[drp] night owls early birds (Chris & Thorne)

[grayseasons]

a pair of boxcutters & a brunet

A little after they get back from the trip, once they're settled in, Chris and Thorne go over to Chris' to pack up the rest of his stuff. He'll deal with his rent and lease later, trying to get out of that and close it up. But it's student living and while he signed a full year, he has a feeling they'll let him out early. He's been a good tenant and his apartment isn't damaged, which is better than half of the people living around him, so he's got high hopes.

The minute he gets in his apartment he dumps off his shoes and heads for the bedroom, boxes under him arm and a roll of duck tape on his wrist like a particularly ugly and unfashionable bangle. His bedroom will be the worst thing to tackle, besides his kitchen, since it holds most of his fancier work clothing he's been ignoring in favor of wearing slouchy stuff around Coalsmoke. There's a few knicknacks in the room as well, but most of everything has been cleared out. Chris learned to pack light as a child since he moved so much and it's a habit he's held onto.

"Thorne, come help me clean out the closet," He yells, already halfway into it and grabbing four pairs of shoes. In the back corner of the closet, forgotten by Chris for the moment, is a jar of shells about as big as Chris' head and three fifths of the way filled.

elkbones

[wc: 249]  

[moonjavas]

a pair of boxcutters & a brunet

Thorne is happy to help Chris move, and buzzes with excitement the entire time they drive to the apartment to clear it out. A part of him is still stumbling around in a daze, refusing to believe that this is actually happening. That any of this is possible. He'd thought that Coalsmoke would be his lonely little paradise for so long - but now, here is the thing it - he had been missing all along.

And they're actually doing this. They're actually going forward with this, with those words spoken on ice in the cold Seattle chill.

Thorne gives the apartment a quick, appreciative glance as he's led in. He snorts a little bit at the drastic difference of it from Coalsmoke. Coalsmoke, a yawning mouth that tries constantly to swallow them whole. Here, everything is Chris, Chris, Chris, and Thorne drinks it in greedily. Chris had already made Coalsmoke his, but it was a co-habitation of cats and men and plants. Here, Thorne was able to read a little bit of the person Chris had been before they'd met. Before they'd stumbled into one another blindly, and fallen all the way down.

"So demanding," Thorne drawled in return, but he trotted after Chris into the bedroom. He's not unused to packing, having done at least three largescale moves in his life, and scoffs a little bit at the clothing Chris is hauling out. He sets down his own empty boxes and stretches his arms, starting to move through clothing and shoes and whatever is in between with efficient care, packing it for the move.

"So," he says, a grin on his face as he looks over at Chris, "Any dark secrets in this closet waiting to be revealed that I should know about now?"

PeanutButteddzfsrPies

296

5,468 (296+289+325+660+650+790+626+111+151+161+163+231+186+203+164+135+162+165)  

[grayseasons]

a pair of boxcutters & a brunet

Ever observant (or well, attuned to Thorne, but he'll prefer to think he isn't that grossly in love), Chris gives Thorne a little frown at his scoff at the clothing. "You can pretend to dislike all my work clothing as much as you like, but I know that you probably like to see me in it," He says, giving Thorne a wink as he unearths shoes and nice pants, collared shirts. Folds and packs it away with practiced efficiency, with quick motions that are secondhand at this moment, nothing he thinks of too deeply. He wants this move done quickly, wants to go back to Coalsmoke with Thorne.

It's not that he hates this apartment, this life he had before Thorne. It was a decent place and he liked living here, but he preferred the place that Thorne and him had made, the sense of home and belonging. Here was just... lonely and it made Chris ache. It had been good awhile ago but now, it was time to shift.

"Not that I know of," Chris replies with his own grin, "Sorry to burst your bubble. You're free to check though, see if you can dig out anything interesting before we move onto linens."

elkbones

[wc: 204]  

[moonjavas]

a pair of boxcutters & a brunet

Thorne smirks at Chris, his eyes a little wild, his heart bleeding out on his sleeve. Today they are doing mundane tasks, nothing but moving things around, and he still feels electric and entertained, his mouth curving up as he observes the other and the fanciful clothes that surround them.

