[THE SCENE: it's a hot summer night, around 2 AM; Maera worked today and got off shift around 7, came home, threw together an easy cold meal because fuck the heat, took a cold bath because fuck the heat, went out for ice cream because fuck the heat, and went to bed earlyish because fuck the heat. And then he couldn't sleep, half because fuck the heat and half because fuck PTSD. Around 2 he wakes up from a very light doze with a jerk and realizes this isn't working out, so outside he goes, in his underwear. Who cares, right? Hopefully Chou isn't having a rough night too.
But someone else is. The unmistakable pacing figure catches his attention right away. Maera strolls over, wiping his sweaty bangs back out of his face.]
[At least the pacing isn't anything new for him. It's not like it's as frequent as the nightmares themselves, but when it's too damn hot to lay around inside trying to get back to sleep, why not?
Too hot for robes, too, but he had the decency to grab one... if wearing it wide open and fluttering in the breeze can be considered decent. Not like he cares who sees. He cares even less when it's someone with the exact same body. Although he does care greatly for Maera's company, and his smooth black ears perk up when he notices him.]
[Right back atcha, slick. Maera's only too happy to boomerang that question back in Mallory's direction. The answer is pretty obvious for both of them, isn't it? Rough night all around.
He finds the same spot on the wall he was leaning against last time and leans there. It adds something to this moment. At least this time he isn't dissociating or anything.
Leaning against the wall only half hides that his tail is swinging back and forth behind him, despite the mood. It's the part of him that goes Mallory!! when they interact in much the same way a real dog might get excited hearing their owner's car down the street approaching the house.]
I didn't think I slept any, but I didn't notice you go out. Guess I got exactly those five minutes in tonight.
Hah. I think that's about the total of what I've worked in, too. Must be the full moon, beckoning us to come out and howl at it.
[Funny. Funny stuff. It's a far more entertaining idea than what the truth is. Between nightmares or just good old fashioned anxiety seizing their mind and pulling it back from the brink of slumberland, there are too many more plausible reasons and none of them are any fun to think about.
He turns a much tighter circle before seating himself in the grass, nice and cool to contrast with the slightly muggy night air. He's sure they'll end up being out here a while.]
[Maera watches that happen, his sleepy brain rolling it around in his skull as he pushes off the wall and heads over to join Mallory in the grass. It's not until he's lowering himself down next to him that he realizes why it struck him as kind of funny:]
[He accepts it as fact before he even replays the last thirty seconds in his mind to figure out what it was. Ah. Of course. He snorts and crosses his arms.]
How long does it take to start being able to see that shit coming so you can stop it?
[Clearly, Maera must have suffered through the same, right?]
I couldn't tell you. It doesn't work like that with us. I don't act like a dog, Icarus doesn't act like an owl. We just get the parts. I figured it'd be the same for you guy with whatever's going on here, but I take it it isn't.
[So Mallory really is feeling doggy these days . . . huh. Maera hadn't fully pinged onto that before. Weird.]
[Is it rude to laugh? Who cares? The joke takes Maera by surprise; he snorts and starts laughing, too loud in the quiet of the night. At least it's not edged with mania like last time. Maybe just a tinge of being overtired and susceptible.]
Oh, fine, laugh all you want. You know it won't be long before something here makes you go full dog.
[Either turning into a complete animal or only acting like one, scrabbling around on all fours and rolling around... SNORT. Okay, that's pretty funny when he thinks about it being Maera instead of him.]
You're imagining it right now. Keep it to yourself, prick.
[Even as he says this, his tail is wagging in the grass, and he leans just ever so slightly until he's lightly pressed up against Mallory's side. It's still hot, but it's cooler outside than it was at work or in their room. Eh, he'll take it.]
What's the matter? I thought we were having a good time.
[At least he is, now that the tables have turned. His grin could eat the MOST shit right now. He shifts a little to more firmly plant himself right against Maera, unabashedly taking comfort in the contact.]
