Would You Rescue Me? (Closed)

[Xander Amador]

Xander needed a drink. He'd felt relatively good about that mission - even the temporary deafness hadn't wavered him - until he'd found out his little brother had almost gone full nuclear. There was only so much he could do now - and he'd made sure to do all he could - and there was only so much he could stand being cooped up at the Institute. So he'd grabbed what he thought wasn't a bad outfit and headed out without a word, knowing full well he'd be caught on the front door cameras. He didn't care, though. It wasn't as if he was leaving the Cabal - He'd never do that. They were doing good work there, his family was there, and he wanted to be a part of it. But God, did he need a drink. He unzipped his jacket, swinging it off and resting it on the stool before he sat on it, right at the bar. He really hoped American drinks weren't awful, though he had a feeling most were imported. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to get drunk - perhaps only buzzed - but he wanted to drink. It was easier than worrying about the things he couldn't control right now. He rested his skateboard against the stool as well, having rod it to the bar. He was just getting out his card - a standard one funded by the Cabal that Perses had given him and his siblings - when a drink was placed in front of him. He paused, looking at the drink then the bartender. "I didn't order that," he stated, not unkindly, just matter-of-factly, a tint of confusion to the words. The bartender shrugged. "Guess someone thinks you're cute." She smiled at him knowingly as if it wasn't the first time she'd given someone an unexpected drink from an admirer. Xander felt his cheeks heat up and glanced around. The bar wasn't uncomfortably crowded but there were enough people that he didn't think he would have noticed if someone was watching him, at least not right away, not without looking closely, his Cabal training kicking in. He shrugged. A free drink was a free drink. Besides it had come straight from the bartender, hadn't it? He took it and started drinking, cringing at the flavor, the burn - What was this? He should have asked. It tasted almost like whiskey... Wait... It didn't taste right. He'd had whiskey before, and he was trained to notice when something was off with anything around him. He quickly put the drink down and pushed the glass away, coughing and cursing under his breath because he couldn't spit out what he'd already swallowed. That was when he realized he hadn't put his card away yet - He'd been distracted by the drink appearing. His vision blurred briefly but once it returned, he saw a hand reaching for that card. His training kicked in. He grabbed the wrist, noted that it clearly belonged to a man older and bigger them him - muscular - but size didn't always matter. He twisted the man's wrist hard and wrong, distinctively noting the feel and sound of bone snapping beneath his grasp. The man cried but unfortunately for him the young Cabal agent wasn't done with him. Xander's mind was starting to feel foggy. Perhaps if that wasn't the case, he would have left it at the wrist. He released the man's wrist and before the man could even pull away, his hand glowing a golden, burnt yellow. He threw a blast of sound, hitting the man square in the chest and sending him flying back, colliding with an occupied booth. Xander huffed - did his breathing sound ragged to anyone else or was it just him? He scooped up his jacket and his skateboard. He took one step and stumbled, clutching onto the stool he'd just been occupying. Shit - What was in that drink?

... there was a time, i used to look into my father's eyes. in a happy home, i was a king, i had a golden throne ... frequency @samson outfit 644 words Hope this works! ❤

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[Deleted]

