[ Pride and control are going to be some pretty big points of contention should they continue to crash into bed together like this. Alec's own personality is such that he likes to be the one at the reins, likes orchestrating things, and knowing what's happening and why.
Henry is fighting him, clearly wanting to be the one on top - in action, rather than physically in this case, since Alec is fairly certain he has that much on lock at least. He's rough about it, inelegant, as he forces his tongue into Alec's mouth. It's so very satisfying when that show of force all but fizzles out with the mere touch of his fingers.
Alec licks his lips, laving away the sting left by the other's teeth. ]
What's the matter? Afraid you're not gonna last?
[ He stills his fingers when that pressure curls around his wrist, touch hovering just enough to whisper across Henry's growing arousal.
The action halts just enough, the game of tug-of-war put on pause, and Alec's brain catches up to the rest of him. The teasing jab throws into sharp relief the fact that the man beneath him has been trapped in an alternate plane for years, and before that? Locked up in a government lab. Oh, hell. ]
[He tilts his head slightly, looking up at Alec as the gears turn and snap into place. It skews locks of otherwise perfectly put-together hair across the pillow. Henry makes a point to ignore the heat hovering just above his arousal, just as he chooses to ignore that not all of that heat is radiating from Alec alone.]
No.
[Simply. There’s no shame in that admittance—shame is a feeling that Henry Creel is nearly a stranger to, these days, having abandoned it long, long ago—though he does wonder if this belated realization changes Alec’s tune on how to proceed. It doesn’t for Henry. He can figure it out as he goes.]
When would I have had the chance?
[His hands trail down during this interruption to fuss with the button of Alec’s jeans. He’ll take this opportunity to play catch-up if he has to.]
Don't tell me that's made you change your mind. Or are you going to treat me like a piece of fine china, now?
[ He realizes it's a stupid question the second it leaves his mouth, because yes, when would Henry have had the chance? Being a government guinea pig and then somehow turning into a slab of beef jerky probably does not do wonders for one's sex life.
He rolls his eyes at the insinuation that this is somehow going to stop or proceed differently. ]
Oh, please.
[ He flexes his hand against the loose hold of Henry's powers, fingers dipping down to touch again, a bit more firmly. If that makes Henry fumble with his zipper, then so be it. ]
[Good. He’d hate to be treated like a delicate thing, and it’s probably obvious to Alec that going about this rough, rather than gentle, is his preference, anyway.
He’s touched again, the pressure firmer, and Henry purposefully bites down any noise he’d make at that, gnawing his teeth against his bottom lip. He looks at Alec again, eyes darkened with a growing inner conflict — delighted at the bolt of excitement buzzing through him versus not wanting to appear to overeager, to lose whatever contest he’s strung between them. It makes his gaze piercing, raking. And yes, when he does fumble with Alec’s zipper, his powers release once more, and he rucks his hips up into his hand in a show of self-indulgence, but also—
That invisible touch, forceful this time, attempts to push Alec straight off, so that the other man lands beside him on the bed, robbing him of his position on top. Here, he can press his lips and teeth hard against the curve of his neck; here, if successful for even a moment, he can finally pry open the fly of Alec’s jeans and dip long, questing fingers straight in.]
[ If Henry likes it rough, then Henry's going to get it rough, especially if he keeps trying to fight back.
Once again satisfaction flares bright as Henry finally gives in and grinds up into Alec's touch, the darkened look in mismatched eyes enough to bring a smirk to his face. The telekinetic grip dissipates and Alec finds himself letting his guard down for just the barest of moments, and finds himself flipped over because of it.
Alright, lesson learned.
Henry goes for his neck, and Alec jams his arm up against his chest to stop him, holding him at bay easily. That doesn't stop his fingers from finding their mark. It's not as if Alec isn't aroused - he's been getting worked up since that moment in the kitchen, though he's certainly been better at hiding it. A ragged exhale is all Henry gets for his trouble. ]
Just what do you think you're gonna do from up there, huh?
[ He says, rhetorically, because a split second later he's leveraging his strength to get Henry back on his back. He slots himself over Henry's hips, the heat of his body flush against the bulge straining against Henry's underwear. ]
C'mon, Henry. You're not gonna win this one. Might as well just give in and enjoy yourself.
