Absense of the Heart
By Kay
Author's Notes: Ignoring disclaimer, la la la, already did one in Chapter one... ::cackles:: I have ESCAPED IT. Eheheh- anyway! More slashy wonder with Christopher and Jalil! JOOOOY! ^___^ I... okay, yes, I wrote this AGAIN in the early hours of the morning. I should try writing in the afternoon, see how my work turns out THEN. When I'm coherent! HAH! .... right then, moving on.
Thanks again for all the reviews! ::blushes:: Oh, and thanks everyone else, you mean so much to me! ^___^ I feel loved, wah. Hope you enjoy this part! SLASH! Ahahahaaa! ... eheh.
"You can swing!" -- Jalil (this is an actual quote. I just laughed.)
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Somewhere in the back of Jalil's hazy mind, someone was yelling at him.
It started the moment Christopher had woken him up from his sleep, then brought him down to the tavern bar to get drunk. Then it was a loud, harsh voice that strictly commanded him to stay in bed -- the voice of reason and logic, probably. He listened to that voice an awful lot. After a few drinks, it'd faded to a low steady whine that chanted, "you are an idiot" repeatedly. Once he got smashingly *drunk*, the voice of reason turned into a hazy muttering at the back of his mind, threatening him with death if he didn't stop acting stupid.
Now? Well, Christopher's lips were on his and it was warm, very warm suddenly, and his head felt lighter than it had in ages, like everything had leaked out of it so it was hollow. And it was very warm. Christopher had his hands gripping his forearms, pulling his face and tilting it so they met perfectly. Warmth. And Jalil wondered now, if somehow that voice of reason was quiet or if it was dead for good.
'What the hell are you doing with yourself?! Are you letting him *kiss* you?! You *idiot*!'
Nevermind -- yup, that voice of reason was really screaming at him now.
And then, before he could catch up with coherent thought, Christopher pulled back. The warmth left his lips, left him sucking in air deeply, staring up into those blue eyes. But the blond still had his fingers clenched into Jalil's forearms, white marks on mocha. They stared at each other, wide eyed and uncertain.
"Well," Christopher finally said. He wet his lips nervously, and looked at Jalil with anxious eyes. "That was..."
"Warm," the dark eyed teenager mumbled, unthinkingly. Almost immeadiatly, the dark skin of his face shadowed with a blush at the slip. "I mean--"
"Yeah, really warm. You're right, that was... that was cool." Chewing on his bottom lip, Christopher nodded to himself, but didn't take his eyes off Jalil's face. "Um... yeah, I liked that. Uh, you? I mean, was it okay for you?"
"...mm." Coherence had fled altogether, leaving Jalil feeling drained and lethargic, distantly making sounds while he was watching Christopher's lips with a hazy facination of one not altogether there. While earlier his mind had been buzzed by the alcohol, now it was concerned with the sensations of kissing the teenager in front of him.
Was it okay? Warmth.... No. Hn, let's move on from that. Should he tell Christopher to do it again? It wasn't like either of them really knew what they were doing, after all. And it wasn't like there'd ever be another chance to-- because they might die... die before the night was over, why not? It was... warm.
... god, he was drunk.
This was making no sense whatsoever -- rational and logic were quickly fleeing the confines of Jalil's cobwebbed mind, swatting at the slow haze of alcohol as they went. Perhaps that was why Jalil did was he did next. That or the present threat of dying a virgin nudged him along a little. Although later he would most definatly blame the alcohol.
"Christopher..." There was an uncharacteristic whine in Jalil's tone. He looked up at the blonde with wide, unblinking eyes that pleaded with an amount of force that no human should be allowed to be in control of.
"What is it, huh?" Christopher licked his lips, darkened blue eyes fixated on his friend's open and relaxed face.
Jalil narrowed his eyes at him. "Are you gonna do it again or not?"
"... eh? Oh... Oh, that," Christopher stammered, before coughing lamely. "Well... uh, sure. Why not?" He bent again quickly, capturing the tempting lips offered up to him, searing the other's mouth with his own. Almost right after first contact, Jalil's slim arms reached up and hesitantly clutched his shoulders, anchoring each other.
It was like nothing Jalil had ever experienced. Not with Miyuki, not with any other meaningless girl, this was different, in a way his clouded mind couldn't comprehend now. Maybe never could. The heat that glowed between them, fierce and sweeping, that made him press harder, hold on tighter. Christopher made a sound in his throat, more of approval than uncertainty, before attempting to force open the lips he was plundering.
Almost automattically, Jalil let him.
