DIVINE FUCK UP

⸻ You’re making him squirm now, God-son, he wantonly pants against your lips like he’s searching for the Truth there, like he’s thirsting for every drop of you that you’re willing to share. It’s not fair to give him such a choice when he’s already debating a million other things inside his mind, just below his tongue, in his gut, in his heart.

“I..”

Will his jealousy boil over? It’s not a question of whether he wants to be seen or not, it’s a question of others seeing HIM. He’s all for me, just for me…

“Jude,” and he kisses his top lip gently, no heat there but his hand searches the final inch in, cupping that heat - fuck he’s so desperate for this guy, what is he, some God of Sex maybe? “Any way you want me… I just… wanna be fucked by you. Fair warning though,” a soft lick to that top lip, hand pressing a little firmer, “if it’s good… I’m really loud.” 

“Yeah?” he isn’t questioning your loyalty, little lamb. Jude is more of a greedy god than even he wants to admit, is all. He wants you to say it again, over and over, the way monks chant their daily prayers. He wants you to confess to sins you haven’t even done yet, just thought of, just set at the tip of your tongue, and he will eat them up with a hungry swallow.

Just like he eats up Matthew’s gentle kiss, his appetite for more voracious and hollow-bellied. Jude reaches for Matthew’s wrists and his elbow and drags him closer, up over his lap. There’s just enough room for the pair to sit interlocked, the booth at Jude’s back and the table at Matty’s.

⸻ There’s a quiet, pleased purr sounding from Matthew’s wide throat when the warmth and spark of Jude’s hand gets placed back on his neck. It feels like ownership, like claiming, ‘everyone is watching and they’re watching me take you’ and it makes Matthew feel all kinds of good. 

“Mm, glad you are,” Matthew says with his lips pulling slightly to the left as he’s looking down Jude’s body, seeing his pale hand move further down, further in. His logical mind is being muted, strangulated, actually, by his heart - hopeless romantic, Matthew, finds romance in everything. Even zapping some non-human away from him is a romantic gesture if you twist it the right way. 

“So I take it you wanna stay?”

His hand stops a few inches away from where it wants to land, and he lays his head on Jude’s shoulder, looking up at him with big doe eyes and bright teeth showing just behind slightly parted lips. “You did say you were famished earlier, but this place doesn’t look like a one that serves food… Unless you’re not that kind of hungry.” 

“That depends entirely on you, Matty.”

There are options here. You can have a feast wherever you want, you know. A picnic in the park, a quick bite on the drive to work, or a whole three course meal spread out on the dining room table at home. Either way you’re going to eat up and eat good, it’s up to you.

And now it’s up to the boy creeping a hand up over Jude’s thigh, teasing at the crease where his hip meets thigh, where his lust coils warmly and stirs at the passing idea of what he’s suggesting.

Jude leans down quick and snags a kiss, an open mouthed and lewd sort of kiss that has him sucking on Matthew’s dropped open mouth. There, nose to nose and hand cradling Matthew’s jaw, he lays out the choices.

⸻ Matthew can’t help or stop the smile that grows on his face when he hears that prideful exclamation, sees that almost shy look on Jude’s handsome features, the soft blush; fuck he’s so gorgeous, charming as all hell, he should smile more like this Matthew decides and keeps listening with that same smile pulling his slim lips apart and shows bright teeth in the neon lights. It’s almost like listening to a fairy-tale, what Jude describes, and he imagines dulled shards of plastic falling from the sky, shaking his head in soft disbelief. He knew the universe was vast and weird, and of course this reality couldn’t be the only one.

But it was still a heavy thought for a simple human mind. Good thing this human mind was playing tug-o-war with his heart and his lust, keeping it a bit occupied at least.

