Someone asked for tangible? *wink*
Another thing floating around on my computer.
I've just tweaked it a bit.
He could smile because, somewhere in this mass of vultures, was a man who'd offered him a strong shoulder to rest on, a warm bed to lay in and hands on his body to take the edge off of the world. Here, hidden somewhere, was a man who'd cared enough to give him a bit of peace.
He'd had brown eyes, he remembered, a soft color made softer by the fire showering them with golden light, glinting off strong shoulders and a muscled back, turning dusky nipples a darker bronze. The man had been warm, his gaze intent and his hands callused with hard work and the knowledge of life.
They hadn't spoken much, he thought, save to exchange their first names and when, during the night, the building pressure became a desperate call for 'more' and 'please'. They hadn't needed to talk, and most words were unnecessary noise when the body, the face, the eyes spoke their own language.
He recalled short, thick hair that smelled of cleanliness and beautiful lips strangely full on an angular face, features half cast in shadows but still there, solid. The man, his lover, had stayed until dawn and had left with a kiss to his brow, before opening the door with resolve and, looking over that wonderfully strong shoulder, he'd told him that even as wounded as he was today would be better. He'd left, and he'd been right.
The day was better, easier. The haze of grief shrouding him had faded slightly in the face of the solace offered, and if the vultures still hovered around, it was less of a challenge now to reject them and chase them away. Several times during the day he felt a now familiar, intent stare on him, and knew he was not alone.
When dusk arrived, and the weight of the day started to suffocate him, a knock resounded on the door and a long awaited figure entered, took papers and pen away and led him to the nearby shore. There, they sat together and rested.
He wasn't alone anymore, and he wouldn't ever be alone again. He could see that in the warm eyes staring in his own. He could heal, now. He'd found a haven for his soul.
I've just tweaked it a bit.
He could smile because, somewhere in this mass of vultures, was a man who'd offered him a strong shoulder to rest on, a warm bed to lay in and hands on his body to take the edge off of the world. Here, hidden somewhere, was a man who'd cared enough to give him a bit of peace.
He'd had brown eyes, he remembered, a soft color made softer by the fire showering them with golden light, glinting off strong shoulders and a muscled back, turning dusky nipples a darker bronze. The man had been warm, his gaze intent and his hands callused with hard work and the knowledge of life.
They hadn't spoken much, he thought, save to exchange their first names and when, during the night, the building pressure became a desperate call for 'more' and 'please'. They hadn't needed to talk, and most words were unnecessary noise when the body, the face, the eyes spoke their own language.
He recalled short, thick hair that smelled of cleanliness and beautiful lips strangely full on an angular face, features half cast in shadows but still there, solid. The man, his lover, had stayed until dawn and had left with a kiss to his brow, before opening the door with resolve and, looking over that wonderfully strong shoulder, he'd told him that even as wounded as he was today would be better. He'd left, and he'd been right.
The day was better, easier. The haze of grief shrouding him had faded slightly in the face of the solace offered, and if the vultures still hovered around, it was less of a challenge now to reject them and chase them away. Several times during the day he felt a now familiar, intent stare on him, and knew he was not alone.
When dusk arrived, and the weight of the day started to suffocate him, a knock resounded on the door and a long awaited figure entered, took papers and pen away and led him to the nearby shore. There, they sat together and rested.
He wasn't alone anymore, and he wouldn't ever be alone again. He could see that in the warm eyes staring in his own. He could heal, now. He'd found a haven for his soul.