Title: Stick
Author: Elandae
Genre: none really. Anything you want it to be.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: slash
He moved slowly down the broad stairway, hand carefully avoiding the railing. He listened to the way his shoes stuck to each stair, sticking and un-sticking with every downward movement.
His skin looked odd bathed in the red light, as thought it were submersed in darkly bloodied water. Stopped at the bottom and looked up. Looked down at the floor. Black. Odd choice. There was a couch just before him, the vinyl surface looking oddly glazed in the harsh light.
He could hear the sound that drifted down after him, ignored it and turned to his left. Moved slowly down the hallway.
Soft noises filtered out to him, not words but voices. He moved towards them unconsciously, careful not to make a noise. Breathing lightly he stopped for a moment and listened to the heavy breathing of a stranger.
He moved around the corner, stopped there in the shadows. Not that it mattered, he’d doubt they’d care even if they did see him.
One man stood, his back against the wall, his head falling back against it, his mouth dropping open. Breathing harshly, he twined his fingers through the blond hair of the man before him.
Red light turned golden hair an odd shade of red that reminded him of kaleidoscopes. Brightly whirling colors. But this stayed red. The man on his knees fixed one of his hands firmly on the other man’s hips, fingers pressing into slick material. His skin looked bloodied too.
The other hand was wrapped firmly around the cock in his hand, hand moving up and down, rushing to meet his lips and then away. A quick rhythm that held him fascinated. Up and then down, each slide down the shaft wringing another low moan from the man against the wall.
The pace increased and so did his breathing as he watched the two of them. If it hadn’t been so carefully controlled, so carefully timed it would have been audible over that of the man against the wall.
He watched as the man’s body tensed; back arching away from the wall and into the man on his knees before him, a breathless moan escaping him.
He stepped back then. Didn’t wait to see if the blond man with the kaleidoscope hair swallowed or spit, white onto black. He moved back down the hall, towards the noise. Stopped at the vinyl sofa and dropped into it.
The couch was slick as though it had been polished and he had to set his feet on the floor to keep himself from sliding forward. He stared straight ahead at black steps, hearing the sticking and un-sticking of his own footsteps echo in his head. Stared straight ahead as two men went by him, one whose hair slowly returned to its natural shade of blond as he climbed the steps.
Soon only their feet were visible though he couldn’t hear the sounds of their feet sticking to the steps. Maybe it was just his that did it.
The thought made him laugh to himself, the steps clinging to his shoes. He got up then and headed up the stairs, listening carefully to see if they would do it still. They did.
He wondered, if someone was with him, someone who talked to him loudly like the blond man had, would his shoes still stick? He didn’t think so.
End.