[Yes, he does. That word that wove through his mind during his little dip into Alec's past -- Mending. He imagines it's not a magic he particularly wants to focus on, at least not enough to put back together a cupboard full of broken glass.]
[ Alec does always deal. Perhaps not in the best or most healthy way. He's been doing it for decades, shoving all that nasty stuff beneath his mask of cutting sarcasm and engineered cockiness. It's what he does.
His gaze flicks over to Henry. ]
Temporary insanity, maybe? I really don't know. It just kind of felt like after all the stuff you told me, it was something you should see.
[ That gives Alec pause. Does he regret it? He always knew that if, for some anomalous reason, someone were to get close enough to learn the truth of his past and all the things he'd done, it would hurt. And this fucking hurts.
But it hurts in the same way it always has. The pain he felt yesterday was no different than the pain he'd felt years ago. There's nothing new here, apart from there being someone who's seen him for what he is and hasn't shied away from it. ]
[For what reason would Henry shy away? He is just as bad, done reprehensible things without even a mote of regret or guilt. To find someone else who’s cut from the same cloth is so, so rare — and he’s the opposite of repulsed. He is inherently drawn to it, the same way he would have been drawn to it twenty-seven years ago if he had ever found someone like him.
Well. Maybe not exactly the same way.
I don't think I do. That fixation’s flaring up fast and hot again, and Henry tilts his head, assessing that reply, turning those succinct words over and over in his mind. And, in a way strikingly similar to how he touched him in Alec’s memory, he reaches out again. Left hand, the one with the stinging cut still eking crimson. He places long fingers along the curve of man’s jawline, letting his hand slot slowly against the shape of his face.
Blood smears against skin. It's warm.]
It’s a shame you come from universes away. That you never resided in my world, that I never got to meet you years and years ago. [Red-blue eyes look at him like a curiosity. They nearly look through him.] I wonder how things might have turned out differently.
[ And just like that, something in the atmosphere shifts. Maybe it was some misguided sense of connection that allowed Alec to let a man like Henry into his head in the first place, let him see the darkest day of his life. Now that link hums between them, like a live wire. Electric.
This time when Henry's fingers brush against his face, he doesn't flinch. He's not young and broken like he was in that memory. Well, certainly still broken, but it's different now. Now he wields his broken edges like a weapon, much in the same way that Henry does. He's still under that touch, quiet, like he often is when just observing. Like he was moments before as Henry spit venom and crushed a glass with his bare hand.
Henry's palm is still bleeding, painting a red streak against his skin. Alec's hand comes up to curl around his wrist, though he simply holds it there, fingers on the other man's pulse. ]
Henry...
[ It's half warning, half... something else that Alec's not sure he could name if he tried. Those mismatched eyes bore a hole right into him, and Alec stares back, the low glow in his own eyes flickering. Lightning, trapped behind the storm clouds. What would things have been like, had they known each other a lifetime ago? Maybe they would have saved each other, slotted their broken pieces together into something a little more whole and acceptable. Or maybe they would have just sent each other spiraling faster, farther. There's no way to know. ]
[There’s no way to know. Maybe somewhere far, far from here, there is a version of Alec and Henry that are happier than they are, that resemble people more than they do the shattered pieces that once made up a person. Or perhaps it’s worse. Perhaps if they had met earlier, they would have obliterated each other in a collision course of resentment and bitterness.
None of that matters now, of course. Now, he stands before this other man, and the moment stills—like the seconds of a clock stuck in place—dangling on the cusp of a decision. His pulse ticks steadily under his touch. Henry is gauging something, the way he looks at him, watching the storm clouds in his eyes. There’s lightning there, wanting to spill out, and it reminds him of the angry storm of that hellscape plane when he was banished there, falling and falling, searing his skin upon entry, all ceaseless furor.
He could take that as a warning. The same could happen, and he’ll come away just as scarred and burned. Yet there’s something else in Alec’s tone, wrapped up in his name, and Henry wants to root it out, drag it kicking and screaming into the daylight, just to see if it’s there. Wouldn’t it be exhilarating if it was?
He leans in to kiss him, diving headfirst into that storm.]
[ It really is like time is stuck, seconds stretching on until they feel like minutes, like hours, the two of them trapped in one another's orbit. Watching, waiting for something to happen, for the sudden tension to finally snap.
Henry ultimately makes the first move, but Alec knows exactly where this is going the second he seeks to close the space between them. This is a bad idea, something in the back of his mind helpfully supplies. Most of Alec's life has been built on bad ideas, so what's one more? Letting Henry into his head had also been a bad fucking idea, and now Alec's got old ghosts clawing at the inside of his ribs, raking over old wounds until they're fresh again. He could use a distraction. An outlet.
