He was totally out of his head when he finished.
Then he was talking to me, but I didn't understand most of what he said.
My whole body hurt, nearly shook where I lay under him. I knew I'd climaxed somewhere in that, but everything hurt worse anyway. I heard him trying to reassure me, felt his light reacting to mine even as his pain worsened again. Within seconds we were kissing again.
I felt him lose control somewhere in that, right before his pain spiked.
He turned me roughly to my side seconds later, using his hand and body to maneuver into me from behind. His light turned aggressive within seconds of being inside me; he angled up into me...right before he bit my shoulder, hard enough to break the skin. His light flooded mine with that hotter, more liquid pain, aggression mixed with desire but with that thread of vulnerability beneath. I felt him wanting to use the telekinesis then, felt him thinking about it until images of what he wanted were all that filled my mind.
Everything kind of slid into a blur after that.
I remember his eyes glowing, the hardness of his face as he kissed my throat, his fingers inside me as he arched into me harder, wanting me to whimper for him again. Both of us were so far gone I don't remember anything either of us said...I don't think I formed another coherent thought for at least a few hours.
By then, it was sometime in the late afternoon.
JON FOUND HIMSELF staring at a ceiling he didn't know.
It occurred to him after a few seconds that it was probably somewhat strange that he was so aware of not knowing it...then realized it was probably at least partly because he'd spent a lot of time staring at the ceiling in his own room, and not really anyone else's.
All of this went through his mind with a pretty minimal amount of alarm.
Still, he could feel the barest beginnings of a nagging in the back of his head. Not quite a headache, more like that vaguely uneasy feeling he got whenever he'd been drunk enough the night before to have been out of control. It was why he never drank usually...yet somehow, he'd managed to spend most of the previous day and night inebriated.
He felt worn out. Unbelievably worn out. Not hungover really, though. The feeling was more akin to waking up after having run a marathon and then being hit by a car. Nothing permanently damaged, but a general weakness mixed with an undifferentiated soreness over most areas of his skin, muscle and bones.
He was still trying to wrap his head around the ceiling with the unfamiliar plaster whorls and spikes, when he realized he was also lying on the wrong side of the bed.
Maybe that was it. He'd been drunk...moved over to Dorje's side of the bed, and now the ceiling looked weird. The name hit him like a sucker punch to the sternum though, making it hard to breathe. His fingers found the same part in the middle of his chest, and then he was gasping, staring up at that odd swath of ceiling, when...
An arm wrapped around him.
Jon stared down at it.
The arm was muscular, covered in tattoos and very little hair. The parts without designs were a smooth, dark, yellowish-brown, soft-looking despite the utter lack of body fat. The fingers attached to the hand there were strong, gripping Jon's ribs.
For what felt like a long span of seconds, Jon didn't move.
He found he'd gone from gasping like a fish to suddenly not breathing at all. His whole body had stiffened, even before he turned his head, raising it off the pillow to get a good look at the person lying at a near diagonal angle across the bed beside him.
Wreg's black hair covered the top third and one side of his heavily tattooed back. Jon found himself lost in the sheer number of tattoos, which covered him pretty much from his shoulders down to the curve at the base of his back...then started up somewhere around mid-thigh to leave a few more streaks of color down to his ankles and calves.
Completely nude, the man's body was almost intimidatingly muscular.
Jon had often thought of Wreg as borderline stocky, but without clothes, he didn't have a spare ounce of flesh on him. Jon found himself wondering just how much time the seer spent in the weight room, then realized he pretty much knew the answer. Wreg didn't really hang socially with the other seers...even with most of the rebels.
In fact, apart from Balidor, Revik and Jon himself, Jon hardly saw him hanging out with anyone.
He'd always assumed the seer was straight. Maybe the fact that he'd caught him staring at his sister's ass on more than one occasion had been the clue on that one.
Unwilling to move the arm enough to risk waking him, Jon sank back down into the mattress, and fought not to panic.
He realized in the same set of seconds that he was naked, too.
