Bigby and John, backdated to July 26
Jul. 26th, 2014 02:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
om_pyro posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
om_mainBigby and John's first date is a decided roaring success. To put it mildly.
Warning: gets a little pg-13 there at the end~
Text to John: Are you busy this weekend?
Text to Bigby: Not at all, but I would like to be. Got some ideas?
Text to John: I was wondering if you'd like to go out Friday night.
Text to John: On a date.
Text to Bigby: !!!! I've never been on one! Yes, let's!
Text to John: Pick you up at your room at 6?
Text to Bigby: Yes, please.
Text to Bigby: Where are we going? Or is it a surprise?
Text to John: I was thinking dinner?
Text to John: What's your favorite type of food?
Text to Bigby: That's a hard one. Maybe Thai? Do you like Thai?
Text to John: Never had it.
Text to John: Sounds like it's worth trying though.
Text to John: If Thai is your favorite, then Thai it is.
* * *
After much deliberation, John decided to go with something a little less ostentatious than usual, as had been recommended to him on several occasions by People Who Would Know. He was just trying to fix his tie in the mirror--part of a casual but still pretty nice, he hoped, ensemble. Right, so it was a bit rumpled but, well. There was only so far he could go.
He hummed along to Whitesnake blaring through his speakers as he checked himself out in the mirror and decided it was passable. Possibly, he was supposed to feel nervous. It was his first date, after all. But mostly he was just pleased to have been asked on one. By Bigby.
In his own room, Bigby was standing in front of a mirror too as he tugged on his jacket. The button-down shirt wasn’t usual attire for him, but John had said it was his first date, so he wanted to make it a good one for him. He wanted to do it right. Nodding to himself, he grabbed a bouquet of flowers off of his computer desk, and then left his room.
Bigby’s stomach was in nervous, excited knots as he walked down the hall. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been nervous like this. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been nervous at all really. It was a little unsettling to be so...so... He didn’t have a word for it. But, whatever it was, it wasn’t unexpected. He’d realized long enough ago that John had that effect on him. Reaching John’s room, Bigby paused long enough to shift the flowers to his other hand and then knocked on the door.
Without bothering to turn off his music, John pulled open the door, examined Bigby, and grinned. "You look gorgeous. And flowers, too. Shit, was I meant to get flowers?" He didn't look particularly upset, if so. Mainly because Bigby really did look gorgeous. Boy was born to wear a leather jacket, and that was that.
“You don’t have to do anything,” Bigby replied, hoping that by putting a stress on the word John would understand that he didn’t owe him anything. If John did anything for him, it should be because he wanted to, not because he felt like it was expected or required. “I wanted to get you flowers.”
Bigby reached out with his free hand and drew John in by the front of his vest to briefly kiss him. His eyes did a quick, but very admiring once over, “You look great.” He let go and offered him the flowers.
John felt only extreme interest at this revelation that he didn't have to do anything, grateful for the information, and even the small kiss made him feel very warm and happy. He grinned hugely as he turned away, flowers in hand, towards his desk. "Thanks very much. Tried not to go overboard with the colors, this time. Rather like this waistcoat, though.
"And you, in your leather jacket. Feel like I'm going out with a right bad boy, not just the Big Bad Wolf." John upended a large beer stein emblazoned with the Sydney University Cricket Club logo, dumping several pens and pencils onto his desk, and took it into the bathroom to put water in it. That was what one did with flowers when they were offered, he was fairly sure.
“Who says you’re not?” Bigby asked, an amused smile at the corners of his mouth. He leaned against the door jam, watching John as he went about putting the flowers in the vase, smiling at the big smile on John’s face. “I found it in the thrift store. Needed a new jacket and I’ve always wanted one, so figured why not?”
"Hot," John decided, speaking of both the jacket and the 'bad boy'. He arranged the flowers slightly before turning off the music. "Right, well, there's always a pattern to these situations in the books, but since you're a rebel-slash-bad-boy, I'll just dismiss all that from my mind. Let's go and murder a few curries."