"Oh, I would love that," Thorne drawled, "Rather, I would like to see you in them with me. Maybe we could go somewhere nice, pretend we're gentlemen for once. And then complain, and find good food. And you know what I would like even more than that?" Thorne smiled deviously, eyes bright and wild and saying without saying at all - You let this happen. You totally left yourself open for this. "I would love to see you out of these clothes. As I took them off."

He scoffed a little and shook his head. And the moment fizzed and popped back to the mundane. The heat retreated. Thorne looked at Chris, daring him to play his game.

But in the meantime, Thorne continues to fold and place clothing and shoes and in-betweens in boxes. He wonders where they'll put it back at Coalsmoke. How they'll hide things from the cats, make sure they don't shed their hair all over the fancy clothing, or chew the nice shoes.

"How tragic," Thorne drawls in response. He paws through another set of clothing and wiggles his way inward. "Maybe I'll uncover some cobwebs instead." His hands flutter through the half-darkness, groping for anything in the back, before landing on something made of glass.

He pauses and looks down.

And there - there are seashells.

Chris had said he'd collected them - hadn't he? So why - why were they forgotten here?

PeanutButterPies

289  

[grayseasons]

a pair of boxcutters & a brunet

Even with this move Chris is completely and utterly content, happy that Thorne was here with him to move. Happy that he's helping, that they're together, still riding that feeling of knowing Thorne loves him.

"Lauren would cry if we sent him a picture," Chris says automatically, giving Thorne a beautiful grin. He tilts his head at Thorne's question though, not getting what exactly he's getting at until - oh. His face turns a bright red, to the tips of his ears, and he gapes a little. Quickly faces the clothing he's packing again, pretends he isn't blushing so hard because he deserved it but that didn't make the words any less incriminating. "I think I would like that too," He manages to squeak out, pretending he has far more confidence than he actually does. Chris will fake it until he makes it until the very end.

However, he's not about to take this lying down.

"What about you though? Am I going to be allowed to undress you? Put those pretty suits Lauren got you on the floor?" He manages to drawl after a minute, when his blush mostly recedes and just leaves him rosy instead of red faced. "We could send him a picture of that too."

He continues to fold his clothing, wonders where exactly he got this much. Some of it probably needs to be moved out, donated somewhere, but the majority of it is work and he lets it drop neatly in the box. They'll probably finish soon, and it probably isn't really that much, but right now it feels like a mountain.

"Probably," Chris admits as Thorne disappears into the closet, only giving him half of his attention, the other dedicated to making sure there will be space for his ties in a box. They're currently lying in a dresser and he gets up to get them, but notices Thorne's pause in the closet.

"What's up there? You find Narnia?"

elkbones

[wc: 320]  

[moonjavas]

a pair of boxcutters & a brunet

Thorne scoffed, laughing at the comment. Lauren had sent them off with a fond farewell and a very dangerous threat of visiting the East Coast solely to play What Not to Wear with their closets combined. He shook his head and smiled at Chris, a devious, cat-like grin.

"Lauren would cry, and then he would come here and cry more," Thorne retorted, rolling his eyes and smirking at the blush that decimates Chris's face when he speaks. It is one of his favorite things to see, and he tries to smother the laugh coiling up in his throat at the sight of it.

"Would you really?" He responds, low and devious at the squeak. If he had a tail, it would be wagging so hard.

But instead, Chris retaliates, and Thorne doesn't blush, not necessarily, but his eyes flick to Chris, wild and baiting.

"What would you start with first? Would you unknot my tie? Put it to good use? Oh, I would, if I were you, or I might just reverse your plan. Would you pull at the blazer? I'm curious how disheveled you would make me before kissing me. Would you make me beg?" Thorne grins, his eyes lazy and mischievous, daring Chris. Tempting Chris. Asking a question of a future, a future where they can do this. Where they can dress up for a night, go out on the town.

"Oh, Chris, I'd love to see how cruel you could be," he teases ruthlessly, "But I doubt you'd send that particular photo to Lauren. Don't you want to keep me all for yourself?"

Thorne shuffles around a bit, carefully swipes the dust away from the container and blows on it. He looks back at Chris.

"Honestly, that would be nice," he teases, "Then I could stuff snow down your shirt and truly get you undressed."

Another pause, and then -

"I found a beach instead. Or at least the seashells of one."