Is Henry Creel the best option? In some ways, absolutely fucking not, but in others? Well, maybe.
It isn't pretty, the way Alec responds when Henry kisses him. It isn't gentle or sweet or fleeting. It's mean, and sharp, and hungry. Thunder rolls through the small space of the dorm's kitchen, setting the dishes rattling in their cupboards. His hand comes away from Henry's wrist only so he can curl both his fists into the front of his shirt instead, keeping him captive as their lips crash together.
And when the kiss finally breaks, so too does the storm in Alec's eyes, the glow gone bright and wild. ]
I don't think you understand what you're getting into, Henry Creel.
[After a day of biting anger, culminating in an outburst that earned him a cut across the palm, maybe an outlet isn’t so bad of an idea. Henry usually relies upon violent impulses to qualify, but there’s something surprisingly sharp, unrelenting, and greedy about Alec’s response that could possibly fill that void, instead. His lips are harsh (a kiss actually returned, not rebuffed, not rejected— oh, this was a risk worth taking) and there's nothing gentle about it. That's all well and good, because Henry has no care for delicacy, either.
He makes an impatient noise as Alec pulls away, nearly chasing him again, but he’s halted by the look in his eyes, shining and wild. The other man’s hands are fisted into his clothes, but Henry’s fingertips press a little harder into his jawline. Did thunder roll through the kitchen, clattering plates and glassware? He certainly didn’t notice.
He grins at that challenge. It’s a little sharp at the edges.]
No? [There’s a sense of hot impulse between them; but beyond that, someone’s hooks are deeply rooted in the other person, now, and it’s impossible to tell who’s pulling who.] Then why don’t you show me?
[ Oh, this is such a bad idea, but there's no backing out now. The claws of whatever this is have hooked into them both. Alec's honestly not sure if the thundering in his ears is his own heartbeat or an act of his possession. ]
Not in the fucking kitchen, I'm not.
[ He releases his grip on Henry with a small shove. Nothing major, just enough to buy some distance. ]
[Henry is far less concerned about whether this is a bad idea or not. He’s too busy being driven forward by possessive impulse and the promise of releasing his frustration, twisting it up into something far more indulgent. The livewire of something wound taut between them can’t be ignored now, or it’ll just muddy his thoughts for the rest of the day. For the next few days, a week— longer.
Pushed away, he catches himself on the backstep, eyes nearly delighted by Alec’s forcefulness.]
Fine. Yours.
[It doesn’t make any difference; both are barren, both offer more privacy than a kitchen. At least he’s visited Alec’s once before.
Henry schools his smile into something frustratingly calm, though the undercurrent of heat isn’t so easily smoothed down. It’s time to find sanctuary in his room, then.
He’ll take it upon himself to shut the door with his powers whenever they enter.]
[ Alec follows a pace or two behind Henry. He hasn't planned for this eventuality at all - in fact, it was the last thing on his mind - but he does have enough foresight now to stop and snatch something from the kitchen cabinet before they vacate.
And once he's in the room, the door swings shut behind him, seemingly of its own accord. He'd make a remark about it, but frankly he does not care. Privacy is privacy, and he's on Henry again a second, crashing their mouths together like it's the only thing keeping him fucking sane right now.
[The fact that Henry does not possess even a fragment of similar foresight says something for his experience or lack thereof. Alec will probably realize this sooner rather than later—that a man imprisoned within a high-security lab for twenty years didn’t have a lot of chances for sexual encounters—but that’s a thought for later.
For now, as the door closes and Alec wastes no time in crossing the space between them, meeting him with another brash and hungry kiss, Henry returns the favor tenfold. One hand grabs him hard by the forearm, turning him around so that his back faces the bed. His lips busy against Alec’s, hungry and heated; eventually a line of teeth apply teasing pressure to his bottom lip.
Sometime in-between:]
Someone’s eager.
[Like he’s one to talk. Pushes him closer to the bed.]
[ It was only a matter of time before teeth got involved, Henry simply beat him to the punch. He hisses at the slight bit of pressure, but certainly not in any way that encourages the other man to stop.
However, it doesn't escape his notice that he's being maneuvered around - roughly at that, though that's hardly the part that bothers him. Since when does Henry think he's the one in charge here? ]
People in glass houses, Henry.
