lams

Word count: too fuckin many. Probably about 2.5-3k

1780, A winter’s ball. And Alexander was the envy of all. Well, just of his friends. The guys were gathered around Lafayette’s coffee table, reminiscing the night’s events...

“She was totally into you Laf.” Hercules chimed.

“She was! But Alex over ‘ere...” Lafayette spoke with a condescending tone.

“Okay you may be right...” Alex replied fearfully

“But...?” Hercules asked lifting his brows.

“There is no but. Angelica was totally hot, I wanted to try my luck.” Alexander spoke with a smirk.

“You asshole!” Lafayette playfully hit Alexander’s shoulder

“Well I heard...” John finally spoke up, “that you met a special someone tonight...”

“What are you trying to ‘ide, Alex?” Lafayette asked raising his eyebrows twice

“Nothing! Nothing! John is just shit blasted, that’s all.” Alexander laughed off Laf’s question.

“Fuck off, ‘lex! I’m fINE!” John replied with a huff.

“John.. that’s your third pint of Sam’s.” Hercules interrupted.

“I’m not even wasted yet! Fuck you!” John yelled as he took another swing of his alcohol.

“Annnnywayyyys...” Alexander responded, drawing the attention back to him, “I did meet someone”

Hercules turned to face him, Laf’s eyes lit up and John was... scowling?

Alexander went on to talk about Eliza. He talked about her eyes, her smile, her personality... everything. Lafayette left to grab John some water, so he wouldn’t pass out and die.

As Alexander went on, John found himself fighting away his tears. “Why is she so special? I have pretty eyes! And a dazzling smile... and a... tolerable personality.” John thought to himself. He sulked down into his chair, plastered an interested grin and toned Alexander out. His own mind turned on him, putting himself down until he didn’t believe in himself anymore. John brushed it off, he always felt this way. He didn’t feel good enough. It wasn’t until after a few glasses of water, and a little bit of sobriety, when he noticed he was actually hurting.

“John?” Alexander’s voice suddenly sounded, “John buddy are you okay?” His voice was full of concern, as he awaited a response from his friend.

“Alex what’s wrong? Oh shi- John!?” Hercules scooted towards the man.

“Shit guys ‘mfine... what are you all-“ John pauses abruptly. He looked down at his pants to see they were covered in wet spots. He was crying. “Oh yeah... haha that’d probably concern you. This just happens when I get drunk.” John was practically sober now. It wasn’t from his drunkness, it was from Alexander.

“If you say so... we wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. We love you man.” Alexander replied.

“Heh. Thanks.” John replies with a sniffle. “Except you don’t... you love Eliza...”

The guys went back to shooting the shit, leaving John alone in his thoughts once again.

Lafayette looked up at John, who had his hands balled up into fists. He clung tightly to the material on his pants, teeth gritted, eyes watering. Laf figured it would be best to not make a scene, so he slowly inched toward John. Once he was near him he ever so carefully brought himself up to John’s level. “You don’t seem fine mon ami”

John looked up at Lafayette, who wore a concerned face, with sympathetic eyes. He then hung his head in shame... how embarrassing, Laf caught him crying, again.

Alexander and Hercules went into the kitchen to grab some food, too immersed in their conversation to notice what was happening.

Lafayette helped John to his feet, and helped him out the front door. It was a mild night, the heat had not yet broken in the city. The crying man collapsed on the soft grass, Lafayette soon sat down criss cross. “Now please, John. Tell me what’s wrong”

John immediately broke down, wailing as he buried his head in his hands. Lafayette practically flung himself to embrace the crumbling man in front of him. “Everything’s going to be okay mon ami. Shhh. It’s okay.”

“He... he... Im just-“ John tried to manage through his hysterics.

“Take your time.” Laf said as he rubbed John’s back.

“I’m... I’m just...” John sighed, he couldn’t take it anymore, “I’m just gay, Laf.” He hung his head in shame, expecting Lafayette to scold him.

“Oh John...” Laf spoke up, “I’m not going to shame you for who you are”

John sighed in relief; tears continued streaming down his face.

“I catch you staring at ‘erc and Alex’s asses all of the time mon ami.” Lafayette said with a chuckle. “Come on, let’s go back inside.”

Laf wipes John’s tears away and helps him to his feet. On their way in, Laf sees the curtain ruffle quickly. Hercules and Alex has seen everything. When they open the door, Alex and Hercules were back in their chairs talking about random things.

“Oh. Hey John, hey Laf! Where’d you guys go?” Alexander questioned with fake interest.

“Oh uh... on a walk.” John said quickly

“To the store.” Laf said at the same time

“To the st-“

“On a walk.” They replied at the same time once more.

“On a walk to the store, yeah...” John replied

“John... dont bullshit us, we heard everything.” Hercules said quietly.

John hung his head in shame. Why couldn’t he just be normal?

“John listen.” Alex said with a half smile, “we aren’t friends with you because we thought you were straight. We’re friends with you because we love you for who you are. Also, how’s my ass look?” He said as he turned around and wiggled.

John let out a genuine laugh, “peachy keen good sir!” he said with a bow, “Thank you guys but.. I just don’t feel good enough for you.” He sighed and looked everywhere but at his friends.

“Well this is quite the dillema we’re in isn’t it.” Lafayette said as he looked at the other group members.

They all plastered the same grin, they knew JUST what to do.

“Come here John everything is fine.” Hercules said as he opened his arms. He pulled John into an embrace and sat down on the floor with him.

“Okay Herc thats enough hugging... seriously let me go.” John said as he tried to wiggle his way out of Herc’s grip. He got stuck at about his chest, he couldn’t move a muscle! “Hercules I mean it! I’m stuck!”

Alexander crawled towards the duo, with an evil grin on his face. “You know John, I think you need to lighten up a bit.” Alex said as he sat in front of them. “You just need to see yourself from our point of view.” Alexander pulled John’s blue shirt up to reveal his toned stomach. “Wow! You’ve been working hard, you’re looking great.”

John hid his head in Hercules’ arms, “Alex you’re embarrassing me.”

“Well I don’t want you to feel down upon yourself! Let’s get our old happy John back! Shall we, Laf?”

Alexander then rested his fingers on John’s stomach.

John yelped and squirmed in Hercules’ grip. “You wouldn’t fucking dare.”

“Yes we fucking would.” Lafayette responded as he gave John’s knee a squeeze.

The two got to work on John. Alexander spidered his fingers all over John’s stomach and sides, while Laf squeezed his knees and thighs.

John felt giggles bubbling up inside of him. “C..come on guys! You d-don’t have to d-do this!”

“But we do!” Alex responded as he changed his attack. He began to squeeze at John’s sides and stomach.

“S-sohohon of a bihihitch!” John whispered as he started giggling.

“That’s the sound we’re looking for!” Lafayette chimed as he straddled John’s legs.

Hercules pinned John’s wrists to the floor with one arm. “Sorry buddy, but it’s for your own good.” He said as he spidered his fingers into John’s clothed underarms.

The man thrashed under all of his friends’ attacks. “Nohohoho! Stahahahap ihihit!” He could only lay on Lafayette’s hard floor and endure his torment.

“Ooh Laf! You thinking what I’m thinking?” Alexander said as he let up his attack.

“Right ahead of you mon ami.” Lafayette responded as he slowly took off John’s boots.

Hercules was still enjoying his time working on John’s underarms. “N-n-nohohoho! Lahahahahaf! Plehehehehahahse dohohohohnt!”

“Sorry John! It’s for your benefit!” Laf chimed in response as he took off both of John’s boots.

Hercules let up his attack, “this should be fun.” He said with a chuckle. He held down both of John’s arms in preparation.

“WAIHAHAIT! PLEAHAHAHAEHESE!” John cried as Laf brought a finger towards his most ticklish spot.

“Such a beautiful sound, John! I think we should hear more!” Alexander said while straddling John’s hips, “ready, Herc? Laf?”

Hercules nodded and the men assaulted their spots. Herc worked his fingers around John’s underarms, Alexander drilled his thumbs into John’s hips, Laf masterfully assaulted John’s socked feet.

John yelled in protest as his friends’ attacks were almost overwhelming. “GAHAHAHA- OH GOHOHOHOD PLEEHEHEHEAHAHSE STAHAHAHAP!” He pounded his fist into the hard floor beneath him.

“ ‘ey! be careful with my floor! Don’t you dare brea-“ there was a knock at the door. “Come in!” Laf chimed happily. The three men stopped their attacks, expect for Alex who would sneak a few squeezes to John’s stomach.

The door opened and standing in the doorway was an intrigued Aaron Burr. “What in the hell are you three-“ John yelped as Alex poked him again, “four doing?”

“John is sad. He needed a laugh.” Alexander said giving John’s side a firm squeeze.

“Burr! Buhuhurr you gohohot to hehelp me.” John said panting

“Well I was going to come to talk about the ball but... hey. No reason to wait for it.” Aaron rolled his sleeves up and positioned himself at John’s side.

“Im doomed.” John said with his voice an octave higher.

Lafayette took his opportunity to peel off John’s socks. “Burr ‘es a screamer. Prepare yourself.”

Aaron chuckled and hovered his hands teasingly over John’s stomach.

Giggles poured out of him and he writhed about to get away from Burr’s torturous hands.

“Im not even touching you! What’s so funny?” Aaron after fake offended.

“Where’d you learn to tease like that?” Alex said with a chuckle.

“Only the best.” He nudged Alex’s shoulder.

“One.” Hercules spoke up suddenly.

“Two.” Aaron said as he positioned his fingers above John’s writhing figure.

“THREE!” They all yelled. John said his prayers in his head as he knew he was about to be wrecked.

Lafayette held back John’s toes and began to rake his fingers up and down the poor man’s most ticklish spot. Aaron squeezed at John’s stomach, Alex drilled into the man’s hip bones and Hercules was content at his underarms.

John cried out in agony as his attackers overwhelmed him.

“OHOHOHO MAHAHAHY GOHOHOHOD FUHUHUHUCK!” He screamed.

“Yo! There’s no fucking cursing in my ‘ouse!” Lafayette barked as he stared to spider his fingers along The ball of John’s feet.

Tears of mirth formed in John’s eyes as he could only sit and endure his torment. His laughter flowed out of him. His eyes were tightly squeezed shut and his whole body was shaking.

Hercules gently put his knees on John’s wrists. Careful as to not hurt him, and pulled John’s shirt over his head. He then began to spider his fingers along the sides of John’s arms, up into his underarms and all over his chest.

John smacked Hercules lightly in the back, but gave up and endured the hell he was facing.

Aaron stopped his attack, audibly apologized to all his friends for what he was about to do, and prepared his next assault. “Watch this.” He yelled over John’s thick laughter. Everyone’s attack stopped and John took this time to breathe. “I learned this from a friend of mine.” Burr said while bringing him head down towards John’s stomach. He put his lips together a blew a fat raspberry into John’s stomach.

“BUHUHURR- AHHH! AHH MAHAHAHAHA GAHAHAHAD! DOHOHOHONT!”

The trio took this as their final stretch before John would be too tired. They all increased their attack tenfold and watched John move into hysterics.

“MER- MERHEHEHEHCYHYHY! I CAHAHAHAHANT TAHAHAHKE IHIHIT AHAHAHNYMOHOHOHOREHEHE! AH GAHAHAHAHAD PLEHEHEHEHEAHAHASE! STAHAHAP!”

Everyone stopped immediately and got off of John. Alex gave one last poke to John’s sensitive stomach. The man yelped and curled into a ball.

“Nohoho... nohoho mohohore.” He said in soft laughter as he felt a pair of hands on his body.

Lafayette picked up John like a baby and put him on the couch.

The three other men chatted with Lafayette as they let John rest. Nearly an hour into their chat, Alex spoke up.

“I think he feels much better now.” Alex brought up quietly.

“Agreed.” Hercules responded

“What was he upset about in the first place?” Aaron inquired.

“I don’t know.” Lafayette lied, “maybe ‘e was upset that ‘e didn’t bring ‘ome a date.”

John sighed in relief from his spot on the couch. “Thanks Laf.”

Hercules and Alex looked back at John, who was still smiling.

“Well.” Aaron said as he stood up from his chair, “I best be going”

Just as Burr went to open the door, the sky opened up and it was pouring outside.

“Since you cant go anymore.” John spoke up, “C..can you um... c..can you do that again?” He said with a flushed face as he looked to the floor.

Burr smiled evilly and sighed. “John Laurens, are you trying to tell me that you enjoyed us completely wrecking you? And now you want us to do exactly that once again?”

John tried to stutter out a response

“I wouldn’t be opposed.” Aaron interrupted, “gentlemen?”

The quad smiled evilly and charged at John, then they soon had him on the floor in the same position.

John’s sweet laughter was heard echoing for hours again.

#hamilsquad #hamilton #hamiltrash #lams #daveed diggs #ticklishjohn #lee!john #ler!lafayette #ler!hercules #ler!alexander #ler!burr #tickle #lin manuel miranda #oak #hamilton tickle

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sareyen · 4 years

Text

It’s hard to see in the dark (Cherik)

Read on ao3

Warning: implied/referenced suicide, major character death

The aftermath of ‘Turn off the light’: Charles is dead and takes his light with him. Everyone stumbles around in the dark he leaves behind, and as they do, they come to realise that they did far too little, far too late.

Sometimes, Erik wished there were words in the English language that could wholly capture a concept, a feeling, a state of being. In German, there were some words that did that, some of which he had never grasped the value of until he met someone that was all of them and more.

Ohrwurm; for a melody that won’t leave your mind, though for Erik, that melody did not come in the form of songs on records lazily spinning around in the lounge, nor the tinkle of piano keys from the drawing room at Westchester. No, for Erik, Ohrwurm was a laugh, a voice, a curl of British consonants and soft vowels. A voice that rang in the recesses of Erik’s mind, a song that made his breath hasten and his heart squeeze.

Gemütlichkeit; a word that captured the overall feeling of warmth, friendliness, cheer, and many, many other things. Peace of mind, cosiness, a sense of belonging. There were lots of English words, but not even all of them together could really describe Gemütlichkeit. So, it was funny how Gemütlichkeit suddenly sounded a lot like Charles, because when Erik sat in the glow of the fire, the soft upholstery of luxurious furniture under his fingers and with Charles peering up at him through the swirl of a glass of scotch with a smile on his red lips, there was only warmth and friendliness and cheer and peace and belonging and more, more, more.

And Weltschmerz; a word that Erik only understood because it was something that made Charles sigh every now and then. Though there wasn’t a word in English that was quite the same, ‘world weariness’ was somewhat close, and no one felt the pain of the world more than Charles, because no one believed in it more. Erik always felt something stir up inside of him, a messy concoction of feelings unfamiliar to the man who professed to be without a human heart, when Charles would see anti-mutant propaganda in the papers or on the television. His stomach would flip when Charles’s blue eyes would harden, the shorter man striding towards the underground chamber and to Cerebro to find others like them so they could, maybe, understand what Gemütlichkeit meant too.

Or Geborgenheit, which was similar to Gemütlichkeit. This was something that enveloped Erik every day, in everything Charles did. With Erik’s youth, there were very few instances where he felt what made up Geborgenheit; comfort, security, love. But he felt it every morning when he would wake to Charles’s fingers softly carding through his auburn locks and the light chuckle that left his lips before he murmured “Ah, sorry, my friend – did I wake you?”. Erik would grumble, lithe arms wrapping around his lover’s waist to bury his face in the slope of the man’s neck, feeling warm and safe and cherished.

Maybe he should have realised something, recognised that something wasn’t quite right about the fact that Charles always went to bed after him and yet rose from slumber before Erik could shake off his dreams. He pushed the apprehension aside, though, because Erik was no stranger to insomnia or the elusive nature of sleep. Sometimes, when Erik struggled to sleep himself and woke in the night, his senses would pick up on the warmth pressing against the slopes of the metal desk lamp and the rhythmic movements of Charles’s familiar watch; reading, as always.

Those nights, Erik would give Charles’s watch a sleepy tug, the man jumping slightly. Charles would turn his head, handsome features half-illuminated by the lamplight, and give Erik an almost sheepish smile, like he had been caught.

He had been caught, but Erik hadn’t known that yet. He hadn’t known what he had caught.

“I’m sorry, I got lost in the book,” Charles would murmur, closing his tome with a light thump and padding over to the bed, crawling under the covers and pressing himself against Erik’s skin, nose nuzzling the German’s chest. “Go back to sleep, Erik.”

Last night was similar to one of those nights, and Erik thought nothing of it. Charles was wearing his silk pyjamas, the ones that felt nice when pressed up against Erik’s skin, and from the slightly rigid set of his limbs Erik knew he wasn’t ready to sleep just yet. There was a hum beneath his skin, one that was vastly different to the relaxed, lethargic haze washing over Erik. Charles probably had a book he was invested in, that he couldn’t put down. That was also like Charles, really; stubborn, unrelenting in his beliefs. Determined.

If there was something he wanted to see through, he would not stop until the end.

So, when Charles pressed his lips against Erik’s, the metallokinetic didn’t dwell on it too much, even if it felt a little different. Instead of a goodnight it felt more like a goodbye, but then Charles smiled, brushed his fingers across Erik’s forehead to push some wayward strands from the wrinkles beginning to form there, and Erik just thought of Geborgenheit and Gemütlichkeit and nothing else.

There was another feeling simmering there, though, and it made Erik toss and turn in his sleep. It was early in the morning that Erik fully stepped out from the unsteady grips of unconsciousness, that feeling settled uncomfortably in the base of his stomach.

Blinking heavily, Erik’s eyes did not have to adjust to the morning light, the heavy curtains blotting out any semblance of the warm rays. Odd, because usually when Erik awoke, the curtains were open a slither, enough to draw lines of gold over Charles’s freckles as he woke Erik up with gentle fingers in his hair.

Erik frowned, turning to Charles’s side of the bed and finding it empty, the sheets crinkled but not slept in. The edges of the plush bedding were still tucked into Charles’s corner, only slightly dishevelled from the heaving of Erik’s body as he turned onto his side, hand splayed over the cold sheets.

There was an English word for the feeling Erik had now, Erik knew. Foreboding. That sense of unease the stemmed from nothing concrete, nothing tangible. Just an added sense of there’s something wrong and something is about to happen, and that something was never a good thing.

Erik was pulling himself up when a gut-wrenching scream tore itself through the halls of Westchester. The estate was large, and the scream was a torrent; glass windows rattled, beams creaked, and Sean’s mutant cry snapped Erik completely awake.

It did not take long for Erik to throw the covers off himself and pull on a grey jumper, rushing out the door and down the hall to the source of the noise.

‘Charles? What happened?’ Erik projected in his mind, finding it more convenient to call out for the man who was likely already rushing towards Sean with the goal of soothing the sheer panic found in the boy’s voice.

