Gabriel's knees are always (skinned) wrote in rooms,
Re: House of Strays: Ronan/Ben
[In the submissive, self-loathing slink of his body rolling over on the bed to face away, his arms gather up the pillow from Ben's side of the bed (not that they really have a a side, with both of them sprawling out wherever they happened to be positioned each night - but it's Ben's pillow, the one that smells most like the sweet musk of his sweat and cologne) and pull it tight against him. It feels like cutting off a limb, laying like this, being in the same room as Ben and not being able to hear what he's feeling or thinking. It aches like a phantom limb, an itch he can't scratch, so that it turns into a dull, throbbing agony.
Ronan tightens around the pillow when Ben's words break the silence, and his eyes open, but all he can see is the blank white of the wall on the empty side of the room. The words he wants to say turn over in his mouth like ashes.
Then Freki is there, nudging up against the bare skin of his forearm until he reaches out to smooth one hand over silken ears. That gives him just enough strength to draw an unsteady breath, and pretend his words are directed at those calm, blinking eyes that reflect no anger.]
You're wrong. [It's hardly more than a whisper, hoarse like his throat is sandpaper. He swallows, burrowing his fingertips in the fur along the scruff of Freki's neck.] Does that even make a difference?
[It's not really a question. He has to shut his eyes again, pulling air in through his nose as teeth draw broken blood vessels forth from the crest of his bottom lip. It's not enough. He doesn't want to make it any worse, because he desperately wants - needs - one more night in this bed, before he has to leave.]