Garret J. Foss (cant_touchthis) wrote in tiberiusswann, @ 2011-11-07 19:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | garret, mal, malakai |
Monday February 16th 2009
Who: Mal and Garret
What: Aftermath
Where: Garret's Rorie house
When: Morning
Rating: NSFW
Mal was alive. And he was hoping like hell that Garret didn't remember that rather embarrassing scene from when he was partially lucid, about what to do with his corpse. It wasn't likely the pathfinder would have forgotten, but Mal could be hopeful. Giving Garret a day to himself to catch up, Mal also took to time to finish getting his affairs in order. Mostly trying to figure out if he would hold classes or not for the next couple days. Quite a few students were still trying to deal with the aftermath of what had happened. Just as he needed to.
So the next morning, he was outside Garret's apartment. Mal didn't even bother to knock. He slipped right in and sniffed around, noting the man's location. Bedroom. A quick check proved that Garret was still sleeping, so Mal got to work in the kitchen. It was doubtful Garret had eaten much, so Mal was determined to feed him. It wasn't long before the rich scents of vanilla, cinnamon, maple, and bacon filled the air.
Garret was sleeping like the dead, which was ironic since he had spent the entire week trying to keep everyone else from dying. Five people he'd needed to care for, keep warm, keep alive. Five lives that rested on his shoulders. And he had kept them alive, done the best he could, and it had taken absolutely everything out of him. So once everyone was okay, and he was certain that things would be okay, and no one was going to die, and Adam said he could go, Garret had gone home and gone to bed in the same clothes he'd had all week, and he had slept. And fifteen hours later, he would have kept sleeping if not for the aroma wafting in from his kitchen.
Groaning softly, Garret lifted his head, blinking a few times to clear his vision. It had to be Mal. Rorie cooked, but Rorie didn't use the same spices Mal did. Smelling Mal cook was like walking through an Indian marketplace. "Nng," he mumbled, letting his head fall back to the pillow, but eventually rolling himself out of bed and padding his way toward the kitchen, disheveled as hell.
--- Mal heard Garret wake, taking the time to set the table. Just one place setting for Garret since he wasn't sure just how much his company would be wanted. The human had taken so much time to care for others, this was what Mal felt he could do to give back.
Hearing Garret walk in, Mal kept his back to the door, flipping the last pancake onto the plate and setting it with the others. Regardless of what time it was, Mal figured breakfast was always a good meal.
--- Garret hadn't eaten in days. He didn't know how many days, but it had been days. The pancakes smelled incredible, and despite how exhausted he was, he felt his stomach rumble in ancitipation. Taking a seat, Garret waited for Mal to serve him, rubbing sleep from his eyes and trying to flatten out his hair. "Didn't expect you to come 'round so soon," he said, stifling a yawn. "Thought you'd stay on campus awhile."
--- Mal shrugged, sliding three thick pancakes onto Garret's plate along with slices of crispy bacon. Eggs, juice, fruit, butter and syrup were all waiting on the table if Garret wanted any of it. "They don't need me there." Mal set the serving plate down on the table and sat next to Garret. He was willing to give the man space for now, certain that he probably wanted or needed it.
--- There was so much on the table, too much. Garret felt a little overwhelmed. Grabbing his fork, he cut off a piece of pancake and took a bite. "Fanks," he mumbled through his mouthful. God, he still felt exhausted. And emotionally wrung out. But thank fuck Mal hadn't seen him break down. There had been enough times when Mal had seen Garret weak and inferior, and he didn't need him to see it now.
"How do you feel?" he asked after a moment, waking up some. "You look better. A lot better."
--- Mal nodded, watching Garret tuck into his meal. "I feel fine. As well as I did before, at least." He narrowed his eyes slightly. "You look like shit, but less tired than the last time I remember seeing you." One thing that could be said about Mal was that he was honest. Garret didn't realize it, but the hound pulled his punches just for him.
--- Mid-chew, Garret paused, looking over at Mal to glare at him, and glare hard. Damn hard. It was a plus that Mal was fireproof. Because he had yet to see himself in a mirror partly out of fear, Garret didn't know how bad he looked. But Mal sure as hell didn't need to point it out. "M'going back to bed," he grumbled, swallowing down his bite and setting the fork down.
--- Realizing he err'd, Mal quickly reached out, grabbing Garret's wrist to keep him from leaving the table. "That was uncalled for," he said softly. "I'm sorry. Stay with me." It would serve him right if Garret left, walked down the hall and shut the door. But the Mal would feel as though he had died from the illness.
