Jack Vincent (
rockabillyboy) wrote2016-04-26 08:25 pm
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Kick-start my rockin', rollin' heart
For the last couple of weeks, he's been spending a lot of time with Poison, getting used to having him around, in his space. He's been nursing something, a warm and liquid knot behind his ribs. He's not examined it too closely. He definitely hasn't said anything to Poison about it. Sometimes, he finds himself flustered, but he pushes it down, ignores it and, eventually, it passes.
Sort of.
They'd arranged to go out and test drive the I.D that Kavinsky had made for him. Poison wanted to go dancing and Jack can get into clubs now, so...why not, right?
So he's standing on a corner, just down from the club, waiting for Poison to show. He hadn't, entirely, been sure what to wear for something like this, so he's there in black t-shirt and jeans, one of his more fitted leather jackets, boots. He's got product in his hair. Double row of eyelashes give the effect of eyeliner.
It's weird, maybe, but...he's actually kind of nervous.
Sort of.
They'd arranged to go out and test drive the I.D that Kavinsky had made for him. Poison wanted to go dancing and Jack can get into clubs now, so...why not, right?
So he's standing on a corner, just down from the club, waiting for Poison to show. He hadn't, entirely, been sure what to wear for something like this, so he's there in black t-shirt and jeans, one of his more fitted leather jackets, boots. He's got product in his hair. Double row of eyelashes give the effect of eyeliner.
It's weird, maybe, but...he's actually kind of nervous.
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"What if I let you drink your coffee first?" Teases Jack, turning his head to graze a kiss against Poison's forehead.
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"I think I'll make it," says Jack, smirking against Poison's skin. The fingers in his hair drift aimlessly, scratching against his scalp a little. He's already figured out how much Poison likes having his hair played with. "Maybe I'll do some yoga when I wake up. Meditate or something."
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He falls asleep like that, with Poison curled in his arms, his cheek resting against red, red hair. He sleeps like the dead.
*
Morning light filters past the blinds and Jack gently extricates himself from the bed. He pauses, for a moment, in the act of pulling on clothes he can exercise in, looking at the man still sleeping in his bed. That warm, liquid feeling has seeped all of the way through him.
He feels both giddy and terrified.
Yoga helps. He runs through his routine, enjoying the stretch in his muscles, the peace that settles over him. When he's done, he makes coffee and toast. He realises that he doesn't know how Poison likes either, so he brings a tray with him when he comes back.
Setting it down on the bed, he leans down and presses a trio of kisses against Poison's jaw.
"Morning?"
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He sleeps all the way through Jack's yoga endeavors, which is probably a shame for the view he's missing.
He sleeps deeply enough that he's a little startled when Jack wakes him up, but at least he doesn't flail. "Huh?" He looks around, a little dazed. He doesn't remember where he is for a second. Then he sees Jack, and a smile slowly appears.
"Hey," he says. "G'morning. Is it morning?" He looks toward the window.
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"It's morning," says Jack, sitting cross-legged on the bed and then picking up one of the mugs of coffee, waiting for Poison to take it. "I didn't know how you take it so I bought everything in."
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Jack watches the whole process, amused, sipping his own coffee (black, no sugar). He picks up a slice of toast and bites into it.
"Did you sleep okay?"
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"Mm. Coffee."
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"Did you just come a little?" Teases Jack. It's a little overwhelming, how attractive Poison is, even in the harsh light of morning, the hurried energy of last night replaced by some other, distinct feeling.
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"I did promise," says Jack, keeping his distance, giving Poison a little space. "Yoga. Coffee."
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He wraps his hand around Poison's foot, squeezing.
"Kind of, yeah." He smiles. "Sorry."
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"You could always just make sure you're never around me in a morning," says Jack, both eyebrows raised as he sips his coffee and sincerely, selfishly hopes that Poison doesn't go for that idea.
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"I'll just get some coffee in you and hope for the best," says Jack, finishing his toast and offering Poison the other piece.
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Jack is intensely aware that he's dressed and Poison is still just as naked as he was last night. He tries, hard, not to be distracted by the pale, lean lines of him, stark contrast to the bright colour of his hair.
"You need anything else?" He asks, draining the last of his own coffee.
Jack can think of at least one thing that he personally needs.
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There are things that he wants to do here, has wanted to do ever since he rolled over and found Poison still sleeping next to him. Nerves boil through him like butterflies. He shifts, moving the tray off the bed and setting it on the floor before shifting up the bed to sprawl beside Poison. Slowly, tentatively, he reaches out and brushes his fingertips against the mark he left on Poison's collarbone last night.
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