[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?
[ a corner of max's lips tug into a smirk, as the remedy's passed aside, jack choosing to hold onto his soreness, and there's something fond in his expression. the glass is set aside somewhere, and he moves to lean in, giving a short kiss to an already red spot he'd sucked up against jack's skin, just below his ear, the night before, and he whispers - ] So do I.
[ when he's the one begin pounded into, that is. which isn't something he's adverse to, max just tends to go with either whatever feels natural at the time (he tends towards more dominant in most things), or what everyone involved's most comfortable with. the remedy mix had been more out of consideration, because not everyone's as validated by the aches and strains in their body as max is.
not everyone, but apparently jack. which he's fine with. the question of heaven or hell has him pauses for a moment, a short laugh pulling from him in a way that seems more like an inside joke going on in his head. that's very dualistic of him, and max wonders at jack's religious persuasions idly, as he leans to dig through some books set near the bed, stretching out as he pages through some, looking for a specific page. ]
Hell. Marco's Hell too. Tristan's Heaven, Elliot's Necromantic. We used to have Nic around, she was Natural. [ finally, he finds what he's looking for, and drags a book back to lay open on a diagram, set on jack's knees, just in front of the plate in his lap. ] Planes of magic. You're born into one, assigned that for life.
[The pain is at least something real, something that Jack's life has been overwhelmingly bereft of. He's taking note of Max's similar opinion too, storing it away for future reference. Just last night he had already chalked this up to a one night stand, but after actually experiencing that night, Jack doesn't think he'd say no to another.
In fact, take your time looking through those books, Max. Jack will just admire the view as he forks his sausage, gaze traveling along his arm, the strong line of his shoulders and back. There's where he should be eating his breakfast from. Jack's eyes linger even after he places the book on his knees - but he is curious.
He touches the book with the hand that isn't holding bacon, considerate of the pages. Born. Assigned. Jack frowns softly, unsure of how he feels about those words, the feeling of predestination that he takes from them.]
Has anyone ever hated you for it? [Jack looks back up to him with a soft blink, one corner of his mouth twitching as he offers the next forkful of syrupy pancakes to Max's lips.] These really are delicious, you should try them.
[ a beat passes, as several things run through max's mind, though his expression doesn't shift, and his tone doesn't move from anything but casual, chill unharshable for the most part. ]
I was orphaned for it. [ a simple, concise but honest answer. not that he was abandoned - that one was kill, and the other wasn't allowed to keep him. he'd been oceans away by the time he learned his mother had passed as well. it isn't a part of his memory he likes to go to - the subject of his parents - so he chomps down on that forkful of pancake, a low hum of approval in the back of his throat as he chews. ]
Most don't have the balls to be loud about it anymore. [ because he's big now, and even before he starts growing claws and horns, he's fairly scary looking all on his own - six foot whatever, muscle bound, tattooed all over, and that natural german disposition of 'what the fuck do you want'. beyond that, max doesn't spend much time associating with anyone outside the magical community back home, so there's little opportunity for anyone to really know. half the time, when faced with strangers he doesn't need anything from, max just pretends he doesn't speak english, anyway. it's different, here in eudio.
more interesting than that, is how jack's first question was about being hated. ]
[Jack's expression likewise remains the same when Max talks about being an orphan, however brief it is. Maybe there's just too much scar tissue on his soul, or maybe he's just used to pushing down things like emotion and empathy. But it's hard not to feel something in light of the fact that he was just told something that most people would consider personal, intimate in a way that's entirely different from still being able to picture his o face when Jack closes his eyes.]
Call it curiosity. Being born different is more than enough reason for some people to hate you. [Jack shrugs one shoulder, pausing to twist the cap off the bottle of water. He closes his eyes as he drinks, head tipped back so that one drop spills over his chin and down the front of his throat. Possibly deliberate. He sighs after he swallows, offering Max a tight-lipped and largely humorless smile.] It was for my father. I'm not demonic, I just like cock. You might've noticed.
[He chuckles softly, almost bashful now. But one shitty parent story deserves another.]
