We're owl exterminators (shadow_hive) wrote,
We're owl exterminators

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Love Is I

Love Is
Pairing: James Davies/Oli Sykes
Rating: NC-17
POV: James
Warnings: There's one big one, but saying it would spoil it so...
Notes: This is the vague idea I had last night. It's the first in a series of three.

Love is something special, something to be cherised and held close. At least, that's what I'd been told. I wasn't sure I'd ever experienced it. I was even less sure that I would.

I swallowed and gazed over the table, the dim light provided by the candles illuminating the pale skin of the other man. The light and shadows danced on the myriad of tattoos that adorned the boy's skin. I'd been making small talk for the past hour while I ate. He didn't eat, he just spent the whole time staring into my eyes and listening intently to whatever I said. "You're so beautiful."

He didn't respond, but that was ok. I leaned over the table and I planted a gentle kiss on his lips. He didn't react to that either but that was alright. "Come on, let's watch something." I helped him over to the couch, then put on the tv. I didn't really pay attention to it, instead, I wrapped an arm around him, inhaling his scent while absently stroking him. After awhile, I kissed the pale skin of his neck, just above the tattoo that was inked into his skin. "You're so hot. Do you mind if we'd..."

His head inclined just a little, barely perceptable, but it was enough for me. I turned the tv off and lifted him into my arms, carrying him into my bedroom. Carefully, I layed him upon the sheets and began removing his clothing. I helped move his limbs as I took off both his t-shirt and then his jeans. He didn't wear underwear or socks, which I'd made sure of beforehand. He looked much more beautiful like this, without any clothing to obscure his heavily tattooed skin. "You should always be like this." I whispered to him, gently rolling him onto his stomach.

I picked up the lube from the bedside table, spreading it thickly over my fingers. I held onto his pasty ass with one hand, pushing the fingers of my right hand into his body. I licked my lips, my hard on twitching in the confines of my jeans. Soon, soon I'd be inside him. I curved my fingers, working him open for it as I thrust them in and out. I gazed at his hole, caressing the small of his back as I stretched him open. "So hot..."

I removed my digits, stepping back and removing my clothing as I admired him. My dick was aching, so hard. I needed to be inside him. Craved it. I didn't even bother to lube up, I just thrust into his cool body. I held ionto his sides, digging my nails into his milky flesh. I wish he moan, just like I had when I'd entered him. I closed my eyes and focussed on fucking him, instead of the things he currently lacked. I stroked his sides, bending down and kissed gently along his neck, whispering to him about how wonderful he felt wrapped around my shaft. I pounded hard into his body, pushing his body into the sheets with each thrust.

"Oh fuck..." I closed my eyes, trying to surpress my desire. Another reason I wouldn't be loved, I came far too quickly during sex. I lasted a handful of thrusts before shooting inside of him. I told myself it was because of the vice-like grip his cold form had on me, or because of how beautiful he looked or how good his skin tasted. I always told myself that. "I'm sorry I..." I sighed, then shook my head. What was the point, it's not as if he'd answer. I pulled out of him, flopping onto the bed beside him.

I stared into the boy's cold, dead eyes. No, he wouldn't answer. I didn't need to apologise to him. I kissed him gently, wiping the tears from my eyes. I'd take him back to the morgue tomorrow, after cleaning him up. No one would notice. I laid back and rubbed my eyes, pulling the covers over us both and curling up against him.

Sometimes I wished I had the courage to go out and find someone, so I'd have a warm body pressed against mine. A body belonging to a person that might love me, that might thing I was special or beautiful or some shit like that. Then again, the chances of finding someone that would feel that way was far too slim for me to even bother.

At least the dead didn't judge.

But nor did they love.
Tags: bring me the horizon, fic, james davies, james davies/oli sykes, oli sykes, slash, the blackout
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