(no subject)
"The hunger for love is much more difficult to remove than the hunger for bread"
~Mother Teresa
Title: All-consuming Hunger
Author: Nori
Fandom: Saw
Rating: We'll go with R
Pairing: John/Zep
Genre: Slash
Word Count: approx 1750
Warnings: may, apparently, help turn those that "just don't see" John/Zep into John/Zep fiends. You're welcome. Angst, AU, vague masturbation scene... >.>
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not my property (and yes, that WOULD be a Nori pouting!) but the situations I put them in are.
A/N: For once, NOT set in the JAZ 'verse RPG. *GASP!* Also? This thing is a monster, and I cut it off where I did because if I didn't, I'd be writing it for ANOTHER day. I may go back to it at some point and write more, but no promises, 'k?
Hunger is a funny thing. It can be so all consuming that we lose focus on what is important beyond it. Some would call it a survival instinct of a totally different sort than the kind John was seeking out in others.
Though, perhaps, it wasn't quite as different as it seemed.
Not for someone like Zep.
Zep, who's hungers were, and always had been, just a touch skewed from top dead center normal. Well, maybe even THAT wasn't entirely true. He had the same hungers as anyone: the desire to be touched, held, loved, cherished, honored, adored; but he thought that the needs would go long unfulfilled, and the sheer pain of knowing he was all of the words the other children called him ("freak", "creep", "vile", "disgusting") left him feeling as though those needs were wrong.
Zep knew the gnawing, aching pain of desire unfulfilled. He'd lived with it as long as he was aware of himself at all. In the early years of his life, it manifested as the same dull pang of physical hunger, and for a time he'd tried removing it the same way. Food became his mother, his father, his friends and love until his body wore a layer of fat like an embrace.
The looks on the faces of the others told him he'd done wrong yet again, and the ache came deeper.
So Zep tried again, this time denying himself all that he desired, including food, until his body was lean once more, but the loving looks never came, and eventually he had to simply shut down or die of starvation.
-----
He often watched the more interesting patients, and sometimes even took the time to speak with them. He'd found that people who were ill often put up with things that people who were well would scoff at. Like the attention of their orderly. Like the offer of a hug. He didn't do it often, but occasionally... Well, it was just that he was always so lonely, and sometimes the press of another body against his, even for a second, was enough to stave off some of it.
John Kramer very much fell into the "interesting patients" category. The man had a fascinating mind. He was brilliant and kind, accepting Zep's presence even on the worst (and best!) of days. And, even better, he often gesticulated and in doing so, sometimes touched Zep inadvertently.
"Zep, you seem angry," John said, his voice scratchy from illness and exhaustion. "Come. Sit. Tell me what's gotten you in such a state."
And Zep had, looking down the halls to be sure he wouldn't be scolded for leaving his cart and then moving to the chair beside John's bed, almost curling into himself in trying to hide how deeply the anger and resentment went.
John stayed quiet, knowing that sometimes it took his, dare he say it- friend Zep time to center himself enough to discuss things.
"It's that stupid bastard Dr. Gordon. He... He laughed at me. All I did was walk by and he laughed with that stupid bitch he flirts with. They started whispering and he said something about creeps..." Here, he faded off, the anger and pain rising up in him again, his breath coming in short almost-gasps.
"Lawrence Gordon is hardly worth the air he breathes, Zep," John said soothingly, reaching a hand out and stroking one finger over the other man's hand. "And you are no creep."
Zep stood so quickly the chair rattled to the floor, blushing a deep red and fumbling to set the chair upright again. "I should go... finish my rounds. They'll wonder where I am." He was stopped by John's hand, wrapping around his firmly, but warmly.
"Stay. Please."
"I... I can't. I'm sorry." He pulled against the hand that made no move to let his go. "Mr. Kramer-"
"John."
"John... please." The pressure released and he turned, walking toward the door with steady steps.
"Come back and see me tomorrow?"
He nodded, once, then grabbed hold of his cart, forcing himself not to react further.
-----
He sat in his single bed, pressing his wrist to his mouth, sniffing his skin as if he could smell the other man's scent there. It's almost enough, almost too much, almost... almost...
Instead of crying out, he bites the inside of his wrist hard enough to bruise, John's voice coming back to him as his body still shudders with release.
you are no creep
He has to see him. Now.
-----
John is not asleep. In fact, Zep thinks John hardly ever sleeps. So when he sneaks through the door, John looks up and smiles, gesturing toward the chair.
