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fellowshippers2004-01-15 12:26 am
abbichicken.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-01-15 12:26 am
FIC: Resolution 1/1
Title: Resolution 1/1
WARNINGS: Past fics continued blood, pain, violent slash sex, and a bit more blood. This part contains reference to that.
Rating: R? Reference to above, swearing.
Pairing: Dom/Elijah
Archive: Want. Take. Have. Tell me :)
Disclaimer: Check for the scars next time you see either of them naked, and you'll notice they're not there. Because this ain't the truth. Or, I suspect, anywhere near it. It's all in the name of messed up fun and slash.
A/N: Essentially, this is an epilogue to Clarification, which was in itself a kind of sequel to Scarification and won't therefore likely make much sense if you haven't read those...basically, I just wanted Dom to have a little "closure"...
He exhales another stream of blue smoke, and runs a hand gently, gently down through the congealing blood on my arm.
“Oh Dom… I did enjoy that… Did you believe me?”
Believe him?
“What d’you mean?” I ask, confused.
My split mouth leaks open as I ask the question. I must look rough as hell.
“You know? All that…shouting. And clawing. And…stuff. You know. You know? That is what you wanted…right? In return?”
What I…?
Wanted?
Well. Fuck me.
_______________________________
I’m busy having a shock realisation about myself, and trying to freezeframe so that I can actually think about this. I don’t want to fuck off to the bathroom and panic Lij, cause, well, it’s nothing about him. Except it is, it’s all about him and what just happened, but then, it’s nothing bad. Oh shite, I don’t know whether it’s good, bad or what, and so in the moment I’m thinking all these things, I answer him yeah, yeah it is what I wanted, reach around his body and curl myself slowly onto it, trying not to make him drop that cigarette. Closing my eyes, I pay full attention to my thoughts.
If it’s possible to laugh in your own head, I am. And what a strange afternoon it’s been. You go over to see your friend and have a quiet drink, find yourself obligingly burning a permanent hole in his chest, and then have vicious, insane, bloody, violent sexual relations with him. Not what I was planning to do with this, the most ordinary of Thursdays. And you know what the most fucked up, confusing, hilarious part of the whole equation is? It’s the best Thursday I’ve ever had.
Lij extinguishes his cigarette in a candle, and continues to run cool hands over my hot, broken skin. It’s like medicine, only nicer. And it’s okay, right? This is okay? Because who’s to know, who’s to care? Even if this isn’t the way of things, fuck, I’m not lying to myself, I got off. I came on his stomach, I wanted every scratch and every cut, every shot of pain. But only because I trust Elijah, even when he shocked me, even when he scared me, it was okay, because I know that he’ll keep this to himself, it’s, it’s safe. If he hadn’t made me bleed, hadn’t covered me in reverberating aches and searing slashes, I’d think I was dreaming, so it’s that that’s making this real, that, of all things, makes everything make sense. And it’s that fact that, this is precisely why I’m okay with this, that makes my mind tick over from boy, you are fucked up, to, hell, who gives a shit?
Elijah pokes me, gently, stirring me back into reality. “Dom? You okay? You asleep?”
“Not really…yes…no…what?” I murmur, confused as to which question I’m answering. Propping myself up on one elbow, I push myself to focus on his eyes, check what he’s thinking.
“I never did anything like that before,” he says, quietly.
Could’ve fooled me, I think to myself. And if he’s telling the truth, well, that was a damn good first effort.
“But you did?”
I say nothing in response, and try not to look guilty. Yeah, yeah I did, but not like that, not with someone…like Elijah. And it didn’t feel so good then.
He shrugs. “Whatever.”
“How did you know?”
“How did I know what?”
“That…that I would be okay with that…that it would…turn me on? Did I ever say anything to you?”
“Dude, you fucking burnt me with a spoon and your eyes sparkled. Don’t think I couldn’t see that!”
“And the rest?”
“You were the one that got hard first. Didn’t have to say a word to me. Look, I’m sorry if you feel weird about it…”
And I can’t be fucked with thinking about this anymore, he seems fine with it - god only knows when the boy got so perceptive - I feel fine with it, so to stop this turning traumatic, I slip a hand behind his head, pull it to mine, and kiss him lengthily, properly, and as nicely as I know how. The fact that my kiss more than likely tastes of dried blood stops it being as ridiculously romantic as it could be, and so when I finally break away to see if the vodka is where I left it all that time ago, it’s worth a smile, and no real explanation, just a wink will suffice. I pick the bottle up, and neck a couple of gulps. Elijah laughs as I fight a convulsion, and god it’s a long time since I drank straight vodka, but it’s great just the same. The warmth of it soothes my external pains almost immediately, and I feel like everything about me just relaxed.
Elijah shakes his head, and just for a moment, I feel like the kid here, like he’s in control again, and I lie back on his taut, hurt body, listen to the sound of his heart, beating slower and more controlled than mine, let him cover me with an arm, and think, well, this could all have ended up so much worse, could feel so much stranger, could’ve cost me a lot. But it didn’t.
It occurs to me that all this time we’ve been lying together completely naked. I’m not as surprised as I would have thought I would be that this is not, in point of fact, a problem for me.
And so, almost asleep in Elijah’s hold like some sick fucking fairytale ending, I’m drifting off, head spinning already with the alcohol, body working hard to mend its cuts and gashes that’ll be a make-up artist’s nightmare one day soon, mouth split wide in the most joyful smile I can manage, eyes screwed up in silent bruised hysterics with everything that is and was about tonight, and I can proudly, nearly drunkenly, confess to myself that yes, this is who I am, who I like, what I like, and where I am, and right now, that’s fucking fine.
WARNINGS: Past fics continued blood, pain, violent slash sex, and a bit more blood. This part contains reference to that.
