alfa | ( psl ) for defaulthawke

Owen squares his jaw, genuinely worried. He knows he can surprise Garrett, but that ultimately the other will be able to subdue him. His only chance here is to catch him by surprise, and try to use that short window of time to get down the stairs and away from him.

So... fuck it. He doesn't want to hurt Garrett, but he also would rather not get raped by him while he's high on some frenzy aphro.

With a sudden jerk, he headbutts Garrett, slamming his forehead hard into his nose. He hopes beyond hope that'll be enough to get Garrett to loosen his grip, so he can then yank his hand free and rush towards the stairs.

He's faced this maneuver before, too. His instinct is to tighten his grip, though he does let loose a rather colorful string of profanities.

Well, fuck. Apparently this isn't the sexy "putting up a fight because it's hot" kind of fight- Owen is actually trying to escape. That makes Hawke tighten his grip a little more, though, leaning his lower body away from Owen (to make the hold a little less inappropriate), but he keeps the other man still.

"Interesting," he snarks. "But I'm sure if I got a face full of Grimm's Mercy, you'd be the first in line to take me while I couldn't stand up for myself."

Okay, Garrett does understand that people have the right to choose for themselves and to not be into things. He also understands that he very much started this by slamming the guy against the wall. But Owen used and fucked him into aching, boneless exhaustion until he was too sore and helpless to have any say on the matter- which was great. Fantastic. But his tanglethorn-addled mind chafes at Owen thinking himself too good to take what he gives.

"It must be terribly upsetting for your sex toy to get up and try to play for itself."

Well, shit. Not only didn't that work, it's possible he's pushed Garrett's buttons and made him even angrier. Panic seizes him when Garrett's hand grips tighter around his wrist, eyes wide as he tries to put another step between them, at the very least.

"That's a fucking lie," he growls. Granted, he would eventually give into it, especially since Grimm's Mercy makes its victims rather pushy on others. He's seen it before, so he knows. But from giving into that to being the first in line to take advantage goes a long way.

"What the fuck are you saying? That's bullshit, Garrett," he pants, and then it dawns on him. His expression shifts into a different sort of shock, his free hand resting on Garrett's arm. "Garrett. Are you saying I raped you? Is that what it was?"

Garrett is so surprised he actually lets go of Owen, taking a step back from the man with a slightly boggled look.

“What? No!” he protests, wondering how this conversation went off the rails so badly. Maker’s arse, this pollen is seriously fucking with him. “It’s just a bit funny that you only seem to want me when you can bend me over something and make me beg.”

It’s a sign of how far afield his mind has gone, that this is any kind of problem at all. But there’s a trace of something smaller and softer in it, a spark of doubt—a strange interaction of the tanglethorn’s need to dominate clashing with that deep-running fear he has of being used and helpless (and with the pollen, the arousal he usually feels for those exact same ideas is utterly absent). It’s strange, how these things rampage through his veins.

Owen nods, takes a slow breath. The way Garrett responds so quickly does put him at ease again. He'd genuinely hate himself if Garrett felt like Owen had taken advantage of him in that way.

However, the following remark has him frowning slightly. His hands now free, he lets his arms rest to his sides, feeling suddenly a vague distance between them that he dislikes.

"That's not true. That was fun, but it's not the only way I'd want you."

It just happened to be how their first time went, is all. He realizes this may just be the pollen messing with Garrett's perception of what happened between them, but still-- it's a concern that he'd rather Garrett didn't have.

He's the one to step closer to the other this time, less worried now that he seems to have calmed down from his violent streak. He reaches out and rests a hand on Garrett's forearm.

"Look. I'll come with you. I'll help you, I swear to you I don't give a shit if you're the one bending me over. Just... no need to fight me for it, okay? Just... I'll be with you, gladly, just don't force me into it."

Owen's answer makes Garrett feel sick. He sounds like he’s negotiating with a kidnapper- I promise I’ll go with you, I swear I don’t mind. Garrett steps back, suddenly horrified with himself.

“No,” he shakes his head. “You don’t have to. This wasn’t right- you don’t owe me anything. I’m sorry.”

