#{ reaper76 : ᴵ’ˡˡ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵉᵍᵍᶤᶰ’ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐᵉʳᶜʸ; ᵇᵉᵍᵍᶤᶰ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐᵉʳᶜʸ ⁻⁻ ᴼʰ }

[crownedwrath-a-blog]

arms snaked around the wraith's neck from behind, a hand reaching up to tug the white mask away from his face. Jack nuzzled into the crook of his lover's neck before lifting his head, lips brushing across flesh until they could press a soft kiss to his cheekbone, another on his temple. "I'm sorry for throwing you on the floor. Kinda sorry, at least."

Reaper leaned into the other’s hold almost immediately, relaxing the second he felt hands snake around his neck to remove the mask. He only knew one person who would dare do this without notifying him. That one person was also the only way who’d get away with doing it. He nuzzled into the kisses, happy purring leaving him as he wrapped one arm behind Jack’s head and pulled him closer. “I’m sorry, too, for kissing other people… Kinda.”

@visorshot

[crownedwrath-a-blog]

[ drape ] not sorry

fluff meme | selectively accepting | @ibellator

When their bodies clash together in a non-lethal fight for dominance for the first time in what’s probably more than ten years ago it feels unreal – like a dream -- and Reaper’s actually not even sure if it’s really happening or if it truly is just a dream. He doesn’t want this fleeting moment of peace to end anytime soon despite him knowing just as well as the next person that this will not last.

It can happen at any moment, their thoughts snapping back to just how at fault the other person is for what happened to them.

Lips are against lips, fangs bite and pull at chapped flesh in an attempt to claim the man under him as his -- not unlike he’d done so many years ago ( just minus the addition of fangs ) -- and it’s hard to keep that human-like appearance but he misses the touch of Jack’s hands on his face as he pulls away to give the man some air.

“ Jack -------- Jackie, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry... ”

The soldier doesn’t answer, there really is no need for one, he feels Jack’s free hand slide up to cup the other side of his face and then they’re both sitting up, both dead yet feeling so alive and it takes all Reaper has not to break down then and there -- the voices; they keep whispering how wrong this is, how Jack is at fault and he doesn’t doubt for a second that they’re not doing the same to Jack and he wants them to stop because they screech and they yell and they shout and the wraith can’t handle much more of it.

But then Jack’s fingers brush circles over the dark skin of Gabriel Reyes’ face and it’s like they just disappear, like it’s just the two of them there like when they were still young and still very much in love and Reaper can forget all about the pain and the anger and the hatred for long enough to appreciate the fact that even if they’re not exactly alive, they’re still here and together and he can feel -- he can feel again...

Reaper doesn’t remember when Jack started to take off his clothes but he let the man work, hands trailing all over his body like he was mapping it anew, imprinting brand new memories of what he looked like despite the lack of sight. He could feel his nanites reacting to Jack’s, as if they were made to fight each other -- as if they were nothing but an experiment to see how far the U.N’s ‘ perfect soldiers ’ would go to remain perfect and Reaper was tired of being perfect, he was tired of the hate and the sadness and the anger and the grief because all he wants is for it all to end, for it to stop, for them to be happy.

But he knows that this will never happen. He knows that at the end of the night, the two of them will go back to spitting curses and vile insults at each other and they’ll go right back to fighting and threatening and hating and as much as he hates it, Reaper knows it’s in their nature, it’s what they were trained to do.