"You came back," he said with a small, brilliant smile.
"It's tomorrow," Zep nearly-whispered.
"So it is."
Zep sat, looking down at the floor, willing himself to be still. Empty. Numb. But he can't be numb at the press of a hand on his, at the smile that beckons.
"Surely you didn't come to watch my floor," John said, and his voice was teasing. Not the hurtful teasing of Zep's youth, but a different kind, one born of the kindness and friendship between them.
"No."
"I told you before, you can be candid here. Say whatever is on your mind. I promise not to judge you."
"You'll think I'm disgusting," he said, his voice cracking just a little on the words.
"No, Zep, I will not. I would not. Why do you think such things?"
because everyone says it, because I think it myself, because I long for you, because I am...
"I don't know." As he said it, he threw his hands out a little in an almost shrug motion, and then blushed as John's attention was drawn to the bruise.
"Zep, what have you done?" He turned then hand over, looking at Zep's wrist with a frown, the fingers of his other hand stroking it.
He tried to pull it away, embarrassed at the idea he might have to explain it, and even more embarrassed at how his body was reacting to the way John's fingers felt on his skin. "It's nothing, it's fine... I-" He paused, blushing red again. "I should go."
John's hand tightened a little on his, keeping him still. "Do you have any idea how maddening it is when you do that?" His voice was rough with something Zep first thought might be pain and he was ashamed for a second, until John stroked his cheek. "What is it about this that makes you blush? Are you ashamed?"
It took everything in his power to nod, the blush getting darker.
"Tell me." It was less request than demand and Zep's head snapped up, his mouth opening into a small "o" of surprise. He liked that just a bit too much, in all honesty. Liked it enough that his body reacted almost immediately, and he shifted a little, nodding.
"I... when I went home, I couldn't stop thinking about you. And I was sniffing my wrist, because I could smell you... from when you grabbed me. And I-" He stopped, not wanting to say it, because he knew what would happen. John would frown and send him away and he didn't want to leave. He wanted to be right here.
"Say it," John said, but his voice had taken on a new edge, one that Zep didn't really comprehend.
"And I jerked off and when I came I bit my wrist to stop myself from crying out loud." He said it all in one rush, quietly, his eyes dropping to the floor until he heard something he wasn't expecting at all. A low moan from the bed made him look up and his eyes focused on John's face, where a small smile had spread. "Oh," he said softly.
John looked at the bruise again, then lowered his mouth to it, pressing a kiss to it, then using his tongue to outline the mark, worshiping the bit of darkened skin until Zep moaned loudly. He looked up, his eyes dark. "Did you say my name here?" he asked, flicking his tongue over the sensitive flesh. "Did you pretend my hand was around you? Did you wish it was my teeth biting into your skin?"
"Oh, o-oh yes," he said breathlessly, "god yes." If he kept that up, he was going to come without his dick being touched, and the idea made him flush again, trying to draw away again. "Please," he pleaded.
"I'm offering you what you want and you're drawing away," John said, giving him a curious look. "I want you, and you're running. Why do you think that is?"
because you'll realize I'm a freak and a creep and I can't afford to open up if you're going to push me away. I can't... I can't lose your friendship if it all goes wrong
"I can't."
"I want you."
"John, don't." His voice caught a little.
"I need you."
"No one needs me."
John touched his wrist again, then his cheek. "I need you." He gently guided his hand, pressing it against the hard jut of his cock. "I want you. Stop running from me."
"I'm disgusting."
"No, Zep, you aren't. It's very comfortable for you to feel that way so that you never have to face the fact that there are people who care for you."
"No one has ever cared for me." He could hear the bitterness in his voice. The pain, the anger. He could feel it, just under the surface of his skin.
"I do."
"Yeah, for now. Until I do something-"
John's voice took on a dangerous tone. "You. Are. Not. A. Creep. Nor are you a FREAK. Nor are you vile, disgusting, horrible, deviant or any other word that you've been called. I won't have you perpetuating the abuse you've received." He laid back against the bed, obviously tired. "I won't let you say mean things about yourself. I refuse to hear them." His words were very final.
Zep blinked, then turned his face toward the wall so John wouldn't see the tears that filled his eyes. "I'm sorry," he finally managed, still not looking toward the hospital bed. "I screw everything up."
"No." His voice was much softer now, "no, my angel, you don't. You haven't."
Zep finally turned back toward him. "Promise?" he asked softly.
