Re: [Treatment Facility: Dami & Misha]
Damian was skeptical that back in any times people desired to be with one another more than they did now. People had always been people, as far as he could tell, and images of a time before cellphones showed people with newspapers in train cars. But, for once, he offered no (potentially incorrect) correction. He accepted what the boy said, in spite of his skepticism. "Is this what we will do?" He thought upon Leena as they touched upon her, but it was brief before he was distracted. "You miss home?" He did not hesitate to smile, feeling better now, as Misha looked upon him. "I want your clothes." But, he stopped the boy as pale fingers went deftly to buttons. "At the end. I wish for your scent to be as strong as it can be." If this was a strange notion, it did not occur to Damian, whose fingers pulled Misha's away from buttons. "That was what I was suggesting. You could put up the divider and think upon me, and then I would not be jealous." Misha agreed he was stubborn, and Damian just tutted.
Skepticism was rife once more when Misha reminded Damian that they did not know if he, Misha, could be injured. And while it was true, there was a saying, and Damian knew it. Better safe than sorry. It was not one he normally would have thought held water, but, in this case, he believed it did.—This consideration, this... certainty of uncertainty, it was palpable in the kiss when it finally broke upon chapped lips.—Damian was no longer languor in loose limbs. He pushed up, his palm to Misha's shoulder to prop him, his other hand on the boy's cheek, and he returned the soft sound Misha made with his own.
As the kiss slanted like a blade, Damian let his latent greed rise to the surface. He allowed it to push his tongue beyond Misha's lips in a dike-break. It was difficult, when high, to remember feelings such as these, as nothing else seemed to register beyond the high itself. But, it was, Damian realized, a lie. The electricity of the kiss, the buzz of skin on skin and his weight upon Misha, offered its own sort of high, did it not? One that turned over the belly, even if one could not drown in it completely. It still consume, and Damian let his fingers sink to the plaid over Misha's chest, to grip, just before the boy halted the kiss. Blinking slowly, slowly, Damian opened his eyes to look at the angel who was perhaps not an angel. "Yes." He was earnest and breathless and ruddy cheeked. The color took over where the tears had left off. Damian swallowed, gulping down a breath, before he leaned forward slightly, his fingers splaying once more on Misha's lips. He pushed them against the boy's teeth. "You are worried about this?" Had he been worried before? Was it the earth-binding, or was it something else? "I have missed kissing you greatly."