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Angel Hunt and Streifen in Roleplay
+ Alternate Universe 04 +
C H A P T E R O N E : P A R T 12
The kiss they share is gentle and warm, the same kind of warm that began in his chest with the touch of the Angel’s fingers. It moves at a snail’s pace, one inch at a time beneath the surface of his skin, undeterred by the icy cold that has inhabited the cracked and damaged places within for the past ten years.
Time has slowed to a fractional pace, stretching out every heartbeat as though it wishes to maximize each moment they spend locked together. When it finally must march forward once again the kiss is broken, but neither man pulls away, faces retaining the same fractional space between them as the rest of their bodies, unwilling to be parted any further. Just as it was when he’d traced the line of the other man’s mouth, this feels right, right in a way that nothing has felt in a very long time. Pitch-dark eyes open to find their dual-colored counterparts, the pink flecked depths every bit as deep and familiar as they’d been before. The color may not be the same as his Jun, but he knows these eyes, he’s looked into them over and over again. He’s seen them happy and proud, angry and worried, stricken with pain and filled with tears, and glazed with lust. He knows them as he knows no others, maybe not even his own. His flawless memory may insist that he has never met this Angel before today, but he knows what he feels, and as much as he relies on his unerring telepathy, he also relies on his gut. It’s rare that the two are ever at odds, but then again, this is a very unusual situation.
So while the cold and logical part of him would argue all the reasons this can’t be, reasons that by the light of day may in fact prove to be correct, in the darkest part of the night it’s the illogical parts of him that win out. The parts that have ached and bled and longed all these years. The parts that have endured the lonely days, the grief stricken, heart-wrenching nights, and each of the three attempts he’s made to escape it all. The parts that can’t give any explanation aside from how he feels. These parts rise up against the logic, against the physical differences between his Jun and this Jun, and smother them with raw, physical need and that enduring sense of rightness that screams at him each time their bodies are close.
Zephyr’s second hand joins his first on the opposite side of the Angel’s face, drawing him back in, secretly pleased when no resistance is given. Returning the kiss is as natural as drawing air into his lungs or channeling his magic, an action made without any thought lent, instinctive and visceral. When it breaks they waste no time moving to the next, and then the next, and the next after that. There’s no urgency to these exchanges, each one slow and gentle, an exploration of something known by heart, yet ready to be relearned and re-experienced all the same. This is a homecoming, a return to something once known so intimately, but lost and only now recovered. The times that he’s wished for this, dreamed of kissing these lips, feeling this familiar body against his own are countless and now that they are, at least temporarily, a reality, he has no desire to rush. Morning will come soon enough but until then he wants to savor every moment.
Slipping his hands from Jun’s face, the Seeker trails them down along the lines and curves of the Angel’s body, blazing a path across chest and stomach, over the defined ridge of slim hips to wrap around toned thighs. Lifting the slight frame easily, Zeph spins them both around to set Jun on the island. Tapered fingers slip into strands of gradient white-gold hair, tugging him in close once again to taste the velvet softness of the other man’s mouth. His own hands busy themselves with slipping under the hem of the oversized sweater to begin a more leisurely examination of the flat muscle beneath. The attention pulls a small sound from Jun’s throat and in encouragement long legs draped in thin pants circle around his back to lock tight, ensuring his attention remains firmly fixed.
When the need for air forces them to part once again, dark eyes spotted lightly with brilliant gold find and steadily hold the Angel’s. “This is your last chance to get coffee before pancakes.” The words are spoken with a serious tone, a chance for Jun to end all this before they go too far , but the meaning they carry is teasing as well, an old inside joke. The fact that this joke is one he shared with his Jun and not the one he currently holds in his arms never even crosses his mind …
Jun: Every night for months he’s died in the arms that hold him now, been helpless to do anything but watch with glassy eyes as everything he treasures in his existence slips from his grasp. When he wakes, he’s always left feeling empty and hollow, hurt by what he’s lost and struck with a heartache so strong that each new day has been a little more unbearable than the last. But here and now he’s finally found it again -that treasured thing dearer to his heart than anything in the entire world. He’s finally found everything that he once wasn’t strong enough to hold onto and it fills that piece of him that had been chipped away little by little by his death, that empty hollow space that nothing’s been able to fill, that fractured part that’s left him feeling broken and incomplete in ways he hasn’t been able to fully understand.
