Rummaging through pantries and cabinets he takes every last edible thing available, taking apart boxes and ripping wrappers to shreds as he gets his dose. Crackers, cereal, slices of bread. Often times he not even aware of what he's consuming, but the way it slides down his throat is what he's after. The mere sense of nourishment. Tonight he feels worthless above anything else and devouring everything in sight will surely help.
It's just not the same.
Nothing tastes as good, as warm, as sweet. His perfect little theory had finally failed him. This is even more unsettling. It's not long until he makes his way to the refrigerator in uncontrollable sobs. Even when he's proved himself wrong he still finds an emptiness, one that he is positive can only be filled with food. He sees fruits, left overs from dinner, Danishes and plenty more that gives him that glint of hope. Before he can grab a single pastry he's in a chokehold, gasping for air. The arm tugs at his throat, making him gargle and burn in the face. He still struggles, still makes his useless attempt to reach for anything and lets out a screech when the door closes in front of him.
He already knows. "Get off me," he growls when the grip loosens. "I'm hungry."
"Bullshit." Kavinsky tears him away from his safe haven even further, releasing his neck and locking him by the waist. He doesn't get far with all the resisting, so he pins him against the table and gets a hold of his wrists. Their bodies are pressed against one another, his breath warm and drenched with alcohol. Sebastian shakes as he pleads, but they shift to death threats in seconds. Bits of food still cling around his face, syrup glides down his chin. His bloodshot eyes and cracked voice almost frighten Vinco. He's an absolute mess. "Tell me...tell me what's wrong."
"Fuck you." Comes the reply, along with more churning and tossing. His eyes squint shut and his fingernails dig deep into Kavinsky's hands. He doesn't want him to help. He just wants to eat.
"Ungrateful shit!" He yells back, "I'm helping you!"
"I don't need help." Sebastian says dryly. "I don't need anything from you."
"Sebastian. Sebastian, look at me." Kavinsky whispers, firm but easy. Nimble fingers assist his hold of both his wrists in a single hand, while his free one cups his face, tilts it upwards so that they look directly at each other. "You are not hungry. You have to stop."
A few broken laughs leave his lips. His eyes flicker open, his breath hitches. "Why do you give a fuck? Are you afraid I'll lose my figure?" He swallows hard. "Afraid I'll be too fat for you to fuck?"
There's a chilling silence between them, one that seems to last hours. All they can hear is the creak of the table while Sebastian is still slightly resisting.
"I don't mind a little weight on you. For fuck's sake, it looks good on you. You'd be stupid to think I'd leave you for that."
He scoffs in reply, eyes rolled, lips parted to speak but Kavinsky beats him to it.
"We may have started out...fucking." His brows furrow with concern, "But this is something else now."
Sebastian is speechless. The fact that his long time friend and recent companion just somewhat admitted a relationship between them has him realize that he has only good intentions. His frenzied movements stop altogether. He wants to apologize but all that escapes him are croaks and groans.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
Sweet Tooth 2/3
Date: 2011-06-23 06:37 am (UTC)Rummaging through pantries and cabinets he takes every last edible thing available, taking apart boxes and ripping wrappers to shreds as he gets his dose. Crackers, cereal, slices of bread. Often times he not even aware of what he's consuming, but the way it slides down his throat is what he's after. The mere sense of nourishment. Tonight he feels worthless above anything else and devouring everything in sight will surely help.
It's just not the same.
Nothing tastes as good, as warm, as sweet. His perfect little theory had finally failed him. This is even more unsettling. It's not long until he makes his way to the refrigerator in uncontrollable sobs. Even when he's proved himself wrong he still finds an emptiness, one that he is positive can only be filled with food. He sees fruits, left overs from dinner, Danishes and plenty more that gives him that glint of hope. Before he can grab a single pastry he's in a chokehold, gasping for air. The arm tugs at his throat, making him gargle and burn in the face. He still struggles, still makes his useless attempt to reach for anything and lets out a screech when the door closes in front of him.
He already knows. "Get off me," he growls when the grip loosens. "I'm hungry."
"Bullshit." Kavinsky tears him away from his safe haven even further, releasing his neck and locking him by the waist. He doesn't get far with all the resisting, so he pins him against the table and gets a hold of his wrists. Their bodies are pressed against one another, his breath warm and drenched with alcohol. Sebastian shakes as he pleads, but they shift to death threats in seconds. Bits of food still cling around his face, syrup glides down his chin. His bloodshot eyes and cracked voice almost frighten Vinco. He's an absolute mess. "Tell me...tell me what's wrong."
"Fuck you." Comes the reply, along with more churning and tossing. His eyes squint shut and his fingernails dig deep into Kavinsky's hands. He doesn't want him to help. He just wants to eat.
"Ungrateful shit!" He yells back, "I'm helping you!"
"I don't need help." Sebastian says dryly. "I don't need anything from you."
"Sebastian. Sebastian, look at me." Kavinsky whispers, firm but easy. Nimble fingers assist his hold of both his wrists in a single hand, while his free one cups his face, tilts it upwards so that they look directly at each other. "You are not hungry. You have to stop."
A few broken laughs leave his lips. His eyes flicker open, his breath hitches. "Why do you give a fuck? Are you afraid I'll lose my figure?" He swallows hard. "Afraid I'll be too fat for you to fuck?"
There's a chilling silence between them, one that seems to last hours. All they can hear is the creak of the table while Sebastian is still slightly resisting.
"I don't mind a little weight on you. For fuck's sake, it looks good on you. You'd be stupid to think I'd leave you for that."
He scoffs in reply, eyes rolled, lips parted to speak but Kavinsky beats him to it.
"We may have started out...fucking." His brows furrow with concern, "But this is something else now."
Sebastian is speechless. The fact that his long time friend and recent companion just somewhat admitted a relationship between them has him realize that he has only good intentions. His frenzied movements stop altogether. He wants to apologize but all that escapes him are croaks and groans.
"Please, Sebastian." His hands slip slowly, freeing him. "Just tell me."
There's another cold pause, then, "Okay. Yes, okay."