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Innamorato; Passionflower <3
Topic Started: Apr 10 2010, 08:22 PM (2,571 Views)
passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Thomas thankfully was prevented from thinking the passenger seat was the driver's... since Sal went for the passenger side. He took the driver's side door, opened it and slid in. He also got buckled in, as Sal went about getting settled. His eyes were focused on the dash board, as he pushed the key into the ignition and turned it on. He glanced over at Sal, when he caught his eyes looking at him. He quirked a dark brow, but said nothing to being watched. He began to pull out of the parking space.

After merging onto the street (on the proper side of the road, which left him thrill), he let out a little sigh. His hands gripped at the steering wheel as his eyes remained on the road. "... Not nervous, about going to Greenwood, are you?" he asked quietly. His thumbs brushed a bit over the wheel of the car.

Besides a few comments every now and then, the normally amiable brunet was quiet. Then again they weren't exactly going to an amusement park. They were going to a damn cemetery. Paul's grave... So of course he'd be a bit... on the somber side.

When they arrived, Thomas parked the car. He turned off the engine, but didn't get out immediately. Even with Sal around, he had to take a breath or two, before he could get himself out of the driver's seat. He closed the door, then opened up the back seat. He'd bought a bouquet of white roses. He scooped up the pack of flowers in his arms and closed the door. Without a word, he headed along one of the cemetery paths. Although he'd only been here once, the place was eerily memorable. And before long, the brunet was standing in front of the head stone of Paul.

He was silent a moment or two, as he stood there. His eyes read over the engraving on the stone. Once. Twice. Maybe if he read it enough the other blond would come back to him. Who was he kidding?

Slowly, he knelt down, and he laid the white flowers on the grave. He stayed down, as his hands rested on his thighs, fingers tightening a bit in the fabric of his slacks.

"... Hey Paul. It's Thomas." he murmured, to the stone and burial mound. "... I managed to drag your brother along too." he smiled faintly. A hand lifted, to rest on the headstone. "... We really miss you. Everyday, Paul..." he whispered. His throat tightened then, as his head hung a bit. His eyes clenched shut . Tears threatened to come out. He lifted his other hand and rubbed a bit at his eyes, as the green gaze opened up once more.

"... Your brother's been real good to me, Paul. And.... he's gonna show me how to make pizza later." he smiled a bit, through his watery eyes, and spared a glance over his shoulder at Sal before casting his eyes back to the headstone. "... Wish you were here to join us."
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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onyx
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
He nodded in response to Thomas’ question, and he was nervous. Very. But if he was totally honest, the quiet, somber mood of the man in the car beside him made him even more anxious than the cemetery. More nervous than standing in front of his twin’s grave. He understood it, knew why Thomas was in the mood he was, but knowing didn’t make it any less unsettling. Or make him wish he knew how to fix it any less.

Sal walked alongside the brunet down the path, remembering as well which one to take. Even though he’d spent seemingly forever trying to forget this place even existed. Being back here was crazy to Sal. He’d vowed to never set foot in this place again. Not until it was his turn to be buried. His skin was crawling and he was suddenly well reminded just why he didn’t wear ties – the closer they got to Paul’s grave, the more constricted his airway felt. He could barely breath by the time they stopped in front of the specific headstone amongst many others.

He couldn’t look at it long. One glance over the name and Sal had to turn away, angling his body as well as turning his head. He chewed on his bottom lip, fingers flexing and itching for a cigarette… he hadn’t brought any. Figured if he was going to dress the part, he might as well act it too; besides, he had a feeling Thomas would think his smoking at a time and place like this would be outrageously disrespectful. Taking deliberate breaths, Sal lifted his eyes to the sky over them; the color matched his eyes.

