Sloan 'Seven' Morgan & Gambit (aceofdeath) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-11-23 21:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | curt connors, gambit |
Who: Seven & Liam
What: Moving in for a stay.
Where: Seven's mansion in Red Rock Villas.
When: Backdated a bit. Post-group plot.
Warnings/Rating: Pure fluff.
It had been a long day, to say the least. Seven had spent most of his afternoon and a good chunk of his evening with his newest client, some rich old mobster-wannabe who wanted to up his status by building a fancy hotel just off the strip. He was one of those types who felt it necessary to impress his contractor by taking him out to a high-end peeler joint and splurging on drinks and food and lap dances. Perhaps it was just an attempt to boost his own ego, or he might have just been trying to kiss ass so that Seven would knock down his own commission. Yeah, right. That wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, but Seven decided that he would allow the old man to play his games. So he sipped on expensive scotch while pretty blonde girls with fake tits and fake tans and fake smiles sat in his lap, hoping to win him over and empty out his wallet. That was about as likely as the would-be gangster getting a discount. He didn’t mind the girls, not really. They were nice to look at it, and none of them resembled his ex-fiancé too closely, so he didn’t get angry or sad. He was just... bored. He wanted to talk business, not babysit some old drunk who kept harassing the girls. After what felt like several long hours, Seven managed to make his excuses and take his leave, with promises of another meeting later in the week - this one at a location of his choice. He slipped out of the strip club and crossed the lot to his bike, smelling like liquor and cheap perfume. He just hoped that Liam had shown up at his place like they’d arranged. He was so not in the mood for dealing with more bullshit. The ride home did him some good. His head cleared on the freeway, and he even remembered that he’d promised to bring home food. He took the long way home, stopping off to pick up as much chinese takeout as he could fit in his pack - and when he finally pulled into his driveway and opened the gate, he was pleased to see the house lights on the main floor lit up. Sure enough, there was Liam all sprawled out on his couch like he hadn’t slept in a month. Which, Seven mused to himself as he started to unpack the food in the kitchen, was entirely possible. He took his time setting out the food on the island, grabbing forks and knives in case Liam wasn’t adept at chopsticks, trying to be as quiet as he could be until everything was arranged. He was starving, but he didn’t want to start eating without his... guest? Friend? Whatever. Seven stepped into the living room and surveyed the sleeping form on his couch. “Liam?” For once, sleep was not filled with nightmares of being chased, being killed, being tortured in ways that only Tristan could imagine. In fact, there was a very good chance that he hadn’t dreamt at all, something Liam wouldn’t mind in the slightest. Sleep was needed, peaceful, uninterrupted sleep, and while the amount was certainly not enough by the time the sound of Seven’s voice made its way into his awareness, it had been good. Rolling over onto his side, Liam grumbled quietly, his other shoe falling off of his foot in the process, thumping quietly to the ground in front of the couch. He wasn’t exactly a morning person, and while it might have taken him a while to fully rouse, he wasn’t cranky upon waking. More along the lines of sleepy and incoherent. A yawn was stifled before those blue eyes slit open, looking around for the source of the voice before he shifted and caught sight of Seven standing there. Almost immediately, a smile found its way onto his face, sleepy and pleased, and he gave a wave of one hand before he hauled himself up to sit. He scrubbed through his hair with his hand, mussing it even further than it had been before. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to crash on your couch like this,” he said, already starting with the apologies that seemed to come so naturally to him anymore. Tristan had definitely done a job on his confidence as of late, and it was a problem that wasn’t fully solved even now. Dropping his hand to his side, Liam twisted around to look towards the kitchen, sniffing at the air. “Did you bring home food?” he asked, his stomach giving an audible growl in response. Seven leaned in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, unable to disguise the smile that played on his lips at the sight of Liam’s sleep-tousled hair. He couldn’t help but look fondly on his friend and how he’d just barely managed to make himself at home, despite all of Seven’s instructions to set himself up in a bedroom and not to worry about intruding - something he was sure Liam would have trouble with. Still, he hadn’t expected Liam to be so afraid of venturing beyond his couch. “I brought half of China home for your dinner,” he said, green