The Grey Scale ((Grey Weston and Kaspar, Closed))

[Grey Weston]

<Kaspar>

The suggestion of blankets was tempting, he could do with a shower to rid himself of the gold and a warm body to curl against. "Couch, then shower, then blankets." He nodded firmly, determined to stick to this, he didn't really want to cover Grey's apartment in smudges of shimmering gold. "About? Whatever. You... Me... Penguins." He shrugged, cupping his own tea in his palms, nodding for Grey to lead the way.

<Grey Weston>

He was more than happy to concede for the moment, turning from the kitchen with a careful nod. His navigation was mindful; he was reluctant to misstep and end up with scalding liquid splashed across the back of his hands or down his shirt. "Are you going to want company when you do?" He managed, head turning to deliver a wink at the suggestion of a shower. He settled onto the couch some seconds later, back resting against the armrest, one foot drawn up so that his knee could rest against the edge, creating a narrow shelf of support onto which to rest his tea. "So." The word was hushed, expectant. It uncurled between them for a split second, before, with a delicate shrug, he brought the rim of the mug to his lips, taking a careful sip.

<Kaspar>

"Most definitely, if you can handle the heat. Literally, I like it scalding." He poked his tongue out, the reply coming out quicker than he intended. Kaspar carefully lowered his weight onto the couch, kicking off his shoes and positioning himself in a similar fashion to Grey, sipping at the tea with a content little sound. "Mmm, seriously, you don't appreciate heat drinks truly until you're constantly cool as ****."

<Grey Weston>

“You’re in luck,” he informed him dryly. “That’s one of two settings it has.” The water heater within his building was perhaps the most modern piece of equipment; certainly the only thing that had seen any kind of replacement or maintenance in over a decade. The allure of the complex wasn’t its amenities; it may have been glamorous in its glory days, but those were long faded. People rented space based on the lack of expense for the lofts. The ancient pipes typically ensured a delivery of water that was either boiling or freezing, with little to no in between. He waited until Kaspar was seated, before allowing his foot to inch forward slightly, bare toes resting against the inside of his thigh.

He considered him, his expression at once amused and sympathetic. Kaspar wasn’t the first to lament the cold. “You miss it, I take it?”

<Kaspar>

The man sipped his tea, smiling over the edge of the cup as Grey’s toes brushed at his thigh. “Hmm? Miss what? Heat? I can still have it, just not hold it it seems. The sun? Often. Sure tanning wasn’t good for me, but I look pretty in gold sometimes.” He teased, winking before his face was obscured once more by the mug. “Mmm, I think the worst part is I won’t be able to take my boy out to the park, or to the beach. I heard of an ability,though, one that I might just be able to work towards in time that allows me to walk in the light. For him, I want it.” He shrugged lightly, as if it wasn’t overly important but the look in his eyes said otherwise, a quiet fervor and desire when he spoke of it. “Plus, then we could go on a cute picnic or something, mm? I do owe you a proper first date I suppose, a real one. While tonight was fun, I think we can do better.” Kas nudged his foot against Grey, grinning at him. “If you’d like to, of course.”

<Grey Weston>

His toes curled slightly for a moment, pausing in their mostly chaste contact for a split second. “That’s not…” He started, foot once again resuming its lazy travel, toes relaxing to creep up the inside of Kaspar’s thigh. The absence of heat wasn’t a shock. Mildly disappointing, considering that the wooden floors left his own feet cold, and he lacked the ability to torment pleasantly warm skin with the shock of it. “Yeah,” he finished, managing a healthy swallow of his tea. Not that he blamed him. He’d probably miss the sunrises he often caught a glimpse of, given half a chance. His gaze softened for a split second. It wouldn’t have been fair to tease; not with that wistful desire for normalcy. “You shouldn’t have to miss out,” he agreed. “Maybe!” He replied. “If you promise to keep your hands to yourself.” He blinked, responding to the nudge of his foot with a lazy smile of his own. “Like I’d say no to you, at this point.”

<Kaspar>

He couldn’t help the warm smile that curved his lips, responding the playful nudge with one of his own. “Keep my hands to myself? Around you? I feel as if you may be asking the impossible handsome, I mean, it’s tricky when you keep touching ME.” He teased coyly, acting as if he were bashful of all the contact. “Mmm, speaking of heat and touching… I’m tired, Grey and cold. Maybe you’re right, talking can wait, I think we have plenty of time for that.” He finished his tea, placing the cup down. Kaspar eased forwards, sliding closer to Grey in a way that had both legs moving to the ground and arms reaching out for him. “Shower and bed? I think i’d like to go to bed with you.” Fingertips brushing against his cheek, caress the fair skin. “Is that ok?”

<Grey Weston>

“Yeah, well.” His shoulders hitched in a shrug. The gesture was blatantly nonapologetic. “You make it hard to concentrate,” he finished. “Stop being so damn distracting and maybe --!” He retorted, leaning slightly to one side, just long enough to gingerly set the mug onto the rounded coffee table. “You,” he began, words trailing off as Kaspar edged closer, arms suddenly stretching towards him in a clear invitation. “Are a very bad man,” he finished. “Don’t tempt me.” He went willingly all the same, lazily getting to his feet before leaning into those arms, allowing fingertips to graze over his skin. The question startled him, all the same. “Definitely,” he managed, the word a soft, breathy exhale. “Definitely okay with me.”

[Kaspar]

<Kaspar>

He rose to his feet, easily drawing Grey into his arms that hand still resting against his cheek, thumb stroking softly. “I am a bad man, but tonight I get to be your bad man.” He walked them towards the bathroom, fingertips slipping down to push up the hem of the man’s shirt, flicking free the button of jeans with practiced fingers. “You’ll warm me up, hm?” He murmured, fingertips continuing to pluck and pull at clothing with rising urgency, wanting to remove the physical barriers between them and forget the others along the way. Here in the apartment it could just be them, scars and all, revealed to each other under the heat of the water and amongst soft sheets.

