(FIC) A Night to Forget
Title: A Night to Forget
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Blake/Laurie
Word Count: 1,722
Warning: incest, dubious consent
Summary: Alcohol fuels an encounter at that dinner party better left forgotten.
Laurel glared at Blake, who had the nerve to look almost surprised at her outburst, almost hurt. 'Only once,' he'd said, as though that was somehow better than twice or a dozen times. The liquor sloshed around in her glass with the trembling of her hand. Suddenly, the drink went flying as Laurie tossed it, splashing Blake's face and chest, making the guests nearby gasp. Laurie made as if to throw the glass at him as well, but he managed to catch her by the wrist in time. The tumbler fell from her hand as he tightened his grip, breaking on the floor beneath them, shards scattering.
“I think you need to go somewhere and cool off, kid,” Blake said, his eyes flashing. He turned, pulling her along by his hold on her arm out of the room amid the stares of guests surprised at the commotion. She stumbled after him, cursing at him as she tried to pull away.
When he'd taken her down the hallway and into an empty sitting room, he let her tug out of his grasp. Staggering away from Blake a few paces, Laurie glared at him, rubbing her wrist absently as she eyed him warily.
“Quite a scene you made out there, doll,” Blake told her, wiping his face with a handkerchief. He attempted to blot the alcohol from his clothing with little effect. “And I think you owe me a tux.”
“You deserve a hell of a lot more than just a dry cleaning bill,” she answered.
“Maybe so,” he said simply, raising his eyes to gaze at her with an unreadable expression.
His odd calm only served to irritate her. “You're revolting! To think that I actually felt sorry for you once!” Laurie railed. “Isn't that a laugh? Standing in the middle of the street looking like some dog that just got kicked while you watched us drive away. But that's before she told me about you. You've got some nerve showing yourself in public.” Her expression turned sullen. “But it's not like it matters to those people out there,” she said, waving her arm vaguely in the direction of the main room. “Half of them know the truth, and they just don't care. Don't want me interrupting their damned party with it.”
“You ought to know by now that it's a cold world out there, kid,” Blake offered. “If it doesn't affect them, it's not something they'll worry about.”
“Thanks for the piece of wisdom, but you can save it,” she told him, annoyed. She managed to push past him toward the doorway, but as she did, she tripped, her coordination off from all the scotch she had drank. Blake was there suddenly with a steadying arm, but she tried to shove him aside, angry that he dared to touch her. They wrestled briefly with Laurie ending up with her back against the nearby wall, her wrists pinned on either side of her head. She panted, alarm bells starting to go off in her mind.
“Let go of me,” she demanded, hating how her voice wavered. “I'm not like everybody else you've met. I'm not somebody you can just push around.”
“And let you stumble around all over the place so you can crack your skull open on something? Don't think so,” he told her. “High heels and too much alcohol don't mix well, kid.”
“Like I need a bastard like you to look out for me,” she grumbled, pulling but finding his grip firm. “And I'm not a kid!” She considered whether or not to lash out with her legs. After a moment, she did so, kneeing him to make him grunt. The look he gave her was more disapproving than angry. He used his larger bulk to pin her against the wall, watching her twist in his grasp.
“You make a lousy drunk,” Blake noted, unable to stop the smirk from rising to his face despite the situation. The sight of his smile made Laurie seethe. “You look like your mom, but you're a little more like your old man, I guess. Bad temper and all.”
Laurie bucked against him again. “What would you know about it, huh? What do you care anyway?”
Suddenly Blake's face wore the same oddly pained expression it had when she'd railed at him while they stood amongst the other guests at the party. “I care plenty.”
“Because when you look at me, you see her, right?” Laurie spat. “Because you-” Laurie's words cut off abruptly in shock as Blake leaned into her form, resting his head in the space where neck and shoulder met.
His hands moved from her wrists to fall to her hips. “That's not why,” he said, his voice muffled by her skin. His arms shifted to encircle her waist.
