Just Add Some Friction

[Deleted]

The particular training room had been blocked out for the afternoon. Alerts and notifications had been tossed along to all Cabal agents who'd be on the premises throughout the duration, but hazard signs had been posted at the ends of the hallway on each side of the training room doors just in case. The room itself was largely empty, except for the thirty or so square, grey clay targets being held up by retractable metal arms that jutted from the floor. On one far end of the rectangular place, behind a line, Dorian stood directly behind Joan, both facing the array of targets. Each one was at a different height, angle, distance, depth. But they focused mostly on the one dead ahead. "Just breathe," Dorian whispered against Joan's neck. Ordinarily, his tactics would've had one primary intent. They were trying to be serious, though. Dorian's nearness and his words on Joan's skin may have made the unquenchable fire in each of them flutter a little brighter, but mostly Dorian was using his presence to soothe and calm his lover. Dorian ran his hands over Joan's shoulders. They were both in sleeveless exercise tanks and so his fingers rasped over Joan's bare skin, down both arms while they inhaled and exhaled together. Finally, his hands traced over the backs of Joan's, and when Dorian felt the ring on the boy's ring finger, telling to all the world that he was Dorian's, the older man's lips brushed the shell of Joan's ear. "Look at the target," he instructed, and both of their eyes fell on the one in question. "Visualize. Gather. Ready." Dorian's grip moved to the hips of his fiancé while Joan raised one arm. "Fire," he hissed.

... to be talkin' to you: b e l l a d o n a. should've taken a break, not an oxford comma. take what i want when i wanna. and i want ya ... Warlock Joan Amador

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[Joan Amador]

He'd been nervous about this. He trusted Dorian without any shadow of a doubt. It was himself and his own powers he didn't trust. He'd refrained from using much of his powers after that mission, after losing control at Aegis' headquarters. Not that he used his powers a lot, if at all, either way. He'd always been terrified of his powers, that was no secret and even if it was, it would have been an obvious one. He'd had them for the same amount of years as his siblings. He'd had these powers since he was nine years old - a fact he'd only neglected to mention to Dorian because the origin of his powers had never come up and it wasn't something that dawned on him to mention. One would have thought he'd had plenty of time to practice and learn to control them. But he'd always been far too afraid. He'd been nervous when he'd learned they'd be training specifically with his powers. He'd felt uncomfortable when he saw the hazard signs as they made their way to the training room, a glaring reminder at the danger that he was simply by living. He was afraid of losing control again, of being in that pain again. He was afraid of discovering that there was a limit to how much radiation Dorian could absorb. He wore a tank top and fitted pants, no shoes on his feet - he'd gotten into the habit of training without shoes and was certain it was Ariel's influence, a little thing he'd picked up from his older brother. Joan was highly aware of Dorian's presence, as he usually was. His breath against his neck, his words in his ears, his fingers against his skin. He mentally clung to Dorian like a lifeline, focusing on the calm, the confidence he felt from his fiance. Or rather trying to focus on that as much as he could, his own fear demanding attention. He couldn't help shuddering as Dorian's lips brushed his ear. He lifted his arm up as he was instructed to. A faint radioactive green glow appeared in his eyes first before his hand started to glow as well. The radiation he emitted hummed. "Fire." He knew how to concentrate enough to form a blast - He'd done it to Dorian the day at the beach, before they'd been engaged. But his mind flashed back to another training room, to that Aegis agent on him, to Dorian crashing into a wall, to the pain of losing control. He missed the target, the just an inch too far to the site and flying right past it, scorching the wall behind instead. Joan's breath hitched and he pulled his hand close to his chest as if hurt despite not feeling any physical pain. He grimaced, throwing another blast before he received any more instructions, and growled, cursing in Spanish when that too missed.

... I WATCHED YOUR BREATH AS IT TOUCHED THE WIND, AS IT PAINTED THE OPEN AIR, AND IT CAME TO REST ON MY SKIN ... fallout @dorian outfit described in post 484 words n/a

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[Deleted]

