bloodyrockgod | milliways_bar I don't sleep, I dream

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milliways_bar I don't sleep, I dream

[ooc: Post getting rid of Simon and recovery.]

The funny part is, he knows he should know he's dreaming.

He's walking down the aisle at the church in Manchester, a schoolboy again, an alter boy, and the priest is saying St. Sebastian brought food and comfort to imprisioned Christians during Diocletian's reign . . . and there's a portrait of St. Sebastian, pierced with a hundred arrows, on the wall. Charlie looks away.

Look! the priest orders and his voice sounds like Charlie's father's. You have to look!

Don't want to, Charlie protests but looks anyway, and the portrait is terrifying--the artist took great glee in portraying the saint's pain, and the arrows keep on flying and flying and Charlie exclaims I know that face! and he tries to climb up the wall and the priest--or his father dressed as a priest--says That's what you get, that's what you get, that's what you get over and over--

And then there's no more church and no more priest, but there's still St. Sebastian tied to a tree.

Only it's a tree in the forest of Milliways and it's not the saint, it's Darien, and his blood is silvery as it runs down his skin. And Charlie babbles I'll help you, I'll untie you and Darien whispers save me and the arrows never stop coming, never stop piercing him, and there's so much blood.

And his father says you can't save him, Charlie and Charlie's weeping and his hands are fumbling at the knots and Darien's dying and the arrows never stop.

Give up, Charlie, you've never saved anyone says his father and Charlie shakes him and shakes him and shakes him--only it's not his father anymore, it's Charlie, Charlie with silver eyes--

--and then he's awake.

In Darien's apartment, in his sweatpants, his hands wrapped around the edges of Darien's mirror. His body is dripping with sweat and it takes him a moment to realize that it's only his reflection.

He lets go of the mirror and sinks down to the floor a moment, and wipes his face with shaking hands.

When he's got his breath back he makes his way to Darien's bed and crawls beneath the sheets, wrapping himself around Darien's warm body.

Only after he's checked Darien for wounds can he relax enough to sleep.

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Only Darien just licked his cheek right near the ear.

Charlie yelps and throws his arms around his neck to kiss him vigorously back.

And Darien appreciates this... quite a lot.

Charlie walks them back to the bed, still kissing him everywhere he can reach, and sits on the edge and grins up at him.

Sex may not make everything better--but lord, it sure doesn't make things worse.

Not with these two. Not with --well, there go his legs. He leans down to continue kissing Charlie, because it's like oxygen, like everything he really needs in a mouth that always sort of tastes like maple syrup and strong arms and calloused fingertips and hands he lives to be under.

Charlie's hands--long-fingered, clever, dexterous and strong--slide up from thighs, over ass, up the back following the spine. He knows Darien by touch--would know his skin merely by texture now--but it never stops being a discovery. "Closer," he whispers, lying back.

And he pulls them up on the bed before settling, skin to skin, face to face, up on Charlie.

And that is just fine.

Charlie kisses his nose and rubs Darien's shoulders, arms around his back. "Ever told you how much I love this?" he whispers.

He grins gently and shakes his head.

"Not in the last three minutes, no."

"I," he drawls, wrapping his legs around Darien's hips, "really love this. Really and truly love having sex with you. Everything else in its place but the sex is--" He kisses Darien, giving his lips a playful lick. "The sex is particularly nice."

"The sex is about three seconds from being invisible," he cautions with a smile as the Quicksilver continues to flow over from him to Charlie, "though I have to agree as well."

"Schoom me, baby," he whispers and licks Darien's face.

They take their time. Darien will need a shot in the morning, but that's nothing new. There won't be a problem tonight and that's the most important thing, really.

When it's over and the silver shell has burst in a snowflake pattern from both of them and Darien's smiling and breathing heavy, he wraps one hand around the side of Charlie's neck and rubs his cheek with his thumb.

"Love you, babe."

His voice is gravelly and low. "Love you." He turns his head just enough to kiss Darien's palm. "Love you like mad."

He feels completely loved all other, and slowly runs his fingertips over Darien's shoulders and up and down his arms.

And Darien eats it up, like always, though he couldn't ever get tired of this. Of someone loving him straight up, no maybes.

Charlie snuggles even closer, and plants a row of kisses along Darien's collar bones. "Miss you when you're not here," he whispers.

"S'why I'm not not here as much as I can be."

He kisses down Darien's chest. "I . . . have a thought," he says quietly.

"I hope it's not lonely."

And he ruffles Charlie's hair with a teasing grin. He doesn't mean it, of course.

Charlie snorts and nips at Darien's skin. "Just for that I may not tell you," he pouts, but doesn't mean it either.

Darien pouts back. It is a pout of epic proportions. Very very pouty.

Charlie thursts a hand into Darien's hair and kisses the pouty.

"That," he whispers without lifting his mouth any more than he must, "was not my thought. Look at me, I need to be serious a minute."

And now he's looking at Charlie, looking at Charlie, and there is fear in his eyes, naked and plain. Stealing is a skill, but lying is an art and it's an art that Darien Fawkes has never mastered because he's right there, so easy to read right there in his eyes.

"Yeah?"

"I think I need to go back to the island for a bit."

He bites his lip.

"Really."

Just... looking at him now. He's as closed off as he ever gets.

milliways_bar I don't sleep, I dream

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