PeanutButterPies

325  

[grayseasons]

a pair of boxcutters & a brunet

"So we're doing it and sending him a picture then," Chris says immediately in reply, tone final and fixed, like it's been decided permanently. "Glad we had this talk team, good job all around." He wonders, belatedly, if anyone would follow Lauren down to the east coast in his quest to find both Thorne and Chris and cry at them. That too would be plenty amusing, but well. He's distracted by Thorne speaking again.

"Maybe," He manages back, but he's coming down off of the initial shock, coming to terms with how to fight back at Thorne best. A constant game the two of them play, have played before.

"Why give away the plan and give you the ability to counter it?" Chris drawls back, eyes narrowing. "But here, since you have such an imagination, I'll tell you that I'd start with the tie of course. Make sure you couldn't do anything with those hands of yours. Teasing you until you beg is of course, a requirement." His eyes are half-lidded now, his words dangerous, being pulled into this by Thorne easily. He wants to do everything he says, wants to show Thorne he means it with his body and not just his words. But another time, another place, where they go out and Thorne has mostly forgotten about this and Chris can surprise him.

"I do," He replies, "But what's some fun without teasing someone else? Showing them you're mine?" It's a purr now, possessive. Wanting.

Chris scoffs from his side of the room, now by his mostly empty dresser. "Snow down my shirt would just make me want more clothing genius." He pulls open the drawer that contained underwear and socks and ties, now just ties since the rest of that had migrated over to Coalsmoke.

He blinks up from the ties in his drawer, hands half full of them. They aren't many, most of them gifts, but there's enough material to occupy his hands.

"What do you mean?" He asks at first, but the moment the words leave his mouth his brain catches up and - oh.

Oh, Thorne wasn't supposed to find that.

"Um," He says, but his voice is pitched high with panic, easily recognizably. "It's j- just a collection. Of shells." He wants to say not important but that's a lie if he's ever heard it and one he won't be able to say. It was important, it was very important, but it also hurt at him to look and he's now staring resolutely at the ties in his hands, pretending like he's counting them or something.

elkbones

[wc: 427]  

[moonjavas]

a pair of boxcutters & a brunet

"Very well," Thorne says amiably, his cat gaze lazy and fixated on Chris for the moment, "And then he'll run here on God's good grace and destroy us both so thoroughly it will be an absolute shock to the rest of Ashdown we ever existed at all. He's very good at terrorizing people with clothing when he wants to." He shifts a little to avoid his hips getting stuck any which way and listens to Chris speak, lulled by the words, the way he plays this game so well.

The way he knows that Chris means every word from his mouth, just the same as Thorne. That this, as with all things, is not just banter, not just a simple tease, but a promise, low and cunning in its presentation. Waiting on a future moment to strike.

Thorne turns his eyes to the other as he counters him, and his lips slide a little bit. Heat rubs against his cheek. He runs his tongue against the soft skin of his bottom lip and hums, comes to lean against the side of the closet, hands stretching casually above his head as he laughs.

"Now, now," he says, "You really think the only danger is in my hands? You'll have to tease me quite a lot to make me beg. I'm not an easy conquest, but I'll be yours for the taking if you continue on like that." His eyes dance, hungry and flirtatious in the light. He twists his body to see Chris a little clearer. He watches him as he moves.

His breath hushes in his throat bit by bit and piece by piece as Chris speaks of possession, his voice a purr, and the blush is obvious now, a stain at the edge of his ears, at the corner of his cheeks.

"Oh," Thorne responds, his voice low and husky, "But I am yours, am I not? Yours to conquer and hold as you please. I would like all the world to know that. I would let you tell them as many ways as you wanted. I would only hope you would allow me the same."

And he mirrors that hunger, the possessive want. He is unbridled here. Untamed, his body on fire, his heart beating a rhythmic sound into his chest.

"What if I kept you warm instead?" Thorne asks, but he pauses as Chris catches up to him. As he shifts and changes and starts looking at his ties very hard. The panic sets into his tone like a rock dragging the ease of the moment into a spiral, and immediately Thorne thinks, oh no, oh no. His heart hinges, spreads that protective need through him all over again.

"Chris," he says softly. He crosses the room, presses his hand over the others from behind, and lays his chin against his shoulder, one hand wrapping soothingly around the others waist. He has no idea what haunts Chris here, can only hear the panic, the high pitch that means something has come back here and into his mind. He has caught glimpses of it, shadows and indiscernible things. It is not his place to pry, he will not pry. He only wants -

He only wants to be there. To be there however he can.