While he was busy trying to keep himself under control, Sal heard Thomas start talking and he couldn’t help but look. He swallowed hard at the sight of the brunet kneeling before the grave, setting down roses and touching the headstone, speaking to it – speaking to Paul. His chest constricted when Thomas went as far as to even praise him. He didn’t deserve it and wished Thomas wouldn’t say stuff like that about him… but the brunet was too kind hearted and Sal knew it. Of course he’d sit and talk like Paul was right there, of course he’d praise him to his twin. It was such a Thomas thing to do, Sal’s chest ached at the sound of it.

He dropped his eyes when Thomas looked back at him, unable to keep the half smile off his face when the brunet told his lover about the pizza lessons planned for later. Sal could imagine the way Paul would his eyes over that. His twin would scoff and laugh and poke fun at the idea, all in good fun. Teasing. Mock exasperation and half put on complaints.

God, he missed him. Sal really did. He missed his brother, and he had to bite his tongue and look away again. A shuddering breath left him chest and he turned around completely, back to the grave and Thomas, the blond sucking and letting out long, deliberate breaths. He wasn’t going to cry. He refused. But he could feel the heat in his neck and face, and the sting at the back of his eyes, the clogged feeling in his throat. He rubbed a hand over his mouth.

Shame touched his chest. Here he was at his brother’s grave, his twin and his best friend… and just last night, just twenty minutes ago even, he’d been pining over Thomas. The man his brother had been going to marry. He felt a little sick at the though… what would Paul think? Jesus, what would he say? Panic filled his stomach all at once, nerves shot. Just like before, that morning in bed with Andy, Sal felt dirty.
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Thomas had gone quiet. His forehead rested gently against the stone tablet that marked where Paul was buried. He swallowed thickly as the quiet of the cemetery washed over them. He wasn't certain how long he sat there. He felt heavy, like he couldn't get up. He could understand, now, why so many lovers would pine the rest of their lives away atop their lover's grave. But... Paul wouldn't want that. He knew the loving blond would have wanted him to live a full and happy life... even if Paul couldn't be there with him.

But Thomas honestly... didn't know how he was suppose to go on without Paul there with him. He felt incomplete and unable to function. Like a broken toy.

Slowly the brunet leaned his head down, and he pressed a lone kiss to the rough, cold stone. Nothing like his lover's lips. "... I love you," he sighed softly, quietly, to the stone. He drew in a shuddering breath, and finally he managed to rise back to his feet. When he turned, he was startled at the sight before him. Sal had had to turn his back to the grave. Shoulders shaking, and his body just rigid.

Biting his lip, Thomas hesitantly approached the blond. And his hand rested on the older brother's back. He was standing beside him, as his palm smoothed softly up and down along his back. "... If you have to cry, then cry. You've already seen me bawling. It's only fair I get the same privilege..." he smiled a little, though his own tears were watering.

Even if Sal had his little imperfections... it was obvious then to Thomas that he really had loved his brother. Missed him. He swallowed softly around the lump in his own throat, and his arms soon wrapped fully around the other man. He lifted a hand to cup the back of his neck, and he gently guided it down against his shoulder.

Nothing more was said from Thomas. His hand just smoothed up and down the blond's back. Thomas smelled... as Sal likely remembered him. A hint of spicy cologne, the scent of tea, and of course a hint of soap and his own scent that was entirely Thomas. Nothing like Andy. Nothing like anyone else... Just Thomas.
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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onyx
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
The touch to his back startled him and Sal gasped a little, turning wet blue eyes on the man beside him. Self conscious and embarrassed, he scrubbed a hand over his face, desperately trying to cover up the fact that tears had all but fallen. He should know better though; Thomas already knew, sympathized, likely felt just the same as he did right now. But even so, Sal wasn’t accustomed to having people see him like this. It was precisely why he’d avoided this place and the thoughts that went along with it.

He tried to scowl and scoff it off. Tried. The sound got caught in his throat and the expression got lost. The hand on his back was making it harder to shake it off too. The soothing, understanding palm, rubbing like a balm over his rigid spine and tense muscle. Like magic, loosening it all up in his just and pushing him closer and closer to that edge. His vision went blurry, light and color blending and bleeding into each other. He pushed his tongue against his teeth, a low whine of protest escaping him as he slowly lost the battle.

