sorserer | ( office hours & overflow )

[ stephen snaps his fingers, a little unnecessary showmanship as a substitute for passing his hand directly over hakkyuu’s glass: it refills. the gradual deterioration of the cut fruit on the countertop is visible, with more on their way; they disappear methodically from a basket in the kitchen corner. sometimes magic, for stephen, is a series of skipped steps. ]

I like the classics. Or at least they’re classics back home. Martinis, gimlets, nothing too ridiculous. I’ve been drinking darker stuff since I got here. [ his head lolls to one side, contemplative. ] That might be on you, actually. And the fact that it’s harder to drug your drink when there’s only one thing in it.

Edited 2022-06-19 16:04 (UTC)

It almost feels like you're calling my tastes basic.

[He gives Stephen a squinted side-eye, though the ghost of amusement dances in his eyes and haunt the corner of his lips.

The kind of magic Stephen uses with ease is similar to what they'd see with Loki, and is a little different from the kind of magic they use in Tyria. It's still pretty fun though and feels quintessentially Stephen to just have the presence of magic floating in the air for even mundane uses.]

Those also exist at home. Or versions of them, anyway.

[There's a fleeting moment where he wants to do something with his hands on Stephen. Touch him somewhere. Anywhere. He manages to push the impulse down by focusing on the crisp cold feeling of the refilled glass against his palm as he sucks a small breathe though his lips then shrugs.]

You do know I'd drink whatever you put in my hand, right?

[ you can’t spend even a brief tenure under the same roof with people like vrenille and loki odinson and another iteration of stephen strange without picking up a few tricks. sometimes the scent of some of his spellcasting reminds him of one or another, stephen cherrypicking influences from among people he will always eventually admit to having respected. ]

Don’t give me any ideas, now.

Oh, your head's so empty now that you need me to give you ideas? I'm not sure I buy that!

[ he huffs, purestrain amusement. ]

You’ve been in the fighting game longer than me. All those whacks to the head do start to add up.

So wait, whose head are you trying to insult now, mine or yours?

[It's a purely rhetorical question that comes coupled with a sideways lean to nudge his shoulder against Stephen as he takes a sip.]

Besides, you just do your best. Set yourself up a nice little bar--[He reaches out with his free arm, casting it across the kitchen to illustrate what's in his mind.]--then get me to try what you make so I can pretend you're bad at it. How's that sound?

[ the kitchen does have the space. stephen folds his arms with his tumbler still clutched in his unsteady fingertips, a thumb swept down to steady it, surveying the layout. ]

I just got a new hobby. Do people normally have more?

[ amused, a little. ]

[He tilts his head, giving Stephen a flat stare.]

You tryin' to tell me that's more than you can handle?

I suppose not ...

[ trailing, thoughtful. the door ringer goes off; stephen lifts his eyes again to hakkyuu’s. he makes that brief amused huff again. ]

Well. If I do it, you’ll have to start tipping.

[ he sets his glass down on the countertop. his hand grazes hakkyuu’s knee in passing, a neutral touch that has shades of guiding someone briefly aside by the hip to get around them in the hall but even more unnecessary, and then he’s going to get the door. ]

[That fleeting touch, accidental or otherwise, has Hakkyuu's eyes flickering downward as Stephen sweeps past before shifting his gaze to follow the planes of his shoulders and back as he heads to the door, not moving himself just yet though as he sort of takes the moment to just enjoy the moment and the view.

There are so many little things that similar to when Stephen was in the house, a difficult reminder of attraction that Hakkyuu had tried to sour and spoil and yet ended up settling into easy comradery with some lingering, unspoken tension around it.

It's also different now too. The tension feels changed, not so oppressive and sharp and instead more like a game of chicken that could last for as long or not as they each want it to.

The problem is, Hakkyuu can't quite keep the incredibly dumb, immature joke behind his own teeth as he lowers his head to stifle a chuckle.]

Wow. You only want the tip?

Even less, most days.

[ half-called over his shoulder across the room as stephne opens the door, pays the poor deliveryperson who shifts from one foot to the other in the face of stephen’s disinterest, and takes the food. ]

[Slipping off the kitchen counter, Hakkyuu follows behind Stephen with amusement in his step as the scent of take-out filters through, peering around curiously when he reaches Stephen's elbow before flicking a glance upward to his face.]

You do know if you feed me I'll keep coming back, so this is your last chance to make the smart call.

