(no subject)
Title: A Little Sickness
Author: dustingforsugar
Characters/Pairing: Gwen/Kevin
Rating: NC-17, R?
Warnings: Not exactly a lemon, but has definite adult/sexual themes. Not exactly non-con either, but if you’re sensitive to that kind of material, I would probably skip this just in case.
Word Count: 990
Note: This idea was borne from a conversation I had with a friend about another Gwen/Kevin fic I wrote recently (Clandestine, by the way). Our cracky reasoning on why canon is as it is. Once a sociopath, always a sociopath? We both need so much therapy…
Although it pained him to admit it, Kevin truly cared about Gwen. He was soft when it came to her feelings. He always hated himself when he said the wrong thing and saw the hurt in her eyes. Since they had met again, all he had really wanted to do was keep her safe from harm. There was no part of him that wanted to break her heart.
When someone else hurt her, it was even worse; his protective instincts went into overdrive. First he would check if she was still in tact, because she was always his priority, and then her attackers would have to pay. So he would deliver punches until his fists were bloody and she tugged on his sleeve, begging him to stop. When Gwen pleaded, he obeyed: ceasing, flexing his knuckles, breathing hard and displaying his obvious lack of restraint. Kevin had always struggled with control, and her pretty face sometimes brought out the very worst in him.
Gwen was beautiful and enticing, and he wanted to do the same things to her that every teenaged boy wanted to do to the girl he liked. There were the old clichés of the lips he wanted to kiss and the hair he longed to tangle his fingers through, but then there was something else, something quite out of the ordinary. There was a small, dark seed that dwelled deep inside him. It seemed that only she knew how to nurture that nasty little kernel, only she knew how to make it flower. There was something about Gwen Tennyson that made him want to do horrible, horrible things to her.
Kevin wanted to push her. He wanted to push her so far that she would almost break. Almost. That was imperative. If he really did break her, it would destroy him. Therein lay his problem, another to add to the already lengthy list. Her chances were not good; he had a tendency towards recklessness, and he had been that way from an early age.
When Kevin was a little boy he broke a lot of his toys. It was not really intentional; he was just a little clumsy and far too rough. They always insisted he was not careful enough, but deep down they wondered if he was just downright destructive. Now, Kevin contemplated the same thing, and he hoped that Gwen Tennyson would not snap like a cheap piece of plastic.
In his fantasies, he wanted to restrain her, to make her weak and vulnerable to his touch. Usually he found tears pathetic, but not in this case. He wanted to make her cry; for he knew that if he pushed her hard enough, her cheeks would flush and the tears would begin to roll. He might wipe them away, it would depend on how he felt. A sobbing, heaving chest should not have been attractive, but it was to him. He knew it was sick, but he liked her vulnerable.
She had small, slim wrists that he longed to bind. He wanted to watch her struggle against her bonds, to see the skin redden, burn, and eventually, bleed. There would be angry rings around her wrists that he would have to tend to later, because that was part of it too. He wanted to fix her afterwards; mostly.
Kevin longed to leave behind the marks he made as stamps of ownership. He wanted to brand her, to leave love-bites all over the sensitive flesh of her inner-thighs and breasts, as a reminder of his presence. The sucking nibbles would mar her body, with pinpricks of blood spotting underneath her surface. Her skin, so pale and opaline, would show every little scratch. She would make such a lovely blank canvas for his art.
When it came to the act, he would grab her hips so hard that he would leave bruises. He would not be careful with her. The experience would be rough, but she would like it; he would make sure of that. She had to like it, because it was to be his atonement. He just needed to make her cry out in pleasure at least once, and then they would be even. Then she would know he was sorry that he was not normal, and that he loved her. Since, as much as he wanted to hurt her, he wanted her to like it. She must not push him away, for that would spoil everything. Gwen had to consent, because it was all worth nothing if he took her. She must be a willing player in the game.
Time and again Kevin tried to convince himself that it was all some big game, and that he just wanted to play with her. However, the truth was much more serious. He did not think that he wanted to tear her little body limb from limb, but he was not certain how he could know for sure. Sometimes he lost control, it was a fact. How could he know that in the heat of the moment he would not succumb to some animal urge and take her precious life? Another reason he could not open up that door, another reason to stay distant.
He was sorry for his fantasies, he knew he should not want to see the girl he loved bleed and sob. Although he tried to suppress his desires, they always came back with vengeance when he saw her bend awkwardly, or stretch for something high; her innocent movements perverted by the sickness that lay within him. So he made do with reining in his hunger as best he could, and shrinking from her touch. All the while hoping she would stop nagging him about their situation, for her own sake. Kevin knew that if she did not stop pressuring him, he might lose control, and then he could end up breaking that pretty neck.
