[ Time passes, too brief for creatures their age, too slow for creatures this hungry for one another; Zephir is at the motel by the morrow, when the sky sheds daylight and the street lights come alive, carrying a backpack on one shoulder and a phone in his pocket. Death will find him in the corridor after a polite knock, shoulder leaning on the door frame, slouched and looking down.
Their eyes meet and the differences are plain to see — the angles on Zephir's face are less defined, eyes a little rounder, a little brighter, smaller shoulders and a thinner waist underneath his same old clothes. People would be hard-pressed to guess he's a day over twenty. The unchanged height makes him uncanny. ]
... My death.
[ Fondness in his voice, words like a sigh of relief. ]
[He echoes, after coming to the same doorway to see his other half reflected through it. Death's been there for an hour or more, chain smoking cigarettes by the window, littering an ashtray with the butts. Champagne (bought elsewhere and thus far too grand for this place) chills in a bucket of ice, next to Death's duffel bag on a bench at the end of the bed.
He looks him over with subtle fascination - the second they touch he knows it'll all begin to reverse. They'll both count back their respective steps, with age flowing out of him and back into Zephir. Sullivan's features are more gaunt, grey in the stubble of his beard and a shrink to his height that would only matter next to someone else. To Zephir, he always looks up.]
If this were a more respectful joint, I might have the front desk side eying me tomorrow.
[ One hand is immediately on Sullivan's cheek, the other on his waist, stepping inside with their bodies and lips painfully close, door shut with his foot. A youthful smile reaches his eyes and brightens the room with warmth, two halves of one infinite being separated for too long, finally close enough to pull together like desperate little magnets. ]
What, are you scared of what they might think now?
[ Thumb brushing over the wrinkles, smoothing them out as he steals from Death so he can give it Life, light blue eyes search his every feature from above, the color and aged texture of his hair, fascinated and thankful. Shoulder lowered, the backpack slips off and thumps on the carpeted floor. ]
[Take away the years you lost, the years siphoned from you - even them out on a scale of life and death. He can feel it all shift back into place, the proper place, long before he's leaning toward his brother and pulling him down into the embrace to place their lips together. Breathing in, breathing out, water swirling together under the surface.
There are times he wants to sink his teeth into Zephir. Times he wants to rip him apart to show him just how much he desires him. Then there are other times when he just wants to breathe him in, slip together again like two pieces of one puzzle. Be so entirely entwined he no longer knows where he stops and Life begins. He pulls him toward the bed, already stripping the clothes from his frame.]
[ It's immeasurable, every feeling barely contained when he sees Death pull him close and brush their lips together. Zephir gives in without a thought in sight, sighing and breathing him in, a little noise in his throat as their ages begin to trade places. By the time they reach the foot of the bed, Zephir's angles are a little sharper, wider shoulders flexing as he slides larger hands under his brother's shirt. Growing and aging back into his perfect self within minutes is a transformation that would make any human wail in agony. To him it's just coming home.
Shirtless, Zephir undoes the belt, the button; anything that has the audacity to keep them apart has to go until he's sat Death down on the bed and climbed on top, knees digging into the mattress as he sits on Sullivan's lap and kisses his nose. They're not done restoring themselves just yet. ]
[The flex-like feeling of them adjusting in one another's company is always a unique feeling; like scratching an itch that's been bothering you for hours, soothing a sunburn and stretching a muscle all at once. He helps Zephir strip him of his clothes, throwing them aside, stripping until their skin on skin and his hands are kneading the curves of Zephir's ass as he leans back a little to look him in the eye.]
[ He just finds distractions in between those breaks. Zephir kisses him, slipping tongue and digging his teeth, fingers splayed on his nape, eyes closed and peaceful when there's hunger everywhere else. There's a twitch between his legs already, the weight of his cock brushing on another body. Caressing Death's hair, ]
[He loves the feeling of Zephir beneath his hands; he kneads the muscle of his thighs, strokes his hands up- one holding on to the dip of his back while the other comes around to just start pumping him, never looking away from Life's eyes. Everything they do is in perfect balance together - he licks the taste of him off his lips before pulling him back down for more.]
I'm always incomplete without you. Drives me wild.