[ the words bring unbidden to mind something logan had said when he’d broached the subject of hakkyuu as a mutual acquaintance: boy’s like a goddamn stray cat. goes where he likes.

in his previous tenure in the city, stephen hadn’t brought anyone to his little dormitory in the down very often--he always had a roommate. and while he was typically welcome at vrenille’s home, he’d hesitated to overstay his welcome for a dozen reasons, some of which had to do with his normative sense of propriety and only very few of which had to do with the dysfunction his social graces experienced under the heat lamp of vrenille’s unflinching warmth.

time with hakkyuu was therefore best enjoyed in neutral territory. bar, pub, patio, alley, bathroom. shared slices of night, cut exactly to preference. and then in the manor, the territory so thickly saturated with tension so as to ultimately level out to further neutrality: stephen was in his 40s, he was tired, he’d dragged a universe kicking and screaming through an infinity war; he wasn’t about to fight a fellow grown man in a house they had to share.

now stephen finally has his own space. nothing neutral about that. if he has his way nothing happens in these walls he doesn’t command.

so he shuts the door and says, ]

The smart call. As if I’m not currently masterminding repeat future visitations.

Edited 2022-06-19 20:34 (UTC)

[If Stephen's words rattle Hakkyuu in any way, it doesn't show outwardly. He's still standing there, watching Stephen with a carefully locked stare and a small sideways cant of his head, glass in one hand and the other tucked in the pocket of his pants.

It does tell him a lot though. About where Stephen's head is at, about what Stephen wants, about what he's thinking of using this space for. At least it means some of the cards are on the table. Not all of them--some still face down, some palmed and hidden up sleeves.

There's still a sense of skating on ice that's getting progressively thinner though, like he can see the hairline cracks forming and has the choice to head back or keep going forward to see if it'll hold his weight.

And given the way he pulls both shoulders up toward his ears and says:] Look, I'm just makin' sure you're well-informed, that's all. It's basically a public service. [He's made his choice. The ice is still in tact for now.]

[ stephen, neither especially good nor especially bad with people, does not spend enough time considering his interpersonal relationships. things get complicated without his conscious permission all the time; he dredges up the occasional impulse from deep subterranea whose origin he can’t name, and sometimes it makes or breaks a conversation, starts a fight, ends a friendship. (we weren’t friends, we were barely lovers--)

so he can’t say why he’s certain he knows he could give hakkyuu a look of some kind right now, to mark the way his shoulders drew up; to make sure hakkyuu knew he’d seen it. he knows he has the rare gift of knowing what makes hakkyuu uncomfortable, and he knows he can manage it, in this very moment, and that it would matter.

he ... has no idea why it would matter. they play a lot of games for all that stephen doesn’t even look at the damn board. he carries the food back towards the kitchen, where there’s a breakfast nook space, a set of barstools adjacent to a counter. ]

Warning labels are for lesser men and electricians. But I appreciate the thought.

[Stephen and Hakkyuu are people with a come back for every occasion. Sometimes they're even funny. Sometimes they're mean. Sometimes they're a deflection. But there is always something to say and is there isn't something said it's not for a lack of words but an active decision to withhold something.

Stephen's here is a flex, something of a challenge: do your worst, is what Hakkyuu hears.

Which is in and of itself both a daunting prospect and one that he could opt to ignore the far-reaching potential for, just hover around the surface with nudging teases and flirtation the probably leads to fucking.

Like they did the last time Stephen was here, before Hakkyuu forced him to wake up all the frayed nerves in his hand with that punch. He will never forget that and it wasn't far from his mind watching Stephen's fingers fly across the piano keys. Because Stephen is within his rights to keep that away from Hakkyuu now, to say you broke it, you don't get it back now and it would have been justified. But Stephen hasn't done that.

Something, something, the warnings come after the spells, something something.

Long and short is though, Stephen's sentiment is one Hakkyuu relates to and he's not going to coddle a fully grown wizard moron anymore than he'd want anyone to coddle him.]

Yeah well, we keep up this pace of the drinking and that's the last thought you're gettin' outta me tonight, even with the food.

[Mostly a lie, but a lie in service of setting that round of emotional chicken to the side as he trots along into the kitchen after the food. Not Stephen, the food. Obviously.]

That’s the idea.

[ it is, in fact, the idea. because the food is good, and he keeps the palomas coming until he’s out of grapefruit; then he follows up with shots, but he doesn’t have shotglasses so he’s just pouring a couple of fingers of tequila in two coffee mugs (one of them the mug, the other one another cheeky mug that says arguing with a neurosurgeon is like wrestling with a pig in mud you’re not going to win and after awhile you realise the pig likes it)--

anyway, it’s fine, he’s fine, they’re breaking in the couch as promised. it’s not the most intuitive position, stephen halfway kneeling on the couch, columbia shirt lost somewhere in the short strip of tile between the kitchen and sitting area, pushing hakkyuu’s leg back up against his chest so he can shove three magically-steadied lube-wet fingers into hakkyuu’s ass. he has their foreheads pressed together, kissing him only now and then, grinning with that slack tequila sleaze. he’s always had a thing for hakkyuu’s bendiness. ]

--fuck. Fuck.

