|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sun Sep 25, 2016 8:05 pm
thanks for
Well, speak of the devil and he would come, Chris thinks as Thorne appears out from the bedroom. He watches with interest, never actually having seen Thorne bring out his wings. They were beautiful as usual, a self contained galaxy.
Bergamot, having spotted Millie, chirps from his place near a group of potted plants.
Chris smiles at Thorne as he comes over, drops in front of his feet. "Pretty decent," He replies, a hand flattening out the pages. "Not my favorite but it'll do." He reaches a hand out and hesitates for a second before finally gently touching one of Thorne's wings.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Sep 25, 2016 8:29 pm
thanks for
Millie finds Bergamot amongs the flowers quickly and settles against his side with a purr. She is more than happy for her cat friend to be back.
Thorne hums, and glances back at Chris, letting the towel slide into his lap, revealing the length of his tattoos, the width of his shoulders. The wings connect at the blades, stretch down to the small of his back. They glitter and glow and swirl, bathing him in a gentle light.
"What - " He starts, but then Chris touches one of them and it goes straight through his body like a spike of heat, like Chris is touching a nerve cluster rubbed raw. A sound erupts from his throat, like a sharp exhale or a growl or a low groan of pleasure, and his wing involuntarily rises into the outstretched palm, pulling taut and flush beneath Chris's fingers. Thorne catches himself then and there, and puts one hand to the floor, fingers outstretched, nails etching smooth lines into the hardwood.
The other goes to his face, his hands barely concealing the heat that lights his face bright red. His wings shudder, stretching, taut.
"Oh my god, I'm sorry," Thorne chokes, but doesn't move.
On a list of things that he was capable of handling tonight, the discovery of wing sensitivity was not one of them.
Definitely. Not one of them.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Sep 25, 2016 8:40 pm
thanks for
Chris for a second is enchanted by those tattoos, their meaning hidden to him but gorgeous all the same. He wants to ask someday, means to ask someday, but for now he lets it be. It's not the time, the place, or the conversation.
When he reaches a hand out to touch those wings, he's not sure what reaction he'll get. Maybe like when he holds Thorne's hand, or when he absently thumbs the back of his neck. Warmth, comfort, a solid reminder than Thorne is there but only just that. It was simple curiosity after all, wondering what they felt like.
He absolutely however does not expect that sound to come out of Thorne's throat, the sudden reaction of wing rising into his palm. He's stunned for a second, looking down on Thorne with surprise. He wonders if he's hurt him, if he's done something he shouldn't have but then he sees the tint on Thorne's cheeks, the bright red tips of his ears.
Chris just grins instead.
"What for?" He asks, all innocence. His hand moves, palm rubbing up the length of wing, just a breath of a touch. A tease.
He was going to have fun with this.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Sep 25, 2016 8:59 pm
thanks for
Thorne's entire world is narrowed down to a single starburst of contact between him and Chris, and suddenly the heat of the room, his body, is unbearable. Suddenly there is a new weight in his stomach, churning. He grips the floor with one hand and his face with the other, his ears burnt bright red against the fawn spots. The world around him churns away into nothing but Chris's breath, the sound of it being drawn.
Words in his mouth.
A smooth contact, drawing up, steady and ghosting.
Chris draws a line of fire across the membrane, a scorching mark of pleasure and sensitivity that claws down to his very core, and every inch makes his wing arch upwards involuntarily, searching the contact for something more solid. Closer, closer.
"Chris," Thorne says. His voice is low and raw and animal, a different making from any sound he has ever made before in front of the blond. The sound bursts from him like a slow drag, cutting the silence between them, chaotic and undone.
"If you're going to tease me - " Thorne breathes sharply, his face burning brightly, but he can't finish because Chris's palm finds the apex of his wing and he doesn't bite down on the whimper fast enough, animal in its creation, head bowing even more in an attempt to hide the rising heat of his cheeks, the way his body burns all over, rooted in place.
Chris is winning this one. If Thorne was a smarter man he would beg mercy.
But he's not. He's not.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Sep 25, 2016 9:27 pm
thanks for
It's rare that Chris is ever an intentional tease, but when it was with Thorne it seemed that most things went out the window for the sake of just seeing his reaction. This wasn't any different, except this time it seemed Chris had the upper hand for once and he was going to play it until he couldn't anymore.
