Chastity.
Virtues.
Chastity
Abstinence
Liberality
Diligence
Patience
Kindness
Humility
Sins.
Lust
Gluttony
Greed
Sloth
Wrath
Envy
Pride
Reet. Here's the deal.
I plan to try and write one original piece for each.
Seven sins, and seven virtues.
I don't know if they'll all involve the same people, or be linked in any particular way - it just seemed an interesting idea.
=]
I come baring my first fic, which is chastity.
Enjoy?
Title: Chastity.
Author: Smem.
Summary: 620 days. And they don't know each other's names.
Warnings: Slash, Unbeta'd.
Chastity
It’s a kiss. Nothing else, just a simple press of the lips, and the businessman looks at the punk carefully, mild brown eyes taking in the lanky youth beside him, long legs folded up underneath him on the bench, green spikes of hair fluttering in the warm breeze. The businessman smiles slightly over the rims of his glasses, and the punk returns the grin nervously.
They’ve been sat together for nearly two years. On this park bench, for an hour every lunch time, side by side in complete silence, catching sly glances at one another when they think the other isn’t watching.
“Six hundred and twenty,” The punk murmurs. His voice is lower than the businessman expects, hoarse and yet vaguely melodic.
“Six hundred and twenty what?” He asks, tongue feeling oddly alien in his mouth.
“Hours we’ve sat together.” The punk looks up through dark eyelashes, smirking ever so slightly.
“That’s… About twenty five full days.” The businessman notes with a smile, placing his briefcase on the ground beside them carefully.
“Wow. That’s ages.” The punk looks away, fiddling with a rip in his sprayed on jeans, long fingers twisting around the frayed edges of the hole.
“So you’re gay?” The businessman has never been one to beat around the bush.
“You’re the first bloke I’ve kissed, don’t get me wrong,” The youth blushes slightly at the bluntness, his scowl wavering.
“I’m honoured,” The businessman raises his eyebrows, trying not to admit how attractive he just found that blush.
“Why, are you?” The punk shifts slightly on the park bench, picking at the bottom of his boots, trying to look as if he’s not interested.
“Am I what?” The suit looks curious. This boy is at least ten years younger than him, completely different end of the spectrum, with his ripped clothes and DIY look, but there’s something stunning about his narrow face, prominent cheekbones and lips, and glittering eyes.
“Gay.” The punk suggests with an almost seductive voice, yet it’s overlaid mostly with nerves and a cautious innocence.
“I’m not picky, to be honest,” The businessman toys with his sandwich which is lying forlornly on his lap, pulling strips of crust off, and tossing them into the pond across the pathway.
“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” The punk frowns at the bits of bread bobbing on top of the water. “You’re too thin. You should eat your food. I kept meaning to say something,” his voice trails off.
“Geeze, I thought I’d left my mum, already,” The older man teases, touching the punk’s knee gently. The contact is unexpected, and for the punk, it’s over too soon.
“Sorry,” The boy mumbles sheepishly, his cheeks flushing pink again. The businessman tilts his head to one side, the curious fascination with this soft spoken punk - an oxymoron, surely? - returning. A soft touch again, as the older man replaces his hand, watching the boy, unblinking. Gingerly the businessman drops the rest of his sandwich onto the floor, his now free hand reaching up to grasp the boy’s face carefully.
“Ah…” A fluttery breath from the punk, who moves forwards ever so slightly, lips parting. A second kiss, still as gentle and chaste as before, but this time with slightly open mouths.
The businessman tastes of mint, and the punk tastes of smoke, the two seemingly opposite flavours suddenly combining, mingling into one which somehow works.
“It’s two o’clock,” The businessman pulls away, looking unhappily at his watch. They both know what this time. The punk nods, his green spikes fluttering again.
“Same time tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
And that’s how it began.