[Yeah, okay, so about that whole "flexible" thing. Turns out that may not be as accurate as he thought. Well, kinda. See, with women? He'll do pretty much anything. He's done pretty much anything. Shit like this? He's equally likely to be on either side of this "pinning to a wall" crap. If this was, say, some strong butch lady crowding him and demanding he ask for what he wants, Quentin would be all for it. Hell yeah. Hot as fuck.
But it's not. It's Julian fucking Keller. Bullshit machismo in human form. Masculinity so fragile he would probably shrivel up and die if he ever had a single feeling that wasn't expressed through pointless aggression. The most dudebro jock meathead bully in existence.
And the fact that Quentin would low-key rather chop off his own head than just fucking say "I want to make out with you" is absolutely infuriating. After all, it's Quentin who's the progressive one, right? The one who isn't brainwashed by the patriarchal society bullshit. The one defying gender norms. He literally covers himself in pink, for fuck's sake! He knows he's into guys—hell, he knows he's into Keller, as regrettable as that is—and he knows he's into shit like this. He knows all that, but the asshole's tone makes him bristle. What, just because Quentin is like an inch shorter, not as muscular (but also literally one of the most powerful telepaths ever and a genius so why do muscles even matter???), and less of a big stupid bully (not a flaw), he should be the "bottom" in this... whatever-it-is? Hell no. That's—it's insulting! Not like... bottoming in general, of course. That's all well and good, and Quentin is by no means opposed in any regular context. This is... It's different. Somehow.
Uuuugh, stupid Keller. His brain worms are obviously infecting Quentin. But hey, with any luck they'll be terminal so he can be free of this nonsense. He abruptly lets go of Julian's hair—and only pulls out a few strands in the process, fancy that—but just so he can shove at the jerk's chest with both hands.]
Yeah, nice try. I know what you're doing, asshole!
[Does he? Sure, let's go with that. Quentin scoffs and—fists his hands in Julian's shirt. Which is admittedly mixed signals from the shoving, but whatever.]
( losing a bit of hair does have julian noticeably wincing, but it does nothing to the grin across his face. yeah maybe he does want it, especially now. doesn't mean he's going to let quentin think he's won any, because what fun would that be? fingers grip into his shirt, and julian's not moving away any more than he already has - no, in fact, he's leaning most his lower body right up against quentin's, completely removing any breathing space either of them had. but it's fine. they don't need that, do they? )
Never said I didn't. I just said you had to ask for what you wanted, especially if you're going to be grabby.
( but no more kisses for quentin, not until he does ask. instead, julian lowers a hand, metal fingers digging into quentin's hip just hard enough to hurt but not nearly enough to bruise. you know. for purposes. )
Are you going to ask? Or should I work you up then fuck off?
[Okay, so first? Quentin's honestly kind of surprised Keller admitted wanting this. It was obvious, of course. He literally walked up and kissed Quentin on the mouth for no reason whatsoever. But he also followed that with some "you're still not my type" bullshit, so. He's not exactly had a good track record of words and actions lining up, is all. But now suddenly both are very, very much aligned, and there's probably some kind of observation Quentin could make about that if he wasn't also extremely distracted by the wall behind him pressing uncomfortably into his shoulder blades and back and, oh yeah, the entire front of Julian Keller's fucking body glued to his. And look, it's not like it's the first time Julian's grossly invaded his personal space. Not by a long shot. It's like his favorite to do, or at least, that's what Quentin assumes considering how often he does it. Grabs Quentin's shirt and gets reeeaaally close for some fucking reason. But this is, uh. Different. Very much so. And has he ever mentioned how rude it is that Julian's shoulders are like twice as broad as Quentin's? Because that's so rude. It's always been rude, but now it's more rude. Also? We're not talking about the metal hand on his hip. We're just not. Quentin has little enough dignity left as it is.
In fact, he's still scrambling together the tattered remnants of said dignity when Keller gives him a gift. A wonderful gift. Miraculous even. What is that gift, you ask? The gift of spite. See, those last foolish words leaving Keller's mouth? That's a challenge. Specifically, a challenge where "failure" means Quentin's own destruction. And therein lies the mistake.
Oh, Julian, Julian, Julian. Jules. You poor simple-minded beautiful idiot. Haven't you learned? Nobody ruins Quentin Quire's life better than Quentin Quire. Dignity? Insecurity? Whatever the fuck was happening in his brain before? Gone. In the trash. Good riddance. And in their place is pure, unadulterated pettiness. There is virtually no room to do so, but any ability Quentin has to press back into Julian's space he takes. Not to push him away, more of an "unstoppable force/immovable object" type thing. Jury's out on who's who, but that doesn't matter right now. What matters is that Keller's not the only one invading personal space. Or something. Oh, and that nasty little troll smirk is back on his face.]
Big words, but all I've seen is two lackluster kisses and a whole lot of talk. If I do ask, how do I know you can even deliver? Bargaining 101, dipshit.
