[Stupid little drabble based on talks with @high-commander-ravus, lol.]
Durans hummed happily to himself as he took another delicate bite from the positively luscious tuxedo cream cheesecake he had hidden away in a to-go box. The chocolate mousse was perfectly balanced by the refreshing sweetness of real whipped cream and vanilla bean mascarpone- Truly a delight for the tastebuds.
“Stop making those sounds, it’s obnoxious,” Ravus grumbled from his position at the motel room desk, angrily flipping a page of his latest novel.
“You’re just mad because you didn’t have the sense to get one- I even asked you! And what did you say?” the ex-Captain sing-songed, narrowing his eyes suddenly and imitating Ravus’ slightly nasal tone of voice.
“One does not eat cheesecake for breakfast,” Durans sneered, turning his nose up into the air in an exaggerated display of his traveling companion.
“Oh, for the love of- I do NOT sound like that. And unlike you, I do not shovel half a cherry pie, hashbrowns, and two plates of bacon down my throat and call that a breakfast,” Ravus argued, huffing dismissively.
There were proper meals and then there was whatever the Fabulan had the stomach for, which was always something completely ridiculous and in boundless quantities. He was starting to wonder how the other man never seemed to gain any weight, but another near orgasmic noise of pleasure from Anatolius’ throat had him snapping his book shut and standing.
“You’re jealous and it’s a positively ugly look on you,” Durans insisted, shutting the lid and trying to block the view of the box from Fleuret’s line of sight with his body. He found himself pulled forward by the sleeve, nearly nose to nose with his former Commander, being leveled with one of the most awkwardly intense stares he’d ever seen.
Ravus’ hand cupped at his chin gently, the taller male’s expression going from annoyance into something unreadable. Durans blinked, once, finding his throat going dry and witty retorts harder to conjure up the longer they remained so close. There was a shift of weight upon the bed, Fleuret’s long legs straddling his hips while he started leaning forward. The Fabulan felt himself blushing and leaning up into what he though was a kiss, but Ravus- quick as lightning- snatched the cheesecake box from behind his back.
The bathroom door slammed behind him, followed by the telltale snap of the lock sliding into place, leaving Durans alone and bewildered on the motel bed. With an aggravated groan, he flopped back against the sheets and proceeded to sulk.
vaporwave
2087
theartofmadeline
