FIC: "Coffee Break" (MODOK's 11)
May. 24th, 2008 06:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
transemacabreTitle: Coffee Break
Fandom: Marvel Comics' MODOK's 11
Pairing: Living Laser/Puma
Rating: M for Mature like whoa. Seriously, y'all. It's pr0no.
Synopsis: Just how do you have sex with someone who you can't touch?
Thomas curled his hands around the hot coffee mug and eyed the other man curiously. "You want me to... drink this?"
Living Laser -- no, Arthur, that was his real name, but sometimes Thomas felt like their costumes wore them and not the other way around -- perched on the edge of the table and nodded. "I just want to watch," he said. His form pulsed, something Thomas had come to recognize as a show of nerves. "It's been years since I've tasted, or drank, or been touched..." His voice trailed off.
Thomas gave a nervous laugh and tried to crack wise to break the tension. "Hey, I'm not going to turn down a hot cup of java," he said, but Arthur didn't laugh with him. All right, this is officially weird, Thomas thought, but the request seemed harmless enough, and anyway it wasn't like Arthur found a lot of joy in his warped existence. Thomas leaned over the table and watched Arthur watching him as he pursed his lips to blow cool air on the coffee. Not satisfied that it was cool enough, Thomas tentatively flicked his tongue into the coffee. Arthur suddenly pulsed very brightly, and Thomas stiffened in response.
"Go on," Arthur whispered.
Thomas brought the cup to his mouth and sipped, then drew back and licked his lips. "Not bad," he said. Arthur stared at him so intently that Thomas instinctively dropped his gaze. The Living Laser possessed nigh-godlike power, and was immortal so far as anyone could tell, but he couldn't even enjoy a simple cup of coffee. Can't touch, or be touched, Thomas thought, and that made him think of Temugin and how Arthur could be so desperate for human contact that he begged for pain. That made him so angry he nearly cracked the cup in his grip. Catching himself, Thomas took a deep drink.
"Describe it to me," Arthur asked.
"It's, ah." Thomas struggled for words. "Tastes Colombian, maybe. Rich. Dark and a little frothy. Delicious." Like your first kiss. He swirled what was left of the coffee in the cup, dipped a finger in it, and sucked the last drops. "Something worth savoring."
The light glowing around Arthur's edges blazed blue-white. "Sounds... so good," he said finally. There was such a look of longing in his eyes that Thomas felt guilty. This was a mistake, he thought. This is going to make him more miserable than before.
Thomas wasn't sure what to say. It'd get easier was just stupid considering Arthur had been like this for years. It's not so bad was cruelty of the worst kind. He knew Arthur hadn't always been the best guy, but no one deserved this torment, this ghost-existence, able to perceive but not experience life. Finally he settled on, "If there's anything I can do..."
Something flickered across Arthur's blurred features that Thomas couldn't read. Maybe hope, maybe curiousity, maybe embarrassment. Hard to tell.
As it happened, Arthur found it hard to tell exactly what he wanted. It was three weeks later before he came to Thomas and said, "Do you remember what you told me? About doing anything to help me?" and then Arthur told him what he wanted. At first Thomas was aghast, and seeing this, Arthur tried to take it back and apologize. After the first dozen I'm sorries, Thomas had mulled over the concept and made up his mind.
"I'll do it."
"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have asked, it's -- what?" Arthur's mouth fell open in a perfect round O.
"I said I'll do it," Thomas said, grinning at his friend's obvious surprise. "I always was kind of an exhibitionist, anyway." You had to be to run with the spandex set; wallflowers didn't put on skin-tight costumes and prance around on rooftops. Then the flush from his stroked ego wore off and Thomas found himself stuttering, "Um, tonight? Maybe?"
"Sure," said Arthur quietly.
Tonight came faster than Thomas anticipated. I could back out, Thomas told himself, splashing his face with cold water and staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He shook his head. Cruel to get Arthur all excited and then back out at the last minute. And what's the problem, anyway? he asked himself. Not like I don't do it anyway. Just not with anyone watching. Well, aside from that one girlfriend. But she'd been delightfully kinky. Arthur was his... friend? Teammate? Thomas trusted him with his life. So what was his problem? It's fucking weird, that's the problem.
He walked into his bedroom dabbing his face with a rag, fully intending to tell Arthur he'd changed his mind. He tossed the rag aside and turned around to see a small glowing shape in his corner. "Um, hey," he said.
"Hey," replied Arthur.
"Look, I'm," Thomas swallowed. "Ready. I'm ready, are you?"
"Oh, yeah," Arthur said with such undisguised eagerness that it broke some of the ice around Thomas' heart. They grinned at each other for a moment, shy as teenagers.
"So... what do you want first?" Thomas asked.
Wordlessly, Arthur pointed to the bed.
Thomas paused for a moment, self-conscious, flushing down to his shoulders. Arthur glowed in the corner, eerily silent. Shedding his shirt, Thomas reclined on the bed, pushing away his embarassment. He had a beautiful body, no reason to be ashamed of it. He smiled with the easy confidence he wanted to feel, and said, "What next?"
