#pardon the 'scene setting' start hdsf.

[kharonion]

"caging your lover against a wall with your arms to kiss them ." for whoever you're feeling

Y'know what. I haven't provided some Rom/Oswald content in too damn long. So. I fixed that. :3 » KISS AND TELL PROMPTS | OC DIRECTORY «

Again with the fuckin’ raiders. Straggling themselves through the radiated mist, hellbent on getting to their target, and all just to end up wailing in agony, either booking it back to their respective cesspools or—worse yet—crumple onto the sidewalk, unmoving. And now, he has to clean up the damn mess.

Thankfully, the process is simple: Strip ‘em of weapons, toss ‘em back out where they came from.

“Ah, hey, there, Ken.” A ghoul lumbers up to him, teeth clattering with each little hiss, as Rom hurls the last body out of the park gate. He wipes the blood off his hands before ruffling what little hair the ghoul has left. “What, did Oz send you to check on me? Or was that all you?”

Ken doesn’t answer; Rom knows that. Simply stares at him, snaps his jaw with what sounds like a distorted bark.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get back before he worries.”

The walk back is uneventful, and he only has to stop occasionally to fix a jammed sprinkler or two. Ken eventually shuffles away to a pack of other Afflicted, doing… whatever it is they do. 

Entering the court’s theater, Rom immediately strips himself of his coat, laden with grime, dropping it off in the wash bucket on his way backstage. The man’s developed a sixth sense it seems because Oswald is quickly poking his head out with a smile on his face. Gone is his tuxedo blazer, in his hand is the book he’d been reading—the epitome of someone who’d just been relaxing… or perhaps napping in the armchair. That’s probably most accurate.

“Welcome back. Large haul today, I take it?”

“Sure was,” Rom answers in a sigh, rubbing at a rather pesky knot in the shoulder. He’s getting too old for this shit. “All taken care of now, though. Even had Ken’s help.”

Oswald chuckles. Leans against the stage partition with crossed arms and ankles, tapping the book’s spine against his bicep idly. “Did you now?” His stance, while lax, is speaking volumes.

And that’s what makes Rom approach. Slowly, each stride purposeful. Until the two share the same breath of air, Oswald boxed in between his arms and swallowed by his shadow. He stands there with weight fully on his hands as to sag forward, to the point that their marred lips nearly flutter together. All it would take is the smallest movement.

“Thank you. For doing that,” Oswald mutters. It’s hard to know if he realizes that his hands are actively sneaking under Rom’s shirt to cement themselves on his hips. But, that’s what they’re doing.

Rom smirks, his rogue gold fang poking out enough to press into his lip. “You know you don’t have to do that. Long as I have you to come back to.”

“... That was cheesy, for you.”

“What can I say? You’re rubbing off on me, Oz.”

He chuckles again, and it’s a sound Rom will never tire of. So resounding and full, even with half of his hearing made useless. An immediate remedy for the scratches of the demons rummaging around his subconscious.

That miniscule distance is soon closed. The kiss is chaste and longing, and neither want to pull away. Oswald blunt nails dig subtly into Rom’s hips, enough to pull a soft snarl from his gut, enough to part his lips as he shifts to rest on his forearms. Who knows for how long they stand there like teenagers sneaking off on their lunch break.

Eventually, that need for air—ever so inconvenient—breaks them apart. Oswald’s gazing at him so damn fondly, the aura of his eyes somehow brighter than normal. “Now, much as I’d love to stay here, doing this… you need a bath. You smell.”

“Well, that’s rude.” But Rom knows he’s right; he’s wearing the stench of raiders like another shirt. He sneaks one more light, quick kiss, though. “You’ll be waiting for me?”

This is an exchange they have countless times. Storybook, as if a part of a magical act they’d rehearsed to death. And even still, the response makes Rom’s heart thunder against his ribs because he knows it’s true.

“Always, my prince.”