Work Text:
"Do you feel it?"
The vast emptiness. The uncertainty. It's beyond comprehensive.
"I'm doing what I can."
You try to convince yourself. You can make the effort. Despite the way the world is churning, you can't be alone. It's not safe. Total isolation will consume you if they won't first. With every knock comes another interrogation; what are you doing here? How long will you stay? How can I trust you? Some are aggressive, others are desperate, a few are on their last breath. But despite this, you have to let them in.
They never thought they'd find company in a strangers home. The hermit had asked him to go see the foreigner first. "This room is getting too crowded." The man explained, "someone's going to have to move or leave." Not a single person volunteered, much to the man's anger. He gripped his shotgun tightly, he clearly wasn't comfortable with such silence. Out of either fear or compliance, the man in a coat raised his hand rather slowly. Maybe somewhere else in the house is warmer. He rose from the couch and quietly left the living room, looking out into the hallway with the hermit. His eyes burned into the shivering man. "Are you leaving?" Where else was there to go? The chilly guest shook his head, not yet, he beckoned. With a sigh, the homeowner hurriedly shoved the other into a cramped and arrid storage closet. "Behave." He demanded in the doorway, before shutting the door. The coat guy had believed he was alone until he turned around. A tall, tanned man with a bloody mouth looked bewilderly at him. His appearance was oddly clean compared to his situation. He was clearly shocked to be sharing his domain, especially so abruptly.
They looked at each other for just a moment until with a shiver, the coat guy let out a quiet, pathetic apology and shuttled to the end of the closet. He slumped down onto the ground and huddled himself into his knees. He wrapped his arms around himself, desperate for any sense of comfort he could bring himself. Either it be in warmth or touch. There was something hollow inside him, not just literally, he had been like this since he could recall. He had always felt like he was made of ice, unwanted and unadjusted for any type of acceptance. The catalysm brought a once forgotten concept of loneliness to most, but to him he had always felt like he was unworthy. The foreigner broke his loathing with incoherent words, an attempt of communication. The man in the coat perked up, directing his attention to the noise, "sorry?"
The foreigner spoke again, this time louder, and yet still incomprehensible. With a frown, the shivering guest shook his head; he didn't understand. The other understood, as it's happened time and time again. He threw his hands in the air as he exclaimed something and then crossed them as he began pouting like a child. He was beyond sick of being misunderstood. Yet the cold one still looked at him, as if he was trying to decipher him. They had soon locked eyes. Despite the silence, they had seemed to speak to one another through their gazes. Whilst realistically it was only for a couple seconds, it had felt as if they'd been looking at each other for hours. The foreigner had gently straightened his posture and looked to the spot next to the other, then back at him. The man in the coat understood, and slowly unraveled from his shell and shifted over to allow more space. Suddenly, the other had become hesitant in his decision. This wasn't his home, these weren't people he knew, their words weren't his to understand. He swiftly turned his head away. The gentle touch of rejection entered the hole in the cold one's stomach. He clutched his sweater right where his body was pathetically hollow and found himself loathing once again. Tears dwelled in his eyes as they did so many times before, he quickly began to rub at his face to disrupt the flow before he was interrupted. The emptiness beside him had been filled.
The outsider had decided, he was now sat next to the new stranger. A rush filled the shivering man, his face felt a fragment of warmth for just a moment. No longer was he alone. At least here. The cold one wanted to talk, find some sort of bond between the two of them, but understood none of the tourists' words. He found it useless--until he felt something poke his shoulder. The man with the once wired mouth was pointing at his coat, before acting out a shivering motion. His face looked questioning. The coat guy looked at his jacket sleeve and nodded, mimicking the shiver motion. The foreigner burst into a laugh, the corners of his mouth still bloody. He looked amusingly at his roommate and waved his hand in the air with a raised eyebrow. He had mouthed something, but once again it was impossible to understand. His muse smiled, it had been awhile since he did, and shrugged in response. He was lying. He clutched his stomach again. The outsider noticed and pointed to it, using his other hand to rub his stomach. When the cold one was late to respond, he had then brought his fingers to his mouth and seemed to pretend as if he was eating. How silly it was they found themselves using charades to talk. The chilly one understood and shook his head as he looked down, clutching his stomach harder. There was no purpose in showing him, at least now. The stranger blinked at him, awaiting an explanation or at least the attempt of one. The room fell silent. What was there for him to say? To play out?
