allingoodfun (allingoodfun) wrote in st_margarets, @ 2014-05-18 16:50:00 |
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Current mood: | busy |
Entry tags: | character: mickey torres, character: trent kane, location: swimming pool |
Log: Issues
WHO: Trent & Mickey
WHEN: Saturday morning, after the sun returns
WHERE: The Pool
Trent felt better today than he had in a while, but he still hadn’t slept well, mostly because he’d nursed a bottle of whiskey he had hidden away and he’d spent of the previous night helping himself to sips or rather long pulls from it. He and Ashton, they were better, but now this curse had ended and Trent was feeling a little itchy. Trent was a big believer in stomping down on his personal demons, pushing them down and to one side until their remarks fell on deaf ears. Or rather on ears that weren’t listening. Ignoring stuff was the way forward.
Of course it did mean that he woke with quite the hangover, but it was nothing compared to the ones he’d nursed in the past. A walk in the park all things considered. Trent could have stayed in bed or drank the hangover cure as created by Trent and another Kitsune during a time of much need and desperation, but he chose to go swimming instead. Exercise it would seem was just as good for hangovers it would seem. Plus he was a swimmer, it was his chosen sport and it wouldn’t hurt.
Given the time the pool was empty, which meant Trent had it all to himself. Changing into a pair of shorts and leaving the speedos in the locker the telekinetic hit the water. His body still ached, but the bruises had faded and he no longer looked like an artist palette gone wrong. The physical was easy to overcome, especially with the nurse at hand, it was the other things like the mental and emotional that were the real issue.
His slim figure cut through the water smoothly, lithe muscles coiling and springing into action as he did long methodical strokes and lengths, dark hair plastered flat until caught by a stray movement flicked upwards. Only when his entire body was screaming and chest burning did Trent stop, hands clasping the side and breaths escaping him quickly.
---
With the return of the sun, it had taken Mickey only a day to get back to his feet. His body had regained its strength, and that meant he had to pick up his training again. He had been coming back from his routine -- running, a soccer player had to be able to run -- when he was distracted by the sight of someone swimming in the pool, all by their lonesome. This had to be someone working out for themselves.
Of course, Mickey recognized him. He’d had a crush on Trent for a while now, and while Trent had been… unresponsive, it didn’t mean Mickey stopped fantasizing about it. Mickey leaned against an archway, watching Trent cleave through the water, quickly and powerfully. The boy was strong and sure, you didn’t guess he’d spent the last couple of weeks recovering from a vicious attack.
When Trent rose to the surface, seemingly to stop, Mickey called out: “Sure you weren’t born a tritón, Kane?”
---
Trent’s head turned at the sound of a very familiar voice and at his remark he gave a small snort. “Last I checked I was pretty regular.” He raked his fingers through his hair and turned in the pool to look over at Mickey, head tipping and eyes travelling the other boy’s form. “You been running?”
The southerner pressed his back against the side of the pool and used his legs to keep himself afloat before he considered something, but for the moment he held back, figuring it might be kind of mean to use his power in such a manner.
But then he was a trickster and it was about time he shed the melancholy of the last few days, week or however long it had been and got back to being him.
---
Mickey scoffed, getting closer to the edge of the pool. “You’ve never been pretty regular,” he said, winking at Trent. Because, seriously, shirtless and wet Trent in the morning? Hells yeah.
“But yeah,” Mickey said, bending his knee and reaching behind himself, grabbing his foot and thus stretching the warm muscles in his leg. Standing on one leg, he said: “Gotta keep the soccer muscles healthy after my little sabbatical. What are you tiring yourself out for?”
---
Trent ducked his head and chuckled, lips curling in the corner before he lifted his chin and met Mickey's gaze whilst noticing how close the other was getting to the pool.
"Me? Nothin'. Nursing a hangover, figured I'd work it out this way." Trent pushed away from the wall and came that much closer to where Mickey was, clasping the edges of the pool in his hand as he continued to debate the merits of using his power.
Might be bad considering Mickey was recovering, but still...
"Y'know you do look awfully hot, you might wanna cool down... " Trent's voice trailed off and with a slow mischievous smile not too dissimilar from one he had on most of the time a prickle of a touch started up Mickey's back until at any given second he was going to be gracing the water with his bodily presence.
---
Mickey realized too late what Trent was up to, half-turning to see who was touching him. It felt odd, like a hand was coming through his shirt, and then Mickey got a shove and ended up in the pool.
