[ morning in Max's bedroom looks oddly like a cathedral wedged inside a woodlands cabin, given most of the large windows in the room are stained glass, and the angle the sunlight filters in casts vibrant colors along half the floor and the far wall. The room itself is an eclectic mash up of things - mostly something of nature, a lot of furniture made from wood, the scent of cedar thick in the air, with something like balsam and juniper lingering around. there's furs and thick pillows, several loft levels with various cozy nooks or stacks of books - odds and ends. and candles, left unlit for now, scattered on any surface that'll hold them, some even on the ground. cultural relics that seem to have no place next to each other adorn walls and book cases (though the majority of some sort of germanic persuasion), bundles of herbs, books that look like they should be called tomes, crystals and gems of varying sizes. if jack hadn't already been taken through a teleportation spell to get here last night, he could probably still guess that some kind witch or new age fanatic lives here.
the bed is a comfy thing, set in front of the largest window in the room, at least shaded over night by the colored glass, given max realizes not everyone is as weird as him, and likes to sleep with all doors and windows in a room wide open. still, when he wakes up, the first order of business, after nuzzling at one of jack's shoulders and giving a still half-asleep kiss or two to his jaw, is to stretch an arm out and pop a window pane open. it's a claustrophobia thing - he likes being able to see, and breathe in, the outdoors.
should jack start to rouse then, though, he'll tug it back closed, and move to kiss at his cheeks and his temples, shushing at him with a soft 'just making food, go back to sleep', hands tucking blankets and pillows in around him as he extracts himself. there's a sudden lack of burning warmth pressed up against his side or back (max clings in his sleep, sorry if that's awkward), but hopefully what lingers on the sheets will be comfy enough.
choose your own adventure, jack: pass back out, and in about half an hour you'll get breakfast brought to you, or go meandering around max's room and toy with whatever witch things you like, or pull on some of the cloths scattered around on the floor (or pull a blanket toga) and go explore witch haus. don't worry, max will be able to find you. perks of being architect of said magic castle. ]
[Rose Benjamin might approve of the windows. Everything else, not so much. So clearly Jack will have to ask him who his decorator is, and when he finds out that it's Max himself, well, all the better to get him over to his place. The earthy smells around him almost inspires dreams of the woods just south of Gath's border, but they never take hold. The bad dreams will have to come for him some other night, one when he's not tangled up with someone so warm and has such a pleasant ache in his body.
Jack doesn't mind fresh air coming through an open window, but maybe it's for the best that he's alone when he wakes up in the morning light. "Awake" would be a generous word for the few minutes that he lies just staring up at the ceiling and breathing. Max took his body apart just like he promised; it seems his mind followed, and there's nothing he needed more than that.
He finally sits up in the bed once the pleasant fog starts to clear, sheets and furs falling down to his waist. He's sore in all the best places, and idly traces one or two of the bruises and love bites on his body. He remembers the feeling of Max's mouth traveling over his skin, followed by a whisper about breakfast. Should he leave before he gets back? Somehow it doesn't feel right, plus Jack wouldn't mind one more kiss for the road, one more anything. There's also another matter: did he leave his pants back on that bathroom's floor?
Fuck it. Jack sighs and falls back against the pillow, waiting for Max's return. In the meantime, his eyes slowly scan the room around him, eyebrows inching higher at the herbs and crystals and candles. Until he finally muses aloud.]
It's a paper weight somewhere in Tristan's room. He likes cards.
[ Your answers about all this magic bullshit on demand, as Max bumps the bedroom door open with a hip, clad only in a pair of boxer briefs, and in case Jack missed any of the full tattoo array the night before, there it is now. clothes aren't really a requirement for witch haus, and it's not often that max wears more than he has to, but cooking at least needs some kind of underwear, or it's just awkward. his hair is still a ridiculous kind of bed fluffed, but he comes bearing a plate of eggs (a little runny (he might have asked the night before (he might have still been inside jack when he did))), bacon, sausage, toast, and some pancakes. ]
And I'm shit at anything divination anyway, so don't bother asking.
[ a flip of his hand has several of the colored window panes pushed open, unfiltered sunlight making it's way in, with fresh air and enough that he can see the tree outside. there's a ward over the threshold of the window frames, so leaves won't be blowing in, just some breeze. max plops himself back down in the empty spot next to jack, holding out the plate for him with some silverware, and something in a shot glass that seems a little weirdly colored. ]
Drink this first, it'll help with the aches. [ the shot glass handed over, and then he holds up a bottle of water. ] This next, because that tastes like grass, and water's good for you.
[He didn't exactly miss any of the tattoos, but Jack was a bit distracted at the time, concerned more with the taste of his mouth and the feeling of him deep inside. His eyes are appreciative now, admiring the ink along with the muscle that they scroll across.
