a gesture he carries from before his awakening, Petre's hands go in his pockets, no 'excuse me' or 'thank you' when he complies and steps into the room. Same scrutiny follows whatever object or disarranged piece of furniture he can find, drinks spotted right away as he makes his way closer to the window. Away from him. Maybe he'll find more faults if he gets a more general look at him. The details were strikingly similar to his sense of a self-image.]
I know.
[Eyes return to him, corner of his lips still edging on that small smile. It isn't genuine, but there's nothing necessarily malicious about it, like he's trying to do the exact same Harry wants when he shows him that hand.
Physical contact? Without being badtouch? Boring.]
[ if he wasn't so intrigued, he'd be insulted and start acting as casual as possible. feed petre back dull tones and equally judging expressions. but he doesn't. he's following him with his eyes instead, a smile fixed on his face that's almost tired. all genuine though. genuine interest. genuine amusement. genuine excitement there's someone else that similar.
he gets it, he thinks. from petre's view he's someone with his face with piles of money. who wouldn't judge that? everyone judges that even if it doesn't have their face. it must make it worse. ]
Ah. [ the hand flexes in place then drops. thing with dirt? general disgust at human contact? hard to say. he takes a steps closer instead, after nudging the door closed with a foot. just in case anyone got nosy. ]
Pleasure, I'm sure. [ dodrescu. exotic. it's certainly nice on the tongue. ]
[He's still observing him, still trying to draw out answers despite having asked no questions. A finger brushes beneath his chin as blue eyes remain watchful and contemplative, wondering just where Harry might have gotten that jacket. It was expensive, he's sure. And he just shelled out his money like it was nothing.
Petre isn't one to talk. He just had to impel the salesman like it was nothing. And it was nothing. Everything he has amounts to nothing. Just like him.]
[ can't get a read on something that's his own face. how funny. he spends so much time in front of a mirror and he can't read the expressions well enough. can't tell what's going on behind those reflected blue eyes. ]
You first.
[ that question he asked john. left to interpretation. he tilts his chin up at it, lifts a hand to put a hair back into place - out of his eyes. petre came to him so petre has to share first. and with harry's, how it works, how he works - he thinks sharing with anyone who asks is foolish. it's one of those off-putting ones. everyone takes a step back.
stops letting him touch. stops giving because he's obviously taking more than they thought. maybe petre's the same. ]
['You first'. Harry clearly doesn't know Petre very well; the amount of times he's warned people not to tell him what to do are beyond count. It's standard procedure.
And that goes twice, now, if he really thinks Petre would just be another one to shy away from a power like that. He's very wrong. An intrinsic part of him wants to be made to feel miserable, to lose control despite his constant hunger to gain power over other people.
Like right now. He wants to see Petre's power first? Sure, why the fuck not.]
Get on your knees.
[His voice sounds different in Harry's head, like it's the voice of reason and common sense. Like suddenly his life depends on whether he'll kneel down right here, right now, just like Petre told him so. (You feel it, don't you. You have to. It's the only way.) After that's done he tips his chin, calmly, as though no malice or aggravation was ever meant in this little display of humiliation. Just doing what he was asked. So is Harry.]
[ standard procedure. it's only fair. give and take. petre gets the first move - and what a move it is. he drops on his knees at the order. quick. tiredly. like he's bored and decided he needed a rest.
but he's not bored. he doesn't want to rest and he realizes it right after. there's a control here. petre has such a good power. ordering people around. it's fun. it's fascinating. he doesn't like it used on him but he asked him to go first so there's nothing held against him there, as humiliating as it is. he thinks, had they been switched, he'd say the same exact thing. give the same order. make someone crawl in their designer pants across the carpet to them.
and he does. as ordered right to him - slowly. catlike maybe. it's fascinating how this works. convincing you it's your own idea while it's happening. and if someone wasn't so aware this is something they would never do on their own, one could surely be persuaded it was their own mind, couldn't they? not harry - he'd know, he thinks. but someone else. the simple minded could be slaves to petre and be blissfully unaware of it.
