makinglies | 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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At such a raw and honest request, Albert can't help but fulfill it. He pulls Jet against him, taking a more dominating approach to their movements so he can make sure he's thrusting into Jet with more speed that the redhead wants but losing none of the power. His hand in turn guides Jet's grip at a faster pace too, slick with what of Jet's fluids have begun to well up in all the excitement.

A groan of Albert's own vibrates into Jet's shoulders, the German's mouth latched to the sweat-salty skin and his hips continuing their quick and deep thrusts with everything he has. He wants to feel Jet lost control, to witness that complete surrender that he'll only let Albert see. He wants to commit every shiver and moan and twitch to memory and bring Jet to an end so complete his legs may not work for a few hours at least.

Because damn if he isn't approaching that himself.

His breathing grew ragged and he grasped tightly at Albert's lower waist, his fingers digging in so hard it distantly occurred to him that he was probably bruising what little real skin Albert still had.

Between his and Albert's hand pumping the slicked skin of his cock, the deep and hard thrusts and the feeling of Albert's mouth on his back, Jet was almost undone right then and there. As it was, he could feel himself approaching that edge faster than he would have liked.

"Albert....god...don't stop. I'm gonna--!" His words were cut off by a sharp gasp tailed by a moan and his body responded faster than he'd anticipated, causing him to twitch and release in their clasped hands, his body tensing as the waves of pleasure drowned him.

He can't quite stop, even after he feels Jet shudder and tense and Jet pulses in their joint grip, his hips keep going for a few moments of their own accord until he's let go inside of Jet with a harsh gasp, practically crushing his partner's back against his chest and burying his nose into the back of Jet's neck as he rides out the tide.

A little later and the only noises are the ragged breathing of two happily exhausted men and the general bustle of the city outside. Albert plants little kisses into Jet's spine, loathe to move despite the mess they've made of each other.

Albert continuing to move in him while every inch feels twice as sensitive as before only causes him to gasp and arch into the movement and a quiet moan escapes him as his partner finishes inside him, the pressure of the German's grip tight but not painful or unwanted.

After a moment of panting and the start of that decent from the happy high they'd reached, Jet's hands lose their grip and find a new home over Albert's. The kisses on his spine send shivers through him.

"I'd like it more if you were kissing my lips, but then one of us'd have to move and I'm not too keen on that one." Although they should. They should shower or at least have Albert pull out so they can clean up enough to not be a complete mess. But the only moving that sounded even remotely enticing was the thought of curling up with his arms full of his broad German, middle of the day or not.

The quip gets a chuckle and Albert simply holds Jet closer, craning his neck to kiss the younger man's cheek as close as he can get to those lips without moving. "Unless you have somewhere to be, there's no rush."

He's not generally one to laze the day away. Albert's an early riser every day but his worst and likes to get any chores for the day out of the way before the afternoon, when it's more acceptable to sit down with a book and relax. But right now it's barely past eleven and he's more than content to lean back with Jet still in his arms and cuddles into his partner for at least a few minutes before he feels prompted enough to move and get the shower going.

He buries his nose in the back of Jet's neck with a happy sigh. "You're warm."

"Yeah..." And Albert wasn't, at least most of him wasn't. But that was ok, it just gave Jet a job to do. The teen moved, forcing Albert to pull out so Jet could turn and face his partner.

"Com'ere." Long arms snake round the older man and hold him close, tucking that silver head under his chin and curling around Albert like a blanket. He even had the same intention as one; he wanted to share every scrap of body heat he had.

He sucks in a quiet breath as Jet moves and he falls out of him, but he doesn't have long to feel awkward with the redhead turned in his lap and sitting again, pulling him under his chin as if to shield him or wrap him up. He can't help the chuckle that bubbles up when he realizes what Jet is doing, almost more of a giggle instead. "I didn't know you had mama bird tendencies too."

He teases, but it's good natured and he'd be lying if he said this wasn't comfortable. Albert wrap his arms around Jet's waist, threading his fingers together at the small of his back and pressing his cheek against Jet's chest, listening to his partner's calming heartbeat, a blissful expression still settled on his face.

One of Jet's hands slides into silver hair and he yanks lightly. "Shut up."

But then his fingers are gentle again as they card through soft strands. Maybe he was acting little protective and definitely a little possessive, but this was the happiest he'd felt in a while. From last night to this moment, he felt like everything was perfect and that wasn't a usual feeling for him. It was all Albert's fault and Jet knew it.

He had the urge to thank him for reasons he wouldn't even explain, but he kept it to himself and let the press of his lips to Albert's temple and the tightening of his hold do the talking.

The tug at his hair just sparks another muffled laugh into Jet's shoulder, Albert never having felt quite so at home and happy, at least not since being remodeled. And he's still comfortable now, despite his undress. It helps that Jet understands utterly and completely. They both went through being rebuilt and from what he understands, Jet had it worse on some level in being the first successful subject in the project. He may not have as extensive visible modifications, but he still experienced it all.

Albert's fingers unlace themselves and roam a little, touching for its own sake rather than trying to get Jet going again. His cold palms run over the curve of the younger man's backside, the German smiling again at how soft that curve is even as he traces one hand down to reach the bottom of Jet's foot, his metallic fingers making a soft clinking noise against the rim of the exhaust vent.

Still feeling amorous, Albert kisses Jet's shoulder lightly, enjoying the fingers in his hair and the possessive embrace Jet has him encased in. If he had his way, he'd never leave it.

New York State of Mind

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