FAKE: Rhyme Nor Reason (R)
Summary: It's dangerous to take anything seriously that a man says when he's on the edge of coming.
Notes: Another Not Exactly NaNo snippet, written for azureflight. Contains Dee/Ryo, or possibly Ryo/Dee.
RHYME NOR REASON
*
Ryo had almost dozed off, in the sated quiet afterwards, when he felt Dee move next to him. He opened his eyes to see Dee propped up on one elbow.
"Poetry," Dee repeated. Ryo could just barely see his expression in the dim light from the window, something between smug and confused. "You're askin' for -- babe, I suck at poetry."
"I was trying to be romantic," Ryo said, smiling despite himself. "Not ask for a sonnet."
"Good, because I had to write that shit for school once, and Shakespeare I'm not." Dee took Ryo's hand in his and kissed the back.
Ryo tried to imagine a young Dee writing a sonnet. Probably with Mother's help. "What did you write it about?"
"How the fuck should I remember? I've got better things to think about." Dee proved it by leaning down and kissing Ryo again -- the slow, devouring sort of kiss that he'd figured out all too quickly could liquefy Ryo's brain.
Ryo moaned, and arched up into the feel of Dee's hand sliding teasingly up his leg. He'd meant that the way Dee made him feel was poetry. But explanations could wait.
Notes: Another Not Exactly NaNo snippet, written for azureflight. Contains Dee/Ryo, or possibly Ryo/Dee.
RHYME NOR REASON
*
Ryo had almost dozed off, in the sated quiet afterwards, when he felt Dee move next to him. He opened his eyes to see Dee propped up on one elbow.
"Poetry," Dee repeated. Ryo could just barely see his expression in the dim light from the window, something between smug and confused. "You're askin' for -- babe, I suck at poetry."
"I was trying to be romantic," Ryo said, smiling despite himself. "Not ask for a sonnet."
"Good, because I had to write that shit for school once, and Shakespeare I'm not." Dee took Ryo's hand in his and kissed the back.
Ryo tried to imagine a young Dee writing a sonnet. Probably with Mother's help. "What did you write it about?"
"How the fuck should I remember? I've got better things to think about." Dee proved it by leaning down and kissing Ryo again -- the slow, devouring sort of kiss that he'd figured out all too quickly could liquefy Ryo's brain.
Ryo moaned, and arched up into the feel of Dee's hand sliding teasingly up his leg. He'd meant that the way Dee made him feel was poetry. But explanations could wait.