Erik’s mental question was met with still silence, and Erik felt that feeling again. Foreboding.

Erik didn’t know why, but he began walking faster and faster down the halls, and things only seemed to become quieter and quieter. Erik thrust out his powers, raking over the metal inside the mansion; he felt the aged planes of old candelabras and slightly rusted faucets. He felt Hank’s wire-frame glasses warming as they slipped over fur, and he felt the shaking of the frostbitten zippers of Sean’s flight uniform.

Latching onto the location of that metal, Erik’s footsteps thumped on wood as he walked downstairs, drawing closer to Sean. When he walked out the back door of Westchester towards the gardens, his teeth bit together as he was slapped with a gust of frosty morning air, the dew on the grass iced over and winter wind biting.

The first thing he saw as he walked along the grey and naked rose bushes, pruned for the winter and devoid of their usual vibrant redness – redness like Charles’s lips, Erik’s mind supplied with a tinge of wry acceptance – was Sean folded over and dry-retching into the bushes. The boy shook like the leaves that blew across the stone pathways meandering across the ground.

When Erik neared, he could hear Sean’s wretched gagging punctuated with heaving sobs, and saw that the boy had tears dribbling down his face which was as white as a sheet.

Erik hadn’t had the foresight to wear shoes, and his toes blistered in the cold but he kept walking on. Sean must have felt him approach, because when Erik neared, the boy looked at him with unabashed despair written over his face.

For a boy whose power was in his voice, Erik couldn’t make out the words pouring out of his mouth, because they sounded a lot like “Oh God, Erik, he’s dead. He’s dead. The Professor… He… Oh God, he’s dead”.

From behind him, Erik could feel the others catching up. Raven flanked Hank’s hulking form, Alex, Darwin and Angel following behind them, but Erik paid no heed to them, clamping his hands down on Sean’s shoulders and shaking the boy. His fingers dug into Sean’s shoulders firmly, because he needed to understand, because Sean was speaking nonsense and he couldn’t be speaking English because what he said just didn’t make any sense.

“What happened?” Erik asked, voice rough after having just woken up and tight from the cold. Sean struggled to breathe, mouth moving again in words that made no sense. Raven gasped behind him, and Erik caught something about “Behind the bushes… God… His body… Blood… So much blood… His head… His legs… He… Dead”.

Dead.

Erik shoved past Sean, bare feet sliding across the frosted stone path and around the bushes, before his body froze.

Erik has witnessed death before. He had been in the room when his mother died, he had killed men before, he had seen Shaw’s body slump to the ground as a crimson coin hovered in the air. Erik remembered the sound his mother’s body made, a strangely hollow thump that was no different than someone dropping a sack of potatoes onto wooden floorboards. And he remembered what his mother looked like, lying there on the ground with blood pooling from the bullet in her brain. She had looked peaceful, face slack and eyes closed, and if it weren’t for the oozing circle on her temple she would have passed as someone in a deep slumber.

This was not like that. Because the sound that this body looked like it made when it hit the ground wasn’t a hollow thump but a deafening crunch, and the body looked like a corpse and not someone wandering the lands of dreams.

Erik’s heart stopped beating for what felt like an eternity as he stared, and once again he couldn’t understand. Because that body looked like Charles, but it couldn’t be Charles because Charles wouldn’t be lying on the ground in those silk pyjamas that felt nice on Erik’s bare skin, silk pyjamas that looked crisp with ice that clung in beads to the fabric.

But that was Charles, his brown hair gently blowing in the wind and covered in dew like the grass.

Charles, eyes closed and mouth slightly parted, lips blue and grey and mimicking the clipped rose bushes that weren’t flush with red any more.

Charles, still and prone, legs bent in ways they shouldn’t and a halo of red frozen around him.

Sean’s words made sense now, and yet they didn’t, because Charles couldn’t be dead. Not Charles.

Erik thinks he made a sound, because his throat started to burn and his lungs sear in the biting frost. His weight fell to his knees, and then onto his palms, which chafed against the stone. Erik didn’t register what his body was doing, because he was reaching for Charles with frantic hands, fingers pressing against Charles’s upturned back, his neck, his face, his head. His hair felt sticky, and his skull dipped in places it shouldn’t, and Erik made another sound that rocked through his entire body.

“Charles, Charles, what are you doing out here?” Erik pushed, hands shaking as he rolled Charles onto his back, the man pliant. His skin was ice cold, and red had turned to brown and black where it had stilled and pooled under his skin. Erik could feel the congregation of iron that didn’t move in a lump under Charles’s flesh and whimpered.

“No,” Raven said from behind him, voice near-silent.

“Charles,” Erik said again, tugging at the man’s shoulders, hauling him onto his lap. Charles’s head lolled back, and Erik’s throat let out a choked noise as he cradled the telepath’s head in the curve of his elbow, other hand brushing across his cheek, across the bridge of his nose, carding through his hair like Charles always did to him to wake him up in the morning. And yet, Charles’s eyes didn’t open to reveal that familiar blue, just as the sky that hung above him was grey and obscured by clouds.

“Charles?” Erik whispered, leaning in close, like he expected Charles’s parted lips to puff out a breath of warm air, but they didn’t. Erik rocked Charles back and forth in his arms, hunching over as he felt his eyes sting. Erik’s forehead dropped down against Charles’s own as he cradled the man’s face.

‘Charles… Charles… Liebling, you can hear me, can’t you?’ Erik pushed in his mind, his words a firm press. When they were met with silence, Erik’s mental voice rose and swirled, panic overriding the control he had built over the years, his soul unravelling.

‘Charles! Charles, read my mind, listen to me. Please. Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, don’t do this to me. Charles!’

Maybe Erik had been screaming the words out loud too, because he felt a trembling hand grip his shoulder.

“Erik… Erik, the Professor, he’s…” Hank said, voice clogged like he had a throat full of fur as well.

Dead.

For all Erik knew, a telepath could have shoved the word into everyone’s mind, because that’s the word that everyone thought as Hank’s voice drifted off.

“No,” Erik forced out, shaking his head. “No, don’t tell me that Charles is…” Dead. “He can’t… He wouldn’t just…”

Leave.

‘You’re not alone, Erik. You’re not alone,’ Charles had said into Erik’s mind that first night. Even as they rolled amongst the vast and endless waves of the pitch-black ocean, Erik had not felt adrift, because Charles anchored him and kept him afloat.

But now…

Yes, there was a German word for now.

Mutterseelenallein; the English word ‘alone’ was not the same as Mutterseelenallein. Because Mutterseelenallein was more than just the feeling of being alone – it was alone and it was more, it was a world with you surrounded by nothing.

It was the feeling of being without Charles, because without him, Erik was beyond alone.

***

The mansion was in shambles; furniture toppled over, papers scattered across the ground, metal torn from walls and twisted into grotesque shapes that mirrored the turmoil inside Erik’s soul. The mansion was a mess, but it was better that Erik unleash his anguish on objects without souls than the others, though Alex had copped a fist to the face when he had tried to help Hank pry Erik off Charles’s… body.

The thought made Erik’s eyes burn again, and his nails dug into the skin of his palm as he clenched his fists together. Metal groaned in pain around him, crying out in a way that Erik couldn’t bring himself to.

Charles’s mangled body was lying in Hank’s lab on a slab of metal, the only metal in the mansion that had yet to be twisted into obscure lumps. Every time Erik ran his powers across the metal slab, he couldn’t pick up on the way body heat usually seeped into it. He couldn’t feel the metal grow warm, like the way the inside surface of Charles’s watch was warm against the pulse at his wrist. No, the table was cold, as cold as the body lying atop it.

Hank, Alex and Darwin had forced everyone out of the lab while the furred man examined Charles. They said examined, now, because the first time Hank had said autopsy, he had almost been impaled by the spindles of a coatrack.

Sean had been too nauseous to go into the lab, and Erik too volatile. Angel was soothing Raven, who was in some sort of catatonic state. While Erik raged, Raven had shut down. She had fainted, first, the moment Hank and Alex managed to wrench Erik away from Charles’s body and allowing her to see it unobscured for the first time, and she had made the same sound Erik’s Mama had when she dropped to the ground.

Now, hours later, she had awoken, but moved around like she was still half in dream. She hoped she was. She hoped, desperately, that this was just a nightmare, a bad dream. She hoped that she would wake up in her bed, soaked in sweat and tears in her eyes, and run into Charles’s room like she had when they were children and jump into his bed. Like back then, she would crawl under his blankets and press herself to his side like a cat, Charles murmuring “There, there. It’s alright now. It was only a bad dream”.

But this wasn’t a dream, so Raven couldn’t wake up, and Charles wouldn’t be waiting for her in his bed and silk pyjamas and be there to pat her head and tell her that everything was going to be alright. He couldn’t, because he was lying on a metal slab as Hank cut him open and pushed and prodded at his organs to figure out how he died, even though everyone knew the how. Hank, in his own way, was in denial and had to seek out the truth through science.

When Hank entered the room, Raven immediately jumped up, rushing to him.

“Hank?” she asked, voice raw, and the man swallowed thickly. His eyes were red behind his glasses, and the fur beneath them was pressed flat and damp.

Hank seemed to be at a loss for words for a moment, trying to walk through the jumble of his emotions that obscured the facts. When emotions failed, Hank fell back onto the clinical; fractured skull, lumbar vertebrae, legs, arms, ribs. Those shattered ribs splintered into his lungs and his heart. Liver, kidney and spleen lacerations.

“But… It was the head injury that… you know,” Hank said, as if his words should be a relief. “It… It was fast. He… wouldn’t have felt pain, not like if he had survived long enough for multiple organ failure or a pneumothorax or-”

“But how, Hank?” Angel asked, glancing at Raven, who had collapsed back onto the couch beside her. Angel wrapped her arm around Raven’s shaking shoulders, rubbing her hand up and down the girl’s bicep as she began to sob, showing more movement than she had for the past four hours. “Did… Was it an attack? Another mutant? Someone… Someone who worked with Shaw, who could sneak in and…”

Hank shook his head.

“No. The autop- examination revealed that there was no foul play. That the Professor…”

“No,” Erik said flatly, anger and despair simmering on his tongue. “Charles wouldn’t… Why would he… There’s no reason for him to…”

Everyone looked at each other, hearts shattered like Charles’s bones, as they all asked themselves –

Why?

***

They held the funeral exactly one week later, in the backyard under the cover of rain. Raven had spent a day in Charles’s room going through his large wardrobe, pushing through the hangers of geriatric cardigans, pressed slacks and knitwear, trying to hold back her tears so they didn’t soil her brother’s clothes.

Oh, how she had teased him for his wardrobe before, threatening to burn each and every one of his tweed coats with fraying elbow patches and those silly fingerless knit gloves. Now, though, she waded through them carefully, scaled skin brushing across soft cashmere that still had the cling of Charles’s smell on them – like fabric softener mixed with old books and sunlight, and maybe a little bit like tea.

Raven pulled out one of Charles’s dapper suits, the one he wore to the ceremony after he got his first PhD. Raven remembered that day. Charles, beaming that smile of his that could light up any room, hair swept back and yet still flopping over his eyes whenever he doubled over in an all-encompassing laugh. His cheeks had been flushed by elation and drink, and he had been beautiful.

When they had dressed his body on that metal slab in the lab, pulling cold and compliant arms through ironed arm holes and rolling his body to pull on the black dress trousers, Raven had to excuse herself from the room because it was too much. Because that was her brother lying there, dressed like how she remembered him, but the makeup Angel had painted on his face was only a mask that made him look like a ghost pretending to be alive.

As Darwin read through his eulogy, saying something eloquent and collectedly impassioned, Raven’s mind drifted off. For the past week, she had wondered why, over and over, the single question unrelenting.

She and Erik had scoured the mansion for a letter, for an explanation, for something, but Charles had left none. They pawed through the margins of his books, the papers on his desk, everything, and yet they found nothing. Charles, who always had to have the last word, hadn’t left a single thing behind.

Nothing was amiss or out of place, and it was a constant sore reminder of the man that was now being lowered beneath the Westchester lawn beside a small metal monument. The monument featured Charles’s face sculpted in a wreath in the centre, lines and slopes formed by Erik’s hands and Erik’s powers, the depiction of Charles’s face startlingly accurate. Erik’s fingers had recreated the exaggerated curve of his nose, his full cheeks, his bow lips. Lips that Raven was sure Erik had memorised the feel of.

Erik, who had been so close to him, but had been just as shell-shocked – if not more – than anyone else standing in the rain around a headstone made of metal.

As Raven watched her brother’s body sinking lower and lower, Erik’s hands shaking as he used his powers to grip onto the metal handles of the casket to gentle place his lover to rest, Raven just kept staring at her brother’s sculpted face and asked –

Why?

***

Weeks passed, and then months, but by then Erik had stopped counting. His days bled into each other, his life now categorised into a painful stretch of time labelled ‘before Charles’ and the numb agony of ‘after Charles’.

Erik did find a word for ‘after Charles’, though.

Sehnsucht. The English words ‘yearning’ and ‘longing’ could not hold a candle to Sehnsucht. Erik’s thoughts were consumed by Charles, even more than when the man was alive.

When people say that you see the light when you meet death, they should really say that when you die you take the light with you. Because Charles was dead, and suddenly everything was dark, and yet some things were made clear. In the darkness, the people left behind realise what it really means when they say to not take anything for granted.

Erik had realised that all too late. He had tried for so long to not feel for any one, to not grow any attachments because he learnt, long ago, that when you care for someone you gave them some kind of power over you. By loving someone they could hurt you when they were taken away.

But Charles. God, Charles. Charles, who was so alive and vibrant and just a beacon of everything that was bright had seemed impervious to everything. He seemed infallible, and that had infuriated Erik, deep down. Charles, who had appeared so arrogant and self-assured, whose smirk always held the air of ‘I know I’m right, my friend, there’s no use arguing’. Who walked around the world a step above the rest because he knew everything that went on in their heads, and…

The emptiness in Erik’s head was stifling. Quiet, far too quiet. Every morning when Erik woke from a fitful sleep in Charles’s bed – which no longer smelled like him – he was enough in dream to momentarily expect to feel the warm curl of Charles’s mind lapping against his, to hear a silent ‘Good morning, love’ or ‘Sorry, did my thoughts wake you again, darling’, and Erik would grumble back a “You’re too loud, Charles”.

But then, Erik would open his eyes, and instead of seeing a pair of blue ones gazing back at him he only saw an empty expanse of bedding and a pillow still fluffy and smooth from disuse.

It was well into spring now, and the garden was awash with colour, but Erik barely noticed it as he walked around aimlessly. Erik often did that, these days; when the memories sitting in Charles’s bedroom overwhelmed him, he would go outside to try and clear his head. He’d walk along the paved path, around the side of the mansion, and each time he would get closer to that spot. The spot stained with a halo of red, red that he had overheard Sean whispering to Alex about, saying that “It’s all gone now, after we scrubbed it away, but I don’t know, man – I still can’t walk down that way without…”

Erik had turned the corner quickly, not wanting to hear the rest, because Charles had been washed away just like that, with bleach and rain and mud.

As he walked through the garden, Erik flicked his wrist, Charles’s wristwatch floating out from his pocket. Erik held it in his palm, powers running over its grooves and indentations, over its arms that had stopped ticking the moment its owner stopped breathing. Erik could feel the stagnant metal, the scratches on the underside, the engraved ‘Happy birthday, son’ sharp on his senses. He couldn’t feel how the glass watch face was cracked with his powers, and instead ran the pad of his thumb over it, memorising its feel.

Erik stopped walking when he reached the lawn, the metal gravestone warm under the sun. Erik’s heart twisted as he neared it like he did every day, and he stretched forward to gently wipe away some of the grime that had been blown across it overnight.

And, like always, Erik kneeled in front of it and pressed his forehead against its surface, murmuring –

Why, Charles?

***

It wasn’t completely true to say that Charles left nothing behind, because he did. Memories, feelings, and a long list of readings from his last dance with Cerebro. They had only just discovered it, the thick paper studded with black ink sitting on the bench behind the large powered-down machine.

They probably would have found it sooner, if any of them had the heart to go in there, to a place that had Charles written all over it. Cerebro had become a relic over the past months, and like Charles’s watch, had become stagnant without its owner to keep it alive.

The last list of readings – latitudes and longitudes stamped in ink – had been folded into a binder, annotations in black pen scribbled along the margins. Annotations in Charles’s distinct hand, regal and smooth, swooping letters somehow conveying intelligence and innovation, but also understated elegance and a noble upbringing.

Alongside the locations of the young mutants Charles had been searching for were notes on their powers, or important facts of note. Katherine Pryde – intangibility. Ororo Munroe – atmokinesis. Scott Summers – Alex’s brother! Similar powers, how marvellous. Anna Marie – power absorption? Jean Grey – telepath and telekinesis, very powerful but she’s terrified about what she can do I understand.

And that was it. No scribbled note or instructions, just a list of people, of children, and yet it was a list that somehow brought a flicker of life back to the mansion. Because even if Charles hadn’t written down explicit instructions, they all knew what he wanted. What he had dreamed about.

A school, a safe haven for mutants. A place like Genosha, but for all the young mutants who didn’t quite know their place in the world. A school where they could learn to embrace their gifts, and to be around people just like them.

Charles left them this list, his final one, to find them. To build this school, one that he would never see come to fruition.

Why, Charles? What would make you do this to yourself, when you had wanted to achieve so much?

Why?

That question still haunted Erik in his waking days and in his dreams, but as he clutched the list of names, he felt that maybe, somewhere in there, there could be an answer.

He was right, and amongst those names was an answer.

But that doesn’t mean that it was a nice one.

***

“I know you,” the young red-haired girl said, large eyes staring unblinkingly at Erik and Raven as they stood in front of her. She looked at Raven first, tilting her head to the side. “Why are you not blue? When I saw his mind, you were blue. He liked you when you were blue, it made him feel… proud.”

Raven’s mouth dropped open, her pink skin flickering to blue for a brief moment in shock as the girl – Jean, as Charles’s list had told them – stared at her unflinchingly.

“I… who?” Raven stammered out as her image rippled, before settling into her natural blue scales and red hair. Jean blinking slowly, head tilting to the other side as she stared into Raven’s yellow irises.

“The man that spoke to me in my mind a long time ago. He has some of the same powers as me, but he was much better at it. He told me that you,” Jean said, pointing to Raven in her blue form, before turning her gaze to Erik and continuing, “and you would come find me. He said it may be someone else though, like the tall man that looks like a blue teddy bear, or the pretty lady with the wings. But he said it would probably be you two.”

