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17 October 2005 @ 02:42 pm
John/Rodney: grief, late, cold for rositamia  
Desire at its worst could be a kind of physical grief, a miserable ache concentrated in the most sensitive areas of the body; there was a reason it was called hunger.

Even though it was late and cold, he ghosted through the city corridors until he found John standing on one of the balconies, watching the dark waves like a sentinel alert to invasion by sea.

"Come to bed," he said imperiously, cutting into the soft fabric of the evening and into whatever thoughts John was punishing himself with, and then waited until the other man turned and spoke to him with steady gaze and twitching eyebrows, his rumpled hair like an illegible signature of resignation.

Clearly I am very bored and useless at work today.
 
 
 
Vampetvampet on October 17th, 2005 10:50 pm (UTC)
Desire at its worst could be a kind of physical grief, a miserable ache concentrated in the most sensitive areas of the body; there was a reason it was called hunger.

That paragraph is gorgeous.
(Deleted comment)
namastenancynamastenancy on October 18th, 2005 01:59 am (UTC)
You really are a fantastic writer. The line about desire is good enough to make me cry.
Herself_nycherself_nyc on October 18th, 2005 02:06 am (UTC)
That's lovely. I have no idea who the pairing are, but it doesn't matter.
Welcome to My House: John/Rodney - conversionrositamia on October 21st, 2005 09:23 pm (UTC)
Wow. You have such a gift for language. I really love the pictures you paint with so few words. Thank you.