[Yeah. Jesus Christ. If John's laugh at that had been a fraction higher pitched, it would've been a giggle. Elliot may have been figuring John out slowly as they continued to share this space, but he was still a near-complete mystery. That was part of what made him so unbearably alluring.
John stood up and straightened out his legs to stretch them, then took off his own pants and underwear. Not his shirt: there was very, very little that made him self-conscious, but his height and the sunken, hollow look of his chest and abdomen were among those things. The latter had gotten a bit better while he'd been living here, but his metabolism would never be quite right after being near-starving for five years.
If Elliot moved to take it off, he'd let him, but he wasn't volunteering it. He just got back into Elliot's lap, cock hard and flushed between them, and smirked at him; one hand caught his right arm by the wrist, holding his hand up so he could press his own palm to palm against it, his fingers so much shorter than Elliot's. He really fucking loved Elliot's hands, maybe because he was so often typing at the speed of light, which really showed off how slender and nimble his fingers were.]
Now, I wanna feel your hands on me. Not just my hair.
[Elliot's eyes took in the other stripping off his clothes, all but his shirt. He didn't say anything and he wouldn't move to take it off either. There was no need to as the other climbed back into his lap, pressing close to him. He could feel the hard heat against his skin but his eyes met John's resisting the urge to look down at him.
He looked where their hands connected when John grabbed his, only a moment of unease passing through him at the touch. There was a softness to that feeling their palms pressed against each other, his stomach twisted a little and he wasn't sure why. He didn't really have time to think about it.
John'd made it clear what he wanted and after how good he'd made Elliot feel, Elliot was fully intent to return that favor.]
Okay.
[It wasn't necessary to say but the word came out because that was the way Elliot was, leveling his consent to things out loud, acknowledging and questioning mundane and accepting the less so.
His hand slid away from the other's and wrapped around his length, stroking once. Elliot's free hand wrapped around john's hip, gripping firm as he started to find a rhythm, searching for the best response.
It was John, so he figured fast, somewhat hard was what he'd like.]
Oh god... [John shuddered as soon as Elliot took hold of him, and he was about to rock his hips into it when the other hand came down to hold him in place. He wasn't sure if it was meant to be restrictive or not, but something about the idea was so appealing that he chose to stay still as though it was; he wouldn't have thought that he'd ever like to be held down, but apparently he'd let Elliot do it.
So, so far gone.]
God, shit, yeah... [It probably wasn't that surprising that John should be so vocal, his muttered curses and nonsense encouragement rising in intensity as Elliot pumped him harder. He dropped forward when his body started to shiver under the waves of pleasure, arms looping around Elliot's shoulders and face pressing into his neck. The layered impacts of waiting so long, serving Elliot first, and the drugs were hitting him hard as well.] ... that's good, that's fucking good...
[Elliot hadn't meant it to be restrictive and he didn't notice that that might be how anyone would take it. He just wanted to get a firm hold on him, feel the flesh there. John felt even smaller like this, on his lap, his hand wrapped around his hip.
He felt a smile tugging at his lips again when the other responded to his touch so vocally. He liked it, more than he would have thought he would, stroking quickly over his length, searching for the ways he could twist his hand or swipe his thumb that would make his body shiver more, make him moan louder against his neck.
The hand on his hip slid further back cupping his ass and squeezing as he did the same not quite so firm to the cock in his hand]
You're good.
[He wasn't sure why he said it. The words slipping out amidst the other's pleasured encouragements.]
[Even without the impact of being brought full speed ahead toward orgasm, John thought that he'd never liked Elliot as much as he did on this evening. That might not have been fair when they were both flying high, but Elliot was joking with him, saying some things that were almost fond, and it made him flush with something quite aside from arousal.
And oh, Elliot's hands were just as deft as they looked on his keyboard, wringing John's moans into whimpers with the firm grip on his ass and the careful, quick touches on his cock. He couldn't even find words anymore, just incoherent noises and gasps, his hips rocking frantically with the rhythm of Elliot's hand now that he no longer had a reason to keep still.
His mind started to wander, then, with the possibility of things like this happening again. Would Elliot scratch? Would he bite? Would he want to fuck John or be fucked? Would he hold John down, fingertips pressing bruises into his skin? All the ideas cycling through his head brought him closer and closer, but the last - Elliot leaving bruises on him - finally made him jerk hard into Elliot's grip and come with a strangled cry. That was probably fucked up, but he wasn't thinking about it too much when he slumped against Elliot's chest in a bizarre imitation of an embrace, his whole body heaving as he tried to catch his breath.]