"You don't have to say anything," Thorne says softly, nuzzling into the crook of Chris's shoulder. "Just tell me what to do and I'll do it."

It's not alright, so he does not say so, but he tries to remind the other that he is here, that he is not going to slaughter open Chris's old wounds, those scars that still remain. He will not be that wolf, that creature prowling, prodding, hunting. He will be whatever he can. A haven, a home, just another warm body to hold.

He will be whatever Chris needs of him, and if ever that ghost lets him speak again, he will listen. Of course he will.

PeanutButterPies

660  

[grayseasons]

a pair of boxcutters & a brunet

"Mm all the better then," Chris says dryly, "I won't have to finish my teaching degree, it'll release me from the hell of grading papers. Unless you just mean he'll destroy us with clothing which, I guess is acceptable, but I'm hiding all my cardigans from him. I refuse to let those go." He's still folding but he flicks his eyes up to Thorne, watches him for a second before going back to the task at hand.

It's hard to keep his eyes away from Thorne though and the folding is done, really, he's just rearranging everything in the box so he looks up to watch him. Thinks of when they can actually do this, when the future will come so he and Thorne can make good on their words, play this game. He wants it and Thorne wants it too, he knows, knows that this isn't just

His face is still rosy as he stares at Thorne, watches him lick his lip, lean on the edge of the closet. None of this should be as suggestive as Chris is taking it but here he is, watching it too closely, feeling too heated.

"Not the only danger," He says to Thorne, "but the biggest one. So I'll make sure to take care of it before anything else. As for the begging..." Chris flashes Thorne a smirk, replies, "I'm patient. I'll wait as long as it takes to hear you, to take you." His eyes are also tracking Thorne's movements, careful, watching. He wants, but not right now. Later, maybe.

Especially since watching Thorne blush is a treat he wants to focus on now.

"I want the world to know too," He says, "I'm yours as well. Of course I would allow it, why wouldn't I? Give and take."

The question Thorne asks goes unanswered, Chris far ahead into his panic, into trying to calm himself down. It shouldn't bother him, it shouldn't, it didn't bother Hyejin, but here he was being stupid. He was being stupid over a jar full of shells and memories that didn't matter and he was supposed to be over grief, he was supposed to not feel this way and-

Thorne's touch breaks him out of the spiral, jolts him out of his mind. His breathing is ragged and he tries to steady it, tries to make sense of everything. Reminds himself that Thorne is here, that he will wait for Chris, won't hurt him.

"Stay," He gets out between breaths, still gripping the ties tightly. They're the only thing in between his nails and his skin and he will be thankful for them, but for now he's only vaguely aware of their presence. "I'm sorry," He manages again, because he hasn't explained this and he doesn't know if he can. Doesn't know if he's able to yet.

Because he wants to tell Thorne, he wants him to know about everything, even if it's incredibly stupid. Stupid that he's been holding onto this for ten years, stupid that he's still upset over something like this, stupid that he blames himself. It's dumb and he wants to tell Thorne but it's hard to admit it even to himself right now and face everything so instead he stands here and just gives him apologies and hopes he will wait. Hopes he will stay until Chris can tell him.

But for now Chris is breaking down over a jar of shells, a collection, that Hyejin forced on him awhile ago and had been put in his closet until then. A jar that he had shells waiting to be added to it, wrapped up neatly in a drawer somewhere in Coalsmoke in an old newspaper from the road trip they took. Something trivial and stupid and he wants to throw the jar out and then immediately regrets the thought, because he wants to keep it, even though it's hard.

"I need to keep it," He mumbles, "but I don't know how."

elkbones

[wc: 659]  

[moonjavas]

a pair of boxcutters & a brunet

"Come now, teacher, don't accept your fate so easily," Thorne drawls in return, a lazy laugh on his lips, "Death is too easy. And anyways, I have so many plans in mind for everything we've still yet to do." He tilts his head, eyes bright and wild, accepting this line of banter as easily as breathing. "A wise choice. Lauren believes a sharp suit and a sweet tooth is the quickest way to a mans heart, and Adrastos, if no one else, proved him right."