<Grey Weston>

He melted into his embrace. There was no other word for the way he settled against him, body flush against Kaspar’s own, lulled by the soft, repetitive motion of his thumb against the curve of his cheek. “Kinky,” he commented, the words half-drowsy. “Sounds kind of like a lead-in to some terrible porno. But you get a pass,” he remarked. He didn’t fight against the other man’s insistent pull of his fingers, allowing him to coax his shirt up and over his head. It fell to the floor in a discarded heap behind the pair. By the time they made their way into the bathroom, the title cool underfoot, they’d left a haphazard trail in their wake. “Mmmhmm.” It was a soft hum of agreement; one that was almost deceptively nonchalant. It didn’t hint at his eagerness to map every curve with his mouth, kissing over water-slick skin.

<Kaspar>

Kaspar eyed the trail of clothing that they had left littered throughout Grey’s apartment,
impressed they’d managed to keep up the steady movement even with the shedding of layers. The slow steadiness of their steps, arms supporting each other where they could and working without instruction to easily strip each other spoke silently to him of compromise. Of their ability work together, even if if it was on something so base and submersed in desire. ‘A porno?” He chuckled huskily,”Grey, please, always pushing your strange fantasies onto me.” As they stepped into the bathroom he hooked his thumbs into his underwear, stripping them free of his frame to leave him bare and grinning at his soon-to-be shower buddy. His slender frame slipped around Grey, brushing against the man as he reached to turn on the shower, making sure it was hot. There was a moment where Kaspar allowed himself to step back, to really look at the man and appreciate every inch of what stood before him. Any sense of trepidation he had was slipping away with the water down the drain, and after getting an eyeful of Grey he stepped under the steamy spray.


<Grey Weston>

“Well,” he began, pausing as Kaspar’s thumbs caught under the elastic of his underwear. It was hard to say whether it was the way the man’s underwear slid to pool at his ankles or the grin he flashed that briefly disarmed him. The word escaped with a slight catch. “If you ever want to push something of yours onto me,’ he continued, once he’d found his voice again, “feel free.” He cleared his throat lightly, before following suit, fingers hooking into the last barrier of cloth between them, kicking free of his underwear. He didn’t seem particularly concerned as to where it had gone. The brush of Kaspar’s skin against his own was cool; enough to coax the hair along his arms to rise, flesh prickling in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.

Nerve endings sparked to life, aware and humming with a spark of tightly coiled anticipation. Grey’s skin had darkened in recent months; the evidence of the slow segue into summer, and more time spent outside evident. It was a subtle, honeyed color; just dark enough to coax the barest dusting of freckles to stand out against his shoulders. They were small, strung close together like constellations. His own gaze was cursory. Not dismissive; there was an honest, raw appreciation in the seconds he drank him in. It was cut short when Kaspar entered the shower.

Grey was quick to follow, crowding against his taller frame. For the first few seconds, he was content to rest against him, his cheek tucked against his chest, enjoying the illusion of body heat that the warmth of the shower gave. He watched as the paint sloughed off of Kaspar’s skin in rivulets, pooling around the drain. “Losing your color,” he murmured, even as his lips brushed lightly, delicately over his shoulder, playing connect-the-dots with the droplets that gathered, half-kissing, half-sucking the water from his skin. A low, appreciative moan escaped in a soft hum against his skin.

He preferred him like this. In the quiet moments where he was stripped of his persona, and the person who remained was exactly that. A person. Familiar. Infinitely more fascinating. More desirable. He pulled away with reluctance a second later, reaching for the stout, black bottle of shampoo. He upended it a moment later into the cupped palm of one hand. “Come here,” he muttered, even as he reached up to run his palms through Kaspar’s hair, fingertips gently massaging into his scalp.

[Grey Weston]

<Kaspar>

For just a moment he could pretend the warmth was his own, that the heat radiating through the room came from him. He felt it in his core, building, the fire stoked by the gentle press and touch the Grey provided. Without his hands it was left to roar, making Kaspar burn from inside, trying to let the water soothe and calm him. His head disappeared beneath the water, letting it add weight to his blonde curls, starting to rinse away some of the product and gold that clung to every strand. Water rolled over his body, defining every dip and curve of muscle with specks of gold that pulled away colouring it. His hands lifted to idly rub at his skin, helping the shimmer and paint lift away, revealing fair skin that hinted at a tan long faded, the slightest flush of colour making him appear more human than many of his kind.

He’d been lucky in that respect, his complexion had remained rather human, he was convincing and able to interact and conduct himself in almost the same way he had when he was still considered alive. What would it be like to be other? To be unable to? Would he still try to keep his life? Would it cause him grief? He tried not to think on it too often, just to enjoy what he had, to know that he was special but it was rarely enough. His curiosity still nipped at his heels, tugging at his jeans and begging to hang out in his pockets until he acknowledged it. Curiosity was a *****. Instead he kept his eyes closed, enjoy the water and the image of Grey in his head, waiting for the man to join him, to give him chance to trace his lips across every other freckle on the man’s skin.

He wanted them all.

The sound of the door opening quickly behind him gave him cause to smile, turning slowly towards the man as he filled the small space, pressing their bodies together without hesitation. Kaspar welcomed it, arms curving around his frame, cradling the back of his head as cheek rested to chest. He could’ve stayed like that for a while, just holding him and pretending the heat was shared, that it wasn’t so one sided but he knew they couldn’t stay here forever. You couldn’t just hold onto that kind of peace, that kind of silence. These things would always be somewhat turbulent, even when he wished for calm seas. He wanted to speak, to fill the room with words but there was no need. What could he say that would accurately describe the stirring of feeling within him? Nothing, really and so he didn’t.

Kaspar opened his eyes as Grey broke the silence, the laughter catching at the back of his throat so it was barely a whisper of a sound, a warmth in his smile as he watched him kiss and draw the droplets from his skin, hand stroking over the hair beneath his fingertips. The sound he made tugged at something deep down, and his eyes widened slightly as he stared unabashedly at this person he was growing closer to. They were still in the stages of discovery, everything so new and awe inspiring, he never wanted to leave these moments, never wanted to stop being able to explore. Grey was a puzzle with so many pieces, he knew it would take a lifetime to put them all back together. The man reached for a bottle and Kaspar turned back to the water, giving himself a second to look at anything else, to breathe, his hands lifting to rub at his face as if he were weary. Perhaps he was, but of what?

