Song Fic: Recessional
Title: Recessional
Ratng: PG-13
Pairing: Ian/Anthony
Genre/Warnings: Fluff, slight-Angst & slight-OOC,
Summary: The power goes out and there's nothing to do anymore but for Anthony and Ian, a moment of recess is all it takes for a million words to be spoken.
Song: Recessional - Vienna Teng
It's strange to look at your best friend and want so much. Sometimes Anthony can't help himself but to smile at Ian. It's strange that it's comfortable to be so close and still feel the restraints scratching at his back to move away.
"It's so beautiful here,” he says, "this moment now."
And this moment, now.
And I never thought I would find him here: flannel and satin, my four walls transformed.
At this moment, the rain blurs the outskirts of friends and lovers. As if when the sky waters, the boundaries become undone and everything and anything seem possible. Maybe it's the cold numbness that seeps into his fingertips and the only issue of warmth is from the body pressed familiar beside him. It's only a touch away.
But he's looking at me, straight to center. No room at all for any other thought.
"Damnit, my mom’s place is out of power too,” Ian says. They’re sitting on the floor of Anthony’s bedroom in the darkness with only the rain and the moon’s fleeting light behind muted silver clouds. A quiet defeated sigh from Ian and Anthony wonders if their hearts beat in the same rhythm as their breaths go in and out at a constant easy motion. He wonders if Ian feels the skip of a beat as he glances over and smiles.
And I know I don't want this.
Oh, I swear I don't want this.
“Don’t worry, man,” Anthony says softer than intended, trapped in racing thoughts and alluring intentions. “We’ll get everything done on time.”
Ian nods with listless eyes and slumps sideways, his head hovering dangerously over Anthony’s shoulder. He’s too close and Anthony again can feel the pressure to both mold and break from Ian.
There's a reason not to want this but I forgot...
And Anthony dares to move against Ian. Fabric covered shoulder against stubbled cheek.
In the terminal he sleeps on my shoulder, hair falling forward, mouth all askew.
Fluorescent announcements beat their wings overhead
And he dreams through the noise, his weight against me, face pressed into the corduroy grooves.
It takes a few silent strangled breaths before Ian’s head goes heavy and Anthony looks down.
Maybe it means nothing...
maybe it means nothing...
maybe it means nothing, but I'm afraid to move.
Ian’s waiting hand rests loosely on his thigh and Anthony wants to feel skin on skin more than the muffled electricity singeing his shoulder.
And the words, they're everything and nothing.
I want to search for him in the offhand remarks.
“Ian?” he whispers, “Are you asleep?” Anthony’s fingers crawl with unmoved energy.
Who are you, taking coffee, no sugar?
Who are you, echoing street signs?
Who are you, the stranger in the shell of a lover, dark curtains drawn by the passage of time?
The quiet is disconcerting and Anthony fears the stillness will move into something dangerous. Ian looks different with his eyes and mouth lax and his hand falling ever so slightly so that Anthony’s knuckles burn when they touch.
“No.”
Oh words, like rain, how sweet the sound...
He doesn’t know who moves first but then their fingers weave together and Anthony’s breath is caught in his throat. He grips tight and turns towards the head that rests comfortably on him.
“Ian?” he asks again. Ian shifts so that his lips sting the bottom of Anthony’s neck. His skin goes on fire when warm agonizing breath slides down Anthony’s spine.
“Yeah?” Ian’s words feel like a kiss in the wrong place.
Anthony wants to move down so that their mouths align. He wants to inch forward and press his lips to Ian’s. He wants to feel the soft leaping and coiling of flames as they go heavily into one another. He wants hands to smooth over hot fervent skin and breaths to inhale deep and shaky.
He wants it all but it’s frightening so Anthony asks with an uneasy smile in his voice, “What are you doing?”
There’s a change of direction in the air and a tension that strikes hard throughout Ian’s body. Anthony’s shoulder is abandoned too fast and his hand loses its grasp.
Ian stands in front of him, with sea coloured eyes that look dejected and lost.
"Well anyway," Ian says, “It’s late. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Sequel: Line
Want more Smosh slash?
