You (don’t) know how it feels
A Rosekiller 4/20 microfic
Evan was mesmerised by Barty’s lips, the way they wrapped around the tip of the fresh roll, plump and glistening pink. Even through the slightly hazy room, his eyes were trained on that one point of contact, partly because he knew exactly how those lips felt, partly because a bit of green always set Evan on edge.
Contrary to popular belief, a little smoke set his hypersensitivity through the roof. Barty, however, was the picture perfect example of a heavenly bliss, head tilted back, nestled into the soft couch cushions. His whole neck was bared, on display actually, with several bruises all in various states of healing. Evan knew that if lent over and wrapped his hand around that throat, his fingers would line up with those fresh splotches of purple perfectly.
“You know, if you’ve lost something, you’re welcome to come find it.” Barty’s voice was rough around the edges and just a little bit airy. A smirk was spreading along his lips. Barty loved to catch Evan out. It was a little game they played. Barty would see how far he could push the limit, and Evan would see how long he could ignore it. Right now, Evan was losing. Big time.
Barty took another drag and Evan was mesmerised. He wished he knew how the inside of Barty lungs felt, he felt jealous of the smoke. There were few things in life that could touch Barty in a way Evan couldn’t. His lips were damp from the joint and Evan envied the wetness. He also knew exactly what lay between Barty’s jaws. He knew his tongue was thick with loyalty. He knew his dog would only bite when asked.
Barty shifted on the sofa so he could now straddle his boyfriend, always gentle on the down force, always conscious of the goosebumps lining Evan’s skin. Barty could go hours without touching Evan. He was raised as a solitary boy. But the second he feels the heat emanating from the blonde’s skin, he’s no better than a cat chasing the sunlight.
He noses at Evan’s collarbones, up his neck to the junction of his jaw and presses his tongue just lightly against the pressure point. Barty has always had an animalistic urge to bite down into Evan’s artery until his mouth fills up with so much blood he chokes. Evan’s skin is soft and salty and just so warm. He starts to work the skin with his teeth gently. They have time.
“Still haven’t found what I was looking for.” Barty feels Evan’s voice more than he hears it. His lower face is pressed into the oesophagus, and he feels the words rumble out of his voice box. Barty has always preferred to feel things. Teeth withdrawn, he settles back into Evan’s lap. Evan’s eyes are shining, slightly rimmed with red and the joint sits precariously between his lips.
Barty knows Evan knows all of his weak points. Yes, Barty is louder, more boisterous, draws a little bit more attention, but Evan - oh he holds the leash. A well trained dog only goes as far as his owner will let him. “C’mere.” Evan’s voice is soft and Barty loves him, so why would he say no.
He feels Evan inhale as they press chest to chest. The joint is still balanced in Evan’s fingers but his other hand comes up to grip the base of Barty’s neck. Evan guides his lips towards him even though he’s sure Barty could sculpt him out of clay in the dark.
Barty’s lips are soft as they trace over his. Evan has learned to let him be tactile, that he needs the innocent intimacy as much as the sex and violence they both indulge in. Evan’s lips are cold but Barty makes quick work of warming them up. His hand snakes up into Barty’s unruly waves and it’s only as soon as Barty feels Evan’s tongue press at the seam of his mouth, does Barty realise he needs to inhale.
Evan exhales slowly into Barty’s mouth, their eyes locked and lips sealed. They both wonder if they could stay here forever, sharing the same air, breathing with a united set of lungs. Evan’s hand traces down Barty’s back, and comes up to settle on his sternum. Bump. Bump. Bump. Evan wishes he could put his heart in Barty’s chest, wishes he could swap them around like an insurance policy on a promise. It is just a coincidence that Evan’s favourite colour on Barty is red.
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one of my favourite moments in episode one of my beautiful man 2 is this
because it is exactly what kiyoi wants and has been begging for from hira. to not do everything for him, because he too is a person who is just going through life and in love with another human. hira doesn’t make the shrimp croquettes for kiyoi but simply because its something meaningful from his own childhood. this just gentle understated intimacy of sharing something from his past is exactly what kiyoi wants from a relationship. very beautiful to me.
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They never leave each other's side they're deffo in love lmao
My friend suggested that I should name them aziraphale and crowley it's fuckin perfect they're the same colours and everything 😭💀
(This is so fucking stupid I'm crying it's like 1am 💀 also should I draw this lmao)
~NSFW blogs DNI~
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