002 | Jet Link (
fallenstar) wrote in
makinglies2013-11-03 05:27 pm
Entry tags:
Like a cat rubbing his head against your book--
There was no one else home. He'd spent five minutes making sure, even though he already knew there were only two people left in the house for the night. Chang and GB were at Chang's resturaunt, Joe, Frannie, Ivan and the Doctor were all off to Kouzomi's for the weekend and Pyunma and Geronimo were out of the country and not due back for a few days. Which just left Jet and a certain silver-haired German cyborg to hold down the fort.
Which was why this was perfect.
Sure, there was a chance Frannie or Joe or really even any of the others could walk through the front door unexpectedly for one reason or another, but that just made his idea seem a little more fun; the risk of being caught was exciting. Hell, even if they were just in one of their rooms, it wouldn't be nearly as risky, but he was headed for the den where he knew the older cyborg was sitting in comfortable silence, reading one of his stuffy and boring books.
Jet had every intention of making things a little less quiet and boring for his partner.
He didn't bother sneaking into the room or anything, there wasn't anything suspicious about him going in there. In fact, it was likely nothing would seem amiss until the lanky teen stepped up to Abert's chair, stuck his book mark between whatever pages he had open, and plucked the book from the cyborg's grip. The book found itself on the side table next to the chair Albert was in (as opposed to the floor, which Jet had considered, but thought better of) as the American wedged a knee in on either side of Albert's thighs, reached up to pull down that black turtleneck a bit and attached his lips to Albert's neck.
He had plans, and they didn't include being shy about what he wanted.
Which was why this was perfect.
Sure, there was a chance Frannie or Joe or really even any of the others could walk through the front door unexpectedly for one reason or another, but that just made his idea seem a little more fun; the risk of being caught was exciting. Hell, even if they were just in one of their rooms, it wouldn't be nearly as risky, but he was headed for the den where he knew the older cyborg was sitting in comfortable silence, reading one of his stuffy and boring books.
Jet had every intention of making things a little less quiet and boring for his partner.
He didn't bother sneaking into the room or anything, there wasn't anything suspicious about him going in there. In fact, it was likely nothing would seem amiss until the lanky teen stepped up to Abert's chair, stuck his book mark between whatever pages he had open, and plucked the book from the cyborg's grip. The book found itself on the side table next to the chair Albert was in (as opposed to the floor, which Jet had considered, but thought better of) as the American wedged a knee in on either side of Albert's thighs, reached up to pull down that black turtleneck a bit and attached his lips to Albert's neck.
He had plans, and they didn't include being shy about what he wanted.

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But then the words caught up with him and his face burned brightly as he looked down to the German's chin. "Man you can't just lay something that sappy on someone out of the blue...jeeze." He just couldn't fathom how easily sweet and affectionate things like that came from the older man's mouth like they were remarks on the weather.
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He leans up a bit to plant a soft kiss on Jet's nose, all he can reach from this angle.
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He didn't break the kiss until his breathing was a little more strained and then he only pulled away so that he could talk, his lips still brushing Albert's kiss-bruised ones. "The coast'll probably be clear in a little bit, those two always sleep like rocks." Although, if he were honest, he'd rather it if Albert just stayed in Jet's bed till morning.
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Jet's not the only one who'd rather he stay. Frankly, he's comfortable with Jet's weight atop him, their hushed voices so as not to be overheard, the heat of Jet's kisses visited upon him with wild abandon. He likes this mood of his partner's, he's loathe to leave.
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It was actually highly likely, he wasn't exceptionally tired right this moment except for their strenuous recent activities, but if he got comfortable enough it wasn't that hard for him to doze off.
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He adjusts the blanket around them, still threading his fingers through that coppery hair, lost in watching the tiny ways that Jet moves, the way his body rises and falls by degrees with his breathing, the perfectly rhythmic beating of his heart, controlled by the regulator, and how it plays a soft overtone to the cycled whirring of his own.
He could get used to this.