The arms around him did him in. He felt the sob before he heard it, heaving out of him just as his head touched Thomas’ shoulder. And then the dam broke, completely caved in, and he fisted his hands in the back of the brunet’s shirt and held on tighter than he meant to. He bawled, sobbing and shuddering, all of it unloading into Thomas’ shoulder. He couldn’t stop it, completely powerless to it as a month’s worth of suppressed sorrow came crashing to the surface. He gasped into the other man’s neck, shoving his forehead against the side of Thomas’ jaw as he tried to just breath – he barely managed it, each inhale a shuddering mess accompanied by another heave and wash of tears.

“Hurts…” he managed, the word fractured and sounding nothing like the typical, cocky blond. He’d known he’d missed Paul, but he’d had no clue how badly until now as he let it all out and allowed himself to feel the pain he’d burrowed away after that first night. He’d been suppressing a lot, apparently, and now it was choking him.

But Thomas was there, and thank God for that. His grip on the brunet felt to Sal like the only thing he had keeping him grounded, keeping him in one piece. The smell and feel of the other body a comfort in the midst of the chaos, providing him a point in which to focus on. And after a time that seemed infinite to the blond, he was able to keep that focus on Thomas, panting into his shoulder as he refilled his abused lungs. He squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face into that shoulder, inhaling the other man and holding on, refusing to let go for the time being.
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Thomas stood tall as the blond broke down in his arms. He cradled his head with one hand. And soon he felt the hot breaths and faint dampness that came when someone was crying on your shoulder. His palm and fingers continued to gently pet up and down Sal's back, along the fabric of his shirt and feeling the stiffness in his shaking back and shoulders gently melt away.

His head turned inward, gently. His cheek brushed to Sal's ear, and his nose gently rested against the soft blond hair. Thomas closed his eyes, as his brows furrowed. It took all his resolve to not break down then and there. And he had to wonder if Sal had faced a similar challenge when he broke down after their dinner a few nights ago. He wouldn't have been surprised...

At the sound of the cracked, uneven word that left Sal's lips, Thomas felt his chest clench up painfully. "... I know." he whispered against his ear. "God, how I know. I know it hurts..." he winced. He managed to pull the blond closer, letting him just mold into his embrace. Funny how... their roles had changed since that night.

Thomas surprisingly managed a smile, as his eyes closed tightly, fighting off more tears that wanted to come. He leaned his head against Sal's, as his fingers gripped gently to the fabric on his back.

He made no move to get out of the hold. He'd stand there all day if he had to. He'd be the rock for the shaking blond. It felt... fitting in some way. As he'd proposed a week ago when he came, it might turn out therapeutic for the two of them. And judging by how much was coming out of Sal, in this stream of emotion, Thomas hadn't been far off the mark.

Long fingers gently carded through Sal's short blond hair in a soothing motion, petting his head as Sal had done for him. He gave the other man's body a gentle squeeze.
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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onyx
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Slowly, very slowly, the tremors and heaving gasps calmed. Sal was still shaken by the force of his emotional upheaval, but the tears were starting to dry and he was breathing now. He kept holding on to the other man, greedily accepting the support and comfort. Like he’d realized that night in the kitchen… he’d never held anyone like he had Thomas that night. Likewise, he didn’t think anyone had held him before. Not like this. Not while he was a downright mess; but Thomas just accepted it, welcomed it, soothed him with warm palms and long fingers.

He was a little startled by how content he felt. This was what he’d been looking for in Andy the night before… this warmth, this feeling and smell. Andy’s body against his was nothing like Thomas’ against his. Even fully clothed and standing in the middle of a cemetery, he preferred this. No wonder Paul had fallen in love with the Brit, how could he have not? The man was so warm and patient, both strong and soft…

A ragged sigh left Sal, the bite of his fingers into Thomas’ back easing up. He simple embraced the brunet now, eyes closing as fingers combed through his hair. Swallowing to work some moisture back into his throat, Sal nuzzled his face into Thomas’ shoulder and let his head just rest there. Calm washed over him and he felt his breathing synch up with the other man’s.

