❛ rhomru ( cont. from here. )
His composure drips like honey from his bones, coating his tongue where he tastes his inhibition like melted sugar – & yet it’s sharp – to remind him this isn’t supposed to be happ ening. That part stings, ACHES like a bruise under the skin. Because he knows it’s a joke – but there’s an underlying promise there, hidden under sheets of primal instinct & want. His mouth goes dry and runs like the ocean at the same time. —- play it off. “ Very funny. Amazing – “ It’s ripping under his rough skin, the urge to bridge the gap and car be damned. Stay in control. “ I don’t know what’s funnier, how serious you are – or the fact you think i get payed well enough. “ It’s not a no. But he lies to himself that it is.
IT’S A DANGEROUS GAME -- them, this. they both know it, they both toe the line of reality and fantasy, but even so they continue. two men ( one barely a man ), a car, and the promise of more. ❛ yeah, well a guy can dream, ❜ stiles replies, not at all dissuaded by the man’s words. ( he never is. )
❛ and anyway, might i remind you that you’re the one who picked me up in the middle of the night, and you’re the one who brought up going to a hotel first. i am merely an innocent bystander in this; you’re the one corrupting me. ❜ ha. sure.
