dach1x1s

Collection of 1x1s and separate universes by Dach~ 

[ourlimitinthesky]

[abc1x1-blog]

“Ohh, no no.” Mink was saying it quietly and shaking his head the moment Joel suggested being his translator. He was only twenty-nine years old and he had already spent a lifetime sitting and listening to hours and hours and hours of gossip. It was maddening. Thinking about it was maddening. He would get Joel a Spanish edition of Rosetta Stone. 

It was funny to him that Joel seemed to notice the way he wasn’t quite melding with the ladies tonight. Family gatherings had a tendency to make him anxious. If he could get away with it he preferred talking to a few family members at a time, generally because they asked too many personal questions. “Eh, I’ll go back when they’re less excited and shouty.” He waved a hand dismissively, looking away from Joel and out to the residential building across the road. 

Once Joel was finished speaking he hummed, using the sound to fill the pause as he found his words. “I’m not sure of what goes on in your Canadian nail salons but if they question whether or not your hair is weaved because it’s too silky then maybe you will feel at home.” A low chuckle accented his words. “I’ve yet to step foot in the Americas so no, and what did you just call me?” He pulled away from the rail and looked at Joel. “I’ll learn your language faster than you will learn mine don’t mess with me.” There was a dark look in his eyes as he said that, but it was intentional, testing.  

[dach1x1-blog]

Joel grinned wide, knowingly, at the other’s refusal to play translator. In this way, he could read the other man like a book, maybe because of how similar they seemed already from this short conversation. He was used to this kind of playfighting with his sister, having grown up with and been raised by her for years, so in his mind, Joel knew exactly how to handle Amilcar. “Didn’t think so.”

He dipped his head in silent laughter at the idea of waiting until the ladies were ‘less shouty’--yeah, both of them were out here for the same reason. “‘Gotta love them, right? I grew up around all women, too, dude. But sometimes it just...” He shuddered comically and laughed again. “Keeps the place alive, though, I guess. Your moms are a hoot. I always wanted a lesbian aunt.”

His cousin was truly fortunate to never have experienced the awkwardness of getting your nails done where a language barrier was in place. Not that he’d ever gotten his nails done. But he’d been, uh, present, and it was just as bad. He’s still scarred from Monica screaming down some woman’s throat for giving her acrylic instead of gel. Ugh. “What? Weaved?” Joel balked somewhat, reaching up and running his hands through his hair multiple times, giving Amilcar a genuinely confused expression. “Too far, man. I’m all natural.” He raised his brows. “Everywhere. Don’t question, just accept. Look at you with that pomp--you wish you had my hair, don’t you? Don’t lie.”

Joel bent over and laughed hysterically when the other man snapped at him for using his Portuguese--whoopsie, he probably betrayed his own interests with that teasing tone at the end there. “I don’t know about that, man. I took two years of it in high school. I think I’ve got the headstart between the two of us.”

[abc1x1-blog]

The other man was quick to respond equally disrespectfully. Good. Mink was getting tired of all the happy, lovey conversation that had been going on tonight. If the other man was half as funny as the reply he had just given then maybe he would come to like him, maybe even excuse the fact that Joel waited twenty-six years to come and say hello. What kind of person comes around family only in a time of emergency? 

As words rolled out of the other man’s mouth, Mink watched him,on the verge of smiling. He turned away and whistled sharply the moment he heard his real name. Reflex. The offer had him laughing deeply regardless. Out of a rough sort of playfulness he had the urge to tell the man he’d cut that hair, but he thought against it. He needed to know more about who Joel was.   

Apparently a man in Spain who couldn’t speak Spanish.

He leaned over the railing of the porch, exhaling in unconcealed relief as he looked down and examined one of the rings on his thumb. “What, you don’t think they teach English in the schools here? That’s sort of offensive.” He spoke seriously and yet somehow there was a smile on his lips. “I knew you came from somewhere west. Canada makes sense now.” As if he could somehow tell. “Everyone prefers their mother tongue, and I’m good with English but I’m not fluent.” He turned his hand over, willing his fingers and looking ever at Joel. “Now I know you don’t know it when they talk shit.”