“’m sorry…” he murmured into the brunet’s shoulder. He was sorry for a lot of things, some of which Thomas didn’t even know about. Sorry about Paul, sorry about how he’d acted when they first met, sorry about the poor decision he’d made with Andy, and sorry about his near hysterical break down. He still wasn’t ready to let go just yet, though…
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Thomas kept his hold on the blond. Not pushing him back or urging him away. His hands had come to rest on his back. Warm, solid. He felt the blond burying his face into his neck and shoulder. Even felt the faint prickle of what he'd left of his facial hair. The brunet felt his skin prickle in response to such a simple sensation. He let out a little trickle of breath.

Though at the apology, Thomas' brows furrowed and his head gave a little shake. "... What are you saying sorry for? None of this was your fault," he whispered. The car accident wasn't his fault. The drunk driver wasn't his fault. Paul's death was not his fault. "And if you're apologizing for crying, don't. This is what you're suppose to do. It... helps you heal. I promise, Salvatore..." he murmured, using his full name. Sincerely, gently, and in that accent of his. Soothing and soft near his ear.

The Brit slowly slid his hands along Sal's shoulders, and he gently cupped the blond's face. He tipped it up to look at him. He managed a smile for the hurting brother. His thumbs even gently smoothed over his cheeks, to wipe away the tears that still lingered on his cheeks.

"... Ready to go? ... I don't... think Paul would want us to stand here crying all day. Agreed?"
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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onyx
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Sal knew nothing that had happened to Paul had been his fault. The blame was solely the drunk’s. It helped though, for some reason, to hear someone else assure him that nothing he did had inadvertently caused this, that there was nothing he could have done to change any of it. And as reluctant as he was about crying, he had to admit… he did feel a bit better. Pressure he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying had lifted off his chest and shoulders. He felt gritty and lethargic, heavy, but in a good way. His breakdown had taken a lot out of him.

He sighed, eyes closing when Thomas used his full name. He’d been right… it did sound different when Thomas said it. He liked it. It made something warm and soft curl in his chest and stomach, and his fingers flexed against the brunet’s back. Breath against his ear as Thomas spoke sent a small tremor down his spine.

Blue eyes opened again when hands left his back and found his face, Sal letting his head be tipped back and meeting patient, caring green eyes that made his chest clench. He swallowed, very much aware of their proximity and Thomas’ hands holding his face, thumbs brushing tracks of moisture from his cheeks. Their faces were close enough that Sal could feel the soft gust of Thomas’ breath on his face. He licked his lips, eyes dropping to the brunet’s mouth and watched the smile form the other man’s lips, soften and stretch them.

“Yah,” Sal croaked quietly after a moment, managing to tear his gaze away from Thomas’ mouth. He wanted to taste that smile. He wanted to feel it against his own mouth. But he was still aware of where they were… that Paul’s grave was just right there behind them. He nodded, hands flexing again as if to lift away from the other’s back, but only ended up returning them, sliding them down – not quiet into the dip of Thomas’ lower back, but close enough.

He tipped his head foreword, letting their foreheads touch like he’d done that night on his kitchen floor. “Yah, I’m ready. Yah, he’d, uh… he’d scold me and you both like a damn mother hen if we bawled all day.” He chuckled a little breathlessly, looking directly down into Thomas’ eyes.

Lingering a little longer, Sal eventually peeling himself away. Made himself do it. Knowing that if he didn’t, he might not ever let go. He rubbed his hands over his face, massaging sore eyes and wiping over his mouth.