[Elliot found himself wondering what the other was thinking as he jerked him off. Was he thinking at all? He moaned enough, small sounds that were nearly enough to get him hart again. He never stopped, working him to that release and then stroking him through it, his thoughts never stopped either.
But he didn't really have a clue where to begin on what the other was thinking. He hadn't hacked him. He didn't think he knew him at all, not really. Not the way he usually knew people. There was something disconcerting about that.
Elliot's hand slid up from the other's ass to his lower back, fingers collecting the other's come, much like he had done with his though that'd been on his face and he brought his fingers to his lip, a small satisfied sound as he tasted him like that.]
[John's eyes were massive in his face, still all pupil and no iris, as he sat up and watched Elliot lick his fingers clean. Turnabout was fair play and all that, but feeling such a strong jolt of arousal right after he'd come made him jerk in a more uncomfortable way, his entire body oversensitive and overstimulated.]
Holy... [Shit? Fuck? Crap? He never finished that thought. Instead, he just gave Elliot a slow, drowsy kiss, more affection leaking into it than he intended. His arms were still loosely draped around Elliot's shoulders, the entire moment much too open and vulnerable, which he would likely notice once the afterglow had worn off.]
[Elliot's hand went back to John's hip, kissing him back. This felt weird, weirder than anything else. It was a warm and affectionate kiss. It wasn't quiet like those others that they had shared. There was something intimate about it that startled Elliot.]
Tired? [He murmured against his lips, the fingers of his hand not on his hip moved back into his hair again in a gentle stroke.]
[When Elliot spoke up, John came back to himself a little, sitting up and forcing his mind to think past the haze of euphoria he'd been drifting through for so long thanks to Molly and arousal. He pulled his arms out of the embrace a little too quickly, a guarded expression slipping over his features.
If Elliot hadn't said anything, John probably could've had a little nap right there on his chest and woken up ready to party. That's how deeply entranced he'd been by everything that happened. Jesus Christ, Molly was not something to fuck with, and the effects weren't showing any signs of slowing down - he was just keenly enough aware of them to push back, at last. He wasn't sure how he hadn't noticed the strangeness of this dazed bliss for so long.]
Holy shit. [There was the end of his thought, but this time it was said abruptly, not in a dreamy murmur.] I'm... really fucked up. Really fucked up.
[The way he climbed off Elliot's lap was almost cautious. Dropping back onto the couch, he scrubbed a hand vigorously over his face; he wasn't so much unsettled by what had just happened as he was by the idea that he might have revealed a lot to an equally fucked up - possibly enough to have done something he wouldn't normally - Elliot.]
The way John pulled back so quickly, and just as quickly it felt like and he was off of his lap. Elliot frowned but he turned his head away from John. Was he already regretting what they'd done? There's no way he was even completely sober yet.
Elliot knew he wasn't sober yet and that meant John definitely wasn't. So John must regret it. He quickly moved to fix his pants and underwear before grabbing a cigarette and lighting it, his normal twitchiness starting to come back with how fast his thoughts were starting to fly. He'd fucked around with someone who was basically still a kid and now that kid regretted it.
It was Elliot's fault -- never mind John had started it all.]
Fuck... yeah... [He paused, rubbing his fingers over his hair and then walking further away from the couch which suddenly felt like a crime scene.] Sorry.
[No, god, that wasn't what he meant. He could see how it looked and sounded that way now, but it wasn't at all what he meant. It was impossible to think clearly, and it felt like trying to move in quicksand, the way it got more difficult the more he concentrated.
He leaped up from the couch to step in front of Elliot, almost placing a hand on his chest to stop him but choosing to let his position speak for itself.]
Not what I meant. There's nothing to be sorry for. You still didn't take advantage of me.
[Elliot's mouth felt dry. That wasn't what he was most worried about really. But do you regret it? Why was he worried about that? It'd already happened. What did it matter really?
He nodded, though, turning away from him as he exhaled smoke.] Yeah.
Okay. [The affects of the molly had died down enough that without direct stimulation it was easy to discard them, his walls and giant moat around himself starting to going back into place.]
[John's voice was pinched with annoyance, mostly because he knew there was probably no getting through to Elliot now. Not for the night, at least, if he'd found something to be hung up on to the point where he couldn't listen. Or wouldn't, John thought rather unkindly, not yet knowing the full intensity of Elliot's occasional disconnects from the world around him.
Huffing out a sigh, he went to gather the bedding he used to sleep on the couch, which simply got shoved into a corner during the day. He was tired now, absolutely exhausted, and wanted to start feeling like himself again as soon as he could; part of him still wanted to go to Elliot and wrap his arms around him from behind, enjoy the warmth and solidity of his frame, which definitely meant that he was out of his fucking mind.