It’s here, finally, it’s here and within his grasp.
He’s spent all these months longing to be made whole again while never truly believing it would happen. He’s spent months longing to taste the taller man’s lips again, to feel the heat of his body once more, to have these hands claiming him over and over like they used to, to be desired and wanted, loved and needed in a way only the one who owns his mind and body can –god but he’s longed for it so desperately.
Every single thing he’s ever wanted is here before him and now that he’s found it again, he never plans to let it go.
Fingers slip beneath the hem of the borrowed sweater he wears, the touch soft yet strong and burning lines of fire beneath the surface as they move almost agonizingly slow over the flat pane of his stomach in their exploration, pulling a needing sound from deep within. Slipping his hands into coal dipped strands of white blonde in response, the Higher pulls the taller man back in for another gentle kiss tinged in honey and fire, his long legs wrapping around the Seeker’s trim frame to lock him in. Every kiss lights him up in a way he feels he’s been without for far too long, a spark that only the Dark has ever been able to ignite and familiar to him in every way. Somewhere in his heart, Jun feels that he’s known this body in the past, that he’s known the heat of the Selestarri’s flawless skin stretched tightly over his taut muscle close to his, felt again and again the way streaks of electricity stream beneath the surface with every touch, how each graze sends thin burning lines racing down the length of his spine –often times stealing his very breath, he’s known it many times and he’s missed it in every way.
There’s no logic when Zephyr touches him, there never has been. There’s nothing in his head to speak up and tell him that what he thinks he knows has actually been taken from another , that he can’t have known any of it because they are in fact basically strangers, nothing there to argue that what he feels is anything but his own feelings.
This desire, this deep seeded, overwhelming urgent want and need is his own and no one else’s and nothing can convince him otherwise right now. The heart beating beneath the blonde’s chest was given to him once and he’s here to claim it all over again. He knows the other man, he knows him well. He’s waited so long to feel him again, to be this close to him, touching, tasting, branding and being branded, how he’s waited and now that the wait is over, nothing will take this from him –not logic, not reason, and not the earlier reminders that everything he feels doesn’t truly belong to him.
When brilliant gold spotted black eyes lock with his dual toned white and he’s given a chance to put an end to what they are doing, he can’t help the sly, knowing smile that forms on his mouth. He knows the meaning of the Seeker’s words as well; he’s been teased by them and he’s teased in return so many times, an in-joke shared with another but one he knows just the same. “Coffee can wait,” the white haired Angel breathes before dipping back in for another brief taste, his tapered fingers slipping from coal dipped strands of white blonde and trailing along Zephyr’s chest and stomach, they very tips of his fingernails ghosting over every curve and line of muscle as he marks a slow exploring path down. “I’m hungry now.” for stacks and stacks of pancakes, until he can’t take it anymore. “Right now.”
Zephyr: There’s something about that bossy tone in Jun’s voice, making it quite clear that the Angel knows exactly what he wants. It’s something he’s not come across all that often in those he beds, his partners either unwilling or unable to express their desires, especially when faced with his own demanding aggression. Half of them become too pliant or too subservient and the other half are just outright terrified. Both are mood killers. Part of what had drawn him to his boyfriend when they first met was the fact that Jun always voiced his own needs. He’d blush a new shade of red trying to talk about his feelings, but once the clothes came off, he wasn’t at all faint hearted about expressing how hard he wanted to be fucked.