“Charles,” Erik whispered, Jean nodding. Erik suddenly felt like there was a boulder in his throat, but he managed to speak around it. “You said he… spoke to you. When did he…”

“It was in winter,” the girl said, looking into the distance a little wistfully, small smile on her youthful face. “He was very nice. I was scared, and he told me that it would be alright. That he was scared too, and that it was okay to be scared. He told me that I could use my fear to learn how to control my powers better, so I don’t have to be scared of hurting anyone. I wanted to meet him, because he was really nice, and he understood, but he said that he had to go somewhere far away.”

Raven’s face fell and Erik clenched his jaw, Jean flinching as a hand flew to her temple.

“You’re… You’re angry, and sad, and… and… It… It hurts,” Jean stammered, one hand clutching at the fabric of her dress that rested over her heart, her eyes wide as they began to glaze over. Her pupils flickered wildly, mouth moving rapidly as she took a step back, shaking. “You’re too loud! I-It hurts, you hurt, I hurt, and… oh… Oh… and he hurts. He hurts a lot, so much, because he’s scared and alone and…”

Erik and Raven winced as the girl, with so little control of her powers, sent a wave of psionic energy at the two of them. The both of them fell to their knees with their hands over their ears, clamping over them like it would stop the ringing rattling through their brains.

“Stop it,” Erik gasped out in pain as the pressure in his head flared, and he could feel the young telepath’s mental fingers poking around his mind. Her touch was clumsy, uncontrolled, like she didn’t know what she was looking for as she rifled through the mess of memories and feelings, stirring them up and bringing them to the forefront of Erik and Raven’s minds.

Images of Charles flashed by, the girl somehow latching on to every memory involving him. She saw everything; the frost, the blood, the metal slab, the chess games, the laughter, the nights stargazing as they trekked across the country, the beach, the shared glances, the gentle brush of fingers.

Erik let out a pained noise as she dragged forth everything his mind had to offer about Charles, the pain anew, and Erik gathered all of his thoughts to push the girl from his head. Steel walls climbed up and up and up, reinforced with iron bolts and pointed barbs.

‘Get out of my head.’

“Oh,” the girl wailed, slowly lowering herself onto the ground, arms around her torso as she hugged herself, eyes wide. “That’s why he hurt… That’s why his mind felt like that… And he still hurts. Alone… he’s so alone…”

The young telepath’s eyes then rolled back, her tiny and undeveloped mind overwhelmed, and she soon slumped forward with her head lowered. Raven and Erik gasped as the pressure on their minds receded, the two of them looking at each other with heavy gazes.

Why?

***

It had been a month since Jean came to the school to live, and she had been skittish around Erik and Raven ever since. It wasn’t that Erik and Raven were avoiding her – if anything, it was the opposite. The girl knew something about Charles. He had clearly shown her something, or she could have plucked it from his mind as she had pulled their memories of him from theirs. And yet, whenever the girl saw them, her eyes would widen and she would scuttle off in the opposite direction.

“I get why the children run away from Erik, but Raven?” Alex said, raising a brow as the older mutants sat in the kitchen.

“It’s only Jean that runs away from Raven,” Angel pointed out, making the shapeshifter wince. “What the hell did you two do to her when you were recruiting?”

“We did nothing,” Erik said, narrowing his eyes as he vaguely gestured towards his head. “She did… things. She wasn’t like Charles – she clearly didn’t know what she was doing. But she said things about him. About Charles.”

“And we’ve been trying to talk to her about it ever since, but every time either of us get close to her she runs off!” Raven said, throwing her hands up as she munched on a strawberry. “She even… I think she even used her powers on me the other day. Cast an illusion so I didn’t see her, but it wasn’t perfect. Instead of erasing herself from my senses, she just made it fuzzy and it was unnatural. If it were Charles…”

“Anyway,” Erik said, cutting off that train of thought with a gruff grunt. “She knows something about Charles, about why he…”

“Well of course she does, Sugar. Unlike you lot, she knows how to listen.”

Erik leapt up at the sound of that familiar voice, the kitchen drawers all rattling open as the knives flew out from their homes to hover in the air around the approaching figure that had appeared in the archway of the kitchen. Hank leapt up as well, snarling, while everyone else faced the newcomer with narrowed eyes, muscles taut and ready to fight.

“Oh, do calm yourselves,” Emma Frost drawled, waving her hands warily at the knives that inched closer to her tight white suit. “Contrary to what you’re all thinking – except you, Angel, dear – I’m not here to harm. And no, Erik, I’m not here to ‘avenge’ Sebastian or all that other nonsense you’re thinking about. I’m here because I heard a whisper about your pet telepath being very much buried beneath the ground and was, well, curious. Because I hear things from up there sometimes, and even though we were certainly not friends, I can understand him. Quite. I didn’t think that he would… he was strong, stronger than me. But I suppose it was that soft heart of his… And it was all too much in the end, I suppose…”

“Frost…” Erik said warningly, knives jerking forward, Emma flickering into diamond for a brief moment before relaxing back to her normal guise.

“Sugar, I really do come in peace. This little lady can attest to that, can’t you, dear?”

Emma’s eyes turned away from Erik for a moment, looking behind him. Jean stood there wearing her nightgown, a teddy bear held tightly in her arms as she looked at Emma, tentative but not wary. There was something silent being said between them, that everyone was sure of.

“Jean?” Raven asked, the red head looking at her and nodding slowly.

“Mm. Ms Fr- Emma,” Jean said, looking back at Emma, who smiled a little. “Emma said that… That she just wants us to understand. We… We both want you to understand, because we understand.”

“Dear, the first thing you should learn is to not talk in riddles. People detest us and our powers already, they only get more annoyed if we try to be cryptic about it all,” Emma said, Jean’s cheeks colouring.

“Why would you want to help us?” Erik asked, Emma letting out a heavy sigh, reaching forward with her index finger to nudge at one of the hovering knives, giving Erik a flat look. The metallokinetic gritted his teeth, but let the knives fall onto the dining table.

“Oh, I’m not helping you. I’m helping him. Because, even if he wasn’t going to be angry about it, I will, because I’ve experienced it. Unlike him, I don’t care what you think. I don’t care if I make you uncomfortable. I had enough of that with Shaw, with that ridiculous helmet. Because if he just trusted me I would have done anything for hi-” Emma cut herself off with a harsh click of her tongue.

“You think you are different – from Shaw, from the humans. But you’re not,” Emma said, after calming herself, Jean slowly walking towards her. When she neared, Jean carefully reached up to hold onto the hem of Emma’s top, the icy woman looking down and patting her head – a little awkwardly, the gesture clunky for someone unaccustomed to doling out affection. Still, Jean relaxed a bit, looking more at home than she had for the past month that she had been living at the mansion for.

“And who’s being cryptic now? Cut to the chase,” Erik snapped, Emma smiling emptily.

“Well, we’re telepaths, Sugar. It’s easier for us to show you. We’ve felt how he felt, and maybe if you do too, you’ll understand why he did it.”

Erik opened his mouth, and before he could say the words in his mind, Emma let out a biting laugh.

“Stay out of my head?” Emma echoed, drawing the words from Erik’s mind, Jean wincing. “You see, that line worked on your pet telepath, and maybe a little too well. But I am not so principled. Maybe that’s why I’m still here, and he’s up there.”

“Stop this nonse-”

“Jean, Sugar. Let me help you. This is how you show them,” Emma said, gently touching the back of Jean’s head, the girl’s eyes closing as the teddy bear dropped from her hands, which rose in front of her.

And then, through Charles’s eyes, everyone saw why.

***

Charles stood in the middle of the packed room, the bow tie around his neck wound too tight and the starch in his shirt like a vice. He was short, short for the nine-year-old boy that he was, and he stood stiffly between his mother and father as they greeted their guests.

Charles had been nursing a headache all morning, and he was a little woozy from all of the painkillers his mother had plied him with, because no matter what he had to show up to the Xavier Foundation’s gala. It would be terribly rude if the Xaviers’ only son played hooky, when all of their guests would be bringing their own children. And, if Sharon was going to show everyone who held all the cards, Charles had to be on his best behaviour and show everyone exactly what a Xavier son was all about.

But the painkillers hadn’t helped with the buzzing in Charles’s head, which had only gotten louder and louder as more people piled into Westchester.

Charles let out a gasp as his mind twinged.

‘… up straighter, stupid, quit slouching.’

The words were in his mother’s voice, but she was talking to the councilwoman with her painted lips right now, wasn’t she? Just as Charles thought this, he felt his mother pinch at the flesh at his back.

‘Goddammit, did I give him too much? I gave him less than the adult dose, but…’

Charles swayed on his feet slightly, but not because of the drugs. His head felt like it was splitting, the buzzing turning into a muttered chorus of noise.

‘… Charles looks so ill. I told Sharon that we should let him rest. I’ll finish greeting the guests, and before my address I’ll tuck Charles into bed...’

Charles heard his father’s voice, leaning into its comforting timbre. Charles felt a spike of alarm, his father’s hand suddenly coming to rest at his back as Charles swayed.

‘… was that…?’

Charles bit back a pained moan as his head pulsed again.

‘… have to talk to Brian Xavier…’

‘Funding…’

‘No one’s looking, maybe I can nick that statuette now…’

‘God, she looks fat in that dress.’ ‘She’s skinny like a Jew fresh out of…’ ‘Oh dear Lord, he actually dared to bring his mistress to this?’

The voices picked up, more and more tumbling over one another, each wave barely breaking before the next washed over Charles who gasped for breath and drowned.

‘Oh, Xavier’s boy is an adorable lad, isn’t he? Looks like his mother, not much like his father. So that’s Sharon’s kid? Hmph, doesn’t look like much. Won’t fill his father’s shoes, eh? Once his father dies, he’ll inherit everything. Lucky bastard. John is the same age as that Xavier kid. Maybe I should push them to become friends. Friends in high places will get my son anywhere. Fuck, Sharon still looks as fit as she did in school. Damn. Good God, Brian’s boy looks white as a sheet. Why is he looking at me like that? Weird kid. God, watch where you’re going, you little shit. I would wring your neck, but that would get me out of Brian’s good graces and I need his sponsorship. Once Brian is out of the picture, everything will be mine for the taking, and then Cain… Jesus, that Xavier kid looks like he’s about to spew. Crazy kid. Weird. Something’s wrong with him. Is he sick? Maybe he really is a freak.’

Charles gasped, stepping out from his father’s concerned embrace and racing up the stairs, past the crowds and mental gazes and hurtling into his bedroom. He whimpered with his hands over his ears as he slowly sunk to the ground and crawled under his bed, breaths laboured.

I’mnocrazyI’mnotcrazyI’mnotcrazy.

Getoutgetoutgetout.

***

Charles looked up at his mother, who returned his gaze with a look of pure horror and terror and a plethora of other things.

‘Oh God, he’s no listening to me right now, is he?’

Charles kept his mouth shut, giving his mother a false smile, as if he didn’t hear her.

“Mother, can we eat at that restaurant with the dessert that they light on fire tonight?” Charles asked innocently, his mother’s painted mouth twisting up into a stiff grin.

“Of course, dear. I’ll get one of the staff to ring the restaurant.”

‘Maybe he didn’t hear. Maybe he doesn’t know that…’

“Father won’t be coming, will he?” Charles said, Sharon’s face faltering.

‘Oh God, how do I tell him?’

“Oh, it’s alright, Mother. I already know. And I know that you’re sad, and I’m sad too. Which is why we should eat at that restaurant, because it makes you happy,” Charles said quietly, shuffling forward and placing his hand over his mother’s own, which froze.

‘Oh God, how could he know? He must be reading my mind now, he must. Oh God, don’t read my mind, don’t, don’t, don’t!’

Sharon pulled her hand out from under her son’s smaller one like he burned her, getting up from her chair and picking up her glass of wine with her, smoothing her dress as if she could flatten her fraying nerves.

“How thoughtful of you, Charles. But maybe… maybe not tonight. I’m very… tired.”

‘You’re not,’ Charles thought to himself as he looked at his mother, who looked everywhere but at him.

You’re just scared of me.

***

“Charles, can you just, you know, stay out for once?” Raven huffed, rolling her eyes. Charles flinched, but the movement was so minute it was barely noticeable.

“Raven, it’s not that easy to just-” Turn it off.

“Or you’re just lazy,” Raven countered, rolling her yellow eyes. “Charles, I get that when we were kids for you to stay in my head all the time, but you can shield better now and I need my privacy! I’m 16, for Christ’s sake!”

“I’m trying, Raven, but I can’t just turn it off! It takes a lot of concentration to shut people out, and it’s really hard when there are lots of people and you think loudly and it’s feels better for me to just focus on one mind and you’re the only one I-”

“But you can’t just be in my head all the time, Charles! It’s my mind! My thoughts! Just because you can read them doesn’t mean that you can do it any time you want!”

“I know that, Raven, but I told you it’s hard to-”

“You promised me you wouldn’t read my mind without my permission!”

“And I kept that promise, but sometimes I slip!”

“Oh, right,” Raven said, scoffing a little. “You just ‘slipped’ and found out that Robbie kissed me the other day while I was pretending to be Cecilia and gave me shit for it? Suuuure.”

“That was… an accident. I wasn’t… I wasn’t searching for that, but you were thinking really loudly about how his lips felt and-”

“Oh, gross! Stay out of my head, Charles! I don’t want you to hear my thoughts!” Raven yelled, face scrunching up in disgust as Charles pulled his mind back, the swell of his powers naturally following his heightened agitation.

“Sorry! It’s… I… God, sorry, okay? I’ll stay out of your head, just… try to think less loudly. Please,” Charles sighed tiredly, Raven huffing.

“I don’t think loudly, you’re just too nosy for your own good, Charles.”

But you do think loudly, because your mind is so bright and special and you’re my sister and I want to be with you forever because you’re the only one that doesn’t think that I’m a freak. Because we’re the same.

We’re the same.

Even if you don’t think it, sometimes.

***

Charles watched through Shaw’s eyes as Erik’s hands slowly brought the helmet down over his head. The sharp cut of its opening made Erik look like a completely different person, not like the man that murmured sweet German words to the skin at the base of Charles’s neck, or the man that had draped his coat over Charles’s shoulders when he had dozed off in the passenger seat of the car.

Charles didn’t know who this was, because this person didn’t have a mind. He was just a void, a void that Charles loved but one that didn’t love him back, because he couldn’t stand the thought of Charles being in his head.

But Charles loved Erik’s mind. It made Charles feel safe, protected and warm, and… well, Charles didn’t have a word for it. At least, not in the English language. Maybe there was a word for it in other languages, but Charles had to settle for safe, protected and warm.

Charles didn’t want to do much more than to just curl up in a corner of that mind he so adored. He just wanted to lie there in front of the fireplace; he didn’t want to stoke the fire burning within it, or snuff it out. He just wanted to bask in its glow that thawed all of the chill from within Charles’s bones.

Still, Erik’s mind didn’t want him there. He had known it, in the subtle walls Erik had been building against him, in the way Erik’s mind would push back when he felt Charles taking up too much space. In the way the fireplace turned into an inferno and burned.

With the helmet, though, it just felt cold. Empty. And that was somehow worse, because Charles was sure that this was what Erik wanted. Because of the helmet, Charles knew that Erik didn’t want him, because to want Charles was to want his mind, because that was as much a part of him as his heart, his eyes, his mouth. It was written in his genes, and Charles knew how much Erik loved the powers of others; he was in awe over Raven’s abilities, proud of how Sean had learned to fly, impressed at the destructive power of Alex’s plasma blasts, and genuinely supportive of Hank’s new appearance.

And yet, Erik put on the helmet, because in the end, he didn’t accept Charles’s gift.

Charles thought that maybe, maybe, Erik would be like his own father. That, like Brian, he’d accept all of him, because even if not out of love, it was out of the goodness of his heart. Because Charles knew there was good there, even as much as Erik tried to deny it. Charles had felt it, had believed in it.

He’d still believe in it. Maybe it’ll just take more time.

Just a bit more.

Charles wouldn’t push him so much, Charles could stay out of his mind if he could. He just had to try harder.

And –

Oh God. The coin. Oh, no, Erik. Erik! No, no, oh, God, please stop. Please, please, please. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts! Oh God, too much, it’s too much! It hurts too much!

I just want it to end.

***

Charles placed down his cards, a smirk on his face as he chuckled, gathering the chocolates they were using as betting chips and popping one in his mouth.

“Four of a kind,” the telepath said smugly through a mouthful of sweetness, Raven groaning and throwing down her cards while Alex swore. Darwin just smiled, Angel rolled her eyes and Sean stared at his own cards, confused. Erik, on the other hand, just quirked a brow as he let his losing full house drop to the table by the paperclips that he used to hover them in front of his face.

“We should ban you from poker, Charles. Or just card games in general. You have an unfair advantage,” Erik teased, the chocolate on Charles’s tongue suddenly tasting bitter.

“Right?” Raven chimed, clapping her blue hands in agreement. “It’s been like this ever since we were kids! It’s unfair! He can just, you know, mind shazam us and win every time!” Raven gestured at her head and stuck her tongue out, Charles’s brow creasing.

“I’m not cheating. I’m not even trying to read your minds. I’m blocking everything out, I promise – it’s no fun if it’s that easy. I can’t help it if I get a general sense of disappointment or excitement coming through, but it’s not as if I read your mind to find out your cards. Erik has beaten me before,” Charles said, voice quiet, pushing the chocolates in front of him around with his fingers.

“Yeah, only because he’s the best at blocking you out,” Raven said, Erik snorting.

“And because he is expressionless normally, so his normal face is already a poker face,” Sean said, yelping as a paper clip collided with the centre of his forehead, likely leaving a little welt.

“I’m really not trying to read your minds,” Charles pushed again, but by that point Raven had shuffled the cards, dealing out the next hand. Charles looked at his cards – a useless lot – and felt Erik looking at him from the side.

“Don’t peek, Charles,” Erik said, Charles rolling his eyes and pushing down the sinking feeling in his stomach.

“I told you, I’m not. And, anyway, I’m done for tonight. I’m quite tired, so I’m going to take a bath first.”

Throwing his cards down, Charles got up from his seat, giving everyone a polite ‘good night’ smile before leaving the room.

Before he could leave, though, he heard Raven’s triumphant “Ah ha!” as she flipped over his discarded cards.

‘See? He had a dud hand – he probably left because he saw I had a royal straight flush!’

***

Charles was asleep, he knew it, but he also knew that this dream wasn’t the same as usual. Like thoughts, dreams had their own personal signature, and this one didn’t feel like one of his own.

Someone spoke, wearing a dark suit adorned with metallic pins. They weren’t speaking English – German? Polish? Something of the sort.

Ah, Erik’s dream, then.