“So, you’re saying I should cancel the horse and buggy ride through Central Park?” Bigby joked as he stepped out of the doorway so John could leave, making an ‘after you’ gesture with a sweep of his hand.
John did as Bigby suggested, moving through the door, but his eyes were wide. "Wait now--that was a joke, right?" He could mostly tell, but sometimes...
Bigby’s answering chuckle was warm. “It was a joke,” he confirmed, resting a guiding hand on the small of John’s back.
John giggled a little, face heating, but definitely not with embarrassment. It was nice. Being sort of shuffled along in the right direction like that. "I thought so at first, but then, I'm not entirely sure how far this romantic streak of yours goes."
The giggle and the blush were cute and Bigby found himself smiling at them. “Then I guess you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?” he teased as they headed for the stairs, his voice gruff. “It might mean more than just dinner though. Fair warning.”
"Oh good; dinner won't be long enough," John said matter-of-factly. He'd rather keep Bigby around for large chunks of time, he'd quickly found. Always so many interesting things to talk about.
Normally, Bigby would take a comment like that with a large block of salt, but John sounded so genuine that it was hard not to believe him. “We can do something after if you want,” he said, hesitated a moment and then added, “I’d like that.”
They walked down the stairs and turned down a hallway at the bottom of them, heading for the garage. There, he grabbed a set of keys off the key rack, and walked toward the car they belonged to, unlocking the doors with the key fob.
"Never did learn to drive," John admitted as he slipped into the passenger side and folded up his long legs before he could move the seat back to fit him. Who'd sat here before? Anders, the little Hobbit? "Where'd you learn?"
Bigby started the car and put it in driving, pulling out of the garage. “Taught myself.” he said as he drove down the school’s long driveway. “I boosted a few cars back when I ran with my siblings. I only got my license recently though. When I was looking for a job, I figured it’d just be easier to be able to drive then take the bus everyday.” He stopped the car at the end of the drive and then pulled out into the street. “I could try to teach you if you wanted.”
John had roughly twelve million questions to ask, but that last thing drew him up short. "Would you? That'd be fantastic."
“I’m not sure how good of a teacher I’d be, but sure,” Bigby confirmed with a nod. “Anytime you want.”
They drove towards Salem Center. The traffic was heavy, moving under the speed limit, but steadily--A typical Friday night. “I can’t believe this is only your first date,” he asked. He shifted a hand to the center of the top of the steering wheel, resting the other on the gear selector.
"Really?" John asked, totally conversational and cheerful. "Usually people seem amazed that anyone would spend time with me, let alone date me. Those are mostly boring people, though.
"How many have you been on?"
Those people were idiots, Bigby thought.
“A few. Not many.” He stopped the car at a red light and flicked on his blinker. “Dating wasn’t really a priority on the streets. And I had a tendency to keep to myself.” Turning left, they finally pulled into downtown Salem Center. The restaurant wasn’t far from here.
John grinned. "Not surprised to hear it, man.
"But you went on some. So you can explain things to me. I mean, I've written a lot of dates, but usually if you're writing them, you plan on them being interrupted by something. Either danger or random sex. Something derailing."
Bigby chuckled, “That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“I’m happy to give advice, but I don’t think there are any set rules really. And, if there are, I don’t have any expectations.” He stopped at another light, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Just be yourself.”
John considered this advice. He didn't really know how to be anything but himself, and yet he found himself quite boring. Still, Bigby didn't, so that was what counted. "You're doing that strange thing to my brain again. It's fantastic."
Bigby chuckled again, “I’ll try to keep it up.”
The light turned green and he pressed on the gas pedal, easing the car forward. They drove a little ways down the street, before slowing to a stop again and turning into a parking lot. He pulled into a spot, turned off the car, and took the key out of the ignition. Getting out, he came around the car to get John’s door.