He pushes his book away, scooting forward on the couch a few inches more until his knees are just barely brushing Thorne's back. Thorne is fully in his attention now, his every move categorized. He can see his hand gripping the floor (and for a moment, wonders about the clawmarks but then again, it is warehouse), the bright red flush of his cheeks and his ears, Thorne trying to hide how affected he is.
Chris grins wickedly.
"Yesss?" Chris draws out, his hand still ghosting over his wing. He loves they way they pull closer to his hand, aching for touch.
When Thorne bites off his sentence Chris grins, pauses in his motions. It seems he's found a sweet spot, Thorne unable to hide his reaction. "If I'm going to tease you, what?" He asks, but he moves his thumb over the spot, rubbing it gently. His fingers ghost the other part of Thorne's wing but he focuses here, putting more gentle pressure on it than he had before.
Oh yes, this was a great discovery.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Sep 25, 2016 9:47 pm
thanks for
It doesn't help that Thorne has been starved for contact for so long.
His elbow bends, and he lowers himself slightly so that Chris can see the sharpness of his spine, the bones jutting against the taut pull of dark skin, a line curving down between the wingspan. Every part of him is wired to Chris's touch and scent and sound. He thinks if he doesn't keep an iron grip on the floor, he'll go crazy and pounce the other.
"If you continue," Thorne says, ragged, his voice raw and chaotic, "You are to blame for anything I do to you."
There's an audible drag of nails on floorboard as Chris pushes down on the apex of his wing, Thorne groaning from the warmth that flushes outward from the contact, straight into his belly, his chest, his entire core overheating.
"I'm going to destroy you," he says, his voice heady and animal. His eyes find Chris, sharp and galactic, wild-bright and lidded, color staining the dark eyelashes that fall over bright blue and winking purple and gold. His cheeks are flush and dark against the fawn spots. He shudders, primal, takes a wolfish breath that slaughters through the air like a slow drag.
His wings tremble, tethered to Chris's touch.
"Do you even know what you're doing to me?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Sep 25, 2016 10:02 pm
thanks for
Chris can see the tautness of Thorne's back, the strain of everything, of Thorne's being. He's trying very hard to hold himself together, Chris can see, trying to keep himself from doing something. What, Chris isn't sure, but it doesn't really matter much. He trusts Thorne's will.
"Well," Chris drawls, the smirk on his face audible in his tone, "That's a fair trade off, as far as I can see it."
If Chris was a kinder man, he would probably stop at this point. Stop when he could hear the flood boards straining under Thorne's effort to keep his composure, when he could hear Thorne clearly coming closer to a tipping point. But Chris is enthralled by this, enthralled by Thorne, by something he's never been able to see until this moment.
"You wouldn't," Chris says back idly, meeting Thorne's gaze. He looks wild, like he is close to breaking, close to his end. But Chris has never been afraid of Thorne and isn't now, not when he can see the flush on Thorne's face. Can see something new, something different in those eyes of his.
He is beautiful all the time but in this moment, Chris finds him breathtaking, astounding. Gorgeous.
"Not a clue," He drawls, predatory smile on his face once more. Only one of his hands is occupied and he takes his free one, slowly draws it down Thorne's back where he can see his spine. Savors the flush of skin there. Then in a swift motion, moves his other hand to as close as he can get to the same spot on his other wing and applies a similar pressure there.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Sep 25, 2016 10:23 pm
thanks for
Thorne breathes out, so sharply it's a gasp, when Chris presses his fingers into the apex of his wing. When he speaks, his breath burning a line against Thorne's neck. A hot spike of desire rushes through him, and Thorne has to drive his canine into his lower lip to stop it from making it to his throat. If Chris knows what he's doing, he's doing it to be an a*****e -
And if he doesn't, he's blind.
"Don't sound so enthused," Thorne drags out, rough and heady, his body on fire, legs tense, even his toes digging into the floorboards from where he sits, damp droplets of water from the shower drawing lines down against his chest, his cheek, his jawline. He can smell the shampoo, the body wash, but more than that he can smell the scent of Chris, nothing but soil and ink and -
"I might," Thorne responded, throwing his head back, neck bared, body responding to each and every stroke. His wing twitches, the flush of heat spreading to his neck, pooling in his belly. His mouth opens and flashes fangs -
When Chris draws a line down his back and presses his other hand to both of Thorne's wings, he gives out a sound like shattering, like coming apart in a spiraling, beautiful way. He lasts in trembling silence for all of thirty seconds to Chris's tease before it's too much and too close and too warm - Chris must be blind not to understand what he is doing to him -
Thorne is fluid and trembling and animal when he pulls Chris off of the couch, down to his level, pinning him to the floor. He catches both of the blonds wrists with one hand holds them above his head, trapped. He has one knee down between his legs, droplets spraying spraying from his hair against Chris's face. His wings fan out, trembling and aching and he wants Chris to touch them again - wants to be shattered completely until he cannot think anymore, but -
He leans in close, so that his breath brushes over Chris's neck, up against his jaw line. The darkness of his wings shadows them from any light, curving above them like their own night sky. In the darkness, their eyes glow.
