// i am the man we both couldn't stand. i can't wash the dirt from my hands. what was it like to feel in love?
i can't scrub off the black from my lungs, i can't wipe off the taste from my tongue //
i can't scrub off the black from my lungs, i can't wipe off the taste from my tongue //
He waits, with that anticipation sitting in his gut and on the tip of his tongue, the heavy weight of it spilling between them as Frey considers whether or not to tell him. Perhaps he’d been a bit too eager for the opportunity – but after what felt like years of searching for it, he can’t help but to latch on. There’s no second thoughts about thinking it over. There’s only the want, the desire to have such an ability that meant he wouldn’t have to try and pretend he could reach any other way.
The space shifts, no longer sunk in against Frey’s front as they shift and press in close and intentional against him. Their hand smooths from his cheek to the back of his neck and he feels held and seen and heat spreads through each of his veins like a fire ignited by the sheer possessiveness that settles within Frey that he can see as much as he can feel. It’s that realization that blooms within him like a flower finally finding sunlight, that maybe he’d spent so long trying to bloom and focus on all the wrong things and that maybe, just maybe, he should have focused on the one that never left, that had always appreciated him regardless of his mistakes.
It yawns open in him, a soft little sound escaping his lips as he feels their lips brush against the shell of his ear, the instructions clear and honestly quite invigorating that he can’t help but to blindly find a spot to place the vials down safely so that he can wind his arms around Frey and keep them in close – like he has any control over it – managing to find it in his suddenly flushed body to murmur a soft little “thank you, Frey.” For all the opportunities that Frey had always found a way to help him, even if they didn’t entirely agree at the time. But all of those were lessons learned at the end of the day, weren’t they? And this one in particular is a lesson he’ll hang onto and internalize, deep in his soul.
The space shifts, no longer sunk in against Frey’s front as they shift and press in close and intentional against him. Their hand smooths from his cheek to the back of his neck and he feels held and seen and heat spreads through each of his veins like a fire ignited by the sheer possessiveness that settles within Frey that he can see as much as he can feel. It’s that realization that blooms within him like a flower finally finding sunlight, that maybe he’d spent so long trying to bloom and focus on all the wrong things and that maybe, just maybe, he should have focused on the one that never left, that had always appreciated him regardless of his mistakes.
It yawns open in him, a soft little sound escaping his lips as he feels their lips brush against the shell of his ear, the instructions clear and honestly quite invigorating that he can’t help but to blindly find a spot to place the vials down safely so that he can wind his arms around Frey and keep them in close – like he has any control over it – managing to find it in his suddenly flushed body to murmur a soft little “thank you, Frey.” For all the opportunities that Frey had always found a way to help him, even if they didn’t entirely agree at the time. But all of those were lessons learned at the end of the day, weren’t they? And this one in particular is a lesson he’ll hang onto and internalize, deep in his soul.
i am the shadow driving the hearse, what was it like to feel in love? what was it like to feel?
SUNJATA
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
