[Rumlow was shaking. He was shaking. They were both shaking, perhaps exposing themselves to a vulnerability that the residents of Hell could see plain as day. They said that nothing good could survive Hell, nothing good ever came out it, and yet, for as much as everything hurt, a part of him certainly didn't regret this either. He didn't regret being loved by the people that did, even if his own emotions were often twisted and mutilated, and it was often difficult for him to sort through his own feelings on the matter.
He ignored the whispers, the chuckling, and even the catcall as Rumlow held him tight and slowly his hands managed to unclench from the tight balls he held them in and reach out. His fingers caught and fisted in Rumlow's shirt, balling the material and not even regretting that he was smearing his blood either. This was as much as he could hold Rumlow back, assuring himself that they were still here, that all this raw emotion was not going to tear him apart.
He shuddered at the growling conviction in Rumlow's voice, and he forced himself to take a deep breath and hold it. Out it went and then the next drawn in, held and exhaled.] I trust you. I've never met anyone with conviction like yours.
[Finally, slowly, he turned his head, pressing his lips to Rumlow's temple and buried his nose into the hard base of Rumlow's horn, breathing in the spicy scent. His fingers balled tighter in Rumlow's shirt because what else could he do right now with everything feeling like it was in tatters?
Was this rock bottom? Was this the moment when the real fight began, where his programming had less hold on him and he could slip his leash? Was this that moment? Was he going to waste it even if it wasn't?
No.]
We should... go back inside. Or go somewhere else. I don't want to make a scene that will end with demons regretting their decision to stare at us.
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Date: 2017-01-10 05:08 pm (UTC)He ignored the whispers, the chuckling, and even the catcall as Rumlow held him tight and slowly his hands managed to unclench from the tight balls he held them in and reach out. His fingers caught and fisted in Rumlow's shirt, balling the material and not even regretting that he was smearing his blood either. This was as much as he could hold Rumlow back, assuring himself that they were still here, that all this raw emotion was not going to tear him apart.
He shuddered at the growling conviction in Rumlow's voice, and he forced himself to take a deep breath and hold it. Out it went and then the next drawn in, held and exhaled.] I trust you. I've never met anyone with conviction like yours.
[Finally, slowly, he turned his head, pressing his lips to Rumlow's temple and buried his nose into the hard base of Rumlow's horn, breathing in the spicy scent. His fingers balled tighter in Rumlow's shirt because what else could he do right now with everything feeling like it was in tatters?
Was this rock bottom? Was this the moment when the real fight began, where his programming had less hold on him and he could slip his leash? Was this that moment? Was he going to waste it even if it wasn't?
No.]
We should... go back inside. Or go somewhere else. I don't want to make a scene that will end with demons regretting their decision to stare at us.