So to hear the echoes of the one he loves from the Angel before him instantly kindles a fire deep within, lighting him up with that same effortless ease that Jun had mastered early on in their relationship. It serves to burn out the last vestiges of his logical mind entirely, the part still protesting that this isn’t his boyfriend and to treat him as such, even if the white-haired man has given permission, is still unfair. This Jun is here, he’s willing, and that’s all that matters at the moment. The rest can be dealt with later. With its demise, his divided attention is freed up to focus on the fact that he is hungry for pancakes, starving actually, craving them now in a way he hasn’t since Jun died. It’s as if all he’s eaten recently has been merely to subsist, enough to get by, but not enough to feel satisfied. After thirty-five years nothing could hope to compare, and he’d merely taken the release needed and left once finished. Innic is the only exception, able to meet his aggression head on without flinching, but it was always about an exchange of commodities driven by grief and pain and not anything deeper.
The scrape of fingernails against the skin of his stomach brings Zephyr’s attention sharply to focus, sizzling sparks flaring to life just beneath the surface to streak inward toward his core. Jun is taking his time to outline every muscle of his thin frame, an exploration he’s enjoying more with each passing heartbeat. Turning his head just a little brings his mouth into contact with the white-haired man’s for a kiss tinged with a hint of the fire that builds within each of them. A fire he has every intention to stoke to the level of blazing inferno. “You know very well,” the Dark says when the need for air pulls them apart, “that good pancakes take time to make.” Each word brushes his lips against the Angel’s, breath warm and just slightly labored in the fractional space between. “If you hurry, they’re just not nearly as satisfying.”
Beneath the borrowed, oversized sweater his hands roam freely, revisiting the toned muscle and sensitive areas he’d committed to memory long ago, pleased to find that this Jun responds in exactly the same ways as his Jun had. A small moan is breathed against his mouth in response, the strained, wanting sound firing the blonde’s blood in an instant. “First you have to find all the ingredients,” he continues his teasing instruction, “quality ingredients free of barriers.” The emphasis is marked with a sharp nip to the Angel’s full bottom lip. “Barriers like this.” Grasping the hem of the sweater, he tugs it over Jun’s head to discard on the countertop, forgotten immediately. One hand roughly pushes the shorter man down until he’s resting on his elbows on the dark countertop, white hair like spilled snow, and gold shot eyes all but devour the one spread out before him like a puma sizing up its next meal. For a moment Zeph nearly forgets the interest in prolonging the anticipation, practically derailed at the surging rush inside that wrenches hard, demanding he claim Jun this instant. Only a firm grip on his control and an iron will keep him from giving in, but it’s difficult, the temptation to drop all this slow teasing and simply fuck the Angel one he almost can’t resist. “And this,” the Seeker manages after a minute, fingers tugging the drawstring of loose pants until the knot pulls free.
Slim chest rising and falling more rapidly with every heartbeat and teeth biting into his bottom lip, Jun is clearly ready, and slim hips lift as if to hurry the Dark along, but Zephyr is having none of it. His hands shift quickly down to run the length of toned inner thighs, separated from skin he knows to be silken and flawless by thin fabric. He wants to hurry? Oh no, that’s a challenge the blonde is more than willing to take on. Let's see just how long he can draw things out. “Proper pancakes take patience.” Both hands mark a path upward, achingly slow. “And you do want proper pancakes, right?” The Angel’s head drops back, a whimper echoing through the kitchen in a response he’s going to accept as consent.
Leaning over the counter, the Seeker’s mouth finds the exposed length of Jun’s neck, the skin as soft and smooth as the finest velvet. Slowly he begins a path downward, alternating each kiss with a sharp nip, each press of his teeth sending a subtle shiver through the other man. “Then... you have... to prep the griddle...” The sentence is given in the fractional moments between touching skin and shifting along the other man’s body. Tapered fingers twist into his hair around the halfway point, sending a line of fiery pain streaking down his spine in a way he loves, but it does nothing to halt his progress.
