sorserer | ( office hours & overflow )

[ yeah, okay, stephen huffs out another laugh, he can’t help it. it’s not the most unkind sound of which he’s capable. ]

It already has. Dozens of times.

[ that’s not even an exaggeration, unfortunately. there have been whole days they’ve spent apart, whole afternoons spent fucking other people that ended in still-wild nights. you run out of things to do in this town if you don’t like who you’re with. ]

Might be worth getting used to sooner rather than later.

[Stephen has a nice lap. Nice, long legs and taut thighs--it gives a good vantage point to look down at him, drape arms down over shoulders, grumble about time slipping away, find his pulse with his mouth, share a drink. It's a good spot to sit, Hakkyuu just doesn't know it yet.

And in fairness, if Stephen patted his lap like that with older Hakkyuu he'd very likely tell him to go fuck himself, but there are many variations on the offer that Hakkyuu would take him up on.

Here and now though it sounds like a lie, like Stephen is just saying what he does, or doesn't, want to hear. And yet something in Hakkyuu's gut tells him that's not the case.]

Yeah... Well. I'm not doing it now. So guess your lap's just gonna stay cold, huh?

[And to prove the point, he slides off the arm of the chair to walk out in front of Stephen instead, arms crossed as if he's managed to win some kind of addition ground by putting himself directly in front of Stephen rather than in close sidelong proximity.]

I don't think there's a "how it usually goes" and you're just out here being... real gross.

[ stephen looks him up and down, brows raised: the color high in his neck, the faux imperiousness of the folded arms. his eyes drop down last, with no apparent scruples, to hakkyuu’s crotch. it’s not a long glance; he’s looking archly next at hakkyuu’s expression. ]

I’m not that good at spinning a yarn, kid. But I do have an excellent memory.

[ he rests his chin back on his hand. his other hand comes down over his thigh again--

this time to adjust himself, with visible care, in his trousers. they’re excellently woven. and the shadow of his cock is just visible there, thick under the wool. ]

It’s alright to want to know.

[Such a small gesture with so many large implications, in more ways than one. It's almost more obscene that he can only see an impression of Stephen's want through his slacks, outlines that appear and fade through the fabric. And at the same time he can imagine the weight and taste of him over Hakkyuu's tongue, a very particular kind of mental flash that feels like an impossible memory.

And it is fully unfair hot attractive Stephen looks there--straight-backed and completely at ease with teasing his own offerings in those fine clothes and all too laid back air.

Normally, Hakkyuu would take it as an absolute challenge to make a thorough mess of him, torment and work Stephen up, test that impressive restraint, see how long he could hold up the veneer of being nonplussed, and make an complete wreck of that lovely suit. And he wouldn't even offer to pay the dry-cleaning.

Here, he feels like he's looking at a lazy wolf that is going to move when it gets hungry enough.

The other humiliating thing is how watching Stephen like this already has Hakkyuu rock solid in his pants. The joys of being a teenager where even an breeze can create a hard-on. Stephen hasn't even done anything.]

So c'mon, share this excellent memory of yours then. Let's hear it!

[Sure, it's meant to show he's not scared of anything, though what it's likely going to do in reality is come back to bite him when Stephen's wolf opens its maw.]

[ the trousers of his suit are a subtle dark grey. easier to see his cock, at certain angles, in part because stephen doesn’t bother with boxers and in part because it’s - nothing to sneeze at, even half-hard. he firms his palm over it just once, lets it twitch alluringly under the pressure, and then he’s stretching back out in the armchair. storytime indeed. ]

You spent the whole night making sure I was watching your mouth.

[ in the past, of course. he’s not watching hakkyuu’s mouth now. he’s watching his eyes instead, the unfamiliar warm hue of them, so unlike their usual crystalline cold. ]

You’d been getting other men to buy us drinks. [ and then, conversationally, which in itself is a tease: ] It was a good play. I started thinking about how much of a waste it would’ve been, if any one of them got to fuck you instead of me.

[There's an art to eye movement that, standing here, Hakkyuu hasn't mastered yet. To him, looking back and forth quickly feels subtly for the way the time feels to him--the more quickly he can move his eyes from between Stephen's legs and his
crotch, the less time he's spending staring directly at a particular spot and therefore be seen watching. It doesn't quite clock yet that the more his eyes move, the more noticeable they are. He hasn't learnt how to stare without being noticed yet, or how to stare to be intentionally noticed.

