[Original] Mates
Sep. 7th, 2011 07:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kittydesadeTitle: Mates
Source: Long Road
Genre: Urban Fantasy/Erotic
Characters: Nameless, Guy
Word Count: 891
Summary: Some things go beyond words or description, except the description written into the body.
A/N: Written for the![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kink_bingo prompt "Scars"
Neither of them would call themselves queer. Both of them, given the choice, prefer women, so much so that sometimes they're not sure themselves how it started. Late one night on the open road, they were both scared and cold and starving. Starved for food and affection. The wolf had lost all that he loved and loved him, and the other hadn't ever had much of it in the first place.
One thing, as they say, led to another. It felt good. It felt cozy. Kind. They got better at some parts of it, left off others, and before they knew what they were doing they were inseparable. Not always; there were times when they parted company for weeks, even years. And then something would happen and they would find each other from half a world away and that was that.
Today it was in a lush, long term hotel suite; it wasn't, always. Sometimes it was in a shack by a dirt road. Or out in someone else's corn field. Or a car parked in a loose gravel parking lot by a train station. Guy had been living in New York for three years by now, had himself pretty well established and was wallowing in luxury as a result. He was comfortable in luxury. Preferred not having to worry about things like a full belly or cleaning up. His friend was more restless, preferred to wander. Always came back, though.
He turned up in Guy's restaurant and later on at the back door, while Guy was sitting on the back step after lights out and clean-up, all his staff chased away. The wolf stubbed out his cigarette against the concrete block beneath him.
"What took you so long?"
The closest they came to overt sentiment was the length and tightness of the hug. They walked back to Guy's hotel apartment, shoulder to shoulder, single-sentence grunts of conversation to tell how the last few years had gone. Some things stayed the same. A few things changed, small things. They talked quietly and slow until they got to the room, where Guy grabbed his friend by the shirt front none too gently and hauled him off for the safety of the bed.
The first several hours passed by with them in various stages of sleeping, half in and half out of the covers, ending with Guy sprawled on top of the other man. Bony knees and bony elbows akimbo, one meaty slab of an arm tight over his back. The smell of him, that's what it was, the smell and the warmth and weight of each other, just what it should be and right where it should be. They could relax again. As they hadn't done in a very long time.
He woke up when Guy's hand started moving over his bare chest, light and sleepy. Resisting wakefulness, he opened only one eye. "What."
Guy's hand stilled. "Nothing. You know, you're a fucking carpet?"
He chuckled, low and rumbling and thick with morning congestion. "Ain't like you ever minded."
Which was true. And greeted with a small snort and Guy pinching the skin, not gently. He growled, rolling on top of him to get him to stop.
"Gerroff," Guy oofed, not very emphatically.
"Make me."
They wrestled for all of a minute before Guy gave up. Wrestling, at least. The wolf's hands roamed over his body anyway, in ways he was more inclined to tolerate, even encourage. Fingers traced the scars Guy had given him all those years ago.
"You always did wanna get your hands on my body," he murmured. No harm done, no love lost for all that. When Guy's wolf-self was in charge, even he wasn't entirely safe.
"Like hell," he muttered. "Ugly fat bastard like you."
He chuckled into the other man's neck. Hands tracing down the skinny, bare torso. Coming over puckered flesh of his own, similar scars, different wolf. Those were less benign, less of a happy memory, and he didn't call attention to them. He did pause at the top of Guy's hip, feeling the pock-marked scars there. Fresh ones, ones he didn't remember so well. "You been chasing after farmers' daughters again?" Those were rock salt scars at best. Bullet fragments. Something out of a shotgun.
Guy twisted his body and kneed him in the top of the thigh. "That's from six years ago, you idiot. How's your scrape with the loopy whore from the border town, huh?" Fingers tracing a long, ragged scar across his stomach, where a woman he'd bedded had opened him up.
"That was different..." He rolled onto his back, pulling the wolf onto his chest, if they were going to talk about this. Guy had other ideas, though, wriggling further down. "She was..."
"Batshit insane?" Oh, tongue. Tracing that scar.
"Yeah..."
"Bet she didn't know how to do this."
He grunted. Scars and the memories they brought be damned, they were testimonial to what they had endured together. All those years of bandaging each other up, familiar with each other's bodies as much as their own. Including to this.