--- When Garret was tired, and hungry, and insulted, he could get a tad bit snippy. Much like Hera, Zeus' jealous and vengeful wife, could be a tad bit snippy. Mal was very lucky that Garret did not weild the power of thunderbolts. "You keep five fire beings alive in a damn power outage and see how good you look," he mumbled icily, though he made no effort to free himself from Mal's grip. Truthfully, the fact that Mal was able to say something so stupidly insensitive was a testament as to how well he had recovered. And Garret was glad, in a way, but mostly just pissed off.
--- Picking up a strip of bacon, Garret took a careful bite, sulking a little but trying his best not to. And failing of course. After all, Mal was alive, and a few days ago Garret hadn't thought that he would be. So that was reason enough not to hold a grudge even if the occasion called for one. He was quiet for a while, slowly eating breakfast and overthinking exactly how bad it was he looked that made Mal comment upon it. Mal didn't usually take note of trivial things like appearance unless it was really pleasing or really worrisome.
--- Mal nodded, not releasing Garret's hand. Instead, he stroked the inside of his wrist with his thumb, just holding him. "You're right. I wouldn't look half as good as you do. Matter of fact, I'm pretty certain I looked worse." He was content to wait quietly while Garret ate, taking in the way Garret looked. Stubble on the cheeks, pale, bags under tired eyes, strain around the mouth. He was worn out. Mal felt more alive than before and Garret was on the verge of collapse. So the hound reigned himself in and waited, seeing to Garret's needs instead for a chance.
--- After a little while, it was hard to ignore being stared at. Garret didn't say anything about it, but finally he had to know. "What?" he demanded, looking at Mal with furrowed brows. "Why are you staring at me like that?"
--- Mal shrugged. "Because you're mine and I want to." In his head it was that simple. Picking up the hand he still held, he licked the fingertips clean of bacon grease and syrup. With a kiss to the palm, he was finally released, Mal standing to put the fruit away. It was obvious Garret didn't want it.
--- Sometimes, Mal was just so... dog, it was unreal. Garret scoffed a little, shaking his head and managing to stab a strawberry before Mal made off with the plate. It was unlikely he'd be able to finish his food, but having something in his stomach was nice.
"I should shower," he decided aloud, talking mostly to himself. "And get dressed. And head back to work, I'm sure there's still a ton left to do over there. Maybe go find Billy and sent him home." There was only a minor amount of sneer in his voice as Garret spoke of the other man. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with the kid he was actually pretty useful but he'd been Garret's replacement during his heart attack, so Billy would always have a black spot. That's just how it was.
"Thank you, though," he continued, this time addressing Mal. "You didn't have to cook for me, I would have managed."
--- And there was Mal being dismissed, not that he didn't expect it. Still, he was glad to be facing away from Garret to hide the crushed expression that flitted across his face. "Don't worry about work. Billy wasn't caring for anyone so he can cover one more day for you. Or Declan will. Chances are they'd only send you back home to sleep some more."
Mal finally set the bowl in the fridge, turning back around to continue clearing away what Garretn' wasn't using. "I wanted to, so I did."
--- "Course he can," was the mumbled reply. "Cuz he's so young and helpful... dick." Whether he was referring to Declan or Billy, it didn't matter. He hated anyone who wasn't exhausted right now. Scrubbing his face with his hands, Garret sighed, then rested his chin on his palms to watch Mal move about. He looked much better than before. Healthier, anyway, though something was off. Probably just leftover tiredness from being sick, Garret reasoned. Though Mal was being a lot more quiet and a lot less... curt. That was it. He was being almost reserved, which was really unusual. Not in the way he usually did either, when he was witholding information that Garret wanted to know just to be a dick. Right now he was... shy? That seemed so unlikely.
"C'mere," he said after a moment, holding out a hand to draw Mal into his arms, and onto his lap if the hound let him which he usually wouldn't. "You seem... I don't know. What's on your mind?"
--- Mal turned around after putting the condiments away. "I seem you don't know? Descriptive." He leaned against the counter, just within arms reach but not taking Garret's hand. He knew the man wanted space, so Mal was giving it to him.
--- Gah, what an impossible jerk. This was more normal behaviour. "Augh," Garret whined, reaching out his hand and making 'gimme' motions with his fingers. "Why do you have to be so annoying?" Leaning forward a little allowed Garret to take hold of Mal's arm, and tug him closer so he could be in the space where Garret wanted him to be. "What's wrong? Tell me. Is it-" Pausing, Garret suddenly remembered yesterday when he'd left Mal's apartment, how even when he'd been sickly and exhausted, the hound's eyes had been studying him. Like he knew that Garret had gone to hide on the stairs and bawled his eyes out like a little girl. Maybe he did know. Maybe that's why he seemed so distant.
Clearing his throat slightly, Garret decided that maybe Mal had the right idea, and ignoring that little bit of knowledge was the best course of action. "I'm glad you're better," he said, blatantly topic jumping. "I don't like the idea of life without you."