It doesn't feel like a story about him. It's about someone else. Stephen and someone else. Someone who can apparently charm drinks out of guys and have a mouth worth thinking about all night. To Hakkyuu, that all sounds like Vrenille, not him.

But Stephen keeps saying 'you' as speaks and stares right at Hakkyuu, and as Stephen is spinning this story he can't look away, which means by the time Stephen reaches that end point the widening of Hakkyuu's eyes is impossible to miss, just like the rising redness in his cheeks.

Stephen can probably even see the full bob of Hakkyuu's throat as he swallows once more.]

That... doesn't sound like something I'd do.

To me it seemed like something you’d done a million times. [ he flicks a hand out dismissively. ] Which was fine. First day’s always a little surreal for newcomers, I wasn’t looking for anything in particular.

[ there’s probably more detail stephen can fill in, in a less charged moment. hakkyuu had his attention from the moment they’d both left the processing center; the curiosity had kicked in shortly thereafter, beside him at a bar counter, in parentheses around entirely too easy conversation. in the beginning stephen had considered the value of looking for allies - and now, even with the normal iteration of hakkyuu itching for an excuse to jump down his throat, he knows he got more than he expected.

but those details aren’t so relevant right now, not when there’s a boy almost shaking a mere couple of feet in front of him, drowning in his clothes, barely treading water in his imagination. stephen, slow to anything wider than smirks to begin with, has to fight the urge to bare his teeth. ]

You’re very impressive out there. You’d touch them, make a little fun ... five seconds where some asshole feels like the most interesting thing in the room. And then you’d come back to me. [ he shrugs. ] Because, even then, you knew I was better.

[That last remark brings Hakkyuu up with a sort of full-body blink of confusion.

Stephen has a presence that is commanding even when he's barely doing anything at all, just talking, just being in a space it feels like. If he wanted to, Hakkyuu already has the feeling he could stand there in complete silence and demand all the attention. Hell, he could be in the room ignoring Hakkyuu and he'd still be like a beacon.

So on the one hand he can believe it--that of everyone in a room, Hakkyuu would opt to keep coming back to Stephen. What he can't work out, even while Stephen is telling him this, is why Stephen was interested in him. It's not self-deprecating either, it really is simply that there are too many holes with missing information that don't make sense.]

But it'd be so you'd watch, right?

[He cocks his head to the side, hands pushing deeply into the front pouch of the hoodie, down over the telling signs that this is all uncomfortably arousing despite, or because of, how nervous Stephen makes him.]

There are easier ways to get drinks. That would have been... for you. So you'd see that and not want to feel left out or like someone else might get something you'd want.

[He purses his lips, biting on the insides of them for a second to try and stop a follow-up question but his impulse is too strong.]

And... that worked, didn't it?

[ by now the events of that first night have replayed themselves a dozen times, with only slight variations. there are some nights he watches hakkyuu wind people up for hours, a series of entertaining displays to be viewed contemplatively over the top of tumblrs. and just like that first night, it hardly matters. the men are passing scenery. now, just like then, if stephen’s in the room they both know how they’d prefer to spend their nights. ]

Obviously.

[ it’s a confession without a hint of shame. we like what we like when we see it. you don’t need photographic memory for so incisive a conclusion as that. ]

You’re charming. And ... [ there it is, that smirk again. ] You don’t get much taller.

[ local man thinks he’s funny. ]

You invited me home. I wanted to split you in half.

[The whiplash Hakkyuu experiences then is wild.

First, there's a strunching of his face at Stephen's height insinuation, something that he starts to clap back with a 'oh, fuck off, now I know you're full of shit!' but only gets about half way before Stephen says the next thing and it shuts Hakkyuu right up.

It's such a vulgar and oddly violent way of speaking. Not that crudeness is anything alien to Hakkyuu by any means, it's just so jarring to hear it slip from Stephen's lips to him.

The longer he stands there, listening to this stuff, the more Hakkyuu feels hot and muggy under his clothes, the hoodie stifling as well as swamping him, makes him notice how his collar and palms feels damp and like Stephen must be able to tell because it feels so obvious to Hakkyuu even if it wouldn't be to anyone else.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to shake the echo of what Stephen has just said out of his head because every time it replays it just turns the heat in his veins up a notch. With his face turned away and downward, he doesn't say anything for a protracted moment, his front teeth grinding slowly as he chews on the words he knows he shouldn't let out because the direction it'll all go is obvious even to a stupid teenager. But it's probably because he's a stupid teenager that the question slips out all the same, very quietly, without looking at Stephen and instead staring into the middle distance toward the corner of the room and floor.]