Everything, and nothing.

Grey’s demand came out more like a declaration of affection, one that had Kaspar’s head tipping back slowly to meet those hands that sunk amongst his blonde locks, extracting from him a rumbling moan, the sound echoing his relief and appreciation for the soothing touch. Yes, he could spend hours like this, days and that was dangerous. This man was like a black hole, he could crawl into him and disappear if he wasn’t bound so tightly to his other responsibilities, the other things that infected his thoughts and ruled his time. If there wasn’t love in his life, readily given to and received by him. How much did he have to give back? Love wasn’t a word that passed his lips, there were four people in the world who heard it from him regularly and in earnest. Grey wanted love, not yet perhaps, but one day he would and Kaspar was afraid he was incapable of giving it.

He knew that should hurt him, that should make him question further but something in him couldn’t. Maybe he was a black hole, too.


<Grey Weston>

He’d once read a book where the narrator had described the afterlife as a single moment in an individual's life. The concept hinted that whatever moment was most treasured - at whichever point in their lives they’d been happiest - was the one they replayed ad infinitum. If he’d had to choose, it would be this one. If it meant they could stay in that moment, he’d have chosen it in a heartbeat. If it meant he could fill his hands with time as easily as he could with shampoo. If it meant he could keep him. But time didn’t work that way. Neither, for that matter, did people. You could borrow both, if you were lucky. For a little while. It didn’t stop him from wanting it. Wanting to stay, locked against Kaspar until the water ran cold, until the healthy flush faded from his skin. Wanting the rest of the world to fade, so that they’d never have to set foot outside of the apartment again.

His fingers worked through Kaspar’s hair, nails scraping gently over his scalp, the sharp scent of sandalwood rising from the gold-streaked lather that coated his fingers and palms. The gold that fell away from Kaspar settled into the lines of Grey’s knuckles like drying blood. The sound Kaspar made was gratifying, and for a split second he paused, rocking forward on his toes, straining to reach his jawline. His lips settled against it just briefly before he backed away, eying the suds that crackled faintly in the man’s wet curls. He’d been thorough enough. It was a ritual he missed; the act of bathing another. Lavishing affection and attention in the form of a steady, quiet touch.

Not needing to say anything. He took a moment to let the steady stream of water from the showerhead wash his hands clean, before lacing his fingers behind Kaspar’s neck, gently tugging him closer. They weren’t finished - not by a long shot - but then, he had an annoying habit of offering distraction. One hand dropped a second later, fingers splaying across his chest, palm resting at where a heartbeat should have been. It was pointed. You are alive. Incomplete, but alive. It didn’t matter that loving Grey was like trying to hold water, or that trying to love Kaspar would be like cupping sand as it sifted through his fingers. The pair, in this moment, formed something solid. Fragile, but real and solid and…

As ******* terrifying, he realized, as it was awe inspiring. It could be a mistake. They probably were mistakes in their own ways. He just couldn’t bring himself to care. The trouble with black holes is that sooner or later they devoured everything - including each other. But maybe not. Maybe not. Maybe…

“Turn around,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to the space between his fingers.

[Kaspar]

<Kaspar>

It was so easy to forget the world outside the shower as hands moved over his scalp, too easy. Each tug and drag of nails, press of fingertips had him leaning into Grey more. His eyes shut, focusing solely on the sensations that surrounded him, letting his nerves create the image in his mind. He saw his skin with trails of colour, warmth, lighting up beneath each touch and glowing bright. Like when you had a sunburn, if you pressed at it the colour would fade for a few moments only to return brighter than ever, it was that in reverse that he imagined. It had been a while since he’d surrendered himself so utterly to being cared for, to being told to move, to bend and agreeing. There was an innocence to it, a purity that came from the simple act of washing another. It wasn’t something that bred reward, it didn’t ask for it, you did it because you wanted to.

Grey wanted to care for him tonight, he wanted to be here with him.

That should be enough, it should be enough for anyone and right now it was. How did he convince Grey of this? Could he? He knew it wouldn’t be long before his actions were questioned, his choices. He seemed to be on edge at times just waiting for it even so early in their growing relationship. There was no way Grey could say he wasn’t aware of what he was getting into, of what it meant to be with Kaspar. After all, they shared a lover, current or past it didn’t matter, he was a connection they couldn’t ignore. Jamie had drifted, already he was around less in the Hive and with what Kaspar believed to be growing between the other two inhabitants he’d allowed himself more time for his projects. Did he miss them when he was away? Terribly. Did he love them? Yes, he supposed he did. Was he in love? No, maybe… No. Kas wasn’t even sure how capable he was of it, because for him love was beyond comprehension. He knew what it was to receive it, to bathe in the glory of it, to crave it.

He believed Adley loved Indigo, that he was in love with her and she in return with him but something stopped him. It wasn’t just the physical distance, his inability to hold her, it was something in him that was perhaps incomplete. Kaspar was reminded at these times of how similar and yet how different Adley and he were. As if a therapist might diagnose them similarly, yet declare them utterly unalike. He’d speak to the man about it soon, he had to. Adley would probably get it, the thoughts he struggled to form, that he couldn’t manage to put into words. It didn’t matter in this moment, because right now it was ok. He was being tugged closer, pulled against a wet body that gave him hope. It was just Kaspar and Grey, in the small shower in the quiet apartment and Grey’s hand was pressing where his heart lay dormant.

Blue eyes opened, a frown creating a line between his brows as he studied the expression. There was a message there, urgent and direct. A reminder that he had more to give, more to feel. “I want to, I do…” His words poured forth, quiet and hurried. Relieved by the instruction to turn, tearing his eyes from Grey’s as he once more gave in to demands. Kaspar swallowed hard, fighting to push down some strange, overwhelming feeling he couldn’t name that made him want to shout, or cry, or laugh. He was convinced in that moment that this was new, this was different and it was going to tear him to shreds if he let it. If he let Grey in.


