Dirk, for his part, is being remarkably restrained.
Not that he's unhappy to tend to Ranboo--if he really needs it. But this is the first time in weeks that they've been this close to each other. Ever since Ranboo's little "episode," they've touched hardly at at all. It's not just that they haven't had any sex. Dirk gets it, Ranboo isn’t in the mood after finding out what he isn’t--that he, like Dirk, does not exist in the world. Only unlike Dirk, he has no choice.
(Not that Dirk has one either. Not really. But someone out there knows he exists. Someone raised him, and remembers he lived once. Dirk can't begrudge Ranboo the crisis of discovering he's doomed to the same fate Dirk will one day face: never having existed at all.)
But Ranboo has been practically allergic to him since then. Even incidental proximity makes them neurotic. Dirk's been gritting his teeth and taking it in stride--as is the rule for any hardship he's forced to face down. But it has been hard.
Now, supporting Ranboo's nearly boneless frame with his own, lending his strength to Ranboo and feeling not only his weight but his warmth, his life, especially after the stark contrast of their collapse into death...
Letting go is hard. It's excruciating. He wants more. It would be so easy. He could reach down, wrap his hand around Ranboo and work their cock--it would feel so good, so fucking good to finally touch him for real again and remind him of how good they can be.
He wants to. He wants it so goddamn bad.
But he doesn't. He has too much else to do, too many other things to get his hands dirty with. And he's pushed Ranboo enough for now. He's going to have to fight them for more as it is. He doesn't love it. But that's what it always comes down to, and Dirk always does what he has to do.
So it is that once Ranboo has worked his way through the entire glass of water, Dirk is forced to part ways with the body he wants to be in contact with most right now--a body he's only barely satissfied himself on--without which this act of restraint would be nigh Herculean. But it's still not easy, so he does as he's learned to do, and rejects the seductively life-giving presence of Ranboo's touch roughly--almost shoving Ranboo up and off his own frame so he can shrug them off of him like an unwanted suitor. He catches them by the shoulder to keep them from simply dropping back onto the bed like a sack of cement, at least--though even this is brusque and hard-handled.
"Up and at 'em," he says, dropping the glass and pushing Ranboo towards the edge of the bed.
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Not that he's unhappy to tend to Ranboo--if he really needs it. But this is the first time in weeks that they've been this close to each other. Ever since Ranboo's little "episode," they've touched hardly at at all. It's not just that they haven't had any sex. Dirk gets it, Ranboo isn’t in the mood after finding out what he isn’t--that he, like Dirk, does not exist in the world. Only unlike Dirk, he has no choice.
(Not that Dirk has one either. Not really. But someone out there knows he exists. Someone raised him, and remembers he lived once. Dirk can't begrudge Ranboo the crisis of discovering he's doomed to the same fate Dirk will one day face: never having existed at all.)
But Ranboo has been practically allergic to him since then. Even incidental proximity makes them neurotic. Dirk's been gritting his teeth and taking it in stride--as is the rule for any hardship he's forced to face down. But it has been hard.
Now, supporting Ranboo's nearly boneless frame with his own, lending his strength to Ranboo and feeling not only his weight but his warmth, his life, especially after the stark contrast of their collapse into death...
Letting go is hard. It's excruciating. He wants more. It would be so easy. He could reach down, wrap his hand around Ranboo and work their cock--it would feel so good, so fucking good to finally touch him for real again and remind him of how good they can be.
He wants to. He wants it so goddamn bad.
But he doesn't. He has too much else to do, too many other things to get his hands dirty with. And he's pushed Ranboo enough for now. He's going to have to fight them for more as it is. He doesn't love it. But that's what it always comes down to, and Dirk always does what he has to do.
So it is that once Ranboo has worked his way through the entire glass of water, Dirk is forced to part ways with the body he wants to be in contact with most right now--a body he's only barely satissfied himself on--without which this act of restraint would be nigh Herculean. But it's still not easy, so he does as he's learned to do, and rejects the seductively life-giving presence of Ranboo's touch roughly--almost shoving Ranboo up and off his own frame so he can shrug them off of him like an unwanted suitor. He catches them by the shoulder to keep them from simply dropping back onto the bed like a sack of cement, at least--though even this is brusque and hard-handled.
"Up and at 'em," he says, dropping the glass and pushing Ranboo towards the edge of the bed.
"You're not sleeping here yet."