... Did you?

[ stephen hums. that’s all he does. perhaps it’s all he needs to do, the sights in the room too well-suited to the tension thick inside it: a well-dressed man with his chin on his hand; the idle suggestion of his erection against his inseam; a bottle of scotch on the fine glossed granite tabletop beside him; the lone and empty tumbler. the boy before him, twisting on the vine. ]

What do you think?

I think you're full of shit.

[It's a complete lie, or at least a denial of the truth which may be something slightly different--only lying to himself.

Still it's closer to a lie than Hakkyuu would normally go toward and, more than anything, it's very stupid. He has so much evidence laid out in front of him it's as clear as saying he didn't believe the sky was blue.

And yet he glares daggers at Stephen--defensive and not wanting to believe in principle because if he does it might reveal something about himself he doesn't want to see.]

I don’t know ...

[ lackadaisical doubt. it’s no effort at all, really, to put hakkyuu suddenly and without warning where he needs to be: astride stephen’s lap, right on top of where his cock is swollen and tucked away, so it can burn a metaphorical hole against hakkyuu’s ass. it’s not even the kind of magic that summons sparks: he simply realigns what is and what isn’t to suit his own purposes, which today, he knows, are dour.

stephen’s head is stays on his closed fist. his other hand, without any visible interim movement, rests scarred and warm on hakkyuu’s knee, thumb idling over the dimple in the joint. ]

You really don’t recognize it? [ he’s warm everywhere, the picture of liquid relaxation. ] You must have had it dozens of times.

[Magic, as Hakkyuu and not doubt Vrenille have mentioned many times, exists in Tyria in abundance. Twelve years on from where Hakkyuu's awareness is now, it'll actually be overflowing, a problem with too much magic coursing through their homeworld. In a day to day sense, while Hakkyuu doesn't have much contact with magic, he knows it when he feels it.

The sense of being displaced is only overshadowed in terms of surprise when in a split second Stephen is much closer than he had been and it takes Hakkyuu mind a moment to catch up and realise it's not Stephen who has gotten nearer at all.

The moment of realisation is obvious though as Hakkyuu jolts abruptly in Stephen's lap, one hand snatching out to grab the sorcerer's arm in case he's about to fall except he's already sitting. And already in secure hands, apparently.

A ripple effect seems to visibly run through him then, like a wave all the way up his spine that draws Hakkyuu up in Stephen's lap with every hair on his body standing on end from the sudden, incredibly intimate proximity.

It's hard to swallow the hot, overwhelmed lump in his throat as his widened eyes hold and unwavering stare on Stephen as it takes him some time to find his voice.]

I know about you. About... what you're like. What you do.

[If anyone didn't know better they might think Hakkyuu was being tortured to admit national secrets by the way he speaks here. And with how rigid his body has gotten, he looks like he might be too afraid to move, too scared in case he shifts and feels the undeniable swell of Stephen's cock all the more keenly.]

I know you... I just don't remember you doing any of that with... me.

[ what you’re like. what you do. there’s a world in which stephen might take offense to that. what’s anyone like, in this town, pared down to their worst impulses? what does anyone do, stripped of purpose and left to chase undefinable goals, quotas whose importance are never clearly delineated, sex and only sex until every other important thing is driven from your head?

the problem, of course, is that hakkyuu does know what he’s like, and knows what stephen does. stephen is a bastard sometimes. sometimes he does bastard things.

he keeps massaging hakkyuu’s knee lightly with his thumb, a light graze of a touch. ]

Maybe you need a refresher.

[At this point, Hakkyuu isn't really aiming to be cutting with his words, he's just not as clean and clever with them yet. He doesn't know how to speak about how he knows about some of Stephen's secrets, how he knows what he looks like betrayed and hurt and angry, how he knows what he looks like when he sleeps, or how he knows some of the basic functions of his magic even if he doesn't fully understand the mechanics.

He can't speak about how unsettling it is to have all this information and a paradoxical block how he knows it with an almost queasy sensation of memories that don't feel like his own which has gotten progressively more difficult to make sense of the longer he's in the room and the effect settles in.

