driftfleet | dreams in digital

[ Calibration Rooms ]
( for A-M characters )

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ROOMS BY CHARACTER

A - C

Connor

D - F

G - I

Haggar

J - M

Lup

(last updated: 1/21/19)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

How could he not? It was true that in terms of their relationship being anything physical, anything more than friends, had only been going on for a short while, but he did care for Kurt. Quite a bit. To know that he had nothing to go home to, that he simply had dark and loneliness - it hurt. It hurt so much. Broken a piece of him. Even if they weren't lovers, he would be making the same offer.

"There might be, that doesn't mean you have to accept it," he said, swallowing thickly. "When we find a way back to our worlds, you can come with me. You'll fit right in on the Enterprise, in my world. I mean, you're already science officer blue." He smiled shakily, letting out a sniff as he held back the tears and the clenching of his heart.

Kurt hasn't had anything to go home to in the years since Linda died. For a brief moment, he thought Bobby--but then the man had shattered, and what came back was as heartless as the Arctic circle. There'd been nothing but the war, vengeance for his wife, and once that was done? He'd expected to be as well.

Except, given time to heal Kurt knows damn well he'd have kept going for the dream, his X-Men and their rotten universe. That realization is why his smile, though gentle and warm as it spreads across his face, is weighted with sorrow. He doesn't answer verbally, choosing instead to lean in and seek Jim's lips for a gentle kiss.

Not quite an answer, but not quite a complete rejection either. It was not what he hoped for, but it was also better than the worse case. He pressed into the kiss, winding his arms around Kurt, fingers still twisted around the space of his tail. He sucked gently at Kurt's lower lip, pulling back with a quick nip, as if to admonish the other.

"Think about it, okay?" he asked him.

The nip draws a startled breath from him, not quite enough sound to it to be a gasp. His tail twitches, the spade curling over Jim's hand even as Kurt finds himself wondering exactly how he'd ended up basically enveloped by the man. A soft smile curls his lips, even as he resists the urge to sag against the oth--his lover, dammit. Call a spade a spade. To lean into his lover and let his guard down.

When he looks into Jim's eyes and thinks of gold, the nagging familiarity clicks. "You remind me of Sascha, right now," is his whispered answer.

"Sascha?"

He kept the other close, taking his weight willingly, silently encouraging the other to let him take it, that with him he was safe. His fingers shifted to stroke Kurt's hair, not quite petting him so much as teasing the feeling of the dark blue locks, silken compared to the fuzz of his fur.

Not safe, but he lets his hands slide down, fingers barely skimming the other man's cheeks and jaw before settling against his chest. Then, and only then, does he allow himself to lean against Jim, just a little. A soft, content little hum escapes when he feels Jim stroking his hair, his eyelids lowering to half-mast.

"Mhm. He said he wouldn't let it happen either. Ready to fight the universe, believe it or not." There's no bitterness in his voice, or laughter; simply a deep fondness tempered with wistfulness.

“Well, I’ve actually done that, and won,” he pointed out, continuing his gentle petting. He bent his head, kissing the top of Kurt’s head for good measure, able to take a sweet breath of him.

“A few times, actually. Hasn’t Chekov told you?”

In the waking world, Jim would probably get at least a hint of sulfur, despite Kurt's diligent hygiene. But here in their minds (his, specifically) Kurt simply smells of the shampoo he uses, clean and a little like lavender. But only a little.

The question gets a soft chuckle, more air than sound and mostly noticeable by the shaking of his shoulders. "Loathe as I am to crush your ego, Pavel and I don't often talk about you." He hesitates before lifting his head, an impish grin flashing at the other man. "Mostly we swear badly in the other person's native tongue."

"Mostly about me though, I assume, with swearing involved," he chuckled back, leaning in to brush that grin with is lips. He liked it better when Kurt smiled, when he teased, when he seemed to brighten just a bit.

"Or has he been convincing you that everything under the sun is Russian made?" he trailed his lips along the other's jaw, nuzzling into his beard, fingers twisting Kirk's tail higher up his wrist.

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