makinglies | New York State of Mind

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New York State of Mind

It's been nearly a month and only now does Albert have his head on straight again. It took a near-death experience to do it, but in those moments he'd thought were his last when all the things he regrets went running the 'this is your life' marathon through his head one stuck out in particular. And that one is in a seventh story apartment that looms large and foreboding in the mid-autumn drizzle.

He pockets the scrap of paper he'd been clutching, address on it long since memorized. He should just go up there and say his piece. Most likely Jet will kick him right back to the street again. As well he should. Albert hadn't exactly been the model partner in the time they'd spent together. His heart had been in it, but the rest of him still quailed, afraid to get too invested, afraid that he would screw it all up regardless. At least if he didn't try then he could blame the failure on that. But that's not fair to Jet, and if he were honest not fair to himself either. He knows that now, that in his heart of hearts he's already invested. The things he's frightened of doing are the very things he wants more than anything. Jet, more than anyone else, makes him feel human.

Screwing up his courage, Albert walks right up to the door of the apartment building, then turns away and strides to the corner of the block instead, shoulders hunched against the freezing mist. He needs something first. He's not stalling. Really.

It's relatively slim pickings in the little bodega on the corner but Albert manages to pull several small bouquets into one large one. Roses and baby's breath might be a little cliche, but it's what they have and it's hopefully a gesture Jet will appreciate, especially since it cost Albert an entire day's worth of spending money. Not that it matters. If it softens Jet for even a moment, it'll be worth it.

If.

He stops on his trek back up the block, staring at the flowers as if they'd suddenly start speaking to him. It's too much, isn't it? Roses? That's what he would always do for Hilda when she was cross with him, buy her flowers or jewelry, but Jet isn't Hilda. He'd never thought of Jet as Hilda, of course, but flowers seem such a feminine gift...

No, it's fine. It'll be fine. Who doesn't like flowers?

Halfway up the stairs he wonders if maybe Jet doesn't like flowers, or he'll throw them back in Albert's face for trying to treat him like 'some broad'.

Two thirds of the way back down he kicks himself mentally to just do it, damnit! Stop being such a coward! He'll either like them or not but the flowers aren't the point. The point is he's here, he'll apologize from the bottom of his heart, and Jet will take him back.

Well, ideally Jet will take him back.

He's already in front of the apartment door when that nagging voice in the back of his head tauntingly asks how often things are ever ideal. He paces once, twice in front of the door, mouth a thin and troubled line cutting across his face as he hems and haws, trying to reconcile what he hopes will happen with what's more likely.

Just do it!!

He knocks, heart in his throat.

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Jet gave a small nod, unwilling to tell Albert that he appreciated that, at least for this time; he wanted a new experience, something better and rough wouldn't be new. But that didn't mean he was against the possibility in the future, the difference then would be that it was Albert and Jet trusted him a lot more than he could say.

But he could show.

The teen pressed forward again, initiating another deep kiss, this time with his hands finding the sides of the German's face. He let it linger longer than he meant to before slowly breaking away. A small but slightly teasing smirk found it's way to his lips and he scooted further back onto the bed, his hand sliding down to tug at his partner's shirt in encouragement to follow.

The kiss leads Albert more than the tug at his shirt, the German almost overbalancing and simply falling on Jet. Thankfully, he keeps his balance and crawls up instead, sidling until he's nose to nose, holding himself up on his hands and knees over Jet. He takes a moment to trace Jet's face with his eyes, losing himself in the minutia of soft skin and every beautiful imperfection that marks Jet uniquely.

He catches himself staring and a bit of color rises in his face at the heels of a shy smile. He turns his attention a bit lower, one still-gloved hand sneaking beneath the hem of Jet's shirt, fingers splayed and palm flush against skin. Not wanting to remove that hand just after placing it, he tugs the glove off of his left hand with his teeth, intending to let it join the other. There's a moment of hesitation just before he lays the second hand on Jet's stomach and the frigid temperature of Albert's fingers likely clues Jet in to why that is a second later when he presses them to light flesh.

"Sorry," Albert murmurs, barely audible over the sounds of evening traffic outside, but he doesn't regret the touch. These fingertips have feeling and Jet's skin is warm and soft and perfect. Albert swallows, gently sliding his left hand up further, over ribs and muscle.

Albert's staring makes that edge of self-consciousness creep to the front and color Jet's face as well, but he returns the small smile. He could tell Albert was in some ways just as cautious and faltering as Jet, but he appreciated what his partner was trying to do.