Exhaling long and hard, Sal looked back at the brunet and offered a still slightly shaky smile, “Don’t know about you… but I could use a drink and some pizza.”
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Thomas felt the warmth of Sal's forehead on his own. He looked to those pretty blue eyes of the rough around the edges blond, and he gave a smile as Sal informed him Paul would be scolding the both of them. He gave an agreeing nod. The Brit had gone silent in those last lingering moments, before Sal finally pulled away from him. In those moments, Thomas realized his heart was beating... pretty fast: rattling in his chest.

Despite, he smiled a bit as he smoothed himself out. "I agree. Bring on the pizza and drinks," he concurred. Thomas spared one last look over his shoulder at Paul's grave. Then he turned back to Sal, and they headed for the car.

Thomas had gone quiet as they walked and his hands slid into the pockets of his slacks. His eyes flicked about as he admired the surprisingly tranquil atmosphere of the cemetery. Though he had a feeling it'd be down right creepy at night. All cemeteries were.

His green eyes flicked back to Sal, eying the blond beside him. Holding him had... felt good. To have another warm body against his chest. Especially one that so ... highly resembled Paul. But Sal wasn't the same man as the one he'd lost. And he really really had to quit trying to see him ... as a replacement. Besides, the older blond was about as far as monogamous as one could get, as far as Thomas knew and had been informed.

Lost in his thoughts, the brunet took out his car keys, clicked open the doors of the rental car and slid right into the passenger side. He blinked twice at the realization he'd done it again.

"Bloody... old habits..." he gruffed under his breath. He glanced to Sal sheepishly as he slid back out. "... Us 'silly' British, you know... drive on the other side of the road... Yeah," he admitted as he rounded the car and soon was in the driver's seat.
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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onyx
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Sal let himself glance a final time at his brother’s grave before turning away in favor of heading to the car with Thomas. Maybe Thomas had had a point with his talk of therapeutic release and all that when he first showed up at ‘Salvatore’s’. He certainly felt like he’d released something today.

The walk back was a lot less stressful than the walk in, or at least it was for Sal. And he fell into comfortable step alongside the brunet, loose and comforted like he hadn’t been when they arrived. His eyes felt a little raw and he knew they were likely as red as they felt, and his throat felt like he’d used it in all the wrong ways, but all in all… he somehow felt comfortable. Maybe not physically, being that he was still in clothes he considered confining and freshly cried out, but he was comfortable on some level in his chest he didn’t have a name for.

He was pretty sure it had a lot to do with the man walking beside him.

At the car, Sal hesitated in his step towards the passenger door. Thomas was already there, sliding into the seat. The blond arched a brow, curious and a little confused, and watched as the brunet produced the keys and then… Sal snorted when Thomas revealed his error, shaking his head.

“That shouldn’t even be funny.” Sal rubbed fingers over his eyes again, climbing into the vacated passenger seat once Thomas was out and correctly seated behind the wheel. He kept chuckling, an arm across his stomach and hand still rubbing over his eyes and brow. “Fuckin’ dangerous… you confuse lanes too?” Licking his lips, he leant his head back and titled it to look over at the other man, smiling soft, but wide. “Dangerous. But stupidly adorable, just so you know.”

The blond buckled himself in, grinning to himself. His mood had improved, Sal relaxing into his seat while Thomas started the car and got them going. This was good… he liked this. As wrong as it might be, he had to believe Paul would want a good thing for them both. And if being around Thomas, with him, was a good thing to Sal… he had to believe Paul would want him to keep being around the brunet. Would want him to chase that feeling and indulge in it. He had to believe it, or else he was just a sad, sorry son of a bitch digging himself further and further into a bad situation.
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Thomas was in the midst of buckling up as Sal asked him if he also mistook lanes. He spared him a glance. "... I have, yes. I've gotten into a few near accidents, driving into light oncoming traffic." he chuckled faintly. In some ways, it would have been much more believable that he would have been the one to die in a car accident, and not his lover. But fate had decided to let him get away with near death on a few occasions, while Paul... Paul had not been so lucky.

