|
|
|
last online May 19, 2024 1:29:25 GMT
|
|
|
Jul 18, 2020 17:17:48 GMT
Post by Deleted on Jul 18, 2020 17:17:48 GMT
Taking a long pull on his cigarette as they walked, he nodded in understanding at the answer to his own wordless question of 'Now what?'. His lips tightened around the cigarette in response to the third step, biting the inside of his cheek and hoping that in this case the collateral damage wouldn't be too bad.
It was hard enough restraining himself from fussing over Rhys after what had happened at the foundry, much less in general if his earlier out pour of worry was anything to go by. If he was fair with himself, Ezra had reason to worry, though he didn't particularly feel like opening up that can of worms and anxiety today.
--
He was more than grateful to tag along for the more conversational leg of their journey. At first he hadn't said much and just let Rhysand do the talking, though that seemed to go over with the people they interviewed like a lead zeppelin. It seemed like Ezra's gift of talking too much all the time paired very well with Rhys' intimidating silence and gruff tone, well enough to get some useful information at least.
If he looked hard enough he could almost see it in their eyes, when they finally became too uncomfortable talking to Rhys and instead turned to Ezra, who was just happy to finally be putting his main skill to use.
--
With a grin, he led Jonah into the apartment, unfastening the lead and setting it on the leash on the low storage container. Absently he listened to the sound of his nails click against the floor as he padded into the kitchen like always, but his eyes focused on Rhys, shining with their usual cunning. "Mmm, sexy isn't quite the word I'd use for work. For the PI in question? Undoubtedly." Ezra quipped, slipping his shoes off and shrugging off his jacket.
| . . . I can't begin to let you know just what I'm feeling . . . Séance @rhysand |
[googlefont=Dancing Script]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
last online May 19, 2024 1:29:25 GMT
|
|
|
Jul 18, 2020 18:48:41 GMT
Post by Deleted on Jul 18, 2020 18:48:41 GMT
Rhysand's smirk turned more sly at the edges, hearing Ezra's answer. He finished locking up behind them and set the tied-off takeout bag on the storage next to the door. Rhys pulled off his own jacket and hung it up on the single bracket there, reaching around Ezra as he did so, who'd just finished hanging his own.
The two stopped, Ezra looking over his shoulder at Rhysand's half-lidded eyes and faint, suggestive grin. "You can get in my pants later, Mournspire," he said in a soft grumble. Rhys craned forward, kissing the other man slow and thoroughly, using the unusual angle to get a whole different experience of the inside of Ezra's mouth.
Breaking apart cruelly, Rhysand's eyes shone. "Dinner first." They divided to conquer, then. Since getting together, the kind of symbiosis they were fleshing out got deeper every day. Rhys didn't have to think about his part in the partnership, but he always was aware they were doing it - soundlessly, effortlessly tackling two halves of their shared whole. And every time he noticed (which was every time it happened), his chest hummed.
In this case, while Ezra saw to digging into the takeout bag and arranging its contents, Rhysand went to the fridge and got them a couple of beers. On his way back he hesitated, grabbing his instincts, stopping them, and rerouting, to make sure that he put the bottles on coasters. Rhysand never thought he'd get the hang of it, but he wasn't going to stop trying.
With that sorted, Rhys grabbed his laptop and, opening it while he balanced it on one forearm, jumped into one of Ezra's accounts on a streaming service or another. He pulled up Ninja Warrior from where they'd last left off and set it on the far side of the coffee table facing them like a television screen. Ordinarily when Rhysand was on a case, he didn't stop tackling it until it was resolved one way or another. But just then he wanted to enjoy a meal with his lover and think only about Ezra Mournspire, not some client and her ex. | . . . My head was war. My skin was soaked. I called your name 'til the fever broke . . . Omen @ezra |
[googlefont=Dancing Script]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
last online May 19, 2024 1:29:25 GMT
|
|
|
Jul 20, 2020 17:03:28 GMT
Post by Deleted on Jul 20, 2020 17:03:28 GMT
With a smile, and what was quickly becoming an instinctive gesture, he brought his hand up to rest against Rhys' cheek as their lips met. Heat surged beneath his skin, despite knowing and begrudging the words waiting for him when they parted. As they drew apart, his eyes narrowed and lips pressed into a petulant pout, though Ezra nodded nonetheless.
