( 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}
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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.