makinglies | Til the siren come calling

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Til the siren come calling

"We appreciate your hard work. We have one last mission for you."

The words rang through his mind and made him burn with anger and betrayal. He tried to make his body move, to force it to get up and fight back, to stop the Lazarus from doing whatever it was about to do as it approached, but he couldn't move except to squirm and flinch.

The zombie cyborg knelt down beside him and put a hand on his head, tilting it back to expose his neck as something bit into the human skin there. He watched as Void left the room, unconcerned with what was going on behind him and Jet's thoughts slowly slipped away. Then there was something else in his head. A voice was whispering to him, a familiar voice..someone he could trust; there was nothing but that voice and it's reminder how there was someone who betrayed him...no, multiple someones, people he'd trusted and thought wanted him around but were just using him, he needed to get back at them.

Istanbul. That was where they were.

'Go! Go! Traitors don't deserve to live anyway.' It whispered and he listened. His jets burned hot as they propelled him into the sky, indiscriminate of the building around him, it didn't matter, there was no time to waste.

He flew as fast as he could for the Gilmore Foundation.

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It takes Albert far too long to respond after Jet finishes. He feels raw and exposed, Jet able to see right into him as if he's made of glass, all the working parts on display so neatly. He feels just that fragile too, standing there staring at the floor as if it will rise up and offer some solution.

"I thought you didn't want me." Even his voice is fragile, a fact he despises and he folds his arms across his chest as if they could act as a shield. "I thought, we all thought, that you'd finished with us entirely. For nearly thirty years, Jet. For thirty years I thought you'd found some other life you liked better that I wasn't a part of. Of course I'm hesitating, and of course you've changed, so have I in being apart for that long.

"I don't have any answers either. I don't know how this will work or what we even are to each other now, but I know..." His voice softens, even more vulnerable. "I know what it feels like to lose someone you love. I know that more than most, though God knows I wish I didn't. But it felt the same as before. I don't think that has changed."

That heart-wrenching reeling feeling of being broken yourself because your other half is gone. He hadn't spoken of it to anyone save Francoise in the time between Jet and Joe's mission and their return today, and even then he hadn't said much, more listened. He'd thought she'd cracked a little, saying how He would make it right. How He wouldn't give them challenges they couldn't overcome. So he'd thought she'd cracked or was at least grasping at straws to keep them both afloat.

But she'd turned out to be right, whether she'd known all along or it came as as much of a surprise to her as the rest of them.

"Do you... do you believe in fate?" he hesitated to ask, his voice a low rumble with his eyes still on the floor. It's a ridiculous question and Albert generally isn't much for mysticism but there are more things in the world than the human consciousness can comprehend, and perhaps there is something, God or otherwise, making sure that these second chances, these miracles, happen.

Slowly he lifts his face, meeting Jet's eyes for the first time in the last few minutes. His own expression is still careworn and drawn but there's a light in his eyes that wasn't there before, something pushing through the doubt. "Stay here tonight. I can't promise it will be like nothing happened, but I want to try."

For Jet, he'll try anything.

He didn't believe in fate, too much had gone wrong for him to be okay with believing it had been decided for him, he'd rather think that, despite all the bad, all the good had been because he'd worked for it and not because it was in some script somewhere. But he wasn't going to mention any of that, the question seemed fairly rhetorical anyway.

What he did believe in was the fact Albert had referred to him as someone he loved and it reminded him again of hearing those words, words he was thinking more and more weren't just something he'd made up but might have actually been said to him.

Jet knew he felt that way, it had taken time but he'd reconciled the word he knew with the feeling he didn't, but knowing Albert felt the same, even after everything the blond had done,that it was something he was feeling now, that gave him more hope than anything else. It was the cement they needed to try and make it work again, once they found the building blocks they needed.

He nodded, words still failing him for the moment. He took a step, hesitated, then closed the distance between them and pulled the older cyborg into a tight but encompassing embrace. Simple in what it was, but not so simple in the feelings behind it or the way Jet tried his hardest to wrap himself around Albert entirely. It held everything he'd been trying to say in it.

Albert lets the breath he hadn't even been aware he was holding out all at once as Jet pulls him close. There's barely a moment of hesitation as the older cyborg brings his up too, crossing under Jet's arms to rest his fingers just at the taller man's shoulders and keeping him as close as possible and burying his face in Jet's neck.