Nearly on autopilot, he moved over towards the couch. Unpacking the takeout bag, he arranged the contents with an arguably unnecessary scrutiny, placing each on the coffee table and divvying the utensils out between each. Just as he finished, Ezra noted the beers placed on coasters, and his eyes darted up to look at Rhys, a fond, gently amused smirk perching at the ends of his lips.
Curling his legs beneath himself on the couch, he leaned into Rhys' side, unceremoniously stabbing a pair of chopsticks into the takeout box containing his noodles. Jonah padded out of the kitchen, and laid down beside the couch, between it and the coffee table. Settled in, Ezra picked at his food, resting his head against Rhys' shoulder, feeling truly comfortable and at peace.
He stayed like that long after he'd finished half of his food and closed the takeout box and set it on the table. Throughout the show, Ezra had wormed his way into laying on his stomach, head against Rhys' lap, with his arm dangling carelessly off the side of the couch to pet Jonah. Drifting dangerously close to sleep, the only thing that kept him vaguely conscious was the shepherd nuzzling against his hand with a wet nose. Otherwise, his lanky chest rose and fell with slow, sleepy breaths.
| . . . I can't begin to let you know just what I'm feeling . . . Séance @rhysand |
[googlefont=Dancing Script]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
last online May 19, 2024 1:29:25 GMT
|
|
|
Jul 20, 2020 17:48:28 GMT
Post by Deleted on Jul 20, 2020 17:48:28 GMT
They'd both eaten their fill, half-empty cartons scattered on the edges of the coffee table, and the show rattled on on the screen. Rhysand wasn't really paying attention to it, though. His grey eyes were softly resting on the back of Ezra's head that was propped up on one of his thighs. Rhy's arm had snaked down the collar of Ezra's shirt when the other man moved onto his stomach, and his broad, callused hand ran absent lines up the bony ladder of his lover's spine.
To anyone with eyes and common sense, Ezra was getting drowsy laying there. For Rhysand, his other senses underlined that truth. He could hear and feel under his fingertips Ezra's pulse slowing; his breathing turning more calm and rhythmic. Rhysand was intimately familiar with the melody of Ezra's sleeping body, because he was pressed, protectively and possessively over it every night.
Rhysand smiled dazedly at his lover, noting the long arm that spilled off of the couch to stroke Jonah just like Rhys was stroking Ezra. He marveled at his love for Ezra, still and forever unable to wrap his head around it.
His life was now a constant pattern of building tension. Every time Rhysand was able to sleep with Ezra, that tension was released, but the second they were finished it mounted again. That day had been no exception. Rhys had been imagining all the things he planned to do to Ezra that night throughout the entire day. And, while he still really wanted to do them, seeing Ezra so content and at peace... Damn if he didn't want the other man to drift off to sleep more. For Ezra's sake.
"Stay," Rhysand said, soft but firm, easing out from under Ezra and gently lowering his head onto the couch cushion instead. Rhys deftly gathered the Chinese food, stuffing in the fridge what was worth saving and in the trash what wasn't. Rhysand came back in the common room, shut the laptop and gingerly helped Ezra onto his feet, leading him by the hand to the bedroom.
There, Rhys made the other man sit on the mattress and helped him out of his clothes. "You're going to bed," Rhysand informed him, just in case the act of undressing him gave Ezra the wrong idea and woke him up. When Ezra was left only in his underwear, Rhysand did the same and crawled after his lover on the bed. He waited for Ezra to situate himself, then climbed over him in their normal position and lay, the hair on each of their bare chests intermingling.