He smirks again, watching Chris move, watching him drink the sight in. Most days Thorne is content to tone himself down, to mute his features, to drop his shoulders and bow his head. But sometimes he likes to let himself be unbridled, sharp and dangerous and showing the hunger that lives inside of him on his own sleeve. Revealing to Chris what lives within him. What wants for Chris in the same vein that Chris wants for him.

His mouth is a soft curve, a gentle tease. He bites his tongue before replying, thinking carefully, the blush still heavy on his cheeks even though his eyes are dancing and alive with light.

"Very well, and I may let you if you ask me nicely," he drawled in return. "Tie me down and tie me up, but you'll have to work hard to make me beg. But I would beg for you, if you played your cards right." Thorne's drawl is dangerous. He wants all of this, all of Chris. He wants the city lights and sharp suits and their slow burn through the night, all the way until they make it home, hands sliding, lips grazing, hearts racing. He wants it all and more. Tonight perhaps they will run through a different game, but Thorne hopes Chris will make good on this one one day. That he will catch him by surprise.

"Very well," Thorne murmurs in return, "Maybe one day I'll mark you as my own. If you allow me to be selfish, I'll take and take and take. But you will have all of me in return."

But the conversation slows to a slamming halt beneath Chris's panic. Thorne nuzzles Chris gently as he breathes, deliberately keeping his own breath slow and calm, gentle and sure. He wants to be there, it hurts him that he cannot be all the way because these secrets still linger, these pains still haunt Chris in a way that ties his throat closed. Still, Thorne stays close and rubs his thumb over Chris's knuckles, a gentle and soothing motion.

"Always," Thorne murmurs in response when Chris asks him to stay. How could he not? How could he ever leave? "I'm here for however long you want me."

He stays there, content, waiting out the storm. However long it takes, he simply lets himself rest with Chris, rubbing his thumb over the other mans knuckles, eyes closed as he lets his mouth rest against the crook of his neck and shoulder. He wants to press his lips to this opened scar Chris bears, this wound that still won't heal. He wants to take away its pain, but it's not his place to. He knows he is selfish. He knows he cannot be selfish like this. So he will wait, and wait. However long it takes, he will wait.

Because he loves Chris. He wants to help the other man come free, to look at that jar of shells without hurting, without panicking, without remembering a painful past. There had to be some joy there too, something that made it worth keeping. There had to be something.

"It's alright," Thorne says softly, "We'll keep it, even if you cannot look at it yet. I can move it if you need me to. I'll be here all the way."

He pauses, and adds softly, "Here. Would you look at me?"

PeanutButterPies

650  

[grayseasons]

a pair of boxcutters & a brunet

"You say this as someone who only watches the grading," Chris drones from his place, but he's smiling himself, "but fine, if only to not get in the middle of your plans. I hope these are very good plans, otherwise I'm forcing you to grade the next set of papers." Chris frowns for a moment, then says, "Do you think he'd drag Adrastos down with him? I'm hiding your beanies too if that's the case. I need them to hide my flower crown."

He knows Thorne is enjoying his gaze, his attention, and he sends him a lazy smile back. It's a rare sight to see Thorne like this, but he loves it all the same, loves the cocky demeanor, the sharpness of him, the danger. Edges he could cut himself on if he didn't know Thorne as well as he did, if Thorne didn't trust him as much as he does. In another life, he'd hate it, he'd write Thorne off as an a*****e, try to avoid him. But he knows better now and so he watches Thorne, drinks him in, commits the sight to memory.

"If I ask you nicely? What says I just won't take?" He scoffs, eyes dangerous. "I've always enjoyed a challenge, you won't be any different. Maybe more work, but well, so much better an end result then when I can hear you break and beg. Why play cards when I can find out through hard work?" His own words are a challenge, are a dare, a game. He wants to find out everything that makes Thorne tick, he wants to discover everything they are teasing about. It burns him to the core but he has to be patient, he has to wait until Thorne won't suspect a thing. He can make do until then, of course, with warm hands and gentle kisses and things that do not speak as ferocious a beast as tonight. When he can catch Thorne by surprise, then, then he'll learn. A treat for later.

"You're always allowed to be selfish when it comes to me," Chris says back softly, "I'm all yours already, why not mark me now? I'm yours, you're mine."

