promptfic: s/d, enthralled

[sword_logic]

Drifter feels like he’s drowning. The air is thick and slow, as if all the worst summers he ever dreamt of on that damn ball of ice have come to life and are crawling down his throat. Like he’s moving through molasses.

Even Shin’s sharp movements are dulled somehow. His fingertips have long dug bruises into Drifter’s wrists and his lip is curled with impending danger/pleasure/something/anything but all sensations have long melted together in a haze, and all Drifter can pay attention to anymore are Shin’s eyes, flitting from Drifter’s lips to his throat to his chest. Every time he’s looked away, sharp prickling things have crawled down his back and bloomed in his chest. Better to give into paranoia. Let this useless fear snake around his neck one more time.

No, Drifter thinks, not useless. Nothing useless about fearing this man. Nothing useless about refusing the cold press of a sweaty forehead against his temple or ragged, panting breaths beating against his neck. Nothing useless about guarding himself against whatever this is, taking root here between his ribs, like a knife buried to the hilt.

Feeling crawls back into Drifter’s hands, slowly, as Shin’s fingertips slide down to rest against the still-racing pulse in his wrists. His fingers twitch. Shin’s fingers move again as he blows out a sigh and rolls gracelessly, sluggishly to the side, the movement as slow as everything else has been in his periphery. Sweat glints on his forehead, in his hair, at the tip of his nose and caught in the divot of his philtrum, crowning his lip. Drifter watches as the weariness settles in and eases the corner of his mouth, the slight dip between his eyebrows.

His eyes don’t leave Shin’s until consciousness leaves him.