Edited (noticed a typo sssh) 2022-11-21 02:00 (UTC)
[Oh, but he can feel the line of him with his fingers, the heat there, even as he’s blocked from chasing after a kiss. Too bad he doesn’t get the chance to enjoy it for very long, or hear little more than a breathy exhale of air from Alec—not much of a reward for the effort—because his damnable strength enables him to flip them over again, right where he started.
...Almost right where they started. Alec’s body slots right on top of his hips, friction and heat teasing at his erection which is starting to strain in the confines of his underwear. Henry makes a sound of low frustration, this time keeping himself still beneath him. Too much shifting and wiggling about will only flush him more, stimulate him more.]
Just how alluring do you think you are, that I’m just going to lie here and let you do whatever you want to me?
[A hand reaching up to catch his chin between forefinger and thumb.]
Work for it. I’m not that easy to unravel. [(Again, says the virgin.)]
[ Henry likes to do that, doesn't he? Make a grab for Alec's chin. His hand snaps up to catch Henry by the wrist, tugging his grip away. ]
You kissed me, Henry. Is that not alluring enough for you?
[ Again, the sound of thunder fills the room. Low, rolling, threatening. Almost an outward manifestation of the storm Henry saw in his mind. Alec's pulse thrums with it, the thrill of having Henry, big bad I'm-going-to-end-the world Henry, struggling beneath him.
His free hand comes up to catch Henry by the chin instead, to hold his gaze. The light in his eyes dances wildly as he leans down, down, down, so very close. His voice goes low, breathy. ]
You really gonna lie there and tell me you don't want. This.
[ A slow, languid roll of his body from where he sits. Sweet, sweet friction. ]
[Henry does enjoy grasping Alec by the chin, touching his face; just one more hint of powerplay at his disposal. But of course he’s deprived of that, too, when his wrist is pulled away, and it leaves him with fingers curling claw-like, unable to grasp at anything.
Instead, Alec grips his chin, forcing his gaze upwards into that stormy, electric light behind his eyes. He’s close, so, so close— and there it is again. That deep, dark intensity that he had seen once before, utterly arresting, like being caught in a pressurized atmosphere just waiting to roil and break. It leaves Henry without a reply, barely even remembering to exhale, and definitely not remembering to look indignant. He is mesmerized for that half-second by something as severe in intensity as himself, like looking into a mirror and finding stormlight staring back, elegant and challenging.
And then Alec grinds so utterly languorously around him, and he’s wrenched back into reality by the treacherous nature of his own body. The coiling heat in his belly, bolting all the way down to his groin. Henry sets his jaw, but it’s too little too late. Out comes a guttural sound, reverberating low, head craning up on instinct to reveal the smooth tract of his neck.]
[ There's so much here that happens that Alec likes. The way he seems to hold Henry captive that has little to do with his physical grip. The way he startles him with the movement of his body. That noise that rumbles up out of him, almost in answer to Alec's thunder. The pretty way he bares his throat, certainly unintentional but enticing all the same.
He smiles, an expression that has more in common with a knife in the dark than anything nearing joy. ]
I know.
[ His grip slides from Henry's jaw to catch a fistful of his hair instead, his grip tight, unmoving as if he were made of steel rather than flesh and blood. His breath whispers past Henry's lips as he ducks his head to instead help himself to the exposed line of his throat. Teeth catch unkindly against skin, and Alec's tongue passes over the marks he leaves in his wake. ]
Edited (i didn't forget to pick an icon don't look at me) 2022-11-22 00:20 (UTC)
[Held by fingers fisting tightly in his hair, pulling at his scalp, Henry should only feel a flare of agitation, of indignation; how dare he press him down, how dare he try to control him like this? And there is a small part of him that does feel that way, his mind clawing for some kind of warning to snipe back.
None comes.
Instead, that thrill again, the sting melding with pleasure and shooting straight down to his hardening cock between his legs. His pride declares that he should pry that hand away, but everything else wants to indulge in it. Even the hard line of Alec’s teeth against his neck results in the same physiological reaction, his jaw setting and his Adam’s apple bobbing.
