i fell in love with a war
Thorn’s lips press against Casimir’s, so light and gentle, just like the way the courtesan had help his face and it nearly send Casimir shattering into a million sharp, fragment pieces. Another low, half-feral whine escapes his lips when Thorn’s fingers wrap around his curls, and then Thorn was pulling back just enough for their breaths to mingle and the aching echo of his heartbeat to roll so loudly in his ears he could swear Thorn would hear it.
The kiss is the ghost of something, a toe dipped into unsteady waters, but the way Thorn pulls back doesn’t seem like regret or hesitation. It feels like space to breathe, space to run, space for Casimir to come to his delirious senses and flee the room like he should have done hours ago. Casimir’s hands clasp just a little tighter where they rest up Thorn’s cheek and his eyes flutter open, meeting the seafoam of the man mere millimeters from his face.
And Casimir wants. For the first time since he died, perhaps, he wants something other than the daily miasma of running, of floating, of self-flagellation and hours behind the bar watching other people live. There is someone here, and he is more beautiful than Casimir could ever deserve, and for some reason, he thought he wanted someone like Casimir. His heart surges with guilt and longing, a tidal wave that sweeps through him, and yet— he’s selfish. He’s always been so, so selfish.
This time, it’s Casimir that broaches the gap between them, tilting his head just slightly to catch him at a better angle. A hand drifts down from Thorn’s hands to rest against the man’s neck, pulling him just that much closer, and his lips move gentle but more sure when they dance against Thorn’s.
The kiss is the ghost of something, a toe dipped into unsteady waters, but the way Thorn pulls back doesn’t seem like regret or hesitation. It feels like space to breathe, space to run, space for Casimir to come to his delirious senses and flee the room like he should have done hours ago. Casimir’s hands clasp just a little tighter where they rest up Thorn’s cheek and his eyes flutter open, meeting the seafoam of the man mere millimeters from his face.
And Casimir wants. For the first time since he died, perhaps, he wants something other than the daily miasma of running, of floating, of self-flagellation and hours behind the bar watching other people live. There is someone here, and he is more beautiful than Casimir could ever deserve, and for some reason, he thought he wanted someone like Casimir. His heart surges with guilt and longing, a tidal wave that sweeps through him, and yet— he’s selfish. He’s always been so, so selfish.
This time, it’s Casimir that broaches the gap between them, tilting his head just slightly to catch him at a better angle. A hand drifts down from Thorn’s hands to rest against the man’s neck, pulling him just that much closer, and his lips move gentle but more sure when they dance against Thorn’s.
Casimir
and nobody told me it ended