eyes twinkling. “So I hope you’re hungry, darling. And I thought I told you to stop apologizing, hmm? Unless, of course, you’re sorry for crashing on the couch when you should have set yourself up in one of the guest bedrooms.” A raised eyebrow and the hint of a smirk appeared, and then Seven was jerking his head in the direction of the kitchen. “C’mon. We’ll talk about your obsessive need to apologize over hot and sour soup.” He turned on his heel and headed into the kitchen, pausing only for a moment to make sure that Liam was following. He shrugged out of his leather jacket on the way, tossing it over a chair’s back and sending the smell of perfume and booze wafting up into the air behind him. As Seven spoke, Liam got up to his feet finally, scrubbing at one eye with the heel of his hand, stifling a yawn with the other. He knew Seven would manage to bring up his inability to make himself up in one of the guest bedrooms, and while Liam had a multitude of excuses that he doubted would work, he settled on one he felt would. “I can hardly help the comfortable nature of your couch,” Liam said by way of response, coming up alongside him only to lean to the side, bumping into the other man for a moment. “I was tired. And I truly meant to find a room, but I ended up falling asleep before that happened. So you’re not allowed to be frustrated by that, right?” His smile was easy, almost relaxed, or at least as close as Liam managed to get nowadays. Stomach giving another growl at the mention of the food, Liam was close behind Seven as they made their way to the kitchen, pausing at the toss of the jacket, the smells that wafted from it, though he made no comment. Whatever it was that Seven did on his own time was up to him, and Liam was definitely not going to act the part of the jealous lover because of the scent of alcohol and perfumes. “Please tell me you have some lo mein hiding in there somewhere,” Liam commented, grabbing a plate and a pair of chopsticks before he started nosing in the various containers spread out over the island. Now that food had been offered, he realised exactly how famished he was, and how grateful he was that Seven had brought food home. Seven had been prepared for Liam’s halfhearted excuses, so he simply smirked and grabbed the requested container of noodles and slid it along the length of the kitchen island. Then he grabbed himself a plate and made quick work of doling himself out some pan-fried dumplings, and a generous helping of udon and vegetable fried rice. “There also soup, and don’t even ask how much of a bitch that was to carry in a motorcycle pack. Hot and sour,” he jabbed his chopsticks in the direction of one styrofoam container, and then at the next. “And egg drop. Bowls are above the sink, and glasses are next to the fridge. Feel free to grab yourself some water, beer - whatever you want.” He didn’t often dine at the large table that was set up in the next room for that very purpose, so he pulled out a stool at the breakfast bar on the island and gestured for Liam to join him when they were done. He waited until the man had taken a seat, and took a moment before he dug in to lean across the space between them, taking on a rather stern tone although his green eyes still twinkled. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re off the hook, darling. You assured me you would make yourself at home, and all I see is evidence to the contrary. I’m very disappointed.” A plate was grabbed moments after Seven, and after dishing himself up a plateful of lo mein and tossing a couple dumplings on with it, Liam grabbed a bowl from above the sink, some egg drop soup, and a beer from the fridge before joining Seven at the breakfast bar. Feet were tucked in around the rungs of the stool and he was unable to help the small smile coming to his lips when Seven leaned in close. “I did make myself at home,” Liam protested after taking a bite of noodles, talking around the mouthful which muffled his words. “I took my shoes off. I found a place to hang my jacket. I’m quite serious when I say that your couch was comfortable and I just kind of crashed on it.” Washing back the mouthful with a drink, Liam snagged a napkin and wiped at the corners of his mouth. “You’re not really upset, are you? I haven’t hardly slept. You have to excuse a man. Besides. I think it speaks quite a bit about how much I trust you and your house that I fell asleep in a public area, yes?” There was that smile again, just the corner of his mouth, the expression showing far more in his eyes than anywhere else. Jabbing his chopsticks back into the noodles, he lifted another bite, pausing before taking it to give Seven a long look, something deep in those blue eyes of his, and then he was glancing away and chewing on the noodles. Liam was still somewhat undecided about Seven, about what was going on between them. Friends? Something else? There were certainly benefits going on, and he doubted that the man would offer his home to him if he didn’t enjoy his company. but this was all foreign territory for the Southern boy. “Sure, sure. Sweet talk me all you like,” Seven scoffed playfully, waving away the other man’s words with his chopsticks before he grabbed up a dumpling and popped it in his mouth. Hot oil and meat flooded his mouth as he bit into the crispy dough, and he realized for the first time just how hungry he was feeling after an evening of downing drinks and avoiding that disgusting strip-joint slop that they tried to pass off as edible. