(FIC) Inerasable Sin
Title: Inerasable Sin
Rating: R
Pairing: The Comedian/Silk Spectre II
Word Count: 1,058
Summary: A bit of AU. To sink toward fathomless depths.
The Comedian arrived fashionably late to the meeting and claimed a chair after a brief greeting. That's when he saw her. Sally's girl. She was sitting up on a piece of equipment in the room, legs crossed, her costume leaving little to the imagination. He smirked briefly at the sight. The other men around her seemed to be pretending not to notice, or their predilections made them care little about it. But not Blake. Through his veil of nonchalance, he took furtive glances of her during the meeting as she took her own of their blue comrade, blushing faintly like the shy girl she couldn't be considering what she was wearing. A lot like her mother in more ways than one. Blake might have felt a pang of guilt as he turned over scenarios within his mind, but as with most others, he steadily ignored it.
It wasn't long before the banter of his costumed counterparts wore on him. Thinking that they were somehow special just because they donned Halloween costumes to rough up thugs. Thinking that they could make meaningful change in a meaningless world. Irritated, he gave them all a piece of his mind before he left them to their own devices. But instead of heading for a bar or the apartment he currently called home, he waited, leaning against a tree as he smoked. Waited to see the vision dressed in yellow and black emerge from the doorway, lingering there alone. Then he called out her name, the girl turning to regard him with surprise and a faint smile. It was a start. A rather nice start.
The phone rang, and Sally Jupiter turned from gathering up her coat from where it was draped over a chair to rush to it. “Hello? Laurel? I'm sorry, honey, I was running a little late.”
“Don't worry about it. I'm glad you didn't leave yet.”
She frowned. “Is something wrong?”
“No! Everything's fine. The meeting is going to run a little long, so I figured I'd call,” Laurie said into the phone as she gazed at the Comedian who hovered nearby. He smiled at her patiently as he waited for her to finish her conversation. “I'm going to get one of the guys to take me home after it's over.”
“Well, alright. Don't stay out too late,” came Sally's voice through the phone, tinged with uncertainty. “Be careful, alright?”
“I'll be fine. Who do you think I'll run into in the company of a few heroes? Don't worry so much.”
Hanging up the phone, Laurie turned to the Comedian, feeling mildly embarrassed. “She acts like I'm still a little kid sometimes,” she told him, hoping that he didn't feel the same way. You weren't exactly impressing an older man when you have to call your mother and tell her you'll be out late.
To her relief he just laughed it off, taking his cigar out of his mouth to blow smoke into the cool night air. “Hey, most mothers are worriers,” the Comedian told her. He took his free hand and lifted her chin up with two fingers so that her gaze met his. “I can't say that I blame her, though. You're worth looking after.” Her response was a gaze of longing and moments later, the pair was off into the night.
The Comedian took her to a restaurant where they talked for a while. Laurel seemed to find him charming, laughing at his jokes and gazing at him from under dark lashes. With that beautiful face that looked mostly like her mother's. And if Laurel's smile seemed somewhat familiar, he convinced himself that it was just his imagination. And that the eyes that were cast in his direction didn't remind him of the ones that gazed at him daily from his mirror. If what he wondered when he allowed himself to was true, Sally would have told him, wouldn't she, even though there was still bad blood between them? The woman hadn't, so Blake sat there with a girl of an age where it made him wonder about what happened on those nights long ago in the days where he'd thought about what could have been. But in the end, none of it mattered. He was never a man who dwelt on the past and dreamed about the future when his life was such that it could end at any moment. Men like him never died peacefully in their sleep. There was only the here and now. There was only a girl gazing across the table at him with stars in her eyes and dark promise hovering on her full lips as she smiled.
Blake took her to a hotel where Laurel sat on the bed, her nonchalant posture belying the mild nervousness in her eyes. He wondered absently how experienced she was, but decided it didn't matter. Fumbling teenage boys were nothing compared to a real man. He strode over toward her to run a gloved hand through her hair. To press lips against hers and push her all too willing body back against the sheets. To claim an echo of what sometimes haunted him in dreams.
It wasn't long before clothes lay abandoned on the floor, the lamp casting shadows on the wall. Blake found Laurel's skin soft as his hands traveled the length of her form. He found her body warm as he moved within her. Her nails were sharp as they dug into his shoulders, reddened crescents left behind on his skin. She didn't cry out, but the soft and broken moans she made on each thrust were just as alluring. And if her hair spread across the pillow reminded him too much of his own, he told himself it was just coincidence. It was possible, but not definite. So lingering doubt faded as he was sheathed in delicious warmth and her body strained beneath his, shifting in unison with his movements.
Afterwards, Laurel laid spooned against his side, a hand resting against his chest as she sidled even closer. Blake laid with an arm under his head, his eyes on the ceiling. He almost felt a sense of unease creeping into his gut, but then he turned his head toward where a pretty young girl was nuzzling against his shoulder, inhaled her perfume, and suddenly couldn't bring himself to care.