His mouth is so warm.
A wholly belated realization, a few moments later, hand rising to grip hard at the back of Alec’s neck:]
Don’t leave a mark. [He practically hisses it out.]
[ Henry's pulse practically races under his mouth, and Alec smiles sharply into his skin. This is what he wants, to work Henry up to the point where he forgets to resist, to get him so lost in the sensation that he doesn't fight back.
They're not quite there, as evidenced a moment later when a hand closes around the back off his neck. Alec laughs, his breath stiflingly warm against Henry's throat. ]
What's the matter? Embarrassed?
[ He settles his hips again, his weight against the hardness at the apex of Henry's legs. This doesn't feel like an objection to him. ]
[It was never an actual objection, no, and his body is certainly showing every sign of enjoying it, hard and starting to throb against Alec's weight. But Henry's face twists with sharp facetiousness, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.]
If you leave a mark, then I'll tell everyone who asks that it was you who put it there.
[Alec seems like a private man who wouldn't want even a shred of his intimacy, heated as it is, put on blast.]
[Again, those invisible hands roam up Alec's chest, then down his back, then trailing back around to his thighs, up and up. Unheeding any clothing that might be in the way.]
You haven't exactly swept me off my feet just yet.
[ He quite literally swept Henry off his feet. And has kept him from getting his feet back under him ever since.
Again with the psychic bullshit. The pass of that invisible touch isn't unpleasant, and there's something to be said for a partner with near unlimited hands at their disposal. He trails off in a hum that dips so low it may as well be a purr. His grip wrenches harder in Henry's hair. ]
If you wanna touch me so bad, Henry, just fucking do it.
[For as long as Henry’s willpower remains in one piece, not yet crumbled under Alec’s everything, he will not take to being bossed around, even in ways that make his heart thud hard in his ribcage. Even when his hair is wrenched again, delightfully forceful.
He’s going to do the opposite of using his hands. The opposite of rising to the bait. It’s almost petulant how that invisible touch all but coalesces right at Alec’s crotch, stroking up and against the contour of him. Back down again.]
[ If Henry's being so terribly clever, so petulant and defiant, then why is Alec grinning like the cat that caught the canary? He breathes out a low, rolling laugh as he angles his hips into those invisible hands, relishing in the sweet heat that sparks through him.
He's got your number, Henry Creel. ]
Yet, you're doing it anyway.
[ He never specified that he needed to use his hands, now did he? ]
[Fuck. He is insufferable. The irritation that rakes against his insides should not be so interwoven with a hot, hungry need, but it is, and that’s just all the more frustrating for it.
Notably, Henry’s powers do not cease their attentions.
But also, he’s propping himself up on his shoulders and attempting to sit up. How’s Alec’s grip on his hair?]
[ He's counting the continued use of that phantom touch a victory. If he didn't think Henry would absolutely rankle at a bit of praise, he might be tempted to give it. As it is, he rocks his body along with the sensation, rewarding Henry a little for his efforts in turn.
When Henry moves to sit, Alec holds his grip for a second or two, unmoving. A very real warning that he could keep him there if he wants to - but as it stands, he doesn't want to. He relents, letting Henry ease himself up.
[He will not visibly react to that irritatingly wonderful feeling of Alec rolling his hips against him, even if his body is, once again, betraying his interest in every other feasible way. Note: the slight flushing of his pale skin across the cheekbones as he tries to sit up but remains held by the hair.
Just for a few seconds, he looks like an animal wanting to be let off its leash.
But then Alec relents, and Henry’s hands are immediately drawing up and under his shirt, greedy to feel with his own hands. Yes, it’s a concession. A small one. But pile little victories upon little victories, and maybe Alec is on the right track of getting Henry to unravel for him.
[ Oh he does note that color creeping into Henry's cheeks. As if he would ever miss those little details. One more point for him. (They're not actually keeping score.)
As strangely pleasant as the pass of Henry's powers has been, it pales in comparison to a real touch, the electric heat of skin on skin as his hands dip beneath Alec's shirt. He breathes out a pleased little sigh, straightening a little so he can pull his t-shirt off. The order can slide, since he's happy to let Henry explore. And unlike Henry, Alec's skin is far from unmarred. He has plenty of marks, scars left by blades or bullets or stray bolts of lightning. A map of his mercenary career written on his body.
