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xp_logsTW: Suggestive, Implied sexual content
Jono and Q practice a particular element of telepathy. Backdated to June 13, 2024
Jono and Quentin’s relationship was…tumultuous at best. And for as much as Jono loathed to admit that Quentin was right about anything- things had gotten better since he’d decided to start practicing his telepathy, and he was maybe a little excited to show off that he could do it without being angry now.
”Surprise motherfucker. I actually practiced.” Jono thought loudly as he walked into the room he and Quentin had started using for their training sessions.
Quentin did not move or even look up from his phone when Jono proclaimed his accomplishment. He was too busy tapping likes and sliding into DM's. He did smirk a little, though it was hidden behind the device. "Congrats," he sent after firing off a lewd message he was particularly proud of. "Now you can do what every baby telepath half your age accomplished upon initial manifestation. You ready to go past the basics?"
Jono flipped him off and rolled his eyes. "Are you finished being condescending? Or would you like a better look at what's under the bandages again?"
He winced when he realized how it had sounded, but well, but trying to take it back would surely only make it worse.
Quentin's grin widened, and he lowered his phone to finally look at Jono. "Girl." A minor tinge of amusement came down the psychic link, too. "You can't just think shit like that to me. Give me at least a little challenge."
"I realized how it sounded as soon as I said it." Jono thought back, amusement coming from his well along with the annoyance. "It's pride month let me messy."
"By all means," Quentin magnanimously granted. "That's what this month is for. But, speaking of mess, you might want to learn how to keep other people's messes out of your head, and keep your own dumb shit to yourself. So, let's work on shields."
"Alright, how are we doing that?" Jono did his best to sound pleasant about it. They were actually getting along for once, he didn't want to ruin it....just yet.
Quentin extended a tendril of thought to Jono, an open hand to guide the neophyte telepath to the astral plane where they could visualize the lesson. The classroom melted away, and the pair now stood on a small yacht approaching a little island in the middle of a vast ocean, no other landmass or living thing in sight.
"Everyone sees it differently," Quentin explained from the bow of the ship, the clothes he had been wearing now replaced by a slutty little sailor outfit that would have fit well in '90s pornography. "But basically, you build and fortify a structure that makes you feel safe, and that protects you from intrusion."
"And you choose to think of it as some fancy rich person shit?" Jono asked. "What's with the costume Popeye?"
"Bitch, I am a fancy rich person. And this faggy little ensemble makes me feel safe and empowered. It's all tied into sense of self. Who do you see yourself as, Jonothon?"
Jono tried very hard to not look at Quentin too long. His newly realized bisexuality had caused him enough grief lately, he didn't need to think about it now. But he did think about Q's question, and he wasn't sure that his answer was particularly....healthy. "Lately I've been trying not to think of myself, but I suppose I think of myself as who I was before the accident. I keep- with the telepathy, I keep forgetting I don't have a mouth anymore. It hasn't been fun."
The ship slowed as it approached the island's small harbor, apparently self-navigating itself to the dock. Quentin, meanwhile, leaned against the railing and appraised the other telepath. "I'm not qualified to get into all that and whatever ableism you've internalized, but if that is how you see yourself, then you can just be that in the astral plane. Literally nothing except your own mind is keeping you away from that. So, try it. Give me a better look at what's under those bandages," he playfully challenged.
Jono took a moment to steel himself, he needed to calm down before he even tried to do anything with his powers, he'd learned that lesson the hard way more than once in the danger room. Jono closed his eyes and tried to picture himself, what he wore stayed the same, but the bandages fell away. He'd never really thought of himself as particularly attractive, but women had never seemed to have any issue coming up to him after gigs so he supposed he wasn't ugly. He'd always had a pretty strong nose and a sharp-ish jaw, or at the very least a larger chin. When he felt like him again he opened his eyes to look at Q. "Well?"
To be honest, Quentin was more impressed that Jono could reconstruct himself than he was by the other man's actual looks. Not that Quentin found him unattractive, but he wouldn't want to inflate Jono's ego too much. So he offered a simple "Nicely done" as the yacht pulled into the dock and gently stopped. "Taking on whatever form makes you feel like you is key. It opens up doors to do everything: build your shields, bond with people, engage in all manner of psychic fantasies."
"Psychic fantasies?" Jono asked, raising an eyebrow. "And yours is what? Getting railed in a little sailor suit?"
Quentin snorted. "I can do that in the flesh world, I don't need the astral plane for that. No, what I mean is, I can relive a vacation from the comfort of my own bed. I can re-create details of a case so I can explore it from new angles. I can fly. And yeah, I can get railed, too, in all the ways and with all the people I can't in reality."
Jono paused. "Are you saying it would be safe....for me to...be close to someone?"