[Somewhere along the lines, and Hakkyuu can't exactly pinpoint where between various ostensibly significant moments, Stephen's hands and what they do and don't do. It's not really a fixation either, he just notices. Like he notices a lot of things. It would be easy to just point to the day of Hakkyuu and Stephen's fight several years ago as the real salient moment of awareness, though that doesn't feel right--he always noticed the scars, the difference between when Stephen's hands would tremor and when they wouldn't, the surrounding circumstances, and the things he'd avoid doing compared or used magic for comparatively.

He notices things because it's just something Hakkyuu does about a lot of details. And here, he notices Stephen opting to use his hands to finger Hakkyuu's hole when there's a perfectly good and readily available centerpiece of vibrators and dildos.

It says something about Stephen, as most choices people make tend to say something about them. Hakkyuu's not about to fret and coddle a man over what his body can and can't handle, but he's aware that even slicked from top to tail that assholes are just tight and encourage resistance, all things that are surely going to be felt along the length and knuckles if Stephen's hand.

And maybe it's selfish, but beyond trusting the sorcerer to know the limits of his own body, Hakkyuu can't bring himself to tell Stephen to stop for how good he feels. The upwardly coiled position Hakkyuu has ended up in after their virtually inevitable snatching and grabbing of each other means his core is doing some work to stay out and give Stephen the easiest access possible. It's a nice sight too--all his muscles engaged and clearly defined, rippling with deep, steady breathes and already boasting a faint sheen as his neck cranes up to drag his tongue across Stephen's teeth with a low, pleased puff of hot air passing between their lips from Hakkyuu.]

You gonna try and tell me this is PT too now?

[ stephen laughs, full-throated against the slope of hakkyuu’s jaw: he can’t help it. he’s drunk, he has his own space for the first time in this hellhole town, he’ll finally be left the fuck alone in a way vaguely reminiscent of his usual solitude at the sanctum--which he knows isn’t always healthy, but he could use it right now, some quiet space to recalibrate in the wake of his home world’s roiling disquiet. he has the run of the city, a flexible contract, leisure time. and while his magic, and even the magic of the darkhold, isn’t enough to undo the shackles this realm puts on its inhabitants, he’s still settling nevertheless into a new expanding sense of his potential.

vitally, perhaps not most importantly but somewhere disquietingly close, he has this: hakkyuu arched and skillfully poised to let stephen work him over with his aching fingers, all that tight carved muscle begging for teeth. he licks at him giddily, stretches his fingers just so: there’s something sometimes in this town where the bright flares of pain commingle with lust, a wire crossed somewhere and sparking. ]

Well, it does make me feel better.

[ after all, the endpoint of most therapeutic ventures is relief, and he knows relief is just around the corner, once he gets his throbbing dick out of his sweats and inside him. he digs in harder, a rough caress against hakkyuu’s prostate, just because it also lets him massage tenderly over hakkyuu’s balls with his thumb. ]

[It's not a particular secret that Hakkyuu enjoys chasing down a good time. For all his sharpness and potential for volatility, he likes excuses to find fun and laugh more than he does finding things to snarl about. And what he likes about Stephen--one of the myriad things--is how their humour aligns and plays off of one another and how, here, he can virtually feel the good mood reverberating from the sorcerer, infectious and so very, very welcome.

It's virtually as welcome as his expertly positioned fingers with that deep-reaching stroke which makes Hakkyuu jolt with ripple of pleasure that comes from that stimulation, his head leaning back to meet the couch as a strained whine pushes past his gritted teeth before is rolls into a few breathy chuckles at Stephen's words. For as stoic as Stephen's presence can be in a room, it's easy to miss that he doesn't actually take himself all that seriously, that he's able to laugh at himself even--maybe especially--during sex.]

Well if its recommended by your--Nnnn... --by your physician, we could always schedule this on the regular.

[He leans his head to the side, momentarily catching his lower lip under his upper molar and canine with a thoroughly aroused lop-sided grin.]

Y'know, for your good health, of course. Not mine.

[ more open delight shivers through him at the way hakkyuu’s body seizes and arches at the press of his fingers. he fingerfucks him a little more like that, drawing up to watch the way his hand disappears partway inside hakkyuu’s hole. ]

You, on a schedule?

