#johnhenrymoores

         TO BE HONEST  the  only  thing  wrong  with  michael  was  that  she  wasn’t  climbing  him  like  a  fucking  christmas  tree -- but  apparently  being  the  antichrist tops  that, doesn’t  it?    “ listen  ,  if  he’s  gonna  kill  us,  i’d  rather  go  out  blowing  him  than  being  slaughtered  by  him.    he  also  saved  me.    i  know  100%  of  you  think  i’m  not  deserving  of  it,  but  i’m  still  fucking  here  regardless. ”      @johnhenrymoores​!

❝ now, you know i’m not normally one to GIVE A FUCK -- - but i have ask...  you and Eric.  y’all are SERIOUS... ain’t you? ❞  it’s truly unbecoming of her to gossip, and she’s certain eric would tell her as much, but she’s already gone too far by CARING about John Henry.  she might as well keep going.

conversation    reaches    quiet    lull    ,            presence    enjoyed    without    pressure    to    speech             ;           comfortable    in    embrace     ,              comfortable     enough    to    let    gaze    wander    up    to    meet    john’s    lingering    own    .             it’s    only    the    briefest    second           –––          long    enough    for    hazels    to    drop    to    the    curve    of    lips    ,              &            long    enough    for    them    to    return          –––          before    he    is    closing    the    distance    ,             &           final    present    is    gifted    to    her    with    the    saccharine    ,          tender    touch    of    feeling    .              a    kiss    ,              the    mix    of    sherry           &          smoke     ,               &          the    distinct    swimming    giddiness   that    swirled    about    mind     /    heart    ,             &           then     ,         she    is    kissing    him    back    .                 ❝           mm   .  .  .            ❞                hummed    as    they    part    ,          thumb    tracing    the    skin    ‘neath     his     ear    ,              smile    distinct    in    her    affectations    ,                   ❝           –––          happy    birthday     to     me     indeed    .            ❞

shoulders rise and set with a sharp intake of breath. it’s clear in the flash of his eyes that he’s furious, but the hand that slides down over his shoulders to settle at his lower back grounds him just in time. jaw flexes as alec fights his worse instincts. in the end it’s john’s quick tongue that saves alec’s venom from being unleashed on the poor unsuspecting waiter. satisfied with the sternness of john’s tone but still aware his hushed assurances are a politeness alec could never manage, he chooses instead to turn away entirely. his head turns left and leans forward behind john’s where the looks of rage on his face is partially hidden, as is the fist clutching the napkin in his now wine soaked lap. it’s not till he hears the patter of the waiter scurrying back to the kitchen for a complimentary bottle of the wine he’s just spilled that alec returns his gaze to his lover’s.  ‘ i’ll kill him johnny. ’  in the distance an ornate arrangement of flowers bursts into spontaneous flames, proof of his promise.  ‘ this is dior, john. ’

IT     COMES      AS      A      GOODBYE         :         the    press    of    lips     ‘gainst     blush    ,             swipes     of    rouge    greeted    with    a     departure     .             she     understands     ,            of    course     .             understands     that    this    was    merely    a    visit    to    the    cortez           ;           visit    being    the    operative    word    ,            a    word    that     ,           in    and    of    itself    ,             implies    an    eventual    ,           expected     end     .               &            she    understands     ,         more    than    that    ,           more    than     this     between     them     ,              that    she    cannot     ask     of    anything     more     .              so    ,            she      accepts     the    kiss     with    a    peck    of    her    own              &           only     a    quiet     little     flutter     of     her     heart    ,          a     note    of    acceptance              –––            but    all    does    little    to    quell    the    bittersweet    taste    of    a    peculiar    sadness      beginning    to    cloy     on    tongue    .                    ❝           write     me     soon     ,           ❞                she    whispers     ‘gainst     his    cheek    ,           before     embrace     is     broken              &             room     key    is    handed    over    .                a    lingering     brush     of    hands     ,               &          then    ,              she    is    watching     him    walk     out     of     the     cortez’s     clutches             ;           his    presence     ebbing    away    with    every    step    ,               feeling    more           &         more     like    a    distant    memory      rather     than     a    recent    reality    .

the road from quentin’s is long, and though alec has adapted quite well to the twenty first century in many regards, extended car rides seem not to agree with him just yet. he’s fortunate this time john is not behind the wheel, not out of any distaste for his driving style, but if only so that he can take comfort in his slow and subtle burrowing into the older man’s side. he’s groggy enough to allow the vulnerability. despite being accustomed to an erratic sleep schedule, the pale lilac of the morning sky mixes with the rumbling of the car over worn asphalt to create an uneasiness in alec thats soothed most effectively by the rich scent he’s come to associate with john. an uneasy sort of treatise exists at times like these: no teasing and jibing, no denial of their fondness for the other. alec makes no biting comment when john assures him theyre nearly home with a stroking of his hair, and john takes no shot at the gentle nod and murmured thanks alec offers in return - though alec highly suspects he’s got a smirk on his face where alec cant see him. he’s not concerned though. his right arm slips through the space between john’s bicep and his ribs, adjusting until hes found a comfortable spot for his head to rest where the steady beating of john’s heart provides a metronome to sing him to sleep.