[ and has been since day one, since smelling Danny on the air and knowing it with his soul. his hand squeezes once, hips jerking up in the confined space of the tub, his solitary sanctuary for increments of thirty minutes or more. ]
( he calls. breathless, hip-fucking the edge of the couch with a leg over the side and a knee under him because it offered a harder place to land than the pillow, he says: )
[yes, he thinks. yes, he does. to himself, he admits that he would make Danny all his if he let him. that he would stake a claim so deep that it would follow him from life to life, world to world, gravitational pull anchoring him back to Good Stab until the Backbone crumbles and the world turns in on itself. after that, too, maybe. sometimes he wonders if he already did in his last life.
he thinks: you don't know the depths of my selfishness.
his breath hitches a little, with the effort of answering, of thumbing his dick, of carefully shaping his voice into something normal. ] But you're not all mine, [he says, like a counter, in a drawl. ] Are you mine enough?
no subject
[ and has been since day one, since smelling Danny on the air and knowing it with his soul. his hand squeezes once, hips jerking up in the confined space of the tub, his solitary sanctuary for increments of thirty minutes or more. ]
But are you mine?
no subject
Do you have to ask?
no subject
he thinks: you don't know the depths of my selfishness.
his breath hitches a little, with the effort of answering, of thumbing his dick, of carefully shaping his voice into something normal. ] But you're not all mine, [he says, like a counter, in a drawl. ] Are you mine enough?