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Characters: smokeeasy and bulletcarnage
Location: Casualty Communal, Heine's apartment
Rating: PG-13
Time: August 29 (evening) until August 30 (late night), after this and this (both still in progress).
Description: The best way to deal with stress, let-down, and feeling generally disheartened? Sit on a friend's couch and play video games. Oh, and talk. The talk is ( Read more... )
Location: Casualty Communal, Heine's apartment
Rating: PG-13
Time: August 29 (evening) until August 30 (late night), after this and this (both still in progress).
Description: The best way to deal with stress, let-down, and feeling generally disheartened? Sit on a friend's couch and play video games. Oh, and talk. The talk is ( Read more... )
Comments 19
For a long moment, in fact, that was all he did.
Of course Badou didn't personally care a lot what it was like to eat a kishin egg (outside of a kind of absent curiosity, since he wasn't ever planning on tasting them himself). What he'd wanted was a proper demonstration of what they were dealing with. And oh boy had he gotten it.
It wasn't just the words that Heine had said or the way he'd described the particulars; it was how he looked, caressing his own throat nearly at the spot that the bandages always covered him. The guy could hardly have made the whole thing more sexual if he'd tried. The thing was, Badou knew him well enough to know that he wasn't trying. He was just staggeringly--impressively--oblivious ( ... )
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And Heine listened, and stared, and held the same semi-perplexed, semi-defensive look on his face.
"I don't follow. What's him being in the Vatican got to do with me telling him about eating souls?"
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So to help him along, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and echoed the words that Heine had spoken, only this time slower, letting each one linger so that the whole sentence came out sounding languid and sensuous: "When you swallow it, it sits in your throat for a second and then going down it just feels really damn good." He said it with a different rhythm than Heine had, the emphasis falling deliberately on other words.
He flicked the ash from his cigarette into the ashtray on the table and then stared at Heine some more, waiting for him to link the obviously connected puzzle pieces that had been laid out in front of him.
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But Badou was his friend, and friends recieved boots in the face, not things that could actually cause damage.
His eyes did darken then as he caught himself before an actual blush was able to show on his cheeks, his right hand waving in an exasperated gesture at the redhead.
"Jesus fucking christ, man! I didn't say it like that!!"
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Either he hadn't noticed what thin ice he was skating on or else he didn't care. From his perspective though, the ice was just thick enough beneath both of them to hold Heine's weight. So the trick was to lead Heine out to where he'd crash through the surface without getting dragged under as well. Easier said than done, but Badou had never been the type of guy to be dissuaded from an opportunity over concerns for his own personal safety.
Situating himself on the couch in a posture that roughly mirrored Heine's, he made a show of preparing himself to give a more accurate rendition. When he felt that he was adequately arranged, he closed his single eye and exhaled an exaggeratedly languid breath, raising his fingers to caress his own throat.
"It kind of sits in your throat for a second and then going down it just feels really damn good." He said it more slowly than Heine had initially done, lingering on the words--especially 'feels,' which he turned ( ... )
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