(no subject)
Title: Long Weekend II: The Death of Romantic Gestures
Rating: Heavy R to NC-17.
Characters: Josh/Metis. yesssss
Prompt: "Buy a little time"
Note: Sequel to The Long Weekend.
It’s hours later, and the two of you are camped out in the living room, pizza box sitting open on the coffee table while you watch some truly awful sci-fi movie and mock the special effects openly and with great enthusiasm. You’re sprawled out on the couch, back sunk into the ridiculously comfortable cushions while Metis sits on the floor between your legs. You have one foot hooked slightly around him, probably in an attempt to pull him closer (you’ve been as close as the laws of physics will allow, but that won’t stop you from trying to crawl into each other’s skin on a semi-regular basis). He has his head resting against your knee, and it’s a nice echo from earlier this morning in the pool.
It takes you a while to realize he’s gone silent, and when you lean over and peer down at his face, his eyes are closed and he’s snoring softly. It’s probably the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.
Very carefully, you pull yourself out from under him, sliding off the couch and down onto the carpet. Gently, and with great effort, you heave him up onto the couch, praying you don’t wake him as he indulges in a mid afternoon siesta.
It’s been a few months now, and you like to think you know your boyfriend pretty well. After sex, he likes food and then a nap. When he wakes up, he’ll wander into your kitchen and make himself a milkshake before climbing back up to the second floor and throwing himself into a scalding hot shower.
Sometimes, you even get to join him.
Shoving a throw pillow under his head, you tiptoe across the room into your country themed kitchen, trying to figure out how you’re going to make a milkshake without waking him up. Eventually you get the bright idea to haul the blender (carefully) outside, gasping as the humid air swells up around you. The air is like hot soup, and you struggle to suck it into your lungs. You plug the blender into the socket outside, and hit purée.
When you get back in, you bolt the door without haste, having been reminded why you locked yourselves in and cranked the AC in the first place.
You set the tall, frosty glass on the coffee table where he’ll see it when he wakes up, and follow the path of destruction the two of you have left, attempting to clean up as you go. Partially to keep yourself busy, but mostly so you won’t have to do the parents-are-home-tonight-how-are-we-getting-your-pants-off-the ceiling-fan-Metis? dance you had to do the last time they stayed out all night.
You wander into the bathroom and instantly recoil at the sight of the shower. The pipes burst the other night, leaking green stuff everywhere, and your dad’s plumber friend was out on a fishing trip with his kid all week and unable to come by. You’ve been using the half-bath in the basement and relying on the pool to keep you from reeking. Mostly, you can’t believe you forgot your bathroom was currently a biohazard zone. With a grimace, you reach under the sink to pull out the toothbrush and shampoo Metis keeps here for his nights over, and run out of the science experiment as fast as humanly possible.
Standing in the hall, you shift from foot to foot, trying to decide on a course of action. He’s going to be cranky if he doesn’t get his shower, but hell if you’re letting the slime monsters have him.
With a thunk of your head against the wall, you realize there’s only one option.
---
Your parents private master bath is a sanctum you never venture near, for fear of contamination. You’re pretty sure they’ve… Killing that train of thought, you shake your head and tread very carefully over the pristine forest green tile to their waterfall shower.
But you stop. Pause.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see the Jacuzzi and make a snap decision.
With a flick of a switch, it’s on, humming as jets of water start to fill it.
You’re so proud of yourself, you ignore the plunking sound of something falling in the tub and wander back downstairs, sure to find Metis awake and enjoying his treat.
---
He is indeed sitting there with bleary eyes, lips wrapped around the straw, cheeks hollow as he sucks the thick, warming liquid up the plastic tube and into his hot little mouth.
You’re kind of turned on.
Flopping on the couch next to him, you can’t help but grin when his head falls onto your shoulder, his eyes still glued to the TV (he’s flipped it to the cartoon network) as his hands hold the glass like he’s handling a precious treasure. You swing an arm up around him to pull him closer, and his eyes tear themselves away from Bugs and Daffy to peer up at you through impossibly thick eyelashes.
