Snow white feet pitter-pattered across the floor as Bray ran towards the moans and groans across the hall. He cut the corner and slid into the room, revealing a strong dark-skinned body writhing in pain.
"Tic, holy shit." Bray breathily whispered
Catching his attention, Atticus looked over to Bray and let out a shallow sigh.
Bray carefully stepped towards Atticus, fear of hurting Atticus even more rushing through him. "You probably hate me so fucking much right now."
Atticus let out a little laugh, the laugh where you don't make any audible sound—you just breathe really hard through your noise and turn the corners of your mouth up into a little smile—before shaking his head slightly. "Nah. If I did, you wouldn't be standin right there."
Bray cocked his head to the side in slight confusion, earning a wider smirk and little wink from the former.
"You know, you're really interesting. Probably one of the more interesting people in my life right now." Bray said as he stood meekly in the corner of the room.
Atticus smirked at this, letting out another one of those half-laughs. Bray found himself enjoying the little sounds the taller man makes, even the not as pleasant ones. "You don't gotta be so shy around me ya know. Come here."
Bray hesitantly shuffled over to the pained male. "Did I hurt you too bad?" he asked in the meekest voice he's ever put on.
"It hurts like a bitch, but it was an accident. Nothin to write a postcard home about."
Atticus tried to sit up with a groan before small hands pushed down on his chest. "Please don't move too much. I see those stitches; I wouldn't want you to pop them."
"You worried about me, Snow?"
Bray raised his eyebrow, "Snow?"
"Well yeah, you mighty pale compared to me. Reminds me of the snow that used to fall on my momma's porch when I was young. Don't like it?"
"No, I do. It's just surprising hearing a nickname coming from you." Bray said as a small blush threatened to creep onto his face.
"See, that pink tint to ya cheeks make you look even paler." Atticus commented as he subconsciously grabbed ahold of the hand that laid idly on his chest.
Bray gasped, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to—"
"Nah, I like it there. Your hand is cold, cooling me down nicely. Felt like I got set on fire when they brought me here." Atticus mumbled and he put the retreating hand right back onto his chest.
That blush grew more violent as he felt Atticus' chest ripple under his fingertips. He felt like how he felt when he first stripped down in front of the man—like he was being undressed by the intense stare alone. Bray looked up into Atticus' eyes and felt small little tingles erupt across his body, almost like the pin and needles you feel when your limbs fall asleep from a lack of blood flow. Was this what they were talking about in those sappy romances he used to catch his mom watching? The electricity that they'd go on and on about. No, it couldn't be... Atticus is a male. This must be something else, but what?
It was like Bray's mind was a separate entity to himself completely, screaming at him.
You're not gay!
Stop acting like you are!
You're acting like those monsters back in jail!
What the hell is wrong with you?
YOU ARE READING
Ace of Spades
Adventure"I'm not deranged, I just don't tolerate bullshit." In which, Bray is an ex-convict that may have gotten himself into trouble once more. Atticus is an artist that has ran into a little bit of turmoil with his work. What happens when the two cross p...
