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Dec 11, 2011 20:30



Never liked this tradition. I mean, I'd rather not take orders from a plant. Seriously, just...

[ - annnnd, some subsequent mumbling, as well as the words - you know it's a parasite are articulately audible but not much else before the device turns off. ]

[ ooc/accosting reference: Arthur today will have been in order - getting coffee, ( Read more... )

→ic, →whose dream is this anyway?, →they don't pay me enough for this, →sad arfur in snow, ⚂ polychromatic (game), →killjoy

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<3 no worries! /rolls on specifics January 1 2012, 11:10:54 UTC
[ Arthur hasn't kissed a lot of people and many of them not more than once or in this 'City's' case, not on his own volition, as is the case now. Kissing Dominick Cobb is one of those things that might have occurred to him has a want had a number of things been different - Mal for starters and most importantly as far as Dom himself is concerned, Eames where Arthur is though not hardly to the same degree at the time. If they'd met first maybe, or if they'd been younger, or if it hadn't been about dreams which seemed to infiltrate like inspiration in the form of either providence or a disease. Maybe then.

He can feel the years of not having this, and he knows it's different for Dom who was married, Dom who grew old with Mal in a dream far from and yet incredibly close to the reality of their prime. Their bond had been visceral - mental, physical, all encompassing. To have lost and then gone without, he wouldn't presume he could imagine. How he severed ties with Eames is a very different situation; they were new, on the cusp of something bigger than themselves and Arthur had refused it then, decided he had to focus in just one direction and he's not necessarily proud of how he'd shut off, how he'd simply channeled himself into being the hand on Dom's shoulder that was never quite the hand he wanted, or so it seemed to Arthur.

Here though it may be the curse (Arthur figures it is or will afterward) but it feels like Dom does want him, if not manifested in the way he'd expect. His moan is a slow drag that ticks down Arthur's spine and he's not sure why even when he's getting as good as he gives that he feels a little like caving in on himself. Arthur wants to be wanted. He's not inhuman, he's not above that kind of selfishness and even is more so than others - cutting people out, letting others get away with hell because he doesn't trust them to do better when maybe he should have. It's like years of something good and then years of something bad have all snowballed into this one problematic compulsion where it's a little like betraying the dead.

When Arthur's teeth catch on Dom's lower lip it's to breathe but it's half-mindedly apologetic too, that hazy glimpse not of what people are but what people could have been - to themselves and to each other. ]

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spinorfall January 6 2012, 23:48:10 UTC
[Dom needs to stop. He knows he needs to stop--its a litany repeating in his mind, trying to get his body (his emotions, his heart) to react correctly. But it's not working.

Not now. He could rely on Arthur to pull back when they need to stop--but that's what he always relies on his friend for. To know when too much is happening, when the line has been crossed.

Except in the last few years, neither of them seem to have known where the line is, anymore.

But he can't allow Arthur to have to take that on his shoulders again. When the younger man teeth catch on his lip, Dom finds himself breathing hard, eyes half open as he tries to unclench his hand from the other's hair.]

We should stop.

[They should. He doesn't want to. He wants to press and touch and forget everything for once. It's wrong. Arthur isn't his, he doesn't deserve anyone to be that anymore.

But even as he breathes in, Dom finds himself nudging his nose against the side of Arthur's, lips moving in to close the gap once more.]

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specifics January 8 2012, 00:37:50 UTC
[ The words register but it's like the curse has tapped into real things even while compelling what neither of them would otherwise allow - Arthur because he wouldn't think Dom would want this to begin with and always with Mal in mind too. On an intuitive level that's visceral as Dom's fingers in his hair slipping away and his mouth finding his again, something bitingly real, Arthur gathers that Dom is starved in more ways than Arthur perceived or understood. It's stupid when he thinks about it, because it should have been obvious. But Arthur forgets sometimes that other people don't operate the same way, other people don't just shut off or shelve things up high out of sight to trick themselves into accepting not having them - dead or alive - that really that's not the usual thing, that the normal thing is to grieve and to lose and to long.

It's as if all of Dom's cumulative need or want or both come barreling together here and Arthur can't think of any time he's been able to deny him much of anything. Loyalty sounds too simple at this point for something made of snarls and knots. But there used to be something beautiful about those too. Arthur doesn't have any words, just kisses Dom back and braces his hand against his collarbone in a way that will leave a thumbed bruise at the base of the other man's neck. He kisses him like an apology though whether for not pushing him further or not doing something else altogether he doesn't know.

Not quite realizing he's saying it out loud, into Dom's mouth against his teeth or his tongue, it's a murmur, ] Sorry.

[ All kinds of lines have been crossed and it's not like it's just starting here. This is just a very different kind of line. And that's the strangest thing, to find himself without the control and the restraint he would sometimes try to impose on Dom, remind him to hold back or to stop if he could. This place or dream strips them of it here and there, their own volition and gives or calls up everything else. They're in the thick of a curse, yes, but it's an entanglement of sorts that's much older than that. With his apology he shifts his weight to send them both stumbling sideways.

It's enough to get out from under the plant, the curse's compulsion dissipating slowly this time, like a warm haze to blink out of. ]

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