Little Gwen Tennyson really should not push him.
Author: dustingforsugar
Characters/Pairing: Gwen/Kevin
Rating: NC-17, R?
Warnings: Not exactly a lemon, but has definite adult/sexual themes. Not exactly non-con either, but if you’re sensitive to that kind of material, I would probably skip this just in case.
Word Count: 990
Note: This idea was borne from a conversation I had with a friend about another Gwen/Kevin fic I wrote recently (Clandestine, by the way). Our cracky reasoning on why canon is as it is. Once a sociopath, always a sociopath? We both need so much therapy…
Although it pained him to admit it, Kevin truly cared about Gwen. He was soft when it came to her feelings. He always hated himself when he said the wrong thing and saw the hurt in her eyes. Since they had met again, all he had really wanted to do was keep her safe from harm. There was no part of him that wanted to break her heart.
When someone else hurt her, it was even worse; his protective instincts went into overdrive. First he would check if she was still in tact, because she was always his priority, and then her attackers would have to pay. So he would deliver punches until his fists were bloody and she tugged on his sleeve, begging him to stop. When Gwen pleaded, he obeyed: ceasing, flexing his knuckles, breathing hard and displaying his obvious lack of restraint. Kevin had always struggled with control, and her pretty face sometimes brought out the very worst in him.
Gwen was beautiful and enticing, and he wanted to do the same things to her that every teenaged boy wanted to do to the girl he liked. There were the old clichés of the lips he wanted to kiss and the hair he longed to tangle his fingers through, but then there was something else, something quite out of the ordinary. There was a small, dark seed that dwelled deep inside him. It seemed that only she knew how to nurture that nasty little kernel, only she knew how to make it flower. There was something about Gwen Tennyson that made him want to do horrible, horrible things to her.
Kevin wanted to push her. He wanted to push her so far that she would almost break. Almost. That was imperative. If he really did break her, it would destroy him. Therein lay his problem, another to add to the already lengthy list. Her chances were not good; he had a tendency towards recklessness, and he had been that way from an early age.
When Kevin was a little boy he broke a lot of his toys. It was not really intentional; he was just a little clumsy and far too rough. They always insisted he was not careful enough, but deep down they wondered if he was just downright destructive. Now, Kevin contemplated the same thing, and he hoped that Gwen Tennyson would not snap like a cheap piece of plastic.
In his fantasies, he wanted to restrain her, to make her weak and vulnerable to his touch. Usually he found tears pathetic, but not in this case. He wanted to make her cry; for he knew that if he pushed her hard enough, her cheeks would flush and the tears would begin to roll. He might wipe them away, it would depend on how he felt. A sobbing, heaving chest should not have been attractive, but it was to him. He knew it was sick, but he liked her vulnerable.
She had small, slim wrists that he longed to bind. He wanted to watch her struggle against her bonds, to see the skin redden, burn, and eventually, bleed. There would be angry rings around her wrists that he would have to tend to later, because that was part of it too. He wanted to fix her afterwards; mostly.
Kevin longed to leave behind the marks he made as stamps of ownership. He wanted to brand her, to leave love-bites all over the sensitive flesh of her inner-thighs and breasts, as a reminder of his presence. The sucking nibbles would mar her body, with pinpricks of blood spotting underneath her surface. Her skin, so pale and opaline, would show every little scratch. She would make such a lovely blank canvas for his art.
When it came to the act, he would grab her hips so hard that he would leave bruises. He would not be careful with her. The experience would be rough, but she would like it; he would make sure of that. She had to like it, because it was to be his atonement. He just needed to make her cry out in pleasure at least once, and then they would be even. Then she would know he was sorry that he was not normal, and that he loved her. Since, as much as he wanted to hurt her, he wanted her to like it. She must not push him away, for that would spoil everything. Gwen had to consent, because it was all worth nothing if he took her. She must be a willing player in the game.
Time and again Kevin tried to convince himself that it was all some big game, and that he just wanted to play with her. However, the truth was much more serious. He did not think that he wanted to tear her little body limb from limb, but he was not certain how he could know for sure. Sometimes he lost control, it was a fact. How could he know that in the heat of the moment he would not succumb to some animal urge and take her precious life? Another reason he could not open up that door, another reason to stay distant.
He was sorry for his fantasies, he knew he should not want to see the girl he loved bleed and sob. Although he tried to suppress his desires, they always came back with vengeance when he saw her bend awkwardly, or stretch for something high; her innocent movements perverted by the sickness that lay within him. So he made do with reining in his hunger as best he could, and shrinking from her touch. All the while hoping she would stop nagging him about their situation, for her own sake. Kevin knew that if she did not stop pressuring him, he might lose control, and then he could end up breaking that pretty neck.
Little Gwen Tennyson really should not push him.