Mickey emerged second later, his heavy black curls a wet mess on his head. He pushed the hair aside, grinning. “Pendejo,” he cursed, “I’m still wearing my kicks.” He hoisted himself up against the side of the pool, sitting on the edge. His white shirt clung to his body now, wet and transparent.
Mickey began to untie his shoes and then tossed them aside. “I’m going to get you for that, you know. Better start running.”
---
Trent chuckled as he watched Mickey’s reaction, from the widening of the eyes and the cursing in another language to the wide grin on the other boy’s face. Clearly not that angry, but still. Trent smirked, cocking an eyebrow as he made a show out of looking around himself.
“Running? In all this water?”
He caught the edge of his lower lip as that smirk turned into an amused smile as the southerner regarded Mickey’s thoroughly drenched form, who would have thought white would be that transparent?
“I’m shakin’ in my figurative boots.”
---
“Shake on, Southern fried Loki,” he said, getting on to his feet, feeling the water flush out of the legs of his pants. He was glad his phone was in his locker. He shook his head, getting the curls out of his eyes, and then wrenched one eye shut, calculating the distance. Meanwhile, he used his toes to get out off his wet socks.
Running, yeah, that was the appropriate verb.
Mickey took a few steps back, and then broke into a run. On the edge, he jumped into the air, curled up into a ball and fell himself land into the water, creating a huge splash. Bomb.
---
Trent's eyes widened when he realised what Mickey was intending on doing, but by the time he realised it was too late to get out of the way and it wasn't long until he was hit by the sudden explosion of water in Mickey's wake.
"Jesus," Trent managed after spitting out water and dragging his fingers through his hair, feet having found purchase on the bottom of the pool. "That's a helluva way of makin' an entrance."
He grinned a moment later and using his hands and hands alone no power involved to splash Mickey.
---
“Entrances have always been my f--” The rest of Mickey’s sentence was lost in a splash of water, as he suffered another one of Trent’s attacks. He let it run out of his mouth, grinning at Trent before ducking under water.
Djinni were born of fire and air, but they thrived in water as well. And Mickey was an ifrit, to technically, he could rule the sand as well. (That was mostly in theory.) Under water, he was like a fish, and he had no problem opening his eyes and locating Trent.
His feet found purchase at the bottom of the pool, and he pushed off, going in for a tackle.
---
Trent eyed the water cautiously when he lost sight of Mickey but much like the previous attack by the time he figured out what the other had planned it was too late.
Trent was tackled and taken into and under the surface of the pool, a laugh escaping him, which only served to fill his mouth with water.
The southerner wiggled, twisting at the waist to escape before giving Mickey's foot a tug.
---
Mickey had his feet on the bottom of the pool, arms around Trent, trying to not let him escape, when Trent tugged at his feet, making Mickey lose his balance and topple over. He thrashed in the water, letting Trent go, and finally emerged, raising an eyebrow at Trent.
“Asshole,” he said, “if you wanted me wet, you could at least have gotten me out of these clothes first.”
---
Trent snorted and then with a lift of his own eyebrow in return he applied a telekinetic touch. It started at the bottom of Mickey's t-shirt then along with the material it crept higher until sure enough the t-shirt was tossed onto the side of the pool.
All without lifting a finger.
"Now, I could do the same thing with your pants..." Trent drawled, accent thick. "But that may be a lil disorientating.” Trent was in a pair of board shorts after all and Mickey was now in effect half naked but still clad in some wet clothes.
" Your choice."
Trent wouldn't complain about the company.
---
It was an odd feeling, being undressed without being touched. Mickey raised his arms, feeling the wet fabric slipping off his skin. He felt his heart lurch as the shirt was tossed away, and Mickey looked at Trent’s eyes. He couldn’t really read them. He’d been working Trent for -- God, how long now? -- and this felt…
...this felt different. Good. Wow.
Mickey didn’t trust it. He grinned slyly at Trent and showed his hands in defeat. “You’re the one with the powers, I don’t think it’s my choice at all.” With a grin, he fell backwards, floating on his back.
---
“Smart,” Trent tossed out with a smirk. “I like that.”
He swept his fingertips across the surface of the pool and in doing so extended his touch, the invisible tips of which that made short work of ridding Mickey of his pants until he much like Trent was left in nothing but a pair of shorts. All the better to swim in. “Now, you ain’t got so much on you can’t really complain. Even playin’ field.”