“Hm?” and he turns a little to follow Jude’s eyes but doesn’t quite catch what he’s looking at before the question is finished. He blinks a couple of times, tilts his head. His immediate reaction is yes, fuck yes, but they only just got here and he wonders if there was something Jude didn’t want him to see or experience? Scared it would scare him off entirely? Maybe more glitching women or maybe that God father of his showing up to assess his new ‘lamb’, as that dude Hex had called him.

“Sure,” he ends up answering and licks his lips slowly, scans those sharp features ahead of himself. “I don’t mind staying more if you wanna but… I’d rather just be somewhere with you,” and he snakes a hand against Jude’s thigh, slowly inching upwards as he holds his gaze, “you know… alone.” 

“Alone,” he repeats the word, weighs it on his tongue while watching the slick sweep of Matthew’s own tongue dragged across his bottom lip. The word feels heavy, but in a good way. Like maybe it’d try to drown him but Jude’s up for a little swim.

“We’re never really alone here, you know. Everyone is watching.”

Which some people liked, even Jude. He’s not sure if GRACE is aware of his visits with some wayward soul tagging along but he’s positive that if she knew, and more than that, if she was aware of what he DID with those people here she’d be grossed out to her gears. 

His right thigh pulls wider, stretches out and open as if he means to give Matthew’s drifting hand more access to wherever it wants to go. His knee bumps awkwardly into the other man’s and Jude slides forward just an inch but it’s enough so that when he casts his arm around the booth his hand can splay against the back of Matthew’s neck.

@saintfvck continued from x.

                   “or jus’ break ‘em an’ don’t bother rewriting what wasn’t gonna work in th’ first place.” that’s what he did. don’t change the rules, break them. easier. less a chance of it still being a wrong set of rules. break the rules, break faces, and evade the law. 

⸻ Green eyes are drawn to the shift of the box around them, looking around the room as much as he could. It was just downright electric here, it was alive in a way Matthew wasn’t used to seeing a place like this be. He listens to Jude speak as he’s watching, still trying to make it all make some kind of sense or at least resign it to some kind of truth for himself that he can live with. The way Jude speaks as though he wants to include Matthew in on everything is a kind gesture and yes, Matthew’s heart does flutter with happiness of being somehow selected - touched by a fucking God - to know, to see behind the curtain on one side of the stage, but it’s still so damn much to process.

He’s had his run-ins with weird, with complicated. This is just heavy, too, and tests that sliver of faith he was spoon-fed as a child.

“It’s alright,” and he turns his head back to look at Jude with a more calm smile. Maybe it was the walls not being so solid that helped, he wasn’t good at being trapped, either. “So… when you told me it was magic that made that phone explode in that idiot’s hands… It was actually magic? Like… you did that?” 

Matthew’s hands are busy, holding onto Jude where he can - his wrist, his knee, his solid thigh. You’re my tether to reality right now, I’m sorry for being clingy, I’m sorry if I’m too much I’m trying to be better with that shit he thinks and it might reflect in his eyes and the way his lip gets tucked in to get chewed for a split second, but he finds it easier to keep himself somewhat sane just… touching him.

“I did that,” his pride does a funny thing where it makes Jude smile and look years younger suddenly. The sallow circles under his eyes seem less storm-colored somehow and there’s something flushed under his cheeks that blossoms soft and uneven. He even dips his chin, lowers his eyes, almost coyly, but you can’t deny the way his smile widens.

“Asshole had it coming to him. But yeah, yeah it’s real. I mean it’s more real than people know realty can be. Like, everything I can do is something natural. The universe is full of weird shit, Matty. You know there’s a planet where it rains plastic? The stuff we have to create in factories just naturally rains down somewhere in space. Just because our sky isn’t meant to permit the conditions that lets that happen doesn’t mean it’s somehow less natural that it happens in another world, in another sky”

Honestly this is the most he has ever told anyone on a first.. well this is no date. You don’t call plucking a stranger from a bar to charm him into your bed a date. Hell it’s almost just a hook up but calling it that feels dishonest too. It’s not even the first time he’s done this but he’s never cared that much how the other person took the weird. They drank like a fish and then they fucked once or twice and it was over, just a dream for them and just a weekend for Jude.

