|Location||Richard's Apartment - Mutant Town|
|Summary||Richard tells Jeremy about Tiffany's out of body adventure. Then there's some dirty talk. Look, these things happen.|
Sometimes you'd rather just drink at home. It's less sad when you invite someone over to join you, though, which is how Richard ends up shirtless at his counter pouring out another round of whisky. He's pulled his boxer briefs back on from -- earlier activity -- like maybe he's worried about Tiffany randomly showing up in his apartment again. "So Tiffany came over," he says, a little apropos of nothing.
It's not unusual for Jeremy to at least get partially dressed again pretty much immediately out of hauling himself back up out of the bed, so it's not unusual now for him to have slid back into the T-shirt, as though Richard is not at this point extremely intimate with the extra padding in the region of his belly and the prickly blond down that thickens fuzzily over its curve en route down to his pubic bone. Yet such is his bodily shame that he thinks nothing of it, nor does he think anything of Richard putting his underwear back on. He looks up from reading the back of the bottle of massage oil he brought through his glasses -- because he is also back in his glasses, rather than his Eyes, because he knows Richard likes it when he looks like a nerd, or else because he didn't want the distraction of being immediately accessible by all the whole online universe -- and says, "I'm pretty sure no actual monks were involved in the distillation of-- anyway, what? Yeah?"
"Wait, monks?" Richard is briefly distracted, peering over his shoulder at Jeremy. "Yeah, she literally /showed up in my bathroom/. Right after I'd -- gotten out of the shower." You know. With his penis. "She's like a freaking ghost. A psionic ghost. It's creepy. Also rude." He slides over Jeremy's whisky.
Jeremy flips the bottle outward to show the label to him. There's a lot of copy on the back of the bottle about mystical secrets and organics and essential oils. It's that kind of bottle. The point is it smells nice and is good for your skin. He gives Richard and down-and-up look of particularly leerish quality as he swaps the whiskey for the massage oil bottle and takes a sip. "That does seem rude," he says. "Do you feel sexually harassed? Do I need to develop forms of some kind? I have some vague idea that sexual harassment involves forms."
"There was definitely sexual harassment involved," Richard confirms. "Are you responsible for that? I guess you're your own HR department. How's that work with contractors?" Poor Jeremy. He reaches for his drink next and takes a gulp. "She went around spying in Colorado."
"It doesn't. I can't afford a lawyer," Jeremy says. "Which is good, because I'm pretty sure I'm sexually harassing you." He demonstrates, as he sips his whiskey, by reaching to run his hand down the long, lean length of Richard's back. "Right now."
"Hey, I'm trying to talk about something serious!" Richard complains when Jeremy starts groping his back. (Which is leanly muscled and dotted with scars. For the record.) "She went psionic ghosting around the lab in Glen Haven."
"Okay, but in my defense, you're really hot and getting me liquored up while you talk about something serious." Jeremy presses a kiss to Richard's shoulder and then straightens up, sighing as he lifts a hand to rub at his eye behind his glasses. He settles his weight back on his heels, turning outward to lean back against the counter, and says, "So I take it she found out some stuff while doing that?"
"If you pay attention I'll do some pull-ups for you," Richard promises blandly. "Well, she said she heard people talking about time dilation and I guess all of Robbie's colleagues want to trap me in a room and interrogate me some more about whatever I'm holding out on them with, except that Robbie won't let them." He snorts quietly.
"I find that I most enjoy watching you do nothing at all," Jeremy says, with the twitch of a faint smile that threatens to grow wide in the gleam of his eyes behind his glasses. He takes a swallow of his whiskey, eyebrows darting up and then dropping again. "I'm glad to hear that you aren't about to be trapped and interrogated without a warrant anytime soon," he says. "Though the fact that scientists are talking about time dilation around you isn't ... shocking."
"Well, I don't even know what to do with that. How am I supposed to, like -- actively seduce you?" You make things so hard, Jeremy. Richard huffs something like a laugh and pushes his hair back. "Like I told her, I'm not particularly worried about getting kidnapped by scientists. She was kind of worried, though? It would have been sweeter if she hadn't just, you know, ghosted into my bathroom while I was naked."
"Once I'm watching you do nothing, it's because I've already worn you out good and proper," Jeremy tells Richard with a wider, brighter grin. "But if you'd like to seduce me, I'm not going to argue with you." He scrubs at his mouth one-handed, hiding the smile as he tries to fight it off his lips. "Yes. Very bad. Not respectful of your boundaries."
"No, you apparently don't care if I try to make myself more attractive, so why should I expend effort at seduction?" Richard lifts his glass to sip from it in a dignified fashion. "You know, she came to talk to me instead of you because she didn't want to get in trouble. This probably means I'm nicer and more approachable."
