stands_for_hope | Superman, Firebrand, and the Metropolis Gang in... the World's Mightiest Duckling

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house of am

Superman, Firebrand, and the Metropolis Gang in... the World's Mightiest Duckling

[continued from here]

It took a few weeks, but soon enough, the apartment had become an entirely settled little commune between the five of them. Steve's things had arrived as Clint had promised, they'd been installed in the new apartment, and the group had made the changes they'd discussed for everyone's comfort with one addition: with Steve bunking with Jim, the room he'd initially intended to take had become a general office/library/art room for everyone to use when they felt like a bit of time alone. For as silly as the concept sounded, all of them had ended up using the room a time or two and it had definitely kept things peaceful despite the addition of two new people.

Considering that the apartment was home to four superheroes and a world-famous journalist, it was amazing how easily they all fell into a routine. Jim, Lois, and Clark would usually leave for work around the same time and Steve, always an early riser, had taken to making them something to munch for breakfast on the way after he returned from his morning run. Having also gotten a position at the community center (teaching kids art and art history), Steve would leave with Diana an hour or so after that. Everyone filtered back into the apartment at different times and whoever was feeling up to cooking would usually start dinner when they got in. If no one was feeling up cooking, one of the two 'old' men would treat takeout.

Today, however, Jim's site was currently closed for due to an issue with the plumbing contractors and some unfortunate flooding that had occurred overnight. That was why Clark texted Jim and invited him to come visit he and Lois at the Daily Planet offices and go out for lunch together.

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His other hand slid up Jim's leg, feather soft touches and careful exploration. He gave one last stroke before starting to run his fingers along the skin, his thumb running a line up the underside, letting Jim feel not just a grasping fist but his hand: the brush of a knuckle, the soft skin at the sides of his fingers, the calloused pads. He took his time, the control returning to his limbs, the strength filtering back into his muscles, but the heat utterly failing to dissipate. Jim was here, in a bed with him, beautiful and wanting and his, and this too was as amazing, as novel, as everything else.

And he was moving with each of those little touches, sliding himself against those fingers, savoring every touch. It wasn't exactly what he imagined, but it wasn't so far off that he didn't know despite his eyes being caught on Steve's. "I love you," he whispered. "I love you, I love you, I love you... All yours, Steve."

He didn't even have to think about it. Giving himself over felt like something he'd already done but had never put words to.

Steve leaned in and took his mouth in a kiss before getting his hand around him again: movement, long firm strokes and smooth, sweet kisses.

He couldn't speak, his mouth was too busy, but it was in his eyes, in every kiss, in every touch, in the arm squeezing around Jim and the nuzzle of his chin. Jim was loved.

It didn't take a terribly long time, but it was a time that Jim spent gasping and moaning when his mouth wasn't on Steve's hungrily. His fingers pressed hard into Steve's back when his orgasm hit and he shuddered into every pulse, breath caught in his throat.

As it passed, he relaxed into a nearly boneless lump, nestled against Steve with unthinking content.

Steve was glad he'd had it happen first, if only because he knew what to do, knew what it felt like and how intense it was. He shifted a little to curl around Jim, pet his back, carefully ease him back down, and kiss him.

"I've got you. I've got you, Jim."

"Oh God that's different," he exhaled in one gust, curling up close to Steve's chest. He'd not done that, even to himself, since Hydra had gotten to him. Now he was glad. That kind of sensation wasn't something he wanted to experience alone.

"You all right?"

The same words with a very different context but the same need to know. Everything they'd done had been... well, it'd been leagues and bounds past anything he'd expected and more than a few miles past where his experience left off. While he was flying blind, he felt all right about it. Nothing like a good co-pilot to keep you settled.

"Mmhm." He nodded, arms gentle but holding on. "Are you? I... I grabbed your back pretty hard..." The thought of it was beautiful, even if the consequences could make him cringe. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Steve in any way.

Blink. He twisted a little to look back before shaking his head.

"I'm fine."

...he was reasonably certain he might have a bruise there for the rest of the night, but it'd be gone by morning and with the endorphins running through his system at the moment, he couldn't feel a thing beyond a faint tension.

He pecked a kiss to Jim's hair.

"I'm... not really feeling anything but good right now."

Jim laughed softly, kissing Steve's chest. "Me too. I... Far as I'm concerned, I just had sex with the guy of my dreams."

He hadn't planned on it, but he wasn't going to be sorry. Not when it had been amazing, when it had felt so good... How could he want anything more?

A laugh came, though, as he scooted up to where he could rest his forehead against Steve's. "You tore your shirt off, you know."

He blinked again and started peering around to try and see if he could salvage it.

"The undershirt, right? I didn't damage the collared shirt you got me. I hope?"

Another soft laugh and he nodded, kissing his cheek. "Yeah, just the undershirt. No idea if mine survived or not. It's really flattering that you were that eager."

"Guy of my dreams too," he reminded Jim before breathing out, long and low, and melting into the bed.

"I kind of want to pass out in a heap with you, but we should... probably clean up."

"Mmh... Yeah, we should, before we get sticky. Should probably wash our underwear, too. They'll be dry by tomorrow if we're lucky." A grin broke across his face, though. "...Or maybe we'll be walking the boardwalk without."

"We were commandos," and it is only through the power of sheer will that he keeps his face straight.

"Ass." But he laughed, tackling Steve to the bed and drawing his fingernails up his sides. Now that Steve could breathe, Jim felt free to tickle him with impunity.

"Jerk!" squeaked out of him as he curled up into a ball, utterly unprepared and... attempting to go on the counter offensive via Jim's right underarm.

"Hah, I only have one of those now--" It still worked to have him trying to squirm that underarm out of Steve's reach, only half successful.

Steve switches plans and goes for his belly.

"Dammit!"

Jim squawked falling back and grabbing for Steve's hands - which was easier said than done even with both of them having improved reflexes

Steve let his hands get caught before using some leverage to turn around and try to grab Jim's wrists in return.

He laughed when he was caught, one arm the normal temperature, the other a little warmer. "Okay, you caught me," he chuckled. "Now what are you gonna do with me?"

The little head tilt and the cautious smile said he hadn't exactly had any plans, but then he dipped in close and and kissed the tip of Jim's nose.

He looked rather pleased with himself for it too.

He closed his eyes for that little kiss - and then he smiled with his eyes gleaming. "I love you, you oversized idiot."

That got him another kiss, just a soft and fleeting, against his lips.

"Love you too."

He leaned back and grinned.

"Even if you're a perfectly proportioned idiot."

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