[dach1x1-blog]

Joel had never had cousins before. Never had aunts or uncles or nieces or nephews. He was rapidly learning how these sorts of relationships worked, how many different ways there were to enjoy the company of people you shared blood with. It was interesting, to say the least. Mink and his sisters were. In the back of his mind he did sometimes wonder why his mother never made any efforts to introduce he and Monica to their family before, but honestly? It didn’t surprise him. Neither of them knew their fathers much and it seemed like Lorena didn’t really talk about her family period, let alone go back for visits.

He got the sense that most of the people who had actually known her mother before she left the islands understood that she was to blame for them not knowing much about who they were aside from raising them in a bilingual home. But Joel was excited to learn, and to connect with these people, some of whom were already turning out to be some of the best friends he’s ever made through the years.

His cousin leans forward and clicks his tongue and tuts and smirks in such a suave and entertaining way, it’s impossible not to shoot back and have a little fun with him.

“Offended, are you? Sorry.” Joel grinned, shrugging his shoulders. “Hardly anyone else in there does. Or if they do, they sure aren’t letting me know.” The premise of everyone choosing to speak Spanish over English if they knew it didn’t upset him, but he couldn’t help not being part of a conversation he didn’t understand. “You can play translator for me if you want me to be part of the talks so bad. I’m sure you’re eager to get back in there, right?” He laughed a little. It did seem like both of them struggled to fit into the cacophony of ladies sometimes.

“Ever actually been?” To Canada, he meant. “Could have fooled me. The accent’s strong but honestly, English sounds even better with Latin flair. As do most things.” He tilted his head back and barked out laughter at the comment about ‘talking shit’. “Fuck, is that what’s going on in there? It’s like the nail salons all over again.” He gave Amilcar a wink then, before shooting him a gentle insult in Portuguese to return the favor. “Thanks for the heads up, escroto.”

[abc1x1-blog]

The kind of family that Mink grew up in was the kind that held very few secrets, a family that was tight knit and overly welcoming. Thanks to his mothers, he knew just about every cousin, every half-uncle twice removed, every niece and nephew. So of course he knew Joel existed, he had just never met the man. Apparently, word about his ‘long lost cousin’ being dropped into the arms of one of the family’s many pairs of grandparents had everyone buzzing. The story had probably been half-told to him a dozen times and he still didn’t quite understand. Joel had one too many drinks and his mother abandoned him? Flew all the way to Europe to leave him with his abuelos?

Strange. 

Strange.

Most of the family at the house had congregated in the living room, loudly reminiscing and making plans for later in the evening. Both mothers and two of his sisters were accounted for, with his older brother being busy who cares where (most likely work). And he himself could be found roaming the house, talking in a hushed tone into his cellphone to God-would-never-know-who. 

Eventually as his conversation started to come to a close he passed through the living room, lazily waving at mare and mamá while he made his way out the door. “El blanqueo no requiere lavado real , la pendeja.” He spoke as he walked out onto the porch, doing a double-take at Joel before quieting down again. He only spoke a few more words before disconnecting the call and turning to his cousin completely. “Hey.” He gave a quick nod. “You’re missing the riveting conversation inside, your hair is long enough to go get it styled with them later tonight if you want.” His tone was casual, like he’d known the man more than a few hours. Then a sharp, pointed question. “Do you speak Spanish?”

[dach1x1-blog]

Part of Joel still sort of missed the life he’d led back in the Americas. He missed his friends in Toronto, missed the colorful people he’d met in California, and it was nice to still get messages from them all every now and then. Joel smirked to himself as he started typing out a reply to what was essentially Dom trying to find a non-committal way of asking when he would be back in the States next when the door opened and one of his elder cousins stepped out on the porch beside him, mouth a flourish of deep, accusatory Spanish.

