[ Danny's fist drives him high enough that the bruising pressure of his teeth fades to the background. Quentin nearly reaches back for a fistful of his hair, nearly breathes harder the moment before Danny lets him go. The welts stay hot, something to warm him up when his forearms sink into the cool mud.
[ dreamed about it, Danny says, and Quentin flushes fierce enough that he half expects the sludge to come to a simmer. ]
Yes. [ And the only thing that kept him from spreading himself for the thought was time, hygiene, some sense of anticipation for his return. Quentin pushes around his fingers, pushes back against him with a drawn out exhale. ] Danny, all the time. All the fucking--time.
[ The digits don't sink deep enough, but the next firm press yanks some string loose; his back dips suddenly, balls tighten, zadza rolling dully through the bite marks over his neck. Quentin's forehead falls onto his stacked fists. ]
I waited for you. [ Rumbling, wet. ] Tell me what you dreamed.
no subject
[ dreamed about it, Danny says, and Quentin flushes fierce enough that he half expects the sludge to come to a simmer. ]
Yes. [ And the only thing that kept him from spreading himself for the thought was time, hygiene, some sense of anticipation for his return. Quentin pushes around his fingers, pushes back against him with a drawn out exhale. ] Danny, all the time. All the fucking--time.
[ The digits don't sink deep enough, but the next firm press yanks some string loose; his back dips suddenly, balls tighten, zadza rolling dully through the bite marks over his neck. Quentin's forehead falls onto his stacked fists. ]
I waited for you. [ Rumbling, wet. ] Tell me what you dreamed.