No Legacies

A smile when he looks up at Billy, when he reaches out to brush a thumb against high cheekbones.

"Go to them, you don't need to entertain me. Me and my infuriating self can handle ourselves quite well on our own"

It isn't to push him away, but rather out of guilt. There is a certain hatred within him that tells him how selfish he is. That because of his return he has pulled Billy away from his crew, away from the family he has created for himself. Always the impostor. Always the one to come in and shake things into motion when things would have been better off the way they were.

A sickness. Or perhaps a curse. The curse of John Silver that simply leaves grief and ruin in his wake-- and here Billy is, speaking of a beauty that doesn't exist. There is no beauty in curses, no beauty in mourning either. Or perhaps it is? Perhaps he simply has carried that grief in the most ugly form he could think of.

Oh should he?

Can John then?

Well that's too fucking bad now isnt it?

"I think the teenagers can survive without the old men for at least another half an hour."

A grin that says everything it needs to. That he's joking and that he means it all the same. The rum bottle retrieved from one cargo pocket while the other is relieved of a pack of John's preference and two cigars of Billy's. The rum and smokes of both kinds held up and given a little shake. A head tossing behind Billy to the couch seating just down the deck from them

He feels the pressure against his hand, feels Billy move even closer. Enough so that table almost tips over against the wall. Silver laughs, lets out a breathy series of chuckles into the kiss, because how can he not? Billy Bones growling into his mouth. Rubbing against his hand and showing his desires quite clearly in doing so. How can he not when he is allowed to see this side of him. John Silver of all fucking people.

And of course, who is he to deny such desires? If anything, he sees it as a challenge. ' shut up ', oh, we'll see about that, Billy, now won't we?

"Oh, but Billy, I think you like hearing my voice, don't you? Did you think about me earlier today when you were tightening those ropes down at the beach? Or when you walked past me and I just so very subtly, allowed you to brush against my hip?"

A grin, it is playful. His words are coated in velvet as he shifts the position of his arm a little, making it less of an awkward angle when he begins rubbing his hand against the growing bulge. Feels how it twitches in interest, how it grows under his touch. His own interest is there as well, but Silver has learned to contain it. Greed might be his biggest weakness, but that greed lies in taking others apart in their pleasure before his own.

"What do you desire?"

Because he's not wrong on any count or point he makes and that infuriates doesn't it? Eats Billy up and drags itself right out from under his skin. Because he hates how easy it is. How open booked he seems to be to John. Because no one's ever really managed to work him out. Not fully. Not even the old man. So its infuriating.

Oh John allowed it did he?

The next sound is deeper, more resonating yet short. Aggravation writing itself into every vein, every muscle. John's being a shit on purpose. Billy's not stupid. But knowing it doesn't do shit about the fact that it is happening. And maybe that hand around John's face shifts. Slides back along a jaw until a thumb finds where it fits, fingers splaying out into dark curls. The other hand mirroring the first, as he chases and consume a mouth that just can not stop. Can't let things lie and burn up in the already blistering heat. No he has to fan it. Has to make it brighter...more all consuming.

Billy would be a liar if he said he didn't like it. And an even bigger one still if deny how much he can't help it. The gravitation of himself into John's touch. The way Billy can't stop the forward motion. Even if he knows there's a million other places within this room that would suite--he can't take his hands--his mouth---every part of them that touch--away long enough to attempt find it.

What do you desire?

Echoes like canon fire in his ears. Defiance because it should be clear. But the table's complaints get louder and it throws everything a little askew. Throw it just enough off kilter maybe a few ducks manage to escape between bites of oxygen John's kiss has become.

( he is not allowed to leave silver alone in this misery )

A hand moves. Moves to rest on top of Billy's. It is not subtle or discrete, Silver doesn't care about that anymore. Doesn't care which light people might see him in, because as for right now, he is fairly certain he could make a grown man weep out of fear. Fairly certain he would kill anyone who dared make a wrong comment about him or Billy-- for a door has been opened, one that doesn't want to be closed again.

The touch moves again, moves his fingers to card through the soft blonde hair of his lover. It is what they are, after all, lovers. He has never shied away from that, has never found it any weirder than he would anyone else, and he isn't about to stop now. He leans forward, allows his fingers next to cup a chin, to brush against the stubble there. If anyone were to see them? Fucking let them. What does it fucking matter anyway?