<Grey Weston>

It was true enough that Jameson was their common thread; tangled though it was. A vivid, meandering red that draped over their limbs, bit ito Grey’s veins. It was true that Kaspar found his way to him blindly. Unintentionally. It was true, too, that Grey had fought it, at first. Struggled against him like a butterfly trapped in a cobweb, tearing down everything that he’d known, that had been sheltering. That held him down. But. He briefly met Kaspar’s gaze, startled by the dark shade of blue. The color of the ocean; tumultuous, awash in shades too dazzling and too numerous to count. His fingers flexed, just briefly; curling over that still heart.

Let me have it. He couldn’t promise it would be safe with him. He would try. Desperately, always try. He’d shelter it as best he could. The rushed words that escaped Kaspar had him drawing in an unsteady breath, a sharp pang settling in his own chest. Jameson was gone. Both of them knew it. There was no point in denying it, no point in deluding themselves. But Kaspar was here. Right here, and maybe that could be enough. Maybe he was enough. He’d never quite wanted something so simple before. And maybe it was dangerous to hope; to think that they could fill that raw, aching need at their core. Maybe they were setting themselves up for failure. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

“I know.” The words were gasped against Kaspar’s skin. “I know.” He repeated, pressing a kiss to his back when he turned around, reaching to grip the mint green bar of soap from its rack, gently running it from the nape of his neck to his shoulders, hands smoothing over skin. He was quiet as he worked, smoothing the soap down Kaspar’s spine, pausing a second later to replace it, fingers rising to gently knead into the man’s shoulders in a slow massage, applying just enough pressure to chase away the knots and tension. “Let’s just. See where it goes.”

[Grey Weston]

<Kaspar>

The fact he even paused to consider it rocked him, what the hell was happening? He wanted to shake his head, to grab the cold tap and turn it, to blast them as if clearing away the heat would make things clearer. It was the steam, it was clouding his mind, making it harder to breathe as Grey’s hand gripped at him, as if it might reach in and tear from his chest the very heart that wanted to race. Wanted to spike, blood pressure to rise and ears fill with the sound of it thudding as it rose up into his throat choking away words. It was blessing in a way, other than the slight increase of tension across his back and shoulders Kaspar was able to keep himself somewhat even.
To breathe, he focused on breathing, drawing in and exhaling pointless air in a casual way that belied his internal struggle. He watched the hand reach, to grab the bar of soap, inhaling it’s cool, calming fragrance and it made him want to laugh. His own shower had body wash and hair products in the fresh, heady scent of sandalwood and amber, with a touch of orange and ginger. His soap was a minty fresh thing, that made him feel clean and clear headed. Was it just a guy thing? A weird coincidence? Whatever it was, he liked it, it made him feel more at ease as hands slipped over him, working the bar into a lather into his skin, helping to lift the stubborn bits of gold away. “Let’s.” He replied, barely scraping the word of from his chest, from the hollow place where words were hiding, cowering.

The tension began to ease, fingertips kneading and rocking over knots to untie them, with each one that seemed to release in his shoulders following in his chest, his stomach. He imagined them coming apart, smoothing out and ironing out the more troublesome thoughts until he was only focusing on the movement of those hands across his skin. Kaspar’s lips parted, a content groan escaping, his body beginning to feel weightless and yet heavy all at once, grounded even as his head swam. He reached out for the soap, lathering it up and rubbing away the last of the gold on his arms and chest, wanting to be rid of it. “I think i’m clean, handsome.” He laughed throatily, bar in hand turning on the man, wiggling it in his direction before pressing it between palms. He rubbed it into a heavy lather, one hand holding it as the other moved to run the suds down Grey’s chest, stopping below his navel where fingertips teased briefly.

He reached the bar around to the man’s back, mimicking his own movements of rubbing it over skin before abandoning it on it’s shelf, staring down at him as his hands trailed across flesh, kneading and brushing. Leaning forwards he let his head bow ever closer until his lips were almost upon Grey’s, damp hair brushing cheeks with droplets that seemed eager to get between them. “I want to stay with you tonight.”


<Grey Weston>

He let out a breath of relief against Kaspar at the words. It was exhausted; trembling slightly with tension. The two of them walked a tightrope. It was a ginger thing, something that demanded care, a steady pace. He was grateful to slow down, at least for the moment. How they had gotten to where they were was less important than ensuring that they stayed. Kept it level. It was gratifying to feel the knots ease under his hands, the tension slipping from Kaspar, swirling down the drain just as easily as the paint and foam had. He stilled after a few minutes; after the repetitive motion caused his hands to ache slightly, growing tired. He was content to tuck against Kaspar for a split second, reveling in the fact that the heat still held, in the steady, pounding pressure of the water over his skin.

He didn’t resist as he reached blindly for the soap, surrendering it without complaint. The only sound of protest was a thin one -a hushed whine - as Kaspar abruptly pulled away. He hadn’t meant to make the sound. He quieted just as quickly, a somewhat sheepish smile settling into place as he turned around. “Really? Are you sure about that?” He asked, arching a brow as he peered up at him, lashes wet and hanging heavy with moisture. “Haven’t checked everywhere…” He began, only to trail off as Kaspar’s hands returned the favor, carefully lathering a path along his chest. He leaned into the touch in spite of himself, a soft, appreciative sigh escaping through his parted lips.

By the time the bar of soap made it towards his back, he was nearly limp, muscles soft under the firm touch of his hands. His chin angled just enough so that his lips brushed over Kaspar’s, ghosting across them teasingly. “I want you to stay.”

<Kaspar>

He kept the kiss light, the barest brush in response to the pressure offered up by Grey, fingertips smoothing down his spine soothingly. “Good, i’m not going anywhere. Well, I may move to the bedroom… Unless you’d like to continue checking me thoroughly to ensure i’m spotless before gracing your sheets?” He continued with own soft tending, letting his hands roam and wander across the expanse of the man’s skin, drinking him in under the spray of the water, gaze lazy as it slid across him. He was beautiful, fragile and yet a man. All man. He was beyond appealing to Kaspar, even the darkness at the inside of elbows, the evidence of abuse didn’t ruin his visage. His hand curved under one of Grey’s elbows, lifting the arm up as he bowed over him, lips finding that crease of skin, nudging a kiss he wished he could heal away the damage. The proof.

