He's smirking at Enri - very nearly beaming, though he doesn't know it - looking over the man's sprawled form, seeing how easily he makes himself at home here. (Thinking, the boy could belong here. They both could belong here, and Darius doesn't give much of a shit about belonging, not usually, but— There's an appeal to this place.
And, yes, to the shitheads who run it.)
He could text Sen, remind the shithead that he and Rin are meant to be down here. Tell the shithead to remind the various doormen that Enri is in fact not a liability to be shunned to the street. Let the shithead know that he'd given the intermittent doorman known as Doyle a vehement dressing-down, because doesn't he know Enri's got fucking amnesty coming in here, doesn't he know this man is with Darius, who fuck you very much actually knows the owner and won't stand for your mistreatment, Grady fucking Missed the Last Two Shifts fucking Doyle.
It'll wait.
Just now, Enri looks so inviting, Enri's smile is playful, looking for and inviting trouble, and Darius sinks onto the sofa beside him, very nearly on top of him, setting a hand at Enri's shoulder, moving in for Enri's lip. To draw that lip between his teeth and lightly bite, tug. Then to offer a pressured, precise kiss.
And draw back just a little, eyebrow raised. Manhattan in his free hand, other hand caressing Enri's shoulder. ]
Do I look uncomfortable?
[ Smile softening briefly, he brushes his thumb along Enri's cheek, eyes tracing the lines of Enri's face, the tantalizing warmth of Enri's eyes.
(Thinking, this morning he awoke beside this man. This morning they awoke, embracing, in a motel room they'd taken as their own. And Darius had watched Enri ready for his day's work. And Darius had accompanied Enri's preparations with talk, with kisses and caresses (with a flurry of kisses as they'd left through the lobby, waving a parting adieu to the pissy-looking clerk), with a final embrace before Enri left the car and reported for the day.
Thinking, he's lucky, he's unspeakably lucky to have this man.) ]
Oh, but we aren't precisely people, are we Puppy?
We inhabit a sphere unto our own. Gods. Idols. Lovers wrapped with fires divine and infernal. I should think that we're immune to discomfort.
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He's smirking at Enri - very nearly beaming, though he doesn't know it - looking over the man's sprawled form, seeing how easily he makes himself at home here. (Thinking, the boy could belong here. They both could belong here, and Darius doesn't give much of a shit about belonging, not usually, but— There's an appeal to this place.
And, yes, to the shitheads who run it.)
He could text Sen, remind the shithead that he and Rin are meant to be down here. Tell the shithead to remind the various doormen that Enri is in fact not a liability to be shunned to the street. Let the shithead know that he'd given the intermittent doorman known as Doyle a vehement dressing-down, because doesn't he know Enri's got fucking amnesty coming in here, doesn't he know this man is with Darius, who fuck you very much actually knows the owner and won't stand for your mistreatment, Grady fucking Missed the Last Two Shifts fucking Doyle.
It'll wait.
Just now, Enri looks so inviting, Enri's smile is playful, looking for and inviting trouble, and Darius sinks onto the sofa beside him, very nearly on top of him, setting a hand at Enri's shoulder, moving in for Enri's lip. To draw that lip between his teeth and lightly bite, tug. Then to offer a pressured, precise kiss.
And draw back just a little, eyebrow raised. Manhattan in his free hand, other hand caressing Enri's shoulder. ]
Do I look uncomfortable?
[ Smile softening briefly, he brushes his thumb along Enri's cheek, eyes tracing the lines of Enri's face, the tantalizing warmth of Enri's eyes.
(Thinking, this morning he awoke beside this man. This morning they awoke, embracing, in a motel room they'd taken as their own. And Darius had watched Enri ready for his day's work. And Darius had accompanied Enri's preparations with talk, with kisses and caresses (with a flurry of kisses as they'd left through the lobby, waving a parting adieu to the pissy-looking clerk), with a final embrace before Enri left the car and reported for the day.
Thinking, he's lucky, he's unspeakably lucky to have this man.) ]
Oh, but we aren't precisely people, are we Puppy?
We inhabit a sphere unto our own. Gods. Idols. Lovers wrapped with fires divine and infernal. I should think that we're immune to discomfort.
Are you comfortable, Enri?