( giving in and admitting to whatever he'd just admitted to (because no, he won't admit to admitting to it, even to himself) was only done because julian was supposed to get something out of it. quentin was supposed to give in. he was supposed to admit to what he wanted, too, and ask for it, nicely. did julian need him to ask? absolutely not, but he did want the ego boost that would have come along with it. this?
isn't giving him what he wants at all, because now he has to suffer from the smarmy looking stupid smirk on quentin's face while julian's still all up in his personal space and - quentin's trying to shove right back into his. because, ha, he does want it. he obviously wants it bad too. which, oddly enough, is giving a kind of ego boost to julian. the guy fucks around with sophie for christsakes, and yeah julian's not really all that interested in sophie that way right now, but she's hot? impossibly hot? not that he thinks he's unattractive by any means, but it's not like quentin's missing out any.
weird line of thought to go down. no, he doesn't want to get stuck there, especially not when he's still pressed right up against quentin and staring into the asshole's eyes despite that stupid smirk on his face.
julian's quiet, for a little while. narrows his eyes at that stupid face that looks all too cocky. and then - lifts his shoulders in a loose shrug, before his hand leaves quentin's hip and he moves to take a step back. )
Okay, note to self: the "prove it" method is not effective. Damn. With how much of a stupidly competitive blowhard that Keller is, Quentin would've predicted he couldn't pass up an opportunity to show off. You know, demonstrate. Give him no choice but to acknowledge that Julian Keller is so sexy and great in bed and the manliest man blah blah blah. And instead he's... backing off? Which, yes, is clearly an attempt to call Quentin's bluff, but... Hm.
He lets go of Keller's shirt as he backs up, but lunges forward to grab his forearm with one hand instead, holding on firmly enough that Julian would need to actually try to shake free. There's actual space to breathe between them now, which means Quentin's head is a little clearer, even if he both looks and sounds (and is) irritated.]
Jesus fucking—you're hot, and you're clearly interested, and I wanna make out with you. What I don't want is to play your weird little games. You like kinky shit? Fine. But for fuck's sake, warm a guy up first! Kissing with tongue before begging. Capiche?
( every time quentin quire opens his mouth julian struggles to figure out what the fuck is going on with the guy. like. okay, yeah, julian did tell him to ask but what the hell does that have to do with kink. he didn't mean it in a kink way? asshole was pulling his head every which way rather than, you know, just asking like a normal person.
and of course he can't do this part of making out any normal way either. he's holding onto julian and being a massive jerk the whole way about it and not listening and julian's - losing patience but also he does want to get back to kissing quentin.
so he sighs. angrily. turns back toward quentin. )
It's not kinky bullshit. You want me to move? Don't pull my fucking head around.
[Quentin opens his mouth to argue because in what universe is pinning somebody to a wall and sexily threatening to tease them and leave unless they "ask nicely" not some kind of kinky bullshit?? Like sure, that's nothing too wild, but still! And look, it's not like Quentin is judging, okay? People like what they like! No kink-shaming in this house.
But... instead he just huffs, rolls his eyes, and lets it go. Because what's the point in arguing semantics with Julian Keller when he could be making out with Julian Keller? Even if Quentin is 100% correct and always is and always will be because Julian is a smooth-brained homunculus. Whom he wants to kiss. Like... several times, at least. Because Quentin is apparently cursed with the world's worst taste in men. He would ask what he did to deserve this, but honestly, he can think of a lot of things. Oh, well.]
Whatever. Deal.
[He only sounds a little bit petulant about it. That's just his default, okay. He loosens his grip on Julian's arm while also tugging—lightly!—to bring him closer.]
And you can use your hands more, dipshit. Fucking weird when you're just standing there, and I'll do my fancy brain trick if you want.
( he can still drop quentin and just pretend this never happened. the thought does cross his mind. but quentin's pulling him in and julian's -
contemplating how to phrase it, exactly, without sounding as pathetic as it feels. ugh. unfortunately he can't think of a way to put it into words without it sounding just - sad. )
I don't want to hurt you. Much. They're still metal, idiot.
( metal and pinchy and not really meant for hold onto someone else. but he does - try. an arm wraps loosely around quentin's waist, while he slides the under between his arm and ribcage, hand against the back of his shoulderblade. )
[Quentin rolls his eyes like that's the stupidest thing he's ever heard. Because it is.]
Yeah, no shit they're metal, dumbass. Just keep 'em out of my hair.
[And then Julian puts his arms around him, and it's... decent. Solid 6 out of 10. Getting there. Quentin makes a little grunt of mild approval.]
Your TK, it's all... tingly. And weird. Not the bad kind.
[And if Julian was expecting any further detail on that description, he's about to be disappointed. Or maybe not, since instead Quentin is putting his hands on either side of Julian's face and leaning up to kiss him. It's decidedly less antagonistic this time—that is, unless Julian decides to start something—but still decisive, bordering on assertive. Being too bossy clearly doesn't fly with this asshole, despite the obvious hypocrisy of that stance. But that doesn't mean Quentin's gotta be passive, right? He's earned that much, he thinks. Somehow. Probably.]