Ratng: PG-13
Pairing: Ian/Anthony
Genre/Warnings: Fluff, slight-Angst & slight-OOC,
Summary: The power goes out and there's nothing to do anymore but for Anthony and Ian, a moment of recess is all it takes for a million words to be spoken.
Song: Recessional - Vienna Teng
It's strange to look at your best friend and want so much. Sometimes Anthony can't help himself but to smile at Ian. It's strange that it's comfortable to be so close and still feel the restraints scratching at his back to move away.
"It's so beautiful here,” he says, "this moment now."
And this moment, now.
And I never thought I would find him here: flannel and satin, my four walls transformed.
At this moment, the rain blurs the outskirts of friends and lovers. As if when the sky waters, the boundaries become undone and everything and anything seem possible. Maybe it's the cold numbness that seeps into his fingertips and the only issue of warmth is from the body pressed familiar beside him. It's only a touch away.
But he's looking at me, straight to center. No room at all for any other thought.
"Damnit, my mom’s place is out of power too,” Ian says. They’re sitting on the floor of Anthony’s bedroom in the darkness with only the rain and the moon’s fleeting light behind muted silver clouds. A quiet defeated sigh from Ian and Anthony wonders if their hearts beat in the same rhythm as their breaths go in and out at a constant easy motion. He wonders if Ian feels the skip of a beat as he glances over and smiles.
And I know I don't want this.
Oh, I swear I don't want this.
“Don’t worry, man,” Anthony says softer than intended, trapped in racing thoughts and alluring intentions. “We’ll get everything done on time.”
Ian nods with listless eyes and slumps sideways, his head hovering dangerously over Anthony’s shoulder. He’s too close and Anthony again can feel the pressure to both mold and break from Ian.
There's a reason not to want this but I forgot...
And Anthony dares to move against Ian. Fabric covered shoulder against stubbled cheek.
In the terminal he sleeps on my shoulder, hair falling forward, mouth all askew.
Fluorescent announcements beat their wings overhead
And he dreams through the noise, his weight against me, face pressed into the corduroy grooves.
It takes a few silent strangled breaths before Ian’s head goes heavy and Anthony looks down.
Maybe it means nothing...
maybe it means nothing...
maybe it means nothing, but I'm afraid to move.
Ian’s waiting hand rests loosely on his thigh and Anthony wants to feel skin on skin more than the muffled electricity singeing his shoulder.
And the words, they're everything and nothing.
I want to search for him in the offhand remarks.
“Ian?” he whispers, “Are you asleep?” Anthony’s fingers crawl with unmoved energy.
Who are you, taking coffee, no sugar?
Who are you, echoing street signs?
Who are you, the stranger in the shell of a lover, dark curtains drawn by the passage of time?
The quiet is disconcerting and Anthony fears the stillness will move into something dangerous. Ian looks different with his eyes and mouth lax and his hand falling ever so slightly so that Anthony’s knuckles burn when they touch.
“No.”
Oh words, like rain, how sweet the sound...
He doesn’t know who moves first but then their fingers weave together and Anthony’s breath is caught in his throat. He grips tight and turns towards the head that rests comfortably on him.
“Ian?” he asks again. Ian shifts so that his lips sting the bottom of Anthony’s neck. His skin goes on fire when warm agonizing breath slides down Anthony’s spine.
“Yeah?” Ian’s words feel like a kiss in the wrong place.
Anthony wants to move down so that their mouths align. He wants to inch forward and press his lips to Ian’s. He wants to feel the soft leaping and coiling of flames as they go heavily into one another. He wants hands to smooth over hot fervent skin and breaths to inhale deep and shaky.
He wants it all but it’s frightening so Anthony asks with an uneasy smile in his voice, “What are you doing?”
There’s a change of direction in the air and a tension that strikes hard throughout Ian’s body. Anthony’s shoulder is abandoned too fast and his hand loses its grasp.
Ian stands in front of him, with sea coloured eyes that look dejected and lost.
"Well anyway," Ian says, “It’s late. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Sequel: Line
Want more Smosh slash?