photo for alurien in relation to this by henrikberkelley:
His hands don’t fall away immediately, even when his mate lets go of the other’s throat, Henrik’s hands are still wound in mud caked fur like he has to hold on – like it is keeping him grounded. But then Alurien is moving, his posture shifting just so as the creature on the ground watches with wary, half focused eyes, and the younger man steps back, taking a steadying breath and pushing the hair from his eyes and slicking it back with rain and dirt and not caring. The clear surrender makes that same thing that sent him forward shift restlessly, uneasy – and Henrik is moving again to touch him, to let him know it’s okay, but he hasn’t the chance. He isn’t quick enough and then Alurien is turning away from him and Henrik whines high in his throat, brow knit with confusion when his mate turns from him and leaves. His body moves of its own accord, taking a slow step in the same direction as if to follow, but he can’t see where he went and he doesn’t know what to do, wavering between trying to follow in the fog and rain and turning back to the town he knows – he knows now – is somewhere not far in the other direction.
(Source: satansbaby)
He only falters when he’s turning away, circling to the other side of the man. His green eyes snap out to the side, wander over his grime covered face, and then he’s off. Even with the injured left shoulder and his arm tucked away from the ground, he limps off with a loping, but clearly troubled gait. With the storm, the fog and the lingering smoke, he disappears into the woods almost instantly, heading in the opposite direction of the sleepy coastal town.
(Source: l-a-p-u-t-a)
But, when you come back
if you come back
and that door shuts and locks, we’re no longer employer and employee. We’re not what we have to be in the eyes of everyone else. We’re not like all the rest of them.
We’re just us — imperfect, Cursed creatures wearing these human masks, with teeth where fangs should be, fingers and blunt nails for claws, and skin for scratching, biting, bruising. kissing, tasting, touching.
(Source: s-p-e-c-t-r-u-m)
“Shut up,” was his throaty response. He had no where to look but Henrik — his grey eyes, his scars, his swollen, spit slick mouth.
—————————————————————————
“Shut up, Black.” Though the words are not nearly as dry as he had intended, a little rough with something he doesn’t want to name. In hopes of making the man do exactly as he said, Henrik reaches down and starts to undo the older man’s belt.
The room was silent on the other side of the door, the building itself peaceful for the evening. No couples fighting, no children playing, no dogs barking or inconsiderate tenants with heavy boots on creaky old floors. There were no lights on, just the pale not quite evening light leaking through the windows as the sun went down and the stars came out – hidden by the harsh glow of city lights, stars of their own kind. It made it much more difficult to see inside the apartment – to see the white cat crouched under the bed, mismatched eyes trained on the door and ears pressed back flat, difficult to see the figure drawn up tight against the wall, perfectly still but for gun lifting quickly, carefully, silently to press hard into Alurien’s temple as the door shut behind him, a cold shock of metal accompanied by a too loud click of a hammer being pulled back in warning.
“Mister Black,” Behind him, somewhere to the left, Henrik’s voice was cold with a dangerous sort of pleasantness, “I hope you don’t mind, but I let myself in.”
- henrikberkelley.tumblr.com from Missed the Deadline
(Source: littleplasticthings)
Henrik has tells. He rarely outright asks for what he needs — and while it’s great fun pushing him to that point, right now Alurien wants to be pushed back.
So, even though they’re both stripped and Henrik’s on the ground working a hand around his own half hard cock, Alurien makes no move to sit up off the wall. He just takes another drag off of his cigarette and watches him with eyes that narrow a little more when his nails scrape across the ground.
But, the moment Henrik really pushes back the best way he knows how, the second he says those words and curls his mouth into a sly, knowing little smile, all bets are off. Alurien flinches and goes tense (jealous, but suddenly alert and angry — the threat of it —).
And while he carefully and deliberately snuffs the cigarette out into the floorboards, he isn’t nearly as precise when he lunges forward and roughly grabs Henrik by the back of the neck.
(Source: fancymonochrome)
“My problem,” he begins, desperately trying to keep his voice steady, even when it’s as rough sounding as it is, “is that you — no, my problem is that while I might wear human skin, I’m.” He breaks off for a moment, his jaw clenching. “Sick. Lack control. Is that what you want to know, Berkelley? That it’s hell having to endure you like this, and it’s hell having to endure the thought of you off, and being sized up by other…”
He closes his eyes, opens them, and stares at a point on Henrik’s throat. “You’re my employer. I’m your employee. And while I’m in your debt for your kindness with this job and for your… assistance tonight, I’d prefer if we could keep this professional.” It takes him a moment to remember his hand on his arm — and even longer to peel off his fingers.
(Source: favoritelittlelyrics)
Alurien doesn’t let him make it to the door. He likely doesn’t even let him make it through that sentence. As soon as he’s hit by his shoulder, he reaches out to grab both of his arms and shove him back where he’d been leaning. This time, he does crowd into his space, his narrowed eyes glaring and searching over Henrik’s face, his fingers still pressing tight into his biceps. “Being oblivious would counter your very nature so I’m going to assume you know exactly what you’re doing. I don’t know what you think’ll be gained by playing this game beyond me running out of patience. You don’t want me to treat you like a child? Fine, then stop acting like one. Stop trying to work your way under my skin at all times.”
(Source: henrikberkelley)
“You were the one who chose to pursue this arrangement, and yet you act as though it is some terrible inconvenience – no, some terrible affront to you that we continue on. And,” For a moment, he looks lost, a perhaps just a bit younger than he had a moment ago, brow furrowed and expression unsure. “If you hate me so much, then let this be the end of it.”
When his eyes drop back to Henrik, his throat goes dry. “You think I…” The corner of his mouth turns up into a bitter smile and then it’s gone just as quickly. “I don’t hate you. I don’t hate you at all, don’t you see that’s the problem?”
