Whenever they want to fool around with one another, they can't go to Genesis's house, because he hates his family, and they can't go to Angeal's family, on account of how he actually likes his family and Miss Hewley is home nine times out of ten. So they do it outside.
There's a pleasure to it, of course. The sweet smell of Banora White swept in with every gasp Angeal draws out of him. The warmth from the sun, sunken into their skin, the same skin that Genesis spreads his greedy palms all across. There is a sweetness to it all that settles deep into him somewhere, as they take each other hidden away in the trees.
Of course, there's also some problems, and Genesis is never quiet about them. "Why do trees have to shed so many leaves and sticks," Genesis complains, reaching back one day as Angeal carefully buttons his pants up again. "This is getting so annoying and ridiculous - and why did you have to do it against the grass, hm?" His fingers can't find anything else, but Genesis knows something is there, and he growls a bit.
Obligingly, Angeal moves around him, and his fingers start shifting through his hair patiently. Angeal's hands may be large, taller than Genesis by a mile and proportioned to match, but he's careful when it comes to little things like this. Careful like his mother. Genesis doesn't mind that very much; he likes Miss Hewley. She cuts his hair when it gets just a little too long for his liking, and lets him stay the night. "If we did it against a tree, there'd probably still be dirt and twigs," Angeal points out in that patient and exasperated tone of his. "Just pull your hair back, then there's no problem."
"I'm not going to wear a ridiculous ponytail like you," Genesis complains. One of these days, he's going to make Angeal keep his loose. He looks nicer, that way, even if he always looks good by Genesis's estimate. "Ugh, you're terrible. Just hurry and finish, so we can head back before anyone notices we're gone."
Angeal does, and they do, and that's that. Just another day in Banora amongst the smell of freshly harvested apples. Genesis isn't really expecting anything of it.
Except, after that day, Angeal starts meeting him up with a coat. He's already shot up like a damn shoot, stupid tall thing, and his shoulders have only gotten more broad, so new clothes are usually pretty easy to pick up even on a regular day with how Miss Hewley has to replace or mend or make them. But the coat is newer than even Genesis is familiar with. He teases Angeal about it, of course, because he didn't think that such a long coat would suit him even though they both know that Angeal will probably have grown well into it by the end of the month. All Angeal does is huff at him, but then that's that.
Even in the middle of nowhere, Banora being what it is, they have things to do. Odd jobs that Angeal does which Genesis tags along on, or new books from the city that he's managed to get from the traveling merchant that stops by in their town every other month. Angeal wears the coat every single day, no matter what, even as it gathers sweat along the back of his neck and he has to make a face whenever he sweeps his hair out of his face.
Genesis makes fun of him for all of that, too.
Makes fun of him up until the day that the two of them find a moment to themselves a couple weeks later. Up until Genesis has Angeal's face in his hands as he kisses him, savoring the fresh and sweet taste of stolen Banoran White apples on his lips. A heat is pooling between his legs, in his veins, and he's right in the middle of reaching up to tug loose Angeal's hair when the other boy stops him. "Hold on," he murmurs again, and his hands move away from where Genesis actually wants them on his hips.
He grumbles again, a brief growl, only to be interrupted by the roll of Angeal's shoulders as that stupid coat finally gets shed. He thinks it's just a simple matter of undressing, that he's succeeded at getting Angeal all hot and bothered... but then his boyfriend steps away, and spreads the coat down there in the grass, underneath the soft red light of sunset.
Genesis blinks. Then, he laughs. "What... on earth are you doing?"
"I thought you were the one who was always complaining about dirt and bugs in your hair," Angel retorts, raising an eyebrow even as his face goes a pale pink. "So there. No more dirt, bugs, or twigs. Don't tell me you still have complaints. "
It's just, he's still laughing. Except Genesis can't help it, not with the love fluttering in his chest. He has to get it out somehow - his laughter, his hands grasping at Angeal's as he pulls him down to that coat.
His kisses, along warm cheeks and that sulking mouth.
