Summer fic challenge 2016, part 2.
Jul. 12th, 2016 12:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
merikuru posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
volieredeatoriI stared at this bugger for days, really I did. And then I bashed out a good 75% of it in like 15 minutes on the way home from an appointment.
Yeah.
As he buries his face in Lasswell's hair, the scent of heathaze nectar fills Rain with dizzied intoxication.
It has been haunting him since the hills, since Fina, since their return. Saccharine-sweet and even cloying, a scent that quite accurately puts one in mind of a thick and syrupy consistency, it clings relentlessly to whatever comes in contact with it as a reminder of its presence. Its power. A power so many take for granted - and certainly he was one, but witnessing it for himself...
He realises he has no idea where his thoughts are going; he pushes them away, breathes deeper of sweet nectar and then lifts his head to gaze down.
Lasswell is sprawled beneath him, deeply flushed and in disarray, looking nothing short of a god-given vision with his hair fanned out around him and his eyes gleaming bright with a need he'd surely be embarrassed to know was there - it is a look not often seen, even at the heights of desperation, and to see it now seems in its way nothing short of a miracle, one Rain hazily wonders if he can attribute to the heathaze bloom as well. (And he is most certainly not wondering if this effect can be replicated, of course he isn't, why would he do something like that?) He could nearly be happy simply looking all day long, but the demanding heat that pulses through him and the silent pleas in Lasswell's every movement are far too much to ignore, mingling with sweet scent to send him into what seems a sort of delirium. One where he cannot think, one where he can only act.
So act he does, teasing and opening Lasswell with slick fingers and practised motions, and when he finally buries himself in that irresistible warmth it feels entirely like coming home.
As they lay sprawled across the bed afterwards, the scent of nectar mingling with that of sweat and sex and satisfaction, Rain finds himself feeling oddly (or perhaps, in retrospect, not so oddly) maudlin, a feeling that eventually gives him the energy and coherency to lever himself up onto one elbow and look sleepily at his bedmate. "Lasswell--" he starts, then pauses, breathes slowly - he's not even really sure what he wants to say.
A soft sigh is all the response he gets for a moment, but finally Lasswell opens an eye when the silence stretches on. "...What?"
"...I'm glad you're alright." The words are awkward, rushed and clumsy, and Rain very nearly winces but for the fact he knows the sentiment will be properly understood. "You should...I mean...let's get some rest. And don't do that again...got it?"
That eye closes again, but not before Rain can see a glimmer of amusement spark to life in its depths, a snort of a laugh escaping Lasswell before he can stop it. "As if you would let me."
"Exactly." Rain huffs out a laugh of his own, settles back down and finds an edge of the covers, drawing them halfheartedly up.
By the time Fina comes to wake them, the scent of nectar has long since faded away.
Yeah.
As he buries his face in Lasswell's hair, the scent of heathaze nectar fills Rain with dizzied intoxication.
It has been haunting him since the hills, since Fina, since their return. Saccharine-sweet and even cloying, a scent that quite accurately puts one in mind of a thick and syrupy consistency, it clings relentlessly to whatever comes in contact with it as a reminder of its presence. Its power. A power so many take for granted - and certainly he was one, but witnessing it for himself...
He realises he has no idea where his thoughts are going; he pushes them away, breathes deeper of sweet nectar and then lifts his head to gaze down.
Lasswell is sprawled beneath him, deeply flushed and in disarray, looking nothing short of a god-given vision with his hair fanned out around him and his eyes gleaming bright with a need he'd surely be embarrassed to know was there - it is a look not often seen, even at the heights of desperation, and to see it now seems in its way nothing short of a miracle, one Rain hazily wonders if he can attribute to the heathaze bloom as well. (And he is most certainly not wondering if this effect can be replicated, of course he isn't, why would he do something like that?) He could nearly be happy simply looking all day long, but the demanding heat that pulses through him and the silent pleas in Lasswell's every movement are far too much to ignore, mingling with sweet scent to send him into what seems a sort of delirium. One where he cannot think, one where he can only act.
So act he does, teasing and opening Lasswell with slick fingers and practised motions, and when he finally buries himself in that irresistible warmth it feels entirely like coming home.
As they lay sprawled across the bed afterwards, the scent of nectar mingling with that of sweat and sex and satisfaction, Rain finds himself feeling oddly (or perhaps, in retrospect, not so oddly) maudlin, a feeling that eventually gives him the energy and coherency to lever himself up onto one elbow and look sleepily at his bedmate. "Lasswell--" he starts, then pauses, breathes slowly - he's not even really sure what he wants to say.
A soft sigh is all the response he gets for a moment, but finally Lasswell opens an eye when the silence stretches on. "...What?"
"...I'm glad you're alright." The words are awkward, rushed and clumsy, and Rain very nearly winces but for the fact he knows the sentiment will be properly understood. "You should...I mean...let's get some rest. And don't do that again...got it?"
That eye closes again, but not before Rain can see a glimmer of amusement spark to life in its depths, a snort of a laugh escaping Lasswell before he can stop it. "As if you would let me."
"Exactly." Rain huffs out a laugh of his own, settles back down and finds an edge of the covers, drawing them halfheartedly up.
By the time Fina comes to wake them, the scent of nectar has long since faded away.
