๐ต ๐ ๐ธ ๐ซ ๐ท๐ถ ๐ป (jukejoint) wrote in repose,
Re: log: antique store - louis, misha, and damian
Misha, he listened while Damian interjected 'bout the charming, and he didn't offering his own thoughts, seeing as they mirrored the thoughts of the other boy. And, too, Misha had no clue how he felt his wanting any differently than the boy in his arms did, but he would've thought that real sad. Not sad on account of Damian being less, but sad on account of it just being another marker of difference 'tween them. He reckoned everyone felt longing just as he did. Though, could be it made sense for a race old as time and denied any emotion to feel things strong when they did feel things. Could be, too, it made sense why angels risked losing every damn thing, their minds, their lives, their Grace, for a human embrace. Misha, he would say it was just another way in which folks, human folks, were more and better and alive.
But, Misha, he didn't know any of these things. All he knew was the way Damian felt pressed up 'gainst him in that kiss. And, Misha, he longed for an audience, true as can be, but the way Louis looked away made him not real good in that capacity. It wasn't cold water poured over fair head, but it was real near to, and even the press of the other boy's body couldn't make Misha ignore the fact Louis was talking and talking, rather than watching and watching.
Misha's kink, it wasn't 'bout making folks uncomfortable, and it wasn't 'bout making them do something they weren't inclined to do. In fact, that just made him feel dirty in a real old way, and he was holding onto Damian too tight some as a result.
Then, Louis' voice changed, and Misha finally fixed eyes real good on the thing sitting in the chair. He didn't notice Damian and the lighter at first, on account of trying to suss out what he was looking at. There was a rustle of wings, a flash of cold. No wings visible, but the divine cool that claimed the room was anything but mortal. Then, he noticed the scent of burning, and he looked down at Damian's fingers. "He can't do a thing to you, Plum. Or, better to say that he won't. He's Endless. They've existed since the dawn of time, and they're older than the gods even. Some reckon they're more powerful than gods, but that depends on who you ask. They're aspects of things folks feel or do, and I reckon this one's Desire." He didn't take Damian's lighter, didn't stop the harm the boy was doing to himself. Misha's childhood, it meant he knew 'bout diverting, giving your brain something else to fix on while something bad was happening.
But, if Damian stopped, Misha would be real quick to lift fingers Damian's to his lips to soothe away the blistering and hurting, even if he couldn't heal outright. And, needless to say, he kept Damian real near to his side. It was the first real moment of realizing that Misha had, the first real understanding that wanting Damian was dangerous some for the boy, just like Damian worried over his aunt being dangerous to Misha.
"Corinthian's in town. You reckon you want to stay here with that 'round?" The Endless and the Host, they weren't made the same, but they were aware of each other, and everyone knew Dream had a real fondness for the Morningstar. "Since when do the Endless need to climb into mortal folk? I thought you were incarnations that walked on your own two feet." The question, it was real earnest. Knowing what this Endless wanted, it would help Louis some, and it would help Misha understand why the Hell Corinthian had ridden inside him for near a year. He reached down and gripped Damian's hand real tight.