( there's a mood one needs to be in to get bossed around, okay, and quentin - well. he's never gotten close to putting julian in that kind of mood. really, his entire existence just makes julian want to shove him over and step on him. partially the whole omega mutant thing. partially the ego. he can't really place where it's coming from, other than something in julian just yearns to push the guy over.
it's an urge he's trying to ignore, for the sake of makeouts.
should they go somewhere more discreet? probably. but quentin can also mind wipe anyone who sees anything which is yet another reason why julian wants to shove him over. ugh. man he hates this guy. but it's fine. they're fine. and he's - tipping his head into the kiss this time, teeth nipping at quentin's lower lip gently as he pulls quentin in closer, holding him against julian's chest rather than shoving him up against the wall. )
[Mind wiping? That's for amateurs. Quentin's psychic illusioning the fuck out of this. Don't need to mind wipe anybody if they don't see anything in the first place.
Not that there's really much to see. That initial shit at the wall was way more hot and heavy than this. Hell, this is practically demure in comparison. Not that Quentin is complaining—well. Any more than usual, at least. This is fine. A little slow for Quentin's tastes, but also it's weirdly kinda... nice? Julian's a good hugger, so that helps. Quentin can work with it. He's flexible, remember? He literally has access to all of his partner's thoughts and feelings and unmatched attention to detail thanks to that neat little secondary mutation. He damn well had better be flexible. Oh sure, that secondary mutation is also why slow can simultaneously over- and underwhelming. But shit, after all that kerfuffle, it'd be downright embarrassing to bitch about Keller kissing him too slow.
So instead? He makes a low hum of approval into Julian's mouth and slides a hand back to thread fingers through his dark hair—and very deliberately does not pull on it this time. It's not there to move Julian anyway. Quentin did agree to that. It's there mostly for the opposite: Quentin pressing his own face and body a little more firmly against Julian's. Hungry but not pushy. That seems to be the sweet spot for Keller, and therefore is the best route to Quentin getting his way. The guy likes feeling wanted, but he doesn't want to be pushed around too much. And hey, that's valid. Not too hot, not too cold, Goldilocks shit. It's simply a matter of feeling out that "just right" zone.
... Would it be a lot easier to communicate telepathically (or... at all) about this shit? Or skim Keller's mind? Yes, yes it would. But Julian is Julian, so Quentin's trying it the old fashioned way. For now, at least. Anyway, if Keller is too dumb to pick up on those cues, there's literally no helping him.]
most the people julian has kissed generally go at it with more - bite to them. laura is all sharp edges, forceful and hard but soft at the same time and julian certainly wouldn't know how to describe it if he'd been asked - though he guess it's kinda similar to iara, in a way.
hell, he wishes he could stop thinking a mile a minute about everything he currently doesn't have going for him and instead focus on now but he feels like if he focuses too hard on kissing quentin quire, he's going to end up punching the guy in the mouth regardless of how he's pretty sure quentin's right and they had been kind of leading up to this moment since that night in the kitchen.
because, yeah, if he doesn't focus on how much he wants to punch quentin in his stupid loud mouth? it feels nice having him pressed up against julian's chest - just the weight of him there. and yeah he's a stupidly scrawny little nerd of a dude but he's lithe in a way that makes him fit perfect up against julian. there's no need to slouch down to reach him, quire's plenty tall enough to reach as is even if he's just short enough to give him the advantage there too.
so, you know, kissing quentin? not terrible. and it feels so good to just be able to - to touch someone. to have this much physical contact with someone because julian doesn't really have anyone he can go to for this. sophie runs her fingers through his hair and leans on him but he knows it's because to her, he's a safe haven. there's no expectations. it's a different kind of physical affection than this even if it isn't any less good it's just - different.
but quire bends despite his bitching earlier, and julian takes it as a good of a sign as any that he's actually going to fucking listen. good.
one arm slides up, cold fingers going to press against the back of quentin's neck just to hold him that much closer while the other slides under the back of quentin's shirt to press to the curve of his back. julian takes the hint easily enough - kissing with tongue before begging, right?
not that he's aiming for the latter, but he is tipping his head a bit so he can press the tip of his tongue against the seam of quentin's lips. look, asking, like a normal person. )
[See, okay, now they're getting somewhere. Keller can take instructions after all. Well, as long as the instruction-giver is sufficiently deferential about it. Stupid King Julian requires a little mild groveling before he'll cooperate, apparently. Good thing Quentin doesn't mind too much, as long as it gets him what he wants.
And what does he want, you ask? Uh. It's, well. It's obvious, right? Yep. So obvious he doesn't even need to specify or consider where the fuck this is heading or how far he's willing to go with this shit or any of that garbage. Look, he's operating on vibes right now, okay? And the vibes say "steamy makeout sesh with Julian Keller. For reasons."
