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elfianjoy.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fellowshippers2003-02-15 02:27 pm
elfianjoy.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2003-02-15 02:27 pm
Metallic Kisses, PG-13, OB/EW
Title: Metallic Kisses
Author: Elise
Pairing: ob/ew
Rating: PG-13
Archive: My site Witching Hour, anywhere else probably doesn't want it. If you do, just ask.
Notes: First time writing an improv. I hope I did it right.
Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
contrelamontre taste challenge.
He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want this now, and knows he will want it less when it’s over. He can hardly remember how he got from the club to Elijah’s place, but he’s not even halfway drunk. His blood is pounding in his ears so loudly he almost doesn’t hear Elijah moan his name.
“Orli…”
He wants to push him away, but he can’t lift managed to lift his arms; he wants to tell him ‘stop,’ but all he can do is return the kiss. Elijah tastes mainly of alcohol, of course, because if he was any less drunk, he would be ashamed of himself. Orlando knows that once people get to know him, they can’t even fool around with him, unless they are certain they won’t remember it come morning. He knows this, but still he tries, so very hard. He wants the world to fall in love with him.
But Elijah—this isn’t what Orlando wants. If he knew that Elijah wanted to remember, wanted forever, a week, tomorrow, then he wouldn’t feel so dirty and nauseous and dizzy. His body has tuned out the double set of warnings sent out by his brain and his heart, and he feels helpless and guilty all at once, but he can’t stop kissing him.
*
Later, they have made their way to the couch. Orlando has unwillingly succumbed to this moment, allowing the pleasure and regret to wash over him as one. He ignores his subconscious’ warnings that he is only making it worse for himself, in the long run. It’s only his life, after all, his pride and ego, which is far more delicate than the people here realize. They saw a pretty face and an easy smile, and automatically translated that to ‘pretty easy.’ Everybody here at least half-believes that assumption, including himself. He aims to please and hates to disappoint.
Elijah stands up and tugs his arm softly, but he only sits up straighter on the well-worn couch. His eyes meet Elijah’s, softly, but he hears the crash in his head and imagines he can taste the tangy bitterness of metal on metal. He feels sick from the taste, wants to spit and vomit and kiss again, simultaneously. His stomach clenches even as his brain formulates the thought. He settles for the last option, his lips finding Elijah’s again, even though he can’t even taste the multiple beers on Elijah’s tongue. All he can feel is the sick, metallic sensation of wrongness, and the regret that morning will bring.
Author: Elise
Pairing: ob/ew
Rating: PG-13
Archive: My site Witching Hour, anywhere else probably doesn't want it. If you do, just ask.
Notes: First time writing an improv. I hope I did it right.
Written for the
contrelamontre taste challenge. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want this now, and knows he will want it less when it’s over. He can hardly remember how he got from the club to Elijah’s place, but he’s not even halfway drunk. His blood is pounding in his ears so loudly he almost doesn’t hear Elijah moan his name.
“Orli…”
He wants to push him away, but he can’t lift managed to lift his arms; he wants to tell him ‘stop,’ but all he can do is return the kiss. Elijah tastes mainly of alcohol, of course, because if he was any less drunk, he would be ashamed of himself. Orlando knows that once people get to know him, they can’t even fool around with him, unless they are certain they won’t remember it come morning. He knows this, but still he tries, so very hard. He wants the world to fall in love with him.
But Elijah—this isn’t what Orlando wants. If he knew that Elijah wanted to remember, wanted forever, a week, tomorrow, then he wouldn’t feel so dirty and nauseous and dizzy. His body has tuned out the double set of warnings sent out by his brain and his heart, and he feels helpless and guilty all at once, but he can’t stop kissing him.
*
Later, they have made their way to the couch. Orlando has unwillingly succumbed to this moment, allowing the pleasure and regret to wash over him as one. He ignores his subconscious’ warnings that he is only making it worse for himself, in the long run. It’s only his life, after all, his pride and ego, which is far more delicate than the people here realize. They saw a pretty face and an easy smile, and automatically translated that to ‘pretty easy.’ Everybody here at least half-believes that assumption, including himself. He aims to please and hates to disappoint.
Elijah stands up and tugs his arm softly, but he only sits up straighter on the well-worn couch. His eyes meet Elijah’s, softly, but he hears the crash in his head and imagines he can taste the tangy bitterness of metal on metal. He feels sick from the taste, wants to spit and vomit and kiss again, simultaneously. His stomach clenches even as his brain formulates the thought. He settles for the last option, his lips finding Elijah’s again, even though he can’t even taste the multiple beers on Elijah’s tongue. All he can feel is the sick, metallic sensation of wrongness, and the regret that morning will bring.
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