[ Well, it's not as if Alec is unused to being manhandled. It's a well-practiced maneuver, the way he twists out of Henry's grip, catching him by the wrist to reverse their positions. He leans in, breath hot and harsh in Henry's ear, ]
[And like that, Alec’s twisting away from him, and Henry’s the one with his back to the bed. His smile tilts, his pulse throbbing in his neck as the other man leans in and breathes words into his ear. His body’s quite treacherous, coiling heat in his abdomen from that alone, but it doesn’t take terribly much right now.
A hand rises up to grasp at his chin, turning his face to look at him.]
I’m getting the impression you’re expecting this to go a certain way.
[His brow rises, challenging.]
I’m not just going to roll over and make it easy for you, if that’s the case.
[ Ohhh, the manhandling again. He turns his gaze to meet Henry's, whether he wants it to or not, lightning flashing wildly in his eyes. ]
What did I tell you before?
[ You have no idea what you're getting into. Alec isn't going to let that snotty little challenge go unanswered, this push and pull between them making his pulse race. Nothing would be prettier, he thinks suddenly, than the sight of Henry on his back.
So that's right where he puts him.
Henry probably thinks he's being cute, with the hand on his chin, but it's Alec who still has the leverage. Alec who has the upper hand. Alec who has magic scored onto his body to increase his speed and strength to inhuman levels. One second, Henry's feet are beneath him, the next they're not, and his back meets the mattress, hard. Alec is over him in an instant, one knee braced between Henry's legs, fingers fisted into the front of his shirt. ]
You started this, but I'm sure as hell going to finish it.
Henry doesn’t have much in the way of pure physical prowess. He can’t stop himself from being utterly upended by Alec (he barely even registered it happening), and the air leaves his lungs as his back hits the mattress. Like this, his blond hair splays against the pillow and his eyes are widened for a half-second as Alec suddenly lords above him, knee between his legs and grasping at his shirt. He actually lets out a breathless laugh — the audacity of this man. It sets his blood thrumming through him.]
And what makes you think I won’t play dirty if you do, too?
[Oh yes, he has to be using that awfully convenient magic of his. Henry might not be the strongest man alive, but he is not usually so easily thrown around by someone who shares a similar frame.
Alec will feel a strange sensation now. Like invisible hands, running up and under his shirt, slow and indulgent, contrasted to the heat building between them already.]
I can touch you anywhere, anytime I like. No matter what you do.
Alec's muscles tense under the pass of those invisible hands, an unmistakable wave of heat following in their wake. Goddamn psychics.
It makes literally no difference in terms of what Henry is doing, but his grip shifts to Henry's wrists, pinning his arms to the mattress on either side of his head. At least this way he can peer down at him, and he quickly comes to the conclusion that his earlier thought was correct. This is a good look on Henry. A very good look.
He dips down, his face a whisper away, and mutters, ]
If you get a nosebleed all over my bed, I'll kick your fucking ass.
[ Then he closes the distance for another of those hungry, heated kisses. His turn to get teeth involved, catching Henry's lower lip hard enough to sting. ]
i guess we should put a nsfw warning on this thread huh
Henry strains his wrists against Alec’s grip, but he cannot so much as budge. Not wholly surprising, though it leaves him with no option but to look up at him, that storm in his eyes bright and wicked.
He wants to make a remark about how he wouldn’t strain himself enough for a nosebleed before he’s done with Alec, but the other catches his lips in a kiss again, teeth pressing down at his lip. It stings, it hurts a little — and Henry quite decides that he likes that, too. It sends a thrill right up his spine, and it wins him a pleasurable noise from somewhere in the back of his throat.
He lifts his head up, pressing harder, encouraging him. Meanwhile, those invisible hands decide to slide right up the inside of Alec’s thighs with no preamble, creeping perilously high. If one man’s going to tent in his pants first, he’s determined it’s going to be Alec, not him.]
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We can't all be perfect.
[Right, Henry.
Speaking of trips down memory lane-]
How are you feeling, by the way?
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After the other day? Fine, I guess.
I really wasn't ready for how shitty that would make me feel.
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[The lilt of his tone implies that he really did not consider that; this only comes to him belatedly.]
I think you're taking it well, actually.
[Or he puts up a strong front. That's more likely.]
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Shit sucks, but I've had longer than most to deal, I guess. That was, what? Forty five years ago.
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But maybe that's a good segue into another question he never got a chance to ask.]
...Why did you let me do it? Visit one of your worst memories?
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His gaze flicks over to Henry. ]
Temporary insanity, maybe? I really don't know. It just kind of felt like after all the stuff you told me, it was something you should see.
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“Temporary insanity.” So you regret it? For how it’s made you feel?
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But it hurts in the same way it always has. The pain he felt yesterday was no different than the pain he'd felt years ago. There's nothing new here, apart from there being someone who's seen him for what he is and hasn't shied away from it. ]
... No. I don't think I do.