There wasn’t any point in demanding he stopped, so he wouldn’t, but he would try his best to find ways to distract Grey, to provide him something better. Wasn’t that dangerous? Wasn’t that bound to end up doomed? He didn’t want him addicted to something else as replacement, to offer him another sort of oblivion and yet he couldn’t help him, couldn’t make him leave the poison behind. Kas released the arm, trailing fingers up over a shoulder, gripping it to tug the man closer.

His lips parted against a jaw, tongue sweeping to draw the rivulets of water into his mouth, swallowing them. They tasted of soap and Grey, and the combination had him shuddering, arm circling a waist to hold his shower partner against him. “You are devastating, do you know that? I mean, seriously.” In many ways, he thought, to look at, to touch, to speak to. Devastating was an accurate description for Grey. He followed the strong jaw, nipping over his chin, contemplating quite what to do with his partner-in-crime. There was a strong temptation to force him to endure another few minutes, wash the man’s hair in return, pamper and preen at him but the urgency between them was building, he felt it and wasn’t sure he could ignore it. He wanted so badly to crush him close, kiss him near to bruising only to let the touch soften, until they were barely touching, teasing. The rise and fall, he wanted both.

Lazily he reached for the shampoo bottle, even as his hips rolled forwards, angling himself more comfortably against Grey and yet pressing evidence of his changing whims would do little to soothe either of them. His hand paused, allowed Grey a moment of decision; let him grasp the bottle and stay in the shower playing cute or let the distraction of slick bodies become too much. Kaspar was impressed they’d managed this long to allow their feelings, their interest in each other beyond the physical shine through, it also secretly petrified him. If he stopped him, he knew what would happen, if he didn’t… He wasn’t sure what he might say if let to talk here in this perfect watery grave of inhibitions.

[Kaspar]

<Grey Weston>

It was strangely easy to believe those words. To desperately want to believe them. It was a tricky thing. They were hard to trust. But Kaspar sounded sincere, and that was almost enough. Enough to convince him. Enough to keep his gaze from narrowing, in search of the lie. Instead, he laughed - a thin noise, half-gasped against the other man’s skin, his breath a shuddering inhale in response to that slow, careful way Kaspar’s hands worked over his skin. “I could,” he said lazily. It would be an excuse, and they both knew it. A reason to linger, neither of them quite ready to break the moment that wrapped around them. “I’ll take your word for it.” His gaze was briefly questioning as Kaspar’s fingers found his elbow, his hand moving to cup it, lifting his arm to his lips.

The skin there was mottled; shades of brown that feathered into sickly shades of stark yellow and greens, streaked with a dusky gray. Fresher wounds that littered the inside of either elbow in a series of tiny punctures, the color there like spilled ink; blues and purples with dark red at the center; evidence of blood trapped beneath the skin, left to pool in the hollows of his arms. He tensed briefly; not out of shame. He made no move to cover the track marks. They were a part of him, unapologetically so. The brush of Kaspar’s lips across the first of them was almost too much. He trembled under their touch; shuddering, like iron filings responding to the draw of a magnet. His breath caught, eyes lidding as a soft, cracked sort of noise slipped from his throat.

He didn’t try to stop him, though; allowing him to press closer as Kaspar’s fingers curled over his shoulder, dragging him closer. The wet drag of his tongue was unexpected; the sweep over his jaw gathering the moisture that clung to his skin. “Sorry?” He offered, sounding...many things. Hushed. Reverent. But not apologetic. “I mean,” he clarified, “It must suck to get a taste of your own medicine.” He attempted to sound breezy. Failed miserably. Something between a groan and a laugh escaped him as Kaspar’s hips rolled forward into his, leaving him to press closer in response, a startled huff of breath countering the wet slide of their skin and the friction that, given half a chance, would leave him gasping, and probably have the shower echoing with less than appropriate sounds.

He reached up to grip the bottle that he proffered a split second later. “Five minutes. Then bed.”

<Kaspar>

The sounds leaving Grey were making him want to echo back with similar sound of his own, it would be so easy to take away the option, to simply cover the man in kisses, to slip his palm between to circle around flesh but he didn’t feel he had the right to do so. He wanted them to build to things in their own time, to continue this gentle push and pull. He kept reminding himself of that, the groan choked in laughter was almost too much and found himself shifting posture again. He huffed as the bottle was taken, pouting his lips at the man and threatening to snatch it back but not actually attempting the task. “Five minutes alone? Or five minutes together… Here?” He did step back slightly, even with the question asked, letting himself have freedom of movement so he could begin rinsing away all remaining suds under the surprisingly still hot water. He figured they probably only had a short while before it chucked a hissy fit and turned cold.

His back was turned on Grey once more, allowing him to ensure his front was free of soap and paint, to let the water rush over his face and smooth away his expression leaving him appearing relaxed and carefree. Of course there was other evidence to the contrary, but that wasn’t overly unusual. He was a man, at the end of the day, and sometimes these things just happened. A soft humming began at the back of his throat, Kaspar letting it build until his lips parted, turning into lyrics, singing in the shower as if he was in his own.

<Grey Weston>

He shot him a look then, reflexively drawing his arm back in a defensive posture, pulling the bottle of shampoo out of reach. There would be plenty of time for further exploration later. Despite his offer of sleep, he doubted either of them would be getting much of it. “It bothers you.” He said. It wasn’t a question. There was no judgment in the statement; only a quiet resignation. He half-wondered how Kaspar would feel - how those soft kisses would change - if he knew that he wasn’t responsible for all of the marks that marred his skin. If he understood that it had not always been his hand that guided the needle to the crook of his elbow or the curve of his inner thigh. That someone else - someone he knew very well indeed - had a hand in his slow decline. A clinical sort of ruin.

He didn’t elaborate. There was no need. Instead, he focused on upending a handful of the clear liquid into his palm, working it into a lather as the bottle was replaced, before working it through his hair. “You’re cute. You can stay.” The words were belated. He only thought to nudge Kaspar out of the way once he was ready to rinse the suds from his hair, his hand dropping to turn the water off a split second later. “I lied.” He muttered, leaning past him to grip the edge of a towel, stretching it out before them before bringing it to frame Kaspar’s hips. “Bed?”