In doing a second assessment of his own body, it was pretty clear sex had been had.
The fact that he could only remember pieces of it...along with a bunch of images that had to be hallucinations, or at least Jon hoped desperately that they were hallucinations...unless he really had seen Aunt Carol skinny-dipping with Loki in the roof pool while Revik and Allie made out against the pool wall on the deep end. Or that three of his cousins had been in the pool in their underwear too, being flirted with by Jax and Neela and a couple of the other seers.
And could he really remember Uncle James teaching Yumi the human star constellations?
The sheer detail in the images convinced Jon they probably were real.
Groaning quietly, he covered his face with the hand attached to the arm that wasn't pinned under some part of Wreg and fought to clear his mind.
What the hell had been in those cakes?
He remembered the wedding ceremony itself. He remembered delivering the cakes...and then a lot of wild dancing and, yes, there it was...kissing Wreg in some part of the kitchen after he ran out of there, sure he was having some kind of panic attack when he saw those flying dragon things in space.
He couldn't remember who started it precisely, but the more he replayed the memory, the more he was pretty sure it might have been him who kissed Wreg, and not the reverse. In his defense, the seer was the only one who seemed to understand him at all right then. He'd also looked incredibly hot in that tux, and there'd been something there between them, earlier that night...even before Jon fully admitted to himself that his mind was going there.
Also, he'd been hammered.
Even before he ate that magic cake of Tarsi's, Jon had pretty much been flying from all the shots and the Sarhacienne wine.
Still half-covering his face with one hand, Jon turned his head to look at the rest of the room. From the size of the shoulders on it, Wreg's tuxedo jacket and shirt had been tossed over a nearby chair. Jon found himself staring at the altar constructed there, and the images that covered the top half of it, many of which he'd seen on Wreg's body. Under the altar itself stood several rows of leather-bound books which looked incredibly old.
Jon hadn't seen such valuable-looking books in a long time. He wondered if those had been salvaged from Seertown, or if they'd belonged to Wreg himself for that long.
"The latter, brother," Wreg mumbled sleepily against the pillow. He prodded Jon's arm. "You can look if you want..."
Jon glanced over at him, feeling his face warm, and wondering what else the seer had heard while he'd been feigning sleep.
Even as he thought it, Wreg raised his head. Rubbing his face with one hand, he rolled over to his back. Jon found himself looking hastily away when he saw the full frontal...especially when he noticed the incredibly prominent erection.
When he glanced back at Wreg's face, the seer was watching him, his expression uncharacteristically cautious.
"You all right?" he said.
Jon nodded, still fighting to get enough spit in his mouth to speak. He was still just lying there when Wreg shifted to his side, and began massaging Jon's shoulder.
"You're sure?" he said.
"Yeah," Jon said, clearing his throat. He knew his voice was anything but convincing, but found himself nodding anyway. "Yeah...I'm good." The seer's fingers were s
tarting to affect him though, and he found himself looking away, swallowing again. He motioned towards the books. "So what are those, exactly? Commentaries?"
He felt a pleased ripple off the seer's light, along with an uncomfortable amount of desire.
"You really did study the books, didn't you? How well do you know them?"
Jon shook his head, glancing up in spite of himself. "Not well."
"Did Dorje study them, too?" Wreg said.
Jon got the sense that Wreg said the name deliberately, but it didn't feel in any way like a dig. Instead it felt like the seer was trying to be transparent, not forcing the subject but not shying away from it, either.
Still, the question paralyzed Jon briefly. When Wreg continued massaging his shoulder and arm, he found himself slowly relaxing.
"No," he said finally. "No, and I'm afraid I stopped doing as much of that as I wanted when we got together. I studied under Vash...but I did a lot more when I was single, when I first got to Seertown. I was one of his students then..." He trailed, forcing himself to look at Wreg again, uncomfortably aware that he was getting hard from the seer's hands on him. "Look, Wreg..."
But Wreg shook his head. "I know what you're going to say. Don't."