But Matthew is different. He can’t say why, just like he can’t explain the exact mechanics behind the magic and the existence of people like his dad. All he knows is he’s blushing like an idiot and holding on to this boy’s elbow like a life-line.

“Hey do you want..” another drink, he almost says, and then over Matthew’s shoulder he sees Hex making a face as he passes by to get to another table.

⸻ Everything was just so confusing. Was he being pranked? Was all this some elaborate trick someone was playing on him to poke fun at him for always talking about how he knows there’s more between here and there, how he’s always sensed it? Maybe his mother cursed him for his lack of faith in Him and tested him by sending a guy who talks about Angels and Demons and that he’s the son of a God, like some new Christ or something like that. 

Fuck, fuck, f u c k. It was too good to be true, wasn’t it? Some handsome, charming, fucking sexy guy paying attention to you, treating you nice, taking you places - had to be some strange catch, there always is.

“I…” he breathes as he’s leaning his head into his hands, rubbing his eyes, feet crossing under the table and one of his legs still bouncing. The taste of the drink in his throat is growing sour, stronger. What did he want to do? What the hell should he even think? First instinct was to rush over and press himself against Jude, because fuck he wanted him badly, you don’t just throw away treasures even if there are curses on those golden coins, but he couldn’t figure out if he was being played for a fool. 

“I just don’t know what to… make of all of it,” he admits and sits back up, his right hand itching something violent to just reach for him. You can tell by how his pinky-finger keeps twitching towards him, clawing a little. Like his body is telling him what’s the choice he wants to go with. 

“I’m used to… extremes. And- and weird shit, but… I don’t know. Fuck.”

Can we just go back to the alleyway and you can fuck my throat again? I understand that.

The music is still going as though those walls weren’t here, the bass feels deeper now, it’s sending shivers up his spine as he’s making his decision. He takes a long, deep breath and closes his eyes, jaw clenching, and then he finally moves. 

“You’re lucky you charmed me so fucking good earlier,” he tries to joke, tries to smile as he sits as close as he can get to Jude, turning towards him, lifting a hand to brush his thumb gently against the sharp cut of Jude’s jaw. Fuck he’s so beautiful. Maybe he really was a God or something. “Just… don’t introduce me to some Behemoths or something, okay?” 

It’s not something he can promise but Jude is selfish, maybe more than some people want to say he is. Just like dear old dad, right? He wants what he wants and right now he’s got a boy with a mouth that tastes like a good liquor, that burns just right to the core of him, and how can he deny himself another taste?

So he says, “okay,” in a breath and kisses the palm cradling his cheek in another. The black of the little box that rose around them fades, only enough to be vaguely translucent, but it’s still cut off from the rest of the world so it’s just the two of them in their shadow of a booth sitting knee to knee.

“I know it’s weird. I mean I know it is but I don’t. I grew up sort of knee deep in this stuff. Not the god thing, that came later, actually. But the uh.. the magic? That’s always been there. It’s not exactly something the whole world knows about, though. This isn’t the way it used to be, when shit like this was just part of the way the world worked. People don’t believe anymore like they used to,” okay, now he really sounds like his dad.

Jude shakes his head and draws  Matthew’s hand down to his knee.

⸻ He watches Hex leave and all his muscles are aching now, from being so tense and ready to jolt, bolt, run the fuck away, find some exit and don’t look back. But he doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want to be this afraid - it’s frustrating beyond comprehension. He lets Jude move out of the seat without a fight, sits and looks down himself as he closes his pants once more and tries to find his breath, tries to find some sense.

I took 46 steps when I got in here, he counts again. I’ve bled once. He takes the drink given to him earlier and almost gulps it down as Jude is doing something in fucking thin air and it feels like there’re dark curtains being drawn around them, it’s suddenly a room, a box and he can’t see anyone, anything beyond it. 