The southerner disappeared beneath the surface of the pool and kicked towards the shallow end as he felt a slight amount of fatigue setting in and last thing he wanted to do was be in deep water when and if his body decided it had had enough.
It didn’t take very long and Trent surfaced a moment later, fingers combing and smoothing the strands of dark hair down.
---
Mickey grinned. The world really ought to be glad that he had fire powers rather than telekinesis, because he would abuse that power like nobody’s business. Long distance handjobs for the people whose pants he had already been into. Or, like, giving every good-looking girl in a summer dress the Marilyn Munroe.
Mickey followed Trent to the shallow end, swimming through the water like an otter. He circled Trent, grinning up at him. “So, skinny dipping, any thoughts on that?”
---
Trent turned his head to watch Mickey as he circled him. "Skinny dipping? Can't say I'm exactly against the idea. Done it a couple times in summer. Late night dips mostly."
His blue eyes caught Mickey's gaze and held it, eyebrow arched just a little.
"Why? You thinkin' now's a good time?"
---
Mickey rose to his feet, his soles against the pebbly surface of the pool bottom. He was close to Trent, looking him over with a grin. The thing that was sexy about Trent was his attitude and his eyes, the way they were always mischievous and full of life, but his body was nothing to sneeze at either.
Mickey wanted to see how the rest of it looked.
Mickey grinned, looking around, and said: “There’s no one around, is there?”
---
Trent considered this for a moment until he leaned back slowly, propping his elbows up on the edge of the pool, each move languid and not at all rushed before he gestured.
"After you," he murmured as he tilted his head and gave a razor sharp smirk.
---
There were plenty of people who would’ve hesitated, who would’ve taken a moment to think about this and perhaps decide against it. But Mickey? Mickey was proud of his body, and he knew his body was worth being proud of. Challenges like this didn’t faze him, they only served to make him half-hard.
Mickey bent down, his face disappearing underwater as he pulled his legs up and quickly removed his underwear. He re-emerged, his now-naked body half concealed by the shimmering water, and crumpled his black underwear into a wet ball, which he tossed aside.
His grin was cocky and self-assured as he slowly advanced on Trent. “Your turn.”
---
Trent barked out a laugh as Mickey happily stripped and he pushed a breath out, shoulders lifting. “Shoulda figured you wouldn’t have a problem with gettin’ naked.” Mickey had a proclivity towards it after all more frequently than most.
He rubbed a hand through his hair and shook his head, wondering how in God’s name he got himself into these situations. Oh yeah because he was Trent and a challenge was something to face down and overcome regardless of the consequences. Best way to live life, even if more recently it had almost done him in.
The southerner undid the fastenings of his shorts and slipped out of them until he was as naked as the day he’d been born, the article of clothing being discarded. Of course he didn’t stay where Mickey could get too close and Trent stayed just out of reach, teeth present in a large grin.
“Don’t think skinny dippin’ has the same sort of impact when it’s not done in a lake under the hot summer sun.”
---
Mickey saw that Trent was avoiding him, toying with him as always. The problem with being naked in the water was that you couldn’t really get a good look at what was underwater, so Mickey still only had a vague idea what Trent looked like below the belt. Being naked in the water was only fun when you were pressed up against one another. And Trent, apparently, wasn’t yet up for that.
So, Mickey dove and then re-emerged, swimming gently, arcing widely around Trent. His well-shaped ass poked out of the water ever so often. “I still don’t mind the company much,” he said, winking at Trent. “And the idea that we could get caught gives it some kind of rush.”
---
Trent watched the slow graceful movements of Mickey as he circled around him and smirked as sure enough Mickey was clearly confident with his body given what was currently exposed. Not that he was complaining, Mickey was pretty to look at.
"Mmm that rush, " Trent agreed with a slow smile." I love that rush. Gets the blood pumping, sends all the right signals an' makes you feel alive."
He brushed past Mickey, clasping the other teen's shoulders in his hands and squeezing before he leaned in to murmur. "Shame you missed the antics at the party the other night. Woulda enjoyed the show. Got people so drunk they agreed to anythin' including Adrian running butt naked around the neighbourhood."
---
“The blood pumping?” Mickey got back to his feet, now close to Trent, and briefly glanced down. “Well, I think I know what you mean.”
