ArchivedLogs:Pet

Pet
Dramatis Personae Jackson, Micah	2013-10-25 '
Location <NYC> Candyland - Village Lofts - East Village
This bedroom is bright, bright, bright, a cheerful riot of colour in contrast to the more minimalist scheme outside. It, too, has a plethora of lamps to lend it even more light than what comes in from the large windows opposite the entry; many of them bear stained-glass coverings in cheerful mosaic patterns to add still more colour to the room. The walls have been painted in pale blue with darker blue trim, though one is instead a mural of surreal fantastical artwork, odd unearthly plant and animal life spread across it in vivid colours. There is scattering of furniture here -- a bed on the wall adjacent to the window (usually dressed in vividly patterned mismatched sheets), a dresser opposite the bed, standing beside the large closet, both in wood that has been painted black and then covered in a swarm of brightly coloured images, too. The wall near the door bears an enormous handmade shelving unit, similarly painted; it is filled largely with meticulously organized art supplies. By the window, a desk stands in as-yet-unpainted wood; besides laptops and drawing tablet it often bears an eclectic mix of items, too. Comic books, knitting supplies, a hiking pack of climbing gear. It is late enough Friday night that Pajama O'clock struck hours before. Dinner has long since been made, cleared, and cleaned up after. Micah has long since returned from another foray back to his van to craft things for work, such tasks now relegated to late at night in order to get him home and helping with the refugee crowd earlier. The pajamas of this o'clock consist of a long-sleeved heather grey T-shirt over soft pants on which tiny TARDISes tumble through space. He is sitting at the desk in the bedroom with his laptop open in front of him, keys clack-clacking along in between swipes to the trackpad, completing order forms, writing e-mails, composing pages-long letters of medical necessity. A green earthenware mug stained in gradient from rich emerald at its bottom to light seafoam near its rim holds unsweetened mint and lavender tea. He reaches for the handle without looking up from the computer, brings it to his lips, crinkles his nose at it. Gone cold. Friday night means Fight Club, and it's obvious enough that's where Jax has been when he and the twins return to the apartment late at night. There is a lingering bruise visible on his arm beneath the sleeve of his green t-shirt, and the smell of sweat on him is a clear enough sign of recent exercise. He slips into the bedroom quietly, far less colourful than usual with no signs of makeup in evidence; the scars along his face and arm fade back into existence once he's inside. There's an exhausted look on his face but it melts into a warm smile when he looks over at Micah, a little bit amused as he catches that wrinkle of nose. He stops by the nightstand first, to remove the cuffs around his wrists and set them both to recharge. His fingers touch lightly to the collar next, but he doesn't take this off himself. He moves instead over towards the desk, leaning in to kiss Micah at the top of the head. He reaches to take the cup of cold tea out of Micah's hand together with this kiss. He turns around afterwards, kneeling beside Micah's chair and tapping a finger at the buckle of the collar, presumably also in need of recharging. Micah looks up at the opening door, a smile brightening his tired features when he sees Jax there. He watches as the illusionist removes the cuffs, a frown crossing his lips (but briefly) as he surveys the marks left by the fights. When Jax comes close to kiss his head, Micah leans forward, brushing his lips so-very-gently to the visible bruise, as if he can kiss it better. He doesn't resist the removal of cold tea from his hand. At Jax's kneel, he moves in to tip the other man's head forward slightly, placing a firmer kiss to his neck at the hairline before working at the buckle. His fingers slowly slip the ends apart, holding the freed collar down where Jax can reach it easily afterward. Jax hums a soft happy sound at the tiny kiss, his smile brightening. His head tips forward when indicated. He lowers the mug of tea to his lap, waiting for Micah to finish and plucking the collar out of the other man's hand. He's quick to bounce back to his feet, giving Micah another quick kiss on the cheek and flitting back towards the door, stopping by the nightstand to leave the collar to charge beside the cuffs before vanishing. It takes ten minutes or so before he returns, slipping back in to set a mug of fresh steaming-hot lavender-mint tea nearby Micah on the desk. As Jax takes the collar, Micah runs the pad of his thumb in a gentle tracing of one side of his jaw. He pulls away to let the other man hop up and go about his tasks. By the time he returns, Micah is typing at the computer again. Jax's arrival sparks a replay of the last instance of his entering the room, a new smile blossoming as Micah looks up. He briefly touches the fingertips of one hand to the hot mug before standing and touching his lips to the other man's in a kiss and a silent thank you. Jackson lets the kiss linger, another quietly pleased hum in his throat and his hand falling to rest on Micah's waist. For a moment he starts to lean in, lips parting as his fingers start to curl tighter into Micah's shirt, a touch more hunger to his kiss than its previous simple softness. But then he pulls back with a crinkle of his nose and an apologetic dip of his head, moving his hand away from Micah to pluck at his kind of gross-sweaty shirt. He rubs at the back of his neck as he steps -- kind of /quickly/ back like he's worried if he doesn't move away he'll just /fall/ into another kiss. He goes afterward to dig out his pajamas from where they've been neatly folded beneath his pillow, grabbing his towel from where