(The answer, by the way, to the unasked tattoo question is twelve.) ]
[Oh, every mark is like a little secret revealed to him, tantalizing in ways that aren’t just physical. Scars and burns, old wounds healed over from who knows how many years ago. How many layers to Alec can he someday peel apart, getting him to tell the tale behind each one?
Henry’s more eager than he’d like to admit; the way his gaze rakes across him initially is more than proof of that. But the scarring temporarily pauses this growing urgency. His hands smooth up Alec’s torso, warm and present, but then he traces along the line of an old injury with his fingertip.
The gesture is strangely delicate. Like how he would handle a spider.]
Look how much of your life is carved into your skin.
[ Meanwhile, he finds Henry's sudden fascination, well, fascinating in its own right. The gentleness with which he draws long, slim fingers along an old scar sits entirely at odds with their whole encounter until now. The calm in the eye of the storm.
Those questing fingers send a shiver down his spine. He remembers that mark, a long, slender line carved into his flesh from the claws of a wraith. A soul so corrupted and angry it turned itself into a monster. Maybe there's something poetic in Henry's fixation on it now. ]
That's what happens when you live a life like mine.
[Maybe Henry would have made a good wraith if the Upside Down didn’t claim him first.
That finger trails to the very, very edge of Alec’s faded wound, stopping right where the ridge of old scar tissue smooths back into normal skin. His eyes flick up at him.]
Excitement at every turn? I hope you share a few of these stories with me someday.
[ Alec keeps his eyes on Henry's face as he inspects the scar, so when odd-colored eyes flick up in his direction, their gazes meet. This little interlude has done little to quell the heat simmering just under Alec's skin, but perhaps the storm in his eyes isn't quite so wild. ]
Maybe someday.
[ He draws his hands up Henry's chest. He no longer has his magic in play, for now, but his palms are warm all the same. Slide up to his shoulders to ease his shirt away. They might as well be even. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Henry is fighting him, clearly wanting to be the one on top - in action, rather than physically in this case, since Alec is fairly certain he has that much on lock at least. He's rough about it, inelegant, as he forces his tongue into Alec's mouth. It's so very satisfying when that show of force all but fizzles out with the mere touch of his fingers.
Alec licks his lips, laving away the sting left by the other's teeth. ]
What's the matter? Afraid you're not gonna last?
[ He stills his fingers when that pressure curls around his wrist, touch hovering just enough to whisper across Henry's growing arousal.
The action halts just enough, the game of tug-of-war put on pause, and Alec's brain catches up to the rest of him. The teasing jab throws into sharp relief the fact that the man beneath him has been trapped in an alternate plane for years, and before that? Locked up in a government lab. Oh, hell. ]
Have you even done this before?
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No.
[Simply. There’s no shame in that admittance—shame is a feeling that Henry Creel is nearly a stranger to, these days, having abandoned it long, long ago—though he does wonder if this belated realization changes Alec’s tune on how to proceed. It doesn’t for Henry. He can figure it out as he goes.]
When would I have had the chance?
[His hands trail down during this interruption to fuss with the button of Alec’s jeans. He’ll take this opportunity to play catch-up if he has to.]
Don't tell me that's made you change your mind. Or are you going to treat me like a piece of fine china, now?
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He rolls his eyes at the insinuation that this is somehow going to stop or proceed differently. ]
Oh, please.
[ He flexes his hand against the loose hold of Henry's powers, fingers dipping down to touch again, a bit more firmly. If that makes Henry fumble with his zipper, then so be it. ]
I told you I was going to finish this, didn't I?
