#slitheringout

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YELLS ABOUT IT!!!

so i'm reading and "you don't like anything unpleasant, do you? you're a slitherer-outer, that's what you are! you slither away from anything you don't like!"

{ slitheringout }

15. kiss in the rain.

        howl is, without a doubt, miserable and angry that he had been caught out in such weather. especially with none other than his irritating rival, fenrir, who seems to not mind the pouring rain one bit. it only annoys him further, how the other wizard can be so casual and calm about things like this. of course, fenrir doesn't have to worry about his looks being ruined by rain. fenrir's generally kind of ugly anyways... well, a little. maybe. okay, not really, but howl can pretend.

        fenrir, on the other hand, has never minded rain. he's walked in it for hours, gotten sick from it, and slept in it. he's grown accustomed to it. and he knows if this rain persists when he leaves howl's castle the next morning he'll have to endure it for just a while longer.

        he laughs when howl whines in annoyance when he steps in a particularly muddy area, nearly slipping and falling on his face. this only serves to piss the other wizard off further, because soon mud is being kicked his way and hits him right on the chest. that's what starts the mud-flinging fight, and while it's all in good fun for fenrir, it's out of anger on howl's side.

        it doesn't take long for fenrir to lose his footing and slip, falling on his backside and grunting. howl looms over him, muddy hands on his hips and a scowl upon his face. those thin brows knit together and he says, ` so, will you admit defeat? `

        one thing howl doesn't take into account is how easy fenrir can reach his legs. and when he grabs them and pulls howl to the muddy ground, the wizard seems dazed and confused even when fenrir pulls him over to sit on his belly, coaxing his head downwards.

        when the raven haired man pushes wet hair from howl's face, he smears mud over his cheek. that snaps the younger back to reality and he sticks his nose up, nostrils flaring and brows furrowing. he refuses to look at fenrir. at least until fenrir pulls howl in so their mouths meet the kiss is gentle, slow, and tender. they can taste rain upon one another's lips, on each others tongues, and howl seems to fall into groove with it easily.

        one thing fenrir's learned is that his kisses seem to make the younger wizard melt. it's endearing, despite howl's snotty personality. one of the little things that makes fenrir like him so much. his hands run up and down howl's ribcage, before it seems to hit the other wizard that yes, they were in an area anyone could walk by and see them. a warning bite is given to fenrir's bottom lip, and when they separate, they walk in silence back to the castle.

        fenrir hasn't woken up yet, his face buried into a pillow which his arms are wrapped around as he sleeps upon his belly. howl's woken up to primp himself for the day, because you know, he needs a lot of time to get everything perfect--but he finds himself staring down at the man who he's allowed to share his bed for the night.

        when he moves just the slightest bit, the bed creaks. it makes him cringe. howl would rather leave the bed without fenrir waking up. he'd rather leave the castle without fenrir waking up. there's a dull ache in his body, and no matter how much he claims it hurts, he won't ever admit how pleasant it really feels.

        hands on him, broad hands that grab every inch of his body in desperation and send shivers down his spine, causes heat to bloom in his cheeks and sounds that embarrass him to fall off his tongue. howl is always silenced, however, by a gentle mouth and warm tongue that capture his own. that beard tickles his skin and even when he tells the other to shave it all off, he might enjoy it just a bit more than he'll let on.

        every cell in his body remembers the hours they spent together the night before, with fervent touches and heated kisses. even in the flurry of passion, fenrir had always found a way to be kind and patient. to be gentle. it pisses howl off beyond reason, because the other wizard is making it so, so very difficult to hate him.

        maybe howl is even starting to come to terms that he likes him.

        hah, perish the thought!

        howl would never like fenrir. someone he considers his rival, someone he considers a nuisance.

        then why, why does he allow fenrir into his bed? why does he allow his mouth and hands to touch his body and why does he allow the older man to see him in such a vulnerable state?

        god, he hates the way those brown eyes look at him. there's no denying the soft emotions that are present in them. why can't fenrir just hate him too? why does fenrir have to like him so much? maybe if the other wizard just screwed off for once, howl wouldn't have to deal with this confusing myriad of emotions.

        snapped out of his thoughts by a snort from the older man, howl blinks rapidly. brows knit together, and he lets his unshaven cheek press flush to the other's shoulder blade, where he listens to a steady heartbeat. fenrir makes no movement, his back moving up and down with his breathing and face remaining pressed into a pillow.

        finally, howl slips away. rather stealthily, i might add, or so he'd like to think. he tugs his undergarments on before he walks to the closed door. the moment his hand touches the knob he hears a creak behind him and a voice murmuring sleepily, ` good morning, howl. i must say, you've grown quite sentimental. `