Jack had wondered at the strange breakfast questions at the time, and likely growled something along the lines of fuck eggs before giving an answer. But he'd have to admit that he's grateful for it now that the sun's up, one hunger giving in to another after Max depleted even his energy. Jack takes his plate and the silverware, appraising the shot glass and its contents for a moment before reaching for the water instead.]
I like the aches. [He slices through the eggs, placing it on top of a bite of pancake before slicing through it too. Jack looks up as he chews, his expression curious yet calm despite the question on his mind.] Heaven, hell, or something else entirely?
[C'mon, hot stuff. Wanna take a ride on the Human Torch?
It's beyond a doubt the most ridiculous pick-up line that Jack has ever heard in his entire life. Perhaps even more ridiculous is just how well it worked. Johnny Storm is a man of juxtapositions, cheesy and charming, playful and honest. He seems wholly unapologetic for everything that he is, and that's just one of the reasons why Jack finds himself attracted to him.
That and an ass that he would eat dinner off of seven nights a week. They've made it to the door, Jack grinding and kissing him like a man starved, unafraid of the flames that still flicker and burn on parts of Johnny's body after their flight here. A voice whispers that he should show more care, a remnant of when it mattered who he was with and who saw them. That time has come to an end. Johnny could fuck him right there if he wanted. But there is just one little detail:]
If you don't have condoms, I'll kill you.
[If he doesn't die first, and Jack thinks he just might if there isn't some cock touching very very soon. But Johnny can't have any protection in his pockets, after all. He burned his pants right off. Jack kisses along the other man's jaw, pressing his hips again so that the long, hard line of his cock can't be ignored.]
[ Johnny says breathlessly when Jack kisses him like a man starved right there in the empty hallway, the Torch naked as the day he was born, absolutely unrepentant where that's concerned. He's already hard, desire the only thing burning hot in his veins as he immediately draws in his flames, regulating his heat so that Jack doesn't get burned.
Show more care, indeed -- but they are birds of a feather tonight, and Jack's lips are so sweetly intoxicating that he'd probably fuck him out here if he asked him to. Reaching behind him and pushing the door open, he pulls Jack sharply in with him, free hand busy unzipping the other man's trousers, unbuckling them and carelessly pushing them off his hips, bidding him to step out of them.
There are condoms in the bowl beside the door for when situations like these happen. Rarely, but Johnny's always taken precautions, and he grabs one to push it in Jack's hand, surging forward to pin him against the door and tipping his head back up to kiss him again, again and again. There's a chemistry between them that he can't deny, an attraction that pulses in the beat of their hearts, the way their cocks brush against each other, arousal undeniable. ]
You're hard for me already. [ His words are a low purr. ] Put it on me. I promise I'll make it so damn good for you.
[But Johnny wanted to be chased by pumpkins or bats or whatever else was in that damned funhouse. But it's hard to bitch and kiss at the same time, so Jack chooses to kiss, peeling the rest of his clothes off before he hauls Johnny bodily to him, absorbing the warmth of his skin. In hindsight, the waiting might not have been such a bad thing, not when Jack feels like he could devour him.
He turns his head just to breathe, letting Johnny's mouth brand the side of his neck while he rips the foil open. He rolls it over Johnny's thick erection - one-handed. Someone's done this before.]
You say it like I'm the only one.
[Jack grins lazily, head resting back against the door as he gazes at him. He gives Johnny's cock a stroke or two, taps the underside of it to make it sway a bit.]
I'm going to tell you that you didn't. [He leans his head forward to kiss him again.] Just so you can fuck me again. Practice makes perfect.
[ Everything about Jack is stunningly arresting, from the fact that he's sported a hard-on for so long to the way he rolls that xondom on him with such graceful ease that it turns him on all over again, making his cock twitch at the attention.
Shit, he loves this already, and they've only just started. Johnny is impossibly thrilled by this man, relishing the challenge he presents and more than ready to rise up to it (in all senses of the word). Jack unlocks something unexpected in him, an excitement he hasn't felt in awhile as his mouth, hot and hungry, trails down the elegant line of his throat. ]
The horns stay on, you devil.
[ He tells him, giving him a nice little lovebite just above his nipple that will disappear in minutes. They're blessedly naked, bodies grinding, and he's tugging the lube out from the drawer next to him, other hand moving to line their cocks together, shaft to shaft. He rolls his hips to inspire friction, velvet-slick and deliberate, and his blue eyes are filled with wicked amusement. ]
My favorite kind of lie. I'm going to make sure when you touch yourself next --
[ His mouth trails down, chest to torso to those lean, gorgeous abs to the trail of sparse dark hair leading to the prize, and the Human Torch kneels before him, broad-shouldered and strong and entirely captivated by him: ] when your hand is around your cock and you're jerking up into it,
[ a reverent kiss to the flared head, then another. Johnny's eyes darken, predatory and dangerous. ] I'll make sure this is all you think about.