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Well. Maybe not exactly the same way.
I don't think I do. That fixation’s flaring up fast and hot again, and Henry tilts his head, assessing that reply, turning those succinct words over and over in his mind. And, in a way strikingly similar to how he touched him in Alec’s memory, he reaches out again. Left hand, the one with the stinging cut still eking crimson. He places long fingers along the curve of man’s jawline, letting his hand slot slowly against the shape of his face.
Blood smears against skin. It's warm.]
It’s a shame you come from universes away. That you never resided in my world, that I never got to meet you years and years ago. [Red-blue eyes look at him like a curiosity. They nearly look through him.] I wonder how things might have turned out differently.
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This time when Henry's fingers brush against his face, he doesn't flinch. He's not young and broken like he was in that memory. Well, certainly still broken, but it's different now. Now he wields his broken edges like a weapon, much in the same way that Henry does. He's still under that touch, quiet, like he often is when just observing. Like he was moments before as Henry spit venom and crushed a glass with his bare hand.
Henry's palm is still bleeding, painting a red streak against his skin. Alec's hand comes up to curl around his wrist, though he simply holds it there, fingers on the other man's pulse. ]
Henry...
[ It's half warning, half... something else that Alec's not sure he could name if he tried. Those mismatched eyes bore a hole right into him, and Alec stares back, the low glow in his own eyes flickering. Lightning, trapped behind the storm clouds. What would things have been like, had they known each other a lifetime ago? Maybe they would have saved each other, slotted their broken pieces together into something a little more whole and acceptable. Or maybe they would have just sent each other spiraling faster, farther. There's no way to know. ]
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None of that matters now, of course. Now, he stands before this other man, and the moment stills—like the seconds of a clock stuck in place—dangling on the cusp of a decision. His pulse ticks steadily under his touch. Henry is gauging something, the way he looks at him, watching the storm clouds in his eyes. There’s lightning there, wanting to spill out, and it reminds him of the angry storm of that hellscape plane when he was banished there, falling and falling, searing his skin upon entry, all ceaseless furor.
He could take that as a warning. The same could happen, and he’ll come away just as scarred and burned. Yet there’s something else in Alec’s tone, wrapped up in his name, and Henry wants to root it out, drag it kicking and screaming into the daylight, just to see if it’s there. Wouldn’t it be exhilarating if it was?
He leans in to kiss him, diving headfirst into that storm.]
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Henry ultimately makes the first move, but Alec knows exactly where this is going the second he seeks to close the space between them. This is a bad idea, something in the back of his mind helpfully supplies. Most of Alec's life has been built on bad ideas, so what's one more? Letting Henry into his head had also been a bad fucking idea, and now Alec's got old ghosts clawing at the inside of his ribs, raking over old wounds until they're fresh again. He could use a distraction. An outlet.
Is Henry Creel the best option? In some ways, absolutely fucking not, but in others? Well, maybe.
It isn't pretty, the way Alec responds when Henry kisses him. It isn't gentle or sweet or fleeting. It's mean, and sharp, and hungry. Thunder rolls through the small space of the dorm's kitchen, setting the dishes rattling in their cupboards. His hand comes away from Henry's wrist only so he can curl both his fists into the front of his shirt instead, keeping him captive as their lips crash together.
And when the kiss finally breaks, so too does the storm in Alec's eyes, the glow gone bright and wild. ]
I don't think you understand what you're getting into, Henry Creel.
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He makes an impatient noise as Alec pulls away, nearly chasing him again, but he’s halted by the look in his eyes, shining and wild. The other man’s hands are fisted into his clothes, but Henry’s fingertips press a little harder into his jawline. Did thunder roll through the kitchen, clattering plates and glassware? He certainly didn’t notice.
He grins at that challenge. It’s a little sharp at the edges.]
No? [There’s a sense of hot impulse between them; but beyond that, someone’s hooks are deeply rooted in the other person, now, and it’s impossible to tell who’s pulling who.] Then why don’t you show me?
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Not in the fucking kitchen, I'm not.
[ He releases his grip on Henry with a small shove. Nothing major, just enough to buy some distance. ]
Room. Now.
[ He does not care whose. ]
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Pushed away, he catches himself on the backstep, eyes nearly delighted by Alec’s forcefulness.]
Fine. Yours.
[It doesn’t make any difference; both are barren, both offer more privacy than a kitchen. At least he’s visited Alec’s once before.
Henry schools his smile into something frustratingly calm, though the undercurrent of heat isn’t so easily smoothed down. It’s time to find sanctuary in his room, then.
