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The evening’s silence lingered as a certain cleaner continued to stare down a particular raider. Although the raider could practically feel two piercing droopy eyes boring holes through him, he ignored him. Jabber unfortunately had to focus on making Mankira a new toxin. Along with upping the dosage for his anesthetic and ensuring that it wouldn’t become contaminated. As much as he’d love to cuddle with his beautiful boyfriend, the boss’s work came first. Fuschia-colored eyes scanned over notes he’d made for the anesthetic when all of a sudden, he felt a singular finger trace down his spine. Jumping at the contact, the older boy immediately turned towards the culprit who had simply looked at him. Jabber could feel his heartbeat begin to quicken in his chest.
“Startled? Ya don’t seem like the type.” Zanka redirected his finger upwards to Jabber’s shoulder. The touch lingered on the raider, as he could feel himself becoming distracted. All he let out was a huff as he looked toward the other.
“Nah, you don’t startle me. Not scary enough.” He turned back to his work.
“I do make you nervous though, don’t I?” Jabber paused, setting down the beaker holding his newest toxin. He felt two fair hands slip from his shoulders to the inner workings of his collarbones, tracing and caressing them slowly. Those hands of his former rival left what felt to be burn marks, the brunette’s throat bobbed with want. He tried to focus on his work so he could divert his attention from what his body wanted. The other’s hands coming together in what would be a strangling motion if not for the softness of it. He paused on his pulse, “Yer heart’s beating miles a minute.” Zanka continued, his voice quiet.
He was right. Jabber felt he could barely function, the blue eyed boy’s hold on him never tightened, it never got harsher, it only lingered. And that’s what made the other worry. The radio had grown impossibly quiet, the only sound remaining being Jabber's shudders. The blonde slowly retracted his arms, thankfully his breath slowed. Until the cleaner slipped from underneath his bed sheets, to sit behind the other. Suddenly, his hands found their way to his nape and shoulders.
The older teen’s breath hitched with need, those same shudders making another appearance as he gulped. Sneaking a glance to the one behind him, he saw those blue eyes heavy with an emotion unknown to him. As their eyes met the tension grew stronger, the air thickening with yearning for each other. The eye contact continued, intense and unyielding as Jabber grew more and more nervous. “Do I make you nervous, Jabber?” Zanka’s sultry tone combined with the way he traced downwards towards the other’s torso. Jabber’s objections were stopped short by the blonde as he began leaving delicate pecks atop his bare shoulders. Gently moving his wicks out of the way, he continued. His hands clasped together to rest around the older boy. The ghastly touch of his lips tortured Jabber, fogging and subduing his previous rule to avoid touching others. Zanka had rid him of it all, the notions and rules and ideas Jabber had of himself. Just as he began figuring himself out, the other had done away with it. All due to the tenderness of his touch. He was losing his mind.
It became suffocating, Jabber’s mind, mouth, and throat stuffed with cotton. Words were stuck in his throat, but which ones? The touch was dizzying, and all he could focus on was the fact that despite everything, he was allowing this. His mind screeched and begged him to pull away, to lash out. His senses fogged, and his heart pounded against his chest. Perhaps he could kill him and run, just so he could be free of this tenderness, and his partner’s tendency to kindness. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to do so, his heart wouldn’t allow it. His body ached for it, it ached for Zanka. The kisses returned to his neck, at his nape Zanka’s final kiss lingered. Initially he began to pull away, before he heard a whimper. “Jabber? What's the matter?”
‘Get off me.’
‘Don’t stop.’
‘Leave me alone.’
‘Please.’
“Don’t know.” Were the two words Jabber muttered out, and yet he felt deep in his soul those two words didn’t express his true feelings.
“Come ‘ere.” The whisper that escaped from Zanka’s lips had Jabber turning to him in confusion. He found his eyes to be focused on those same scalding fair hands who caused him such agony beforehand. Then two slender fingers beckoned him forth and smoothed the wrinkled bed sheets beside him. And so, Jabber moved toward the bed, sitting on it before falling back with a muffled thump. Looking upward at the blonde, he saw those azure blue eyes looking down at him. “You did good today.”