"...undo your zipper," Arthur murmured so softly that a man with lesser hearing wouldn't have heard a thing. Thomas reached down and slowly pulled down the zipper of his pants, the tiny growl impossibly loud in the still air. He shifted, sitting up on his knees, pants gaping to show his navel and his hipbones. Thomas brushed an unruly strand of hair from his forehead. This was, he reminded himself, just something to make Arthur's life easier. Bring him some relief. The other man couldn't touch him, or hold him down, or make him stay. Perhaps Arthur could kill him, but he couldn't force Thomas to do anything.
In a flash, Arthur was beside the bed. Thomas instinctively leaned back, putting one hand behind him for support, but Arthur didn't reach out with one of his ghostly hands, nor did he come closer. He just said, "Lay back. Lay down. Please."
Thomas obeyed his voice, allowing his shoulders to hit the bed, and unfolding his legs from under him in one smooth movement. His hands came to rest on his chest, and he brushed them down the length of his body. His skin tingled deliciously. Thomas hooked his fingers in the belt loops of his jeans and tugged them down. Above him, Arthur's eyes glowed like lanterns.
"Do it the way you like it." Arthur's voice seemed to come from all directions at once, wrapping Thomas in a cocoon of sound. "Touch yourself the way you do when you're... alone. When no one's watching."
He didn't need to be told twice. Thomas drew a deep, shuddering breath to calm his pounding heart. He arched his back, sliding his hands down to grasp himself. He found just the grip he liked, honed from many long evenings in the shower, shaking under the spray and trying to keep his moans low. To warm himself up, he grasped his cock in one hand and gently rubbed the head with the palm of the other hand in a circular motion. He glanced up to see Arthur watching him intently, his gaze roaming from Thomas' face down the length of his body to the juncture of his thighs. The naked appreciation made Thomas smirk, and some of the awkwardness of the situation faded away. He shifted his grip, now making long, smooth strokes. His other hand crept down to cradle his balls.
"You're so beautiful, kitty," said Arthur's voice, coming from inside Thomas' head, from behind him, from under him, from the marrow of his bones.
He stroked faster. "Yeah?" he managed, panting. He teased the head of his cock and almost went over the edge. Shaking with the effort, he pulled back.
"Yeah." More a whisper than a word. Thomas picked up the pace, locking eyes with Arthur and refusing to look away. He came like that, gasping, staring into otherworldly eyes.
Thomas collapsed onto the bed. He fumbled for the rag, using it to wipe him clean. Then he rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow. "That was good," he said, running a hand through his damp hair.
Arthur smiled. "Damn good," he agreed.
"We should do that again some time," Thomas said, and the look on Arthur's face was icing on the cake.
Fandom: Marvel Comics' MODOK's 11
Pairing: Living Laser/Puma
Rating: M for Mature like whoa. Seriously, y'all. It's pr0no.
Synopsis: Just how do you have sex with someone who you can't touch?
Thomas curled his hands around the hot coffee mug and eyed the other man curiously. "You want me to... drink this?"
Living Laser -- no, Arthur, that was his real name, but sometimes Thomas felt like their costumes wore them and not the other way around -- perched on the edge of the table and nodded. "I just want to watch," he said. His form pulsed, something Thomas had come to recognize as a show of nerves. "It's been years since I've tasted, or drank, or been touched..." His voice trailed off.
Thomas gave a nervous laugh and tried to crack wise to break the tension. "Hey, I'm not going to turn down a hot cup of java," he said, but Arthur didn't laugh with him. All right, this is officially weird, Thomas thought, but the request seemed harmless enough, and anyway it wasn't like Arthur found a lot of joy in his warped existence. Thomas leaned over the table and watched Arthur watching him as he pursed his lips to blow cool air on the coffee. Not satisfied that it was cool enough, Thomas tentatively flicked his tongue into the coffee. Arthur suddenly pulsed very brightly, and Thomas stiffened in response.
"Go on," Arthur whispered.
Thomas brought the cup to his mouth and sipped, then drew back and licked his lips. "Not bad," he said. Arthur stared at him so intently that Thomas instinctively dropped his gaze. The Living Laser possessed nigh-godlike power, and was immortal so far as anyone could tell, but he couldn't even enjoy a simple cup of coffee. Can't touch, or be touched, Thomas thought, and that made him think of Temugin and how Arthur could be so desperate for human contact that he begged for pain. That made him so angry he nearly cracked the cup in his grip. Catching himself, Thomas took a deep drink.
"Describe it to me," Arthur asked.
"It's, ah." Thomas struggled for words. "Tastes Colombian, maybe. Rich. Dark and a little frothy. Delicious." Like your first kiss. He swirled what was left of the coffee in the cup, dipped a finger in it, and sucked the last drops. "Something worth savoring."
The light glowing around Arthur's edges blazed blue-white. "Sounds... so good," he said finally. There was such a look of longing in his eyes that Thomas felt guilty. This was a mistake, he thought. This is going to make him more miserable than before.
Thomas wasn't sure what to say. It'd get easier was just stupid considering Arthur had been like this for years. It's not so bad was cruelty of the worst kind. He knew Arthur hadn't always been the best guy, but no one deserved this torment, this ghost-existence, able to perceive but not experience life. Finally he settled on, "If there's anything I can do..."
