Dragon || R || One-shot
Holy god, you guys, I wrote something!
Title: Dragon
Author: x_carnivale_x
Pairing: Vam.
Rating: R for certain themes.
Word Count: ~1750
Summary: The first time - the very first time - is just a pick-me-up. That's the best way that Ville can think to describe it.
Author's Notes: This is slightly AU, because it has Ville and Bam being friends since they were kids. Also, proceed with caution; thar be angst ahead. Also, you might wanna read this twice. :)
The first time - the very first time - is just a pick-me-up. That's the best way Ville can think to describe it. It's a pick-me-up, and nothing more. Bam has had a bad day and Ville can tell all the way from across the bar where he's sitting. It's the hang of Bam's head that gives it away. They've known each other for too long for anything to really slip by unnoticed. Ville blinks steadily and pushes his chair back, hopping down and striding over to Bam. When he puts his hand on his shoulder, Bam startles and turns his head, letting out a breathy chuckle of relief when he realizes it's only Ville. Ville just sees the purplish/yellow tinge that's blushed onto Bam's cheek and he sighs.
"Bad day?" Ville asks calmly. Bam rolls his eyes and orders a double vodka tonic from the bartender. Ville clears his throat; amends his statement: "Really bad day?"
"You're getting warmer," Bam murmurs as the bartender slides his drink over.
"I'm guessing that it probably has something to do with that lovely purple tint you've got on your cheek. Pray tell, BamBam; is that fresh color courtesy of what's-his-face, Dave? Dale? Da-"
"Daniel," Bam finishes for him. "His name is Daniel. And if you must know, then yes, it is."
"You certainly do have a knack for attracting assholes," Ville remarks idly, picking slightly at the skin around his cuticle.
"I attracted you, didn't I?" Bam snarks back with a crooked smile and a quirk of his head.
"Oh, please, I was twelve," he counters. Bam just hmphs and Ville drops his hand back to his shoulder. "Come on, Bam, why do you put up with that shit?"
Bam doesn't respond, his gaze drifting back down to the bar where his empty glass sits, and Ville lets out a curt breath. He twists his tongue between his teeth, letting his canines gnaw down into it for a moment as his fingers tighten their grip on his friend's shoulder. Bam's eyes lift back up to his face and Ville slips on a half-hearted smile for the younger man's sake. Ville ticks his head back towards the back rooms of the club.
"Come on, I know what'll make you feel better."
The first time is just a pick-me-up. That's all. Just something that Ville lets Bam have to make him feel better. They've been best friends since 7th grade when Ville's family moved from Helsinki to the States, and he hates to see Bam so wrung out, so tired, so listless. Bam is his boy, and he's Bam's too, no matter who else might come into the picture. They look out for each other, take care of each other. Ville just wants him to feel good again, feel alive and loved again. The first time it happens is just to make Bam feel better... That's all.
::
The second time is different. It’s different because the second time, Bam is shaking and crying, telling Ville about how he finally broke it off with Dave... Daniel... Whatever his name is. Bam cries and tells Ville how Daniel had shouted, how Daniel had hurt him, and Bam's fingers tremble as they cling tightly to the fabric of Ville's cotton t-shirt.
As they sit alone in Ville's house, Bam's head resting against his chest, fingers still clutching his shirt with a vice-like grip, he quivers sporadically and wipes his eyes against Ville. He sniffles as delicately as he can - tries to keep it quiet and polite - and gives up, eventually relinquishing his grip on Ville to wipe his nose on the back of his hand.
He tells Ville that he just needs to take the edge off.
Ville wants to help him, wants to make him feel good again, wants to make him not so afraid of the world. He wants to take Bam and steal him away, make everything better... wants to distance Bam and make it so he isn't so lock up inside his head.
The second time isn't really a pick-me-up; not like the first time. The second time is just to ease some of the pain, to remind Bam that he's loved, to remind him that Ville is there for him whenever Bam needs him. Ville knows that this probably isn't what they should be doing right now - Bam should probably be dealing with this break up... No, he should be fucking rejoicing to be rid of that cretin, Darren, no, Daniel, sorry. But he knows that Bam is still hurting, and he knows that Bam just wants to forget things for a little while, wants to feel a real rush of happiness again and not have to worry or care. The second time is just to take Bam away for a little while, not to keep him. Plus, Ville knows he could never say no to Bam.
"Please, Willa..."
