Prom: Jake and Jean-Paul
May. 29th, 2009 09:05 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsAs the evening goes on, a bored Jake attempts being a bad influence on Jean-Paul.
Jean-Paul glanced away from the dance floor toward the man standing at his right shoulder. Meggan was off socializing with her peers now and Jake was wearing his own face, which was far less disconcerting than seeing Elijah Wood out on the floor with the other students.
"Things seem quiet enough," Jean-Paul said, considering. "It is probably safe for us to look away long enough to have a dance, if you would like."
Jake gave him a sidelong glance. "Considering how painfully sober I am, I've been dancing an awful lot tonight," he said, although it came out as less of a complaint than it might have otherwise. He grinned suddenly. "Besides, everyone knows dancing is just an invitation to other things. We could skip the dancing and move right to the fun stuff?"
Jean-Paul laughed softly. "Have I turned you down yet? I just thought we could fill the time until the kids get tired and leave us to our own devices."
That wicked grin flashed across Jake's face again. "That's what I'm talking about--something to fill the time while we're still contractually obligated to be here. Like, say, a quickie in the bathroom."
"Well, I guess there is a first time for everything." Jean-Paul seemed more amused than scandalized. "What in the world makes you think that I would go in for such a thing?"
"Wishful thinking," Jake answered without skipping a beat. "Especially considering you're as sober as I am and have some strange notion of being a good, responsible role model to a group of Young, Impressionable Minds who--if they're half as good at being teenagers as my classmates and I were--are busy figuring out how to do the very thing I'm likely to be unable to talk you into." He shrugged, smiling broadly. "But I figure it's worth a shot--I can be very convincing when I want to be." As if to prove his point, the fingers of his left hand slipped beneath the back hem of Jean-Paul's shirt to lightly caress the small of his back.
"You do make a very tempting offer," Jean-Paul admitted, leaning surreptitiously back into Jake's touch. "And I do not believe that the students are such a lot of hellions that they need unceasingly close supervision. I do, however, feel that you are overlooking an important detail."
"Oh?" Jake's fingers slid slightly lower, tracing just inside the waistband of the speedster's pants. "Are you afraid we'd have so much fun that we'd forget to come back to the dance?"
"You do not seem to be entertaining the possibility that I would like a dance with you for its own sake, and not simply as a prelude to being a serving platter again," Jean-Paul said with a slight smile.
"No, actually, that's what I was afraid of," Jake sighed, although he couldn't help but smile himself. "I don't suppose this could double as a prelude to using you as a platter, at least? I noticed a jar of Nutella in your kitchen the other day."
"And I do have strawberries in my fridge." Jean-Paul's smile had faded somewhat. "We do not have to dance if you do not want to."
The hand on Jean-Paul's back flattened against his skin, pulling him closer. "Don't mind me," Jake said with a half-smile. "I'm physically incapable of dancing without complaining about it ahead of time. Especially when I'm sober. It's all part of my rakish charm, or so I'm told."
He suddenly looked very serious and formal, to an almost comedic degree. "Monsieur, may I have this dance?"
"I would argue with you about the charm, but considering that I am the one pouting at you until I get you out on the floor, I don't suppose you would be much fooled." Jean-Paul closed the scant space between them with a kiss. "But I would be honored to have this dance."
"Mais non, monsieur, the honor is mine." Jake's left hand remained where it was on Jean-Paul's back as he brought his right up to take hold of the speedster's left. "Backwards," he complained, wrinkling his nose. "I hope you realize I'm definitely going to agitate for blow jobs in the bathroom after this."
Jean-Paul glanced away from the dance floor toward the man standing at his right shoulder. Meggan was off socializing with her peers now and Jake was wearing his own face, which was far less disconcerting than seeing Elijah Wood out on the floor with the other students.
"Things seem quiet enough," Jean-Paul said, considering. "It is probably safe for us to look away long enough to have a dance, if you would like."
Jake gave him a sidelong glance. "Considering how painfully sober I am, I've been dancing an awful lot tonight," he said, although it came out as less of a complaint than it might have otherwise. He grinned suddenly. "Besides, everyone knows dancing is just an invitation to other things. We could skip the dancing and move right to the fun stuff?"
Jean-Paul laughed softly. "Have I turned you down yet? I just thought we could fill the time until the kids get tired and leave us to our own devices."
That wicked grin flashed across Jake's face again. "That's what I'm talking about--something to fill the time while we're still contractually obligated to be here. Like, say, a quickie in the bathroom."
"Well, I guess there is a first time for everything." Jean-Paul seemed more amused than scandalized. "What in the world makes you think that I would go in for such a thing?"
"Wishful thinking," Jake answered without skipping a beat. "Especially considering you're as sober as I am and have some strange notion of being a good, responsible role model to a group of Young, Impressionable Minds who--if they're half as good at being teenagers as my classmates and I were--are busy figuring out how to do the very thing I'm likely to be unable to talk you into." He shrugged, smiling broadly. "But I figure it's worth a shot--I can be very convincing when I want to be." As if to prove his point, the fingers of his left hand slipped beneath the back hem of Jean-Paul's shirt to lightly caress the small of his back.
"You do make a very tempting offer," Jean-Paul admitted, leaning surreptitiously back into Jake's touch. "And I do not believe that the students are such a lot of hellions that they need unceasingly close supervision. I do, however, feel that you are overlooking an important detail."
"Oh?" Jake's fingers slid slightly lower, tracing just inside the waistband of the speedster's pants. "Are you afraid we'd have so much fun that we'd forget to come back to the dance?"
"You do not seem to be entertaining the possibility that I would like a dance with you for its own sake, and not simply as a prelude to being a serving platter again," Jean-Paul said with a slight smile.
"No, actually, that's what I was afraid of," Jake sighed, although he couldn't help but smile himself. "I don't suppose this could double as a prelude to using you as a platter, at least? I noticed a jar of Nutella in your kitchen the other day."
"And I do have strawberries in my fridge." Jean-Paul's smile had faded somewhat. "We do not have to dance if you do not want to."
The hand on Jean-Paul's back flattened against his skin, pulling him closer. "Don't mind me," Jake said with a half-smile. "I'm physically incapable of dancing without complaining about it ahead of time. Especially when I'm sober. It's all part of my rakish charm, or so I'm told."
He suddenly looked very serious and formal, to an almost comedic degree. "Monsieur, may I have this dance?"
"I would argue with you about the charm, but considering that I am the one pouting at you until I get you out on the floor, I don't suppose you would be much fooled." Jean-Paul closed the scant space between them with a kiss. "But I would be honored to have this dance."
"Mais non, monsieur, the honor is mine." Jake's left hand remained where it was on Jean-Paul's back as he brought his right up to take hold of the speedster's left. "Backwards," he complained, wrinkling his nose. "I hope you realize I'm definitely going to agitate for blow jobs in the bathroom after this."
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