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the taste that spread over his tongue and giving a quiet hum of satisfaction. “I’m not actually upset, because I know that you’re going to find a way to make it up to me. Isn’t that right?” His eyebrows peaked with his best attempt at an innocent expression, and he grinned. Liam was safe, and he was here – not running around trying to get himself killed. That was an improvement, and it made Seven happy, which in turn made it almost impossible to keep from teasing his houseguest. Anything to see him turn that lovely shade of pink. Not to mention the way that Liam was looking at him. That was… interesting. “Now, I’m guessing your propensity for shyness is going to make you want your own bedroom. You can pick any of the guest rooms on the second floor, and they each have their own private bathroom. The bedroom on the first floor is my office, so that’s off-limits. Other than that,” he motioned around at the expanse of his house. “Help yourself to anything you need.” As Seven savoured that dumpling, Liam couldn’t help the way his attention was drawn to him, a rapt audience watching a show that they couldn’t tear their eyes away from. The slightly glossy sheen to his lips from the fried dumpling, those closed eyes as he enjoyed the taste. It wasn’t until Seven spoke again that Liam was able to draw his eyes away from him, hurriedly poking into his own food, chopsticks stabbing through one dumpling as he brought it to his mouth to take a bite from. His own appetite, with everything that had been going on, was not what it normally was, but the Chinese food tasted absolutely sensational, filling a hole he hadn’t realised was so empty. “And I’m hardly shy,” Liam argued as he swallowed that bite, giving a poke to his food before putting his chopsticks down in exchange for the beer, giving Seven a long look over the bottle before he tipped it back. “I just don’t want to intrude too much into your space. You’re already doing more than you need to by offering me a place to stay. And I do hope you realise that your kitchen and living room combined are bigger than what I grew up in.” There was that smile again, hidden as he took another drink, and Liam had to wonder what it was about that man that made him act and feel this way. The worries about Tristan, about what might happen in the future? They might as well have been non-existent for all the thought that he gave them. “That makes two of us,” he said dryly, leaning back in his stool and setting down his chopsticks momentarily as he wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. Seven couldn’t help but glance around at the size of his kitchen, now that Liam had brought it up. “I grew up in a shoebox in the Bronx. I didn’t even have my own bedroom until I was sixteen.” He leaned his elbows on the counter and made no secret of the fact that he was watching Liam, from the way he shoveled food into his mouth as if he had never seen it before in his life (and somehow still managed to look graceful doing it), to the way those perfect lips pressed against the mouth of his beer bottle. Seven had his own glass of water, but the other man just made that cold bottle of brew look so goddamn appealing that he couldn’t help himself – he reached over when Liam had set it back down on the counter and stole a swig for himself, grinning cheekily the whole time. “And compared to me? Yes, you’re shy. I figured you might not appreciate my constant fondness for walking around naked,” he smirked, wiping a drop of the liquid from the swell of his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, and making it into a bit of a show just for Liam. “So I thought I’d give you a way out.” There was something comforting in the knowledge that neither he or Seven came from privileged roots, and that little bit of information was enough to let Liam relax that much more in Seven’s presence. Common ground, common beginnings; it made Seven more human in his eye, and that was a good thing. “I grew up in a trailer with my mama. Though we spent more time at her hair salon, it might as well have been my bedroom for all the hours I fell asleep there after school.” He cracked a smile before digging back into his food, all too aware of the attention Seven paid him. But for once, Liam didn’t entirely mind it. And no sooner had he sat his bottle of beer down did Seven pluck it from the table, and that grin, that shit-eating, smug grin, Liam had to grin at it. It was his turn to watch, chin held up in the palm of one hand, eyes straying to Seven’s lips as he cleaned the moisture from his mouth. So fixed was his attention on