He raised an eyebrow as Trent got in close, confessing whatever behavior people had been up to during his party. “Adrian running around naked isn’t anything I haven’t seen before. So, really, all I missed out on was having the opportunity to do something like that in front of you. Or, rather, have you do the same in front of--”
Mickey paused. “Wait, Adrian? Which party are you talking about? Adrian was with us on the field trip when you threw your party.”
---
“Eyes up, I do have a face,” Trent teased before simply rolling his eyes. “The party that Rob told us about? The one that was off campus and at somebody’s house?” He wasn’t surprised by the fact Mickey had seen Adrian naked, there weren’t many people it would seem that Mickey hadn’t seen naked.
He smirked. “M’pretty sure you were there, Mickey. Obviously you must’ve been very distracted.”
Trent had spent most of that party dancing, drinking and leading people astray with various drinking games.
---
“I’ve seen your face,” Mickey said, smirking. “But the rest of you? Despite all of my best efforts, I haven’t seen much of that. And I’m… curious.” Mickey took a step in closer, one hand reaching up to touch Trent’s face. “Of course, nothing wrong with your face either.”
Mickey shrugged. He had been in the garden with one of the new girls, who had made the effort to come to the party, but hadn’t wanted to mingle or make new friends, it seemed. Given what happened to the girl when she freaked out, Mickey didn’t blame her.
“I was around,” he said. “Just… got busy, apparently. Didn’t see Adrian running around naked. Didn’t figure he was the type.” Mickey cocked his head to the side. “Did you show off your Citizen Kane?”
---
“Curious, huh?” Trent challenged with an arch of his eyebrow even as Mickey touched his face. “Here’s hopin’ it lives up to whatever it is you’ve imagined.” It was telling that as Mickey stepped closer Trent didn’t make a move to put distance between them and even more so that he didn’t pull away automatically when Mickey touched his face.
Instead let a smirk settle on his lips, a laugh escaping him a moment later before he shook his head. “Pfft, please. I was the mastermind behind everybody else gettin’ naked.”
He met Mickey’s cock of the head with one of his own. “Turns out with just the right amount of alcohol Adrian’s quite the confident so an’ so.”
---
“A confident so and so?” Mickey repeated, grinning. He liked the idiom. “It’s funny how little alcohol you seem to need to be a confident so and so. Though…” Mickey briefly glanced down and smirked. “...I think I understand why.”
Mickey noticed that Trent wasn’t drawing away anymore, and he took advantage of that, one hand going below water level and finding something to land on there. It settled on Trent’s hip. The distance between them seemed to be shrinking. “And what is your masterplan here, o clever one?”
---
Trent chuckled and he tsk’ed, mock indignant, but the dimples in both his cheeks gave away his amusement and his complete lack of seriousness. “S’all attitude.” Of course the moment Mickey’s hand closed around his hip the southerner’s eyebrow lifted and he gauged the distance between them.
The pool was oddly quiet given how loud and raucous it had been only a few moments ago, but then they’d been playing and now, well, now it was something different.
“Masterplan?” He repeated, dragging his fingers over the surface of the pool, and lifting them until the tip of his index finger tapped against Mickey’s lower lip. “I think that would be tellin’, Mickey. Wouldn’t wanna give away the game plan. Ruins the fun for everyone.”
--
Mickey shifted his hips, his eyebrows wiggling when something below the water level briefly made contact with something else. “All attitude,” he repeated, his voice a bit thicker. “Gotta say, I feel as if that’s not true. Think your cockiness comes from somewhere else, too, maybe.”
Mickey’s lips nipped at the fingers, his dark eyes finding Trent’s again. It seemed as if his pupils has become bigger, his intense gaze on the boy in front of him. There was something coiling in his stomach, something exciting, something that was bound to happen at some point.
“Do you have a game plan?” Mickey said, drawing closer again, their bodies now touching. Mickey’s hand was now firmly on Trent’s ass. “Or are you playing it by ear?”
---
Trent’s gaze trickled from Mickey’s when he felt the nip at his fingers and for a moment his eyes darkened as though the blue in them had been swallowed whole and it wasn’t until Mickey spoke again that Trent’s gaze seemed to return to colour. He’d been momentarily swept up in the sensation of teeth on skin, but as the hand that was as always hot to the touch landed on his ass, Trent seemed to regain his previous focus.
“Didn’t I just say I’d be ruinin’ the fun if I gave it away?”