A plank automatically lowered from the ship to the dock, which Quentin descended as he spoke. "Sure, psis do it all the time. It's basically tricking your brain into believing you're physically experiencing something, but experiences in the material world are all just the brain interpreting stimuli, anyway, so what's the difference?"
"I guess, but if I know it's a trick how do I make myself believe it?" Jono arched an eyebrow as he followed Quentin off the boat. "And the fire responds to emotional stimuli so how do I know that I'm actually being safe and not burning my partner alive in the process?"
"Oh, you'll believe it," Quentin reassured him, holding out a hand to help Jono disembark. "You feel my hand, right? Even though we're a few feet away from each other back in Westchester. This is just the most lucid dream you'll ever have, really. As for the whole fire thing, well . . . Maybe you got to take precautions. Make sure nothing or no one flammable is around. Or just . . ." Still holding Jono's hand, Quentin pulled him in close. Not so close as to pop his personal bubble, but enough that a middle school dance chaperone might give pause. ". . . You just need to take things slow."
"Yes, I suppose you and your little porn outfit know all about taking things slow." Jono teased, leaning forward into Q's space.
"That wasn't my intent, I'm just dressing for the season. But now that you mentioned it . . ." Quentin interlaced his fingers with Jono's. "I'll show you, if you want. And if it gets to be too much or you want to stop, just say so."
Jono rolled his eyes but squeezed Quentin's hand. "I'm not a virgin, I know how consent works- what do you have in mind?"
"Enthusiastic consent is vital, especially when you're in someone else's brain." Anyone would piss themselves laughing if they heard that Quentin Quire was teaching ethics, but if there was anything he held sacred, it was consent for sex. "Let's start with the basics and see how you go from there. See if you remember how to use that mouth right."
Now would probably be the smart time to mention that he'd never slept with a man before. But Jono was if anything stubborn, and had a vivid imagination and well they were in his head so that had to count for experience in this particular situation, didn't it? So rather than bringing up anything sensible, Jono sank to his knees and shot off a snarky, "Oh I see now consent matters, but when I was worried about ethics and my powers you told me that was flatscan nonsense."
"No, I advised you not to angst yourself about reading people's minds or the occasional telepathic misdirection," Quentin corrected him, fighting to focus both on this important lesson and Jono's surprising enthusiasm. "Mind control is another matter. Now, if that's all squared, you're clearly ready for the next unit in the syllabus . . ."
Jono and Q practice a particular element of telepathy. Backdated to June 13, 2024
Jono and Quentin’s relationship was…tumultuous at best. And for as much as Jono loathed to admit that Quentin was right about anything- things had gotten better since he’d decided to start practicing his telepathy, and he was maybe a little excited to show off that he could do it without being angry now.
”Surprise motherfucker. I actually practiced.” Jono thought loudly as he walked into the room he and Quentin had started using for their training sessions.
Quentin did not move or even look up from his phone when Jono proclaimed his accomplishment. He was too busy tapping likes and sliding into DM's. He did smirk a little, though it was hidden behind the device. "Congrats," he sent after firing off a lewd message he was particularly proud of. "Now you can do what every baby telepath half your age accomplished upon initial manifestation. You ready to go past the basics?"
Jono flipped him off and rolled his eyes. "Are you finished being condescending? Or would you like a better look at what's under the bandages again?"
He winced when he realized how it had sounded, but well, but trying to take it back would surely only make it worse.
Quentin's grin widened, and he lowered his phone to finally look at Jono. "Girl." A minor tinge of amusement came down the psychic link, too. "You can't just think shit like that to me. Give me at least a little challenge."
"I realized how it sounded as soon as I said it." Jono thought back, amusement coming from his well along with the annoyance. "It's pride month let me messy."
"By all means," Quentin magnanimously granted. "That's what this month is for. But, speaking of mess, you might want to learn how to keep other people's messes out of your head, and keep your own dumb shit to yourself. So, let's work on shields."
"Alright, how are we doing that?" Jono did his best to sound pleasant about it. They were actually getting along for once, he didn't want to ruin it....just yet.
Quentin extended a tendril of thought to Jono, an open hand to guide the neophyte telepath to the astral plane where they could visualize the lesson. The classroom melted away, and the pair now stood on a small yacht approaching a little island in the middle of a vast ocean, no other landmass or living thing in sight.
"Everyone sees it differently," Quentin explained from the bow of the ship, the clothes he had been wearing now replaced by a slutty little sailor outfit that would have fit well in '90s pornography. "But basically, you build and fortify a structure that makes you feel safe, and that protects you from intrusion."
"And you choose to think of it as some fancy rich person shit?" Jono asked. "What's with the costume Popeye?"
"Bitch, I am a fancy rich person. And this faggy little ensemble makes me feel safe and empowered. It's all tied into sense of self. Who do you see yourself as, Jonothon?"