“It needs to be hot.” The Selestarri leaves his last kiss just below the loosened tie of the pants, the very tips of his fingers tracing along the top of the waistband, dipping down here and there to the burning skin beneath. “Scorching hot.” Blazing golden eyes lift to meet their counterparts, the pink-flecked depths slightly glazed but demanding satiation. With very deliberate movements, the garment inches downward to expose the ridge of narrow hips, then lower and lower, so slow that he half expects Jun to reach down and yank them off. Just as straining flesh is about to be revealed, Zeph glances once more at the Angel, a look that brands with its intensity, then peels back the final inch, his mouth claiming the heat beneath...
Jun: He almost can’t take the teasing, the agonizingly slow way the Seeker is drawing out every touch and sensation already starting to drive him a little mad. Each kiss is like fire that seeps into his skin and burns him, every touch stoking the inferno already building at his core and if he doesn’t get some kind of satiation soon, he’s starting to feel as if he might actually combust.
It’s never been like this with Haniel… there’s never an instant spark to light him when they come in contact or a fire that streaks beneath the surface of his skin from a single look alone. When they are together, he’s always left feeling as if something is missing, something important that he’s never able to place. But lying here on this counter with the tall Selestarri’s body so close to his own, with those perfect velvet lips branding him with heated breaths and sharp nips, with those brilliant golden eyes he’s come to know so well from his dreams searing straight into his soul, the realization of what he’s been missing hits the white haired Higher full force.
In all these years he hasn’t truly been touched in the way he needs, he hasn’t truly been held and he hasn’t been taken in a way that would satisfy him, not for a very long time. Only one person could possibly do these things for him, only one person could ever measure up to his desires and Haniel is not and never has been that one. This desire he feels has always been reserved for another… this want, this need… it’s meant for the blonde and him alone. His world is spinning he’s so dizzy with that knowledge and it leaves him breathless and wanting in every way. And god is he wanting. He wants more, so much more; he wants every single ounce that the Seeker is willing to give.
The look flashed moments before he’s claimed is intense and piercing, branding him instantly and stealing what’s left of his breath. He knows this look just as he knows those eyes, those burning golden eyes that mark him in ways no one else can. He’s longed to be looked at with those eyes so often lately, ached for this in his very bones. Nothing could make him forget these eyes forever -a thousand years or a hundred thousand could separate the taller man and himself and he’d still know them. He sees them night after night, they’ve been burned into his very soul.
Tapered fingers twist a little tighter in coal dipped strands of white gold, Jun’s dual toned gaze closing and his full lips parting, the moan torn from him as wet heat engulfs his flesh echoing throughout the darkened room. At a pace meant to drive him crazy, the Seeker slides down further, taking him in slowly -inch by inch before suddenly sliding back up again. The sensations are almost overwhelming as his back collapses against the dark countertop, Jun reaching down with his free hand and the path of his fingers intent on joining the first. Before he can find white blonde however, he’s caught, the tight grasp around his wrist pulling a whimpering gasp from within. Early dawn flecked white snap back open and his head lifts from the marbled surface, the desperation clear in his lust glazed gaze when he meets the blazing golden staring up, practically begging to have the torture end without a single word being said. But his hand is kept at bay despite his desires, a wicked grin flashed that pulls another whimper from him moments before the blonde is sliding back down to take him in all over again.
Over and over wet heat ratchets the fire up to a blazing inferno, each new pass a little faster than the last. Before long slim hips are rising to meet the taller man every time he lowers, falling downward every time he nearly slips free. The Angel’s breath comes short and panted, the soft sounds that spill from his mouth quickly turning to ragged moans. All too soon, Jun finds himself standing on the edge of release, the Dark dragging him closer until only the thinnest pane of glass sits beneath his feet, needing only a single crack to shatter him and send him hurtling into the abyss waiting below.
