despising: (Default)
Elliot Jude Richards ([personal profile] despising) wrote2015-12-08 06:01 am

open post


Focus is an illusion.

TEXT | ACTION | PICTURES

burnination: (pic#9779072)

chiiiinhaaaands

[personal profile] burnination 2015-12-14 10:34 am (UTC)(link)
[ every time max had woken up in the past three days, he'd noticed that the pillow trench around him had grown taller. by the time he was present enough to think on it, the pillow nest had already grown more sizeable than could be protested. not that he particularly minds it - dani had maybe instilled an favor for nests of soft things in him by now.

besides, after the last week-ish they'd gone through, max is more than happy to sit in a pile of soft things, with a slender, smarmy little thief curled up to him, and soak in the few days paya will be cutting him some slack for being lazy, and elliot won't be stealing his shit.

being a shit, however, seems to be out of the picture. max snorts, corners of his lips quirking in a small smile, and a hand runs fingers over elliot's forearm idly, as he pats his chest. ]
What'll you care? You'll be asleep.

[ under the thick layers of blankets shoveled on top of them, max's feet kick at elliot's playfully, knees bumping some. he's totally bare under the sheets, because that's just how he sleeps, and it's nothing anyone hasn't seen besides. even paya's been unfortunate witness to his streaking adventures on occasion. ]

Fine. We wake intermittently for bubblebaths. [ the fingertips tracing along his friend's arm venture higher, over a shoulder, up his neck, and max brushes some of elliot's hair back, tilting his head some to look at him. ] And there'd better be rubber duckies, or I'm sending the manservants out.

[ and now he's just making fun of him and his fancy palace-house. ]
burnination: (pic#9706689)

[personal profile] burnination 2015-12-15 10:30 am (UTC)(link)
Sensitive, oh, I'm sure, after all that whining you do anytime I take you on a job. [ old places smell bad, most of the time. they just do. sad fact of life. elliot's hand is a welcome weight against his chest, with the soothing the warmth of his palm and his fingers splayed over his skin. for a moment, max's eyes slip closed again, humming softly at nothing in particular, just a low, rumbled sound of contentment.

his lips pull wider, small sated smile stretching to a grin as he imagines a younger elliot sneaking around this massive house, playing pranks and getting into trouble. shuffling 132 rubber ducks into the various bathrooms of this mansion of a home. he wonders, though, how much elliot considers it a home. he never talks about his family here, doesn't seem to visit often, and there's a cold kind of feeling to it all. max has yet to see a trace of elliot's parents, or anyone, outside of the house staff. huh. ]


132, exactly? [ he muses, as he turns his face into the fingers touching along his jaw, always such a glutton for contact and sensation. his lips find the pad of elliot's thumb at some point, parting so that he can nip at his fingertip with teeth, playful. ] Any special reason for the number, or was that just all Bed Bath & Beyond had in stock?

[ and that soft nip turns more into a bite when he feels elliot's teeth against his shoulder. rude. but not actually, considering it sends a little spike of warmth flushing over his skin, already sensitive just by the wear of the last several days, but now, at least, pleasantly so. max chases it, ankle hooking around the back of the leg elliot's tangled with his, and dragging himself up to push the other boy's back to the mattress, max slipping a knee between his thighs. not the easiest of movements, considering the achiness all over, but worth it to settle himself comfortably half-blanketing him. ] Anything? Absolutely anything? You want the list now or later?
burnination: (pic#9779072)

[personal profile] burnination 2016-03-05 06:16 am (UTC)(link)
[ the small flash of a smile melts max's heart a bit. not that he isn't already feeling squishy and loopy from the heavy heaping of medicinal herbs and magic whatever coursing through him. though, it's with a bit of sadness, as he knows the elliot, the one riding around on bikes with backpacks of rubber ducks with his brother, is gone. like the kid that chases chickens and rode cows on his mother's farm is gone. but that's a fact of life. bad shit happens, and it changes you forever. you learn to live with it, to carry it. because lord knows there's no setting it down or trying to bury it behind you.

either way, it has him bringing a hand up to cup the side of elliot's face, thumb brushing under his eye softly, before he leans in to kiss gently at the corners of his lips. ]


I'll have my secretary put it on your desk in the morning. [ the list, he means, as he kisses down the side of elliot's neck lazily, shoulders a bit achy, but otherwise not bothering him enough to deter him from smothering elliot with gross affection, heading towards explicit things. which elliot seems to be concerned about, so max lifts his head up enough to peer at him at a tilt, with a pffft sort of look. ] Please. This is like a cold to me.

[ not it's not. it's like a flu you have to be hospitalized for. max is just terminal in his tendency to understate every injury he's ever had, physical or otherwise. but there's also the fact elliot's pretty well out of it as well, and maybe max should go on the gentle side of things. shifting some, he lays part on his side, pressed up to elliot, as he idly smooths his palm down elliot's side, over his hip and thigh, and back up again. ] We could go slow. Soft and cute and everything.