All the years apart and he still fits perfectly right here.

He stays like that for a long time, close as he can get and pressed into Jet as if he can't quite believe he's really there and as long as he keeps his arms around him he won't vanish. There are so many things Albert wants to say, wants to share, moments that happened apart that he wishes Jet had been there for, all the things that happened to Jet for which he was absent. It hurts to think how much they've missed, but there's an element of joy there too, of having the chance to share it now even if he doesn't have the words quite yet.

Those will come later. For now he'd prefer a small measure of action and slowly, deliberately, Albert lifts himself on his toes to press a timid and chaste but still altogether overwhelmingly loving kiss to Jet's lips.

This was different than the kiss Albert had risked in the hopes it would break Jet free of His Voice, this had caution but it was stronger, like it belonged there.

Albert's lips on his had always felt like that. Not an electric spark, but something constant and comforting and right.

His hands shifted only enough to support the German against the blond's body, holding him there so Jet could carefully return the kiss. He didn't deepen it much, still following Albert's lead, but he poured his emotions and wants and needs into it, every scrap of love he felt for the other man.

He would break away when Albert wanted, but he kept the shorter man fitted to him, not willing to lose that contact just yet.

It feels silly to have that pressure on his chest again, the weight of emotion that he'd managed to keep under wraps for so long but now keeps pricking his eyes in the form of tears. He'd been a crier as a child and worked hard to shove it down and away because showing that sort of weakness was unbecoming of a man. He still feels it is, for him. Not for things like loss and death, but from this? That's more feminine than he considers himself.

And yet one single tear rolls down his cheek as he kisses Jet and holds him desperately. There's nothing intense enough about the kiss itself to bring it on. No Hollywood passion, no teeth or tongue, just the gentle softness of Jet's lips against his own, slightly chapped and altogether ordinary. But it's enough that it makes Albert's mind go white and placid and he finally recognizes the lump in his throat and the weight on his chest for what it is.

He's happy. For the first time in such an unbearably long time, Albert is happy.

Albert wasn't moving, wasn't shying away, wasn't changing his mind and that gave Jet more hope than he already had. It made him a little bolder too.

With Albet pressed to him like he was, it was just serving to remind him that the only person he wanted to be with in every sense was in his arms for the first time in a long time. Honestly, he wanted him. Badly. But it wasn't just the physical, he wanted the emotional connection that always came with it.

His lips traveled lightly from the other man's to his chin, his hand darting up to swipe away that tear before resting on Albert's cheek. Lips moved from chin to jaw to cheek to the soft patch of skin just below Albert's neck.

"Albert...I want you. Let me take care of you tonight. Please."

It's the opposite of what he knows he should do. He shouldn't even be letting Jet stay the night, let alone share his bed. He should be cautious and careful and put his foot down, close the distance slowly an work things out thoroughly before wading in again. Logical and plain.

Instead his heart flutters at Jet stating so plainly that he's wanted and tosses all his thoughts and caution to the wind. He plants a kiss to Jet's hand and clasps it tightly in his, stepping softly to lead him towards the wrought iron stairs up to the loft.

Jet's own heart flutters when he's not turned down and in fact led up the stairs by Albert. It made him feel like he had when this was new and they didn't quite know where to step just yet. Which, on second thought, was what this was with just a little more experience and a few hints mixed in.

He followed quietly up to the German's room and waited for the door to be closed before making another move. His hand entwined with Albert's stayed where it was for the moment, while the other returned to the older man's face, running over contours and angles that he already knew so well but had the need to study all over again. If anything at all had changed, he wanted to learn it.

His lips returned to their soft, feather-light brushes against every part of Albert's face he could find, only stopping when he'd turned to press one to the soft skin at his neck. He knew that was the fastest way to get a response from Albert, but he was going to go slow and give the other man the attention he deserved.

Jet pulled away again, but only to lead them to Albert's bed, tugging the German into sitting so Jet could use both hands now to find the sides of his face and allow him the leverage to deliver a much stronger and deeper kiss, but still altogether gentle.

"The jacket...and your shirt. I'd like to take them off. The gloves too."