“Once prepped… and scorching…” he rasps through panting breaths, his lithe frame tensing more and more as he draws nearer, tapered fingers gripping tighter in their hold. “…show me… how not to burn… pancakes…”
Zephyr: Every sound the other man makes is like a siren call; each whimper, moan, and desperate, rasping word making his blood run hot, a liquid fire that streams over strung-out nerves. For years he’s dreamed of hearing the Angel’s voice again, listening for it out of habit even in the beds of others only to come away disappointed time and time again. He knows each sound by heart, how to draw them out with his hands or mouth, and how to interpret the slightest changes. The instant straining moans begin to accompany panted breath is as sure a signal that Jun is close to the edge as the shifting of slim hips or the swift tensing of toned muscle.
Blazing gold eyes drag along the flat plane of stomach and lightly built chest in their path to lust gilded pink and white, admiring the trail of reddened marks that grace pale skin. His marks on the Angel’s body never fails to light him up, a physical claim that clearly stakes his territory. Mine, it tells the world, a message he’d begun to declare from the very first night he’d spent with Jun, and one he’d continue to reiterate again and again for thirty-five years. This one may not be his, but it feels right that he wear the marks as well, even if only temporarily.
The raw, aching need that emanates from the Angel is nearly tangible, desperate and yearning, his grip on the edge so fragile that the merest graze of fingers could set him spiraling out of control. While this is part of the larger game they’re currently playing, truthfully he loves pleasing Jun, loves knowing that he can make him feel like this. He had never been able to get enough of the other man in the past and this was partly why--it’s hard to get bored with a bed partner when pleasing them turns you on. Pinning the shorter man’s gaze with his own, Zephyr slips away inch by agonizing inch, conveying very clearly the intention behind the slow movements. The strained whimper that issues from Jun’s throat escalates quickly into a loud cry when he dips back to swipe his tongue across the tip, a hard shudder rippling through his slender frame.
Releasing Jun’s wrist, the Seeker tugs fingers from gradient shaded strands and straightens to his full height, his actions drawing a frustrated sound from the Angel. Stepping around the corner of the island, he reaches out to latch onto a slim ankle, spinning the other man to face him when he moves to the other side of the counter. Hooking his foot around the bottom rung of the nearest barstool, Zephyr drops onto it even as Jun is sitting up, their mouths meeting in a bruising collision steeped with fire. A wave of heat flashes straight to his core, scorching along strung-out nerves almost painfully. Thin cracks spider web through the barriers that hold his magic in check, a sheen of hard edged white tainting his vision, the air beginning to thicken like a muggy summertime day with each passing heartbeat. The energy makes everything more sensitive, fueling lust like gasoline to a bonfire.
The pants still clinging to toned legs are stripped away and discarded before the Dark yanks the Angel to the very edge of the dark granite. His fingers trace blindly over the long muscle of inner thighs, reveling in skin as soft as the finest silk. “We always burn the pancakes.” The words are little more than a growl, gritted out when straining lungs demand they part for air. Roughly grasping the white-haired man’s waist with a grip meant to leave lasting marks, he pulls Jun off the counter and into his lap. “They taste best that way.”
Fingers claw at the waistband of black pants, eager to remove the final barrier between them, the time for delays clearly at an end as far as the Angel is concerned. “But…” Zeph catches both hands in his, drawing on his magic to simply banish the garment. The heat of Jun’s straining flesh so close to own, separated by only the slightest shift of his hips, sends a shockwave through him, ratcheting up the desire to completely claim the other man. “We can slow down…” Releasing the Angel’s hands, he tilts his head, dropping a trail of short, fiery kisses along the line of Jun’s neck. “...if you don’t want them burned…”
Glancing up through long white-gold bangs he finds a look leveled at him that promises death if he even considers it. Not that he would, not when his own body is demanding satiation and his magic is pressing hard against rapidly thinning barriers. Grasping narrow hips, the Seeker gives Jun a brief moment to settle his feet on the upper rungs of the stool before lifting his body. Long arms wrap around his neck and shaking muscles tense, but Zeph holds them both still, dragging out this very last moment of anticipation until the Angel vents his frustration by nipping his scarred shoulder. “I’ll teach you how good burned pancakes can taste…” One smooth thrust of his hips brings their bodies together with a bone-jarring snap...
