A few things you should know, first off.
- It's TiH. Therefore, vamps and winged!Harl
- The action is generally set in the TiH situation. Therefore not completely accurate, but thanks to Sandra, as accurate as it's ever going to get with me not having read it all *s*
- Tybalt/Harley, writing in first person Tybalt POV
- Harley's a little... well... bonkers. But quiet quirky bonkers at this stage, not painting symbols on the wall with his own blood bonkers ^_~
A purple gauzy fabric that hangs all around his bed mutes the freestanding lamp's harsh light. It gives the room a subdued and yet ethereal glow. His silhouette is a stark outline in violet. I pull back the filmy curtain.
The mattress is covered in feathers. And there Harley sits in the middle of them, wearing nothing but a pair of pale blue satiny drawstring pants. His wings used to look pristine, white as the porcelain of his skin. Now they look smudged, grey, like dove's wings.
That and the bald patches aren't really making them look all that healthy...
Harley plucks out a feather, flinching slightly as he does so. The pain is gone from his face as he tosses the feather up in the air. Eyes stay transfixed to it as it floats down with a variety of twists and turns until it joins the others on the bed.
It lands on a pile of similar feathers. He stares at it for a moment, before reaching to grab another.
I watch him pluck two more feathers before stepping in, grabbing his wrist as he reaches for another. Harley looks up, suddenly noticing I'm there.
"Oh!" He appears startled. "You were so... quiet," Harley shares a secret smile with the wall behind my head.
I tug on his wrist slightly and he sucks in a pained gasp. Sure enough, his wrist is banded by purpling marks, the size of a large hand. By the shade, I'd say they'd been inflicted in the past day. My own wrists itch in memory and hands unconsciously tighten over the bruises. He yelps, and I let go. I didn't really come in here to hurt him. This time.
Why did I come in here?
Because the way the gauze around his bed diffuses the light, his swirling blue-green eyes turn a light violet. Because he unconsciously twitches his wings when I stare at him too long. Because those light coloured pants sit so low I can see a line of pale golden curls down his abdomen, disappearing underneath the silk. Because there's a fading bruise high on his cheekbone, and his flesh looks so lovely when marked.
Because I love to want him, and want him to love me.
I sit down in front of him on the bed, watching feathers fly. Harley giggles as they fly around.
"Has anyone seen you today?" I ask.
He thinks about his answer, all his concentration on snatching feathers out of the air. "No one except for 'lynne. And me. I've seen me today. But I don't count." Harley's voice drops to a whisper, and he pauses in his feather catching pursuits. "I'm no one."
I frown slightly. He's been doing this lately. Speaking in riddles, or verse. Like a child.
Or a lunatic.
For his sake, he'd better be getting in touch with his inner toddler. I don't know if anyone could stand another Delphine.
My eyes linger on the subtle lines of his torso. Muscular, but not like mine. Shallower curves, softer skin... His body is frozen forever in that transient stage between boy and man. Supple and hard in all the right places.
His wings twitch nervously and I realise I'm staring.
"You're all alone then," I murmur as Harley nervously twirls a feather between small, delicate fingers.
"Not alone!" He corrects, then ducks his head. "Never alone," he says, distinctly softer.
I reach over and take the feather out of his hands. His skin is warmed by the light, unlike mine. Mine is chilled from the night, but even that little contact with him warms me.
"No, never." I lift his hand to run the tip of my tongue over his knuckles. A blush stains his cheeks as I taste his skin.
Mmmm... I've missed it. His closed eyelids flutter when I trail the feather over the slight definition of his pectoral muscles, and over twitching abdominals. The gold hoop in his navel sparkles.
My left hand tugs on the ring insistently, even as my right lifts his chin up. A sliver of blue is visible beneath closed lids. His head tips back further as I continue playing with his piercing, allowing me a good view of strong jaw lines.
His voice is husky, the light airy tones unusually heavy with desire. The curve of his neck is like ripe fruit - firm and succulent - and my fangs itch to taste deeper...
"Mmmmu..." The soft moan vibrates through his throat as my lips trace down. I push forward even as he leans back, his knees parting to allow my body in between them.
Harley's silk pants do little to conceal his excitement from me. My own is painfully pressed against the seam of my dark wool trousers. I lick the underside of his chin, blond hairs tickling my nose, and he whimpers again.
Just one more of those sweet little sounds and I'll take him...
Reprisal is instantaneous.
In case you can't tell... Harley just did something really really bad. ^_____^
questions? comments? G-boys in drag?