(no subject)

[rockabillyboy]

Nothing is coming together.

Jack's been working pretty frantically on his portfolio for the last week. He's got lots of pieces mostly done, but nothing done enough to submit. The deadline is looming. He's pinned all of his hopes on getting into art school, starting in the Fall. Mentally, he doesn't really feel prepared to submit anything, though, and that leads to a manic level of work. He's been peripherally aware of Poison all day, hovering in his space, asking him if he wants to do something else for an hour or so.

He's being an asshole, he knows. He can't help it.

"Shit, boo," he says, worrying his lip with his teeth. "I just want to get this piece done, okay?"

Comments

[afabulouskilljoy]

"I'm pretty sure you've been saying that all day, which either means you need to take a break because you're stuck, or you need to take a break because you've actually finished six things since the first time you said that."

Poison's been doing his best to be supportive, because this is obviously so important for Jack and he wants him to have it, wants him to get into this school. But he also doesn't want Jack to lose his damn mind in the process, or stress his way into an ulcer or something.

"Come on, Jack. An hour. Half an hour."

[rockabillyboy]

"Jesus, Poison, please," says Jack, kicking the toe of his sneaker distractedly against the leg of is drafting table. "I'm in a groove, okay? And you're not actually helping right now." He scrubs his free hand back through his hair, working on a layout that incorporates several fonts. "Don't you have something else you could be doing?"

[afabulouskilljoy]

Poison lifts an eyebrow and crosses his arms over his chest. "Whoa. Okay."

He stalks across the room and waits for the perfect moment - as soon as Jack lifts his pen high enough, Poison yanks the book out from under him.

"You wanna try that again?"

[rockabillyboy]

"Are you fucking kidding me?" says Jack, leaning forward to snatch for his sketchbook. "What the...this is important, Poison. If I screw this up, I'm going to have to do Senior year and do you really want to be fucking someone in high school?"

[afabulouskilljoy]

Poison takes a step back and holds it out of reach. "I know it's important. But you're kind of being a bitch right now and you really need to get your shit together," he snaps back.

"You're taking. A break." His voice, his tone, don't leave room for argument. Neither does the look he's giving Jack, daring him to disagree.

[rockabillyboy]

Jack doesn't look any happier, but he does stop talking, at least. He scrubs his hands over his face. He's pretty tense, but he'd be happier if he was drawing.

"I can't believe you're doing this," he says, sound petulant even in his own ears.

[afabulouskilljoy]

"Obviously you have not been paying attention, because I've been trying to do the nice version of this for a while, and you've kind of been blowing me off the whole time. So now you're gonna behave your fucking self and pay attention to me."

[rockabillyboy]

"I don't do this when you're in the studio," points out Jack. "I'm sorry you'd rather I was sucking your cock than, you know, fucking working, Poison. We can't all be revolutionary fucking rockstars."

[afabulouskilljoy]

"Yeah that's because I leave my shit in the fucking studio," he points out. "This? This has been following you everywhere. My place, your place, public places. I know it's important Jack, but if you can't put it down for a minute you're gonna give yourself a damn ulcer."

He lifts an eyebrow. "Obviously you need someone to tell you to chill the fuck out since you can't manage it on your own."

[rockabillyboy]

"So give it me back, let me finish what I was fucking working on and then we can go out and get dinner." He huffs a breath out. "I had one dad, you know, Poison? I don't exactly need that from you."

[afabulouskilljoy]

"Nope. If you want it back you can earn it back. Be good. And if you can't then I guess I'm just gonna have to hang out with this thing all night since you can't be bothered."

[rockabillyboy]

"Are you serious?" asks Jack, his jaw tight, eyebrows raised. He's got a sense of where this is going now. Be good. "Poison, please."

[afabulouskilljoy]

"Oh," he says, making the shape with his mouth. "Now it's 'Poison please.' I don't know if that's gonna cut it after the shit you just gave me."

[rockabillyboy]

"I'm not going to win, am I?" Says Jack, barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes. "Fine. Fuck it. Let's take a break."

[afabulouskilljoy]

"Good boy," he purrs. He sets the sketchbook aside somewhere close. "If you're not gonna take care of yourself, Jack, I'm gonna step in," he says as he moves closer.

[rockabillyboy]

"Yeah, okay," says Jack, and there's still something slightly flat about his tone, a vaguely defiant tilt to his chin. "Because I can't manage myself?"

[afabulouskilljoy]

"I'm starting to think not." Poison gets closer, standing over Jack. He brushes his fingers through his hair. "But if you can behave yourself, and you're good, I'll take care of you, honey."

[rockabillyboy]

Even though he's pissed off, he still leans into the touch to his hair. His eyes drift close. He drags in a breath and lets it out again, shaky.

"Okay," he says. "I'll be good."

[afabulouskilljoy]

"You need to relax. Go to your room, Jack, and get on the bed. Hands and knees. I'll be there in a minute."

Poison plans to take his time, just to let Jack sweat it for a moment.

[rockabillyboy]

He opens his mouth to say something but decides it's probably not the best idea so he just gets up and pads into the bedroom. He arranges himself on all fours in the middle of the bed, jeans and a tshirt.

And he waits.

[afabulouskilljoy]

Poison gives it a few minutes (and puts the sketchbook back on the little table in front of the couch) before going back to the bedroom. He nudges the door shut, then moves around the room. He doesn't talk to Jack doesn't even really look at him.

Eventually, though, he comes closer and leans over Jack to get his jeans loose and work them and whatever underwear he's got on down, exposing his ass.

"You were pretty nasty back there, Jack. Kinda messed up, actually. Poison eases back and smacks his ass. Hard. He needs to walk this line carefully but he's-- he's seen how Jack reacts to certain things. Time to test them out.

[rockabillyboy]

Stripped from the waist down, Jack blushes, letting his head drop a little. When Poison spanks him, his hips squirm a little. He bites his lip so he doesn't make a sound.

[afabulouskilljoy]

"Oh so now you don't wanna talk at all? I don't even get an apology?"

He hits Jack a few more times, firm and quick, peppering red marks across his upturned ass. He gets a weird thrill, feeling the skin get hot under his hand.

[rockabillyboy]

"Thought you didn't want to hear me talk," says Jack, sullen, ass stinging. "Thought I didn't know what to do to look after myself so what's the point?"

[afabulouskilljoy]

Poison rolls his eyes and smacks Jack again, lower, on his thigh. Then he slides his hand up and over Jack's hip, around his front until he finds his cock. He squeezes lightly, strokes. "Fine," he growls. "Then you can just keep thinking about how you got yourself here."