Sorry I didn’t get to this yesterday! And, uh… ‘hands’ got you the best result… hands down. ;D So, here you go:
Combeferre ran his hands over his face, sliding them under his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose, again. It was several minutes before he even attempted to speak. When he did, his voice was harsh in a way that Grantaire had never heard it be before. “He’s exhausted. He’s in pain. I know that. But you don’t know Courfeyrac the way I do. When he’s hurting, he pushes people away. It’s just what he does. And he’ll deny it until Doomsday if you try to confront him about it. I just have to trust that when he’s ready, he’ll talk to me. I’m willing to wait for as long as it takes for that to happen.” He looked up. “That’s why I didn’t ask for details. I don’t want them from you. I want them from him.”
And here’s another one, from a different WiP in a different fandom (under the cut because nsfw), just for kicks:
(AND THEN I FORGOT TO PUT IT UNDER A CUT. GOOD GRIEF.)
Curt raised his hands, clutching at the rails of the headboard behind him, and closed his eyes. Moments later, lips descended over his own, hot and devouring, then fell away as though they’d never been. When they returned, it was to his neck, sucking bruises into skin left pale from too many days spent hiding from the sun. Hands joined lips, then, tracing pictures into skin with the bite of nails just this side of too short for the task. A moan rattled in Curt’s throat, rising and falling with each bite, each scratch, each harsh thrust, and still he clutched at the railings, unwilling, even unable, to open his eyes. The body above his surged forward again, gaining speed, losing rhythm. Curt’s breath caught as he arched up in answer, gripping the railings tighter, tighter, ever tighter, to avoid accidentally touching in response; squeezing his eyes shut harder, harder, ever harder, to avoid looking, as well.
That wasn’t how this game was played.
Anyone else want to send me a word for a WiP section? ^_^