And then, the word Demon gets thrown into the mix and Matthew just shakes his head. 

“I… just thought he was some guy,” he mumbles and leans in over the table, staring intently at the glass that was now completely empty in his hands. His leg is bouncing under the table, his chest aching. I took 46 steps when I got in here. 

“Is it a code-name for something,” he asks and his eyebrows knit together, his right hand gesturing out to accompany his questioning. “Like… Lots of these clubs call their dancers and bartenders things like… Yeah, Angels and Demons because that’s so fucking original, right? Is that- that what it is? Oh he’s a demon because he’s, he’s just hired to get people riled up and- and buy more drinks and get sexually frustrated and the girls, th-the table things they’re Angels because oh they’re so nice and smiling at you and–”

If he was melting before, he’s melting down, now. His left hand clenches tight around the glass, so tight his veins are filling and throbbing in his arm and he looks up at Jude with fear and confusion swirling in the depths of his eyes. “Please tell me it’s just… something like that.”

He shouldn’t feel guilty for what he is, what he can DO, but all that anxiety bubbling up out of Matthew’s mouth practically burns it’s self into Jude’s chest. He rubs a hand over his chest like he has a mild case of heartburn.

“It’s.. something like that? I mean, you know every.. every culture has it’s version of demons. These are just..” his mouth feels dry, so maybe he should drink up too but he can’t manage to reach for his drink as if doing it might startle Matthew for drawing too close.

You know, even though moments before they were sucking face.

That whole thing where he’s smooth and mysterious and able to charm anyone who so much as glances his way? It’s melting the same way Matthew is. Jude wrinkles his nose, his expression decidedly sour for a moment as he tries to figure out the best way to just say it.

He hasn’t hid anything yet, not really, but how do you say your dad is an immortal Chinese god and you’re his demigod son raised to take over the family business?

“My dad is an immortal Chinese god,” there, like that. Just spit it out. Jude curls his fingers into a fist then makes the decision to just sit back down again, this time slightly twisting himself in his seat to tuck a calf under his other leg.

⸻ “That’s right,” Matthew snarls again, this time leaning away from Jude and craning his neck a little as he glares at Hex. “You’re not.” 

Nevermind the fact that Matthew felt as though his heart was flatlining from fear, nevermind that his lungs felt completely empty of air and his mind is screaming RUN at him. Whatever just happened, happened, and he can’t explain it. He can’t explain that he can feel his nail digging harshly into his fresh wound by his cuticle and it HURTS, the real kind of hurt, it’s not just a dream whatever the fuck just happened. 

It’s a good distraction, biting after this guy who thinks he has the fucking right to even get near him, get near Jude. He’s Matthew’s now. No-one else can get his attention. Especially not now.

“Oh and, white isn’t really your color,” he nods once to gesture at Hex’s hair. “Makes you look kinda sick, up close like that. And cut down on the whiskey, your breath stinks.” 

It’s actually c u t e how Matthew reacts, but Jude knows better than to really encourage it. Not that he can’t protect the boy if something happens here, but Jude doesn’t want to get on Hex’s actual bad side. This dramatic flair and nosy thing he’s doing isn’t even a drop in the ocean that’s Hex acting out.

But Jude doesn’t tell Matthew that, just like so far he hasn’t actually said the words he’s about to say because he can taste the fear, the blood-scented thing that sits coppery and hot on his tongue like a burning chip when it flairs up in Matthew’s body.

He doesn’t want to make a good thing go from great to awful, but how can he NOT say it when he’s so blatant about what he can do and where they are?

Once Hex is gone Jude twists away from Matthew so he can stand up and play with the not-there-screen that exists somewhere in front of their table. The thin air around them fades from translucent to black slowly as if a wall is being built by invisible hands. It’s glassy and gleams like obsidian but is warm to the touch and flickers of bright blue scan lines keep slicing through it every few seconds.