[ watching the path of that drop of water run a small river down the curve and dips of Jack's throat, Max is hardly one to ignore an invitation, depressing family talk or not. Leaning forward, his lips brush at the hollow of Jack's throat, catching the drop of water just before it pools there. ]
Might've guessed at it. [ for all the time Jack spent on his back, on his side, pushed up against walls or sink counters, and riding his lap. With his lips all over him, and max returning he favor, kissing and licking all across his body, marking his chest, his back, the inside of his thighs, his ass. He'd taken his cock between his lips, bobbing and sucking at him, and spread his cheeks to lick into him, slow and sweet and torturous. Jack's body is a fucking gift, and the soul inside it burns bright and sparking. Enchanting in every way. The thought of someone so close as a parent hating him for something so innately natural to him sickens max, but for the sake of better times, he isn't making a huge fuss about it. Not in terms of indignantly shit talking his dad, at least. Maybe later. ]
Stupid reason to separate family for. [ Max mumbles against Jack's throat, as he picks up the plate in his lap, setting it aside, shoving the book after it in favor over pushing at Jack's bare shoulders to urge him back against the mattress, as he kisses his way back up his neck. ]
[Jack's amused as he watches it tumble from the sheets. It doesn't take much pressure to make him lie back, a sigh escaping his lips as he buries his fingers in Max's mussed hair, toes curling against the sheets as his mouth travels.]
Mm, you were inspiring.
[And that's putting it mildly. Jack can't remember the last time he had a night like that, if ever, and certainly not with a single man. He tips his head just so, drawing attention to a spot that he missed, clearly a little bit of a whore for his attention. But then he tugs his head up, looking into his eyes and studying his face - at least until his gaze lands on that sweet mouth. And then he's drawn to it, pulled in as if by some invisible thread. Jack kisses him slowly and deeply, not like those urgent kisses when his thoughts kept straying to Max's cock.]
Let me look at you. [Jack whispers before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Another thing that he didn't take time for. His looks down at what he can see, a finger lightly tracing one of Max's tattoos.] You like these. I've never seen so many on one person before.
[ max isn't good at being gentle with miscellaneous inanimate objects, but mechanic plane expertise means he can mostly fix any damage he does. mostly. sort of. whatever, he's more concerned with jack and how he tips his head up to draw max to places on his body that've yet to be loved on enough. max is obediently following, laughing quietly against his smooth skin, answering in a muffled hum. ] Just trying to keep up with you.
[ as much energy as he knows he has in him, jack had been ravenous in his pursuit of more. jack is beyond gorgeous and it had easily been one of the best nights max has spent with someone in eudio thus far, still hungry for more of the man as he crawls his body over his to settle between his legs, blanketing him. yet, when jack pulls him up to look over his face, there's something calmed in the action, max's lips pulling at one corner to give him a soft smile. and then, after a lingering kiss he's mournful to part for, looks over his body, and the ink decorating it. ah, right. ]
Most help with different spells. Control or boosting or protecting. [ max leans to the side, propping himself up on a elbow pressed into the mattress at jack's side, to hold up the other hand, showing jack the white ink lines scrawled over the back of one hand, as the start to light up in a bright, ember-orange glow, filling every inch of the piece. ] This is Hellfire.
[ a flicked wrist has several candles not far away lighting up with small, but strange looking flame - as if the center of it is black rather than white, something in the flicker and crackle of the flame seeing so much more volatile. from there, he turns his hand over, showing the circle at the center of his palm, also in white ink, before it starts to fill with a rusted, red-brown kind of color, like water flooding into a mold. the second is the piece on his forearm - black ink that starts crawl red from the center outward. ]
These two are things I can't use here. This one too. [ The latter being the piece that runs along his collar bones, gradually expanding upwards on previously invisible lines, up his neck. After that, he touches the one that's part on his sternum, part on the upper part of his abs. At the touch, the outline pulses a white-golden glow. ] This heals.
[Why isn't he even a little bit afraid? It seems absurd that he hasn't asked himself that question before now, when he spent half the night pinned beneath a man who could take him bodily from one place to another in an instant, when that same man can conjure flames from across the room. Hellfire, he calls it. It hardly sounds like what one would use to light birthday candles.
Maybe it has something to do with how the worst has already come to pass for him, not death, but something worse. Probably. But more of the credit still goes to Max, the way he kisses and smiles, the way he gave more than he took. Breakfast in bed. Jack has spent a lifetime dealing with feelings that are supposed to be unnatural and wrong, but they feel just the opposite to him. Maybe Max is the same sort of contraction. If there is something fearsome and evil to be found in him, Jack doesn't see it. And he doesn't want to.