And the city's effects aren't the only thing seeming to be obnoxiously at home within Hakkyuu's body with Stephen's hand continuing to move in that all-too familiar way in small strokes that send little jolts of electricity through him each time the pad of Stephen's thumb hits a certain point. Sometimes he jerks in a slightly more noticeable way, like he's going to try and yank back and slide right off Stephen's lap again.]

It's hard to tell if you really think it's for my sake or if it's for yours. [He has to shift then, eyes squeezing closed briefly as he tries to ignore and not think about how very little those finely tailored slacks leave to the imagination beneath him.]

[ his hand, with its faintly bent fingers and joints just out of place, slips under the soft hollow beneath hakkyuu’s knee. he pulls him closer easily, secures him more firmly on his lap. it means that when he tilts his head he can feel the tension in hakkyuu’s held breaths, flitting out warm in the narrow space between them when hakkyuu can’t help but let them escape.

he noses along hakkyuu’s jaw, idle enough to be incidental. as though there’s anything incidental about how hard he is, that hold on hakkyuu’s knee, the whole fact of being near enough to kiss. ]

Well. [ in that low and liquid voice. ] No reason it can’t be both.

[In the grander scheme of everything, Stephen doesn't move Hakkyuu all that far. A few inches closer at best. And yet it sends the hear roaring through Hakkyuu's veins to find himself slotted more firmly in place as he shoots out a hand to brace his palm against Stephen's shoulder. When he makes contact like that, he kind of freezes, like he wasn't planning to do that and isn't sure what should come next or what Stephen will do even though overall it's a relatively small reflexive response. After all, it's not like he socked Stephen in the face or anything.

And as the wizard's skin strokes lightly across the line of Hakkyuu's jaw and he feels the sound of Stephen's low, private voice pooling low in his belly, Hakkyuu's whole body shudders with about the same force as downing two fingers of that scotch earlier, feeling it ripple all through his nerves until his fingers close tightly against the fancy fabric of Stephen's jacket. Everything feels hot and blurry and still, really, Stephen has barely done anything to put Hakkyuu in such a quivering, ridiculously turned on state.

The only saving grace about none of his clothes fitting well right now is probably that his already weeping hard cock doesn't feel as restricted as it could as he wonders fleetingly if its as glaringly obvious to Stephen as it feels to him like that.

And perhaps worst of all, Hakkyuu feels his head tip to the side ever so slightly, just enough to give Stephen's face easier access to his jawline and neck area.]

[ there it is.

in future days, in some future timeline unknowable to the slight slender thing on his lap, hakkyuu isn’t above baring his throat. it’s less surrender than sensuality, part of some mutual interplay: whatever stephen gives he as good as gets in return. if there’s something wolfish in stephen’s head that can be baited to rise to the fore, there’s something in hakkyuu that’s always ready to answer in kind.

but whatever hakkyuu is right now, he’s less fangs and more milk teeth. downright sweet in his abrasiveness, the words coming out of his mouth at constant odds with the minute trembles of his body in stephen’s lap. it’s not what stephen usually goes for - there’s part of him, ruefully panging, that knows he’s in this room for the wrong reasons to begin with - but also it’s reassuringly familiar, like rewrapping a gift you’ve already opened, pulling delicately on the bow.

the scent of hakkyuu’s skin is subtly different without the tingle of magic taint underneath. stephen keeps his fingers in the bend of hakkyuu’s knee to keep him there, inclines his head further to breathe close-mouthed against the throb of his pulse in his neck, with that same oil slick voice: ]

Still with me?

[ He doesn't remember closing his eyes, though apparently somewhere in this he did, and it's Stephen's voice that has him blinking them back open to process the very simple question.

Oh this is bad. This is very bad.

Under Stephen's hands, he'll feel Hakkyuu's muscles tighten again through pure petulant stubbornness.]

Where would I have gone?

Someplace you don’t have to think.

[ stephen slouches further in the chair, just so, still a picture of ready effortlessness. it merely makes matters easier, this curling fingers in the hem of hakkyuu’s shirt and sliding them inside, in the elegant slope from hakkyuu’s waist to a hipbone. it’s magic that keeps his fingers stiller than usual, which he’s been known to do in bed on occasion; it leaves his hand spread warm and long-fingered on skin. ]

But you should think. About what you might like.

