Jean and Warren: Highs & Lows
May. 17th, 2018 09:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_phoenix posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsA strange-acting Jean tries to sleep with Warren.
The world seemed brighter, open, and limitless, like a veil had been lifted. Jean had been in the city for work when the feeling washed over her. The other doctors were able to cover for her as she walked off her shift and bought a new dress at a boutique: red and low cut. It was high time she had some fun.
It would've been easy to convince the bouncer to let her in with a little mental persuasion but he took one look at her and opened the door right away.
There was a beat that pounded over the speakers, and people swayed. Making her way toward the center of the dance floor, she started to sway too.
When Warren had sent his texts, he hadn't really expected an answer back. Bobbi was busy, he was bored in the city, and so he'd sent out a mass text, hoping for something. And then Jean answered back all weird, and it was obviously she was fun for once, so he'd sent her the name of a club he liked and off he went.
Getting there before her, he'd set himself up in the VIP lounge, looking down at the dancing, squirming bodies. Sometimes he wondered if he was too old to be in these kinds of places, but at the end of the day, this was entertaining and he needed that. It wasn't long before he saw a familiar redhead bouncing around the place. He'd suspected drugs, but now he was sure. Motioning to one of the staff members, he pointed her out and sent the man to get her. He was comfy.
The first thought that entered Jean's head as she approached Warren was Man he's pretty.
He was always pretty, but he knew it. But there were no strings, no halting moments that made her think past that other than to reiterate that she was the one in control. This was her show.
"Well, you certainly know how to pick the place."
Warren stretched out his arms and grinned widely. "Don't you miss all this? I'm amazing, have money, and am basically the flashiest person in the world." He dropped his head slightly and looked up at her. "Come on. Give me a hug. I never get to see you like this. You're literally the last person I thought who would answer my texts. And with an eggplant even. Jean, Jean, Jean..."
Jean smirked. "Warren, Warren, Warren....Shameless. You don't even buy a girl a drink first?" she said. Instead of giving him a hug, she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.
"Gotta earn it."
Warren quirked an eyebrow up. Tonight definitely had brightened up. Snapping his fingers, he motioned to the valet. "Whatever the lady wants, on my tab. Do not make us ask for anything after that. And block off this floor."
He grinned, watching the staff scatter to fulfill his desires. "How's that?"
"Bourbon, neat," Jean said, sitting down beside him on the couch, surveying the room like she owned it.
She looked back to Warren with a devilish grin.
"It's a start," she said. As she crossed her legs she ran her foot along his leg.
Time was, this would've seemed very wrong. Right now, she felt pretty about it.
Warren looked around, expecting to see openly out mutants or another sign they were in an alternate dimension because this foot did not belong to Jean.
He threw his hands in the air. "Okay, I'll bite: are there cameras somewhere? Is this some sort of prank?"
Jean tilted her head. "No prank. No cameras. I just finally feel like myself for the first time in awhile," she said with a smile.
"Don't you want to celebrate that with me?"
This was a trick. It had to be. He squinted at Jean but finally decided he didn't care enough. If Jean wanted to have fun, well, he could provide said fun. "I can celebrate anything you want. I even have my disco boxers on."
Raising her eyebrows with interest, Jean glanced down, as if expecting to see a hint.
"Do you now? I don't know if I believe you without seeing them."
"As much as I am a fan of no pants," Warren started, leaning back so their drinks could be placed on the table, "this isn't really the time or place.". He reached over and lifted his scotch. "But I can fix that if you'd like."
Was he flirting with Jean? It felt different than usual. Part of him knew he needed to stop, but the other part was intrigued. Both parts forgot to text Bobbi though.
Jean didn't respond at first. Her eyes seemed slightly unfocused, distant, dreamy. After a moment, she smiled.
"Aren't you the VIP? I thought they'd do whatever you ask them to do," she said.
"There's still laws ," he reminded her gently. As Miles would say, his "spider sense" was tingling, but it could be due to the alcohol. This all seemed to so out of character for Jean, but part of him was so happy to see this. Those few months with Jean were actually one of the better ones he'd had, but she was just so stuck up ...or at least, that's how he saw it. And to see her letting loose, and being fun ... it reminded him of how much fun they used to have.