For sleepwear, he just tugged on the boxers he'd discarded with his jeans, leaving his t-shirt on. He looked at Elliot's tense figure once more, then sighed again and curled up on the couch.]
[Elliot's face fell for a moment but he wasn't facing John since he didn't want to blow smoke in his face -- convenient. But all the same he quickly recovered his expression and looked at the other.
He wanted to say something, anything. But he didn't want to ask if he regretted it because he didn't want to hear him say yes. Elliot didn't regret it. But he should have. He knew that. He didn't need John to confirm it.]
Yeah.
[Simple, and it was close enough to the truth or at least it had to be. Elliot continued smoking though he knew he was far too agitated to sleep now so he went to his computer instead of his bed, ignoring Flipper of course when she tried to get his attention too.]
Flipper. C'mere. [He was definitely more affectionate with the dog than any human being (or fellow mutant), letting her curl up against him when she slept and always mussing her fur affectionately when she was near him. There was something soft in him, but it only came out unrestricted to a tiny dog.
He'd never be soft enough to admit that he was terrified of how much he felt for Elliot, and that's what had caused him to pull away so suddenly.
Stretched out on his back with Flipper right on his chest, one arm thrown over her, he eventually fell into a restless sleep.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
viewsource) wrote2020-08-02 06:05 pm
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John stood up and straightened out his legs to stretch them, then took off his own pants and underwear. Not his shirt: there was very, very little that made him self-conscious, but his height and the sunken, hollow look of his chest and abdomen were among those things. The latter had gotten a bit better while he'd been living here, but his metabolism would never be quite right after being near-starving for five years.
If Elliot moved to take it off, he'd let him, but he wasn't volunteering it. He just got back into Elliot's lap, cock hard and flushed between them, and smirked at him; one hand caught his right arm by the wrist, holding his hand up so he could press his own palm to palm against it, his fingers so much shorter than Elliot's. He really fucking loved Elliot's hands, maybe because he was so often typing at the speed of light, which really showed off how slender and nimble his fingers were.]
Now, I wanna feel your hands on me. Not just my hair.
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He looked where their hands connected when John grabbed his, only a moment of unease passing through him at the touch. There was a softness to that feeling their palms pressed against each other, his stomach twisted a little and he wasn't sure why. He didn't really have time to think about it.
John'd made it clear what he wanted and after how good he'd made Elliot feel, Elliot was fully intent to return that favor.]
Okay.
[It wasn't necessary to say but the word came out because that was the way Elliot was, leveling his consent to things out loud, acknowledging and questioning mundane and accepting the less so.
His hand slid away from the other's and wrapped around his length, stroking once. Elliot's free hand wrapped around john's hip, gripping firm as he started to find a rhythm, searching for the best response.
It was John, so he figured fast, somewhat hard was what he'd like.]
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So, so far gone.]
God, shit, yeah... [It probably wasn't that surprising that John should be so vocal, his muttered curses and nonsense encouragement rising in intensity as Elliot pumped him harder. He dropped forward when his body started to shiver under the waves of pleasure, arms looping around Elliot's shoulders and face pressing into his neck. The layered impacts of waiting so long, serving Elliot first, and the drugs were hitting him hard as well.] ... that's good, that's fucking good...
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He felt a smile tugging at his lips again when the other responded to his touch so vocally. He liked it, more than he would have thought he would, stroking quickly over his length, searching for the ways he could twist his hand or swipe his thumb that would make his body shiver more, make him moan louder against his neck.
The hand on his hip slid further back cupping his ass and squeezing as he did the same not quite so firm to the cock in his hand]
You're good.
[He wasn't sure why he said it. The words slipping out amidst the other's pleasured encouragements.]
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And oh, Elliot's hands were just as deft as they looked on his keyboard, wringing John's moans into whimpers with the firm grip on his ass and the careful, quick touches on his cock. He couldn't even find words anymore, just incoherent noises and gasps, his hips rocking frantically with the rhythm of Elliot's hand now that he no longer had a reason to keep still.
His mind started to wander, then, with the possibility of things like this happening again. Would Elliot scratch? Would he bite? Would he want to fuck John or be fucked? Would he hold John down, fingertips pressing bruises into his skin? All the ideas cycling through his head brought him closer and closer, but the last - Elliot leaving bruises on him - finally made him jerk hard into Elliot's grip and come with a strangled cry. That was probably fucked up, but he wasn't thinking about it too much when he slumped against Elliot's chest in a bizarre imitation of an embrace, his whole body heaving as he tried to catch his breath.]
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But he didn't really have a clue where to begin on what the other was thinking. He hadn't hacked him. He didn't think he knew him at all, not really. Not the way he usually knew people. There was something disconcerting about that.