He’ll take it upon himself to shut the door with his powers whenever they enter.]
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And once he's in the room, the door swings shut behind him, seemingly of its own accord. He'd make a remark about it, but frankly he does not care. Privacy is privacy, and he's on Henry again a second, crashing their mouths together like it's the only thing keeping him fucking sane right now.
Isn't that a worrying thought? ]
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For now, as the door closes and Alec wastes no time in crossing the space between them, meeting him with another brash and hungry kiss, Henry returns the favor tenfold. One hand grabs him hard by the forearm, turning him around so that his back faces the bed. His lips busy against Alec’s, hungry and heated; eventually a line of teeth apply teasing pressure to his bottom lip.
Sometime in-between:]
Someone’s eager.
[Like he’s one to talk. Pushes him closer to the bed.]
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However, it doesn't escape his notice that he's being maneuvered around - roughly at that, though that's hardly the part that bothers him. Since when does Henry think he's the one in charge here? ]
People in glass houses, Henry.
[ Well, it's not as if Alec is unused to being manhandled. It's a well-practiced maneuver, the way he twists out of Henry's grip, catching him by the wrist to reverse their positions. He leans in, breath hot and harsh in Henry's ear, ]
You first.
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A hand rises up to grasp at his chin, turning his face to look at him.]
I’m getting the impression you’re expecting this to go a certain way.
[His brow rises, challenging.]
I’m not just going to roll over and make it easy for you, if that’s the case.
[BRAVE WORDS FOR A VIRGIN]
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What did I tell you before?
[ You have no idea what you're getting into. Alec isn't going to let that snotty little challenge go unanswered, this push and pull between them making his pulse race. Nothing would be prettier, he thinks suddenly, than the sight of Henry on his back.
So that's right where he puts him.
Henry probably thinks he's being cute, with the hand on his chin, but it's Alec who still has the leverage. Alec who has the upper hand. Alec who has magic scored onto his body to increase his speed and strength to inhuman levels. One second, Henry's feet are beneath him, the next they're not, and his back meets the mattress, hard. Alec is over him in an instant, one knee braced between Henry's legs, fingers fisted into the front of his shirt. ]
You started this, but I'm sure as hell going to finish it.
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Henry doesn’t have much in the way of pure physical prowess. He can’t stop himself from being utterly upended by Alec (he barely even registered it happening), and the air leaves his lungs as his back hits the mattress. Like this, his blond hair splays against the pillow and his eyes are widened for a half-second as Alec suddenly lords above him, knee between his legs and grasping at his shirt. He actually lets out a breathless laugh — the audacity of this man. It sets his blood thrumming through him.]
And what makes you think I won’t play dirty if you do, too?
[Oh yes, he has to be using that awfully convenient magic of his. Henry might not be the strongest man alive, but he is not usually so easily thrown around by someone who shares a similar frame.
Alec will feel a strange sensation now. Like invisible hands, running up and under his shirt, slow and indulgent, contrasted to the heat building between them already.]
I can touch you anywhere, anytime I like. No matter what you do.
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[ Said mere moments before Henry plays dirty.
Alec's muscles tense under the pass of those invisible hands, an unmistakable wave of heat following in their wake. Goddamn psychics.
It makes literally no difference in terms of what Henry is doing, but his grip shifts to Henry's wrists, pinning his arms to the mattress on either side of his head. At least this way he can peer down at him, and he quickly comes to the conclusion that his earlier thought was correct. This is a good look on Henry. A very good look.
He dips down, his face a whisper away, and mutters, ]
If you get a nosebleed all over my bed, I'll kick your fucking ass.
[ Then he closes the distance for another of those hungry, heated kisses. His turn to get teeth involved, catching Henry's lower lip hard enough to sting. ]
i guess we should put a nsfw warning on this thread huh
Henry strains his wrists against Alec’s grip, but he cannot so much as budge. Not wholly surprising, though it leaves him with no option but to look up at him, that storm in his eyes bright and wicked.
He wants to make a remark about how he wouldn’t strain himself enough for a nosebleed before he’s done with Alec, but the other catches his lips in a kiss again, teeth pressing down at his lip. It stings, it hurts a little — and Henry quite decides that he likes that, too. It sends a thrill right up his spine, and it wins him a pleasurable noise from somewhere in the back of his throat.
He lifts his head up, pressing harder, encouraging him. Meanwhile, those invisible hands decide to slide right up the inside of Alec’s thighs with no preamble, creeping perilously high. If one man’s going to tent in his pants first, he’s determined it’s going to be Alec, not him.]
oh yeah PROBABLY. nobody look.
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finally a use for this icon
s i r
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