chicks, pants, showing it all, dancing


See the Shadows of Innocence and Sanity

a shadow of the day

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hard as lightning, soft as candlelight (alex, TRT)
chicks, pants, showing it all, dancing
(also fits cues challenge from 7/13/05 "awkward situations" in 35 mins)
this is what comes from finding out your character's fondest memory is getting thrown out of a girl's bed after a one-night stand. and then she became his girlfriend. *nods* plus, it's nice to read over old old old logs. Luke/Luca/Lu are all the same girl--lucacharleston, from warped_view.
Alex/Luca, the one-night stand that started it all. Luca's ex is named Gabe and he's a scary mofo.

About Alex.

“You have to leave. Now.” He feels a hand against his bare shoulder, slightly damp and fever-warm against his skin. He makes a grumbly noise and cracks an eye at the intruder on his pleasant unconscious state. “Get. Up.” Each word is sharp and loud.

“What the fuck?” he asks softly, grimacing at the glue and fur taste in his mouth that could only come from overindulgence in alcoholic beverages. Again. He shivers as she yanks the covers from him and pushes him out of bed. “Alright, alright. I’m up.”

The hallway light is flooding in around the open door, spilling a bright pool over strewn clothes and faintly patterned rugs over wooden floors. He flinches a little, trying to shake himself further awake. She catches his eye, too-long tee shirt brushing against her thighs as she picks through the clothes she sees hurriedly. Her face heats, embarrassment and anger in her eyes as she thrusts shoes and a pair of pants at him.

“My ex. You have to leave.” She gestures out the door, tapping a bare foot on the floor impatiently.

Alex’s lips quirk up in a grin. “So that’s who I heard.”

“Get out!” she fumes, voice tightening and raising in pitch.

He holds up his hands in a placating gesture, juggling his shoes back into his arms. “I’m going.”

She pushes and prods at his back, barely moving him though her fingers are sharp against his sore muscles. She doesn’t look at the scratches on his shoulders that could have been made sometime over the course of the night. He pauses in the hallway just outside her door, stepping over a box that fell as they came in. She lets out a shaky breath, closing her eyes against a wave of heat and memory, the rough bruise blooming on her hip where they got… sidetracked in their movement to the bedroom. He plucks up his shirt from where it is draped across the corner of the box and shrugs it onto his shoulders, open down the front where more than a few of the buttons are missing.

She pushes him forward again, determinedly trying to force him from the apartment. He goes with only a little resistance, a cocky smile and a glance in the mirror in her exiting hall to flatten the muss she’s made of his hair.

“Don’t come back. I don’t do this,” she says as she’s closing the door in his face.

“What’s your name?” he calls, hand pressing against the door where he knows she’s slumped with her back against it, locks tumbling into place. He laughs softly when she doesn’t answer, drops his clothes to pull on his jeans one leg at a time. His head’s still a little slow with liquor and sleep, so it takes some concentration. But all he can think is that he needs to see this girl again.

He smiles cheekily at a couple passing him in the hallway, fingertips brushing over mouth-shaped bruises on his belly. Oh, he has to see this girl again.


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