This is my sundown

Aug 10, 2006 20:35

It was black for a long time.

And it's still dark, and the air should be warm, smelling like canvas and sweat and horse and old leather, but instead he's cold, and huddles down, curling into himself to get warm again. Instead of wiry grass against his skin, there's only a firm softness, and he stretches one arm out to pull Lureen

(Ennis)closer ( Read more... )

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true_desire August 11 2006, 01:11:47 UTC
"If you want," comes a familiar voice: There's a click, a catch of flint, and the unmistakable scent of tobacco and paper burning. Not the roll-your-own or Marlboro variety, but the exotic, spicy version that somehow accentuates the scent of peaches.

"I've never been one to turn down a pretty face. -- They did a number on yours, didn't they?"

Desire's golden eyes swim into view, mouth shut against a cigarette as he draws the smoke in.

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jack_f_twist August 11 2006, 01:32:07 UTC
Shit.

"Shit!"

He pushes himself to the edge of the bed, staring into the dim room. The glowing cigarette tip makes him squint, but he doesn't rise to the jibe in Desire's voice.

Anger almost drowns out the panic in his voice.

"Fuck're you doing here?"

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true_desire August 11 2006, 01:34:50 UTC
"Tch." The scoff is gentle, almost friendly, and there's a sly, wide grin on Desire's face: He offers Jack one of those wicked winks of his before ashing the cigarette and continuing. "Fuck, Twist, you know me. I show in the unlikeliest places."

"Still, if you don't want a friendly face..."

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jack_f_twist August 11 2006, 01:46:52 UTC
Unbelieving, and not listening, Jack feels his nose, his cheeks, his jaw. He winces as he presses at a tender spot just along the bridge of his nose, but it's no more than a bruise, easily healed in a few days, not--

He looks back up at Desire, uncomprehending.

"The fuck am I?" and it could be where, could be who, could be a fair many things, but Jack Twist, not yet twenty years old, is for once at a loss for words.

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true_desire August 11 2006, 02:15:21 UTC
"Waiting," Desire advises him, settling comfortably onto the bed and never-minding that he wasn't invited: Some things never change.
Still, it's less something sexual predatory in his odd-colored eyes than concern, and the seat Desire's picked is rather close to the edge... Awful easy to get back up if Jack doesn't seem too keen on company.

"So tell me, Jack. What do you want?"

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jack_f_twist August 11 2006, 02:32:46 UTC
His laugh comes low and lost, but could be he eases a bit to feel the weight of the other man pressing the mattress down.

"Now that's a hell of a question," he chuckles, and he almost sounds amused. Glancing over at Desire, he grins, without humor.

"Ain't like I ever got fuck-all, whether I wanted it or not." His pulse is racign and thready in his throat, and though he's keeping his voice steady, there's a distinct rasp of breath beneath it. His shoulders remain tense and hunched.

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true_desire August 11 2006, 03:00:47 UTC
"Hey." Desire's voice is suddenly soft and quiet, the reply seeming more instinct than concious. Too-warm hands reach out, lightly touching those hunched shoulders and leaning him toward where the bed sinks under the other man's weight if Jack seems the slightest bit amiable. "Hey, Jack. None o' that, now."

"We've known each other a good while, haven't we?"

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jack_f_twist August 11 2006, 03:10:17 UTC
His breathing quickens at the touch of those fever-warm hands, and then slows again, and maybe Jack ain't never been much of one for control, but he nods, and maybe leans into the touch.

His whole body is thrumming with energy, and he wants to fight, to jump up, to yell, to--

He hasn't felt this good in twenty years.

He hasn't felt this shit in almost as long.

"Somethin ain't right," he mutters, but it's low and he can feel himself easing under Desire's touch.

"Yeah. Long time."

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true_desire August 11 2006, 03:33:49 UTC
Desire chuckles softly, the sound almost an agreement -- Somethin' ain't right, Jack, and that's the truth. Still, there's no way to know that Desire's heard or not, quiet as the words were: All it takes is that slight lean as encouragement, and those fever-warm hands ghost over Jack's back, working at the tension in those shoulders.

