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( office hours & overflow )
❥ stephen strange has office hours. these are hours during which people can come by
❥ this is an informal, word-of-mouth service. stephen appreciates some manner of compensation but will neither mention nor require it
❥ oocly, this is a mechanism for random non-phone threads. you don’t actually have to have a magic question. you can just come by and annoy the shit out of him
❥ just like the ic inbox i reserve the right to cram random shit in here
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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.
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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.]
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[ 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.
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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?
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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. ]
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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.
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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. ]
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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'.
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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.
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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.]
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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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It's not about being thoroughly filled either; not just about the way Stephen can sink himself virtually tip to balls in a single, well-angled roll of his hips in a clean, deep line from the way he has Hakkyuu positioned that makes all his insides squeeze and suck in around Stephen's cock. It's also not only the way that Stephen kisses him with all that hungry, liquor-laced want to create a full circle of contact. It's not just the physical aspects, in other words, that have Hakkyuu's back arched and his body available to Stephen from every possible angle and location; it's something about Stephen in a very specific and particular way that is uniquely intense about him.
Maybe the word is demanding, but if it is then it's nothing more or less than Hakkyuu puts out for himself--a kind of confident expectation that at some point, one way or another, they're going to have each other. Mouths, hands, holes, pricks, quick words and bad choices that could always be much worse, and yet the mutual decision of drinking, take-out and breaking in a sofa really couldn't get much better as Hakkyuu hooks one arm around Stephen's shoulders and makes the material of the couch creak beneath his tightening grip the deeper Stephen goes as his brows knit in furrowed pleasure along with a throaty noise of a type that's hard to fully place while Stephen's lips remain so resolutely sealed over his own.]
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of all hakkyuu’s considerable skills, both in and out of bed, he’s a good kisser--intense, the inside of his mouth always just as hot and yielding as his tongue is nimble and pushing. stephen keeps him there awhile for the sheer simple joy of a messy drunk makeout, even as he uses his hand gripping the sofa to hold them both steady as he starts to move. even like this he’s tight, precise, hungry, their places of contact few but searing anyway. he’s not looking to draw it out, but evidently he does want to make a mess. ]