Joel took a step to the side, making room for the other while simultaneously tucking his own phone away for privacy and to avoid being rude. He nodded back at the greeting, then smiled bashfully at his cousin’s first words. “Well, I wouldn’t be able to, uh.” The older man jabbed at him a little and Joel scoffed at the insinuation, crossing his arms and giving off a defiant glare. “Wow. If you want to feel it, you can just ask, Amilcar. Don’t be shy.” He said, teasing cheekily and fluffing out his thick tresses a little.

“No, not really. I mean I know a little, but. Not enough.” Joel shrugged. Sometimes the similarities between Spanish and Portuguese were enough for him to make loose inferences, but when it came to following conversation, he was at a loss. After a second to pause, he raised his eyebrows again, then crossed them as he stared at his cousin in bewilderment. “Your English is pretty good though. I didn’t think any of you guys spoke it. Meu Avô didn’t tell you I’m Canadian?”

[acciodiversasartes-deactivated2]

[dach1x1-blog]

Joel was honestly surprised how quickly he’d been absorbed into the fold. His mother had left the continent before he and his sister were born, but that didn’t really seem to matter to the older members of the Medina clan, and all their smaller branches. Once a Medina, always a Medina, no matter how old or estranged; that seemed to be the motto. His arrival certainly wasn’t all that prodigal. He was closer to a disgraced son, if anything--basically told to get away from city life because he couldn’t be trusted to stay sober. Joel expected his elder sister would have informed at least some of them of his situation before agreeing to ship him out there. But if any of them knew of his former alcoholic status, they sure didn’t show any indication of it.

The first week or so he spent in his grandparents’ home, welcomed with open arms as though they knew anything about him. He ate home-grown meals and got introduced to the real flow of the family, fishing with his uncles, watching his nieces and chatting with everyone else. It seemed like every other day there was some new family come by to meet him. Joel had never really felt anything like it. Growing up, with his mother gone, they’d always done things alone. Now, it was like being alone wasn’t really an option.

And as hectic as that made things...Joel was happy.

After about a month, Joel’s grandmother and he decided to travel, get to know some of the family off the islands and closer to Spain. As with every situation like this, Joel went along with it, until both he and his avó were sat in the living room of a distant aunt, her wife and her children, smiling as they chatted to themselves in Spanish and babying the mug full of hot cocoa in his hands. Eventually Joel excused himself to the front porch just to get some air and to let the ladies catch up, one hand buried in his pocket and the other holding his phone as he swiped through old messages.

[otto1x1-blog]

One less pepperoni didn’t bother him much when she was the thief, and he continued consuming the piece of pizza once she had taken what she wanted. He got down to the crust, locking his gaze with hers before closing his eyes with a content look on his face. “There are many things I want.” It was the truth and no secret. He hummed, mulling over everything he could ask for and determining whether or Astrid would give it to him. 

Then he opened his eyes and turned to her, turning back over on his stomach and finishing up the pizza crust. “We passed a small building with a fountain in front of it on our way here. There was a fence, but it looks abandoned.” His eyebrows rose as he spoke and watched her. It seemed like much for a piece of pizza, but he wanted to know what she would say anyway. “We passed a restaurant I’ve never seen before also, but eating out seems less fun in comparison.” There was a smile growing on his lips. 

[dach1x1-blog]

Astrid just looked at him--Otto’s face looked as emotionless as hers to other people, but to her it always felt like she could see everything he was feeling with the way he moved his skin. How open and shut were his eyes, how long he paused or how slow he moved, how still he stayed. He hummed something coy, something that was darker than the rest of what he’d said tonight--and this was a part of him that was new. But Astrid was coming to know and love it just the same as the rest of him, a new part of Otto that grew as he grew.

She just looked back at him, opening herself up to be questioned, not knowing what else to say or give him that would satisfy that different curiosity of his. “...I know.” Reaching between them again, Astrid avoided the last scraps of pizza in his hand to swipe some of the sauce and crumbs out of the corner of his mouth, tucking what she got in her own mouth and licking it from the pad of her thumb.

