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31_days2006-11-23 09:44 pm
sumthinlikhuman.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2006-11-23 09:44 pm
[November 23] [Original] Oasis
Title: Oasis
Day/Theme: Nov. 23: O love, be fed with apples while you may
Series: Original: The Dry Season
Characters/Pairings: all characters, focus on Hai/Adon
Rating: R
Adon Marshall pulled his sock cap low over his eyes, and kicked the back of Chang Hai's seat out of sheer boredom. He was glad the stormy young Asian-American had given up driving the car for a while, but it was certainly making the man even more stormy than normal. With a sigh, as he kicked the seat again, he cut his gaze to Emiel Tesmer, curled comfortably against the chest of Iwai Norio, who was sleeping soundly despite the jolting quality of the road. Lugh Hedin was humming along with the music in his ear buds, perfectly obviously of everything except for the road ahead of them—or rather, the roadsigns that were leading them closer to a hotel in the oasis of Trinidad, Colorado.
It had been a week since they'd been in a hotel. Adon had been up for three weeks straight, and the vague strain of everything was beginning to heavy his eyes and draw the hysterics out of him in random bursts. The entire situation was making Emiel a wreck, and so Norio was becoming more and more short tempered. They'd all agreed that the next sizable oasis they found (that wasn't inhabited by a ghost town), they would stop for at least three days so they could knock Adon off his loop and get him to sleep.
The sun was sinking quickly when they finally found a Motel 6 off the main highway through Trinidad. Adon climbed out of the car—and prompted atop it, looking around at the cars racing by. He frowned a little, only getting down when Hai grabbed his arm and tugged until he practically collapsed.
“I don't know this place.”
“Never been? You were asleep the few times we came through.”
“No, I mean—not ever. I'm always asleep, or—. Just not ever.” Hai shrugged, leaning against the car and pulling a diminishing pack of cigarettes out of his blazer's left pocket. Adon scowled as he lit it. “Those'll kill you.” But Hai shrugged again, nonchalant; Adon stole the cigarette, and took several long drags. “I don't smoke.”
“I know, kiddo.”
Lugh, having hurried in, returned with three key cards to three rooms and a triumphant grin. They unloaded the boot of the car, and wandered with a boneless sort of grace into the hotel.
It was blessedly cool in the lobby, and even in the elevator to the third floor. Adon sighed thankfully in the cool, leaning against the metal and giving off soft little moans of pleasure as he pressed against it. Hai frowned, pulling him away as the elevator chimed their floor.
“Think they've got water?”
“They've got a pool.” Another shrug. The room opened, revealing two thin beds and a television; a bathroom with a shower-bath and expansive sink; and a small refrigerator tucked into the closet with a microwave.
Adon flopped onto one of the beds with another self-satisfied moan, and writhed about on the clean blankets for a moment, before sitting back up in a start.
“Think we can move these together?”
“Nah. 'Tached to the wall and all that, you know? Don't want premarital sex in the nice hotel, I guess.” Adon scoffed, toeing off his shoes and undoing his belt in swift, jerky movements. “What're you doin'?”
“Gotta get comfy, drifter. Fu-uck, this's a nice hole, ain't she?” He wriggled out of his jeans, throwing them blindly across the room before tugging his shirt off over his head. There was grime on his arms, but his chest was bare and pale. With a sigh, he flopped spread-eagle back onto the bed. “Wha'cha waitin' for, drifter? Fortune?”
“You're outta your mind, Adon.”
“Says the man obsessed with a bunch of trees.”
Hai was a hot press of clothes and not much revealed skin, tight against Adon in what little space there was between the edge of the bed and where Adon had strewn himself. He was smiling a little, eyes shut, one arm cast and idling in intimate patterns along Adon's soft, pale skin.
“Didn't think Jay-sus was supposed to be such a tempter. Thought that was the devil.”
“Obviously not a religious man.” He knocked Hai off the bed, and stretched himself widely. The crucifixion, without the nails or the thorns, but perhaps with all the sacrifice. Hai bent, not touching Adon, but with lips a breath apart.
“So we have Jay-sus,” he observed. Adon snorted, trying not to laugh, lying still with eyes closed. “And don't Judas betray Jay-sus ... with a kiss?”
“Judas is at fault. He's greedy.” One high-saturation wet-blue eye popped open, and peered at Hai from close. “But I bet they did more than kiss.”
“That's sacrilegious, Adon,” Hai reprimanded, but Adon was arching, never touching their bodies together, uttering a gasp of Hai's name and a long, breathy moan.
“Gonna get comfy, Judas? I'm in need of betrayal—.”