::
The third, fourth, and fifth times are just recreation, honestly. Bam leaves each time with fresh marks across his skin, remnants from their evenings spent together, and Ville has his own markings to show for the last few times Bam has visited. Bam has finally hit that rejoicing stage, finally happy to be free again, finally ready to have fun, ready to feel alive again. He wants the rush, the initial pain, and the subsequent euphoria. Ville wants it too, even if he doesn't want to admit it. He can't help it - he likes to give Bam that pleasure, likes to know he feels good. He likes to know that Bam thinks the two of them are always fine, even if they won't be fine forever. Ville wants Bam to have this as long as he wants to have it. Ville will let himself have it for as long as he can keep it.
The next few times they do it, it's just for fun. There's no pain they have to edge off, no happiness they have to reinstate - just pure pleasure, rapture, and exquisite sensation. It's unlike anything they've ever felt before - the two of them always feeling it together, because they do everything together.
The third, fourth, and fifth times are just because they want to. Not because they need it.
::
It's when Ville loses track of how long they've been doing this that things start to change. A pick-me-up had become a need; a need had become a hobby; and a hobby had become a recreational pastime. Ville's got friends in all the right places, and he's always known exactly what to get and where to get it. But when Ville loses track of how often they do it, how many times it's happened, it all starts to shift back into something that they need... something they crave... something they love.
Bam shakes and shivers when he can't have it; he trembles and tells Ville how he wants it, how he needs it, and just please, Vil, please. He begs him, and Ville crumbles every single time because he loves it too, and he wants it to happen just once more. Always just once more. He loves to give Bam this, loves the way Bam needs him, loves the way Bam needs the feeling.
Ville wants him to feel good - he's said that a million times. He wants him never to suffer or feel any pain and so he caves in each and every time Bam asks and quivers and pleads. It's a comfort that Bam needs and Ville wants to be the one to let him have it every single time.
He takes Bam in his arms, his back against Ville's chest as Bam leans into him. Ville lowers the two of them down to the pristine white tile of the bathroom floor, sitting up against the wall down below the sink. Bam is still trembling and Ville can feel a shiver coming on, threatening to wrack his own body as he blindly reaches up into the drawers above him to get the items they need.
Bam wraps the tourniquet himself, his fingers barely deft enough to keep their hold on it, and he tightens it by tugging on the tie-end he's got clenched between his teeth. His veins throb and Ville tries to give him the syringe, but Bam just shakes his head with his eyes still half-lidded, his mouth still clasped around the rubber chord that's laced around his arm. He pushes the needle back to Ville - tells him weakly:
"You do it..."
Ville pauses... because Bam has never asked that of him before. But Ville swallows thickly and nods his agreement before he gives himself the time to think, taking the syringe back into his palm. Bam hangs his head forward a little, tremors occasionally still wracking his pale, fragile form as Ville taps at the crook of his arm.
"Alright, hold still. I got you, baby," Ville tells him gently.
A sigh slips past Bam's lips as the needle enters his arm. His mouth goes slack, releasing the tie of the tourniquet from between his teeth. Ville pushes down the plunger and watches his veins throb as the drug enters Bam's system. There's a moment right after when his veins stand out as clear as day; Bam's sallow, clammy skin seemingly translucent for an instant, before the blue lines fade out again, hiding underneath a few months worth of track marks.
"Ville..." Bam breathes delicately, his voice barely above a reverent whisper.
The needle's still stuck in his flesh, resting idly in the crook of Bam's arm as if it were always supposed to be there. Ville pulls it out as slowly as he can. Bam's head lolls back against his shoulder; barely conscious, limp and euphoric. The younger man's shaking has stopped, his breathing is steady, and Ville presses his temple against Bam's sweating brow. The initial rush has come and gone by now, and now Bam is up, finding the comfort that he needs. Bam feels small against Ville's tall, lanky body, and Ville understands the feeling, understands how good it is.
He knows what Bam needs. And he always takes care of him. They've been best friends since 7th grade; Bam is his boy. Ville looks out for him and he just wants him to feel safe again. He hates to see Bam in pain, hates to see him so wrung out.
So he'll do this each and every time Bam asks. After all, this was always just for Bam. Ville just wants him to feel alive, to feel good, to feel loved again. Plus... he knows he could never say no to Bam.
[fin]
So what'd ya think? I've had the nastiest case of writer's block, especially with my Work In Progress. It's getting there, I swear. It WILL be finished. But for NOW. I'm really pretty pleased with this little piece.
So pretty, pretty please? Give a struggling author some crit and feedback! Thank you, my lovelies!