John nodded, reaching out for him. "I promise."
~Mother Teresa
Title: All-consuming Hunger
Author: Nori
Fandom: Saw
Rating: We'll go with R
Pairing: John/Zep
Genre: Slash
Word Count: approx 1750
Warnings: may, apparently, help turn those that "just don't see" John/Zep into John/Zep fiends. You're welcome. Angst, AU, vague masturbation scene... >.>
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not my property (and yes, that WOULD be a Nori pouting!) but the situations I put them in are.
A/N: For once, NOT set in the JAZ 'verse RPG. *GASP!* Also? This thing is a monster, and I cut it off where I did because if I didn't, I'd be writing it for ANOTHER day. I may go back to it at some point and write more, but no promises, 'k?
Hunger is a funny thing. It can be so all consuming that we lose focus on what is important beyond it. Some would call it a survival instinct of a totally different sort than the kind John was seeking out in others.
Though, perhaps, it wasn't quite as different as it seemed.
Not for someone like Zep.
Zep, who's hungers were, and always had been, just a touch skewed from top dead center normal. Well, maybe even THAT wasn't entirely true. He had the same hungers as anyone: the desire to be touched, held, loved, cherished, honored, adored; but he thought that the needs would go long unfulfilled, and the sheer pain of knowing he was all of the words the other children called him ("freak", "creep", "vile", "disgusting") left him feeling as though those needs were wrong.
Zep knew the gnawing, aching pain of desire unfulfilled. He'd lived with it as long as he was aware of himself at all. In the early years of his life, it manifested as the same dull pang of physical hunger, and for a time he'd tried removing it the same way. Food became his mother, his father, his friends and love until his body wore a layer of fat like an embrace.
The looks on the faces of the others told him he'd done wrong yet again, and the ache came deeper.
So Zep tried again, this time denying himself all that he desired, including food, until his body was lean once more, but the loving looks never came, and eventually he had to simply shut down or die of starvation.
-----
He often watched the more interesting patients, and sometimes even took the time to speak with them. He'd found that people who were ill often put up with things that people who were well would scoff at. Like the attention of their orderly. Like the offer of a hug. He didn't do it often, but occasionally... Well, it was just that he was always so lonely, and sometimes the press of another body against his, even for a second, was enough to stave off some of it.
John Kramer very much fell into the "interesting patients" category. The man had a fascinating mind. He was brilliant and kind, accepting Zep's presence even on the worst (and best!) of days. And, even better, he often gesticulated and in doing so, sometimes touched Zep inadvertently.
"Zep, you seem angry," John said, his voice scratchy from illness and exhaustion. "Come. Sit. Tell me what's gotten you in such a state."
And Zep had, looking down the halls to be sure he wouldn't be scolded for leaving his cart and then moving to the chair beside John's bed, almost curling into himself in trying to hide how deeply the anger and resentment went.
John stayed quiet, knowing that sometimes it took his, dare he say it- friend Zep time to center himself enough to discuss things.
"It's that stupid bastard Dr. Gordon. He... He laughed at me. All I did was walk by and he laughed with that stupid bitch he flirts with. They started whispering and he said something about creeps..." Here, he faded off, the anger and pain rising up in him again, his breath coming in short almost-gasps.
"Lawrence Gordon is hardly worth the air he breathes, Zep," John said soothingly, reaching a hand out and stroking one finger over the other man's hand. "And you are no creep."
Zep stood so quickly the chair rattled to the floor, blushing a deep red and fumbling to set the chair upright again. "I should go... finish my rounds. They'll wonder where I am." He was stopped by John's hand, wrapping around his firmly, but warmly.
"Stay. Please."
"I... I can't. I'm sorry." He pulled against the hand that made no move to let his go. "Mr. Kramer-"
"John."
"John... please." The pressure released and he turned, walking toward the door with steady steps.
"Come back and see me tomorrow?"
He nodded, once, then grabbed hold of his cart, forcing himself not to react further.
-----
He sat in his single bed, pressing his wrist to his mouth, sniffing his skin as if he could smell the other man's scent there. It's almost enough, almost too much, almost... almost...
Instead of crying out, he bites the inside of his wrist hard enough to bruise, John's voice coming back to him as his body still shudders with release.
you are no creep
He has to see him. Now.
-----
John is not asleep. In fact, Zep thinks John hardly ever sleeps. So when he sneaks through the door, John looks up and smiles, gesturing toward the chair.
