Lightened by the silence//Max and Phoenix

He could feel it as he traced his finger along the curve of turquoise track that spidered downwards across the other male’s wrist. A steady beat, a pulse that was set to a gentle rhythm; echoed by the soft hum of his breath. Max let his finger wander down stream, blunt crescent of his thumb nail following the sinuous flow of vein until it became invisible about half way up his forearm.  But Phoenix wasn’t reacting to the feather soft touch of the others thumb, his own eyes focused on the screen that was flickering; pixilated colour bouncing blue off the light coloured walls. Max sighed, attention span at that of five year olds, shifting slightly in his seat.

The two were sat on one of the two threadbare couches, tossed precariously atop were an abundance of garishly coloured throw cushions; unessicary bulges that his mother and Lavender alike had insisted on. The younger of the two was sat in between Max’s legs, head resting on his torso, bobbing up and down with every inhale and exhale.

“Can we watch something else?” he murmured into the others ear, letting his lips linger for longer than nessicary, only pulling away to retrieve the remote that was balancing on the arm of the sofa. It was peaceful. Things between the two always were, gentle hum of the television set filling the silence that was otherwise comfortable, with a unessicary purr of sound. Sound that wasn’t needed, it was odd really how natural silence was between them. How they could lie, without a single word uttered, for hours on end without the want or need for conversation.

Max’s eyes flickered momentarily to the side, eyes greeting the tiled surfaces of his lead in kitchen. Phoenix had made dinner and the crockery was still sat on the kitchen counter. Unwashed plates  and sterling silver forks jewelling the granite in a display of laziness. Neither wanted to face the sud ridden fate that washing up entailed, so they left it, retiring to the sofa with far more enthusiasm.

“Monday night TV is horse shit…” Max muttered to himself, flicking between channels. Thumb pressing the plastic button with increased force as the options dwindled to that of the news and a poorly executed documentary on the Amazon.  “Shit, shit, more shit…” he continued remote pointed to the box, repeating the same stations over and over in the false hope that something interesting would crop up between the rubbish. But that’s when the other shifted, the hips that were positioned between his thighs pushing back some as he stretched, Phoenix didn’t have to say anything but even Max was becoming bored of the routine, tossing the control to the floor with a nonchalant flick of the wrist.

“We’ll have to make our own entertainment wont we?” he said with an impish grin, tongue coming out to drag across the skin of his bottom lip. Max let his hand trail the skin of Phoenix’s forearm once more, coming up and over the crease of his elbow this time before swooping back down to rub the roughened clench of his knuckles. “Thanks for dinner” he said simply, placing his hands either side of the man’s hips pulling him closer, so the space between them was nonexistent.  Max’s lips settling in quarry of Phoenix’s bent neck, folds pressing into the skin up and down the neck repeatedly. 

2 years ago  |  8 notes

Blood and roses//Fletch and Nix




Fingers suddenly grasped at the stretchy fabirc of his shirt, ligaments clasping the material with a dominant grasp. Causing his body to lurch skyward, thighs lifting slightly from the chair he was sat upon. Max didn’t even think for a few seconds lips, so moist and velvet like, crashing into the fold of his own. Mositure rich overlap enveloping the skin as the two collided. It was soft, but with enough heat and pressure to set his nerve endings onto high alert. A freckled entrail of pin prick jolts edging up and down the curve of his spine. 

It was instinct, his hand coming up to stroke the back of the other boys skull; his fingers now lost in the feathered strands as he clung to something-anything- to stop him from faltering. The feeling was odd. A feeling he couldn’t name nor place. A ribbon of something nerve racking unravelling in the pit of his stomach, with the same detriment of piano wire to flesh. Cutting through his soft innards as it pulled and coiled around the organs; a squeeze that forced a small whimper from the hollow of his throat, one that was lost in the heat of the embrace. 