It was burning, gentle and tight against Jalil's entire body, the feeling of the intimate contact shaking him. From the trembling of Christopher's hands as they wound around near his hips, the blonde wasn't uneffected either. There was a desperate, shaky kind of demanding in the way he moved.
For some reason, that caused a perverse, deep rooted pleasure in Jalil's mind.
'I like him like this. I like him wanting to do this.' The whisper of his own mind made him shudder tightly, and he leaned up farther into the kiss to banish it. 'I don't care why anymore...'
By the time they parted, completely ignoring every soul in the tavern that could be watching them, the decision had been made.
"L-let's go back... to th'room," Christopher ordered breathlessly, pulling back to stare into Jalil's face, his own blue oceaned eyes smouldering. Jalil's breath caught, dizzy, uncertain--
"But we--"
"The lady... she's starin' at us." At that, both of them glanced off nervously to the right. And indeed, the tavern waitress was giving them a piercing, dark glare that plainly said she didn't want this sort of entertainment. Both of them flushed guiltily and looked away.
"O-oohh. Whoops." Jalil wrinkled his nose up, and-- to Christopher's shock and glee-- let out a small giggle. The unexpected sound was enough to facinate the blonde, who never before had heard his companion let anything so ridiculous come out of his mouth.
Some part of his mind decided that the kissing may have screwed up the way Jalil's lips worked. Instead of spouting facts and insults, they were giggling. But since Jalil had a frighteningly adorable giggle, that was fine.
"Do that again," he demanded, interest sparking in his face.
"W-what?" Jalil's gaze focused on him, and he concentrated. "Hmm? Do what?"
"Do that... that laugh thing. Your giggle."
Jalil blinked at him cluelessly. When the words finally sank in, Christopher got a glare and a sulking near-pout to the mouth for his troubles. "I... do not giggle."
"You just did," Christopher protested with a steadily increasing whine in his voice. "You giggled when you saw the tavern lady lookin' at you. I liked it. Do it again."
"I don't giggle for-- for anyone!"
"You're about to giggle for me," Christopher said steadily, with a calm resolute voice that booked no arguement. "Do it again, or I won't... I won't kiss you! Again, I mean!"
Jalil gave him a stubborn, heated glare again. "Nuh-uh. No way. I do not giggle."
"...whatever." Sighing slightly, the blonde leaned forward again, a slow grin etching its way over his features with obvious intent. The look was enough to make Jalil wary, who was reminded of a predator who had just acquired a prey.
"Let's go... back to the room, 'kay?" His voice was husky against Jalil's ear -- and Christopher's mind jumped with glee and amusement as he made the dark eyed boy shiver.
"Mmm... dunno... we're drunk, y'know."
"We could also die any minute. S'okay."
"... hmmm. If you say so." And then Jalil was lost, as Christopher's lips decended to his once again.
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Jalil wasn't exactly sure how they managed to get upstairs-- he suspected the tavern woman was so sick of their groping in public, that she's opened every exit so they wouldn't trip into anything. He didn't remember even leaving the room, just a long line of stumbling against walls. Partly due to the alcohol and sitting for so long, but mostly due to the fact he kept trying to stop Christopher's hands from going up his shirt in public.
... the voice of reason and logic was really quite upset.
"What room did we 'ave?" Christopher's voice was muffled against his collarbone, where he seemed to be facinated by the graceful curve of Jalil's neck. The dark eyed boy squirmed against the wall where Christopher had pinned him -- a quick scan over one of the shoulders showed a long row of doors.
"... erm."
He blinked slowly to himself, trying to recall which of the many rooms they'd placed themselves in. Surprisingly, there had been some order to the system, with numbers scrawled in black ink on every door, similar to the old world's way. However, this didn't help him now-- as he couldn't remember which one.
"S'gotta be around here somewhere," Christopher muttered, raising his head briefly to glance around. Jalil squirmed slightly in his hold, suddenly realizing there was a doorknob digging into the small of his back. He'd been slammed against a door. Theirs?
He squinted up at the number-- upside down.
"... maybe if we knocked at them all," the blonde was suggesting slowly, obviously reluctant to think about anything beyond where they were going.
"We'd get kicked out," Jalil said. He shivered slightly as Christopher's hands returned to wandering, and the boy grinned widely at him.
"Or we could forget the room, an' use th'door."
"Wha-?!" Whatever protest had been on his lips-- died. Christopher was kissing him again. And suddenly the doorknob or the people on the other side didn't matter so much, especially when compared to the lovely sensations Christopher was generating. He melted into the body pressed against his, willingly accepting the attention eagerly, although the tiny voice of reason still muttering in the back of his mind... well, wasn't happy. At all.