Elliot's hand slid up from the other's ass to his lower back, fingers collecting the other's come, much like he had done with his though that'd been on his face and he brought his fingers to his lip, a small satisfied sound as he tasted him like that.]
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Holy... [Shit? Fuck? Crap? He never finished that thought. Instead, he just gave Elliot a slow, drowsy kiss, more affection leaking into it than he intended. His arms were still loosely draped around Elliot's shoulders, the entire moment much too open and vulnerable, which he would likely notice once the afterglow had worn off.]
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Tired? [He murmured against his lips, the fingers of his hand not on his hip moved back into his hair again in a gentle stroke.]
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If Elliot hadn't said anything, John probably could've had a little nap right there on his chest and woken up ready to party. That's how deeply entranced he'd been by everything that happened. Jesus Christ, Molly was not something to fuck with, and the effects weren't showing any signs of slowing down - he was just keenly enough aware of them to push back, at last. He wasn't sure how he hadn't noticed the strangeness of this dazed bliss for so long.]
Holy shit. [There was the end of his thought, but this time it was said abruptly, not in a dreamy murmur.] I'm... really fucked up. Really fucked up.
[The way he climbed off Elliot's lap was almost cautious. Dropping back onto the couch, he scrubbed a hand vigorously over his face; he wasn't so much unsettled by what had just happened as he was by the idea that he might have revealed a lot to an equally fucked up - possibly enough to have done something he wouldn't normally - Elliot.]
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The way John pulled back so quickly, and just as quickly it felt like and he was off of his lap. Elliot frowned but he turned his head away from John. Was he already regretting what they'd done? There's no way he was even completely sober yet.
Elliot knew he wasn't sober yet and that meant John definitely wasn't. So John must regret it. He quickly moved to fix his pants and underwear before grabbing a cigarette and lighting it, his normal twitchiness starting to come back with how fast his thoughts were starting to fly. He'd fucked around with someone who was basically still a kid and now that kid regretted it.
It was Elliot's fault -- never mind John had started it all.]
Fuck... yeah... [He paused, rubbing his fingers over his hair and then walking further away from the couch which suddenly felt like a crime scene.] Sorry.
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[No, god, that wasn't what he meant. He could see how it looked and sounded that way now, but it wasn't at all what he meant. It was impossible to think clearly, and it felt like trying to move in quicksand, the way it got more difficult the more he concentrated.
He leaped up from the couch to step in front of Elliot, almost placing a hand on his chest to stop him but choosing to let his position speak for itself.]
Not what I meant. There's nothing to be sorry for. You still didn't take advantage of me.
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He nodded, though, turning away from him as he exhaled smoke.] Yeah.
Okay. [The affects of the molly had died down enough that without direct stimulation it was easy to discard them, his walls and giant moat around himself starting to going back into place.]
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[John's voice was pinched with annoyance, mostly because he knew there was probably no getting through to Elliot now. Not for the night, at least, if he'd found something to be hung up on to the point where he couldn't listen. Or wouldn't, John thought rather unkindly, not yet knowing the full intensity of Elliot's occasional disconnects from the world around him.
Huffing out a sigh, he went to gather the bedding he used to sleep on the couch, which simply got shoved into a corner during the day. He was tired now, absolutely exhausted, and wanted to start feeling like himself again as soon as he could; part of him still wanted to go to Elliot and wrap his arms around him from behind, enjoy the warmth and solidity of his frame, which definitely meant that he was out of his fucking mind.
For sleepwear, he just tugged on the boxers he'd discarded with his jeans, leaving his t-shirt on. He looked at Elliot's tense figure once more, then sighed again and curled up on the couch.]
Everything's cool, alright?
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He wanted to say something, anything. But he didn't want to ask if he regretted it because he didn't want to hear him say yes. Elliot didn't regret it. But he should have. He knew that. He didn't need John to confirm it.]
Yeah.
[Simple, and it was close enough to the truth or at least it had to be. Elliot continued smoking though he knew he was far too agitated to sleep now so he went to his computer instead of his bed, ignoring Flipper of course when she tried to get his attention too.]
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Flipper. C'mere. [He was definitely more affectionate with the dog than any human being (or fellow mutant), letting her curl up against him when she slept and always mussing her fur affectionately when she was near him. There was something soft in him, but it only came out unrestricted to a tiny dog.
He'd never be soft enough to admit that he was terrified of how much he felt for Elliot, and that's what had caused him to pull away so suddenly.
Stretched out on his back with Flipper right on his chest, one arm thrown over her, he eventually fell into a restless sleep.]