(no subject)

[iniquiticity]

|| One could tell how miserably out of shape in every way possible when he'd asked for a book on nails and the librarian had said 'Oh? Do you need practice on how to use your hammer?' and he hadn't even noticed.

The second time, when he'd asked for a book on leather, he was suitably more sober and awake, and so when the library said, "I hear you can make some spectacular cuffs with that,' Conju had been ready with a 'and leashes.'

The librarian's name was Vacir. He was middling height (taller than Conju), on the thinner side, with a long torso and short arms and legs. Conju appreciated that he always had something silly and flirty to say, and that he clearly found Conju as attractive as Conju found him. He also appreciated that Vacir knew this library with the skill of a man who had spent _a lot_ of time looking for books. Vacir knew all the best places to fuck - in the great maze of the library, on the archival reading desks, even, once, daringly, _on top_ of one of stacks.

Vacir appreciated Conju's unique gifts.

Vacir, annoyingly, sometimes asked Conju if he had ever gone into the jungle. _No, idiot_, Conju said, in one form or another, _No one comes back._

_Certainly someone must - or will_, Vacir always responded. This was the only intolerable part of him, that sometimes between the flirting and Vacir on his hands and knees with his ass in the air, Vacir would ask what Conju thought was out there. Conju appreciated the sex too much to say _who gives a fuck_.

After a while this converted into _I'm going to go out there_, and then one day Conju came looking for someone to help him find books *and* a way to get some stress out, and found neither.||