Original: "Touch" Slash.
STILL SUNDAY?!
This ended up very rambly and raw and character sketch-y, but what can I say, Cal spoke up pretty nicely this week. (You might remember him and Perry from this fic!)
Cal wasn’t quite sure what he was doing wrong, but it was as wrong as he could possibly get while still in the same universe, because Perry clearly was not getting the message.
True, Perry was much different than other men he’d courted. For one thing, courted. Cal was not used to courting, but he suspected that was what this was. Perry was remarkably skittish for a man so wonderfully solid. Cal had never really had to pursue his dalliances the way Perry seemed to require.
Maybe ‘require’ was the wrong term; Cal wondered if Perry knew he was doing it. Cal was most certainly interested, and he knew Perry liked him, but it was a little disheartening when your prospective paramour wouldn’t actually come within a six-inch radius of touching you. Three weeks wasn’t a terribly long relationship, sure, but Perry hadn’t even kissed him yet.
Cal had tried. He’d suggested long walks alone together, dates in the cities the caravan passed through, cozy evenings spent inside, even a sparring match on a particularly hot day that had prompted Cal to remove his shirt and good lord he’d nearly pounced on Perry right then and there just for the look in those wide brown eyes. He wished now that he had. Why did Perry seem half afraid of him all the time?
The half-elf liked to remember that day, though now that he thought of it Perry had been more than a little reticent-first to spar, then to remove clothing. It hadn’t seemed like shyness; Cal had seen so many flavors of shy from his larger friend that he was beginning to pick them out at first hint now. Until Cal had proven that he could handle himself in a fight, even playfully, Perry had been genuinely uncomfortable.
It had been worth it to reassure Perry that nothing bad was going to happen, but Cal did wonder why, precisely, it took so much reassurance. And why he seemed fascinated now, when need like this might have put him off one of his usual inamoratii. What made Perry so hopelessly fascinating?
(He was probably staring rather impolitely now, as deep in thought as he was, but Perry was working, and had yet to complain about anything while working. As long as Cal’s view was unobstructed, he was content to be quite impolite.)
It wasn’t just the physical, though that was some of it. Cal usually went for men built more like himself, the ones who didn’t make him look so obviously fey by comparison. Perry was a head and a half taller, broad and a little heavy, the muscle he’d clearly worked hard to get only showing when he exerted them. It was half the reason Cal loved to watch Perry work. The other half was the expression on his face. All that uncertainty, the worry he carried with him like a fussy pet, dropped away when he worked; there was only clear, deep calm in his eyes, his broad mouth soft and relaxed.
Cal had never thought to want someone like Perry, but he did. So very much.
Why did Perry look at him like he wanted back, but not act like it?
Like that. Oh dear gods. Cal focused just in time to meet Perry’s eyes, damp sunstreaked curls straggling into them from his exertion, warm with the day and with a look Cal still hadn’t managed to decode. Didn’t really matter, though, because every time he saw it his entire body tensed and melted all at once with a sort of ooohyeah sigh. Hell if he knew what was going on behind those big, pretty eyes, but he couldn’t get enough of wondering.
“Y-you’re quiet,” Perry murmured, and even if the man hadn’t touched him Cal sort of wanted to shiver like he had; as it tended to do when he was working, Perry’s voice had gone low and husky. Maybe disuse, maybe soft unfocus. Definitely sexy.
“Copying you,” he managed to tease back. Perry definitely didn’t seem afraid of him now. “I didn’t want to disturb you, really. It’s enough just to watch you make things.”
Oh, the blush. The blush was adorable. “J-just sanding and th-things. Not r-real work.” That low burr hadn’t quite gone away, though. Cal abruptly wanted to do anything that would keep it a little longer.
“Do some real work, then,” he suggested. “I saw a nice little box over there in your projects. Does that count?” It was a puzzle box, three different shades of wood spiraling together to form a single octangular piece. Cal had tried to nonchalantly edge closer to see it before, but Perry went back and forth between benches too much; nonchalant wasn’t subtle enough. Like now, when Perry (still blushing, but smiling too, which gave Cal another attack of softheaded teenage-girl near-sighing) shifted to the projects bench and away, this time carrying the box. It was as if Perry actively tried to keep his most appealing parts away from sight. Baffling.
It wasn’t nearly as much fun when he couldn’t see Perry’s face, but for some reason it didn’t last as long as it usually did. Cal blinked when barely fifteen minutes later a swirl of polished woods slid under his nose. He accepted the box with confused but reverent fingers.
“It’s beautiful,” he murmured, but he glanced up at Perry when he did. Gods, that look again. Why couldn’t he ever seem to move under that look? “Who requested it?”
“I-I-I did,” Perry admitted. “For you. Th-th-there was th-that one n-night w-w-with the riddles, and you s-said…” There seemed to be no more room for speech under the blushing, but that was all right. Cal didn’t really have words either. He’d remembered, so perfectly and after so long a time?
“Oh,” Cal managed, and the addicting warmth in Perry’s face, the beginnings of that shy smile, made it impossible not to reach up and taste it.
He might have worried afterward, because this was Perry after all, shy Perry who was so different, and probably had boundaries Cal didn’t seem to be able to see or understand, and who might be mortified beyond recovery-
-except that Perry made the softest wanting noise when they parted, all closed eyes and little hitching breaths, and Cal knew that this was the sort of different he’d been looking for.
