The heavy drapes had fallen off the window, but no matter- the sun wouldn't pierce the southwest-facing window until the approach of sunset. The moon shone through the uncovered window, bathing the two bodies on the bed in her soft glow. They were a study in contrasts, the entwined figures, polar opposites, each other's negative. Even their lives were antithetical, with both men guilty of killing the other's kind, in the past and in the future. But their physical opposition was never more apparent than when they lay together. Silky raven waves fell across gel-stiffened platinum spikes as the taller, broader man cradled the shorter, slenderer man to his chest. A golden bronze muscled chest heaved gently against a pale chest containing lungs that had been silent for over a century. Strong, thick, work-roughened fingers were intertwined with soft, almost delicate pale hands. Had their eyes been open, one would see more contrast: dark mahogany gazing into deep indigo.
Yet in their eyes also lay their only similarity: love. Love shining in their own eyes and reflected back by their partner. Even to outsiders, the look was unmistakable. Cries in protestation of their relationship from well-meaning friends and family had slammed to a halt at a brief glimpse of the look they shared.
It wasn't easy by any stretch of the imagination, not any of it. Their waking hours were often overflowing with conflict and strife. But the daily struggles of two contrasting existences bound only by affection were all worth it. Worth it if only for quiet moments like this, wrapped in each other, needing nothing more than to be together, each man resting peacefully in the knowledge that he would wake up to his lover's face. And he would see that heart-stopping (or heart-starting as the case may be) reflection of love in his soulmate's eyes. Well, as long as Spike got up before sunset, anyway.
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The heavy drapes had fallen off the window, but no matter- the sun wouldn't pierce the southwest-facing window until the approach of sunset. The moon shone through the uncovered window, bathing the two bodies on the bed in her soft glow. They were a study in contrasts, the entwined figures, polar opposites, each other's negative. Even their lives were antithetical, with both men guilty of killing the other's kind, in the past and in the future. But their physical opposition was never more apparent than when they lay together. Silky raven waves fell across gel-stiffened platinum spikes as the taller, broader man cradled the shorter, slenderer man to his chest. A golden bronze muscled chest heaved gently against a pale chest containing lungs that had been silent for over a century. Strong, thick, work-roughened fingers were intertwined with soft, almost delicate pale hands. Had their eyes been open, one would see more contrast: dark mahogany gazing into deep indigo.
Yet in their eyes also lay their only similarity: love. Love shining in their own eyes and reflected back by their partner. Even to outsiders, the look was unmistakable. Cries in protestation of their relationship from well-meaning friends and family had slammed to a halt at a brief glimpse of the look they shared.
It wasn't easy by any stretch of the imagination, not any of it. Their waking hours were often overflowing with conflict and strife. But the daily struggles of two contrasting existences bound only by affection were all worth it. Worth it if only for quiet moments like this, wrapped in each other, needing nothing more than to be together, each man resting peacefully in the knowledge that he would wake up to his lover's face. And he would see that heart-stopping (or heart-starting as the case may be) reflection of love in his soulmate's eyes. Well, as long as Spike got up before sunset, anyway.