I bet the others would get a real kick out of you begging for tummy rubs.
The others, huh? You saying you wouldn't give me tummy rubs?
[Now that the floodgate has opened, Maera lets himself lean back firmly. It really is comforting. He wouldn't say he's tired yet, but he's finally feeling the ebb of the night's tension, replaced gradually by contentment.]
[Just hearing those words echoed back at him is embarrassing. Ugh! Like hell he's going to lose this little game of... whatever it's turning into. He'll take banter over lonely brooding any night.]
What's that? You're begging already? Roll over, boy.
You're the one turning in circles before you lie down like a good boy.
[It occurs to Maera as soon as he says that that, thanks to circumstances, that particular phrase has become very sexually charged for him in a way Mallory would probably not understand. Hmm. He meant it innocently this time . . . !]
I'm pretty sure I know how you feel about it. Same as you'd know how I feel about it.
[They probably don't share all of their kinks or preferences at this point, but, y'know. Butt stuff came way before the Mallory/Maera Split. He can hazard a guess.
He shrugs, not meaning for that to come off too charged; it's just a statement of fact. And then he tips back onto his back in the grass and stretches out to look up at the stars.]
[The little noise that rises out of his throat doesn't even manage to sound questioning. It's just an acknowledgement. Yep, that is happening. Yep, Maera is lying still and not verbally acknowledging it otherwise, because if he does he might chase Mallory away or something . . . let him decide how far to go with that.
His stomach is bare and warm and tight and less pudge than Mallory's, but not zero pudge. It can be felt maybe more than seen. He could stand to lose ten pounds tops, and hasn't been trying very hard to do so. It lifts a little when he takes a breath, which he does quietly.]
[He takes note of this pudge, and in the dark recesses of his mind he marks it as his greatest rival. He will defeat it. Soon.
But, in the meantime...
He's actually a little surprised that Maera is neither snapping at him or trying to egg him on. Even the lack of real reaction doesn't have the undercurrent of baiting him into a trap. His fingers splay out over his abdomen tentatively. A second ago, he was ready to just make a big stupid show of scratching Maera's belly and making more dog jokes, but now he's actually a little curious.
It's kind of nice, feeling someone else's warmth on a night like this. But also, that someone is his own double. BUT ALSO, what if he slides his hand slowly up toward Maera's chest? It's not necessarily sexual, at least on his end, he thinks...
He stops with his palm covering the scar from a superheated blade and he releases the breath he didn't realize he was holding.]
[It'd been a toss-up for a good minute there whether or not this was sexual; Maera was undecided, and also undecided on what he preferred the answer to be. It's just touching. It could go either way. And, honestly, he wanted it either way; whether this was a come-on or an erotic exploration or stupid bro teasing or some strange form of intimacy the two of them are inventing as they go, that can only be understood by two of the same person . . .
He wants any of those options, so he holds still and lets it happen.
When Mallory's hand comes to rest over his scar, though, it's suddenly not any of those things. It's intimate on a level so deep it hurts. Pleasantly, and also not, like being sad and then sitting in your room listening to sad music to deliberately make yourself sadder. (He'd done that plenty of times in high school. Maybe even a few times since.)
Maera stays still, but his breath catches, and he has to tilt his head away, eyes closing.
Ironically, it makes the moment feel more erotic than the ones leading up to it, at least internally. Dammit, that's weird! But not bad . . . ]
[It definitely isn't that this small and simple act has no meaning to Mallory. But he is neither mentally alert nor philosophical enough to decipher just what the meaning is; it's a powerful pull towards someone who makes him feel whole and incomplete, whose history and motivations are ones he understands better than anybody else and yet he can still seem to be a perfect enigma at times, the complete stranger whose life he has shared in the most literal sense. It's too complex for him to even begin to break down anymore.
He just can't decide if it's less lonely to have someone who gets him like nobody else ever could, or if that loneliness is only made sharper with how they've begun to branch out.
