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 Posted: Fri Oct 07, 2016 11:08 pm
thanks for redux
Chris is enjoying the fact they're back in Ashdown, despite the trouble they had getting back into the town. They've managed to gather up the cats and deal with the extra mail and Chris even hobbled out to buy groceries and it's peaceful now, just being at home. He's laying on the couch, watching TV and enjoying the comfort of Coalsmoke, of the fact he is totally at home and that nothing bad is about to happen or going to happen. It's a good thought.
"Thorne?" He calls out, curious but not demanding. He's not sure where he is and he wants him close, wants his body heat at the moment, a shameless excuse to cuddle.
[wc: 115]
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Posted: Fri Oct 07, 2016 11:18 pm
thanks for redux
Thorne gives a huff of sound in response to the call. He is just as happy as Chris to be back in Ashdown, even more so now that they aren't locked in bed, overwhelmed by the baseball bat to the head that had been coming back into all of the magic - every bit of themselves that went to sleep outside of town lines.
Without much effort, Thorne comes over to the couch and hums as he lets his knees hit the soft cushions first before he angles the fall against Chris's shoulders, shamelessly sticking his head right against the junction between Chris's collarbone and his neck, teeth grazing the soft flesh there in an open mouthed kiss.
"I'm almost certain this is what it feels like to die and be reborn," he cannot help saying, lazily, because the trouble of their return had been like a thousand bricks being dropped on top of them at once. He unfurls his wings, and stretches them out, warm and soft and easily within reach. It is nice to remember this form, even though the antlers are nothing but sleepy wisps, velvet soft and incorporeal, against his forehead now, held in stasis because he'd only wanted his wings free for the night. To stretch and relearn, finally.
But cuddling, as usual, came prioritized above all else.( total word count: 4640 223+207+378+225+386+221+365+293+200+218+352+270+155+100+148+358+363+178 )
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Posted: Sat Oct 08, 2016 2:53 pm
thanks for redux
Chris lets a gentle huff as Thorne lands on Chris, bringing his arms to curl around Thorne and pull him impossibly closer. He closes his eyes at the kiss, the comfort, smiling into Thorne's shoulder as he curls his head down. He's still impossibly happy, in disbelief that this is his and isn't a dream.
"We've suffered some hell through the cycles then," Chris says dryly, knowing full well what Thorne was talking about. He barely even registers Thorne's wings, only shifting his hands upwards to Thorne's shoulders to make room for the appendages, watching them spread out before them. He can't feel the telltale form of Thorne's antlers so they aren't out yet he supposes and he hums idly.
He blinks up at Thorne's wings, gauging the distance between his hands and those wings, an idea blooming in his mind. He had done this once before but well, it couldn't hurt another time. Carefully, quietly, he lifted his hands up to Thorne's wings to stroke them.
[wc: 167]
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Posted: Sat Oct 08, 2016 4:54 pm
thanks for redux
"I suppose so," Thorne hums, turning his head up and pressing another soft kiss to Chris's throat, scraping his canines over the gentle skin where his pulse flutters as though he wants to leave a mark. He is still in disbelief, still hungry for more, more, more, all of the things they had held themselves back from all of these months. More than that though, he simply wants to hold onto Chris, to keep him close, to reaffirm that he loves him, that this isn't some lie, some dream that will slip away as soon as he wakes up. As soon as he falls asleep.
This concept snaps away from him as soon as Chris does what he does though. There is an instant jolt that runs through his body, a full length shudder that bends him closer to Chris, mouth popping open into an unhinged gasp of air. His hand reaches out one curling at the edge of Chris's hip, tugging. His wing bends beneath those curious fingers, burning and sensitive and wanting more - more - more -
"You're playing a dangerous game," Thorne hisses against Chris's throat, a dare to go on, go on, go on, "You really think you can win this round?"
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Posted: Sat Oct 08, 2016 11:03 pm
thanks for redux
"You suppose so?" He questions, but the sound comes out more breathy and airy than he means to, sensual, because Thorne is ghosting over his throat and Chris is sensitive to the move. It's taking a surprising amount of self control to not outright moan, to not make this more than it is, but Chris is managing to bite back on it. Is managing to keep himself in the moment, to make sure that this is actually happening. Real, real, real, the thought beats in time with his heart.