Astrid raised her eyebrows when he mentioned the fountain. “You want to go on a walk, or something?” The restaurant is more along the lines of what she’d been expecting, but they wouldn’t be able to do that until after she got paid on Thursday. Ideally until the other checks started coming in, between then and Saturday. “We can do both of those things. We can try to find the fountain now, if you want, Otto? It’s been a while since you asked me to walk you.” She smiled playfully for a second, remembering holding his then-smaller hand on the sidewalks.

[otto1x1-blog]

He had thought about working before, wanting to find more ways to help his sister get the money to take care of them. A job sounded easy enough to him, especially after watching people like the cashiers at grocery stores and fast food restaurants. In fact, he believed he’d like work more than school. “I will look into it.” And he would, once they settled in and once he had more time to explore their environment. 

“Ay,” he whined as he saw Astrid’s hand coming for his pizza, trying to move his hand out of her reach. “You’ve taken half of all I have and now you’re coming for more?” He laughed lightly, though notably not taking another bite in case she really did want some. He would give her the last of anything he had if it ever came down to it. “Do you mean to tell me that I could get more than the ever holy pepperoni pizza?”

[dach1x1-blog]

Astrid was surprised when he told her he would look into it. Briefly she wondered where he would find the time, and if between work and school they would barely have time to spend together, but decided it was ultimately up to Otto what he wanted to do with his time. He would be a man before too long. He was already starting to resemble one, despite how often she still looked at him like that tiny five year old she would smuggle out of the house at night.

With two fingers she plucked that piece of pepperoni right out of the cold cheese, popping it into her mouth as her answer. “Mm hm.” She licked the grease from her fingers and then carded her hand through his roots, smiling for a second before arching an eyebrow in genuine interest. “That depends on what you want. Choose correctly.”

[geordiewood]

[otto1x1-blog]

He opened the fridge, looking over its contents as Astrid listed what little food they had. “Thursday?” He wasn’t shocked, but he shouted and would complain anyway. It wasn’t uncommon for them to be low on food, in fact the lack of food was probably most evident in their size. Fortunately, for him at least, he was easily distracted from the empty feeling rumbling in his stomach. 

“Thursday is years away, we will be skin and bones by then.” He came back to her with the leftover piece of pizza, unmicrowaved and all. Taking a bite of the pizza, he used his free hand to pull up a section of Astrid’s hair and let if fall messily over her head. “Bones and dust by then.” He continued with a full mouth. “I wonder if I take a part time job will I be paid in time to not die by Thursday.” He teased, leaning over the back of the couch. “And I remember calling dibs on the pizzas, now my property is traveling through your guts and you have a debt to repay.” He turned over, leaning on the couch on his back now so he watched her upside down, taking another bite of the pizza that should have caused him to choke. 

[dach1x1-blog]

Astrid couldn’t help but smirk a little at his smart tone, looking at him defiantly as if to say, yep. Thursday. “We will not. Don’t be a baby.” She raised her hand to bat lightly at his, smoothing her hair back into place.

She felt such an urge to reach up and push his jaw shut, but Otto stayed talking and chewing no matter what she or anyone else did to dissuade it. “Work, if you want to work. I never said you couldn’t.” She reached towards his pizza, her eyes on a piece of pepperoni he’d bitten into slightly.

“Repay? Otto.” She gave him a skeptical look as he leaned over backwards, shaking her head at him. “I can buy you more pizza. After Thursday. That isn’t much of a debt, if you were trying to get at something.”

[otto1x1-blog]

The first change in Otto’s demeanor was the way his shoulders sank a bit at the mention of being taken away. Then it was the way his gaze went unfocused, only looking in Astrid’s general direction before looking away. It was something they had been running from practically all their lives and there was nothing that scared him more. He was no longer a child, but he still likened the child protective services to some kind of omnipresent boogeyman. He hated school, hated having to get up early and dress acceptably to spend eight hours with people he didn’t care about. But apparently there would be a bigger problem if he didn’t suck it up and attend anyway.

