Re: (After)life: Trio
Fen's physicality was tight, but brutal, and Lear was a more languid chokehold, a press of palms together that could be confusing until, suddenly, it was over. As Fen's arm slid to his, Lear's, narrower shoulders and tugged, Lear didn't resist the pull to his brother's side. He smiled as he took the bottle, lifting it half an inch in a silent toast to Fen's idea of razing the town, before taking a long, undulating swallow. He tipped his head toward his brother's shoulder, blue gaze sweeping and pinning on the other man. "I don't like asking," he informed Fen with the same serpentine grin, wet-lipped and sinister.—And there was Nel. Her presence approached with the stink of blood and the home-hearken of ocean salt, and Lear watched her slough one form for the next. The dress, gossamer, gauzy, sat on sharp hips incongruous, and Lear let his eyes slide over her, taking in the contrast, as she came to sit on the sofa nearby, knees gaping white.
Lear looked at the buttons that ran up her throat like fingers closing. He sighed.
She took the drink, and Lear released it. He let his sister do as she wanted, just as he did with Fen. It wasn't that Lear was accommodating. But, he was willing with his siblings. Nel and Fen discussed who it was they were killing. Lear lifted his chin as Nel touched there and he smiled at her, the wayward tumble of dark blond giving softness to a man who had none. She said he could keep the robe and he laughed. Fen squeezed his shoulders again, and Lear tipped his head onto the other man's shoulder. He lifted his arm, bottle back between fingers carelessly; it was an invitation for Nel to sit along his free side, if she wanted to come.
"Tell us of your satisfaction," he teased, using Fen's word, though it turned into a hiss on his tongue. She was glutted, that was obvious. And Lear? Lear was hungry.