Nathaniel Graison (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nathaniel_kitten) wrote2009-08-05 02:20 am
nathaniel_kitten) wrote2009-08-05 02:20 am
(no subject)
He'd dressed again after his run, putting his socks, shoes, belt, and jacket back on. Nathaniel can smell Asher through the door, and he lingers outside, brow pressed to the wood.
It hurts his heart to think his lover -- oh, he had trusted Asher -- had used him. Paid him for sex. Paid him for what he would have willingly given for free now. Paid for that small piece of himself that had been no one's until Asher.
Nathaniel sighs softly, the fury having bled from him with the run, and he finally turns the knob of the door, walking into the room without knocking. He didn't need to knock. Asher would have heard his very heartbeat through that door.
He's dressed in black from head to toe, the only thing not leather is the shirt tucked into his trousers. His hair is unbound, a little wild from the forest, and he shuts the door, leaning against it as he stares at Asher.
Everything about his posture, his scent, the shadows in his eyes, speaks to not be touched. If he could, he'd have this conversation without being looked at either, but he knows that is impossible.
When he speaks, he can't seem to help the sharp edge to his words, a hardness coming to his eyes as he looks at that beautiful, perfect face he loves so much. "Was I worth it?" he asks. "Worth every penny you paid, or should I be offering you a belated refund?"
It hurts his heart to think his lover -- oh, he had trusted Asher -- had used him. Paid him for sex. Paid him for what he would have willingly given for free now. Paid for that small piece of himself that had been no one's until Asher.
Nathaniel sighs softly, the fury having bled from him with the run, and he finally turns the knob of the door, walking into the room without knocking. He didn't need to knock. Asher would have heard his very heartbeat through that door.
He's dressed in black from head to toe, the only thing not leather is the shirt tucked into his trousers. His hair is unbound, a little wild from the forest, and he shuts the door, leaning against it as he stares at Asher.
Everything about his posture, his scent, the shadows in his eyes, speaks to not be touched. If he could, he'd have this conversation without being looked at either, but he knows that is impossible.
When he speaks, he can't seem to help the sharp edge to his words, a hardness coming to his eyes as he looks at that beautiful, perfect face he loves so much. "Was I worth it?" he asks. "Worth every penny you paid, or should I be offering you a belated refund?"