Suddenly, a spot of warmth had found itself on his otherwise ice cold body. He looked down to find the tourist attempting to pull at his sweater. The colder one yelped, quickly shoving his sweater back down to covering his body. He quickly looked back at the other, face flushed red. The non native seemed confused at his response, he had then quickly slurred a few words in defense while pointing at his own abdomen. They were both now back to square one: confused, awkward, and full of miscommunication. With a shaking hand, the cold one grabbed the foreigner's wrist and moved his hand from his body. Once removed, he had already missed the rather embarrassing attempt of physical touch. He then sunk to the wall beside him, then taking both hands, clasping them together, and putting them by his tilted head as if it were a pillow. He had hoped his was a good enough frame of communication. The foreigner pulled his hands to his lap and rolled his eyes. He then leaned against some boxes besides him. He returned to his pathetic pout. The freezing one then slowly closed his eyes, welcoming the empty void of his eyelids. Sleep was at least one of the things that came to him easy.
The delicate slumber was rudely broken from the slamming of the closet door as the homeowner hurried in. Shotgun in hand, he demanded the two stand up. The foreigner quickly rose to his feet, thankfully the threat of a firearm is a universal language. His roommate blinked slowly, rising to his feet awkwardly. The hermit looked to the visitor and pulled out what appeared to be a camera. Without warning, a flash speared the room as the camera clicked and then with a rickety rumble, a photograph erupted from the device. The outsider had seemed awfully excited relative to the armed man in front of him, he seemed enticed in the idea of him being photographed. The homeowner looked at the photo, then back at the impatient eyes of the model, then back at the photo. With a click, the barrel of the shotgun was aimed directly at the foreigner's face. The victim stammered, stepping backwards with his hands in the air. He began exclaiming in broken, stammering dialogue, completely indescribable to both people in the room. Tears dwelled inside his eyes as he continued pleading, one falling down his face and stopping as his lip. He flinched to the burn of the salt on top of his puncture wounds. The bundled man watched in horror, hands drawn close to his chest. He didn't want to witness more blood, more death. How could this man be dangerous? Wouldn't he had ripped him open yesterday? Or at least try? He couldn't tell if he was shaking of terror or of the cold void inside him. The hermit's finger began to fiddle the trigger, it had seemed he was confident in his guess. With a stammer, the coat guy grabbed the barrel and pointed it to the floor. "P-please, I don't think he speaks Russian..!" The outsider soon huddled behind the cold one's coat. The homeowner looked astonished, who was he to dare question his judgement?! "I t-think if he was a visitor...wouldn't h-he have killed me by now..?" The man shivered as he attempted to defend what was the closest thing he had to a companion during these times. The homeowner seemed unconvinced for a moment before yanking his gun back from the cold man's clammy hands. "I'll see how I feel by tomorrow." Was all he said before he stormed out.
The coat guy turned around to see the guest he had just saved and was met with wet, sparkling eyes. The man burst forward and pulled the cold one into a warm embrace. For the first time in forever, he had felt the warmth of an embrace, of compassion, of companionship. He felt as if the hole inside him was soon to be full. He took his shivering arms and wrapped them back around the outsider. He was awkward, just placing his arms around the other man; until he felt them beginning to shake and weep. He'd never been in this position before, where he was the one providing the sympathy. He had began to wrap himself around the foreigner more tightly, knowing he couldn't say any words to him he could understand so he prayed the squeeze was enough to tell him that it was okay. The foreigner pulled back, arms still around the coat man's hips, and had a surprising pleasant expression. Through his sniffling and tears, there was a smile. While it was obvious is was clearly uncomfortable, with blood and all he had flashed his teeth to his saviour. A once cold, blue toned face was now full of crimson. His face became a strange watercolor of purple, very visibility so as the outsider began to laugh. He continued to laugh, as if nothing had happened, as if they'd known each other forever. So they both began to laugh, while it was strange, it was comfortable. For the first time in awhile, they felt comfortable. Now hands more steady, the cold one then began to wipe the tears from the foreigner's face. It was a strange act of kindness for him, he'd never been one to be socially indulgent so finding himself in such intimacy seemed wrong but he didn't want it to end. The tourist found himself entranced with the act and locked eyes again with their companion. The bundled one found himself stammering again and quickly pulled his hand away. He stared at the wall to the left, desperate to save himself from anymore mesmerising eye contact.