Laurie stood immobile, her freed hands hovering awkwardly in the air. She wondered at his odd behavior, but even more so at why she didn't just shove him away. “Then what is it?” she asked, her voice low. Suddenly it was years ago, and she was watching him smile down at her, his hand holding hers as he tried to light her cigarette, her stomach fluttering.
Blake's only answer was a heavy sigh that warmed the side of her neck before he began to nuzzle against her skin. As he began to plant kisses along the side of her throat. Gasping, Laurie shifted in the circle of his arms, alarmed and yet a strange feeling twisting her gut.
“I've always just wanted to hold you, you know?” Blake murmured against her skin. Her movements paused at the words he spoke. She frowned, confused. “Be close to you, just once” he continued. “Now you're here, and you grew up so beautiful that it makes me want to... I'm so fucked up,” he muttered. But he didn't stop the motion of his lips as they traveled across her skin. Or the hands that moved to caress her body.
Laurel's head swam with the haze of alcohol. Part of her screamed inside for her limbs to move. And yet how his body shifted against hers caused heat to pool low in her gut. Her arms obeyed somewhat, moving to insinuate themselves between her body and his. However, her hands didn't push, but lay pressed against his chest as her mind reeled. This was wrong, she thought as his lips trailed up her cheek, so wrong, she thought as she shuddered in response. She wondered if she wasn't just a convenient stand-in to him. But it was Laurie's name that was murmured against her skin as his lips moved to the underside of her jaw, as he gathered her face in his hands to press lips to hers, parting them under his own.
Maybe it was all the liquor that she had drank that made her allow this, that made hands that should have shoved gather up the dark fabric of his suit to cling. That was as good as an excuse as any for such a thing, wasn't it? Maybe she just wanted to feel something, anything, again since being with Jon often left her cold. He had more passion for what wasn't visible to the naked eye than he seemed to have for her. But Blake could make her feel. Usually it was anger and disgust. At him for what he'd done, at herself for ever wanting him all those years ago. At least her younger self could claim ignorance of the kind of man he was. But it wasn't disgust now that made Laurie allow him to press her against the wall with his larger form. Or hike up her dress to caress her thighs with warm hands that trembled slightly for reasons Laurie couldn't say. It was the alcohol, she blamed as her head swam, distantly sensing her underwear dragged down her legs to the floor as she leaned against the wall. Or maybe it was her cold and distant lover, she wondered again as Blake returned to press her against the hard surface, raising a thigh in each hand as he entered her in a smooth thrust.
Laurie let out a soft cry, the languid rhythm of Blake's motions quickly becoming more ragged and swift. She tried not to look at him, feeling ashamed for allowing old wants to rise within her. But she didn't have to, for Blake soon buried his face in the space between her neck and shoulder to inhale the scent of her perfume, to nuzzle and lave.
“I don't even know why I'm doing this,” Laurie managed to pant, her head turned away to one side as her body shifted against the wall. “ I hate you so much, but I-”
“You should,” Blake interrupted to agree, his voice breathless against her skin. “You really should. More than you even know.”
For a while, there was only the sound of their heavy breathing and that of their flesh shifting against each other. Laurie moaned occasionally while she clung to him. Blake watched through half-lidded eyes as Laurie's head tilted back against the wall, her eyes squeezing shut as her legs tightened around him.
“You probably won't even remember this,” he uttered in a strained and breathless voice. He gripped her thighs more firmly. “It's better that you don't. Better if you forget. But I'll never be able to. I'll always think about you here. With me in this room. So warm. Smelling so good. Laurie-” He uttered a choked groan as she clawed at his shoulders and arched against the wall with a soft cry. He shuddered as he pressed close to moan something unintelligible against her skin, clutching her tightly as he spilled inside.
Afterwards, he laid her on the couch where soon she drifted off to sleep, turned onto her side. He sat on the edge of one of the cushions, gazing at her for a few moments. He reach down toward her, his hand hovering briefly before moving to smooth her disheveled hair. Blake wondered if he should leave, but found himself lingering to watch her in slumber.