The chilled hands on the warmer skin of his stomach sent a shiver through him and set his nerves on alert, making every small movement stand out. "Nah, don't worry about it...that feels nice."

Jet arched slightly into the touch and reached for the hem of his shirt to pull it off and get it out if the way.

"Even after outside?" He quirks an eyebrow, not quite believing that Jet enjoys the ice cold from his fingers but he doesn't say much more about it beyond that, instead moving his hands to help Jet shed his top.

There's another still moment where Albert drinks in each newly exposed inch. It's one thing to have seen Jet mostly undressed as Gilmore works on him, repairing or adjusting the cybernetics, but it's entirely different in this intimate context. This is Jet allowing him intimate knowledge of his body, of letting himself be vulnerable.

In some kind of mild awe, Albert runs his fingers along Jet's ribs again slowly, savoring the texture and subtle rise and fall of skin stretched over form. When he reaches the vent in the redhead's side, his hand moves inward, the pad of his thumb brushing coarsely over one nipple as Albert can hold back no longer and leans in for a more passionate kiss than before.

Albert taking his time was one thing, but the way he seemed to be studying Jet and the look on his face--something Jet is pretty sure he can't identify--it made his heart flutter and something else in him twist, not necessarily unpleasantly, but it wasn't what he would call good either. It was something he wasn't going to think about, either way.

But then Albert was touching him again and giving the American something else to concentrate on than the intense look on his partner's face. His body responds, arching into the touch and goosebumps crawling across his real skin as he kisses back enthusiastically.

His arms snaked around broad shoulders to pull Albert close and he deepened the kiss, tongue darting out to find it's way into Albert's mouth. Kissing he could do, kissing he knew what Albert liked, at least.

Jet's tongue is greeted with Albert's own and he inhales lightly, sucking on the invading tongue with aplomb. He loves the way Jet kisses, the way the younger man puts his whole self into it, exploring and tasting and working his hands and arms around Albert's body, pulling him in, letting him know unequivocally that he's wanted. Every little shift of the man under him sends a thrill through Albert and his left hand roams, passing over his nipple again with a little playful pinch just to feel Jet shudder.

But there's something scratching a the back of his mind. Or a lot of somethings. Every insecurity he's ever had about sex comes creeping to the forefont, every doubt that he doesn't know what he's doing, doesn't remember what to do, that he'll treat Jet too much like a woman because that's where the majority of his experience lies but is there even a difference there aside from the lack of breasts and where things go during the deed itself? And concerning that, is he supposed to be inside? Or is Jet? Which would Jet prefer more? Shouldn't he just know this already? Should it be instinct? he should just ask but what if he asks and it turns out he was supposed to know already and Jet changes his mind, throwing him out in the hall and locking the door behind him?!

Alright, so maybe that's an overreaction, but the worry over it becomes too great and be pulls from the kiss with a small but shuddering gasp, panting lightly against Jet's lips. "Jet, I..."

He turns red, not making eye contact and instead hiding his gaze in his hair. "I'm ...not sure how you want it."

Jet looked at the older man with confusion. "How I want--?" Oh.

His face burns bright red in response and he finds his thoughts have suddenly scattered as though none of them wanted the spotlight shined on them when he went looking for an answer.

He hadn't thought about it, he'd just sort of assumed it would happen and it wouldn't be a big deal. Now he actually had to try and string together not only what he wanted but the words to do it too.

"Um..." He knew how it was before and, in this case, with Albert, he really wouldn't be against that again, it sort of went back to that whole 'new experience to replace the old' thing. But, honestly, the thought of being the one on top, making Albert squirm and let go like that...well, that was a nice thought too.

But, then again, when did Albert ever 'let go?' The guy was too much of a control freak, Jet would be surprised he'd even asked if it weren't for the fact that was a very Albert thing to do; his concern was always the people around him.

It started with a smirk that turned into a smile until a low chuckle shook his shoulders even as his face stayed it's bright fiery color.

He'd thought they had an understanding after both admitting this was virtually new but the laughter turns Albert a deeper shade and he sits up, moving back so he's kneeling on the bed with a completely unsure and somewhat self conscious expression.

Though, well... it is some kind of ridiculous and Jet's laughter is infectious. Bringing a hand to his face, he can't help but let an embarrassed and depreciative chuckle of his own escape.

The laughter is short lived as he doesn't want Albert to get the wrong idea, but the smile remains even after he's quiet again.

