Seize the Day - NaNoWriMo Attempt - Chapter 17
I am now officially a NaNoWriMo winner for the second year in a row. Fear me. ;) I work tonight, and might have to work on Friday, too, now. But I finished before Thanksgiving and that was my unofficial goal. :)
Previous Chapters:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16
When Jazz woke again hours later, he found his limbs still tangled with Savin’s, legs and arms everywhere. He smiled to himself, snuggling into Savin’s shoulder. He couldn’t believe Savin had let him top him like that. Couldn’t believe that Savin had apparently wanted it, nearly as much as he had. He could still see the way the older man had writhed beneath him, could still feel Savin’s nails as they clawed down his back and hips.
He hoped Savin hadn’t broken skin -- though he suspected that the surgeon’s nails weren’t sharp enough for that to happen. Still, though, Jazz couldn’t help thinking that maybe he could wake Savin up for another round. As he snaked his hand down Savin’s chest and to his lap, he began kissing the older man’s neck.
“Again already...?” Savin murmured, his voice thick with sleep as he stirred under Jazz’s touch.
“You know you like it,” Jazz breathed against Savin’s neck.
“Mm, I definitely do,” Savin said, opening his eyes and smirking at Jazz. He rolled on top of Jazz, pressing his own lips to Jazz’s throat. As he did so, Jazz’s stomach growled, and Savin laughed, pulling away from him. “As much as I think we’d both like to have sex again, we should probably eat something,” he said, poking Jazz’s stomach. “C’mon, I’ll make you breakfast.”
“Like you had promised to make me when I spent the night at your apartment?” Jazz quipped, raising an eyebrow. He smirked back at Savin, who had already moved away, and reached out for the taller man and pulled him back close. After kissing Savin softly, he murmured, “Because if I remember correctly, we ended up having sex in the shower, instead.”
Savin gave Jazz a sly smile back. “Yes, we did,” he said, kissing Jazz again, this time letting his lips linger. “And it was fucking amazing, how I had you pushed up against the shower wall, your legs wrapped around my waist...”
Jazz made an appreciative noise in response, letting his hands drift up Savin’s bare arms and over his shoulders. “I think breakfast can wait again, don’t you?” he asked, pulling Savin down on top of him.
Just as Savin opened his mouth to answer, Jazz’s stomach growled again. Savin snickered against Jazz’s shoulder, his hands resting on Jazz’s hips. “I think as much as we’d both like to wait, I don’t think your stomach wants to,” Savin said with a hint of laughter to his voice. He kissed Jazz’s stomach before climbing off of him entirely. “Seriously, though, even I’m hungry, and, well -- I’m used to not eating for long periods of time.”
“Fine,” Jazz sighed, smiling up at Savin. “We can eat breakfast first. What’re you in the mood for?”
“Hm, I’m not sure,” Savin said, glancing around the room. Jazz picked his jeans off of the floor, slipping them back on over his hips, Savin watching him all the while. Savin then smirked, snickering quietly to himself and shaking his head.
“What?” Jazz asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Nothing -- just thought of something really fucking cheesy to say,” Savin said, laughing to himself. His face had a faint blush to it, one that kept Jazz’s eyebrow raised.
“Oh? What was it?” Jazz asked, walking over to him. He didn’t feel like grabbing a clean shirt from his dresser, instead choosing to remain topless as he ran his hands up Savin’s chest. “Or are you too embarrassed to tell me?”
Savin’s blush worsened and he shook his head. “I could have just I was in the mood for you,” he breathed, seeming to have regained his confidence as he wrapped his arms around Jazz’s waist and pulled him close. He kissed Jazz’s shoulder, his lips lingering there for a moment as Jazz snickered quietly to himself. “Told you it was cheesy,” Savin murmured into his shoulder.
“It could have been worse,” Jazz said, giving Savin a reassuring smile. “C’mon, let’s go eat. I have a couple of meetings I need to get ready for, anyway.”