that that Liam completely missed what Seven had just said. It was evident by the way his eyes widened and he leaned backwards, something sheepish and embarrassed crossing over his features. “Sorry, what?” Liam asked, reaching back over to take his beer back, alcohol to calm the nerves as he took a long draw from the bottle. “Sorry. I was -- distracted.” Good save. Seven liked the fact that Liam was volunteering information about his childhood, and he liked the thought of a young Liam falling asleep in a salon chair with a cracked leather seat, surrounded by painted women and the smell of all the potions and sprays that made them beautiful. Seven remembered the way his own mother had smelled when she came home from the salon, on those rare occasions when she had enough money in her pocket to pamper herself after she’d gotten her fix off the street. Flowers and cinnamon, wafting through the air as a little Sloan had trailed after her like a lost puppy. He actually smiled at the memory, and spun around on his stool so that he was facing Liam. “Do you find me distracting?” He asked with a soft laugh, knowing full well that the answer was a resounding ‘yes’. It was almost too easy to make that colour appear on Liam’s cheeks, or to widen those blue eyes until they practically threatened to fall out of his head. Seven licked over his bottom lip this time, leaning forward in his seat so that his legs were slightly spread, knees on either side of Liam’s. He met the man’s gaze with limpid eyes, and a smile twitching at his mouth. “Here, let me help you clear your head.” And with that he leaned in just a little bit closer, reaching out to hook one finger in the collar of Liam’s shirt and using it to close the gap between them. He captured those lips in a kiss, gentle at first, sliding his hand around the back of the man’s slender neck and holding him tight. Liam tasted like sweetness and salt, and it only made Seven crave more. There wasn’t time to respond properly, not before all of that attention was on him once more. Chopsticks were sat down, just in time it seemed, because no sooner had he emptied his hand did Seven reach in to pull him closer. And then, there were no logical thoughts going through his head. It was just warmth and touch, and a gentleness that made him want. A quiet sound escaped him, one hand coming forward to rest upon Seven’s arm, fingers curling, holding tight to the other man’s sleeve. Several months ago, if asked, Liam would have told anyone that he was straight. That was before Seven, before everything got confusing and clear in the same breath, and while he still had a number of doubts, he tried to keep what Sam had told him in mind. Just live, baby. Stop worrying. So that’s what he did, letting go of the past weeks of stress and anxiety, lips parting with a gentle breath, giving in to Seven’s kiss. Blue eyes fell shut, dinner forgotten, as he returned the kiss, let himself be pulled on, giving in and opening up further as the moments slipped by. With every inch that Liam gave in to the kiss, Seven pushed just a little more. His fingers curled against the soft skin at the nape of the other man’s neck, his short nails scraping ever-so-gently and leaving faint white lines in their wake. He leaned in enough that he slipped out of his seat on the stool, standing and pulling Liam up against him with his other arm wound around the man’s waist. Head tipped to the side to deepen the kiss as his tongue traced the curve of Liam’s mouth, he felt the soft brush of long lashes against his cheek and made a sound of contentment as something warmed in the pit of his stomach. “Finished eating?” He breathed out softly against the kiss as his eyes opened, pulling back just enough so that he could survey Liam’s expression, deciding that he wasn’t going to wait for an answer. Seven was a patient man, but after all that had happened in the last few days, that much was beyond even him. He moved a hand to grab one of Liam’s and gave a gentle tug, leading the younger man in the direction of the staircase. It was far too easy to simply follow along, to let Seven lead the way, trusting him not to let him trip, to falter. Receptive to the kiss, Liam opened up to it, his other hand coming to rest against Seven’s other arm, fingers landing against the crook of his elbow, growing more sure with his touch as his palm settled, fingers curling as though to hold on. Every touch shot through him, from those fingers at the back of his neck to the arm curling around his waist. Sliding from his stool to meet him further, there was a hard breath as Seven broke the kiss, making to chase after him as those soft words met his ears. “Yeah, I’m finished,” he murmured, leaning back in for another kiss before Seven could pull further away, and it was with a soft laugh that he followed along behind him, fingers twined together, attached. “You’re going to be the death of me, Seven Morgan,” Liam said as they started up the staircase, his gaze never leaving the other man, memorizing, taking note of every detail, every nuance of the other. Sometime