The teen moved closer to his somewhat retreated partner and grabbed him by the shirt collar to pull him in for another enthusiastic kiss. When he breaks away, his face is still colored, but he tries to cover it with that smirk.

"This is fine. You on--um..on top, I mean. Just as long as I can see you." And touch you. "Besides...aren't you the kind of guy who likes to be in charge all the time? Wouldn't want to throw you off." They could figure things out later, maybe switch things around on occasion. Right now, he wanted things simple.

Kissing. Kissing is good. They know where they are with that. And then Jet's answering and Albert's flooded with relief that he hadn't ruined the moment by asking. He brings his still glove-clad right hand up to brush Jet's bangs from his face with all due affection. "I like to think I know when to let go of the reins, but if that's what you want..."

If that's what Jet wants then he'll provide. He runs his fingers through that feathery hair again and leans in for another kiss, this time letting both hands wander and find the top of Jet's pants at the back, left hand slipping between waist and hem to palm along soft skin and grab a little squeeze as his other arm circles Jet's lower back to press them flush together. All through this, Albert never once breaks the kiss. He knows he's being fairly aggressive and if Jet seems at all uncomfortable he'll back off, but hearing Jet wants him on top, wants him inside... well, he'd be lying if he said it didn't excite him.

The instant response sends a few nervous ribbons flying and he focuses back on responding to Albert's actions. Whereas the touch to his face had been affectionate and gentle, this was aggressive and lustful and it was turning Jet on like nothing else.

As soon as those arms are around him, his arms are around Albert, one of his hands pressing against his back as if he could drive away the nonexistent distance between them, while the other slid into soft silver hair, alternating between petting and gripping only tight enough to be noticed.

That probing hand, however, pulls a sound from him and he breaks the kiss with a hiss, though his lips don't stray far before falling on the German's jaw and neck, anything he can find.

This is different. They'd done some intense kissing, but this was more physical and a lot further along than just making out and while there was still that anxious thrum in the back of his mind at the unknown of it all, it went hand-in-hand with a rush of excitement and anticipation.

Neck, oh God Jet went for his neck and Albert can't help the moan from deep in his throat, almost felt more than heard at the feeling of Jet's lips on his entirely too sensitive neck. It pulls a squirm out of him, a buck in his train of thought, and an unintentional squeeze of the hand on Jet's rear. It's much rougher than he'd intended but he'll be damned if it doesn't feel nice.

It would feel nicer without the pants in the way.

With another short squeeze, he pulls his hands back, somehow managing to arch his body away from Jet just enough to get at the fly of his jeans without bringing his throat away from the younger man's questing tongue and lips. He moans again, fumbling for the zipper without being able to see it since he's unwilling to pull away for even that much, a shiver shooting up his spine and setting his eyes very briefly rolling back in his head.

If Jet never leaves his neck alone, he could die happy.

That wasn't the reaction he was expecting, but it was a welcome one. So, this was one of those spots for Albert. Dueley noted.

His hold tightens on the older man's back and his other hand finds it's way out of silver hair to grip at Albert's shoulder: all in an effort to not lose the contact getting that kind of reaction from his partner.

His attentions grow more aggressive and he adds tongue and teeth to the mixture of lips, resulting in a dance of slick tongue, stinging bites, and gentle caresses of soft lips. He wanted to see how far he could get with this, just how crazy he could drive his partner.

The hand not holding him to Albert's body dove down to help by undoing the zipper and button himself, eager to remove the now annoying fabric. As his teeth leave a long scrape right across a newly delivered hickey, he does his best, at his angle, to start pushing the remaining clothing off.

"Haa..."

It's more of a pant than a noise, but it's pulled from Albert just the same as Jet's teeth mark him and that tongue tries to sooth the abused skin. Even as he haphazardly helps Jet remove the last layers separating his body from the air, Albert's eyes stay closed, feeling and grasping, running his hands everywhere he can reach until all of Jet is uncovered for him to touch.

Palms run along sides to waist to hips and down to thighs, one naked and the other clad in leather but both pressing and kneading at the muscle in Jet's legs, creeping from out to in and up until his fingers play around every centimeter of flesh safe for where he truly wants to, the very thought giving him visions to fight of simply giving into his primal want and overwhelming Jet, mental images of taking him in one fell swoop, hips to ass and arms tight around each other with soft whispers of affection to spur them both on to completion. It's a thought he's had more than once.

And now...

