The fingers in his hair were cold. The fist that pulled back until he was sure his scalp would tear away was strong, more like steel than flesh. But it was flesh, dead flesh, and the eyes he was forced to stare into could have been human once. They stared through him, pale and bright as the moon on a distant and godless planet.
"Flesh," Spoony snarled, and Insano forgot everything but terror.
Maybe something quick and cute with Victor and Linkara? Cuddling, awkward flirting, failed sexual innuendos, butterfly kisses, I don't know, I'm a little down and I could really use some fluff...
Everything outside was a deep, gloomy gray, the color of wet wool socks and half-erased pencil smudges on paper. Heavy rain had rattled at the windows for hours, with no signs of stopping anytime soon. All the world was drenched, sopping, miserable.
Inside the apartment, several wet articles of clothing were draped across chairs and a hastily-assembled laundry rack. Socks, shirts, coats, two pairs of jeans. Two sodden pairs of sneakers were still dripping on the shoe rack by the door.
“Not to minimize our discomfort,” Linkara offered, “but at least we got in before the thunderstorm started.”
“I know, I know. Careful now, these are very hot.” Victor carefully set twin mugs of steaming tea on the low table before he sat, letting himself sink into the futon. When Linkara offered him a towel, he took it gratefully and began vigorously drying his hair.
“And at least we had clean sweats to change into.”
“Yes, yes, no complaints on that note.” Victor sighed in disgust as he ran a hand through his storm-drenched hair. “Ugh, this is never going to dry properly.”
“Mine's dry!” Linkara's smile became a touch more nervous at his boyfriend's unamused expression. “Not that I'm bragging. Or that I don't realize I have much shorter hair.”
“Mmh.” With a critical eye, Victor examined one of his damp locks. “Perhaps I should go in for a shorter style.”
“Oh, don't! I mean …” Linkara cleared his throat. “I like it long.”
Victor rolled his eyes. “Even when I look like a well-used mop?”
“Even then. And you don't, anyway!” Linkara's eyes lit on a hairbrush at the end of the coffee table. “Here, let me help you feel less moppy.”
“Wait, you don't have to ...”
Victor stopped short as Linkara snuggled in close behind him, and he felt the bristles running through his hair in light, short strokes.
“I know I don't have to, but I do want to.” Linkara's voice was gentle. “Are you comfortable?”
Victor inhaled deeply and let it out through his nose. The clothes against his skin were thick and warm, slowly drawing out the chill of the rain, and Linkara felt solid and comfortable next to him. Yes, this was safe. “Yes.”
“If you need to stop, can you tell me?”
“Yes. So don't worry about that.”
“Good.” The stroke of the hairbrush became longer, and the bristles started to rub lightly at his scalp like massaging fingers. Victor exhaled again, but there was no trace of tension this time.
Half an hour later, and their neglected tea was ice-cold. The rain hadn't let up a bit, and thunder was beginning to growl in the distance. But the two men on the couch, snug in a colorful burrow of pillows and blankets and quilts, hardly cared.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2014-06-07 02:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-06-07 07:43 pm (UTC)"Flesh," Spoony snarled, and Insano forgot everything but terror.
no subject
Date: 2014-06-09 05:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-06-10 12:28 am (UTC)I hope you feel better soon...
no subject
Date: 2014-06-10 02:40 am (UTC)Inside the apartment, several wet articles of clothing were draped across chairs and a hastily-assembled laundry rack. Socks, shirts, coats, two pairs of jeans. Two sodden pairs of sneakers were still dripping on the shoe rack by the door.
“Not to minimize our discomfort,” Linkara offered, “but at least we got in before the thunderstorm started.”
“I know, I know. Careful now, these are very hot.” Victor carefully set twin mugs of steaming tea on the low table before he sat, letting himself sink into the futon. When Linkara offered him a towel, he took it gratefully and began vigorously drying his hair.
“And at least we had clean sweats to change into.”
“Yes, yes, no complaints on that note.” Victor sighed in disgust as he ran a hand through his storm-drenched hair. “Ugh, this is never going to dry properly.”
“Mine's dry!” Linkara's smile became a touch more nervous at his boyfriend's unamused expression. “Not that I'm bragging. Or that I don't realize I have much shorter hair.”
“Mmh.” With a critical eye, Victor examined one of his damp locks. “Perhaps I should go in for a shorter style.”
“Oh, don't! I mean …” Linkara cleared his throat. “I like it long.”
Victor rolled his eyes. “Even when I look like a well-used mop?”
“Even then. And you don't, anyway!” Linkara's eyes lit on a hairbrush at the end of the coffee table. “Here, let me help you feel less moppy.”
“Wait, you don't have to ...”
Victor stopped short as Linkara snuggled in close behind him, and he felt the bristles running through his hair in light, short strokes.
“I know I don't have to, but I do want to.” Linkara's voice was gentle. “Are you comfortable?”
Victor inhaled deeply and let it out through his nose. The clothes against his skin were thick and warm, slowly drawing out the chill of the rain, and Linkara felt solid and comfortable next to him. Yes, this was safe. “Yes.”
“If you need to stop, can you tell me?”
“Yes. So don't worry about that.”
“Good.” The stroke of the hairbrush became longer, and the bristles started to rub lightly at his scalp like massaging fingers. Victor exhaled again, but there was no trace of tension this time.
Half an hour later, and their neglected tea was ice-cold. The rain hadn't let up a bit, and thunder was beginning to growl in the distance. But the two men on the couch, snug in a colorful burrow of pillows and blankets and quilts, hardly cared.
no subject
Date: 2014-06-10 03:50 am (UTC)