John thought this was incredibly romantic of Bigby, and thought once more that he had gotten extremely lucky. Not only was it a learning experience, which he clearly needed to become a better author, but... it was nice. There was something he didn't have the words for--frustratingly enough--for how it made him feel. Something totally unfamiliar.
When he slipped out the door, he leaned over and kissed Bigby suddenly. Briefly. Since he wasn't really sure what to say, and the impulse was there, and he knew for a certainty that Bigby liked his kisses.
The kiss had Bigby had a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Well, he had to be doing something right. He leaned in and stole another, letting this one linger just a little bit longer than the one that had come before it. He found himself still smiling, only this time it was into the kiss.
“Come on,” Bigby said as he took a step back and offered an arm. “Let’s go have some dinner. I’ll be following your lead on this one. I’ve never had Thai before.”
* * *'
"So he said, 'You're only twelve, you can't read this!' And I told him, "I read 'The Story of O' when I was ten and running around Bangkok on my own, you daft bastard. It's only Danielle Steele!" John finished his story and shoved another forkful of mango sticky rice into his mouth while still giggling.
Bigby laughed, “I would have liked to see his face. The look of scandal on the indignantly self-righteous is always priceless.” Still smiling at the story, he scooped up a helping of the dessert, savoring the sweet taste as he chewed and swallowed.
“Was that the first romance novel you read then? Danielle Steele?”
John thought. "Technically I think it was Jane Eyre," he admitted. "But then there was loads of Danielle Steele. Used to pick up used paperbacks in tourist bookshops wherever we went, you know? The day I discovered the Bodice Ripper changed my life, man." He giggled a little.
Another laugh. He was laughing so easily tonight, smiling more readily than he ever did. It wasn’t something he was used to, and it was a strange feeling, even a little...frightening almost, but it was a welcome feeling too.
“I can’t decide if that means we have them to blame for your becoming a writer, or for your sexual awakening,” Bigby teased with one of those warm, barely there smiles.
"I reckon the latter is still in progress," John said thoughtfully. "I was only just getting started, practicing with some friends when you turned up and put it into overdrive."
Bigby chuckled, almost blushing at that. “Glad to have been of service,” he joked and reached over for another forkful of the mango sticky rice.
He ate the mouthful, eyes quiet and studying on his date. When he finished, he looked at him thoughtfully. “Is that what we’re doing?” he asked. “Practicing?”
John opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. "Well, there are two possibilities. One: yes, we're practicing. I'm not even seventeen yet, guessing you're around the same age, so really anything we do in re dating could be called practicing.
Or two: no, I was practicing for you to come along." John cocked his head slightly, smiling. "That sounds dead romantic, doesn't it?"
Bigby’s smile was a wry, crooked kind of smile that was tinged with something softer, “If it were anyone but you I’d say that was a line.”
“You’re right though. Anything we did do would technically be practicing,” Bigby noted with some amusement. “That’s what I get for not being direct, huh? What I was asking was if we’re dating. Exclusively. It’s fine if that’s not what you want. I can respect that. But, I’d like to be and I didn’t want to make any assumptions.” That was...a lot coming from him and after it he fell silent, almost a little overwhelmed. He had no problems being honest, but had always kept things closer to his chest when it came to feelings like that.
A strange sensation, like being punched in the chest but in a good way, took John by storm. He didn't even know why, it took a good five seconds of just sitting there, trying to breathe and figure it out. He reckoned it wasn't entirely unexpected; that was the conversation they were having, after all, and it was bound to go one way or the other, wasn't it? And yet, it had taken him utterly by surprise. This feeling, knowing that... that someone... that Bigby...
Wanted him.
John licked his lips and swallowed before he could find his voice. "Yeah. Let's. I. Thanks, mate."
Bigby had never seen John so speechless before. It made his chest feel tight and warm and just as he wondered why it did he realized that it was because that answer said John liked him. Wanted him too. “You’re welcome,” he offered with a tug of a teasing smile. “Thank you.”
