Close

He is wearing high fucking heels. Girl shoes. Leather. And a smirk.
Today is just one of those days.
He wants to fall asleep in the shower with his make-up still on.
He wants to bathe in glitter and glamour. He wants to ignite.

______________________“What the fuck do you actually want? You have to talk to me.”
_____________________________________________Tommy isn’t usually this intense.
___________________________-___________________________This confrontational.
_________________-__________All Adam really wants is to just fuck his problems away.
_____________-___________________________________________To forget his head.

The club is dark and luminescent.
A shiny pearl night sky resting in the curve of his hand.
He smells like Dior and hotel shampoo.
He is tall and beautiful and he’s got this air about him
Like he might catch fire.

______________________________Tommy’s eyes are dark and he can’t tell if it’s anger.
_________________-_____________________________________________Or desire.
_____________________________________________________________Or emotion.

The drinks here are high class and hard.
They come in a variety of colors:
lust, pain, shame, and sex.
The music blends with the crowd which blends with the electric feeling
of his veins.

_________________________-_________________________Tommy is breathing hard.
________________-____________________Adam thinks about him without his clothes.
______________________________________________________Without his restraint.

They lock eyes across the room.
It’s not dramatic.
Or even seductive.
It’s a matter of fact.
His hair is blonde and he has a blood red pout.
Fucking red lipstick.

____________________________________________He rolls his fucking beautiful eyes.
________________________________--___________He knows what Adam is thinking.
______________________________________________He knows what Adam is feeling.
___________________________________________So, why did he even bother asking?

Adam stumbles through the crowd.
Clumsy on his heels and lacking his natural grace.
His tongue tastes sharp and slick.
Alcohol sterile.
He wonders if someone has a lighter
Or a match.

________________________________________________His eyes are hard and slicing.
_________________________________________________They cut right through him.
____________________-_______________________He is close-so fucking close-to him.
_________________-_________His whispers something Adam doesn’t bother to listen to.
_________________-___________________He can feel Tommy’s breath lick at his teeth.

He doesn’t even speak.
He can’t be heard over the music anyway.
The kiss is rough and casual and wonderful in an unsteady way.
He tastes like cologne and sex in bathrooms. Like smoke and horror.
But mostly he just tastes like lipstick.

__________________________________________________Tommy kisses him lightly.
__________________________________________With sweet magnetic undercurrents.
____________________________And the world drains away like wet paint on a canvas.