Love is the smell of Banoran White apple flowers blossoming throughout the year, but sometimes love is the smell of a silly coat that's heavy with the musk of his lover, the grass stains that sink into the fabric. Love is service, and thought, and it's Angeal.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
short and sweet
There's a pleasure to it, of course. The sweet smell of Banora White swept in with every gasp Angeal draws out of him. The warmth from the sun, sunken into their skin, the same skin that Genesis spreads his greedy palms all across. There is a sweetness to it all that settles deep into him somewhere, as they take each other hidden away in the trees.
Of course, there's also some problems, and Genesis is never quiet about them. "Why do trees have to shed so many leaves and sticks," Genesis complains, reaching back one day as Angeal carefully buttons his pants up again. "This is getting so annoying and ridiculous - and why did you have to do it against the grass, hm?" His fingers can't find anything else, but Genesis knows something is there, and he growls a bit.
Obligingly, Angeal moves around him, and his fingers start shifting through his hair patiently. Angeal's hands may be large, taller than Genesis by a mile and proportioned to match, but he's careful when it comes to little things like this. Careful like his mother. Genesis doesn't mind that very much; he likes Miss Hewley. She cuts his hair when it gets just a little too long for his liking, and lets him stay the night. "If we did it against a tree, there'd probably still be dirt and twigs," Angeal points out in that patient and exasperated tone of his. "Just pull your hair back, then there's no problem."
"I'm not going to wear a ridiculous ponytail like you," Genesis complains. One of these days, he's going to make Angeal keep his loose. He looks nicer, that way, even if he always looks good by Genesis's estimate. "Ugh, you're terrible. Just hurry and finish, so we can head back before anyone notices we're gone."
Angeal does, and they do, and that's that. Just another day in Banora amongst the smell of freshly harvested apples. Genesis isn't really expecting anything of it.
Except, after that day, Angeal starts meeting him up with a coat. He's already shot up like a damn shoot, stupid tall thing, and his shoulders have only gotten more broad, so new clothes are usually pretty easy to pick up even on a regular day with how Miss Hewley has to replace or mend or make them. But the coat is newer than even Genesis is familiar with. He teases Angeal about it, of course, because he didn't think that such a long coat would suit him even though they both know that Angeal will probably have grown well into it by the end of the month. All Angeal does is huff at him, but then that's that.
Even in the middle of nowhere, Banora being what it is, they have things to do. Odd jobs that Angeal does which Genesis tags along on, or new books from the city that he's managed to get from the traveling merchant that stops by in their town every other month. Angeal wears the coat every single day, no matter what, even as it gathers sweat along the back of his neck and he has to make a face whenever he sweeps his hair out of his face.
Genesis makes fun of him for all of that, too.
Makes fun of him up until the day that the two of them find a moment to themselves a couple weeks later. Up until Genesis has Angeal's face in his hands as he kisses him, savoring the fresh and sweet taste of stolen Banoran White apples on his lips. A heat is pooling between his legs, in his veins, and he's right in the middle of reaching up to tug loose Angeal's hair when the other boy stops him. "Hold on," he murmurs again, and his hands move away from where Genesis actually wants them on his hips.
He grumbles again, a brief growl, only to be interrupted by the roll of Angeal's shoulders as that stupid coat finally gets shed. He thinks it's just a simple matter of undressing, that he's succeeded at getting Angeal all hot and bothered... but then his boyfriend steps away, and spreads the coat down there in the grass, underneath the soft red light of sunset.
Genesis blinks. Then, he laughs. "What... on earth are you doing?"
"I thought you were the one who was always complaining about dirt and bugs in your hair," Angel retorts, raising an eyebrow even as his face goes a pale pink. "So there. No more dirt, bugs, or twigs. Don't tell me you still have complaints. "
It's just, he's still laughing. Except Genesis can't help it, not with the love fluttering in his chest. He has to get it out somehow - his laughter, his hands grasping at Angeal's as he pulls him down to that coat.
His kisses, along warm cheeks and that sulking mouth.
Love is the smell of Banoran White apple flowers blossoming throughout the year, but sometimes love is the smell of a silly coat that's heavy with the musk of his lover, the grass stains that sink into the fabric. Love is service, and thought, and it's Angeal.