It was sweet yet sour. Acidic but with enough neutraliser to set the entire contact to something pleasant, tingles releasing as a result. Max let his eyes slip shut. Varied pressure pulling the lips to and fro until it set into a steady rhythm that both could fall into. Both hands now folded around the nape of the other boys neck as Max willingly subjected to the cause. 

“No…” Max pouted as the lip lock was broken “Don’t apologize…” it was with this that Max reignited the contact. Pushing forward so he could hold Phoenix’s lips in the fold of his own onc emore. Kisses wavering into a heavy snog; wet and lippy as a heated adrenaline took over all of Max’s rationality. Max edged closer making the embrace easier for the both of them, bottom half sliding onto the bench, so he was sat to the side of Pheonix’s legs; arms completely strung over the back of the others neck, twisted and entwined like the eager stem of a sunflower. 

He remained soundless the thrum of boths heart beats and the hum of his music acted as a perfect soundtrack to the twos embrace. Fast but delicately paced, seconds of breathless encounter coming to an end as this time Max broke the lock, blinking up at Phoenix, his lips sequined with the saliva of the others. “I liked that more than I think I should have…” he grinned, shuffling closer so his chest pressed gently against Phoenix’s “Tell me if you want me to stop.” he whispered re initiating the kiss with a heavier applied pressure than before, his pierced tongue entering soon after as his tip explored the undiscovered confines of Phoenixes cheeks; taste sweet and welcoming, like the warm hands that were now cupping the small of his back. 

Phoenix didn’t expect what happened next; Max not pulling away, but instead returning the gesture. His hands had cupped the back of his head; mulling through the strands of his browned hair. His grip was tough, domineering, and the younger male was perfectly okay with that. Heat covered his entire face in a scarlet sheet, heart thumping so hard that it slammed against his ribcage. Max’s lips on his own were incredible to say the least; a craving that he wanted to satisfy.

His taste held the sweetest of sins; lacing with the saliva that came with the action. Phoenix’s entire spinal cord was encased in tingles that prickled each bone in his vertebrae. The electricity riveted the male; fingers gripping the edges of the seat that he was perched on in order to try and get some relief from the sensations that were controlling his body. Max’s flavor was intoxicating; better than any alcohol or drug that had ever been produced.

When Phoenix broke their contact, he expected himself to be rushing out, slipping onto the streets to find some kind of cure for his embarrassment. But that wasn’t what unfolded at all. Instead, Max had ordered him to cease his apologies; a shocked, but pleased expression crossing his face. Phoenix didn’t have much time to ponder for the interlaced of softened folds came again; a soft sigh slipping out through the confines; a heated breath that he couldn’t even believe he released.

Soon Max had settled himself on the opposite sides of his legs; arms wrapping around him as his tongue made its way inside Phoenix’s mouth. He could feel the cool ball of Max’s piercing trace the puffs of his cheeks, but it was exhilarating; the roughness being somewhat of a turn on for the inexperienced youth.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” 

That statement released a shiver from Phoenix, but he nodded immediately. “I will.” And without further ado, another kiss was exchanged; pressure heightening; Max’s tongue eager for exploration. Phoenix had no problems submitting to his will for just this type of closeness was driving him crazy. Palms fell along the curve of his back, never having been this way with anyone before; feeling all too real, beyond his greatest of fantasies.

Max couldn’t help but imagine it; purple. Cool swirls of violet and blue, colour running into each other, mixing to form a puddle of rippled early evening. Bruise like sploges stemming from a simple sucking action. Littering the body in sploged shapes, rimmed with red as beneath the surface blood vessels erupted and burst; a firework of speckled fusion forming in its place. 

That”s what he wanted to do. To let his warm lips wonder, fall in the concave quarry of those killer collar bones. Skin upon skin, as the tingling buds that lined his tongue dragged over the pallor pallet of olive stretch. Max wasn’t sure why he felt that way, whether it was the heat of the moment that was fueling his desire to explore every millimeter of this mans frame. Or why an attraction had stemmed so suddenly. Maybe it had always been there, lurking since they first caught each others eye and maybe it was the kiss that had initiated the requite. Max didn’t know. And right now wasn’t the time to try and force logic into the relationship. Right now he wanted to focus on one thing only. Phoenix. 