"I told you that I bite," he says, his voice raw and gravelly against the shell of Chris's ear. It is dangerous with tease, with revenge, retribution. Thorne wonders when he'll catch his hands on his control again and haul himself back. But not yet. Not yet. "Didn't anyone ever tell you to be afraid?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Sep 25, 2016 10:44 pm
thanks for
It's almost a joy watching Thorne fall apart like this, try to keep himself together as he splinters. It's not out of pain though but just what looks like pleasure, sensitivity. He's a huge a*****e, he knows, for keeping this going but it's fun and it doesn't hurt Thorne so he continues, keeping his hand going. He's playing a dangerous game, he knows, but the thrill keeps him going.
"And why not? Chris questions knowingly, the sentence a long drawl, a mess of syllables. Thorne is tense, tense, stretched to his limit and Chris delights in it. He can smell the shampoo from Thorne still, his body wash, and yet something past it all that is just purely him. Home.
"Mhm, of course," Chris says idly, not paying much attention. He is far more enthused by the expanse of skin he is touching, exploring. The ink that is unfurling under his fingers, still a mystery to him but still beautiful. When he stretches that hand out he still has his eyes on it.
It feels like it's been no time at all when he is suddenly pulled downward, eyes opening wide as Thorne brings him down to his level and below. He's pinned on the floor now, Thorne above him, all power and beauty.
He knew he was playing a dangerous game - he just never thought he would lose, would overplay his hand.
He shudders in Thorne's hold, wiggles his hands to try and break them free. He knows he is at a loss here but he'll fight at least, make an effort to escape. But Thorne leans in and Chris stills at the heat on his jaw line, the sudden darkness that ensnares them both. A night sky for the two of them, becoming just as familiar as the original he grew up with.
Chris shudders again at his voice, a flush rising to his own cheeks, to the tips of his ears. "Never learned to be afraid," He says back, but his voice is strangled, even to his own ears. "Especially not of you."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Sep 25, 2016 11:15 pm
thanks for
Thorne grazes his teeth over Chris's jaw at the words, a teasing, low comment that needs no words to convey. His wings still tremble, his entire body flush with heat - and yes, he'll probably need to go drown himself in ice water soon, but not yet. He can hold out. Not yet.
He lets Chris wiggle beneath him, trying to escape, and holds on just enough to keep him in place.
"They should have raised you better," he says, hisses, groans against Chris's neck, the slope just beneath his ear, "They should have taught you about creatures like me."
He leans back, just enough so Chris can see his eyes, the curve of his wicked mouth, the fracture lines of another game entirely there, burned into him from the contact, shaking in the aftermath of an incomplete match. One that cannot be completed - because even if he is, Chris isn't, and even if he is -
Oh, and it is a painful game as well.
"Shall I give you something in return, for all the trouble you've caused me, little devil?" He asks, his voice dipping soft and low, raw like an animal growl.
He lets his one hand fall to where Chris's shirt has been rucked up against his stomach. He draws a path of flowers and comets and stars over his belly, his sharp hip bone, every inch of skin like a canvas to him. It's a teasing pressure, so gentle at points that it nearly pulls away to draw with the warmth of closeness.
He thumbs a line up from the divot of Chris's belly to the place where his shirt has been knocked out of place and his he splays his palm there. His body rocks slightly, and his eyes, bright as a galaxy burning beneath the darkness of lashes, are focused on Chris as though he is the only thing in this world anymore.
"Do you know what you do to me?" He asks, and his voice is strangled and breathless. His wings come in closer, and in the darkness, all he can see is Chris.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Sep 25, 2016 11:37 pm
thanks for
Chris hisses out a breath, back arching a little. It's a sensitive spot, made even more intense by the fact he can't move his hands. Thorne is being just as much of a tease as Chris was before and he knows he deserves it, he really does, but it's aggravating to have everything flipped so suddenly.
