isaysimplewords (
isaysimplewords) wrote2008-09-01 04:01 pm
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OOM: Upstairs with Sam
Cal leads the way to his room upstairs, keeping Sam's hand in his.
He pauses, very briefly, at the door before he digs out his key. It's not out of nerves or anything. It's just that the cleaning staff is still kind of tweaked and he's never sure exactly what he'll find when he walks into his room. Mostly he still counts himself lucky that the door hasn't turned into chocolate again.
Today, though, he seems to have escaped unscathed except for the brightly floral pillowcases.
"Not my idea," he says, closing the door behind them.
He pauses, very briefly, at the door before he digs out his key. It's not out of nerves or anything. It's just that the cleaning staff is still kind of tweaked and he's never sure exactly what he'll find when he walks into his room. Mostly he still counts himself lucky that the door hasn't turned into chocolate again.
Today, though, he seems to have escaped unscathed except for the brightly floral pillowcases.
"Not my idea," he says, closing the door behind them.

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Inasmuch as he has a type when it comes to bedclothes, it does not involve flowers. Beyond that, he has no thoughts on the subject.
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"Hmm. I don't know, I think they kind of suit you."
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He turns to face Sam, running his hand up Sam's arm to his shoulder. The difference in height is, naturally, more noticeable standing than on a sofa, but Cal's used to that. He hasn't met too many women that are even close to being as tall as he is. And Sam isn't much taller than some of the women he's been with.
And he is getting dangerously close to thinking again, which will not do at all, so Cal leans down and kisses Sam.
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He looks up at Cal, smiling. The height difference doesn't seem to bother him, either; such is life for a shortarse. Sam has long learned to deal with his height by ignoring it: he has the calm self-assurance of someone at least six foot tall, and, thanks to his heritage, a distinct air of power as well.
And so he kisses Cal back thoroughly, arms sliding around him, and pushes him against the wall.
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For the moment.
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Sam keeps Cal pushed up against the wall, and himself pushed up against Cal, and keeps kissing him intently.
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He's a little less sure of the etiquette here, but this position is getting awkward (even if he does like it), so he pulls out of the kiss and says breathlessly, "Do you mind if - ?"
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And tugs Cal over to the bed.
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He squirms out of the shirt as soon as possible, and even sooner presses close against Cal again, bare skin against bare skin for the first time.
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better than expensive tweed, rough against skin hypersensitive from withdrawal
good, warm and smooth, and Cal leisurely runs a hand down Sam's back. It would almost be like touching a woman there, except for the differences in muscle definition. That's the only possible parallel, though. Cal brushes his lips lightly over Sam's, adjusting.
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He doesn't exactly purr, but he leans back rapturously, completely relaxed, watching Cal explore with almost-closed eyes. He has long, pale slim fingers which are currently responding in kind, moving over as much of Cal's skin as he can reach, one hand twining briefly through Cal's hair before running down his neck to his collarbone to his chest.
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