All Molly's fault.
Apr. 14th, 2001 05:30 pmMolly pointed people to this picture in her journal. It's a very "Come into my parlor, little boy" sort of pose. And since Russell really is an asshole, I see him exerting subtle pressure to lure Jamie into his bed.
"I'd love it if you'd show me how you do some of your moves."
Jamie smiles up at him guilelessy. "Sure, Russell. I'd love to. Anytime."
Russell gives Jamie his best smile. "How about now?" he askes, unable to keep his voice from dropping into a half-growl. "There's plenty of floor space in my room."
"Sure."
So Russell slides out of the booth behind Jamie and puts one propietary hand on his shoulder, guiding him out the door.
Once in Russell's room, Jamie strips down to just his undershirt and pants. Russell watches the movements of his supple body as he stretches out.
Jamie catches his glance, sees something of the hunger there, and gives Russell a smile that doesn't quite shake. "Got any music?" he asks, his voice cracking on the last word.
"No." Russell flicks on the radio and twists the dial, looking for something classical.
"That's good," Jamie says when Russell hits something he can dance to. He sets out across the room, forgetting about his audience and just dancing. He remembers Russell when he nearly trips over him. "You're in my dancing space," he says, his throat dry.
Russell's hands close on Jamie's arms, holding him there and upright. "Yes, I am."
Jamie smiles up at him nervously. "Going to let me finish my dance?"
Russell shakes his head, his fingers lightly stroking the skin on Jamie's upper arms. "No." He bends down and presses his mouth against Jamie's. His tongue forces its way between Jamie's lips. He sweeps it along the roof of Jamie's mouth, along the sharp edge of Jamie's teeth.
"Russell," Jamie starts when Russell pulls back for a moment to let him breathe.
Russell doesn't let him speak, but reclaims his mouth, walking him backwards toward the bed. "You're really very wonderful." When the back Jamie's knees hit the bed, Russell tips him down onto it. "Completely amazing," he murmurs darkly as he covers Jamie's body with his own.
I think that's enough utter wrongness for one journal entry.
"I'd love it if you'd show me how you do some of your moves."
Jamie smiles up at him guilelessy. "Sure, Russell. I'd love to. Anytime."
Russell gives Jamie his best smile. "How about now?" he askes, unable to keep his voice from dropping into a half-growl. "There's plenty of floor space in my room."
"Sure."
So Russell slides out of the booth behind Jamie and puts one propietary hand on his shoulder, guiding him out the door.
Once in Russell's room, Jamie strips down to just his undershirt and pants. Russell watches the movements of his supple body as he stretches out.
Jamie catches his glance, sees something of the hunger there, and gives Russell a smile that doesn't quite shake. "Got any music?" he asks, his voice cracking on the last word.
"No." Russell flicks on the radio and twists the dial, looking for something classical.
"That's good," Jamie says when Russell hits something he can dance to. He sets out across the room, forgetting about his audience and just dancing. He remembers Russell when he nearly trips over him. "You're in my dancing space," he says, his throat dry.
Russell's hands close on Jamie's arms, holding him there and upright. "Yes, I am."
Jamie smiles up at him nervously. "Going to let me finish my dance?"
Russell shakes his head, his fingers lightly stroking the skin on Jamie's upper arms. "No." He bends down and presses his mouth against Jamie's. His tongue forces its way between Jamie's lips. He sweeps it along the roof of Jamie's mouth, along the sharp edge of Jamie's teeth.
"Russell," Jamie starts when Russell pulls back for a moment to let him breathe.
Russell doesn't let him speak, but reclaims his mouth, walking him backwards toward the bed. "You're really very wonderful." When the back Jamie's knees hit the bed, Russell tips him down onto it. "Completely amazing," he murmurs darkly as he covers Jamie's body with his own.
I think that's enough utter wrongness for one journal entry.