Jonah hopped up onto the mattress and flopped down on his side at one far corner, giving out a great huff of relaxation. And that's the last thing Rhysand remembered hearing. | . . . My head was war. My skin was soaked. I called your name 'til the fever broke . . . Omen @ezra |
[googlefont=Dancing Script]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
last online May 19, 2024 1:29:25 GMT
|
|
|
Jul 21, 2020 18:18:19 GMT
Post by Deleted on Jul 21, 2020 18:18:19 GMT
Stirring ever so slightly, Ezra blinked slowly up at Rhys, almost intoxicated by the drowsiness and yet sobered by the absence of the calming patterns that had been drawn against his back. In sleep-laden compliance, he let his lover shift out from under his head without a fight, watching bleary eyed as the older man collected their rubbish and leftovers and made for the kitchen.
In that brief moment alone, he nearly lapsed into sleep, only to rouse once more at the audible click of the laptop shutting. Slowly and carefully, he got to his feet with assistance from Rhys, leaning against the other man as they walked to their bedroom. Distantly he was aware of Jonah's nails clicking against the laminate behind them.
Ezra sat on the edge of their bed, allowing himself to be pulled and pushed with doll-like articulation, doing what he could to help get himself undressed. He was on the edge of sobering from his drowsy haze when Rhys' words reached him, and he nodded slowly.
Falling back against the mattress, he inched himself to his usual spot, lifting his arms up both to hug Rhysand to his chest, and also to let his lover know he was properly situated. His ears tuned in to the calming sound of exhalations, the feeling of Rhys' breath buffeting his collar and throat rhythmically.
The bed dipped on the other side, he glanced over in time with his lover to see Jonah, a small, sleepy smile curling at his lips just as his eyes grew too heavy and slipped shut with finality, too tired to keep them open anymore. With little prodding, Ezra fell into a desperately needed, and thankfully dreamless sleep.
--
In the pattern they'd fallen into together now that their lives had coalesced, Ezra was usually the first one awake which was shocking in and of itself, at least to him. Now, on the thin line between waking and sleeping, he was aware of movement, but stubbornly refused to open his eyes to it. Instead his brows drew together in fitful, sleep-laden grumpiness that characterized much of his life before he'd met Rhys.
| . . . I can't begin to let you know just what I'm feeling . . . Séance @rhysand |
[googlefont=Dancing Script]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
last online May 19, 2024 1:29:25 GMT
|
|
|
Jul 21, 2020 20:18:09 GMT
Post by Deleted on Jul 21, 2020 20:18:09 GMT
Rhysand had never slept, in his entire life, as soundly and restfully as he had since making Ezra his. The other man had learned pretty early on to cope with Rhys's peculiar and encompassing sleeping position, acting as a human blanket for his lanky lover. One of Rhysand's favorite parts of their arrangement was that they woke up pasted to each other via sweat every morning - which demanded they both shower. Statistically, the "showering together" ratio for the mornings was at an impressive one-hundred percent.
That morning, as soon as Rhysand was semi-conscious, he realized the fever that'd left unchecked the night before had only got worse overnight. Shifting, he stopped to watch Ezra's eyes lazily shifting under their lids, a beastly glint in his grey eyes. Rhys pressed the first kiss to Ezra's collar bone, then quickly worked down, pausing here and there to savor the salty taste of their mixed sweat.
Rhysand made it to the other man's waistband and hooked his fingers into it, swiping the garment away with one motion. He heard Ezra's breath hitch, felt those long fingers clutch onto his head desperately. Rhysand shot a wolfish grin up Ezra's torso, then got to work.
- - - - -
Rhysand turned off the shower. He reached for the towel waiting for him and started absently drying off, watching Ezra, already with a towel around his thin waist, brushing his teeth at the sink. He was still a little more wet than he could've done, but patience where Ezra was concerned was never very deep, when he knotted his towel around his own hips and stepped out of the tub.
Rhys braced his hands on Ezra's sides and kissed his way up his lover's vertebrae, ending at the base of his neck. From there Rhysand rested his forehead between Ezra's shoulder blades and rumbled an arguable purr of contentment. "I liked it," he said, eyes still closed, smelling the soap on Ezra's skin and hoping his natural scent would wear through it sooner rather than later.