Quentin does instinctively flinch away at first when Julian's hands touch his skin, but that's only because, you know. Metal. Shit's a lot colder than he anticipated, especially on his lower back, and an involuntary shiver runs through him. Not to mention the slight uneasiness of having those pinchy little joints dangerously close to the part of his hair that's actually long enough to potentially get snagged. All of which, well. Isn't ideal, considering he knows Julian's sensitive about that crap, but oh well. Maybe Quentin parting his lips without one single bit of hesitation will be enough of a distraction to keep the moron from spiraling into his stupid "woe is me, nobody will fuck me, the hot guy with metal hands" bullshit. Look, he'll even let Julian have more control over the kiss if he wants it, as a little treat. Isn't he a nice guy? The hands on Keller's face and neck stay there—for now—until the two of them figure out a good groove for this kissing thing.
And hey, what the hell. Technically Keller never actually accepted the offer of "fancy brain trick," but Quentin reaches into the guy's mind to substitute the sensory input like before anyway. Because ... come on. What's he gonna do, say "no, I don't want to actually feel the skin/buzzed hair fuzzies of the guy I'm frenching right now"? Unlikely.]
( quire flinches, but it's too late for him: he's already committed, and julian isn't backing down now unless the guy actually starts protesting. yeah, this would make a great time to go see? i told you so, except that'd mean fucking this over for julian and he's already - here. in a place he never thought he would be doing something with someone he never thought it'd do anything like this with which is fine except, you know, he's already doing it and therefore he's finishing it.
even if he doesn't quite know what that means yet.
that's something for him to decipher later. because now? he's busy making good on that whole promise of kiss me with tongue first except quentin himself goes and fucks it up this time (again) when julian physically flinches away from the sensation of - of feeling something where he's used to there being nothing but the occasional phantom pain.
it isn't bad. it's just - not what he wants? weird time to figure that out after spending so much goddamn time feeling off about not having them but - quentin fucks around in julian's head, and julian response by pulling back just enough to dig his teeth, hard, into quentin's lower lip before he's dipping his head down enough to mouth at his neck. )
Stop it, asshole.
( there's not much heat behind the words, and he's not specifying, but quentin's not stupid. he'll get it. )
[Okay, kissing with tongue? Definitely Julian's strong suit. Huge improvement over the weaksauce bullshit he was so smug about earlier. This? This is some making out that Quentin can appreciate.
Except then it abruptly ends before he even got much chance to enjoy it properly, because hey, turns out Keller can have beef with feeling skin for some fucking reason. Christ. And Quentin is—fuck—really, really annoyed how much that bite followed by attention to his neck does it for him. It's very inconvenient, honestly. For one thing, an entirely involuntary noise comes out of him that's about 80% gasp, 20% moan, despite his attempts to stifle it. And then insult to injury, his stupid voice is embarrassingly breathy when he replies.]
Jesus. Okay, fine, message received.
[He clears his throat and—forces himself to get his shit together, hastily withdrawing from Keller's stupid head. There. Enjoy your dumb non-feeling hands again, asshole. And no, Quentin's not tilting his head to give Julian better access to his neck or anything asinine like that. He has some dignity, okay?]
See if I ever do anything nice for you ever again. Dick.
[Ugh, and now that he's disconnected from Julian's brain, he's realizing how much he missed it before. Feels like he's blind now, groping around in the dark with no clue where to go, and for a brief moment his pulse spikes for a very different reason—a flicker of panic? No, that's too intense a word. Anxiety? Maybe. Or... indecision? Whatever.
Regardless, it feels weird and wrong and he hates it, and since Keller is so fucking difficult, Quentin turns to what instinct dictates is a distant second choice. His hands move from Julian's head, fumbling around the guy's own arms, to finally land at his waist, and there Quentin— hesitates, fingers playing at the bottom hem of his shirt.]
Where?
[Look, he's flying blind over here. Just easier for everyone if Julian tells him where he wants to be touched.]
it's good, too. gives him a better hint of what the hell he's supposed to do here because no, julian has no fucking clue what he's doing, but he knows when someone makes a sound like that - it's generally a good sign to keep it up.
teeth graze against quentin's neck, but he isn't biting. not yet. instead, he gently scrapes teeth against skin until he reaches where his collar meets his shoulder, leaving a soft kiss there before he's sucking skin into his mouth hard enough to leave a mark.
the lack of sensation in his hands helps him - balance a little better. he couldn't put it into words, but they're unnecessary here regardless. fingers grip onto quentin a little tighter, and when a hand slips under his shirt, julian's sliding an arm under quentin's ass to press his weight harder up against him so he can lift him up - fully relying on physical strength rather than telekinesis, because of course he has to show off. )
Wherever.
( julian doesn't care; he isn't particular about where he's touched, and it certainly wouldn't be the first time someone went groping around him. he'll give quire as many options as he wants, because he's busy digging teeth into that same spot he'd sucked a mark into while spreading his feet a little to help balance himself just that much more. )
[Quentin feels teeth on his skin, which is regret #1. And then Julian moves a little further down.]
Fuck, are you serious, dude? A hickey? People can see that shit, man!
