This thing I wrote more recently, today in fact, waiting for my class to start. I’m starting to really love this notebook. Catching those crazy little ideas and scenes on paper. This is using the same character in Water Dance, for those paying attention.
He had a special smell, a deep husky scent that was a mix of sweat, blood and dust. Perhaps not too appealing when you really thought about it that way, but to Zouriel it was so uniquely him that is could only evoke feelings of comfort and safety.
Just a year ago the mere thought of being this close with another person, another man would have shocked and scared him, yet now he could not imagine his life without him. The hardest part had been accepting those feelings. If he had not had that assurance from the other, if he hadn’t caught onto the complex emotions boiling under Zouriel’s skin, affecting his mind nothing might have come of this. Zouriel would have been left in agony and internal torment for a while, but that would have been it. But he had noticed Zouriel’s feelings and most importantly, had reciprocated them.
His gentle coaxing had helped him to slowly accept what he was, a homosexual, attracted to other men, something forbidden according to the church he still belonged to. It had given him some form of pleasure to think of it a “sticking it to the big guy upstairs”, as revenge for the shit he’d put him through. The idea hadn’t been entirely Zouriel’s, but he had accepted it readily enough when it had been presented to him, entangled in his arms in a dark corner of the barracks.
Now he belonged to him and he belonged to Zouriel, they were each other’s dark secrets, scars, smells and all.