Sunday, May 27, 2012

Picking Up the Pieces Pt. 3

Sorry for the delay, my primary writing computer decided it would go to sleep and never wake up, so I got a bit (a lot) behind on everything.  Hopefully everything is fixed now.  Anyway please enjoy (and comment on) the very unedited Picking Up the Pieces pt 3!

I woke up feeling disconnected.  I tried to swing my legs out of bed, but found them stuck.  My eyes were blurry, hard to keep open.  I pushed myself up and blinked waiting to wake up more.  When I did the first thing I noticed was Peter.  He was sleeping on my bed on top of the covers; his eyelids were red and looked bruised around the lashes.  He looked unbelievably sad and defeated.  He was curled into a tiny ball around one of my pillows under a throw from his bed.  It took a moment for me to remember why he was so sad, when I did it hit me like a hammer.

I ran my tongue around my mouth, the gums were still sore.  A blush rushed to my cheeks.  I was so embarrassed I felt sick.  I had to do something, I knew I had to talk to Peter, and call my therapist, but first I had to do something, anything to take my mind off the burning humiliation.

Moments later, teeth gently brushed, lazy day glasses on, and bleach in hand I went about cleaning the bathroom, when I finished that I moved into the kitchen.  When I was finishing the sink and thinking about cleaning out the fridge Peter joined me.

“Jax, I really hope-” I looked up from polishing the front to look at him.  He looked even worse than I did.  His eyelids were bruised and his eyes bloodshot.  He looked like he was ready to cry again.

“I'm really sorry.”  I interrupted.  I felt much calmer, ready to at least think about talking.  The scent of bleach was in the air, and it made me feel better, but I was ready to take a break.  “Do you want to get breakfast?”  Peter shook his head.  I blinked at him.  Peter never said no to food. 

“I want to stay here.  I don’t really feel well.”  I thought back to what I had said.  I didn’t think I was overly mean, but Peter looked like he did after each new breakup. 

“Peter, I am really, really sorry-”

“Jax, I know you are sorry, you can stop saying it.  I’m sorry too.”  I didn’t know what to say.  Maybe I had ruined everything.  That was what I was trying to avoid.  Maybe it wasn’t that I was too standoffish, or that we were just meant to be friends.  Maybe I was just too crazy for Peter to deal with anymore.  I felt my calm slipping away and tears gathering in my eyes.  I couldn’t loose Peter.  I wouldn’t have anything.

“I'll try harder!”  It burst from my lips before I could think, but it was true.  I could try harder.  I could go to therapy regularly like I was supposed to.  To keep my only friend I would even try the personality stealing meds.  “Peter I will try harder.  You can't give up on me.”  It was worse than whining, I was begging, but all of it was true.  I would try harder- I would try anything.  Being faced with no more Peter was motivation to do anything.  I opened my mouth to go on-

“Jackson.  Shut up.”  I closed my mouth.  Everything was changing, and I didn’t like it.  “You don’t have to try harder.  You are just fine.  But I think you are right.  I don’t think we are really good for each other any more.  I thought about it, and even though you are the best friend I could ever have, I am not that good of a friend.  I’ve just been using you all this time, what do you get out of being friends with me?  I get everything, but you never seem to get anything.  I need you, but I need to learn to not need you.”  Tears began falling, but I was angry now, using?  I thought I was being nice, that's what friends did.

“What do I get out of being friends with you?”  I whispered to avoid my voice cracking, it didn’t work.  “I get everything too.  We have been friends forever; you are my only fucking friend.  You can’t just give up!”  Peter shrugged.  He looked so defeated it was impossible to stay mad at him. 

“I love you.  I always have like I told you.”  He shrugged again.  “Once is better than nothing I guess.  I’ve imagined waking up next to you for years, and in a way I guess I got to, but I don’t think it will ever happen like I imagined.  I think now I will be-”

“Why not?  Why can't you do what you imagined?” 

“It's stupid, it will never happen.”

“Tell me!”  Peter blushed and looked away from me.  He ran his fingers through his hair.  It was messy, but clean. 

