[ He could stay there for hours, days -- forever, maybe, feeling the gentle scratch of Bob's nails over his skin, back and forth over the place where a precise strike could kill him if he were mortal. Half longing for those fingers to find his hair and pull, wanting the physical pain to match the emotional turmoil storming back and forth through the harbour of his body. Pull it out and make it hurt, to lose himself in sensation.
Armand hums softly in the affirmative. He straightens up to look at Bob properly, a little pink in the corners of his eyes from blood-tinged tears, his expression softened and tired, but deeply fond. ]
We were together for seventy years. But I couldn't be what he needed.
[ He lets go of a breath, raising a hand to touch Bob's face, as if he's trying to make sure he's real. ]
But not now. [ As in together, and as in choosing to explain it later, selfishly wanting a little more time before Bob discovers what's lurking in his own dark rooms, the skeletons and the piles of ash. ]
[ at seventy years, bob blows out a breath. longer than he’s been alive, obviously, and longer still than his scant connections, which might have gone on for days or weeks at a time, and were never, ever so steadfast as what he has now.
he nods through the rest, searching armand’s face for any signs of injury. displeased by the red mark of tears — by the thought of someone having armand for so long and never guarding him — quick to thumb them away. carefully, gently, for one with his power. ]
Shit, yeah. [ an immediate answer, when no secret’s safe for more than a second. his mouth quirks. ] Good thing I’m already there.
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Armand hums softly in the affirmative. He straightens up to look at Bob properly, a little pink in the corners of his eyes from blood-tinged tears, his expression softened and tired, but deeply fond. ]
We were together for seventy years. But I couldn't be what he needed.
[ He lets go of a breath, raising a hand to touch Bob's face, as if he's trying to make sure he's real. ]
But not now. [ As in together, and as in choosing to explain it later, selfishly wanting a little more time before Bob discovers what's lurking in his own dark rooms, the skeletons and the piles of ash. ]
Do you have somewhere to be tonight?
no subject
he nods through the rest, searching armand’s face for any signs of injury. displeased by the red mark of tears — by the thought of someone having armand for so long and never guarding him — quick to thumb them away. carefully, gently, for one with his power. ]
Shit, yeah. [ an immediate answer, when no secret’s safe for more than a second. his mouth quirks. ] Good thing I’m already there.
[ the prelude to a kiss, sweet and sure. ]