A dribble of white is sliding down his chin, and you lean over to lick it away, smiling when he squirms in your arms, embarrassed and unable to push you off for fear he’ll drop his milkshake.
Yeah. You love him.
“You’re a jerk.”
How could you not?
---
As soon as Metis set his glass on the table, he stood with a stretch and a yawn and walked towards the stairs.
Predictable.
You follow close behind, gently tugging on his arm before he can reach for the bathroom doorknob, and lead him towards your parents room.
“I’m not having sex on your parents bed.”
…
You hope the horror you feel bubbling in your chest comes across on your face, and you’re pretty sure it does because now Metis is blushing and his eyes won’t meet your own.
“Just throwing that out there.”
Shuddering, you push him with probably more effort than was necessary past the threshold, neither of you looking towards the king sized bed. Instead, you make a beeline for the brightly lit bathroom.
So long and thanks for all the fish, so sad that it has come to this --
Metis winces as the phone in his pocket starts to ring, and he send you an apologetic look as he turns on his heel back out into the hall. You snort and keep going into the bathroom, making up various scenarios in your head to keep him from being called back to real life.
This is your time with him. This is.
This is a fucking disaster.
You’re standing under the fluorescent lights now, gapping in astonishment at the three foot high cloud of bubbles sitting on the surface of the rushing water. You can smell lavender in the air, a heavy perfume, and if you look closely enough, a mostly empty purple bottle floats just along the surface.
With that, the bubbles spill over the side, inching their way towards the floor and all you can think is he can not see this. You have to distract him, buy time, sacrifice him to the tentacle monster in your own bathroom if you must because he is going to laugh himself sick if he looks in and allows his eyes to transmit these images into his brain.
You hear a choked snort behind you and damn it all to hell, you’re too late.
He has a hand over his mouth as he bends over at the waist, laughter coming too strong to keep himself upright. You groan and close your eyes.
Life is not fair sometimes.
Metis is pointing at you now, eyes darting from your flushed face to Bubble Mountain and back again. He’s still going, drawing in gulps of air between fits, and you roll your eyes in response.
“You. You. Moron!”
Yeah. This is your world.
You raise a hand and rub at the back of your neck as you try to decide where to go from here. He’s calming down some, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand and chuckling at random intervals.
“What the hell is this, Josh?”
“I was. Um. Trying to surprise you?”
He smiles at this and shakes his head, leaning over to bite lightly at your neck, and ooooh. That feels really damn good. He’s a bit red in the cheeks now, but he meets your eyes and grins widely.
“Mission accomplished, dorkus.”
“Shut up.”
He slides his eyes to the side as he starts to undo the ties on the front of his shorts. You lean against the doorjamb, amused because he’s still unable to look at you while he’s undressing.
He’s just so… Metisy.
He strips off his shirt in a single movement and steps towards the travesty that was going to be your romantic surprise, but now is just. Wordless.
Throwing a glance over his shoulder as he steps in, he jerks his head towards the bubbles.
“You coming?”
With a half grin, you pull off your shirt and take a step towards him as he wades around and blows bubbles at you.
Not yet.
---
You sweep your arm once you’re settled on the cushioned seat inside the Jacuzzi, making a path in the bubbles so you can, y’know, see him. His shyness has caused him to slip beneath the surface, where the water jets make it impossible to see anything submerged more than two inches. The water comes up to just beneath his nose, and his dark eyes are staring at you with something… Odd. You can’t quite place it.
Closing your eyes, you allow the background noise of the motor to lull you into a half-sleep, the heat of the water somehow different from the heat of the day. The knots in your back fade as you twist yourself into the current. You, against all logic, feel the water shift as Metis moves closer to you, and when you lazily open your eyes, you’re unsurprised to find him mere inches away.
