Armand in the sun, the summer head of Daniel's memories (what a thing, putting him in more memories) in a flimsy white t-shirt, fraying cut-off denim shorts that would be too short by today's prudish fashion standards, everything made half-transparent by sweat. A nice thing to picture.
Nicer, the teasing attention to his arousal, which makes him hiss. Ah, it's good, though.
"Do you like it?"
Sensitivity. Needles. The itch of nails. The initial poke of teeth.
Armand gives Daniel the flat of his palm, a luxurious spread of warmth compared to light fingertips, but then also sets the tip of a nail somewhere sensitive, enough to bring a speck of blood to the surface. Hands go firm immediately, a pinning lean through the heel of his hand at the centre of Daniel's chest, the other wrapping fingers around his cock. Smear of bright red.
Colours. "I tested it about thirty years ago or so. I spent a day on a white beach by the Aegean Sea, watching the sky and the water, sometimes the people. By the time the sun went down," strokes Daniel long, slow, tight, "I couldn't feel anything. Numb all over, half-blind, thirsty."
Chooses not to relay what came next. What Arun needed of Louis that night.
Armand looms over him, even as they just lay there together, like he's a unique moth being pinned. Free of thoughts like This shouldn't be interesting, it is what it is, with no second-guessing, and Daniel stares up at him with an expression that's startled, but awed. His blood, fresh, in with all else, and wants to bite Armand. He wants to fuck him. He wants to lay right here and watch pinwheels of colors, forever.
"Did it feel better than it had in years?" A light squirm, flex of his hands. They find Armand's arms, his sides, trailing, like he's drawing a touch over water's surface, making ripples. "Like sinking into cold glass? I think about—"
Pauses, to just feel.
"... That walk with you, after the diner. All the time."
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no subject
Nicer, the teasing attention to his arousal, which makes him hiss. Ah, it's good, though.
"Do you like it?"
Sensitivity. Needles. The itch of nails. The initial poke of teeth.
no subject
Armand gives Daniel the flat of his palm, a luxurious spread of warmth compared to light fingertips, but then also sets the tip of a nail somewhere sensitive, enough to bring a speck of blood to the surface. Hands go firm immediately, a pinning lean through the heel of his hand at the centre of Daniel's chest, the other wrapping fingers around his cock. Smear of bright red.
Colours. "I tested it about thirty years ago or so. I spent a day on a white beach by the Aegean Sea, watching the sky and the water, sometimes the people. By the time the sun went down," strokes Daniel long, slow, tight, "I couldn't feel anything. Numb all over, half-blind, thirsty."
Chooses not to relay what came next. What Arun needed of Louis that night.
"The night felt good."
no subject
Armand looms over him, even as they just lay there together, like he's a unique moth being pinned. Free of thoughts like This shouldn't be interesting, it is what it is, with no second-guessing, and Daniel stares up at him with an expression that's startled, but awed. His blood, fresh, in with all else, and wants to bite Armand. He wants to fuck him. He wants to lay right here and watch pinwheels of colors, forever.
"Did it feel better than it had in years?" A light squirm, flex of his hands. They find Armand's arms, his sides, trailing, like he's drawing a touch over water's surface, making ripples. "Like sinking into cold glass? I think about—"
Pauses, to just feel.
"... That walk with you, after the diner. All the time."
Colors.