[ He sucks on the head like he's done this plenty of times before, before his hot, wet mouth takes him more than halfway inside, plush full lips wrapped tight around him. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nov. 5, morning
free tonight?
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wanna come see a bonfire and awesome fireworks?
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i thought we already did that at your apartment.
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action; morning after thingy
the bed is a comfy thing, set in front of the largest window in the room, at least shaded over night by the colored glass, given max realizes not everyone is as weird as him, and likes to sleep with all doors and windows in a room wide open. still, when he wakes up, the first order of business, after nuzzling at one of jack's shoulders and giving a still half-asleep kiss or two to his jaw, is to stretch an arm out and pop a window pane open. it's a claustrophobia thing - he likes being able to see, and breathe in, the outdoors.
should jack start to rouse then, though, he'll tug it back closed, and move to kiss at his cheeks and his temples, shushing at him with a soft 'just making food, go back to sleep', hands tucking blankets and pillows in around him as he extracts himself. there's a sudden lack of burning warmth pressed up against his side or back (max clings in his sleep, sorry if that's awkward), but hopefully what lingers on the sheets will be comfy enough.
choose your own adventure, jack: pass back out, and in about half an hour you'll get breakfast brought to you, or go meandering around max's room and toy with whatever witch things you like, or pull on some of the cloths scattered around on the floor (or pull a blanket toga) and go explore witch haus. don't worry, max will be able to find you. perks of being architect of said magic castle. ]
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Jack doesn't mind fresh air coming through an open window, but maybe it's for the best that he's alone when he wakes up in the morning light. "Awake" would be a generous word for the few minutes that he lies just staring up at the ceiling and breathing. Max took his body apart just like he promised; it seems his mind followed, and there's nothing he needed more than that.
He finally sits up in the bed once the pleasant fog starts to clear, sheets and furs falling down to his waist. He's sore in all the best places, and idly traces one or two of the bruises and love bites on his body. He remembers the feeling of Max's mouth traveling over his skin, followed by a whisper about breakfast. Should he leave before he gets back? Somehow it doesn't feel right, plus Jack wouldn't mind one more kiss for the road, one more anything. There's also another matter: did he leave his pants back on that bathroom's floor?
Fuck it. Jack sighs and falls back against the pillow, waiting for Max's return. In the meantime, his eyes slowly scan the room around him, eyebrows inching higher at the herbs and crystals and candles. Until he finally muses aloud.]
Where's the crystal ball?
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[ Your answers about all this magic bullshit on demand, as Max bumps the bedroom door open with a hip, clad only in a pair of boxer briefs, and in case Jack missed any of the full tattoo array the night before, there it is now. clothes aren't really a requirement for witch haus, and it's not often that max wears more than he has to, but cooking at least needs some kind of underwear, or it's just awkward. his hair is still a ridiculous kind of bed fluffed, but he comes bearing a plate of eggs (a little runny (he might have asked the night before (he might have still been inside jack when he did))), bacon, sausage, toast, and some pancakes. ]
And I'm shit at anything divination anyway, so don't bother asking.
[ a flip of his hand has several of the colored window panes pushed open, unfiltered sunlight making it's way in, with fresh air and enough that he can see the tree outside. there's a ward over the threshold of the window frames, so leaves won't be blowing in, just some breeze. max plops himself back down in the empty spot next to jack, holding out the plate for him with some silverware, and something in a shot glass that seems a little weirdly colored. ]
Drink this first, it'll help with the aches. [ the shot glass handed over, and then he holds up a bottle of water. ] This next, because that tastes like grass, and water's good for you.
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Jack had wondered at the strange breakfast questions at the time, and likely growled something along the lines of fuck eggs before giving an answer. But he'd have to admit that he's grateful for it now that the sun's up, one hunger giving in to another after Max depleted even his energy. Jack takes his plate and the silverware, appraising the shot glass and its contents for a moment before reaching for the water instead.]
I like the aches. [He slices through the eggs, placing it on top of a bite of pancake before slicing through it too. Jack looks up as he chews, his expression curious yet calm despite the question on his mind.] Heaven, hell, or something else entirely?
[Because those powers, boo.]
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contraction....asdfjlkj CONTRADICTION why do i even look at prev tags
LMFAO no mpreg pls jack. i didnt even notice it tho
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omfg so many typos in that last tag wtf
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It's beyond a doubt the most ridiculous pick-up line that Jack has ever heard in his entire life. Perhaps even more ridiculous is just how well it worked. Johnny Storm is a man of juxtapositions, cheesy and charming, playful and honest. He seems wholly unapologetic for everything that he is, and that's just one of the reasons why Jack finds himself attracted to him.