End
Rating: R
Pairing: The Comedian/Silk Spectre II
Word Count: 1,058
Summary: A bit of AU. To sink toward fathomless depths.
The Comedian arrived fashionably late to the meeting and claimed a chair after a brief greeting. That's when he saw her. Sally's girl. She was sitting up on a piece of equipment in the room, legs crossed, her costume leaving little to the imagination. He smirked briefly at the sight. The other men around her seemed to be pretending not to notice, or their predilections made them care little about it. But not Blake. Through his veil of nonchalance, he took furtive glances of her during the meeting as she took her own of their blue comrade, blushing faintly like the shy girl she couldn't be considering what she was wearing. A lot like her mother in more ways than one. Blake might have felt a pang of guilt as he turned over scenarios within his mind, but as with most others, he steadily ignored it.
It wasn't long before the banter of his costumed counterparts wore on him. Thinking that they were somehow special just because they donned Halloween costumes to rough up thugs. Thinking that they could make meaningful change in a meaningless world. Irritated, he gave them all a piece of his mind before he left them to their own devices. But instead of heading for a bar or the apartment he currently called home, he waited, leaning against a tree as he smoked. Waited to see the vision dressed in yellow and black emerge from the doorway, lingering there alone. Then he called out her name, the girl turning to regard him with surprise and a faint smile. It was a start. A rather nice start.
The phone rang, and Sally Jupiter turned from gathering up her coat from where it was draped over a chair to rush to it. “Hello? Laurel? I'm sorry, honey, I was running a little late.”
“Don't worry about it. I'm glad you didn't leave yet.”
She frowned. “Is something wrong?”
“No! Everything's fine. The meeting is going to run a little long, so I figured I'd call,” Laurie said into the phone as she gazed at the Comedian who hovered nearby. He smiled at her patiently as he waited for her to finish her conversation. “I'm going to get one of the guys to take me home after it's over.”
“Well, alright. Don't stay out too late,” came Sally's voice through the phone, tinged with uncertainty. “Be careful, alright?”
“I'll be fine. Who do you think I'll run into in the company of a few heroes? Don't worry so much.”
Hanging up the phone, Laurie turned to the Comedian, feeling mildly embarrassed. “She acts like I'm still a little kid sometimes,” she told him, hoping that he didn't feel the same way. You weren't exactly impressing an older man when you have to call your mother and tell her you'll be out late.
To her relief he just laughed it off, taking his cigar out of his mouth to blow smoke into the cool night air. “Hey, most mothers are worriers,” the Comedian told her. He took his free hand and lifted her chin up with two fingers so that her gaze met his. “I can't say that I blame her, though. You're worth looking after.” Her response was a gaze of longing and moments later, the pair was off into the night.
The Comedian took her to a restaurant where they talked for a while. Laurel seemed to find him charming, laughing at his jokes and gazing at him from under dark lashes. With that beautiful face that looked mostly like her mother's. And if Laurel's smile seemed somewhat familiar, he convinced himself that it was just his imagination. And that the eyes that were cast in his direction didn't remind him of the ones that gazed at him daily from his mirror. If what he wondered when he allowed himself to was true, Sally would have told him, wouldn't she, even though there was still bad blood between them? The woman hadn't, so Blake sat there with a girl of an age where it made him wonder about what happened on those nights long ago in the days where he'd thought about what could have been. But in the end, none of it mattered. He was never a man who dwelt on the past and dreamed about the future when his life was such that it could end at any moment. Men like him never died peacefully in their sleep. There was only the here and now. There was only a girl gazing across the table at him with stars in her eyes and dark promise hovering on her full lips as she smiled.
Blake took her to a hotel where Laurel sat on the bed, her nonchalant posture belying the mild nervousness in her eyes. He wondered absently how experienced she was, but decided it didn't matter. Fumbling teenage boys were nothing compared to a real man. He strode over toward her to run a gloved hand through her hair. To press lips against hers and push her all too willing body back against the sheets. To claim an echo of what sometimes haunted him in dreams.
It wasn't long before clothes lay abandoned on the floor, the lamp casting shadows on the wall. Blake found Laurel's skin soft as his hands traveled the length of her form. He found her body warm as he moved within her. Her nails were sharp as they dug into his shoulders, reddened crescents left behind on his skin. She didn't cry out, but the soft and broken moans she made on each thrust were just as alluring. And if her hair spread across the pillow reminded him too much of his own, he told himself it was just coincidence. It was possible, but not definite. So lingering doubt faded as he was sheathed in delicious warmth and her body strained beneath his, shifting in unison with his movements.
Afterwards, Laurel laid spooned against his side, a hand resting against his chest as she sidled even closer. Blake laid with an arm under his head, his eyes on the ceiling. He almost felt a sense of unease creeping into his gut, but then he turned his head toward where a pretty young girl was nuzzling against his shoulder, inhaled her perfume, and suddenly couldn't bring himself to care.
End