it hangs on the closet door, moved out of the bathroom these days so that it doesn't accidentally get taken by one of the seven million /other/ people using their bathrooms. The look he flicks over his shoulder to Micah is still a little bit hungry. But then he vanishes again, with towel and clothing in hand. Micah presses into Jax at the deepening of the kiss, snaking an arm around him to run his fingertips along his spine. He doesn't try to keep Jax from pulling back when he does, though he answers the apologetic expression by slowly sliding the tip of his tongue along his lips as opposed to agreeing with it. He stands out of the way, however, simply watching Jax gather his items before returning, once more, to his computer. There is /timing/ involved in knowing just how long another person tends to spend in the shower. And a certain precision necessary to have a mug of cocoa in hand, still /warm/ while waiting for them at their bedroom door when they return afterward. Hot showers in increasingly cold weather might be one of the most excellent things on earth. Jackson is looking considerably less exhausted, considerably more content, when he returns. He's still rubbing at his flame-hued hair (a little longer, now, dark near-black roots contrasting now with its bright-dyed colours) with his towel, his workout clothes bundled into the crook of his arm; there's a fresh scent of sandalwood to his skin now, his sweaty clothes traded out for soft black terrycloth pants and a cheerful Rainbow Brite t-shirt. The rubbing of his hair stops when he enters and is encountered with boyfriend + mug of hot cocoa. He lets the towel go, draped over his head and shoulders still like a kind of damp shawl. The sudden brilliance of his smile suggests that perhaps one of the few things better than a hot shower in cold weather might be being greeted with hot cocoa when he gets /out/ of one. He doesn't immediately /take/ the cocoa -- his hand is too busy curling against the side of Micah's face as he leans in for a deeper, fiercer kiss. But /then/ he takes the cocoa. Unlike kisses, it won't stay hot forever. Micah's grin keeps growing, stretching widely across his face as he watches Jax return, scruffing at his hair with a towel for several moments before Micah is noticed. He lifts the mug up like an offering once Jax regards him. He holds the arm bearing the mug out wide to the side when it is apparent that Jax is going for /kiss/ prior to cocoa. His free hand reaches up to pull the other man in closer by the gathered ends of his towel, hanging conveniently as they are to allow him to tug Jax in by the shoulders as if by a yoke. The towel holds the man to him for the duration of the hungrier kiss, though he loosens the grip slightly to allow him to retrieve the cocoa. A little nip at the side of his neck is given first, before he releases his own hold on the mug's handle. A soft glow blossoms in the air around them as Micah ropes Jax in with his towel, and Jax's smile when the kiss breaks off is brilliant again. He holds the cocoa carefully once he has it; the nip elicits a shiver, a quiet pleased breath, and before taking a sip Jax tips his head forward to nuzzle at the side of Micah's neck, brush his lips there softly. He presses another kiss to Micah's jaw and then straightens as much as Micah's hold on his towel-leash allows, lowering his head not really to sip at his cocoa but to dip his pierced tongue out, lapping at its surface in tiny catlike licks. Once freed, Micah's other hand reaches up to pet at Jax's still damp hair, nails turned in against his scalp. His chin tilts slightly to Jax's ministrations, granting better access to his neck. Additional shades of red layer on what is his typical faint blush by this point as he watches Jax's careful lapping of the cocoa. He finally moves his hand from the other man's head to help steady the mug, leading Jax by the towel through two backward steps in order to seat himself on the edge of the bed. Still helping to steady the cup full of hot liquid, he pulls again at the towel to lead the other man down in front of him. A quiet throaty purr rumbles in Jax's throat at the scritching of nails against his scalp, the soft glow around them warming just a little brighter. He is easily led, dropping his old clothes to the floor though he'll undoubtedly make sure they find their way to the hamper soon enough. He sinks down once Micah is seated, still cradling the cocoa when he settles down comfortably to kneel in front of the other man, sitting back on his heels and still lapping in tiny-licks at the cocoa. For a moment he glances over towards the desk, and the work Micah had been doing, but then he turns his attention back to cocoa. Licklicklick. His head butts forward, nuzzling for a moment against Micah's right knee. Sans eyepatch his face just looks kind of sunken on one side, eye drooped closed on the side of his face that is tilted up towards Micah. His other hand drops to rest on his own knee, cheek briefly pressing against Micah's leg before he returns to the cocoa. Micah settles himself into his perch on the edge of the bed, letting Jax handle the holding of his own cup once he is still. His eyes flick to the laptop, his nose crinkling slightly and head shaking at the work dismissively. Apparently there is enough to do that it will be there tomorrow whether it is worked on just now or not. Instead he looks down on the other man, head tilted slightly to the right, watching his lapping and nuzzling. His teeth take hold of his lower lip, though the corners of his mouth are still turned subtly in a grin. At the press of cheek to his leg, he reaches forward to pet at Jax's hair with one hand, scritching under his chin with the other. His hands follow as the other man returns to his drinking, such as it is, travelling to rub at Jax's neck and scratch gently at his scalp. Jax closes his eyes in relaxed acceptance