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aliasverve.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fellowshippers2004-02-19 06:13 am
aliasverve.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-02-19 06:13 am
voyeur with a lilt
voyoor
lotr rps au
elijah, monaboyd
r
sexual situation, coarse language
it's all fiction.
pretty boys make the world go round. so does feedback.
for the 'intrepid' challenge between myself and![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
airlia_vega. i'm thinking west-side story era here; tight jeans, poofy jackets, tight jeans, really bad hair, tight jeans, gangs, you get the picture.
i have realized the stupidity in separating such a short fic into parts. thus, i have posted the fic here in its entirety, and will be going back shortly to delete my first post. sorry for any inconvenience.
1.
Quiet now, silent. Not a sound.
I could feel my fingers, numb, chapped, curled into a fist. Stuck tight to each other, and I knew my knuckles were white and strained, and the tendons in my fingers felt taut, like rubber bands stretched to their limits and then frozen, so if I moved them, they would surely snap.
That was no good, though. I needed to button up my jacket, but my frozen fingers were too fat and too clumsy and I feared that they would hear me- nails catching on threads and scratching and breath clouding the clear, cold air. My lips were raw and chapped and each time I dared dart out my tongue to wet them, they became even more painful than before and I had to stop, and restrain myself from rubbing warmth into them. A frigidness encased my torso, seeping through my shirt to make my chest and stomach freeze, and a bit beyond that, as it were.
So I watched, cold and tired and knees aching from crouching too long, and all my joints stiff. I had been watching for what seemed to be a very long time, but my watch had only counted six minutes and twenty-three seconds. By now it was probably twenty-four or -five.
In the films, there is always a dark alley, with trash cans and hissing cats and broken bottles, and I always laughed, because everyone knows real life isn't at all like the movies; people don't say 'brother' or 'sis' everytime they talk to their siblings, just like love doesn't happen at first sight, or even in a week. But true to form, this alley was darker than the inside of my eyelids. Or near to, at least.
Every so often, a car would vroom by, and after a second the hum of the motor and the strange, rectangular shapes cast on the brick walls by the headlights would be gone, and a few times I had almost turned to see if the car had stopped in the middle of the road, because I could have sworn those lights were still there, hovering and morphing into new shapes.
I wondered why they weren't afraid of being caught. I wondered why they didn't duck, or hide. Or, hell, go somewhere that wasn't quite so cold. (And then I wondered why I cared.)
But I knew they knew I was there, and I really did want to turn tail and run and leave them to their disgusting selves, and my whole body was aching and crying and pleading with me to just go. But my curiousity always got the better of me and I was too entranced to move. I was afraid they'd stop and stare at me, just like I stared at them from behind a bunch of crates, through the slats in the wood; stare at me like I was the one doing something wrong. There were two of them, probably older than me by a couple years. I wondered if they were actually eighteen yet. Even if they were, they'd still have it hard if they were caught.
I remembered just then, reading one of Hannah's trashy novels that she wasn't really supposed to have, but that also were always to be found in abundance under her bathroom sink, behind all the bright pink and teal plastic hair curlers that she never used. (Sometimes I think older kids just do things they're not supposed to and hope that they'll be caught. Just for the hell of it.) Anyway, I remembered snatching one up a few years ago, when Mom was down at the store, chatting with all the ladies (Oh, did I hate those bitches, never shutting up and going on about anything, and my Mom the worst of them) and Hannah was spending the night at Julie's so I knew I was safe.
I hadn't understood a lot of the story-- it was pretty stupid from what I could gather-- but every so often there was a scene that made my limbs start to tremble and my stomach all jittery. They always had fancy, almost poetic descriptions of everything. And I mean everything.
I guess what I was trying to say is, I finally knew what 'milk white hip bones were.' Though the ones I could see were covered with goose-bumps, and I don't think those were ever mentioned in the stories.
2.
The boy against the wall groaned. I twitched.
"Yer sooch a fooking voyoor- aah! Dom!"
The other one laughed, haltingly, out of breath, and I could see the sheen of chilled weat on him, shining like frost on a window in early January.
"You're loving it," he mumbled, lowly-- and now I also knew what 'huskily' meant-- and his words felt like a light touch skimming over me and cutting through the cold. Even though they weren't meant for me.
