Shabu-shabu

Title: Shabu-shabu
Author: SmuttyKitty
Pairing: Walt/JP
Rating: NC-17, strong sexual themes, uh... slashy sex
Disclaimers: JP, Walt, and Alpha Flight belong to Marvel.
Author's Notes: Kind of a PWP I guess, but I prefer to think of it as character development/growth. I also hate the word Alphans, so I refused to use it. Alphas is slightly better but I have yet to find a satisfactory way to refer to AF'ers.


Walter wasn't sure how he got to this point, but all the same he wasn't sure he would change it. He glanced around the now familiar bedroom, the ambience defined by the silver filter of the light through the window. Figures carved out in the blue night. The sleeper next to him rendered strangely more knowable in the shadow. Jean-Paul's body sprawled out in post-orgasmic languor, relaxed in his sleep.

The sex between them was breathless. Walter wasn't sure he could stay away if he wanted to. Jean-Paul opened like a present when he was aroused, with more feelings than Walter was aware he possessed before he got to know him. The way he hissed, cooed, swore, writhed, and growled when Walter fucked him was unlike anything he had ever experienced with another lover. The act of fucking seemed to increase Jean-Paul's intensity ten fold until Walter's mind was practically buzzed from it. His reactions made it seems as if some deep primal need was fulfilled through sex, its satisfaction bringing forth a peace Walter had never seen on that face at any other time.
They met often enough. Aurora was flighty and felt secure enough of her position with Walter to take off to destinations unknown at the drop of a hat. At first it had made him lonely, but now he had other things to occupy his free time. Namely eating with and fucking her stupid-hot brother.
Tonight they met at some urban hipster suki-yaki shop in whatever passed as the new, hip, just-renovated-part-of-town today. Jean-Paul had looked "too cool" in his bootcut black leather pants and cashmere-silk turtleneck. Walter felt the heat rise in his neck as the waitress led him to the "booth," a semi-private enclosure with no chairs, just tatami mats and a modular looking table with the hot pot built in. He didn't understand how the other man could look so fucking wanton doing nothing more than sipping his beer and waiting. The longer he knew Jean-Paul, the more he was certain he could look dirty doing anything: brushing his teeth, cooking breakfast, pissing in the sink.
The conversation between them was hushed and sparse, but accompanied by a full feeling. Walter enjoyed watching the graceful wrists swish and pick out pieces of morning glory and chicken then watch the pieces get eaten in bird-delicate bites. In a way he felt like it was a show, just for him though he wasn't sure. The big man wanted, in his subdued way, to feed him, but they simply weren't that way. No one casually watching would catch the sparks that arced silently but surely between them.

Walter wasn't even sure the he could explain how "they" had even started. Maybe one too many prolonged looks, or one too many last calls together after all the rest of the Flight went home. All he could say for certain is that once those lips had touched his cock, never mind how they got there, he was lost without hope of going back. Jean-Paul gave and never asked for, a quality he at first found suprizing. Now that he was more comfortable with their arrangment it crossed his mind that perhaps he should reciprocate, but Jean-Paul never asked. Maybe it was a gift of trust, where he could capitulate for a change. He knew Jean-Paul took from his other lovers, he had even seen it once when he had looked for him in the toilet during dinner with some of the team. Walter carelessly walked into an unlocked but closed cubicle only to see Jean-Paul being orally serviced by one of the waitstaff. He simply stared for a few moments and Jean-Paul had looked him straight in the eye and shot his load with nothing more than a groan. Walter back-pedaled furiously and could scarcely look at him across the table for the rest of the night.

