kingdomsofrain | tfln open post

You don't know a thing about him, as it happens.

Enri is in fact perfectly sane. And lacks the exasperating qualities his kin show in spades.

He is not disagreeable company.

[ He's typing, so much about Rin. Their hair, their eyes, their shoulders, an entire series of paragraphs in bloom, a daft smile on his face.

Which fades. Which -

Wait. What.

He scrolls back to read again (and yes, read into it.)

He deletes everything he was typing. (It's all right. He remembers it all. Open season on speaking Rin's qualities from the bottom of Sen's heart. He can come back to that.)

This is worrying.

Darius is talking this way about a boy he's...what, only engaging with for the duration of his trip? ]

For the week.

[ He doesn't need to ask. He knows Darius. He knows what fucking happened, or is happening here.

Darius found a toy to entertain him for a week.

And wasn't careful.

And got attached. ]

~~Darius. Read your texts back to yourself and tell me if this is the speech of a man who'll give his doggy back to the pound in a week.~~

[...]

High praise.

[...]

[...]

[ Hold the fucking phone. ]

Oh for fuck's sake, you're going about it right now, aren't you?

You've got some fucking nerve, Darius, telling me I'm "gross" for lauding my Rin, and you're texting while playing with your doggy.

Obscene.

Shame on you.

Don't you dare say I'm gross, you sanctimonious pervert. As a matter of fact, as penance, I believe I'm owed one more overtly saccharine sentiment, which you will receive with grace and approval:

Darius. I have my own pillow on Rin's bed. Which is also my bed, now, too.

And it smells like them.

[...]

Yes, why not. I'm owed, for whatever you're doing to that poor, perfectly sane boy while talking to me:

It smells like them because their head was on it all through French and German.

It is, decidedly, my favorite pillow. My prized pillow. Slept like a fucking innocent, me.

Edited 2021-04-12 03:53 (UTC)

[ Those first two texts are suspiciously concise. Vexingly brief, from a man who so much as breathes and two or three dozen words fall out.

There's something Sen isn't saying.

(Something Darius could guess at.

Something Darius isn't going to touch.

...It means something, doesn't it, that Sen kept mum. Something that isn't, likely, an attempt at prodding Darius toward speech. Something that isn't only Wilkes being a snarky goddamn shit.)

Thank fuck for that shit-eating final text. (Thank fuck for the diversion.) (...Sen knows what the fuck he's doing. He always goddamn does. (...Fuck.)) ]

As I understand, I'm entitled to my interpretation of what is and isn't 'gross.'

Pillows, Sen?

~~I hate to think where it was~~ [ ... ] I hate to think where they might possibly have been over the course of the six remaining languages, and what manner of sniffing that led to.

Yes, yes, of course, ~~you have ALWAYS been the most innocen~~ [ ... ] ~~...fucking damnit, Wilkes~~ [ ... ] you are Sen Wilkes, eternally and completely free of any infamy of gross. Of course.

Don't be dull, Senan.

I don't recall suggesting I've ever been anything but obscene. Are you surprised, truly? Be glad, Sen - be grateful! (give thanks to me? but you never would) - that I've spared you the details, and you've no idea what my Puppy and I are 'getting up to' just now.

Suggesting that yes, we are indeed getting up to something. There you have it: There's no fooling you, is there? No use even attempting.

[ ... ]

Would you like me to pass your well-wishes along to Enri?

Edited 2021-04-12 05:18 (UTC)

I'd wager myself and Null Set, too, that you, Darius Scarlett, are up to your eyeballs in thanks, gratitude, and all manner of seemingly-innocent perversion right at this very moment.

If I'm not mistaken, someone bearing your phone number stated only moments ago that they saw no point in the tedium of conversation while fucking.

You want to converse with Enri on my behalf, do you.

Enri, I'm delighted to know you are sane, and are enjoying committing yourself to the capable hands of the most obscene creature on the planet.

Please bear in mind that he bites, and has the filthiest fucking mouth (does he swear in front of you? I'll bet he does), so wash those wounds well lest you find yourself infected with something.

Rabies. Hepatitis A through C. Tetanus. Affection.

~~We wouldn't want that, now, would we?~~

Darius is allergic to humanity, impoverishment, and shellfish.

(I'm serious about the shellfish. Don't let him. You're in the fucking Bahamas, and he'll try, because he is an absolute dickhead who thinks himself invincible, and can't keep his grubby paws off a good lobster.)

Beyond that, I wish you a most lovely time doing whatever it is you do, and hope that you, too, have a prized pillow. For your knees, you know.

One more thing, Darius:

"Me". That's the answer. Where they might possibly have been over the course of six languages, eight languages, silence, shouts, ease and delightful tension. Through rapture and sleep.

My shirt smells like them. I smell like them.

And with that, I believe I will adjourn from this conversation. You're mid-something, and I'm mid-not touching that with a ten foot pole.

And the love of my life is looking this way again.

Enjoy your gettings and up tos and your perfectly sane Pendleton.

tfln open post

6/6

1/2

2/3 i lied

no subject

no subject

1/2

2/3

no subject