mel_lsar
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He needs to feel it longer, needs to want and feel wanted longer than just this short while. And he's well aware he's an idiot for seeking it out from someone that sold his feeling away thousands of years ago, but he's also the only one he feels he can turn to. People look up at him, they fear him, respect him or are forced to submit to him, none of them look down on him, none of them look at him the way all of them look at him, with disdain, annoyance, hatred, and a good bit of superiority. He is one of the few that watched him grow as a person, grow to hate him and the others and knew how both of them used to be, before greed took over them.
Or
Luslec and Hon sometimes have sex. And also get jealous for some reason even though they aren't in a relationship
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 8,902
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 2
- Hits:
- 27
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“I hate you.” Luslec tells Hon, even as he's tugging at his waist, trying to bring him impossibly closer. He tells him how much he hates Hon even as he holds his neck, trying to pull him closer and closer. Hon's hands are around his neck, one sliding down to his chest, not doing anything but enough for Luslec to know.
“I hate you.” He says, even when he keeps kissing him like he loves him, keeps bringing his lips to Hon's like they have always belonged there. In between the hard touches Hon could almost delude himself into thinking he can feel some softness to it, though he wouldn't dare spend more time thinking about something as trivial as that.
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“I… I hope this lasts.” His head is turned to the side, staring at the person laying next to him. Beautiful white long hair, perfectly smooth skin, the most beautiful eyes he is allowed to see, pulling him in every time he just looked into his direction. It felt weird, odd, like he knew he wasn't supposed to feel this way but he allowed himself anyway, allowed himself to indulge in something he shouldn't be.
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“Oh Hon, Hon, my dear.” He felt angry, upset, betrayed and he hated him. All those feelings coming up again, everytime he had to look at these people, the people that led to the death of his masters that betrayed them and waged war against them.
Yet for some reason, he feels a stupid sense of longing, of want yet disgust flooding through him at the same time. His fingers glide through white hair, so soft and perfectly kept, just like the image they paint of themselves. Gliding through his fingers without a single hick-up and his hand finds itself back on the base of his neck.
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Summary
But he often can't help himself when he realizes how ridiculous this is, because he's still thinking about things that happened tens of thousands of years before and he's sure that Hon must've already forgotten about those memories, or at the very least they slipped his mind. He feels ridiculous for it but there are more important things that he has to pay attention to.
Maybe one day, he will be able to look at that heavenly white glow again and he’s allowed to make the excuse that they fight to be able to feel that closeness one last time.