“I always imagined waking up with my face buried in your hair.”  He looked directly at me tears dulling the fire in his eyes.  “I imagined kissing you awake, sucking you awake, fucking you awake.  I imagined opening my eyes and having you be the first thing I saw.  I imagined making breakfast with you before we even got dressed, covered in sweat and cum and too hungry to care.  I imagined-” I looked at the gloves protecting my skin from bleach.  I tried not to imagine what he was describing.  Kissing before brushing?  Not showering after- well.  Cooking without clothes?  I shuddered I resumed cleaning.  I breathed slowly.  In through the nose out through the mouth.  I wouldn’t panic.  It wasn’t going to happen, it wasn’t going to happen.

“See, you aren’t even listening.”  I turned back to Peter, he had still been talking.  I hoped I had missed all the dirty thing he had been describing.

“I was, Peter, I can't- I can't even imagine-” My breath caught in my throat, I resumed polishing, more zealously than before.  I hated myself.  Why couldn’t I just be?  Let the dirt and germs be.  Most of them weren’t hurting me.  I knew that.  I forced myself to take a deep breath.

“I think I love you too.  I can't let myself, but it is too late.  But I can't imagine- Peter please I can't not be your friend.”  I turned back to watch his answer.  It was a while before he spoke.  The polish was drying on my rag.  I could have gone back to polishing, but this was more important. 

“Jackson, I can't just wait forever.  I feel like I have, and finally when I- well you know what happened.”  More tears gathered in my eyes. 

“Please give me another chance.  You have to be a little patient with me.  I’ve never-”

“Oh I know.”  He laughs, suddenly happy.  The whole room brightens with his smile.  I feel lighter, and I don’t even know his decision.  “Jackson, I think we want the same thing!”  He laughs again, then sobers suddenly.  “I have no idea if it could work.  I don’t think it can.  I don’t know if I would survive breaking up with you.  There would be no one to eat ice cream with, to cry with me, to tell me I told you so Jax, I don’t think I can risk it.” 

“You don’t have to worry.  No one else could deal with me.  Peter I don’t know how to be with someone, but I’ve been with you forever already.”  Maybe this wasn’t going to be the worse day of my life.  Jet planes did training exercises in my stomach, completing several before I saw Peter's smile. 

“Would you still eat ice cream with me if this doesn’t work out?”  I nodded.  This was happening, what now.  I loved Peter, but was I in love?  Could I deal with all the touching and- other stuff couples did?  Would Peter expect me to- do stuff now.  I had gone so long without anyone without anyone.  I was the oldest virgin I knew.  I didn’t even know how to kiss properly.  I took a deep breath, in through the nose out through the mouth.  I had a whole new thing to panic about.


We did end up going out, but to lunch instead of breakfast.  Peter grabbed my hand as soon as I locked the door to the flat and grinned at me. 

“This is just like I imagined.”  I smiled back.  Holding hands I could do.  Plus I had seen Peter wash his hands before we left.  Maybe he was right about clean things we could do.  Maybe I had been too worried about everything.  This was perfect.  But anything perfect can't last too long.

We were finishing a yummy lunch of pizza; I ate mine with a knife and fork, but shared with Peter, baby steps.  I never got over an attack right away; it would be a few days before I wasn’t constantly thinking about all the dirty things everywhere.  But the sun was shining, and for the first time in my life I was on something that could be called a date. 

“Hello Peter.”  I turned in my seat, it was Marc.  He pulled up a chair next to mine and took Peter's hand into his.  “I called you last night and you did not answer.  I am missing you.”  He smiled.  “And your beautiful mouth.”  I gagged.  I knew where Peter's mouth had been last night.  And where it had been before then.

“Oh well, something came up.”  Peter made no move to take his hand away from Marc.  Really?  Already?  I knew I was boring but we hadn’t even finished being together for one day.

“Will you be available tonight?”  I felt distinctly ignored.  I reached from my water, but I couldn’t remember which was mine, one had touched Peter's 'beautiful mouth' and that had touched Marc's- well.

“Umm, actually I meant to call you this morning.  Marc um...”  Peter was already ashamed of me.  I should go.  “I don't think we should see each other any more.  See, you helped me realize that-” Marc pushed his chair back sharply and stood. 