[The bitching would probably be a whole lot more believable if he didn't sound equally as turned on as he is annoyed. Ugh, just kill him. Out of the long, long list of shit Quentin's into, how come Julian keeps finding the things that are the most embarrassing for this specific situation? It's karma, isn't it? It's probably karma. God damn it. On the bright side, it does help ground him more. So there's that. Hooray.
Oh, and also embarrassing? Getting picked up. Especially annoying since even though Quentin's managed to gain a good bit of muscle from, you know, him and Sophie going at it for months, he still can't pick her up. But beyond that there's just... Well, fine. Elephant in the room. Jacked conventionally attractive dude with a brash attitude and a... we'll say much leaner guy with pink hair. Quentin's very aware of the optics. Assumptions that would be made. Assumptions that probably have been made, if he bothered to go scan some minds for shit. Everything that's happened so far between him and Keller? Everything that keeps happening? Pretty fucking in line with those assumptions. Enough so that it chafes. Like he can feel eyes on him. Assholes putting him into their stupid little boxes. Yeah, obviously it'd end up like this, Quire. Why would you ever think it wouldn't? I mean, just look at you.
Except... except there aren't eyes on him. He's tracking that with a psychic relay running in the background of his mind. And even if there were... does it matter? Really matter? He's been covering himself in pink for years, and he's not planning on changing that any time soon. He knows what shit he likes, and it turns out that includes "manhandling by a jacked conventionally attractive dude". So... fuck it. Fuck everyone's bullshit assumptions. Quentin is enjoying himself, and it seems like Keller is too, and if that means falling into some stereotypes, then so be it. He slings his legs around Julian's waist, which feels... weird and unfamiliar, to say the least, but not at all unpleasant. Okay... okay, yeah. This is fine. Unfortunately, the shift also makes it really awkward to shove his hands under Julian's shirt, which means he's going to just grab handfuls of fabric and tug lightly but insistently upward.]
Off.
[The shirt, obviously. Look, it's not like Keller's ever had any shyness about whipping his shirt off, why would he start now?]
And quit gnawing on me, jackass. Get back to the kissing, that was hot as fuck.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
But it's not. It's Julian fucking Keller. Bullshit machismo in human form. Masculinity so fragile he would probably shrivel up and die if he ever had a single feeling that wasn't expressed through pointless aggression. The most dudebro jock meathead bully in existence.
And the fact that Quentin would low-key rather chop off his own head than just fucking say "I want to make out with you" is absolutely infuriating. After all, it's Quentin who's the progressive one, right? The one who isn't brainwashed by the patriarchal society bullshit. The one defying gender norms. He literally covers himself in pink, for fuck's sake! He knows he's into guys—hell, he knows he's into Keller, as regrettable as that is—and he knows he's into shit like this. He knows all that, but the asshole's tone makes him bristle. What, just because Quentin is like an inch shorter, not as muscular (but also literally one of the most powerful telepaths ever and a genius so why do muscles even matter???), and less of a big stupid bully (not a flaw), he should be the "bottom" in this... whatever-it-is? Hell no. That's—it's insulting! Not like... bottoming in general, of course. That's all well and good, and Quentin is by no means opposed in any regular context. This is... It's different. Somehow.
Uuuugh, stupid Keller. His brain worms are obviously infecting Quentin. But hey, with any luck they'll be terminal so he can be free of this nonsense. He abruptly lets go of Julian's hair—and only pulls out a few strands in the process, fancy that—but just so he can shove at the jerk's chest with both hands.]
Yeah, nice try. I know what you're doing, asshole!
[Does he? Sure, let's go with that. Quentin scoffs and—fists his hands in Julian's shirt. Which is admittedly mixed signals from the shoving, but whatever.]
Quit pretending you don't want this too!
no subject
Never said I didn't. I just said you had to ask for what you wanted, especially if you're going to be grabby.
( but no more kisses for quentin, not until he does ask. instead, julian lowers a hand, metal fingers digging into quentin's hip just hard enough to hurt but not nearly enough to bruise. you know. for purposes. )
Are you going to ask? Or should I work you up then fuck off?
no subject
In fact, he's still scrambling together the tattered remnants of said dignity when Keller gives him a gift. A wonderful gift. Miraculous even. What is that gift, you ask? The gift of spite. See, those last foolish words leaving Keller's mouth? That's a challenge. Specifically, a challenge where "failure" means Quentin's own destruction. And therein lies the mistake.
Oh, Julian, Julian, Julian. Jules. You poor simple-minded beautiful idiot. Haven't you learned? Nobody ruins Quentin Quire's life better than Quentin Quire. Dignity? Insecurity? Whatever the fuck was happening in his brain before? Gone. In the trash. Good riddance. And in their place is pure, unadulterated pettiness. There is virtually no room to do so, but any ability Quentin has to press back into Julian's space he takes. Not to push him away, more of an "unstoppable force/immovable object" type thing. Jury's out on who's who, but that doesn't matter right now. What matters is that Keller's not the only one invading personal space. Or something. Oh, and that nasty little troll smirk is back on his face.]