He's listening, he is, between his own thoughts and how outwardly admiring Max's body as he points every tattoo out. Jack's sucking on his bottom lip thoughtfully, recalling the warmth and taste of that last kiss. He lazily traces the outline of one on his collarbone, more interested in the simple act of touching than the design itself.]
Which one summons a rabbit from a top hat? [Jack, please. He laughs softly as he gently kicks the cover away, exposing all of his body. He's lean and alabaster, unmarked by anything except the man by his side.] What should I get? And where.
[ jack's fingertips are warm and sweet along his skin, and max would have him trace over each line on his body, for hours and hours, if he wanted. having him spread out beneath him, all bare and flawless, is too tempting an offer, and max's hands are already running down over the span of his chest, palm smoothing over a pectoral and thumbing at a nipple as he goes, down along his soft side and over his stomach. ]
Can't do rabbits. Natural plane's dissonant for me. [ idle commentary, spoken distractedly, as he bows his head to kiss over the jut of jack's hipbone, licking a line along the curved indent. he's busying himself studying him, looking over all the places he hadn't gotten much chance to examine the night before. compact muscle and pale skin, unable to resist sinking down in some places to kiss and lick - sucking up marks in a few, select places. ] But if you want demon out of a hat, I could probably do that one.
[ well, theoretically he could do it, just not in eudio, given the whole 'demons have feelings too' consent rule, which has nixed a lot of things max usually does. it's left him a bit on the too empty, too restless side, really, but it's been a year - he's found ways to deal. not that any of that's present in his mind at the moment. right now, he's too engaged with touching every bare inch of the man laid out for him, a hand ghosting a gentle stroke along his proudly displayed cock, cupping his balls in the next sweep, before he moves along to his thighs. ]
Hard to say. Don't know much about you, beside from 'Jack', you like your eggs a little runny, and your dad's a prick. [ and where all the sensitive parts on him are, how he likes to be fucked, the fact he's a sly, charming thing, with the capacity to be adorable, yet dark, and ridiculously alluring. he's intelligent, quick, and there's something illusive in his personality that max finds himself fond of. maybe something fox related somewhere. ] I can tell you where.
Here, here, here. [ pulling his hand back, he taps at a mark he'd sucked up over one hip bone, another left on the upward side of a shoulder, a third at the side of his neck, another on his side. easing him to turn onto one side, he slides a finger down the indent of his spine, stopping at his tailbone. ] Or here.
contraction....asdfjlkj CONTRADICTION why do i even look at prev tags
[He doesn't know what a dissonant natural plane even means. The individual words, of course, but not that particular arrangement of them. It hardly matters anyway, not when Max's tongue is dragging along his hip, a warm wet drag that's close enough for his cock to start to take notice. By all means, Jack's legs part slightly, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. A happy sound that his own walls didn't hear enough.]
I can think of other things that I want so much more, things I'm quite sure you can deliver. [Experience tells him as much. There's that smirk again, along with a playful wag of his eyebrows. He's quiet as Max lists the things about him that he knows, not realizing that he's picked up even more than that, that he knows him more than he gives himself credit for.] Those are the best parts of me anyway. [Max is...well, good, he's decided. He doesn't especially want him to know about the uglier parts of him, the manipulations and the selfishness, the grief and humiliations.]
I thought you might just choose whatever's pleasing to the eye. [Maybe it's just not as simple as Jack thought it was, so he'll settle for the "where", humming and glancing from spot to spot as he taps against his skin. Jack rolls onto his side to face him, breath catching as Max's finger slides down - and stops. His own hands are sliding down the back of those boxer briefs, squeezing his ass, cupping it.]
Maybe we can narrow it down. Ask me one thing that you want to know, I might answer it.
[In the meantime, he can dip his head to kiss along his shoulder, and throw his leg over him to press against his thigh. He's starting to wonder how he lived before Max's body.]
