Feet, Stories And More

Part 1 of 4

I arrived with my luggage to the entrance of the building and waited for Tom to arrive. He came a bit after and we went up together to meet the landlord and collect the keys.

We had both graduated from the same programme and met during our studies. We had both decided to stay in the same city and find work after. We found this apartment and signed a one year lease.

We made our way up with our luggage. The landlord was waiting, handed over the keys, and left.

The apartment had a kitchen, a small patio, a living room, one master bedroom, one smaller room, and a bathroom. We never discussed it but he just took the master bedroom. He liked this apartment because of the patio; for having friends over, BBQs, parties.

I liked it because I was about to share a place for at least a year with a man like him. I couldn’t wait to cook and bake for him and I hoped for more. The fact that I would be seeing him barefoot had me horny for the past few weeks as we finalised the agreement.

We both went to our rooms. I was tired and wanted to keep the deep cleaning for the next day so I just did a light round getting the surfaces, the bathroom sink, a quick sweep of the kitchen floor. I unpacked everything I was able to get. Clothes in the wardrobe, shoes on the rack behind the door, toiletries lined up on the single shelf above the sink in my bathroom.

When I finished I went to the kitchen. I put away my gadgets and ingredients, wiped down the surfaces, and started arranging the living room.

I noticed Tom had a box outside his room. I went in and he was setting up his PC and desk.

“You done with your room?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m doing the kitchen and living room now.”

“Take that box outside and unpack it too, then come back.”

I did. Kitchen things mostly. I found places for all of it. As I already loved to cook and bake I already knew it would be my job to do that for both of us, and I was so excited for that.

When I came back he was still finishing his setup.

“Already done? Give me a hand then. Clothes in the big bag, bathroom stuff in the backpack.”

He had a walk-in closet in his room. I unpacked his clothes, folded what needed folding, hung the rest. Then the bathroom, I wiped the shelf before putting anything on it, set his products in order, folded his towel on the rail. He had a big bathtub too.

When I came back he was on the bed. Shirtless, sheets already on, setup done.

“Thanks for the help. Lights off as you leave.”

I went to my room and slept.

I was up before seven the next day.

I started with the kitchen. I emptied every cupboard, wiped them down inside and out, put everything back in order. The counters, inside the microwave and oven, the sink. Then the living room. Surfaces, shelves, windows. I moved the furniture to get underneath. Mopped after. My room next, then the bathroom. I finished just before eleven.

I heard sounds from Tom’s room. I went to the kitchen and started on pancakes.

He came into the living room with wet hair and no socks. Just shorts, no shirt. He dropped onto the couch and stretched his legs out on the coffee table, feet up, soles flat to the surface.

“Good morning. Breakfast is coming.”

I brought his plate through and set it in front of him. Sat down with mine and we started eating.

“That’s good. Thank you.”

He looked at the room, then at the kitchen doorway.

“You cleaned.”

“Yeah. Did everything this morning.”

He smiled slightly.

“My room too?”

“I can do it now if you want.”

He looked at me for a second. Then went back to his food.

“I was joking. But yeah, do that.”

“You’ve already showered so it makes sense. I’m already in the deep clean mood.”

He nodded.

I finished eating and went to his room. Seeing his feet had me turned on the whole time I cleaned, I made sure to do it well.

I was done in an hour.

I went back to the living room. He was still on the couch, feet up on the coffee table. Big, smooth, symmetrical. I stood there for a minute looking at them.

"Done?"

"Yeah. Going to shower now."

"I'll be in my room."

"I'll bake brownies later. Let me know what you want for dinner."

He smiled.

"I'm going to eat like a king living with you."

Prime Target 1x07

I'd known Erik for six years. We met at a mutual friend's birthday, ended up talking until the bar closed, and that was it. We'd been close ever since.

The breakup with Luka had hit him harder than he let on. I could tell because he stopped bringing it up. Erik didn't go quiet when things were fine.

I suggested the mountain house. His family had a place up there. The city wasn't helping. Too many places that would remind him of things. Too many people who would ask.

He said yes without thinking about it.

He drove. Four hours with the weather already turning, sky low and grey by the time we hit the mountain roads. He didn't talk much, but that was fine.

The house was cold when we unlocked it. Erik went straight to the heating panel, then upstairs to shower. When he came back down the heat hadn't caught up yet, he had his puffer on over his pyjama pants, a trapper hat, but bare feet. He dropped onto the sofa letting out a sigh.

I grabbed my things and went up to shower.

When I came back down he hadn't moved. Stretched out across the sofa, feet up on the far cushion. Outside the storm had settled into something steadier.

I sat at the other end. His feet came to rest against my leg.

I'd seen them plenty of times before. The beach last summer, sleepovers, lazy Sundays on someone's couch. They were my type. Long toes, high arch, smooth soles. I'd never said anything about it.

"How are you doing?"

