An excerpt for @officialrepcomm day 7: insulation
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Fi sighed, latching the fresher door behind him. Cut from solid Woshyr wood, it heaved shut with a hearty thud. This was one of two private ‘freshers, servicing a slew of old bedrooms arranged in a cluster at the end of Kyrimorut’s east wing. Fi wiggled out of his clothes. The shower would provide a warm, solitary haven. Plenty of space and time to work out his frustrations with the help of the shower gel one of the ladies had left behind.
Now that Sev was back, Fi couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to drag him out dancing.
If only they could go back to Zellectric again and Sev could rub up on him the way he had that night when it all began. It felt like so long ago now.
Fi hooked his thumbs under his hi-cut briefs and rolled them down, downshifting his fantasy from steamy voyeuristic club sex to … how Sev’s hand would feel on his neck. Or around his wrist. What it would be like to kiss him again, all chapped and hot and covered in dust. His hair would be sweaty around his ears and the back of his neck; there’d be a grimy band of skin above his collar where his flannel didn’t meet his dust mask —
The door to the fresher chamber opened and in came Sev, still flanneled and gloved, smelling hotly of papery cellulose, his hair a wild mess of curls. Dark eyes locked on Fi’s. “Mind if I ...”
Fi grinned like he wasn’t desperate for this interaction. “‘Course. Keep your dusty shebs away from me, though. I’m all clean.”
Sev snorted, tossing his gloves onto the floor and kicking off his boots.
“What’s so funny?”
“You. All clean. Not your big mouth though, I reckon. I can smell the dust on you.”
“I smell like ripe varos, and you know it,” Fi bluffed, thrilled to pieces at Sev’s eloquence. “And I taste like it, too.”
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