Salt Drops, Chapter Eleven: as the tide comes in

He drags his hands over John’s chest, feeling the shift of skin, sinew, bone, the glitter of gray hair amongst the darker strands. He digs his nails in, weighing the shape of the man on top of him against the memories of a boy pressed flush behind him. He closes his eyes, hearing the sound of the storm outside. Like the crash of waves against a porthole window. Remembers with perfect clarity the overwhelming feeling of John against his back, skin to frozen skin, breath hot, the way he smelled of sweat and salt. How the crease of his elbow had tasted under Gale’s lips, parted just enough that he could hide the kiss in the middle of all the intense feeling. 

“Can you–” He catches himself, flushing hot with shyness. 

The words are spoken right up against John’s lips, garbled for how there’s hardly any room. They barely come out legible, but John hums curiously anyways. Gale swallows, audible and hating it as his chest clenches tight. He clears his throat slightly and tries again. “Can we–” 

John’s thumb traces over his cheek, from the corner of his eye down to the curve of his jaw, a soft, encouraging touch. Gale’s so hard he aches. He’s grateful for whatever ability John seems to have to read him, lids lowering with understanding. 

“Like last time,” he finally says to the soft room.

and this is junkyard love A Little Beasts Fic (7.6k)

“I’m not doing this here.” 

“Doing what, Buck? Taking an afternoon stroll? Last I checked you aren’t supposed to be turning away the needy and the godless. Did I miss Mass already? Or am I early.” 

“What can I do for you, John,” Gale says, as flatly far from a question as he can manage. 

Silently exhaling air through his lips, John makes a wounded face, though there’s something sharp to it too. The beginning signs of John rising to the confrontation. “Hell of an attitude, Father– sorry for swearin’.”

There’s a faint ringing in the deepest recesses of Gale’s ears, like distant tornado sirens. Something like hunger sits at the back of his throat, oily and slick. “You’re never sorry.”

“Maybe I mean it this time.”

“I have better things to do than play games, Egan.” 

“Somebody piss in your Communion wine?” 

“Jesus, John,” Gale breaks, frustration crackling into his voice. 

John clicks his tongue at him, one eye squeezing shut and a finger coming up to aim a perfect shot between Gale’s eyes. “I came for Confession.”

“You pulled that one already, remember?”

…I Like A Pretty Skirt | E, 14k, 'I'm Just A Girl...' Part 4

Salt Drops, Chapter Ten: the atheist

John’s blue eyes twinkle, bright and alert and open compared to the dazed, dull look they’d had the last time Gale had looked into them. “Don’t tell me that my good looks are ruined.”

Gale flushes internally and resists the urge to reach out and touch. “I think you’ll make out alright.”

“I’ve heard people like scars.” 

Gale’s lips twitch. “I wouldn’t know.”