He heaves out another breath in his panic, tries to not take another breath so quickly. Thorne is a good reminder, a good grounder, steady and even and absolutely there. Chris can focus on him easily, try to match their breathing until he doesn't feel like he's dying, like he can actually try to be human. It's slow, minute by minute, but he gets there surely. He will make it out alive.

At Thorne's motion over his knuckles he finally manages to release his hand from the death grip on the ties, allow some blood and circulation back to his poor hands that had been white knuckling the fabric. They all look abused now, fabric wrinkled badly, but they aren't damaged and that brings him a small amount of misplaced relief. A small thing to focus on.

"Forever," Chris whispers, feeling selfish, feeling like he's asking too much. But he's long beyond being able to resist it now, especially when it comes to Thorne. "I want you for forever, if that's okay."

It's a few more long moments, more very long minutes, but Chris slowly comes back to himself. Comes back to Thorne's motion on his knuckles and his touch on his body and he feels better, with those there. Feels better knowing Thorne is around, is trying to help him, no matter how bothersome it is. In some time he'll feel guilty for dragging Thorne in but for now he just appreciates the help and it makes him love Thorne more. Makes him appreciate his presence in his life, the place he takes here. He is home and Chris loves him so much.

He will tell him one day, he will resolutely tell him, because Chris knows that Thorne will be able to weather out that storm and it makes him feel a little better just knowing. It makes him feel like he can do it.

"Okay," He says quietly, "Okay. I don't - I want to move it. I want to try."

He shifts to look at Thorne immediately after his request, pupils still blow wide with fear. He is working it off but his system is still slow to respond, so he steadies himself by traces the planes and edges of Thorne's face. Looks to see where light and shadow meet and interact.

elkbones

[wc: 744]  

[moonjavas]

a pair of boxcutters & a brunet

"You mean I watch you struggle and try to distract you as best I can, and now that I am allowed, I will find more creative ways to do so," Thorne drawls, grinning at Chris wickedly, his entire expression lit and wild. "They're very elaborate plans. They involve very wicked things. And I'll destroy Lauren if he interrupts them. His suits will burn if he tries." He pauses at the thought and chuckles a little. "Adrastos will follow Lauren to the ends of the earth and further if he asked. He would hate it all and complain the entire way, but if Lauren goes somewhere, oftentimes Adrastos is following him. You have permission to hide my beanies though."

He looks over at Chris, eyes roving, mouth quirked. He was never lying when he said to Chris that they could be the last two people on earth and Thorne would not mind. He wants to build something here. He stands on the foundations of an empire, but alone there is nothing he can build. Together though - together with Chris, he wants to lay down a new home, a joint creation, something absolutely beautiful and unlike anything else, brick by brick. Stone by stone. For as long as it takes, even if it takes the end of the world and more for them to accomplish it. He wants to stay here in this moment. But he also wants to walk forward with Chris.

He wants everything they speak of. It is a terrifying thought. If he spoke of all of it out loud to Chris, would he shy away? Thorne does not think so, but still he tucks the thoughts away for later. For another time, another place. He lets himself slide through this banter easily, the heat burning him from the inside out.

"Well then take, and conquer, and show me what you can do," Thorne retorts, his voice low and raw and aching, wanting, teasing. "Overcome me, overthrow me. Lay me down and show me what those hands of yours can do. I am waiting, I am wanting, I am yours to claim. Tell me, would you be slow, would you be torturous? Would you destroy me systematically, make me break and beg and thrash?" His lips curve, sinuous, serpentine. "What would you do to me, Chris? How would you paint me, to claim me, to show your conquest? What marks would you leave? Or is it a surprise? Must I wait?"

And of course he must. He knows that this will not come of anything soon. He knows that he must be patient. But he does not mind, does not mind at all, because even tonight they share the same space, same bed, and there is no shame anymore in Thorne over the thought of running his hands against Chris's hips and drawing him close. He shudders at the thought of lips on his tattoos, of where he could mark Chris himself. He tastes longing in the back of his throat.

"Don't tempt me," Thorne drawls, "I might just do that tonight. And you might be the one to yell at me tomorrow when you're forced to wear scarves outside of Coalsmoke, considering we go anywhere at all."

