ask-keith:

He’s unsteady on his feet, staggering a little when he manages to clamber free of the car and push the door shut. His eyes are half-lidded, eyelids flushed and almost bruised-looking, the color of his irises bleached out almost blue and fenced by frayed veins. He’s dizzy and his stomach turns when he steps forward, but he jogs all the way to Keith’s front door anyway, letting the world outside the confines of the car swirl in muddled colors around him. 

Forty hours of driving with a nap of four hours to section it in half - curled up in the front seat with his forehead resting on his knees - in the tangle of the holiday rush left the same exhaustion that battling a hoard of infected might have… without the satisfying splatter of blood as he mowed down the opposition. Instead all he can think about is the warm embrace of Keith’s bed and the excellent space heater Keith’s body is with his arms wrapped around the brunette. 

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Ellis: Merry early Christmas, Keith… thisain’ttoogirlyrigh’? S’um.. uh pair uh earrin’s.

And now for something a little different - collaboration between an artist and whatever the heck I did on the right. 

Over 6000 words of Ellis handling being a homosexual. Nothing but characterization establishment. OTL

It’s four in the morning when the alarm begins to beep, summoning Ellis out of a sound sleep in his boyfriend’s warm embrace. They don’t usually spoon and he can’t remember Keith wrapping his arms around him like this, but Keith’s facial hair is scratchy on his ear, his chest is a wall of heat against El’s shoulders, and the arms ensnaring him are circled in sleep-heavy affection… and Ellis couldn’t produce a complaint if he tried. It’s torture to unwrap himself and slip out of bed, Keith’s sleepy mumbles in his wake, and El goes straight for the clock on the dresser before it rouses Keith from sleep as well. 

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ask-keith:

It says EL’S BUTT in the mechanic in question’s messy, cursive-looped handwriting, the blue ink from the cheap pen glistening wet on the white glossy underside of the wrapping paper. It’s a small section of plain green wrap, the sheer square of tape turning the paper a little blue where it holds it to the end of his nose. It flutters noisily on each exhale, the two word phrase smacking back across his lips when he draws in an indignant breath. 

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[ 4147 WORDS OF THE BEST FUCKING PORN I’VE EVER WRITTEN. MERRY MOTHERFUCKING CHRISTMAS. ]

They stand in the living room with bated breath as the rumble of Sarah’s car glides out of the driveway, fading to a purr as it drives away from the brunette’s trailer, taking the incessant nattering of Ellis’s twin siblings away with it. Ellis hauls his Thor t-shirt off smoothly, the red fabric clutching his sun-honeyed skin as if loath to leave, exposing the tight muscles of his chest and stomach and the ugly, pink-fleshed thickness of the slash marks left by a Witch on his side. His nipples are already stiff, chest hitching briefly when Keith’s hand skims across the brunette’s stomach, fingers catching the button of his baggy jeans to pop it loose, knuckles brushing the trickle of hair down his midriff. 

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ask-keith:

There’s a whistle in the wind, a persistent whisper of noise in the trees; Keith can hear it billow against the windows, bringing with it a sting of cold he can feel like a chaste kiss when he leans close to peer into the darkness. He cards a hand through the lank mess of his bangs, flipping them out of the half-lidded navy of his eyes, glancing from the window to the fat Christmas tree now residing in his living room. Its trunk is thick and tall, allowing plenty of clearance beneath the dense sprawl of its lowest branches for presents of all proportions. Perfect to suit a party he expects to accumulate over a dozen attendees.  

Ellis is sprawled comfortably on the couch, a towel thrown around his muscular shoulders to catch the drip of his damp curls, a shower after work leaving him visibly relaxed. He sips at a beer, enjoying the sizzle of it on his tongue, and nudges Keith with his foot when he notices him staring. “Come down here an’ gimme uh kiss.” 

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ask-keith:

[ SOME ADULT CONTENT. GENERALLY CRAPPY WRITING. ]

The breeze that catches Keith in the face when he gets out of his truck smells like cold rain; he glances to the navy sprawl of evening sky, black clouds roiling in the distance with a few silver sparks of lightening crackling silently between them. He offers his good hand to Ellis as they head up to the house, familiar now with the boy’s seemingly unending need to touch him. He gets a happy grin in reward as El tucks his fingers into Keith’s, swinging their twined hands between them as Keith keys the lock and they head inside. 

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[A GUEST SUBMISSION BY MY GIRLFRIEND, HELL-OF-A-CON. Thank you, babylove.]

