yousei-san (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
flair) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
metamorphosis2010-08-14 01:26 pm
flair) wrote in metamorphosis2010-08-14 01:26 pm
Entry tags:
146;
Title: Anxiety
Characters: Luke, Asch
Rating: PG-13
Written for a certain Luke-mun on LJ. This post is probably more to prove that I'm not dead yet.
It's terrifying, the way he feels when he's pressed against a wall with one hand pressed flat against the small of his back to keep from being completely crushed and the other tangled in a mess of crimson hair. Lips locked and bodies thrumming, he feels wanted – needed – and it's such a good, horrible, wonderful feeling. Luke knows he shouldn't give into that so easily (Had Akzeriuth taught him nothing?) and yet –
Asch breaks it off and breathes heavily, one hand on the wall to steady himself and the other slipping along it to catch Luke's free hand in his. Luke pants and tries to regain his self-control (among other things, like a word called dignity), feeling his face heat up as if it were in front of a camp fire, looking straight through the flames and into the darkness and the enemies that followed it. Asch is hissing something in his ear, and Luke can't hear it in his daze, but a snap from his original is enough to catch his attention and he avoids looking him in the eyes.
“I said, you're not to tell anyone about this, got it?”
“Y-yeah, Asch, I got it.”
“Good.”
Luke almost wants to reach those lips again (give into the guilty pleasure that's feeling accepted and wanted and needed and not like he's about to disappear, not like he's just a replica or a replacement or less than his original) but restrains himself, keeping his eyes trained on the ground as Asch pushes away and wavers slightly before stepping away, wiping his mouth and spitting at the barren ground beneath them. He doesn't say a word when Asch leaves, and he doesn't bother to look his friends in the eye when he returns to the camp and goes to bed early without a word.
Characters: Luke, Asch
Rating: PG-13
Written for a certain Luke-mun on LJ. This post is probably more to prove that I'm not dead yet.
It's terrifying, the way he feels when he's pressed against a wall with one hand pressed flat against the small of his back to keep from being completely crushed and the other tangled in a mess of crimson hair. Lips locked and bodies thrumming, he feels wanted – needed – and it's such a good, horrible, wonderful feeling. Luke knows he shouldn't give into that so easily (Had Akzeriuth taught him nothing?) and yet –
Asch breaks it off and breathes heavily, one hand on the wall to steady himself and the other slipping along it to catch Luke's free hand in his. Luke pants and tries to regain his self-control (among other things, like a word called dignity), feeling his face heat up as if it were in front of a camp fire, looking straight through the flames and into the darkness and the enemies that followed it. Asch is hissing something in his ear, and Luke can't hear it in his daze, but a snap from his original is enough to catch his attention and he avoids looking him in the eyes.
“I said, you're not to tell anyone about this, got it?”
“Y-yeah, Asch, I got it.”
“Good.”
Luke almost wants to reach those lips again (give into the guilty pleasure that's feeling accepted and wanted and needed and not like he's about to disappear, not like he's just a replica or a replacement or less than his original) but restrains himself, keeping his eyes trained on the ground as Asch pushes away and wavers slightly before stepping away, wiping his mouth and spitting at the barren ground beneath them. He doesn't say a word when Asch leaves, and he doesn't bother to look his friends in the eye when he returns to the camp and goes to bed early without a word.