[ he actually manages the appropriate level of skepticism too, even as he’s drawing his fingers back out slowly, stroking his fingertips over his fluttering rim to smear them with more lube. he’s reaching for himself, then, easing his flushed cock out of the waistband of his sweats, getting himself wet too. ]

Maybe if I levied a no-show fee. [ lackadaisical point of fact. he’s not stupid enough to schedule anything in this town, least of all with hakkyuu; he meant it to the letter, when he more or less expressed that hakkyuu should instead come and go as he pleases. ]

[The amusement on Hakkyuu's face is only broken up by the rhythmic attention of Stephen's fingers against his prostate, enjoying each shivering wave that ratchets up his spine and makes him tighten reflexively around Stephen's fingers despite all his conscious efforts to try and soften the reaction.]

Pretty sure we could put some provisos in place, if you're really worried you won't get your money's worth.

[He says this kind of as a half-thought as his attention gets drawn toward watching Stephen's hand on himself without even a shred of shame. And why would there be? It's not a secret that Stephen is very easy on the eyes and even more so when his cock is in his hand like that; Hakkyuu would tune into that any day of the week.

The worst part probably is Hakkyuu's awareness he's already in the best possible position for entry and if he were to lean forward, let his leg drop, or just generally get closer so his hands can find any part of Stephen's body, it would just disrupt the flow of things.

So in lieu of that, he makes sure that his eyes stroke over all the vital spots--along Stephen's prick, his hands, forearms, abs, and up further still across his chest, lingering briefly at his neck, then lips, before catching his eye and smirking faintly.]

But I'm pretty sure I'd make it up to you if I left you hangin'.

[ the scrutiny works as intended, the hot color beneath the surface of stephen’s skin rising even further, his dick twitching invitingly in his hand. stephen huffs, trying for reluctant amusement but only getting more breathless. ]

Mmm. You’d better.

[ his voice ink-dark, not quite an imperative but near enough.

he eases his sweats off the rest of the way and leans forward again, his hand curving next loosely around hakkyuu’s calf to keep the spread of his legs at a particular angle. it’s one of those half-on, half-off positions that a comfortable sofa and good quad strength can easily facilitate--and for stephen, particularly after repeat encounters, these things are hardly ever accidents. he’s taking the base of his cock in his other hand, starting to push in, inch by excruciating inch, watching the distance between them narrow and his cock sink inside hakkyuu with hungry eyes. ]

Otherwise-- [ terrifically reasonable ] --I’d have to come get you.

[Reaching both arms behind him so he can grasp the back of the couch firmly, Hakkyuu tips head back to shamelessly watch the sight unfold with Stephen between his legs. It's a real nice view too--the angle well suited so that very lewd little detail is fully on display.

Running his tongue from the outer flat of his molar, over the point, then to the back, Hakkyuu draws in a long, deep breath and holds it as Stephen lines himself up, watching with unwavering attention. They've fucked often enough now that Hakkyuu knows exactly how Stephen feels from just about every angle. How deep he reached even at their most rough, what his girth is like to take, how he moves, and exactly the places and ways he drags and fills Hakkyuu's insides.

The anticipation is downright heady in that moment though, and it's not until Stephen starts easing in that Hakkyuu starts to exhale, the deflation of his lungs also relaxing the rest of his body, eases some of the resistance of his ass until he inhales to pull himself tight and taut all around Stephen's prick. Breathing: important for things other than meditation.

Something in Stephen's words snag in Hakkyuu's mind though, makes his eyes flick up to the other man's face and away from the exquisite steady inward inching of his dick. And it really shouldn't. It just makes sense in the trail of back and forth between them, that to make encounters like this happen someone has to come to the other. That's all it is. There's nothing more to it. For Hakkyuu, that self-assurance is easy to find: there's nothing to read into other than Stephen being horny.

Regardless though, whatever Hakkyuu would retort with gets lost with the air moving through his teeth and his eyes squeezing shut to feel Stephen thoroughly.]

[ there is a slowly accruing list of phenomena that escapes stephen’s passive perception but not hakkyuu’s. stephen, a man who doesn’t mince words, doesn’t always believe in their power; in the end actions matter over intent. it’s just fucking, more picking up where they left off. more time that he can’t imagine better spent.

he sinks in fully with a long tequila-damp sigh, a luxurious filling of the tight body beneath him, and reaches a muscled arm up to grip the back of the sofa too, his hand close to hakkyuu’s but not overlapping. it’s a good angle for getting in deep, and it’s a function of easy strength that lets him dip his head down, sliding his grinning mouth over hakkyuu’s again. takes his time there first, like he can fill him up both ways with just a kiss. ]

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