In this moment, he's sure he must be glad to have Maera's company. He doesn't have to fumble for awkward excuses to reach out for comfort like this. Although he does take a second to try to justify his present impulse to himself, before he gives in to the instinctive urge to duck his head down, open-jawed, to press his teeth to the throat so kindly presented to him. His tail drums out a little victory beat against the grass. Ha ha, he wins.]
[Whether it was erotic before or not, it sure is now! Congratulations, Mallory, your prize is your double gasping quietly before he can bite back the impulse. It sounds incredibly loud in his own ears, only matched by the stupid tails hitting the ground, which both of them are now doing.
And then once that's out, what next? He's at a loss. Maera wishes he could melt right into the ground where he is and disappear, or maybe that he could punch Mallory in the face, or, possibly, that he could grab him over and press their lips together. Two of those are a little more realistic than the other—and yet right now, doing anything feels impossible. He's frozen in indecision.
The one thing he does manage is opening his eyes again and looking up at Mallory's face. Good idea? Bad idea?]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mid-July
But someone else is. The unmistakable pacing figure catches his attention right away. Maera strolls over, wiping his sweaty bangs back out of his face.]
Yo.
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Too hot for robes, too, but he had the decency to grab one... if wearing it wide open and fluttering in the breeze can be considered decent. Not like he cares who sees. He cares even less when it's someone with the exact same body. Although he does care greatly for Maera's company, and his smooth black ears perk up when he notices him.]
Yo. ...Rough night again?
[Let's talk about you, not me.]
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[Right back atcha, slick. Maera's only too happy to boomerang that question back in Mallory's direction. The answer is pretty obvious for both of them, isn't it? Rough night all around.
He finds the same spot on the wall he was leaning against last time and leans there. It adds something to this moment. At least this time he isn't dissociating or anything.
Leaning against the wall only half hides that his tail is swinging back and forth behind him, despite the mood. It's the part of him that goes Mallory!! when they interact in much the same way a real dog might get excited hearing their owner's car down the street approaching the house.]
I didn't think I slept any, but I didn't notice you go out. Guess I got exactly those five minutes in tonight.
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Hah. I think that's about the total of what I've worked in, too. Must be the full moon, beckoning us to come out and howl at it.
[Funny. Funny stuff. It's a far more entertaining idea than what the truth is. Between nightmares or just good old fashioned anxiety seizing their mind and pulling it back from the brink of slumberland, there are too many more plausible reasons and none of them are any fun to think about.
He turns a much tighter circle before seating himself in the grass, nice and cool to contrast with the slightly muggy night air. He's sure they'll end up being out here a while.]
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You just did a dog thing.
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[He accepts it as fact before he even replays the last thirty seconds in his mind to figure out what it was. Ah. Of course. He snorts and crosses his arms.]
How long does it take to start being able to see that shit coming so you can stop it?
[Clearly, Maera must have suffered through the same, right?]
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[So Mallory really is feeling doggy these days . . . huh. Maera hadn't fully pinged onto that before. Weird.]
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[He really wishes he could feel more surprised, but... That's about par for the course here in Koriko.]
If it gets bad enough I start sniffing butts do me a favour and put me down.
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Depends on whose it is.
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[Either turning into a complete animal or only acting like one, scrabbling around on all fours and rolling around... SNORT. Okay, that's pretty funny when he thinks about it being Maera instead of him.]
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[Even as he says this, his tail is wagging in the grass, and he leans just ever so slightly until he's lightly pressed up against Mallory's side. It's still hot, but it's cooler outside than it was at work or in their room. Eh, he'll take it.]
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[At least he is, now that the tables have turned. His grin could eat the MOST shit right now. He shifts a little to more firmly plant himself right against Maera, unabashedly taking comfort in the contact.]
I bet the others would get a real kick out of you begging for tummy rubs.