The first boy laughed as well, though it might be a bit more honest to say 'gasped,' and even his breath had a lilt to it that sounded as if it had came across a very wide ocean, from some strange fairy-tale land that was all but forgotten, with high cliffs and misty green valleys. And lots of pale skin. He was beautiful. I mean, in a girly, fairy, pixie sort of way. If he were a girl, he'd be really pretty. I think he missed his calling.
He talked again, and his accent was heavier than ever.
"Is he?"
Pixie-boy moaned again-- a little two-cent whore, 's what he was-- and I saw the bead of sweat perched above his lip, and the glints reflected in his eyes as he looked right at me. The second boy- Dominant, then- had leaned one hand against the brick wall above Pixie's head, probably to steady himself so he didn't fall, but the other hand lingered on that milk white hip-- large, with strong, fine-veined fingers that spanned the crest of the other boy's body effortlessly, guiding it, and it was obvious he was in charge. Dominant moved, Pixie moved. Moved frantically and furtively and sort of jumpy too, and I imagined they were pretty cold. They both had their pants up as much as current activities would allow, but every so often Dom's ass would make an appearance, above black silk boxers and his tight jeans.
This had no effect on me whatsoever. In all honesty, I was really more engrossed in my fingers, which by now were probably turning blue. I wondered if I could get frostbite from sitting outside and watching two homos get it on.
To think of it like that seemed so crude. They were like a painting; something to be awed by, and marvel at. Some complexity that would never be solved; any guesses seemed large and bulky against the exquisite picture the problem presented.
Were they really a problem?
Why was it so wrong, I found myself wondering. It was against God, I suppose, but I never took to that bible-thumping idea. What was it, that made people shudder and avert their eyes and lower their voices?
I couldn't look away. I'll be damned, but I couldn't look away.
3.
Dom's panting was rhythmic-- open-mouthed grunts, short of breath and hot with the spit that must be building in the corners of his mouth, seeing as he kept swallowing and making something between a moan and a sigh every so often, and I imagined that his eyes would be glossy with lust. I wondered what color they were. And I wondered again why I cared.
"I don't know."
He managed to get the sentence out, and his heavy voice was exotic as well, (was it only the situation that had rendered it so?) like a Cambridge scholar that narrated short films for public schools, though it was grittier and dirtier and definitely not so light and bookish as I would have expected from a Brit. His surprisingly well-kept teeth bit down on Pixie's shoulder as he made a last movement, moaning as a shudder passed through his body. The other boy make a similar sound soon after, like choked sob, and hissing something that sounded like 'ominiihhh' into the bricks, tautly clenching slender fingers scrabbling for a hold against the unyeilding surface.
So intent was I on his utterances that I almost didn't hear the wet sound that followed. His face and neck were a solid flush taunting the chilly air, though his lashes were dark smears against his cheeks and I couldn't see the need in his downcast eyes; the need I had heard in his voice. Dom half-collapsed behind him, and the crescent of his ear gleamed as another headlight went by, and the ends of his hair were plastered to the back of his neck. I wondered if they would freeze there. I wondered why I wondered so much.
Pixie turned, slinging an arm around Dom's waist, and kissing him, tugging at his bottom lip. Dom grinned against his mouth, and turned to look straight at me, still smiling, and I suddenly recalled the wildlife feature on timberwolves we had seen in biology last Tuesday. I knew their pants had fallen, sagging low against thighs and knees, and I tried hard not to look down and betray myself. I soon found I couldn't have looked down even if I had tried.
"Well... did you? Are you?" He asked me, leaning back his head and looking at me through slitted eyes, heavy-lidded and sensual.
I fell backward with a jolt onto my aching palms and scrambled to my feet, knocking over several of the crates, and something that sounded like a trash can scraped against the wall behind me before falling with a 'crash!' and rolling several feet. I stuttered, in shock, one word.
"F-F-Fags! Faggots!"
I backed away rapidly, tripping over an untied shoelace, pointing at them with a condemning, quivering hand, and trying to conceal just how much I'd been affected by the last few minutes. Tongue-tied and stepping on my own feet, I turned and ran, and as I ran from that disgusting, dirty, filty alley, I swore I heard their laughter echoing after me.
4.
Zipping up, Billy sighed contentedly and leaned back into strong arms. "What d'you think?"