"We can get out of here, you know." He made a flying motion with his hand. "See the sights. Wouldn't that be fun? I can drink and fly."
Jean squinted. "Stuck up? How rude," she said, then tilted her head. "But fair."
She grinned, reaching over to run a finger down his chest. "Let's go. I'm bored here anyway."
He was going to call her out for reading his mind, but he got distracted. And plus, it didn't bother him much, although it did seem strange. He tried to remember if she'd ever done this before, but considering he was already tipsy before she showed up, and he'd downed his last drink (it wasn't going to go to waste, damnit), he wasn't all there.
Getting up slightly shakily, he grinned and stuck out his hand. "Your chariot awaits." With a snap of his finger, he walked away from his table, pleased to see servers quickly clearing it. He secretly hoped they fought over the large tip he'd left.
Jean laughed. "You're way too into this," she said, reaching up to run her finger down his lips as she bit her own.
"It's adorable."
Warren simply laughed in response, because saying anything else would be weird. In fact, it was getting a bit too weird, and his brain was starting to question things, which obviously meant he needed a) more drugs or b) more alcohol or c) a combination of the both. And since Jean was being so weird ... "Let's pop one off eh?" He gave a wink. "I have every letter of the alphabet you can think of in my penthouse." He laughed. "And even some other ones. Drugs are fun."
"I'm up for the apartment but I'll leave you to the drugs. You know I don't do that stuff," she said, the typical edge out of her voice. She didn't care what he did. She just wanted to feel something more than just pent up, wings clipped.
So far Warren had learned the following:
1) Jean was sexual
2) Jean was dangerous.
3) Jean still wouldn't do drugs.
It was good to have boundaries. "No no," he replied. "I've had my fill tonight anyways. Too much and my cock won't work anymore. And we both know I can't live like that."
"That would be a shame," Jean said, running her hand a little too close, with a feather touch, before pulling away with a grin.
"I don't want to just window shop."
Warren made a full-stop and looked oddly at Jean. "Jean. Do you want to fuck? It's okay to say so. I'm pretty easy, you know."
Jean laughed. She didn't say anything at first, her eyes unfocused as she seemed to sway back and forth on her heels in contemplation before draping her elbow on his shoulder.
"Yes, Warren, I would like to fuck," she announced with a smile.
Always holding herself back. She could have fun too.
"Should've known I was being too subtle."
"Good thing we're close to one of my apartments," was all he said back.
~*~*~*~
The ride to Warren's apartment felt like teleportation. She barely remembered the trip there. Before they knew it, they were outside his door. It'd been so long since she'd been here, but the doorman remembered her, and spared her a curious glance. She thought she saw concern but perhaps it was about something else.
They got on the elevator, and the moment the doors closed Jean shoved him against the wall and tried to kiss him.
It was easy enough to go along with the kiss. Even though it'd been years, he still remembered what she liked, and how she tasted (the lip gloss was oddly still the same), and it reminded him that Jean was always such a stable force that this make out session was equal parts intriguing and confusing. Barely stopping, he managed to open the door and stumble in, realizing belatedly that this was one of his work apartments and not set up for a hook-up. No matter. He was good at thinking on his feet.
Pulling away from Jean, he grinned and started to unbutton his shirt, walking backwards into a fairly bare bedroom. "Catch up, already."
Jean shot him a look, but it was mostly playful as she shoved him onto the bed and then climbed on top of him. "Rude," she mused, slipping off her shirt. She kissed him hungrily on the lips, her hair spilling in front of her like a fiery halo as her hands roved downward.
He didn't answer right away, choosing instead to live in the moment ... if only she had been like this when they had been dating... His eyes shot open. "Oh shit," he said, reaching over Jean, causing her to tumble off. He patted his pockets and frowned, jumping off the bed. "Where the hell is my cell phone ..." Did he leave it in his jacket? He stood up and looked around the room, trying to retrace his steps.