but enough humiliation for one day. harry's on his knees in front of him now - and he reaches up and grabs petre by the hand. a smile spreading across his face. petre first and now harry goes.
give and take.
it would feel like nothing on contact. but everything slows down. a tiredness that sets in. a steady drop in mood. a pain in the joints. a dizziness. like being hit with a tranquilizer that threatens to make one drop. like there's an invisible wound that's bleeding everything out and draining you dry. a fatigue that starts setting in so strongly that it's like one's very life is being sucked away - because it is right from contact. ]
[His brows tense when the hand shoots up to grab his. It wasn't an order, it was out of Harry's own volition. If Petre was satisfied and smiling before, his features are now twisted into a frown, bemused and warily insulted that he'd be so bold - brash, even. Immediately he thinks about all the powers that require contact, and for a moment he hopes that Harry's is somehow related to fire, that he'll try to burn Petre's skin and only find that there's nothing he can do; fire and heat can't touch him anymore than a whisper. (Ice. Paralysis. Psychometry. Power mimicry. Energy drain--)
His turn to feel weak at the knees, to feel his body arching with sudden exhaustion and pain. He clenches his teeth, eyes aware and helpless when he reaches for Harry's shoulder to stop his fall. But even his arms are too weak and he drops to the side. The light is too bright. Silence too loud. Gravity too heavy.]
Stop it - [a groan. This has to be against the rules. Harry isn't afraid of breaking the rules. Just like him. (Just like him. He hates him already.)] Stop it.
[ rules are irrelevant. he isn't afraid of them. doesn't care about them. using his own power is against the rules. they warned him but he isn't afraid of them.
he stops when petre says to, pulling his hand back - then inching away from him on the floor. they're both dangerous. above the rules. petre is just like him. so bold as to show not tell - because showing is more interesting, more fun, especially fun when it's dangerous when you're not supposed to use them because one's been warned they're dangerous.
he sits up on his knees easily, quickly. (stolen energy. all petre's.) a smooth movement. smiling ear to ear. petre's just like him. (he likes him. he doesn't think it's mutual. what a shame. they'd be the best team.) ]
They told you not to use yours too, didn't they? They're gifts! ...But never use it on anyone. Ironic really.
[Yeah, Petre thinks he hates him, but this is always how it happens. He's obsessed with power and control, thinks he always has it in his grasp until someone proves him wrong. If at first it causes anger and displeasure, the tables turn quickly after. It's just a reflection of his mood, always petty, always changing.
Yes, having his energy drained like that - without his permission or knowledge - was a very, very bad mistake. But now Petre finds himself feeling excited. (It's always like this. Craving control until someone comes and shows him there's another way. It's a first time and it's the unknown. He wants more.)]
Only if you listen.
[a breath, and he smiles. Then the smile becomes a grin. Then the grin gives room to laughter. He can feel his air getting back in his lungs, warmth back in his extremities. It's amazing. Being empty, then filled again. He still doesn't get back up. Harry can have the upper angle for now.]
[ harry's getting to his feet now. he wasn't told to stay put - and if it wasn't a forced order he probably wouldn't listen anyway. he's on his feet, picking a stray cork he has from a bottle that's somewhere in the room being empty and now tossing it back and forth between his hands. something to play with.
his eyes stay on petre, watching, studying. trying to read the energy he got off him. it's not an uncontrolled bounce off the walls sort of energy, he doesn't think. john's was. like fire. petre's definitely excited though. it makes harry smile further.
and further because petre's laughing. he laughs too, if only because he thinks it's contagious. they laugh differently, he notes. ]
[That gets an incisive look - perhaps one Harry's used to seeing in the mirror when something really gets his attention - and for a second the smile falters, because he needs another breath and because he still isn't sure whether or not he liked being trumped. It's an ongoing debate. Power. Loss. More. Less. Greed. Surrender.
He sits up properly. Runs a hand through his hair, perfectly arranged, honey gold, roots starting to show. He'll have to take care of them soon. He rarely lets himself go. Appearances are key. You understand.
