fellowshippers | Ficlet: Love is a sordid affair; KU/VM; KU/SB; KU/HS

It's my first time posting in this community, so hi! Here's a little ficlet by way of introduction.

Title: Love is a sordid affair
Pairing: Karl/Viggo; Karl/Sean; Karl/Harry (yeah, Karl's a bit of a slut in this one).
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I'm pretty sure this didn't happen and if it did I doubt it went down like this. What I'm trying to say is: this is fiction but I don't make money out of it. It's a lie, but no disrespect is intended.
Feedback: Always welcome.
Notes: For

laeb - she's the one who sent me the plot-bunny. It's my way of saying sorry for torturing you with both Viggo singing Angelino and Sean singing the Chip Butty song all in one night.
Summary: summary's the title really - Love is a sordid affair.

*

L'Amour est une sale affaire.

Jean Leloup, Isabelle.

...but this isn't chocolate boxes and roses - it's dirtier than that, like some small animal that only comes out at night.

Pulp, F.E.E.L.I.N.G.C.A.L.L.E.D.L.O.V.E.

*

Love is a sordid affair. It's an affair of the senses, of heavy sighs and broken whimpers, the sound of skin slapping against skin in the dark. It is action, not condition. Karl has never understood why they call it love if lust would be more than good enough.

Karl lusts for Harry. He lusts for Harry even while he's being fucked by Viggo, hidden behind infrequently locked trailer doors. Damned hard and so damned loud he fears that some day, curiosity will win over discretion and they'll be caught in the golden net of public exposure and scandal.

And still Karl lusts for Harry. He lusts for Harry even through the maddening chaos that Sean can drive him to through simple kissing; even as Sean takes his cock so deep down his throat Karl thinks he might be wanting to suck his soul out through it.

They talk to him, both of them; obscene whispers and carefully chosen words, devised to rob him of his judgement, strip him of any sense of moral, obliterate all traces of common decency. They're corrupting Karl, each in his own way, and Christ, isn't he having a glorious fall?

And then there's Harry. Harry, who holds Karl's eyes in a steady gaze as he walks around the set, feeling like there isn't an untouched muscle in his body. A gaze that makes Karl keenly aware of how sore his ass, cock and throat are. Precisely in that order.

Harry. His friend Harry. His long-time friend, who'll always be one step ahead of Karl, one little step that keeps him consistently out of Karl's reach. Harry walks by as he leans against a reassuring tree. The sun-rays pour down on his deceivingly relaxed figure, filtered by the leaves and the branches, intercepting and parting to create an abstract, deconstructed portrait of Karl. Harry walks by and smiles.

King and Steward can fight all they want for him, perhaps even reach an agreement that'll distribute ownership in fare shares to each. But Harry walks by Karl and smiles; simplicity and the certainty of a friend's promise. Harry smiles and the patterns shatter.

Sooner or later, the bickering will end and when that happens, Karl knows he'll have a steady buyer ready to outbid them both. Love is a sordid affair indeed - it's a poor disguise for lust. That's why he's always preferred calling it friendship.