( Soft, sweet. Like feathers, like freshness of snow. A powder of itself. They are temples of bones, still breathing. His walls will crumble, his defences break.
Wei Ying's hand in his hair tightens the wet sailor's knot of him, twists. He falls into Wei Ying, less for gravity or negligence of himself than the quiet exhilaration of knowing he will be caught, he will be brought to shore.
This turn, his palm cradles Wei Ying's jaw, clumsy. Climbs, latches. The single torch's paltry potence leaves dusk to swallow the corridor whole. Spattering of light, here, there, blinks of a candle's wink, and they could be anyone, could be anyone at all. Live in these bodies like thieves, the start of his second kiss a misadventure of clumsy, blunt geometries. The fit is poor. He angles. Then suckles on Wei Ying's lip, more than seduces him, then nearly bloodies his nail, scratching the wasteland of the nearest stairstep to keep himself reined in.
They meet, somehow, in the midst of it all, one soul learning the game of halves combining. Bloodied, Wei Ying's mouth emboldens him to think of conquest, of burning. That, moan stifled, he has won something here. That he has not paid for it with the skin of his back.
It ends before he knows it ever caught shape. Slips from him, even when he resurrects it in quick, dry presses of his mouth on Wei Ying's lids, his forehead after. Ragged breath, he has lost rhythm. )
Don't leave me. ( Soft and not hardened. As if he speaks to the rabbits. )
Wherever you go to make men again from your clay of ashes. Wherever you go that no one may follow. ( But for Xue Yang, Wrath. He suspects, for the dark mahogany quality of her, Vanessa. A meek handful, past this. )
Come back to me after, as today.
( He accepts it, the fool. He will accept anything. )
no subject
( Soft, sweet. Like feathers, like freshness of snow. A powder of itself. They are temples of bones, still breathing. His walls will crumble, his defences break.
Wei Ying's hand in his hair tightens the wet sailor's knot of him, twists. He falls into Wei Ying, less for gravity or negligence of himself than the quiet exhilaration of knowing he will be caught, he will be brought to shore.
This turn, his palm cradles Wei Ying's jaw, clumsy. Climbs, latches. The single torch's paltry potence leaves dusk to swallow the corridor whole. Spattering of light, here, there, blinks of a candle's wink, and they could be anyone, could be anyone at all. Live in these bodies like thieves, the start of his second kiss a misadventure of clumsy, blunt geometries. The fit is poor. He angles. Then suckles on Wei Ying's lip, more than seduces him, then nearly bloodies his nail, scratching the wasteland of the nearest stairstep to keep himself reined in.
They meet, somehow, in the midst of it all, one soul learning the game of halves combining. Bloodied, Wei Ying's mouth emboldens him to think of conquest, of burning. That, moan stifled, he has won something here. That he has not paid for it with the skin of his back.
It ends before he knows it ever caught shape. Slips from him, even when he resurrects it in quick, dry presses of his mouth on Wei Ying's lids, his forehead after. Ragged breath, he has lost rhythm. )
Don't leave me. ( Soft and not hardened. As if he speaks to the rabbits. )
Wherever you go to make men again from your clay of ashes. Wherever you go that no one may follow. ( But for Xue Yang, Wrath. He suspects, for the dark mahogany quality of her, Vanessa. A meek handful, past this. )
Come back to me after, as today.
( He accepts it, the fool. He will accept anything. )