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[Now that the floodgate has opened, Maera lets himself lean back firmly. It really is comforting. He wouldn't say he's tired yet, but he's finally feeling the ebb of the night's tension, replaced gradually by contentment.]
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What's that? You're begging already? Roll over, boy.
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[It occurs to Maera as soon as he says that that, thanks to circumstances, that particular phrase has become very sexually charged for him in a way Mallory would probably not understand. Hmm. He meant it innocently this time . . . !]
You roll over if you want your damn tummy rubs.
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How about I roll the other way so you can kiss my ass?
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[He nudges hard against Mallory's side. If they were on a roadtrip together, this would be a Icaruuuuus he's touching meeeeee! moment.]
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he's thinking about it now.]
I bet you'd just love that, wouldn't you. That's why you're all excited about me sniffing butts.
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[They probably don't share all of their kinks or preferences at this point, but, y'know. Butt stuff came way before the Mallory/Maera Split. He can hazard a guess.
He shrugs, not meaning for that to come off too charged; it's just a statement of fact. And then he tips back onto his back in the grass and stretches out to look up at the stars.]
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Well, fine. That's the end of that and Mallory's not going to press the subject any further.
Not when he can just lay his hand flat on Maera's stomach and stare at him.]
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[The little noise that rises out of his throat doesn't even manage to sound questioning. It's just an acknowledgement. Yep, that is happening. Yep, Maera is lying still and not verbally acknowledging it otherwise, because if he does he might chase Mallory away or something . . . let him decide how far to go with that.
His stomach is bare and warm and tight and less pudge than Mallory's, but not zero pudge. It can be felt maybe more than seen. He could stand to lose ten pounds tops, and hasn't been trying very hard to do so. It lifts a little when he takes a breath, which he does quietly.]
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But, in the meantime...
He's actually a little surprised that Maera is neither snapping at him or trying to egg him on. Even the lack of real reaction doesn't have the undercurrent of baiting him into a trap. His fingers splay out over his abdomen tentatively. A second ago, he was ready to just make a big stupid show of scratching Maera's belly and making more dog jokes, but now he's actually a little curious.
It's kind of nice, feeling someone else's warmth on a night like this. But also, that someone is his own double. BUT ALSO, what if he slides his hand slowly up toward Maera's chest? It's not necessarily sexual, at least on his end, he thinks...
He stops with his palm covering the scar from a superheated blade and he releases the breath he didn't realize he was holding.]
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He wants any of those options, so he holds still and lets it happen.
When Mallory's hand comes to rest over his scar, though, it's suddenly not any of those things. It's intimate on a level so deep it hurts. Pleasantly, and also not, like being sad and then sitting in your room listening to sad music to deliberately make yourself sadder. (He'd done that plenty of times in high school. Maybe even a few times since.)
Maera stays still, but his breath catches, and he has to tilt his head away, eyes closing.
Ironically, it makes the moment feel more erotic than the ones leading up to it, at least internally. Dammit, that's weird! But not bad . . . ]
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He just can't decide if it's less lonely to have someone who gets him like nobody else ever could, or if that loneliness is only made sharper with how they've begun to branch out.
In this moment, he's sure he must be glad to have Maera's company. He doesn't have to fumble for awkward excuses to reach out for comfort like this. Although he does take a second to try to justify his present impulse to himself, before he gives in to the instinctive urge to duck his head down, open-jawed, to press his teeth to the throat so kindly presented to him. His tail drums out a little victory beat against the grass. Ha ha, he wins.]
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And then once that's out, what next? He's at a loss. Maera wishes he could melt right into the ground where he is and disappear, or maybe that he could punch Mallory in the face, or, possibly, that he could grab him over and press their lips together. Two of those are a little more realistic than the other—and yet right now, doing anything feels impossible. He's frozen in indecision.
The one thing he does manage is opening his eyes again and looking up at Mallory's face. Good idea? Bad idea?]
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