Charles, in sleep, took a little longer to gather his thoughts, and was about to eject himself out of Erik’s mind when he saw him. He was younger than the Erik Charles knew, but could recognise him from the unchanging severe brow and auburn hair, and his memory of the serene vision he had unearthed for Erik that day they had moved the satellite dish.

Young Erik, with the mind of Charles’s Erik, looked frantic as he was ushered into a room where Shaw was sitting, looking similar but different to the man on the Cuban beach. An image of how Erik viewed him as a child. This is an old dream, then. Or nightmare, Charles deduced, since he could feel the beginnings of panic settling into Erik’s subconscious.

Charles’s heart ached as he saw Young Erik bite his lip in fear when Shaw ordered him to move the coin. Charles stood there behind him, his presence not yet known, and watched as Erik’s mother trembled, gun pressed to her temple.

‘No, no, not again, not again. I’ve killed you, you’re gone, but why are you still-’ Erik’s mind whirled as he raised both hands, child-sized and shaking. In his dream, his powers were cut off, and Charles could feel his fear spiralling out of control.

Charles had told Erik that Shaw’s death would not bring him peace, and it hadn’t. It had made him feel more secure, of course, knowing that a madman like Shaw was no longer in the world, but he was not at peace. This nightmare only proved it.

‘But, maybe I can help bring you peace, my friend,’ Charles thought to himself, stepping forward in Erik’s dream space. Charles moved to stand beside Erik, who finally noticed his presence, eyes growing wide.

“Rage and serenity, my friend,” Charles said softly, gently touching Erik’s cheek, and then his temple. “Remember.”

Charles wrapped his mind around Erik’s, soothing out the fear and the panic, tweaking and repaving the path the nightmare usually followed. Erik’s small hands flexed, and unlike every other time he had experienced this dream, the coin moved.

But Charles only influenced that part, and didn’t stop Erik from moving the coin through Shaw’s head, making Charles scream.

At that point, Erik and Charles both woke with a start, the German pushing himself away from Charles who had been pressed against his side.

“Were you in my head, Charles? Did you see?” Erik said, voice strained, eyes narrowed.

“I’m sorry, I…”

“Stay out, Charles. I don’t want you in there, to see that. I… Just… Stay out. Please,” Erik said, voice drained. Charles nodded, another apology on the tip of his tongue like they always were when it came to this.

‘I just wanted to help. I’m sorry,’ Charles said to no one but himself, and when Erik opened his arms to let Charles nestle himself there again, Charles tried not to think about it for much longer.

But if there was one mind Charles couldn’t control, it was his own.

***

‘I’m tired.’

That was something Charles thought more and more often lately. Not tired like the way Sean is after watching too much television, or Alex from overexerting himself in the underground bunker. No, Charles very soul was tired; he had nothing left, really. All of the exuberance he had on the outside was but a façade now, a shadow and caricature of what he used to be. Of what everyone thought he was.

But he was tired. It wasn’t one big event that had wiped out his fire and his light. It was just a series of little things, of small comments, of mental walls and nudges away. It was in the wary gazes of the people around him, the frequent and unbidden ‘oh, crap, is he listening right now?’ that people couldn’t hold back even if they tried.

It was the way people could never really trust Charles, because whatever he said, it was probably said because he knew that’s what they wanted to hear, right? Because they wanted to hear that he didn’t listen to their thoughts, and for the most part Charles hadn’t. But like everyone, he slipped, and would catch a thought as if they had said it out loud, and because to him it was like they had spoken it, he would respond and the immediate backlash of ‘I thought you said you’d stay out of my head, Charles,’ would snap him back into focus.

Charles had been tired for a while now, and he wasn’t ready just yet, but he was preparing. He was beginning to say goodbye, in ways that wouldn’t let people catch on to him.

But, how could they? They weren’t telepaths.

Charles had spent time with every one of his family – because they were family to him, now – before that winter’s night. He helped them coax out more of their gifts, and praised and encouraged them to continue on their journeys. They had smiled at him, thanked him for his advice, and gone on their way, while Charles too slowly trudged on towards his final destination.

Saying goodbye to Raven had been hard. Charles had almost cried, and Raven had given him a questioning look, but Charles just shook his head, kissing his sister’s hand.

“No, it’s nothing. It’s just… you’ve grown up so well, and so beautiful. I don’t think I say it enough. But I’m proud of you, always. Don’t forget that,” Charles said, Raven rolling her eyes, though her mouth broke into a smile as Charles hugged her tightly.

And Erik.

God, Erik.

Charles had, at one point, envisioned a future with Erik. He imagined how they’d be years into the future, grey, wrinkled and old. Charles imagined Erik losing his hair, but somehow finding that imagined version of the German attractive nonetheless, and snorted at the idea of it being the other way around – Charles was fond of his hair, after all.

Charles imagined them still living in Westchester, but with a large rabble of children running about their knees, powers dancing from their fingertips. He pictured a middle-aged Erik resting his head across Charles’s lap as they read together, or the two jetting off to Paris and Germany, to visit where Erik had grown up.

Charles imagined years of Erik making him cups of tea, of kissing Erik, holding Erik, loving Erik. The fantasies and wishes came so easily, one after the other, a series of ‘what could be’ and ‘if only’.

Charles imagined waking up next to Erik every day for the rest of his life, and, he supposed, he had gotten that until the very end at least.

Charles touched his lips softly, smiling at the memory of how Erik’s mouth felt against his for the very last time, and carried that feeling with him as he climbed onto the ledge of the highest balcony. The wind rippled through Charles’s pyjamas and made him teeter on the stone edge, hands outstretched for balance.

The wind threaded through his spread fingers, coaxing, holding his hand.

One last time, Charles closed his eyes and cast his power out. He touched on the sleeping minds of Hank, Sean, Angel, Darwin, Alex, Raven and Erik, pressing a disguised ‘thank you, and good bye’ against each and every one of them, before letting himself tip forwards, weightless.

And Hank had been right – he hadn’t felt a thing.

***

Emma took her hand off the back of Jean’s head, and instead hefted the girl up as she leaned into Emma’s side with exhaustion after projecting what she had seen in the brief moment she had connected with Charles’s mind. Her youthful face was slick with tears, as were those of all of the others in the room – even Emma’s eyes were glassy as she felt everything Charles had felt, like she had lived through those moments herself.

“Oh, oh, Charles,” Raven sobbed, hand flying over her mouth as she cried, legs shaking. “I didn’t… I didn’t know…”

Erik stood eerily still, mouth slightly parted, though not a single breath passed between his lips. A single tear teetered over the edge of his burning eyes, sliding down a pale cheek as the echoes of Charles’s silent agony rippled through him.

Had he done that?

To Charles?

He had made Charles feel like that?

Charles, who had done nothing less than make him feel loved, cherished, safe – Gemütlichkeit. Charles, who had given him a home, a purpose, a reason to live that was more than just revenge. Charles, who had never told him how it all made him feel, how Erik made him feel.

But why would he? Erik had never wanted to listen. He had never asked.

He had always assumed Charles just knew, that if Charles wanted Erik to ask, or to know something, he would just make him. But that wasn’t Charles, was it? Out of all the people in the world, the gift of telepathy had been given to Charles. Charles who, like no one else, wouldn’t use his powers for his own selfish gain – to hurt others, to control them. Charles, whose powers taught him the value of free thought, of organic feelings, of everything that was real, had been the one given that gifts.

Charles had no ulterior motives, nothing more than the simple, basic feeling of wanting to be close to people he cared about, in the way that he knew best. While others held the people they loved close in their arms, Charles embraced them with his mind. That was what Gemütlichkeit was for him. It’s just that no one could understand it.

No one took the time to understand him, because they just pushed him away.

Erik pushed him away.

Erik, who should have been the person to hold him close, to tell him “You’re not alone, Charles, you’re not alone”. But instead of that, every time Erik told Charles to stay out of his head he had been alienating him, pushing him to isolation, making him feel unwanted, like he had felt all his life.

And it had driven Charles to… to…

Charles, Charles, Liebling. Gott. What have I done?

Erik’s heart twisted, and the pain was as physical as it was emotional, the man crumpling to the floor.

“I never told him,” Erik said, voice raw. “I never… I assumed he knew, so I never said it. Any of it. I never told him that I…”

That I love him. That he’s everything. That I only started living when I met him. That he was home. That he was Gemütlichkeit itself.

“So, now you see,” Emma said, tugging Jean towards her, the young girl hugging Emma around the waist. “So, before you accuse me – us,” Emma said, looking down at Jean, “of plundering your mind for no other reason than to pluck out your inane thoughts for the fun of it, just remember that this is how we are. To us, thoughts are like air, the stretch of our minds like lungs expanding. We don’t choose to read your thoughts – we choose not to. And it’s hard to block thoughts out. That’s what you don’t understand. For that Professor of yours to block you out most of the time takes a great deal of concentration, concentration that I, and young Jean here, don’t have.”

A note of anguish clawed its way out of Erik’s throat and he struggled to breathe.

Charles, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, forgive me. Please, come back. I need to tell you, all the things I never said. The things I should have said, every day. You have to hear them, you can hear them in my mind, whenever you want. Whenever you need it.

Please.

“You said you heard him, heard C-Charles,” Raven said through a hiccup. “Let us talk to him. We have to tell him… Everything. That we’re sorry, for everything.”

Erik pulled his eyes from the ground, looking at Emma, who just shook her head, wry smile gracing her features.

“Trust me, if I could, I would – as much as I loathe to admit it, I’m not powerful enough to reach the astral plane yet, not like your telepath. And who knows where he is now, floating around up there in the astral plane, without a care in the world. Even if I could, would you really want me to? To take him away from that place, where he wants to be, just because you want it?”

Emma’s words weighed on everyone, and after a long stretch of silence, Emma sighed.

“I didn’t only come here to make you feel guilty, although I can’t say I regret it. Even if I don’t agree with everything he stood for, and even if he was a naïve fool with a bleeding heart, he was no coward. And he was a telepath, and what he wanted – one of his final wishes – was to make a place where telepaths are accepted. Complete and fully. And I can’t say I disagree with that wish,” Emma said, Erik blinking.

“What do you mean?”

“That wasn’t really a riddle, Sugar,” Emma said, patting Jean on the shoulder. “I’m saying that I’ll help you build that school you’ve started. You’re going to need me, if you’re going to find any one. Now, he said that the machine, what was it called again – Spanish for brain, he said – would need to be recalibrated, but I should be able to operate it with a little practice.”

“And,” Emma continued, smirking. “You’re all doing a terrible job at making Jean here feel at home. If you’re going to start making telepaths feel like they’re accepted as much as your blue skin and wings are, you’re going to need me.”

‘But you’re not Charles-’

“I know, Sugar,” Emma said, voice softening just a touch. “Trust me, I know. But, in the fleeting moment he pressed into my mind, he did tell me to say one thing to you.”

Erik’s heart hammered as Emma walked closer after making sure Jean wasn’t going to collapse in a heap, raising her hands questioningly. When Erik let her place her fingers on either side of his head, Erik shuddered as he felt her telepathic touch filter in. Her touch was cold, so different from the all-enveloping warmth of Charles’s mind.

But then, as Emma pushed the feeling and image of Charles into Erik’s mind – Charles, smiling that damned smile which lit up rooms and minds and hearts, fingers carding through his hair – he couldn’t help but loose a sob.

Alles ist gut, Erik.

Alles ist gut.

But it wasn’t.

Not in the dark.

#cherik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #x-men #marvel #professor x #magneto #mystique #ao3 #poor charles #i like to hurt

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cosmicclownboy · 4 years

Text

Me finishing something I struggled to write....wow it was actually likely :)

When his father is alive the idea of going to therapy is suffocating. It continues to be throughout his years in the air force until the day it's mandated because by that point everything was suffocating. Waking up. Doing his physio. Simple tasks.Hard tasks. He had survived against all the odds but a part of him felt dead. So a part of him was in this limbo where he always felt like he was dying. The first session he stares at the clock inching the minutes until the clock hand rests on the hour change. The second he stares at the glass of water. By the third session he's exhausted he hasn't slept he still hears the screams and the blast in his mind so he slowly lets the man in not to everything. Not to his dad but to the blast. He was diagnosed with Complex PTSD and he was offered many ways to help with it. He goes to his sessions. He does his physio. Alex slowly builds himself up then he goes back to work.

It goes well for the most part until someone slams a door shut and he has to spend an hour in the bathroom trying to eradicate the weight on his chest and how to stop feeling cold. His therapist offers anti-anxiety medication and whilst he nods his head eyes cloudy he hears his father's words.

"Manes men don't cry it's a sign of weakness. We are soldiers, not Sally's"

He tries different antidepressants settling on one that helps his thoughts slower and that helps him sleep. None of his friends knows it when he heads back to Roswell except Kyle after he's let in on the alien secret and he makes him his doctor in case of shenanigans.

His father dies and he thinks maybe things can be different better in a way he never thought possible. The statue gets put up and he has a panic attack so bad he spends the next two days in bed. It takes him two weeks to think about it really think about it. To face the battle he has to jump right in and the idea of therapy doesn't seem so suffocating any more he's no longer afraid just determined to make strides. With Kyle's help, he finds one that specialises in childhood domestic abuse as well as having experience with veterans. She helps him in ways he didn't think was possible and maybe a year ago the idea of the traffic light method would have had him rolling his eyes or silently repressing whatever emotions he had. But maybe this could be a good thing.

Michael is the first to notice they are on a recon mission together and he's passing across the really good coffee from Bean me up he raises his eyebrows at the sight of an orange bracelet.

"Didn't think you liked orange? expanding the airforce's colour scheme?"

He huffs at that. Who said he didn't like orange?

"My therapist said because of my upbringing and complex PTSD I have a hard time vocalising or communicating my feelings so she suggested a traffic light method. Green is a good day when my emotions are in check. Orange is okay I can manage the day. Red is when-

"everything too much"

"Yeah. On red days I write down everything as to why it's red including my triggers and talk them over with her. It also helps people around me recognise when I'm in that headspace"

Michael shuts his door purses his lips and blows into his own coffee cup.

"I'm glad you're talking to someone"

"Me too. Now, are we gonna recreate a buddy cop movie extraterrestrial style or what? Come on, Guerin don't tell me you don't want to unleash your nerd. This is a safe place"

Michael takes a swig of his own coffee shaking his head before chuckling and taking the wheel. Maybe they share a lot more longing looks then friends would normally. They've just always had a connection under the surface beating and bubbling all on its own.Unspoken and beautiful.

More often then not he wears the orange one. The first time the green bracelet graces his wrist is the day the homeless dog he found slowly offers her belly to be rubbed. Yeah, that day was worthy of a green one. The day Nova finds him and the days that follow which end in his house having a dog bed in pretty much every corner. He might end up replacing his leather couch but who cares it's just a couch. It has nothing on her.

It's only when the days veer closer to the fourth anniversary of that day he truly struggles. Phantom pain comes in waves and he grips every surface he comes in contact with. The days slowly blur together it's a cocktail of depression, sleep deprivation and nightmares that has him on the Tuesday reach for the red bracelet. He finds the Crashdown is a minute from where he is and he's in desperate need for coffee.

Communicating hasn't always been easy for him and Michael especially their fight and flight being fight or fuck over the past decade but they've been trying their hardest to strive to be better to build a foundation. The bracelets were always something Michael immediately sought out every time they were in each other's vicinity. He saunters into the Crashdown buckle first and smooshes himself into the booth without a second thought grabbing one of the menus and seeing what new alien pun food Isobel helped conjure. It isn't until he finishes his order smiling at Liz that he finally looks up to Alex who's completely dissociated. His eyes are dark and sunken his milkshake untouched and he just looks lost. Michael's eyes drift to Alex's fingers noting the tremors before his eyes peer up further and he sees the red bracelet. Michael has a choice at this moment he could leave Alex to it but something in his heart tells him that the days of leaving are behind them. So he slowly reaches for the right hand that tremors and lightly laces the fingers between them. By the time he's halfway through his fries, Alex is more self-aware. He looks to their joined fingers and Michael's mouth completely stuffed with fries and looks softly at him. He doesn't unlace them.

"Want to get out of here?"

They end up in their spot the desert vast and unnerving.

"Did I do the right thing driving us here does it bring up anything we can go back if you want? You never really told any of us what to do on a code red day".

He's right he didn't say to any of them what to do. Truth is anytime Alex usually has one of these days he locks himself in a room and allows every ugly emotion to override him until his body tells him otherwise. Today was a new one in that he wanted connection. He wanted to be with Michael and despite the fear of the unknown he confesses this to Michael.

"It'll be four years Sunday"

"Since your leg?"

Alex nods he doesn't really know how to delve into it the only people who know what happened are the people at the airforce. People don't ask they don't want to know and the people who do aren't worthy of the conversation. Not to mention a lot of his job is classified he can only offer what he can.

"It was meant to be a simple job. Twenty of us in and out.Forty minutes on the dot. I was meant to hack a server. We got to the room we swept the entire place we didn't realise there was a pressure-sensitive bomb until Avril took his foot off. He was the youngest".

Recalling it makes his body shiver his hands shake but he needs to do this.

"Only eight of us made it out. Everyone else had spouses and kids. I had a dad who when I woke up from a two-week coma said I couldn't get blown up right. I didn't understand it. I'm good at compartmentalising stuff it's what he taught me to do my whole life but that day...I felt everything then nothing."

They lay there for a while staring at the stars tracing them with their fingers with one hand lacing the other. There's a light breeze softly swaying in the air Alex softly turns his body to Michael's until they are laying on the side facing one another.

"I get that feeling"

The confession Michael makes his heart ache and tighten he ushers the cowboy closer his fingers searching for his curls to slowly run his fingers through. Michael ends up the little spoon and judging by the little hum he makes he thinks he doesn't mind a little bit. Michael had the essence of a cat it's one of the many reasons he loves him.

"I know you do"

He pulls Michael tighter resting his head on his curls lightly pecking the crevice of his head.

"I think it's probably why we push each other away so much. I don't want the painful stuff I've been through to trigger or touch your stuff and neither do you so we pick a reason to walk away thinking the other one will be better off. I haven't been better off have you?"

Michael removes himself from his hold much to his disappointment and sitting up because he needs this conversation to be that of what it is a conversation.

"There hasn't been a day you've been gone where I thought that Alex. I'm just sorry for so many things"

"me too"

By the time he makes it to his house Alex is wiped he needs to feed Nova before she barks the house down. He also should really clean his prosthetic liner doesn't want to wind up getting sick. Not to mention taking his pain meds. Trust Michael to recognise all of this and tells him he'll feed her. He wants to argue but his eyes are drifting.

When he wakes up there's a glass of water his pain and anxiety meds on the bedside table and he's trying to remember how the hell he made it to his bed. Last time he checked he KO'd on the sofa as Nova was yipping at Michael's feet.

Michael.