A hand placed itself onto his abdomen. The cold one slowly directed his eyes to look at the situation. The foreigner had a determined look on his face as he clutched the green sweater. With his other hand, he grabbed a sleeve of the winter jacket and gently tugged. The man shook his head, no he couldn't. He couldn't reveal that part of himself yet, he couldn't risk getting any colder. The foreigner frowned and leaned into the shivering, flustered man. He gripped the sweater and squinted their eyes, it seems they were absolute on figuring out what the other was hiding. The coat guy looked away for a moment, his lips trembling, and contemplated. Maybe, he wondered, maybe at least a little. He slowly began to remove his winter jacket, feeling himself be hit with a wave of ice as if he was bare in the snow. He bared this sensation, just for now. He looked back at the outsider and expected satisfaction but they continued to stare and wait. They weren't joking. He had to reveal what was underneath. This isn't how this should work, he just saved this man's life and now they're demanding something from him! They're supposed to owe him, not the other way around. He was broke from his thoughts with a tug, the other was getting impatient. The shivering one just didn't feel comfortable exposing himself, at least all of him, yet. That was such a vulnerable spot for him, the empty pit inside his stomach, how could one ever understand? He reached for the foreigner's hand and it released the sweater fabric. Sweating, despite his chilling temperature, he slowly brought the hand down. Then under. Then he hesitated. He looked back at the outsider and saw the look of pure shock as he watched his hand be guided, did he step too far? Did he push a boundary? He knew it, he had always messed things up, he couldn't ever figure out how this works. Then, the other moved their hand themselves. They touched his hips, feeling the cold and dry skin cells as they begged for any type of sensation. The hand travelled to his stomach and then.
The tourist flew their head up to look at the cold one, his eyes seemed to ask enough. Where was what's supposed to be his belly? His abs? Where his body stored his organs? The cold one's expression said enough, it was exactly what it seemed to be as he nodded. The other was flabbergasted, he knew this was beyond normal, beyond human. The tourist threw himself off the other, now bewildered and afraid, like a deer in headlights. Why did this creature save them? Did he want to kill them himself? The cold one desperately shook his head and waved his hands, no, no, he was no threat. At least, he never wants to be. He attempted to step closer to the once unconditional friend as their hands continued to shake. He realized it was hopeless, he was a freak all over again. He wrapped his arms around his abdomen and looked to his feet. No matter how hard he tried, this will always be what happens. He began to weep. The foreigner stood there, contemplating. What should he do? Was there anything that could be done? Despite their abnormalities, this Visitor had seemed kind, merciful, keen for someone. Or was it an act? An attempt of humanity so they could eat him whole? He clenched his fists, he had to act now.
The weeping one had felt warm hands grab his face. This was beyond what he had expected. His face was directed upwards to meet with the foreigner's again. They had met eyes again, like so many times before. This was the only true way they could communicate with each other. They spoke no common language, but they seemed to communicate enough through their eyes. If they knew anything, they at least were in this hell accompanying each other. Pain was all they had in common right now. The freezing man looked back at the foreigner with eyes overflowing in tears, sniffling snot as he attempted to plead his case. The outsider continued to look confused, what was there for him to do? Just a moment ago, he had felt an odd indescribable tug as his heart with his companion and now they were contemplating if this person was even safe to sleep beside. The colder one whiped his face with his sweater sleeve, stuffing snot back up his noise in attempt to clean himself up. The tourist's hands twitched, his next decision made up everything.