"Yesterday," he went on. "You, doing this case with me. I've never had... fun? Doing this job. And with you it..." Rhysand smiled, the movement running his facial hair over Ezra's bare back. "It was," he finished with a shrug of one, muscled shoulder. | . . . My head was war. My skin was soaked. I called your name 'til the fever broke . . . Omen @ezra |
[googlefont=Dancing Script]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
last online May 19, 2024 1:29:25 GMT
|
|
|
Jul 23, 2020 18:25:38 GMT
Post by Deleted on Jul 23, 2020 18:25:38 GMT
Shifting into wakefulness, he hummed contentedly at the kiss pressed to his collar, eyes remaining shut for the moment to avoid having to blink and adjust to the sunlight he knew would be filling their room. Ezra was consciously aware of the sweat that beaded his skin everywhere they'd been pressed together, and didn't have it in him to feel begrudged about the shower he knew he'd need.
The room grew much too hot as the kisses slowly continued, and his breath hitched involuntarily, hands searching for whatever they could find, firmly rooting in Rhys' hair in this case. Opening his eyes, he met the blistering gaze leveled at him, feeling the seemingly ever-burning inferno surge up and consume him as well.
--
Scrubbing the brush against his teeth, his lips twitched into a smile as he felt Rhys pause behind him. In the mirror he watched his own reflection, and that of his lover as he pressed soft kisses along the nape of his neck. Ezra spit into the sink, giving a soft, "Mmm?" In response to the statement before he started to rinse the brush underneath the faucet.
Stowing the brush in the small cubby on the sink basin, his gaze rested on their reflections once more, smile much more pronounced now as he listened further, feeling the tickle of Rhys' beard against his shoulder.
Turning partly to face the other man, Ezra pressed his narrow hips against the sink's edge and brought his hand up gingerly. Running his thumb pad and palm against and alongside the grain of the older man's hair before letting it rest against his cheek. With his other hand, he took Rhys' chin, pulling him into a sweet, lingering kiss. Once he'd pulled back, he answered with a smirk, "I love you too."
| . . . I can't begin to let you know just what I'm feeling . . . Séance @rhysand |
[googlefont=Dancing Script]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
last online May 19, 2024 1:29:25 GMT
|
|
|
Jul 25, 2020 23:46:24 GMT
Post by Deleted on Jul 25, 2020 23:46:24 GMT
The look - smoldering, passionate, possessive - that Ezra gave him would've been enough, alone, to drive him to unspeakable and unrepentant acts. The kiss that came after dug his grave deeper - Rhysand never wanted to stop the taste and feel of Ezra's lips on his own. The words, though. Those words, and how they drew out the same truth in Rhys. They were what did him in.
"I love you too."
Rhysand's brow creased like he was in pain. His mouth parted, showing a soft edge of his white teeth. Breath rasped out of his lips and, with one broad hand, he pivoted Ezra so that his lover's tailbone rested against the porcelain sink. Rhysand's palms skated, one sliding up the small of Ezra's back, the other reaching around and clasping the back of his neck.
Rhysand pressed their foreheads together, closing his eyes, gripped by love so bone-deep it hurt, and knocked their hips together. Like he had no choice, like it was a compulsion, Rhys spent the next few minutes making a feast of Ezra's throat, collarbones and chest.
- - - - -
The day's clues had lead them here, to this moment. Rhysand still felt pangs of guilt beat a rhythm with his heart at having left Jonah at the apartment. But things were less casual, more high-pressure that day, tailing Wagner. Not only were dogs very indicative and drew a lot of attention - Jonah especially, given how cute he was - but Rhysand didn't want something bad to possibly happen to him.
Nothing bad's gonna happen, Rhys said to himself for the umpteenth time. He had to. He had to keep maintaining that mantra, because if Rhysand seriously started to consider that it might be a lie- He looked at Ezra, leaning casual and hot as sin against the edge of the door stoop they'd stopped in. The door itself was barred, featureless and handleless. They'd paused there because of the rain, looking out to the building across the street that Wagner had slipped in.