His chest heaves with another chuckle (all teeth) when he asks,]
[ he does recognize that look. he mirrors it back at him unintentionally. full attention at petre. trying to place that second of a faltered smile. still trying to place the energy. there's something familiar about it.
eyes following the hand to his hair. roots. he dyes it. petre probably keeps right on top of that. he wonders if the natural color was the same as his own. that chestnut sort of color.
and then the question. his eyes cut to petre's and he smiles for a moment - then bites his lip. expression calm and thoughtful, like he might be tasting wine and needs to swirl it around in the glass before deciding. he inhales a breath. let's it go. there's a pause before he answers. ]
Like taking ecstasy. [ genuinely stated. he almost laughs about how it sounds ]
[Really, now. Petre's lips twitch because he's flattered, eyes still locked on the other boy before he finally forces himself back up. No help needed, even if his head feels lightweight. Low blood pressure, maybe.
Ecstasy. He likes that. Harry must like it too, if he's smiling. How many times has he done this just to get that kind of high? Sounds like an amazing power to have. Limitless access to the full potential of your senses just by snatching a touch. A kiss.
He wonders what it's like when he has sex.]
Can you put it back? Or is it all just take, take, take.
[ harry likes it. he's still tossing the pointless thing back and forth between his hands, smiling. with the right person to take from little by little. harry can be high for days. he's an addict in more ways than one.
mutation is a gateway drug to being a nymphomaniac, maybe. he tilts his head, running his tongue on the inside of his lip. another thoughtful pause. ]
I don't believe in taking without giving something in return. [ he drops the cork and holds a hand up, pinching his fingers together ] Sometimes I give back a little. [ during sex ] Taking is easier. And involuntary. [ giving is draining why would he drain himself unless it was for sex. let's be honest. ]
[A pause. That would be where they disagree, because Petre's all about taking. Having sex can be almost one-sided because people like intimacy and he lacks it completely, though he is known for being rather generous when he wants to. It all depends on his whims. What he feels like in the moment. All he knows is that he always makes sure he comes first.
Why does Petre seek out sex so much? Depends on your theory. He wouldn't know what to tell you; just that he likes it. It's fun. He gets to feel good - fucking great, actually - and people never have a reason to complain about his performance.
(It's about connecting. Feeling something, maybe. But above all it's about having power over someone else without even having to use his ability. It's why he isn't above abusing his peers, even if he is well aware of the consequences. They're probably the only thing ever holding him back. There's no remorse in this scenario.)
He shows Harry his hand, then. This time he doesn't seem to mind the fact that they have to touch.]
[ if he's working with someone, everyone benefits. it's all a matter of making it so they would come back for more. co-dependency. give and take. fair trade and all that. harry's known for being far more selfish than he actually is.
not that he isn't a little selfish. he doesn't like giving when it comes his his ability, as demonstrated by him very rarely even mentioning it can work both ways. there's a certain difficulty to doing it. it's tricky business. hurts him more than it hurts the person when he takes. and then his power overcompensates for the loss on its own and it comes right back to him if he doesn't let go. he simply told petre because he asked. because he's got his own face. because they're so similar.
so petre's hand gets a momentary look of distaste before reaching out and taking it. he takes ...and then he gives. it's like taking a drug. a confusing one. at first he's just feeding petre back his own energy he took, the assessment is probably accurate before when he described it as ecstasy. then he gets harry's. hard to place. a spike of adrenaline. a rush of energy and power - any tiredness overridden. rejuvenated with a similar feeling one might get when their heart starts racing right before a roller-coaster takes a plunge off the highest point.
[Petre isn't unaware of the risk. Harry could just be the sadistic type and drain Petre completely, do to him what he'd done for telling him what to do. But he says So give, Harry complies and then they touch.
There's the obvious at first. Harry's hands are warm against Petre's cold fingers, tightening around skin, smooth. His eyes are down and locked on them when the energy crosses back to where it belongs, and just like he said Petre experiences a sense of ecstasy that wasn't quite there before. It's like looking at a photograph from an angle you've never seen - you know it's you, but it feels different somehow. No big surprise there.
