Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Hands, they could be a weapon. Something to kill with. Something to hurt with and yet here I lay my hand entwined in his. Hands, they could be used to caress. Something to hold with. Something to care with. Gripping and grasping, holding on for dear life. Tracing blue veins through papery thin skin on the palm of the man I adored. Clawing and scratching, in desperation. Looking for release, praying for mercy from the man he loved. I looked up and saw the golden-green eyes. They held nothing but love. No pity, no fear. Just pure honest love. Love that would last me a lifetime and more. He didn't care about what I had done or who I had done or what I had said. He was just there and he was lovely. His room held the aura of an opium den, not dirty and grotty but smoky and comfortable. The incense burning in the corner of Magnus' room was going to my head. Was that its purpose? I couldn't care at this point. I just wanted more everywhere.
"What's wrong, love?" Magnus asked. His voice filled with concern and love. There it was again., love. It all boiled down to love. Love and hands, the building blocks of the world. I shook my head and raised my hips indicating my need for him. He smiled. Not a smirk or a Cheshire cat grin, but a smile. An innocent smile reserved for only me and only when we were alone. There was no glitter, or eyeliner or anything fake here. Just two men who needed each other deeply. I sighed, a deep breathy sigh. A content sigh. Magnus reached over and grabbed a now familiar bottle. A bottle that filled the pit of my stomach with excitement and a deep, wanton longing. I looked up at the ceiling, a beautiful night sky scene complete with shooting stars and constellations. The bottle spluttered, a pitiful coughing sound. And then Magnus was on me and surrounding me and overwhelming me. Perfection. His hair, long and silken, brushed against my neck and upper body, leaving goosebumps and tickling my skin. He pulled my face down to his for a slow, passionate kiss. I could feel him against me, but not in me where I so desperately needed him.
Soon he was working one lone, long, lean finger in and out of me. I moaned, needing more, faster. So a second was added, alongside soft swearing from Magnus.
"You are beautiful. Beautiful and perfect and mine" Icould only mewl in agreement as Magnus hit that sweet spot that made me see stars upon stars.
"Hurry Magnus. More." My voice was raspy with need. Broken and hitting notes I wasn't even aware existed. A third finger joined the first and second. I no longer noticed any pain, if there was any to be had, I just enjoyed the wonderful sense of fullness. Knowing that it was Magnus making me feel this way . He slowly lifted me up giving me shivers.
"You okay baby?" He murmured. I nodded frantically. My movements becoming erratic and reckless already.
Without warning he was there filling me up and giving me everything. My sight was hazy, were the stars I was looking at in my head or on the roof? Another thrust. Okay then, those ones were definitely in my head. This was what love making was. Slow and lazy and so comfortable you didn't know where you stopped and the other began. This was everything I had wanted from I was a little boy. To love and be loved in return. Wasn't that in a film somewhere? And now it was getting hard to concentrate because Magnus was speeding up and the stars were turning into fireworks and my body was erupting into a pure state of so much feeling and friction that I was almost numb. Almost being key. Magnus kept kissing and biting and scratching whatever skin was available to him.
We lay there in the afterglow. Clinging to each other. Breathing in each others scent. The incense was still burning. I felt slow and sluggish and happy. All I could smell was the cigarette that Magnus had lit up. Watching him take a drag would have done things to me but I was so exhausted and spent that I just admired the view. His hair caught the light and the light caught his frame and his frame was wrapped around me. I was feeling very smug. Although I did have every right to feel smug now.
Hands. They are so underappreciated. They had the power to save a life and the power to take it away. Not that any of that mattered, because the most perfect hands in the world we wrapped around me. Protecting me and shielding me from all the horrors and dangers in this world and every other world yet to be discovered. So, in the early morning light, I trace the purple-blue veins on the palms of the man I love and I lay down in his arms and I fall asleep.
I'll just leave this here then. I know it's rather short and I know that it probably isn't very good so please please leave all you constructive criticism so I can improve.