benumbing | (no subject)

[there have certainly been men who would've been better off keeping their mouths shut, men who were pretty to fuck and look at, but dull and dimwitted. max isn't one of them. jack draws back just enough to let him answer, looking at him in a distracted sort of way.

god, it's true. he has a weakness for blonds now.]

You seemed interested in the whole 'excalibur' thing. [jack crowds him, kissing, touching, letting his desire be kindled but unhurried.] But I'll tell you a glorious one, if that's one you want. [his hands slide around, cupping max's ass before giving it a squeeze. jack smirks, hiding his fondness behind desire - or trying to.] It's a long story, did you bring your jammies?

[ jack’s hands gripping at max’s ass have his hips rolling forward against his, and max groans low and satisfied, the sound lost against jack’s lips. The man’s a gorgeous, tempting thing in his arms, and if he wasn’t so intrigued by jack’s mind, he’d be flopping him onto the closest soft surface now.

But he wants to hear this, wants to know what story jack’s so keen to tell him. Hell, wants to just hear him talk. He has a talent for it. ] The long stories are the best ones.

[ as for his pajamas, max snorts a laugh, and shrugs. ] I take my jammies everywhere with me. [ because he sleeps naked. So, yeah. ]

[welp, jack always was his worst enemy. because max flopping him onto the closest soft surface is the thing he wants most right about now.

but a promise is a promise, even if it's not in those exact words. jack pulls back with a sigh, eyes roaming longingly over max's body.]

It's a story about a lion who falls in love with a handsome - prince.

[jack changes the word from what it was at the last second, rucking up his shirt to help the other man "change".]

Like the noble beast that he was, the lion approached the man's father, the king, to ask for his blessing. The king was both afraid of the lion and too proud to admit it, so he placed the blame on his son instead, claiming that he could only let the lion near his son if the lion allowed him to clip his claws and file his teeth.

[he grins at that, playfully biting at an exposed shoulder.]

The lion, sick with love, agreed. And what do you think the king did once he'd clipped his claws and filed down his teeth?

[jack leans in to kiss him again and again, not caring if the moral of the story is ever reached.]

[ as jack tells his story, max soaks in the satisfaction in being undressed by him, arms lifting to let the shirt come up and off him, hands reaching for jack's shirt once he's free, to work at the buttons, one by one, following the slow exposure of fair skin as the fabric parts with a light touch.

he takes in the story, noting the particular choice of title and pronouns, and wondering at how it pertains to jack, why he chose this story specifically. jack's teeth scrape against his shoulder, and max dips his head to kiss against his temple, and a sharp cheekbone.

as the fabric of jack's expensive shirt is carefully pushed off the smooth angles of his elegant shoulders, the question's given, and max only pauses a beat or two, before shifting his eyes from jack's bare chest, to his eyes. ]

Killed it.

You've heard this story before.

[jack accuses playfully, knowing that the direction it was headed in was fairly obvious.]

What do you think the moral of the story is? My sister and I always disagreed [his hands go to the button and the zip of his own pants, letting them slide low on his hips once they're unfastened.] She always saw it as love being able to tame even the wildest of beasts, or some romantic nonsense like that.

[a push is all it takes to send them falling to his ankles. jack takes a step back and out of them.]

I always thought it was trying to warn that "love" is deadly, suicide in a shiny wrapper. [he backs all the way to his bed where he sits down, hands pressed against the mattress behind him.] Now that I think about it, maybe it was really a warning to never trust a king. What do you think?

No one who wants you declawed has your best interests in mind, ever.

[ that's just the truth that max knows about the world. he wouldn't say he agrees with either sentiment - jack's or his sister's. framing loving in some ridiculous standard of fairy tale romance is giving it a flimsy, unworthy facade. love is an ugly, messy, chaotic thing, and while wonderful, it's also devastating. like all the best things in the world. but saying love alone is a killer isn't right either. ]

The lion should've been smarter, the prince should've told his dad to go fuck himself. [ jack sits, and max kneels between his thighs, hands pushing the fabric of his opened shirt off his shoulders, to fall away, lips following to kiss against the naked skin there, dragging inwards, along the path of his collar bone. ] Blaming an abstract concept frees up the original people from their fuck ups.