His reprive comes in the form of Thorne's wings, of the sensitivity Chris knows that they posses. Last time everything had been cut short, leaving Chris red-faced and embarrassed on the ground on why Thorne had left so quickly. This time though, he was going to win, and his smile curls into a smirk as he feels Thorne's hand on his hip. His hands offer a little more pressure to his wings as they curl closer, react and respond.
"Absolutely," He says back, the voice of confidence. "I wouldn't start what I think I wouldn't win."
[wc: 185]
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Posted: Sat Oct 08, 2016 11:10 pm
are we out of the woods yet
Thorne ends up hospitalized on a dreary Tuesday evening, when a truck veers across the divider on the highway and collides with the drivers side of the Camaro. Thorne doesn't remember much of the event - only being dragged out of the wreckage by onlookers. It's outside of Ashdown, nearer to Boston than the sleepy town itself. He'd grudgingly agreed to Mass once more with his brother, breakfast and a long conversation about someone he might be in an actual relationship with now.
The Camaro had flipped - he remembers that. The Camaro was an ugly wreckage at the moment, being towed - or something. And Thorne knew he could fix her, had the funds to even though he knew insurance would file through and pay for most of it. The driver of the other car had been in hysterics. Thorne was sure she'd thought that he was dead from the way she'd been sobbing, but his head had hurt so much that he couldn't process the notion of it alone.
It had been even more of a blur from there. An ambulance. A hospital. The smell of antiseptic and death and sickness and something else, fluorescent lights doing nothing for his head.
Logically, the hospital calls his brother, who is an absolute storm when he appears.
"I left you alone for three seconds!" He snaps, in between Thorne being prodded and fussed over like some fragile doll. Somehow, he'd gotten off without any broken bones, but his shoulder had been dislocated, and now his arm would be in a sling for a week, maybe two, before he can start working on building strength in it again. The smallest saving grace is that it's his non-dominant hand. The largest is that nothing else has incapacitated him, and after a few stitches from glass shards and a nurse asking how the hell he's such a lucky duck, he's nearly free to go.
Thankfully, Declan knows better than to ask to drive him home.
Instead, outside of Thorne's awareness, and while he is getting fussed over by a second nurse as he wiggles into loose, faded henley, Declan goes outside and calls Chris using Thorne's phone, and waits as it goes through the motions of dialing and begins to ring.
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Posted: Sat Oct 08, 2016 11:52 pm
thanks for redux
"Hmm," Thorne says against Chris's throat, and kisses a trail up beneath his jaw. He loves this comfortable, intimate laziness, this new edge of their relationship, not a shift necessarily but simply an extension of what they had already had. He wants the closeness of Chris, the warmth. The lazy nights spent in bed, the hands that trace his spine, the warmth of Chris's own flesh against his.
"Chris," he says, guttural, a half-moan, when the blond presses harder against his wingtip and a flare of heat dips straight into his belly. He curls closer, whining a little, and says, low and raw, "I'd like to see you try." Because it is a dare, of course it is, into dangerous territory, once forbidden but no longer. He wants to see how far Chris is willing to go. How dirty he'd play just to win. Because Thorne is devious himself - and this - this may as well be a feast.
"Chris," he says again, a low raw ache of sound, and he slides his hand against Chris's shirt, fingers teasing up beneath the fabric to splay against the heat pooling there. His mouth grazes a fire-hot line of teething kisses back down the others throat, until he is at the pulse-line again, leaving a mark, a tease, a promise for more.
"I don't lose easily."
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Posted: Sun Oct 09, 2016 12:22 am
are we out of the woods yet
The same dreary Tuesday evening, Chris is on the couch and is distinctly wondering where the hell Thorne is. What he's even doing, since he was late getting home. It wasn't a rare thing, necessarily, they both had things happen and sometimes Thorne went for drives and Chris stayed in the garden too long and time was lost track of. They both had their way to cope and Thorne wasn't going to take away Chris' method anymore than Chris would take Thorne's, but it was rare to have such a radio silence. He texts Thorne, a few questions, but lets it go in time. If Thorne was driving, he wouldn't look at his phone and Chris didn't want him to.