later – it could have been hours, or days, in the way that time seemed to stretch out into something slow and luxurious as they lay together in the darkness – Seven was sprawled out across his bed with one arm slung over Liam’s waist, fingertips tracing lazy circles over the small of his back and up along the gentle curve of his spine. “Aren’t you glad that I’m such a distraction?” Seven said, soft and teasing with a twinkle in his green eyes. He propped himself up on his elbow and flattened his hand against Liam’s back, fingers splayed out between the man’s shoulder blades, admiring the stark contrast of his tan against pale skin that shone in the moonlight. He leaned in and brushed a kiss against the spot where Liam’s neck met his shoulder, soaking in the faint, pleasant smell of sweat and the glow of the other man’s satisfaction. “This was much better than dessert. And not nearly as fattening.” Warmth filled him from head to two, a lazy, easy sort of satisfaction spreading through him as he stretched out beside Seven on his stomach, head pillowed on his folded arms. The only response he could give was a hum, soft and vibrating in the back of his throat, but that smile spoke volumes. “Very good distraction,” Liam mumbled, goosebumps rising over his arms and shoulders with that gentle touch and the kiss that followed, going so far as to stretch his neck, offering more up to the other man before he rolled over onto his side, legs tangled up in the sheet at their feet. “I dare say that was a negative calorie dessert,” he murmured moments later, reaching up to catch Seven’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, guiding him in close for another kiss, lazy and sweet, open mouth and slick tongue. For someone who had all but swore off relationships and intimacy, Liam certainly fell back into it without even pausing. There was something in the way that Liam turned to him and reached out and took hold of Seven’s stubbled chin, something that felt altogether more intimate, even, than the deviant acts they’d just performed in his bed. It was in the way that Liam’s muscles relaxed and his head tipped back, in the way that he opened up to their kisses and in the soft sounds he made as Seven’s hands explored the planes of his body. They weren’t anything that resembled a couple (as Seven told himself often and with great conviction), but what they had was more than intimacy. It was familiarity, and comfort. It was as pure a thing as Seven had let himself feel in more than a decade. He tried his very best not to think about that, but Liam had a tendency to make that difficult when he arched into Seven’s touch and made those soft, whimpering noises between their mouths. “Hmm,” he hummed in response to Liam’s quip, when he finally pulled away from the kiss and relaxed back against the pillows. “Now if only I could get that good of a workout after every meal, I’d be able to lose those last ten pounds.” As with everything, it was said with a lazy smirk that managed to be both sweet and rakish at the same time. As Seven eased back into the pillows, Liam stretched lazily at his side, muscles going taught for a precious few moments before he let himself relax once more, giving a tug to the sheets to pull them back up around his waist. “As if you need to lose anything,” Liam murmured, returning that smirk with one of his own lazy grins, an index finger prodding at Seven’s midsection before he shifted once more, this time to sit up. The sheet dipped low on his waist when he did so, just a peek of the scars that Tristan had left on his hips, a bite mark, letters carved into his very skin. They were healing, but no where close to fading, and Liam had found that as long as he didn’t think hard on them, they weren’t so bothersome. “Didn’t you tell me you wanted to talk about something?” Liam asked, glancing back towards Seven, tipping his head back so that the line of his jaw and neck were exposed. He was all angles and lean limbs, hardly an ounce of fat on the young man, and probably less with all the stress that had come with Tristan. “Or is talking a euphemism for this ‘workout’ of ours?” “Right. About that,” Seven couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from his chest, nothing short of mischief gleaming in his eyes as he met Liam’s gaze and smiled wickedly. “I’m afraid your powers of deduction have found me out, love. It was all a ruse, so that I could whisk you away and seduce you with my boyish charm and rugged good looks. My bad.” He shrugged with an effortless lift of one bare, tanned shoulder and made absolutely no effort to look remorseful. Instead he only let out a soft sigh, reaching out to wrap a strong arm around Liam’s waist and using that to reel him in, pushing away the sheets that came between them. He was not sorry, of course. He was warm and content, fulfilled in a way that they had both needed for some time. And so it was that with a gentle kiss to the other man’s shoulder, he pressed his face against the crook of Liam’s exposed neck and closed his eyes. It was a good night. |