Alex fumbles for his crutch and heads for the living room maybe he shouldn't make a presumption but he's pretty sure he knows his alien from the back of his hand and sure enough, he comes across to Michael and his Nova sharing the couch or Nova dominating both these things as if they are her own. It's the first time in a long time he's slept and he's hoping it's the first of many times he wakes up to Michael in his house. By the time he makes it back to the bedroom, he's staring at the red bracelet on his wrist and the notebook Michael also placed by the pill bottles sticky note on the top with a drawing of a lopsided penny. He spends twenty minutes writing it all down his triggers that day the way he felt all to make sure for his next session he can talk about it continue to make progress. By the time he's put the pen down and taken his anti-anxiety pill, he's greeted by his girl in the zoomies frame of mind.

"Hey, girl. Do you want to play? Give me a minute to put the leg on sweetie and I'll take you to the garden"

He stares at the three bracelets all meaning different things. Today isn't a red bracelet day so he turns to the orange one. It makes the most sense, doesn't it? Today he can manage yet there's something calling him to the green one. Can he go from red to green from a couple of hours? He'll make sure to ask in his next sessions but Nova excitedly barking wanting to play is reason enough for him to tie the green braids to his wrist.

"Do you always feel the need to dramatically lean against doorways".

His Michael senses are tingling he can't decide if it's a loving Michael thing or maybe the whole cosmic alien soulmate thing.

"You're wearing green today".

"Observant too"

He takes the coffee on offer delighting in the way the black bitterness soothes his soul.

"I think today could be a good day. Nova's happy. Plus you and I had an actual conversation which didn't end in tears, fucking or brokeback mountain angst"

Michael's not wearing his hat or his belt he's just leaning against the door frame with bedhead of the ages curls veering in every destination. He wants to run his hands through them and hold him. Fuck it who says he can't. He curls his head into his shoulder much to his surprise and tucks his arm to hold his waist. He feels the chuckle rumble against his ears

"We've had what ten years of it angst is overrated. You know what's underrated?"

"What?"

"Having breakfast. Holding hands. Watching a movie. Being boyfriends"

Alex feels a kiss against his head and peaks up to Michael softly cupping his cheeks he makes sure Alex's eyes are on his not looking away.

"I love you. If you aren't there yet that's okay. I don't want to mess with your recovery. If you don't want to be with me after everything that's okay too. I just want you to know I'm here and I'm not going anywhere"

Alex puts the cup of coffee down and brings his head up so their foreheads touch.

"I love you too".

Alex knows love won't cure everything and being with Michael doesn't mean it's automatically going to be green bracelets all the time. The red bracelet won't cease to exist. He still gets red days. But he does know this. Whatever the day and whatever colour he wears Michael will rub circles into his hand and hold it just the same. Some days he has a depressive episode or an anxiety attack and between his therapist and the people he loves they help him recognise it's okay. It's okay to be loved. It's okay to need and want people. His father's words can stay in the ground with him. Alex is finally content.

#malex #malexfic #this ended up really long #woops

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andersunmenschlich · 3 years

Text

Genesis 2

That’s the end of creation! That’s how absolutely everything got created, bar none, creation finished, over, done, finito. No more creating. Bible says this “everything done” day is the seventh, so I guess the time before light and darkness got separated actually does count as a day. Who knew.

The gods, that’s who.

Anyhow, the gods made the seventh day a holy day, set apart as super special because that’s when they finished all the creating. The first day ever that they didn’t do any creating at all. They were done.

And now, suddenly, in verse four, the writer changes.

No, I’m not kidding. It’s a very abrupt shift. Most noticeably, we’re not talking about the gods in general anymore: “אֱלֹהִ֖ים” is now always prefaced by “יְהוָ֥ה”—Yhvh, a specific god! “Gods” gets used like a last name now. It’s like, instead of “the Millers did thus-and-such,” now it’s “Alex Miller did thus-and-such.”

New writer. Real obvious.

Anyway! Our new divinely inspired writer takes us back to before the gods told the earth to sprout plants.

This writer tells us that the reason there weren’t any plants was because Yhvh God hadn’t made it rain or created Adam to aerate and fertilize the ground. Strange. I’d gotten the impression that there weren’t any plants because the gods hadn’t created them yet.

Our new writer also tells us that mist rose from inside the earth and watered the ground. Huh.

That would seem to make the lack of rain unimportant. Why say that there weren’t any plants because there was no rain when rain wasn’t needed?

Weird.

Anyway, Yhvh God took some dirt and shaped it into a kind of golem, then breathed into its nose, and poof! Adam.

Uh.

The plants still haven’t been created. I definitely remember Adam coming after the plants.

Land, space, water, and darkness—light, night, and day—sky—sea, dry land, plants—sun, moon, and stars—sea creatures and flying things—land animals—then Adam. And after Adam, nothing except deciding what everything but the sea creatures are going to eat.

Adam was last. I remember that very clearly (it was only ten or eleven verses ago). What kind of divinely inspired contradiction is this?

Ow, no, don’t throw things.

I’m just confused, that’s all. I don’t know how Adam could be created both before and after the plants. Probably I’m stupid. The Bible couldn’t be wrong, after all! Somehow, I’m sure, the gods created Adam male and female on the sixth day and Yhvh God created Adam plain old male on the third day. I don’t know how that’s possible. But the Bible says it happened, so it must have.

Ah, I know. The first writer messed up the plurals and singulars. Divine inspiration ruined by mortal stupidity! There’s only one god—Yhvh God—and there were two Adams, one male and one female.

...Except that still leaves the problem of those two Adams being made on both the third day and the sixth. Uh.

And wait, this new writer says there was only one Adam, one single male Adam.

...Okay, so the first writer messed up hard, then. They wrote “gods” instead of “god.” They said one intersex Adam… or maybe two Adams, one male and one female… were created on the sixth day instead of one male Adam being created on the third.

That’s… that’s some serious error right there.

Ow! Ow! Quit it!

Look, it’s not my fault! I’m not trying to make the Bible inconsistent! It’s just, look! First the Bible says man was created after the plants and now it says man was created before the plants!

This isn’t my fault! I didn’t make it say that! It just says it, all on its own!

Ow!

All right, all right!

So maybe I misread? Maybe the first part wasn’t meant to be read in a strictly linear way? I know it’s all “this happened, then this happened, then this happened—the first day. This happened, then this happened—the second day.” But maybe you’re supposed to skip around? Maybe the things that apparently happen in one day are actually happening in another?

…That’s stupid! No! I can’t convince myself of that at all!

Ow, ow, okay! Maybe I just don’t understand it because I’m the stupid one, and I’ll never be able to understand it no matter how hard I try—not because it’s dumb, but because I am. Fine, fine, you win, I give up.

So, after creating Adam, Yhvh God creates a garden in a place called Pleasure (“עֵדֶן,” Eden), and sticks Adam in the garden. Yhvh God also makes all kinds of trees that are pretty and/or produce tasty fruit grow in the garden, as well as the tree of Life and the tree of Being Able to Tell the Difference Between Good and Bad.

Side note to tell us about a river that runs through the garden, then splits into four rivers, each of which runs through or along a different place.

The original river doesn’t get a name, but the other four are Increase, Bursting Forth, Rapid, and Fruitfulness. Increase runs through the land of Circle (which has just the best gold, you guys, and awesome gum resin and precious stones, too). Bursting Forth goes through the land of Black. Rapid runs along the east side of Assyria. And we all know Fruitfulness, everyone knows the Euphrates, no need to explain that any further here.

Why this is important, I don’t know. Scene-setting? Nobody’s been able to find the garden of Pleasure using these directions, so it can’t be for that. Anyway, I’m sure Yhvh God knew perfectly well, when he was inspiring this writer, that a worldwide flood was gonna seriously change topography later on.

So the idea is that Adam will be a gardener.

No, this is obvious. There were no plants because there was no man to cultivate the ground? Adam gets put in the garden to tend and keep it?

There’s a reason man exists, and it’s to look after Yhvh God’s plants.

Ow! What?

Oh, the whole “dominate every living thing and even the earth itself” thing? Look. I’m not sure how much I want to trust that first writer, what with their gods and adams and plants being created before humans and all.

Yeouch! Dagnabbit, what?

I can’t throw out any of the Bible? I have to make all of it make sense, all together?

But it contradicts!

Ow! Stop it!

Okay, okay, it doesn’t contradict! I’m stupid! Men exist both to look after plants and to dominate everything, they were created on the third day and on the sixth day, they were spoken into being and they were dirt brought to life, they were male and female and they were just male!

Yhvh God told Adam he could eat fruit from every tree in the garden except anything off the tree of knowing the difference between good and bad, because if he ate anything from that tree “מ֥וֹתתָּ׃ מֽוּת”—he’d be as dead as dead gets that very day.

Then Yhvh God gets to thinking that maybe it’s not great for Adam to be alone.

Uh.

Don’t hit me, but didn’t Adam have Yhvh God? Like… was he really alone? God was there! I grew up hearing that when God’s with you, you’re never alone.

What good is “I will never leave you nor forsake you” if, even with God there, you’re still alone?

Augh, no! I’m sorry I asked!

[nervous breathing, cough]

Okay. So.

Since it’s not good for Adam to be alone (and he’s alone even with God), Yhvh God decides to make a suitable helper for him. Which Yhvh God does by forming animal golems out of dirt and bringing them to life.

….

I… look, I know I’m dumb. But I swear this contradicts what we were told in chapter one.

“Let birds fly above the earth across the face of the sky” on day five, before Adam was ever made, and “let the earth bring forth living creatures” on day six, also before Adam was made, is not compatible with “out of the ground Yhvh God formed every beast of the field and every bird of the air and brought them to Adam to see what he would call them.”

Don’t you try to tell me Yhvh God had formed every beast of the field! “וַיִּצֶר֩” is a consecutive imperfect verb just like “וַיָּבֵא֙” (“and brought them”)! They’re the same tense!

Ow! Fine, I’ll move on.

So, being as God isn’t good enough company, he figures maybe a horse will work as a companion for Adam. Or a cow, maybe. How about a dung beetle? Pigeon?

Yhvh God seems kind of stupid, honestly.

Aaah! Fire! No! Bad! Put down the—where did you even get those pitchforks?!?

Right, so, Yhvh God makes all the animals and birds out of dirt and brings them to Adam, in the garden of Pleasure, and whatever Adam calls each one is the name it gets. This is probably a real long process, on account of how many different animals there are, but even after Adam’s named the very last glyptapanteles wasp, he and Yhvh God still haven’t turned up any lower animal suitable to be Adam’s companion and helper.

So Yhvh God goes ahead and makes a more appropriate lower animal.

Ow! Dangit! Look, I’m just saying! It’d be one thing if Adam and Eve were made at the same time, in the same way, like they maybe were in Genesis 1:27, but this is Genesis 2:22, and Eve is obviously not Adam’s equal here!

She’s a tiny part of Adam, a bit he can do without. Yhvh God puts him in a coma, pulls out a single rib. That’s Eve.

Like Adam says when he wakes up and sees her, she’s one of his own bones, a piece of his own body. She’s not her own being as such, she’s a little chunk of him that was removed so he’d have company.

Don’t look at me like that!

What other conclusion are readers expected to draw when one person is literally a single bone pulled from the other one? Especially when the bone-person was made specifically for the sake of the original human.

Anyway, the new writer says this is why a man leaves his parents and is joined to his wife such that the two become one flesh: because that’s what they were in the beginning, one body. The man goes looking for his missing rib and clings to it—the rib gets absorbed by the original body. Man is not complete without woman (woman is never complete, any more than a gear is complete with or without a clock: it’s the clock that’s complete with the gear, and incomplete without it).

Stop hitting me! What is wrong with you people? This interpretation was accepted just fine for hundreds of years, and you know it! This new idea that the Bible would never say women were created not on their own merits but rather for the sake of men—it’s completely ridiculous because look, Bible!

Don’t like the idea of women being lesser than men? Too bad! Leviticus 12:2 and 5! 1 Corinthians 11:9! Ephesians 5:22! Deal with it!

And now another side note: they were both completely unclothed, and it didn’t bother them psychologically. No shame, no embarrassment, none of that. No word on how they felt re: weather, plants, bugs, etc.

End of chapter.

Anyone else feel like these chapters end a bit awkwardly? Like they were randomly slapped in by people who weren’t actually reading any of it?

#Bible #Genesis 2 #nondenominational Christianity #upbringing #Isaiah reads

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nettlestonenell · 4 years

Photo

Armie Hammer wants a sequel to The Man From U.N.C.L.E.—shouldn’t you?

This post is a long time in coming, Gentle Readers and @jammeke, but now, though it might be here, before your very eyes, to think it will be well-laid out would be a mistake. It’s set to be just about as messy as Ilya’s misplaced loyalties and murky motivations.

How dare!

I probably first watched this film well over a year ago (courtesy @jammeke posting things about it). I used Sling OnDemand (I think on TNT). In the ensuing viewings I also watched it in that way, but as I was sitting down for a fourth(?) viewing, it kept coming to me that I was tired of watching it with commercials I couldn’t skip, and I had a sneaking suspicion that it had been edited for time and I was missing out on scenes. [pointless aside: I was also watching the film in chunks, and never as a whole]

Where is she now? What’s the time stamp? How far along did she get? Are you shagging the hotel hostess yet?

So, I, uh, set out to buy it on DVD—without any luck! In the sense that copies I could find cost more (w/ shipping) than buying it to stream. So, I bought it to stream on Amazon. Do I regret my choice, Gentle Readers? No, no I don’t. I do regret burden of knowledge in learning that TNT was already playing the entirety of the film. That was a hard pill to swallow.

Nope, I’ve looked. That’s absolutely everything. Nothing additional lurking around here...

So here it is, as it is, @jammeke, “My Notes on The Man from U.N.C.L.E.”

Look, I don’t know what this film is. I probably can’t fully articulate its appeal. Or maybe I can--certainly after transcribing four page I’ve tried. Number One thing to know about me and fiction/films is that a top draw for me is seeing something out of the ordinary, such as beautiful locations, a historical era, delicious costumes. There are times, frankly, this can trump weak story and undefined character for me. (The best films, of course, combine all three) Certainly, The Man... delivers in the delight of the eyes. Additionally, I must confess that growing up as a person older than @reblogginhood but younger than Miss Fisher, so much of what was on TV was essentially reruns of this film’s iconic Look(tm). So, when I see women dressed like Gaby I am just another three-to-seven-year-old overcome with the drop dead glamour of it all.

Darling, tell me how you really feel...

Some questions I have:

· �� IS Armie Hammer a hulk of a man? Everyone in this film seems to think so, yet he always tracks to me as trim (rather than hulking)

· Why translate via captions some Russian speaking, but not all?

· IS Napoleon’s backstory directly cribbed from USA’s White Collar?

· DOES Gaby have a German accent?

· Does Ilya get preternaturally attached to all the people he’s ordered to look after? Also, what is his bonding rate with kittens?

Sorry, wrong iteration.

· If Lady Villain knows the lens is wrong—if her technical understanding is that in-depth--does she really need Gaby’s dad to make the bomb?

· How old was Gaby during the war?

· What happens when Ilya gets a NEW puppy assigned to him? (please let this be addressed in film #2)

Hooray for:

· That bathroom fight! *all the Burn Notice feels!

· Gaby is her own lady, and chooses sides as necessary—not always unilateral in her support for either male character. Case in point: she sides with Ilya over the clothes, and Napoleon over the incident of the wallet.

· That delicious (speaking as Rusty, here) Ocean’s 11-stylized action. It’s pretty, so I’m not bored with it. Sometimes a sandwiched montage gets shown, so I’m REALLY not bored. I’ve got 18 tiny moving boxes of things to look at!

· Pinkie rings. There, you’ve told me everything I need to know about that character.

· Solo in a beret. English has not yet found a word for the feeling it evoked in this viewer. Somewhere between ‘precious’ and ‘oh, no’.

See, there? Now you’ve felt it too.

· Goggles! All the accessories! Dune Buggies! (I mean, that’s what I’m calling Napoleon’s chase-scene ride)

Things I adore:

· It seems (after some research) that more than a few folks view Gaby as a third wheel, and though she’s not exactly a Princess Leia commandeering her own rescue and exuding competence and a deserved take-charge-attitude at every corner, she IS a foci for both male characters (though romantically it would seem only for one), just as Ilya is a foci for both her and Napoleon [no one seems to worry about Napoleon, though they should--film #2, anyone?]

· Mechanic Gaby not needing a beauty makeover, or being dragged into one. She gets some nice clothes, but it’s never suggested that she’s not attractive or acceptable before putting them on, and I respect, nay, embrace it.

Oh, my heart. She’s still not as tall as them!

· Ilya, drab pigeon Ilya, knowing fashion

· Oh man, don’t even get me started on the power of the statement, “it doesn’t have to match”

· You knew it was coming on this sublist: the wrestle-fight. I mean, c’mon. Poor little Gaby, locked behind the Iron Curtain, living a life of always being watched. She’s in the swankest hotel (I mean, Napoleon chose it, so we can be sure it’s swank with an E). She’s trying to celebrate her freedom, her liberation. She’s playing verboten music, she’s drinking to excess. Girl wants—and deserves—a party. And Ilya is…not built for that (that he knows of). For some fun, just imagine if she had been given Napoleon to room with instead.

o I will say that this scene, and some of their other interactions have what I would call early (non-sibling) Luke and Leia energy. Ilya seems to have moments of being struck by Gaby in a way Luke is struck by Leia in the early part of the trilogy. When Leia takes charge, and Luke accepts it. When Leia does something incredible, and Luke is left open-mouthed. *no, I don’t see OT Star Wars in everything. Shut up.

· “He fixed the glitch.”

· Again, shout-out to the non-action action.

· “I left my jacket in there.”

· The whole race to rescue Gaby I am in love with beyond words. [I have noted it as “Crazy Jeep Drive with Warhead!”] Probably b/c it comes across as totally egalitarian. Both men want her rescued. They’re no longer in competition. It’s just as important to Napoleon as it is to Ilya to catch up to her. Also, it is bonkers, like some sort of X-games version of a commercial for the vehicles they’re driving. And screaming Willie Scott does not make an appearance.

Someone says “winkle” out.

· Look! Another note about the screen divisions and how I love it, shout-outs to the original Steve McQueen The Thomas Crown Affair (a contemporary of when this movie is meant to be set), and TV’s 24.

Things that get a great, big NOPE:

· Jerrod Harris: you’ve been in so much streamable content in the last decade I can’t hate you, but frankly, you’re terrible here—unless you’re supposed to be giving a mannered, not-campy-enough-to-be-enjoyable performance here. Your American English puts me in the mind of Alex Hawaii 5-0′Loughlin where it feels you’re concentrating so hard on your accent that you fail to convince anyone that you’re a harried, over-worked and exasperated spy handler. Your performance is at odds with every bit of dialogue you’re given to say.

