There was not much of him left anymore, only a mess of skin and organs and pipes and systems and gears welded into a metal suit. Faintly, very faintly, he thought he remembered himself- he was positive that his eyes had been blue, even if he was not sure whether or not he even had eyes still attached to him. His mind clung to that ( Read more... )

They were not making love. What they were doing could barely even be called sex, not with the way Alfred was gripping Arthur’s throat just tight enough to make it hard for him to speak, the way the fingers of Arthur’s sole hand were white-knuckled where they clenched in the rough sheets, the way they both grunted as if in pain instead of pleasure. ( Read more... )

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            He must have fallen asleep, Alfred thought wildly, staring up at the open gash in the ceiling of his prison, which had been previously filled with sunlight. Now there was nothing but darkness, the crevice connecting him to the outside world barely a faint line in the cloying black. He curled himself back against the jagged rock wall, ( Read more... )

            Every morning at eight fourteen, sharp, the little bells over the door of the café would tinkle a cheerful welcome. The man who had just pushed through the door would smile faintly up at them, the crows feet beside his eyes crinkling, before making his way leisurely over to the tiny table set beside the front window. He would lay his ( Read more... )