Pity a youth in love

Who: Medea and Porter
Where: Nevermore
When: evening

It was time for a break, no doubt about it. Porter had been up in his room since school had gotten out, blurring through his homework, sketching out storyboards for a few updates on the comic, and then? He dove headlong into the internet, switching up search terms and filtering through results for hours as he tracked down whatever sorts of lores and superstitions he could. Anything that related to what Tad had mentioned was worth a look, but there wasn't much out there. The folklore had some overlapping themes, sure, but he just wasn't finding much about ghosts who died abroad and haunted their hometowns.

His eyes were burning, his feet felt a little tingly from holding the same slouch in his computer chair for hours, and he knew he'd missed dinner. At least he wasn't being berated for it, which was nice. Things were still touchy, enough so that Porter had some leeway with his parents while he 'cooled off'. And he had a plan for that leeway, one that started with raising his cellphone to his ear and hitting the speed dial for Medea's number. Maybe the next time she was working she could look for some books for him.

Medea was on her way home from being called in to work when Porter called. So, pausing on the sidewalk, she pulled out the cell he'd bought for her, and smirked faintly. "So admit it." she greeted him. "You're psychic. Because I was just thinking about you." she told him, which couldn't be farther from the truth, but she knew he'd like to hear.

"I'd better not be," Porter replied, laughing in delight. He was easy to read and anticipate, especially for someone like Medea, but Porter didn't even consider that. He just liked hearing that kind of thing. "I've got enough weirdness in my brain without some Professor X drama going on." He leaned back in his computer chair, stretching and smiling lazily like only a smitten sixteen year old could. "What're you up to? Feel like hanging out, maybe?"

"I am currently walking home in the cold. So, hanging out sounds like a much better idea than continuing to do that." Medea said, putting enthusiasm into her tone. "I got called into work, so I had to close up. But it shouldn't take me too long to get there." she added, switching the direction she was walking. "Should I come right to your window to try and sneak in, or should I announce my presence properly by knocking at the front door?" she asked.

Considering those options, Porter let himself spin slowly with his lips pursed tight. If she knocked, there'd be Carter. If she snuck in, things might be fun unless... Carter. "Door number three," Porter eventually said, "You find somewhere warm for five minutes while I go harass the car keys out of my mom. We can take a drive or something." He had excuses, after all; art supplies, batteries, movie rentals, or even just grabbing some fast food for the dinner he'd missed. Not that he was hungry, but it sounded good.

"I like that option." Medea said. "Though I'm just kinda walking up Front...want to just find me?" she suggested. There wasn't much on the street that could be considered warm, unless she decided to break in somewhere. Which was an entertaining sort of thought, but in the end, not worth the potential trouble. "I promise to walk by the street lamps and everything."

"Of course I want to find you," he answered in a softer voice into the phone, his grin turning soft as Porter sat forward and rose from his chair. She agreed, she wanted to see him, so Porter was already set to step into his shoes and head out the door. He'd raise some hell to get those car keys if he had to, even. Because Porter never wanted much from his life? Understanding of what he was, sure, and the freedom to pursue his art, but that had been all for a long time. So now? Now he wasn't going to be denied. "Stay warm, I'll be there in a flash."

She laughed cutely. "You do that. See you soon!" she said, then hung up and dropped her phone back into her pocket. She then slowed her pace, just kind of strolling along as she waited for him, thinking to herself of a few different directions she could take things this evening if it was just the two of them, and he had the car. She was wondering if it wasn't time for them to head someplace private, like they kept talking about. Someplace he could sketch her. Then she paused and shot off a text message to him. Bring something to draw with.

He figured his words were appropriate as he tugged on a Flash sweatshirt, stuffing his phone in the front pocket and stopping at the door of his room as it trilled. Porter pulled it back out, glancing at the text with wide eyes. Something to draw with? He swallowed heavily as he put the phone away again, turning back to grab a smaller sketchpad and a fistful of pens and pencils from his desk. Wedging them in with his phone, Porter shut the door as he headed downstairs, catching the low sound of the T.V. as he descended. "Mom! Carter! Where's the keys to the Saturn?" he yelled.

It only took a minute of convincing and a promise to keep his 'errands' fairly brief before he was out the door, waving back at the door of the house and hopping into the car. He knew he had school tomorrow, of course, he wasn't stupid. But Porter could deal with a reminder if that was the only price to pay in exchange for getting out of the house. And then he was off, rolling up the Crescent Street hill and onto Front with a buzz of music filling the car as he strained to see through the haze of darkness in his eyes, watching for Medea.

