blue
he/him
twenty five
february 24
mauville
samsexual
addict
grunt
let us live, since we must die
TAG WITH @knox
knox prescott
dust [c]
POSTED ON Jan 17, 2020 20:10:45 GMT
[attr="class","knoxpost"]he can show him anything he wants. so long as he doesn't stay more than an arm's length away. his heat is still flush against his body and knox is wanting, wanting, wanting, but he's anxious to do more, be more, become more.
he wants to fall in love. love, love, love. what a sickening, dizzying, intoxicating drug. and he does this, does it every time he goes out. he falls hard because that's what he's really addicted to. not the coke that crusts his nose, that dilates his eyes. not the masochism of knowing he's unwanted, but trying anyway.
no, he wants love. minute love. a love so painful that ends in a single night. that's beautiful before it can become ugly.
he kisses spencer, hard. and then he laughs against his lips and he takes his hand and he says, "i know, i know the perfect place."
and then he takes him outside and they're on the street. the lights are bright; the city is starting to wind down. he wants to delve back into the bodies, into the multicolored leds, but he holds spencer's hand fast.
and he takes him home. "shhhhh," he whispers as he swipes the key he'd nicked from summer the other night. the mansion stands tall, illustrious, umbecoming of a man such as knox. but he traverses the grounds with a familiarity that can only lead to a single conclusion.
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