He'll go slower than that, gentler, but he wants so badly for the result to be the same. Sweet nothings, his arms protectively holding the lithe man beneath him. He indulges in that at least, one arm snaking around Jet's waist and bracing up his back to pull him close while the other hand cautiously pets at Jet's arousal as if he'll be rebuked.

"Albert..." It comes out as a moan against the skin of the man's neck, his hips moving a bit in his desire for more of that contact. "You don't have to be that gentle, you know, you're touching like I'm gonna break or something." His face heated and he buried it under Albert's chin. "I want more."

In an effort to partially distract from the embarrassing admission, his teeth scrapped lightly over adam's apple and down to the dip in the older man's clavicle, the hand not still holding them together sliding down to slip under the hem of his partner's shirt, fingers idly tracing the skin just beneath it.

Teeth on his throat makes Albert swallow and melt against Jet, his hand curling more tightly around his prize and sliding up. Once. And then he freezes entirely, cold coiling in the pit of his stomach, spreading from the muted feel of Jet's fingers against his waist, playing just near the seam of where his real skin ends and his synthetic skin begins.

It's a curious change from how excited he'd been just a moment ago, all flushed and panting and full of want. Now he's a veritable statue, completely frozen in place with a pained look that comes from nowhere physical. He lets go, snagging Jet's hand with the limb already between them. "Don't. Please, just-"

He swallows again, this time not to kill a moan but to stall for how to explain. Nothing comes. "I know it's silly, but please just leave it."

Jet freezes when Albert does, his first thought being along the lines that he'd messed up somewhere, but once the explanation--if it could be called that-- was there, he knew he had and he hadn't. He'd done something to make Albert uncomfortable, yes, but it wasn't his fault, either.

He pulled his hand away and out of Albert's grip, but only to let it rest back at the nape of the older man's neck. He understood why, that wasn't what his momentary silence was sprouting from, it was the how to respond part of it.

Albert was one of the most heavily modified of their group and it showed; not all of his cybernetics could be covered with the synth skin like what was on Jet's legs, some parts of Albert were just hard metal. While Jet had never seen any of the German's limbs as anything but just that, he knew it was only like that on his end. Jet saw arms and legs, Albert saw weapons and methods of destruction.

It was one of the things Jet had silently promised to try and do for his partner: get him to see how Jet saw him and to at least accept that, if not see himself that way too. But they weren't there yet.

The arm that had been latched around Albert's shoulders carefully moved down so his hand could grab hold of the German's upper right arm, his lips gently finding that jawline again for just a moment. "Yeah. It's okay."

Admittedly, it hurt a little bit, to be completely bare to the other man and know it would only be one-sided, he'd always put a high value on touch and body against body was pretty high up on that list. But he also didn't want to push the other man away now that he had him back, he'd just have to hope they could work past it with time.

He'd have to contend himself with touches over clothing. Unfortunately for the fabric. "...but if I rip something cause you didn't get it out of my way, it's not my fault." It's said low and with the tone of someone who's trying to make a joke when not really in a joking mood, but he was trying.

He sort of just wanted them to get back to business.

Embarrassment spreads over Albert's face but he gives a bit of a chuckle at Jet's joke, glad his deepest hangup hadn't entirely ruined the evening. It had ruined the mood though, or at least dampened it. He can see in Jet's eyes his struggle to be okay with it even though Albert can tell the younger man want's them both skin to skin. There's a part of Albert that wants that too, but he can't. He doesn't have real skin to touch, not in most places.

Kisses silence those dour thoughts, Albert leaning in and pressing his lips to Jet's sweetly. At least at first. The first chaste kiss turns more heated and invasive quickly, Albert's tongue seeking Jet's and coiling against it, hands again running their way along the sides of those narrow hips, the curve of his ass, palming and claiming each inch as if to make up for every bit of Albert he can't bring himself to show in turn.

It doesn't take long for Albert's kisses to go sloppy, to miss Jet's mouth and pepper his chin and jaw and neck, teeth skating the skin there as the German uses his index finger to trace firmly around Jet's entrance, a silent warning to prepare the American before said finger presses in very carefully with almost teasing slowness.

Hands on him sends a wave a relief, For one moment, he'd thought Albert might just call the whole thing off. He was glad to be wrong.

But then his thoughts were swept away again by the warmth spreading in his veins with every kiss. His eyes close as he tilts his head back a bit to make his neck more accessible; it didn't have the same powerful affect on Jet that it did on Albert, but damn if it didn't feel nice.

