Thread: Stranded [RA + Deepsss]

Elliot decided that the silence was almost as painful as the accident. He could feel the man's eyes watching him, staring him down with an intensity that made his stomach roll. Instinct urged him to talk, but Elliot didn't know if that was the best idea what if he accidentally talked the man out of whatever he was considering? What if it didn't even matter? Helpless, uncertain, and scared, it was all he could do to stay absolute still, hoping that staying completely immobile would somehow better his odds and it seemed to work. The tight band that constricted his lungs lessened significantly when the man tossed his spear onto the ground, though a new wave of alarm washed over Elliot as his arm was grabbed. Umm - please, I...ahh... Elliot tried to flinch away, but the man was both faster and stronger. He didn't like being so close to the other, but it did allow him to study a bit more. The man's skin was strongly tanned, bronze and even in complexion. Even though the fabric of his shirt, Elliot could feel the calluses on his palms and fingers. There was no longer any doubt that the man had been on the island for a long time probably with a tribe, Elliot thought. Somehow, the other looked less upset about his presence, so Elliot ventured into speech again. No English, huh? He asked, trying to ignore how his shirt was being so intensely examined. Do you speak at all, anything? An instant later he felt those rough hands grabbing his arm in such a way that his bleeding palm was forced upwards. Oh - yeah, d-don't touch - hurts - hey! The last thing Elliot was prepared to expect was licking . Wide-eyed and alarmed, his good hand shot out to press against his shoulder, but to no avail. Umm, y-you... If the licking had given him a shock, it was nothing compared to when the loincloth came off. Immediately Elliot flushed and turned away, though the image of his cock, naked and bold between his muscled thighs, stayed seared into the back of his eyelids. He ended up giving his hand up willingly so the man could bind his injury, though Elliot was determined on keeping his eyes away from what was in between the man's legs. Thank you... Elliot paused as the other began to gesture towards the sky. Confusion knit his brow for a long moment, but he sensed enough of the question to take a stab. He nodded, and then gestured towards the sky too. Yeah, er - plane, Elliot said, pronouncing the last word clearly. He said it again before letting his pointing finger slowly fall, tracing the trajectory of the accident until he was pointing at the water. Then, tapping his own chest, he gestured towards the ocean again. I was with the plane... A darkness flickered over his features, voice falling. Many people were. By now, debris had secured whatever foothold it found onto the shore suitcases, chunks of the plane, seat cushions. He tore his eyes away from the evidence and faced the other man. There were so many questions he had, and so much he desperately wanted to communicate - but so far, it didn't seem possible. Elliot decided to go for something very simple, since he hadn't even heard a syllable from the man. Elliot. His bandaged hand tapped his own sea-soaked shirt, gesturing towards himself. El-li-ot. And then, in a silent question, he reached out and let his fingers tap the large, smooth expanse of the other man's chest.