[pandora]
Title: Dragon
Author: x_carnivale_x
Pairing: Vam.
Rating: R for certain themes.
Word Count: ~1750
Summary: The first time - the very first time - is just a pick-me-up. That's the best way that Ville can think to describe it.
Author's Notes: This is slightly AU, because it has Ville and Bam being friends since they were kids. Also, proceed with caution; thar be angst ahead. Also, you might wanna read this twice. :)
The first time - the very first time - is just a pick-me-up. That's the best way Ville can think to describe it. It's a pick-me-up, and nothing more. Bam has had a bad day and Ville can tell all the way from across the bar where he's sitting. It's the hang of Bam's head that gives it away. They've known each other for too long for anything to really slip by unnoticed. Ville blinks steadily and pushes his chair back, hopping down and striding over to Bam. When he puts his hand on his shoulder, Bam startles and turns his head, letting out a breathy chuckle of relief when he realizes it's only Ville. Ville just sees the purplish/yellow tinge that's blushed onto Bam's cheek and he sighs.
"Bad day?" Ville asks calmly. Bam rolls his eyes and orders a double vodka tonic from the bartender. Ville clears his throat; amends his statement: "Really bad day?"
"You're getting warmer," Bam murmurs as the bartender slides his drink over.
"I'm guessing that it probably has something to do with that lovely purple tint you've got on your cheek. Pray tell, BamBam; is that fresh color courtesy of what's-his-face, Dave? Dale? Da-"
"Daniel," Bam finishes for him. "His name is Daniel. And if you must know, then yes, it is."
"You certainly do have a knack for attracting assholes," Ville remarks idly, picking slightly at the skin around his cuticle.
"I attracted you, didn't I?" Bam snarks back with a crooked smile and a quirk of his head.
"Oh, please, I was twelve," he counters. Bam just hmphs and Ville drops his hand back to his shoulder. "Come on, Bam, why do you put up with that shit?"
Bam doesn't respond, his gaze drifting back down to the bar where his empty glass sits, and Ville lets out a curt breath. He twists his tongue between his teeth, letting his canines gnaw down into it for a moment as his fingers tighten their grip on his friend's shoulder. Bam's eyes lift back up to his face and Ville slips on a half-hearted smile for the younger man's sake. Ville ticks his head back towards the back rooms of the club.
"Come on, I know what'll make you feel better."
The first time is just a pick-me-up. That's all. Just something that Ville lets Bam have to make him feel better. They've been best friends since 7th grade when Ville's family moved from Helsinki to the States, and he hates to see Bam so wrung out, so tired, so listless. Bam is his boy, and he's Bam's too, no matter who else might come into the picture. They look out for each other, take care of each other. Ville just wants him to feel good again, feel alive and loved again. The first time it happens is just to make Bam feel better... That's all.
::
The second time is different. It’s different because the second time, Bam is shaking and crying, telling Ville about how he finally broke it off with Dave... Daniel... Whatever his name is. Bam cries and tells Ville how Daniel had shouted, how Daniel had hurt him, and Bam's fingers tremble as they cling tightly to the fabric of Ville's cotton t-shirt.
As they sit alone in Ville's house, Bam's head resting against his chest, fingers still clutching his shirt with a vice-like grip, he quivers sporadically and wipes his eyes against Ville. He sniffles as delicately as he can - tries to keep it quiet and polite - and gives up, eventually relinquishing his grip on Ville to wipe his nose on the back of his hand.
He tells Ville that he just needs to take the edge off.
Ville wants to help him, wants to make him feel good again, wants to make him not so afraid of the world. He wants to take Bam and steal him away, make everything better... wants to distance Bam and make it so he isn't so lock up inside his head.
The second time isn't really a pick-me-up; not like the first time. The second time is just to ease some of the pain, to remind Bam that he's loved, to remind him that Ville is there for him whenever Bam needs him. Ville knows that this probably isn't what they should be doing right now - Bam should probably be dealing with this break up... No, he should be fucking rejoicing to be rid of that cretin, Darren, no, Daniel, sorry. But he knows that Bam is still hurting, and he knows that Bam just wants to forget things for a little while, wants to feel a real rush of happiness again and not have to worry or care. The second time is just to take Bam away for a little while, not to keep him. Plus, Ville knows he could never say no to Bam.
"Please, Willa..."
