[ Missing did not fully capture the force of the feelings, he was never the best at speaking them-- his words were neither glib nor poetic like Eliot's was, but the emotion radiated from him like a tsunami and perhaps that was his gift, putting his loved ones at the center and givin everything that he refused to give to himself, to them.
And gods he was weak to Eliot, to his presence so when palms that knew his body so intimately cupped at him, wrapping around his prick that throbbed underneath water, and lashes fell closed even as his lips parted-- a low and soft groan spilling from those blushed lips that stood out against pale skin.
The dust of butterflies had made it's mark on him and he'd attempted to wash it off, but now it was time to succumb to it with Eliot holding him, succumbing to Eliot's allure and knowing that he would want Eliot even without the dust, but the presence made it physically ache against his skin. ]
Yours, I was yours for so many years-- I am still yours.
[ and each word was coloured by the force of his love, as bright as the mosaic that they had built together, something that had become their lives. At yet was but one in the drop of many.
And he shifted to hook his leg against Eliot's side, as if that would prevent him from leaving him-- gods, he did not want this to be some fever dream.. he hoped it was not, that he would wake up and with no sign of Eliot ]
no subject
And gods he was weak to Eliot, to his presence so when palms that knew his body so intimately cupped at him, wrapping around his prick that throbbed underneath water, and lashes fell closed even as his lips parted-- a low and soft groan spilling from those blushed lips that stood out against pale skin.
The dust of butterflies had made it's mark on him and he'd attempted to wash it off, but now it was time to succumb to it with Eliot holding him, succumbing to Eliot's allure and knowing that he would want Eliot even without the dust, but the presence made it physically ache against his skin. ]
Yours, I was yours for so many years-- I am still yours.
[ and each word was coloured by the force of his love, as bright as the mosaic that they had built together, something that had become their lives. At yet was but one in the drop of many.
And he shifted to hook his leg against Eliot's side, as if that would prevent him from leaving him-- gods, he did not want this to be some fever dream.. he hoped it was not, that he would wake up and with no sign of Eliot ]