His movement is doing nothing to release him from Thorne and he gives up with a huff, staring up at Thorne with a baleful gaze.
He wants to be free - he wants to be trapped under Thorne. It's a conflicting feeling, something he doesn't enjoy. It sits under his chest, waiting for him to acknowledge it, something more for him to pick at.
He's almost tempted but then Thorne's leaning back in and Chris is distracted all over again. "I was raised perfectly fine, thank you," He says back, but it's a weak retort, made even weaker by his trembling. Thorne is going for sensitive spots and Chris is weak, weaker than he's even been.
He looks at Thorne, truly looks at him, the gleam of his eyes and the line of his mouth and something in him for a second, something small and wondering asks - What if this was yours?
What if it wasn't a game?
He lets the thought die as quickly as it comes though, pushes it down. Not now, not ever to consider now. Impossibilities were for late nights, for daydreaming, not when Thorne was looming above him, a real and present threat.
"And what trouble would that be?" Chris drawls back, still playing at confidence, at cocky.
As it turns out, it would be a lot of trouble. Chris sucks in at the touch, flush blooming into a deeper, darker red. Thorne's hand on him is achingly, teasingly light and Chris trembles under him, unable to pull away even if he wanted to.
He gasps out a breath as Thorne's hand moves, as his palm comes to rest. He feels undone by Thorne, unable to escape his gaze. Heat pools in his stomach as his flush crawls down his neck, as he tries to remember how to breath under this attention.
"No," He gasps out, and it's not a play anymore, unable to pull off his act of confidence. His pupils are blown wide, the black nearly overtaking the blue of his eyes. "I don't, I don't at all."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2016 12:01 am
thanks for
Thorne watches Chris react and his entire body is rigid with desire, heat breathing down his spine, the nape of his neck. He still remembers vividly the pleasure of Chris's hands on him. He wants them again, wants them on his spine, the planes of his wings, everywhere. Everywhere. He wants to drown in Chris's touch.
Thorne has known desire. Has known the beds of strangers and one night lovers and one night stands. But Chris is a wildfire inside of him. He does not know this - the complexity of this, so deep and primal in him that he has to struggle to tame it, to make sure that he does not press his fingers to it, because if he does -
He will go too far.
"Oh please," Thorne drawls in response, his voice heavy, a purr or a growl, temperamental and wanting, "They raised you perfectly fine but forgot to teach you to lie?"
And it's hard not to move his hand again, because Thorne wants to map Chris in ways he's not allowed. Because there's something growing in him, spreading like the arching flowers that Chris grows from the ground up, only now they are inside of his rib cage. They are pressing in on his heart. Thorne knows the words but they are frightening. They are crowned in ivy and hyacinth and roses. They are born and bred and bathed in the heat in his belly, the fire in his veins.
"Teasing me," Thorne says, soft and low and raw, "You think you're the only one that gets to ravage someone tonight?" And the word comes out like a challenge, a hot, heavy dare.
Thorne milks in Chris's reactions to him, slides his hand down from those trapped hands and to the small of Chris's back where it arches away from the floor. He palms the heat there, the boniness of the blonds spine. He draws circles in between the soft bumps and edges of bone and muscle and skin gone taut. With his other hand he teases upwards, to the beautiful divot of Chris's stomach where his rib cage dips.
He smooths a comet against the bone and muscle there. He wants to kiss it, and the revelation pounds through him like a spike nailing his final edges of denial into the ground.
His breath is sharp and aching.
Stop me, he wants to say, but he's too selfish, too undone, I'll eat you raw.
"No?" Thorne drags the word through his teeth, bows his head and touches their foreheads together. But somehow even this does not seem as gentle as usual. This too seems loaded, seems like it could go off, if only there was a spark, a flame.
"You have unmade me," he says, breathes, the confession heady and pure and raw on his lips. "body and soul, and you still look at me like that. Like you don't know what you are."
He draws another lazy circle against Chris's belly. Dances his fingers along his spine, one elbow braced softly against the floor, ready to dip out of the way if Chris comes back down.
You make me dream again, Thorne thinks, but the words trap themselves in his throat, you make me want again, even knowing you are something I cannot have.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2016 12:19 am
thanks for
All Chris knows in this moment that his heat, this something between them, he wants more of it. He wants Thorne's body pressed to his, he wants this moment to last forever even if he is on the losing side. This is a daydream come to life, this is the darkest of thoughts he's kept to the back of his mind in reality and he wants it to continue.
