The Dark is Rising: Will Stanton/Bran Davies, five senses: touch
Title: Command
Author/Artist: shanaqui/edenbound (ficjournal)
Theme: Touch
Rating: PG
Notes: Finally catching up. Hectic time for me, this. Sorry. >>;
It felt like a horribly daring thing to do every time he touched Bran, whether on purpose or accidentally. His heart was always in his mouth -- and it seemed to him that he and Bran were always touching: Bran would catch his hand to pull him along, or touch his arm to get his attention, or brush against him as they looked for snacks in the kitchen. It felt almost like Bran was doing it on purpose, and Will had to remind himself that it was just his hope getting out of hand. Or it probably was, anyway.
Since he was keeping that in mind, he was somewhat surprised when Bran grabbed his arm and swung him round to face him -- they were walking together, away from most of civilisation, and Will had to wonder if that, too, was design on Bran's part. "I'm fed up of this," Bran declared, giving Will a look -- intense, eager, wanting. "Just admit you fancy me and kiss me, damn it."
And there was his heart again, in his mouth, beating faster than ever. "I -- "
"Will," Bran said, fiercely, "just do it, or I will."
Will could only stare at him. Bran rolled his eyes and suddenly grabbed him -- digging his fingers in just a little too hard so that Will gasped, tugging him close and pressing their mouths together. After that it didn't really matter what Bran did, even when he bit a little too hard at his lip, even when his nails dug in or their teeth clashed. Will was enchanted, enchanted by the feel of him, by the sight of him when he pulled back, eyes a little wide, breathing fast, his hair ruffled from Will's fingers running through it.
"I've been wanting to do that since I arrived," he said, somewhat husky. Bran rolled his eyes.
"I've been wanting it years -- idiot. Kiss me again."
Looking at Bran, he saw both the king and the boy, the regal grace and the simple arrogance. It took his breath away and brought a lump to his throat. He wasn't sure he could ever look at Bran like that without aching inside for what was lost. Bran seemed to understand: he stood there, waiting. And then Will had to touch him, to make him real, and had to kiss him, to make sure he wasn't dreaming.
Author/Artist: shanaqui/edenbound (ficjournal)
Theme: Touch
Rating: PG
Notes: Finally catching up. Hectic time for me, this. Sorry. >>;
It felt like a horribly daring thing to do every time he touched Bran, whether on purpose or accidentally. His heart was always in his mouth -- and it seemed to him that he and Bran were always touching: Bran would catch his hand to pull him along, or touch his arm to get his attention, or brush against him as they looked for snacks in the kitchen. It felt almost like Bran was doing it on purpose, and Will had to remind himself that it was just his hope getting out of hand. Or it probably was, anyway.
Since he was keeping that in mind, he was somewhat surprised when Bran grabbed his arm and swung him round to face him -- they were walking together, away from most of civilisation, and Will had to wonder if that, too, was design on Bran's part. "I'm fed up of this," Bran declared, giving Will a look -- intense, eager, wanting. "Just admit you fancy me and kiss me, damn it."
And there was his heart again, in his mouth, beating faster than ever. "I -- "
"Will," Bran said, fiercely, "just do it, or I will."
Will could only stare at him. Bran rolled his eyes and suddenly grabbed him -- digging his fingers in just a little too hard so that Will gasped, tugging him close and pressing their mouths together. After that it didn't really matter what Bran did, even when he bit a little too hard at his lip, even when his nails dug in or their teeth clashed. Will was enchanted, enchanted by the feel of him, by the sight of him when he pulled back, eyes a little wide, breathing fast, his hair ruffled from Will's fingers running through it.
"I've been wanting to do that since I arrived," he said, somewhat husky. Bran rolled his eyes.
"I've been wanting it years -- idiot. Kiss me again."
Looking at Bran, he saw both the king and the boy, the regal grace and the simple arrogance. It took his breath away and brought a lump to his throat. He wasn't sure he could ever look at Bran like that without aching inside for what was lost. Bran seemed to understand: he stood there, waiting. And then Will had to touch him, to make him real, and had to kiss him, to make sure he wasn't dreaming.