Thorne waits as long as it takes Chris to come back to himself with patience, with ease. He draws gentle patterns over his knuckles, he hums sweet nothings against the hollow of his throat. He says, "Of course. You have me forever. You have me." There is no end to this, he does not say. To us. Even in a world where you do not love me this way, I will still be yours. I will still chase you endlessly. I will still -

He sucks in a soft breath and leans back a little as Chris turns to him. He wraps one arm around the other mans waist and presses the other to his jaw, his cheek, thumbing a gentle line beneath his eyes and along the slope of bone and skin, soft and warm and sweet. He wants to kiss away those ghosts, wants to take that pain and make it weak. He looks at Chris and loves him for everything he is though. He wants to give it back not as pain but as a something softer, something that's edges do not cut and bleed.

"Whenever you're ready," Thorne says softly, and nuzzles Chris gently, letting his hand shift and brush through some of Chris's hair. "It's alright, just keep looking at me. Here." He reaches down and grasps Chris's hands with his own and looks up at him, a soft smile on his face. "One step at a time, alright? Just like when we were skating."

PeanutButterPies

790  

[grayseasons]

a pair of boxcutters & a brunet

"You're the worst," Chris says, but it's affectionate, even if he's glaring at Thorne. "You're the worst and I can't believe I'm allowing you to make elaborate plans, plans that are apparently worthy enough to destroy Lauren over. Although I'm interested on how you think taking on Lauren would go, I can only imagine badly." He hums in reply, turning his eyes to Thorne, thinking that he has something in common with Adrastos then. He'd follow Thorne to the ends of the earth as well, if he asked. He'd follow Thorne anywhere. "Well, they're definitely being hidden then. A good place too, I'll actually have to think, since I can't use my usual tactic of hiding them up somewhere high. I can't actually believe you found people taller than me."

It's moments like this Chris loves, moments of just being the two of them in this world. There's plenty of them, of course, since Chris doesn't go out much at the moment and Thorne is content to stay with him, but he doesn't treasure each of them any less. He wants this and more, he wants to keep this going for as long as he can, hand in hand with Thorne. He wants a home, he wants an empire, he wants everything he can build with Thorne and more. This love has made him greedy, has made him want so much, but Thorne allows him to do it and so he lets himself want. He lets himself believe that he can have it all.

He knows that he'd do it for Thorne in a heartbeat if he was asked and Thorne would do the same, so he lets himself do this for once. Lets himself want and believe that he'll get it, that they'll do what they say.

"Not now," He says, low, teasing, "Not now, you'll have to wait. Of course you'd have to wait, what did you think would happen? Why would I let you know otherwise? There's more fun in the surprise." His voice is a purr now, still low, but now sensuous, now there's an edge to the tease. This is teasing himself as much as he's teasing Thorne, but he's always been patient. "I'd rather let your imagination run wild, I'd rather let you torture yourself into trying to figure me out. Do you think I would be slow, do you think I would be fast? How would I break you, how would I overcome you?" He hums gently, then says, "I'll you know at least that I'd mark you enough to let the world know you are only mine, no one else's. No one else could come close."

He loves that he can say this all now, he loves that he can tell Thorne all of this instead of keeping it to a daydream. Can show Thorne what he means with his body instead of just words, instead of just thoughts, that he doesn't have to keep his hands to himself. He wonders as well, briefly, what Thorne would do if theirs positions were flipped. What he would be telling Chris, or not telling him. He enjoys that idea too, but lets it slip away. Another time.

"That can be a problem for future me," Chris says, eyes gleaming, "How about I do tempt you tonight?"

He leans into Thorne's touch as he comes back, closes his eyes for a second and opens them. Just thinks about Thorne's fingers on his knuckles, his mouth near his throat. "Me too," He quietly says and thinks, knows that Thorne has him down to every molecule, every inch of his being. It's a far off thought but he likes to think that in all these past cycles, Chris always found Thorne, even if he did not love Chris back. That in some way they existed by each other, with each other.

A small smile comes at the touch to his face, weak and jittery but there all the same. If Thorne was not here, the situation would be so much different, so much worse and it's a thought that he almost cannot drive away. He appreciates Thorne for this, for not questioning it, for just working with Chris. Because otherwise he would be still digging his nails into his ties, would still be staring off into elsewhere, would be lost in his thoughts and memories. But instead he's drawn to the now, to how Thorne is here and they are just trying.