When he turns around Jude breathes out slowly and doesn’t sit back down.

⸻ Matthew wasn’t good at sharing.

Sharing attention of those who were given his affections, especially not. Had it been just five minutes before, when he was still confused and still unsure, when his bones were aching to leave and his fingers ripping themselves bloody, this new person - thing? - ‘s company would have been welcomed, sure. But Jude and Matthew were busy, busy enjoying each other, Matthew felt cheated when that strong hand slid back out from his pants. 

He glares at this thing, this guy Hex, how he distorts the air around him and that hair changing reminds Matthew of those dumb pillows you can brush your hand over and suddenly there are golden sparkles where it was once a black pillow before. Whatever, cheap parlor trick, Jude burned a guy’s hand for me quite severely and you’re cockblocking me. Fucker.

“Hi,” he says in a quiet snarl and doesn’t raise a hand to offer a shake, he hardly even greets him. Instead, he leans his body closer against Jude’s and presses his head against Jude’s temple, staring at Hex with wide, bright green eyes with tiny pupils and his blushed lips drawn in a straight line.

“Need something?” 

“Yeah, Hex, NEED something?” the sentiment, the sudden urge to hide Matthew so no one else can see them, is so violently large in Jude that he feels like it’s about to nudge his heart out of the way for a good space to live under his own ribs. 

But Hex doesn’t care, even if he can read the data too. If anything the two all wrapped up in each other only makes him more keen on pushing buttons. It’s a quick move when Hex does it and Jude, who half expects it and doesn’t stop him in time, reacts poorly to the motion. Hex bursts forward, going from solid to completely holographic instantly so he can slide his head and shoulders THROUGH Jude part way and twist in such a way that he’s looking Matthew dead on.

“I’m just LOOKING, can’t I look? I won’t touch him, honest- HEY!” Jude’s hand reaches up into the translucent data blocks and surge electric, sparks of light jumping from finger to finger until Hex draws backward and out of the booth like he’s solid again. 

His hair stands on end now, alive with all that leaping electricity that came from Jude’s own hand.

⸻ “Mmh-hmm-”

You would know about addiction, wouldn’t you? Chasing this sensation, this wonderful feeling, the electricity made by tongues sliding together and by kisses growing wetter, warmer, deeper. Fuck he kisses like a god damn dream, his tongue swipes sinfully deep and Matthew can’t help but softly moan between a sloppy kiss and roll of tongues. He hardly notices his pants opening, he’s too busy navigating that sensation of their tongues gliding together and the solid, scorching hot feeling of fingers pressed against the crease of his thigh. 

He’s melting, he is, he can feel it, melting in against Jude and twisting around in his seat to press his chest against Jude’s, lifts his arms to touch over solid arms, blunt fingernails raking against the dark hair. He tastes so good–

“Jude,” he whispers but it’s not to stop him, or to interrupt - it’s a silent prayer, appraisal, tasting his name before he sucks on the tip of Jude’s tongue and moves his head not unlike he had in the alleyway not long ago; kissing deep, sucking soft against the firm muscle, moaning quietly in the back of his throat. It’s much easier to tether to reality this way when you can feel your blood boiling with desire underneath your skin.

You say his name like a prayer and apparently it’s all he needs to feed the surge of his own natural power. The dancing girl laughs like a silver bell and her skirt flies up like a modern day marilyn monroe. The music that’s been faithfully thrumming in the background switches all at once to match the girl’s new hip-gliding motions.

His hand creeps forward, seeks the warmth of what lays just inside the opened slacks, but fingers jerk backward the second he feels a hand on his shoulder. Jude draws from the heated exchange with a moody reluctance. There’s a flush riding the deep cut of his cheekbones that is pointed out at once by the man who’s now sitting beside the pair like he’s the REAL owner of the club.