<Kaspar>

He’d been singing, “All Right Now”, knowing that Grey would no doubt recognise it and remember his mentioning it earlier in the week. He could pretend all he want that he dismissed things, didn’t notice but Kas knew that the guy paid attention. He picked up on the subtleties, on the quiet things that could go unremarked upon and held them close to his chest just waiting for a chance to use them. Kaspar did it too, though he didn’t hoard the things he saw, not intentionally, but he certainly noticed. He had a remarkable memory, and the ability to pick up on people’s body language, on little facts about their life based on what they had in their pockets, their bag, their car, their place. Whatever he could observe, he did, with a quick glance, committing it to memory because it might eventually become important. It was easy to charm, to woo when you knew what made people tick and how to play them. He didn’t want to play them, but if he had to it was rare he didn’t know their triggers both good and bad.

[Grey Weston]

<Kaspar>
His words made Kaspar stiffen, the man briefly pausing in his singing, just long enough to give a nod. No point lying, he glanced over his shoulder at Grey, eyeing the creases of his elbows. Yes, yes it bothered him very much but he understood it was part of him. As much as he wanted to change it, and hoped one day he could. He felt the body press close to his taking his cue to step aside, letting the man take over the bulk of the spray and having nothing to do but watch and wait. His voice faded, his singing coming to an end in time to respond to the cute comment. “Oh, thank you!” He cooed enthusiastically, batting his damp lashes at the man, though the silliness faded somewhat as the shower was shut off and a sense of anticipation began to build. “You shouldn’t lie though, that’s rude. I make a point of avoiding it at all costs, unless it’s to myself of course. I also try not to make promises I cannot keep.” Had he already told the guy that? Who knew, he was feeling confused and a little uncertain so he let himself go quiet, accepting the towel as it was pressed against his hips.

Bed? What kind of a question was that? “Please.” He whispered, a heat to the word, an urgency as he stepped onto the cool tiles, rubbing lazily at himself with the towel.

<Grey Weston>

He’d have known it for a lie regardless, even if Kaspar had tried. It was a delicate question; one that demanded an answer, yes, but there was an art to the response. There was the danger, naturally, that Grey could simply shut down if he didn’t favor the response; become unreachable and remote. For all that his kind claimed to crave the truth, they ceased to hunger for it when it threatened to tear them apart in the bargain. Instead, he met the curt nod with a quiet exhale, a slow one of his own acknowledging the admission. He wanted, in that moment, for the lyrics Kaspar had been singing to be true, not just some desperate wish the two of them shared. It would take time.

“Who’s lying?” He challenged, even as he reached for the remaining towel - twin to Kaspar’s - and gripped it, briskly toweling off, beginning with his hair. A few beads of water escaped from the ends of his damp hair, the dark strands softened by the humidity, curling against the nape of his neck. The droplets of water rolled, unbroken, between his shoulders. He nodded mutely in response, taking a handful of seconds to dry the rest of the moisture from his skin, his movements through, before he allowed the towel to pool to the floor in a heap, the fabric heavy and damp. He allowed his fingers to hook over the slight edge of Kaspar’s towel, knuckles pressed closed to the skin of his abdomen. He tugged then, the gesture gentle. He took a step backwards, carefully leading him from the bathroom and down the hall, edging backwards. He only stopped when the edge of the mattress butted against the back of his knees.

The tug - gently until that moment - sharpened into a pointed pull, meant to unravel the loose way the towel curled around those hips. He didn’t speak. There wasn’t anything else that needed to be said.

<Kaspar>

Raised a brow at the question, his hands pausing in their activity of rubbing the towel over his hair, peering out from beneath it at Grey. “You. You said “I lied”, you know? A few moments ago?” He smiled sweetly, even though he was quite clearly being a smart *** and pointing out the man’s challenge was silly. He slipped the towel down once more, wrapping and tucking the end in to secure it, quite glad he had done so for only a few moments later Grey’s hand was slipping over it, gripping. The brush of fingertips against his abdomen made him gasp, the shock of it and careless brush of fingertips making his nerves wake up, sparking at each brush as the man tugged him forwards.

Kaspar trailed thoughtlessly, content to follow wherever he lead as he knew reward would be great for his obedience. Obedience? The wrong word, but words were fleeing from him. A jumble mess of lyrics wanted to crowd his mind, begging to be written down and analysed, pulled apart and put it back together into a hit. Right now he didn’t care, words be damned, he didn’t want to make them into music, all he wanted was soft sighs and sharp moans. He wanted to bury himself in the sheets and drag Grey down with him. The man stopped abruptly against the bed, Kas’s hand reaching to catch him by the elbow so he didn’t lose balance. He was rewarded with a quick tug at his towel, firmly in a way that had one corner pulling free, leaving it to fall free and pool around his feet.

Kas nudged it away from him, resisting the urge to lift it and hang it over something, even when his desire was peaking and threatening to spill over into urgent touch common courtesy was nagging at him. **** it, he’d wash the man’s towels before he left, because that’s just the kind of **** he would do. Right now, he reached out, tugging Grey against his bare chest and pressing his mouth to the other’s before he could speak, before he even considered it. Bed was calling, and they would come willingly. Together.

[Kaspar]

Chapter Four: Ash

-Part One: Date Night-

<Kaspar>

A letter arrived upon Grey's doorstep, the envelope wore his name and it was attached to a large gift box. "First date? Call me. - Kaspar", the note read. Inside the box was a dark grey woolen jacket, one that could be worn casually or buttoned up over a smart outfit for the evening. There was pair of dark grey trousers and a crisp white shirt in there too. A second smaller box had black leather boots and a pair of soft leather gloves.

<Grey Weston>

The week hadn't so much gotten away from him as faded into the abstract. He'd lost himself in finalizing a handful of projects. He probably would have missed the package entirely if he hadn't almost stumbled over it in the aftermath of retrieving his mail, casually sorting through it. The contents earned a low, resigned sound; caught between a chuckle and a scoff. Not that he wasn't appreciative; Kaspar had an eye for that sort of thing. It certainly didn't stop him from reaching for his phone a moment later, though not before firing off an abrupt text. Really?