At those words, his breath hitched for the umpteenth time today. Zanka’s expression was neutral but his red ears gave Jabber an idea of what was going on in his head. Then Jabber spoke up.
“This is new.”
“It is.” Zanka stated, before clearing his throat.
“Why?” He questioned. Left with silence, the brunette simply watched him. Then the blonde answered.
“Why not?”
His words reached the lightskin, his eyes widening, shaking him to the core. He sat up with such quickness it startled the other. The raider answered with his body language, searching the other boy’s eyes for an answers.
Hesitantly, he brought his hands to hover above the younger boy’s small waist. Looking into those same tantalizing eyes for a ‘yes’, Zanka nodded slowly in response. Jabber held his lover’s waist, feeling his warmth. For the first time today, Zanka’s breath hitched, his lashes fluttering. Those same hands found their way underneath his partner's shirt feeling upwards, slipping past his binder to the right side of his chest. Pressing upon it, he felt a heartbeat that confirmed his deepest fears and desires. This was real. Jabber found himself wanting more. To feel his skin, to feel how cold his hands were, to feel the touch between them. Jabber’s hands clasped around his lower back and brought the younger to lay on his chest. And he did so without complaint. The blonde ran his hands up and down his side while pressing his ear against Jabber’s bare chest. He felt himself overcome with envy, running a finger along the other’s top scars.
“Ya think you could do ‘em on me?” Jabber opened his eyes belatedly to process his boyfriend’s request.
“Do what?”
“Top surgery.” The younger heaved, “I’m sick of this stupid binder. Hurts ta breathe.”
“Then take it off.” The older boy’s question had Zanka flushed. His face bloomed a deep red as he hid it by looking away from him. He groaned and mumbled something to himself. “What? I ain’t gon’ judge.” He added.
The cleaner pouted before responding, “Okay. But I don’t wanna hear anything stupid come out yer mouth or I’m leavin’.” Zanka sat up, getting off of Jabber to remove his shirt. He unbuttoned his nightshirt and pulled the binder over his head. Rolling his shoulders out to soothe the red marks the binder left behind. Jabber ogled behind him, hypnotised by the way the other’s back muscles looked. His face gradually heated up as his mouth was left agape in a trance as his eyes traced the outline of him. The raider found his mouth exceptionally dry at the moment as he tried gathering his thoughts, he continued to look. Taking in his waist, to the transition of his body into his lateral muscles, to each mole littered across his back, to every muscle on said back. Jabber was obsessed. Unfortunately, his eye-fuck came to an end as the other slipped his button-up back on.
Soon he found the courage to speak up, “Just keep it off.” Zanka froze at his words while buttoning his top. He glanced over his shoulder to find Jabber lying on his side, his head pressed against his hand. The eye contact between the two could cut through ice. Zanka scanned the other and seemed to weigh his options before slipping his top off once more. His ears were beet red despite his poker-face being in place. Jabber watched as Zanka folded and placed his shirt to the side. He continued to stare at him as the blonde walked toward their bed. Jabber scooted towards the wall so his boyfriend could lay down as well. Then he felt a soft hand on his chest accompanied by five rings, guiding him to lie on his back. Zanka looked up at Jabber who sat on top of him, straddling his hips. He began running his hands up and down the grooves of his stomach and chest. Feeling each and every part of his upper half, taking note of his moles, beauty marks, and scars scattered across his body. Their gazes met and Jabber noticed the harsh blush overtaking Zanka’s features.
Jabber smirked before resting that same hand on his chest, leaning down to his red ear. “Do I make you nervous, Zanka?” He cooed into it, listening to the other whimper before wrapping his arms around him. Zanka was overheating. The whole concept of this was so absurd. He couldn’t move; all he could do was try to process the sudden boldness Jabber exuded. This damn genius turned his plan on its head and flustered him instead. Fuck. Hugging his genius back and sighing into his neck. Jabber’s throat vibrated with giddy giggles as they settled into communal comfort. The slow motions of circles etched themself into his brain as Jabber massaged and played with Zanka’s scalp. Vulnerability between them was few and far between, but when these moments came neither thought to ridicule the other. A quiet tune, emitted from the cleaner, soothing his lover as they drifted to sleep.