She was watching as cars went past, though really, not many of them did. It wasn't a busy time of night, especially during the winter. But then she saw Porter's parent's vehicle, and she waved, stepping off to the curb so he could pull over and collect her. When he did, she hopped in and shut the door. "I swear when I grow up and become rich and famous, I'm going to live in a place that never gets snow." she teased, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "Oh wait, I don't have grand plans for that. Guess I'll just stick around here. There are other things that take the edge off."

Reaching to twist the stereo knob and drop the music to a low murmur, Porter took a second to unabashedly grin when she kissed his cheek. Wasn't he supposed to get used to this and not be a fool around her constantly? If so, he was failing that plan miserably. "Well, uh, you could still avoid the snow," he mused, pulling away from the curb, "Go to Hawaii and do the psychiatric work there? I just don't know if you'd have much business. It'd be like 'oh, yeah, my life's pretty good. It's always seventy-five degrees and i sleep on the beach whenever I want'..." He smirked a little, self-consciously scratching the back of his own head and glancing over again as he drove. "So, um, you hungry or anything? My cover story was that I needed some Taco Bell. Which required a sketch pad," he explained mock-conspiritorially, nodding to the backseat where he'd tossed the pad of paper.

She hummed in thought. "I was thinking more of finding someplace where we could finally get to that drawing session we've brought up before." she said. Then she dug into her pocket and pulled out a keychain. "I have the keys to Nevermore." she said. "And there's a back room." So, she figured they could actually go there, and be undisturbed. And it might not be the most comfortable place in the known universe or anything, but it was a start, and somehow she didn't think he'd take issue with the surroundings.

Thank god for traffic lights. If the one by the school on Front hadn't been red, Porter just might've veered off the road in shock from that suggestion. As it was, he sat very quietly for a moment, looking out the windshield as his mind raced. Nevermore? Back room? Was she.... No. Couldn't be. Though he knew she was attracted to him, there was plenty of evidence for that by this point. So when the light turned green he started forward again, the corners of Porter's mouth tugging upwards with the urge to smile. "That sounds like a great plan," he finally managed to say without stammering, "You sure you won't get in trouble or anything?"

"I'm sure. I could just say I had to work late. Hey, I'll even be there to confirm that if one of my foster parents calls." Medea said. "Plus, Isabelle would cover for me if they asked her. It's our unspoken rule. If either one of us is out beyond when we're supposed to be, covering is automatic. Basically it's 'insert reasonable explanation here', which works well for us. Sometimes it's nice having a sister around that you can count on. Even if we don't always get along, I know she's got my back. And I have hers."

"She seemed cool, yeah," Porter agreed easily, not having to force that one bit. Isabelle had been friendly with him when they'd been snowed in despite her popularity, despite the odd looks the two of them got in the halls. Somehow, Porter wasn't surprised that even if she and Medea were opposites in their interests, they were similar in their welcoming natures. "That's awesome though, that you just cover for each other. When don't you get along?" he asked, curious over that. He had a hard time imagining anyone disagreeing with Medea, especially the sister who'd been so amazingly easy to just talk to like they already knew each other.

"I don't know, sometimes things just are a little hard to deal with, that's all. Nothing I can pinpoint specifically. Mostly it's highschool politics that get in the way. But at the end of the day, we're sisters and love each other very much." she explained. "I'm glad you got to meet her though." she said. "She told me about that. She says she likes you." she added. Which was fabricated, and Isabelle had even had trouble remembering Porter's name earlier, but he didn't need to know that.

He laughed in surprise over that, glancing Medea's way quickly and somewhat disbelievingly. "Really?" he asked, "Maybe I'll get fewer books slapped out of my hands if that travels." Not likely, though. Porter understood highschool politics on some levels, and he knew that 'protection' usually only made things worse. Some people just had to mess with whoever they were told to go easy on. "You know, I still think it's pretty crazy-awesome that you two found each other," he went on, "With all the bad stuff out there and in the news? It's like a miracle, seriously." To him, it was plain to see how much strength and faith Medea got from her sister, and it was something Porter could only envy.

