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"Just a Brush of Skin" -- Walter's Path

Morgan Says: This is a part of the Choose-Your-Own-Character (CYOC) storyline. Do not read unless you've read the first post in this chain.


Keen ears heard as Thompson announced the people hiding behind the gate, and Walter had the vaguest feeling that he'd only nearly escaped with his dignity intact. Cold steps greeted him as he hurried up them, away from the howls of the Stead and the clanging of metal, trying to shelter baby Cecile's ears with his palms the very best he could.

She was so small, and yet with those people as her parents, there wasn't any doubt she'd turn into just as ruthless of a killer. Probably a leader, in fact.

His weathered face watched her tiny features as he ascended the flight of stairs that led to Cecile's room. Thommy and Arriel had their own home, a rarity among the pack, and Cecile had been gifted with an entire room to herself, toys and furniture and more movies than any child her age could need.

Walter's night sight was flawless as he avoided a giant rocking horse strewn dead-center in the hallway. Backing into her room, he nimbly leapt over toys and settled the young girl in her bed, where she shifted for the first time in almost an hour.

Sighing, he settled at the bottom of her large bed, her pastel pink canopy billowing around him as he leaned back to sing her a gentle lullaby. It wasn't anything special, more of an improvisation about wolves not stealing her childhood, but it seemed to do the trick.

Little Cici was fast asleep when he turned to tiptoe away, stopping dead at the blonde leaning carelessly in the door frame.

"I didn't hear you," Walt insisted, his voice low as he stepped towards the door. His face flushed -- he'd been too preoccupied with the young girl in his song and telling Cici her tale to hear Daniel approach.

Or maybe he was blushing because it was Danny. He hadn't quite decided whether or not it mattered.

"I was quiet," Danny said. He backed into the dark hallway so that Walt could follow him outside and gently shut Cici's door.

"Not hunting?" The older man tried to control the inflection in his voice, but didn't quite keep it inside. Most of the pack would be throwing themselves into the woods -- and, as ashamed as he was to admit it, Walter wished he were among them. Letting himself kill or be killed, since those in the hunt always went in armed. Not that it would do the humans much good.

"I wanted to be with you."

Slowing in his decent of the stairs, Walt watched the way Daniel's steps didn't falter as his honesty spilled out. Walter could be honest in his music, could be honest for other's good, but he wasn't used to it in others. Then again, this was Danny, and he did hold the pack record for beatings due to mouthing off.

A forced chuckle echoed down the stairwell, swelling around Walt and tripping up Danny's steps as he swung towards the door, stopping and leaning with his eyes taking the older man in. Walter's breath came sharply as his inhibitions overcame him, trying not to strut down the steps because Daniel was young, too young for Walt to consider things happening between them.

Daniel was in his songs, in his dreams, in his fantasies when his hand grabbed himself and smashed his erection into his hand with a frantic hum and rock of his hips, but Walter was the wall itself that kept Daniel from him.

It wasn't right, and the young blonde should be allowed to stay the smart ass he was, to run around and be young and hunt the screaming souls in the silken depths of the night.

"Don't laugh," Danny snapped. He was pouting, and Walter stopped walking only inches away from him.

His nimble hands -- fingers careful to caress his saxophone regularly, keeping it in tune for the orchestra that he played with in town -- took in Danny's frowning face, thumb stroking the soft curves of his forehead, and running down his eyes, the sensation of being touched shoving them shut, along his lips -- which parted with a gasp at my tough-- to rub the smoothness of his chin. He must've shaved before the party-- otherwise Danny usually had a decent accumulation of five o'clock shadow by mid-day.

Air hummed between them, the howls and barks and wails of the people in the forest singing a song of unification between them. Daniel pushed his jean-clad hips away from the wall, suddenly and savagely grabbing Walter around the hips with one hand and his head with the other, shoving himself into the older man.

Fingers jerked through Walter's salt and pepper hair, Daniel sassy but not enough to kiss Walter without his permission, even as the blonde's body undulated against Walt, driving a bitten off moan through the musician's teeth.

"Let me kiss you," Danny begged. His eyes so close, so intense, the same orb of the evening biting through Walt's concrete wall of control. It wasn't right, wasn't fair -- Daniel was so soft, his breathe hanging on the air and tasting of the deer from the cookout, raw and seasoned with fresh death.

Blonde hair dipped between them, the flickering light of the fire stretching through the open doorway and casting moonlit shadows on Daniel's hopeful face, lips parted and forehead drawn in desire. "Please."

"No, I--"

A tongue flicked out, swift and sensual, licking Walter's dry lips and stopping his words cold. Unable to watch, the graying-haired man shivered his eyes shut, unable to stop the way his spine ached against Danny's hard chest, legs trembling as they adjusted towards the younger man, Daniel's hands so firmly massaging only inches above his ass, other hand twirling at the dead back of his neck.

"I think of you all the time," Walter hummed, between panting gasps of air.

He wished Daniel wouldn't always surprise him like this, that he'd stop, move on. Each time Dan pushed against him, pleading, was more difficult to resist than the last.

"Then let me kiss you." The tongue was back out after the request, darting around the edges of Walter's mouth, brushing against his own chin's stubble. The rough sandpaper sounds mingled into their breathing and the ruffle of jeans rubbing Danny's hopeful erection against Walter's thigh to make a beautiful chord, one that Walter knew he'd try to replicate in his songs for months afterwards.

"I can't." It was choked, but it was there, out, admitted. But Walter didn't move away as Danny's head bowed against the older man's shoulder in disgust, and let the younger man ride his thigh for just a little bit longer, his hope dying in contrary motion to his panting requests.

But he wouldn't let him finish, not against him, not like that, not ever. Walter was shoving Daniel away firmly, his transition into immortality ripening his strength in a way that those born to it never handled.

Daniel had made him, and someday, if he kept trying, he would make Walt give in.

Someday, the graying man thought, pushing out into the darkness and retreating to his room, to the sterile touch of his own hand-- someday, but not anytime soon.


a porch


"Honey From a Thorn" - - ((by Morgan O'Friel))
Morgan O'Friel's Homepage
"Life is ever
Since man was born,
Licking honey
From a thorn."

- Lois Ginsberg

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