So instead he settles down with a book and starts reading, the cats curled up on the edge of the couch near his feet. He reads and reads and the hours start ticking by and Chris eventually gets worried enough that he can't focus on his book. His phone is still bereft of notifications and Chris' mind is running away with awful ideas, the idea that Thorne left (impossible, he left Millie), the idea that Thorne was being held up by someone. The camaro broke down, his phone having no battery with that, or maybe the gentler idea that his phone had no battery at all. That he hadn't noticed the time and was just roaming around, that he'd notice it eventually. Chris tries to hold onto that idea the most but the worse ones keep creeping in, keep filling him with doubt. He fusses with his phone, trying to not think about the unanswered texts, tries to read Buzzfeed, news articles, teacher websites. Hell, he even digs through reddit, but everything is hard to focus on. Panic is a powerful thin and Chris has always been weak to it and he ends up closing it all, leaving his phone on his chest as he lays on the couch. Stares up at the ceiling.
He finally turns on the TV in a last ditch attempt, flips through channels. Sports is too busy and he's not in the mood for trashy TV shows. He's not even in the mood for Food Network, a rarity, but he likes to watch the shows with Thorne and well, that was the issue wasn't it? He finally settles on the news, hoping it can keep his attention and it's just his luck that the phone rings then. He grabs it, heart racing at the fact that it's Thorne and answers quickly. He has one eye on the news, a report about an accident, although he's only half paying attention to it now.
"Thorne?" His answer is breathless, a little frustrated. "Where the hell are you? It's been hours, I texted you, what were you doing?"
[wc: 466]
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Posted: Sun Oct 09, 2016 12:38 am
are we out of the woods yet
"Chris, this is Declan, Thorne's brother. We met in New York. I'm calling from the Massachusetts General Hospital," Declan says. He is nothing like his brother. His voice is sharp corners, edges that you could cut yourself on. There's a crisp calculated tone he uses on everyone that isn't his wife and his kids, and even though Chris has a softened version of it, the bite is still there. It might as well be a reverberation of anxiety, but no one but Thorne anymore would recognize that to be the case.
Declan formulates a response in his head as he watches a car pull away from the curb and another one pull in. His wife appears, a beautiful woman with a beautiful concept of life. She looks worried, and he gestures for her to go in without him, so she does. She'll fuss and worry over Thorne, and hopefully keep him from trying to climb into another car and drive himself home until Chris can come and get him.
Declan knows his brother.
Nine years ago, he'd been in a hospital a lot like this. Nine years ago, it had become almost impossible afterwards to get him to go back. Someone could cut off his arm, and Declan would have to drag him kicking and screaming to get it sewn back on.
He knew what was going through Thorne's head right now. And it was nothing good. And he had words, but they weren't the right ones.
Declan exhales.
"Thorne was in a car crash today on the interstate," Declan explains slowly. "He'll be alright in the long run, but I'm not comfortable in my ability to keep him from trying to drive home on his own rather than spend more time in a hospital. Are you busy? I'd prefer if someone he trusts could bring him home, but if you aren't available..."
He trails off, the implications there but unspoken.
Declan could drag and pry his brother into a car all he wanted, but the awful truth was he didn't want to terrorize Thorne anymore than he was being terrorized already with memories he didn't want.
And he'd seen the way Thorne had looked at Chris. He knew what love was, and he understood. He understood that Chris was a far better choice than him.
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Posted: Sun Oct 09, 2016 12:43 am
thanks for redux
Chris doesn't bother with a reply this time, just gives another shaky exhale of breath at the motion, feeling like he's on a little more stable ground this time as Thorne moves upwards. He presses against Thorne, tilts his head to allow slightly better access. This was everything he dreamed of and more and he wanted to keep it, wanted this to never end. He loved the way their relationship had only slightly shifted to something new, had only changed a small amount to allow this intimacy to creep in and find it's place. Settle as an extension, remind Chris of how close they had been before. How he could have almost had this so much earlier, but not bitter, just a playful thought.