“You want to get out of here?” Bigby took a glance for their waiter. “We could go catch a movie? Or the park’s nearby, if you’d rather that.”
"Park," John said, plans already forming. Like a story he was about to write, but not... but better?
Yes, better. Absolutely. "Definitely the park."
* * *
John took Bigby's hand and pulled him towards the more wooded area of the park. He didn't know if books were right and they were full of horny teenagers already, but they were about to have at least one more. Two more, if he was lucky.
It was an impulse, but their history thus far meant that Bigby probably wouldn't be entirely against the idea, at least? Maybe not the precise thing he had in mind, which was of course not a problem, but if Bigby wanted... John was just very, very pleased with him, was the thing.
"Trees. For cover. Hope you're not disappointed, darling, but I'm not really looking for a moonlight stroll, at the moment," he admitted with a little grin.
Bigby let John tug him along without any complaint. “Neither was I,” he replied. He had suggest the park, hoping they could steal a moment like this. All through dinner he’d wanted to kiss him, and then John had gotten speechless the way he had, flustered and soft voiced, and that want had become even harder to bear.
With a chuckle, Bigby followed John into the trees. It was shadowy, dark, the light from the street lamps just barely stretching their fingers into the copse. Pulling John in by their clasped hands, he pressed him back up against the nearest tree and kissed him.
John hummed into the kiss and melted into the touch, obviously enjoying the manhandling. He arched a little against the tree and both hands went immediately to Bigby's waist, slipping beneath his jacket and shirt, thumbs tracing the ridge of his hip bones rising out of his jeans, skin on skin.
It was a bit magic. Not like in the books, maybe not even something he could translate into his own books, but the dark, the woods, the park, the beautiful boy who gave him all these weird feels. John wanted desperately to make Bigby happy, right there and then. That would make him happy.
The feel of the other boy’s fingers on him had Bigby pressing in a little closer. Warmth blossomed on his skin underneath John’s touch, as if some imprint, some echo, of his mutation was left in its wake. His tongue coaxed his mouth open, slowly, languidly, before slipping in to deepen the kiss. His hand slid under John’s shirt, fingertips ghosting across the flat of his stomach, exploring.
A part of Bigby couldn’t believe he was here, in the woods with John warm and pliant against him. But he ignored that part, because he was here and John was warm and pliant against him and he didn’t want to think about anything else but that.
The slick, sweet feeling of Bigby's tongue made John tingle all over, so much so that he gave a little moan that sounded downright hungry. He went a bit mushy, so that it was mostly Bigby holding him up against the tree. He sucked gently, tasting him, encouraging Bigby to come inside, take more and more.
The moan went straight through Bigby. His fingers hooked over the band of John’s pants and he pressed in even more. He wanted more of him, he wanted closer. His free hand came up, cupping his neck, thumb on his pulse point, and he broke the kiss so his mouth could fix its attention on the other side, trailing kisses.
Fingers in his pants--John had all sorts of ideas, yes, some of which he'd written in his mind before they even got there, some of which were sudden and new. They collided to form an irresistible one. He arched against Bigby as he hit a particularly nice spot, giving another little moan, then slipped his hand between them and popped the front button of Bigby's jeans.
He knew he should ask in words, but he didn't have any. Just a visual of him on his knees. In the woods. With Bigby. The thought made him arch again, and he barely managed, "Want you... can I?"
Bigby growled out a swear. This wasn’t what he’d had in mind when he’d suggested coming here, but now that John had suggested it, his brain wouldn’t let go of the idea. He didn’t care that they were in public, or that someone could see them. He wanted it, wanted him so badly he ached with it. “Yeah,” he told John, his rough voice a muffled against his neck.
Yeah, right there, that was the voice he wanted to hear. John's entire body went tighter, harder as he began slipping downward between the tree and Bigby. His hands wouldn't wait, he kept at Bigby's fly even as he went.
There wasn't a lot of thought left in John, at that point. But he did manage to realize that, for a first date, this had all gone remarkably well.