Savin nodded, letting go of Jazz and striding across Jazz’s bedroom, still naked. It took Jazz a moment to remember that Savin’s clothes were all in the living room, still strewn all over the floor. Jazz felt his cheeks burn at the memory. He had ripped Savin’s clothes off like that. Never before had he felt that confident and comfortable with himself; with his sexuality. All of the times he and Mitchel had sex, the other man always had control, always dictated what they were going to do. With Savin...
“You alright?” Savin asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve got this strange look on your face.”
Jazz blinked, shaking his head and willing the thought away. Savin slipped his boxers back on over his hips, as they were now suddenly in the living room. “Yeah, I’m -- I’m fine. Just hungry,” Jazz said, offering Savin another smile. “I could get the kitchens to bring us up something, if you like. I don’t normally eat breakfast, so...”
“I get the feeling you don’t normally cook, either,” Savin said, smirking at Jazz as he pushed past him and headed towards the kitchen. “I mean, if I were the fucking Prince I wouldn’t ever cook, either, y’know?” he asked, glancing at Jazz over his shoulder as Jazz followed behind him.
Jazz felt his cheeks burn even hotter at that, and he crossed his arms over his chest as he looked away from Savin. “I can cook, I just -- I don’t really have a whole lot of time to,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as defensive as he felt.
They both stood inside the kitchen, now. The space was hardly used, not a dish in the sink. Savin began rummaging through the cabinets, and Jazz couldn’t quite admit that they would be painfully empty. “You must not go shopping, either,” Savin said after a few minutes, closing the last of the cabinet doors.
“There’s no need to when all of your meals are prepared for you,” Jazz said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Like I said, I can call the kitchens -- they can prepare something for us and bring it here.”
“That would sort of defeat the purpose of us keeping our relationship a secret, wouldn’t it?” Savin asked, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, I know that you don’t really want to keep it a secret, but -- I have an idea,” Savin continued, interrupting himself as his eyes lit up behind his glasses. “You go ahead and call the kitchens. Ask them to bring up the ingredients for, say, breakfast toast, eggs, and bacon.”
Jazz raised an eyebrow. “You know how to make all of that?”
Savin snorted, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Well, I noticed you barely have any cookware, either. What you have will allow me to make that much, yes,” he said, approaching Jazz. “It would take about the same amount of time for me to make it and for them to bring it to us, wouldn’t it?”
“I dunno -- those chefs downstairs are kinda fast,” Jazz said, smiling back at Savin. “You can always make me dinner tonight, if you want. We can go shopping together.”
“With or without your guard?” Savin asked, pulling Jazz close to him. “Because it might be a little awkward, trying to go out on a little date like that with your Guard in tow...”
“They know how to be discreet, if I ask them to be,” Jazz said, smiling up at Savin. “Trust me, you won’t even notice they’re there. And as long as I’m in street clothes and wear a cap, most people don’t recognize me, anyway. That whole sunglasses and hats thing really does do wonders.”
Savin nodded, his forehead wrinkling slightly in thought. “If you say so...” he muttered, not at all sounding confident in Jazz’s words. “Well, here, why don’t you make that call, and we can figure out what I’ll make for dinner later, okay?”
Jazz nodded, pulling his phone out from his pocket. He sent the request for breakfast through, all while watching as Savin continued to rummage through his kitchen. “So what’re you thinking of making for dinner, then?” Jazz asked once he had completed his order.
“Have you had real ramen before?” Savin asked.
Jazz just raised an eyebrow. “‘Real’ ramen?” he repeated, folding his arms loosely over his bare chest.
“Yes -- not that prepackaged shit every college kid seems to live off of for a few years. Including myself,” Savin said, making a face at the very thought.
“The kitchens don’t -- serve food like that unless I specifically request it,” Jazz said, a slight frown on his face. “Cultural foods like that aren’t necessarily on the menu, either.”