The Brit turned on the car as his brows furrowed a bit. "... Adorable?" he let the adjective roll off his tongue. "That's a word better reserved for an infant falling flat on his arse than a grown British man driving head long into oncoming traffic," he shook his head. Though much to his surprise, Sal seemed just as willing to go riding with him in the car. He spared the blond a glance.

"... I'm surprised you aren't abandoning ship," he added with a smirk. He pulled out of the parking lot and got back onto the road. Truth be told, he was a perfectly safe driver when he paid attention. Just if he got lost and went onto auto pilot was when things got dangerous.

As they drove, a peculiar thought occurred to the brunet, which caused his brows to furrow a little.

"... Pizza making... is kind of messy isn't it?" he asked. He vaguely remembered Sal having flour and dough sticking all over his hands and even his forearms. "... I may need to dress down. I don't suppose we could stop at your place and I could borrow one of your shirts?" he asked as he glanced to the blond.

If not he could take an extra stop at his hotel... just... it took time. And he was actually really looking forward to his lesson, strangely enough...
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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onyx
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
“Infant falling on his ass…” Sal snorted, “Yah, maybe. But you didn’t see the look on your face,” Sal pointed an index finger towards the brunet, snickering still. He rolled the back of his head against the headrest, eyes sliding over the man in the car beside him - feeling a fondness that reflected in his eyes; bright blue affection.

His smirk quirked and he shrugged when Thomas noted how unconcerned he was over ridding with the brunet now that he knew he sometimes flubbed on the lanes. In all honesty though, despite his laughter and smiles, a little niggle of concern did bounce around the back of his head – not for now, and not for himself. For Thomas. It really was dangerous to be confusing lanes whilst driving. In fact, Thomas’ accident risk factor was bigger than most people’s. It made Sal worry, but he kept that to himself while Thomas got them back on the road.

“Hmm?” Sal’s brows lifted slowly, eyes watching the other man’s mouth move while he talked. A brow twitched and he nodded, “Yah it can be messy. Flour gets everywhere and all…” He glanced up from the brunet’s mouth to the side of his face as he listened on, gaze shifting a little when the final request was made.

Thomas borrowing his clothes… Sal felt something in his stomach go fluttery. It was… the image it created in his mind, it just… he swallowed hard, taking a quiet, long breath. Meeting Thomas’ eyes as the Brit looked at him, seeking indication of agreement or refusal out of him. But really, there was only one acceptable answer, at least in Sal’s mind. He wanted to see that, needed to see it. Thomas in his clothes. The intimate tingle brushing the base of his spine made him shift in his seat, Sal eager to get to his apartment so this could become a reality.

“Y-yah,” the word croaked a little and he cleared his throat to say it again, “Yah. Yah, sure. Of course. You can borrow whatever you want.” He nodded, licking over his lips and offering a quirked smile.

When they arrived back at his apartment, Sal led the way up to his number and let them in. His hand was up and tugging at the tie around his neck as he nudged the door open and entered. He let the loose silk hang from his neck and began on the little buttons at his throat and down his dress shirt. Half through the task, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around the brunet’s forearm, giving a little tug at his arm and jerking his head in the direction of his bedroom.

He was suddenly supremely thankful he’d been guilty enough over the whole ordeal the night before and this morning to make up his bed and clean up some. His bed hardly ever got made. Really never. Not unless he did laundry and changed his sheets. But he’d stripped it and remade it that morning after his shower, cleaned out the waste basket by the bed and picked up the small messes that had been building in corners and table tops. Even Sal wouldn’t have guessed what had happened in there the night before from how the room looked now – that wasn’t to say it was immaculate. Hardly. Like the rest of the house, it was tidy, but it was clear that the room was lived in and had been lived in for years. The walls were the same warm beige as the rest of the place, the bedding dark blue and soft. There was a desk with a computer in one corner and the bed was centered against the back wall, the mattress wide. Cologne sat atop his dresser and a few more framed photos sat up on the desk around his computer and on the walls. An old soccer ball sat neglected near the desk.