Jono tried very hard to not look at Quentin too long. His newly realized bisexuality had caused him enough grief lately, he didn't need to think about it now. But he did think about Q's question, and he wasn't sure that his answer was particularly....healthy. "Lately I've been trying not to think of myself, but I suppose I think of myself as who I was before the accident. I keep- with the telepathy, I keep forgetting I don't have a mouth anymore. It hasn't been fun."
The ship slowed as it approached the island's small harbor, apparently self-navigating itself to the dock. Quentin, meanwhile, leaned against the railing and appraised the other telepath. "I'm not qualified to get into all that and whatever ableism you've internalized, but if that is how you see yourself, then you can just be that in the astral plane. Literally nothing except your own mind is keeping you away from that. So, try it. Give me a better look at what's under those bandages," he playfully challenged.
Jono took a moment to steel himself, he needed to calm down before he even tried to do anything with his powers, he'd learned that lesson the hard way more than once in the danger room. Jono closed his eyes and tried to picture himself, what he wore stayed the same, but the bandages fell away. He'd never really thought of himself as particularly attractive, but women had never seemed to have any issue coming up to him after gigs so he supposed he wasn't ugly. He'd always had a pretty strong nose and a sharp-ish jaw, or at the very least a larger chin. When he felt like him again he opened his eyes to look at Q. "Well?"
To be honest, Quentin was more impressed that Jono could reconstruct himself than he was by the other man's actual looks. Not that Quentin found him unattractive, but he wouldn't want to inflate Jono's ego too much. So he offered a simple "Nicely done" as the yacht pulled into the dock and gently stopped. "Taking on whatever form makes you feel like you is key. It opens up doors to do everything: build your shields, bond with people, engage in all manner of psychic fantasies."
"Psychic fantasies?" Jono asked, raising an eyebrow. "And yours is what? Getting railed in a little sailor suit?"
Quentin snorted. "I can do that in the flesh world, I don't need the astral plane for that. No, what I mean is, I can relive a vacation from the comfort of my own bed. I can re-create details of a case so I can explore it from new angles. I can fly. And yeah, I can get railed, too, in all the ways and with all the people I can't in reality."
Jono paused. "Are you saying it would be safe....for me to...be close to someone?"
A plank automatically lowered from the ship to the dock, which Quentin descended as he spoke. "Sure, psis do it all the time. It's basically tricking your brain into believing you're physically experiencing something, but experiences in the material world are all just the brain interpreting stimuli, anyway, so what's the difference?"
"I guess, but if I know it's a trick how do I make myself believe it?" Jono arched an eyebrow as he followed Quentin off the boat. "And the fire responds to emotional stimuli so how do I know that I'm actually being safe and not burning my partner alive in the process?"
"Oh, you'll believe it," Quentin reassured him, holding out a hand to help Jono disembark. "You feel my hand, right? Even though we're a few feet away from each other back in Westchester. This is just the most lucid dream you'll ever have, really. As for the whole fire thing, well . . . Maybe you got to take precautions. Make sure nothing or no one flammable is around. Or just . . ." Still holding Jono's hand, Quentin pulled him in close. Not so close as to pop his personal bubble, but enough that a middle school dance chaperone might give pause. ". . . You just need to take things slow."
"Yes, I suppose you and your little porn outfit know all about taking things slow." Jono teased, leaning forward into Q's space.
"That wasn't my intent, I'm just dressing for the season. But now that you mentioned it . . ." Quentin interlaced his fingers with Jono's. "I'll show you, if you want. And if it gets to be too much or you want to stop, just say so."
Jono rolled his eyes but squeezed Quentin's hand. "I'm not a virgin, I know how consent works- what do you have in mind?"
"Enthusiastic consent is vital, especially when you're in someone else's brain." Anyone would piss themselves laughing if they heard that Quentin Quire was teaching ethics, but if there was anything he held sacred, it was consent for sex. "Let's start with the basics and see how you go from there. See if you remember how to use that mouth right."
Now would probably be the smart time to mention that he'd never slept with a man before. But Jono was if anything stubborn, and had a vivid imagination and well they were in his head so that had to count for experience in this particular situation, didn't it? So rather than bringing up anything sensible, Jono sank to his knees and shot off a snarky, "Oh I see now consent matters, but when I was worried about ethics and my powers you told me that was flatscan nonsense."
"No, I advised you not to angst yourself about reading people's minds or the occasional telepathic misdirection," Quentin corrected him, fighting to focus both on this important lesson and Jono's surprising enthusiasm. "Mind control is another matter. Now, if that's all squared, you're clearly ready for the next unit in the syllabus . . ."
no subject
Date: 2024-08-15 01:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-08-16 05:08 pm (UTC)(Something something innuendo about why this is why Quentin's teaching methods are more fun than Haller's.)