Savin smirked at Jazz, leaning in close and pecking Jazz on the cheek. “You’re in for a treat, then!” he said, his smirk widening into a full smile. “I happen to make the best ramen anyone’s ever had, hands down. Now -- I need to think of what I’m going to put it in. Any vegetables you don’t like or allergies I should know about before I make a list?”
Jazz shook his head. “I’m -- I’m not allergic to anything,” he said. “At least, not that I’m aware of.”
Savin nodded, looking through the drawers now for something. “You got a pen and some paper I could use to make a list, real quick? I want to write this all down before I forget.”
“Yeah -- there’s some in my office,” Jazz said, gesturing back down the hallway. “It’s the room opposite to my bedroom.”
Savin stopped what he was doing and pushed the drawer back in slowly. “Thanks,” he said, smiling at Jazz again. As he passed him by, he pressed another kiss to Jazz’s cheek. “When do you think you’ll be free to go shopping?”
“I dunno -- around one or so?” Jazz said, rubbing the back of his neck. He followed Savin down the hallway, watching as the other man procured a small legal pad and a pen triumphantly from his office. “I have a Council meeting in like an hour, and then I have another meeting with Mitchel to go to.”
Savin’s triumphant expression fell, his hand going slack around the pen as he pressed it to the pad of paper. “A meeting with Mitchel?” he repeated, his voice quiet and unsure. “For what?”
“He’s -- he’s the main contact between the Western colonies and my father,” Jazz answered, feeling his stomach knot and twist as Savin’s expression continued to darken. “He’s also been doing research on the Resistance, and has reason to believe they might have taken root in the western colonies.”
“So why is he having the meeting with you, and not your father?” Savin asked, raising an eyebrow. He continued to jot things down on the notepad, his brow bunching together in concentration.
“Ms. Smith -- the woman in charge of the Western Colonies -- seems to have taken a -- liking for me,” Jazz said, finding it difficult to ignore the shiver that rolled down his spine at the thought. “She’s requested that she continues to see me instead of Mitchel or even my father. Mitchel just -- wants to make sure I understand everything that’s going on with that colony cluster before I take everything over from him.”
“Ah,” Savin said, his brow still furrowed in thought. His fingers moved furiously over the sheet of paper before he withdrew his pen, a satisfied expression on his face. “Makes sense. How long do you think that meeting is going to take?”
“As long as Mitchel wants to make it, really,” Jazz said with a sigh, leaning against the wall of the hallway, his arms crossed loosely over his chest once again. He looked away from Savin and frowned. “Last time we had meeting like that, we broke up, so... Hopefully he will manage to remain professional.”
“Where’re you guys having the meeting at?” Savin asked, raising an eyebrow. He frowned himself as Jazz’s face burned in shame. “Not here in your apartment, right?”
“N-No, it was here,” Jazz said, rubbing the back of his neck. He hesitantly met Savin’s eyes. “I told him we were going to meet in the Council room, this time. A completely neutral space. Originally, he had suggested his apartment, but.... Look, you don’t need to worry about him, okay? I’m with you, now. Mitchel doesn’t mean anything to me anymore, alright?”
Savin nodded, swallowing thickly. “Alright,” he said, though he didn’t sound too convinced. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet for a moment before offering Jazz a nervous smile. “I’m gonna go put my clothes back on before the food gets here -- you should probably throw on a shirt, too.”
He then moved past Jazz in the hallway, heading back out towards the living room. Jazz watched him for a moment before sighing and lifting his eyes to the ceiling. He knew Savin had every right to be nervous about Jazz’s later meeting with Mitchel. But still, he didn’t want for his boyfriend to be upset, either. Slowly, Jazz peeled himself off the wall and headed into his bedroom, quickly throwing on a shirt, just like Savin had told him to.
When the food arrived, they ate together in silence -- one Jazz wasn’t quite sure how to break. He opened his mouth to speak, but often clamped it shut, the words tumbling around in his head sounding too contrite, too dismissive, even to his own mind.
