body heat meme

[memed]

The Body Heat Meme



Post with your character! They're now stuck in a very cold place of your choice. It can be anything, such as a freezing chamber, a cavern or a small cabin in the midst of a blizzard. The choice is up to you.
Comment around! Now your character has some company in this bone-chilling environment. The two of them share two things in common: clothes completely unfitting for this weather (be they summer clothes or even lingerie) and a blanket.
A blanket? Yes, just one warm blanket and no other ways to escape the cold. The two of them will have to share it in order to stay alive in this weather. Don't worry, you're sure to find a common language in this terrible situation!
So, uh, have fun, I suppose. Try to not freeze to death!
Protip: friction and body heat are both excellent ways to fend off cold.

Comments

[mislay]

[ It feels later than it actually is by the time he returns home, taking the stairs three flights up despite the perfectly functioning elevator in the lobby. He needs the time to decompress, watching each step as he ascends to his apartment, and even when he's standing outside his door, he doesn't feel the urge to enter right away. What he wants to do is turn around and drive back to the club, maybe drink a little at the bar and drown out this raging feeling of loneliness that wraps itself around his heart this time of year. There's snow outside and the constant buzz of happiness of everyone around him, but all he can think about is his sister and how she isn't alive to see this anymore.

Larus hangs his head for a moment, hand resting against the keys he's put in the lock, trying to remember her face, how she used to smile, and then, with a heavy breath, he enters without a word, pausing once he shuts the door behind him to look around. The usual drabness of the condo has been lifted with the lights strung along the walls, and even the tree in the corner brings a certain charm to the space around it, moving across the open floor to unplug them as he makes his way to the bedroom. Some of Casimir's things are on the sofa, which means he's probably asleep in his bed, and the slight chill that works its way through him when he removes his jacket cements the idea in his head that it's okay to share that space with him—for the time being. So, he stays quiet as he undresses enough to be comfortable once he's there, lifting the blankets back to slide in next to him without a lot of disturbance. The warmth he immediately feels is a little overwhelming since he's been outside long enough he's grown accustomed to the numbness that comes with the cold, and he squeezes his eyes shut to breathe through the sensation of it, his fingers seeking out the line of his hip for support. He doesn't risk saying anything, turning his head enough to press his face into the pillow rather than the warm space between Casimir's shoulder blades.

Larus knows he shouldn't be here, and maybe he won't be when Casimir wakes up. But for now, he just lets it be. ]

[casimir]

[ It’s become a habit to stay here when he has early classes the next morning, comfortable with their routine that doesn’t involve goodbyes before he slips away without much thought but always making sure he starts the coffeepot before he goes. They don’t do anything, which somehow makes things more complicated than less -- there’s no real touching, no kisses beyond the one sprung on him in the dressing room. Larus doesn’t even make it to his bed half the time. This is nothing more than a favor, a way to make Casimir’s life easier that costs Larus absolutely nothing. It’s all very casual, or at least it’s supposed to be, but with the more time they spend together, the more curious Casimir grows about who his boss really is.

His mother always used to say that he was intuitive beyond the scope of most others. He’s always been able to pick up on feelings and emotions, immediately sensing agitation or sadness or a concealed anger just by the energy of the people close to him. Larus is different. He keeps his emotions in check, locked away in a place that Casimir can’t quite reach. He only manages to glean bits and pieces here and there, a barely perceptible flicker when Larus looks at something that must have a hidden meaning to him. He’s in control of himself where most others are not, and it’s both admirable and maddening. Sometimes he just wants to know, but the nature of their relationship isn’t one that lends to asking.

Tonight, however, he feels it from the very first touch. The glow of the lights in the other room has disappeared, and he has half a mind to protest the rejection of his hard work, but Larus is acting strangely, coming closer than he normally does, his cold fingers closing at his hip. He’s a light sleeper, and his eyes are open almost immediately, though for a moment he doesn’t move. He could be still, keeping the cocoon of silence intact, and they’d both fall asleep eventually and likely never talk about this again. But after a few seconds, he turns, resting on his back, tilting his face just slightly toward Larus while a tousled curl slips down to his eyes. ]

You’re freezing. [ Beneath the sheets, he seeks out Larus’ hand, curling his fingers over it, his voice quiet, gentle. ] Do you want me to take the decorations down?