“Aw, look, you’re BLUSHING. I think it’s sweet, really,” the man is like the others, seemingly THERE except his skin is too bright, like he’s just a painted version of what he should look like. He glows softly, throbbing a pulsing halo around his head where an oil-slick of black hair has been carefully pulled backward in a thick knot at the crown of his skull.

“Hex,” Jude says the name carefully, like it’s a vile of poison that can’t be touched by bare skin. 

Hex grins, all teeth as perfect as a fucking commercial. He places two hands together, the motion of supplication and holiness.

“Holy Father, you’re practically BLINDING tonight, you and your new ... ah, boy,” Hex teases and drags his hand backward through his hair. The motion has the color going from black to white. His image flickers as he leans forward to peer at Matthew.

⸻ “Yeah?” 

Matthew feels like he’s melting. He can’t fight this attraction to Jude, confusion be damned; that hand against his thigh, the sheer warmth of him when he comes close again. Matthew leans his head a little to the side to give more room for Jude’s lips to explore if they felt like it and he pants softly, eyes fluttering closed. Fidgeting fingers search over to Jude’s side and grabs onto the fabric of his shirt, pulling very faintly. I’m ok as long as you’re near, you’re real, you feel real, don’t stop touching me.

“It’s… cool,” he says quietly, tilts his head back to steal a kiss from Jude, pants softly against his lips. “Used to party in places like this… steal kisses like this,” and he kisses him again, a little firmer, clenches tighter against the shirt. 

“Mm, places like this don’t exist yet. They want to expand, but I think we should be--” for a moment his breath is stolen along with the kiss and Jude’s fingers twitch against that thigh, slide upward higher until he’s pressing them into the crease of where the hip meets the groin.

“.. be careful. A place like this is like an addiction, you know?” 

He kisses drowsily, a bit like a bee lazily tasting every flower the garden has to offer. Jude’s mouth parts against the petals of Matthew’s mouth, slides the warm-wet velvet of his tongue against him until he’s back to tasting the familiar musk of his own self still hinted just there. 

⸻ Something that tastes like shame washes over Matthew’s palate when he’s caught being nervous, caught transferring that nervous energy into some violent. Mild, sure, but it still draws blood and Jude kisses it from him like it’s nothing. It’s something, though, and Matthew isn’t sure how to respond to it, to all of this, to the notion that there are different kinds of real.

“Okay,” is all he really finds out is right to answer and he looks down to their clasped hands, counting inside his mind. I took so and so many steps to get in here, I’ve blinked so and so many times – finding tethers, tangible things that he could pull on to know if he was really here or not. 

So far, all his data proves it’s real. Maybe it’s just a really trippy place. It just feels like… more.

“So, you said you own part of this place?” he attempts to ask, soft-spoken and finds a small smile to lay on his slender lips as he looks up at Jude again. Focus on reality, like this guy is really sweet and handsome, especially up close. His eyes are deep and dark like a night-sky at the edge of a busy city, colored with bright lights of billboards and fire in the streets. 

Okay is.. okay. The worry is still there, biting nails and cuticles and making the energy spike more than the dancing girls and the glitch-boys making electric deals with beautiful people in dark booths just like this one. He knows his hunger has gotten the best of him somehow, that he’s made a rash choice in picking up this boy to be HIS but Jude knows what would come out of his mouth if someone pointed that out.

I couldn’t help myself. Look at him, look at how big his eyes are like whole planets. Look at the way his mouth curls up at the corners like cupid’s bow. Look at the cut of his jaw, the sculpture that is his high cheekbones and strong shoulders. 

Now look beyond that and see the data, the stream of information pouring off this boy and it’s like watching a star burn up close. Jude can’t stop TOUCHING him. He shifts closer until they are thigh to thigh and slides his hand up higher on Matthew’s thigh, fingers curling along the inside of the muscle near the groin.