Sal went straight over to his dresser once he’d pulled Thomas into the room with him, releasing the brunet’s forearm in order to tug open a drawer and rummage around a little. He produced two shirts, then moved to another drawer and pulled out a pair of drawstring sweats.

“You mind maybe getting those slacks dirty? You can wear these if you wanna avoid messin’ them up,” he passed over the sweat pants and a shirt to the brunet. The shirt was a simple back tee, striped with horizontal gray bands all the way around – the shirt Sal’d been wearing that day Thomas first came to ‘Salvatore’s’. It was clean and soft, but despite its washing it still held on to the smell of the man who wore it so often.

Thomas squared away with some clothes, Sal dropped his own t-shirt at the foot of his bed and finished opening the buttons of his dress shirt. He removed it without any inkling of modesty with Thomas there in the room – no undershirt, just smooth, sun-kissed skin and broad back revealed beneath. He toed off his shoes and dropped off his slacks too, in the same unconcerned fashion with his back slightly turned to Thomas. Standing just in his boxers, he draped his slacks over the edge of his bed and turned back to his dresser to find himself a pair of jeans.

"Those ok?" The blond asked mid-bend to a drawer in his dresser, glancing up and over at the other man in the room with him. If he arched his back a bit more than usual under the other's gaze, he honestly did it subconsciously even though every nerve in his body was aware that Thomas was in the room with him. And he more than half naked.
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Thomas had since parked the car. No flub ups this time when it came to his driving. Then again he was very aware of what was going on at the moment. The only danger came when, as he said, he went onto autopilot, and was caught up in his thoughts. Much like how he'd just waltzed right over to the passenger side, thinking it was the driver's like back home.

He got out, and followed the blond up to his apartment. He noted how quickly Sal was already working open the tie around his neck, and a few buttons on his dress shirt. It caused a bemused little smirk to come to his lips. "You really don't like wearing this stuff do you?" he teased him. Though he soon felt the strong fingers wrap around his forearm and the gentle tug upon it. Thomas' eyes lifted to meet Sal's, as the blond lead him to the bedroom. He didn't quite know what to think of the way Sal led him over. He could have just... done so verbally. But the grip was alright. Warm even.

The brunet stopped a little past the doorway as he took in the look of the tidy bedroom. He'd not exactly seen the bedroom the night he came over for dinner, so he wasn't sure if Sal always kept it clean or if this was just... a special occasion. But considering he hadn't been planning on bringing him up to his bedroom to change clothes, he supposed it might have been habitual. Maybe. Or maybe he was hiding evidence of that fling last night. Thomas said nothing though, for his attention was quickly taken from the room and directed toward the shirt and pants offered to him, and then to the now shirtless blond who was walking about the room.

Thomas was pretty sure his face lit up like a stop light, at the sight of the strong shoulders and smooth, bare back of the pizza-flipper. Oh god and there his slacks went too. The poor Brit was knocked dumb for a second or two. He'd just picked up the shirt, but his eyes were staring at the boxer clad blond. His jaw was a little slack.

When Sal finally spoke to him, he seemed to jolt and regain his composure. He quickly closed his mouth as his eyes flicked back. "... Yeah, they're fine." he admitted. It didn't matter so much what he wore right then, for once. It was just for making pizza. Not anywhere fancy. Thomas stole another glance at Sal, before mentally scolding himself and looking away. He attempted to put his focus on the clothing he'd been given. He folded them up, and rested them over one of his arms.

Without a word, he quickly turned, and headed for the bathroom. Although Sal seemed perfectly fine dressing down in the presence of someone he'd just met a few days ago, which Thomas supposed was not surprising considering it was Sal, Thomas was not so willing. He closed the door, and leaned back on it. He stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Cheeks a blaze, eyes a bit clouded.