Jun: in one glorious moment all the waiting, the anticipation, and the frustration is over when toned bodies connect with a single, bone jarring snap -two perfect pieces of a puzzle come together at last. Full lips press against the Seeker’s scarred shoulder as the taller man sinks in deep, his teeth scoring warm flesh in an attempt to steel against the sensations threatening to overwhelm him while doing nothing to stifle the cry that spills from within.
With lithe body trembling and slender hips held firmly in place by a bruising hold, the moments of stillness begin to stretch on, the torture he’s being forced to endure exquisite in every way. Just when he isn’t sure he can take it any longer -his impatience voiced by a pleading whimper that reverberates across heated skin, the blonde relents by drawing him slowly back up, every inch of loss he suffers felt deeply at his core. Jun’s arms tighten around Zephyr’s neck and he lifts his head in the slightest, dragging his face upwards before his nose sinks against strands of dipped white gold, his breath hot and panting as it spills near the softness of an ear.
He whimpers another protest just as hard flesh is about to slip free, the sheer desperation in his tone tearing a predatory growl from the taller man’s mouth. A gasp is ripped from his lips as the hold around his frame digs even deeper, replaced by another loud cry when he’s mercilessly slammed back down. As flesh sinks in so far it could easily split him he can’t help but rock slender hips to meet what he’s given with force, the action drawing ragged moans from them both.
The pace is set in that instant, every new ground shaking thrust met with earnest and each new pass coming just a little quicker than the last. It’s as if his body knows a secret it’s now willing to share, that it’s danced a dance he knows by heart, a dance where every slight movement is laced with spice and honey, raking fire over the coals of strung out nerves that stoke an inferno already raging out of control. They know one another completely he and the Selestarri, each man in tune despite all the years that have separated them -proving with every slight shift of his hips that greets each new thrust how perfect a match they are, showing it with every bead of salty sweat that rises up to the surface and spills over velvet to mingle with that of the other and ratchet up the friction between them over a hundred fold. It’s here in the way his body responds so effortlessly to every harsh touch of rough fingers or harsh nips of teeth that mar otherwise pale and perfect skin. It’s here in a body crying out in desperation, hungry for everything that the Seeker can give him while wanting so much more.
And while somewhere inside, buried deep and near silent, a logical voice would try to convince him that he and the blonde have never done this before, that he’s never been fucked by the one holding him or felt his branding touch, his body easily betrays him, showing him quite plainly over and over how imprinted this memory is and always has been on the farthest recesses of his soul . It’s as if his body is trying to compensate for a loss of time he and the Selestarri have suffered and now that they are finally reunited, nothing is going to stop them from attending a reception long overdue. The years that have kept them apart have been far too many, too much time has been stolen from them -precious time that his body is damned sure going to do everything in its power to make up for in some way.
