Rating : T
Warnings : alcohol reference, sexual content, drug use
Pairing : toonshipping (Pegasus x Seto)
Colour : neon purple
Musical inspiration : Is There Somewhere - Halsey / Politik - Coldplay
Requested by: (requester has chosen to remain anonymous)
This one is mostly through Seto's eyes.
Drowsy vocals wavered in too-bright cuts of neon through half closed blinds. A radio on the windowsill. Just far enough out of reach where the ashtray wasn't. On the nightstand.
Gray. Prickling in his lungs for a moment. Then Smoke trails curling up from where he sat in bed. Unseen. Humming causing his eyes to flick back open.
A messy figure somewhere near the bed. Lazy steps all over in some nameless waltz. Like this was home. And not just a hotel room. Some country. Some city neither of them could remember how to pronounce by now. Late night scratching words out.
"Knock it off."
More breath and smoke than it was complaint.
Ignored complaint.
"A couple drinks and you dance."
More than a couple.
Pointing it out in so many words made it stop.
"What would you have me do?"
"Anything but that."
No.
Anything but this.
Making the bedsprings creak with new weight. Resting his head there on his shoulder. Somewhere where it didn't feel so heavy.
"It's been a while."
Since we last did this.
"It has."
There were no words.
Just fingers crooked around collar and tie.
And peppery embers crushed and forgotten.
They fell across the bed. Clumsy tangles. Under. Buzzing street sign light clacking on and off. Constant patterns. Clothes. Over. Nightstand drawers jerked open. Pale Sheets. Hands reaching up.
Maybe for no reason at all.
What difference did it make?
The way he twisted dark hair in and around his fingers.
Come morning, he wouldn't remember.
Not this.
Not hooking legs over hips. One then another.
Not what he sounded like from under.
Unfolding.
Sharp shadows cutting across the dip in his shoulder as silver spilled aside from his neck.
Enfolding.
Pleasure out in so many notes. Stuttering up. At the sight above him. Skin made bioluminescent in neon. Lip curving up over one crooked canine in a fading grimace.
Panting up into the dark, he whispered,
"This is the beginning."
It was easier to think the words didn't mean anything.
Just half drunk nonsense.
"Shut up."
Hisses bleeding out into pleasure then buried under more in the same vein. More. Louder. Slowly drowning out. Everything. Yes. Three letters in so many variations. Murmured nonsense and fingers clutching the back of his neck.
I don't want to think.
About the beginning. Or one in a lifelong series. A letter. A kingdom. A gamble. A partnership. Academica. Then errant chatter turning excuses turning outright lies turning god knew what this was now.
Meetings.
In the form of phone calls at 3am. Just breath and a few words through the receiver.
Are you here?
Domino. Paris. Delhi. London. Shanghai. Los Angeles.
Can you find me?
Minutes or days.
He never asked how much time there was. Anything was enough. Right now. I just need. This. More. Of lip and limb all over. Above. Below. I need— Curling fingers wrenching out every ounce. Something there wasn't a word for. More and more. You.
And the world sliding clean off its axis in a single moment.
And all the rest in so many others. All forgetting obligations lifetimes over. Playing lovers instead. On a thousand holidays. Like they were more than mutual means to ends.