“Sacrilegious, Adon.” But the blazer was gone, and as Adon watched—there went the shirt, to reveal scars and slight muscles and nut-brown skin; the shoes toed off and the pants stripped away. Socks and underpants, never a terribly sexy sight, then Hai was climbing on the bed, a hot brand of skin to skin. And lips, glorious, betraying lips, crashing against his own.
They did nothing more than that for some time, until time slipped away and Adon was hot to the touch as well, writhing and squirming and wondering why it was that this always felt so good, no matter Where or When he was, or whether it was Hai or any of them doing things to him—touching him with tongue or teeth or hands alone while kisses were shared; or all three.
The sock cap came off, and Adon's hair tangled under him as it tended to do, bringing time into the matter for a moment as he cursed a week without a shower or brush—washed away again with the firm press of fingers and branding heat, and Hai's breath in ghostly puffs across his neck and chin and mouth and nose.
“Is this,” Hai muttered through panting breath and the slightest of moans, and a kiss that was not at all betraying, “sinful?”
“Yes,” Adon found himself saying with all reverence. “Sinfully sinful.”
But getting fucked was like that, as far as Adon knew. And he didn't know very far, just as far as When and Where would take him to know. He knew that it was sinful, and in another When and Where, it wasn't Hai that was asking: it was Norio—it was Lugh—it was shy little Emiel, with his stutter and rich background and good upbringing, so different than the rest of them, Here and Now. He knew that it was good, too, and that was really all that mattered in the long run: that he kept everything good.
The Desert was a hard place to sleep, with the Figments that longed to tear him apart and leave him to Dry like the people of the Ghost Towns; like Emiel's mother and so many of his siblings; like Norio and Hai's whole families, and Lugh's sister and parents. If it was good—.
But Hai never seemed to mind if it was good.
“May I—.”
“In an hour.” Because he was breathless and sweaty and disgusting, and being clean sounded more appealing than being asleep. “Go to sleep. I'll get you up after my shower. We'll See.”
“'Kay.” He was already mostly asleep. Just rolled off Adon, and right onto the floor.
But fucking was like that some times, as far as Adon knew. Especially when a so-named savior (named by children gone nearly dry in a ghost town, named when he was sleeping, named wrong) was involved.
He felt like the devil's own, but from the look in Hai's tired, slowly sleeping eyes, it was only his consensus.
Day/Theme: Nov. 23: O love, be fed with apples while you may
Series: Original: The Dry Season
Characters/Pairings: all characters, focus on Hai/Adon
Rating: R
Adon Marshall pulled his sock cap low over his eyes, and kicked the back of Chang Hai's seat out of sheer boredom. He was glad the stormy young Asian-American had given up driving the car for a while, but it was certainly making the man even more stormy than normal. With a sigh, as he kicked the seat again, he cut his gaze to Emiel Tesmer, curled comfortably against the chest of Iwai Norio, who was sleeping soundly despite the jolting quality of the road. Lugh Hedin was humming along with the music in his ear buds, perfectly obviously of everything except for the road ahead of them—or rather, the roadsigns that were leading them closer to a hotel in the oasis of Trinidad, Colorado.
It had been a week since they'd been in a hotel. Adon had been up for three weeks straight, and the vague strain of everything was beginning to heavy his eyes and draw the hysterics out of him in random bursts. The entire situation was making Emiel a wreck, and so Norio was becoming more and more short tempered. They'd all agreed that the next sizable oasis they found (that wasn't inhabited by a ghost town), they would stop for at least three days so they could knock Adon off his loop and get him to sleep.
The sun was sinking quickly when they finally found a Motel 6 off the main highway through Trinidad. Adon climbed out of the car—and prompted atop it, looking around at the cars racing by. He frowned a little, only getting down when Hai grabbed his arm and tugged until he practically collapsed.
“I don't know this place.”
“Never been? You were asleep the few times we came through.”
“No, I mean—not ever. I'm always asleep, or—. Just not ever.” Hai shrugged, leaning against the car and pulling a diminishing pack of cigarettes out of his blazer's left pocket. Adon scowled as he lit it. “Those'll kill you.” But Hai shrugged again, nonchalant; Adon stole the cigarette, and took several long drags. “I don't smoke.”
“I know, kiddo.”
Lugh, having hurried in, returned with three key cards to three rooms and a triumphant grin. They unloaded the boot of the car, and wandered with a boneless sort of grace into the hotel.
It was blessedly cool in the lobby, and even in the elevator to the third floor. Adon sighed thankfully in the cool, leaning against the metal and giving off soft little moans of pleasure as he pressed against it. Hai frowned, pulling him away as the elevator chimed their floor.
