Love him to death, Cameron never fails to wake Taega up with his racket. Eight hours of solid sleep. He'd kill for eight, peaceful hours. At the initial squeal of the old-school alarm clock Taega thrusts the covers up over his head, fists curled in the cloth and firm against his temples. His toes curl in irritation and he wrings his feet together, brushing his ankles against one another. THWAP! THWAP THUD THUNK! He growls against the comforter and throws his stout body over, landing on his belly to force his face into the pillow. Deep breaths. Just close your eyes and go back to sleep.
He eases the blanket up over half of his face so that he can breath fresh air and still retreat beneath the heavy material. "Nnguh." He releases the blanket from his grasp and slips his hands out to either side of the bed, spreading out in an attempt to broaden himself and allow a greater chance of sleep falling upon him. Clank. Clinkclank. "NNGUH!" He kicks and writhes, growing increasingly irritable until he gives up on sleep altogether and reassigns his limited consciousness to making it known that his sleep has been disturbed.
HSSTHSST! The wood of his door splinters in two places no more than an inch apart, giving way to two silenced bullets that bury themselves in the refrigerator not far from where his partner stands.
Tat-tat go the bullets and siiiiigh goes the blonde. "Oh, for th'love of BLOODY FUCK TAEGA GET UP!!"
Such wonderful people they are in the morning. Cameron is moments away from kicking down his partners down, pot of hot coffee in hand to dump on the other mans head. Almost. God, he hates mornings. Not to mention that was a brand new fridge.
The blonde reserves himself, repeating the 'iwantmytea' mantra that he normally takes when mornings get this way. While the last of the hot water dribbles into the glass pot labeled 'bliss', his hand lowers to scratch at his groin. The water is enough to distract him into deeper thoughts than the nice ass he nearly tapped yesterday while getting groceries from the co-op.
"Fuck you." He says under his breath, crawling over the end of the bed with a fist curled back around the sheet and comforter. He slinks over the side and coils under the bed, sliding in head first. "FUCK YOU!" He yells this time, wriggling between the hardwood and the steel bedframe. His bare legs crosscross over and around the bed dressings, boxers skewed up on one side because of the awkward form of travel he'd taken to.
Same old routine. He claws blindly at the floor ahead of him on the other side of the bed, reaching for the pillow he knows is there. He always kicks one of them off in his sleep. There it is. He pulls it into his safehaven and buries his stubbly face in it, 'mmph'-ing and 'Ngh'-ing at the face that his whiskers keep catching the cloth.
Fine. Fine! His grip of the white tiled counter edge builds and tightens until he feels like his hands will break with anymore pressure. And with a great long releasing sigh, they slowly open and let go. Ten more minutes.
Cameron fishes out one of the last lemon tea pouches from the tin container he's kept with him since his mother died. It's old and scuffed and bent around the middle from years of trying not to crush it. The label used to read something like a medicine label, now just blotches of faded blue and white. He pours himself a mug of hot water and gets the bag into a sieve spoon.
Once the coffee light goes off, he makes his way to the cupboard to get brunette's mug before heading to the door to get the paper. Shamelessly, as always, he picks it up in the hall in his tight white bitch-pants without even looking at anything but that newsprint.
So, at the counter he sits, waiting for his tea to brew while he reads the local happenings in the Ontario Press. Beside him is Taega's eagerly awaiting mug and the comic sections of the paper.
As per usual, the raven haired shuts the door quietly, rubbing one of his eyes with one balled up hand and adjusting himself with another. Withdrawing his hand from his boxers, Taega turns to examine his handiwork. Two equal-sized holes in his door. He clears his throat lazily and frowns, turning back to Cam with the beginnings of an apology in his eyes.
"You're alright, hm?" He says as he moves closer, eyeing the smaller for any sign of blood. Of course, he knew the answer without asking. Even half asleep his senses are sharp enough to know where he's poinging his gun and what he's shooting at. Time for the game that isn't so much of a game. He throws a leg over the blonde's own two and sinks down to settle against the table top, brushing the cup and saucer aside. "I'm sorry, baby. Come here..." He widens his legs so that the buttonless gap at the groin of his boxers is slightly open and arches his back forward to put a hand within reach of Cameron's face.