“I see.  Your pretty friend here.  When you get tire of his- issues with pleasure come back to me.  Your tight little body is worth your flakiness.  Good day.”  Peter breathed out slowly.  Maybe he had been holding his breath.

“Well now you have a back up plan.  You should ask if he likes ice cream and sappy movies.”  I ran a hand through my hair and looked at the waters.  Which was mine?”

“Jax, don’t be like that.  He really isn’t bad.”  Had Peter heard the same thing I had.  Marc sounded like a user to me.  Much like many of Peter's other experiments.  I shrugged.

“Which water is mine?” 

“Dude it doesn’t matter, if I have something you already have it.”  I blinked at Peter.  That wasn’t the point.  It was avoiding that.

“But which is mine?”  Peter looked at me and switched the straws on the drinks. 

“Both and neither.  Just drink some water.”  I wanted to.  But I couldn’t.  Peter was being a dick.  He had known.

“Why couldn’t you just tell me?” 

“Because it is stupid.”  Peter stirred with the straws.  I got up from the table, and put down a twenty.  I scratched my eyelashes trying to prevent any tears from falling.

“Oh come on, you said you would try.”  People were looking at us.  I closed my eyes and tilted my head up.

“I am trying Peter.  It isn’t easy.  Just give me a few days.”  Peter noticed the people watching.

“Yah, sure.”  He stood too and kissed my temple.  “Sorry, this just makes me nervous, finally getting what I want.”  I tried to not flinch as I felt his breath brush my neck.  The smell of melted cheese and tomato was suddenly stifling.  Peter took my hand and we left.  So far, this wasn't going too well.

Peter tried to grab my hand as we walked back.  I deliberately put both of mine in my pockets.  I was sulking and I knew it.  But I felt like it, and Peter had been being mean. 

When we got back to the loft Peter began being ridiculously nice to me.  He let me pick the movie, and what to get for dessert.  He even took another shower, but only after he offered me the first.  We settled in to watch an old Indiana Jones flick.  I had seen it before, but it was so worth seeing again.  I couldn’t maintain my sulking with such a wonderful film to make fun of.  Plus curling up with Peter was so familiar, but so new with the new things we had done together.  I wanted to tickle him just like when we were younger.  Just learning how messed up we were.  But now, I was too scared about where it would lead.  I didn’t want to start anything I couldn’t finish.

I must have dozed off because I woke up feeling hands in my hair.  They stroked and tickled, gently scratching my scalp, it felt amazing. 

“Do you mind if I touch your hair?  I wont touch your face.”  I nodded.  It felt so good, soothing and stimulating at the same time.  This I could get used to.  I nuzzled my face into Peter’s stomach.  He still smelled like soap, but there was the faint scent of Peter underneath.  It was a wonderful combination. 

“This is nice.”  I could feel more than hear Peter’s agreement.  I liked this, if only I didn’t have to do anything else.  But maybe there was hope; maybe there were things that we could do that weren’t so filled with germs. 

Still sleepy I sat up and I wrapped my arms around Peter and kissed his neck.  I didn’t think before I did it.  He just smelled so good.

“Don’t tickle!”  He laughed, I had to giggle too.  This was so different than just a few days ago, but it already felt so natural.  How had I not known how amazing this could be?  How had I not noticed how attractive Peter was?  I knew objectively, but now after his little confession, just looking at him made my blood sing.

“I feel like I am in a stupid romance novel.”  I said.  Still against Peter’s neck.  He laughed again and tickled my ribs.  I had once tried to convince him I wasn’t ticklish, and I hadn’t thought I was either; he hadn’t stopped trying to tickle me for a week.  I had hated it, hated to be touched in any way- finally he found the spot, just under my ribs.  It was pure torture.

I had been right, Peter wasn’t satisfied with just tickling, when I was squealing more than laughing in a very unattractive manner with tears rolling down my cheeks, Peter stopped and before I could recover kissed me.

It was a gentle kiss, just a brush against my lips, but it still gave me Goosebumps.  I could feel Peter’s smile against my lips when he felt my skin tingle under his fingers. 