Then it's Harry's turn. Spike of adrenaline, rush of power, rejuvenated and euphoric. Heart beating faster, goosebumps on his skin, a shiver running up his spine and down his stomach. His heart sinks in his chest; his own hand holds on just a little tighter as he shuts his eyes and parts his lips.
He can feel his heart in his chest, his throat, the tips of his fingers. It's never been like this, not even when he woke up and his entire world had been burnt to the ground. Not even when he was attacked with John's fire and remembered it couldn't touch him. Petre doesn't feel like other people. It's knowledge that's intrinsic to him, something he doesn't care about because he's never had it. You can't miss what you never knew.
Harry pulls his hand back and that's it. The spell's over, Petre's rushed back to reality like he was just struck with freezing water.
No. Petre reaches for Harry's shirt, clenching. His expression is lined with a quiet need.]
[ it's almost unpleasant on his end. he pulled his hand back and he's tired. a little drained - a more than he took from petre to begin with. not enough to harm but enough that it's tiring. he's not the most fueled right now. he inhales a breath and holds it because petre's clenching his shirt. wanting more. he understands.
it's addicting. it's his ability for so long that he has some control. some. for someone new it might be too much, he thinks. but harry doesn't comply with moderation. harry tilts his chin up, understanding. ]
So give me more. [ give and take. give him something. that's how he works. he's not free. ]
[Of course it's addicting, of course he wants more. He's all about having his every whim satisfied, even if it's the exact opposite of what he wanted just a second prior. Still so many things come to him as a novel experience, as a first time, and Petre considers himself lucky for it. What other grownup human being gets to enjoy everything and anything the world has to offer from scratch?
But Harry has wants, too. That much is made obvious by the way his eyes look straight up at him and don't relent.]
What - [A lopsided grin, breath escaping in what sounds like a laugh,] Money? Drugs? [Without skipping a beat, his grin widens to show more teeth, smile in his eyes.] A blow job?
[ so that leaves the last one. but that wouldn't be enough. he's looking petre over. a moment. there's not enough energy between them if he's going to be giving back here. he wants. petre wants.
his hand goes out and he's grabbing a lamp in the room. not by the bulb - he's not resistant to burns - but the bulb goes out. dead. it's still early enough that the place isn't going to be pitch black if he just drained a source of light. but he needed it.
needed it because he's going to pass it over to petre now in exchange for his own energy so he doesn't pass out but he gets that ecstacy and petre gets more. a charge and something to pass around.
and how he takes it is grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him into a kiss. and it's a zap. a straight electrical surge because of where the energy came from. a snort of cocaine maybe. a lightbulb gone off in the brain.
what harry wants is intimacy. contact. all the contact. give that and you get. ]
[He narrows his eyes after Harry's answer, almost wondering if he's serious. Not a lot of the boys or girls around here are so willing to be open about what they want, least of all when it comes to sex, not unless Petre pushes and shoves them into giving him what he wants. And the fact that they look so alike - wouldn't that be disconcerting to most? They'd be afraid of being seen as some kind of narcissistic egomaniac. Accused. Mocked.
Petre isn't one of them, and apparently neither is Harry, so the game of gay chicken is over before it even begins. The light's out and they're pressed together, a jerk and a shiver shooting right through Petre's body like some sort of metaphorical, instantaneous climax.
The moan he releases is half-deliberate and half-involuntary, hands lifting for a moment of pause before they're grabbing Harry by his nape, then digging into his hair. Ugh - where the fuck has this guy been all this time? He's a walking, talking drug. He's never experienced anything like this, and he wants it until it wears him out, even - especially - if it wears him out. Even being drained proved to be an enjoyable experience once his energy was placed back in its place, even more intensely than the surge he was given.]
Fuck, [A hiss more than a whisper, eyes closed when his mouth hangs open over Harry's to breathe. He's trembling, he can feel it, feet grounded to the floor and head in the clouds.] Is this how you feel all the time?
