Day twenty-three: letters
The little AU: advent calendar: day twenty-three: letters
slashfairy
It's a tangle of maleness, the three of them asleep in the big bed. No tiny hands or soft breasts or smooth cheeks or softly mounded crotches full of hidden delights; no, everything is big and muscled and pointed and out there and hairy, rough, scarred, tanned, sun-crinkled: in a word, male.
But the feeling in the bed is soft, like feather-down, like dew, like fresh loam in the garden, like the first warm breath of spring, like the first cool breath of evening at the Equator. It's gentle and it flows from one man to another, so that as they sleep away months of exhaustion and worry and strain and need they tangle and untangle, curl around each other and hook legs, arms, unhook again, asleep, completely un-sexually puppied in the big, safe, neutral hotel bed, until their breathing slows, synchs, deepens, and they don't move at all for a while because they're so completely safe it's even safe to dream, now.
There'll be time for sex, again, later. There'll be time for the little pains and delights that go with a complicated triangular relationship, later. There'll be time to work out how far it can stretch, how close it can get, before it doesn't work at all, until it works the best it can, later. Tonight: tonight there's only maleness: gentle, strong, warm, safe, sleeping, eternal.
Day twenty-four
slashfairy
It's a tangle of maleness, the three of them asleep in the big bed. No tiny hands or soft breasts or smooth cheeks or softly mounded crotches full of hidden delights; no, everything is big and muscled and pointed and out there and hairy, rough, scarred, tanned, sun-crinkled: in a word, male.
But the feeling in the bed is soft, like feather-down, like dew, like fresh loam in the garden, like the first warm breath of spring, like the first cool breath of evening at the Equator. It's gentle and it flows from one man to another, so that as they sleep away months of exhaustion and worry and strain and need they tangle and untangle, curl around each other and hook legs, arms, unhook again, asleep, completely un-sexually puppied in the big, safe, neutral hotel bed, until their breathing slows, synchs, deepens, and they don't move at all for a while because they're so completely safe it's even safe to dream, now.
There'll be time for sex, again, later. There'll be time for the little pains and delights that go with a complicated triangular relationship, later. There'll be time to work out how far it can stretch, how close it can get, before it doesn't work at all, until it works the best it can, later. Tonight: tonight there's only maleness: gentle, strong, warm, safe, sleeping, eternal.
Day twenty-four