[ It's easy to fall back into old patterns. Walk with your back straight, shoulders tugged back, and with an energy that's meant to suffocate those around you. It's how he approaches Rubilykskoye. They won't eat him alive if he exudes confidence.
Bellamy's lost his shirt a few hours ago; his muscled chest glistens with sweat and a few bruises (some from sex, mostly from being a little too rough with the woodwork around town). His dark trousers hang low on his hips as he stands beside Isis, regarding the performance on stage with a furrowed brow and an unimpressed look.
That's not how he feels at all.
His skin prickles and warms. Heat pools low in his belly. He's hungry for human contact.
When she stumbles into him, Bellamy's hands are on her biceps, keeping her upright, uncaring that she's pressed against him. This he can do. Looking out for others, making sure that they're okay. This feels normal.
He ignores how his heart pounds at the contact. He fucking hates it here. ]
recumita
Bellamy's lost his shirt a few hours ago; his muscled chest glistens with sweat and a few bruises (some from sex, mostly from being a little too rough with the woodwork around town). His dark trousers hang low on his hips as he stands beside Isis, regarding the performance on stage with a furrowed brow and an unimpressed look.
That's not how he feels at all.
His skin prickles and warms. Heat pools low in his belly. He's hungry for human contact.
When she stumbles into him, Bellamy's hands are on her biceps, keeping her upright, uncaring that she's pressed against him. This he can do. Looking out for others, making sure that they're okay. This feels normal.
He ignores how his heart pounds at the contact. He fucking hates it here. ]
You're okay. Just take a breath.