The worst part was, Sal was even more fit than Paul had been. Not that he'd had any problem with Paul's physique, but god damn. He did not need to be oogling his dead lover's brother. No no no.

Setting the clothing on the toilet seat, the Brit went to the sink and splashed some cold water onto his face and the back of his neck. He shivered a bit, and looked back up to his reflection. A few deep breaths...
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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onyx
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
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Sal stood still with his jeans in his hand, he wrung his fingers into the denim, jaw working soundlessly. He hadn’t missed the brunet’s flush. He’d been so bright red, it’d have been hard to miss. Thomas had been blushing, profusely. Because… because of him?

Sal took a glance down at himself. He might eat greasy, less than nutritious foods and smoke like a chimney, but he did take pride in his own body. He kept it fit. He kept muscle toned and strong; not that he’d be winning any cage fights or anything, but he was aware that he looked good. He wasn’t vain about it, but he knew. Seems Thomas knew too…

A smirk pulled Sal’s lips, the blond lifting his head to eye the closed bathroom door Thomas had disappeared behind. He wasn’t surprised that Thomas had left to change in private, but… well, it was a shame. Thomas had a nice frame, but Sal wondered what he looked like beneath the suits and ties and dress shirts. Oh well… he’d just have to resign himself to imagining.

Jeans went on up his legs and hips, Sal fastening them up. Next the shirt went on; a white, fitted tee with a ragged pattern spider webbing out in black from his left shoulder down his chest. Like shattered glass. He scrubbed his hand in his hair, mussing it up a bit and returning it to its more usual style. He went ahead and carried his removed shirt, slacks and tie to his closet and hung the clothes all back up.

Deciding Thomas might appreciate coming out of the bathroom without having him standing right there waiting, Sal exited the room and went out in his living room He sat on the back of his couch, fingers going for a cigarette, but than stopping before he got a hold of one. The blond huffed, realizing he was stopping himself because Thomas didn’t like that habit of his… Sal let himself fall back with a sigh, landing on his back on the cushions of his couch with his head hanging off the edge of them, his legs up and knees curled around the back. His socked feet dangling.

Thomas had gotten him dressed up today, been the reason he’d bee guilty after sex, and now he was convincing Sal to give up smoking when he was around… Jesus. The blond never would have thought any of that was possible, that one person would influence him like that or make him change little things about him to suit that person’s preference. If it wasn’t happening right now, he’d have laughed at the idea of it ever happening to him. Or that he’d be ok with it, if it did.
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
When Thomas stepped out of the bathroom, he was wearing the t-shirt he'd been given. Stripes wrapped around his middle and on up to his shoulders. The shirt was a tad loose on him, but looked fine. Considering Sal had two inches on him in height it made sense they'd be a tad different in size. Though just that, a tad. He had on the dark sweats, which he felt very out of place wearing, especially since he wasn't going for a jog (which was about the only time he wore anything remotely athletic like sweat pants or a gym attire).

He'd folded up his dress shirt, tie, suit jacket and slacks, and had them draped over his arm as he stepped out. The English gentleman wore the casual look well. Though his straight posture still showed through with how he carried himself. He stole a glance around the bedroom, and noted that Sal was not in.

Turning, he headed out and soon spotted the socked feet dangling over the back of the couch. After setting his things by the door, Thomas approached the couch and his hands gently grabbed the wiggling feet. He peered down at Sal.

"I'm ready to go if you are," he informed. A hint of a smirk played over his lips, as he gave the bottoms of the blond's feet a few teasing tickles with the brush of his fingertips. He didn't linger too long though, and he withdrew his hands as he turned to head for the door.

He wasn't sure if Sal had seen him blushing like a school girl a few moments prior, but he didn't bring it up. It was likely hard to miss. He picked up his clothing at the door, and waited for Sal to join him before heading out. He stopped by the car to put his clothing inside, then closed it up, locked it, and looked to the blond.

"Just a short walk to 'Salvatore's', right?" he asked.
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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