Near the beginning of their relationship, Dorian had often wondered if he would ever build up a tolerance for how much he desired the boy in his arms. Now - in love, engaged, inseparable - Dorian knew the answer was: no. If Joan had been his forbidden fruit, Dorian would've tore into it gladly, forsaking Eden without a Serpent's intervention. Despite constantly pulling in the ambient radiation Joan's body naturally exuded, just now, when he gathered more concentrations of it, Dorian's skin crawled with longing. It took Dorian using as much mental stamina as Joan was, readying his blasts, to resist the temptation to sink his teeth into that radiation and pull it into himself. Both fiancés managed, though. Dorian watched the first bolt go wide. Joan's anger ran down their empathic bond like nails down Dorian's back. Frustration stoked in the boy and he quickly and stubbornly loosed another bolt of concentrated radioactive energy. When it missed, too, Dorian's hands skated, quick and firm, down Joan's arms, fingers curling over his wrists, and forcing them to lower. "This is practice, baby," he whispered soothingly. "You're not supposed to hit them all. Breathe." Dorian was tempted to say cliche things like "there's no use getting frustrated," but even if they were true, they were unhelpful. "Let me help," Dorian murmured. He reached unseen fingers into Joan's emotions, waiting to see if it was all right. When Joan opened to him, Dorian grasped the prickly fibers of the boy's aggravation and started gently pulling it into himself, where he turned it into fuel for his parasitic powers. "Now. Try again, when you're ready."

... to be talkin' to you: b e l l a d o n a. should've taken a break, not an oxford comma. take what i want when i wanna. and i want ya ... Warlock Joan Amador

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[Joan Amador]

Dorian's hands were on his wrists and Joan found his arms lowered before he think to throw another volatile blast. He knew Dorian could feel his frustration but he wasn't sure if the older man understood it. He'd had his powers for the exact same amount of time, of years, as his siblings had. Sure he'd been nine when he first got them but Xander and Sara had just been eleven. They'd trained, learned how to control their powers and effectively use them. All of his siblings had. Mixed in with the fear of what he was capable of was a boiling anger at himself that he wasn't near the level his siblings were. It could have been argued that he was their match - or at least matched Xander, Sara, and Ryan - when it came to weaponry - none of them could match Ariel's skill. When he was in his brother's nullification field, he could fight and be just as deadly as any of them without worrying about his powers. Dorian had gotten a glimpse of that the first time they'd sparred and every time after that. But he'd never learned how to fight with his powers, at least not fully. Half the time he used his powers when sparring with Dorian or even during the mission at Aegis' headquarters, he'd been making it up as he went along. He didn't know how to pair his powers with hand-to-hand combat the way Xander and even Sara did. He'd tried to train growing up but it had always ended with him beginning to lose control and then a sedative jabbed into him. He didn't think it would've been a surprise to anyone that he compared himself to his siblings this often and always felt as if he came up short. Dorian's voice was in his ears again, soothing him, trying to calm him. Joan couldn't help rolling his eyes when Dorian insisted he didn't have to hit every target. He wanted to. He wanted to already be at that skill level. He thought at his age, he should've been. "Xander could hit them all," he couldn't help muttering bitterly, knowing it was a fact. He'd seen each of his siblings train. He let out an irritated huff, finding that easier than trying calm breaths. He'd gotten used to being able to freely express his emotions now. Calming himself to regain control was harder than it used to be. He leaned back faintly against his fiance when he felt him empathically reaching for him. He'd started to recognize the feeling and thus recognize when Dorian was asking for permission. He let him in like he always did, feeling some of his frustration start to fade shortly after. He closed his eyes at the relief that brought, letting out a breath and not noticing his breath came out as a green puff of radiation. When his eyes opened, he gathered energy back in his hand, hands and eyes glowing again, and threw it. The blast hit the target head on, scorching it. Joan, being the masochist that he apparently was, couldn't help still feeling as if he should have been easily able to hit it the first try. God, he hated his powers. "Why do I have to do this?" he asked suddenly, turning to halfway face Dorian, the green glow taking a moment to fade. Technically they'd already discussed it, as he'd asked Dorian when this practice had first been brought up. "It's not like I'm going to be sent on a mission again." The words came out more bitter than he'd meant.

... I WATCHED YOUR BREATH AS IT TOUCHED THE WIND, AS IT PAINTED THE OPEN AIR, AND IT CAME TO REST ON MY SKIN ... fallout @dorian outfit described in first post. 600 words n/a

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[Deleted]