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no subject
a gesture he carries from before his awakening, Petre's hands go in his pockets, no 'excuse me' or 'thank you' when he complies and steps into the room. Same scrutiny follows whatever object or disarranged piece of furniture he can find, drinks spotted right away as he makes his way closer to the window. Away from him. Maybe he'll find more faults if he gets a more general look at him. The details were strikingly similar to his sense of a self-image.]
I know.
[Eyes return to him, corner of his lips still edging on that small smile. It isn't genuine, but there's nothing necessarily malicious about it, like he's trying to do the exact same Harry wants when he shows him that hand.
Physical contact? Without being badtouch? Boring.]
I don't shake hands. [HE PUTS THEM IN HIS MOUTH]
Petre Dodrescu.
no subject
he gets it, he thinks. from petre's view he's someone with his face with piles of money. who wouldn't judge that? everyone judges that even if it doesn't have their face. it must make it worse. ]
Ah. [ the hand flexes in place then drops. thing with dirt? general disgust at human contact? hard to say. he takes a steps closer instead, after nudging the door closed with a foot. just in case anyone got nosy. ]
Pleasure, I'm sure. [ dodrescu. exotic. it's certainly nice on the tongue. ]
no subject
[He's still observing him, still trying to draw out answers despite having asked no questions. A finger brushes beneath his chin as blue eyes remain watchful and contemplative, wondering just where Harry might have gotten that jacket. It was expensive, he's sure. And he just shelled out his money like it was nothing.
Petre isn't one to talk. He just had to impel the salesman like it was nothing. And it was nothing. Everything he has amounts to nothing. Just like him.]
What do you do?
no subject
You first.
[ that question he asked john. left to interpretation. he tilts his chin up at it, lifts a hand to put a hair back into place - out of his eyes. petre came to him so petre has to share first. and with harry's, how it works, how he works - he thinks sharing with anyone who asks is foolish. it's one of those off-putting ones. everyone takes a step back.
stops letting him touch. stops giving because he's obviously taking more than they thought. maybe petre's the same. ]
no subject
And that goes twice, now, if he really thinks Petre would just be another one to shy away from a power like that. He's very wrong. An intrinsic part of him wants to be made to feel miserable, to lose control despite his constant hunger to gain power over other people.
Like right now. He wants to see Petre's power first? Sure, why the fuck not.]
Get on your knees.
[His voice sounds different in Harry's head, like it's the voice of reason and common sense. Like suddenly his life depends on whether he'll kneel down right here, right now, just like Petre told him so. (You feel it, don't you. You have to. It's the only way.) After that's done he tips his chin, calmly, as though no malice or aggravation was ever meant in this little display of humiliation. Just doing what he was asked. So is Harry.]
Now crawl to me.
no subject
but he's not bored. he doesn't want to rest and he realizes it right after. there's a control here. petre has such a good power. ordering people around. it's fun. it's fascinating. he doesn't like it used on him but he asked him to go first so there's nothing held against him there, as humiliating as it is. he thinks, had they been switched, he'd say the same exact thing. give the same order. make someone crawl in their designer pants across the carpet to them.
and he does. as ordered right to him - slowly. catlike maybe. it's fascinating how this works. convincing you it's your own idea while it's happening. and if someone wasn't so aware this is something they would never do on their own, one could surely be persuaded it was their own mind, couldn't they? not harry - he'd know, he thinks. but someone else. the simple minded could be slaves to petre and be blissfully unaware of it.
but enough humiliation for one day. harry's on his knees in front of him now - and he reaches up and grabs petre by the hand. a smile spreading across his face. petre first and now harry goes.
give and take.
it would feel like nothing on contact. but everything slows down. a tiredness that sets in. a steady drop in mood. a pain in the joints. a dizziness. like being hit with a tranquilizer that threatens to make one drop. like there's an invisible wound that's bleeding everything out and draining you dry. a fatigue that starts setting in so strongly that it's like one's very life is being sucked away - because it is right from contact. ]
no subject
His turn to feel weak at the knees, to feel his body arching with sudden exhaustion and pain. He clenches his teeth, eyes aware and helpless when he reaches for Harry's shoulder to stop his fall. But even his arms are too weak and he drops to the side. The light is too bright. Silence too loud. Gravity too heavy.]
