giftedthom | (no subject)

There's a movement- a slight breeze, perhaps, a branch moves. A wolf amongst sheep and Thom has company.

Smiling devil, "Good evening." Santino looked happy to see him.

He twists to look up at Santino, fingers tightening in the sand.

"Hey."

Santino's hair is longer than originally cut, but far shorter than it's former glory. Armed with his iconic leather jacket and the same black suede he's known for.

He smiled sadly. "I'm glad I've found you. I was starting to miss you." A sentiment actually true.

"I have that effect on people."

Santino's smile spread into a grin, teeth and all. He sat down in the sand and removed his own shoes and socks, following Thom's example. Let his toes dig into the sand. A pleasure he'd forgotten to enjoy for some time.

"I doubt anyone could ever forget you."

"Oh," says Thom. He glances sidelong at Santino, gives him a slight crooked smile.

"I'd hoped so."

"You could be immortal." Santino replied. "If you were famous enough."

"Does infamy count?"

"Oh, most definitely. More so than fame."

"I'd thought to live forever more literally, but I suppose . . .

"Any method will do."

Santino's hand against Thom's neck, fingers stretching up to the base of his hair. Arm bent at the elbow against Thom's shoulders. An act of affection.

"Can magic yield you such a gift?"

"It doesn't seem so."

He sounds unsure; bitter, vaguely.

Santino smiled sadly, pressed a soft kiss against Thom's lips. An apology, almost, though it would be unwise to attribute meanings to kisses.

"My tricks don't seem to, either."

"One wonders," Thom says, "why one pursues the goal at all."

He shifts a little, leans into Santino.

"In the vain hope of finding it, I think."

Now he knew exactly what he'd been missing. A second kiss, a little harded than the last.

Seeming distracted, he kisses back, slipping one thin hand out of the sand and up to cup Santino's face: lightly, lightly.

Santino didn't feel warm to the touch. Not cold, but definitely not as warm as Thom was.

When the kisses met a lull, "Delia was interesting, though I prefer you."

Thom pulls away, staring.

"You talked to Delia?"

Santino nodded, watching Thom with calm eyes.

"What did she say?"

"That you two have known each other for several years. The rest was mere conversation."

Thom nods. "I was ten or so when we met."

Santino sat back, watching.

"Childhood friends?"

"I don't think 'friends' is quite the word."

"More, or less?"

"Both, perhaps."

Santino nodded and soothed hair from Thom's face, before the hand moved to cradle the back of Thom's head. A stronger kiss, with a hunger behind it. Perhaps it was obvious nothing had gone on between Delia and Santino.

Thom lets his hand fall and settle around Santino's shoulders; he doesn't really respond to the kiss, moving back as soon as he can and looking back out at the lake.

"When I came, it was in the dead of winter. This is the first time I've seen the lake in it's entirety."

"It's nice enough. I guess."

Santino shifted position, so that they faced the same direction. He put his arm around Thom's waist, as it were the only logical thing to do.

"I want to take you to my world." If it was an offer or a demand was debateable. "You could be my guest." Now more lighthearted, an almost ironic smile. "It's a beautiful country, and you have been trapped here."

Thom's eyes widen; he looks down, evasive, biting his lower lip.

Softly, "Yeah?"

"I would need some time to prepare. But I think it could happen. I could open the door for you."

"I can't leave for very long."

He still isn't meeting Santino's eyes.

"I will take you as long as you can stay." Dark eyes, dark eyes watching. Searching for Thom's own.

Santino's hand, against Thom's body, slowly rose upwards to Thom's exposed neck. Soft touch, caress while leaving enough lacking to instill desire. Fingers moving upwards into Thom's hair, curling there for a momentary act of affection. Fingers then against Thom's cheek, tracing the line of his jaw. Kiss against the other, brush of teeth that Thom knew the function of quite well by now.

"I could take you."

Thom is almost completely still, except for the way his fingertips dig into the fabric of Santino's shirt, the quick nervous slide of his throat as he swallows.

At last, "When?"

Lips against Thom's flesh. "As soon as possible." And now his lips have strayed, down the crux of Thom's neck and shoulder. "When I next see you."

He shivers; puts his other arm about Santino.

"Okay."

He nods in the direction of the bar, eyes dark and questioning: Shall we -- ?

Santino's fingers holding Thom's clothes, standing and pulling Thom into what was too rough to be a kiss.

"Let's head in."

"Okay," Thom says again, and, breathing just a little faster, he lets Santino tow him away.