when Micah dismisses the thought of more work. He presses his head up, butting up into the petting, his arm curling in loosely around Micah's leg. He edges forward slightly where he kneels, just settling into a relaxed drape against Micah's legs, his fingers absently kneading at the other man's calf. The soft purring rumble in his throat is broken up by his intermittent swallowing, still lapping at the cocoa in his mug. Around them, the glow in the air is vanishing -- though it seems to be getting sucked /in/ to Jackson, a slowly blossoming luminescence that shines stronger within him as it disappears from the air. The work is forgotten, Micah's full attention focused down at Jax, through the touches of his fingers and caresses of his hands. Jax's purring earns only more petting, fingertips tracing idly around his face, jaw, and ears, between bouts of scritchings at scalp and chin, periods of rubbing at the muscles in the back of his neck. A wider smile tugs at his lips as he watches Jax recharge, drawing the light-energy into himself. He nods his head once, in approval. Good kitty. Once the cocoa in the mug has dwindled, some, the lapping becomes more difficult. Jax lifts the mug, sipping at the cocoa slowly. He doesn't seem particularly in a rush to do /anything/ in particular. Just sit and bask. Absorb light. Absorb /pettings/. Drink his cocoa. Intermittently nuzzle against Micah's leg, his hand dropping down to creep fingers beneath the leg of Micah's pajama pants and slide them back up his calf. He sets the mug aside, head tipping back to fix his vivid-glowy-blue eye on Micah. His hands settle for a moment on his knees, his posture straightening, away from his lean to kneel more straight-backed-upright. Not for long, though, before he's tipping forward to bonk his forehead against Micah's knee. The warm light within him is seeping back out again, not into the air but into Micah, delicate threads of light twining their way in winding vines up the other man's arms to lend Micah's skin a soft glow as well. Micah continues in his pettings and scritchings and rubbings until Jax sets his cup aside. He regards Jax's straighter posture, brighter glow, and threading light with a look of clear pleasure. He repositions himself, scooting right to the edge of the mattress. Then he gathers the towel's ends in one hand again, tugging up at the towel-leash to pull Jax into tall kneeling. The better to lean in for kisses, apparently, but then... He brings his lips close to Jax's, near enough for the warmth of them to be felt radiating from skin to skin without actually touching. He waits like this through a long moment, frozen in that anticipation of a kiss, where completion of the action is all but a foregone conclusion. Jax straightens higher, rising up on his knees when Micah pulls at the towel. His hands lift, moving from where they rest on his own knees to instead rest lightly on Micah's, more delicate tracework of light slipping out from where his hands rest to entwine Micah's legs in softly glowing filigree. His lips curl into a small smile when Micah leans in, but when the other man pauses, his breath catches. He is silent, then, fingers pressing down against Micah's knees, breath and posture just frozen here, the heat from him as warm as ever. He stays, just like this until some unknown signal tips him over the edge of anticipation, breath exhaled just before the very slight tilt of his head brings his lips flush against Micah's. The sudden release of breath comes with a sudden release of energy, not in any burst of destruction but in a flood of light, colourful confetti-flickers fluttering and dancing around the room. The tracery of light crawling up his legs goes unnoticed. As close in to Jax as Micah is now, little else seems to be worthy of drawing attention. The smile that comes at Jax giving in to completing the kiss is a thing felt more than seen, pressed in a widening of lips against lips. Still holding Jax to him with the towel, his other hand reaches to wrap around the back of the other man's neck. A little hum of near-laughter comes at the sudden burst of light (okay, so /fireworks/ can steal a /little/ attention!), thrumming through Micah's mouth to Jax's. He tightens his fingers against the other man's neck as he deepens the kiss, hungrier and claiming. Jax's fingers climb their way up Micah's thighs, curling in around Micah's hips. He leans in to the kiss with growing hunger, the slow melting of his posture inwards towards Micah a silent happiness to /be/ claimed. A tiny shiver of breath passes from his mouth to Micah's, given on the edge of a moan. Around them the flickers of light settle into a soft shifting dance, a gentle wash of colour bathing them both in warmth. The muscles in Micah's legs shudder just slightly beneath Jax's touch. He presses deeper into the kiss before slowly drawing away, a series of smaller kisses as he pulls back. The purpose of the withdrawal is apparent when he gives the towel-leash a sharp little tug to demand attention, hand patting at the mattress next to him. His eyebrows lift with the unvoiced but clear command. Up. The sharper tug widens Jax's smile even as it catches his breath briefly, a slight anticipatory shiver running up his spine. The pat at the mattress beside Micah straightens him, sitting up with a brightening of his eye, a brightening of his smile. He's prompt to respond, climbing up to the mattress though even here he kneels at Micah's side. His arms curl around the other man, lips pressing this time softly to Micah's neck. Micah returns the smile, a curl of his lips at one corner as he watches the other man move. His head tips to accept the kisses to his neck, sliding himself closer to Jax. After a moment, he creeps a hand to the back of Jax's head, turning it to bring lips to his once more. There was a kiss that had been interrupted. Now seems like a good time to resume.