Don’t Say a Word
September 3, 2007 § Leave a comment
Another attempt to write smut. Don’t laugh.
Rating: R, I guess. It’s not very specific…
Brian feels like he owes Pasha something. After all, he did save his life once. He helped him move on after Frankie…but even now it is difficult to bring that subject up. This is why he is standing in the hotel lobby, staring at the elevator that will take him up to the penthouse suite, where Pasha has stayed since everything happened. Since Louis died and ran away, surprisingly in that order.
He is hesitating because he and the immortal never really got on well. It could be chalked up to his being a fire witch; most immortals wouldn’t need any more explanation than that to hate him. But Brian thinks it has more to do with Louis. Most things have to do with Louis these days. But they have both been abandoned by the person they loved the most, and that is what brought Brian here the first time. The shuddering rattle of the elevator breaks his train of thought, and he steps in as the doors smoothly part.
The jolt as the elevator stops at the top floor is an ominous sound, as is the complete darkness that greets him as he steps from the brightly lit box. The drapes are all drawn, every light extinguished. Brian immediately bangs his knee on a coffee table as he tries to navigate the room. He swallows the curse and stands still, waiting for his eyes to adjust. He can hear the quiet hum of the air conditioner, and the ticking of the clock on the bedside table in the next room. The smell of old food reaches his nose from the room service tray sitting just inside the elevator, and he wonders when it was that Pasha last left the room.
Warily, Brian moves forward, the furniture in the room now gray shapes against a black backdrop. A shadow falls across his path, but he’s ready for it. Pasha seems to know it too, because he’s just standing there. Brian can’t see his face or know what he’s thinking, but he can feel the eyes studying him. And then Pasha lowers his head and is kissing him, and Brian is letting him because he owes it to him. The kiss is passion and fire, but it isn’t real. Nothing is real to Pasha in this cave that he won’t leave, and that is why they are shedding their clothing as they move towards the bedroom. In the elevator up, he tells himself he will end it this time, because this isn’t what Pasha needs. He needs to be told the things he told Brian on the that day on the cliffs above the salty surf. But even then that was about Louis. Pasha may have let him leap to his death if he hadn’t thought Louis would be devastated. But Brian doesn’t say anything because it might stop. He hasn’t had anyone since Frankie and god, he needs some kind of release.
Brian’s breath is knocked out of him as he is pushed back onto the bed, and he barely has time to catch it again before Pasha is there, pinning his arms above his head with one hand so he can’t touch, only feel. Pasha doesn’t want to be touched, doesn’t want to feel, but he enjoys making Brian moan and whimper at every sensation provoked by those annoyingly expert hands. He has wondered in the past if Pasha thinks it is Louis he is fucking, but it seems unlikely; Louis would be able to do more than just kiss him back and arch into his touch. When Pasha finally takes him, his arms are released and he grips the sheets as he rides out the waves of feeling, his hair starting to flicker and spark. He’s close, and reaches down with one hand to bring himself the rest of the way. Pasha soon follows, his fingers tightening their grip on Brian’s hips. The smell of charred fabric and feathers tells him that the pillow is ruined, but Pasha will get a new one with no questions asked.
He has already left, sitting naked on the couch in the next room, looking at a dark television screen. Brian hunts for his clothes where they were scattered. During this whole time, every time, they haven’t spoken a word.