<Kaspar>

Kas was at the Apiary, draped over a chair keeping his dear Indigo company while the woman worked madly on getting the place up and running. He had music on and was largely tuned out, his eyes following her movements and offering a smile when she turned to look at him. The sound of a message tone interrupted his music, the man unlocking it to stare at the message. Grey. "Looks like he got the package..." Kaspar muttered aloud to Indigo, sending a reply. "You don't want to go? They don't fit?"

<Grey Weston>

The vibration of his phone against the countertop was abrupt; abrasive. It was a hollow, shrill note; not quite a hum so much as a persistent, clattering interruption that announced itself with the brief illumination of the screen. He flinched slightly; enough for the edge of an envelop to bite neatly into the fleshly curve of a digit. Scowling slightly, he brought his finger to his mouth, absently sucking at the wound that had formed, attempting to stave off the thin line of blood that welled to the surface. "Why..." He exhaled shortly into the room, as his gaze swept over the text, "do you always...?" He demanded, of no one in particular, "...leap to the worst case scenario?" He finished, after his thumb found the 'dial' icon. He cradled the phone against his shoulder, the last verbalized with a hint of amusement. "Yes,they fit. Consider my feet swept."

<Kaspar>

The ringing sounded in his ears, it would've been startling were he not expecting it, not waiting for it. He half expected to be told off, after all he had perhaps been a little over the top but he had good intentions. "Hello, handsome. I'm not trying to sweep you, just thought it might look nice on. You don't have to wear it on our date, that is assuming you are up for it?"

<Grey Weston>

"You're a bad liar." He commented. There was no malice in the words; they were too light, too teasing. There was an honest warmth in his tone, one that carried a quiet affection. "Mmmm, I don't know..." He drawled. "You do have good taste." He paused, sobering somewhat. "I'm up for it. Did you have someplace in mind?"

<Kaspar>

His laughter was bright, muffled as he pressed his own hand against his mouth to stifle it. "Well, i'm relieved you think so, Grey, and I like to think i’m a terrible liar mostly because I cannot be bothered with it. As for where we are going, well, I was thinking you might like to choose? Somewhere we can talk, perhaps enjoy a drink or a meal?" A certain indigo gaze was watching him with open curiousity, smiling softly and Kaspar couldn't help but poke his tongue out before rising to his feet. His lips fell against her forehead, giving a little wave as he headed out of the building onto the streets of Westwall.

<Grey Weston>

Kaspar had the kind of laughter that most would have found charming. Infectious; a sound that generated a pleasant, anxious sensation in the chest. For Grey's part, it coaxed a grin. "Don't let it go to your head." He paused, considering. Most of the venues in his repertoire were woefully inadequate. They were habitual; frequented because they were cheap and close by. They weren't exactly lauded for their ambiance. "There's one," he said finally. "I'll text the address." He didn't leave room for argument, pausing long enough to lower the phone and hastily key address into the body of a text before hitting 'send.'

<Kaspar>

"You want me to meet you there rather than you pick you up, hm? How should I dress?" He added a playful touch of anxiety to his voice, playing up the first date concept. He pulled the phone from his ear at the beeping sound, eyeing the address. Perhaps he should be nervous, it had been a long time since Kaspar had gone on a proper date, most of the time he met people in strange circumstances and their relationship formed over subsequent meetings. Rarely planned dates.

<Grey Weston>

"You're full of ****," he snorted. The accusation was half-laughed, more playful than serious. "It doesn't matter. You could show up naked and everyone else would still feel underdressed. Relax." The last word was soft. It sacrificed none of the easy banter, but the playful edge was absent. "I don't bite." He placed the phone onto the counter a moment later, belatedly remembering to switch to speakerphone as he swept the discarded pile of junk mail into the awaiting trash bin. "See you soon."

[Grey Weston]

<Kaspar>

His laughter was light, "Thanks for the vote of confidence, fiend. Yes, I shall see you soon. I will meet you there, handsome." He didn't hang up just yet, letting the man hear him begin to croon "I feel pretty, oh so pretty..." Before clicking the end button. Kaspar made his way to his car, heading back to the Hive to change for their date. FLASH. An hour later and Kas stood outside at the given street address, eyeing the building. He'd dressed sharply in a deep red suit, his hair styled back, hand fiddling with it as he waited for his date.


<Grey Weston>

The building’s exterior was polished marble. Its surface was coyly reflective; the varnish clouding the stone slightly, distorting the otherwise matte black surface into a smoky shade of gunmetal. Thin veins of silver branched across its surface, faintly illuminated by the soft glow of neighboring buildings, half-swallowed by shadow. By day, the hints of color were blinding; searing in their muted flashes of light. The faint sound of running water in a slow, persistent pattern cut over the nocturnal sounds of the city. The culprit was a fountain towards the building’s front, backlit by underwater lamps that turned the stream of water a shade of gold.

It was a place that catered to milestone anniversaries and successful business merges. The occasional graduation. A bit too rich for Grey’s blood, ordinarily. He’d spent most of his formative college years mocking the place and it's needless extravagance. But the food was good - at the very least, a cut above his usual haunts.

He didn’t keep Kaspar waiting long. He was near-silent as he rounded the corner, drinking him in with as casual up and down sweep. Dazzling as usual; a violent burst of color that contrasted sharply with his own subdued tones, in more ways than one. “Ready?” he asked, tone over-casual.

<Kaspar>

The man rarely minded being kept waiting on evenings out, unless it was a meeting or something related to his work that required strict time constraints he was flexible. Tonight he’d cleared his schedule, he’d been to see his son as soon as he could, popped by the Apiary to give Indigo support and now it was his time. Well, Grey’s time, he supposed. Kaspar had perched on the edge of the fountain, just shy of the water’s spray admiring the view. The building was rather grand for the city, he’d been here before on occasion but it wasn’t his favourite. Considering his upbringing and lifestyle it might surprise many that Kas rarely chose to revel in pretension, to flaunt money or success. He worked hard for what he had, turning down his father’s offers of assistance and returning most of the extravagant gifts where he could. While he was appreciative he knew that he could not feel satisfied with his achievements if they were not entirely his own.

