Paul laid on the floor and looked up, high on pleasure.
The small house had high ceilings, from which he had hung all sorts of charms and quartzes, as well as some of Stuart's small creations.
The carpets were probably older than himself, bought secondhand from a fleas market from further than he'd ever traveled to.
As of now, he laid in a small nest of pillows and cushions, skin sweaty and bare against the soft fabrics, his lover's warm body next to his own.
This was what life was about, he felt like. Loving as one pleased, safe and comfortable and away from the world.
Stu had lit some frankincense before, the scent sticking to their bodies. Paul went back to his arms, despite the nearly unbearable heat.
This wasn't the life Paul had dreamed of, but he'd be lying if he said he was unhappy with it.
Stuart ran his hands gently through his damp hair and hummed a silly love song, soft thrumming resonating in his heart.
YOU ARE READING
Pointless McSutcliffe
Hayran KurguAnyways I love this ship and almost nobody writes about it, so, I decided to post what little I have about them. Some of these are one shots, some of these are random blurbs of thoughts. Also, at least a couple of them will be in spanish, sorry 'bou...