He hoped things wouldn’t be this awkward when he came back from his meetings.
Next Chapter
Previous Chapters:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16
When Jazz woke again hours later, he found his limbs still tangled with Savin’s, legs and arms everywhere. He smiled to himself, snuggling into Savin’s shoulder. He couldn’t believe Savin had let him top him like that. Couldn’t believe that Savin had apparently wanted it, nearly as much as he had. He could still see the way the older man had writhed beneath him, could still feel Savin’s nails as they clawed down his back and hips.
He hoped Savin hadn’t broken skin -- though he suspected that the surgeon’s nails weren’t sharp enough for that to happen. Still, though, Jazz couldn’t help thinking that maybe he could wake Savin up for another round. As he snaked his hand down Savin’s chest and to his lap, he began kissing the older man’s neck.
“Again already...?” Savin murmured, his voice thick with sleep as he stirred under Jazz’s touch.
“You know you like it,” Jazz breathed against Savin’s neck.
“Mm, I definitely do,” Savin said, opening his eyes and smirking at Jazz. He rolled on top of Jazz, pressing his own lips to Jazz’s throat. As he did so, Jazz’s stomach growled, and Savin laughed, pulling away from him. “As much as I think we’d both like to have sex again, we should probably eat something,” he said, poking Jazz’s stomach. “C’mon, I’ll make you breakfast.”
“Like you had promised to make me when I spent the night at your apartment?” Jazz quipped, raising an eyebrow. He smirked back at Savin, who had already moved away, and reached out for the taller man and pulled him back close. After kissing Savin softly, he murmured, “Because if I remember correctly, we ended up having sex in the shower, instead.”
Savin gave Jazz a sly smile back. “Yes, we did,” he said, kissing Jazz again, this time letting his lips linger. “And it was fucking amazing, how I had you pushed up against the shower wall, your legs wrapped around my waist...”
Jazz made an appreciative noise in response, letting his hands drift up Savin’s bare arms and over his shoulders. “I think breakfast can wait again, don’t you?” he asked, pulling Savin down on top of him.
Just as Savin opened his mouth to answer, Jazz’s stomach growled again. Savin snickered against Jazz’s shoulder, his hands resting on Jazz’s hips. “I think as much as we’d both like to wait, I don’t think your stomach wants to,” Savin said with a hint of laughter to his voice. He kissed Jazz’s stomach before climbing off of him entirely. “Seriously, though, even I’m hungry, and, well -- I’m used to not eating for long periods of time.”
“Fine,” Jazz sighed, smiling up at Savin. “We can eat breakfast first. What’re you in the mood for?”
“Hm, I’m not sure,” Savin said, glancing around the room. Jazz picked his jeans off of the floor, slipping them back on over his hips, Savin watching him all the while. Savin then smirked, snickering quietly to himself and shaking his head.
“What?” Jazz asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Nothing -- just thought of something really fucking cheesy to say,” Savin said, laughing to himself. His face had a faint blush to it, one that kept Jazz’s eyebrow raised.
“Oh? What was it?” Jazz asked, walking over to him. He didn’t feel like grabbing a clean shirt from his dresser, instead choosing to remain topless as he ran his hands up Savin’s chest. “Or are you too embarrassed to tell me?”
Savin’s blush worsened and he shook his head. “I could have just I was in the mood for you,” he breathed, seeming to have regained his confidence as he wrapped his arms around Jazz’s waist and pulled him close. He kissed Jazz’s shoulder, his lips lingering there for a moment as Jazz snickered quietly to himself. “Told you it was cheesy,” Savin murmured into his shoulder.
“It could have been worse,” Jazz said, giving Savin a reassuring smile. “C’mon, let’s go eat. I have a couple of meetings I need to get ready for, anyway.”