There was always place for accepting help, always a time in one’s life where they needed to seek assistance but there was a scope of acceptability before it become riding on daddy’s coat tails and that was something Kaspar could never do. He’d gotten a message earlier in the day from the man in question, asking questions that would to most appear the supportive father, but those who Nik Cherry understood it was straight up noseyness. Him trying to insert himself in his children’s lives so he could claim their success. When one of them did something he approved of it wasn’t just a pat on the back and a well done, it was a new bragging right he could add to his already impressive resume. They were an extension of him, every success and failure impacting on his own as far as he was concerned.

It created an ever growing fear within Hel, because now that he could not change, could not grow he would eventually have to disappear. Perhaps even to die. In reality what he was doing wasn’t wise, he’d considered compromising his dreams and giving up on them, focusing purely on the business and talent management side of Morningstar Inc. but why should he? No matter what, he’d have to eventually make a clean break and hide himself from the public eye, from his father’s prying ways. At the very least he could create his legacy first, leave something behind for his son to hold onto when he had to disappear.

He wore the slightest frown as Grey approached, he’d at some point pulled out a cigarette, the thing nearly burned down to nothingness from the idle puffs he took. As he heard the approach he stood, stomping out the glowing end and smoothing a hand over his outfit, slipping it easily into his pocket. The choice of venue alone was enough to have an eyebrow raised, but Grey’s clean, neat appearance made both go up. A grin shortly followed, Kaspar closing the final few steps between them. His hands lifted to cup the man’s face shamelessly, leaning down to covet his lips with soft, slow kisses of greeting. “Mm, yes handsome, I am ready if you are. You look wonderful, of course, I should tell you this ja? Before I get too distracted.” His hands remained in place, but the man leaned back enough to catch Grey’s gaze, studying them briefly. Was it incorrect to call a man’s eyes beautiful? He wanted to, to tell Grey he was but it didn’t seem right somehow so he just smiled.

[Kaspar]

<Grey Weston>

There was a part of him that balked at the faint, acerbic taste of nicotine that coated the man’s lips. It was a sharp taste; distinctive. It was less the habit itself that annoyed him and the fact that it masked the other man’s taste. Not that it stopped him, of course; returning those soft kisses, exhaling against Kaspar’s mouth for a split second. He was vaguely aware that they were in a public place, and feeling each other up five feet from the main entrance probably wasn’t the best idea, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. Kaspar had that effect. It was easy to get swept up in him. Too easy. He shoved the thoughts aside, sucking the swell of Kaspar’s lower lip into his mouth, teasing it with a slow, firm suck. The barest hint of teeth dug into the soft flesh on the inside of his lip, toying with him slightly.

He pulled away a second later, slightly breathless. “Flatter,” he accused. The word was soft, though. Playful. “I’m going to have to fight the waitress off you, I think.” The statement was casual. Too casual, maybe. Kaspar was, as usually, unnervingly stunning. “Nothing wrong with a little distraction,” he countered, dropping a lazy wink. He peered up at him, his expression briefly questioning as he leaned back. For a split second, those hazel eyes caught the light, coloring to a softer shade of gold leaf. “Come on.” He said at last, reaching for him. His hand settled in the crook of his elbow as he pulled him towards the door, the fingers of his free hand curling around the handle and yanking it open.

He reached back to palm it open for Kaspar, holding it ajar until he was sure the other man had stepped inside. The interior was pleasantly dim, the faint notes of a piano twining through the air. It only took a moment to give his name to the hostess, before the pair were being whisked to their table.

<Kaspar>

Kaspar was easily distracted it seemed, and would’ve happily stayed where they were letting the man bite and suckle at his lips hungrily, his own teeth itching to nip and tug in response. It was with a sense of relief that he was freed, able to regain his composure, hands finally dropping from Grey’s face as the man studied him in return. “I am glad you approve, I would not want to embarrass you on our first official date after all.” There was gold before his eyes, the light catching Grey’s eyes in a way that had him drawing in breath, capturing his lip between his own teeth and holding it to bite back the compliment that kept echoing in his head. “Yes, i’ll behave myself.” He finally responded, letting himself be taken hold of, lead towards the door.

He hesitated, his natural urge to reach out and open it, to let his partner pass through it first was interrupted by Grey doing the exact same thing. For him it wasn’t intended as a dominance thing, but maybe it was? His height and presence seemed to demand he take lead, and his being raised to politely let others go first didn’t help. Few were taller than him, Luca had been and broader too, but most of their interactions had taken place in dark corners or on crowded dancefloors, in the backseat of cars or in empty locker rooms. It was fun because it was a thing of darkness, of creeping desires. Rarely time to open doors and offer seats. He didn’t ask Luca out on dates, maybe the guy had wanted it, he acted jealously enough. Men and women were different, one no better than the other, equal in their desirability for Kaspar. In fact gender to him was entirely irrelevant, his attraction was about the person, not what was between their legs. Even so, there were notable differences.

He hadn’t been on as many official dates with men, it seemed he would fall faster into rough, desire laden flings than the soft courting. Even now he was more likely to take his Sigrid, the Wife out for a meal than he would Jay or Adley. Did that speak to their relationship rather than their gender? Well, Adley was more a buddy with benefits than a boyfriend, and Jay was… Well, he just was until he wasn’t and Kas wondered if he wasn’t already slipping from their grasp. There was no precedent, nothing to relate it to. Indigo he could see himself taking out for a night on the town, but she was often just content to lay on a couch talking and being able to hold him, to watch him.

He walked ahead of Grey, nodding his head appreciatively and giving up the lead. Hadn’t he asked the man out? Shouldn’t be the one courting? Ah well, perhaps he’d let himself be the one wooed tonight if that was what his companion wanted. At their table he did automatically reach for Grey’s shoulders, deft fingertips aiding the man out of his coat and letting the eager server take it. He lowered his head, lips near Grey’s ear as the woman hurried off. “Shall I get your chair? Or will you hate me forever?” He smiled sweetly, one hand reaching to rest at the back of it, slowly easing the chair away from the table.