“Remember when you told me you weren’t ticklish?”  I nodded.  “I wanted to kiss you then.”  Before I could respond he kissed me again.  I was reaching for him again from my place between the old trunk we used as a coffee table and the sofa, when he stood, gently pushing me away.

“I’m going to brush my teeth- I don’t want to mess this up again.”  He smiled and I touched my fingers to my lips.  I hadn’t thought of that, but I would have.  It wasn’t a good sign I would forget that easily.  Forget about my own issues until it was too late.  Well, not only was that unfortunate and fucked up.  It was really dumb.  I ran my hand through my hair and straightened up the throw and pillows and pushed the couch back where it belonged. 

Peter returned smelling deliciously minty.  He sat next to me on the couch.  We sat silently for a while until he finally spoke.  My mind had been spinning with possible things to say, but they all seemed so stupid.  I was so lost in my thoughts I missed what Peter said.


“I asked what you think will make freak.  No brushed teeth?  Or is there more than that, unwashed hands?  I want to do this right.  I don’t mean to make things harder for you I just don’t really know what isn’t good for you.” 

“Oh.”  I hadn’t thought of that.  “I mean, cleaner is better.  But I don’t really know what will be more upsetting.  Clean bothers me less than thinking of possibilities.”  I didn’t want to talk about this.  I just wanted to be normal, in control.

“Well you have to have some idea.”  I nodded.

“Well, last time.”  I could feel a blush coming on.  I could deal with that just as long as-

“Oh Jax, don’t be such a prude, it was just a little oral.  There is so much more I want to do to you, do with you.”  I blushed harder and crossed my legs.  That was what I was afraid of.

“What I meant to say is last time I was more worried about possibilities.  I think if I knew- well you history, I would know better what I want clean.”  I felt a bit nauseous; I could feel the heat coming off my face.  It was not pleasant.

“Oh Jax, umm.  I don’t know if I remember everything to tell you.”  That was not reassuring. 

“Well you have to start somewhere.” 

Two hours, many blushes, and several kisses later I had a brief history of Peter’s exploits.  I felt better now that I knew.  But still, it was a lot.  Things I had never even thought of. 

“So,” Peter began after I drank a cool glass of water, a very needed cool down after a detailed description of Peter’s First Threesome.  It had been told like a movie, or maybe a porno.  “How do you feel toward toys?”

I spat out some of the water.

“Come again?”  I had heard just fine.

“Well, I hope to at some point in the near future.”  I shook my head.  Peter the Perv was back… if he ever left.

“Umm I don’t know.  Maybe if they weren’t used.”

“Well I happen to have some, original packaging and all.”  I blinked. 

“Now?”  Peter nodded.  Oh god.

Peter smiled and kissed me.  Just as I was getting into it he pulled back.  He took my hand and led me toward his bed.

“Just sit here.”  I did.  Peter looked in his bedside cabinet.  When I tried to look he pinched my calf.  “No peeking.”  He must have meant it because a moment later he appeared with a soft silk scarf.  He covered my eyes slowly, giving me time to say no.  I didn’t.  He gently pulled my shirt over my head.  I shivered.  This was so new.  I felt his breath brush my nipples before he licked one.  I gasped.  Who knew that could feel so good.  Peter laughed. 

“You should see your face.”  His voice lost its laughter.  “You look so perfect sitting there.”  I wanted to see the expression that went with that voice, but I stayed still anticipating what would come next. 

After blowing on my other nipple Peter unbuttoned my pants.  I raised my hips slightly to let him pull them off.  I blushed again remembering I had neglected to put on underwear this morning.  I had been hesitant to put on anything I wasn’t absolutely sure was clean. 

“Oh you naughty boy.”  My stomach tightened at the words.  I had never been called naughty before.  I kind of liked it.  Peter licked the bit of precum that was dripping down my thigh.  “Naughty and eager.”  I nodded and pushed my hips up toward him.  He pushed them down then pushed my shoulders so I was flat on the bed.

“Don’t make me tie your hands.”  Another bolt of pleasure went through me.  Who knew I would like being told what to do?  I loved control.