He didn’t look up when he felt the smaller hand take his, but he squeezed it gently in acknowledgment. “I won’t enjoy it.” An acceptance of his fate, more of a stubborn refusal to see the school system that seemingly wanted to hold him prisoner as a good thing. He took a deep breath, sitting up tall and stretching his back as he looked up. “I’m hungry.” It’s a subject change and a way to push the fear of being taken away back to the depths of his thoughts. “What we got?”

[dach1x1-blog]

Astrid knew it was painful--she’d suffered through it too, for a time. If at sixteen he came to her himself and wanted to drop out as she did, she wouldn’t refuse him. But he wasn’t there yet, so he still had a role to play until they were well and truly alone, and safe. She was slightly sad that he didn’t ever really look at her, but she guessed she couldn’t blame him if he was upset. Astrid pursed her lips as he left and headed towards the kitchen, looking down at her hands.

“Mm, spaghetti.” She started to run down the list. “Lunchmeat and bread. Rice, crackers, clementines. One slice of leftover pizza. I had the other for breakfast this morning. I can’t go for groceries until Thursday.”

[otto1x1-blog]

At first he grumbled to himself, sinking further into the couch as he messed with his hair. Astrid could read him like a book, there was no doubt about that. She probably knew him better than he knew himself and even though he just wanted to snoop around, she just wanted him to stay safe. A negative reaction was to be expected. 

He wanted to know who the people around them might be, better yet, he wanted to know what they might have. The place they were in now was far from luxurious, bad enough to have Astrid warning him about possible gangsters, but there was always something for him to find and play with. And the possessions he currently had could only keep him busy for so long. He was just about ready to an early defeat when Astrid tacked on a ‘without her’. The smile that had faded came back. 

“Sure sure.” He answered quickly, happily. To anyone else the reply could have seemed like he was brushing her off, but he wasn’t and he would wait for her. He groaned a ‘no’ the moment school was mentioned, sitting forward and turning his head in the direction Astrid left to. “There’s nothing to do at school. They want for me to sit in hour long classes to do work that takes no longer than twenty minutes if you have a brain cell. Block the calls.” The sentence is demanding, but his tone is soft because she’s ultimately the boss in this area. 

[dach1x1-blog]

She believed him when he said he would, because Otto rarely ever really “lied” to her. If he intended to do something she asked him not to he wouldn’t tell her otherwise, unless it was to say something like he’d try, which to her often meant he would “accidentally” disobey. So Astrid was relieved at the double agreement, blinked at him softly, appreciatively, and dragged her suitcase the rest of the way into the bedroom before coming back out.

She leaned on the corner of the hallway and looked at him with equal parts pity and firmness. “I can’t, Otto. They can take you away from me, you know.” She paused, searching for signs that he understood on his face. “It won’t be like before, staying in other people’s houses. They will take you and they won’t tell me where you are. I wouldn’t be able to find you no matter how I tried.” Astrid left the doorway to sit beside him on the couch, sideways on her hip. This was the only thing that really scared her anymore. Until Otto was eighteen, there were a hundred people above them who had the power to separate them from each other, like they did to their parents. Losing Otto, having to live without him, she didn’t want to do that.

Astrid leaned against the couch with him and slipped her hand into his, speaking quietly as though they could be observed. “It is just for a little longer. Then I won’t ask you to go anywhere you do not want to go. And we can spend more time together. Please go to school.”

[otto1x1-blog]

When Astrid warned him about staying away from the neighbors Otto smiled knowingly. He stopped tormenting the wallpaper to go and take a seat on the old couch in the middle of the area. The cushion’s springs easily bent under his weight, and he barely took notice of the stains and dust on the upholstery as he watched the ceiling. With the fingers of one hand in his hair, his eyes searched the ceiling panels as he contemplated who their mysterious new neighbors were. As far as he knew, Astrid was always fully aware of who lived around them, but this new building was a completely blank slate. He whispered an affirmative, almost having a plan already. It would only add to the fun of their new environment. 

His gaze dropped to his sister when he heard her walk over, watching her and listening. The tub looked clean enough to him, but most objects were always ‘clean enough’ to him. He knew he was going to have to listen out for later, wanting to be there to snag anything interesting Astrid might find while she was cleaning. 