"I was going to apologize..."
Wreg smiled. "Apologize? For what?"
Jon fumbled with that for a moment, then shrugged. "For being blasted, I guess. For acting like a jerk..."
Wreg's smile still tugged at his lips. "Trust me, brother...you were fine."
"You've got to know," Jon blurted. "I mean...this isn't going to happen. You know that, right? Last night, I was tanked..."
Wreg nodded, his expression unmoving. "So you don't want to fuck now?"
Jon flinched, feeling his face warm.
"No." He shook his head. "No, man. No way. I mean, thanks...but no. Really bad idea."
Wreg glanced down at Jon's erection, without making too much of it...or taking his hands off him. When Jon didn't react to either thing, he sighed, clicking softly.
"It's not only your cock that disagrees, Jon," he said then. "You're pulling on me a lot, brother. You sure resisting that is what you want? Or is this guilt talking?" His eyes still on Jon's, he shrugged subtly with one hand, still stroking Jon's ribs lightly with the other. "...I think maybe you're more seer than you realize now..."
"Meaning what?" Jon said, flushing angrily. "Meaning I'll fuck anything that moves?"
Wreg's face hardened.
Enough that Jon found himself regretting his words.
"I'm sorry, man," he said, his voice still short. "I'm just a little out of my element here, okay? I really didn't think I'd be that guy at my sister's wedding..." At Wreg's blank look, Jon gestured in the air with one hand. "You know, that guy...the one who wakes up in someone's bed, not quite sure how he got there..." When Wreg continued to look only faintly puzzled, Jon covered his eyes with a hand, exhaling. "...It's kind of a human cliché...never mind..."
After another silence, Wreg shrugged again, his voice neutral. "If it helps, it was not only us. Even Balidor left with someone..."
"You're kidding," Jon said, turning his head in spite of himself.
Wreg smiled, shaking his head. "No. He left with that prostitute from Seattle. The older one...tall. With the braids..."
"So you guys were right," Jon mused. "Isn't she the one you've been giving him shit about for the past few..." His words trailed when Wreg's hand fell on his erection. Jon raised his own hand, as if to push Wreg's off, then didn't, gripping the blanket he was lying on instead. "Wreg, jesus..." Closing his eyes, he felt another surge of that nausea, enough that he gasped, gripping the seer's arm in spite of himself. "Jesus...don't..."
"You want me to stop?" Wreg looked at him skeptically, but his eyes were clear. Clear enough that the question had to be real.
Jon stared up at him, fighting to think. But the pain worsened in the pause, and he found himself shaking his head.
"No," he said finally.
Tears came to his eyes as he said it.
He didn't even know why at first, but he saw Wreg's expression change, right before the seer caressed his face with his free hand. Sliding closer to him on the mattress, he kissed Jon's face, his mouth surprisingly gentle...then more insistent when it found Jon's. They kissed like that until Jon felt his hands slowly unclench...until his mind started to not care so much about the logistics of what he was doing. He found himself relaxing under Wreg's fingers and mouth until the seer leaned over him, working his way down his chest, massaging him with strong hands.
As he started moving his mouth lower, Jon tensed again, groaning involuntarily and clasping Wreg's hair.
He fought with what to say, whether to stop him...then felt his heart leap into his throat when Wreg's mouth and tongue were on his cock. He didn't try to stop him though, and found himself remembering this from the night before, too.
As he did, that pain in his chest worsened, badly enough that he was fighting not to lose it, sweating as he held himself back.
After another handful of minutes, he started to wonder why he was doing that, too.
Holding back, that is.
Wreg seemed to feel some part of his thoughts, and raised his head.
"Don't worry, little brother," he said, smiling a little. "You can relax...I'll take care of it, I promise..."
Jon only nodded, feeling that knot of emotion trying to force its way back through his chest. He wasn't exactly sure what Wreg meant by 'taking care of it,' but he could guess...and found he was right a few seconds later when he did let go and the seer kept him from coming.