Ellis can’t help but glance up at the television every few seconds, grey eyes wanting to focus on the task he’d begun over an hour ago.  Yet he couldn’t bring himself not to watch as Charlie Brown and the gang decorated the poor little tree that they called their own.  A smile catches his full lips and he chances a glance back at his boyfriend to see if he’s just as touched and delighted by the old cartoon as he is.

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Inspired by one of the sweetest songs I’ve ever heard, Little Things by Pomplamoose. That’s right, children — songfic ahead! And brief adult content.

~ Para

Sorting all the lights and darks,

Making sure our love won’t lose that spark.

You really didn’t have to.

Neither of them work on Friday morning but they’re up before noon anyway, shirtless and wearing some of Ellis’s Christmas pajama bottoms, dancing cartoon trees cheerfully splattering Keith’s legs while reindeer leap and bound across the brunette’s. They bellow along with the radio as familiar rock music crashes through the hick’s house, Keith’s voice ringing clear over the awkward boyish gravel of Ellis’s boisterous attempt. When Ellis vacuums, Keith comes up behind him, palms framing the jut of his hips - a thumb brushing over the cruel ruts left by a witch - as though they’re dancing, facial hair brushing against El’s ear as Keith purrs the chorus just for him. 

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ask-keith:

Ellis peels his jacket off the moment they enter the reception room, dropping it haphazardly on the back of his chair and devouring a plate of food and two glasses of wine in a ravenous rush. He’s swept up in the conversation, cheering and clanging his fork against the sloped side of his glass when someone says something even remotely related to the newlyweds, and won’t stop kissing his boyfriend even when Para arches an eyebrow at him from across the table. She mimes sliding two fingers into the circle of her other hand and Ellis flips her his middle finger as he shoves his tongue in Keith’s mouth. 

They break apart and Keith flicks him on the nose. 

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ask-keith:

It’s remarkably slow even for a Tuesday, and they spend a majority of the day cleaning to compensate, sorting through cluttered tools and placing them back in their intended toolboxes and shelving. Dave is less talkative today, letting Ellis and Keith chatter amongst themselves, and at lunch the pair end up getting a pizza and sprawl in the back of Keith’s truck to eat it in companionable silence. 

They leave early and head to the grocery store because Keith’s fridge is lacking after so many days spent at Ellis’s house. There’s a liquor store across the street and Ellis casually says he could go for a drink, and Keith’s across road and sixty bucks into some Captain Morgan’s and a bottle of Yukon Jack before Ellis is done putting the groceries in Keith’s truck. 

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It’s a little boutique recently built about a mile from the mall, the front half of the building nothing but glass with mannequins posed in formal wear with spindly tables housing companion accessories scattered between. Keith’s rolling his eyes before they even get out of his truck, but he trots along behind Ellis anyway, long-suffering as always when the hick is enthusiastic about something mundane. Ellis paws at Keith’s hand and Keith smiles and tucks their fingers together agreeably. 

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[ CO-SUBMISSION BETWEEN ME AND MY LOVE ASK-KEITH~ ADULT CONTENT AHOY. ]

It’s one of those barn-type places with rough wood flooring and peanut shells everywhere, the chaos and clatter of the kitchen audible under the chatter and laughter from the swamped tables and booths; there are a dozen families and random clusters of men watching the game over a beer, Keith and Ellis secluded the back corner by the kitchen with the dull orange glow of the low-hanging lamps not quite reaching their snug booth. Ellis pushed his way in beside Keith after the redhead had sat down, ignoring his side of the booth other than to toss their coats across it, cheerfully ignoring the perplexed server’s glance when he’d come by to take their orders. 

“Ah’m payin’ fer mine,” Ellis declares as he forcibly snuggles up under Keith’s arm, having removed his hat and placed it with his hoodie so his fussed curls could tuck up under Keith’s chin as he impulsively shoved aggressive cuddling onto him.

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[ ADULT CONTENT AHEAD. YISS. ]

It’s Sunday when Keith rolls out of bed to the persistent blare of the alarm clock, nudging the blanket-wrapped lump that is in fact his slumbering boyfriend. It’s the first time in two weeks that he’s woken up before the brunette, and he takes a moment to watch the slow rise of Ellis’s dense lashes, soft gray eyes glossy and a lost sort of frown on his full mouth before he turns his face towards Keith. “Babe?” he mumbles, his voice fragile, and Keith’s immediately back in bed stroking his hair and shushing the last furls of a nightmare away.  

They cuddle in the shower and Ellis’s mood picks right up. 

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Keith’s grabbing them both a beer from the fridge when he first notices them - three sheer plastic containers, within each of which sushi is neatly tucked in rows with an artistic flourish of sauce or colorful additives. They’re perched right next to the pudding cups Ellis devours like air, as though the spot has been unofficially designated for Keith’s most adored food.

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