This is the Laos Legacy feed. Currently working on generation 3! Also, you can read the whole story here: https://thelaoslegacy.tumblr.com/ BlueskyFeedCreator.com
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- π Updated 6 months ago
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- π In the last 30 days, there were 11 posts about this feed. These posts got a total of 204 likes and had 12 reposts.
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Foreheads rest together, mouths brushing in lazy, half-sleep gestures, hands still finding skin as if letting go would feel too abrupt. Itβs choosing not to pull away, even when they finally have nothing left to give but warmth and presence, holding on to each other until morning threatens to exist.
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Hidden, might be NSFW
Hidden, might be NSFW
βͺ πΌπ π¦ππ’ πππππ, πΌ'ππ πππππ
π΄ππ ππ π¦ππ’ πππ'π‘, πΌ'ππ πππππ πππ¦π€ππ¦
πΊππ£π πππππ π πβππππ
πΏππ‘ π‘βπ ππππ π¦ππ’ βππ£π ππππ ππ€ππ¦
πΌ'π£π πππ‘ ππ¦ ππ¦π ππ π¦ππ’
πΌ'π£π πππ‘ ππ¦ ππ¦π ππ π¦ππ’ βͺ
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Marcus' hands find her waist, then her back, tracing her like heβs memorizing something he doesnβt want to forget. Selene answers instinctively, pressing closer, the room narrowing to breath and heat and the quiet thrum of want neither of them is pretending away anymore.
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Selene doesnβt answer with words. She closes the distance in a single, decisive movement, hands coming up to frame his face as if sheβs afraid he might disappear if she doesnβt hold him there. Then she kisses him, her mouth pressing to his with a certainty that surprises them both.
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βI just donβt want you to mistake this for gratitude,β he says. βI donβt need that from you. I didnβt help you so youβd feel like you owe me anything.β He pauses, a faint, crooked smile flickering despite himself. βIf it happens, let it be because you want it. Nothing more. Nothing less.β
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βA few weeks ago, I swore myself off love entirely. Declared it dead, buried. And Iβm not saying this has anything to do with love. Watcher forbid. But itβs strange,β she adds. βHow now, standing here, I can see I mightβve jumped into that decision a little too fast.β
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βDo you want to be just a rebound?β Selene asks, not challenging him, not pleading, just trying to understand where heβs standing.
βI donβt know,β he admits quietly. βYouβre kind of an unknown place for me right now, Selene.β
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βI meanβ¦ Youβre reaching for something,β he says gently. βYou need closeness right now. And I get that. I respect it. I can live with being the first person after a breakup. I can even live with being the rebound. But are you okay with that? With me being just that?β
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βI wonβt pretend it didnβt sting a bit, but I could never be mad at you for that.β He pauses, eyes steady on hers. βWhat I am unsure about is whether youβre actually ready for what happens if we cross that line.β
Selene frowns slightly. βWhat do you mean?β
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βWeβve been circling each other for weeks,β she says quietly. βThis back and forth. Pretending we donβt know exactly where this is headed. I know I crossed a line when I kissed you that time. I know I did.β
βIβm not angry about it.β
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βYouβre not even drinking,β Marcus points out.
βI know,β Selene replies easily. βI want to be completely here for this.β
That makes him laugh, the sound slipping out before he can stop it. βSelene,β he says, shaking his head as he looks at her, βwhat exactly do you think youβre doing?β
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Seleneβs confidence has been growing quietly and standing there in the soft glow of the streetlight, it becomes harder than usual for Marcus to hold the line.
He exhales, a slow surrender he doesn't bother dressing up as logic, and he follows her inside.
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βYou could come up,β she says lightly. βHave a beer. Sit for a minute.β
Marcus hesitates, the answer already forming before he speaks. βI probably shouldnβt.β
βI know,β she says quietly. Then, after a beat, βBut is that what you want?β
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βI wouldnβt exactly call this humble,β he says, amused.
Selene shrugs, unapologetic. βI come from a very well-off family.β
He glances back at her, something knowing in his expression. βYeah,β he replies easily. βI can tell.β
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The walk home stretches on in a quiet neither of them tries to fill. The streets of Del Sol are calmer at this hour, the city lights softened, distant, like theyβre keeping their distance out of respect.
βThis is me,β Selene says when they stop in front of the building. βMy new, very humble home.β
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Selene suddenly lets go of the keys and turns, throwing herself into his arms before he has time to react.
βYouβre helping me way too much,β she murmurs against his shoulder βAnd I justβ¦ Thank you. For everything youβve done sinceβ¦ ππ¦ππ.β
βIβm glad I could be here,β he says quietly at last.
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She barely lowers her gaze. βYour face is a lot more interesting than the keyboard,β she mutters, honest to a fault.
He snorts, shaking his head, fingers never missing a note. βIβm trying to help you, not audition for your distraction of the day.β
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Itβs been happening for a while now; these stolen glances, this warmth curling low in her chest that has nothing to do with the music.
βEyes on the keys, Selene,β Marcus says softly, amusement threading through his voice.
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He places his hands over hers, not taking control, just guiding. Selene tries to follow the keys, but her focus keeps slipping. She catches herself watching the small tilt of his head as he listens, the faint smile that appears whenever she gets a passage right.
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βIt just reminds me that I used to let him handle the parts I didnβt feel good at,β she admits, quieter now. βAnd I donβt want that anymore.β
Marcus watches her for a moment, then nods once. βGood,β he says. βThen weβll take it slow. No ghosts at the keyboard.β
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Selene lets her head drop forward until her forehead meets the keys with a dull, defeated thump. βI hate this thing. Alex was the one who actually knew how to play it. I have absolutely no idea what Iβm doing.β
Marcus huffs a quiet laugh. βYouβre being dramatic.β
βI am being honest.β
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βLet me help you,β Marcus says gently.
βI want to do it myself,β she mutters, jaw set.
βI know you do. But if you keep attacking the piano like that, youβre gonna break it. And I definitely donβt have the money to replace half the instruments in this room.β
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She still struggles with the piano. Itβs obvious to anyone watching that her body belongs to the violin. The piano, on the other hand, resists her. It asks for patience, for structure, for a different kind of control, and Selene doesnβt move through it as effortlessly.
Still, she insists on it.
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