"I know. I'm thankful for it every day." Medea said. Then laughed. "Even if I also wish we could have our own rooms." she added. "Sharing a single very very small closet is not the easiest thing in the world. Not that we have much, but still." she said. "But it is pretty amazing. I think it was just fate stepping in there." Or they'd both grown up with the burning desire to destroy people around them and had met by accident, that could have happened too. "Pull around back of the shop." she instructed as they got closer to it. "We can go directly into the back room then." Bypassing the street was good. Just in case say, Dorian drove by or something.

The car slowed, dipping down the side of the building to swing around the back as Medea had instructed. "I think fate's just got an eye on you, maybe some big plans too," Porter mused as he cut the engine off, pocketing the keys and looking Medea's way in the dark, "Seems like you stir up change... finding your sister, giving me a shot, even that movie night that never came together? I never even got to the planning stage on my own." He popped his seatbelt, leaning into the space between the front seats to grab his sketchbook from the back, and Porter's voice was low now that he was so close. "I'm not surprised, though, I'm just hoping you'll eventually agree when I tell you how much you rock."

She smiled at him, not moving back when he moved closer, though she got her own seatbelt off as well. "I'll start listening when you do." she told him, drifting in closer, to place a tiny brush of a kiss just beneath his jaw on his neck. She didn't do more than that, but she wanted to press a button for the boy. "Maybe I like being a catalyst for change. In fact, with you putting it that way, I say I do."

Medea hadn't been wrong in the games she'd played with Porter thusfar, but rarely had she been so right, either. That little kiss on his neck was a thrill unto itself, shutting Porter's eyes as he drank in the smell of her hair and focused on drawing out the contact he'd felt so fleetingly. "I like you as a catalyst too," he murmured, leaning in to nuzzle past her hair, questing for an ear somewhat clumsily, "I feel... better around you. More certain. Like right now?" He smiled crookedly even if it killed Porter to sit back, but that's what he did. "I'm pretty certain I should actually draw you, since we have the chance, instead of kissing you all damn night."

"The sad part is you can't do both at the same time." Medea said with a sigh of regret. Then she smiled. "But c'mon. If you're going to get to draw me, let's get started." she said with a bright grin, before she exited the car and went to the back door to unlock the deadbolt. If the back room had windows, they were covered by endless boxes of books and shelves and everything else, and couldn't be seen from the street, so flipping the light on was safe. She ushered him in with a wave of her hand, so she could get them in and re-lock it.

Following after, Porter slipped inside and moved away from the door but otherwise didn't step too far. The streetlights outside at least gave him some perception of the town around him, but the sudden flip of the lights in here was a disorienting increase on it. He blinked a few times to let his vision adjust, cradling the sketchpad under his arm as he finally looked around. The store itself was an oddity, but to think it's backroom was so mundane was weird. The fact that boxes might be piled up like in a comic shop, except that these boxes were full of arcane knowledge? It was a tough one to really contend with. "So, um, we're just hanging out back here?" he asked uncertainly, plainly nervous over something as minor as sneaking into the store.

She looked over at him as she made sure that the lock was secure. "Well, in a manner of speaking." she said. "Hanging out...I thought we could get to that thing where you draw me...I know we've talked about it enough times. This is nice and private, we won't get disturbed." she assured him. She leaned closer and kissed his cheek, murmuring close to his ear. "Relax...I promise we won't get caught."

His eyes shut as she moved in, leaving Porter's other senses to describe her. He felt nearly Daredevil-esque from them too; the smell of her creeping in his nostrils, the feel of warmth between them, and of course the feather-light brush of Medea's lips on his cheek that exploded out and raced across his skin. She was right, as usual, he needed to relax. It was late enough that if Nevermore's owner was gone, they were gone until tomorrow. "I believe you," he said eventually, looking to her with a twinkle in his eye. More than belief, he trusted Medea implicitly; she knew his secrets, why would she risk something so minor now? "Okay... I need a seat," Porter went on, stepping back to keep from grabbing and kissing her, then moving to a lower stack of boxes to sit lightly on the edge, "And you need to pick a pose."

"A seat I can provide." Medea said, walking over behind a shelf where there was a little table and chair set. She dragged a chair out for him. "But you need to pick a pose." she told him. "How do you want me? You're the artist, I'm just providing visual representation." she added, giving him a lightly impish smile. Of course she'd worded things specifically on purpose, just to put that slant on it. That she was malleable to his whims, his to do with as he wished.

