An All Hallows Moon, Tonight

[sterlingwins]

To say that Sterling was not having a good night would have been the understatement of the year. It was a shame, because he usually did so appreciate the holiday; parties and costumes and candy and stiff drinks, what was not to like? Certainly, some costumes left much to be desired, but so did the fashion choices of the general public, so it was

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[sterlingwins]

He murmurs softly as Rhys' fingers brush through his hair, leaning into the touch, a shiver running through his body. He knows, in a distant sort of way, that he's right, that he shouldn't really be doing anything with anyone like this; there's something in the thorns on the black brambles of the spell lacing through his aura that says anything actually sexual would likely make it stronger. But, that doesn't help how he feels; hot and aching for Rhys to be closer, pressed up against him, touching him against the fabric that flows around him like the silk of red priest robes in that dream.

"Knew you would fix this," he murmurs quietly, almost resigned. He trusts Rhys, even if he'd never say it like that outloud. Trusts him so that even when he doesn't know which way is down, that he trusts him to fix it, to make it better. Which is strange, almost nonsensical for someone as classically paranoid as Sterling. But there was something about the dream, about the way they'd fought together, fought for each other twice over, that earned Rhys that trust.

"We can talk now, if you want to," he breathes, his hands brushing against Rhys' shoulders, one hand going to comb through his hair. He can't keep his hands to himself, even if he's trying to let Rhys do his thing, he just wants him too much to be as cooperative as he ought to be.

[sleight_of_fate]

Rhys lets his breath out, slow and shaking when he feels Sterling's hands in his hair. It's tied back now, but there's a lot of it, and rather than pulling away, his eyelids flutter a little, just enough to let Sterling know he likes that. Rhys takes good care of his hair, his one real vanity besides his tattoos, and it shows in the gleam of lights off that perfect, sleek black. A mix of textures to play in: silk where it's long, and velvet along the back of his head where it's cropped close to his skull. Rhys isn't femme at all, never has been, but having his hair brushed...that's a luxury he has a feeling that Sterling would enjoy just as much as Rhys knows he does.

"Should probably wait till someone's not trying to kill you to talk," Rhys says after a second, trying to be authoritative and only halfway making it. He still wants to lay Sterling down on this couch right now, but instead he reaches for his bag at his feet, pulling him away from temptation for a second. He starts rummaging for what he needs to start working on the spell, herbs and oils and a small silver bell. "'specially since this might hurt a bit." He means for him more than Sterling, really- the spell's going to fight him and it's going to take effort, but Sterling should be warned, too.

And this distracts him from the conversation he's a little afraid to have, too. What's he going to say to Sterling, anyway? That he has a little crush on him, after having hot dream-sex with him, and was thinking of asking if he was hiring?

The truth is, he's afraid of this, so afraid of what he wants out of this. He and Sterling might be able to work, in a weird way. Sterling knows what he is, and accepts that, and in spite of being irritating as fuck at times, there's something about the man that brings out the caretaker in Rhys, makes him feel needed. Part of Rhys can see living in this nice little apartment, being here at home when Sterling gets home from work, dinner on the table, bullying the older man into relaxing in a hot bath at the end of the night...fantastic sex afterward in a big, comfortable bed, and sleeping curled up together, Rhys holding him close...

And even worse, part of him can see that maybe Sterling might want something like that, too, at least for a little while.

But Rhys...Rhys knows better than to want things. It's never worked out well for him. So he tries to stop thinking about domestic fantasies, and concentrates on the spell tangled in Sterling's aura instead of how good the other man's very insistent hands feel.