He grins that half grin, the one that first caught your eye, and leans into your body, squeezing his knees in between yours and hoisting himself upwards so he’s looking down into your gaze.
He kisses you.
The smell of the bubbles, a heavy lavender and sage, makes you almost high as he takes you under, and you feel your brain shutting down to the bare minimum required. Breathing and Metis are pretty much the only things that matter at this point, and. You’re okay with that.
You feel a grin slip onto your face, unable to hold it back even as his tongue dips against yours to trace unknown words on the inside of your mouth, and you raise your arms to hold him tighter. The slight shift causes his erection to press against yours, and you both hold back groans. Your hips twitch upwards as you crave friction required for release.
And then a hand closes around your cock and your mind goes completely. Utterly. Blank.
You want to do things to him. You have plans. Complicated schemes that end with you on the floor of your kitchen, licking strawberry syrup off his stomach. Scenarios where you have him bent over the arm of the couch in the middle of your living room not giving a shit. You want to drop to your knees in the middle of the hall and just blow him until his mind implodes and leaks out his ears.
Metis knows this. He picks the blue and white schematics off the desk in your secret lab, examines them. And throws them out the window.
All he’s doing is giving you a hand job. It’s nothing exciting, or dangerous, or out of this world.
Yet, for some reason, you’re more turned on than you’ve been in… Well, since he dipped his head between your legs in your room three hours ago and made you see stars.
Your kiss has grown sloppy, you know, but you can’t think. Sparks are traveling up your spine like tiny little rockets, and he is once again in complete control.
He’s smirking at you, his own hips beginning to rock back and forth. You try and reach down, to return the favor, but your vision is unfocused and you can scarcely remember your own name, which makes you pretty useless by this point, but thank god, he doesn’t mind.
He knows you’ll repay the favor once thinking becomes possible.
Or maybe sometime before then.
Whatever.
You’re coming in spurts, and you catch glimpses tiny white rivers floating to the surface of the water before disappearing into the depths, sucked back into the tank, and. Yeah. Add clean the Jacuzzi to your to do list.
It was worth it.
--------
Rating: Heavy R to NC-17.
Characters: Josh/Metis. yesssss
Prompt: "Buy a little time"
Note: Sequel to The Long Weekend.
It’s hours later, and the two of you are camped out in the living room, pizza box sitting open on the coffee table while you watch some truly awful sci-fi movie and mock the special effects openly and with great enthusiasm. You’re sprawled out on the couch, back sunk into the ridiculously comfortable cushions while Metis sits on the floor between your legs. You have one foot hooked slightly around him, probably in an attempt to pull him closer (you’ve been as close as the laws of physics will allow, but that won’t stop you from trying to crawl into each other’s skin on a semi-regular basis). He has his head resting against your knee, and it’s a nice echo from earlier this morning in the pool.
It takes you a while to realize he’s gone silent, and when you lean over and peer down at his face, his eyes are closed and he’s snoring softly. It’s probably the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.
Very carefully, you pull yourself out from under him, sliding off the couch and down onto the carpet. Gently, and with great effort, you heave him up onto the couch, praying you don’t wake him as he indulges in a mid afternoon siesta.
It’s been a few months now, and you like to think you know your boyfriend pretty well. After sex, he likes food and then a nap. When he wakes up, he’ll wander into your kitchen and make himself a milkshake before climbing back up to the second floor and throwing himself into a scalding hot shower.
Sometimes, you even get to join him.
Shoving a throw pillow under his head, you tiptoe across the room into your country themed kitchen, trying to figure out how you’re going to make a milkshake without waking him up. Eventually you get the bright idea to haul the blender (carefully) outside, gasping as the humid air swells up around you. The air is like hot soup, and you struggle to suck it into your lungs. You plug the blender into the socket outside, and hit purée.
When you get back in, you bolt the door without haste, having been reminded why you locked yourselves in and cranked the AC in the first place.
