RPG - Anton & Sulli 3

[timbits_tootsie]

Sullivan listens to Anton’s even, deep breaths with eyes closed and a little smile on his mouth. They are sweaty and sticky from more than just oil, but he’s happy to stay on top of him, molded against his body.

Sleep won’t come to him, though.

It doesn’t take long for the old familiar unease at being in a wide bed to seep in. But he thinks,

Comments

[timbits_tootsie]

(Hi, love. Just wanted to say that I'm working 5 days this week, so I'll mostly be on late :/ I'll be home at 9-ish tonight. Hope everything went alright last night. Miss you!)

[antonnachzehrer]

He wakes sometime around early morning.

The first thing that registers in his mind is that he feels hot and there's something heavy on him. The second is that he has a splitting headache, which is only making the former worse.

Slowly, wary of unwanted light, he cracks his eyes open.

He comes face to face with a head of coarse red hair, and something in his gut clenches funnily.

{Okay, that's fine. I'm going to be pretty busy anyway. The train was horrible and it smelled, and the AC went off sometime during the night which was fucking fantastic. But Luxor is pretty, if extremely hot and dry.}

[timbits_tootsie]

Sullivan feels Anton stir, then slowly wake up. His head hurts, but not terribly so, contrary to what he had expected from all that brandy. Oddly enough, the memories of last night are very vivid and very much intact, and that puts a warm blush in his cheeks.

Should he let him know that he’s awake? Should he pretend to be asleep? Something heavy and tight lodges itself firmly in his gut when he thinks of how Anton surely must regret this.

Better to get it over with, he thinks.

He presses his face to the man’s throat, murmuring quietly, “I’d move, but I’ve kind of got a hangover, and I’m not sure I can.”

(Sorry you had a bad night, love :/)

[antonnachzehrer]

He considers answering, but that would require movement, and he's not quite sure he's up to that right now. Instead he makes some sort of vague noise, and lets his eyes slip closed again.

Sullivan is a warm, heavy weight against him, and he can't seem to deny, even to himself, how nice it feels.

{It's okay. I'm just glad I'll being going home soon; Egypt isn't as nice as I thought it was going to be. The sights are amazing, but all the street hawkers and carriage people and the countless number of creepy guys that try to hit on me is too much. :/}

[timbits_tootsie]

Instead of an angry outburst, all he gets is some sort of noise, perhaps of acceptance, perhaps not, before Anton relaxes again, and he breathes a sigh of relief and lets himself relax, too. Long fingers slip into the man’s hair to curl around the strands, trailing gently through it.

This time, his eyelids glide shut, and soon Sullivan is sound asleep and more at ease than he has been for a long, long time.

(Creepy people hit on you? Because you're white? I know my sisters got hit on in Turkey and Thailand :/)