Samson had chosen the bar specifically. It had to meet very explicit criteria: it couldn't be the one that the cast of his production was headed to after that evening's performance. So, simple criteria that ninety-nine point nine percent of bars met, but still. It wasn't that Samson disliked his fellow thespians. Just that they were inherently Extra™ - it came with the territory - and Samson didn't always have the energy leftover post-show to keep up with them. Instead of the smokey venue he was sure his fellows crowded in, laughing, dancing and getting thoroughly drunk, Samson propped his elbows at the end of a bar, by himself, nursing a beer that he only stomached because of how much he'd paid for it. He was quite enjoying the calm anonymity of not being part of his usual entourage. He enjoyed it much more once he gave up on the piss-water and ordered a whiskey instead. The plan had been to enjoy his relative privacy - it was pretty easy, once you'd gotten comfortable in bars and pubs and clubs - to put on just the right kind of air to discourage the majority of people's interactions. Then the door opened and a guy pushed in carrying a skateboard and Samson paused with his glass to his lips, eyes shining. He was hot, yes, but there was an edge of cuteness that, to Samson, just increased how appealing he looked. Suddenly the idea of keeping to himself that evening seemed impossible and stupid. And then he was ordering the other man a drink anonymously, who had dropped onto a barstool not terribly far away, but still separated by a handful of other bodies. Samson watched peripherally when that drink was delivered, smiling into his own whiskey at the confusion and visual sweep of the bar that the guy did to try to locate the person responsible. Samson let it ride for a minute. He set down his drink, moving to drop off of his stool, when suddenly everything imploded. He stared, disoriented and stunned, as a fight broke out. Not only that, but the guy he had his eye on was moving with all the hallmarks of someone who'd been drugged. Samson's throat went dry, quite unrelated to the alcohol he'd been knocking back. He was too dumbfounded and confused to think to intervene at the scuffle. That shock was compacted when the guy he'd sent a drink to delivered first incredible - and brutal - self-defense moves and then a blast of energy that made all the glass in the bar rattle and chime ominously. Samson was standing, without remembering when he'd done so. He blinked, eyes wide, at the other man, who snatched up his jacket and skateboard and stumbled toward the door. Samson lurched after him, wanting to make sure he was all right, that he didn't pass out in the street or get accosted again. The bar was chaos, but Samson moved through it after the other man in a haze. His eyes distractedly caught on the card laying, forgotten, on the bar beside the poisoned drink - one he'd sent, but that was one of a hundred new mysteries that would have to wait. Samson snatched it, and every patron was so focused on each other, or the unconscious man who'd been blasted into a booth that no one noticed or tried to stop him. He pushed into the lamplit street in time to see the other man tripping into an alley three buildings over. Samson sped up, rushing to catch him. "Excuse me," he called ahead of him, not wanting to surprise or frighten the guy - he was pretty keen on keeping his wrists in tact. "Hey! Sorry, erm," Samson scrambled for words, suddenly facing the defensive, straining eyes of the other man, in the alley. "You left this," he said, holding out the card. "Are you all right?"

... True that love in withdrawal was the weeping of me, That the sound of the saw must be known by the tree ... mesmer Xander Amador

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[Xander Amador]

Everything kept shifting. One minute it sounded far too loud, the next it was too quiet, too dull as if he was listening from under water. He knew it was his powers going haywire, trying to protect him yet not knowing what was attacking him. His body just knew it was in his body - It didn't know what to do about that. He stumbled out of the bar, barely managing to keep a grip on his skateboard - There was no way he'd be able to ride it back to the Institute. He thought about grabbing his phone. There were several people he could have called for help. His first instinct was to call his dad. But his family had enough to worry about, fretting over Joan. He didn't want to add to that. He wasn't sure how far he'd managed to walk - stumble was more accurate but his pride refused to acknowledge his movements as anything other than walking - but as he found himself in an alley, he was fairly certain that he was lost. He cursed in Spanish. He was pretty sure his mom, as loving and kind as she had been, would have killed him for somehow getting in this situation. He huffed - Was his breath uneven? ...No, his breathing sounded and felt fine. He didn't think this situation was his fault, though he knew his mom would have chastised him for not being more careful. Shit, his dad was probably going to as well. He didn't want his dad to find out. Xander dropped his jacket and his skateboard and leaned to the side against a building wall. He felt like he needed to catch his breath even though his breathing was fine. It was his sight, his head that kept swimming. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to concentrate as hard as he could on keeping his powers at bay. His powers made sure he heard that voice instantly, rocketing the sound to his ears. He whirled to face the direction it came from, his training telling him to be ready to defend himself. He eyed the older man up and down, assessing the level of threat he appeared to be - and that was without knowing whether or not he had any powers. His head swam. He reached a hand out and placed it against the wall to steady himself. His eyes were starting to faintly glow that burnt gold of his powers. The glow faded as quickly as it came. His lungs took in the fresh air - well as fresh as the city's air could get. His head was starting to feel better. Xander registered the older man's words and saw his card - Oh, he hadn't even realized he'd forgotten that. He took the card and slipped it into his back pocket. "Th-Thanks," he replied, unsure if the stutter was from the fact that his head wasn't entirely better or the surprise that this guy hadn't taken his card and ran with it. After all, he would have discovered that it appeared to have no limit. He shifted so he could lean back against the wall, head leaning back as well, eyes on the sky. "I'm fine - Well... I feel better. Didn't drink much." His eyes fluttered close and he let out a laugh, somewhere between genuinely entertained and humorless. "Dios, I'm an idiot. Someone buys me a drink? Yeah, right." His face felt hot, embarrassed for believing someone in that bar had actually been interested in him.