Edited 2014-01-11 00:29 (UTC)

At first he thinks it's a silly thing to ask as he sits there, eyes trained on Jet in a sort of daze. He's been touching too, gentle hands so reminiscent of their first time in his reticent brushes of fingers, unsure of where he's allowed. It's silly but it's not; even though Albert's been exposed in front of Jet already, just within the last few days from the waist up, it is still all new again after so long apart. He finds himself flushing just a little, though that's in no small part thanks to the attention Jet pays to his neck.

"Alright." He looks up at Jet from under his fringe, surprising even himself with his lack of hesitation. If he's to be bold, then why not one step further? Albert reaches out to clasp the hem of Jet's coat. "Yours too."

Jet pauses a moment but nods. He didn't really take his clothes off in front of people anymore, not without those panels in place, yet where he expected to find a coil of uncertainty and awareness of the lines dividing his body into sections, he found...nothing. Nothing but a sort of calm.

If there was anyone he could take his clothes off in front of and not feel anything but accepted, it was Albert. Besides, it was only fair and he'd be lying if there wasn't some silly thrill at the thought of it, maybe it was because he felt so certain and calm.

He stripped the green jacket first, letting it fall to the floor before slowly and carefully sliding the gloves off Albert's metal hands. and letting them drop into the same pile. He had adopted the habit of folding his nicer outfits even if he was taking them off, but tonight everything was going into the same pile without a second thought.

He switched between them, making it take longer to undress but keeping them even in how much clothing they lost. Albert's jacket, Jet's suit jacket and vest. Albert's shirt, Jet's shirt. Albert's pants, Jet's pants. Boxers and briefs stayed where they were, the blond moving to push Albert back onto the bed once the last of their outerwear was shed. Every touch and movement was slow, gentle, careful. Precise in a care used when handling something precious.

Because he was.

That level of care continued with Jet's attentions shift to Albert himself. Blue eyes ran the length of the body before him, taking in every detail he hadn't allowed himself to dwell on when shown the brief glimpse before. A lot of it was the same if not similar, but the parts that were different were quickly committed to memory.

The moment of study passed and Jet shifted so he was straddling the German's thighs, his hands placed on Albert's shoulders, both for support and to mark where their exploration was to begin. But first he leaned down to begin those soft near-reverent kisses on Albert's chin, then took them down to his neck which he lavished in the attention it deserved, though it was still light and loving instead of rough and need driven.

There's still the self consciousness in Albert. It's lessened over the years - even someone as slow as he is to get comfortable with things eventually reached that point after decades - but with Jet so careful and warm it rises up in the form of color to his face and neck, even the tops of his ears. Were his shoulders not sleek metal grafting he likely would be blushing there too so powerful is the feeling of vulnerability. But it's not an uncomfortable feeling, just overwhelming and it stays Albert's hands even if he wanted to help either of them disrobe. He merely sits there, transfixed and spurred to reaction by Jet's actions.

There's another flutter and a twist in his stomach as Jet shifts them both further onto the bed, his eyes roaming over every dip and rise in the older cyborg's body much as Albert had done to him so many times. He swallows, realizing over again that the sight is new to the blond, that his upgrades were spoken of but never seen as such since his casing had been off. He looks up from under his brows to watch Jet's eyes map him out, giving a little shiver in spite of himself.

So intent is he on watching the younger man that he's a bit startled when Jet slides himself into his lap instead of beside him, though the chance is welcome and Albert raises his hands to Jet's arms as if to show it, curling cool metal fingers lightly around his biceps. The first string of kisses earns a soft and breathy 'oh' from him and a shift of one hand to the back of Jet's neck, still light and fingers winding in the tufts of hair at his nape. Gently, he turns his head just a little and presses the corner of his lips against Jet's temple, not wanting to disturb the blond from his actions but offering what encouragement he can in his utterly overcome state.

He was tempted to lean up and kiss those lips again, but he decided to wait in favor of continuing to press soft kisses to every inch of Albert Jet found under them.

His hands slid down from the older man's shoulders to his upper arms, elbow, lower arms, Jet moving further down Albert's body to match. Every movement was slow, each pass of hand on skin and metal was the blond learning and mapping while each kiss was purposeful and made to demonstrate the American's adoration for every inch, every aspect, of the other man.

He'd messed this up and now he was going to try and fix it and part of that was showing Albert what he could only scratch the surface of with his words; how he loved the man under him with every fiber of his being even in the face of years of pain and idiocy, how that hadn't changed all that time.

He wanted Albert to know he was wanted, desired, needed, things Jet knew he hadn't shown when he'd flown off and never come back.