· That awful, mishandled title that doesn’t even connect to the film until the final moments (a sequel set-up, for sure)

· Look, you don’t introduce Hugh Grant casually mid-way through your film in a throwaway appearance. I mean, he’s HUGH GRANT we all know something’s up now.

· This is not exactly a great big NOPE, b/c I love a flat cap, Tommy Shelby—but I feel like a less tall man with a far rounder face in a flat cap would track more as Russian to me that AH does. To me, he just looks like he’s about to go golfing.

Over par? Unacceptable!

· Is Victoria a British-accented Italian? A British woman who married—what? Gaby’s uncle isn’t Italian!? An Italian who went to school in Britain? My head hurts. Also, is her hair meant to be unconvincingly bleached?

Other commentary:

· Napoleon’s adult ne’er-do-well backstory is so far from being emotionally equivalent to Ilya’s childhood trauma [and his enslavement to the USSR] it seems bestial when he calls it out on multiple occasions. Badly done, Solo.

· Gaby is the film’s key (sorry, Buffy fans). Everyone is connected to her. Yes, she could have been given a bit more on the character front, but I don’t see her as as much of a flaw in the film as some others/reviewers seem to.

· Look, essentially (and not very nuanced-ly), Ilya is a stalker. I think the film goes a certain distance in establishing that his early behavior toward Gaby is not normal, but concurrently it does not truly call him out on it. He’s essentially viewed as an odd-duck, sure, but not a true threat to her (should she not reciprocate or tolerate his intensity toward her). I think I might be able to cite his behavior when Gaby comes on to him (that he doesn’t jump at a chance with her) that maybe he’s given a little more nuance than a straight-on stalker, and it helps that he and Napoleon never get into a pissing match over Gaby’s person, only over her new clothes. But overall the film has to walk a fine line (and the jury is still out on how successful it is, I’d say) between playing Ilya’s laser-like attention to Gaby for its humor, and calling it out for the unsettling, threatening behavior it is.

· Honestly, it wasn’t until I engaged the Closed Captioning that I understood Napoleon was calling Ilya the ‘Red Peril’. So, that was nearly three viewings in.

· I give the screen credits A+, on both ends. Not to mention the end credits are actually INTERESTING with lots to see and learn! (Certainly we learn more about HG in them than we do at any time during the film)

Things I would have liked:

· More of fish-out-of-the-Iron-Curtain Gaby moments

· A better dichotomy shown of East vs. West Berlin/Germany. There’s nothing easy either visually or otherwise to distinguish the two.

· HC being given a more specific American accent (from an actual locality). This, for an American viewer, works better than the flat, unlocated American accent many a British actor will bust out. *Mind you, HC does a generally good job, but he fails utterly on both “Immediate” which he pronounces at least twice as “immeedeejt” [rather than imm-E-deeot] and “Nazi” as “NAHT-zee” [rather than “NOT-zee”]. And let’s not get started on that late in the film use of ‘earnt’, a word that—well, it’s just not in the American English twentieth century lexicon.

· C’mon. You gotta tease the Hugh Grant more.

· Solo is a blank before the war. I’ve read thoughts on the film calling out Gaby as the blank character, but they’re wrong. Solo is the blank. He’s the ‘made’ man, his identity seemingly assembled during the war and after. For example, he doesn’t go into the war a thief, nor (it would seem) a particularly educated or urbane individual. Now THAT’s a juicy backstory I’d love to learn about, perhaps in film #2--or #3? What creates a Napoleon Solo? What would he be doing if he weren’t on the government’s leash/incarcerated? Is anyone left caring about him back wherever he calls home? I mean, who doesn’t love a gender-flipped 60s-era Holly Golightly backstory? [And yes, I would love there to be an ex-wife or even a current wife mixed up in his origins as well—Guy Ritchie, call me!]

Notes I have that I’m not sure if they still make sense to me:

· Only mom calls me Napoleon (do he say it ‘mum’?) Is he a secret Canadian?

· Solo’s torture, 1st view recall Napoleon’s childhood? *I think this means that after watching the first time I somehow erroneously believed that during the torture Napoleon’s childhood was a topic gone over. This was wrong. HOWEVER, this would have made far more story-sense than the backstory we’re given on an easily disposeable villain.

· “Even the average Russian agent. You’re special.” ?

· Uncle is Baddie (*so glad I made this note to myself)

· Ilya’s dad IS an embarrassment. I’m not sure what genius commentary I had in my mind, here. Perhaps that Ilya himself is embarrassed of him? Not just Ilya’s handler’s? [Also, aside: Napoleon totally slut-shames Ilya’s mom, which is the doublest of double standards from ‘I got myself the biggest and most ornate suite b/c I-wanted-plenty-of-space-for-my-random-seductions’ and I really wish Ilya had thrown that back in his face] *yes, of course I know that Ilya and Napoleon would not likely equate a wife/mother’s sexual exploits with that of Solo’s, but let’s be honest, this film tweaks the nose of (I won’t say reverses, it doesn’t go that far) plenty of tropes and gender expectations, and this certainly seems like a missed opportunity to call Solo on the carpet (which I hope film #2 does far more)

Things I wrote down so long ago I don’t recall what they mean:

· CC-save

In conclusion:

What does film #2 look like? What title does it get? Will the Peter/Neil White Collar dynamic continue to grow? *note that I have no confidence a second film will ever come to pass...

In the end, all I know is, “It didn't help when American Tom Cruise, who was slated to play U.S. spy Napoleon Solo, dropped out, prompting the casting of Cavill (who had previously read for the Russian role).“ I would not have watched that film.

#tmfu #tmfu 2015 #ilya kuryakin #napoleon solo #gaby teller #henry cavill #armie hammer #alicia vikander #the man from uncle 2015 #the man from u.n.c.l.e.#the man from uncle #i don't know what this film's tags are meant to be to keep it from popping up in the TV series searches Sorry

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spookypalace · 4 years

Text

worship the flame - chapter seven

Jo peaks a look at him once or twice as he’s ordering a list of drinks, she’s certain he catches her as pink lips curve into a smirk. Brown eyes meet for a final time before he steps away, and she wonders—maybe her dry spell would end.

—

Or the one where Jo meets Alex in a bar, during her final year of med school.

(if you would rather read on ao3, you can do here)

Their final week off before the remainder of med-school had gone by in a blur, after the horrific dinner with Lexie’s parents, both Jo and Lexie decided the rest of their week would be low-key. Whilst Steph and Leah had preferred the idea of spending their evenings and mornings in the clubs of Seattle, Jo just really didn’t have the energy or the money to get dressed up and throw money at an overpriced bar. So, the two girls spent most of the time back at their apartment, a few nights at Joe’s. There was once or twice Jo ventured over to Alex’s, but only when Lexie was at Jacksons—the apartment felt lonely without them.

For Jo, what had been surprising, is the new-found friendship that had begun between Jackson and Alex. It almost made her laugh. Since the dinner with Thatcher, the two men had seemingly found that they got on pretty well. In fact, if Alex wasn’t at work or with Jo—he was with Jackson. Popping out to the grocery store and coming back to find them sat on the couch, cold beer in hands and some game of football blaring on the old television, had initially been a shock for her. But now it was a regular occurrence.

Honestly, she hadn’t realized how much of an effect seeing him so comfortable in her space had on her until every time she looked at Alex, she felt her stomach do a somersault and warmth to spread up her neck and across her cheeks. And that was just by gazing at him. Jo found herself looking towards Alex when she knew he was in the room and smiling whenever he did the same or when she heard his laugh. Within less than a handful of days, her feelings for Alex had gone from platonic and purely physical to something a lot more that she was way too hesitant on properly identifying. She was still trying to figure out how the hell this transpired.

How had it happened so fast? In the blink of an eye, it felt like. One moment Jo and Alex are promising they will not have feelings for one another and the next she’s willing her erratic heart to calm the hell down at the mere sight of Alex. It was crazy how feelings for someone snuck up on you and how hard they hit you, and the realization Jo had that she liked Alex as more than just a sex … friend had left her breathless. Although, she’s unsure if it’s the good or bad kind because while Alex had become one of the best guys she knew, he was also unavailable. He’d told her that much at the very beginning. And she had promised it was not a problem. Until it was.

God, Jo felt pathetic.

What was just as bad is now that she was painfully aware of her not-so-platonic feelings for Alex, she found herself subtly and as discreetly as she could manage avoiding any one-on-one time with him—unless they were, of course, having sex. She had grown to love hanging out with Alex, but now she can’t help but be super conscious of how she acted around him and had this fear that she’ll somehow let it slip that she’s attracted to him, and she couldn’t have that. Although it was hard, Alex had been spending an increasing amount of time at her place and with Jackson—just lounging on her couch or in her bed. All plans, unless they didn’t require clothing, now always accompanied Lexie and Jackson, with the odd appearance of Steph and Leah.

“Hey, you wanna go to the movies in a few?” Jo’s shoulders tensed ever so slightly at the sound of Alex’s voice, glancing at him over her shoulder from where she stood by the counter in the kitchen preparing a Nutella sandwich. He was popping his head in from behind the entryway wall, upper half curling into the kitchen as his gaze remained on her. “Jackson and Lexie want to go see that film that you guys were talking about the other day, I know you said you wanted to see it. We can leave now and catch all of the trailers,” he added, after hearing of Jo’s love of wanting to see every preview before the movies.

Oh, God, that sounded a lot like a real double date. Or maybe Jo was just overreacting, as always, but she didn’t want to risk it. Knowing Jackson and Lexie, they’d be wrapped up in each other during the movie leaving Jo and Alex by themselves, and that totally went against her poorly thought-out, dumb plan of keeping a some-what distance from him. Even if she really did want to watch the movie.

“Oh, um,” she blinked, neck tensing at the expectant raise of Alex’s eyebrows. “I would but I’m really tied. I was actually gonna’ take a nap after eating this,” she lied, gesturing to the sandwich as she quickly turned around and put the two pieces of bread together and capped the jar of Nutella.

Alex glanced at her sandwich, eyebrows lowering into a slight frown as a confused chuckle escaped him and he stepped around the wall to lean against it. “Seriously? Lexie said you’ve been dying to see that movie since the trailer came out.”

“Yeah, I’ll just watch it online or something, I still have some studying ...” Jo shrugged nonchalantly her words dying on her lips, dropping the dirty knife in the sink with a clang. “But you have fun.”

“Have fun?” Alex scoffed, a smile tugging at his lips as he shot me a look. “I’m gonna’ be third wheeling with your friends.” When his lower lip jutted out slightly, the action instantly drawing her gaze to his mouth, Jo’s stomach clenched as Alex prodded, “Are you sure you don’t wanna’ come?”

Jo inhaled quietly, pressing her lips together in an apologetic smile as she moved to walk out of the kitchen, having to walk towards Alex since he was right at the entryway. “Sorry, Alex,” she responded, sandwich in hand. “Take one of your roommates.”

When she was right next to him, Alex turned his head to look down at her, eyes light with mirth as he told her, “They’re not nearly as fun as you.”

Oh, fucking hell. Even if he was joking around, that wasn’t helpful at all in Jo’s plan of at least trying to hide her feelings for him. Ignoring the heat rising in her cheeks, Jo quickly said, “Don’t let them hear you say that. Have fun at the movies.”

Instead of waiting for a reply, Jo offered a brief smile before hastily going to her room and shutting the door behind her, letting out a deep slow breath as she dropped herself on the bed. Taking a rather violent bite of her sandwich, Jo felt her shoulders sink in defeat. If the smallest of comments from Alex had her body going into a frenzy and her breath catching, how was she at all going to be successful in keeping her feelings for him at bay? This wasn’t going to be easy.

“You know you’re about as subtle as a neon sign.”

Jo blinked up at Jackson, frowning behind the shield of her book as the boy sat down on the couch next to her, having returned from the movies just ten minutes earlier. Alex had headed off to work and Lexie had hopped into the shower. “Huh?”

Jackson chuckled lowly, “tell me, Jo,” he spoke up once again, bringing his legs up onto the coffee table and resting his arms on the couch arms. “Do you have a thing for Alex?”

“Obviously.”

“Huh?”

“We’re sleeping together.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

What the hell?

Jo’s jaw loosened at Jackson’s inquiry, eyes widening behind her book and heart jumping into her throat. His eyes were on hers and Jo’s shoulders tensed, taking in a sharp breath as Jackson waited for an answer. But she was too stunned and taken aback to say anything, to confirm or deny, because of course Jackson would sense something is up—he’d been spending a ridiculous amount of time around them both. He may be the quiet one of the four—at least, when he’s sober—but he’s definitely the most observant; he’s always watching people, dissecting them with his eyes and mind and figuring them out like the world’s easiest math equation. Jackson seemed to read people so easily, and Jo should’ve known better than to think she would be able to hide anything from him. She spent half her time wondering how she was keeping this from Lexie.

When she didn’t say anything for a few moments too long, his lips twitched as he shrugged and assured, “It’s okay if you do.”

“No, it’s not,” she blurted, not even bothering to deny anything. All the air expelled from her lungs as Jackson quirked a brow, silently prodding her to continue as she threw the book down and looked ahead. Jo’s eyebrows lowered in a distressed frown. “He’s—I can’t ... he doesn’t want that. I feel like I’m, like, betraying myself or something.”

“Because you didn’t want a boyfriend.” His words were more of a statement than a question, yet Jo nodded anyway as she sat up, crossing her legs and picking at her unpainted nails. Jackson sighed, “you can’t help who you have feelings for, Jo. So what? You didn’t want a boyfriend, but that was before you met the guy.”

“It’s not that—relationships are messy already and then you add me into the situation and I—I mess everything good in my life up.”

“That’s not true,” Jackson instantly retorted matter-of-factly, effectively clamping Jo’s mouth shut as she looked at him almost helplessly. He sighed as he took in the brunette’s expression, shifting so he was sitting face her with his own legs crossed. “You and Lexie have been friends for years, she loves you—trust me, she talks about you like you’re her favorite person. It almost makes me jealous.” Jo smiles, shaking her head with a small laugh, “does this have something to do with … that Jason guy?”

“Maybe,” she countered, tilting her head challengingly. “Everyone said he was such a nice guy, I mean he was charming and funny—no one had a bad word to say about him. But then he’s with me and he turns into someone else, he’s a cheater and manipulative and he—”

“Jo, that has nothing to do with you. That’s him. That’s who he really is, behind the facade.” Jackson cuts her off, frowning.

With a huff, Jo changes the conversation back to Alex, “what if I told Alex I liked him more than that? What if, hypothetically, he liked me back and we wanted to date? I’m not saying that’ll happen, because I very much doubt it, but if it did—who's to say it wouldn’t end in disaster. That we’d end up hating one another when we might be working together in a few months' time.”

Jo saw Jackson’s eyes widen as his eyebrows shot up his forehead, full lips parting in surprise before asking, “that’s what it’s all about, taking risks. It would be nice to see how things panned out before getting yourself into something, but half the fun is doing it for yourself.”

Jo scoffed, raspingly and a bit bitterly. “You just like having another guy around,” she joked afterwards, regretting the way she was treating him in this moment. Jo was just coming to terms with the fact that she was developing feelings for Alex, so the idea of actually being with him was still out there—just a hopeful imagination running wild without having to deal with the consequences of sharing them with anyone. Until now, with Jackson.

Jackson’s gaze returned to her as he leaned closer, deep voice dropping low as he looked at her over his sunglasses. “I get you’re scared,” he told her. “But it’s about you and how you feel, okay? If you like Alex and you want something out of it, let him know. Forget about all the what-ifs for a second—what’s the worst that could happen if you tell Alex you like him?”

Jo blinked, staring at Jackson in slight incredulity, surprised that he was pushing her on this. Honestly, she was kind of glad she had someone she could talk to this about. Jackson would never be her first choice, it would always be Lexie, she’d found recently that he was very easy to talk to; he was quiet, but he always listened and if you were one of the people he opened up to, then something about that made the person feel special. There have been lots of moments since they finally met one another all those weeks ago, some when they were drunk off of wine, where Jackson would let Jo know all of his thoughts and feelings and dreams, and it was a time she welcomed wholeheartedly.

But once his question settled in her mind, Jo let out an unladylike snort and pointed out, “He might not feel the same way and totally reject me.”

Much to her surprise, a smirk curled at Jackson’s lips as he leaned away from her, humming out in a tone that told her he knew more than he was letting on, “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

Jo’s heart thudded against her chest in a particularly hard beat, eyes widening as she stared at his blue-eyes in startlement as her stomach did an anticipated flip-flop. What the hell did that mean? The look on Jackson’s face told her he knew something that he wasn’t revealing, and that sent her curiosity skyrocketing. “What’re you talking about?”

To her chagrin, Jackson merely shrugged as he hopped to his feet, ignoring her protesting exclaims as he smirked and walked towards the bathroom, hearing the shower turn off. “Wha—Jackson! Come back!” she shouted, briefly frozen in her spot on the couch. He wasn’t sure about Alex rejecting her feelings for him? What? “Jackson! Don’t think I’m letting this go!”

When he neared the bathroom door, rich laughter escaping him as he did so, Jo let out a frustrated sigh before throwing herself up off the couch, practically running towards the much taller male as she tried to catch up to him. Even when Jo caught up to him and jumped on his back, sending them both falling around the small hallway with laughter, it did nothing to get Jackson to spill whatever secrets he was holding.

“What the hell is going on?” Lexie shrieked as she threw open the bathroom door, frowning with curiosity down at the pair with a towel wrapped around her slim frame. When all she was met with was laughter, she stepped over the pair and towards her bedroom with a sigh and a smile.

Jo was convinced the best way to torture someone was by telling them they know something but not actually letting them know what that something is, leaving their imagination and thoughts to run rampant with wild curiosity. That’s exactly what Jackson was doing to her since he dropped some sort of hint the other day on her couch, and even when Jo tried to drown him in questions, he didn’t budge on telling her what he meant. But Jackson just smirked and laughed and said nothing. Asshole.

Why did Jackson have to say I wouldn’t be so sure about that when Jo said that Alex wouldn’t feel the same way about her as she did about him? The potential answer to that invited the excited fluttering in her stomach to increase tenfold and heart to pick up its pace, but she wasn’t going to jump to any conclusions without having a solid answer—which Jackson was being ridiculously secretive about. Why say something so vague? Pretty sadistic of him, in Jo’s opinion.

Every time he looked at her, Jo narrowed her eyes at him in a glare lacking any real anger or maliciousness and he merely smirked in response, knowing exactly what he was doing to her. Alex and Lexie had caught the interaction at one point, but Jo quickly looked away and didn’t give them any room to question.