Yeah. If Rhysand thought for a moment that things could get violent, he'd have never let Ezra come in the first place. | . . . My head was war. My skin was soaked. I called your name 'til the fever broke . . . Omen @ezra |
[googlefont=Dancing Script]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
last online May 19, 2024 1:29:25 GMT
|
|
|
Jul 27, 2020 19:04:06 GMT
Post by Deleted on Jul 27, 2020 19:04:06 GMT
His heart twisted and swelled in a way that nearly knocked the breath out of his lungs in response to the look leveled at him. There was a sensation that sunk deep into the marrow of his bones and through every cell in his being, and it was seemingly mirrored in the expression on Rhys' face.
Ezra always teetered on the edge of unwholesomeness, especially now that he was around the older man constantly. That look drove him further down than he ever had before, below the bedrock of his stunted emotions and straight into the finer bits and pieces of his soul.
Part of him was distantly thankful that he was pressed against the sink basin. Ezra didn't quite trust his legs to hold him up at that point and luckily he didn't have to worry about that. His brow furrowed and drew together, long fingers curling and tangling into short cropped hair as his senses started to fail him one after another under the onslaught of affection.
- -
With a cigarette hanging from between his lips, he leaned against the alcove they'd stopped in. Hazel eyes scanning the rainy sky, he took a drag, letting the smoke trickle out through his nose lazily as his gaze fell once more to the building they were in the process of staking out.
There was a particular tension in Rhys' shoulders, only perceivable with the considerable time Ezra spent eyeing his lover both when he was and wasn't looking. Carefully, he swapped to leaning against the opposing side of the stoop and behind Rhysand, peaking at the building just over his broad shoulder for a moment before turning his gaze to the wall he'd just been poised against.
He had an intimate understanding of the worry associated with the job, and he couldn't nor would he argue that it wasn't justified. With a steady hand, he pressed his palm against the other man's shoulder, letting it skate over the fabric of his jacket absent and aimlessly in a subtle gesture meant to soothe.
| . . . I can't begin to let you know just what I'm feeling . . . Séance @rhysand |
[googlefont=Dancing Script]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
last online May 19, 2024 1:29:25 GMT
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Aug 6, 2020 18:58:42 GMT
Rhysand stiffened instinctively at the touch on his shoulder, but immediately relaxed into it. The contact was subtle and restrained, but it uncurled the strange pressure that'd snaked through his ribs. He reminded himself that this was just a stakeout. Nothing was going to happen. Besides, Rhys had seen Ezra take care of himself (two abductions aside). If things did get sticky for some reason or another, they'd be fine.
He exhaled, letting tension go, and turned to face Ezra. Rhysand smiled at him, gently but appreciatively for his soothing presence. But then Ezra's eyes shifted, snagging on something behind the broader man. Rhys looked over his shoulder to see Wagner exiting the building, this time with a friend.
Rhysand snapped his chin forward again, cupping Ezra's face to grab his gaze. "Peripherals," he murmured, pressing closer to give the illusion to any passersby that the two men were just getting a little friendly in that alcove. In Rhys's radar, he saw the two figures and, cold dread breaking open in his stomach like a cracked egg, he saw the one that was Wagner point a finger in their direction.
Rhys's eyes widened. The second figure gestured and the PI smelled a tang of energy like ozone on the air. Bruised-looking energy buffeted over Ezra and Rhysand before either of them could react. It swallowed them and, when it fell away, just as suddenly, they were no longer in that alcove. Instead, they stood on a shipping floor. Fork-lifts and cargo stood idle - a truck at the loading dock waited, half-full, and all of the "workers" stood in a ring around the two men.
Rhysand looked to the side when that same strange energy sparked, spitting out Wagner and the guy who'd come out onto the street with him... | . . . My head was war. My skin was soaked. I called your name 'til the fever broke . . . Omen @ezra |
[googlefont=Dancing Script]
|
|
|
|