Stop it - [a groan. This has to be against the rules. Harry isn't afraid of breaking the rules. Just like him. (Just like him. He hates him already.)] Stop it.
no subject
he stops when petre says to, pulling his hand back - then inching away from him on the floor. they're both dangerous. above the rules. petre is just like him. so bold as to show not tell - because showing is more interesting, more fun, especially fun when it's dangerous when you're not supposed to use them because one's been warned they're dangerous.
he sits up on his knees easily, quickly. (stolen energy. all petre's.) a smooth movement. smiling ear to ear. petre's just like him. (he likes him. he doesn't think it's mutual. what a shame. they'd be the best team.) ]
They told you not to use yours too, didn't they? They're gifts! ...But never use it on anyone. Ironic really.
no subject
Yes, having his energy drained like that - without his permission or knowledge - was a very, very bad mistake. But now Petre finds himself feeling excited. (It's always like this. Craving control until someone comes and shows him there's another way. It's a first time and it's the unknown. He wants more.)]
Only if you listen.
[a breath, and he smiles. Then the smile becomes a grin. Then the grin gives room to laughter. He can feel his air getting back in his lungs, warmth back in his extremities. It's amazing. Being empty, then filled again. He still doesn't get back up. Harry can have the upper angle for now.]
I'm guessing you don't.
[Just like him.]
no subject
his eyes stay on petre, watching, studying. trying to read the energy he got off him. it's not an uncontrolled bounce off the walls sort of energy, he doesn't think. john's was. like fire. petre's definitely excited though. it makes harry smile further.
and further because petre's laughing. he laughs too, if only because he thinks it's contagious. they laugh differently, he notes. ]
I don't think anyone in this room listens.
[ look at them. are they getting along now? ]
no subject
He sits up properly. Runs a hand through his hair, perfectly arranged, honey gold, roots starting to show. He'll have to take care of them soon. He rarely lets himself go. Appearances are key. You understand.
His chest heaves with another chuckle (all teeth) when he asks,]
How do I feel.
no subject
eyes following the hand to his hair. roots. he dyes it. petre probably keeps right on top of that. he wonders if the natural color was the same as his own. that chestnut sort of color.
and then the question. his eyes cut to petre's and he smiles for a moment - then bites his lip. expression calm and thoughtful, like he might be tasting wine and needs to swirl it around in the glass before deciding. he inhales a breath. let's it go. there's a pause before he answers. ]
Like taking ecstasy. [ genuinely stated. he almost laughs about how it sounds ]
no subject
Ecstasy. He likes that. Harry must like it too, if he's smiling. How many times has he done this just to get that kind of high? Sounds like an amazing power to have. Limitless access to the full potential of your senses just by snatching a touch. A kiss.
He wonders what it's like when he has sex.]
Can you put it back? Or is it all just take, take, take.
no subject
mutation is a gateway drug to being a nymphomaniac, maybe. he tilts his head, running his tongue on the inside of his lip. another thoughtful pause. ]
I don't believe in taking without giving something in return. [ he drops the cork and holds a hand up, pinching his fingers together ] Sometimes I give back a little. [ during sex ] Taking is easier. And involuntary. [ giving is draining why would he drain himself unless it was for sex. let's be honest. ]
no subject
Why does Petre seek out sex so much? Depends on your theory. He wouldn't know what to tell you; just that he likes it. It's fun. He gets to feel good - fucking great, actually - and people never have a reason to complain about his performance.
(It's about connecting. Feeling something, maybe. But above all it's about having power over someone else without even having to use his ability. It's why he isn't above abusing his peers, even if he is well aware of the consequences. They're probably the only thing ever holding him back. There's no remorse in this scenario.)
He shows Harry his hand, then. This time he doesn't seem to mind the fact that they have to touch.]