Warning: gets a little pg-13 there at the end~
Text to John: Are you busy this weekend?
Text to Bigby: Not at all, but I would like to be. Got some ideas?
Text to John: I was wondering if you'd like to go out Friday night.
Text to John: On a date.
Text to Bigby: !!!! I've never been on one! Yes, let's!
Text to John: Pick you up at your room at 6?
Text to Bigby: Yes, please.
Text to Bigby: Where are we going? Or is it a surprise?
Text to John: I was thinking dinner?
Text to John: What's your favorite type of food?
Text to Bigby: That's a hard one. Maybe Thai? Do you like Thai?
Text to John: Never had it.
Text to John: Sounds like it's worth trying though.
Text to John: If Thai is your favorite, then Thai it is.
After much deliberation, John decided to go with something a little less ostentatious than usual, as had been recommended to him on several occasions by People Who Would Know. He was just trying to fix his tie in the mirror--part of a casual but still pretty nice, he hoped, ensemble. Right, so it was a bit rumpled but, well. There was only so far he could go.
He hummed along to Whitesnake blaring through his speakers as he checked himself out in the mirror and decided it was passable. Possibly, he was supposed to feel nervous. It was his first date, after all. But mostly he was just pleased to have been asked on one. By Bigby.
In his own room, Bigby was standing in front of a mirror too as he tugged on his jacket. The button-down shirt wasn’t usual attire for him, but John had said it was his first date, so he wanted to make it a good one for him. He wanted to do it right. Nodding to himself, he grabbed a bouquet of flowers off of his computer desk, and then left his room.
Bigby’s stomach was in nervous, excited knots as he walked down the hall. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been nervous like this. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been nervous at all really. It was a little unsettling to be so...so... He didn’t have a word for it. But, whatever it was, it wasn’t unexpected. He’d realized long enough ago that John had that effect on him. Reaching John’s room, Bigby paused long enough to shift the flowers to his other hand and then knocked on the door.
Without bothering to turn off his music, John pulled open the door, examined Bigby, and grinned. "You look gorgeous. And flowers, too. Shit, was I meant to get flowers?" He didn't look particularly upset, if so. Mainly because Bigby really did look gorgeous. Boy was born to wear a leather jacket, and that was that.
“You don’t have to do anything,” Bigby replied, hoping that by putting a stress on the word John would understand that he didn’t owe him anything. If John did anything for him, it should be because he wanted to, not because he felt like it was expected or required. “I wanted to get you flowers.”
Bigby reached out with his free hand and drew John in by the front of his vest to briefly kiss him. His eyes did a quick, but very admiring once over, “You look great.” He let go and offered him the flowers.
John felt only extreme interest at this revelation that he didn't have to do anything, grateful for the information, and even the small kiss made him feel very warm and happy. He grinned hugely as he turned away, flowers in hand, towards his desk. "Thanks very much. Tried not to go overboard with the colors, this time. Rather like this waistcoat, though.
"And you, in your leather jacket. Feel like I'm going out with a right bad boy, not just the Big Bad Wolf." John upended a large beer stein emblazoned with the Sydney University Cricket Club logo, dumping several pens and pencils onto his desk, and took it into the bathroom to put water in it. That was what one did with flowers when they were offered, he was fairly sure.
“Who says you’re not?” Bigby asked, an amused smile at the corners of his mouth. He leaned against the door jam, watching John as he went about putting the flowers in the vase, smiling at the big smile on John’s face. “I found it in the thrift store. Needed a new jacket and I’ve always wanted one, so figured why not?”
"Hot," John decided, speaking of both the jacket and the 'bad boy'. He arranged the flowers slightly before turning off the music. "Right, well, there's always a pattern to these situations in the books, but since you're a rebel-slash-bad-boy, I'll just dismiss all that from my mind. Let's go and murder a few curries."
“So, you’re saying I should cancel the horse and buggy ride through Central Park?” Bigby joked as he stepped out of the doorway so John could leave, making an ‘after you’ gesture with a sweep of his hand.