"Okay," He replies, leaning against Thorne, returning the affection back with his own nuzzle. "Okay," He repeats and his eyes drift to look at Thorne's hand in his, the fabric between them, and the sight is slightly funny enough to bring a little more light into his smile. "I need. I need to finish packing the rest of this first. And then the jar last," He says, outlining steps for them to take, like skating. A task at a time, a plan to keep them moving.

elkbones

[wc: 826]  

[moonjavas]

a pair of boxcutters and a brunet

"I am," Thorne replies, completely at ease, his smirking face lit up and wild as he observes the blond man folding his clothes. "Lauren deserves everything coming from him. He has a shovel and he's digging his own grave." He pauses, eyes dancing and merry. "It would be a dogfight, through and through. Lauren can play dirty when he wishes, and I would never even want to invoke the wrath of Adrastos. I'd have to play dirty as well, or at least get his husband on my side first. Luckily, I know exactly how to bribe him." He shrugs then, entirely entertained, watching Chris's movements with lazy intrigue. "Oh my, whatever will you do, forced to use that brain of yours? The advantage of having tall friends is that they always look intimidating as well."

Thorne lets himself breathe as Chris speaks again, the conversation ebbing and flowing between tease and taunt and flirt. His body is warm and his cheeks are still red. He wants to speed this up, put these boxes away, drive home and make good on this clawing beast in his belly, this starvation in his veins.

"Alright," Thorne breathes softly, "So surprise me. I'll wait. As long as you make it a good surprise." There's a tease there, loose and soft, and Thorne rumbles, a deep sound like laughter in his throat. He tilts his head at Chris, wild eyed, watches the way he moves. He has mapped those arms and legs and every plane and contour of Chris, but still he wants to do it again and again. How far it is until evening. How long it is until he can get them both wholly alone, their attention undivided, this tease growing into something more, something close and hot and heady.

"I don't know," Thorne murmurs, and there's that hunger, that animal want and frustration in his voice, "I want you to teach me slowly, teach me forever if you want. Again and again. I want you in so many different ways. I want you to teach me yourself all over again. And I will teach you as well."

His mouth curves, vicious and bright and possessive, burning with a loyalty that is built into his very core. In all of these cycles, in each and every one. He wants to believe that he sought Chris, fought for him, was able to touch him in some way, to breathe easily because he had found him.

"And how will you tempt me tonight?" Thorne retorts. "I would love to see you try it."

Thorne lets Chris come back to himself in waves. And when Chris speaks, Thorne only tilts his head into a nod, eyes flicking to the other with soft mirth and unyielding love. He laughs at the nuzzle, the sound flickering and warm, and nudges Chris back. It is so easy to fall into this physicality, this way of speech past words, past anything spoken out loud. Sometimes Thorne still thinks he's dreaming, still waits in the other boot to drop. But somehow, it is never the case. Thorne doesn't believe in a lot of things, but this - he could believe in this.

"Alright," Thorne drawls, soft and low, "In the meantime, you can tell me all about your plans for tonight. Unless you're going to keep that a secret too. Shall I be rewarded for all of this manual labor, or will you torture me tonight as well?"

He stays close to Chris even here, the closet mostly decimated apart from the jar of shells. He paws at the clothing, folding lazily, waiting and watching the other and wondering. He wants to walk with Chris through it all. He'll let them go as slow as Chris wants.

PeanutButterPies

626  

[grayseasons]

from the bottom

It's a week, maybe, after Chris moves in with Thorne that he decides to tackle the elephant in the room. The glass jar is mixed in quietly with the plants, inconspicuous enough that it can be lost among all the green, that barely anyone registers it. Anyone but Chris anyways, who seems to always know where it is, even if it's been moved that day. He doesn't like it, but his eyes are drawn to it, a weight hanging over his head, a constant that he doesn't want. It's a quiet question, one Thorne won't ask, one Chris wants to answer but can't, and it creates a feeling in the room. Not tension, but just something there.

The day he decides to tackle it he's sitting with Thorne on the couch watching TV, his feet in Thorne's lap. It's a sudden decision, almost made on impulse, but he slides his feet from Thorne's lap and walks into the bedroom. Opens the drawer that contains a newspaper wrapping of shells from their trip and he looks at it, a long moment, before he goes back to Thorne.

"Help me?" He asks, softly, holding out the bundle to him.

3lkbones

[wc: 196]