Role reversal, that has to be what it is. This is familiar, so very familiar, but he knows he hasn't been on this end of the situation before. He's in mind of that first real fight they'd had, one where he'd been... not in the wrong, but nervous, too nervous to push through it and acknowledge what he really wanted until he'd gotten a proverbial slap in the face. It may have been over a quarter century ago, but it's crystal clear to Albert right now how he must have made Jet feel with his refusal of intimacy, with parting ways on that note.

Unwanted, rejected...

And now? Now that Jet's hands map every little stretch of skin or metal, his eyes roaming and committing merits and flaws alike? Is this how Jet felt that foggy fall night in New York when they'd finally settled into each other and found they fit just right?

It shouldn't be surprising, he tells himself over the lump in his throat. It shouldn't be because ever since they were remodeled, it's been Jet. It's always been Jet.

Albert's arms slip more tightly around Jet, silver hair brushing Jet's pale shoulder as he buries his face in its slope, hiding his expression and knowing Jet will ask what's wrong but unable to stop himself. It's so incredibly intense and relieving, having that which he never thought he'd have again.

Jet's movements pause as he finds himself in a tighter embrace than before and he feels Albert burying his face in the blond's shoulder.

Concern flares and he finds himself wrapping his own arms around the other man, cradling that silver head in his hands in an attempt to comfort whatever had just run through it.

"Albert? Hey...what's the matter?"

He didn't think it was anything he had done at least, if he had done something wrong, he didn't figure this would be the other man's reaction to it. Still, he was worried, he didn't trust his ability to read Albert as well as he used to--not yet--so if there was something wrong, he wasn't certain he'd catch on to it.

Although...there was one thing that occurred to him since the hold was restricting what he'd been doing before.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No, I..." he cuts himself off with a swallow, licking his lips and trying to find the right phrasing, to not let his voice waver so much. One moment's pause turns into three or four as his mind skates around the point, the logical half telling him he should stop this right now, should talk and be cautious, to wait and see.

The emotional half plants its metaphorical boot right up logic's ass and spurs him to finally speak again.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I never called, that we made you think you didn't have anywhere to go, that we've been apart for so long and missed so much." Albert's hands go to Jet's arms, cold metal palms against forearms, grasping gently as he tilts his head back to meet the younger man's eyes. "I'm sorry I let you down. I'm sorry we've missed so much time."

Growing quieter, Albert simply rests his forehead low on Jet's chest, curling into the man in his lap with undercurrents of both sorrow and relief buoying up his words. "I'm sorry I can't just forget it."

Het's quiet a while himself, his only immediate reaction was to curl more around the older man, holding his head to the blond's chest and pressing a kiss to Albert's temple in an effort to calm the raging thoughts he knows are plaguing the German.

When he does finally speak, it's with careful, calm, surety. It was a tone he'd used rarely before but had learned to cultivate over the years. People often believed you better if it sounded like you believed you.

"Albert, you know why I know I'm not going to leave again? Because I can't forget it either, I can't forget what it was like the first time and I won't let myself forget so that I won't have to feel that again. Don't tell me I have to remind you about 'learning from our mistakes.' If we forget we can't learn.

But just because we can't forget doesn't mean we can't move on."

He went silent again, this time pulling away enough to sit up so his hands could find the sides of Albert's face and blue eyes could lock with silver.

"But that's why I want you to tell me what you need. I want to move on with you, so I want to do this right." He didn't think he could stand it if Albert decided Jet was a mistake he needed to learn from.

"I need..." It's a soft admission even if Albert's plenty certain Jet knows already. "I need--"

His breath catches and instead of more words he simply leads forward and captures Jet's lips against his, pouring every bit of himself into that kiss. Every feeling of heartbreak, every bit of the terrifying crushing loneliness he'd felt in the years after his ire had faded. And every bit of joy at Jet's return too. All the love, all the doubt, all the happiness and sorrow, every modicum of feeling and life, vibrant and overflowing in that kiss.

All because of Jet. All because he planted the seed in Albert so long ago.

Just by talking through a grate.

When he pulls away it's not far. His hands against Jet's neck, his thumbs brushing against that sharp jaw as he repeats what he'd already said before, but this time with so much more feeling. "I need you."