Though to be fair to Mickey he was pretty close to the truth of the matter, which was Trent was playing it by ear, but that wasn’t uncommon. Trent did do a lot of things by the seat of his pants, call it short sightedness on his part, but he did so many things on impulse that he didn’t necessarily think long term or self preservation for that matter.
Take the recent events for example, could have easily killed him, all because he hadn’t thought and just acted.
The southerner’s telekinesis reached out in much the same way it had earlier, this time the touch ghosted from the water, up the length of Mickey’s arm and gave the other teen’s hair a slow but playful tug.
---
Mickey was never one to not take things that were offered to him. He liked sampling meat or cheese at the many shops in Camden Wharf, he liked trying dried fruit or candy, and he liked going back for seconds. The shopkeepers usually allowed it. Mickey had a way of charming people.
So, with Trent on offer like this, Mickey wasn’t going to not take his fill. Both of his hands found their way to Trent’s ass, pulling him in close. Mickey pressed his forehead against Trent. “It must’ve been a year, that’s how long I’ve been chasing you. And I always figured, once I stopped chasing you, you would come to me, but… I’ve never been good at not chasing you.”
Mickey blinked, looking Trent in his eyes. “Nothing has changed. And yet, everything seems to have changed. What happened?”
---
Nothing?
Everything?
Hell, Trent didn’t have an answer for that question, not when he was still dealing with the aftermath of what had happened. Maybe the entire experience shook him up more than he’d thought, that whole shit about your life flashing before your eyes, it was pretty damn accurate and it was way too short.
“Aside from me nearly dyin’?” He was trying, to be all cavalier about the whole thing, but on occasion the severity of the situation got the best of him and the devil may care attitude with the smirk that could have cut glass slipped.
Trent inhaled and then exhaled in the same breath, hands slipping through Mickey’s hair before they stilled where they were, thumbs circling the area behind his ears. A swallow forced away the lump in the back of Trent’s throat before he merely cleared it, eyes which had previously looked away now came back to find focus on Mickey’s.
“Sorry, that was kinda morbid.”
---
Mickey brushed a thumb along Trent’s cheek, seeing the boy’s façade crumble before his eyes. Something cold and dark entered his heart, something that reminded him that this was all pointless anyway. Mickey would always be someone that was chasing, because even if he caught up with someone, he could never really have them. Trent wasn’t really here. He was merely using Mickey as an evasion technique.
Mickey understood. That was the kind of boy he was, the thing he was good at.
He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss on Trent’s lips. He drew back and murmured: “Morbid, but not a real answer. This isn’t about me, is it?” It’s about you. About what happened to you.
---
Trent pushed a breath out, shoving a hand through his hair before he simply pushed away from the other, a despondency trickling into his consciousness and settling in the pit of his stomach.
“Hm,” he hummed under his breath, torn between making himself clearer and taking the out because it was a whole lot easier than going into a long indepth explanation which maybe was for the best. Hell, he wasn’t good for anyone right now, and Mickey despite his carefree attitude deserved better than this, whatever this was.
Trent just shook his head. “Forget I said anythin’.” He plastered on a grin and broke away, making for the side where he paused before simply pulling himself out of the pool. “Word of warning, Mickey, you may not like what you find at the end of that chase of yours.”
Truth be told Trent had these weird issues, the ones where thanks to his parents he never really felt good enough or worthwhile, guess you could say they stemmed from his dysfunctional relationship with the two people in his life that were in theory supposed to love him for him. Only they hadn’t, but he couldn’t really blame them. He’d been a fucking nightmare as a kid.
But then he stopped and he froze, brow knitting together and teeth pressing against one another. Fuck it. Trent turned on his heel and met Mickey’s gaze, unabashed at the fact he was naked for all the world to see. Let them see. “Only thing I was thinkin’, Mickey? Was that life is too goddamn short an’ maybe I oughta start bein’ honest with myself.”
He shrugged. “Take what you will from that.”
And like that he set off again, the more space the better.
---
Mickey was torn. On the one hand, there was Trent, gloriously naked, standing there in a way that needed to be etched into Mickey’s mind, into his spank bank, because -- well, Trent was so mercurial, perhaps this was the only chance Mickey had. But on the other hand, Trent had these issues, these issues he wasn’t telling about but he almost was, and then he wasn’t, and Mickey didn’t know what was going on.
Honest about what?
Mickey sighed, watching Trent stalk off. He bit his lip, closed his eyes, and slowly, slowly submerged himself into the water of the pool.