But even that pleasant distraction couldn't pull his attention away from the feeling of Albert's finger entering him. His body went as tense as a bowstring on instinct; it didn't hurt, but he might as well be a virgin for how used to it his body was.

He focused on relaxing himself and leaned up to kiss Albert's chin. "The drawer...on the bedside table, under the book, it'll help." Yeah, there was a book in his side table drawer that he was voluntarily reading, some fantasy novel he'd found intriguing, but his secret was safe with his partner, at least. Besides, it hid the small bottle he wanted to keep from prying young boys eyes, should he find his neighbor got a little too curious poking around.

Just like that Albert freezes up again, more than a little concerned at what he'd been about to do. The last thing he'd ever want to do is hurt Jet but he'd gotten carried away - and so quickly! - to the point where he'd just been thinking of being inside the younger man in any way he could fathom.

He's already panting as he gropes sightlessly for the drawer, shoulder dipping so his arm can reach and making it difficult to place the kisses and nips and mumbled apologies he insists on continuing to pepper Jet with. He won't stop, maybe even can't stop now that he's come so far. He's afraid of backing down, terrified of being found inadequate in this because it's been so long and he's already disappointed his partner once. He has to make it good even if his hands tremble and it takes him two tries to snag the bottle.

It's a moment before he does anything with the bottle. A moment filled with a long, heated kiss, languid and loving but still rough, full of every shred of want that drove Albert to the state he's in, a little addled and unsure of everything save for the knowledge that this is exactly where he wants to be. Even if he's frightened that he'll do something to have it all come crashing down, he's still secure in knowing this is where he belongs regardless. Where they belong. Whether he'd given it freely or not, Jet has his heart now.

He slinks out of the kiss, sitting up in a slow motion and taking a moment to admire the shape of him, to take in where Jet flushes when he's excited, just how his hair falls to try and hide his eyes but Albert can always tell what face he's making regardless. How even though he's thin and long and lanky, with sharp elbows and defined hips, Albert still has him firmly in mind as soft and warm, somehow still welcoming to him despite the prickly outer shell.

The lube is nothing fancy and cold when he coats his fingers in it. There's little he can do about that, having no body heat with which to warm it. Sterling silver eyes try to meet whisky brown as Albert leans over Jet again. "It's cold. Is that ok?" Though frankly he's not sure what to do if it's not.

He wants to just hold Albert in place and get it through his head that everything's fine, that Jet trusts him. He wishes he could've explained everything before now, about why he'd be insistent on the lube for a little while at least, but why there might be any hesitation at all in Jet's demeanor, about why there was a squirming anxiousness in his stomach at the thought of Albert taking him; he wanted it, wanted Albert, but he couldn't shake that small coating of uncertainty. But that was why he wanted it like this, while he was afraid Albert might hurt him (unintentionally, of course) he knew the older man didn't want that, wanted the opposite, in fact and that was enough for the teen.

"Yeah." He moved his hands to either side of Albert's face, trying to get his attention through what he recognized as excitement even as riddled with hesitation and fear as it was; he felt it too, but he needed to say this. "Hey...don't worry, it is okay. I trust you, don't forget that."

How does he do that? How can Jet tell when he starts to drown in his own thoughts? How does he know exactly what to say to keep him afloat? He leans in for a kiss, this one soft and thankful, and his gloved hand pulls Jet just that much closer.

"Thank you. And I trust you." He presses his forehead to his partner's, hand cradling the back of his neck. "You always know what to say."

He slides that slick hand between them, returning to where he'd been teasing Jet before and rubbing lightly. "Hold onto me, alright?"

He was fairly certain that was an overstatement cause more than half the time he had no idea what to say and just hoped the words that came out of his mouth worked. He was just glad, this time, they did.

Jet nodded and kissed the older man again as his arms moved to wrap behind his partner's shoulders. He moved his hips a bit to press back against that hand--only a little, though, he didn't want to rush just yet-- as silent, further indication that it was okay to keep going.

It's another soft kiss, slow and loving as Albert slips a finger into Jet, holding him close and paying all attention to the redhead's reactions, ready to stop as soon as Jet shows any sign of discomfort. He massages gentle circles into the back of the younger man's neck with his still-gloved thumb, a silent promise that Jet is safe in his arms.

There's a small intake of breath during that kiss at the feeling of being entered again, this time more comfortably, but there's no sign of discomfort yet.

If anything, there was a bit of a thrill that raced through him, a spark of anticipation that made him kiss back a little harder in response.

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