[Drab] (Eras) Ugly Needs
(Eras) Ugly Needs
Glee. Puck/Kurt. R. 426 words.
Basically hovering he stalks toward me, transcendent and terrifying, towering against me small and barely there on the bed, and his eyes are black again, reflecting images of me wrecked and pathetic on the bed until I have to turn away in tears.
He's jerking off to internet porn when I wake up; eyes dark, black, blood everywhere, biting hard into his own arm and I feel anxious, jealous, empty and alone, vaguely disgusted and transfixed. The soundtrack: the grunting and slapping of the video, the wet, vicious slurping of him bleeding himself, the heady, distant drone of the old air-con. He's cumming into his hand, asking me where the lighter is.
What, I ask startled, and then, when I'm okay again, I don't know where the lighter is. He shrugs and falls off the bed, naked from the waist down, softening dick bobbing angrily into wide, open space. Unlit cigarette stuck to his bottom lip with dry spit.
My hands are shaking. “Noah?” I ask, but he ignores me and picks up the emerald green lighter next to the small bag of cocaine on the white dressing table next to the bathroom door. “Noah?” I ask again as he lights the cigarette; smoke. I'm mesmerised.
“What?” he asks inhaling.
His arm is bleeding; thick black blood oozing in ravines running down and through the smooth, tan skin. I'm shivering. I shift on the bed and scratch absently at the back of my neck. My arms ache. I ache all over. “Please?” I whisper and he grins; all thick lips and blunt, white teeth stained black. Revulsion and arousal at the same time, and I want to die.
Basically hovering he stalks toward me, transcendent and terrifying, towering against me small and barely there on the bed, and his eyes are black again, reflecting images of me wrecked and pathetic on the bed until I have to turn away in tears. I'm sobbing. “Just please.”
He falsely placates me. Scene: him crawling all over me, pulling me into him, hands in my hair, my wet and bloated face against his chest leaving tear tracks in the white tank top, shh and shh shh shh, Kurt, it's okay, I'm here, just... shh. I'm lurching inside, falling through stars, planets, nebulas. The skin on my neck breaks and I zone out. Warm wet blood spilling out of me and into him and I'm still falling. I am nothing and I never want to go back.
He pulls out of me, mouth wrinkled and bloody and terrible, tells me to shut up, bites back in harder than before. I'm pushing against him, immovable. Flashes and colours behind my eyelids and just before I pass out I hear him say “too fucking easy,” and then I'm gone.
Glee. Puck/Kurt. R. 426 words.
Basically hovering he stalks toward me, transcendent and terrifying, towering against me small and barely there on the bed, and his eyes are black again, reflecting images of me wrecked and pathetic on the bed until I have to turn away in tears.
He's jerking off to internet porn when I wake up; eyes dark, black, blood everywhere, biting hard into his own arm and I feel anxious, jealous, empty and alone, vaguely disgusted and transfixed. The soundtrack: the grunting and slapping of the video, the wet, vicious slurping of him bleeding himself, the heady, distant drone of the old air-con. He's cumming into his hand, asking me where the lighter is.
What, I ask startled, and then, when I'm okay again, I don't know where the lighter is. He shrugs and falls off the bed, naked from the waist down, softening dick bobbing angrily into wide, open space. Unlit cigarette stuck to his bottom lip with dry spit.
My hands are shaking. “Noah?” I ask, but he ignores me and picks up the emerald green lighter next to the small bag of cocaine on the white dressing table next to the bathroom door. “Noah?” I ask again as he lights the cigarette; smoke. I'm mesmerised.
“What?” he asks inhaling.
His arm is bleeding; thick black blood oozing in ravines running down and through the smooth, tan skin. I'm shivering. I shift on the bed and scratch absently at the back of my neck. My arms ache. I ache all over. “Please?” I whisper and he grins; all thick lips and blunt, white teeth stained black. Revulsion and arousal at the same time, and I want to die.
Basically hovering he stalks toward me, transcendent and terrifying, towering against me small and barely there on the bed, and his eyes are black again, reflecting images of me wrecked and pathetic on the bed until I have to turn away in tears. I'm sobbing. “Just please.”
He falsely placates me. Scene: him crawling all over me, pulling me into him, hands in my hair, my wet and bloated face against his chest leaving tear tracks in the white tank top, shh and shh shh shh, Kurt, it's okay, I'm here, just... shh. I'm lurching inside, falling through stars, planets, nebulas. The skin on my neck breaks and I zone out. Warm wet blood spilling out of me and into him and I'm still falling. I am nothing and I never want to go back.
He pulls out of me, mouth wrinkled and bloody and terrible, tells me to shut up, bites back in harder than before. I'm pushing against him, immovable. Flashes and colours behind my eyelids and just before I pass out I hear him say “too fucking easy,” and then I'm gone.