"Better. Good to be out of there."

We talked for a while. At some point Luka came up.

"I don't even know if I miss him. The idea of it. That's what I miss. What I thought it was going to be."

I didn't say anything. He shifted against the cushions and looked at the ceiling. His foot moved against my leg, just a slow press.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"You've got a thing. With feet."

He looked at me.

"I've noticed it. For a while. I wasn't going to say anything, but... I don't know. It seemed like a good night to ask."

I didn't answer right away.

"Yeah."

He didn't move his feet.

"So what do you actually do with it?"

"Erik."

"I'm asking."

He looked back at the ceiling.

"It's just like any other thing. I don't get why people make it weird."

"I'm not shaming you. I'm curious."

"It's... I don't know. Smell them. Touch them. Kiss them."

"Okay. I've been told I have nice feet."

He put both feet in my lap.

"What do you think?"

"I don't want to make this weird."

"Wait, do you think they're ugly?"

"No."

He flexed his toes slowly, watching me.

I put my hands on his soles. They were soft, bigger than I expected up close. I started to rub them slowly.

I could see him watching me from the corner of my eye. He didn't say anything.

I worked my thumb along his arch. He let me. After a moment he raised his left foot and rested it against my jaw. Then dragged it slowly up across my face.

I kept rubbing his right foot.

He pressed his left foot against my nose. I breathed in.

He held it there for a second, then lowered it down, letting his big toe settle against my lips.

I didn't move.

"Go ahead."

I opened my mouth and took it in. Started sucking on it slowly.

He exhaled through his nose. Still watching me.

He removed his toes from my mouth and pointed down at the floor. I got down off the sofa. Onto my knees at the end of it, facing him, his feet right in front of me.

I bent down and put my mouth on his sole.

I worked slowly. His arch, his heel, back up to his toes. Both feet. I took my time. He let me. I could hear the storm outside and nothing else.

At some point he put one hand behind his head. Completely still. Completely at ease.

I kissed along his sole and took his toes back in, one at a time. My hands wrapped around his foot and I stayed there, on the floor, at his feet.

He’ll be screaming the truth in under twenty minutes…but watching him howl and cackle and writhe in ticklish agony sure is fun. Might as well play with him for a little longer. It’s not every day you have a handsome vampire at your mercy.

I’ve been itching to write a little fic on this so thank you for giving me an excuse. Enjoy! It’s gonna be an angsty one!

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Quaritch laid on his back, half asleep in post coital bliss with Varang on top of him tracing small circles into his chest. He was on the brink of consciousness when his lover whispered, “why won’t you let me connect to you?”

Quaritch sighed, “I told you…”

“That type of connection is not what I am talking about. That was pure dominance. An enforcement of my will onto you so that I could see inside your mind. I have no interest in doing that to you now. I seek the kind of connection that’ll make us one.”

Quaritch paled, “that sounds intense.”

“Not really,” Varang said coolly, “it is a bond. We as lovers can share in it. But the bond can be for friends. For family.”

“Family?”

Varang nodded. “The very first bond someone will ever experience is with their mother and father. I can still remember - before my mother was killed in the fire,” Varang’s voice grew reverent, her eyes distant as she recounted the bittersweet memory, “she would bond with me while she braided my hair. If I close my eyes some times I can still feel her. Hear her voice softly humming as she worked…” Her voice trailed off, the memory becoming too painful for her to continue.

Quaritch stared at the ceiling of their tent as he stewed on her words. Should I bond with Spider? If his son could actually feel how much he loved him would that sway the boy to his side? Make him want to stay and be a family like they always should have. The idea of connecting kurus with anything other then his ikran made him a bit nervous after his first encounter with Varang. But his need to get through to his son made him willing to push past his hesitation. After Sully’s execution I’ll march right in there and bond with Spider. He wasn’t sure what to expect but hopefully if he could simply channel his feelings through the link, that would be enough to begin softening his son’s heart. For now…

Quaritch took his kuru in one hand, Varang’s in the other. He contemplated the dancing tendrils, both reaching out, desperate to touch. Miles watched them, hesitantly. I need a drink, he thought as he let go of their braids. He got up, exiting the tent, leaving Varang to rest, completely alone.

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Spider didn’t fight as Quaritch scooped him up, placing him on his ikran. Being in his father’s hold always made him cringe. He just felt so small and weak as the man effortlessly manhandled him like a naughty toddler. Spider hung his head, resigned to his fate. But at least he could take solace in knowing that his loved ones would be safe. He could put up with all the pain the R.D.A could throw at him as long as he was certain his family would be okay.

Quaritch patted Spider’s tense shoulders in a vein attempt at comfort before connecting to his ikran and taking off. They’d go back to Bridghead. Quaritch would demand to have an apartment with his son so he could better “keep an eye on him.” He would never allow his little escape artist to get away from him again. Spider would just have to learn to be happy with him and Varang.