||[Aug. 14th, 2003|01:52 am]
His answer tickled hairs on his forearm. Paused. extended. Reaching for a puddle that would drown him.
Would Elijah take his offered hand?
Was there ever any question?
Sweaty fingers wrapped around the hyper-stimulated skin of his wrist;
wrong after the soft breath of his name. Already testing Karl's will.
"Karl. Help me up?"
Twisting without releasing, pulling gracelessly up and forward, and Elijah stumbles against hardness.
The only answer for a boy like Elijah.
Holding his hips, digging fingernails into skin, marking and branding.
And repeating, now that he has Elijah's full attention:
"Hello, I'm Karl"