Letter for Harry
ooc: As requested for Christmas, and written on paper in Connor's less than stellar handwriting which is a weird mixture of old fashioned (due to Holtz) and 21st century messiness.
I seriously hope you’re alone when reading this, because the way you smile says it all, and this is so going to make you smile. Which is good because you had too many things trying to get laughter out of your life happening to you anyway, and I think making each other laugh is one of the best things we have going for us. Well, that and the spectacular sex, but I’m getting there. Anyway, when I make you smile, you often get that expression in your eyes where I never know whether to pounce or start an argument or both, and right now, I labour under the delusion that it’s just for me. So just the mildly normal smile for Peter and MJ and their aunt and Phillip and Elizabeth and whoever else is around if you’re not alone, okay?
Though I like imagining you with other people, too. It was amazing, watching you during those receptions. I know you say you find them boring or hate them at times, but you have this kind of glitter about you when you do the society thing. And no, I don’t mean that you were using finger paint again. It’s some kind of sparkle, same as a swordsman has when he knews what he’s doing with his weapon, and if you’re thinking of some bland British actor now, I’m so going to kill you.
So I have this idea of you at one of those charity functions, on the Empire State building, because I’m an out of towner, and we go for the obvious symbols. You’re wearing whatever incredibly expensive thing Armani came up with, and I’m watching you, only this time I’m not just watching. I take you outside, on one these small rotundra things on the upper levels where there really isn’t much room, and then I get rid of each and every item Armani come up with to dress you that day. It’s day, by the way. I know you have a thing for dark clubs, and they’re great, too, but so much of my life takes place at night, so I have this sort of obsession with sunrise and sunlight. Also, your skin looks great in sunlight, trust me on this, and so does your hair. So it’s day, and sunlight, and of course too high up for it not to be cold, even in summer, but that’s the challenge, right, and we always like challenges. Which is another great thing about you, or maybe something that gets us into trouble, or both, and certainly sort of the original hook, right? You challenge me. So no way you’re just standing there. You’re getting rid of my clothes as well, and then we try out this theory that a serious of bites all over the body? Does wonders for the circulation.
Back when I was trying to figure out things, I thought gay sex was all about anal penetration. Call me misinformed, but it wasn’t like I could actually ask someone, right? Given the circumstances. (Okay, I admit I did some research on the internet, but guess what, I came across some m/m stories and they always centred around the ass fucking, too.) So finding out all the other possibilities was a great plus, because, you know, variety. Plus you with that kind of mouth you have? Are great with giving head. Though actually in my fantasy I do that first. I try to find out whether I can make you come without using my hands, just mouth and tongue. In full daylight, on the Empire State Building.
All of which isn’t to say that the much written about penetration isn’t on the menu as well, because it so is. Only that is later. After the inevitable guard has chased us away, or maybe it’s some tourists with or without King Kong souvenirs, I don’t care. So we get to the elevator, one of those superspeedy ones, which make you feel it’s almost free fall, and that’s where we do it. Against those slightly vibrating lift walls of glass and steel and whatever else they consist of. It’s about the almost free fall, though, because sometimes, that’s what fucking you feels like to me. Did I mention I’m addicted to jumping from heights?
I think we end up in your apartment after that. Because the strange thing is, if you can’t be together afterwards, just sitting or lying somewhere, sex just doesn’t feel complete. To me, anyway. Doesn’t matter how many climaxes, it just doesn’t. But watching you sleep, or having you talk to me - because I love your voice, you could make anyone at all fall for you with your voice alone, just for the record - or just you persisting in your idea that my hair will give in to your insidious attempts to make it less than straight if you try often enough - that makes it complete.
Just being with you.
Connor
I seriously hope you’re alone when reading this, because the way you smile says it all, and this is so going to make you smile. Which is good because you had too many things trying to get laughter out of your life happening to you anyway, and I think making each other laugh is one of the best things we have going for us. Well, that and the spectacular sex, but I’m getting there. Anyway, when I make you smile, you often get that expression in your eyes where I never know whether to pounce or start an argument or both, and right now, I labour under the delusion that it’s just for me. So just the mildly normal smile for Peter and MJ and their aunt and Phillip and Elizabeth and whoever else is around if you’re not alone, okay?
Though I like imagining you with other people, too. It was amazing, watching you during those receptions. I know you say you find them boring or hate them at times, but you have this kind of glitter about you when you do the society thing. And no, I don’t mean that you were using finger paint again. It’s some kind of sparkle, same as a swordsman has when he knews what he’s doing with his weapon, and if you’re thinking of some bland British actor now, I’m so going to kill you.
So I have this idea of you at one of those charity functions, on the Empire State building, because I’m an out of towner, and we go for the obvious symbols. You’re wearing whatever incredibly expensive thing Armani came up with, and I’m watching you, only this time I’m not just watching. I take you outside, on one these small rotundra things on the upper levels where there really isn’t much room, and then I get rid of each and every item Armani come up with to dress you that day. It’s day, by the way. I know you have a thing for dark clubs, and they’re great, too, but so much of my life takes place at night, so I have this sort of obsession with sunrise and sunlight. Also, your skin looks great in sunlight, trust me on this, and so does your hair. So it’s day, and sunlight, and of course too high up for it not to be cold, even in summer, but that’s the challenge, right, and we always like challenges. Which is another great thing about you, or maybe something that gets us into trouble, or both, and certainly sort of the original hook, right? You challenge me. So no way you’re just standing there. You’re getting rid of my clothes as well, and then we try out this theory that a serious of bites all over the body? Does wonders for the circulation.
Back when I was trying to figure out things, I thought gay sex was all about anal penetration. Call me misinformed, but it wasn’t like I could actually ask someone, right? Given the circumstances. (Okay, I admit I did some research on the internet, but guess what, I came across some m/m stories and they always centred around the ass fucking, too.) So finding out all the other possibilities was a great plus, because, you know, variety. Plus you with that kind of mouth you have? Are great with giving head. Though actually in my fantasy I do that first. I try to find out whether I can make you come without using my hands, just mouth and tongue. In full daylight, on the Empire State Building.
All of which isn’t to say that the much written about penetration isn’t on the menu as well, because it so is. Only that is later. After the inevitable guard has chased us away, or maybe it’s some tourists with or without King Kong souvenirs, I don’t care. So we get to the elevator, one of those superspeedy ones, which make you feel it’s almost free fall, and that’s where we do it. Against those slightly vibrating lift walls of glass and steel and whatever else they consist of. It’s about the almost free fall, though, because sometimes, that’s what fucking you feels like to me. Did I mention I’m addicted to jumping from heights?
I think we end up in your apartment after that. Because the strange thing is, if you can’t be together afterwards, just sitting or lying somewhere, sex just doesn’t feel complete. To me, anyway. Doesn’t matter how many climaxes, it just doesn’t. But watching you sleep, or having you talk to me - because I love your voice, you could make anyone at all fall for you with your voice alone, just for the record - or just you persisting in your idea that my hair will give in to your insidious attempts to make it less than straight if you try often enough - that makes it complete.
Just being with you.
Connor