As quickly as doubts and fears had danced at the edge of his mind, they were chased away by that kiss and completely locked out by the following words. He'd heard them earlier, but accompanied with that kiss that said so much and tore Jet apart before putting him back together with it's intensity, he could feel them more than hear them.

It made him a little bolder.

He brought his hands up to cover Albert's, eyes never leaving the German's. "When I woke up here in Venice, I'd dreamed something, something from when I was falling. At first, I let it go because I'd thought that maybe I'd made it up in my head, considering, but...Albert, did you try to tell me you loved me?"

The words were a little faltering and felt weird on his tongue, but not a bad weird and that gave him the push to keep going without waiting for an answer. If he didn't say it now, he wasn't going to.

"Because I do too. I love you. Always have-" He smirked self-consciously but held eye contact despite how desperately he was wishing for that fringe of hair back that made it so easy to hide his eyes in. "-and I haven't ever said that to anyone because I've never felt it, so just take it, okay?"

Edited 2014-01-14 04:07 (UTC)

So Jet had heard him. With no mention until now, Albert thought he hadn't, but bringing it up turns him a brilliant shade of scarlet and elicits an involuntary laugh, both at that and at Jet's forceful and blunt reciprocation. It also makes him feel so much better about all this.

"Yes, I said it." He swallows, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Being able to hear Jet say it back, even after all this time, sets much of the tension out of him. "After that first time, I didn't want you to go not knowing."

One hand moves to run back through Jet's hair, threading between the strands gently. "Perhaps it's selfish, but hearing you say it back now makes me feel much better."

His smirk grew into a soft smile and he decided any awkward embarrassment he was feeling was completely worth it to know it helped. There was a flutter in his chest from knowing Albert had actually said those words to him, but he ignored it in favor of leaning down to press their foreheads together, his hands moving back to rest on Albert's arms.

"Good, that's all I want." His smile returned to being a smirk and he moved to deliver a small nip to Albert's neck before he rested their cheeks together to breathe words into Albert's ear. "Well...maybe not all."

The color that had started to fade from Albert's cheeks as he spoke suddenly rose again at Jet's words and he shivers. Usually, to his memory, Jet's attempts at being seductive Albert found attractive in a gawky, earnest way that made him want to protect the man as much as bed him, but this whisper in his ear is different. It's confident and forward and incredibly alluring.

Maybe, if he let Jet take full charge of the situation, let him show what it is he wants to show Albert, then it can both acknowledge that things had changed, and maybe not for the worse.

"You can have whatever you want." He's no shrinking violet, but Albert whispers he words back, prepared to submit to Jet and let him lead.

His smirk only widens and he presses a kiss to Albert's cheek in thanks for the permission to continue with what he'd been doing. He decided to start over since he hadn't gotten far before. His lips, tongue and a subtle graze of teeth worked Albert's jawline and neck. He didn't pause as he went lower and skin turned to metal, simply took the addition of teeth away and let tongue and lips do all the work.

He didn't leave an inch of Albert's exposed chest unappreciated, his hands doing the job of his lips down the older cyborg's arms, his left hand catching and entwining itself with Albert's right once it got there.

Every bit of metal and synthetic skin was treated to kisses and sucks laced with as much adoration as there was desire, and every bit of skin received the same along with the gentle sting of teeth nipping at the soft surface.

Jet only paused once he'd reached the elastic barrier Jet had left behind in their disrobing. He left simple kisses along the skin there, fingers sliding down past Albert's hips to his thighs and up to slip his fingers under the cloth on the German's thighs until they found the curve of Albert's ass.

Not even five seconds after Albert decides to let Jet have his way and the younger man already pulls an adoring smile from the German at his enthusiastic kiss-on-the-cheek thank you. It's cute, in contrast to how wildly seductive he'd found the initial come on, and makes him simply want to gather Jet up and hold him instead of anything more strenuous.

And then lips and teeth and tongue all start their tracing and he's thrown once again back the other way, dragging soft pants and gentle moans from the older cyborg as goosebumps rise on his skin, real and synthetic alike, under Jet's soft lips.

Albert doesn't seem to know what to do with his own hands during all this. The thing to do would be to lay them on Jet but he knows his own impulsive need for control would lead him to guide the blond and that's not what he's aiming for here. Instead he rests one forearm over his eyes, the other hand on the blanket under him, occasionally pawing in the peaks of the fabric when Jet hits a particularly sensitive spot; with the upgraded synth skin and nerve net, there are more of those to find.