It's almost too good to be real and it scares him, what he is learning. What he doesn't know, what wants to be known from this.
"No," Chris says, "Yes. I don't know!"
He's frustrated, his mind a bit of a fog. He's losing patience for Thorne and his word games and he gives a frustrated growl at Thorne, arches his back up off the ground in a struggle. He wants to touch if Thorne won't touch him, wants to turn the game back in his favor.
Mine, Mine, Mine, something in him chants again.
"I would like to be," He drawls back, desperate, whining. He wants to rise to the challenge, he wants his hands released so he can shut Thorne up.
It seems that his unspoken wish is granted and the minute his hands are free they rise to Thorne.
One splays on his back, fingers encompassing as much skin as Chris can get under his hand. His hand will draw patterns too soon, lines and swirls and whatever comes to his mind quick enough but for now it settles, grounds him as Thorne's hands still work their magic on Chris.
His other hand goes for Thorne's hair, teases its way in and locks there. Not tight, not to hurt, but just a presence to ground him. He won't touch Thorne's wings again, can't really at his position, too caught up in what Thorne is doing to him to even be able to form an idea of what to do.
Instead he is just there and he shudders under Thorne's touch and attention, feeling hot under his gaze.
"No," He repeats back, feeling rebellious. Feeling something special between them as their foreheads touch, as it's something new and familiar all at the same time. His hand trails up from Thorne's back, makes it home on the back of Thorne's neck and rests there. Waiting, wondering.
"Tell me, what am I then?" Chris drawls, unmade, a new being laying on the floor here. Thorne has done so much and he doesn't even know it, won't ever know it.
He shudders out another breath at Thorne's touch, grips his hair a little harder. It's starting to become a sensory overload but he doesn't want it to stop, can't imagine it stopping.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2016 3:37 pm
thanks for
"Mm," Thorne hums, growls, noncommittal, his body flush and warm. His movement is slow and dangerously languid, predatory and lupine. He sweeps the hand against Chris's spine higher, teasing up the fabric, spilling heat wherever it goes.
Chris places his hands on him and Thorne's pupils blow wide, stars crushed by the obsidian, the night-dark galaxy inside of his core. He growls, a deep sound in the base of his throat, and it is animal, wanting, a dare for Chris to come closer, hold harder.
Chris goads him though, asks him questions he doesn't know how to answer. Thorne dips his head, yielding beneath those hands, those burning points of contact. He doesn't know what he is doing here. He is unmade, letting go, and he knows if he falls, slips, stumbles -
He might accidentally go too far.
What am I then? Chris asks, and Thorne's breath comes out hard and uneven. His hand slides up from Chris's spine, and he holds Chris, nails biting gently into the divot of his hips. Every part of him is bent to the sound of the others breath, his voice and scent, so close that Thorne can taste it. So close that he -
Wants -
"Hmm," Thorne growls out, and lets his head dip to Chris's chest, to where the fabric is pushed up, to where his hands had once touched.
"Salvation," he says, his lips grazing Chris's belly, right at the divot.
A shudder runs through him, wings snapping closer, and Thorne sits up, stares down at Chris, want running through him like a cruel, bladed thing. Because he wants to say more, wants to wonder, wants to ask for something he can't have.
His eyes flick over Chris's face, his mouth, his jawline and his fluttering pulse.
He wants to -
Thorne stands up.
"I - " he says, breathless and breaking the moment, because adrenaline is now a drumming in his veins, fight or flight and he's forcing himself to the latter, "I forgot to feed the cats."
And stumbles away like an idiot, his entire face red again to the tips of his ears.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2016 3:51 pm
gardens growing in your mind
Thorne doesn't know how they get into it, only that they do. It's over something stupid, like control of the remote, or the return of the Banana Bread Discourse, or the fact that Thorne will constantly shake out his hair when its wet just to annoy Chris.
But they end up on the floor, the bright orange sunset blazing outside of the window through broken storm clouds. A mixture of light and dark and day and night. Summer was gone, its ghost in atrophy, and soon fall would take them completely.
Thorne sits on Chris's lap, having clasped their hands together to avoid Chris getting a handhold anywhere he can take advantage of, because he's been on a hairpin trigger ever since their escapade a few nights ago and he really doesn't want Chris to figure him out that fast.
"Hey," Thorne says, "If you want to win against me this time, you'll have to try harder than that."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