"Or because she wanted to see you naked a lot more," Jeremy points out very reasonably.
"That's not--" Richard stops. He glares at Jeremy a little.
"I'm sorry," Jeremy says in response to that glare. He lifts both hands, one with his drink in it, the other open and fingers spread wide. "You came to me so that I would be supportive about her breach of your privacy."
"I feel like /you/ wouldn't like it if a psionic ghost showed up in /your/ bathroom while /you/ were naked," Richard points out, probably not thinking that maybe this is kind of mean to say given circumstances.
"No, I wouldn't," Jeremy agrees complacently. He drinks more of his whiskey.
"/Anyways/." Richard finishes off his drink and peers down into his empty glass. "What's your seduction weakness?"
Jeremy looks thoughtful for a long moment's quiet as he finishes off his drink.
Richard waits. This is important stuff.
Jeremy sets down his glass on the counter and smiles, just a little bit. What is his seduction weakness. He says, "Your mouth makes me weak. Sometimes I catch myself thinking about your lips at odd moments. Very distracting." He licks his own, chasing a few last droplets of whiskey, no doubt.
Richard's brow furrows faintly. "I don't really know what to do with that one," he admits. (He's just not thinking creatively, come on Rich.)
"Don't you?" Jeremy bites the curve of his lower lip in a wide grin. "I bet you do," he says. "Let's see. What else. What makes me want to fuck you?" He reaches for Richard's free hand to draw lightly over the pattern of lines across his palm like a really shitty palm reader.
"That's not--" Richard clears his throat, fingers curling in slightly as Jeremy traces his palm. "That's not /really/ what I was asking, but I guess it's -- close."
"This whole line of questioning just makes me want to seduce you instead," Jeremy confesses with a light laugh on his breath. He tugs Richard a little closer, leaning in towards him as though drawn by his warmth, and curls his arm loosely around his shoulders. "Turning you on delights me. That's what you want to know, right? How to get me going? Hard to say when I swear to God you can do it just standing there. Like I'm fucking seventeen again."
"What's the fun in me just standing here?" Richard says with a light life, smile warming as Jeremy curls an arm around him. "Like. All of these things seem to require no effort from me. No room for action." He sets a hand lightly at Jeremy's hip and notes with humor, "You're not seventeen anymore, Jeremy."
"Believe me, that part I know," Jeremy answers him. Tracing the curve of Richard's lower lip with his hand, he says: "You know, that first night you just basically had me up against your bookcase and I don't remember having time to make with the talking but I don't think I complained."
"That's me," Richard says, his voice a little unsteady as Jeremy traces the outline of his lip. "I'm a doer." His hands settle on the edge of the counter behind him, fingers curling to grip it. "You're a talker."
"I'm into that," Jeremy murmurs with a bright gleam of humor in his eyes as he lowers them, "the doing. Going for it. Reaching for what you want. Taking it. Seduce me saying nothing at all, Rich," he suggests, and presses a kiss to his mouth by way of demonstration.
"Sometimes I can't find the right words," Richard murmurs before he tips his head to gently open the kiss to something deeper. He only breaks it so that he can draw his mouth in a trail of heat along Jeremy's jaw and down his neck. "It's tough," he says against his skin. "I like it when you talk. But I also like when I find the places that make you shut up."
Laugh rich with delight, Jeremy tilts his head back as Richard's lips tickle their heat and pressure down the column of his throat, and his breath rushes a little unsteadily as he encourages, "Oh yes. Strike me dumb." His fingers curl into Richard's hair. "Hard and fast," he suggests, "and I won't know what hit me. Can't promise silence, though. I'm really bad at silence."
"No, no," Richard demurs lightly as his fingertips travel up the column of Jeremy's throat. "I like to take my time." He nips at Jeremy's jaw. "Unless you /want/ hard and fast," he continues. "Because I want to give you what you want."
Jeremy runs his nails in a long glide lightly down both of Richard's sides towards his hips, and hums a long low, "Hmmm," and then says: "I was just saying it'd be one way to shut me up," with another laugh warming his voice, though it's lower now, a little rougher. "But you like it slow, yeah, cause you want to work me up a little bit at a time so you can really enjoy making me writhe." He tilts his head, angling it so that he can ghost words in a prickle of breath along the line of Richard's jaw, nosing towards his throat. "You don't want me to shut up," he says, grinning in the break of a laugh against his skin, "you want me to beg until all I can do is moan your name.""I'm starting to feel like we're in a competition here," Richard admits with low, abraded humor. "For turning the other on. Maybe we should take turns if we're really going to focus." Or just make it a race. A tease race. Either way, Richard is nudging Jeremy back to the bed so that he tangle up with him under the covers for the remainder of the evening.