[ and sliding that touch in further, to--

dig his knuckles in so against the divot in his lower back, where in the future stephen knows intimately there will someday be muscle, hard-earned, that jolts under his touch. ]

How you want me to touch you.

[There's a flood of contradictory responses that all hit Hakkyuu's mind at the same white hot moment as Stephen's hands start to wander and his words roam, reaching into parts of Hakkyuu he doesn't fully realise he has or are otherwise slumbering.

Just like that

Don't touch me

Everywhere

I don't know

Stephen--!

That last one is the most jarring because it flashes into his mind like a memory with a voice that's like his own but different.

It's actually that which has him entirely frozen, staring up into Stephen's with that touch-and-go wild-eyed expression as if he's about to lose his mind and go into pure flight mood. Hell, he isn't even breathing like a panicked rabbit that can't get enough breath anymore.

There's isn't an answer to give a question like that when you don't know, when trying to parse what is wanted just churns up all thoughts like a blender.

That's probably why he sort of gives up trying, finds his hands gripping Stephen's jacket more firmly, or more desperately, with the other abruptly joining it on the other shoulder in a mirror image as he presses forward to bring his lips to Stephen's.

It's not exactly chaste but it also lacks the assertive, knowing force that Hakkyuu typically kisses with, like deciding he's going to strike and puts his everything behind it to make sure it lands.

That isn't here because not only does he not know what the mark is, he doesn't know what he's doing in general and instead just letting feelings fumble him along toward what he thinks he wants.]

[ the way hakkyuu presses their lips together is novel in more than one way for stephen. for one, it’s so unlike hakkyuu part of him wants to straight-up bark in amusement. for another, it’s so unlike stephen’s usual preferred fare in duplicity given how little patience he has for inexperience.

but it’s hakkyuu, and whenever stephen has to account for preferences hakkyuu easily tops the list most days. he spreads his hand the small of hakkyuu’s back to keep him caged, licks once, hot and quick, over hakkyuu’s mouth in warning--and then coaxes his mouth open easily to start kissing him for real now. no shaky deer legs hesitation here, or at least not enough room for it. it’s a devouring kiss, slow like hot dripping wax, stephen in single-minded pursuit of gasps and whimpers, gauging with horrible expert ease the parts of hakkyuu’s mouth that make him shake harder in his lap.

and all along, those fingers pressed print after print on the arch of his spine, the other easing back over his knee to rub over the dimple there too. they’re not hard touches; it’s not a hard kiss. the kid can leave anytime. he just has to want it more than he wants stephen’s hands on him, stephen’s cock in him. and, well. that’s hardly stephen’s problem. ]

[A more experienced Hakkyuu who could be a fly on the wall to this would be able to easily tell that was the direction that kiss was going to go, that by pushing open the door even the barest inch that Stephen would open it fully and yank Hakkyuu right through before he could really find his footing.

And that is what it feels like, Stephen so much more prepared for this, in control and understanding of his own experience levels and pleasure points and limits that have Hakkyuu feeling like layers of resistance are being peeled back to lay bare things that are much closer to the surface than they will be in time--nothing defined clearly enough in his mind to be able to push it down or manage it with any kind of skill or endurance.

It's just a kiss. A kiss that's happening while he's sat astride Stephen's lap, with those long, careful fingers tracing over already damp skin more bronzed than the sometimes eerie pale that Stephen's touch is used to. But that kiss is what has Hakkyuu squirming against Stephen, brushing up against his crotch with none of the purposeful, targeted knowledge of how to drag his hips and make the material of those stupid expensive trousers work in his favour. It's all accidental--too brief, too inconsistent, all consequential, churned up along with soft, muffled whimpering-moans straight into Stephen's mouth, far more like honey than whiskey. They're the kind of noises Hakkyuu would typically slit his own throat to silence rather than let Stephen hear them.]

[ he stays kissing him, just kissing him, for a long and sweltering stretch. when hakkyuu’s muffled whimpers thin out even further from gasping he gives him some version of a break, even, breaking the kiss to track his mouth over hakkyuu’s jawline, the hard future angle of it still taking shape--but the pause is punctuated by a shift of his thigh, pushing it slightly harder against the sharp clothed press of hakkyuu’s arousal, like he can pull even further breathlessness out of him without the least effort. his thumb pushes along deliberately along the arch of hakkyuu’s back at the same time, lets the kid press and keen and yearn. and then his fingers twist loosely in the hem of the shirt. ]

Can I take this off you?

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