plaguedrat | (no subject)

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(no subject)

For two months, Rat has done his best to avoid cooking meals. To him, it marks acceptance giving in to the form of the city and letting the apartment it provided become his home. Grey's presence has changed that rule. It's why he's bought carrots, potatoes, a round of beef, stock wine, and spices. For Grey.

Cooking for himself, letting this place be any kind of permanent? Rat can't do that. For Grey, though, he can.

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Gasping into Rat's mouth, Grey's hips flex. Yes. He matches the movement of his hand to the other boy's.

This kind of touch is still a novelty for them both, particularly for Rat who'd experienced little physical intimacy at all long before arriving here. Just this sends sparks under his skin, has him jerking and squirming under Grey with want.

Even when Grey had wanted, on the train, it was all about if there was a time or place. He'd never gotten enough. Here, that they can whenever they want? Yes, please.

Like Rat had before, Grey inches his hips forward and with some wriggling out of thin material, he gets a hand around them both, stroking, his eyes finding Rat's.

His breathing goes high and sharp, tight with want. He arches his hips up, pressing hungrily against him.

Even the sensation against his palm is novel and Grey likes it a lot. His expression matches Rat's as he pants, using what leaks to coat his hand.

Rat leans up, kissing Grey again. There's less control in it now, when Grey is taking him apart so completely.

Grey doesn't know enough, doesn't have enough experience to know the power he has; that he can control how Rat feels. He's too caught up in how good it feels. How he's going to come.

It's a power he'd almost be willing to let Grey exploit, anther time. He's giving himself up to the sensation, yes, but also he heady realization that he trusts Grey. It's that, as much as the touch, that pushes him over as he comes between them.

Feeling that slick, the warmth, it only takes Grey two more strokes and he's coming, too, coating both of them, too, so that it mixes with Rat's. His face goes slack and he smiles, just for Rat.

Rat groans, sprawling back on the couch and pulling Grey down for another kiss, breathless against his mouth.

More than ever, he wants Grey's arm to heal. The things they could do once he doesn't have that cast...

Once Grey's arm heals, it will be a whole new world for Grey in a lot of ways. He dreams of running, jumping, things he used to practice in Gilliam's room in the tail.

With a heavy-lidded smile, he lifts his fingers if Rat wants a taste.

Locking eyes with Grey, Rat takes the proffered hand and lavishes attention on it, doing nothing to disguise that what he is doing is a show for Grey.

Oh. Grey shivers again, eyes dark on what Rat's doing. It's beautiful.

When his hand is clean, Rat leans up for a kiss.

Belatedly, he fumbles for the boxers that ended up around his knees. "I think the food's almost ready."

Keeping his eyes on Rat, Grey pulls his boxers up, too. The food smells good, too. He gets to his feet and offers his hand to help Rat up.

Rat squeezes Grey's hands before washing them in the sink so that he can check the pot. True to his estimation, the sauce is ready and the meat yields to the edge of his spoon.

"It's ready. Grab a bowl."

It doesn't occur to Grey to wash his hands; he reaches for a bowl and carries it closer. The steam coming off the pot is fascinating.

It only matters to Rat since he's cooking. He ladles a big helping of stew into Grey's bowl before turning to get one himself.

Lifting the bowl to his nose, Grey smells it. His mouth waters and he carries it back to the couch. He sits smoothly, holding the bowl by the rim.

Following after, Rat hands him a spoon and then settles in next to Grey, easy and comfortable.

He could get used to this, he thinks, forgetting to remind himself that complacency is wrong.

The first bite Grey takes is too hot; he has to pant with his mouth open to wait for it to cool.

"Careful." Rat reaches out and cups Grey's face, soothing his thumb along his mouth. "It's fresh off the stove."

There had only been one time when Grey had had warm food on the plane: the protein blocks freshly made.

When Grey can swallow this, he nods, instinctively leaning in to the touch. He'll wait.

He lingers there for a moment, watching Grey's face and almost forgetting about the hot bowl against his knees. When the heat is too much to tolerate, he leans forward and cuts a small bite off with his spoon blowing to cool it.

Watching him, Grey waits until he sees that Rat can eat it that way, then he does the same, carefully (silveware is still novel). Then he blows, too. And he takes a bite.