"Xander could hit them all." The words gave form to the storm of volatile emotions bubbling under the surface in Joan that Dorian was skimming. Intermingled with the older man's compassion and understanding, frustration rose in him, distantly, too. Because Dorian despised when Joan compared himself to others: there was no competition, in his mind. Joan was superior in every way to everyone and everything. "Now, yes. Not when he began. I'm sure your father has footage from his first few lessons, if you wanted to see." Dorian's hands curled around Joan's waist when his fiancé leaned against him, resting his chin on the boy's shoulder and firmly butting his pelvis into the cushion of Joan's backside. The contact, Dorian's words, his drawing on Joan's frustration, or some combination thereof did the trick, drawing a weary sigh from him. The next lance of bristling radiation collided dead center with the target. Dorian's lips curled in a sly grin, but that faltered and fell, because of the emotions he tasted in his love. Joan squirmed slightly in Dorian's grasp, enough to hook an indignant and stubborn look up at the older man. "Why do I have to do this? It's not like I'm going to be sent on a mission again." Dorian looked down his nose at Joan, then slowly bent down to press a gentle, thoughtful kiss next to his mouth. He felt the act soothe Joan a little more. Afterward, Dorian's nose roved, softly brushing over Joan's smooth cheek. "This has nothing to do with the Cabal," he murmured. "This is for you, and you only. You can control these powers you have, Joan. I know you can. But it is going to take time, and effort." Dorian had worked his way to behind Joan's ear and suckled on the skin there, more to stave off his own hunger than help his fiancé. "Now," he spoke onto Joan's neck, "again."

... to be talkin' to you: b e l l a d o n a. should've taken a break, not an oxford comma. take what i want when i wanna. and i want ya ... Warlock Joan Amador

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[Joan Amador]

Joan's eyes closed halfway at the kiss next to his mouth. A large part of him wished Dorian would just give in to the urges they both felt - both because he didn't really want to continue this training, for Dorian to see all the ways he was lacking compared to others in the Cabal, compared to Dorian; and because he thought giving in would be a lot more fun. It was a soft comfort, though, Dorian's soft displays of affection. He hummed faintly at the touch of Dorian's nose against his cheek. He didn't think he'd ever done anything that didn't have at least something to do with the Cabal - not until he'd started his relationship with Dorian. Before then, he'd never stopped to realize how much of his life revolved around the Cabal. He still wasn't sure when that had started exactly but it was hard to remember a time when the Cabal wasn't in his life. He also wasn't sure how long it'd been since someone told him he could control his powers. He remembered the last time his siblings had - He'd been so frustrated he'd actually yelled at them to stop. He didn't doubt that they still believed in him, but they hated touched the subject of his powers in a long time. He hadn't wanted to talk about his powers in a long time. He still rarely did. He couldn't recall if his dad had ever told him he could control them - All he'd ever been told was everything that would go wrong if he didn't get better control. He let out a light gasp when Dorian moved to right behind his ear, knowing he was weak there. He wasn't sure if that was to help him concentrate or the older man's attempt at trying not to give in to their urges, but all it did was make him want him more, make him wish he'd continue and do so much more. He shuddered at the words ordered at him, knowing very well that Dorian was aware of the effect he had on him. Joan's eyes opened and his hands moved until they rested against Dorian's. He'd never told Dorian how long he'd had his powers. Since entering their relationship, he'd been honest about his resentment of his powers, his depression - not that either would have been easy to hide, had he decided to hide them. And it wasn't a secret he'd spent most of his time isolated from others ever since getting his powers, until the day he met his fiance. "I was nine," he said suddenly, searching their empathic link for Dorian's reaction to his words, head turning to see the older man's face. "When I got my powers." He felt vulnerable but not uncomfortable, feeling safe with his fiance. "I've had these for twelve years." He lightly bit down on his lower lip and pulled his gaze away. "Twelve years and all I can think about is everything that will go wrong, everyone I'll kill if I lose control." His eyes found Dorian again. "I don't know how to not be scared."

... I WATCHED YOUR BREATH AS IT TOUCHED THE WIND, AS IT PAINTED THE OPEN AIR, AND IT CAME TO REST ON MY SKIN ... fallout @dorian outfit described in first post 519 words n/a

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[Deleted]

There was a building storm in Joan, but when it broke, it was a gentle rain; a soothing balm, bleeding a wound of poison that'd long been scabbed over. Dorian stared in Joan's beautiful, brown eyes, and let the tide of his love for the boy run freely down their empathic link while Joan confided in him. Dorian listened dutifully, until a phrase called him to action: "I don't know how to not be scared." He couldn't stop himself from turning Joan around so they faced each other. Dorian's arms looped in a protective cage around his fiancé, crushing their bodies together at a point just below painful. "This," he said softly. "This is how you learn to not be scared. By reveling in your powers instead of letting fear crush you." Dorian's brows knit in an earnest, pleading frown, winded by just how gorgeous Joan was, in his arms. "And if you don't have faith in yourself, have faith in me. I know you can conquer your abilities, Joan, and you can't hurt me on the road there." He held Joan's gaze for a long moment afterward, making sure the gravity and sincerity of his words hadn't been missed. Then Dorian gently rested his forehead against Joan's, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply, using all his willpower not to hold the boy tight enough to bruise him.