--- The hound let himself get tugged forward. "You love me this way. You'd hate it if I gave you everything." Mal arched a brow when Garret broke off, wondering what he was going to say. He didn't know about the crying fit, but he did know something wasn't right. Part of Mal wanted to assume it was from the pressure of keeping five people alive, and part of him didn't want to think about what the real reason could be.
Garret had the right idea changing topics. Mal decided to change to something completely different. Dropping his head, he pressed a firm kiss to Garret's mouth, nipping and sliding his tongue over the seam of his lips.
--- This definitely wasn't the direction Garret had anticipated, especially not since he looked so apparently horrific. A surprised noise escaped his lips, and it was a few seconds before he could reciprocate the kiss, a small shudder running through him. Things had felt so off kilter for so long, but this actually felt normal. It was incredibly strange how just a simple nip of the teeth could make things right, but it did. If Mal was taking charge, biting, then Garret knew he was okay.
Both hands grabbed Mal by the jeans, breaking the kiss to tug his hips closer, fingers making quick work on the button fly. "Now," he said throatily, as though his actions weren't demanding enough.
--- Mal raised both hands, threading them through Garret's hair when he broke away from the kiss. He didn't mind the hands at his waist, so long as the mouth was connected to his. Mal claimed Garret's mouth, seizing it and remapping the interior with lips and tongue and teeth. This what what he wanted in this moment. This connection.
--- Pushing his chair back a bit, Garret pulled Mal down onto his lap, arms wrapping around his waist to draw him as close as possible. "Love you," he murmured, kissing and nipping Mal's lips, his hands running up the hound's back. "Love you, love you..."
--- Well that was an interesting way to handle that. Get Mal's pants open and then pull him onto his lap so there's no room to move and do anything with it. Still, Mal didn't fight it. He pressed them close together, chest to chest. "Love you," he whispered back, already slightly breathless. Kissing down Garret's jaw, he growled softly, standing and tugging the man out of the chair. There wasn't enough room to do what Mal wanted there.
--- They'd better not be heading far, because Garret knew that he wouldn't make it that far. Despite how damn worn out and completely listless his body felt, a renewed energy rushed through him, heating his skin and making him flushed. As soon as he was on his feet, Garret grabbed Mal by the shirt collar and pulled him back into the kiss, backing himself up against the table. Right there, right now, he needed this.
--- The table was as far as Mal was planning to take them. "Pants," he growled against Garret's throat. "Off. Now." He didn't care whose went first, but they both needed to be off ten minutes ago.
--- Gasping, Garret nodded, trembling slightly as his hands working Mal's jeans, shoving them low on his hips before going to his own, his lips kissing desperately while he undressed them. Finally, enough skin was exposed for Garret to feel the heat of Mal's body against his own, making him hiss slightly, arching his neck back to expose more skin.
--- Mal groaned just under Garret's ear, reaching down to grab the bared ass and holding him steady. He pressed forward, rubbing their hips and lengths against each other. Raising his head again, he caught Garret's mouth. He tasted so good, felt perfect.
--- There was only one person in the entire world that could make Garret whimper and weaken in their hands, and it was Mal. And he was doing a damn fine job of it right now. They needed to go back to the status quo, to return and remember what it was that had attracted them to one another in the first place. For Garret, it was the challenge. It was catching the white whale and making it love him. It was knowing that Mal would never hurt him, but never really being sure about that.
Breath quick, heart hammering, Garret slipped a hand between them and took hold of Mal's length, squeezing it roughly, his thumb spreading the forming bead of cum over the velvety head. Mal felt so hot, like this was the source of all his heat, like the fire burning inside him was radiating from here, the solid hardness in Garret's hand. "Please," he whispered against Mal's lips, begging as he stroked him. "Please..."
--- As much as Mal wanted to bend Garret over the table, drive home and take them both to bliss, he needed to restablish that he was still living. Still himself. That being at death's door didn't change him. Reaching down, he removed Garret's hand, making the man stroke his own length instead, under the direction of Mal's hand.
--- Garret had almost forgotten that with the status quo came the torture. The teasing, agonizing torture. "Ohhh," he groaned, hips rolling into his own hand, tongue darting out to lick his lips. "Baby... fuck..." This wasn't what he wanted, he wanted to be touching Mal, to stroke him, to make him growl and gasp and groan, but he wasn't going to fight it. Maybe later, but not right now. Right now he'd do whatever it was Mal wanted him to do. He wanted to please.
--- Mal kept one hand over Garret's guiding his motions, making him squeeze, twist and stroke, while his other hand slipped around back to ghost over that highly sensitive place where he'd be seated. Mal growled low in his chest, the sound echoing softly.