After licking a trail across my hips, ignoring what I wanted the most Peter told me to turn over.  He laid full length over me and kissed the side of my jaw.  I moaned.  It felt so good.  His skin was so warm against mine; he was so hard against me.  It scared me to have that part of him so close to such a vulnerable orifice, but the fear just made it more fun.

Peter sat up and pulled me with him, to my knees.  I tried to sit up and Peter pushed firmly between my shoulders.

“Stay.”  I stayed.  “Now, no more mouth kisses.”  What no more kisses?  Wait, mouth kisses what was he going to-

Peter’s mouth on my hole was the most shocking thing I had ever felt, the most electrifying too.  I screamed into the pillow I was holding.  How could such a simple action have such an amazing return?  Peter certainly had a talented mouth.  His tongue found every sensitive crevice, every ticklish bit of me.  When I finally had to take a breath I relaxed and the very tip of peter’s tongue slipped inside of me.  I think my head exploded.  Every nerve inside me fired at once.  My hips bucked and I came all over the pillows and cover.  I couldn’t see everything felt too sensitive, and yet Peter kept licking.

“Too much, too much, dear god, Peter stop!”  I chanted but he didn’t.  I couldn’t stop trembling. 

“Oh don’t give up now, you wimp.  I’m not done with you yet!”  What more was there?  I heard a faint buzzing just before I lost it again.  I had never known I could feel so much pleasure.

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Charcoal Pt. 8

I give you the next, oh so unedited installment of Charcoal, which is now longer than 16000 words!  As alway comments are wonderful wonderful things, please and thank you.  Enjoy!

The rose garden was another beautiful part of campus, Soul got there at 2 just so he could have time to sit by himself and enjoy the flowers that bloomed year round.  He was lying on his back, dozing off when Scott entered the labyrinth of roses.

Soul looked beautiful in the sun.  Almost like some sort of fallen angel, or fairy.  Scott smiled at the thought of Soul frolicking through forests.  He could imagine it all to easily.  Even asleep Soul’s tension showed.  Scott was comforted by the thought that Soul was as disturbed in the weeks apart as he had been.

Souls green eyes opened slowly when he realized the feeling of being watched wasn’t entirely in his dream.

“What did you want to talk about?” he asked sitting up slowly.  He hadn’t been sleeping well and his body was reluctant to let him out of his dreams. 

Scott was temporarily distracted by Soul’s tousled hair and sleepy blinking.  He could imagine watching Soul wake up every morning.  He wished that he did.

“Well?”  Soul prompted.  Scott shook of his daydreams and began to speak.

“I found your summer portfolio in Professor White’s office.”  Soul felt like throwing up.  The blood drained out of his face and pooled in his stomach.  He felt lightheaded with panic. 

“You did?”  He whispered holding his stomach and trying to keep down what little he had eaten.

“Yes, I was especially stricken by the one with the poppies.”  Soul straightened.  He had forgotten about that picture. 

“I drew that one because of a dream.  I just included it on a whim.  I think it actually put me over the submission limit.”  Soul’s voice was scratchy, half from sleep and half from swallowed bile; the taste in his mouth was awful.

“I really love this garden, but can we get some coffee and talk for real?”  Scott read Soul’s mind.  He nodded.  They walked back to the cafĂ© where it had all started and settled into some chairs.  Soul perched on the edge of his, uncomfortably reminded of what had nearly happened the last time a discussion began in this room, and this time the professor wasn’t there to moderate.

“Relax, I’m not going to do anything to you.”  Soul sat straighter.  There was no way he was letting Scott lead him into a false sense of security.  He didn’t want his life to be turned over again.  He still hadn’t recovered from the first mess.

“We need to talk because the picture you drew, the one of the poppies is exactly what was painted on my room when I was born.  Also, my mother knows there is something going on.  She has called me every week since- since we last spoke.  I don’t know how she knows but she does, she wants to visit.”  Soul stood and walked around his chair and gripped the back.