[ He moves his hips, his back a curve that leans into Sullivan's body, greedy for a kiss, for his tongue, his teeth. Zephir keeps his eyes closed and their chests close, cock trapped in the other man's hand, growing and filling out within seconds, a string of precome wet on those fingers. Life pushes Death down with a palm flat on his chest, crawling forward, coming down to busy his mouth one more time, rolling his hips to rub his other half's dick in the cleft of his ass. Zephir is at full mast, another thread of clear, sticky fluid dribbling from the slit and pooling on Sullivan's navel. ]
I want more.
[ More of death's effects, to age back into his normal self. To touch and feel him, to swallow that white substance. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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lame
you're making me want to use it right now
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i do have cigarettes on me
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i'm going to put one out on your eye again
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i'm going to lick your ribs
[the bones of them, specifically.]
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you said it now you can't take it back
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motel by the place by the boats
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[ There's no way they managed to get rid of the black and white bloodbath. ]
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i'll make sure there's champagne
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you're still losing an eye
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can't wait to crack your chest
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[ he'll rip this heart out and grow a new one right now he dgaf ]
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still beating
just like i remember it
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Their eyes meet and the differences are plain to see — the angles on Zephir's face are less defined, eyes a little rounder, a little brighter, smaller shoulders and a thinner waist underneath his same old clothes. People would be hard-pressed to guess he's a day over twenty. The unchanged height makes him uncanny. ]
... My death.
[ Fondness in his voice, words like a sigh of relief. ]
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[He echoes, after coming to the same doorway to see his other half reflected through it. Death's been there for an hour or more, chain smoking cigarettes by the window, littering an ashtray with the butts. Champagne (bought elsewhere and thus far too grand for this place) chills in a bucket of ice, next to Death's duffel bag on a bench at the end of the bed.
He looks him over with subtle fascination - the second they touch he knows it'll all begin to reverse. They'll both count back their respective steps, with age flowing out of him and back into Zephir. Sullivan's features are more gaunt, grey in the stubble of his beard and a shrink to his height that would only matter next to someone else. To Zephir, he always looks up.]
If this were a more respectful joint, I might have the front desk side eying me tomorrow.
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What, are you scared of what they might think now?
[ Thumb brushing over the wrinkles, smoothing them out as he steals from Death so he can give it Life, light blue eyes search his every feature from above, the color and aged texture of his hair, fascinated and thankful. Shoulder lowered, the backpack slips off and thumps on the carpeted floor. ]
Give me what's mine.
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[Take away the years you lost, the years siphoned from you - even them out on a scale of life and death. He can feel it all shift back into place, the proper place, long before he's leaning toward his brother and pulling him down into the embrace to place their lips together. Breathing in, breathing out, water swirling together under the surface.
There are times he wants to sink his teeth into Zephir. Times he wants to rip him apart to show him just how much he desires him. Then there are other times when he just wants to breathe him in, slip together again like two pieces of one puzzle. Be so entirely entwined he no longer knows where he stops and Life begins. He pulls him toward the bed, already stripping the clothes from his frame.]
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Shirtless, Zephir undoes the belt, the button; anything that has the audacity to keep them apart has to go until he's sat Death down on the bed and climbed on top, knees digging into the mattress as he sits on Sullivan's lap and kisses his nose. They're not done restoring themselves just yet. ]
I got you something.
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You must've really missed me.
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[ He just finds distractions in between those breaks. Zephir kisses him, slipping tongue and digging his teeth, fingers splayed on his nape, eyes closed and peaceful when there's hunger everywhere else. There's a twitch between his legs already, the weight of his cock brushing on another body. Caressing Death's hair, ]
How much did you miss me?
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I'm always incomplete without you. Drives me wild.
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[ He moves his hips, his back a curve that leans into Sullivan's body, greedy for a kiss, for his tongue, his teeth. Zephir keeps his eyes closed and their chests close, cock trapped in the other man's hand, growing and filling out within seconds, a string of precome wet on those fingers. Life pushes Death down with a palm flat on his chest, crawling forward, coming down to busy his mouth one more time, rolling his hips to rub his other half's dick in the cleft of his ass. Zephir is at full mast, another thread of clear, sticky fluid dribbling from the slit and pooling on Sullivan's navel. ]
I want more.
[ More of death's effects, to age back into his normal self. To touch and feel him, to swallow that white substance. ]
(no subject)