Gabriel smiled at that, craning his head up and locking eyes with his lover with a fixed calm in his eyes. “I will,” he said, like even he himself believed that he would-- there was no reality, he may have decided, having waded through all the possible futures, in which he didn’t make this dream happen.
He actually knew there were numerous. Shrugging yet, he added, with half a grin, “And if it doesn’t happen”, but he didn’t finish. And if it doesn’t happen, then what? Pouting in front of the camera for the rest of his life? It was nothing he’d use against Adrian to indicate his modeling job was lesser than any other-- it wasn’t anything Gabriel thought to use to describe his own interest, a modeling, half-assed career that he mostly utilized in private classrooms, naked in front of a large audience of ten or twenty students. Bared without a single piece of cloth to cover an inch of his person, arranged in some beautiful pose like a Greek god. An Adonis of an American, modern rendition, although Gabriel looked at Adrian like he was the God between the two. He smiled--
And shook his head. “No.” No, nothing to do about the nightmares, but then Gabriel frowned somewhat, somewhat, an important detail that seemed to weigh in plenty like the reality of the divorce transpiring ‘cause of a cheating spouse and her twenty suitors-- somewhat, and Gabriel looked up with a confessing smile, and said, “I… actually… haven’t been letting him help me.” He shook his head again, quickly, and quickly adding, “I know”, his hands on Adrian’s chest, planted there, steady. His lifeline and floating device, making sure he didn’t drown. And the reality of this confession drew Gabriel’s brows together in a grimace-like expression, guilt, sorrow commingling for a second to raise his head an empathetic smirk and he’d say, “I know… I should let him. But they come so rarely… and I hate being dependent on substances to get me through them.” He smiled, then. Larger, more confident.
“I have you.” Said that. “I have him.” Patted his hands over Adrian’s chest and looked down there as well, like he could see the ripples of the contact sending shudders through the man’s frame. Like he could imagine how the skin roused there, reddening beneath the harmless, and repeated slaps. He wanted to disrobe Adrian, then. A thought naturally salacious, still when Gabriel perused it in repeats most obsessive and red in nature, it seemed to finish on a rather innocent flavor-- a desire to meet ear with the chest right where Adrian’s heart was and listen.
For long whiles after.
Gabriel smiled-- gentle. Little. It didn’t need to be big to feel like the sun.
“I have the pack. I don’t want potions. I want what I gave up on in the first place that made me feel this way. I want you people.”
He locked eyes with Adrian for that.
He looked at the car, then.
It didn’t really tell him much-- it might have been a text in some elaborate other language, entirely too foreign to the point he didn’t believe such words and sounds even existed. Ignorant, and Gabriel looked over the insides of the car with the evident, tenacious desire to understand how they connected, syllables making one’s thoughts come to life-- he looked over them, then chest--
Adrian bent them over the hood and Gabriel, calm, gave him a smile that was charmed and warm.
He laughed when his back hit the hood.
Reflexively, his arms swung around Adrian’s neck, like he’d force the man down with himself, like Adrian would have just tossed him there, a whore for the taking and then gotten off him and unzipped his pants, letting them sink over his cheeks. Gabriel couldn’t deny; it was an appealing thought. As red as blood.
Red as the patch on his neck, agitated by the touch. And Gabriel, his arms falling back to prop him against the hood by his elbows, tilted his head back with a content, satisfied smile on his face, appearing like some big-wig woman receiving her manicure, so very certain of her supremacy over others no doubt she translated the crouching, focused woman working on her nails into an evidence of deserving the best. He existed like that, for a while. Eyes hooding and then their hazel gone.
He didn’t moan.
He shivered. Gasped.
But it sounded too akin to laughter.
He hummed as their cheeks were rubbed once more, and pinned upon Adrian a look golden, as golden as the man’s as the man did pull away, leaving him hanging so to speak, without dick or lips or wandering, cheeky hands. Gabriel just stared up at him, a smile tickling his lips, lopsided naturally and the aura of contentment he wore unabated, calm and steady.
He hummed, again. A good ride, of course.
He remained leaning where he’d been left, almost like he couldn’t quite compute lying on his back without a man lying on top of himself. He moved, then, he moved without ado and with the light of his movement, skittering off to the bag he’d brought with and immediately reaching inside to begin taking out the lunch boxes.
“More. I cooked too.”
He had, and at once the boxes were all lain out, down on the desk with other metallic tools existing in a stark, accidental contrast.
“Spiced Indian rice, curried chicken with coconut milk, two paneer dosa, and actually a light fruit salad, since I figured the dinner itself was rich enough. Even though it is fruit salad sitting on a bed of whipped cream.” All that out, though still boxed in, Gabriel gave Adrian a crooked grin--
“Espero que te guste.”
[I hope you like it.]
Approaching the man again, he nosed against his chin, just so he could tilt his head up, hands on Adrian’s shoulders and his lips snagging against his under chin, nipping there on the skin. He trailed up, catching the corner of Adrian’s lips between his teeth, but he didn’t kiss him.
Leaned back, locking their eyes--
“I’ve been thinking,” said that, with a curl in his lips and his attention solely on the man, pinning, though not pining. Calm and searching as he paired it with a grin. “I… actually know nothing about cars, so I figured if you were willing, you could teach me something?” And then he shot Adie’s car a look.
A hand on his hip and Gabriel commented, realistic as he’d explain with that faint flare of amusement in his expression as he drawled, “If, you know, it’s possible at all, I know teaching others is hard. Ask Yuan.”
He mock-cringed a bit at that, but there was no need to explain why; Yuan, the hybrid. Yuan, the hybrid who wanted to eat him. Yuan, the hybrid that Gabriel was insanely drawn to, to own ire, and detriment both. He avoided him consciously. Talked scarcely. And when they did, he felt a stab of hard, horrid longing for the man’s fangs deep in him.
But you didn't hear him say it.