MCA #0: Late Sunday Night

[needsaparrot]

It's getting late but eventually, Xander and Bridge do make it back from the beach. Xander lets them into his apartment, putting a finger to his lips as he calls into the empty place, "Hey band-guys, if you're still here, now would be a good time to clear out..."
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[OOC: For Bridge, likely mildly NWS. Eventually. Shut up.]

Comments

[bridge-carson.livejournal.com]

"Keep going." And Bridge can't quite explain *why* he's as fascinated by this as he is. He lets one hand slowly wander across Xander's skin as he listens- well, listens and *watches*, kinda.

[needsaparrot]

"First time I tried it I found out pretty fast that it might seem like a good idea to hook 'em around the bedpost with your hands over your head, but there's a bit of a kink in that plan..."

[bridge-carson.livejournal.com]

Bridge laughs. "I thought the kink *was* the plan."

[needsaparrot]

"...Okay, there was a kink in the kink." Xander slides his hands up over his head to demonstrate, pretending they're fastened to the headboard instead of just grabbing it. "This? Worked just great when I was thinking about you being... pretty much where you are now. But there comes a point when imaginary-you needs a little help, and I've only got the two hands."

[bridge-carson.livejournal.com]

"Mmm, good thing I'm not imaginary-me then," Bridge says, offering a little demonstration of just how not-imaginary he is. "What'd you do next?"

[needsaparrot]

Xander writhes against bed, because whoa, hi, not imaginary. "I...uh. Um. Hand. Right."

After a second of breathing hard, he manages to demonstrate what he means, himself, though the picture in his head undoubtedly got there before him.

"Slipped the cuff. Clipped it to the bedpost, and then..." Then his right hand slips down to where there's already a non-imaginary one waiting.

[bridge-carson.livejournal.com]

"Hi there," Bridge murmurs, as his fingers brush Xander's.

[needsaparrot]

Xander wraps his hand around Bridge's, which is already doing some wrapping of its own. "Stop me if you've heard this one before."

[bridge-carson.livejournal.com]

"Now *why* would I want to do that?" Bridge asks.

[needsaparrot]

Xander gives Bridge's fingers a squeeze. Which has fairly obvious consequences and sets off another set of shudders. "Wouldn't want to..." Breathing is nice. "Bore you."

[bridge-carson.livejournal.com]

"Never happen," is Bridge's reply.

[needsaparrot]

"So then I'd do that," Xander says, simply. "Only in my head..." In his head it's Bridge's hand, where Bridge's hand is now.

[bridge-carson.livejournal.com]

Okay, and while normally Bridge is the one giving *Xander* directions, he is not opposed to following them himself, on occasion. Like now for example.

[needsaparrot]

"Yeeaaah. Like that." What, you wanted coherency? "And then..." Xander can't remember and then. Xander can't remember his zip code.

He's got a movie in his head though.

He can't swear that it's one he screened for himself sometime in the last six years when he was alone in bed, not frame for frame. There were a lot of nights like that, and though not all of the flicks starred Bridge - tiny flare of guilt like a cigarette-tip glowing at night, not for the unavoidable fact, but for thinking it at him - a lot of them did.

The one behind his eyelids now, that does. In it, Bridge is reaching between their bodies. Wrapping both their hands around both of them. Leaning down to kiss him as they move together.

[bridge-carson.livejournal.com]

"S'okay," Bridge says, in response to that little flicker of guilt. "You've got me *now*," he murmurs, as he leans down to make that movie in Xander's head a reality.

[needsaparrot]

And Xander? Has absolutely no doubt that it's real, this time.