How do I want you? Jesus, let me start a list... Porter mused, wide-eyed and working to keep from looking too stunned by that. He took the chair, dragging it back to give Medea plenty of room to stand and setting his sketchpad down. "Okay, um, let's start with some basic stuff?" he suggested, moving back to her side. Porter reached out to turn her slightly at the hip, a standing angle he could use just for basic proportions, then grasped one of Medea's hands and guided her arm up. "Hand on the back of your head, elbow out? But make sure it's comfortable, something you can hold for a few minutes," Porter requested, releasing his hold and moving to settle back in his seat.

Medea smiled, and after she took a minute to get rid of her coat and boots, she stood right back how he'd positioned her, and looked over. "Should I look at you, or somewhere else?" she asked him, thinking occasionally, Porter could probably due with a little injection of inappropriate behavior. The kid was far too goodie goodie at current, she needed to stir up some of the darker impulses everyone had. But, she had to be careful with it, so she just did as asked for the moment.

"Look... up," he eventually decided, "Not straight up, just at an angle." A profile was important, and the more he could get good proportioning of her lithe figure, the better his art could reflect the wonder of it. Porter flipped through his sketchpad quickly, coming to a blank page and grabbing a charcoal pencil from the fistful he'd brought. He glanced up towards Medea with an eager smile as the pencil started scratching on paper quickly, laying out dark streaks and smudges to form a framework of her body. He needed to get this down for reference before trying anything someone might want to actually see.

She did as he instructed, smiling just a faint little bit as he started to draw. "How still do you need me? Can we still talk?" she asked. "Or would that break your concentration?" she continued. She had a few things on her mind that she thought would get him talking, put the idea in his head that she wanted to know everything about him, even the details that other people probably wouldn't give a damn about.

"Yeah, we can talk," Porter confirmed, busily scratching out the subtle curve of Medea's back from her posture and glancing up fleetingly, "I just, um, I'm gonna peek every now and then? But not too much, you distract me just by being there." He grinned at the praise, looking back down as his pencil dipped and scratched, making repeated passes to fill in her body. In the past, his art classes had been necessary, and while this was too? He didn't think it'd ever also been so enjoyable to work on.

Medea laughed a touch. "Do I?" she asked innocently. "so I guess if I offered to let you sketch a more pure form, you might not actually make it?" she asked, sounding amused but not mocking. "Maybe we'll work up to that." she added, thinking that could be entertaining to see how long it took. Plus, it would keep his interest.

Heat rushed to Porter's cheeks as he scribbled at the page furiously, framing in the first rough sketch of Medea and moving lower on the page to start another. He didn't trust his voice suddenly, sure it'd crack and squeak, or that he'd stammer out single-syllable words. Porter couldn't even risk looking for the first long moment, just retracing a thick stick figure as a basis for his new sketch before daring to glance up. "I probably wouldn't make it," he admitted bashfully, "But I'd try?" And it wasn't like he'd never seen a woman naked; Porter had internet access, he'd done nude modeling in his art classes, but he'd never wanted to see one undressed quite so badly.

Medea smiled over at him. "I'll keep that in mind." she said. "Since I'm inclined to see what happens. That, and I'm sure in the long run it'd be useful for you." Sure it would. mostly she was just establishing that sort of inter dependency she wanted to. Who else was going to let him do something like that? And all apparently for the greater good of his artwork and comic? Not a lot of people, that was for certain.

Porter was going to get frustrated by this, he knew it. how long could they spend here? Maybe half an hour before his mom called to see what was taking so long? Enough time for him to get a sketch or two done if he could focus, sure, but Medea was a wrench in the gears of his thoughts. She'd already become one of a kind to him; her insight and understanding, the apparent overlap of desires and trust, they had hooked him. If he could see the full scope of it, Porter would be amazed, but he was blind to it. And amazed in wholly different ways. "I'll do my best, then, just stay over there," Porter warned with a slight laugh, brushing in a few flat strokes of pencil, "And... turn to look my way now." Focus. Don't get lost in those eyes.

Medea obediently looked over at him, letting her eyes slip to half shut, giving him a demure sort of look. It contrasted to their conversation, but had just enough of a sensual edge to it that it still applied well. Or so she hoped. But then, with his insistence that she stay where she was, she was willing to bet that almost anything right now would play into whatever was going on in Porter's head. He had imagination, and that made things fairly easy for her, all things considered.