“Think they've got water?”
“They've got a pool.” Another shrug. The room opened, revealing two thin beds and a television; a bathroom with a shower-bath and expansive sink; and a small refrigerator tucked into the closet with a microwave.
Adon flopped onto one of the beds with another self-satisfied moan, and writhed about on the clean blankets for a moment, before sitting back up in a start.
“Think we can move these together?”
“Nah. 'Tached to the wall and all that, you know? Don't want premarital sex in the nice hotel, I guess.” Adon scoffed, toeing off his shoes and undoing his belt in swift, jerky movements. “What're you doin'?”
“Gotta get comfy, drifter. Fu-uck, this's a nice hole, ain't she?” He wriggled out of his jeans, throwing them blindly across the room before tugging his shirt off over his head. There was grime on his arms, but his chest was bare and pale. With a sigh, he flopped spread-eagle back onto the bed. “Wha'cha waitin' for, drifter? Fortune?”
“You're outta your mind, Adon.”
“Says the man obsessed with a bunch of trees.”
Hai was a hot press of clothes and not much revealed skin, tight against Adon in what little space there was between the edge of the bed and where Adon had strewn himself. He was smiling a little, eyes shut, one arm cast and idling in intimate patterns along Adon's soft, pale skin.
“Didn't think Jay-sus was supposed to be such a tempter. Thought that was the devil.”
“Obviously not a religious man.” He knocked Hai off the bed, and stretched himself widely. The crucifixion, without the nails or the thorns, but perhaps with all the sacrifice. Hai bent, not touching Adon, but with lips a breath apart.
“So we have Jay-sus,” he observed. Adon snorted, trying not to laugh, lying still with eyes closed. “And don't Judas betray Jay-sus ... with a kiss?”
“Judas is at fault. He's greedy.” One high-saturation wet-blue eye popped open, and peered at Hai from close. “But I bet they did more than kiss.”
“That's sacrilegious, Adon,” Hai reprimanded, but Adon was arching, never touching their bodies together, uttering a gasp of Hai's name and a long, breathy moan.
“Gonna get comfy, Judas? I'm in need of betrayal—.”
“Sacrilegious, Adon.” But the blazer was gone, and as Adon watched—there went the shirt, to reveal scars and slight muscles and nut-brown skin; the shoes toed off and the pants stripped away. Socks and underpants, never a terribly sexy sight, then Hai was climbing on the bed, a hot brand of skin to skin. And lips, glorious, betraying lips, crashing against his own.
They did nothing more than that for some time, until time slipped away and Adon was hot to the touch as well, writhing and squirming and wondering why it was that this always felt so good, no matter Where or When he was, or whether it was Hai or any of them doing things to him—touching him with tongue or teeth or hands alone while kisses were shared; or all three.
The sock cap came off, and Adon's hair tangled under him as it tended to do, bringing time into the matter for a moment as he cursed a week without a shower or brush—washed away again with the firm press of fingers and branding heat, and Hai's breath in ghostly puffs across his neck and chin and mouth and nose.
“Is this,” Hai muttered through panting breath and the slightest of moans, and a kiss that was not at all betraying, “sinful?”
“Yes,” Adon found himself saying with all reverence. “Sinfully sinful.”
But getting fucked was like that, as far as Adon knew. And he didn't know very far, just as far as When and Where would take him to know. He knew that it was sinful, and in another When and Where, it wasn't Hai that was asking: it was Norio—it was Lugh—it was shy little Emiel, with his stutter and rich background and good upbringing, so different than the rest of them, Here and Now. He knew that it was good, too, and that was really all that mattered in the long run: that he kept everything good.
The Desert was a hard place to sleep, with the Figments that longed to tear him apart and leave him to Dry like the people of the Ghost Towns; like Emiel's mother and so many of his siblings; like Norio and Hai's whole families, and Lugh's sister and parents. If it was good—.
But Hai never seemed to mind if it was good.
“May I—.”
“In an hour.” Because he was breathless and sweaty and disgusting, and being clean sounded more appealing than being asleep. “Go to sleep. I'll get you up after my shower. We'll See.”
“'Kay.” He was already mostly asleep. Just rolled off Adon, and right onto the floor.
But fucking was like that some times, as far as Adon knew. Especially when a so-named savior (named by children gone nearly dry in a ghost town, named when he was sleeping, named wrong) was involved.
He felt like the devil's own, but from the look in Hai's tired, slowly sleeping eyes, it was only his consensus.