Jean blinked. "Why?" she said, brushing her hair out of her eyes after she had caught herself from falling off the bed.
Fingers tapping away at the screen, he finished what he was doing before answering her. "Oh, to text Bobbi. We have rules, see." His phone now on the bedside table, he crawled back onto the bed and reached for her. "I can do what I want, but I have to tell her beforehand. she's never said no, I'm sure this will be fine."
The sedated angel on Jean's shoulder seemed to wake at this declaration, like a slap to the face. Still blinking, Jean slipped away from him, rubbing her eyes.
Something was wrong. All of this was wrong. Why had she suddenly wanted to put up a middle finger to the world? There was no good reason, no big win, no real problems (lately).
God, she had left in the middle of a shift.
"No...this is..."
She shook her head repeatedly, climbing off the bed.
It took her a moment to put the dots together. This feeling was artificial, and it was coming from somewhere. Eyes fluttering, she struggled to shift through the haze and resist the urge to fuck it, quite literally. It was coming from somewhere, and that somewhere was....
Her eyes snapped open.
"Quentin," she said.
She backed up, snatching her shirt as she pulled it back over her head.
"I'm sorry...I need to go."
"Quentin??" That was literally the last thing Warren ever expected to hear out of Jean's mouth. He watched, weirded out by everything that was going on. Jean was getting dressed, Warren's phone was vibrating ... looking at the text, he was surprised to see Bobbi's response. Responding, he kept one eye on Jean, and held out a hand. "Wait, where are you going? Do you need a cab? Or a driver?" And then another text came. And another.
He was definitely in the doghouse.
Warren was talking but Jean wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying. All she knew was he was reaching for her and everything was wrong. She tried to shake the feelings off. It was like swimming in a tidal wave.
"What?" she said. She shook her head again, grateful when she found her purse and her cellphone. She headed for the door, clenching her fists as a flash of anger overtook her.
"I'm sorry. I need to go," she repeated, closing the door behind her.
Warren had no idea what Jean was saying. She left, but that was fine with him. Bobbi was angry, and he had something to fix now. Looking around for his jacket, he dialed a number. "Car. Now. Where you dropped me off." He had things to fix now.
The world seemed brighter, open, and limitless, like a veil had been lifted. Jean had been in the city for work when the feeling washed over her. The other doctors were able to cover for her as she walked off her shift and bought a new dress at a boutique: red and low cut. It was high time she had some fun.
It would've been easy to convince the bouncer to let her in with a little mental persuasion but he took one look at her and opened the door right away.
There was a beat that pounded over the speakers, and people swayed. Making her way toward the center of the dance floor, she started to sway too.
When Warren had sent his texts, he hadn't really expected an answer back. Bobbi was busy, he was bored in the city, and so he'd sent out a mass text, hoping for something. And then Jean answered back all weird, and it was obviously she was fun for once, so he'd sent her the name of a club he liked and off he went.
Getting there before her, he'd set himself up in the VIP lounge, looking down at the dancing, squirming bodies. Sometimes he wondered if he was too old to be in these kinds of places, but at the end of the day, this was entertaining and he needed that. It wasn't long before he saw a familiar redhead bouncing around the place. He'd suspected drugs, but now he was sure. Motioning to one of the staff members, he pointed her out and sent the man to get her. He was comfy.
The first thought that entered Jean's head as she approached Warren was Man he's pretty.
He was always pretty, but he knew it. But there were no strings, no halting moments that made her think past that other than to reiterate that she was the one in control. This was her show.
"Well, you certainly know how to pick the place."
Warren stretched out his arms and grinned widely. "Don't you miss all this? I'm amazing, have money, and am basically the flashiest person in the world." He dropped his head slightly and looked up at her. "Come on. Give me a hug. I never get to see you like this. You're literally the last person I thought who would answer my texts. And with an eggplant even. Jean, Jean, Jean..."
Jean smirked. "Warren, Warren, Warren....Shameless. You don't even buy a girl a drink first?" she said. Instead of giving him a hug, she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.
"Gotta earn it."