The Higher’s desperate pants quickly turn to gasping moans as the pace steadily quickens, each new snapping thrust forcing all thought from his head. Soon, there’s only the need and the desire that burns like electric fire, a give and take each one of them perfected long ago. With his mouth close to the Dark’s ear and the lust tainting his straining tone, he speaks, his voice thick and heavy with the need of more. “Harder,” Jun urges in lilting Angelic, “harder and faster… please, I can’t take it anymore…”
The reward he’s given is instant and before he knows it, he finds himself standing by the tips of his toes at the very edge of oblivion. For long dizzying moments he simply teeters at the precipice of a horizon just out of his reach, but when one hand pulls from his hips and streaks roughly upwards through long sweat dampened strands of snow to press firmly between his shoulder blades, the thin pane of glass keeping him at bay shatters into a million tiny pieces beneath his feet. His lithe frame arches hard against the Selestarri’s body as a shuddering cry is torn from his throat, his dual toned gaze slamming shut as the dam is broken to send him hurtling without mercy into the abyss waiting below…
Zephyr: The push and pull, give and take of each thrust and withdrawal flows like a well-oiled machine, tuned to perfection in spite of the years of separation. He loves the power in Jun’s body, the effortlessness with which every muscle contracts and lengthens, steel encased in velvet. When lilting Angelic begs him for more the shift to a higher gear is instant, the collision each time they meet flush strong enough to leave lasting bruises. The pace he sets is relentless, pushing the other man right to the brink, loving how desperately he works to stay grounded, clinging for as long as possible. Releasing one of his hands from its hold on narrow hips, he drags it upward along the Angel’s spine to press directly on the sensitive area between his shoulder blades. The reaction is immediate and intense, the cry ringing out and nails scratching at his back hard enough to draw blood as Jun plummets over the edge.
The vise-like tightening of muscle and the stinging pain ratchet up the demands of his own body, the need for satiation drowning out all else. Tapered fingers tangle in damp strands of snow white, gripping tight enough to pull Jun’s head back, exposing the long line of his throat. The Dark’s mouth finds the place where neck and shoulder meet, breathing in the mixture of sweat and the Angel’s unique scent before teeth nip hard enough to score silken skin. Zephyr drives his body into the other man’s with ruthless force, heedless of the fact that he may very well split the slender frame in two. The third thrust snaps the thin threads leashing his control and shatters the last of the barricades restraining his magic, sending him sailing out right behind the Angel.
Releasing a low, rasping growl against sweat-streaked skin, the Seeker holds tightly to the one in his lap, needing something to ground him as intense, mind numbing sensation streams through in a scouring wave. Together the two men freefall for a long, breathless moment, and as it had so many times in the past, his flaring magic brings them into perfect alignment, hearts racing with the same breakneck rhythm, blood roaring in their veins, and pulsing fire twisting over strung-out nerves. It’s a binding closer than touch can ever bring, an unrivaled closeness, but it slips away as the plummeting fall is cut brutally short and blinding white drowns out the world.
Bodies shaking and warm breath spilling against his neck, Zeph’s hazy thoughts move sluggishly, his mind feeling as though it’s been scrubbed with steel wool. Distantly he can still sense his connection to Jun and on instinct his telepathy reaches out, the psionics seeking to rekindle the closeness as they linger in the aftermath of release. In the instant they link all that he is, is laid out for the other man to read like a book--the encompassing, incandescent love he carries for his Jun and the loss that has etched itself into his very bones, the sorrow and sadness entrenched at his core and the desire to end his own life. Ten years of scars, sleepless nights, and endless, aching misery is as plain as if he’d described them in detail. The Dark rips it quickly back, the painful snap of backlash ringing through his head and the faint smell of blood filling his nose.
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes shakily when the Angel’s head snaps up from its place on his shoulder. After the rawness of the broken seal and the abuse he’d suffered had eased, Zeph often shared himself with Jun in this way. It’s natural for telepaths to want this kind of closeness, a sharing of themselves that goes beyond the physical. It’s intimacy on a level that’s incomparable, and Jun had always understood his need for it. Unwinding one arm from around his neck, Jun’s gentle fingers carefully wipe beneath the Dark’s nose, the tips stained with scarlet when they pull away. “It’s an old habit.” One he’d only shared with his boyfriend. For the past ten years he hasn’t opened himself up like that, not bothering with the strangers he’d bedded and unable to do so with his best friend, unwilling to allow Innic to see the broken depths inside. Maybe he’d done so now because this man is so similar to his Jun, his mind desiring the closeness their bodies had shared.
Whatever the reason, it’s left him feeling too exposed, and unable to meet pink and white eyes, the Seeker begins to slowly untangle himself from the other man...