you're paralyzing me, any

[isakov]

throw me in the water, don’t think about the splash i will create
leave me at the altar, knowing all the things you just escaped

He does not argue.
Isakov knows that he is not kind. He knows that his motives are selfish. He wants to silence the clamor in Sleaze’s head simply to soothe his own heart. Because the heart aches for the dark stallion. Aches to think that there is some chaos that Sleaze cannot escape.

He wants to be the calm in all that storm for his own benefit. So that the heart will not twinge and spasm to think of the way Sleaze suffers.

It is enough, for now, to simply touch and be touched by him. But for how long will this be enough, Isakov wonders. How long before he craves something deeper. Something more profound. The quiet consumes them, drowns out the sounds of the river and the distant din of conversation until all he can hear is Sleaze’s breath, the words he murmurs into the charged air between them.

How it thrills the boy to be called a miracle. How it thrills him to hear the beat of the dark stallion’s heart and know that he has created the calm. He is to thank for it. He has brought him a glimpse of peace. He has done this.

He lays his star-strewn head against Sleaze’s dark side and it is only a moment before they are breathing in time.

“It will be here for you,” he murmurs, but what he means to say is I will be here for you, “whenever you need it.” He draws back his head then, skims his mouth across Sleaze’s forehead, lingers there for the space of a breath. “Find me and I will give it to you.”

isakov

@[sleaze]