Supper lasted 3 hours, both of them taking their time, leisurely cooking and drinking beer. By the time they left, Walter was more than a little ready to go. He wanted to lead him down the nearest alley and grind against the shorter man's perfect, hard body. In the cab they sat thigh to thigh, but otherwise chaste as nuns. Jean-Paul paid the cab driver handsomely, he always did. Walter supposed that with enough of a tip, the driver would deny ever seeing them in that cab if a nosy society reporter asked. For some reason, he never worried about speculation. Perhaps he was simply overconfident of Jean-Paul's ability to maintain his cloak of impenetrability.
Once inside the door of Jean-Paul's flat, Walter grabbed him and pulled him into a crushing embrace, mouthing the joint of shoulder and neck, tasting expensive cologne and the slightest tang of sweat salt. As usual, Jean-Paul was pliant though not unresponsive. And not for the first time, Walter felt a blush of gratitude that, for watever reason, Jean-Paul could give himself to him like this, in this way. Walter raked his nails across the hard torso under his hands, loved the hiss it elicited. Jean-Paul arched against the wall of the foyer, his pelvis thrust forward into Walt's. His flesh always felt hot and so alive beneath Walter's big hands. As they almost reached their epitome, Jean-Paul pushed his partner off with a cheeky look and walked to the kitchen, arranging his clothes as he strode through the open apartment.
In the kitchen he took out two small glasses and a bottle of Cointreau. While he poured he sent Walter his best pair of fuck eyes, then literally beckoned him across the room. Walter had never seen a crooked finger look so interesting. Jean-Paul smiled his curious little vulpine smile, eyes shining from behind that black fringe and took a generous sip of the liquor. Then he walked up to Walter and placed his mouth against his and as Walter opened his mouth he felt the gush of orange enter his mouth. He swallowed and sucked on the tongue that followed. After a few shared breaths, Walter took his turn at the game, felt electric heat sheet through his abdomen as he looked at the expectant face with its upturned mouth, slightly open. He opened his mouth before the seal of lips was tightly formed and Jean-Paul smiled as an errant dribble made its way down his chin. They rested forehead to brow, reveling in the hot press of bodies.
Finally Walter couldn't take it anymore, and in a moment trousers were down and he was sliding in, fucking Jean-Paul with abandon against the kitchen island. He loved the way the other man's bony heels dug into his kidneys, inciting him to further violence until he was certain he was going to break him with his cock. Jean-Paul's voice crescendoed in proportion to the pounding until he was crying out with each thrust, the sound blending in with the roar in Walter's ears as he orgasmed. Jean-Paul came almost at the same time, his fingers digging painfully into strong shoulders.
Walter leaned over Jean-Paul who had collapsed on the countertop, still cooing with his pleasure. He was panting like a dog streaking after a car, and in a moment he smiled at the man below him. He stroked the skinny flank affectionately and waited for him to come back down. Electric blue eyes peered out from slitted lids, and with a little laugh Jean-Paul used his heels to moved Walter's semi-hard dick inside of him. The elfin man laughed in earnest when Walter gasped then had to pull out because it was too much. Long fingers laced through blonde hair, as Walter lapped a taste of semen off of the flat belly and turtleneck.
"Oh, Walter. You are something else, seriously." Jean-Paul said, face tilted up and away.
"I'm glad you think so." Walter replied sheepishly, and pulled up his pants. Jean-Paul continued to lay motionless on the island, pants trailing off his feet.
Silence descended comfortably. Walter got a glass of water and put things away. One of the prone figure's milky hands grasped and a glass was pressed into it.
"I'm tired now."
"Me, too."
Strong arms levered Jean-Paul up. Walter pressed his face into the now disheveled shag. "Are you okay?"
Rewarded with an oddly cute sleepy grin across the sharp face. "Oui."
"Go to bed?" Walter queried.
Jean-Paul slanted his head and idly rubbed against Walter's bristles. "Mmm hmmm."
Slowly they shuffled into the bed. Walter tucked the blanket up around the sleeper's neck and settles in next to him. Flicked the tv on but then turned carefully on his side and fingered a black curl. He stared for a little bit, then decided to stop thinking for tonight. Decided the answers he has are sufficient. No, he doesn't know how he got here, but is glad he arrived all the same.