No warnings. AU because I'm not sure they have ceiling fans in dgm!time.
Written to the song Delicate by Damien Rice. I love it, the feel of it is just...incredibly lazy and loving, like, post-afterglow-afterglow in the afternoon *happy sigh*
Sunlight pours in from the windows.
The ceiling fan makes a dull, shifting noise with each lazy rotation, its weight moving back and forth.
Their legs are tangled together. Link's eyes are level with the teenager's collar bones, and he's staring at them for some…reason. The synapses in his brain mustn't be firing correctly; thoughts are slow, incomplete…
He…doesn't want to think…just wants to…lay…
Allen's eyes are closed. His face is unlined, a small happy, contented smile bending his mouth. His fingers are playing in puddles of Link's unbound hair.
Link turns his eyes back to the points of the bones before his face. The skin there is shiny with a faint sheen of sweat; both of their whole bodies are. The ceiling fan isn't doing too much good…
"I need to fix that," He breathes in a gush of air, licking his lips, looking at the extra shiny spot of skin he just licked.
Allen's chest rumbles softly against him as he hums inaudibly. His fingers snag on a tangle in Link's hair and he sighs blissfully.
"It can wait until tomorrow." He says.