He didn't just have imagination, Porter's was over-active in the extreme. Glancing up at her as he started a new figure, Porter's mind unraveled a quickspeed fantasy that grew from the sultry expression Medea aimed at him. She could just walk over with that look, push his sketch pad aside, settle on him... Blinking after a moment, Porter looked back down as he started to sketch again. "So, you probably don't get to see these," he warned, "They're mainly for ratios? I figure tonight I could do up something with more detail if you wanted to see... maybe even use it for early designs for the comic." He could likely even do a nude from sheer imagination, but that'd be one he kept private.

"I'd like to see." Medea confirmed for him. "I'd love to. And if you're doing designs for the comic, won't you need something a little less clothed?" she asked innocently. "So you can work out where all the seams are for the clockwork girl, that is." she added on the end, just so it seemed like she had a legitimate excuse for suggesting that. "Figure out where all the lines go, if there are any visible gears anywhere, in places that could be covered easily enough but still exist on her form."

The pencil stopped on the page for a moment as Porter fought to control himself. He was trying not to gape or stammer or blush too hard, and as he did so? Some quiet voice inside asked him why. She liked him, Porter knew Medea liked him. The attraction was slow and sweet, painful in the limits neither of them seemed to want to push. "Well..." he murmured, steeling himself and streaking quick lines of her form for later reference, "I could improvise? But if I use references for the Conduit..." A few more quick passes of the pencil and he stopped, rising from his chair and moving towards Medea with glances from the page to her, comparing. Porter smiled gently, nerves plain as he tilted his pencil out to brush the curve of her shoulder. "I thought arm sockets were a must, if we're talking seams. So... the shoulder is necessary."

She smiled at him, enjoying the fact that he was flustered, even if he was doing a fairly good job of behaving normally. His voice was steady, anyhow. She glanced towards the shoulder in question, then nodded. "Of course." she agreed. Then she reached up, and tugged her shirt down over her shoulder, something that was easy considering Medea's clothing was always fairly loose. When one bruised like she tended to, tight clothing just wasn't practical. That and she was so waif thin that sometimes even a small size was a little big on her unless she wanted to shop in the juniors section which she didn't. There was a faint bruise on her shoulder from her backpack strap, and she reached up, and slid her bra strap down as well. "You'll need an unobstructed view." she explained.

His breath hitched in his throat for a moment as the clothing was slipped away, hand tightening on his pencil. Porter wanted to touch her, to lean in and kiss the exposed shoulder Medea was showing. Instead he turned the pencil, running the flat end of it across her skin for a moment. "Maybe a slight gap in here," he murmured, "Like a socket." Shifting the pencil away a moment later, he reached up to smooth Medea's hair from the curve of her neck, studying raptly, more for his own sake than his art. "Another here," Porter went on, eyes fixed on Medea with a light touch brushing the base between neck and shoulder, "A slight seam, nearly invisible."

She kept her eyes on him, attention rapt. She caught that little hitch in his breath, and enjoyed that she had that effect by doing nothing but stand there with a slight bit of skin exposed. "Sounds reasonable." she encouraged, voice soft. She made it slightly softer than it had been a moment ago, as if in reaction to him, like he was getting to her as much as she was to him.

When what he was shown all seemed to say that Porter didn't have to hold back, it made it hard to listen to the doubts that kept him doing so. He wondered if he touched her, if he'd feel a tremble of anxiety to mirror the nerves he felt. If he did, would it be nerves? Or excitement? "So, one over here as well, and a seam at the spine," he nearly whispered, moving his hand to run to Medea's other shoulder and dip under the collar of her top. He coaxed it gently away, starting to slide it down as she'd done with the first as his blood ran hot. He was praying she wouldn't stop him, but bracing himself for the moment when all of this would crash because he decided not to play it safe.

She of course didn't stop him. She wanted him to get braver, test boundaries. Make him think that they were doing it together or whatever he might provide as a proper excuse in his mind. And she was willing to bet he'd be nicely creative with that. She tilted her head to the side, baring it for him just a touch, inviting him to reach out. "Will there be one under my jaw?" she asked.

He couldn't resist that, not even if Medea didn't seem to be pushing him forward. All she was doing was giving him the chances he wanted to see. "There could be," Porter answered quietly, brushing his hand across the edge of medea's shoulder and up her neck, "Maybe right back here..." He leaned in with the words, nuzzling up at the corner of her jaw and pressing a slow kiss to her neck. He'd wanted to resist this, but at the same time he didn't. Really, Porter wanted to be close. And with all the little signs telling him Medea wanted it too, there was just no reason to hold back.

