yousei-san (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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metamorphosis2012-04-08 10:58 am
flair) wrote in metamorphosis2012-04-08 10:58 am
Entry tags:
353;
Title: v is for very
Characters: Spada Belforma, Luca Milda
Rating: PG
88/365. dumbshit high school au
For his sixteenth birthday, Luca's parents buy him a camera and, the second he starts taking pictures of almost everything, decide it was the worst idea they ever had. He's fond of candid shots - his mother making dinner, smiling and talking to the food; his father reading the newspaper, drinking coffee with a serious look on his face; Spada slipping in through his window and looking like a deer caught in headlights when the flash goes off and illuminates the room, casting his shadow large and imposing on the wall and the white edge of the window - and he's especially fond of taking pictures of his best friend. The camera rarely leaves his side (it stays on his bedside table when he takes a trip to the bathroom for any reason) and when he returns from whence he came, Spada's always looking through the pictures. They're little glimpses into Luca's daily life - small snapshots of perfect domesticity, nothing like what he lived and breathed under the streets of Regnum or in his own manor in the gated community - and Spada finds them as interesting as Luca finds almost anything he lays his eyes on.
There aren't any pictures of Luca himself, though, and Luca explains it away as it's hard to take pictures of yourself; Spada peers through the camera's sight and frowns at the quality, leaning back to see the screen instead and grinning as he turns the camera on Luca and takes a few. He moves closer (Luca protests that if he wanted a closer shot, he could just zoom in --) and presses Luca against the bed, kissing and biting until there's color in his face and in the rest of him, too - and he takes pictures of reddened skin, undoing the buttons of his shirt and following it beneath his clothes. The red isn't permanent - it fades to a light pink flush in time - and Spada sets the camera aside just long enough to suck the skin of Luca's collarbone, breath hitching when the latter grinds up and tries to squirm away. One more picture, he finds himself saying, one more, Luca, and Luca complies, holding still long enough for Spada to take a picture of the hickey (evidence, maybe, to use at his own trial, if one should ever arise) and click the camera off as soon as it saves.
Characters: Spada Belforma, Luca Milda
Rating: PG
88/365. dumbshit high school au
For his sixteenth birthday, Luca's parents buy him a camera and, the second he starts taking pictures of almost everything, decide it was the worst idea they ever had. He's fond of candid shots - his mother making dinner, smiling and talking to the food; his father reading the newspaper, drinking coffee with a serious look on his face; Spada slipping in through his window and looking like a deer caught in headlights when the flash goes off and illuminates the room, casting his shadow large and imposing on the wall and the white edge of the window - and he's especially fond of taking pictures of his best friend. The camera rarely leaves his side (it stays on his bedside table when he takes a trip to the bathroom for any reason) and when he returns from whence he came, Spada's always looking through the pictures. They're little glimpses into Luca's daily life - small snapshots of perfect domesticity, nothing like what he lived and breathed under the streets of Regnum or in his own manor in the gated community - and Spada finds them as interesting as Luca finds almost anything he lays his eyes on.
There aren't any pictures of Luca himself, though, and Luca explains it away as it's hard to take pictures of yourself; Spada peers through the camera's sight and frowns at the quality, leaning back to see the screen instead and grinning as he turns the camera on Luca and takes a few. He moves closer (Luca protests that if he wanted a closer shot, he could just zoom in --) and presses Luca against the bed, kissing and biting until there's color in his face and in the rest of him, too - and he takes pictures of reddened skin, undoing the buttons of his shirt and following it beneath his clothes. The red isn't permanent - it fades to a light pink flush in time - and Spada sets the camera aside just long enough to suck the skin of Luca's collarbone, breath hitching when the latter grinds up and tries to squirm away. One more picture, he finds himself saying, one more, Luca, and Luca complies, holding still long enough for Spada to take a picture of the hickey (evidence, maybe, to use at his own trial, if one should ever arise) and click the camera off as soon as it saves.