Max uncurled his arms, replacing his hands onto either side of the mans face. Fingers settling into the cheek bones as he used the maneuver to steady himself, pressing harder against the others lips. It was warm and gentle, with the fierce introduction of eager tongue intensifying the gesture to just a level where it felt right. Max could feel the cool metal run along Phoenix’s gum, the metal making a noise that echoed softly in the hollow of his cheeks. The enamel clink, sending a parade of shivers across the curve of his jaw. 

This wasn’t exactly Max’s first. Drunken nights spiralling into lapped tongues and heated embraces. Man upon man in the heat of the moment. But this was the first time he’d ever been sober. The twisting contortion of his lower abdomen, no longer a feeling easily blamed on alcoholic nausea. This was raw. A feeling unravelling in the pit of his stomach that couldn’t be attributed to anything other than emotion. 

He let the moment move along by itself, taking the more dominant role; initiating pressure changes, feeling slightly smug as Phoenix relaxed into  his movements. The younger obviously less experienced of the duo, indulging in the roughened pucker of Max’s lips, now swelling from the catch and pull of his own and the others teeth to the skin. It was with a soft groan that Max seized the opportunity, slidig up so his body was fully on the bench. Crawling up so his knees plunged into the leather, either side of Phoenix’s narrow hips. 

Max just hovered, dipping in and out of the kiss; soft chuckles falling as the twos forheads brushed at encounter. 

2 years ago  |  12 notes

Ashes and diamonds//Fletch and Pheonix

It was one of those days where the sun seemed to pour colour into everything; drench even the greyest of greys to gold, force the deepest of blacks to morph violet and subtle blues into fierce sheets of sapphire. It was because of this that the sky that stretched it’s self across the city was a perfect wash of blood blue, tainted by thin strips of stratus pulling themselves across the canvas in soft white wisps. 

The ironic ugliness of the streets below was stark. Gun metal buildings that shot skyward; glass windows speckling every turret, now glinting in the mid-day sun; Spewing gold bars across the city. Max sat quietly. Content as he watched the busied streets fill with the dense influx of commuters; tourists alike running about like headless chickens as he sat calm. Perched on a bench. Cylinder clinging helplessly to the moisture on his bottom lip as it spat lengthy grey tendrils from its tip, that continued to curl upwards and dance elegantly to their death. 

He was dressed simply; tight black jeans that hung low enough that his mid drift peeped out with a standard black shirt clinging to his chest. Sleeves short enough so his patterned arms were on full show. Inked pictures encased beneath his skin. Colours so vibrant that they shone with conviction amongst the white covering of his skin.

Max was a living piece of art; every needle work art piece etched into the skin held some meaning. Every stroke and every line holding something special. It wasn’t just drunken wimbs-not all of them anyway- that stained his body but important pictures and sitting here; sun falling over the boy in a stained yellow bath made him look all the more angelic despite the near satanic runes that spun across his skin. Light also playing in the dark pool of his iris’, getting caught in the lighter strands of his coffee coloured hair. 

It was here they had arranged to meet. The pretty young male Max had unintentionally ran into days previous. He didn’t do this often; casual meet ups where an afternoon was spent enjoying what the city had to offer. The older male spending the majority of his time lost in his work or doing his best to smoke his way to numbness.

Looking down now at his inked arms he could still see the faint white lines that defined his past, spiralled out and across the thin skin of his wrists; raised lines resulted from years of self inflicted harm that was now concealed almost completely with etchings of a different kind. Shaking his head he looked up; cigarette now at a crushed puddle under his brogue. The male playing with his tongue bar distractedly between his teeth as he waited. Seconds passing slowly as the faint clink of enamel to metal collided with the ticking of his watch. 

2 years ago  |  5 notes