[ max isn't usually that outwardly philosophical. he doesn't muse about it aloud, at least, but when asked, he has more of a mind than most assume, and despite how congenial or carefree he seems day to day, his ideas are more unforgiving that one might expect. his lips trail lower, dipping to kiss and bite over jack's naked thighs, a hand slipping around his cock to stroke languidly. ]

But you're smarter than that, Jack. There's never just two options.

[jack sighs softly, dark eyelashes fluttering as he closes his eyes and just lets himself feel the traveling of his kisses. he was that smart, once, never swayed by anyone else's words or opinions. but then there was his father and his uncle, and sure enough, neither of them had his best interests at heart.]

All this and insightful too. [jack's fingers brush against his hair, brushing against max's cheek before he cups his chin. the former prince opens his eyes again to smile down at him, willing his defenses to lower for this man in this moment.] I don't suppose you did your own tattoos.

[he wants to be a lion, but one who would tell that prince and his father both to go fuck themselves. he tips max's chin up just enough to lean forward and kiss his mouth, slow and deepening.]

[ max had been intending to get his lips down around jack's cock, suck at him until he's pulling at his hair and fucking up into his throat, but jack pulls him back up for a kiss, and the man's lips are irresistible. he doesn't assume he knows anything about the complications of jack benjamin's heart and mind, but this feels like something personal. something important. so he kisses him, deep and long and savoring, as a hand at his shoulder pushes him back to lay, the other smoothing along his thigh and up his hip and side. ]

I didn't, but I know some that could recreate it pretty well. [ tris has a steady hand and a brilliant mind. others in the city, as well. max cups the back of jack's head, as he blankets over him, knee wedging between his legs to settle his hips against his. ]

A lion, I think. [ max murmurs, between kisses, as his fingers stray along the front of one of jack's shoulders, tracing swirls and circles. ] Here. With teeth.

[what a delicious thing he gave up, or maybe just postponed. but given the choice he might've still traded it for the sweetness of his mouth. max has come to mean more to him than just sex, even if he's pretty unparalleled in that department. he makes jack feel comfortable in his own skin, so letting him choose what goes on it seems only right.

he lays back, pulling max with him, just the nearness of his body making him stiff. jack groans, hyper aware of everywhere their skin touches on the outside, of how much he wants to feel him on the inside too. he turns his head to see just where the other man's fingers are tracing, redirecting some of those kisses to his jaw and neck in the process.]

Fuck, yes. [to the tattoo or everything that max is doing to him? both. definitely both.] Come with me. Mix a little pleasure with the pain.

[jack smiles and gives his ass a little slap, grinding his hips up against him.]

[ jack benjamin is a beautiful complexity, a kind of person max doesn't meet often, a kind that doesn't usually look at him and think he's much worth spending time on, but jack has, and max has come to adore these meetings. he has a mind like a maze, and a smile like danger, and kisses with a sweetness that almost feels sinful. not that the idea of sin had ever bothered max, being what he is. ]

Of course. [ max tells him, after letting out a laugh for the slap that resonates through the room, leaving a lovely little burn on the side of his ass, his hips jerking forward in a manner that morphs into a slow rock against him, their thick lengths sliding sweetly together. ] You want me to blow you while you're getting it done? I think a know a couple who'd be good with that.

[ most people max knows aren't worried about watching a bj go down in front of them, honestly. such is witch haus culture. his hand drops from jack's shoulder, smoothing down his naked side, over his hip and his thigh, and back up. such soft, unmarked skin. he came from the lap of luxury, but this boy is all torn up on the inside, and max wants to sit for hours and puzzle the pieces back together. find what the picture is supposed to look like as a whole.

or, you know, just fuck him into the mattress, which is why that hand moves to hook under jack's knee, and tug it up, and to the side, slotting his hips between jack's legs and rolling against him again, intent clear. ]