Tonight, after being back in school for a week, the weekend rolled around and Jo was hoping to get her mind off of her raging curiosity by joining everyone in going to a club, for once, that was only a five minute drive from the bar. But since no one was completely dedicated to being a designated driver, they split two Ubers and arrived at the club after pregaming for a bit at the bar—where Jo would have happily stayed but Stephanie had other ideas.

As expected, the club was throbbing with life at this time of night, music playing at a deafening volume as people gathered in the middle to dance to the live DJ, off on the right to lounge on the couches and tables, or to the left where almost the entire side was taken up by the bar. There were people upstairs too, the second floor only making up the perimeter of the room as the back spilled out onto a large back deck with more couches so people could enjoy the outside weather while hearing the music from inside. Since it was on the beach, people were either hanging out on the deck or going towards the beach.

As soon as they got inside, Jo and her friends gravitated towards the bar and she was pressed between Lexie and Steph’s newish boyfriend, Kyle, as Jackson got one of the bartender’s attention and requested a round of shots. The bass of the remixed music thrummed in Jo’s ears as everyone’s chatter mingled altogether, laughter erupted from them all following some remark Leah made trying to convince them on how playing hard to get was the perfect way to bag an older man. It was funnier because he looked so serious talking about it. Jo had to fight turning her gaze over to Alex the entire conversation.

The vodka burned down Jo’s throat once they tossed the glasses back, not even pausing as two more rounds were brought in front of them as they took those as well. As the boys ordered some drinks for themselves, Steph grabbed Jo’s and Lexie’s hands before dragging them towards the center of the room, pulling them in the midst of the dancing crowd so they could move amongst the somewhat sweaty bodies that were already rubbing up against them. But the couple of shots of vodka, plus the few drinks Jo had taken before coming here, were already mixing with her blood and she felt good, so dancing with her friends was exactly what she was going to do. Even though her long hair was loose, her sleeveless bodysuit and shorts didn’t let her feel too hot despite the stuffy atmosphere.

The song was some Migos remix, though everyone was yelling out the lyrics as they moved to the beat and white lights flashed to the rhythm. They must have danced to two more songs before Jo broke away from the crowd and went back to the bar at Steph’s request of getting more drinks. The guys were right where they had left them, backs against the bars and glasses in their hands as they talked and sipped while the three of them shoved themselves between the boys.

“Whoa, whoa, none for us?” Jackson demanded over the music, an amused grin spreading on his lips at the girls after they downed the first round.

Lexie smiled that flirtatious smile she only reserved for Jackson, left hand on her chest as she pulled him towards her and teased, “Only if you join me on the dance floor, babe.”

His grin widened as he pulled her closer, which at this point Jo looked away to reach for another shot glass and downed the green apple flavored liquid. Her throat no longer burned as the drink went down, placing the glass upside down on the wooden bar top. She gestured for the bartender to bring another round, wondering just how wasted she could get by the end of the night.

“You know Alex’s been wanting to dance with you all night,” Jackson’s voice spoke in Jo’s ear, when he returns from the dancefloor, low yet she could hear him clearly despite the loud music. “Avoiding him is just gonna’ make him think you hate him or want to end whatever is going on between you or … something.”

Automatically, Jo’s eyes wandered around to find the brunette, landing on Alex towards the right as he stood leaning against one of the pillars. This wasn’t really his type of music, but he was smiling and chatting away to Kyle, watching them actually enjoy themselves was amusing to Jo. “You know I don’t hate him,” she mumbled, tone dejected and drunkenly slow as she leaned her head against Jackson’s shoulder.

They were sitting on one of the couches on the right side of the room, right under the second-floor landing where people above and around them were dancing and having a good time. Lexie and Steph were lost somewhere in the crowd. “Then tell him that, Jo,” Jackson responded, twirling the glass he held with long fingers as the ice inside clinked around. “Just because you realized you like Alex as more than a friend-with-benefits, doesn’t mean you have to stop acting like his friend, you know? Don’t push him away because you’re scared of the possibility of having more.”

Jo wasn’t nearly as drunk as she’d like to be to be having this conversation, and not for the first time did Jo curse her ability to hold her alcohol well. She didn’t know how many drinks she’s downed so far, but the most she was feeling was a little heaviness in her head and mild sluggishness. She was still painfully aware of every word she said and every thought she processed.

Which is why Jackson’s words were settled in her mind like wet cement; sinking and hardening as she realized he was right. Jo was being dumb by trying to push Alex away just because she was scared—not scared of telling Alex, but scared of finding out how he felt, of feeling like she was betraying Charlotte. Seriously, what kind of friend went after their friend’s ex, knowing they have some unresolved issues with them? But try as she might, Jo couldn’t kill the butterflies that erupted when Alex smiled or relax the quickening of her heart when his eyes met hers. There was no stopping any of that, and it dizzied her how fast her feelings intensified over the past few days.

“How do you know he wants to dance with me?” she found herself asking, hoping her tone was quiet enough for only Jackson to hear, which wasn’t a problem since Alex was a few feet away and the music was deafeningly loud.

“You kidding?” Jackson chortled deeply in mild amusement after taking a sip of his drink, his shaking shoulders causing Jo’s head to move right along with them. “He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you when you were on the dance floor. He was watching your every move. You guys have been doing this thing for quite a few weeks now, so I know, and you know it’s not just lust.”

Jo’s mouth dried at that, feeling the familiar quickening of her heart as her eyes flickered over to Alex. He was talking to Kyle, a grin on his face as they remained shadows of two men due to the pillar they were against, the flashing white lights in the center not reaching them. He was watching her? Oh, my God—he was watching me? What did that mean? Fuck, she sounded like a teenage girl.

As if reading her thoughts, Jackson mused, “You wanna’ know why I said what I said that day after the movies?”

This time her heart jumped in her throat, causing Jo to croak out an instant, “Yes.”

He took a breath, chest expanding as she kept her head against his shoulder, not daring to move until she heard him reply. The music seemed like nothing but background noise, an irritating sound Jo wished she could drown out. Finally, Jackson confessed, “Because he told me, a few days after dinner at Thatcher’s, about how he feels about you.”

His words had Jo immediately lifting her head and leaning away from Jackson, staring at him with widened eyes as she remained frozen where she sat. He merely looked back at her, brown eyes glinting against the light, raising his eyebrows as if to say I said what I said while Jo just sat with an expression of confused shock etched across her face. Alex told Jackson how he feels about her? What does he feel? Also, how does a friendship between two guys develop that fast? Once again, as if reading her thoughts, Jackson smirked and said, “You’re gonna have to find out from him exactly what.”

That snapped Jo out of her incredulity, eyebrows lowering and lips forming a pout as she gripped his arm, shaking it as she whined, “Jackson!”

But the black-haired boy shook his head, smirk widening in delight of withholding information from his friend. “Nope, ask him,” he said, eyes flickering over her shoulder before he jutted his chin. “I’d ask him now, if I were you. Looks like he’s headed out back.”

Jo instantly looked over her shoulder, catching sight of Alex walking away from Ashton and making him way around the crowd towards one of the doors to the back area, and Jo let out a heavy breath at the sight of his broad retreating back. Oh, God—should she ask him? Part of her knew that, judging by Jackson’s expression and words, whatever Alex may have to say would be exactly what she’d want to hear, but the other part of her was terrified of that being true. If Jo told Alex she liked him and he told her he liked her, then what? … would they date? Would that be so horrible?

“Fucking hell, Jo, just go after him,” Jackson groaned pleadingly, making her look back at him with wide eyes as he gestured to the back with his free hand. “Go! Stop overthinking everything and just do it.”

Jo stared at Jackson for a few moments, worry clear on her face as she chewed her lower lip and probably ate off whatever little lipstick she had left. She was overthinking, she knew, but she couldn’t help it. Tipsy or not, Jo had to think this through. Jo knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

But the further and further Alex currently walked away from her, the more rapid Jo’s heart got and increased the desire to run after him. Suddenly she felt completely sober, even if she actually wasn’t, and she quickly said to Jackson, “Don’t tell anyone,” before getting up and following after Alex, not even bothering to wonder if Jackson knew she meant for him not to tell anyone anything about her and Alex. He probably did.

Jo pushed through a bunch of people, muttering out apologies and excuse me’s as she neared the back entryway Alex had disappeared through moments earlier. She was glad she had decided not to wear heels because she probably would’ve tripped over her own feet with how fast she was moving to get to Alex.

It wasn’t hard to spot him when she finally stepped outside, taking in a breath as she welcomed the openness of being outdoors rather than inside the stuffy club as she glanced around, blinking through the mild lethargic heaviness her head felt. It was much more chill out here, people chatting and drinking and lounging on the outdoor patio or walking down the few steps that lead to the beach. Alex was in the front corner, looking out to the beach as the torches that were spread around the porch bannister provided a glowing light to the area.

Jo’s hands weren’t sweaty, but she still rubbed them down her shorts as she began walking over to the tall brunette, ignoring the chill her exposed arms and legs felt as she swallowed nervously, weaving around a few lingering people until she reached him. “Hey,” Jo greeted, sneaking up to his left as her hands gripped the metal railing.

The ice in his glass of vodka on the rocks clinked as he lowered it from his mouth, looking over at her in mild surprise. Alex was leaning forward, arms resting on the railing as his lips curled upwards slightly. “Hey.” He glanced around the area, raising an eyebrow. “Needed a breather?”

“Yeah,” Jo answered with an airy laugh, leaning with her left arm on the railing, body towards Alex yet looking out towards the beach. The sound of the waves was distant over the music, the smell of the salty sea mingling with the alcohol making for a sharp, pungent scent. “Way too stuffy inside—isn’t that why you’re out here?”

A lazy smile curled at the corner of Alex’s lips, shrugging one shoulder as he vaguely answered, “More or less.”

Jo hummed, side against the railing as she folded her arms in attempt to hug herself to shield her body from a particularly chilly breeze that blew against them, her straightened hair flying slightly. Wearing a deep cut, sleeveless bodysuit and shorts wasn’t as good of an idea if she was outside, fighting against the wind. As if sensing her discomfort, Alex glanced over at her, taking in her stance before resting his glass on the railing and pulling back his arms to shrug off the black jacket he was wearing, he held it behind Jo and draped it over her shoulders.

Her gaze flickered up to him, breathing stilled at the newfound proximity as his fingers drifted down to grip the front of the jacket, head bent slightly to look down at Jo thanks to his above average height. He was swaying ever so faintly with the wind as his dark eyes met Jo’s brown, and she knew she had to breathe again but with him looking at her so intensely, the action seemed impossible. But she managed to, inhaling softly as Alex’s familiarly pleasant coconut and aftershave scent engulfed her, a welcome change from the alcohol she had been smelling inside.

Alex didn’t pull away from her, standing close. “Are you sure that’s the only reason you came out here?” he finally asked, deep voice a raspy murmur as he didn’t dare break their gaze. “Because it’s too stuffy inside?”

His words had a meaningful, purposeful tilt into them raising a pointed eyebrow as his fingers remained gripping the jacket to keep her in place. Jo rolled her lower lip into her mouth, unable to break her gaze from Alex’s paralyzing one. The embers of the small fires on the tiki torches danced in his light eyes, golden against them and melting Jo on the spot. She was so focused on his gaze that she barely registered his question and when she did, Jo felt herself swallowing inaudibly in attempt to loosen the tightness in her chest.

Obviously, that wasn’t the only reason she was out here—honestly it wasn’t even a reason. The sole objective was to get to Alex, to talk to him and hopefully muster up the nerve to tell him how she felt, just like Jackson had been urging. Maybe the alcohol she had drank throughout the night would provide for some liquid courage, but the way Alex’s gaze was fixated on Jo had her brain short circuiting and proving it difficult to form words.

“I—No, that’s not—I’m not—” Fucking smooth, Jo. She was stumbling like an idiot over her words because the way Alex was looking at her truly was messing her up, feeling the heat rise up her neck and spread across her cheeks. The sleeves of his jacket were long on her arms, hiding the way her fingers of both hands were picking at her newly yellow painted nails in anxious nerves. Just tell him. Stop freezing yourself with worry over everything else—just tell him. Speak now and worry later.

Apparently, Alex found her stammering amusing as a boyish, lower-lip-biting grin took over his face, showing off his dimples and effectively stealing Jo’s breath. She wondered if Alex knew how handsome he was and how his smile could maybe, possibly end all wars.

He was getting closer, she could feel it, along with the fact that his hands were now sliding up and holding the sides of her neck in a gentle touch, the metals of his rings cool against her heated skin as his fingers slid slightly into her hair. The sounds of people chattering, and music playing was taken over by the thundering of her heart, breath unsteady as barely an inch remained between Alex and Jo, his nose brushing against hers once he leaned in, his own uneven breathing mingling with her own. Was he as nervous, anticipating the next few moments as she was? The ends of some of his curls were tickling Jo’s cheek as Alex surprised her by whispering, “I need you to say it, Jo.”

His gaze was practically impaling her and she found herself glancing down at his lips—pink and soft looking and full—as she swallowed and muttered breathlessly, “Say what?”

The pads of Alex’s thumbs brushed against Jo’s cheekbones. Was the music still playing? Neither of them could hear it, attention solely on each other. His gaze flickered to her lips, mirroring her action. “You know what.”

Jo’s hands, which had been nervously at her sides, finally moved as she lightly fisted the front of his black tee, and she spoke the first three words that popped in her head. “Kiss me, Alex.”

He didn’t have to be told twice because the second those words escaped Jo, Alex leaned towards her and she met him in the middle, eyes shutting at the first touch of his lips against hers. Honest to God, it felt like she was exploding as Alex’s lips moved surprisingly slowly, softly against her own. Suddenly it wasn’t just Jo’s sense of smell that was taken captive by Alex—he had taken over everything. She felt the languid movements of his lips and the tender touch of his hands against her cheeks and in her hair, the taste of vodka welcome only because it was coming from Alex.

It was a slow, sucking kiss that tightened Jo’s grip on his shirt but ended way too quickly with Alex pulling away. But he didn’t put much distance between the two as Jo’s eyes dazedly opened, staring up at him with a parted mouth and slightly widened eyes. Alex’s blue eyes were looking at her; like he was taking in every feature on her face for the first time as his gaze flickered all over, and for a moment Jo felt a bit unsure of herself because of the pure intensity of his staring, which was doing the exact opposite of slowing her heart rate down.

Jo felt light on her feet, the heaviness in her head dissipating after that kiss because, shit, it was everything she could’ve hoped for and more. Alex’s lips were softer than she imagined, the touch of his hands cupping her cheeks gentle and comforting, so much so that she didn’t want him to let go.

Then Alex’s lips curled upwards in a smile that showed off his teeth and dimples and Jo instantly mirrored it an automatic response. Elated gaze once again meeting his, she felt the air rush back into her lungs in time for Alex to press his lips against hers in a kiss of much more fervor, like he was putting every ounce of his feelings into it.

#jolex #jo wilson #alex karev

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 5 years

Text

Bless me father

Summary: You really needed to get laid. It’s been a long two years. And when the hot stranger walked through the door of your favorite pub and said all the right things, you were sure you made the right descision when you took him home for that night. That was until you saw him 2 weeks later. In the church. Baptizing your friends child.

Words: 4.852 (holy crap)

Pairing: Priest!?John Constantine / F!Reader

warnings: Smut (and a very questionable plot)

A/N: I can’t believe I wrote this. I started this a month ago. Aparently this happens when I listen to too much Hozier and watch that certain episode of Fleabag to often (check Season 2 out). This also started out as something entire differently. But to quote @fanficsrusz (who wanted to be tagged so there you go) We’re going to hell anyway so... enjoy?

„Oh my god.“ You whispered. Looking at your sister, who was sitting beside you.

“What?” She leant to you to whisper back.

“The guy I told you about… From the pub…”

“Can we talk about him, when we’re not in a church at a baptism?”

“It’s him.” You looked at her with big eyes.

“Who?” She asked giving you the side eye.

You gestured towards the man who was holding the baby that was about to be baptized.

“I slept with the fucking priest.”

1 week earlier

It had been one of these days. You know days when you woke up to get to work and had a mood that could only get better instead of worse.

It started with the coffee machine at home being broken. Then your car wouldn’t start, so you had to take the bus to get to work, which resulted in you being 30 minutes late. Thankfully your boss didn’t mind, it had been the first time. But when you got to your desk and saw the amount of work that waited for you, you wanted to scream. Instead you rolled your eyes and got to work.

10 hours later, the only thing that could lift your mood was a beer at your favourite pub.

They knew you there. You basically spend most of your free time there. Not as a crazy drunk person. But you enjoyed your occasional beer. And the company.

“There you are. I was wondering if you would get here today.” Alex, the owner of the pub, said as you sat down in front of him. He looked like your godfather. But younger. And more Swedish.

Your beer was standing in front of you only seconds later. You took a big sip.

“Jesus this day sucked.” You sighed, losing your coat, putting it on the seat next to you.

“Wanna talk about it?” Alex looked at you.

“It’s just one of these days…” You knew exactly why you were in such a shitty mood. Alex looked at you calmly.

“It’s been 2 years on the day, hasn’t it?” He asked. You nodded, picking up your beer and emptying it.

“You need to get over it.”

“You don’t just get over your husband dying in a car crash.” You looked at Alex, who was sighing.

“I know. But he wouldn’t want you to be miserable. He’d say you need to get laid. It’s been 2 years Sweetheart.” Alex winked at you, which made you chuckle. Yes. That sounded like Jake. And Alex would know. He was his best friend.

“And how do I get laid? It’s not like there’s a line somewhere.”

The door of the pub opened, and your head turned in the direction, to see who entered. Good thing you already drank your beer. There was no other words as to describe him as sex on legs.

Completely dressed in black, he looked through the room and slowly made his way to the opposite end of the bar you were sitting in. He had short dark hair, no beard, which brought out his perfect cheekbones. Alex chuckled beside you. You closed your mouth which apparently had opened and coughed looking at him.

“Maybe he can get you laid.” He whispered grinning, walking down the bar to take his order.

“Oh my god shut up.” You called after him, which made him laugh loudly. The hot stranger looked at you, his eyebrows raised, before his attention was on Alex to order.

Another beer was placed in front of you a couple of minutes later.

“I need to get up early tomorrow. No more beer for me. But I’ll take a tea.” You told Alex.

“It’s not from me.” You looked at him, and he nodded in the direction down the bar.

“Oh come on. Stop messing with me.”

“I’m not. He told me to get you your favourite. Because you looked like hell.”

“You’re kidding.”

He shook his head.

“I’m not.” He held his hands up innocently. You looked at him, and came to the conclusion, that he was not messing with you. You got up, took the beer and walked over to hot guy.