You set the tall, frosty glass on the coffee table where he’ll see it when he wakes up, and follow the path of destruction the two of you have left, attempting to clean up as you go. Partially to keep yourself busy, but mostly so you won’t have to do the parents-are-home-tonight-how-are-we-getting-your-pants-off-the ceiling-fan-Metis? dance you had to do the last time they stayed out all night.
You wander into the bathroom and instantly recoil at the sight of the shower. The pipes burst the other night, leaking green stuff everywhere, and your dad’s plumber friend was out on a fishing trip with his kid all week and unable to come by. You’ve been using the half-bath in the basement and relying on the pool to keep you from reeking. Mostly, you can’t believe you forgot your bathroom was currently a biohazard zone. With a grimace, you reach under the sink to pull out the toothbrush and shampoo Metis keeps here for his nights over, and run out of the science experiment as fast as humanly possible.
Standing in the hall, you shift from foot to foot, trying to decide on a course of action. He’s going to be cranky if he doesn’t get his shower, but hell if you’re letting the slime monsters have him.
With a thunk of your head against the wall, you realize there’s only one option.
---
Your parents private master bath is a sanctum you never venture near, for fear of contamination. You’re pretty sure they’ve… Killing that train of thought, you shake your head and tread very carefully over the pristine forest green tile to their waterfall shower.
But you stop. Pause.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see the Jacuzzi and make a snap decision.
With a flick of a switch, it’s on, humming as jets of water start to fill it.
You’re so proud of yourself, you ignore the plunking sound of something falling in the tub and wander back downstairs, sure to find Metis awake and enjoying his treat.
---
He is indeed sitting there with bleary eyes, lips wrapped around the straw, cheeks hollow as he sucks the thick, warming liquid up the plastic tube and into his hot little mouth.
You’re kind of turned on.
Flopping on the couch next to him, you can’t help but grin when his head falls onto your shoulder, his eyes still glued to the TV (he’s flipped it to the cartoon network) as his hands hold the glass like he’s handling a precious treasure. You swing an arm up around him to pull him closer, and his eyes tear themselves away from Bugs and Daffy to peer up at you through impossibly thick eyelashes.
A dribble of white is sliding down his chin, and you lean over to lick it away, smiling when he squirms in your arms, embarrassed and unable to push you off for fear he’ll drop his milkshake.
Yeah. You love him.
“You’re a jerk.”
How could you not?
---
As soon as Metis set his glass on the table, he stood with a stretch and a yawn and walked towards the stairs.
Predictable.
You follow close behind, gently tugging on his arm before he can reach for the bathroom doorknob, and lead him towards your parents room.
“I’m not having sex on your parents bed.”
…
You hope the horror you feel bubbling in your chest comes across on your face, and you’re pretty sure it does because now Metis is blushing and his eyes won’t meet your own.
“Just throwing that out there.”
Shuddering, you push him with probably more effort than was necessary past the threshold, neither of you looking towards the king sized bed. Instead, you make a beeline for the brightly lit bathroom.
So long and thanks for all the fish, so sad that it has come to this --
Metis winces as the phone in his pocket starts to ring, and he send you an apologetic look as he turns on his heel back out into the hall. You snort and keep going into the bathroom, making up various scenarios in your head to keep him from being called back to real life.
This is your time with him. This is.
This is a fucking disaster.
You’re standing under the fluorescent lights now, gapping in astonishment at the three foot high cloud of bubbles sitting on the surface of the rushing water. You can smell lavender in the air, a heavy perfume, and if you look closely enough, a mostly empty purple bottle floats just along the surface.
With that, the bubbles spill over the side, inching their way towards the floor and all you can think is he can not see this. You have to distract him, buy time, sacrifice him to the tentacle monster in your own bathroom if you must because he is going to laugh himself sick if he looks in and allows his eyes to transmit these images into his brain.
You hear a choked snort behind you and damn it all to hell, you’re too late.
He has a hand over his mouth as he bends over at the waist, laughter coming too strong to keep himself upright. You groan and close your eyes.
