HO MAH LAWDIE GEEZUS. I need to stop getting distracted.
For: Schmuzz. Because I love the anons. 83
The first sentence-paragraph is actually Schmuzz's. It was one of the one-sentence things, and I turned it into a yummy little fluffy thing.
Desmond lived in tents, motels, cheap apartments, and basements–so of course Alex's four-room, top-level high rise was one of his favorite places to wake up in the morning; although that might not have been because of the condo itself…
So when he wakes up stretching in the early morning, under the soft glide of the silk sheets, the alluring smell of something being brought into his room, he can't help but feel as if all the hell he's gone through, the weeks of slipping sanity, and the torture of identity crisis, that he's deserved it. Still, he doesn't take it for granted when he hears a soft chuckle as he groans loudly, stretching from last night's activities. There are some things he would trade in everything for, and hearing that laugh as he cracks open an eye, exhaling softly as he moves up to settle against the pillows, is one of them.
He takes in the pale skin of his lover, almost glistening white in the early morning sun pouring through the window. It bounces and shimmers on his skin as it does on the snow that blankets the ground outside. So much for Snow White, he thinks. The soft, curly brown hair of his lover is still messy and beautiful from his hands raking through it last night and grabbing it tightly as he pulled him in for a brutal kiss. The blue eyes twinkle merrily as he stares into them, and he finds himself smiling warmly. They are as bright and clear as the sky outside. They are human.
"Morning, Desmond."
He groans tiredly, stretching again and making sure to put on a show for his lover. He grins when he hears the tray crack.
"Desmond," he hears growled, hungry for something that absorbing someone couldn't sate.
He lets his hands flop onto the bed, and he smiles at his lover. "Sorry, baby, I couldn't help it."
"I'm not going to be able to help myself if you keep that up."
He smirks, tilting his head and giving him a sultry look. "I'd be your buffet any time of the day."
"I'm not going to let you waste this fucking food I made you. You know I can't handle non-living matter."
"You don't have to cook for me," he purrs as Alex set the tray down on his lap. "I am immortal thanks to the Apple, now."
Alex hums, crawling behind him. Desmond revels in the touch of his chest to his back. He can feel the squirm of the virus, rippling as that beautiful pale skin of his. They're pressed together, naked beneath the silk sheets, and he cuts into the sausage his lover made for him. He can feel his arms snake around his waist and lips press against the back of his neck, burying themselves in the short little hairs and inhaling deeply. He squirms in his lover's lap, getting comfortable as the noise outside comes in, muted, from the height of the apartment and the freshly fallen snow. There's sausage and eggs on the tray, as well as some strawberries from who knows where and a glass of orange juice. Alex outdid himself this time. He digs in.
"Shaun called last night at some point," Alex murmurs against his skin. "Wants to know if you want to go out for a drink tonight."
Desmond smiles, moving his head and tilting it so he can kiss the man he's in love with. It's slow and chaste, and he loves the feel of Alex's tongue in his mouth, always hungry and always acting like he was a refreshing glass of water.
"I say we pelt him with snowballs, then invite him in for cocoa," he murmurs as he pulls back before licking his lips.
He notices when Alex mimics the action, staring at his lips. He smirks when those bright blue eyes slowly trail up to meet his.
"Rebecca will expect that."
"Then we'd better not disappoint," he says before taking another bite and chuckling.
Alex presses his lips against his neck again. He's halfway through the food before Alex speaks again.
"How is it?"
"It's pretty good. You ate a chef, didn't you?"
The curl of the lips against his skin tells him everything he needs to know. He chuckles, having long since grown immune to death. Creed be damned: everyone dies, whether by assassin's blade or curious virus boy or what have them. He finishes the food quickly.
"I thought it tasted better than before."
"Just forget about that time, okay?" Alex growls.
"Black mush is hard to forget, babe."
Alex sighs, and Desmond feels him roll his eyes as he sets the tray at the foot of the bed. He smiles.
"It was good. Thanks."
He chuckles at the small harrumph he gets, but that's quickly overpowered by the yelp as he's pushed down into the bed. There's a clatter of dishes, and he briefly worries that they're going to push them off, but it seems that their new activity may take place across the bed, rather than along it. Alex has that predatory look that makes Desmond shiver in anticipation. He inhales sharply as those eyes rake down his body, and he swallows thickly.
"So," his lover's voice is that incredible growl, and it makes Desmond moan quietly as he feels the blue eyes travel back up his body, "you'll be my buffet anytime?"
There's something in the way he growls that that makes his breath hitch, and the hungry look in Alex's eyes that wants to swallow him whole does nothing but send that familiar coil of lust to his stomach again. Desmond nods, and his eyes widen when Alex grins manically, his lips stretching—inhumanly—in just the slightest. He swallows thickly at the harsh breath that his lover makes, and he doesn't fight that dominating kiss that just seems to want to eat him all together and keep him forever for himself. He slides his hands over his back, smiling at the ripple of the viral mass under his fingers and feeling the beautiful white skin come undone as if he were pulling a thread. He groans quietly as the virus pulls his hands in and Alex nips at his neck.
No, he thinks briefly, the condo is like that awesome side dish that initially draws all the customers in.
And Alex is the main feast that keeps him coming back for more.