Big words, but all I've seen is two lackluster kisses and a whole lot of talk. If I do ask, how do I know you can even deliver? Bargaining 101, dipshit.
no subject
isn't giving him what he wants at all, because now he has to suffer from the smarmy looking stupid smirk on quentin's face while julian's still all up in his personal space and - quentin's trying to shove right back into his. because, ha, he does want it. he obviously wants it bad too. which, oddly enough, is giving a kind of ego boost to julian. the guy fucks around with sophie for christsakes, and yeah julian's not really all that interested in sophie that way right now, but she's hot? impossibly hot? not that he thinks he's unattractive by any means, but it's not like quentin's missing out any.
weird line of thought to go down. no, he doesn't want to get stuck there, especially not when he's still pressed right up against quentin and staring into the asshole's eyes despite that stupid smirk on his face.
julian's quiet, for a little while. narrows his eyes at that stupid face that looks all too cocky. and then - lifts his shoulders in a loose shrug, before his hand leaves quentin's hip and he moves to take a step back. )
Have it your way.
no subject
Okay, note to self: the "prove it" method is not effective. Damn. With how much of a stupidly competitive blowhard that Keller is, Quentin would've predicted he couldn't pass up an opportunity to show off. You know, demonstrate. Give him no choice but to acknowledge that Julian Keller is so sexy and great in bed and the manliest man blah blah blah. And instead he's... backing off? Which, yes, is clearly an attempt to call Quentin's bluff, but... Hm.
He lets go of Keller's shirt as he backs up, but lunges forward to grab his forearm with one hand instead, holding on firmly enough that Julian would need to actually try to shake free. There's actual space to breathe between them now, which means Quentin's head is a little clearer, even if he both looks and sounds (and is) irritated.]
Jesus fucking—you're hot, and you're clearly interested, and I wanna make out with you. What I don't want is to play your weird little games. You like kinky shit? Fine. But for fuck's sake, warm a guy up first! Kissing with tongue before begging. Capiche?
no subject
and of course he can't do this part of making out any normal way either. he's holding onto julian and being a massive jerk the whole way about it and not listening and julian's - losing patience but also he does want to get back to kissing quentin.
so he sighs. angrily. turns back toward quentin. )
It's not kinky bullshit. You want me to move? Don't pull my fucking head around.
no subject
But... instead he just huffs, rolls his eyes, and lets it go. Because what's the point in arguing semantics with Julian Keller when he could be making out with Julian Keller? Even if Quentin is 100% correct and always is and always will be because Julian is a smooth-brained homunculus. Whom he wants to kiss. Like... several times, at least. Because Quentin is apparently cursed with the world's worst taste in men. He would ask what he did to deserve this, but honestly, he can think of a lot of things. Oh, well.]
Whatever. Deal.
[He only sounds a little bit petulant about it. That's just his default, okay. He loosens his grip on Julian's arm while also tugging—lightly!—to bring him closer.]
And you can use your hands more, dipshit. Fucking weird when you're just standing there, and I'll do my fancy brain trick if you want.
no subject
contemplating how to phrase it, exactly, without sounding as pathetic as it feels. ugh. unfortunately he can't think of a way to put it into words without it sounding just - sad. )
I don't want to hurt you. Much. They're still metal, idiot.
( metal and pinchy and not really meant for hold onto someone else. but he does - try. an arm wraps loosely around quentin's waist, while he slides the under between his arm and ribcage, hand against the back of his shoulderblade. )
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Yeah, no shit they're metal, dumbass. Just keep 'em out of my hair.
[And then Julian puts his arms around him, and it's... decent. Solid 6 out of 10. Getting there. Quentin makes a little grunt of mild approval.]
Your TK, it's all... tingly. And weird. Not the bad kind.
[And if Julian was expecting any further detail on that description, he's about to be disappointed. Or maybe not, since instead Quentin is putting his hands on either side of Julian's face and leaning up to kiss him. It's decidedly less antagonistic this time—that is, unless Julian decides to start something—but still decisive, bordering on assertive. Being too bossy clearly doesn't fly with this asshole, despite the obvious hypocrisy of that stance. But that doesn't mean Quentin's gotta be passive, right? He's earned that much, he thinks. Somehow. Probably.]
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it's an urge he's trying to ignore, for the sake of makeouts.
should they go somewhere more discreet? probably. but quentin can also mind wipe anyone who sees anything which is yet another reason why julian wants to shove him over. ugh. man he hates this guy. but it's fine. they're fine. and he's - tipping his head into the kiss this time, teeth nipping at quentin's lower lip gently as he pulls quentin in closer, holding him against julian's chest rather than shoving him up against the wall. )
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Not that there's really much to see. That initial shit at the wall was way more hot and heavy than this. Hell, this is practically demure in comparison. Not that Quentin is complaining—well. Any more than usual, at least. This is fine. A little slow for Quentin's tastes, but also it's weirdly kinda... nice? Julian's a good hugger, so that helps. Quentin can work with it. He's flexible, remember? He literally has access to all of his partner's thoughts and feelings and unmatched attention to detail thanks to that neat little secondary mutation. He damn well had better be flexible. Oh sure, that secondary mutation is also why slow can simultaneously over- and underwhelming. But shit, after all that kerfuffle, it'd be downright embarrassing to bitch about Keller kissing him too slow.