::
The third, fourth, and fifth times are just recreation, honestly. Bam leaves each time with fresh marks across his skin, remnants from their evenings spent together, and Ville has his own markings to show for the last few times Bam has visited. Bam has finally hit that rejoicing stage, finally happy to be free again, finally ready to have fun, ready to feel alive again. He wants the rush, the initial pain, and the subsequent euphoria. Ville wants it too, even if he doesn't want to admit it. He can't help it - he likes to give Bam that pleasure, likes to know he feels good. He likes to know that Bam thinks the two of them are always fine, even if they won't be fine forever. Ville wants Bam to have this as long as he wants to have it. Ville will let himself have it for as long as he can keep it.
The next few times they do it, it's just for fun. There's no pain they have to edge off, no happiness they have to reinstate - just pure pleasure, rapture, and exquisite sensation. It's unlike anything they've ever felt before - the two of them always feeling it together, because they do everything together.
The third, fourth, and fifth times are just because they want to. Not because they need it.
::
It's when Ville loses track of how long they've been doing this that things start to change. A pick-me-up had become a need; a need had become a hobby; and a hobby had become a recreational pastime. Ville's got friends in all the right places, and he's always known exactly what to get and where to get it. But when Ville loses track of how often they do it, how many times it's happened, it all starts to shift back into something that they need... something they crave... something they love.
Bam shakes and shivers when he can't have it; he trembles and tells Ville how he wants it, how he needs it, and just please, Vil, please. He begs him, and Ville crumbles every single time because he loves it too, and he wants it to happen just once more. Always just once more. He loves to give Bam this, loves the way Bam needs him, loves the way Bam needs the feeling.
Ville wants him to feel good - he's said that a million times. He wants him never to suffer or feel any pain and so he caves in each and every time Bam asks and quivers and pleads. It's a comfort that Bam needs and Ville wants to be the one to let him have it every single time.
He takes Bam in his arms, his back against Ville's chest as Bam leans into him. Ville lowers the two of them down to the pristine white tile of the bathroom floor, sitting up against the wall down below the sink. Bam is still trembling and Ville can feel a shiver coming on, threatening to wrack his own body as he blindly reaches up into the drawers above him to get the items they need.
Bam wraps the tourniquet himself, his fingers barely deft enough to keep their hold on it, and he tightens it by tugging on the tie-end he's got clenched between his teeth. His veins throb and Ville tries to give him the syringe, but Bam just shakes his head with his eyes still half-lidded, his mouth still clasped around the rubber chord that's laced around his arm. He pushes the needle back to Ville - tells him weakly:
"You do it..."
Ville pauses... because Bam has never asked that of him before. But Ville swallows thickly and nods his agreement before he gives himself the time to think, taking the syringe back into his palm. Bam hangs his head forward a little, tremors occasionally still wracking his pale, fragile form as Ville taps at the crook of his arm.
"Alright, hold still. I got you, baby," Ville tells him gently.
A sigh slips past Bam's lips as the needle enters his arm. His mouth goes slack, releasing the tie of the tourniquet from between his teeth. Ville pushes down the plunger and watches his veins throb as the drug enters Bam's system. There's a moment right after when his veins stand out as clear as day; Bam's sallow, clammy skin seemingly translucent for an instant, before the blue lines fade out again, hiding underneath a few months worth of track marks.
"Ville..." Bam breathes delicately, his voice barely above a reverent whisper.
The needle's still stuck in his flesh, resting idly in the crook of Bam's arm as if it were always supposed to be there. Ville pulls it out as slowly as he can. Bam's head lolls back against his shoulder; barely conscious, limp and euphoric. The younger man's shaking has stopped, his breathing is steady, and Ville presses his temple against Bam's sweating brow. The initial rush has come and gone by now, and now Bam is up, finding the comfort that he needs. Bam feels small against Ville's tall, lanky body, and Ville understands the feeling, understands how good it is.
He knows what Bam needs. And he always takes care of him. They've been best friends since 7th grade; Bam is his boy. Ville looks out for him and he just wants him to feel safe again. He hates to see Bam in pain, hates to see him so wrung out.
So he'll do this each and every time Bam asks. After all, this was always just for Bam. Ville just wants him to feel alive, to feel good, to feel loved again. Plus... he knows he could never say no to Bam.
[fin]
So what'd ya think? I've had the nastiest case of writer's block, especially with my Work In Progress. It's getting there, I swear. It WILL be finished. But for NOW. I'm really pretty pleased with this little piece.
So pretty, pretty please? Give a struggling author some crit and feedback! Thank you, my lovelies!
[pandora]