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Very little had ever scared Dallas much. Born and raised in an urban setting, he had pretty much seen it all in terms of crime and violence as a kid. Well, not exactly, but if anyone ever messed with him, he would tell them that for sure. However, he wasn't really that scared of much. Largely it was because there was always someone around. Chicago was a big city, and if he was about to battered round the pus with a baseball bat, he was sure there would always be someone there to help...at least to help pick up his teeth from the ground anyway. But this was different. When Dustyn had suggested they go on holiday, Dallas expected 15 hours on a plane and some beaches that looked like the back end of a postcard. Not 90 minutes on a ferry followed by a 47 minute (for he had timed every rickety last minute) bus ride in a vehicle that looked like someone had effectively just cellotaped an engine where the horse used to to go, all to end up somewhere that looked less postcard and more post-apocalypse. Dallas had sucked it up, though. Mostly because Dustyn greeted the place like an old friend, or a grandparent. He found that weird, but he guessed the place had a certain character. His only worry was that the particular character he envisioned normally starred in movies with far more blood outside of the human body than Dallas liked to think about. The key problem was when it got dark though. There was no one else around, you see, and the only company they had was the tapping of rain drops, incessant, unyielding, on an old roof that sounded like it was ready to wave a white flag any second. In the city, rain like this on the window was comforting, made you feel glad to be at home. But here....here it sounded almost like it wanted to come in. And Dallas did not like that one bit. He wished the rain away, but it was pointless, and when it got dark it just felt even worse to be here, but still he resolved not to tell Dustyn. He didn't want him to think he didn't want to be here. As Dallas pushes gently into Dustyn, he's acutely aware that something is wrong. He was normally the most vocal person Dallas had ever known, but tonight he was quiet. Which was odd given that out here he could scream his lungs out and no one but Dallas would hear a peep. The second that thought crosses his mind, he shakes it clear and scolds himself. He didn't want to freak himself out more by thinking that no one here could hear them if anything were to happen to them. But no, Dustyn's looking over Dallas' shoulder really was freaking him out a little, but he was trying not to let it show, even if he was sure Dustyn could detect something different in his motion. Kissing Dustyn, Dallas moans a little, eyes closed, as he enjoys the familiar sensation of them together. However, when he opens his eyes just a little, Dallas sees him look up again and behind him. Clearly something was up, but it made Dallas laugh more than anything else. It was funny to see Dustyn clearly spooked by something. As he laughs, he rolls off Dustyn, knowing that the mood had been killed by the fact he had laughed so loudly. Lying on his back, he covers his mouth and looks up at where Dustyn's gaze had been headed throughout. Seeing the painting, he laughs some more and nudges Dustyn. "And here was me thinking you weren't even into women," Dallas laughs, poking him on the arm and laughing hard. "What was up?" he chuckles, getting his breath back.
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