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Jake disables the alarm and slides open the window.
And barely catches the butter knife before it lands between his eyes. Fuck, he’s too tired for this.
Steven’s apology rings hollow in his ears and clatters around his head. A healed concussion doesn’t mean he won’t feel groggy for the next few hours.
He lets the knife clatter to the floor, grips the edge of the windowsill with both hands and hauls himself through, then hits the ground with an unforgiving thud. His white cape flutters and rests on top of him before it’s shoved out the way.
Quick hands pat him down, at the same time the window is shut and reset. They’re both here.
“Jake?”
“Hnng…”
The white hood and black mask fold back and disappear.
Steven holds his face. His hands feel nice, soft and gentle. Jake leans into it. “How many fingers is Marc holding up?”
“Hrrrg….”
“We have a door,” Marc mutters from his right. He doesn’t sound too peeved about it though.
Peeved—
Gods, Steven’s accent is contagious.
“M’fine.” He interrupts their frantic whispers over his head. “I’m fine. I’m goin’a bed.” He rolls onto his hands and knees and shoves himself up. The room slides out of focus. He flops sideways into Steven’s arms.
“Let go of the suit.”
Steven’s voice in his ear leaves no room for argument.
The onyx suit unwinds and slowly melts into nothing, leaving him in his normal shirt and black pants. Steven winds his arm around his neck, then helps him step by step to the bed. Marc’s blurry figure unfolds the soft covers.
Two more sluggish steps, and then he stumbles into Marc’s arms. He smiles, pressing his face in Marc's neck. “You smell good.”
“Mhm.” Marc clinically pulls Jake’s shirt off, and folds it up.
Jake pushes the shirt out of his hands and gets close again, beginning to feel under Marc’s shirt before Steven tugs his pants down from behind.
He grins with delight. “No me tientes.”
Steven murmurs in his ear, “Step out, love.”
Jake steps out of the crumpled pants on the floor and kicks them away, down to his briefs, then leans into Marc’s space. “Quiero follarte, amor.”
Marc snorts. But his heart beats a little faster against Jake’s chest. “You can barely stand up.”
“But I c’n lie down.” He kisses Marc’s neck, ignoring a sharp ache from his skull. He bites his ear and lowers his voice. “And once you get going, sweetheart, nothin’ stops you.”
Marc indulges him in a feather-light kiss.
Jake immediately reaches up to cradle Marc’s face.
Steven whispers in his ear, “Goodnight, darling.”
Marc slowly pulls away and steps to the side as Steven gently pushes Jake forward.
His knees buckle and he lands on their bed. The soft sheets swallow him.
He falls unconscious.