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He’s touched again, the pressure firmer, and Henry purposefully bites down any noise he’d make at that, gnawing his teeth against his bottom lip. He looks at Alec again, eyes darkened with a growing inner conflict — delighted at the bolt of excitement buzzing through him versus not wanting to appear to overeager, to lose whatever contest he’s strung between them. It makes his gaze piercing, raking. And yes, when he does fumble with Alec’s zipper, his powers release once more, and he rucks his hips up into his hand in a show of self-indulgence, but also—
That invisible touch, forceful this time, attempts to push Alec straight off, so that the other man lands beside him on the bed, robbing him of his position on top. Here, he can press his lips and teeth hard against the curve of his neck; here, if successful for even a moment, he can finally pry open the fly of Alec’s jeans and dip long, questing fingers straight in.]
no subject
Once again satisfaction flares bright as Henry finally gives in and grinds up into Alec's touch, the darkened look in mismatched eyes enough to bring a smirk to his face. The telekinetic grip dissipates and Alec finds himself letting his guard down for just the barest of moments, and finds himself flipped over because of it.
Alright, lesson learned.
Henry goes for his neck, and Alec jams his arm up against his chest to stop him, holding him at bay easily. That doesn't stop his fingers from finding their mark. It's not as if Alec isn't aroused - he's been getting worked up since that moment in the kitchen, though he's certainly been better at hiding it. A ragged exhale is all Henry gets for his trouble. ]
Just what do you think you're gonna do from up there, huh?
[ He says, rhetorically, because a split second later he's leveraging his strength to get Henry back on his back. He slots himself over Henry's hips, the heat of his body flush against the bulge straining against Henry's underwear. ]
C'mon, Henry. You're not gonna win this one. Might as well just give in and enjoy yourself.
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...Almost right where they started. Alec’s body slots right on top of his hips, friction and heat teasing at his erection which is starting to strain in the confines of his underwear. Henry makes a sound of low frustration, this time keeping himself still beneath him. Too much shifting and wiggling about will only flush him more, stimulate him more.]
Just how alluring do you think you are, that I’m just going to lie here and let you do whatever you want to me?
[A hand reaching up to catch his chin between forefinger and thumb.]
Work for it. I’m not that easy to unravel. [(Again, says the virgin.)]
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You kissed me, Henry. Is that not alluring enough for you?
[ Again, the sound of thunder fills the room. Low, rolling, threatening. Almost an outward manifestation of the storm Henry saw in his mind. Alec's pulse thrums with it, the thrill of having Henry, big bad I'm-going-to-end-the world Henry, struggling beneath him.
His free hand comes up to catch Henry by the chin instead, to hold his gaze. The light in his eyes dances wildly as he leans down, down, down, so very close. His voice goes low, breathy. ]
You really gonna lie there and tell me you don't want. This.
[ A slow, languid roll of his body from where he sits. Sweet, sweet friction. ]
no subject
Instead, Alec grips his chin, forcing his gaze upwards into that stormy, electric light behind his eyes. He’s close, so, so close— and there it is again. That deep, dark intensity that he had seen once before, utterly arresting, like being caught in a pressurized atmosphere just waiting to roil and break. It leaves Henry without a reply, barely even remembering to exhale, and definitely not remembering to look indignant. He is mesmerized for that half-second by something as severe in intensity as himself, like looking into a mirror and finding stormlight staring back, elegant and challenging.
And then Alec grinds so utterly languorously around him, and he’s wrenched back into reality by the treacherous nature of his own body. The coiling heat in his belly, bolting all the way down to his groin. Henry sets his jaw, but it’s too little too late. Out comes a guttural sound, reverberating low, head craning up on instinct to reveal the smooth tract of his neck.]
You're insufferable.
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He smiles, an expression that has more in common with a knife in the dark than anything nearing joy. ]
I know.
[ His grip slides from Henry's jaw to catch a fistful of his hair instead, his grip tight, unmoving as if he were made of steel rather than flesh and blood. His breath whispers past Henry's lips as he ducks his head to instead help himself to the exposed line of his throat. Teeth catch unkindly against skin, and Alec's tongue passes over the marks he leaves in his wake. ]
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None comes.
Instead, that thrill again, the sting melding with pleasure and shooting straight down to his hardening cock between his legs. His pride declares that he should pry that hand away, but everything else wants to indulge in it. Even the hard line of Alec’s teeth against his neck results in the same physiological reaction, his jaw setting and his Adam’s apple bobbing.
His mouth is so warm.
A wholly belated realization, a few moments later, hand rising to grip hard at the back of Alec’s neck:]
Don’t leave a mark. [He practically hisses it out.]
