erιĸ leнnѕнerr (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lehnsherrs) wrote2012-05-23 03:51 pm
lehnsherrs) wrote2012-05-23 03:51 pm
Drink down your gin and kerosene
continued from this epic thread.
[ Mornings break early for Erik, well rested or not, but when he sleeps this deeply and without terrors lurking in the night, nesting throughout every blackened corner of his mind, it's worth noting. Absent is the unease that normally rattles away in its cage until the noxious presence forces him into waking, hissing a warning and prayer for battle readiness, but the ball bearings, once located, stay where they are on the carpet, a knife kept sheathed and out of sight on his side of the bed. Without that prickling on the back of his neck, he has the strange luxury to start the day blunt-edged and lazy, the only war he has to win being the decision to bathe before or after coffee, for all the decision-making he's capable of doing on such porous thoughts and sluggishly obeying body.
Except he shouldn't have a side, he remembers. Rediscovering that he's not alone brings back some of the brutal aching in his sides and chest, along with the less brutal kind that's already stirred against his upper thigh, but being so soft in the head and loose of limb has lent itself to his guest's unusual warmth spreading through him through a single point of contact along the tattoo. Morning light neither sears him nor illuminates any number of the overhanging questions about John and him, that Erik can't even muster the affronted posture at sharing his bed, however inadvertently, because neither had he actually needed the rest of the bed at any point. For once, he hadn't shifted or tossed in the night for reasons he doesn't want to examine too closely beyond the fact that his body got something it craved and let him rest, happy with its payment. Whether or not the trend will continue in the coming weeks is another question entirely.
He's not given to overt fondness or sentimentality, otherwise staying and peering at John's sleeping figure might keep his interest for the hours it takes until the boy wakes and he can have a closer look at the fresh ringing around his neck and wrists. Abstract gratitude for their physicality could manifest as him rolling John over and lackadaisically shifting and sliding against the swell of his ass if he wanted it to, but a catlike need for cleanliness is yanking his attention toward the bathroom suite instead, away from awkward confrontations over facsimiles of closeness and morning after pillow talk. Disentangling John's grip from him isn't as easy as he expects it to be, the heat lingering in the pads of his fingers and palm long after he settles John back onto the mattress, and without penetrating the surface of his thoughts beyond hot and want he doesn't let it go to waste, the same hand going skim that heat up his stiffening cock, eyelids fluttered shut against the foreign sensation. That was everywhere last night, he recalls with a muted gasp. Everywhere suffusing his being, and metal is cold except when either fire or blood warms it, and he had both last night.
Yes. He definitely needs to get up now.
Biting back a pained groan, an arm comes to cradle his ribs while the rest of him finds out if it can support him through trial by fire, half walking, half shuffling toward the bathroom without risking a glance toward John's vulnerable shape, stark against a fathomless blue sea of fabric.
At first, he doesn't care about what special shower heads this establishment has blown (doubtless) large sums of money on; he just picks one. Erik starts with the cold faucet only and leans his forehead wearily against the tiles, the chill doing wonders for dulling the pain in the taut, scabbed over scratches somewhere along his arms and back, soothing the familiar pull across his ribs, his body recognizing this dance after the boots he's taken to the same spot. It does little to kill the persistent heaviness between his legs, but the pleasant white noise of sensation filtering out the pain sustains him and shuts out larger concerns waiting just on the other side of the door, sleeping in his bed. Naked and vulnerable.
Hot water, then. ]
[ Mornings break early for Erik, well rested or not, but when he sleeps this deeply and without terrors lurking in the night, nesting throughout every blackened corner of his mind, it's worth noting. Absent is the unease that normally rattles away in its cage until the noxious presence forces him into waking, hissing a warning and prayer for battle readiness, but the ball bearings, once located, stay where they are on the carpet, a knife kept sheathed and out of sight on his side of the bed. Without that prickling on the back of his neck, he has the strange luxury to start the day blunt-edged and lazy, the only war he has to win being the decision to bathe before or after coffee, for all the decision-making he's capable of doing on such porous thoughts and sluggishly obeying body.
Except he shouldn't have a side, he remembers. Rediscovering that he's not alone brings back some of the brutal aching in his sides and chest, along with the less brutal kind that's already stirred against his upper thigh, but being so soft in the head and loose of limb has lent itself to his guest's unusual warmth spreading through him through a single point of contact along the tattoo. Morning light neither sears him nor illuminates any number of the overhanging questions about John and him, that Erik can't even muster the affronted posture at sharing his bed, however inadvertently, because neither had he actually needed the rest of the bed at any point. For once, he hadn't shifted or tossed in the night for reasons he doesn't want to examine too closely beyond the fact that his body got something it craved and let him rest, happy with its payment. Whether or not the trend will continue in the coming weeks is another question entirely.
He's not given to overt fondness or sentimentality, otherwise staying and peering at John's sleeping figure might keep his interest for the hours it takes until the boy wakes and he can have a closer look at the fresh ringing around his neck and wrists. Abstract gratitude for their physicality could manifest as him rolling John over and lackadaisically shifting and sliding against the swell of his ass if he wanted it to, but a catlike need for cleanliness is yanking his attention toward the bathroom suite instead, away from awkward confrontations over facsimiles of closeness and morning after pillow talk. Disentangling John's grip from him isn't as easy as he expects it to be, the heat lingering in the pads of his fingers and palm long after he settles John back onto the mattress, and without penetrating the surface of his thoughts beyond hot and want he doesn't let it go to waste, the same hand going skim that heat up his stiffening cock, eyelids fluttered shut against the foreign sensation. That was everywhere last night, he recalls with a muted gasp. Everywhere suffusing his being, and metal is cold except when either fire or blood warms it, and he had both last night.
Yes. He definitely needs to get up now.
Biting back a pained groan, an arm comes to cradle his ribs while the rest of him finds out if it can support him through trial by fire, half walking, half shuffling toward the bathroom without risking a glance toward John's vulnerable shape, stark against a fathomless blue sea of fabric.
At first, he doesn't care about what special shower heads this establishment has blown (doubtless) large sums of money on; he just picks one. Erik starts with the cold faucet only and leans his forehead wearily against the tiles, the chill doing wonders for dulling the pain in the taut, scabbed over scratches somewhere along his arms and back, soothing the familiar pull across his ribs, his body recognizing this dance after the boots he's taken to the same spot. It does little to kill the persistent heaviness between his legs, but the pleasant white noise of sensation filtering out the pain sustains him and shuts out larger concerns waiting just on the other side of the door, sleeping in his bed. Naked and vulnerable.
Hot water, then. ]