Apr. 9th, 2012 09:20 pm
the_eighth_sin: (Default)
[personal profile] the_eighth_sin
I don't really know what this is. I wrote it as Cole/Leo at 2am and it's in a weird narrative voice that I love! but that was really really odd to write.

Can you imagine being able to feel someone so close. Feel their heat seep into your skin. Feel their breath on your neck. Their eyes on your body. And be unable to touch? 
They live a life of torture. 
Dancing around each other like they can ignore the heated looks, the less than innocent words, the friendly touches that are anything but friendly. 
He would give anything to touch him as he wished. To be torn apart and remade so that he would be worthy. Or better yet to ruin him
He dreams. Dreams of his body sweat covered and sated. Dreams of those healing hands, magic fingers, sliding into him, making themselves at home in his body. 
He can almost feel him, hovering in the corner of the room. 

With deliberate hands he slips out of his clothes, jeans pooling at his ankles, surely not imagining the shaky moan reverberating around the room.
Softly he slides his hands down to the roped scar on his side. The scar that makes him his. The scar he left, not out of lack of power but as a reminder. They both know.
And if sometimes he'll rub his fingers against it when he's getting off, if the thought of his fingers, his tongue, any part ofhim touching his only vulnerability causes him to ache, if the brush of air against it makes him explode, coat his hand, sigh his name. 
No one can really blame him.
The forgotten smiles, tender touches.
Surely his moan of 'Mine' against his ear is not imagined?
Yours. Only yours. Always.


the_eighth_sin: (Default)

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