"No. You are not allowed to die, if you must, then I will too. I cannot lose you... please, do not go down a path I cannot follow"

He breathes out. Every movement sends pain shooting through him, but that hardly matters right now. It is only a distraction, painful but so very irritating. Makes him grit his teeth and close his eyes once more in an attempt to regain control over the pain. His fingers tighten a little against Billy's chin before the hand moves away entirely. Drops to his side as Silver doubles over.

Fingers to his chin, that draws his gaze to center. The slightest notice that John's closer than he had been a second ago. And perhaps for a moment the horizon evens out between them. Maybe for a second there's a calming or Billy could just be wishing too hard.

....please do not go down a path I cannot follow.

A path John can not follow? Oh how that hurts. Oh how that wounds and bleeds a man who isn't that anymore. How it whispers of words that won't be written for centuries yet. Tis a fearful thing to love what death can touch. And its all the more shattering because John thinks it is Billy that will some day take a road John ca--wait. That doesn't make sense does it? Not in the literal sense, and a mind is suddenly rushed to find an explanation. Had Billy misunderstood?

Maybe but its pushed away by hurt not of his own self. And brows gather, a gaze that tries to pin point how it hurts. A hand that comes up a fraction to late to wrap around the hold on his chin. John's hand dropping away. And maybe Billy's own simply hover for a second like he can't decide where his touch would be least likely to break something else.

You can't die, Billy. Not When yours is the only voice of reason I have left. Please fucking promise me.

Palms find shoulders, long fingers find shoulderblades. Trying to help brace where he can. Trying to help even though he knows nothing he does is going to do that. Is going to make it stop. But---well Billy has to try doesn't he?

"I'm not fucking going anywhere, John."

Billy means that with every single fiber of his being. He might have utterly forgotten about John's choice of words in the moment, but the sentiment remains the same. Billy Bones will die first. Or well he would it's just there's the little problem these days, that Billy just can't seem to stay dead. And many years from now, he might find the whole thing marginally amusing.

From the mundane to the dramatic and everything in between! Sometimes we want random characters to interact with but don’t need a blog to do it!

Continued from this. Closed with @nolegacies

She picked the carrot, now partially covered in honey and bit into it herself. If there was one thing she could rely on, it was that her twin was an unknowingly good influence on her. Being the only brother that forgave her and their sister for going off to college. Then again, how he was such a morning person was beyond her. 

“Four things.”

She moved to add the coffee into the cup, grabbing a butter knife for the rest of her breakfast preparation instead of a spoon. 

“One, I got them. That does not mean that I have looked at them since.” She started, bringing her hand up to count off where he could see without turning to look at her brother. “Two, I will get to them when I am good and ready to. Three, it is too early for me to be thinking. I would love to have my coffee before words are thrown at me, much less breakfast food. Four, your mouth is doing that thing again... BEFORE coffee. Do you not remember what happened last time this happened.”

Once her coffee was made, then she turned to get the hazelnut butter from the cupboard that was specifically for her. Kept safe away from contamination. When she had it on the counter she looked over her shoulder just enough to pout at Billy.

His head falls backward between his shoulder blades. Eyes rolling so far back in his head they threatened detachment. His own hand blindly coming up to perfectly mimic a siblings movement.

One. Two. Three. Four.

His head is pulled back up even as he slouches a bit in his chair. Blue meeting hazel when she turns around. The stare over none existent sunnies giving every kind of impression...Billy Riley does not give one single iota of a fuck. But in that sibling way that meant i mean it but i don't mean it.

"Right my apologies, oh gracious queen of inspection forms."

And he's getting up, grabbing his own empty mug and shuffling into the kitchen proper. Walking through the steps of making his own particular concoction. Mug shoved under the single cup wonder, adding what grounds he'd crushed up earlier. Half jamming the button.

A pinch at the bridge of his nose to try to alleviate the headache, as he turns around to cross one arm over his chest. Which five cups in as he is he can't tell if its the lack of sleep over the horse show coming up, or the caffeine. But like any proper Riley he chooses the former to blame. Can't be the caffeine. That's the only thing keeping him functioning.

"I really need them by tomorrow though, please. If I have to tell that woman one more time she's got to wait well---"

No Meme @nolegacies

Its said around another carrot stick. Fingers flying across keys to answer the eighty-second email this morning.

-Crunch-

The rest goes back behind his ear and he keeps typing.

"C'mon, Jay, lighten up."

A beat.