"Be my be my be mine," he murmurs in that voice. It's Sunday morning and the stars are still out in the rainbow-coloured sky, shared by a sun and a moon. His boots are on the floor and the laces have been ripped to pieces, but his souls - because, that's right, he's special enough to have two - are in bed and he has twilight in his eyes. "Time, that's what it needed. It would've been better off."
"Mm-hm," is the general response from a neat little pile of silver bed-head.
"I mean, dinner was nice, but she might have kept her mouth shut and her dog on a leash. It might have kept from the wheels, at least." He fumbles a lighter and a cigarette, narrowly avoids scorching his hand and setting the bed on fire. "Fuck. I mean, fuck, man, it was...yeah. Good. It was good."
The tangle just nods a little, to itself.
"In a good way." He takes a drag, releasing a messy cloud of white that rides out the exhale. "A good fuck."
Grunt.
He taps the butt of the cigarette on the headboard and pulls again, sighing smoke like a dragon. "A damn good fuck. I mean-- I mean, yeah, man, if you want. Like, if you're cool with it, we could...you know. Again, whenever. Today, tomorrow, next week. It was good." He can't say it enough. It was better than good, actually. Maybe saying it enough times will get that across.
"Can't."
He frowns, glances at his cigarette, and considers throwing it at the man in his bed. He crushes it into the nearest ashtray instead. "That's...that's cool. Whatever. Um, why not?"
The man is stirring, hand on his side and groping around for something. Probably Sora's dick, and he considers helping him find it, but the man just grabs the sheets and tugs them away from himself. The man rubs the sleep from his eyes a bit, yawns a bit. "Work," he says shortly, by way of explanation. After a moment, he adds, "I get around. Like, travel. I've got a plane at three."
Oh. Planes. Planes mean...far, right? Sora lets out a pent-up breath and falls back on the mattress. "Work. Right." He wants to say something meaningful that might make his companion stay, since the guy seems to be into that sort of thing-- at least, he did last night, when they were gasping and groping and moaning-- but all he manages is tacking on an extra, "That's cool. I'm okay with that." Why wouldn't he?
One-night stands are a beautiful thing. You meet, you fuck, and you never see them again.
It's only a tad obvious when Sora changes the subject. A tad, like the smell of sex in the room. "Hey, uh, it's too bad about her, right? I mean, after that eulogy, I guess we can't have anymore run-ins at her parties, huh? Yeah, it's too bad about Kairi."
The man's already dragging himself off the cot, half the sheets still tangled at his waist and following him. Great, so, yeah. He's leaving with his libido and his bed sheets. Nice. Not quite the conversationalist, but that was cool. Sora can talk for the both of them. And suddenly, Sora has the overwhelming desire to throw himself after this guy, this stranger, and barf a whole lot of desperate and impulsive nonsense, like, "Stay with me" or "I love you." Something like that. But no matter how he words it in his head, it sounds stupid and clingy, so he says nothing. Fuck, he doesn't even know this guy.
By the time he's gathered his thoughts and gushed out a feeble, "HeycanIhaveyournumber?", Riku's already gone and all Sora can say is, "Fuck."
Riku & Sora OC. Standard disclaimers.