|Conversation: Damien Hall and August Lowell|
Conversation: Damien Hall and August Lowell
Jul. 16th, 2007 @ 04:59 pm
"I don't, it just feels later than it should be."
I card my fingers through the length of my hair a few times while furtively (although hopefully discreetly)searching for a mirror to gauge my appearance.
"Do you? "
I snort at the first comment and lie back down on the pillows. "I must say, you take sloth to an entirely new level. And as for the second part, I actually had my mind set on sleeping with you last night to celebrate New August, but I didn't know your collapse was less of a seduction attempt and more.. of a collapse."
I yawn. "At any rate, I suppose this is better, I haven't slept this well in days."
I skim a finger over his lips. "Mmm, but I'm not so convinced I'm in the mood for that type of exertion anymore. You snore; and you're so tall and long that I'm afraid I was quite cramped for space last night."
I untangle myself from him long enough to make some muffled noise of affirmation. Before dropping a kiss on his shoulder, I kick off my recalcitrant left shoe and slide off of his bed. "I am quite disgusting. And while I do love you, I'm afraid I can't deny that you are, also."
Back in August's room, I slowly pull off my shirt, until I'm standing in his room in only horribly wrinkled trousers. I use the second alone to observe his room more closely for incriminating materials; guns, ladies' underthings, bloody clothes and the sort. I only see music manuscripts, creamy paper, and pens.
I hear his call and hurriedly remove my trousers, tripping over my own legs. August is already naked when I get there, and I grin slightly, peeking in the doorway.
"Is this how New August does things? I admit, it will be nicer to be clean for once instead of heading over my own place for a bit of a wash."
August's bath is splendidly large, enough room for me to turn around in without bumping into him. The water that spurts out of the faucets in jets is warm and lovely, and I let it stream over my shut eyes.
August is wetting his hair into dark, twisted and wavy strands. It is nearly straight, and for a second, I wonder whether or not it merely frizzes back into normality, or if he uses some secretive dandyish technique to make it curl wildly like that.
I can't help a small laugh, and I turn to him. "Could you pass me the soap?"
I laugh. "Much thanks, Lowell
I crouch to my knees in the cascading, gurling water and grab the bar. It takes a couple grabs, but when I get it, I stand, and I start soaping my arms and chest. Hah, yes! I was figuring out how to write this part without describing Damien "on his knees" under the "spurting, gushing faucets" sound all porny. Because bending over would just be too bad. I can't even write that without laughing.
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