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They're not quite there, as evidenced a moment later when a hand closes around the back off his neck. Alec laughs, his breath stiflingly warm against Henry's throat. ]
What's the matter? Embarrassed?
[ He settles his hips again, his weight against the hardness at the apex of Henry's legs. This doesn't feel like an objection to him. ]
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If you leave a mark, then I'll tell everyone who asks that it was you who put it there.
[Alec seems like a private man who wouldn't want even a shred of his intimacy, heated as it is, put on blast.]
Is that what you want?
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[ No, Alec normally wouldn't want that sort of information out in the open, but at the moment he feels confident enough to call Henry's bluff. ]
Be sure to add in how much you like being beneath me, while you're at it.
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Don't give yourself so much credit.
[Again, those invisible hands roam up Alec's chest, then down his back, then trailing back around to his thighs, up and up. Unheeding any clothing that might be in the way.]
You haven't exactly swept me off my feet just yet.
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I'm giving myself the perfect amount of credit.
[ He quite literally swept Henry off his feet. And has kept him from getting his feet back under him ever since.
Again with the psychic bullshit. The pass of that invisible touch isn't unpleasant, and there's something to be said for a partner with near unlimited hands at their disposal. He trails off in a hum that dips so low it may as well be a purr. His grip wrenches harder in Henry's hair. ]
If you wanna touch me so bad, Henry, just fucking do it.
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He’s going to do the opposite of using his hands. The opposite of rising to the bait. It’s almost petulant how that invisible touch all but coalesces right at Alec’s crotch, stroking up and against the contour of him. Back down again.]
Don’t pretend to know what I want.
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He's got your number, Henry Creel. ]
Yet, you're doing it anyway.
[ He never specified that he needed to use his hands, now did he? ]
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Notably, Henry’s powers do not cease their attentions.
But also, he’s propping himself up on his shoulders and attempting to sit up. How’s Alec’s grip on his hair?]
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When Henry moves to sit, Alec holds his grip for a second or two, unmoving. A very real warning that he could keep him there if he wants to - but as it stands, he doesn't want to. He relents, letting Henry ease himself up.
What's he up to? ]
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Just for a few seconds, he looks like an animal wanting to be let off its leash.
But then Alec relents, and Henry’s hands are immediately drawing up and under his shirt, greedy to feel with his own hands. Yes, it’s a concession. A small one. But pile little victories upon little victories, and maybe Alec is on the right track of getting Henry to unravel for him.
For now—]
Take off your shirt.
finally a use for this icon
As strangely pleasant as the pass of Henry's powers has been, it pales in comparison to a real touch, the electric heat of skin on skin as his hands dip beneath Alec's shirt. He breathes out a pleased little sigh, straightening a little so he can pull his t-shirt off. The order can slide, since he's happy to let Henry explore. And unlike Henry, Alec's skin is far from unmarred. He has plenty of marks, scars left by blades or bullets or stray bolts of lightning. A map of his mercenary career written on his body.
(The answer, by the way, to the unasked tattoo question is twelve.) ]
s i r
Henry’s more eager than he’d like to admit; the way his gaze rakes across him initially is more than proof of that. But the scarring temporarily pauses this growing urgency. His hands smooth up Alec’s torso, warm and present, but then he traces along the line of an old injury with his fingertip.
The gesture is strangely delicate. Like how he would handle a spider.]
Look how much of your life is carved into your skin.
no subject
Those questing fingers send a shiver down his spine. He remembers that mark, a long, slender line carved into his flesh from the claws of a wraith. A soul so corrupted and angry it turned itself into a monster. Maybe there's something poetic in Henry's fixation on it now. ]
That's what happens when you live a life like mine.
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That finger trails to the very, very edge of Alec’s faded wound, stopping right where the ridge of old scar tissue smooths back into normal skin. His eyes flick up at him.]
Excitement at every turn? I hope you share a few of these stories with me someday.
[Just not… you know. This afternoon.]
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Maybe someday.
[ He draws his hands up Henry's chest. He no longer has his magic in play, for now, but his palms are warm all the same. Slide up to his shoulders to ease his shirt away. They might as well be even. ]
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