“Are you always randomly offending people, or am I the exception?” You asked, standing beside him. He turned in his seat to look at you. His brown eyes taking you in. Damn.

“It wasn’t my intention to offend you. I merely wanted to improve your day.”

“By saying I look like hell?”

“By inviting you for a drink, so you wouldn’t think about what is on your mind.”

“Right.” You looked confused at him, there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

“If you want talk about it…”

“Why would I talk about my issues with a complete stranger?”

“People say I’m a good listener.”

“What people?”

“People.” He shrugged his shoulders. Alex apparently had served him his drink. Scotch.

You still looked at him confused, as he picked up his glass and brought it to his lips. You breathed in deep, as you saw his jawline work. Jesus fucking Christ…

“Tea?” Alex stood beside you, trying to hide his grin.

“Thanks.” You took it and sat down beside hot stranger guy who looked at you.

“I’m John by the way.”

“Y/N.”

“So what is on your mind?”

“Just a shitty day I guess.”

“Talk about shitty days.” He shook his head, breathing out loudly.

“Oh?” You asked.

“First day at the new job. Not exactly happy how it went.” He explained.

“Wanna talk about it? People say I’m a good listener.” You smirked at him. He laughed, holding his hand in front of his mouth. That was cute.

“Not much to talk about. I took over the job that had been done by someone else for almost 20 years and everything is a mess. It will take me forever to sort it out.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“It is complicated. Thank you. The first one who finally understands me.” He genuinely smiled.

“You are very welcome.” You winked at him and you could swear you saw him blush, but he hid his face in his hands very quickly.

You looked across the room to spot Alex who was giving you two thumbs. You rolled your eyes and put you attention back to John.

“So what about you?” He asked you.

“What about me?”

“Why did you have a shitty day?” He put his head on one of his hands, turning his whole attention to you.

“Oh… Just… Work stuff. And a broken coffee machine in the morning. And… then my car wouldn’t start. Shit I forgot about that.”

“Good thing it’s Friday. Or do you need your car tomorrow?”

“Nope. I’m planning on staying in bed the whole weekend.” You nibbled innocently on your tea and John coughed, having just drank from his scotch.

You put your hand on his back, rubbing it gently.

“You okay?” You asked him. He nodded.

“Thank you.”

“So, if you just started working here, have you seen any of the sights?” You asked him, having talked for about an hour about what came to your minds.

“I actually grew up here.”

“You did?”

“In the orphanage on the other side of town.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry. What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“It’s been 40 years, I think I can tell you, that my parents died in a car crash, when I was 4 years old.”

“Must have been hard to grow up there.”

“It was.” He looked at your hand, which was laying on his. You didn’t even notice that you put it there. He turned his hand, enwinding your fingers with his, drawing small circles on the back of your hand. You closed your eyes, breathing in deep, before you opened them again to look at him. The look he gave you, with his slightly parted lips, eyes as dark as chocolate, made you shiver.

“We’re closing.” Alex shouted and you blinked a couple of times, before you turned your head. There were only 4 people left, including the two of you.

“Put it on my tab?” You asked Alex.

“Sure thing. What about you?” He looked at John, who still had the same expression on his face. He searched for a couple of notes, and handed him over to Alex.

“That’s 20 to much.”

“Keep it.” He finally looked at Alex, smiling gently.

“Well thank you. Please come back as often as you like.” Alex smiled. John nodded.

“Do you need a lift home?” Alex asked you.

You looked from him to John.

“I think I’m good Alex. Thanks.”

“Well then. See you tomorrow.” Alex handed you your coat. John stood and held it out for you, helping you put it on.

“Thanks.” You knotted the belt of you coat, looking up at John. He really was tall. You didn’t notice it all the time you were sitting beside him.

“Can I give you a lift home?” He asked, putting his jacket on.

“That would be great, yes.” You smiled up at him, already going to the door.

As soon as the cold night air hit you, you were wide awake. Were you about to invite a complete stranger into your home? Well not complete stranger. You liked him. He wasn’t wrong when he told you, that he was a good listener.

The door behind you opened, and John stepped out, a cigarette in his mouth, lightening it on his way over to you. What was it about good looking men and cigarettes?

“Where’s your car?” You ask.

“I don’t have a car.” He came to stand in front of you and nodded his head to your right, where a motorcycle was standing.

“I’ve never rode a motorcycle.” You confessed.

“Well another first time.” He whispered, putting the hair, that had fallen into your face, behind your ear, softly touching your ear, caressing you cheek.

“Another first time?” You asked hoarsely, your hand hesitantly wandering up his chest. He was so close.

“First time at the new job. First time at the pub. First time meeting you. First time…” He turned his head, to push the smoke out of his lungs, throwing the cigarette away. You could feel his heart beating, beneath your fingers.

“First time?” You asked shakily.

“We shouldn’t do this.” He whispered as he bend down to kiss your lips. His soft lips lay firm on yours, his arms coming around you, to put you flush against his chest. Your hands wandered into his neck, up in his hair, making him open his mouth, where your tongue found his. He bit lightly into your lip as you parted for some air. Apparently you needed air to survive. A weird concept when you knew you could be kissing him instead.

He looked down at you. You could see the passion in his eyes. But there was something else in it. Confusion? Regret? You weren’t sure.

“Let’s get you home.” He again whispered and helped you sit on his motorcycle, putting the helmet on your head, before he himself sat in front of you, grabbing you hands, crossing them around his waist. You clanged to his back.

“Where to?” He asked. You gave him your address, offering directions.

“No need. I know exactly where to go.” He winked at you, as he put his helmet on and started the engine.

You barely made it through the door of your house, as John picked you up, pinning you with your back on the door, kissing you demanding. Your legs came around his hips, as his hand wandered up your thigh, his other hand next to your head on the wall. You whimpered, as he began to roll his hips, making you feel just how aroused he was.

“We shouldn’t do this.” He whispered again, his tongue drawing a line down your throat, kissing your neck.

“You... You keep saying that… But you’re doing it anyway.” You stuttered, drawing your head back to rest at the door behind you. He pushed you further up, his hand wandering from your thigh up to you cleavage. He opened the first buttons of you blouse, before he quickly shoved it open, buttons flying everywhere. His tongue dipped between you still clothed breasts, before he put the cup of your bra down, and gently sucked on your nipple, before he bit in it, making you cry out loud.

“Keep doing that, and I’m going to…” You started to say, as his lips closed around your other bud, sucking hard, his tongue flicking around it.

“Oh god…” You cried out, your whole body shaking. He stopped what he was doing, looking at you.

“Did you just..?” He raised an eyebrow. You grabbed him by his shirt, and kissed him hard.

“Yes I did just cum John. And you haven’t even touched me anywhere near to where I want you to touch me.” Growling he pushed you off the door.

“Bedroom.” There was no question in his voice. You put your feet down on the ground, suddenly feeling very confident, as you removed your blouse and opened your bra, never leaving his eyes, as you let them both fall to the ground. His eyes taking you in. You turned around, walking up the stairs to your bedroom. It wasn’t long until you felt two arms around your waist, his head coming to rest on your shoulder before he picked you up again, tossing you on your bed shrieking. You turned, resting your weight on your arms as you looked up at him. The only light in the room was the moonlight that came through the windows, accenting his figure even more. He wasn’t just hot. He was beautiful.

“You’re wearing entirely to many clothes, John.” You said, wetting your lips, as you looked up at him. You pushed yourself up, to knee on the bed and began to open his shirt. One button after the next, before you slowly pushed it down his shoulders. Kissing his collarbones, your hands rested on his chest. You let your tongue wander down, nibbling on his nipple. You looked up at him, his eyes watching your every move.

You kissed yourself down his stomach, dipping your tongue into his bellybutton, before your hand began to rub him through his pants. He was impressive to say the least. He moaned, as you slowly worked your hand up and down. You could see his jaw tense, he closed his eyes, surely enjoying what you were doing. You were about to open his belt, when you felt his hands on yours.

“Lay back, legs up.” He whispered demanding.

You bit your lip, as you let yourself fall down into your bed. He grabbed your legs, slowly dragging down your pants and panties in one go. He tossed them behind him, kissing your ankle, as he slowly kneeled down, spreading your legs on his way down. You suddenly felt very exposed, laying like this in front of him, and tried to close your legs, as you felt his lips on your inner thigh. You looked down at him, as his head lay in front of you, just looking at your core.

You were about to ask, what he was doing, when he gently pushed himself up and his lips lightly sucked on your outer lips. You let your head fall back in the sheets, moaning deeply. It had been more than 2 years since anyone than you had even touched you.

Sucking and licking his way up he closed his lips around your clit and flicked his lips over it. Your hands flew into his hair to hold him there. You could feel him smiling, as he licked himself down to your opening, shoving his tongue into you. You couldn’t look away from his eyes, that were intensely looking at you, as he began to eat you out. You were breathing heavy, when you felt two of his fingers pushing into you, his tongue working on your clit. Your hips started to move to get him deeper ,when his fingers brushed over a particular spot inside you, that had you nearly screaming.

“There it is...” He himself nearly moaned. He put all his attention to this spot, while you grabbed the sheets beside you.

“Fuck. I’m gonna...” You moaned.

“Come” He murmured, sucking hardly on your clit. You came, your whole body shaking, breathing heavy, rolling your hips, as he fingerfucked you through your orgasm. You were pretty sure you saw stars at some point.

He pulled his fingers out of you, putting them in his mouth before he leant down to you, kissing you, tasting yourself. Your hands crossed behind his neck, making their way down his strong back, your fingers sneaking in his pants, lightly scratching his ass.

He growled, reaching for your hands.

“Hands up. And leave them there.”

“Yes Sir.” You groaned, putting your hands above your head, resting them on your pillow. Who would have thought you like being manhandled?

He opened his belt, pulling it out of it’s loops in one movement, throwing it on the ground. You bit your lip. The anticipation was nearly killing you.

He opened the buttons of his pants, letting them drop to the ground. Apparently he wasn’t a big fan of underwear. Crawling on top of you, you suppressed the urge to put your arms around him. He kissed himself up from your hips, leaving a line to your breasts, up to you neck, before his lips were on yours. You could feel him at you entrance, rolling your hips to get some kind of friction. He bit in your earlobe and sucked on the skin behind you ear. Your hands came to rest on his back, lightly scratching his skin, as he looked at you.

“Didn’t I say to leave your hands up?” He asked, moving his tip up and down your slit, making you moan.

“I never said I would.” You rolled your hips, his tip slightly sinking into you. He smirked before he pushed forward and thrusted his length into you. You closed your eyes, opening your mouth but no sound came out of it. You felt so full.

“Open your eyes.” He whispered, his left arm sneaking behind your back, lifting you up slightly. You opened your eyes, breathing in deep as he began to slowly move inside you. Unintentionally you clenched your muscles, making him moan.

“God you’re tight.”

“It’s been some time.” You groaned, rolling your hips to meet his movements.

“For me too.” He grabbed your leg, putting it over his shoulder, fastening his pace.

“I find that hard to believe.” You shuddered, as he brushed against that spot again.

“Hmmm... Harder” You moaned, your hands wandering down to touch yourself.

He started to thrust harder into you, grabbing your other leg, putting it on his shoulder too. He was so deep inside of you, you would be sore for days. His hand came down, to where you were touching yourself, moving your hand faster, as he quickened his movements.

Your whole body shook as you came within seconds, hissing he pulled out of you to come on your stomach. You were both breathing heavy as he leaned down to kiss you, before he let himself fall on his back next to you. Neither of you moved or said anything for a couple minutes, both of you trying to control your breathing. When you began to shiver, this time from the cold, you got up to the ensuite to pee and clean yourself a little. Walking back you saw him looking at you, so you extra swayed your hips. As you climbed back into your bed, warm arms came around you to pull you on his chest. You put the blanket above both of you and fell asleep within the next minutes, listening to his heartbeat.

…..

Your sister looked at you with big eyes, before she straightened up in her seat, eying the priest. There was no doubt. It was John, that was wearing a beige robe, taking about how blessed this child is, now that it is about to be baptized and become a child of god.

“I mean he is hot. You didn’t lie there.” Your sister said, turning her head to you.

“He still is a priest. A catholic priest. Who is supposed to live in celibate.”

“From what you’ve told me, I don’t think he lives in celibate.” She whispered, wiggling her eyebrows. The priest looked through the crowd and was startled for a second, as he spotted you. You were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that you had the best sex of your life with a catholic priest, so you didn’t really pay attention to what he was saying.

You were standing outside together with your sister, when you shivered. Your sister looked behind you, and then back to you.

“I’ll leave you to it then.” She kissed your cheek. “Don’t blame yourself. He should have told you. Also. He’s really really hot.”

“Not helpful.” You whispered back as she smiled.

“Father.” She greeted him and left you standing with him.

Shaking your head you exhaled and turned around.

“Can I do something for you, Father?” You raised your eyebrow and John looked down at you. He had lost his robe somewhere on the way and was only wearing his black pants and dress shirt. And his clerical collar. You crossed your arms in front of you. Waiting for him to say something.

“I should have told you.”

“No shit.” You hissed. A couple of heads turned towards you and you nodded smiling at them until they turned away from you.

“Would it have mattered if I told you?” He asked. You thought about that. Would it? You took to long to answer, and saw him nodding his head, a little smirk on his face.

“I can’t talk about that on the baptism of my friends baby.”

“Then come see me later. I’ll be here.” He gestured to the church.

“ I’m sure you will.” You said and left him standing.

“Oh please. Don’t tell me you would have said no, if he had told you. You merely regret the lost opportunity of moaning Father when he made you come.” Your sister said.

“Rude.” You punched her arm, drinking your second glass of prosecco. You had left the party after the baptism rather shortly. Your sister following you. Now you were sitting on her balcony, looking down the street.

“What did he say after I left?” She asked.

“He wants to talk. I should come see him at the church.”

“What are you doing here then?”

“Trying to talk myself out of going there, because I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself, if he’s standing in front of me.”

Your sister shrugged her shoulders. “We’re all going to hell anyway. If you get all hot and bothered because you get laid by a priest, who cares? We’re atheists anyway.”

“How are we related?” You asked her and shook your head laughing, emptying your glass.

“Okay I’m going.”

He was standing outside of the church, when you exited your car. The sun just started to go down, leaving a pink light to illuminate everything. He spotted you right away and walked towards you, putting his cigarette out, which he had been smoking.

“You have some explaining to do.” You told him. He nodded.

“Let’s get inside. I have to get my stuff.”

“Okay.”

You walked behind him into the church. You shouldn’t be thinking about how his naked skin under your fingers felt. Or how he tasted, but you couldn’t help yourself. Stopping in the middle of the aisle you looked up to the big cross hanging in front of you.

You never had been raised religious. Your parents didn’t believe in it, and neither did you. Still, it felt weird. Having thoughts like these in a church. The house of god. Where people came to pray.

“If it would make you feel better, I could take your confession.” John was standing at the altar, waiting for you.

“I’m not catholic. And I don’t think you taking my confession would help me ease my thoughts. Shouldn’t you be confessing? Or punishing yourself? You didn’t just break you celibate, you lied. You drank. Aren’t these all things, you’re supposed to not be doing? Stop smiling at me you idiot.”

“I’m sorry. And yes. Yes you’re right. I did break all the rules to have you but I don’t regret it.”

“No?”

He walked towards you and your breath hitched, when he stopped right in front of you. You could feel his warmth and smell his scent.

“Let me take your confession.” He whispered into your ear and you swallowed. Where you about to have kinky sex in a church? He tilted his head, towards the confessional and started walking towards it, disappearing on the left side. Headshaking you followed him, sitting down on the right side, closing the curtain. There was little coming from the other side where John was sitting.

“So what should I confess to you now?” You asked, crossing your legs.

“That’s not how it works. You say Bless me father for I have sinned and then you tell me when your last confession was.”

“But I’m not catholic.”

“Humour me.”

“You just want me to address you as father because you like hearing it, don’t you?” And deep inside you, you did too. You were met with silence on the other side

Ah fuck it.

“Bless me father for I have sinned. I’ve never confessed, so it’s been a little more than 32 years.”

“What do you have to confess?”

“Apart from sleeping with a catholic priest who is sitting next to me?” She quirked her eyebrow. You could hear him chuckle.

“Yes. Apart from that.”

You sighed.

“Well I’m not exactly familiar with your rules. But... I guess it’s safe to say I use God’s name in every way not appropriate. Let’s see... I once lied to my mom about going to a slumber party with my best friend, when I really went to sleep with my boyfriend. Oh I stole a bathrobe at a hotel once. I’m good at this.” You laughed a little.

“This is not supposed to be fun.”

“Well maybe you should confess your sins then.” You suggested.

“You’re no priest.”

“And I’m not catholic and yet her I sit, confessing my sins to you.” You were met with silence again.

After a couple minutes you were pretty sure, that he wouldn’t talk, so you stood, walking out of the confessional, when a hand grabbed your wrist, and he pulled you back, closing the door behind you, pushing you down on his lap. His lips were on yours, as his hands wandered under your dress up your thigh. Your hands were in his hair. You couldn’t believe this was happening. He rubbed you over the thin fabric of your panties, before he pulled it to the side and shoved his finger deep inside of you. You bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning. Arching your back, your hands came to his shoulders, lifting you up and down, as you rode his finger. He added two more and you positively lost your mind. Until he firmly grabbed you hip, keeping you still, stopping all his movements, with his fingers buried deep inside of you.

You looked down at him.

“You want me to confess my sins?” He asked you, slowly moving his fingers inside of you. You bit your lip and nodded.

“I came here to take care of something, but on my first night here I met you.” His thumb came up to your clit, beginning to slowly draw circles, while his fingers still moved within you. You whimpered.

“And instead of focusing on my task here, all I can think about is the various places I want to fuck you in.” He began to move faster.

“It’s difficult as it is, trying to play the priest, but you...” He shook his head. “You I haven’t counted in.”

It took a while until the information he just gave you, processed in your brain.

“You’re not a priest?” You asked.

“I didn’t say that.” He smirked.

You crossed your arms around his neck, as you felt your orgasm approach fast.

“John...” You breathed as you came, tugging on his hair, as you rode down your high.

You barely heard his zipper, before he replaced his fingers inside you with his cock.

“Oh god.” You moaned quietly.

“Again with the blasphemy.” He chuckled, grabbing your legs, to put them behind his back, picking you up and pressing you against the wall. He started to push into you faster and harder.

“Bloody Hell John” You moaned, as you felt his finger rubbing your clit. You were about to come again.

“That’s where we’re all going anyway honey.” He groaned in your ear, as he spilled inside of you, taking you over the edge with him.

#ff #fanfic #fanfiction #keanu reeves #smut #I'll be outside #waiting for the ground to open #because you know hell and stuff #john constantine x reader

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