So give.
no subject
not that he isn't a little selfish. he doesn't like giving when it comes his his ability, as demonstrated by him very rarely even mentioning it can work both ways. there's a certain difficulty to doing it. it's tricky business. hurts him more than it hurts the person when he takes. and then his power overcompensates for the loss on its own and it comes right back to him if he doesn't let go. he simply told petre because he asked. because he's got his own face. because they're so similar.
so petre's hand gets a momentary look of distaste before reaching out and taking it. he takes ...and then he gives. it's like taking a drug. a confusing one. at first he's just feeding petre back his own energy he took, the assessment is probably accurate before when he described it as ecstasy. then he gets harry's. hard to place. a spike of adrenaline. a rush of energy and power - any tiredness overridden. rejuvenated with a similar feeling one might get when their heart starts racing right before a roller-coaster takes a plunge off the highest point.
he lets it in then pulls his hand back. ]
no subject
There's the obvious at first. Harry's hands are warm against Petre's cold fingers, tightening around skin, smooth. His eyes are down and locked on them when the energy crosses back to where it belongs, and just like he said Petre experiences a sense of ecstasy that wasn't quite there before. It's like looking at a photograph from an angle you've never seen - you know it's you, but it feels different somehow. No big surprise there.
Then it's Harry's turn. Spike of adrenaline, rush of power, rejuvenated and euphoric. Heart beating faster, goosebumps on his skin, a shiver running up his spine and down his stomach. His heart sinks in his chest; his own hand holds on just a little tighter as he shuts his eyes and parts his lips.
He can feel his heart in his chest, his throat, the tips of his fingers. It's never been like this, not even when he woke up and his entire world had been burnt to the ground. Not even when he was attacked with John's fire and remembered it couldn't touch him. Petre doesn't feel like other people. It's knowledge that's intrinsic to him, something he doesn't care about because he's never had it. You can't miss what you never knew.
Harry pulls his hand back and that's it. The spell's over, Petre's rushed back to reality like he was just struck with freezing water.
No. Petre reaches for Harry's shirt, clenching. His expression is lined with a quiet need.]
More.
no subject
it's addicting. it's his ability for so long that he has some control. some. for someone new it might be too much, he thinks. but harry doesn't comply with moderation. harry tilts his chin up, understanding. ]
So give me more. [ give and take. give him something. that's how he works. he's not free. ]
no subject
But Harry has wants, too. That much is made obvious by the way his eyes look straight up at him and don't relent.]
What - [A lopsided grin, breath escaping in what sounds like a laugh,] Money? Drugs? [Without skipping a beat, his grin widens to show more teeth, smile in his eyes.] A blow job?
no subject
[ so that leaves the last one. but that wouldn't be enough. he's looking petre over. a moment. there's not enough energy between them if he's going to be giving back here. he wants. petre wants.
his hand goes out and he's grabbing a lamp in the room. not by the bulb - he's not resistant to burns - but the bulb goes out. dead. it's still early enough that the place isn't going to be pitch black if he just drained a source of light. but he needed it.
needed it because he's going to pass it over to petre now in exchange for his own energy so he doesn't pass out but he gets that ecstacy and petre gets more. a charge and something to pass around.
and how he takes it is grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him into a kiss. and it's a zap. a straight electrical surge because of where the energy came from. a snort of cocaine maybe. a lightbulb gone off in the brain.
what harry wants is intimacy. contact. all the contact. give that and you get. ]
no subject
Petre isn't one of them, and apparently neither is Harry, so the game of gay chicken is over before it even begins. The light's out and they're pressed together, a jerk and a shiver shooting right through Petre's body like some sort of metaphorical, instantaneous climax.
The moan he releases is half-deliberate and half-involuntary, hands lifting for a moment of pause before they're grabbing Harry by his nape, then digging into his hair. Ugh - where the fuck has this guy been all this time? He's a walking, talking drug. He's never experienced anything like this, and he wants it until it wears him out, even - especially - if it wears him out. Even being drained proved to be an enjoyable experience once his energy was placed back in its place, even more intensely than the surge he was given.]
Fuck, [A hiss more than a whisper, eyes closed when his mouth hangs open over Harry's to breathe. He's trembling, he can feel it, feet grounded to the floor and head in the clouds.] Is this how you feel all the time?