She smiled at that, letting herself draw in and let out a shakey breath. Reaching down she hooked one of her fingers in his belt loop to pull him in closer, a silent if unmistakable form of encouragement. She liked letting him fill in his own blanks, and he did so so nicely. Therefore, she was just providing him with everything he needed to fill those blanks. To set whatever tone fit in with his fantasy. He could interpret her actions whichever way worked best for him, and so far he'd been very accommodating with being able to do that.

This fantasy was easy to read; a final crumbling of restraint against a woman who had become the embodiment of so many things Porter wanted. She was beautiful, but she liked him. She was smart, patient, accepting, and she wanted him close like this. Porter brushed his nose against Medea's cheek as he angled his head to kiss her slowly, lips buzzing with low enjoyment when she pulled him in closer. Settling his hand behind her, he gave a little tug at her loosened top to work it lower, ready to either drop his sketchpad and give himself to this moment or scramble away and apologize until he couldn't speak any more if his fears were true.

Of course she didn't make any indication that what he did there was wrong. Instead, she gave a little shudder, and a soft sound. Something meant for him to read that it was okay and she liked it. That tiny things he did could have a massive effect on her. It was all designed to build him up, give him confidence he didn't otherwise have. It was designed to spark him forward, because any progress made just meant he was that much closer to being entirely under her thumb. And really he was close enough as is, but Medea didn't do things half way.

His sketchpad hit the ground in a flutter of pages when Medea made that tiny noise somewhere in her throat, the now-free hand closing at her hip quickly. Porter stepped right in against her as he slid her top loose on her shoulders and down her arms a bit, keeping from exposing her too fast. How long had he dreamed of this moment? It couldn't be rushed, not with all the expectations he'd raised up and the pedastal he set his perception of Medea on. Breaking from the kiss with a gasp, Porter stayed in close as he stared raptly into her eyes. "You're perfect," he whispered heatedly, dipping down a moment later to kiss down the inside of Medea's throat, towards her collarbone.

Of course she was. Though hearing him declare it was nice. But she'd specifically edited herself to be perfect for him. To be exactly what he wanted and needed, to plant the seeds in his mind of what he needed, tailored it all just so. When he kissed her, she kissed him back, seeming reluctant to pull back. And when he said that, she made another sound. "I'm just yours." she murmured in a shakey tone to him in response.

There had never been a chance for Porter to escape this or avoid it, he'd trapped himself with expectations built on fantasy, and Medea? She saw them plainly. Every word was what he wanted to hear, every touch and tremble their own little miracles for him. And living in a world where the hero got the girl was enough to make him believe it all. He was her hero, her champion, and nothing else seemed as important to Porter any more. His kisses trailed past her collarbone and onto the upper peak of her chest eagerly as he curled a smile against her skin. "I think I love you," he whispered into her chest, half-hoping it was too quiet for Medea to even hear. It was fast, it was likely based in pure hormones, but Porter believed it. What he'd been shown was someone he couldn't help but fall for.

She heard it, though mostly because she was paying such strict attention. When she did, she reached down, cupping his cheeks in her hands and she tilted his face back up, so she could look into his eyes. The expression she was giving him was one of shocked wonder, not a bad thing, just very surprised, possibly drawn in. "Say that again..." she said, tone suggesting she was afraid she'd mis-heard, and desprately didn't want that to be the case.

Even if he'd just said it? Being asked for a clarification knotted Porter's stomach tight as his chin was tipped up. Porter's eyes were as wide as they'd ever get, shining up at Medea from where he crouched in close against her and losing the uncertain hint they had as he saw what he wanted to see reflected back in her own. The surprise, the wonder, the hope that she hadn't heard wrong... He stood back up slowly, smoothing his hands up her side and back as Porter leaned in to stare pointedly in Medea's eyes. "I..." he started with a slight tremble, thinking on what he'd said, "I don't think it. I love you, Medea."

She searched his eyes for a heartbeat more for effect, and then pulled him in to kiss him, a kiss that was meant to convey elation, passion, all sorts of positive emotions mixed in together. When she pulled back, she hugged him, and spoke into his ear. "God, I...I love you too, and I've been telling myself that I shouldn't say anything just yet because you might not feel the same but really? You do?" she asked, pulling back again to look in his eyes, a smile on her lips. "You're like no one I've ever met, Porter. You're sweet, you're attractive, funny, talented, you're just a good person and..." she trailed off, biting at her lower lip. "I just adore you." Well this couldn't have gone better if she'd tried. She'd figured the declaration of the L word would have come after he'd gotten farther with her physically. But this? This was even better.