Chris only smirks wider at the groan of his name, curls his fingers and gently runs his nails across the wings, across the bits of galaxy. Thore pushes closer and Chris only gives a light chuckle, eyes half-gazed, amused. "If you say so," He drawls, "But it seems I have the upper hand here." He presses his fingers against Thorne's wings again to punctuate this, prove what he has.
Thorne wasn't entirely defenseless though and Chris sucks in a breath at the movement of his hand, at his teeth grazing at his pulse-point again. "********," He groaned and it sounded close to a moan, almost there if he had let himself go. But he was determined to win this time.
[wc: 244]
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Posted: Sun Oct 09, 2016 12:56 am
are we out of the woods yet
Chris' stomach bottom outs the minute he hears Declan's voice, the minute it's someone else but Thorne. A cold fear drips into his veins, turns worse the minute he hears he's calling from the hospital. He can't say anything yet, voice frozen in his throat, in his mouth, because this is a terrifying nightmare come to life. There is so much that could have happened and Chris wants nothing to do with it, wants absolutely nothing to do with Declan in this moment. His voice is all wrong, nothing like Thorne's all edges and calculation and he just wants Thorne's warmth and drawl and everything. Wants this fear gone that he's lost something precious.
There should be something he should say, he knows, but he's already scrambling off the couch, the book forgotten. The cats don't scatter surprisingly, they are alarmed but they watch Chris with concerned eyes, with the realization that something isn't right by Chris' body language, with his motion. Chris is moving to get keys, to shrug on a cardigan, to find his wallet from where he last left it. The TV continues to blare in the background, loud and ignorant of the storm currently going on in the apartment.
Of the fear that Chris is going to have a repeat of a decade that he thought he had left behind.
His hand is shaking when it find his keys, buried under a pile of mail on the counter in the kitchen and he shoves it on the counter to stop its motion, trying to inhale. Declan is talking now and all he says is car crash and Chris is instantly sucked back to that day, is instantly put back in time, is fourteen all over again for a number of seconds. His eyes flick to the TV, unable to handle themselves and he sees the Camaro, the mangled body of it and he wants to throw up, fear encasing him, immobilizing him. Everything is a rush of sound for a moment but then it's Declan back on the phone and he hears ...he trusts could bring him home...
"Yes," Chris stutters out quickly, a rush of breath, trying to keep his panic out of his tone or at least keep it to a minimum. It probably doesn't go well, but he's trying. "I'll be there as fast as I can, I can get him."
He hangs up quickly, dumps his phone in his pocket and races to the door for his shoes. Those are on quickly and then he's gone, barely locking the door before he throws himself into his car. One very slightly (read: incredibly) panicked drive later, Chris is at the hospital, looking definitely worse for the wear. He has no idea where to go, but he's there.
[wc: 466]
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Posted: Sun Oct 09, 2016 1:05 am
thanks for redux
Thorne hums a soft melody against Chris's throat, aligned with him so easily that their body heat melds together, a symphony of warmth and radiance and intimacy. His own breath hisses out at the soft sounds Chris makes, the way he reacts. His fingers press up further, thumbing over the contour of Chris's chest and the sensitive skin there.
"Oh really," Thorne says, too soon, too soon - because there is another taunt in his throat that comes out as a hiss and groan of sound, his wings curving and trembling into that touch, greedy and reactive. Thorne is scorched from head to toe, burning, burning.
He pulls away only long enough to swing one leg over Chris's lap and resettle against him, both arms now winding around the blonds neck, tangling in his hair. He presses their foreheads together, wild eyes searching the other, half-lidded and hungry and so, so, so starved. The wings continue to press into that teasing hand, demanding as he is taunting.
Thorne says, "Oh, and you're still so sure that you'll win?"
He leans and ghosts his mouth against the corner of Chris's, a taunt of grazing teeth and heat and slickness, a soft pant pressing from his lips.
"Try harder," he teases, because he likes this game, but he likes winning just as much.
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Posted: Sun Oct 09, 2016 1:13 am
are we out of the woods yet
Declan waits for Chris in front of the hospital, and when he finds him, his eyes rove over the other before he gives him a slight nod.