John did as Bigby suggested, moving through the door, but his eyes were wide. "Wait now--that was a joke, right?" He could mostly tell, but sometimes...
Bigby’s answering chuckle was warm. “It was a joke,” he confirmed, resting a guiding hand on the small of John’s back.
John giggled a little, face heating, but definitely not with embarrassment. It was nice. Being sort of shuffled along in the right direction like that. "I thought so at first, but then, I'm not entirely sure how far this romantic streak of yours goes."
The giggle and the blush were cute and Bigby found himself smiling at them. “Then I guess you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?” he teased as they headed for the stairs, his voice gruff. “It might mean more than just dinner though. Fair warning.”
"Oh good; dinner won't be long enough," John said matter-of-factly. He'd rather keep Bigby around for large chunks of time, he'd quickly found. Always so many interesting things to talk about.
Normally, Bigby would take a comment like that with a large block of salt, but John sounded so genuine that it was hard not to believe him. “We can do something after if you want,” he said, hesitated a moment and then added, “I’d like that.”
They walked down the stairs and turned down a hallway at the bottom of them, heading for the garage. There, he grabbed a set of keys off the key rack, and walked toward the car they belonged to, unlocking the doors with the key fob.
"Never did learn to drive," John admitted as he slipped into the passenger side and folded up his long legs before he could move the seat back to fit him. Who'd sat here before? Anders, the little Hobbit? "Where'd you learn?"
Bigby started the car and put it in driving, pulling out of the garage. “Taught myself.” he said as he drove down the school’s long driveway. “I boosted a few cars back when I ran with my siblings. I only got my license recently though. When I was looking for a job, I figured it’d just be easier to be able to drive then take the bus everyday.” He stopped the car at the end of the drive and then pulled out into the street. “I could try to teach you if you wanted.”
John had roughly twelve million questions to ask, but that last thing drew him up short. "Would you? That'd be fantastic."
“I’m not sure how good of a teacher I’d be, but sure,” Bigby confirmed with a nod. “Anytime you want.”
They drove towards Salem Center. The traffic was heavy, moving under the speed limit, but steadily--A typical Friday night. “I can’t believe this is only your first date,” he asked. He shifted a hand to the center of the top of the steering wheel, resting the other on the gear selector.
"Really?" John asked, totally conversational and cheerful. "Usually people seem amazed that anyone would spend time with me, let alone date me. Those are mostly boring people, though.
"How many have you been on?"
Those people were idiots, Bigby thought.
“A few. Not many.” He stopped the car at a red light and flicked on his blinker. “Dating wasn’t really a priority on the streets. And I had a tendency to keep to myself.” Turning left, they finally pulled into downtown Salem Center. The restaurant wasn’t far from here.
John grinned. "Not surprised to hear it, man.
"But you went on some. So you can explain things to me. I mean, I've written a lot of dates, but usually if you're writing them, you plan on them being interrupted by something. Either danger or random sex. Something derailing."
Bigby chuckled, “That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“I’m happy to give advice, but I don’t think there are any set rules really. And, if there are, I don’t have any expectations.” He stopped at another light, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Just be yourself.”
John considered this advice. He didn't really know how to be anything but himself, and yet he found himself quite boring. Still, Bigby didn't, so that was what counted. "You're doing that strange thing to my brain again. It's fantastic."
Bigby chuckled again, “I’ll try to keep it up.”
The light turned green and he pressed on the gas pedal, easing the car forward. They drove a little ways down the street, before slowing to a stop again and turning into a parking lot. He pulled into a spot, turned off the car, and took the key out of the ignition. Getting out, he came around the car to get John’s door.
John thought this was incredibly romantic of Bigby, and thought once more that he had gotten extremely lucky. Not only was it a learning experience, which he clearly needed to become a better author, but... it was nice. There was something he didn't have the words for--frustratingly enough--for how it made him feel. Something totally unfamiliar.