Something flickered across Arthur's blurred features that Thomas couldn't read. Maybe hope, maybe curiousity, maybe embarrassment. Hard to tell.
As it happened, Arthur found it hard to tell exactly what he wanted. It was three weeks later before he came to Thomas and said, "Do you remember what you told me? About doing anything to help me?" and then Arthur told him what he wanted. At first Thomas was aghast, and seeing this, Arthur tried to take it back and apologize. After the first dozen I'm sorries, Thomas had mulled over the concept and made up his mind.
"I'll do it."
"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have asked, it's -- what?" Arthur's mouth fell open in a perfect round O.
"I said I'll do it," Thomas said, grinning at his friend's obvious surprise. "I always was kind of an exhibitionist, anyway." You had to be to run with the spandex set; wallflowers didn't put on skin-tight costumes and prance around on rooftops. Then the flush from his stroked ego wore off and Thomas found himself stuttering, "Um, tonight? Maybe?"
"Sure," said Arthur quietly.
Tonight came faster than Thomas anticipated. I could back out, Thomas told himself, splashing his face with cold water and staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He shook his head. Cruel to get Arthur all excited and then back out at the last minute. And what's the problem, anyway? he asked himself. Not like I don't do it anyway. Just not with anyone watching. Well, aside from that one girlfriend. But she'd been delightfully kinky. Arthur was his... friend? Teammate? Thomas trusted him with his life. So what was his problem? It's fucking weird, that's the problem.
He walked into his bedroom dabbing his face with a rag, fully intending to tell Arthur he'd changed his mind. He tossed the rag aside and turned around to see a small glowing shape in his corner. "Um, hey," he said.
"Hey," replied Arthur.
"Look, I'm," Thomas swallowed. "Ready. I'm ready, are you?"
"Oh, yeah," Arthur said with such undisguised eagerness that it broke some of the ice around Thomas' heart. They grinned at each other for a moment, shy as teenagers.
"So... what do you want first?" Thomas asked.
Wordlessly, Arthur pointed to the bed.
Thomas paused for a moment, self-conscious, flushing down to his shoulders. Arthur glowed in the corner, eerily silent. Shedding his shirt, Thomas reclined on the bed, pushing away his embarassment. He had a beautiful body, no reason to be ashamed of it. He smiled with the easy confidence he wanted to feel, and said, "What next?"
"...undo your zipper," Arthur murmured so softly that a man with lesser hearing wouldn't have heard a thing. Thomas reached down and slowly pulled down the zipper of his pants, the tiny growl impossibly loud in the still air. He shifted, sitting up on his knees, pants gaping to show his navel and his hipbones. Thomas brushed an unruly strand of hair from his forehead. This was, he reminded himself, just something to make Arthur's life easier. Bring him some relief. The other man couldn't touch him, or hold him down, or make him stay. Perhaps Arthur could kill him, but he couldn't force Thomas to do anything.
In a flash, Arthur was beside the bed. Thomas instinctively leaned back, putting one hand behind him for support, but Arthur didn't reach out with one of his ghostly hands, nor did he come closer. He just said, "Lay back. Lay down. Please."
Thomas obeyed his voice, allowing his shoulders to hit the bed, and unfolding his legs from under him in one smooth movement. His hands came to rest on his chest, and he brushed them down the length of his body. His skin tingled deliciously. Thomas hooked his fingers in the belt loops of his jeans and tugged them down. Above him, Arthur's eyes glowed like lanterns.
"Do it the way you like it." Arthur's voice seemed to come from all directions at once, wrapping Thomas in a cocoon of sound. "Touch yourself the way you do when you're... alone. When no one's watching."
He didn't need to be told twice. Thomas drew a deep, shuddering breath to calm his pounding heart. He arched his back, sliding his hands down to grasp himself. He found just the grip he liked, honed from many long evenings in the shower, shaking under the spray and trying to keep his moans low. To warm himself up, he grasped his cock in one hand and gently rubbed the head with the palm of the other hand in a circular motion. He glanced up to see Arthur watching him intently, his gaze roaming from Thomas' face down the length of his body to the juncture of his thighs. The naked appreciation made Thomas smirk, and some of the awkwardness of the situation faded away. He shifted his grip, now making long, smooth strokes. His other hand crept down to cradle his balls.
"You're so beautiful, kitty," said Arthur's voice, coming from inside Thomas' head, from behind him, from under him, from the marrow of his bones.
He stroked faster. "Yeah?" he managed, panting. He teased the head of his cock and almost went over the edge. Shaking with the effort, he pulled back.
"Yeah." More a whisper than a word. Thomas picked up the pace, locking eyes with Arthur and refusing to look away. He came like that, gasping, staring into otherworldly eyes.
Thomas collapsed onto the bed. He fumbled for the rag, using it to wipe him clean. Then he rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow. "That was good," he said, running a hand through his damp hair.
Arthur smiled. "Damn good," he agreed.
"We should do that again some time," Thomas said, and the look on Arthur's face was icing on the cake.
