Fanfic: Kiss
Jan. 7th, 2006 12:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
knights_say_nihA recounting of Jack and Belial doing just that.
Dude. Belial=Satan. This is not for the faint of heart. But it was pressing, and is being stored here until said poker win is over with.
Anyhow, I'll give it an R just because I'm paranoid that way.
The first kiss had been a command. His own choice, in a way, he’d given Belial the opening, given him the means, and played effectively into his hands. When he’d looked him in the eye, he’d said nothing, but he’d gone, hadn’t he? When he was asked, he’d crossed the space between them and sat next to him for a kiss he could barely remember beyond the pounding of his heart and the rush of terror and blood.
Next, it had been about control. The bitter attack for a bet lost, the swipe taken against anger, against independence, and one more indication that Belial was someone to fear. Hands in his hair, that’s what he remembered the most. In his hair and clutching his throat. And fuck Mercutio coming to sit with them.
Nearly immediately following came his humiliation. His use. Something to hurt Mercutio with. Soft and passionate and if, he thought to himself, they had been alone and in earnest? He would have let Belial bed him then and there. But they hadn’t been, and it hadn’t been, and now all he had to do was long for it’s repeat and fear it.
The fourth was not him at all, but rather his cold, and the kiss had been conflict, first punishment again but met with icy resistance and rough exploring hands and desire frightfully hot for such a cool being. It had left Jack, curled deep inside, had left him wanting while Frost played the cool exterior, leaving him to control a desire he didn’t really understand.
That one hadn’t counted, really, because it hadn’t been part of the bet. Nor did the next one, though it was the best of them all.
That one was Jack’s own to give, and soft, and sweet, and without their mouths open or biting or anything like that, just a quick press of his lips to the corner of Belial’s mouth with a half smile and an almost-compliment. Jack’s own, and Belial had regarded him strangely and said, quite simply, ‘Nice.’ Which it was, though Jack was privately sure that from him, that wasn’t a compliment. But it didn’t really matter.
What he wondered was, of course, what was coming next?
Dude. Belial=Satan. This is not for the faint of heart. But it was pressing, and is being stored here until said poker win is over with.
Anyhow, I'll give it an R just because I'm paranoid that way.
The first kiss had been a command. His own choice, in a way, he’d given Belial the opening, given him the means, and played effectively into his hands. When he’d looked him in the eye, he’d said nothing, but he’d gone, hadn’t he? When he was asked, he’d crossed the space between them and sat next to him for a kiss he could barely remember beyond the pounding of his heart and the rush of terror and blood.
Next, it had been about control. The bitter attack for a bet lost, the swipe taken against anger, against independence, and one more indication that Belial was someone to fear. Hands in his hair, that’s what he remembered the most. In his hair and clutching his throat. And fuck Mercutio coming to sit with them.
Nearly immediately following came his humiliation. His use. Something to hurt Mercutio with. Soft and passionate and if, he thought to himself, they had been alone and in earnest? He would have let Belial bed him then and there. But they hadn’t been, and it hadn’t been, and now all he had to do was long for it’s repeat and fear it.
The fourth was not him at all, but rather his cold, and the kiss had been conflict, first punishment again but met with icy resistance and rough exploring hands and desire frightfully hot for such a cool being. It had left Jack, curled deep inside, had left him wanting while Frost played the cool exterior, leaving him to control a desire he didn’t really understand.
That one hadn’t counted, really, because it hadn’t been part of the bet. Nor did the next one, though it was the best of them all.
That one was Jack’s own to give, and soft, and sweet, and without their mouths open or biting or anything like that, just a quick press of his lips to the corner of Belial’s mouth with a half smile and an almost-compliment. Jack’s own, and Belial had regarded him strangely and said, quite simply, ‘Nice.’ Which it was, though Jack was privately sure that from him, that wasn’t a compliment. But it didn’t really matter.
What he wondered was, of course, what was coming next?
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Date: 2006-01-07 10:25 pm (UTC)*pokies* If you've got a minute to E-Mail, I gots a question about something Random's doing, because I have a muse poking at my head to write an excessively long thingy about it but I'd like to make sure it'll be applicable before I get too far. I'm friarsghost @ gmail.com
:)