So instead? He makes a low hum of approval into Julian's mouth and slides a hand back to thread fingers through his dark hair—and very deliberately does not pull on it this time. It's not there to move Julian anyway. Quentin did agree to that. It's there mostly for the opposite: Quentin pressing his own face and body a little more firmly against Julian's. Hungry but not pushy. That seems to be the sweet spot for Keller, and therefore is the best route to Quentin getting his way. The guy likes feeling wanted, but he doesn't want to be pushed around too much. And hey, that's valid. Not too hot, not too cold, Goldilocks shit. It's simply a matter of feeling out that "just right" zone.
... Would it be a lot easier to communicate telepathically (or... at all) about this shit? Or skim Keller's mind? Yes, yes it would. But Julian is Julian, so Quentin's trying it the old fashioned way. For now, at least. Anyway, if Keller is too dumb to pick up on those cues, there's literally no helping him.]
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most the people julian has kissed generally go at it with more - bite to them. laura is all sharp edges, forceful and hard but soft at the same time and julian certainly wouldn't know how to describe it if he'd been asked - though he guess it's kinda similar to iara, in a way.
hell, he wishes he could stop thinking a mile a minute about everything he currently doesn't have going for him and instead focus on now but he feels like if he focuses too hard on kissing quentin quire, he's going to end up punching the guy in the mouth regardless of how he's pretty sure quentin's right and they had been kind of leading up to this moment since that night in the kitchen.
because, yeah, if he doesn't focus on how much he wants to punch quentin in his stupid loud mouth? it feels nice having him pressed up against julian's chest - just the weight of him there. and yeah he's a stupidly scrawny little nerd of a dude but he's lithe in a way that makes him fit perfect up against julian. there's no need to slouch down to reach him, quire's plenty tall enough to reach as is even if he's just short enough to give him the advantage there too.
so, you know, kissing quentin? not terrible. and it feels so good to just be able to - to touch someone. to have this much physical contact with someone because julian doesn't really have anyone he can go to for this. sophie runs her fingers through his hair and leans on him but he knows it's because to her, he's a safe haven. there's no expectations. it's a different kind of physical affection than this even if it isn't any less good it's just - different.
but quire bends despite his bitching earlier, and julian takes it as a good of a sign as any that he's actually going to fucking listen. good.
one arm slides up, cold fingers going to press against the back of quentin's neck just to hold him that much closer while the other slides under the back of quentin's shirt to press to the curve of his back. julian takes the hint easily enough - kissing with tongue before begging, right?
not that he's aiming for the latter, but he is tipping his head a bit so he can press the tip of his tongue against the seam of quentin's lips. look, asking, like a normal person. )
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And what does he want, you ask? Uh. It's, well. It's obvious, right? Yep. So obvious he doesn't even need to specify or consider where the fuck this is heading or how far he's willing to go with this shit or any of that garbage. Look, he's operating on vibes right now, okay? And the vibes say "steamy makeout sesh with Julian Keller. For reasons."
Quentin does instinctively flinch away at first when Julian's hands touch his skin, but that's only because, you know. Metal. Shit's a lot colder than he anticipated, especially on his lower back, and an involuntary shiver runs through him. Not to mention the slight uneasiness of having those pinchy little joints dangerously close to the part of his hair that's actually long enough to potentially get snagged. All of which, well. Isn't ideal, considering he knows Julian's sensitive about that crap, but oh well. Maybe Quentin parting his lips without one single bit of hesitation will be enough of a distraction to keep the moron from spiraling into his stupid "woe is me, nobody will fuck me, the hot guy with metal hands" bullshit. Look, he'll even let Julian have more control over the kiss if he wants it, as a little treat. Isn't he a nice guy? The hands on Keller's face and neck stay there—for now—until the two of them figure out a good groove for this kissing thing.
And hey, what the hell. Technically Keller never actually accepted the offer of "fancy brain trick," but Quentin reaches into the guy's mind to substitute the sensory input like before anyway. Because ... come on. What's he gonna do, say "no, I don't want to actually feel the skin/buzzed hair fuzzies of the guy I'm frenching right now"? Unlikely.]
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even if he doesn't quite know what that means yet.
that's something for him to decipher later. because now? he's busy making good on that whole promise of kiss me with tongue first except quentin himself goes and fucks it up this time (again) when julian physically flinches away from the sensation of - of feeling something where he's used to there being nothing but the occasional phantom pain.
it isn't bad. it's just - not what he wants? weird time to figure that out after spending so much goddamn time feeling off about not having them but - quentin fucks around in julian's head, and julian response by pulling back just enough to dig his teeth, hard, into quentin's lower lip before he's dipping his head down enough to mouth at his neck. )
Stop it, asshole.
