Fic: No Control, (fandom of your choice)
So, yesterday I rediscovered a bit of fic I wrote in 2003, which I had completely forgotten about. Nice surprise. Not badly written.
And I got curious about the characterisation, or at least, how much of it came from the reader's knowledge of the fandom. To what extent is this piece transferable.
So, I've decided to repost, without identifying markers, and leave it up to the readers to fill in the characters. Please let me know who you were thinking of, what character vibes you got. I'm curious about this. If you know what this was originally written for, don't tell the others. Open-endedness is the point of this game.
ETA: I don't mean 'Guess what I originally wrote". I mean "Tell me which characters you're picturing as you read it, based on your own preferences".
Title: No Control
Author: CeruleanCat
Fandom/Pairing: Reader's choice
Category: Slash
Rating: Nothing much happening yet.
Word count: 305
Summary: It's a tug of war in his mind, flinching yet eager.
Feedback: So rare, I don't actually expect any. So it would be appreciated all the more.
He's standing close again.
Not too close.
Well, yes, too close for comfort, but not inappropriately close.
Yet.
Hand on his jaw, stroking, the back of the fingers sliding to his chin, and a thumb rests on his lips. It isn't insistent, forcing him in any way. Just a firm contact, smoothing over his lips, slowly going over the contours. Knows it will go away in a minute; he will step away or say something, break the spell. He does, more often than not.
Eyes closed and he can hear the faint rustle of hair, of their clothes moving against each other, sense the smell of his cologne.
He obeys the finger on his mouth, letting it in, feels the roughness of the skin as he licks it, inviting. They're closer now, inches away, and his own body thrusts suddenly to meet him, no control.
The hand is replaced by lips over his, and the roughness of bristles on his skin. Such a brief kiss.
He's almost leaning against him, hand on his thigh, part supporting, part restraining. Not where he wants it to be, now.
'-----.' [Reader, insert name of choice]
Not a pleading tone, so far, he's pleased to note, opening his eyes.
They're so close he can see every wrinkle on his skin, but he only notices the tiny smile and sparkling eyes. 'What?'
Closes his eyes again, takes a deep breath.
Such a damned manipulative tease!
'Please.' Not quite pleading, but close. Too close, too eager. And the hand slides over his thigh to where it ought to be, covering him with only mild pressure. 'Where?' whispered so close to his mouth.
What does it mean when a brief whisper sends shivers down your body?
He's smiling now. He knows too, probably better, the manipulative bastard.
'Your room'.
This entry was originally posted at http://ceruleancat.dreamwidth.org/5765.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
And I got curious about the characterisation, or at least, how much of it came from the reader's knowledge of the fandom. To what extent is this piece transferable.
So, I've decided to repost, without identifying markers, and leave it up to the readers to fill in the characters. Please let me know who you were thinking of, what character vibes you got. I'm curious about this. If you know what this was originally written for, don't tell the others. Open-endedness is the point of this game.
ETA: I don't mean 'Guess what I originally wrote". I mean "Tell me which characters you're picturing as you read it, based on your own preferences".
Title: No Control
Author: CeruleanCat
Fandom/Pairing: Reader's choice
Category: Slash
Rating: Nothing much happening yet.
Word count: 305
Summary: It's a tug of war in his mind, flinching yet eager.
Feedback: So rare, I don't actually expect any. So it would be appreciated all the more.
He's standing close again.
Not too close.
Well, yes, too close for comfort, but not inappropriately close.
Yet.
Hand on his jaw, stroking, the back of the fingers sliding to his chin, and a thumb rests on his lips. It isn't insistent, forcing him in any way. Just a firm contact, smoothing over his lips, slowly going over the contours. Knows it will go away in a minute; he will step away or say something, break the spell. He does, more often than not.
Eyes closed and he can hear the faint rustle of hair, of their clothes moving against each other, sense the smell of his cologne.
He obeys the finger on his mouth, letting it in, feels the roughness of the skin as he licks it, inviting. They're closer now, inches away, and his own body thrusts suddenly to meet him, no control.
The hand is replaced by lips over his, and the roughness of bristles on his skin. Such a brief kiss.
He's almost leaning against him, hand on his thigh, part supporting, part restraining. Not where he wants it to be, now.
'-----.' [Reader, insert name of choice]
Not a pleading tone, so far, he's pleased to note, opening his eyes.
They're so close he can see every wrinkle on his skin, but he only notices the tiny smile and sparkling eyes. 'What?'
Closes his eyes again, takes a deep breath.
Such a damned manipulative tease!
'Please.' Not quite pleading, but close. Too close, too eager. And the hand slides over his thigh to where it ought to be, covering him with only mild pressure. 'Where?' whispered so close to his mouth.
What does it mean when a brief whisper sends shivers down your body?
He's smiling now. He knows too, probably better, the manipulative bastard.
'Your room'.
This entry was originally posted at http://ceruleancat.dreamwidth.org/5765.html. Please comment there using OpenID.