'Will not give in! Danger-- you will remove his hands from sneaking under your shirt at once! Stop that!'
'Shut up,' Jalil calmly informed his inner rationality. 'I'm getting really sick of you.'
'It's for your own good-- you'll hate yourself tomorrow. You're drunk, not thinking straight--'
'Hmm, definatly not thinking "straight"...'
The voice of rationality snorted. 'And now you're making sexuality jokes. That's it. Go to bed and sleep it-- oh, whoa, hold it, what the hell is he doing-?!'
"Christopher, I'm havin' an intimate conversa... talk. With m'sensible side. Stop that."
"Who?" the blonde demanded absently, more concerned with the fact that no matter how hard he tugged at the hem of Jalil's shirt, it wouldn't go up. The fact that it was because the black teenager was pressed against a door, thereby removing any way to get the shirt to move up, completely passed Christopher by. Not that this mattered.
"My voice of logic," Jalil replid lamely, trying to figure out dazedly why that sounded just plain bad to his ears. Wasn't that the stuff loony people talked about? "I'm not crazy. I really mean it," he added quickly.
"Uh-huh... how-- damn it, how does this thing work?"
"I don't think we can have sex in th'halls, Christ'pher..."
"Why the hell not?" the blonde demanded viciously, glaring suspiciously to both sides. "Nobody's here. Can't find th'room. Kinky, too."
Jalil attempted a deep hearted glare of irritation at him-- but forgot where it was going, and ended up clinging to Christopher's shoulders as the other boy pressed his body against him. He let out a shaky breath at the heat their bodies radiated through their jeans, and flushed slightly at the intimacy and what it implied. "Jesus c-christ..."
"Nope... but you can call me that, if it makes ya feel better," Christopher piped up cheerfully.
"I..."
"Yeah?" Those startling blue eyes locked onto his, and Jalil let out a slow breath that sounded suspiciously like a growl of sorts.
"There's a doorknob diggin' into my back. Get offa me, and help me find the room."
"Oh. Uh, okay." Christopher didn't move.
"I mean it, Chris'pher. I don't want to scar the poor souls walking through here..." The dark-haired boy grimaced in a moment of lucancy. "Like, what would happen if David suddenly came through lookin' for us? And you're, um, um... doing that. Whatever... yeah."
There was a moments pause as they entertained that image.
"... actually, tha's pretty damn funny."
"Christopher!" Jalil sputtered over the sound of hysterical laughter. "Shut up, it's not funny--!"
The comedian of the group was practically crying, he was laughing so hard. Burying his face in the juncture between Jalil's shoulder and neck, he giggled madly. "Th-that's great..."
Jalil let out a huff, rolling his eyes vaguely towards the cieling in exasperation. "Are you going t'get us to the room or not? Don't have all night, y'know-- because of the heart implodation threat and all." That seemed to sober him up slightly; Christopher peered up at his face, still grinning but without the hysterical laughter that accompanied it. Without a word of apology or warning, the blonde straightened and dragged Jalil off again-- sending him wobbling as he was towed down the hallway top speed.
"H-hey! Slow down!"
"Can't!" Christopher yelled loudly enough for half the hotel to wake up and hear. "Gotta find our room so we can have fantastic, end of the world sex!"
Jalil groaned and closed his deep mahogany eyes, trying to stop the dizzy tilt of the world as his friend ran down the hallway checking the numbers, dragging him along. To make matters worse, (despite the dizziness, alcohol, state of wanting Christopher now, ect), his small voice of logic was piping up again, annoyingly.
'See? Don't you wish you'd listened to me now?' it demanded smugly.
'... oh shut up.'
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To Be Continued... in part three! In which, no, a room is not found-- but there's always the "Alternative Places That You've Never Thought Of Before". ^_^ And more giddiness and random things. Jalil being stubborn and having second thoughts, a moment of seriousness, kissing eeeee, and we find out a nice little fact about... well something that I can't tell you yet. Hah!
... actually, I hated this part. I wrote this on a sugur high. It's graduated from a semi-interesting slash to a humor piece. *DAMN IT*. ::wails:: Ah-- at least it's still got the making out, right? Eheheh... if you can ignore the bad humor... and the fact that they're terribly OOC... and that... well, I have *no* idea what it's like to be drunk, or how normal people act drunk... ::sweatdrops:: So... erm... ignore all that! Enjoy it anyway! Hah! ... right then.
... if you hit me with something, at least make it semi-soft? Please? ::pleadingly::
To those who care! "Banana Fish" 7 comes out in November. MWAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAAAA.
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