The scent of peaches and tobacco and the warmth of the other man might be reassuring in this cold: Something familiar to hang on to, something that isn't leaving poor Jack alone in the dark.
Someone else that knows what Jack's been chasing his whole life.

"Long enough that I hope you know I don't mean you any harm."

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jack_f_twist August 11 2006, 03:47:29 UTC
"Don't rightly think you could get me any worse'n they did." It's almost a parody of a laugh, but at least the deadly race of his heart has slowed slightly, and his hand traces his nose again, moving a little jerkily, as if it isn't quite under his own control. He winces as his fingers press at the sensitive spot.

"You there, too?" Watching, on the sidelines. Maybe Desire'd come along with hisherit's big sister.

Maybe Jack just hopes he wasn't alone in the dark.

As he closes his eyes, he takes a deep breath. Damn, he'd hated that scent, of peaches and the weird spices Desire uses in hisherits cigarettes, but damn if it isn't kinda good to have them here again, surrounding him.

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true_desire August 11 2006, 03:59:59 UTC
Even gay-bashers want something -- so, yeah. Maybe in a way.
Still, Desire just shrugs, noncommital as his arm slips around to rest against Jack's side, holding the man in a loose half-hug.

"'M here now. That counts for something, doesn't it?" And Desire is here, and damned if it isn't feeling like Desire sees Jack as the only guy in the world.

(And isn't that what Jack wanted?)

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jack_f_twist August 11 2006, 04:12:05 UTC
It's not a sigh, exactly, so much as it is a release, and maybe Jack knows he's being cheated--

but how can that be true, if Desire is Desire and how can his own wants cheat him?

--but either way he leans into the warmth next to him, his eyes open. The idea of sleep

(if I die before I wake)

brushes loosely across his mind and he ignores it, too keyed up to feel the tiredness that he knows is there.

"So where'm I?" he mumbles after a long while during which he'd moved a little closer, relaxed a little further.

"This ain't...where I was." Or when he was. But who's keeping an eye on the details?

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true_desire August 11 2006, 04:24:36 UTC
"You don't want to go back." The tone's a gentle sort of sarcasm, pitched to amuse rather than sting -- and it's certainly true. "Let's just say you're moving on."

Desire gives a little nudge with the shoulder Jack's leaning on, rolling the man's head a little closer in.
If Desire were Jack's type, this would be kissing distance.
If he wanted it.

"And now you get to choose where you go next."

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jack_f_twist August 11 2006, 04:37:52 UTC
Desire is Jack's type. Desire is everyone's type.

And it can't be said that Jack ain't interested, because for a minute, there's a gleam in the blue eyes that mirrors the heat of golden ones, before they fall, and he shrugs.

"Don't know what you mean. Ain't got much of a place to go. Feel like I been dreamin, stuck. And then, bere I am."

He snorts a laugh.

"Momma believed in Heaven 'n Hell. Always figured I'd be marchin right off to the second one when the time came."

There's a silence, and the humor drains out of his face as he glances up, quickly.

"Guess this is it, huh?"

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true_desire August 11 2006, 04:48:05 UTC
Desire smirks, not unkindly. "Jack, you have got a thing or two to learn about taking what you want."
And like that, the hand not resting on Jack's side is tracing the line of the man's throat with a knuckle, not ticklish but slow and promissory.

"You've got everywhere to go. What do you want? Heaven? Hell? Another life? Another chance?"

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jack_f_twist August 11 2006, 04:59:48 UTC
"Yeah, well, taking what I wanted ain't worked out so well for me in the past, has it?"

He lifts his head, slightly, feeling the warm blood following the line of Desire's finger.

"Another chance," he says, slow and thoughtful. It isn't an answer, exactly.

"Guess you already know what I want." As he looks, Desire's eyes flash hazel, bright even in this dim room. Past the scent of peach and spices, he can smell sweat and grass and horses, and Ennis, and the want burns even brighter, lighting him from the inside--a fire to push away the cold.

He feels fine. He feels fine. And he sure as hell ain't gonna think to hard on how he should be feeling (or how he shouldn't by rights be feeling anything at all) for a long while, or at least not till he's gotten a few stiff drinks into him.

For now, he pushes it aside and leans into Desire.

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