They spent a few more hours being familiar with each other before they fell asleep again.
Source: Long Road
Genre: Urban Fantasy/Erotic
Characters: Nameless, Guy
Word Count: 891
Summary: Some things go beyond words or description, except the description written into the body.
A/N: Written for the
kink_bingo prompt "Scars"Neither of them would call themselves queer. Both of them, given the choice, prefer women, so much so that sometimes they're not sure themselves how it started. Late one night on the open road, they were both scared and cold and starving. Starved for food and affection. The wolf had lost all that he loved and loved him, and the other hadn't ever had much of it in the first place.
One thing, as they say, led to another. It felt good. It felt cozy. Kind. They got better at some parts of it, left off others, and before they knew what they were doing they were inseparable. Not always; there were times when they parted company for weeks, even years. And then something would happen and they would find each other from half a world away and that was that.
Today it was in a lush, long term hotel suite; it wasn't, always. Sometimes it was in a shack by a dirt road. Or out in someone else's corn field. Or a car parked in a loose gravel parking lot by a train station. Guy had been living in New York for three years by now, had himself pretty well established and was wallowing in luxury as a result. He was comfortable in luxury. Preferred not having to worry about things like a full belly or cleaning up. His friend was more restless, preferred to wander. Always came back, though.
He turned up in Guy's restaurant and later on at the back door, while Guy was sitting on the back step after lights out and clean-up, all his staff chased away. The wolf stubbed out his cigarette against the concrete block beneath him.
"What took you so long?"
The closest they came to overt sentiment was the length and tightness of the hug. They walked back to Guy's hotel apartment, shoulder to shoulder, single-sentence grunts of conversation to tell how the last few years had gone. Some things stayed the same. A few things changed, small things. They talked quietly and slow until they got to the room, where Guy grabbed his friend by the shirt front none too gently and hauled him off for the safety of the bed.
The first several hours passed by with them in various stages of sleeping, half in and half out of the covers, ending with Guy sprawled on top of the other man. Bony knees and bony elbows akimbo, one meaty slab of an arm tight over his back. The smell of him, that's what it was, the smell and the warmth and weight of each other, just what it should be and right where it should be. They could relax again. As they hadn't done in a very long time.
He woke up when Guy's hand started moving over his bare chest, light and sleepy. Resisting wakefulness, he opened only one eye. "What."
Guy's hand stilled. "Nothing. You know, you're a fucking carpet?"
He chuckled, low and rumbling and thick with morning congestion. "Ain't like you ever minded."
Which was true. And greeted with a small snort and Guy pinching the skin, not gently. He growled, rolling on top of him to get him to stop.
"Gerroff," Guy oofed, not very emphatically.
"Make me."
They wrestled for all of a minute before Guy gave up. Wrestling, at least. The wolf's hands roamed over his body anyway, in ways he was more inclined to tolerate, even encourage. Fingers traced the scars Guy had given him all those years ago.
"You always did wanna get your hands on my body," he murmured. No harm done, no love lost for all that. When Guy's wolf-self was in charge, even he wasn't entirely safe.
"Like hell," he muttered. "Ugly fat bastard like you."
He chuckled into the other man's neck. Hands tracing down the skinny, bare torso. Coming over puckered flesh of his own, similar scars, different wolf. Those were less benign, less of a happy memory, and he didn't call attention to them. He did pause at the top of Guy's hip, feeling the pock-marked scars there. Fresh ones, ones he didn't remember so well. "You been chasing after farmers' daughters again?" Those were rock salt scars at best. Bullet fragments. Something out of a shotgun.
Guy twisted his body and kneed him in the top of the thigh. "That's from six years ago, you idiot. How's your scrape with the loopy whore from the border town, huh?" Fingers tracing a long, ragged scar across his stomach, where a woman he'd bedded had opened him up.
"That was different..." He rolled onto his back, pulling the wolf onto his chest, if they were going to talk about this. Guy had other ideas, though, wriggling further down. "She was..."
"Batshit insane?" Oh, tongue. Tracing that scar.
"Yeah..."
"Bet she didn't know how to do this."
He grunted. Scars and the memories they brought be damned, they were testimonial to what they had endured together. All those years of bandaging each other up, familiar with each other's bodies as much as their own. Including to this.
They spent a few more hours being familiar with each other before they fell asleep again.