Lips crashed into one another like continents, except the only mountain ridged formed where their spiked heart rates and knotted stomachs. The colder one's lips were pale, chilly, and beyond crusty but with enough saliva it wouldn't be that important. He could barely comprehend this act of intimacy, it was beyond anything the sunken hole in his chest had felt before. Unsure of how to respond, he just stood there as the other leaned into his face. Noticing the lack of response, the tourist pulled back and looked at their partner with uncertainty, perhaps he he'd acted too soon or too radically. The more he thought about it, it was a crazy idea. The sweater guy's face was a landscape painting of purples, reds, and blues as he tried to process the act of compassion, of closeness, of affection. A smile gently creeped onto his face. The smile was enough assurance for the foreigner in response to his bold move, and without warning the other smashed his face back into theirs with desperation to feel that embrace, that warmth once more. The foreigner giggled into the embrace and soon returned the act. While uncomfortable due to the barely healed wounds around his mouth, the sting from his companion's saliva touching the punctures was oddly satisfying. The warmth of the tourist's mouth was such contrast to the tundra that was the other's tongue, they skipped around inside his cheeks in order to soak up all that warmth. They were really getting into it now. The bundled man clinged to the outsider harder, fingers clenching bundles of fabric and hair as if he was about to be torn from him. The strength of his grasp made the tourist wiggle, attempting to step back and tripping on his own heel. They're faces seperated as they both let out sounds of pain as they hit the ground.
The cold one blinked a few times, seeing the fuzzy outline of the ceiling light and closed his eyes again, just for a moment. Once reopened, he jumped as he was met with the tourist over him. On their face was a playful smirk as they eyed their roommate up and down. Just moments ago, they were disgusted over the empty void that engulfed his body, but now he was willing to see more that was covered underneath layers of clothing.
And at the back of his head, he really hoped the hole didn't go all the way down to his pelvis. He wasn't sure if he was gonna be able to make that work, so this would become very awkward.
They stared at each other but now things seemed more comfortable then before. No longer did they feel uneasy in each other's proximity; at least right now. The colder man cracked a nervous smile, with the curl of his lip came teeth white as snow. He kept himself pinned to the ground, arms resting beside his head as he waited for whatever move came next. The foreigner tried to ignore the reminder of his now lover's condition and took one of his hands to the other's and curled their fingers together. Here he had it, the warmth of passion he longed for. The vastness of his chest twisted and swirled around but also found itself oddly soothed. His finger nails were caked of dirt and gunk but now these signs were meaningless in this small dimension they had shared with just each other. So they kissed again, now accepting the strangeness of their situation but agreeing to throw it aside. Whatever strange presence brought them here and sparked such sensations between the two of them were out of their control and they were here to embrace it. The cool-toned one had brought his right hand up to grasp the back of his companion's neck while his left still stayed wrapped with the other's. Soon passionate kissing became desperate grinding and touching, both amped to feel each other's skin. The foreigner's hand was scrambling to their lover's sweater in order to pull it up enough so he could get a feel of what was there for him to touch, the fear of exposing this part of him was no longer in the other as he embraced the outsider's hand. The skin beneath the wool was dry, cold, and smooth like the jagged peaks of glaciers, his ribecage peaked from underneath his skin as if there was no fat cushioning them. But the foreigner didn't seem to mind at all. Their hand was warm in his and that is what's important.
Was this truly going to happen? Yes, yes it was.
The foreigner had shoved his pants down to his calves, sweat dripping down from the brim of his noise. The cold one's winter jacket was completely off now, his jeans zipper undone as they were pulled down to his lower thighs. He seperated their lips and began to attack the other's warm, soft neck with his teeth. The stranger grunted as he continued to thrust the tent in his boxers against the other's, feeling the friction of the fabric caress his shaft and tip. Perhaps either from the tension, emotion, or his new paranormal condition, the one below him bit hard onto his collarbone and a shriek came from the stranger. The colder one jolted away, looking up in concern as the one above him put their hand to the bite; once they removed their hand, little dots of blood had transferred onto his palm, the cold one retreated into their shoulders in preparation for a lecture. To his surprise, the foreigner did not look in disgust, but in pleasure, and was ready for whatever else his companion has in store. Anxious but trusting the stranger's lead, he grabbed the back of their neck and brought them back in range of their mouth. Once again, they hips were in motion as they rubbed their dicks against each other with the only thing between them being the fabric of their underwear.