He'd never had a chance to say it before, Porter had never been part of something where it felt so right. She knew his secret, she saw the good intent he wanted to use it for, and still Medea was right here, supporting him all the way. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he praised in a fervent whisper, "The best part of my life... someone too great to be real. I don't ever want to think this could end, no one can touch it." Not his parents, or her foster parents, or even her sister. Not the kids at school, no one could threaten what he felt about her. The idea that someone would turned his devotion into a moment of dark, protective feelings that still felt right. Of course, riding the high of hearing Medea say she loved him meant that very little would feel wrong to him.

"You are too. The best part of mine. I thought...my life's been one tragedy after another. And I found my sister, and now I have you...I'm happy." she told him, before drawing him back in again, to kiss him. This time it started soft and sweet, but quickly graduated to what was meant to come off as sparked passion, an abrupt change in the tone of it. Like she couldn't quite control herself, like she couldn't quite contain what she was feeling.

All too happy to return that kiss and match the heat of it, Porter pressed into Medea with an exultant smile as his arms hooked in the small of her back. He lifted her easily as he pressed deeper into the kiss, taking quick steps back to seat her on one of the stacks of boxes in the store room. When he finally broke away, his cheeks were flush with excitement and a spark danced in his eyes. "I didn't even know I was sad until I met you," he told Medea, hands sliding along her back, "I promise, I won't let another tragedy touch you."

She looked him in the eyes, reaching up to slide her palm over his cheek. She smiled, a soft expression. "I know you won't." she told him, sounding for the world like she meant every word. Like she felt it. "You're my hero, remember?" she asked, sliding that in nicely. If he was going to go giving her opportunities like that, she sure as hell was going to take them and use them to their full extent. And keeping that hero complex alive was part of that.

"How could I forget?" he asked in kind, turning his head to kiss Medea's palm, "I'm a hero because of you... so I'm one for you." The analogies he could draw to the world of comics were endless, and maybe that was why Porter felt so enthused by it all. She'd made his dream a reality, she was wonderful enough that it could be one. And I'd do anything for you, he thought as he leaned in to kiss Medea achingly again, drawing her legs around his waist. He wanted to be as close as he could while he could, since inevitably this would end, they'd both have to go home. And it wasn't a question of time, either; Porter could stay here all night and still feel like it was too short.

She moved forward to complement his drawing her legs around him, kissing him in return. She hooked her arms around his neck, and seemed to just melt into him, like everything he was doing was exactly what she wanted. She made soft little sounds, just for him, she pressed closer, like she wasn't fully satisfied with their current set up. It all played in well, it all worked smoothly, or, at least, so far it did.

New territory or not, Porter couldn't miss signs like that. The cling of her body against his was bliss, and the unspoken urgings to keep it so or even deepen it were more rejuvenating than the life force he fed on. He murred into Medea's lips contentedly, holding her snugly against him as he leaned her back and down atop the stacks of boxes, settling against her with countless thrills at how their bodies seemed to fit together. Through it all, he was mindful of how delicate she felt in his arms, but Porter couldn't help himself. He wanted her, he wanted this sort of shared existence more than anything.

She laid back, but made sure to keep him with, an insistent pressure on the back of his neck, like she wasn't accepting him being too far away. Like she couldn't deal with him being too far away. She also slid her knee up a little farther, encouraging him that way. She was also thinking that if he managed to bruise her during all of this--which was a likely event, she could use that later, so she didn't at all mind encouraging him insistently. Pushing things, just that little bit, not that he seemed to need pushing. But she wanted him to be under the impression that she was just as into this as he was.

Defenseless to the slide of Medea's legs on his sides, Porter settled against her with a push as he ran a hand down her leg. The forethought needed to hold back was slipping away from him as he drowned in the taste of her, the sleek strength Medea had as she held him in close. He was thrilled by the implications of that grip she had and the thought that she needed him right where he was, letting it push him deeper into the intensity of the moment. Somehow, he was glad he'd missed experiencing this sooner in life. Having to wait made it all so enveloping that it was almost like drowning, but with a smile on his face the whole time.