He was quiet for a moment, but his eyes were alive with thought. “Are there gangsters here?” He asked, referring to the promise he was supposed to make. 

[dach1x1-blog]

Otto’s smiles only gave her the same kind of joy half of the time. At most. She blinked at him just as knowingly, able to read that kind of mischievous gleam in his eyes from a mile away. It wasn’t often she was able to dissuade him from something--Otto made his own decisions. She could only make her feelings and desires known, roll the die whether Otto’s curiosity or his respect for her would take precedence.

...even still, it was hard to be upset at him. Astrid would do anything for him, and it was hard to want to curb his habit of stealing entirely when a) she knew most of the things he took she couldn’t afford to get for him on her own, and b) that the owners of whatever he stole should have kept a closer eye on their things. It wasn’t in her dreams, Otto being any kind of thief, but then, they way they lived, they didn’t have a choice in a lot of things.

Astrid stayed standing where he used to be, arms crossed around her middle as she watched him examine the ceiling without a care. She scowled when he asked his question, though, scoffing and taking her suitcase handle to drag it towards the hallway. “I just told you I don’t know. Please do not try to find out.” She was half-covered in the shadows of the hall when she added on: “--without me. I mean it, Otto. There could be dangerous people here.” She frowned. “...and you have to go to school more often. They are starting to call.”

[otto1x1-blog]

The moment the apartment door was open, Otto ran inside and dropped his bags. Moving has always been fun for him, like opening the door to each new home was a new adventure. The new place was nothing to gasp at, it was small and the old, wood floor creaked under his feet, but it was exciting for him regardless. A hushed swear in Swedish could be heard from down the hall as he went into the bedroom. He took his shoes off there and walked across the hall to the bathroom. “Astrid, this one has a bathtub!” He called before walking out and back toward what would most likely be their living room, eventually. “I can deal with this.” As he spoke he pulled carefully at a piece of wallpaper that was peeling off the wall. “As long as the neighbors quieter than the last place, jesus christ.”

[dach1x1-blog]

With a curse, Astrid wrenched her suitcase into the apartment and onto the dusty carpet of the living room, lightly kicking Otto’s shoes out of her way. The place suffered from lighting problems, insulation problems, and occasionally water problems. The grout around the sink and toilet was dark and off-putting. The included appliances were minimal. But it was a roof and a room and Astrid wasn’t--couldn’t--be picky.

At least Otto didn’t seem troubled by it. But then, he rarely was. And just as she was thinking about him, Otto reappeared from the hallway and she gave him a dry, accepting look as she shut the front door with her back. “Try to stay away from them, Otto,” she said, tone warm, but warning. “I don’t know anything about anyone this time. Our landlord will not tell me about the other people here. But he is letting us stay for less money every month.” Though, part of her knew even that wasn’t something to be too fond of. He gave her strange looks when they signed the paperwork and would probably be trouble in the future. But this discount was heavy and Astrid might consider drawing their arrangements here out as long as possible, depending on what he wanted. “I want you to promise to keep your hands to yourself and our things  until we know more. I do not want to come home from work to find some gangsters searching for you.”

Astrid walked forward and reached to pinch some of his hair between her fingers, twisting it affectionately. “And let me clean the drain before you use that bathtub.” She said, lest some suspicious clog from however-many months ago lead to the buildup of rotten, brown water for her to wade through later. 

[abc1x1-blog]

Pieces of bacon are carefully set in the pan until there’s only about half left in the pack. The thin pieces of meat are already fully cooked, only needing about twenty seconds in the microwave, but Dom’s barely thinking about that. He blinks slowly as he slides his fingers across the closure of the resealable bag, relishing the feeling of Joel’s lips on his skin. He smiles when Joel gives him what could be a compliment, assuming by the context that he doesn’t mean it. And when the other man’s arms fall away from his body he doesn’t protest, working on finishing their breakfast instead.