When he slipped out the door, he leaned over and kissed Bigby suddenly. Briefly. Since he wasn't really sure what to say, and the impulse was there, and he knew for a certainty that Bigby liked his kisses.
The kiss had Bigby had a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Well, he had to be doing something right. He leaned in and stole another, letting this one linger just a little bit longer than the one that had come before it. He found himself still smiling, only this time it was into the kiss.
“Come on,” Bigby said as he took a step back and offered an arm. “Let’s go have some dinner. I’ll be following your lead on this one. I’ve never had Thai before.”
"So he said, 'You're only twelve, you can't read this!' And I told him, "I read 'The Story of O' when I was ten and running around Bangkok on my own, you daft bastard. It's only Danielle Steele!" John finished his story and shoved another forkful of mango sticky rice into his mouth while still giggling.
Bigby laughed, “I would have liked to see his face. The look of scandal on the indignantly self-righteous is always priceless.” Still smiling at the story, he scooped up a helping of the dessert, savoring the sweet taste as he chewed and swallowed.
“Was that the first romance novel you read then? Danielle Steele?”
John thought. "Technically I think it was Jane Eyre," he admitted. "But then there was loads of Danielle Steele. Used to pick up used paperbacks in tourist bookshops wherever we went, you know? The day I discovered the Bodice Ripper changed my life, man." He giggled a little.
Another laugh. He was laughing so easily tonight, smiling more readily than he ever did. It wasn’t something he was used to, and it was a strange feeling, even a little...frightening almost, but it was a welcome feeling too.
“I can’t decide if that means we have them to blame for your becoming a writer, or for your sexual awakening,” Bigby teased with one of those warm, barely there smiles.
"I reckon the latter is still in progress," John said thoughtfully. "I was only just getting started, practicing with some friends when you turned up and put it into overdrive."
Bigby chuckled, almost blushing at that. “Glad to have been of service,” he joked and reached over for another forkful of the mango sticky rice.
He ate the mouthful, eyes quiet and studying on his date. When he finished, he looked at him thoughtfully. “Is that what we’re doing?” he asked. “Practicing?”
John opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. "Well, there are two possibilities. One: yes, we're practicing. I'm not even seventeen yet, guessing you're around the same age, so really anything we do in re dating could be called practicing.
Or two: no, I was practicing for you to come along." John cocked his head slightly, smiling. "That sounds dead romantic, doesn't it?"
Bigby’s smile was a wry, crooked kind of smile that was tinged with something softer, “If it were anyone but you I’d say that was a line.”
“You’re right though. Anything we did do would technically be practicing,” Bigby noted with some amusement. “That’s what I get for not being direct, huh? What I was asking was if we’re dating. Exclusively. It’s fine if that’s not what you want. I can respect that. But, I’d like to be and I didn’t want to make any assumptions.” That was...a lot coming from him and after it he fell silent, almost a little overwhelmed. He had no problems being honest, but had always kept things closer to his chest when it came to feelings like that.
A strange sensation, like being punched in the chest but in a good way, took John by storm. He didn't even know why, it took a good five seconds of just sitting there, trying to breathe and figure it out. He reckoned it wasn't entirely unexpected; that was the conversation they were having, after all, and it was bound to go one way or the other, wasn't it? And yet, it had taken him utterly by surprise. This feeling, knowing that... that someone... that Bigby...
Wanted him.
John licked his lips and swallowed before he could find his voice. "Yeah. Let's. I. Thanks, mate."
Bigby had never seen John so speechless before. It made his chest feel tight and warm and just as he wondered why it did he realized that it was because that answer said John liked him. Wanted him too. “You’re welcome,” he offered with a tug of a teasing smile. “Thank you.”
“You want to get out of here?” Bigby took a glance for their waiter. “We could go catch a movie? Or the park’s nearby, if you’d rather that.”
"Park," John said, plans already forming. Like a story he was about to write, but not... but better?
Yes, better. Absolutely. "Definitely the park."