... to be talkin' to you: b e l l a d o n a. should've taken a break, not an oxford comma. take what i want when i wanna. and i want ya ... Warlock Joan Amador

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[Joan Amador]

He found himself turned around, facing Dorian with his hands resting on the older man's waist. His body curved to stand perfectly against Dorian's. His eyes were on his fiance until the mention of reveling in his powers. He grimaced at the mere thought and pulled his gaze away, resting his head against Dorian's chest instead. Reveling in them meant enjoying them, not hating them. He didn't want his powers, he'd never wanted them. He'd been with the Cabal for twelve years under the promise of a cure for his powers. He wanted to control them, yes, but that was so he didn't accidentally cause a nuclear disaster before the Cabal's scientists finally managed to figure out a cure. He didn't understand why it was taking so long but then again he knew nothing about biology, especially when powers came into play. He didn't think he could ever enjoy his powers. He didn't think he'd ever stop wanting to be rid of them. Joan looked back up at Dorian when told to have faith in him. His heart lurched. He didn't want Dorian to ever think he didn't believe him or trusted him. He didn't want Dorian to ever think he doubted him. His grip on Dorian's waist tightened. He held the older man's gaze, though he didn't think his eyes were as steady as Dorian's were. He relaxed a bit when their foreheads touched, his eyes closing. "I don't want to conquer them," he admitted, his voice a whisper and his eyes opening though instead of looking to see if Dorian's eyes were open, his gaze lowered to where his hands were against Dorian's waist. "I want to be rid of them. I want to be cured." He pulled his hands away, using them to push Dorian's arms away and taking a few steps back, putting distance between them and pointedly avoiding any attempts from his fiance to pull him back. To his recollection they hadn't ever discussed - at least not since they'd started their relationship - how he wanted to be cured of his powers, how he saw them more as a disease than a blessing or gift. He knew Dorian liked his powers - the power they gave him - but Joan also knew Dorian was incapable of seeing anything wrong with the way Joan was now. With the possible exception of his constant need to apologize for everything - including simply existing - and his own dislike of himself, he was certain he was near perfect in Dorian's eyes. It was both flattering and at times infuriating. "You don't get it," he accused, more tired than angry. He turned on his heels and stalked toward the targets, stopping only to examine the one he'd managed to burn. "I know I can't hurt you - I'm not... I'm not that worried about hurting you." He shot a look over his shoulder, frowning and adding, "Though I'd rather avoid learning whether there's a limit to the radiation you can absorb or not." He ran his fingers over the target he'd burned, feeling the leftover radiation on it. His hands were starting to glow again. "I just want to not destroy the world while I have these powers." He grimaced at the mere thought. "I want to be rid of them - Shit, I want to be normal." His eyes were glowing by the time he turned around fully to face Dorian again, highly aware of whether the older man had moved or not. "I'm not normal," he stated, already prepared to counteract any arguments that there was nothing wrong with him because he thought there very much was. "Normal people don't have to worry, to tread lightly, to try to be as bored out of their mind as they can be so they don't kill people." He was gestured as he spoke, unsure what else to do with his hands. The radiation was starting to pool and drip from his hands like liquid. "I don't want to conquer my powers. I don't want to revel in them," his voice cracked, "I want to be rid of them. I want to live my life without some God damn radioactive noose around my neck." His focus wasn't really on anything specifically - not quite Dorian, not quite his powers in that moment. His breathing came out ragged with emotions as he stared in Dorian's direction but with unfocused eyes. He didn't notice the glowing green rope he now instinctively clutched in one of his hands, woven and constructed out of pure radiation - Something he'd never been able to do before.