"I's why I'm fond o' stainless steel ice chests, darling." The blonde smirked behind the paper, feeling better knowing that Taega was at least aware that he could have seriously hurt him.
There's a decent slightly groggy laugh as Taega starts the show for the day, sliding against the table in front of him. That crotch presented to him is one he's proud to be able to play with, especially after giving up on the Russian man at the market. No one seemed to want to play that game much anymore. Setting aside the paper with a careless fold, Cameron leaned forward to place a grinning kiss to the middle of his partners stomach, flicking a tongue out to lick just above his belly button.
Taega smiles as sweetly as he can manage, pulling his legs up and resting his feet on either side of chair as if to trap the blonde. It's always in the early morning daze that Taega finds the odd nature to be playful, often surprisingly so. "You could make Freddie Mercury blush, you know that?" He chuckles gruffly and reaches a wiry arm behind him to take up the cup and saucer, nearly dropping it in his own lap as he brings it around in front of him. "Oy!" He jerks back and goes wide-eyed a moment before finding balance for the hay-haired's drink. He rolls his eyes almost sleepily after the fact and scoots back forward, offering the cup. "Later maybe. Stay in today?"
"El Oh El, I has sum talent," Cameron giggles softly before taking a sharp intake of breath at Taega's near fumble of the steaming liquid. "Careful, mate. Y'll hurt y'self."
Taking it away seems nice now. Yes. Relieving the dark haired man of the tea, his partner leans back with the saucer cradled into a palm. After a thoughtful sip, he yawns. Fluttering lashes try to blink him awake. "Mm, can't. Least not 'round noon. I 'ave t'talk tooo..." That mental schedule flips open to the current date. 12:15 pm. "Pastor Allen 'bout 'is seminar. Should only take me an hour o' two. I'll be home in time t'ave a snack."
Despite the terrible taste of raw tea grindings, Cameron lifts the sieve spoon out of his cup to give it a lick and purr. "Savvy, sweat'eart?"
"Tease." He says almost accusingly with an inclination that might even hint at homosexuality by stereotypical standards. "Awright." He says, words melding with a melodramatic groan. He forces himself up to his feet, making sure to force his groin into the other boy's face. Lingering there a moment, he swings a leg to the other side and drags his feet back to his room, removing the boy's face, mouth in particular, from that open slit in his drawers.
"Lemme get dressed, then. Switch on Looney Toons." The words come muffled both by an irrational embarassment and the retreat to his dusky room. The sound of a good, long piss, groaning to match met by yet more groaning as he hops in place, tugging the already too-tight jeans up onto his hips. "What's this about a priest? You know I don't like fuckin' with religion and shit. Bad joojoo." He calls from the back room.
He is, by no means, unaccustomed to having a crotch shoved in his face, especially Taega's. True, the two have never gone past the playful grabbing, but it's not uncommon for this to happen. Once the older man had finally removed his boxers from in front of the Irish faggots face, he received a playful snapping of the teeth in his direction. Rawr.
The television remote was a bitch to find, which Cameron soon remembered once he took it upon himself to track the fucking thing down. He looked under the stack of gun catalogs and the couch, then the love seat. "Bloody...Mf." He leaned forward over the back of the couch, one leg tilting up at the knee. Yeah. He paid well for this body and it showed. That round of rump and perfectly shaped thighs were almost feminine looking from this angle.
He grumbled and grunted, finally locating the control. Looney Tunes for his little boy. "Relax, bitch. I'm just tryin' t'put together a decent alias. 'Sides. No one fuckin' ever suspects a priest o' killin' people. Fuckin' choir boys an' takin' tips fr'm the charity box, sure, but not puttin' a bullet in someone's 'ead."
