[It had been all encompassing then. Max remembers being completely intimidated by Jason in almost every manner. He might have been a powerful alien, but he'd never been with another person who made him burn like Jason did that night. He'd chased and been chased, and there were no doubts between them after the first time their lips met. There was an inferno that wrote novels and placed them into their spots in the chilly sky above the New Jersey shore. Max imagines that there are still a few stars that rotate the galaxy and sing of the ardor that was released between them.
Maybe he'd been overtaken by the pen that wrote with his heart's blood, but he had to shake his head. He had such heart. Now where was it. He could look at Jason and remember it, recall the yearning to throw him against a wall and never let their lips part and yet here he sat in a tub, quietly allowing Jason to run a washcloth across his body. Had Max become a dried up man, who couldn't see the body that he'd lusted over so passionately, the one that he knew even now he had no right to.
Perhaps Max's softer figure had grown thinner and harder in most places than it had been before when they were last together. Max was built differently now. He was built from what he'd experienced. He would keep working, and fighting to try and stay the man he was, but he also had to reconnect with who he had been. Jason was that bridge. He could see it in those eyes.
There's this. Leaning forward, Max closes his eyes and tries to remember. He stops the hand that cleans him and touches their lips together again. He knows how it felt not long ago, but he wants this now, now that he's settling back in.]
"Jason..."
[He whispers, and slides up so their bodies are close. They can't come together, but he can feel the brush of legs against chests. He doesn't even try for soft, but he dives in-- he recalls what it was to taste the layers of Jason's mouth, to need to drink him down desperately. So Max kisses him like he wants to be kissed to see if he can bring back the electricity to his skin. ]
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Date: 2024-04-08 11:05 pm (UTC)Maybe he'd been overtaken by the pen that wrote with his heart's blood, but he had to shake his head. He had such heart. Now where was it. He could look at Jason and remember it, recall the yearning to throw him against a wall and never let their lips part and yet here he sat in a tub, quietly allowing Jason to run a washcloth across his body. Had Max become a dried up man, who couldn't see the body that he'd lusted over so passionately, the one that he knew even now he had no right to.
Perhaps Max's softer figure had grown thinner and harder in most places than it had been before when they were last together. Max was built differently now. He was built from what he'd experienced. He would keep working, and fighting to try and stay the man he was, but he also had to reconnect with who he had been. Jason was that bridge. He could see it in those eyes.
There's this. Leaning forward, Max closes his eyes and tries to remember. He stops the hand that cleans him and touches their lips together again. He knows how it felt not long ago, but he wants this now, now that he's settling back in.]
"Jason..."
[He whispers, and slides up so their bodies are close. They can't come together, but he can feel the brush of legs against chests. He doesn't even try for soft, but he dives in-- he recalls what it was to taste the layers of Jason's mouth, to need to drink him down desperately. So Max kisses him like he wants to be kissed to see if he can bring back the electricity to his skin. ]