Warren quirked an eyebrow up. Tonight definitely had brightened up. Snapping his fingers, he motioned to the valet. "Whatever the lady wants, on my tab. Do not make us ask for anything after that. And block off this floor."
He grinned, watching the staff scatter to fulfill his desires. "How's that?"
"Bourbon, neat," Jean said, sitting down beside him on the couch, surveying the room like she owned it.
She looked back to Warren with a devilish grin.
"It's a start," she said. As she crossed her legs she ran her foot along his leg.
Time was, this would've seemed very wrong. Right now, she felt pretty about it.
Warren looked around, expecting to see openly out mutants or another sign they were in an alternate dimension because this foot did not belong to Jean.
He threw his hands in the air. "Okay, I'll bite: are there cameras somewhere? Is this some sort of prank?"
Jean tilted her head. "No prank. No cameras. I just finally feel like myself for the first time in awhile," she said with a smile.
"Don't you want to celebrate that with me?"
This was a trick. It had to be. He squinted at Jean but finally decided he didn't care enough. If Jean wanted to have fun, well, he could provide said fun. "I can celebrate anything you want. I even have my disco boxers on."
Raising her eyebrows with interest, Jean glanced down, as if expecting to see a hint.
"Do you now? I don't know if I believe you without seeing them."
"As much as I am a fan of no pants," Warren started, leaning back so their drinks could be placed on the table, "this isn't really the time or place.". He reached over and lifted his scotch. "But I can fix that if you'd like."
Was he flirting with Jean? It felt different than usual. Part of him knew he needed to stop, but the other part was intrigued. Both parts forgot to text Bobbi though.
Jean didn't respond at first. Her eyes seemed slightly unfocused, distant, dreamy. After a moment, she smiled.
"Aren't you the VIP? I thought they'd do whatever you ask them to do," she said.
"There's still laws ," he reminded her gently. As Miles would say, his "spider sense" was tingling, but it could be due to the alcohol. This all seemed to so out of character for Jean, but part of him was so happy to see this. Those few months with Jean were actually one of the better ones he'd had, but she was just so stuck up ...or at least, that's how he saw it. And to see her letting loose, and being fun ... it reminded him of how much fun they used to have.
"We can get out of here, you know." He made a flying motion with his hand. "See the sights. Wouldn't that be fun? I can drink and fly."
Jean squinted. "Stuck up? How rude," she said, then tilted her head. "But fair."
She grinned, reaching over to run a finger down his chest. "Let's go. I'm bored here anyway."
He was going to call her out for reading his mind, but he got distracted. And plus, it didn't bother him much, although it did seem strange. He tried to remember if she'd ever done this before, but considering he was already tipsy before she showed up, and he'd downed his last drink (it wasn't going to go to waste, damnit), he wasn't all there.
Getting up slightly shakily, he grinned and stuck out his hand. "Your chariot awaits." With a snap of his finger, he walked away from his table, pleased to see servers quickly clearing it. He secretly hoped they fought over the large tip he'd left.
Jean laughed. "You're way too into this," she said, reaching up to run her finger down his lips as she bit her own.
"It's adorable."
Warren simply laughed in response, because saying anything else would be weird. In fact, it was getting a bit too weird, and his brain was starting to question things, which obviously meant he needed a) more drugs or b) more alcohol or c) a combination of the both. And since Jean was being so weird ... "Let's pop one off eh?" He gave a wink. "I have every letter of the alphabet you can think of in my penthouse." He laughed. "And even some other ones. Drugs are fun."
"I'm up for the apartment but I'll leave you to the drugs. You know I don't do that stuff," she said, the typical edge out of her voice. She didn't care what he did. She just wanted to feel something more than just pent up, wings clipped.
So far Warren had learned the following:
1) Jean was sexual
2) Jean was dangerous.
3) Jean still wouldn't do drugs.
It was good to have boundaries. "No no," he replied. "I've had my fill tonight anyways. Too much and my cock won't work anymore. And we both know I can't live like that."
"That would be a shame," Jean said, running her hand a little too close, with a feather touch, before pulling away with a grin.
"I don't want to just window shop."
