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fellowshippers2007-08-14 11:13 am
nakannalee.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2007-08-14 11:13 am
Entry tags:
Fic: Irreverent (five drabbles), Monaboyd
Fic: Irreverent (five drabbles)
Author: Nakanna Lee
Pairing: Monaboyd
Rating: hard PG-13
Word Count: Each under 100 (except for #2)
A/N: The drabbles are numbered according to where each scene falls: 1 (beginning) through 5 (ending). Thanks to![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
starlingthefool for the prompt.
Author: Nakanna Lee
Pairing: Monaboyd
Rating: hard PG-13
Word Count: Each under 100 (except for #2)
A/N: The drabbles are numbered according to where each scene falls: 1 (beginning) through 5 (ending). Thanks to
starlingthefool for the prompt.5. Dedicate (1/2)
The Blessed Mother smashes against the rocks. Blue and white brittle pieces lay in ruin. A bag of the hidden stash plops out, his savior from the statue's broken womb.
As Charlie, he fingers it and sympathizes. There was a time when he too would have shattered anything to get what he shouldn't have wanted.
He wishes he'd had the nerve to risk it then.
4. Permeate
Billy can't look upset against an impending grin. He's having just as much difficulty holding up a sea-legged and sailor-tongued Dom.
"'M not all drunk, you know. There's a fucking good part of me that's high."
"Don't you want to remember it?" Billy lingers on his dilated pupils and the blurry, possessive smile sloshing around his face.
"Course. But this feel good." He nuzzles Billy's stubbly cheek and they rock against the private back room's wall, Billy's head falling back as he gapes in pleasure at feeling Dom's body throb synchronously with his. It's so few and far between anymore, he's almost forgotten how good it is.
Dom wraps his arms around him and squeezes tight. He's far gone. "You make my bones bleed," he whispers.
3. Isolate
Finally she's sleeping. Billy lies back-to-back with her, a nervous space between their bodies. As if the sheets and dark will give him up. He slams his eyes shut until pinpricks of white start speckling through the black, and when he touches himself he's mouthing Dom, Dom until it's no longer a word, just a shape of a sound to consume him and afterwards leave him shivering in sweat.
2. Commiserate
Beer bottles sit around them like helpful little ghostwriters. Emptied, they cast green-tinted shadows across linoleum, while they brainstorm on the kitchen floor of Billy's New Zealand flat and say random things aloud into the recorder, bouncing comedy off each other.
The storyline is, so far as they know: Two friends, bullshitting as scuba instructors.
(Dom knows: He wants this for keeps.)
Inanely, Billy muses about a shark scene, and how these blokes could possibly get out of this one.
Dom laughs (as if he can find humor in a man who has no idea what he's doing).
1. Dedicate (2/2)
"Don't you know? I've developed a hopeless fancy for you, Bills. Now I'm going to write your name repeatedly on every blank page in here."
Dom dramatically opened to a random spot in his diary--previously reserved only for serious thoughts, seeds of ideas, sketches--and started scrawling in obnoxious, swirling letters: Billy Boyd Billy Boyd Billy Boyd.
"Eh you wanker, you've ruined it!" Billy insisted. He tugged the blue pen away; then suddenly he grabbed Dom's hand and flipped it around so he could sign on the back: Billy.
"Show it off then," he grinned.
end
The Blessed Mother smashes against the rocks. Blue and white brittle pieces lay in ruin. A bag of the hidden stash plops out, his savior from the statue's broken womb.
As Charlie, he fingers it and sympathizes. There was a time when he too would have shattered anything to get what he shouldn't have wanted.
He wishes he'd had the nerve to risk it then.
4. Permeate
Billy can't look upset against an impending grin. He's having just as much difficulty holding up a sea-legged and sailor-tongued Dom.
"'M not all drunk, you know. There's a fucking good part of me that's high."
"Don't you want to remember it?" Billy lingers on his dilated pupils and the blurry, possessive smile sloshing around his face.
"Course. But this feel good." He nuzzles Billy's stubbly cheek and they rock against the private back room's wall, Billy's head falling back as he gapes in pleasure at feeling Dom's body throb synchronously with his. It's so few and far between anymore, he's almost forgotten how good it is.
Dom wraps his arms around him and squeezes tight. He's far gone. "You make my bones bleed," he whispers.
3. Isolate
Finally she's sleeping. Billy lies back-to-back with her, a nervous space between their bodies. As if the sheets and dark will give him up. He slams his eyes shut until pinpricks of white start speckling through the black, and when he touches himself he's mouthing Dom, Dom until it's no longer a word, just a shape of a sound to consume him and afterwards leave him shivering in sweat.
2. Commiserate
Beer bottles sit around them like helpful little ghostwriters. Emptied, they cast green-tinted shadows across linoleum, while they brainstorm on the kitchen floor of Billy's New Zealand flat and say random things aloud into the recorder, bouncing comedy off each other.
The storyline is, so far as they know: Two friends, bullshitting as scuba instructors.
(Dom knows: He wants this for keeps.)
Inanely, Billy muses about a shark scene, and how these blokes could possibly get out of this one.
Dom laughs (as if he can find humor in a man who has no idea what he's doing).
1. Dedicate (2/2)
"Don't you know? I've developed a hopeless fancy for you, Bills. Now I'm going to write your name repeatedly on every blank page in here."
Dom dramatically opened to a random spot in his diary--previously reserved only for serious thoughts, seeds of ideas, sketches--and started scrawling in obnoxious, swirling letters: Billy Boyd Billy Boyd Billy Boyd.
"Eh you wanker, you've ruined it!" Billy insisted. He tugged the blue pen away; then suddenly he grabbed Dom's hand and flipped it around so he could sign on the back: Billy.
"Show it off then," he grinned.
end