rockabillyboy | (no subject)

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party poison

(no subject)

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?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Won't do it again," says Jack, reaching up to tug the blindfold off so that he can really see Poison, so he can look him in the face.

"I mean I didn't say that." He tips his head up so he could kiss Jack, now that he can actually see where his mouth is.

"All of that good?" he asks, leaning down into the kiss, his fingers grazing against Poison's jaw. "How do you feel?"

"Like I can barely move." He kisses Jack's cheek. "Totally boneless. In a good way."

He grins, combing his fingers through Poison's red hair, thumb grazing against the undercut, smudging against short shaved hair at his temple. "I didn't hurt you?"

"Mm, not in any ways I didn't like," he assures. "How's it look? Girl fixed up the underside after you dyed it back."

"It suits you," says Jack, brushing his lips against Poison's temple. "Like, it really, really suits you."

Poison grins. "Yeah? This mean you'll sulk at me if I grow it all out? Or cut it all?"

"I mean, it's your hair," says Jack, rolling one shoulder in a shrug. "You can do what you like with it but I? Would kind of miss this, yes."

It's as close as he's going to come to expressing a preference.

Poison laughs and shakes his head a bit. "We'll see. It'll probably stay this way unless something fucked up happens to it."

"Which, with this place being what it is, is entirely likely." He scratches his fingers lightly against Poison's skull. "We should probably clean up?"

Poison makes a face. "If you insist. You're gonna have to carry me though 'cause I'm not sure I can feel my legs. Or bring the cleaning up over here."

"Are you kidding?" asks Jack, bending his head to take another kiss. "Because you know I can totally carry you."

"Hey, I was giving you options," he huffs. "In case you didn't feel like hauling my lazy ass anywhere."

"Shower or bath?" asks Jack, eyebrow raised as he looks down at Poison. Because he's definitely taken that as a challenge.

"If we take a shower you have to hold me up. I'm good either way." He grins. He's been well behaved all night, he's so not being helpful now.

"I could hold you up," he says, smirking. "You're made of, like, knots and string and bold claims anyway." He squeezes Poison's bicep as if to prove his point.

"Pretty much just that. You forgot razor blades, though." Sharp edges, string, and bold claims. That sounds like him.

"True," laughs Jack, ducking his head to take a kiss. "Sharp enough to cut."

"From the inside out, baby." He smiles, but it's not that strong. He kisses Jack again and lightly squeezes with his legs.

"I seem to be coming away unscathed so far," says Jack. He kisses down Poison's neck for a second and then pushes up onto his hands. "Right. Shower or bath. C'mon. Pick."

"You like the tub. We can take a bath." Poison preferred the shower, but he doesn't mind. Jack's been good to him tonight, he can wallow in the tub.

"Bath means I don't have to hold you up," says Jack, bending his arms like a press-up so that he can take a kiss before he gets up off the bed and pads into the bathroom to turn on the faucet.

"Mmhm, I'm taking it easy on you," he quips, grinning. Poison stretches lazily, then relaxes, waiting for Jack to retrieve him.

Jack waits until the bath is almost run before he comes back. He puts one knee on the bed and then slides his arms under Poison's knees, around his shoulders, hoisting him.

"Fuck," he says. "There's nothing to you."