With no warning a solid boot-sole connects with the well-shaped ass, forcing the boy it belongs to over the back of the couch. "Fly's still not up, bitch." He winks and pulls his zipper shut, darting a hand down the front of his pants to reunite the boys on one side. "And it's not you that does the bulletin', is it?" Again, he wonders who the brain of the outfit is, though more out of ego-masturbation than genuine cleverness. One of the dynamics of their partnership.
"Laid up until then or you off to practice reading from the good book and shit--stuff." He makes the sign of the cross teasingly, as if he had cursed in the presence of a holy man. "Forgive me brother, for I have sinned and junk. 'Sbeen FOREVAR since my last confession."
"Hak!" Over he goes to flop with a bounce on the couch cushions. An arm swings out over the top to flail at the other, purposefully doing so with a feeble attempt. But, the couch is comfy! Huzzah! The blonde stretches out, arching his back up to accent his form.
"Y'say that like I've never shot a banger b'fore. Just 'cause I 'ave a beautiful, dead-sexy shotman t'do the gunnin' for me now doesn't mean I didn't 'ave t'do that b'fore y'came along." The cartoons screech and howl as an old Tex Avery cartoon flashes across the screen. This noise makes Cameron want to hurt something, which is a good reason why he tries to ignore it.
A tongue dashes out to the taller man, displaying that tongue stud. "Nya. I'm yours 'til then. Y'lucky I love you, Taega. Or I'd 'ave you start moanin' Hail Mary's." Fingers smooth over hairless and silky skin to slip under his white underwear, fondling himself in joke. "Ooooooh, H-...Hail Mary. Full of cum...."
"Fuck hell in a handbasket." Taega grins and watches the sultry show his counterpart puts on, climbing up onto the back of the couch. "Us two's going in a Rolls." The word love makes T's face go sour for a moment but the look is quickly wiped away by a dark smile. "What's love got to do with it, barbiedoll? Cut that out, for your own sake." Of course, sacrelige isn't so much his primary concern here as much as animal attraction. Every so often, Cam reminds Taega far too much of a slutty girl for either of their own good. It shows, too. In his eyes. The same look he gets before he kills.
He eases the blanket up over half of his face so that he can breath fresh air and still retreat beneath the heavy material. "Nnguh." He releases the blanket from his grasp and slips his hands out to either side of the bed, spreading out in an attempt to broaden himself and allow a greater chance of sleep falling upon him. Clank. Clinkclank. "NNGUH!" He kicks and writhes, growing increasingly irritable until he gives up on sleep altogether and reassigns his limited consciousness to making it known that his sleep has been disturbed.
HSSTHSST! The wood of his door splinters in two places no more than an inch apart, giving way to two silenced bullets that bury themselves in the refrigerator not far from where his partner stands.
'Nuff said.
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Such wonderful people they are in the morning. Cameron is moments away from kicking down his partners down, pot of hot coffee in hand to dump on the other mans head. Almost. God, he hates mornings. Not to mention that was a brand new fridge.
The blonde reserves himself, repeating the 'iwantmytea' mantra that he normally takes when mornings get this way. While the last of the hot water dribbles into the glass pot labeled 'bliss', his hand lowers to scratch at his groin. The water is enough to distract him into deeper thoughts than the nice ass he nearly tapped yesterday while getting groceries from the co-op.
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Same old routine. He claws blindly at the floor ahead of him on the other side of the bed, reaching for the pillow he knows is there. He always kicks one of them off in his sleep. There it is. He pulls it into his safehaven and buries his stubbly face in it, 'mmph'-ing and 'Ngh'-ing at the face that his whiskers keep catching the cloth.
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Cameron fishes out one of the last lemon tea pouches from the tin container he's kept with him since his mother died. It's old and scuffed and bent around the middle from years of trying not to crush it. The label used to read something like a medicine label, now just blotches of faded blue and white. He pours himself a mug of hot water and gets the bag into a sieve spoon.