LMFAO no mpreg pls jack. i didnt even notice it tho
[ max is good in shades and scenes, in circumstances and glancing looks. max is good because he has to be. because the alternative is a road of ash and blood that will drag him down and swallow him whole. Max is good because he wants to be good, but it’s never as easy as that. Not for him. But God, Jack’s such a tempting thing, and it hardly takes more than the suggestion of things he’d like max to deliver to him, before his eyes are blinking slow, pupils dark with rising lust. Still, it isn’t enough to make him forget what they’re talking about. If life with the boys from B&M have taught him anything, it’s multitasking while fucking. ]
Do I seem like someone only interested in the best parts? [ his lips slide over jack’s jaw, teeth scraping here and there at the sharp angle of the bone. Jack’s sharp all over, and god in heaven, max loves it. ] Pleasing to the eye's for make up, not skin brands.
[ his hands slide over jack’s both, covetous and self-indulgent, as he rolls the request over in his mind. Ask him something, he might answer. Max doesn’t like asking pointless, flavor questions. He wants to know what he wants to know, so as he glides a hand over the curve of Jack’s ass, down his thigh, and back up to sleep between his cheeks, passing lightly over the soft skin and sweet little hole there, he asks. ]
What's your mind killer, Jack Benjamin? [ what destroys you, from the inside out? ]
[The journey of Jack's lips halts at that question, eyes opening. No, he doesn't seem that type, and a part of him wishes that Max was. It's so much easier for people to stop at the carefully polished surface when that's all they really want to see, and it's so much easier to maintain that image for them.
There's a few moments of silence between them, and Jack's heart beats a little faster, breath catches in the quiet of the room. It's more than just the rekindling of passion - Max is like the strike of a match when it comes to that. It's because Jack knows he's considering what he wants to ask, and it's not going to be about his favorite color or if he's ever broken any bones.]
God. [It's more of a soft exclamation than an answer, but it could be both. Jack laughs breathlessly, both arms coming to wrap around Max. There's almost something insecure in it, like he's seeking an anchor in the midst of his own storm.] What if there are too many things to name? [He could just leave it there, trading questions rather than answering them. Keep his best parts intact and let that be that. But with any luck, he'll be in this city for a long time. And during that time, he wouldn't mind seeing Max again. He doubts that will happen if he leaves things like this.] My own ambition. What's expected of me. Anger. Regrets. [Each named like a deadly sin, if only they stopped at seven for him. His eyes flutter closed and he moans softly at Max's intimate touch.] This.
[Not the act as much as the shame he's been made to feel for it. He's still untangling those two things.]
Trust me, you want to stick to asking me about breakfast.
[ max's life has been so far from smooth and polished, and there's nothing he's done with his own hands to try to push it that way. the idea of someone with only the best parts to show simply seems more like a lie than anything else to him, and he's pleased just with the fact that jack's admitting to having something he's less proud of about himself. there's no one in the world without at least one or two things to feel regretful, afraid or ashamed of within themselves, whether it's a reasonable response or not. even max, who does his level best to seem entirely unaffected by most of what goes on around him on any given day.
as such, he isn't bothered either by the pause jack leaves, as if he wants to leave the answer at just a question, or what follows behind it. he busies himself kissing and sucking at the side of his neck, as a finger slipped between his cheeks rubs slow, firm circles over his entrance. ambition, anger, regrets, sex. the last one seems more poignant than the others, more specific, and max hums against his skin, considering it, and filing it away. he'd mentioned rejection for this, and max figures that's likely something to do with it, but what seems more the prominent thing to question at the moment is jack's insistence that he shouldn't want to do exactly that. ]
Here I thought you had to be magic to be a mind reader. [ commented mildly, as the hand at jack's ass pulls up, max sucking at a couple fingers, to wet them, before moving back into place, tip of his middle finger slowly pressing in, agonizingly so, just barely breaching jack's hole. ]
What is it you think will scare me away? [ max whispers the question, like a secret, with lips brushing jack's. ] May as well tell me now, because I'm not going to stop asking.