Warren made a full-stop and looked oddly at Jean. "Jean. Do you want to fuck? It's okay to say so. I'm pretty easy, you know."
Jean laughed. She didn't say anything at first, her eyes unfocused as she seemed to sway back and forth on her heels in contemplation before draping her elbow on his shoulder.
"Yes, Warren, I would like to fuck," she announced with a smile.
Always holding herself back. She could have fun too.
"Should've known I was being too subtle."
"Good thing we're close to one of my apartments," was all he said back.
~*~*~*~
The ride to Warren's apartment felt like teleportation. She barely remembered the trip there. Before they knew it, they were outside his door. It'd been so long since she'd been here, but the doorman remembered her, and spared her a curious glance. She thought she saw concern but perhaps it was about something else.
They got on the elevator, and the moment the doors closed Jean shoved him against the wall and tried to kiss him.
It was easy enough to go along with the kiss. Even though it'd been years, he still remembered what she liked, and how she tasted (the lip gloss was oddly still the same), and it reminded him that Jean was always such a stable force that this make out session was equal parts intriguing and confusing. Barely stopping, he managed to open the door and stumble in, realizing belatedly that this was one of his work apartments and not set up for a hook-up. No matter. He was good at thinking on his feet.
Pulling away from Jean, he grinned and started to unbutton his shirt, walking backwards into a fairly bare bedroom. "Catch up, already."
Jean shot him a look, but it was mostly playful as she shoved him onto the bed and then climbed on top of him. "Rude," she mused, slipping off her shirt. She kissed him hungrily on the lips, her hair spilling in front of her like a fiery halo as her hands roved downward.
He didn't answer right away, choosing instead to live in the moment ... if only she had been like this when they had been dating... His eyes shot open. "Oh shit," he said, reaching over Jean, causing her to tumble off. He patted his pockets and frowned, jumping off the bed. "Where the hell is my cell phone ..." Did he leave it in his jacket? He stood up and looked around the room, trying to retrace his steps.
Jean blinked. "Why?" she said, brushing her hair out of her eyes after she had caught herself from falling off the bed.
Fingers tapping away at the screen, he finished what he was doing before answering her. "Oh, to text Bobbi. We have rules, see." His phone now on the bedside table, he crawled back onto the bed and reached for her. "I can do what I want, but I have to tell her beforehand. she's never said no, I'm sure this will be fine."
The sedated angel on Jean's shoulder seemed to wake at this declaration, like a slap to the face. Still blinking, Jean slipped away from him, rubbing her eyes.
Something was wrong. All of this was wrong. Why had she suddenly wanted to put up a middle finger to the world? There was no good reason, no big win, no real problems (lately).
God, she had left in the middle of a shift.
"No...this is..."
She shook her head repeatedly, climbing off the bed.
It took her a moment to put the dots together. This feeling was artificial, and it was coming from somewhere. Eyes fluttering, she struggled to shift through the haze and resist the urge to fuck it, quite literally. It was coming from somewhere, and that somewhere was....
Her eyes snapped open.
"Quentin," she said.
She backed up, snatching her shirt as she pulled it back over her head.
"I'm sorry...I need to go."
"Quentin??" That was literally the last thing Warren ever expected to hear out of Jean's mouth. He watched, weirded out by everything that was going on. Jean was getting dressed, Warren's phone was vibrating ... looking at the text, he was surprised to see Bobbi's response. Responding, he kept one eye on Jean, and held out a hand. "Wait, where are you going? Do you need a cab? Or a driver?" And then another text came. And another.
He was definitely in the doghouse.
Warren was talking but Jean wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying. All she knew was he was reaching for her and everything was wrong. She tried to shake the feelings off. It was like swimming in a tidal wave.
"What?" she said. She shook her head again, grateful when she found her purse and her cellphone. She headed for the door, clenching her fists as a flash of anger overtook her.
"I'm sorry. I need to go," she repeated, closing the door behind her.
Warren had no idea what Jean was saying. She left, but that was fine with him. Bobbi was angry, and he had something to fix now. Looking around for his jacket, he dialed a number. "Car. Now. Where you dropped me off." He had things to fix now.