Long fingers sneaking up the backs of his legs and under the stretchy fabric of his boxer briefs gives him a shiver, one hand groping for Jet's shoulder as those fingers nip into soft cheeks. The stretch of the garment with Jet's hands adding to the bulk puts pressure on his crotch, which after all the careful attention is cut in sharp relief under the straining fabric; full and almost embarrassingly at attention.

It might be embarressing to Albert but Jet takes it as a good sign that he hasn't lost the ability to get Albert's body doing what he wants. It also lends to the observation that the other man is a lot more sensitive than he used to be, likely thanks to the new synthskin that wasn't there before. There was a pang of regret that he hadn't been there for that particular event, something he would have stayed at Albert's side for, but he pushed it away; there was nothing he could do about that now, he could only try to make up for it.

And his first step in 'making up for it' was to torment and tease. His fingers kneaded and stroked soft skin as his lips came down to kiss along the bulging fabric. They were gentle kiss, but they were followed by the light scrap of teeth along the German's length.

He finally allowed the older cyborg some amount of relief by pulling away and removing his fingers so he could use them to pull the remaining fabric down and off flesh and metal legs.

Jet took a moment to pause and go slower, hands tracing back up Albert's legs from his ankles until they found skin beneath them again, then he was planting more nips and kisses at the soft skin over thighs and hips. He lefted one leg up to get access to the paler skin on the inside of Albert's thigh and gave it the same treatment Jet had given his neck.

He wanted nothing more than to make this quick and dirty and leave them both spent and tired in each other's arms, but he also wanted to show he could take care of Albert, that he could slow down and give the older man the attention he deserved, so every move was meticulously slow and gentle and precise.

Except when he got to Albert's hip where he bit harder than he had anywhere else and sucked at the skin until it turned an angry red under his attentions. There was one thing that had danced at the back of Jet's head off and on since he'd come back to his family, a childish part of him that found company in that old insecurity he'd never been able to shake when they'd been together before.

Other than one time when he'd been kissed by someone--the moment he realized he wouldn't be kissing anyone again unless it was the German under him--Jet hadn't been with anyone else. He didn't know if that was the case for Albert, he couldn't even really expect him to have avoided hook-ups with others, nor even blame him if he hadn't; it was a very human desire.

But that didn't mean he wanted to ask, he didn't want to know if the answer was anything but what he wanted to hear, so he did what he could to make himself feel better and that meant marking the older man as thoroughly as he could, marking him as belonging to Jet alone and the abused hip was just the start.

Childish, maybe, definitely possessive and silly, but he couldn't find it in him to be put off by that either. He knew what he wanted, the one person he wanted to call 'his' over anyone else, so he wasn't going to be shy about it.

There were two others, when one or two months had turned to three or four years and anger had faded through sadness and completely into apathy. At the three years and two months mark there was a woman in his division, a history buff with an old soul, glasses and chocolate brown hair. They'd had drinks after she graduated from specialized training and one thing lead to another. Neither of them got off and he rarely saw her after.

The other was a man, fire red hair and freckles, his eyes striking blue and his mouth disjointed from his thoughts in that it kept running even when he should be silent. Albert didn't even notice the similarities until he called the wrong name in bed.

It's a sad little history and he doesn't want to share it, ashamed of it as he is. If Jet asked he wouldn't lie, so he just prays the blond never asks. It doesn't matter, not now. It's so far from his mind in this moment that he may well have ceased to exist during those years apart and only came back into being the moment His Voice surfaced.

Maybe that's a divine gift too.

He gasps and mewls to the ceiling as Jet runs his tongue and fingers, still practiced at everything that makes Albert squirm even after so long. Or it could just be that Albert's more sensitive, or that he's wanted to feel Jet's breath and eyes and everything on him for so long that even the teasing is threatening to push him over the edge.

At the bite and angry suck on his hip, Albert cries raggedly into the room, fingers fisting in the sheets as he forces himself to stay still even with the guilty thrill bowing his spine just a little. He deserves it, the rough treatment, wants it if it's at Jet's hands. If he's a map of bruises and marks when the night is over, he'll still be a happy man.

Silver eyes trace over gold hair, Albert craning his neck to see what his lover is doing, to witness the beginning of his own branding and to try and cratch his breath; he's already panting hard. "That feels good."

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