“But wont she- doesn’t she want…”

“She would want both of us to quit school, she would want you to come to our house and really train, she would want you to tell her where your mother is.  Your father has never stopped searching for her.  You would never be free again.”  Soul’s nails dug into the soft fabric of the chair.  Scott sat unbearably still, he knew he risked a lot telling Soul the truth, but knew if he lied, and the truth came out, and it eventually would- there would be no bringing Soul back.

“She will probably know you are here when she comes, if you are here.  I tried to hide it, but she created the bond- she probably know that-“

“She knows that we kissed?”  Soul gripped the chair harder and his knees felt weak.  “Would she know if we, you know, did more?”  Scott nodded and Soul’s cheeks flushed a dark red.  He giggled.  It was too much.  “Good god, I don’t even know the lady and she’s peeking through keyholes.  How can you stand knowing she knows?”  Scott shrugged.

“I’ve known she would know my whole life.  The only way to sever her connection with it is to finish it.”  Soul stopped laughing.  Hell no.

“But then she would know, because she didn’t know-“ It was getting more confusing and creepier.  Again Scott nodded.

“Its not too weird if you grow up with it.”  It was Soul’s turn to shake his head.

“There is no way that is not weird.  If she will know what we do, she knows I’m here and everything else somehow- what are we supposed to do?”  Soul came back around his chair and perched on the edge.

“Well, I don’t know really.  The only way to keep you mom out of it is to go to her first, my mom.  Then she won’t be able to force you to rat out your mom.  I know it seems like the worst idea, but as a guest, it will be easier to leave.”

“I wouldn’t be a guest otherwise?”  How sinister was this organization?  This family?

“You would be in name…” Scott trailed off.  “Would you be willing to do it, come to my house with me?  You would be expected to practice your gift.  The bond would be stronger in that environment, closer to where it was created.  I wouldn’t- push you, but it would be expected…”  Soul nodded.  As distant as he was from his mother, he couldn’t make her go back somewhere she had worked so hard to avoid.  He was lost here, and had no other ideas.  If something big was coming, and in the movie that his life was becoming, there had to be something coming after so much nothing.

“I’ll do it.”


“Oh it is so wonderful to meet you!”  Scott’s mother was perfectly made up, her face unlined and perfectly, gently tanned.  Her eyes were the color of honey, nearly the same color as her neatly bobbed and pinned hair. 

“And you too madam.”  The house was huge, much bigger than Soul had expected, many times the size of the home he had grown up in. 

“Oh, sweetie, you are as good as family!  Don’t call me madam, that is far too old sounding.  You can call me mom, or Sylvia!”  She spoke in a blatantly false happy tone.  Her eyes were sharp in their increased sockets and her skin didn’t quite feel real.

“Ok.”  Soul stepped back from the terrifying woman and looked around the foyer.  It showed evidence of hired help, from the spotless corners and polished marble floors.  The single room was far too big for a single family to clean, and from what Soul had seen Sylvia was not one does any manual labor.

“You boy must be so tired!”  Sylvia said into the silence that followed.  “I’ll show you to the room.  You must excuse me, you will have to carry your own bags, all the others are in temple, there seems to be something brewing.”  She skipped up the stairs, her wickedly thin stilettos clicking on the polished hardwood of the stairs.  “You boys will be staying in the scarlet room.  I’m afraid Scott’s room is not quite big enough for two.”  She winked in what Soul assumed was supposed to be conspiratorial way, but didn’t quite work as not all of her face could move.

“Mom, you know we haven’t-” Scott blushed, his mother taking away all the confidence he had.  He was back in the place he had grown up, the place he was told he would be alone forever, that he was talentless, good only for the one that had abandoned him.

“No time like the present!”  Sylvia squealed.  “Here we are!”  She threw open French doors at the top of the first landing.  The first room they entered was painted a soothing lavender, but the second set of French doors lead to a lavish bedroom painted the richest scarlet.  The bed must have been larger than a king and the headboard was iron formed into the silhouette of a tree.  It was a beautiful piece, but an intimidating one. 

“Mom, this room-“

“Is perfect for what you will no doubt be doing!  I expect you to do what is expected of you Scott.  I know you spent a large amount of time thinking you didn’t have to do your duty to the family, but that time has ended.  You have been granted a chance to live up to your family name, don’t waste it.”  Scott nodded and dropped his bag on the floor.  Sylvia smiled, clapped her hands and left the room, closing the door behind her with a smile and another wink.