... there was a time, i used to look into my father's eyes. in a happy home, i was a king, i had a golden throne ... frequency @samson outfit 583 words n/a

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[Deleted]

The split-second of light whispering in the other man's eyes wasn't missed by Samson. But it didn't deter him, just made him more wary. In the world they lived in, supernatural abilities were as common as green eyes. If anything, the subtle hint at powers only piqued Samson's curiosity and interest more - the back of his mind pointing out that that was some common ground that they shared. The stranger didn't leap to the offensive. He stayed wary and ready to act until his dazed attention caught on the card that Samson carried. Then, all at once, the cornered animal disappeared, like a breath being released. The stranger murmured his thanks, took the card and stuffed it in a pocket. His actions were careful and questioning, but he was upright and didn't seem in danger of passing out. All good things that made the guilt crushing Samson's stomach in its fist loosen. The other man assured he was fine, leaning his back against the dank alley wall. Samson's features were creased and crinkled in concern regardless. Then, when the stranger scoffed at the idea that someone had genuinely sent him a drink, Samson's cheeks colored. He reached up to rub at the back of his neck. "Um... That was me, actually," he confessed, not used to having to spell out when he was attracted to someone else so clearly. Samson rushed to add, though, worried as much about the stranger thinking he'd drugged him as the stranger's well-being itself. "But I didn't do anything to it, I swear. Didn't even touch it. If anything, I'm almost as mad at you about it. The whole thing ruined my chances to-" Samson paused to pick the right words, "get to know a cute guy." He smiled, charming and crooked, at the stranger. He ordinarily wasn't quite so forward, but the disbelief in the other man, thinking it was silly anyone looked at him with longing, forced Samson's hand. He couldn't let him continue believing that lie. "Erm. Name's Samson, by the way. Really hoped to have made that introduction under better circumstances."

... True that love in withdrawal was the weeping of me, That the sound of the saw must be known by the tree ... mesmer Xander Amador

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[Xander Amador]

Xander blinked like a deer caught in headlights, feeling both utterly stupid and like a complete asshole when it was revealed that this man had bought him the drink - though he hadn't been the one to spike it with whatever that had been. He was pretty sure he'd just accidentally dismissed this man's attempt to hit on him and that felt like such an asshole thing to do. He winced at himself, though his face was painted with a bright blush. "Crap sorry," he said, awkwardly reaching up and running a hand through his own hair. Perhaps this man - Samson, as he'd introduced himself - didn't think he had anything to apologize for - that remained to be seen - but he did. "That was rude of me. Today's just been - mm - not good." He couldn't help the charming smirk that found its way onto his face. "But I think it just got better." He moved to lean his back against the alley wall, head turned enough for his eyes to remain on Samson, his skateboard forgotten by his feet, thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans. He didn't want to move much, afraid it'd cause his head to swim. But he was content to stay and talk with Samson. He knew there was a possibility the other man was lying - he seemed honest but there were good liars in the world - but he figured he'd cross that bridge if he got to it. "I'm Xander," he said, propping one foot up against the wall, his knee bent. "And I'm quite happy to have an equally cute guy get to know me." He was pretty sure his siblings would have laughed at his flirting - Joan would've gotten secondhand embarrassment, Ryan would've teased him, Sara would've insisted she flirted better than him, Ariel probably would have been too focused trying not to look at him and read his body language. "Thanks by the way," he added, "For the drink - thought that counts. But also..." He shrugged, trying not to let shyness creep in but unable to fully stop it. "For uh - for coming after me. The circumstances might not have been the best but, well, I think they're already getting better."

... there was a time, i used to look into my father's eyes. in a happy home, i was a king, i had a golden throne ... frequency @samson outfit 368 words n/a

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[Deleted]