... I WATCHED YOUR BREATH AS IT TOUCHED THE WIND, AS IT PAINTED THE OPEN AIR, AND IT CAME TO REST ON MY SKIN ... fallout @dorian outfit described in first post 762 words n/a

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[Deleted]

More than watching his fiancé's expression or body language, Dorian monitored the emotions rippling unfiltered down their empathic bond. He always did, but especially in that moment. For the first time in a long time, however, Joan's emotions, reactions, thoughts... They were all foreign and unknown to Dorian. He didn't know what was going to come next, and so he watched and waited. Not unlike a predator in his methodology, but with a motive of nothing but unconditional love and unquenchable adoration. Joan's hands pressed on him. Dorian's ever instinct screamed to not loose his hold on the boy, but he had and would never do anything that shackled or countered Joan's autonomy, agency and desires. Trying not to feel wounded by the distance Joan put between them, Dorian lowered his hands to his sides and continued to watch. Dorian understood Joan's revulsion toward his powers. Or had. At the beginning. He'd thought, though, that since they'd met and come together, Joan had adjusted his thinking. Had come to see his powers as more than a burden, as a gift. Particularly with Dorian there to monitor his output and help him shoulder the weight of them - like he did now, pulling the ambient radiation burgeoning in and around Joan in his anger before it could hope to leave the confines of the room. The older man drank in Joan's emotions - strong, rich and piercing as they were. He used them to soften and inform his own thoughts; using them as rungs on a ladder to climb toward greater insight on the boy he loved with his entire being. The crescendo of Joan's argument came, and Dorian noted only in his peripheral vision the noose Joan had unknowingly conjured. He did not break eye contact. "I love you, Joan," he began. He took a step. "Wholly. Utterly. Entirely." He continued to steadily close the distance. "With your powers or without. If you wish to be rid of them, so be it. I will support you. But until you have that option, control is the best choice to live without feeling these abilities shackling you." Dorian was standing in front of Joan, now. He reached down, grabbing the noose of radioactive energy, and wound it around his hands and Joan's, until all four of them were clasped together, knotted up in that energy. Dorian brought their joined hands up to his lips, and as they came to brush Joan's knuckles, the braid of power sunk into both of their skin. Dorian's irises blazed crimson, but he still refused to look away from Joan's.

... to be talkin' to you: b e l l a d o n a. should've taken a break, not an oxford comma. take what i want when i wanna. and i want ya ... Warlock Joan Amador

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[Joan Amador]

He'd never said those words before. Like many of his feelings, he'd kept them internalized, kept his mouth shut for fear that speaking them wouldn't help anything. Even after meeting Dorian, he still struggled with unlearning that habit of keeping his thoughts, especially the negative ones, to himself. It was the hardest of his habits to quit, admittedly. He didn't feel better with the words finally out, hanging in the air between the two of them. He didn't have anything else to say - his mind refused to think of anything else. He just felt tired emotionally and a little bit mentally as well. His eyes lifted up to meet Dorian's, his hand feeling hot with radiation. He watched Dorian carefully as he stalked forward, trying to search past his own emotions for Dorian's. He'd never let loose on someone verbally before - It certainly didn't feel as good as he'd once hoped. Perhaps that was because he'd dumped all of it onto Dorian and not the scientists that liked to poke and prod him for their research. Dorian, who had been with him and loved him at his weakest, who had done all he could - twice now - to make sure Joan didn't do the very thing he feared he one day would. Dorian, who understood him better than anyone, perhaps even himself. It didn't feel good to yell at Dorian. His face felt hot like it did anytime Dorian told him he loved him. No matter how many times he'd heard those words, they still got the same reaction from him, especially since he was fully aware that he could feel the love his fiancé felt for him too. It was like a breath of fresh air, the relief he felt when Dorian said he'd support him if he got rid of his powers. His powers were the reason the two of them had met, after all. They fueled Dorian's own powers like nothing else it seemed. He'd worried about how Dorian would feel about his desire to be rid of them more often than he cared to admit. Confusion flashed across Joan's face when Dorian grabbed the radioactive rope, only then registering that it was there. His skin tingled where the rope touched his hands, wrapped together with Dorian's. The radiation had clearly come from him, he could recognize the signature well enough but how...? The questions forming in his mind blurred away when Dorian's lips brushed his knuckles, his face feeling hot once again. He sucked in a breath as the radiation sunk into the two of them, his eyes glowing the same green the rope had been. It took him a moment before he could find his voice again, green eyes staring into red. "What if I can't?" he asked eventually, voice small. He'd always tried to contain his powers, not control them - not really. What if he couldn't? He didn't want to disappoint Dorian. "What if... What if it's too much for me?"

... I WATCHED YOUR BREATH AS IT TOUCHED THE WIND, AS IT PAINTED THE OPEN AIR, AND IT CAME TO REST ON MY SKIN ... fallout @dorian outfit described in first post 496 words This took far too long to write I'm so sorry.

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