Rating: R? Reference to above, swearing.
Pairing: Dom/Elijah
Archive: Want. Take. Have. Tell me :)
Disclaimer: Check for the scars next time you see either of them naked, and you'll notice they're not there. Because this ain't the truth. Or, I suspect, anywhere near it. It's all in the name of messed up fun and slash.
A/N: Essentially, this is an epilogue to Clarification, which was in itself a kind of sequel to Scarification and won't therefore likely make much sense if you haven't read those...basically, I just wanted Dom to have a little "closure"...
He exhales another stream of blue smoke, and runs a hand gently, gently down through the congealing blood on my arm.
“Oh Dom… I did enjoy that… Did you believe me?”
Believe him?
“What d’you mean?” I ask, confused.
My split mouth leaks open as I ask the question. I must look rough as hell.
“You know? All that…shouting. And clawing. And…stuff. You know. You know? That is what you wanted…right? In return?”
What I…?
Wanted?
Well. Fuck me.
_______________________________
I’m busy having a shock realisation about myself, and trying to freezeframe so that I can actually think about this. I don’t want to fuck off to the bathroom and panic Lij, cause, well, it’s nothing about him. Except it is, it’s all about him and what just happened, but then, it’s nothing bad. Oh shite, I don’t know whether it’s good, bad or what, and so in the moment I’m thinking all these things, I answer him yeah, yeah it is what I wanted, reach around his body and curl myself slowly onto it, trying not to make him drop that cigarette. Closing my eyes, I pay full attention to my thoughts.
If it’s possible to laugh in your own head, I am. And what a strange afternoon it’s been. You go over to see your friend and have a quiet drink, find yourself obligingly burning a permanent hole in his chest, and then have vicious, insane, bloody, violent sexual relations with him. Not what I was planning to do with this, the most ordinary of Thursdays. And you know what the most fucked up, confusing, hilarious part of the whole equation is? It’s the best Thursday I’ve ever had.
Lij extinguishes his cigarette in a candle, and continues to run cool hands over my hot, broken skin. It’s like medicine, only nicer. And it’s okay, right? This is okay? Because who’s to know, who’s to care? Even if this isn’t the way of things, fuck, I’m not lying to myself, I got off. I came on his stomach, I wanted every scratch and every cut, every shot of pain. But only because I trust Elijah, even when he shocked me, even when he scared me, it was okay, because I know that he’ll keep this to himself, it’s, it’s safe. If he hadn’t made me bleed, hadn’t covered me in reverberating aches and searing slashes, I’d think I was dreaming, so it’s that that’s making this real, that, of all things, makes everything make sense. And it’s that fact that, this is precisely why I’m okay with this, that makes my mind tick over from boy, you are fucked up, to, hell, who gives a shit?
Elijah pokes me, gently, stirring me back into reality. “Dom? You okay? You asleep?”
“Not really…yes…no…what?” I murmur, confused as to which question I’m answering. Propping myself up on one elbow, I push myself to focus on his eyes, check what he’s thinking.
“I never did anything like that before,” he says, quietly.
Could’ve fooled me, I think to myself. And if he’s telling the truth, well, that was a damn good first effort.
“But you did?”
I say nothing in response, and try not to look guilty. Yeah, yeah I did, but not like that, not with someone…like Elijah. And it didn’t feel so good then.
He shrugs. “Whatever.”
“How did you know?”
“How did I know what?”
“That…that I would be okay with that…that it would…turn me on? Did I ever say anything to you?”
“Dude, you fucking burnt me with a spoon and your eyes sparkled. Don’t think I couldn’t see that!”
“And the rest?”
“You were the one that got hard first. Didn’t have to say a word to me. Look, I’m sorry if you feel weird about it…”
And I can’t be fucked with thinking about this anymore, he seems fine with it - god only knows when the boy got so perceptive - I feel fine with it, so to stop this turning traumatic, I slip a hand behind his head, pull it to mine, and kiss him lengthily, properly, and as nicely as I know how. The fact that my kiss more than likely tastes of dried blood stops it being as ridiculously romantic as it could be, and so when I finally break away to see if the vodka is where I left it all that time ago, it’s worth a smile, and no real explanation, just a wink will suffice. I pick the bottle up, and neck a couple of gulps. Elijah laughs as I fight a convulsion, and god it’s a long time since I drank straight vodka, but it’s great just the same. The warmth of it soothes my external pains almost immediately, and I feel like everything about me just relaxed.
Elijah shakes his head, and just for a moment, I feel like the kid here, like he’s in control again, and I lie back on his taut, hurt body, listen to the sound of his heart, beating slower and more controlled than mine, let him cover me with an arm, and think, well, this could all have ended up so much worse, could feel so much stranger, could’ve cost me a lot. But it didn’t.
It occurs to me that all this time we’ve been lying together completely naked. I’m not as surprised as I would have thought I would be that this is not, in point of fact, a problem for me.
And so, almost asleep in Elijah’s hold like some sick fucking fairytale ending, I’m drifting off, head spinning already with the alcohol, body working hard to mend its cuts and gashes that’ll be a make-up artist’s nightmare one day soon, mouth split wide in the most joyful smile I can manage, eyes screwed up in silent bruised hysterics with everything that is and was about tonight, and I can proudly, nearly drunkenly, confess to myself that yes, this is who I am, who I like, what I like, and where I am, and right now, that’s fucking fine.
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=)
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::whimper::
Sorry-Idon'tthinkIcanmakeanyothersoundsrightnow...
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that was just so disturbing and violent and so good.
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And still my mind wants to write a sequel...*sigh*
Just can't leave these boys alone...
(incidentally, that's the best icon *ever*...have that pic as my wallpaper... *squees, stupidly*)