Owen feels a mix of relief and panic at Garrett's reaction. It was the last thing on his mind to make him feel bad with his offer, but it looks like that's exactly what he did.

On the other hand, the fact that Garrett seems to be at least more rational makes him feel calmer. Safer too, for what it's worth.

"Don't-- don't apologize, it's not your fault. It's that damn pollen," he says. "And I know I don't owe you anything. Look... this thing isn't just gonna wear itself off, is it? It's just gonna eat away at you until it forces you to really hurt someone."

Owen presses his lips in, almost shy about admitting this. "I've only ever done it with one guy. That's just... that's it. I liked it, but I'm just still... a little nervous about it. Okay?"

Garrett blinks.

“Oh.”

The banality of it takes him by surprise- it’s just that he’s not experienced? That’s it?

“Is that all?” Garrett gives a relieved laugh, stepping closer and putting his hands on Owen’s shoulders. “Maker, I can work with that. I’m amazing at foreplay. You’ve got to be, when you’re as big as I am.” He squeezes those broad shoulders and grins. “I’ll make you feel amazing. It won’t hurt a bit.”

Owen lets out a faint sound through his nose. Yeah, he knows it's stupid, leave him be.

"It's not all for me, alright? It's... well, not a huge deal, but it's still important," he shrugs. At least the touch of Garrett's hands on his shoulders puts him a little more at ease this time around, as opposed to the way he grabbed at him before.

This. This is much better. He sketches a small smile. "Okay, so you wanna get out of here or what?"

Garrett grins and takes Owen’s chin lightly, leaning in for a brief kiss. It ignites that ever present, barely suppressed hunger, and he pulls away with a gleam in his eyes.

“Yes,” he half-growls. “We’re going to-“

Wait. Stop. He cuts himself off suddenly, choking out words with great effort but greater determination.

“Where... do you want to go?”

Maker, that’s not easy. The tanglethorn wants badly to seize control of every detail here, and run roughshod over Owen’s will.

Owen's eyebrows raise when Garrett stops himself halfway through his sentence. A small smile stretches his lips, and he steps closer, curling his fingers into Garrett's clothes.

He leans in to kiss him, slow and heated and deep, parting his lips willingly, knowing Garrett won't resist the urge to claim that kiss for himself, to own it.

When he pulls away, it's only so he can breathe against Garrett's lips.

"Take me wherever you want to take me."

Garrett falls into that kiss with a small, gratified moan, holding Owen close against his body as he forces himself into Owen’s mouth, unnecessarily making the kiss an overwhelming, dominant thing. After what just happened, his confidence is thoroughly shaken- he feels like he can’t trust himself, can’t leave anyone alone with him. That Owen is giving these little concessions, opening himself up to be taken, is a tiny balm to his inner fire.

That pleased feeling grows when Owen hands the decision back to Garrett. Once more it’s a small gesture of trust, once more placing himself in Garrett’s hands. Garrett cups Owen’s face in both hands and pulls him in one more time to kiss him absolutely breathless. Only when his own breath is coming faster and his cock is stirring does he pull away with a heated smile.

“My room.”

They get there faster than expected. For once in his life Garrett doesn’t get distracted; he’s entirely focused on getting Owen alone. Nobody around to watch, to pry, to draw Owen’s attention, to look at what’s his.

Well, he was sort of counting on the kiss becoming a little too rough and domineering, so that at least doesn't catch him by surprise. He hums, a hint breathless, but his fingers curl tightly into Garrett's shoulders, his own body arching closer to the other man's.

"Yeah," it's all he manages, voice breathless and heavy, eyes darker. He clears his throat and untangles himself from Garrett just so they can rush down the stairs and head back to the castle.

If the walk is quick it's probably just because they very nearly run their way there. Still, Owen doesn't feel tired at all by the time they get there, and even before the door is shut behind them, he's already peeling off his henley, tossing it across the floor, waiting for Garrett to make the next move and undoubtedly take the situation under his control.

( psl ) for defaulthawke

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