Re: Roof: Damian/Misha
The first time Damian had seen Misha he had thought the boy stupidly pretty. His eyes were a seemingly impossible blue. His lips were chapped, pink. He was very comely. Which was not unexpected, as has been mentioned before, as the boy had said as much and was far too confident in his own appraisal of self to be wholly off. But, it had still hit Damian, for lack of a better metaphor, like a truck. Regularly, this still occurred. It did so again tonight. The pink of lips was painted over like the Queen's roses, but gilt. Damian thought this was very comely as well. He closed his eyes, briefly, at the nuzzling close.
He kissed his boyfriend. Damian himself tasted of ash, he knew. But the kiss was syrup, slow, and it was a different manner of hunger, almost lazy, that sprang up in him. Or, rather, welled up thickly low in his belly. He curled his toes in his sneakers. Gold flecked his lips from the transfer, but he did not mind. He smiled as a pale thumb was drawn across his mouth. "I have not slept yet," he admitted, which was true. He had focused on making the application for the phone, as well as on wrangling everyone to an understanding about Father, though that had been an abject failure.—By now, somehow, Damian had nearly managed to forget his question he had asked of Misha, but his confusion was brief. He listened to the list given. He leaned heavily against the angel, bringing one of his own legs up, so he could stay close, and he looked up at the boy as the Misha's thumb drew once more over his lips. "I know you are keen on seeing the best in everyone," he began, "but Louis' Desire was not wrong. The demon star and the angel." He tipped his head. "We are very different. I am not—" How ought he say it? "—I am not as good as you and your kind. I know you reckon they are boring and my humanity is what is interesting about me. But, the fact remains."