Time Lapse
Time Lapse
Chapter: Oneshot
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Tora x Saga
Genre: slice of life, drabble-ish
Warnings: male x male, sex, foul language
Synopsis: Love is resilient.
Comments: I had a few hours to spare today, so here is a drabble. I was in the mood for some Tora x Saga, randomly like that. I hope you guys enjoy :)
***
Saga is young when he realizes that love isn't always fictional and overplayed.
Its very real, and tangible, and it makes you question who you are and what you want. It hits you like lightning and leaves you forever changed.
He's 19.
Cool fall air, the scent of leaves, bitter tea in a to-go cup. He's wearing a black knit scarf and a thin wool jacket, a size too big on his slender frame, and a grey cable-knit sweater underneath to ward off the cold. He's overdressed for such a sunny day, but somehow his fingertips refuse to get warm, not matter how hot the cup in his hands is.
Nao is fidgety on the park bench beside him. He's fragile and birdlike in his loose sweater, ripped leggings, blonde strands falling across his midnight eyes. They both haven't eaten properly in a while, and it shows. Too broke. Nao splurged on a latte but he barely even touches it, too nervous, and its steaming up in the september air.
"Do you think it was a stupid idea to meet them in a park?" Nao asks, unsure.
Yes. Yes it had been a dumb idea, but he wasn't gonna make it worse for him, he was already stressed enough as it is. So Saga pats his shoulder reassuringly.
"Relax, they'll find us. Or we'll find them. Thats why we have cell phones no?"
Its enough to ease Nao into having a sip of his overpriced coffee.
The two they were meeting showed up soon enough. Two lanky boys on the park pathway, walking briskly, laughing at some random joke. The shortest of the two has odd coloured, strawberry-blonde hair spiking in all directions, and huge eyes. The taller one has a guitar case strapped to his shoulder, long, glossy-black hair and glasses. Saga's mouth gets dry as they get closer.
The tall one is beautiful.
Not wow that's a handsome guy, or yeah he's cute.
Fucking. Beautiful.
Hello-whats-your-name,phone-number,address-and-when-can-we-fuck-beautiful.
Those exotic good looks that captivate, draw the eye to that spectacular bone structure that is the architecture of his gorgeous face. The kind of elegant beauty that stopped you in your tracks and made you question if you're imagining it.
Endless legs, narrow shoulders and hips, surprisingly small hands for such a tall guy. Pale, pale skin with a slight pink undertone. Strands of smooth hair across his eyes.
His eyes. Amber gems framed with dark lashes, flecked with green-gold, feline.
He wasn't sure what he liked before that. Boys. Girls. Anything that was pretty. Hesitation went hand in hand with attraction, still at that experimental stage.
His meeting with Tora sent all those questionings fly out the proverbial window. Because from that day on all he really wants is him.
***
He's 21.
The tour bus is quiet.
Their first one-man tour. Long show. Not enough staff to lug the equipment to the truck, so Tora helped out.
He's always there to help, and it always goes unnoticed by the other band members for some reason, but he doesn't care. He's just there, an extra set of arms despite the protests of the harried crew. He gets onto the bus, sweaty and tired, white tee plastered to his chest. He cleans up in the broom closet they call a shower, swears out-loud when the bus starts moving, probably because the sudden movement made him bump his head, again.
He sits beside Saga on the couch with his psp, in sweats and a black hoodie, bare chest underneath. His hair is damp, and so is that vee of exposed skin in the unzipped neckline of the hoodie, sharp collarbones, a tender hollow between them.
"You helped out the crew again."
Not really a question.
He hums in reply, trying to focus on his game, but his eyelids are heavy behind his glasses.
"That's really nice of you, you know. You should tell Nao."
"What difference would it make? We can't afford another roadie, and the job has to get done."
And Saga doesn't say anything, because its true.
He guides Tora's head to rest against his shoulder when the raven-haired falls asleep, like he always does, fingers folding over the smooth curve of his nape. He saves the game on the psp before turning it off, gently pulls off Tora's glasses down the bridge of his nose.
Tora's shampoo smells herbal and sweet. Familiar. So much so that he has a hard time falling asleep without it. Sleeping back home is a nightmare.
He wonders if Tora can hear his heart beating faster in his chest in his slumber. Because it does, night after night.
***
24 this time.
A café in a quiet town, rain beating down on the windowpanes.
