Porn Battle V (the fifth dimension) - Entry post 2
Porn Battle V (the fifth dimension) - POST TWO
We're running out of space on the first post (I don't want to limit feedback or responses at all), and we're only half way through, so I'm opening a new post up for entries. I am SO impressed with you all - thanks to everyone who's taken part so far for making this such a success. I've updated the ( Read more... )
“Maybe they’ll come back?” Much offered.
“Don’t think it’s likely, mate, do you?” Allan said, no longer bothering to pretend confusion. Much wondered how long Allan had been lying before they’d known it, he was lain so bare now.
“They might,” Much tried again. “You never know, do you? People change their mind, decide pigeons aren’t for them after all. Miss the forest? Miss their friends?”
“Much.” Allan stopped him. “We’re just as screwed as each other, lets not dress it up, all right?”
“What do you…?” he started saying, before Allan shoved him down into the leaves.
They rolled down the slight slope, ending with Allan on top, panting. “Do you mind not talking?”
Normally Much would take offence at something like that, but there were too few of them now for anger, and anyway he understood, really. Allan had lied and lied, but they could have truth now. Just the two of them, who had no wives, living or dead, and no great and higher cause. Just the want of someone they couldn’t have, and the end of a hope which, however small, had been enough to keep them going on the dark nights.
Allan kept moving, dragging them up against a tree, laying on the blankets, beside the fire. Trying out everything he had dreamt up, not admitting that it was never going to work like this.
“Allan,” Much said, ignoring the ‘no talking’ rule. “Allan! Just…” He pulled Allan down on top of him again, underneath the canopy, with the afternoon sunlight coming through the leaves.
They both fumbled with laces and worn fabric, shoving clothing down but not away - Robin could be back any moment. Allan was hard in Much’s hand, already leaking a little. Much gasped when Allan touched him; he had forgotten that it worked both ways.
It was rough - an edge of pain which both of them needed to prove the difference. Jerky, though neither of them pretend they haven’t done this before, different time, different place. Different substitutes for the same men.
Much wouldn’t blame Allan for saying the other name, but personally he couldn’t allow it to himself. Allan didn’t say it either. Both of them find release in silence, wordless shudders and sighs. This was something they both knew well - spinning feeling into something else, something possible.
Much rubbed Allan clean, another way of doing what he was allowed.
“Feeling better?” Allan asked.
“Not especially,” Much said, “You?”
“Not specially,” Allan echoed.
Much thought about saying it got better, but he didn’t want another lie between them.
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