"You came back," he said with a small, brilliant smile.
"It's tomorrow," Zep nearly-whispered.
"So it is."
Zep sat, looking down at the floor, willing himself to be still. Empty. Numb. But he can't be numb at the press of a hand on his, at the smile that beckons.
"Surely you didn't come to watch my floor," John said, and his voice was teasing. Not the hurtful teasing of Zep's youth, but a different kind, one born of the kindness and friendship between them.
"No."
"I told you before, you can be candid here. Say whatever is on your mind. I promise not to judge you."
"You'll think I'm disgusting," he said, his voice cracking just a little on the words.
"No, Zep, I will not. I would not. Why do you think such things?"
because everyone says it, because I think it myself, because I long for you, because I am...
"I don't know." As he said it, he threw his hands out a little in an almost shrug motion, and then blushed as John's attention was drawn to the bruise.
"Zep, what have you done?" He turned then hand over, looking at Zep's wrist with a frown, the fingers of his other hand stroking it.
He tried to pull it away, embarrassed at the idea he might have to explain it, and even more embarrassed at how his body was reacting to the way John's fingers felt on his skin. "It's nothing, it's fine... I-" He paused, blushing red again. "I should go."
John's hand tightened a little on his, keeping him still. "Do you have any idea how maddening it is when you do that?" His voice was rough with something Zep first thought might be pain and he was ashamed for a second, until John stroked his cheek. "What is it about this that makes you blush? Are you ashamed?"
It took everything in his power to nod, the blush getting darker.
"Tell me." It was less request than demand and Zep's head snapped up, his mouth opening into a small "o" of surprise. He liked that just a bit too much, in all honesty. Liked it enough that his body reacted almost immediately, and he shifted a little, nodding.
"I... when I went home, I couldn't stop thinking about you. And I was sniffing my wrist, because I could smell you... from when you grabbed me. And I-" He stopped, not wanting to say it, because he knew what would happen. John would frown and send him away and he didn't want to leave. He wanted to be right here.
"Say it," John said, but his voice had taken on a new edge, one that Zep didn't really comprehend.
"And I jerked off and when I came I bit my wrist to stop myself from crying out loud." He said it all in one rush, quietly, his eyes dropping to the floor until he heard something he wasn't expecting at all. A low moan from the bed made him look up and his eyes focused on John's face, where a small smile had spread. "Oh," he said softly.
John looked at the bruise again, then lowered his mouth to it, pressing a kiss to it, then using his tongue to outline the mark, worshiping the bit of darkened skin until Zep moaned loudly. He looked up, his eyes dark. "Did you say my name here?" he asked, flicking his tongue over the sensitive flesh. "Did you pretend my hand was around you? Did you wish it was my teeth biting into your skin?"
"Oh, o-oh yes," he said breathlessly, "god yes." If he kept that up, he was going to come without his dick being touched, and the idea made him flush again, trying to draw away again. "Please," he pleaded.
"I'm offering you what you want and you're drawing away," John said, giving him a curious look. "I want you, and you're running. Why do you think that is?"
because you'll realize I'm a freak and a creep and I can't afford to open up if you're going to push me away. I can't... I can't lose your friendship if it all goes wrong
"I can't."
"I want you."
"John, don't." His voice caught a little.
"I need you."
"No one needs me."
John touched his wrist again, then his cheek. "I need you." He gently guided his hand, pressing it against the hard jut of his cock. "I want you. Stop running from me."
"I'm disgusting."
"No, Zep, you aren't. It's very comfortable for you to feel that way so that you never have to face the fact that there are people who care for you."
"No one has ever cared for me." He could hear the bitterness in his voice. The pain, the anger. He could feel it, just under the surface of his skin.
"I do."
"Yeah, for now. Until I do something-"
John's voice took on a dangerous tone. "You. Are. Not. A. Creep. Nor are you a FREAK. Nor are you vile, disgusting, horrible, deviant or any other word that you've been called. I won't have you perpetuating the abuse you've received." He laid back against the bed, obviously tired. "I won't let you say mean things about yourself. I refuse to hear them." His words were very final.
Zep blinked, then turned his face toward the wall so John wouldn't see the tears that filled his eyes. "I'm sorry," he finally managed, still not looking toward the hospital bed. "I screw everything up."
"No." His voice was much softer now, "no, my angel, you don't. You haven't."
Zep finally turned back toward him. "Promise?" he asked softly.
John nodded, reaching out for him. "I promise."