They went to explore on their day off, got stranded by the rain in a deserted part of town. There's only two other patrons in the place, but its warm and cozy and the banquette is cushy when he half reclines against it. Tora buys two lattes and comes to sit right beside him, thighs touching. Then its scribbling chords, melodies and lyrics in an old battered notebook he carries everywhere, and silly doodles in the margins.
Their sides are touching. And then its Tora's arm across his shoulders, warm palm and cool fingertips against the back of his neck.
Saga wishes he could stop time.
***
He's 26 but he feels much older.
"Lets go on a road-trip."
Tora is in the studio, wild feathered hair and red lips, cool winter light making his skin pale, so very pale, and he's beautiful.
"Just like that?"
Tora smirks, just a hint of his small teeth. Saga feels warm, so warm, and his heart races.
"Just like that." he replies.
***
Tora drives.
He has a tendency to speed a little. Just a little, not enough to make Saga nervous, but enough to make him aware that they are moving fast across never-ending white. They go north and north, not really caring where.
Away is good enough.
They stop in a park, and their breath fogs up along with the cigarette smoke.
They go to Aomori, and its snowing as they enter the city. Those big, sticky-moist snowflakes that make perfect snowmen. They have ramen in a small shop in a dark alley, and then have a few sips of sake sitting on a bench in the harbour, admiring the lights. Tora's hand is warm in his own, but his mouth is warmer. So warm Saga feels like he's melting from the inside, and he never wants it to end.
***
They share a bedroom in a small inn in the middle of nowhere on their way back. The bed is narrow and creaky, and he should've packed another sweater. His nose is cold.
He wakes up in the night, not sure about the time, to Tora's warm mouth between his brows. And then on his mouth. Lips on lips. Soft and moist, tender. Cool hands underneath his clothes, roaming the length of his back. And then those hands remove clothes, gentle yet urgent.
That beautiful mouth he always admired is on his lower belly, between his thighs, burning him like a brand. Demanding. Hungry.
His body is warm and pliant underneath Tora's own.
The rest of the night is bliss. Hushed moans and the whisper of skin against skin.
The other bed is never touched.
***
He's 27 and he doesn't know how to feel.
This unnamed thing that they have. Its like a game without rules, yet he feels like he's always breaching some kind of unspoken agreement that they have. But there is no agreement, no instructions to this odd thing between them. And he's confused.
Confused by the stolen kisses and the unexpected late night sweetness over the phone followed with long silences.
Confused by the shared passion between the sheets that always ends with an unsure, half-kiss goodbye in the bleak morning light.
He wishes he could define it, but Tora doesn't let him, changing the rules before he can grasp them.
His heart is heavy in his chest. It aches. But it keeps on beating.
And he still wants him.
***
He's still 27.
Its early morning, dark outside, and he just showered, barely awake.
He brushes his teeth, twenty strokes per quadrant. Tora changed his toothpaste, and he hates it, but brushes anyway. He's cold, skin damp when he slips into his sweats, curses about how he left his shirt in the bedroom.
He pads softly back, pauses half a second to pet the cat's soft ears.
Tora is asleep, lying on his side, naked, completely naked underneath the thin sheet. Hair wild, pale skin, red lips.
His eyes crack open when Saga sits on the edge of the bed, lashes fluttering.
His arms are warm when they wrap around his waist, pull him down between the sheets. Tora buries his face in his belly, the tip of his nose is cold.
His mouth is soft, drags against the damp skin, and it goes softer, softest against his hipbone.
Hushed moans and the steady creak of the mattress, and heat, such heat. Sometimes he wonders how they even manage to generate so much warmth between their bodies. He feels Tora's hand on him, and he lets go, the pressure in his lower belly overspilling.
Later, Tora mouths the angle of his collarbone. His hips fit perfectly between Saga's thighs, and his raven hair is soft in his hands. He pauses, and his eyes are like gems in the morning light.
"I'm in love with you." he murmurs.
The words aren't hesitant, but his voice is.
Saga smiles, coaxes Tora's head to lay against his chest, his heart hammering steady beats through his skin.
"I'm in love with you too."
Tora entwines their fingers together, tight, and his breath his hot and steady against his ribs.
It isn't much, but it's a start.
***
Wrote this little drabble today in a bit less than two hours start to finish. Made myself a playlist (mostly City and Colour) and gave myself a loose goal of getting it done within the time frame. I love challenging myself like that ;) I'm in a strange, unsure phase right now, and my muses are more scattered than usual, which really isn't good for all my chaptered work. I'm sorry I'm making y'all wait, but it can't be helped. I hope you enjoy anyway :) Love y'all xoxo