The foreigner returned the favor, beginning to kiss and suckle on the other's neck as he travelled his hand down to their waist, trying to get his fingers under the waistband of their boxer's. They struggled for a bit, both trying to help bring each other bringing the colder one's boxer's down lower to reveal what the stranger has been so desperate to get to. The stranger lifted himself from the corner of the other's neck to finally get a look at the beauty below him. The colder one layed below him, flustered despite how passionate and intimate they get with each other, neck covered in purple and red spots and patches with dried flakes of blood left behind. The foreigner's eyes travelled lower, seeing the vastness of the void inside his lover's stomach. If you stare into the void, the void stares back. Curious, he took his hand and began to gently touch the edge of where the hole inside of his chest is. The colder one flinched, moaning, "C-careful.." he warned, "I don't...if you put your hand inside i-it'll..." The outsider took his hand back, noticing the discomfort in his companion's body language. It's okay, he went back to focus on what he came here for. There is was, twitching with a droplet of pre-cum laying on the slit onto of the head. The outsider giggled and went back down to the colder one's lips as he slipped his boxers down to whip his own cock out now only for more pleasure, but in hopes it'll make his companion feel more comfortable. Back with their lips together and tongues in each other's mouths, their hips got back to work and now with better reward. Now it was about getting to the end, the climax.
Slobber covered both of their lips as their hips grew faster and more erratic in movement, lacking precision like before. Pre-cum had gotten all over each other from their inability to control their urges to consume each other, the colder one clutched a bundle of the stranger's hair as he began to breathe heavier, back arching as he was getting ready. He wasn't sure how the outsider wanted him to finish, did he want it to be together? To wait? Did he have other things planned? Maybe he just needed to trust what his heart was telling him. To the cold one's relief, the outsider had caught the clue of him being close to his release, so he took both of hands and grabbed the colder one's lower back as he grinded harder against them. With a pathetic, whimpering moan, muffled from them making out, the colder one came. Cum burst up from his tip onto his and the outsider's stomach and shirt, his back arching more as his shaft continued to pump out ropes of cold cum. The foreigner released his mouth from his and leaned upwards and began to work on himself with his left hand to bring himself there with his lover. The stranger bit his lip, reopening one of his wounds with a little pool of blood, he was close and the colder one, likely on impluse, grabbed the outsider's hips and jerked him foward right as he came. The foreigner grunted with a gasp as he noticed the sudden movement, his cum shooting onto the colder one's face. The cold one's mouth was wide open, eyes closed, face purple and hands shaky as lines of seed landed onto their face and into their mouth. After a few seconds, the colder one opened his eyes and looked to the foreigner who is panting above him, eyes full of peace. He flashed them a smile, and the cold one blushed, gently rubbing the outsider's thigh.
"Yeah, I think I have room."
"Oh thank you, young man, you're too kind."
"Wait in the hallway, I might have room in the closet for you-"
The storage closet door whipped open with no warning, the homeowner looking directly at the scene happening directly on his home's oak wooden floors. The stranger's head whipped around to look at the hermit as the cold one covered his face with his hands. Silence, thats all there was.
The foreigner threw his arms in the air, yelling slurred words at the homeowner in an attempt to defend them. The homeowner could not move, he was frozen. "H-he said, do you mind..!!" The colder one shouted, raising his head off the ground. The homeowner seemed to snap out of it and slammed the storage door shut and left the two alone. The outsider looked back down at his companion with a smirk, leaning down to kiss their forehead.
"Thank you, again, young man for letting me inside, you're beyond kind." "Yeah, you're welcome." The homeowner shoveled to his room and slammed the door shut, throwing himself onto his mattress. "What the fuck."