End
This is your conductor speaking. The bullet train to the lower circles of Hell is now boarding:
edward_laurie
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Blake/Laurie
Word Count: 1,722
Warning: incest, dubious consent
Summary: Alcohol fuels an encounter at that dinner party better left forgotten.
Laurel glared at Blake, who had the nerve to look almost surprised at her outburst, almost hurt. 'Only once,' he'd said, as though that was somehow better than twice or a dozen times. The liquor sloshed around in her glass with the trembling of her hand. Suddenly, the drink went flying as Laurie tossed it, splashing Blake's face and chest, making the guests nearby gasp. Laurie made as if to throw the glass at him as well, but he managed to catch her by the wrist in time. The tumbler fell from her hand as he tightened his grip, breaking on the floor beneath them, shards scattering.
“I think you need to go somewhere and cool off, kid,” Blake said, his eyes flashing. He turned, pulling her along by his hold on her arm out of the room amid the stares of guests surprised at the commotion. She stumbled after him, cursing at him as she tried to pull away.
When he'd taken her down the hallway and into an empty sitting room, he let her tug out of his grasp. Staggering away from Blake a few paces, Laurie glared at him, rubbing her wrist absently as she eyed him warily.
“Quite a scene you made out there, doll,” Blake told her, wiping his face with a handkerchief. He attempted to blot the alcohol from his clothing with little effect. “And I think you owe me a tux.”
“You deserve a hell of a lot more than just a dry cleaning bill,” she answered.
“Maybe so,” he said simply, raising his eyes to gaze at her with an unreadable expression.
His odd calm only served to irritate her. “You're revolting! To think that I actually felt sorry for you once!” Laurie railed. “Isn't that a laugh? Standing in the middle of the street looking like some dog that just got kicked while you watched us drive away. But that's before she told me about you. You've got some nerve showing yourself in public.” Her expression turned sullen. “But it's not like it matters to those people out there,” she said, waving her arm vaguely in the direction of the main room. “Half of them know the truth, and they just don't care. Don't want me interrupting their damned party with it.”
“You ought to know by now that it's a cold world out there, kid,” Blake offered. “If it doesn't affect them, it's not something they'll worry about.”
“Thanks for the piece of wisdom, but you can save it,” she told him, annoyed. She managed to push past him toward the doorway, but as she did, she tripped, her coordination off from all the scotch she had drank. Blake was there suddenly with a steadying arm, but she tried to shove him aside, angry that he dared to touch her. They wrestled briefly with Laurie ending up with her back against the nearby wall, her wrists pinned on either side of her head. She panted, alarm bells starting to go off in her mind.
“Let go of me,” she demanded, hating how her voice wavered. “I'm not like everybody else you've met. I'm not somebody you can just push around.”
“And let you stumble around all over the place so you can crack your skull open on something? Don't think so,” he told her. “High heels and too much alcohol don't mix well, kid.”
“Like I need a bastard like you to look out for me,” she grumbled, pulling but finding his grip firm. “And I'm not a kid!” She considered whether or not to lash out with her legs. After a moment, she did so, kneeing him to make him grunt. The look he gave her was more disapproving than angry. He used his larger bulk to pin her against the wall, watching her twist in his grasp.
“You make a lousy drunk,” Blake noted, unable to stop the smirk from rising to his face despite the situation. The sight of his smile made Laurie seethe. “You look like your mom, but you're a little more like your old man, I guess. Bad temper and all.”
Laurie bucked against him again. “What would you know about it, huh? What do you care anyway?”
Suddenly Blake's face wore the same oddly pained expression it had when she'd railed at him while they stood amongst the other guests at the party. “I care plenty.”
“Because when you look at me, you see her, right?” Laurie spat. “Because you-” Laurie's words cut off abruptly in shock as Blake leaned into her form, resting his head in the space where neck and shoulder met.
His hands moved from her wrists to fall to her hips. “That's not why,” he said, his voice muffled by her skin. His arms shifted to encircle her waist.
