ArchivedLogs:Riddles in the Dark

Riddles in the Dark
Dramatis Personae Peter, Shane, Sebastian (asleep)	2013-08-08 '
Location <NYC> 305 {Teenhaus} - Village Lofts - East Village
This apartment is bright and airy, its floor plan open and a plethora of windows providing it with an abundance of light. The tiny entrance hall opens into a small living room. Towards the back, a couple of doors lead off into bedrooms and bathroom, and to the right, the kitchen's tile is separated from the living room's dark hardwood floors by black countertops. Above the bedroom to one side, there is higher space; a ladder climbs up to a lofted area looking down on the living room. Another bathroom stands just into the hall and the farthest door leads to the apartment's final bedroom. Furnishings are more in line with broke students than established adults. Cast-off couches and chairs provide places to sit, and the walls have been decorated in a frequently-changed street art style that combines bright, layered colors with exaggerated proportions and abstract shapes. Peter is here! And so is Shane. The latter is, currently, in bed. After several minutes of making it clear to Peter that under no circumstances was he just going to /stay still/ without some immediate and focused intervention, Peter has taken it upon himself to help Shane stay still and calm -- by applying both a rigorous belting /and/ rigorous binding. Peter's getting better with the bindings! He is still not excellent, but he seems to have a preference for belts; he's used two of them to bind Shane's ankles and thighs -- the former wrapped thrice, the latter twice -- with holes Peter punched himself to allow for extra-tight buckling. As for Shane's wrists, well -- Peter wanted to try something different! So he looked up 'reverse prayer position' on the internet, and has managed to bind Shane's arms together in /that/ position, using a length of actual hemp rope. It took a bit of doing, but the rope loops back down on either side of Shane's neck, before tucking underneath a length wrapped just below his chest -- behind him, both his palms are pressed together at the center of his spine, the tips of his fingers pointed upward -- his elbows jutting out. Peter's next to the pool beside Shane, now; the boy's clad in nothing but dark black boxers and his ZOMBIE BATMAN t-shirt. He's got a book cradled in his lap, which he is currently reading to Shane -- the book is 'The Hobbit', the chapter -- 'Riddles in the Dark'. "Deep down here by the dark water lived old Gollum," Peter says, reading intently! "--a small slimy creature. I don't know where he came from, nor who or what he was. He was Gollum as dark as darkness, except for two big round pale eyes in his thin face." Shane is listening, now; there's little /else/ for him to do, tied up as he is. At least, he's nominally listening, eyes fixed up on Peter and a tiny half-smile on his face that might stem more from he binding than from the story. "-- oh my god," he suddenly decides, remembering perhaps that he can at least still /talk/ even from this position, "if you give him black eyes instead of pale I think Gollum might be /us/." It's hard to say if Sebastian has an opinion on this revelation. He is /already/ asleep, curled up in a tiny fishball in their pool. "Shush," Peter tells Shane, and it has the edge of a /warning/ to it. As if! Too much talking would prompt Peter to make sure he can't /speak/, either. But a moment later and he's grinning, peering back at the book at the comment about Gollum. "...can you make," he asks, head swiveling back to focus on Shane, "a gollum noise? Oh man, you could do that for Halloween. We'd need a Frodo, though." Peter reaches, then, into the pool -- one hand holding the book open, thumb pressed into the crease at its center -- to stroke his fingers through Shane's plastic-y hair. And... "...he had a little boat, and he rowed about quite quietly on the lake; for lake it was, wide and deep and deadly cold. He paddled it with large feet dangling over the side, but never a ripple did he make. Not he. He was looking out of his pale lamp-like eyes for blind fish, which he grabbed with his long fingers as quick as thinking. He liked meat too. OhmyGod he /is/ you guys." Shane's mouth closes, at that shush, though his smile has only grown wider. Closes, at least, until Peter asks about gollum noise; at this he clears his throat a few times, testingly, before attempting a croaky, "gollum." And then again, more accurately scratchy-rough, "Gollum." His smile has grown. In his normal voice again, "Logan can be Frodo, he's pretty hairy." His head butts up into the stroking of fingers; it is this just as much as the reading that lulls his eyes closed, though his smile (and the continued /nuzzling/ up into Peter's touch) suggests he is still listening. Or, at least, still awake. "Ohman," Peter says, his laugh suddenly breathy and loose, "oh /man/ you totally /can/. That's -- mmn. And yeah, Logan as... that would be -- kind of perfect." Much softer, now. As Shane's head butts up into those fingers, Peter's grip squeezes -- just a little bit! -- to seize Shane's hair in a tiny, gentle fist. Giving it the /slightest/ of tugs. But he's also continuing, even as he pulls, one of his knuckles pressing down against Shane's scalp and sliding down across it... "Goblin he thought good, when he could get it; but he took care they never found him out. He just throttled them from behind, if they ever came down alone anywhere near the edge of the water, while he was prowling about. They very seldom did, for they had a feeling that something unpleasant was lurking down there, down at the very roots of the mountain..." "Mmm." It's a soft happy 'mm', at that squeezing. In his bindings, Shane relaxes, sinking just a little deeper in the water. His head rubs into Peter's touch still, scalp pressing back into that knuckle. "{I love you.}" It's very soft, a lazy-sleepy contented whisper. He follows it up with a sharptoothed slice of smile and a tacked on, "-- my precious." Peter suddenly /snorts/, a tiny little laugh bubbling up in his throat -- his knuckle pressing back /down/ against Shane's scalp. Not too hard, because, well, Peter doesn't want to dent his brain. But still! Pretty hard. Fingers tightening, curling into a closer fist, pulling strands of hair deeper into his grasp. "They had come on the lake, when they were tunnelling down long ago, and they found they could go no further; so there their road ended in that direction, and there was no reason to go that way -- unless the Great Goblin sent them. Sometimes he took a fancy for fish from the lake, and sometimes neither goblin nor fish came back." Peter pauses, here, turning to look back at Shane; the book is drawn back, away from the pool. He leans forward, then, mouth moving to meet Shane's, kissing as he squeezes his hair -- tilted over him. "--mmf. Does this mean you're going to bury me in a cave?" Another kiss, longer, deeper. It's followed by a soft, pleased sigh, and: "{Love you, too.}" Shane is quiet through the next passage, just happily relaxed as Peter's fingers press against him, tighten in his hair. He might almost have fallen asleep; even when Peter pauses he's slow to stir. The kiss draws response, though, his mouth pressing back softly to Peter's. Soft, and then deeper, lips parting against the other boy's. "{If you want to be buried,}" comes his also lazily-contented answer, "{I am /always/ up for it.}" And then in English, rather /wistfully/: "I need some kind of. Reverse scubatank. Keep water on my gills. It'd be -- really nice. To be able to just curl up and fall asleep /with/ you." His smile returns, though, soft and still happy. "-- But. Falling asleep listening to you is nice, too." "...mmn, maybe," Peter admits, his mouth curling up, threatening to grin, "it's possible. Doesn't sound /im/possible." The hand in Shane's hair loosens its grip at last; it becomes a steady, stroking pet -- fingers curling through his hair, /scritching/ behind Shane's ears. "It would be nice. To -- I could get a snorkel," Peter says, and now he /does/ grin. "Or..." Peter's voice fades away; he continues scritching and stroking Shane's head as his face turns back to the book, continuing to read: "Actually Gollum lived on a slimy island of rock in the middle of the lake. He was watching Bilbo now from the distance with his pale eyes like telescopes..." Shane exhales a soft, happy sigh, at this stroking. His head turns, nuzzling his ear up into the scritching as he hums happily. Another shift of his head, and his lips press softly, once and then again and again to the inside of Peter's wrist. The happy hum is the last real noise he makes; his gills flicker open as he settles back beneath the petting, and he quiets as gillbreathing takes over. His face still nuzzles into the touch, but slower, now, and soon even that, too, is fading. Peter continues, for a while, reading levelly; when he reaches Gollum's part, he is predictably /Gollumy/, though he cannot make the sound that Shane makes with his throat. By the time Bilbo is asking about a box without hinges, lock, or lid... Shane's nuzzling has become nothing but the steady pressure of his face against his hand. Peter smiles, gently; he leans over the pool again to give Shane a very soft kiss; lips brushing against lips. He closes the book, sets it on the nearby mantle -- and proceeds to yank out his own blanket and pillow, curling up to sleep besides the pool.