He was gripping Wreg's fingers in his when the seer lowered his head the next time, and within a few minutes, he couldn't think past anything but the seer's mouth and breath and tongue and fingers. He could tell Wreg was doing things to him, things that brought that pain back and forth in jerks and waves that made Jon cry out, gripping him harder.
He was begging him minutes later, sitting up as he clutched his hair and his free hand, crying again, but once again unable to put a name to the emotion. The pain worsened until his toes curled, his feet cramping as his whole body tensed...until he almost wanted to hurt the seer, or maybe just do the same thing to him...
Wreg laughed, raising his head long enough to glance up at him again.
"You're more than welcome to return the favor, brother..." he said, but Jon couldn't help noticing the compassion in his eyes. "...After last night, you can do that to me anytime you want. You probably don't remember, but I even told you that then..."
Without letting himself think, Jon made up his mind.
He pushed the larger man backwards, so that Wreg leaned on his tattooed arms and hands.
Jon didn't want to think anymore. He didn't want to care about any of this...all he knew was, he couldn't stand the thought of walking out, lying alone in that room he'd shared with Dorje and pretending he didn't care. He knew this was probably just avoidance, denial, whatever else anyone wanted to call it, but he didn't care about that, either.
He lowered his head, and let the rest of it go, closing his eyes as he lost himself in skin and the other man's hands on him. Pain hit him as soon as he started, enough to paralyze him...it took him another few seconds to realize it was Wreg's. Once he could feel it, it seemed like it wiped out everything else, until he found himself pinning the seer's wrist, pushing him back whenever Wreg tried to help him. His pain worsened as Jon kept going, until he felt the seer's light as an invasion, the urgency in it cutting his breath.
When Wreg started losing control, Jon felt his whole body react, until he couldn't think at all. The seer cried out, grasping his back...asking him...and Jon found himself remembering doing this to the seer a few times the night before, including in the kitchen when they first made out. Feeling the pain worsen on his end, too, he used it to pull on the other seer, trying to copy whatever Wreg had been doing to him, putting more of himself behind every touch.
The seer was
massaging and gripping his shoulder within minutes, giving low, pained gasps as he held Jon's hair, half-thrusting his body against his mouth.
"Fuck...Jon..."
He let out a longer cry, and then he was coming, sooner than Jon had expected it...seemingly sooner than Wreg expected it, too. Jon stayed with him until the seer was done, running his tongue over the harder end of his cock, and Wreg let out another low cry as his breathing finally started to slow.
"Gaos..." He gave a short laugh, still out of breath, gripping him harder, nearly in a hug even as he pulled his lower body away from Jon's mouth. "Fuck me..." He gasped another half-laugh. "How did you learn how to do that so well at your age...? I thought I'd be ready for it after last night..."
He let out another low groan, pain pulsing off his skin, his arm halfway around Jon's back as he held him almost possessively.
Jon wiped his mouth, and realized his hands were shaking. Maybe more than just his hands. Forcing his eyes up, he made himself hold Wreg's gaze when he answered.
"Dorje asked me the same thing," he said neutrally.
Wreg answered his look with a small nod, that appraising look in his dark eyes again.
Then his fingers tightened in Jon's shorter hair, pulling his mouth to his. They kissed for a long moment, harder that time...and somewhere in that, it occurred to Jon that Wreg was being cautious with him still.
Not long after they parted, though, Wreg kissed him again, long enough that Jon managed to lose himself in it...long enough that he felt himself getting hard again, felt that pain building back up in his chest. When they parted the second time, Wreg's eyes looked slightly out of focus, and Jon noticed he was hard again, too.
"Dorje was right," Wreg said.
Jon just looked at him, and that pain worsened, until he could barely hold the seer's gaze. He felt Wreg's fingers tighten on him again, even as the seer's breath came short.
"Can I fuck you now?" he said, his voice gruff.
Jon glanced up at him again. Seeing the look in the other's eyes, he nodded, feeling another sharp pain hit his chest.
Allie's War Season Three Page 54