Savin nodded, letting go of Jazz and striding across Jazz’s bedroom, still naked. It took Jazz a moment to remember that Savin’s clothes were all in the living room, still strewn all over the floor. Jazz felt his cheeks burn at the memory. He had ripped Savin’s clothes off like that. Never before had he felt that confident and comfortable with himself; with his sexuality. All of the times he and Mitchel had sex, the other man always had control, always dictated what they were going to do. With Savin...
“You alright?” Savin asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve got this strange look on your face.”
Jazz blinked, shaking his head and willing the thought away. Savin slipped his boxers back on over his hips, as they were now suddenly in the living room. “Yeah, I’m -- I’m fine. Just hungry,” Jazz said, offering Savin another smile. “I could get the kitchens to bring us up something, if you like. I don’t normally eat breakfast, so...”
“I get the feeling you don’t normally cook, either,” Savin said, smirking at Jazz as he pushed past him and headed towards the kitchen. “I mean, if I were the fucking Prince I wouldn’t ever cook, either, y’know?” he asked, glancing at Jazz over his shoulder as Jazz followed behind him.
Jazz felt his cheeks burn even hotter at that, and he crossed his arms over his chest as he looked away from Savin. “I can cook, I just -- I don’t really have a whole lot of time to,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as defensive as he felt.
They both stood inside the kitchen, now. The space was hardly used, not a dish in the sink. Savin began rummaging through the cabinets, and Jazz couldn’t quite admit that they would be painfully empty. “You must not go shopping, either,” Savin said after a few minutes, closing the last of the cabinet doors.
“There’s no need to when all of your meals are prepared for you,” Jazz said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Like I said, I can call the kitchens -- they can prepare something for us and bring it here.”
“That would sort of defeat the purpose of us keeping our relationship a secret, wouldn’t it?” Savin asked, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, I know that you don’t really want to keep it a secret, but -- I have an idea,” Savin continued, interrupting himself as his eyes lit up behind his glasses. “You go ahead and call the kitchens. Ask them to bring up the ingredients for, say, breakfast toast, eggs, and bacon.”
Jazz raised an eyebrow. “You know how to make all of that?”
Savin snorted, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Well, I noticed you barely have any cookware, either. What you have will allow me to make that much, yes,” he said, approaching Jazz. “It would take about the same amount of time for me to make it and for them to bring it to us, wouldn’t it?”
“I dunno -- those chefs downstairs are kinda fast,” Jazz said, smiling back at Savin. “You can always make me dinner tonight, if you want. We can go shopping together.”
“With or without your guard?” Savin asked, pulling Jazz close to him. “Because it might be a little awkward, trying to go out on a little date like that with your Guard in tow...”
“They know how to be discreet, if I ask them to be,” Jazz said, smiling up at Savin. “Trust me, you won’t even notice they’re there. And as long as I’m in street clothes and wear a cap, most people don’t recognize me, anyway. That whole sunglasses and hats thing really does do wonders.”
Savin nodded, his forehead wrinkling slightly in thought. “If you say so...” he muttered, not at all sounding confident in Jazz’s words. “Well, here, why don’t you make that call, and we can figure out what I’ll make for dinner later, okay?”
Jazz nodded, pulling his phone out from his pocket. He sent the request for breakfast through, all while watching as Savin continued to rummage through his kitchen. “So what’re you thinking of making for dinner, then?” Jazz asked once he had completed his order.
“Have you had real ramen before?” Savin asked.
Jazz just raised an eyebrow. “‘Real’ ramen?” he repeated, folding his arms loosely over his bare chest.
“Yes -- not that prepackaged shit every college kid seems to live off of for a few years. Including myself,” Savin said, making a face at the very thought.
“The kitchens don’t -- serve food like that unless I specifically request it,” Jazz said, a slight frown on his face. “Cultural foods like that aren’t necessarily on the menu, either.”