–

“I know what you mean.” The response comes not even a second after Joel’s last sentence. He’s setting Joel’s waffle on the table first, not wanting it to cool down before it’s eaten. As he turns away to grab his own food and some syrup, he laughing lightly at the way the other broached the subject. 

He gets to the table and sets down his meal, taking a seat across from the one Joel was at. The waffles on his plate get covered in syrup as he answers. “Yeah I take it,” he doesn’t feel so shy saying it when the two of them just had sex last night. “When I feel like it.” He tacks on, closing the cap on the syrup bottle and looking at Joel with an innocent smile. He hums into his next word. “Why?”

[dach1x1-blog]

Joel hums happily as Dom sets the waffle on the table and leans forward to slide it closer--just in time for a hungry growl from his stomach. He keeps his blood sugar reader close by as he tears small chunks off the waffle square by square, popping them into his mouth dry. “Mm, yum. Thank you.”

He watches Dom drown his plate in syrup with an affectionate smirk, shaking his head to himself and then focusing on the other man as he started to answer Joel’s questions. Joel’s eyes twinkled darkly at the bluntness--always a good sign. If there was one thing he was tired of with men, it was the pussyfooting around they sometimes did. He wasn’t a teenager, none of the men he went after were teenagers anymore. He had less than no interest in whispering about the depths of sexual interest in private.

“When you feel like it...interesting.” Joel said as he stood up, fishing some milk out of the fridge and pouring it into the glass he already had, not really minding that it had been used with juice a second ago. He returned the jug to the fridge and took his seat again, tearing once more at his waffle. “I just wanted to know. Obviously this isn’t anything serious, don’t get me wrong. Still, the odds of another ‘date’ like this happening go up for me if you’re a switch.” He shrugged some, covertly scanning Dom for some kind of reaction.

“I mean, if you’d even like to see me again. Either way, whatever.” Then, a smile, wide and cocky. “So how often do you ‘feel’ like it?”

[earthenpyre-archives-blog]

Visit Original Link

└▶ To Be Alone With You || Sufjan Stevens

You gave your body to the lonely They took your clothes You gave up a wife and a family You gave your ghost

[abc1x1-blog]

When he turns around he’s cracking two more eggs into the bowl and setting the shells aside to throw away later. He grabs another bowl to put the pancake mix in, guessing the amount of powder to pour in rather than checking the serving size and searching for some measuring cups. Then he grabs a large frying pan, leaning to the side a little to set it on the stove when he feels Joel behind him. 

There isn’t much change in his body language, nothing more than his shoulders relaxing and his head tilting slightly to the side. His hand leaves the pan on the stove, not needing to turn on the heat just yet. Joel’s hands slide into his boxers and he’s giving the other man a low hum in approval. “Oh I didn’t forget.” He almost sounds coy as he smirks and gently leans back into Joel. “I trust you to keep your word.” There’s a light chuckle in between his words, happy he’s being touched and trying not to move away from the fingertips tickling his hips. 

He continues preparing the food, pretending like he’s not entirely focused on the other man’s hands as he reaches for the bacon. “I swear I’m only making you one waffle. No loopholes.” He jokes smoothly, avoiding giving in.

[dach1x1-blog]

Joel gets real comfortable there, breathes in the scent of natural musk and hours-old sweat from their first romp the previous night. It’s a delicious combination when met with Dom’s shampoo and soap, the smell of his cotton sheets, and the dry sweetness of the pancake powder. Joel rests his lips on the back of Dom’s shoulder and kisses lightly at him, inching closer to his spine and up his neck, before removing both hands from his boxers and wrapping them around his middle instead.

“You’re the sweetest man I’ve ever known,” Joel jokes, though his voice is serious, and he lets himself and his arms slip away from Dom as he starts back towards the kitchen table. He stays standing and picks up the reader to test his blood sugar again.

“I meant to ask you this at the start, but, well. You got me all distracted, so I’ll ask now. ‘You ever bottom?” He bit down on his lip with a brief grin as he pricked his finger. “‘You ever bend over and take it, I mean.”