Dom shrugged nonchalantly, resting his head on Billy's shoulder. "Aah. He'll be back."
lotr rps au
elijah, monaboyd
r
sexual situation, coarse language
it's all fiction.
pretty boys make the world go round. so does feedback.
for the 'intrepid' challenge between myself and
airlia_vega. i'm thinking west-side story era here; tight jeans, poofy jackets, tight jeans, really bad hair, tight jeans, gangs, you get the picture. i have realized the stupidity in separating such a short fic into parts. thus, i have posted the fic here in its entirety, and will be going back shortly to delete my first post. sorry for any inconvenience.
1.
Quiet now, silent. Not a sound.
I could feel my fingers, numb, chapped, curled into a fist. Stuck tight to each other, and I knew my knuckles were white and strained, and the tendons in my fingers felt taut, like rubber bands stretched to their limits and then frozen, so if I moved them, they would surely snap.
That was no good, though. I needed to button up my jacket, but my frozen fingers were too fat and too clumsy and I feared that they would hear me- nails catching on threads and scratching and breath clouding the clear, cold air. My lips were raw and chapped and each time I dared dart out my tongue to wet them, they became even more painful than before and I had to stop, and restrain myself from rubbing warmth into them. A frigidness encased my torso, seeping through my shirt to make my chest and stomach freeze, and a bit beyond that, as it were.
So I watched, cold and tired and knees aching from crouching too long, and all my joints stiff. I had been watching for what seemed to be a very long time, but my watch had only counted six minutes and twenty-three seconds. By now it was probably twenty-four or -five.
In the films, there is always a dark alley, with trash cans and hissing cats and broken bottles, and I always laughed, because everyone knows real life isn't at all like the movies; people don't say 'brother' or 'sis' everytime they talk to their siblings, just like love doesn't happen at first sight, or even in a week. But true to form, this alley was darker than the inside of my eyelids. Or near to, at least.
Every so often, a car would vroom by, and after a second the hum of the motor and the strange, rectangular shapes cast on the brick walls by the headlights would be gone, and a few times I had almost turned to see if the car had stopped in the middle of the road, because I could have sworn those lights were still there, hovering and morphing into new shapes.
I wondered why they weren't afraid of being caught. I wondered why they didn't duck, or hide. Or, hell, go somewhere that wasn't quite so cold. (And then I wondered why I cared.)
But I knew they knew I was there, and I really did want to turn tail and run and leave them to their disgusting selves, and my whole body was aching and crying and pleading with me to just go. But my curiousity always got the better of me and I was too entranced to move. I was afraid they'd stop and stare at me, just like I stared at them from behind a bunch of crates, through the slats in the wood; stare at me like I was the one doing something wrong. There were two of them, probably older than me by a couple years. I wondered if they were actually eighteen yet. Even if they were, they'd still have it hard if they were caught.
I remembered just then, reading one of Hannah's trashy novels that she wasn't really supposed to have, but that also were always to be found in abundance under her bathroom sink, behind all the bright pink and teal plastic hair curlers that she never used. (Sometimes I think older kids just do things they're not supposed to and hope that they'll be caught. Just for the hell of it.) Anyway, I remembered snatching one up a few years ago, when Mom was down at the store, chatting with all the ladies (Oh, did I hate those bitches, never shutting up and going on about anything, and my Mom the worst of them) and Hannah was spending the night at Julie's so I knew I was safe.
I hadn't understood a lot of the story-- it was pretty stupid from what I could gather-- but every so often there was a scene that made my limbs start to tremble and my stomach all jittery. They always had fancy, almost poetic descriptions of everything. And I mean everything.
I guess what I was trying to say is, I finally knew what 'milk white hip bones were.' Though the ones I could see were covered with goose-bumps, and I don't think those were ever mentioned in the stories.
2.
The boy against the wall groaned. I twitched.
"Yer sooch a fooking voyoor- aah! Dom!"
The other one laughed, haltingly, out of breath, and I could see the sheen of chilled weat on him, shining like frost on a window in early January.
"You're loving it," he mumbled, lowly-- and now I also knew what 'huskily' meant-- and his words felt like a light touch skimming over me and cutting through the cold. Even though they weren't meant for me.
The first boy laughed as well, though it might be a bit more honest to say 'gasped,' and even his breath had a lilt to it that sounded as if it had came across a very wide ocean, from some strange fairy-tale land that was all but forgotten, with high cliffs and misty green valleys. And lots of pale skin. He was beautiful. I mean, in a girly, fairy, pixie sort of way. If he were a girl, he'd be really pretty. I think he missed his calling.