This ended up very rambly and raw and character sketch-y, but what can I say, Cal spoke up pretty nicely this week. (You might remember him and Perry from this fic!)
Cal wasn’t quite sure what he was doing wrong, but it was as wrong as he could possibly get while still in the same universe, because Perry clearly was not getting the message.
True, Perry was much different than other men he’d courted. For one thing, courted. Cal was not used to courting, but he suspected that was what this was. Perry was remarkably skittish for a man so wonderfully solid. Cal had never really had to pursue his dalliances the way Perry seemed to require.
Maybe ‘require’ was the wrong term; Cal wondered if Perry knew he was doing it. Cal was most certainly interested, and he knew Perry liked him, but it was a little disheartening when your prospective paramour wouldn’t actually come within a six-inch radius of touching you. Three weeks wasn’t a terribly long relationship, sure, but Perry hadn’t even kissed him yet.
Cal had tried. He’d suggested long walks alone together, dates in the cities the caravan passed through, cozy evenings spent inside, even a sparring match on a particularly hot day that had prompted Cal to remove his shirt and good lord he’d nearly pounced on Perry right then and there just for the look in those wide brown eyes. He wished now that he had. Why did Perry seem half afraid of him all the time?
The half-elf liked to remember that day, though now that he thought of it Perry had been more than a little reticent-first to spar, then to remove clothing. It hadn’t seemed like shyness; Cal had seen so many flavors of shy from his larger friend that he was beginning to pick them out at first hint now. Until Cal had proven that he could handle himself in a fight, even playfully, Perry had been genuinely uncomfortable.
It had been worth it to reassure Perry that nothing bad was going to happen, but Cal did wonder why, precisely, it took so much reassurance. And why he seemed fascinated now, when need like this might have put him off one of his usual inamoratii. What made Perry so hopelessly fascinating?
(He was probably staring rather impolitely now, as deep in thought as he was, but Perry was working, and had yet to complain about anything while working. As long as Cal’s view was unobstructed, he was content to be quite impolite.)
It wasn’t just the physical, though that was some of it. Cal usually went for men built more like himself, the ones who didn’t make him look so obviously fey by comparison. Perry was a head and a half taller, broad and a little heavy, the muscle he’d clearly worked hard to get only showing when he exerted them. It was half the reason Cal loved to watch Perry work. The other half was the expression on his face. All that uncertainty, the worry he carried with him like a fussy pet, dropped away when he worked; there was only clear, deep calm in his eyes, his broad mouth soft and relaxed.
Cal had never thought to want someone like Perry, but he did. So very much.
Why did Perry look at him like he wanted back, but not act like it?
Like that. Oh dear gods. Cal focused just in time to meet Perry’s eyes, damp sunstreaked curls straggling into them from his exertion, warm with the day and with a look Cal still hadn’t managed to decode. Didn’t really matter, though, because every time he saw it his entire body tensed and melted all at once with a sort of ooohyeah sigh. Hell if he knew what was going on behind those big, pretty eyes, but he couldn’t get enough of wondering.
“Y-you’re quiet,” Perry murmured, and even if the man hadn’t touched him Cal sort of wanted to shiver like he had; as it tended to do when he was working, Perry’s voice had gone low and husky. Maybe disuse, maybe soft unfocus. Definitely sexy.
“Copying you,” he managed to tease back. Perry definitely didn’t seem afraid of him now. “I didn’t want to disturb you, really. It’s enough just to watch you make things.”
Oh, the blush. The blush was adorable. “J-just sanding and th-things. Not r-real work.” That low burr hadn’t quite gone away, though. Cal abruptly wanted to do anything that would keep it a little longer.
“Do some real work, then,” he suggested. “I saw a nice little box over there in your projects. Does that count?” It was a puzzle box, three different shades of wood spiraling together to form a single octangular piece. Cal had tried to nonchalantly edge closer to see it before, but Perry went back and forth between benches too much; nonchalant wasn’t subtle enough. Like now, when Perry (still blushing, but smiling too, which gave Cal another attack of softheaded teenage-girl near-sighing) shifted to the projects bench and away, this time carrying the box. It was as if Perry actively tried to keep his most appealing parts away from sight. Baffling.
It wasn’t nearly as much fun when he couldn’t see Perry’s face, but for some reason it didn’t last as long as it usually did. Cal blinked when barely fifteen minutes later a swirl of polished woods slid under his nose. He accepted the box with confused but reverent fingers.
“It’s beautiful,” he murmured, but he glanced up at Perry when he did. Gods, that look again. Why couldn’t he ever seem to move under that look? “Who requested it?”
“I-I-I did,” Perry admitted. “For you. Th-th-there was th-that one n-night w-w-with the riddles, and you s-said…” There seemed to be no more room for speech under the blushing, but that was all right. Cal didn’t really have words either. He’d remembered, so perfectly and after so long a time?
“Oh,” Cal managed, and the addicting warmth in Perry’s face, the beginnings of that shy smile, made it impossible not to reach up and taste it.
He might have worried afterward, because this was Perry after all, shy Perry who was so different, and probably had boundaries Cal didn’t seem to be able to see or understand, and who might be mortified beyond recovery-
-except that Perry made the softest wanting noise when they parted, all closed eyes and little hitching breaths, and Cal knew that this was the sort of different he’d been looking for.