HarpstringsA Story by Grace MorrowHe clings desperately to sanity by the fraying ends of Luca's harpstrings and prays.
Outside, a storm rages.
Marcus doesn't know what he's doing in Luca's study, but in Luca's study he is. His beautiful harpist is leaning forward, coffee-brown hair falling in a curtain as he hunches over the papers on his desk. The lamplight flickers as Marcus's shirt drops to the floor. Thunder crashes. Luca looks up to meet his eyes, hand carelessly sweeping the messy pages of sheet music to the floor, and Marcus wishes his young lover didn't look so haunted. His own darkness is more than enough for them both. "Marc." "Luc." They don't need any more greeting than that. It's becoming something of a ritual between them. Luca stands and winds long musician's fingers in Marcus's short hair. "You need this." Not a question, but a confirmation. Marcus nods. Not an answer, but a confirmation. "I need you." His lips are claimed in a deep kiss, and carefully Luca works at untying the knots of tension in his muscles, Marcus leaning into his touch like he's starving for it. "Need you," he repeats, a moan this time, and Luca obliges, fingertips running down Marcus's chest and lips pressing soft butterfly kisses over his jawline. As always, Luca's touch and Luca's voice chase the darkness away. Luca breaks away from the kiss to work at his tunic's laces. "Let me help," Marcus whispers, and his fingers join Luca's. "I love you." It's not something they commonly say, though both of them know it's true. "I"" Luca's breath catches. "I love you." Marcus leans forward again, to press against Luca's steady warmth. "Need you," says, and it's nearly a whimper now. "Please. Luc. Need you." Luca lays his head on Marcus's shoulder, presses a kiss to Marcus's collarbone. "I know." Electricity thrums through Marcus's veins as Luca's hips roll forward. "Please"" he can't breathe, he tries to but Luca fills his lungs instead of air, and Marcus knows this will only lead to pain but he can't stop it and wouldn't even if he could. He clings desperately to sanity by the fraying ends of Luca's harpstrings and prays. © 2014 Grace MorrowAuthor's Note
|
Stats
124 Views
Added on November 14, 2014 Last Updated on November 14, 2014 Author
|