( there is a familiar softness hidden in the crook of quentin's neck as danny unwinds into his arms, plants his wet face into his throat, his mouth open and hot on his collar like he needs bare skin between his teeth to keep him pacified. it's a dreamy comfort, more maternal than paternal, tender soothing his mother would have offered him before the drugs took her from him. he doesn't question sinking into it, as his hands rake quentin's spine, grabbing fistfuls of fabric and snaking underneath, callused fingers stroking soft flesh, reading goosebumps like braille.
he knows this body better than he should. his fingers linger over the places he remembers sinking a knife, by memory and feel alone. q always had the perfect body for dismantling, for fucking.
when he inhales on a shivering sniffle, his shoulders shake to match. he lifts his head and smears a kiss over his jaw, following the curve of it to his earlobe. )
I don't feel right. ( nothing feels right anymore. everything about this place is all fucking wrong. wrong deity. wrong body. the whites of his eyes bloodshot, framed by thick dewy lashes as he stares at quentin through the gaussian blur. ) I think I'm becoming something else.
( something ordinary. something human, despite the black mud he vomited up earlier, where quentin kneels now. a transformation of any sort would be a welcome relief, at this point. hard proof that he's not entirely forsaken. )
no subject
he knows this body better than he should. his fingers linger over the places he remembers sinking a knife, by memory and feel alone. q always had the perfect body for dismantling, for fucking.
when he inhales on a shivering sniffle, his shoulders shake to match. he lifts his head and smears a kiss over his jaw, following the curve of it to his earlobe. )
I don't feel right. ( nothing feels right anymore. everything about this place is all fucking wrong. wrong deity. wrong body. the whites of his eyes bloodshot, framed by thick dewy lashes as he stares at quentin through the gaussian blur. ) I think I'm becoming something else.
( something ordinary. something human, despite the black mud he vomited up earlier, where quentin kneels now. a transformation of any sort would be a welcome relief, at this point. hard proof that he's not entirely forsaken. )