Savin smirked at Jazz, leaning in close and pecking Jazz on the cheek. “You’re in for a treat, then!” he said, his smirk widening into a full smile. “I happen to make the best ramen anyone’s ever had, hands down. Now -- I need to think of what I’m going to put it in. Any vegetables you don’t like or allergies I should know about before I make a list?”
Jazz shook his head. “I’m -- I’m not allergic to anything,” he said. “At least, not that I’m aware of.”
Savin nodded, looking through the drawers now for something. “You got a pen and some paper I could use to make a list, real quick? I want to write this all down before I forget.”
“Yeah -- there’s some in my office,” Jazz said, gesturing back down the hallway. “It’s the room opposite to my bedroom.”
Savin stopped what he was doing and pushed the drawer back in slowly. “Thanks,” he said, smiling at Jazz again. As he passed him by, he pressed another kiss to Jazz’s cheek. “When do you think you’ll be free to go shopping?”
“I dunno -- around one or so?” Jazz said, rubbing the back of his neck. He followed Savin down the hallway, watching as the other man procured a small legal pad and a pen triumphantly from his office. “I have a Council meeting in like an hour, and then I have another meeting with Mitchel to go to.”
Savin’s triumphant expression fell, his hand going slack around the pen as he pressed it to the pad of paper. “A meeting with Mitchel?” he repeated, his voice quiet and unsure. “For what?”
“He’s -- he’s the main contact between the Western colonies and my father,” Jazz answered, feeling his stomach knot and twist as Savin’s expression continued to darken. “He’s also been doing research on the Resistance, and has reason to believe they might have taken root in the western colonies.”
“So why is he having the meeting with you, and not your father?” Savin asked, raising an eyebrow. He continued to jot things down on the notepad, his brow bunching together in concentration.
“Ms. Smith -- the woman in charge of the Western Colonies -- seems to have taken a -- liking for me,” Jazz said, finding it difficult to ignore the shiver that rolled down his spine at the thought. “She’s requested that she continues to see me instead of Mitchel or even my father. Mitchel just -- wants to make sure I understand everything that’s going on with that colony cluster before I take everything over from him.”
“Ah,” Savin said, his brow still furrowed in thought. His fingers moved furiously over the sheet of paper before he withdrew his pen, a satisfied expression on his face. “Makes sense. How long do you think that meeting is going to take?”
“As long as Mitchel wants to make it, really,” Jazz said with a sigh, leaning against the wall of the hallway, his arms crossed loosely over his chest once again. He looked away from Savin and frowned. “Last time we had meeting like that, we broke up, so... Hopefully he will manage to remain professional.”
“Where’re you guys having the meeting at?” Savin asked, raising an eyebrow. He frowned himself as Jazz’s face burned in shame. “Not here in your apartment, right?”
“N-No, it was here,” Jazz said, rubbing the back of his neck. He hesitantly met Savin’s eyes. “I told him we were going to meet in the Council room, this time. A completely neutral space. Originally, he had suggested his apartment, but.... Look, you don’t need to worry about him, okay? I’m with you, now. Mitchel doesn’t mean anything to me anymore, alright?”
Savin nodded, swallowing thickly. “Alright,” he said, though he didn’t sound too convinced. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet for a moment before offering Jazz a nervous smile. “I’m gonna go put my clothes back on before the food gets here -- you should probably throw on a shirt, too.”
He then moved past Jazz in the hallway, heading back out towards the living room. Jazz watched him for a moment before sighing and lifting his eyes to the ceiling. He knew Savin had every right to be nervous about Jazz’s later meeting with Mitchel. But still, he didn’t want for his boyfriend to be upset, either. Slowly, Jazz peeled himself off the wall and headed into his bedroom, quickly throwing on a shirt, just like Savin had told him to.
When the food arrived, they ate together in silence -- one Jazz wasn’t quite sure how to break. He opened his mouth to speak, but often clamped it shut, the words tumbling around in his head sounding too contrite, too dismissive, even to his own mind.
He hoped things wouldn’t be this awkward when he came back from his meetings.
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