Once the coffee light goes off, he makes his way to the cupboard to get brunette's mug before heading to the door to get the paper. Shamelessly, as always, he picks it up in the hall in his tight white bitch-pants without even looking at anything but that newsprint.
So, at the counter he sits, waiting for his tea to brew while he reads the local happenings in the Ontario Press. Beside him is Taega's eagerly awaiting mug and the comic sections of the paper.
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"You're alright, hm?" He says as he moves closer, eyeing the smaller for any sign of blood. Of course, he knew the answer without asking. Even half asleep his senses are sharp enough to know where he's poinging his gun and what he's shooting at. Time for the game that isn't so much of a game. He throws a leg over the blonde's own two and sinks down to settle against the table top, brushing the cup and saucer aside. "I'm sorry, baby. Come here..." He widens his legs so that the buttonless gap at the groin of his boxers is slightly open and arches his back forward to put a hand within reach of Cameron's face.
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There's a decent slightly groggy laugh as Taega starts the show for the day, sliding against the table in front of him. That crotch presented to him is one he's proud to be able to play with, especially after giving up on the Russian man at the market. No one seemed to want to play that game much anymore. Setting aside the paper with a careless fold, Cameron leaned forward to place a grinning kiss to the middle of his partners stomach, flicking a tongue out to lick just above his belly button.
"Oo, sausage for breakfast. Me favorite."
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Taking it away seems nice now. Yes. Relieving the dark haired man of the tea, his partner leans back with the saucer cradled into a palm. After a thoughtful sip, he yawns. Fluttering lashes try to blink him awake. "Mm, can't. Least not 'round noon. I 'ave t'talk tooo..." That mental schedule flips open to the current date. 12:15 pm. "Pastor Allen 'bout 'is seminar. Should only take me an hour o' two. I'll be home in time t'ave a snack."
Despite the terrible taste of raw tea grindings, Cameron lifts the sieve spoon out of his cup to give it a lick and purr. "Savvy, sweat'eart?"
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"Lemme get dressed, then. Switch on Looney Toons." The words come muffled both by an irrational embarassment and the retreat to his dusky room. The sound of a good, long piss, groaning to match met by yet more groaning as he hops in place, tugging the already too-tight jeans up onto his hips. "What's this about a priest? You know I don't like fuckin' with religion and shit. Bad joojoo." He calls from the back room.
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The television remote was a bitch to find, which Cameron soon remembered once he took it upon himself to track the fucking thing down. He looked under the stack of gun catalogs and the couch, then the love seat. "Bloody...Mf." He leaned forward over the back of the couch, one leg tilting up at the knee. Yeah. He paid well for this body and it showed. That round of rump and perfectly shaped thighs were almost feminine looking from this angle.
He grumbled and grunted, finally locating the control. Looney Tunes for his little boy. "Relax, bitch. I'm just tryin' t'put together a decent alias. 'Sides. No one fuckin' ever suspects a priest o' killin' people. Fuckin' choir boys an' takin' tips fr'm the charity box, sure, but not puttin' a bullet in someone's 'ead."
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"Laid up until then or you off to practice reading from the good book and shit--stuff." He makes the sign of the cross teasingly, as if he had cursed in the presence of a holy man. "Forgive me brother, for I have sinned and junk. 'Sbeen FOREVAR since my last confession."
Reply
"Y'say that like I've never shot a banger b'fore. Just 'cause I 'ave a beautiful, dead-sexy shotman t'do the gunnin' for me now doesn't mean I didn't 'ave t'do that b'fore y'came along." The cartoons screech and howl as an old Tex Avery cartoon flashes across the screen. This noise makes Cameron want to hurt something, which is a good reason why he tries to ignore it.
A tongue dashes out to the taller man, displaying that tongue stud. "Nya. I'm yours 'til then. Y'lucky I love you, Taega. Or I'd 'ave you start moanin' Hail Mary's." Fingers smooth over hairless and silky skin to slip under his white underwear, fondling himself in joke. "Ooooooh, H-...Hail Mary. Full of cum...."
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