That and an ass that he would eat dinner off of seven nights a week. They've made it to the door, Jack grinding and kissing him like a man starved, unafraid of the flames that still flicker and burn on parts of Johnny's body after their flight here. A voice whispers that he should show more care, a remnant of when it mattered who he was with and who saw them. That time has come to an end. Johnny could fuck him right there if he wanted. But there is just one little detail:]
If you don't have condoms, I'll kill you.
[If he doesn't die first, and Jack thinks he just might if there isn't some cock touching very very soon. But Johnny can't have any protection in his pockets, after all. He burned his pants right off. Jack kisses along the other man's jaw, pressing his hips again so that the long, hard line of his cock can't be ignored.]
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[ Johnny says breathlessly when Jack kisses him like a man starved right there in the empty hallway, the Torch naked as the day he was born, absolutely unrepentant where that's concerned. He's already hard, desire the only thing burning hot in his veins as he immediately draws in his flames, regulating his heat so that Jack doesn't get burned.
Show more care, indeed -- but they are birds of a feather tonight, and Jack's lips are so sweetly intoxicating that he'd probably fuck him out here if he asked him to. Reaching behind him and pushing the door open, he pulls Jack sharply in with him, free hand busy unzipping the other man's trousers, unbuckling them and carelessly pushing them off his hips, bidding him to step out of them.
There are condoms in the bowl beside the door for when situations like these happen. Rarely, but Johnny's always taken precautions, and he grabs one to push it in Jack's hand, surging forward to pin him against the door and tipping his head back up to kiss him again, again and again. There's a chemistry between them that he can't deny, an attraction that pulses in the beat of their hearts, the way their cocks brush against each other, arousal undeniable. ]
You're hard for me already. [ His words are a low purr. ] Put it on me. I promise I'll make it so damn good for you.
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[But Johnny wanted to be chased by pumpkins or bats or whatever else was in that damned funhouse. But it's hard to bitch and kiss at the same time, so Jack chooses to kiss, peeling the rest of his clothes off before he hauls Johnny bodily to him, absorbing the warmth of his skin. In hindsight, the waiting might not have been such a bad thing, not when Jack feels like he could devour him.
He turns his head just to breathe, letting Johnny's mouth brand the side of his neck while he rips the foil open. He rolls it over Johnny's thick erection - one-handed. Someone's done this before.]
You say it like I'm the only one.
[Jack grins lazily, head resting back against the door as he gazes at him. He gives Johnny's cock a stroke or two, taps the underside of it to make it sway a bit.]
I'm going to tell you that you didn't. [He leans his head forward to kiss him again.] Just so you can fuck me again. Practice makes perfect.
[He laughs, nipping at Johnny's bottom lip.]
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Shit, he loves this already, and they've only just started. Johnny is impossibly thrilled by this man, relishing the challenge he presents and more than ready to rise up to it (in all senses of the word). Jack unlocks something unexpected in him, an excitement he hasn't felt in awhile as his mouth, hot and hungry, trails down the elegant line of his throat. ]
The horns stay on, you devil.
[ He tells him, giving him a nice little lovebite just above his nipple that will disappear in minutes. They're blessedly naked, bodies grinding, and he's tugging the lube out from the drawer next to him, other hand moving to line their cocks together, shaft to shaft. He rolls his hips to inspire friction, velvet-slick and deliberate, and his blue eyes are filled with wicked amusement. ]
My favorite kind of lie. I'm going to make sure when you touch yourself next --
[ His mouth trails down, chest to torso to those lean, gorgeous abs to the trail of sparse dark hair leading to the prize, and the Human Torch kneels before him, broad-shouldered and strong and entirely captivated by him: ] when your hand is around your cock and you're jerking up into it,
[ a reverent kiss to the flared head, then another. Johnny's eyes darken, predatory and dangerous. ] I'll make sure this is all you think about.
[ He sucks on the head like he's done this plenty of times before, before his hot, wet mouth takes him more than halfway inside, plush full lips wrapped tight around him. ]
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eight days later.
one was a salted
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it was funny!
also i'll have you know that it's a privilege to get naked with me
you holding up better?
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i'm fine. spectacular.
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1 dec.
there is no way that a bee should be able to fly
its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground
but the fat little guy flies anyway because it doesnt give a shit about what we humans think is impossible
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text; un: post-modern
Are you free tonight?
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[Wow. Charmer. And yes, he is definitely charmed.] Ha. Very funny. I guess that's a yes?
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sometime before Christmas
Merry Christmas, Jack.
I hope this comes in handy for the winter season! :)
- Kyle
Mid jan, left at his doorstep
A note is attached:
Sorry this Christmas Present is late.
Thank you for spending time with me.
--Kieren]