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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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[ when he's the one begin pounded into, that is. which isn't something he's adverse to, max just tends to go with either whatever feels natural at the time (he tends towards more dominant in most things), or what everyone involved's most comfortable with. the remedy mix had been more out of consideration, because not everyone's as validated by the aches and strains in their body as max is.
not everyone, but apparently jack. which he's fine with. the question of heaven or hell has him pauses for a moment, a short laugh pulling from him in a way that seems more like an inside joke going on in his head. that's very dualistic of him, and max wonders at jack's religious persuasions idly, as he leans to dig through some books set near the bed, stretching out as he pages through some, looking for a specific page. ]
Hell. Marco's Hell too. Tristan's Heaven, Elliot's Necromantic. We used to have Nic around, she was Natural. [ finally, he finds what he's looking for, and drags a book back to lay open on a diagram, set on jack's knees, just in front of the plate in his lap. ] Planes of magic. You're born into one, assigned that for life.
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In fact, take your time looking through those books, Max. Jack will just admire the view as he forks his sausage, gaze traveling along his arm, the strong line of his shoulders and back. There's where he should be eating his breakfast from. Jack's eyes linger even after he places the book on his knees - but he is curious.
He touches the book with the hand that isn't holding bacon, considerate of the pages. Born. Assigned. Jack frowns softly, unsure of how he feels about those words, the feeling of predestination that he takes from them.]
Has anyone ever hated you for it? [Jack looks back up to him with a soft blink, one corner of his mouth twitching as he offers the next forkful of syrupy pancakes to Max's lips.] These really are delicious, you should try them.
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I was orphaned for it. [ a simple, concise but honest answer. not that he was abandoned - that one was kill, and the other wasn't allowed to keep him. he'd been oceans away by the time he learned his mother had passed as well. it isn't a part of his memory he likes to go to - the subject of his parents - so he chomps down on that forkful of pancake, a low hum of approval in the back of his throat as he chews. ]
Most don't have the balls to be loud about it anymore. [ because he's big now, and even before he starts growing claws and horns, he's fairly scary looking all on his own - six foot whatever, muscle bound, tattooed all over, and that natural german disposition of 'what the fuck do you want'. beyond that, max doesn't spend much time associating with anyone outside the magical community back home, so there's little opportunity for anyone to really know. half the time, when faced with strangers he doesn't need anything from, max just pretends he doesn't speak english, anyway. it's different, here in eudio.
more interesting than that, is how jack's first question was about being hated. ]
Why?
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Call it curiosity. Being born different is more than enough reason for some people to hate you. [Jack shrugs one shoulder, pausing to twist the cap off the bottle of water. He closes his eyes as he drinks, head tipped back so that one drop spills over his chin and down the front of his throat. Possibly deliberate. He sighs after he swallows, offering Max a tight-lipped and largely humorless smile.] It was for my father. I'm not demonic, I just like cock. You might've noticed.
[He chuckles softly, almost bashful now. But one shitty parent story deserves another.]
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Might've guessed at it. [ for all the time Jack spent on his back, on his side, pushed up against walls or sink counters, and riding his lap. With his lips all over him, and max returning he favor, kissing and licking all across his body, marking his chest, his back, the inside of his thighs, his ass. He'd taken his cock between his lips, bobbing and sucking at him, and spread his cheeks to lick into him, slow and sweet and torturous. Jack's body is a fucking gift, and the soul inside it burns bright and sparking. Enchanting in every way. The thought of someone so close as a parent hating him for something so innately natural to him sickens max, but for the sake of better times, he isn't making a huge fuss about it. Not in terms of indignantly shit talking his dad, at least. Maybe later. ]
Stupid reason to separate family for. [ Max mumbles against Jack's throat, as he picks up the plate in his lap, setting it aside, shoving the book after it in favor over pushing at Jack's bare shoulders to urge him back against the mattress, as he kisses his way back up his neck. ]
'Specially when you make it look so fucking good.
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[Jack's amused as he watches it tumble from the sheets. It doesn't take much pressure to make him lie back, a sigh escaping his lips as he buries his fingers in Max's mussed hair, toes curling against the sheets as his mouth travels.]
Mm, you were inspiring.
[And that's putting it mildly. Jack can't remember the last time he had a night like that, if ever, and certainly not with a single man. He tips his head just so, drawing attention to a spot that he missed, clearly a little bit of a whore for his attention. But then he tugs his head up, looking into his eyes and studying his face - at least until his gaze lands on that sweet mouth. And then he's drawn to it, pulled in as if by some invisible thread. Jack kisses him slowly and deeply, not like those urgent kisses when his thoughts kept straying to Max's cock.]