He'd been tense up until this point. Like a breath being held, waiting until everything was out in the open to see if the skater believed it or not. The moment it was clear the boy did trust Samson's words, he actually sighed through his nose in relief, his shoulders sagging a bit, too. "Don't apologize," Samson quickly said, cutting in. "Nothing about the past ten minutes has been normal." The skater's lips swept into a charming smile and Samson bit the inside of his cheek at how much hotter it made him, combined with his reciprocated flirting. Xander, as he named himself, backed against the alley wall and planted a foot on it, forcing Samson to dig his teeth deeper, until he tasted blood. Xander went on to thank Samson for the drink and coming after him, pointing out for the second time that both of their nights were getting better by the second. Samson grinned, ducking his head, and wiped his mouth with one hand before looking back up. He started to say something when voices bounced into the alley from the street. "-went this way, c'mon!" Samson's inquisitive eyes turned alarmed. He closed the distance between himself and Xander, pressing his body against the other man's in a shielding way. One hand snapped up to press an index finger over Xander's lips, that'd been opening to say something. The other gestured out, as though Samson was snatching an invisible curtain and pulling it over them. Light and color swam like smoke and, an instant later, a brick wall appeared, cutting the alley in half. To anyone on the other side, it'd look like a dead end. Samson was grateful for the dark of the night, it made it easier to form the illusion without having to worry about little nuances like matching the marbling of the brick and mortar to the walls one either side of the fake barrier. Footsteps bounced into the alley just as openly as before - his illusions were only that. Sound moved freely through them. Samson breathed shallowly, trying to be completely quiet even though his heart was beating fast. He carefully adjusted his illusion, causing a handful of bricks to disperse, offering a peephole through. He and Xander were in such greater darkness, thanks to the illusion blocking the streetlights, there was no way their peering eyes would be seen. Sure enough, the man that Xander had destroyed in the bar was limping past. His head swept left and right, but when he saw a dead end in that alley, he didn't for a moment study it, and instead kept shuffling on. Samson waited until the footsteps were completely gone, then let go of his hold on the illusion, which collapsed in on itself in a half-second. "Think he's gone," Samson was saying, turning back to Xander. Only then did he realize how close they were. Or that his finger was still pressed over the other man's lips. "Sorry," he murmured. But he didn't jump away. Instead, he slowly lowered his finger and swallowed past a lump in his throat.

... True that love in withdrawal was the weeping of me, That the sound of the saw must be known by the tree ... mesmer Xander Amador

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[Xander Amador]

Xander heard the same voice Samson did, his body tensing and eyes darting around to see what in the alley he could use to his advantage. He didn't think he was capable of pulling off a full blown fight. He didn't think he was in the healthiest state for that right now. But his training told him to never back down. The next thing he new, he was flat against the wall with Samson's body pressed against him. Samson was rather close in height to him, he realized, deciding there was probably only an inch or two that separated them in that category - smugly noting he was taller than the other man. He opened his mouth to ask a question he hadn't fully decided on when Samson's finger was suddenly there, effectively shushing him. He shifted just enough to be a bit more comfortable against the bricks, which ended up placing Samson's leg between Xander's and in return Xander's leg between Samson's. Despite the fact that there was an obvious threat coming there way, he couldn't help wondering if Samson realized how compromising such a position together was. If they'd known each other better, he was certain he would've tried to playfully bite Samson's finger, which remained against his lips - a habit formed from growing up wanting to annoy older siblings. He watched as the illusion was stitched together. He didn't think he should've been surprised to discover Samson had powers. Such powers weren't uncommon in the world. Yet his eyes still widened ever-so-slightly, eyebrows rising in that very surprise. He reached forward, resting one hand against Samson's hip to better steady the both of them, his other hand rising to meet Samson's, that burnt yellow glow returning. Xander saw the same man he'd shoved in the bar behind the illusion, though honestly he barely recognized him. The world had been hazy at the time. He pulled at the sounds of their breathing, their hearts beating and suppressed them, creating a barrier around the two of them that would mask any leftover evidence that they were there. He dropped the barrier a little sooner than Samson dropped the illusion. He was looking down at that finger still against his lips when he heard Samson talk again, cocking an eyebrow and his gaze moving to the other man's face, a mischievous yet quizzical glint in his eyes. When the finger moved, his lips formed an equally mischievousness glint. Both his hands were now resting on Samson's hips. "I'd say buy me a drink first," he joked, "But you already did." He let out a light chuckle at his own joke before nodding toward where the illusion had been. "That was impressive." He was very much aware of how close this very attractive man was still to him. His face felt flushed and he couldn't help his eyes glancing at Samson's own lips. His hands unconsciously tightened their grip on the other man's hips, not a harsh grasp but definitely firmer than before.