John took Bigby's hand and pulled him towards the more wooded area of the park. He didn't know if books were right and they were full of horny teenagers already, but they were about to have at least one more. Two more, if he was lucky.
It was an impulse, but their history thus far meant that Bigby probably wouldn't be entirely against the idea, at least? Maybe not the precise thing he had in mind, which was of course not a problem, but if Bigby wanted... John was just very, very pleased with him, was the thing.
"Trees. For cover. Hope you're not disappointed, darling, but I'm not really looking for a moonlight stroll, at the moment," he admitted with a little grin.
Bigby let John tug him along without any complaint. “Neither was I,” he replied. He had suggest the park, hoping they could steal a moment like this. All through dinner he’d wanted to kiss him, and then John had gotten speechless the way he had, flustered and soft voiced, and that want had become even harder to bear.
With a chuckle, Bigby followed John into the trees. It was shadowy, dark, the light from the street lamps just barely stretching their fingers into the copse. Pulling John in by their clasped hands, he pressed him back up against the nearest tree and kissed him.
John hummed into the kiss and melted into the touch, obviously enjoying the manhandling. He arched a little against the tree and both hands went immediately to Bigby's waist, slipping beneath his jacket and shirt, thumbs tracing the ridge of his hip bones rising out of his jeans, skin on skin.
It was a bit magic. Not like in the books, maybe not even something he could translate into his own books, but the dark, the woods, the park, the beautiful boy who gave him all these weird feels. John wanted desperately to make Bigby happy, right there and then. That would make him happy.
The feel of the other boy’s fingers on him had Bigby pressing in a little closer. Warmth blossomed on his skin underneath John’s touch, as if some imprint, some echo, of his mutation was left in its wake. His tongue coaxed his mouth open, slowly, languidly, before slipping in to deepen the kiss. His hand slid under John’s shirt, fingertips ghosting across the flat of his stomach, exploring.
A part of Bigby couldn’t believe he was here, in the woods with John warm and pliant against him. But he ignored that part, because he was here and John was warm and pliant against him and he didn’t want to think about anything else but that.
The slick, sweet feeling of Bigby's tongue made John tingle all over, so much so that he gave a little moan that sounded downright hungry. He went a bit mushy, so that it was mostly Bigby holding him up against the tree. He sucked gently, tasting him, encouraging Bigby to come inside, take more and more.
The moan went straight through Bigby. His fingers hooked over the band of John’s pants and he pressed in even more. He wanted more of him, he wanted closer. His free hand came up, cupping his neck, thumb on his pulse point, and he broke the kiss so his mouth could fix its attention on the other side, trailing kisses.
Fingers in his pants--John had all sorts of ideas, yes, some of which he'd written in his mind before they even got there, some of which were sudden and new. They collided to form an irresistible one. He arched against Bigby as he hit a particularly nice spot, giving another little moan, then slipped his hand between them and popped the front button of Bigby's jeans.
He knew he should ask in words, but he didn't have any. Just a visual of him on his knees. In the woods. With Bigby. The thought made him arch again, and he barely managed, "Want you... can I?"
Bigby growled out a swear. This wasn’t what he’d had in mind when he’d suggested coming here, but now that John had suggested it, his brain wouldn’t let go of the idea. He didn’t care that they were in public, or that someone could see them. He wanted it, wanted him so badly he ached with it. “Yeah,” he told John, his rough voice a muffled against his neck.
Yeah, right there, that was the voice he wanted to hear. John's entire body went tighter, harder as he began slipping downward between the tree and Bigby. His hands wouldn't wait, he kept at Bigby's fly even as he went.
There wasn't a lot of thought left in John, at that point. But he did manage to realize that, for a first date, this had all gone remarkably well.
no subject
Date: 2014-08-18 10:00 pm (UTC)(Sorry, John. It just seems more likely to her than someone seriously wanting to date your weird freckly ass. >.>))
no subject
Date: 2014-08-19 06:24 am (UTC)