Email: HERE
Rating: R
Pair: Lindsey/Riley
Disclaimer: Joss owns the boys, not me. Pity.
Summary: Comfort on a warm night.
Author's Notes: For Vic. Because.
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The moon turns the room into an Ansel Adams photo, black-white-gray. Riley lays stretched out on his belly, head turned to look out the far window where he watches the sway of the treetops in the distance. Not much of a breeze by the time it makes its way to the room, so they're both sweating. Lindsey's body acts like a personal space heater even lying still like he is now.
Silence beyond the nightsounds fills the room. Riley feels the bed dip as Lindsey shifts, gets himself on his side, hip pressed against Riley's thigh. No comment, and Riley's too comfortable to move or make the effort to talk. He's not picking up any tension in the body that's leaning into his own and he figures maybe Lin wants to watch the trees, too. Knows that's one of his favorite spots when they come back here and hang, out on top of the back porch, pale gold fields stretching out to meet the darker brown of the trunks, shading finally up to the dark green leaves blurred together into one enormous treetop that stretches across the horizon.
Lin's not looking at the trees, however much fascination they hold for him at other times. He's been worried about Riley lately, the sounds he makes in his sleep, the circles under his eyes. He knows that Ri's getting some wicked nightmares, wishes he would talk to him about them, but every time Lin makes a bid to ask, Riley pushes him off. Politely, with humor, but it's a wall nonetheless. Lin can respect that; he hasn't been the most forthcoming person with Riley, although he's given up bits and pieces when he feels that he's ready. Or when he thinks he owes Riley for all he's gotten from the scarred and quiet man.
Lately, though, Lin isn't able to forget about the scars and the lifestyle Riley used to lead. Wonders if the call is on him, if something has kicked it back up and made Riley crave it again. The vampires, the military, the adrenaline rush of living on the edge of your existence - it's a hell of a lot to get used to and a bitch to walk away from once you're addicted. Not much to offer here in the town that would even begin to address that kind of need.
Lin's hand reaches out, finger tracing through the sheen of sweat on Riley's broad back. He was never much for the spoken parts of the demon languages he was trained in, hated the way they twisted his mouth, forced his tongue and throat into unnatural contortions. But he'd always had a knack for the written, passed over from law school maybe, from art history in undergrad more likely. Some of those glyphs were like art, and he'd managed to memorize the ones that gave him pleasure. Unsurprisingly they were often wards, protections of some kind, and Lindsey recalls them one by one as he etches them onto Riley's back. No blood of a virgin, no magical ink or dragon's bane. Just clean sweat and human touch as he draws out the sigils - Blessings. Protection. Safety. Tranquility.
Riley feels his muscles relax under Lindsey's light touch. Doesn't know what he's doing but is reminded of a girlfriend in high school who would write poems with a pointed little fingernail on his arm and ask if he could guess the words. It feels calming somehow, and he lets his eyes close against the moonlight and the waving arms of the trees. Feels Lindsey's breath slow and even against his back as he slides his finger over, down, circles and loops. Falls into a dreamless sleep before the last swirl is completed.
Lindsey watches until he's sure Riley's fallen deep enough to stay there. Then he turns his eyes to the back window and watches the dance of the leaves, black against a purple sky. Lets his open hand rest on the small of Riley's back and feels the slight movement of every inhale, exhale.
Sometime before morning, he sleeps too.
~end
Rainmakers III: Spindrift
