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Post by LANCE DAVIDSON on May 9, 2014 1:27:16 GMT
Lance frowned, angry. Not really angry at Salem per se, but angry all the same. "So what am I supposed to do, then?"
He knew it was his own choice to do something or not, but this was different. Lance let Salem go and he sat there on the bed, feeling alone again. "I don't want to walk out again. I fucked up once and I'm not doing it again."
Lance got up off the bed and walked around so that he could look at Salem's face, kneeling down as he looked up at him. He was frowning, almost glaring, but he tried his best to keep his expression soft.
"You want to be alone? Fine. But you tell me what I need to do. Hell... we could-- I mean..." He stopped halfway and let his head hang just a bit, turning to look to the side. He narrowed his eyes, clicked his tongue. "The fuck's wrong with me..."
@salem
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Post by Deleted on May 24, 2014 3:56:23 GMT
He sighed dismissively, turning his face away, watching his cigarette butt smoulder in the tray. A vase of flowers his housekeeper had left in immaculate arrangement, bright blooms and straight stalks; but they were starting to wilt. Salem wanted fresh flowers and clean sheets because the room had begun to feel stuffy, stale, sickening.
"What?" He turned back to Lance. "No. What?" His voice was soft, the edge to his words smoothed; though they were heavy and commanding, he leaned forward with their weight.
What did he want? Lance, at least, was resolute and he seemed to know what he wanted. Salem sat here, put together and perfect but all at once haphazard, bursting at the seams. When had Salem gotten so aimless, so clueless, so tired? God, he felt stupid as youth, in a body that ached something ancient.
LANCE DAVIDSON
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Post by LANCE DAVIDSON on May 28, 2014 10:54:09 GMT
He looked up at Salem again, eyes narrowed, though his expression was soft. The way Salem spoke confused him. Lance wasn't sure why he'd said no, or what the no was referring to. "What?"
What else could he say? "What do you mean?" All Lance could do was try to figure out what Salem meant. No, he didn't want him to leave or no he didn't want Lance around like...that. By the way he said it, and the way Salem's body pressed closer, perhaps it meant the former. Still, his question stood.
"Salem, I... I don't know what to do with myself right now," he went on, not waiting for Salem to really reply. Was Lance... begging? He gripped the musician's thighs, sitting up a bit to get closer to the man's face. "I don't know what's wrong with me." As sure as he seemed, he was still confused. On one hand, he wanted to beat the ever-loving shit out of Salem, but on the other, he just wanted to hold him. Lances's fingers gripped at the man's pants, his eyes wincing even more. "Tell me something... Please."
He was begging. Look at him, so desperate and vulnerable as he sat there in front of Salem, on his knees and trying so hard for his acceptance.
@salem
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