Let me look at you. [Jack whispers before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Another thing that he didn't take time for. His looks down at what he can see, a finger lightly tracing one of Max's tattoos.] You like these. I've never seen so many on one person before.
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[ max isn't good at being gentle with miscellaneous inanimate objects, but mechanic plane expertise means he can mostly fix any damage he does. mostly. sort of. whatever, he's more concerned with jack and how he tips his head up to draw max to places on his body that've yet to be loved on enough. max is obediently following, laughing quietly against his smooth skin, answering in a muffled hum. ] Just trying to keep up with you.
[ as much energy as he knows he has in him, jack had been ravenous in his pursuit of more. jack is beyond gorgeous and it had easily been one of the best nights max has spent with someone in eudio thus far, still hungry for more of the man as he crawls his body over his to settle between his legs, blanketing him. yet, when jack pulls him up to look over his face, there's something calmed in the action, max's lips pulling at one corner to give him a soft smile. and then, after a lingering kiss he's mournful to part for, looks over his body, and the ink decorating it. ah, right. ]
Most help with different spells. Control or boosting or protecting. [ max leans to the side, propping himself up on a elbow pressed into the mattress at jack's side, to hold up the other hand, showing jack the white ink lines scrawled over the back of one hand, as the start to light up in a bright, ember-orange glow, filling every inch of the piece. ] This is Hellfire.
[ a flicked wrist has several candles not far away lighting up with small, but strange looking flame - as if the center of it is black rather than white, something in the flicker and crackle of the flame seeing so much more volatile. from there, he turns his hand over, showing the circle at the center of his palm, also in white ink, before it starts to fill with a rusted, red-brown kind of color, like water flooding into a mold. the second is the piece on his forearm - black ink that starts crawl red from the center outward. ]
These two are things I can't use here. This one too. [ The latter being the piece that runs along his collar bones, gradually expanding upwards on previously invisible lines, up his neck. After that, he touches the one that's part on his sternum, part on the upper part of his abs. At the touch, the outline pulses a white-golden glow. ] This heals.
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Maybe it has something to do with how the worst has already come to pass for him, not death, but something worse. Probably. But more of the credit still goes to Max, the way he kisses and smiles, the way he gave more than he took. Breakfast in bed. Jack has spent a lifetime dealing with feelings that are supposed to be unnatural and wrong, but they feel just the opposite to him. Maybe Max is the same sort of contraction. If there is something fearsome and evil to be found in him, Jack doesn't see it. And he doesn't want to.
He's listening, he is, between his own thoughts and how outwardly admiring Max's body as he points every tattoo out. Jack's sucking on his bottom lip thoughtfully, recalling the warmth and taste of that last kiss. He lazily traces the outline of one on his collarbone, more interested in the simple act of touching than the design itself.]
Which one summons a rabbit from a top hat? [Jack, please. He laughs softly as he gently kicks the cover away, exposing all of his body. He's lean and alabaster, unmarked by anything except the man by his side.] What should I get? And where.
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Can't do rabbits. Natural plane's dissonant for me. [ idle commentary, spoken distractedly, as he bows his head to kiss over the jut of jack's hipbone, licking a line along the curved indent. he's busying himself studying him, looking over all the places he hadn't gotten much chance to examine the night before. compact muscle and pale skin, unable to resist sinking down in some places to kiss and lick - sucking up marks in a few, select places. ] But if you want demon out of a hat, I could probably do that one.
[ well, theoretically he could do it, just not in eudio, given the whole 'demons have feelings too' consent rule, which has nixed a lot of things max usually does. it's left him a bit on the too empty, too restless side, really, but it's been a year - he's found ways to deal. not that any of that's present in his mind at the moment. right now, he's too engaged with touching every bare inch of the man laid out for him, a hand ghosting a gentle stroke along his proudly displayed cock, cupping his balls in the next sweep, before he moves along to his thighs. ]
Hard to say. Don't know much about you, beside from 'Jack', you like your eggs a little runny, and your dad's a prick. [ and where all the sensitive parts on him are, how he likes to be fucked, the fact he's a sly, charming thing, with the capacity to be adorable, yet dark, and ridiculously alluring. he's intelligent, quick, and there's something illusive in his personality that max finds himself fond of. maybe something fox related somewhere. ] I can tell you where.