“Sorry.”  Scott whispered, refusing to meet Soul’s gaze.  “I forgot how she is.  It was years before I realized how un-mother like she is.”  Soul was too stricken to respond.  He placed his bag on a chair and ran a hand along the satin comforter. 

“There was a knock on the door, and it opened a moment later.  Outside stood a woman that looked as much like Scott as possible without being a man.  Her stomach protruded slightly in a way that suggested more than a large lunch.  Soul had the uncomfortable image of Scott in the same condition before the new figure spoke.

“Hi I’m Josie!  Scott’s sister.  I am so exited to meet you; it has been so lonely here with only mom for company.  And you must be Soul!  It’s been so long!  Oh has mother got plans for you.”  She waddled into the room and gave Scott a hug.  “You have to stay!  I can feel myself become more like mom everyday.  Nova says I talk like her not.  Can you believe it!”  Scott wrapped his arms around his sister’s shoulders and buried his head in her hair. 

“I missed you so much.  And no you are having a baby?”  Josie giggled and twirled. 

“Yes, I mean, I didn’t really intend on having one yet.  But now that- well I think I am excited!  I am supposed to be resting now, that’s why I’m not with the others, but I couldn’t wait to see you.”  Soul liked the woman; her enthusiasm seemed genuine opposed to Sylvia’s forced smiles.

“And you-“ She turned to Soul, “are just too pretty, I might have to steal you for myself!”  She giggled, but Scott’s face wasn’t something to laugh at, he looked beyond livid.  “Oh silly don’t worry!”  Josie patted him on the shoulder.  “Nova might kill me.  Now you guys should get dressed for dinner before mom flips completely.  She wants you to wear your black suit that she got you over the summer with a green tie and the antique cufflinks.”  She smiled at Scott’s irritated expression and turned to Soul.  “She wouldn’t share what she wants you to wear but she left a box in the dresser, I think it has your name on it.”  Soul wondered why she was telling them this if she was supposed to be resting, how were they supposed to know what to wear if she stayed asleep.

“Because I am supposed to get up at 6 to remind you, I’m just a bit early.  I thought you might want to shower instead of just change.  Plus I wanted to see my baby brother and resting all the time gets boring!”  She turned and flounced out of the room.  Soul was floored. 

“Does she read minds?”  He whispered as if that would keep her out of his head.  Scott laughed.

“Not quite.  She is really, really empathetic though.  She probably felt your confusion toward her.  She is really good at guessing too.”  Soul nodded, still not quite understanding but unwilling to pursue it now.

“SO is your mom always this particular about what you wear?”  Scott nodded and frowned at the closet.

“You bet, and you better get used to it, especially if she has already started with you.  She usually waits until the second day to dress her guests.  Better go find your clothes, we have an hour.”


After enjoying the waterfall shower for longer that the time warranted Soul opened the box addressed to him in a bubbly script.  Opening it he was struck with the impression of green the shirt was a vivid emerald with what seemed like a million mother of pearl buttons down the front.  It was beautiful.  Soul hated it.  Pulling it on without undoing the buttons Soul found the shirt fit him perfectly, if a bit tighter than he preferred.  It then flared slightly at his hips.  He despised it.  The pants were made of a soft material Soul couldn’t identify, thankfully they were black and other than being a bit tight around the thighs and long, comfy.  Dressed, Soul walked back into the lavender drawing room.

Scott’s breath caught when he saw Soul’s reflection in the mirror where he was fixing his collar.  While he would have never picked the outfit for himself or for Soul it was beautiful.  The green brought out the glow in his pale skin and the depth of his eyes.  The cut of the shirt and pants emphasized the slender form Soul usually disguised.  Scott turned around and the unfiltered imaged hit him like a punch to the stomach.  He hardened painfully in his perfectly tailored pants.  He wanted Soul like he had never wanted anything else.  He forgot about dinner, about his mother and sister and the mess they were all in.  All he could think of was Soul’s slender hips in his hands and legs wrapped around him.