... there was a time, i used to look into my father's eyes. in a happy home, i was a king, i had a golden throne ... frequency @samson outfit 501 words n/a

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[googlefont=Dancing Script]

[Deleted]

"I'd say buy me a drink first, but you already did." Samson smiled faintly at the joke. He couldn't really think that clearly, though. He'd sent that drink over in the first place because he was attracted to Xander at first sight. Now he was pressed up against that attractive man in a dark alley coming off a little burst of adrenalin from escaping a would-be attacker. And, if all that didn't have him at wit's end enough, Xander was throwing fuel on the fire - probably knowingly. The way his eyes danced in the half-light of the alleyway with mirth and mischief; the way his lips were curled in a smirk, like he was daring Samson; and the very real, firm hands on his hips. "That was impressive." And that was that. "Thanks," Samson gasped. He pressed Xander even more firmly against the alley wall and started kissing him, long and deep, ebbing and flowing between slow/ponderous and fast/ravenous. Sometime - it could've been one minute, it could've been ten - Samson pulled back and gasped, breathing heavy, "You're pretty impressive, yourself." Samson wasn't normally so forward. These were altered circumstances, though, and it wasn't his fault that Xander was the definition of his type. Samson hoped that he hadn't possibly ruined things with the other man, but if he had... Well, making out with him, even for a little bit, might very well have been worth it. Damn, he's a good kisser, Samson thought, hardly able to get enough oxygen to his fevered brain to think properly.

... True that love in withdrawal was the weeping of me, That the sound of the saw must be known by the tree ... mesmer Xander Amador

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[Xander Amador]

Xander barely had time to register that Samson was pressing even more against him, the coolness of the bricks seeping through his jacket, before he was being kissed. Oddly enough this wasn't the first time he'd made out with someone in an alley but boy was it quickly becoming his favorite. He moaned softly into the kiss, his grip on Samson's hips becoming firmer, holding the other man in place. He briefly wondered what would have happened if the drink had been fine and they'd met in the bar. But no, this was perfect. His lips followed Samson's, already wanting more, as he pulled back, his grip on his hips making sure the other man's body didn't pull back as well. He grinned at the compliment, a little bit cocky and a little bit goofy. "That's not even the most impressive thing about me," he teased, slipping a couple fingers under the hem of Samson's shirt. He leaned forward, catching Samson's lips against his own and reigniting the fire of their first kiss. One hand slipped under his shirt to cup the small of his back, the other remaining on his hip. He nipped at Samson's lower lip, gently tugging it with his teeth before pulling his lips away. Both hands were back on Samson's hips, fingers hooked in the belt loops of his pants. "So," he started, grinning at him and pushing forward just enough that his hips knocked against Samson's. "Are you going to take me home or are we going to stand here all night?"

... there was a time, i used to look into my father's eyes. in a happy home, i was a king, i had a golden throne ... frequency @samson outfit 258 words I'm so sorry this is short. 😭

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[Deleted]

Xander's fingers trailing up his bare lower back, combined with the heavy-handed innuendo had Samson shuddering. His eyes fluttered closed for a second, but he was interrupted in his euphoria when Xander reclaimed his mouth. At the feeling of Xander's teeth digging gently into his lower lip, it was Samson's turn to moan. The steamy haze blotting his steel blue eyes cleared at Xander's question. Then they were dancing with a bright hunger. "God, you know just what to say," Samson whispered against his cheek. He reached down, fingers curling into Xander's waistband, and towed him from the alley by it. - - - - - They'd made a tremendous mess of Samson's studio apartment in that lengthy first clash after getting there. That bled into the need for a shower and, during it, a second altercation. Then the two of them picked their way over the strewn items and jostled furniture, Samson leading Xander by a hand, to his bed. That's where they were now, in the hours where it was up for debate if it was late, late night or early, early morning. Sitting, facing each other, unclothed but for the sheet twisted over their laps. Samson laughed at Xander's newest request, drinking in how animated the other man's face was, how bright his eyes gleamed. He took inspiration from them, even. With a gesture, light coalesced in the air above the bed, forming a night sky complete with listing clouds that were backlit by a glistening crescent moon. The illusion was just taking full form, gaining definition and realism, when it wavered like a reflection on water and collapsed. Samson gasped at the same time, hand reaching up to curl into Xander's hair - which he could do because the other man had started sucking on his neck. "I can't keep them together if you're distracting me," he laughed. "Not that I'm complaining," he added with a groan.

... True that love in withdrawal was the weeping of me, That the sound of the saw must be known by the tree ... mesmer Xander Amador

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