He talked again, and his accent was heavier than ever.
"Is he?"
Pixie-boy moaned again-- a little two-cent whore, 's what he was-- and I saw the bead of sweat perched above his lip, and the glints reflected in his eyes as he looked right at me. The second boy- Dominant, then- had leaned one hand against the brick wall above Pixie's head, probably to steady himself so he didn't fall, but the other hand lingered on that milk white hip-- large, with strong, fine-veined fingers that spanned the crest of the other boy's body effortlessly, guiding it, and it was obvious he was in charge. Dominant moved, Pixie moved. Moved frantically and furtively and sort of jumpy too, and I imagined they were pretty cold. They both had their pants up as much as current activities would allow, but every so often Dom's ass would make an appearance, above black silk boxers and his tight jeans.
This had no effect on me whatsoever. In all honesty, I was really more engrossed in my fingers, which by now were probably turning blue. I wondered if I could get frostbite from sitting outside and watching two homos get it on.
To think of it like that seemed so crude. They were like a painting; something to be awed by, and marvel at. Some complexity that would never be solved; any guesses seemed large and bulky against the exquisite picture the problem presented.
Were they really a problem?
Why was it so wrong, I found myself wondering. It was against God, I suppose, but I never took to that bible-thumping idea. What was it, that made people shudder and avert their eyes and lower their voices?
I couldn't look away. I'll be damned, but I couldn't look away.
3.
Dom's panting was rhythmic-- open-mouthed grunts, short of breath and hot with the spit that must be building in the corners of his mouth, seeing as he kept swallowing and making something between a moan and a sigh every so often, and I imagined that his eyes would be glossy with lust. I wondered what color they were. And I wondered again why I cared.
"I don't know."
He managed to get the sentence out, and his heavy voice was exotic as well, (was it only the situation that had rendered it so?) like a Cambridge scholar that narrated short films for public schools, though it was grittier and dirtier and definitely not so light and bookish as I would have expected from a Brit. His surprisingly well-kept teeth bit down on Pixie's shoulder as he made a last movement, moaning as a shudder passed through his body. The other boy make a similar sound soon after, like choked sob, and hissing something that sounded like 'ominiihhh' into the bricks, tautly clenching slender fingers scrabbling for a hold against the unyeilding surface.
So intent was I on his utterances that I almost didn't hear the wet sound that followed. His face and neck were a solid flush taunting the chilly air, though his lashes were dark smears against his cheeks and I couldn't see the need in his downcast eyes; the need I had heard in his voice. Dom half-collapsed behind him, and the crescent of his ear gleamed as another headlight went by, and the ends of his hair were plastered to the back of his neck. I wondered if they would freeze there. I wondered why I wondered so much.
Pixie turned, slinging an arm around Dom's waist, and kissing him, tugging at his bottom lip. Dom grinned against his mouth, and turned to look straight at me, still smiling, and I suddenly recalled the wildlife feature on timberwolves we had seen in biology last Tuesday. I knew their pants had fallen, sagging low against thighs and knees, and I tried hard not to look down and betray myself. I soon found I couldn't have looked down even if I had tried.
"Well... did you? Are you?" He asked me, leaning back his head and looking at me through slitted eyes, heavy-lidded and sensual.
I fell backward with a jolt onto my aching palms and scrambled to my feet, knocking over several of the crates, and something that sounded like a trash can scraped against the wall behind me before falling with a 'crash!' and rolling several feet. I stuttered, in shock, one word.
"F-F-Fags! Faggots!"
I backed away rapidly, tripping over an untied shoelace, pointing at them with a condemning, quivering hand, and trying to conceal just how much I'd been affected by the last few minutes. Tongue-tied and stepping on my own feet, I turned and ran, and as I ran from that disgusting, dirty, filty alley, I swore I heard their laughter echoing after me.
4.
Zipping up, Billy sighed contentedly and leaned back into strong arms. "What d'you think?"
Dom shrugged nonchalantly, resting his head on Billy's shoulder. "Aah. He'll be back."
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
or cold, for that matter...
well, i'm one of them underage types, so you won't be seeing anything hotter for several years yet -_-* the divisions were sort of haphazardly placed, so i'm glad you thought it worked. ^^ thank you for such lovely feedback.