Life is not fair sometimes.
Metis is pointing at you now, eyes darting from your flushed face to Bubble Mountain and back again. He’s still going, drawing in gulps of air between fits, and you roll your eyes in response.
“You. You. Moron!”
Yeah. This is your world.
You raise a hand and rub at the back of your neck as you try to decide where to go from here. He’s calming down some, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand and chuckling at random intervals.
“What the hell is this, Josh?”
“I was. Um. Trying to surprise you?”
He smiles at this and shakes his head, leaning over to bite lightly at your neck, and ooooh. That feels really damn good. He’s a bit red in the cheeks now, but he meets your eyes and grins widely.
“Mission accomplished, dorkus.”
“Shut up.”
He slides his eyes to the side as he starts to undo the ties on the front of his shorts. You lean against the doorjamb, amused because he’s still unable to look at you while he’s undressing.
He’s just so… Metisy.
He strips off his shirt in a single movement and steps towards the travesty that was going to be your romantic surprise, but now is just. Wordless.
Throwing a glance over his shoulder as he steps in, he jerks his head towards the bubbles.
“You coming?”
With a half grin, you pull off your shirt and take a step towards him as he wades around and blows bubbles at you.
Not yet.
---
You sweep your arm once you’re settled on the cushioned seat inside the Jacuzzi, making a path in the bubbles so you can, y’know, see him. His shyness has caused him to slip beneath the surface, where the water jets make it impossible to see anything submerged more than two inches. The water comes up to just beneath his nose, and his dark eyes are staring at you with something… Odd. You can’t quite place it.
Closing your eyes, you allow the background noise of the motor to lull you into a half-sleep, the heat of the water somehow different from the heat of the day. The knots in your back fade as you twist yourself into the current. You, against all logic, feel the water shift as Metis moves closer to you, and when you lazily open your eyes, you’re unsurprised to find him mere inches away.
He grins that half grin, the one that first caught your eye, and leans into your body, squeezing his knees in between yours and hoisting himself upwards so he’s looking down into your gaze.
He kisses you.
The smell of the bubbles, a heavy lavender and sage, makes you almost high as he takes you under, and you feel your brain shutting down to the bare minimum required. Breathing and Metis are pretty much the only things that matter at this point, and. You’re okay with that.
You feel a grin slip onto your face, unable to hold it back even as his tongue dips against yours to trace unknown words on the inside of your mouth, and you raise your arms to hold him tighter. The slight shift causes his erection to press against yours, and you both hold back groans. Your hips twitch upwards as you crave friction required for release.
And then a hand closes around your cock and your mind goes completely. Utterly. Blank.
You want to do things to him. You have plans. Complicated schemes that end with you on the floor of your kitchen, licking strawberry syrup off his stomach. Scenarios where you have him bent over the arm of the couch in the middle of your living room not giving a shit. You want to drop to your knees in the middle of the hall and just blow him until his mind implodes and leaks out his ears.
Metis knows this. He picks the blue and white schematics off the desk in your secret lab, examines them. And throws them out the window.
All he’s doing is giving you a hand job. It’s nothing exciting, or dangerous, or out of this world.
Yet, for some reason, you’re more turned on than you’ve been in… Well, since he dipped his head between your legs in your room three hours ago and made you see stars.
Your kiss has grown sloppy, you know, but you can’t think. Sparks are traveling up your spine like tiny little rockets, and he is once again in complete control.
He’s smirking at you, his own hips beginning to rock back and forth. You try and reach down, to return the favor, but your vision is unfocused and you can scarcely remember your own name, which makes you pretty useless by this point, but thank god, he doesn’t mind.
He knows you’ll repay the favor once thinking becomes possible.
Or maybe sometime before then.
Whatever.
You’re coming in spurts, and you catch glimpses tiny white rivers floating to the surface of the water before disappearing into the depths, sucked back into the tank, and. Yeah. Add clean the Jacuzzi to your to do list.
It was worth it.
--------