#torquethread

Torque obviously found Angel attractive since the day they met. They had a common connection through Angel’s husband, but kept contact even after the two separated — Jon knew Angel’s powers would’ve been especially useful to him when forming the Advocates. Since joining the team, they’d been closer than most, but... that didn’t explain why there were sharing a shower stall together.

Wet. Naked. Aroused.

Maybe they just came back from a mission, or finished an intense workout. Torque couldn’t quite recall the circumstances that led to this intimate moment. But why should he care? It wasn’t every day that he allowed himself to be with someone as attractive as Angel. You should just enjoy this, Jon... he thought to himself.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous, Angel,” coos Jon, gently holding the other man’s chiseled chin, his giant cock standing proudly erect against Angel’s toned belly, just above the luscious folds of his pussy. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he chuckles, using his other hand to grab at his colleague’s firm, muscular ass. “But I didn’t wanna ruin your marriage—”

No need to bring that whole thing up.

Then he grabs his cock and drags it downward, pressing against Angel’s taut opening, as if to tease him. “I really need to fuck you right now, God—”

[ txt ] this is gonna sound weird but [ txt ] do you ever use your powers to make it rain on people you don’t like [ txt ] bc i would totally do that.

[ txt ] hey there angel [ txt ] was just thinking about you [ txt ] wanted to check in [ txt ] how you feeling lately?

[txt] You alright in there. [txt] I heard some strange noises and you shouting my name.

Shit. Did he hear all that? Coming up loudly from a sex dream with Morgan —whose quarters were very close to his— was not a great idea. 

[txt] huh? [txt] oh uhh you mean that noise [txt] stepped on a nail that’s it

Torque didn’t get sick. He just didn’t. Something about his physiology, combined with his healthy lifestyle, just made it so that no kind of ailment could plague him. The last time he got sick? Probably somewhere between the years 2007 and 2011. A mild cold. He got over it in a day. But he’d been sneezing for days now. He actually asked his medic in the infirmary if he was actually dying. 

(He wasn’t, obviously.)

But for the benefit of everybody in Advocate Hall, he decided it would be best if he rested on his own time and set up substitute field leaders for missions during his absence. Whatever this was, he didn’t want to spread it around. Nobody was supposed to—

Knock Knock. 

“Who’s there?” he asks, calling out from his plush couch, a patch of blanket covering as much of his massive body as was possible. “Go away— I don’t want you to catch this,” whoever it was.

Busy was relative to how much the man enjoyed the person’s company. Since it was Jon, Morgan was willing to return to his tasks later. The mentor’s suite was being stripped drown to it’s bare bones only to be redecorated with the comforts of home. He tucks the blanket over his arms and pulls the fold neatly. “Be more demanding with your time, Jon.” Morgan insists with a gentle push of the suggestion. The man was kind beyond measure. He feared someone would take advantage of his gentle heart. “I have more than enough time. If we’re going to talk about the recent string of crimes just at the East Edge, I started to claim that as mine, but I promise that’s an imposter. I’m being framed. I just got cleared from recovery if that helps my case. I’m innocent.” 

“What? No, I’m not— whatever that is referring to. I actually came here to as you something else.” His tone is cautionary; tactical. Jon came here with a one singular mission in mind. Proposition Morgan into a mutually beneficially arrangement. There’d been unresolved sexual tension between them for quite a while, and recent events led Jon into thinking that maybe he should stop being so hard on himself and enjoy something. With someone else. Whatever that entailed. So he takes a deep breath and comes out with it.

“Listen, I know you like flirting with me. Pushing my buttons. And I’ve always been accepting of it, but I never— what I’m trying to say is that I think now I may be actually receptive to your... advances. If you know what I mean.”

Torque didn’t dream much anymore, certainly not as much as he might have as a kid. He used to have to vivid, bright dreams of being special. Being a hero. Now that he was both of things and learned the reality of it all wasn’t as idealistic and joyous, there was no reason to dream. He loved what he did, what he built. Truly. The fun he imagined this life would be as a kid, however... it was gone. And that was fine.

But when he did dream, they weren’t dreams. They were nightmares. Visions of violence, seeing his colleagues harmed —and worse, killed— in excruciating ways. Why did it always have to be bad dreams he had, if ever? He wasn’t sure how he fell asleep on his couch, nor how Nathaniel found his way into his suite, but he was certainly glad to be woken from his darkness.

“Nate... hey,” he says groggily, coming to his senses. “Shoot, were we supposed to meet for those sparring lessons now? I dunno what happened, I fell asleep—”

[ txt ] this is gonna sound forward but i was thinking of you last night and got real fuckin horny [ txt ] OH um hey dom [ txt ] that wasn’t meant for you sorry