"Thank you for coming," he says, ever refined, and gestures for Chris to follow him. He walks through the front doors and leads Chris down a set of halls, pausing only when he needs to talk with a nurse or a member of staff. He nods when they approach a door, as sterile as the rest of the facility. "He's in there," Declan says, and looks over at Chris, "I'll leave you two alone."
The woman standing there, Declan's wife, peels away from the wall and gives Chris a soft hug and greeting before retreating with her husband. Together, they leave Chris in the hallway, to enter when he wants. To do as he pleases. And to let things unfold as they should.
Thorne does not hear any of this, though. He is still half drugged, impatient and fidgety as a nurse removes the IV from his arms. He's dressed again, in a henley and marl grey joggers his brother had so graciously found him. His head hurts (concussion) and his arm hurts (dislocated shoulder.) He can't feel the stitches unless he tilts his head this way and that, the sights around them still numb. His right side when revealed beneath the shirt looks like a trainwreck of black and yellow and purple bruises. He's just glad he didn't get whiplash.
He's just glad he isn't dead.
His brother had told him he would wait outside, and Thorne had asked, senselessly, while still waiting on the painpills, for Chris. He'd barely registered the veiled look of tired grief on his brothers face - the knowledge that he wasn't enough. Not here, not now. Thorne wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault, but not now.
Right now Thorne wanted to bolt through that door and run until everything in him gave out. He wanted to run because the scars on his arms were on fire, burning, burning, burning, and his mind was stuck in a cycle between then and now and -
He wanted Chris.
He wanted Chris.
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Posted: Sun Oct 09, 2016 1:24 am
thanks for redux
Chris shudders, reacts, but wouldn't give his position away to anyone in the world at this moment. To be pressed this close to Thorne, to be like this here, is the greatest thing he's had and he can't help but want to keep it forever. Even if Thorne was playing dirty. He huffs out another breath at the touch of skin on skin, of the hand creeping higher. He wouldn't break first, he wouldn't.
"Yes really," Chris smirks, but he allows his hands to still for a moment, to allow Thorne a breather. To keep his own control even though there is heat pooling, even though that he is in threat of forming a blush. This was something that he was granted now and he wanted all of it.
The resettlement really seals it for Chris, makes him want it badly. He only blinks in surprise at their closeness, at the press of their forehead, before he tilts his head up to press a kiss to Thorne's lips. It's quick and brief and a little sloppy but he wanted it and he was going to take it.
"Yes," He hisses out, uses this chance to scratch his fingers against Thorne's wings again. This was different from last time, different from when Thorne could get him on the ground. If there was a way, Chris sure as hell couldn't see it.
"Make me," He whispers back, a sliver of a sound.
[wc: 240]
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Posted: Sun Oct 09, 2016 1:30 am
are we out of the woods yet
He's grateful that Declan is there when Chris arrives, his eyes landing on the form of Thorne's brother. He feels, oddly enough, like he is being looked over for something although he does not know what. He only takes an awkward moment to pull his cardigan closer to himself (Thorne's, as usual), like it'll protect him from the hospital itself, before he steps closer.
His reply is only a jerky nod, the reply of someone who is trying very hard to keep their fear back. He's grateful Declan doesn't require anymore words as he follows him through the halls, fear trying to rear its ugly head in every hurried step he takes. It's only when he stands there in front of Thorne's room can Chris find it in himself to unhindge his jaw, to let himself find words to speak and they won't come out completely terrified, incomprehensible. "Thank you," He whispers, just barely audible in the hallway.
He gives a shaky hug back to Declan's wife, watches them leave. He wants to rush into the room but he doesn't know what he'll find and it's terrifying, like he's back at that hospital in Jejudo. He hated these places, hated them so much, but he's back here again and the only way he's leaving is with Thorne.
He laces his fingers together and paces for a second, in front of his door, footsteps aimless for a second. But finally, finally, he gathers his courage together and opens the door to Thorne's room.
"Thorne?" He calls out, his voice a thin line, a tremble. The fear is audible and Chris hate himself for it, but it wasn't something he could help.
[wc: 279]
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