Laurie stood immobile, her freed hands hovering awkwardly in the air. She wondered at his odd behavior, but even more so at why she didn't just shove him away. “Then what is it?” she asked, her voice low. Suddenly it was years ago, and she was watching him smile down at her, his hand holding hers as he tried to light her cigarette, her stomach fluttering.
Blake's only answer was a heavy sigh that warmed the side of her neck before he began to nuzzle against her skin. As he began to plant kisses along the side of her throat. Gasping, Laurie shifted in the circle of his arms, alarmed and yet a strange feeling twisting her gut.
“I've always just wanted to hold you, you know?” Blake murmured against her skin. Her movements paused at the words he spoke. She frowned, confused. “Be close to you, just once” he continued. “Now you're here, and you grew up so beautiful that it makes me want to... I'm so fucked up,” he muttered. But he didn't stop the motion of his lips as they traveled across her skin. Or the hands that moved to caress her body.
Laurel's head swam with the haze of alcohol. Part of her screamed inside for her limbs to move. And yet how his body shifted against hers caused heat to pool low in her gut. Her arms obeyed somewhat, moving to insinuate themselves between her body and his. However, her hands didn't push, but lay pressed against his chest as her mind reeled. This was wrong, she thought as his lips trailed up her cheek, so wrong, she thought as she shuddered in response. She wondered if she wasn't just a convenient stand-in to him. But it was Laurie's name that was murmured against her skin as his lips moved to the underside of her jaw, as he gathered her face in his hands to press lips to hers, parting them under his own.
Maybe it was all the liquor that she had drank that made her allow this, that made hands that should have shoved gather up the dark fabric of his suit to cling. That was as good as an excuse as any for such a thing, wasn't it? Maybe she just wanted to feel something, anything, again since being with Jon often left her cold. He had more passion for what wasn't visible to the naked eye than he seemed to have for her. But Blake could make her feel. Usually it was anger and disgust. At him for what he'd done, at herself for ever wanting him all those years ago. At least her younger self could claim ignorance of the kind of man he was. But it wasn't disgust now that made Laurie allow him to press her against the wall with his larger form. Or hike up her dress to caress her thighs with warm hands that trembled slightly for reasons Laurie couldn't say. It was the alcohol, she blamed as her head swam, distantly sensing her underwear dragged down her legs to the floor as she leaned against the wall. Or maybe it was her cold and distant lover, she wondered again as Blake returned to press her against the hard surface, raising a thigh in each hand as he entered her in a smooth thrust.
Laurie let out a soft cry, the languid rhythm of Blake's motions quickly becoming more ragged and swift. She tried not to look at him, feeling ashamed for allowing old wants to rise within her. But she didn't have to, for Blake soon buried his face in the space between her neck and shoulder to inhale the scent of her perfume, to nuzzle and lave.
“I don't even know why I'm doing this,” Laurie managed to pant, her head turned away to one side as her body shifted against the wall. “ I hate you so much, but I-”
“You should,” Blake interrupted to agree, his voice breathless against her skin. “You really should. More than you even know.”
For a while, there was only the sound of their heavy breathing and that of their flesh shifting against each other. Laurie moaned occasionally while she clung to him. Blake watched through half-lidded eyes as Laurie's head tilted back against the wall, her eyes squeezing shut as her legs tightened around him.
“You probably won't even remember this,” he uttered in a strained and breathless voice. He gripped her thighs more firmly. “It's better that you don't. Better if you forget. But I'll never be able to. I'll always think about you here. With me in this room. So warm. Smelling so good. Laurie-” He uttered a choked groan as she clawed at his shoulders and arched against the wall with a soft cry. He shuddered as he pressed close to moan something unintelligible against her skin, clutching her tightly as he spilled inside.
Afterwards, he laid her on the couch where soon she drifted off to sleep, turned onto her side. He sat on the edge of one of the cushions, gazing at her for a few moments. He reach down toward her, his hand hovering briefly before moving to smooth her disheveled hair. Blake wondered if he should leave, but found himself lingering to watch her in slumber.
End
This is your conductor speaking. The bullet train to the lower circles of Hell is now boarding:
edward_laurie