( there's not much heat behind the words, and he's not specifying, but quentin's not stupid. he'll get it. )
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Except then it abruptly ends before he even got much chance to enjoy it properly, because hey, turns out Keller can have beef with feeling skin for some fucking reason. Christ. And Quentin is—fuck—really, really annoyed how much that bite followed by attention to his neck does it for him. It's very inconvenient, honestly. For one thing, an entirely involuntary noise comes out of him that's about 80% gasp, 20% moan, despite his attempts to stifle it. And then insult to injury, his stupid voice is embarrassingly breathy when he replies.]
Jesus. Okay, fine, message received.
[He clears his throat and—forces himself to get his shit together, hastily withdrawing from Keller's stupid head. There. Enjoy your dumb non-feeling hands again, asshole. And no, Quentin's not tilting his head to give Julian better access to his neck or anything asinine like that. He has some dignity, okay?]
See if I ever do anything nice for you ever again. Dick.
[Ugh, and now that he's disconnected from Julian's brain, he's realizing how much he missed it before. Feels like he's blind now, groping around in the dark with no clue where to go, and for a brief moment his pulse spikes for a very different reason—a flicker of panic? No, that's too intense a word. Anxiety? Maybe. Or... indecision? Whatever.
Regardless, it feels weird and wrong and he hates it, and since Keller is so fucking difficult, Quentin turns to what instinct dictates is a distant second choice. His hands move from Julian's head, fumbling around the guy's own arms, to finally land at his waist, and there Quentin— hesitates, fingers playing at the bottom hem of his shirt.]
Where?
[Look, he's flying blind over here. Just easier for everyone if Julian tells him where he wants to be touched.]
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it's good, too. gives him a better hint of what the hell he's supposed to do here because no, julian has no fucking clue what he's doing, but he knows when someone makes a sound like that - it's generally a good sign to keep it up.
teeth graze against quentin's neck, but he isn't biting. not yet. instead, he gently scrapes teeth against skin until he reaches where his collar meets his shoulder, leaving a soft kiss there before he's sucking skin into his mouth hard enough to leave a mark.
the lack of sensation in his hands helps him - balance a little better. he couldn't put it into words, but they're unnecessary here regardless. fingers grip onto quentin a little tighter, and when a hand slips under his shirt, julian's sliding an arm under quentin's ass to press his weight harder up against him so he can lift him up - fully relying on physical strength rather than telekinesis, because of course he has to show off. )
Wherever.
( julian doesn't care; he isn't particular about where he's touched, and it certainly wouldn't be the first time someone went groping around him. he'll give quire as many options as he wants, because he's busy digging teeth into that same spot he'd sucked a mark into while spreading his feet a little to help balance himself just that much more. )
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Fuck, are you serious, dude? A hickey? People can see that shit, man!
[The bitching would probably be a whole lot more believable if he didn't sound equally as turned on as he is annoyed. Ugh, just kill him. Out of the long, long list of shit Quentin's into, how come Julian keeps finding the things that are the most embarrassing for this specific situation? It's karma, isn't it? It's probably karma. God damn it. On the bright side, it does help ground him more. So there's that. Hooray.
Oh, and also embarrassing? Getting picked up. Especially annoying since even though Quentin's managed to gain a good bit of muscle from, you know, him and Sophie going at it for months, he still can't pick her up. But beyond that there's just... Well, fine. Elephant in the room. Jacked conventionally attractive dude with a brash attitude and a... we'll say much leaner guy with pink hair. Quentin's very aware of the optics. Assumptions that would be made. Assumptions that probably have been made, if he bothered to go scan some minds for shit. Everything that's happened so far between him and Keller? Everything that keeps happening? Pretty fucking in line with those assumptions. Enough so that it chafes. Like he can feel eyes on him. Assholes putting him into their stupid little boxes. Yeah, obviously it'd end up like this, Quire. Why would you ever think it wouldn't? I mean, just look at you.
Except... except there aren't eyes on him. He's tracking that with a psychic relay running in the background of his mind. And even if there were... does it matter? Really matter? He's been covering himself in pink for years, and he's not planning on changing that any time soon. He knows what shit he likes, and it turns out that includes "manhandling by a jacked conventionally attractive dude". So... fuck it. Fuck everyone's bullshit assumptions. Quentin is enjoying himself, and it seems like Keller is too, and if that means falling into some stereotypes, then so be it. He slings his legs around Julian's waist, which feels... weird and unfamiliar, to say the least, but not at all unpleasant. Okay... okay, yeah. This is fine. Unfortunately, the shift also makes it really awkward to shove his hands under Julian's shirt, which means he's going to just grab handfuls of fabric and tug lightly but insistently upward.]
Off.
[The shirt, obviously. Look, it's not like Keller's ever had any shyness about whipping his shirt off, why would he start now?]
And quit gnawing on me, jackass. Get back to the kissing, that was hot as fuck.