[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.]
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viewsource) wrote2020-08-02 06:05 pm
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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.]
no subject
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 subject
[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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
[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?
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.]