Here, here, here. [ pulling his hand back, he taps at a mark he'd sucked up over one hip bone, another left on the upward side of a shoulder, a third at the side of his neck, another on his side. easing him to turn onto one side, he slides a finger down the indent of his spine, stopping at his tailbone. ] Or here.
contraction....asdfjlkj CONTRADICTION why do i even look at prev tags
I can think of other things that I want so much more, things I'm quite sure you can deliver. [Experience tells him as much. There's that smirk again, along with a playful wag of his eyebrows. He's quiet as Max lists the things about him that he knows, not realizing that he's picked up even more than that, that he knows him more than he gives himself credit for.] Those are the best parts of me anyway. [Max is...well, good, he's decided. He doesn't especially want him to know about the uglier parts of him, the manipulations and the selfishness, the grief and humiliations.]
I thought you might just choose whatever's pleasing to the eye. [Maybe it's just not as simple as Jack thought it was, so he'll settle for the "where", humming and glancing from spot to spot as he taps against his skin. Jack rolls onto his side to face him, breath catching as Max's finger slides down - and stops. His own hands are sliding down the back of those boxer briefs, squeezing his ass, cupping it.]
Maybe we can narrow it down. Ask me one thing that you want to know, I might answer it.
[In the meantime, he can dip his head to kiss along his shoulder, and throw his leg over him to press against his thigh. He's starting to wonder how he lived before Max's body.]
LMFAO no mpreg pls jack. i didnt even notice it tho
Do I seem like someone only interested in the best parts? [ his lips slide over jack’s jaw, teeth scraping here and there at the sharp angle of the bone. Jack’s sharp all over, and god in heaven, max loves it. ] Pleasing to the eye's for make up, not skin brands.
[ his hands slide over jack’s both, covetous and self-indulgent, as he rolls the request over in his mind. Ask him something, he might answer. Max doesn’t like asking pointless, flavor questions. He wants to know what he wants to know, so as he glides a hand over the curve of Jack’s ass, down his thigh, and back up to sleep between his cheeks, passing lightly over the soft skin and sweet little hole there, he asks. ]
What's your mind killer, Jack Benjamin? [ what destroys you, from the inside out? ]
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There's a few moments of silence between them, and Jack's heart beats a little faster, breath catches in the quiet of the room. It's more than just the rekindling of passion - Max is like the strike of a match when it comes to that. It's because Jack knows he's considering what he wants to ask, and it's not going to be about his favorite color or if he's ever broken any bones.]
God. [It's more of a soft exclamation than an answer, but it could be both. Jack laughs breathlessly, both arms coming to wrap around Max. There's almost something insecure in it, like he's seeking an anchor in the midst of his own storm.] What if there are too many things to name? [He could just leave it there, trading questions rather than answering them. Keep his best parts intact and let that be that. But with any luck, he'll be in this city for a long time. And during that time, he wouldn't mind seeing Max again. He doubts that will happen if he leaves things like this.] My own ambition. What's expected of me. Anger. Regrets. [Each named like a deadly sin, if only they stopped at seven for him. His eyes flutter closed and he moans softly at Max's intimate touch.] This.
[Not the act as much as the shame he's been made to feel for it. He's still untangling those two things.]
Trust me, you want to stick to asking me about breakfast.
omfg so many typos in that last tag wtf
as such, he isn't bothered either by the pause jack leaves, as if he wants to leave the answer at just a question, or what follows behind it. he busies himself kissing and sucking at the side of his neck, as a finger slipped between his cheeks rubs slow, firm circles over his entrance. ambition, anger, regrets, sex. the last one seems more poignant than the others, more specific, and max hums against his skin, considering it, and filing it away. he'd mentioned rejection for this, and max figures that's likely something to do with it, but what seems more the prominent thing to question at the moment is jack's insistence that he shouldn't want to do exactly that. ]
Here I thought you had to be magic to be a mind reader. [ commented mildly, as the hand at jack's ass pulls up, max sucking at a couple fingers, to wet them, before moving back into place, tip of his middle finger slowly pressing in, agonizingly so, just barely breaching jack's hole. ]
What is it you think will scare me away? [ max whispers the question, like a secret, with lips brushing jack's. ] May as well tell me now, because I'm not going to stop asking.