bent.

👄 a kiss on the lips

⚪️ a kiss on the cheek

🔷 a kiss on the eyelid

⬛️ a kiss on the hand

▫️ a kiss on the forehead

♦️ a kiss on the ear

🔘 a kiss on a bruise/wound/etc.

〰 a kiss on the chest

🔃 a kiss on the leg

🔶 a kiss on the neck

so! that being said, if you really wish to keep a thread we have going...well, going, please message me here (via ask or PM) or on discord, Twista-Lolita#1234 (feel free to add me if you want! :)) to let me know. otherwise, i’m gonna start clearing out all my drafts and starting anew. sorry for all those who’ve waited for me/any disappointment and i apologize once again for my absence!

          feet shift in discomfort at jack’s response. his hands fumble around as his eyes stay glued to the floor. he can’t make himself do anything other than stand there, having to regret what he had just done. how could he be so stupid ?      

        ❛       actually, i’ve taken too much of your time —— sorry commander.          ❜  he mutters, quickly turning his back and heading towards the door. he wants to escape the situation so bad, forgetting if he wanted to know if it was reciprocated or not. 

Gus heads for the door and Jack stands from his spot behind his desk, almost too quickly. 

“Hey now, not so fast. Can’t tell a man you got feelings for him and just walk out.”

Jack pushes past his chair but stops just shy of the corner of the desk that sits only a few feet away from the door. It’s a tight line that Jack walks and he knows it. To walk into Gus’s space and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder might come as too forward; to stay behind his desk may seem too cold. So he stands at his calculated middle, watching Gus with careful eyes and precise words.

@comitatum  -  ❤ ‘d

            “Jack! Listen. Listen.” Clears his throat and says the word “Howdy” in the  deepest voice he can muster.

      The glare from the bar’s shitty lighting fastens a halo above her head. She, herself, remains unaware of this. Bedelia is far from an angel, far from a devil, inspiring a true neutrality that thrives in the mysterious grey. She holds her wine glass up. There’s more alcohol in it than before. This time, the server was gracious in his pour – a bit on the heavy side, either aware of her tolerance or hopeful for a generous tip. In any case, she won’t stiff him.

      ♟– ❝Shall I call you Company or do you have a name?❞

      She doesn’t mind drinking alone. Many nights are spent at the bottom of a bottle. Sometimes, the glass is green. Other times, clear. It all depends on her lucidity. Her eyes trace his bourbon, nostrils flared at the particular scent. It’s neither cheap nor watered down. He has honest taste; she’ll give him that.

      He’s piqued her curiosity.

      That’s not always perceived to be good.

      ❝I don’t care about many things.❞

      It’s the most authentic statement she’s issued all evening.

The glow of the bar lights make an off-center halo around the shape of his company’s head. It shines more boldly on the right than the left, like someone had knocked it off to the side and she hadn’t fixed it yet. The image oddly suited her, if he were more poetic to appreciate it.

Instead, the light around her head falls into her wine, highlighting the fullness of her glass and the blood-red color of her liquor.

He thinks for a second to use something false, but it strikes him as stupid. Figures the worst that can“You can call me Jack. Gotta admit, though, been called worse than Company.”

Jack eyes her carefully over the rim of his glass as he takes a sip, feels the bourbon go down smooth and warm the pit of his stomach. The glass is only a quarter gone and he already feels the airiness behind his eyes. Whatever he’s drinking, it’s smooth, expensive, and at this rate, dangerous. It makes her words linger. I don’t care about many things. It makes them ring true.

“ How about you, Sphinx? What do you call yourself? What do you care about? I got time.”

          ❛         if  you  insist,  commander.           ❜   his  lips  press  together,  attempting  to gather  up  the courage  necessary  for  what  he’s  about  to  say  next.  he never  pictured  it  to  be  like  this  —–  but  he  figures  it’s  better  not  to  wait until  death  touches  either  of  them  to  confess  what  lies  under  the  surface.

           ❛         i  have  feelings  for  you,  morrison.           ❜

There’s a clear tension in the silence, an ambiguous hesitancy that fills Jack’s office as Gus tries to find the words he needs. A few scenarios play across Jack’s mind -- not all bad, not all good, but nothing strikes him as particularly pressing. Certainly not anything that places them in this position, Gus tongue-tied and Jack running an anticipatory tongue across his teeth.

So Jack watches the way Gus works his jaw and waits.

Feelings...?

The admission takes him by surprise, enough for Jack to blink once, twice, and shift back in his seat, but his expression remains neutral, gentle.

“Well, that’s certainly not what I expected to hear today.”

         ❛           there’s somethin’ you need to know. but uh —- i don’t wanna interrupt anythin’ important you’re workin’ on.           ❜

“If it’s something you’re coming to me for, I’m assuming it matters to you -- which means it matters to me.”