Duality (1/?)
anonymous
April 15 2010, 02:54:50 UTC
I saw this prompt and an idea struck me for a fic connected to my old Serenity-verse. I hope the OP of this request doesn’t mind sharing it with one of my older ‘verses - if they do, I’ll step down and hope some other brave!anon gives it a chance. Even so, I do thank you for the opportunity to re-connect with one of my old fond memories - I’m trying to write it so that you can understand it even if you’ve never read the fic or its side-stories, but…I admit that it’s a bit hard, and I apologize if it doesn’t make much sense on its own.
Alfred barks a short cry as he wakes up as though startled by lightning, his body tense and his fingers clutching the covers. His eyes trace the cracked plaster in the ceiling as he forces his breathing to even out. “Don’t scream,” he whispers, his voice a low whisper, “don’t scream.”
In, out, to the rhythm of the clock on the opposite wall. Across the room, Abby shifts in her doggy-bed and sighs before settling down into squirrel-hunting dreams again. Outside, the tree-branches with their curious, brief spring blossoms carve shadowy lattice-work on the ceiling and walls, shifting with the slightest breeze or animal presence.
“A dream,” he tries to tell his body, to his fingers clenched in the coverlet and the shame hunched low and deep in his belly. “It was a dream.”
That doesn’t change anything, though. It doesn’t make shutting his eyes seem any less terrifying. It doesn’t make his body any looser, more relaxed.
And it doesn’t make his growing arousal any less confusing or shameful.
Have a nightmare, get a hard-on. Makes perfect sense, Alfred thinks at himself, his sex drive and his shame dancing around one another in a frustrating, ever-widening circle.
“Al?”
The voice is so quiet and sleepy that Alfred almost doesn’t hear it. But it’s the kindness in that voice that turns Alfred’s head to meet eyes that glow in what little light there is here. “M…Matt,” Alfred says, sighing. His body relaxes just a little as Matthew lifts a drowsing hand to brush along his cheekbone; Alfred turns his head, nuzzling into the touch.
“What’s wrong, Al?” Matt moves closer, and Alfred’s heart does a little victory dance in his chest when he realizes he’s letting Matthew get close enough to line up their sides and rest a nose against his shoulder.
“I-it’s nothing, Matt.”
“Bullshit.”
Alfred laughs at that, feeling his tension crack further. Large, jagged shards fall out and disintegrate as he presses closer, urging Matthew to toss an arm over his shoulders. “I’m Canadian, not stupid,” Matthew mumbles, which only makes Alfred laugh harder until his gut hurts too much.
“So,” Matthew says when Alfred manages to quiet down, “what’s wrong?”
Ah. Leave it to Matt to tie up those undone knots again, Alfred thinks, biting his lip. “It was just a dream,” Alfred mutters. His fingers find a stray strand of thread to tease on the comforter. “Something stupid about Ar -”
But his throat won’t let him say anymore. And now Alfred doesn’t dare look up into purple eyes, wide and bright as the moon outside.
“Alfred….”
“Look, forget it, okay?” Alfred says, rolling over and wincing at the way the fabric feels on his naked cock, a reminder that he’s turned on and sick to his stomach and okay-not okay at the same time. “I can’t even remember anything about it.” Truth. “It’s probably not important, anyway.” An utter lie.
Tick-tocks plop down into the velvet silence of the room. Alfred tries to curl in on himself and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to will sleep to come back to him. Please, he thinks, just let me sleep. Just let me close my eyes and go back to sleep.
He doesn’t jump when an arm wraps up his side, fingers splaying over Alfred’s heart. Legs line up with legs, a heartbeat drums time on his back and spine, and a soft cheek comes up to rest against his own. “I know that’s bullshit, too,” Matthew whispers in his ear, and Matthew’s smile floats up in the darkness behind Alfred’s eyelids, the gentle upturn of those lips, their softness on his cheek - both just beyond the darkness. ___
Re: Duality (1/?)
anonymous
April 15 2010, 03:33:07 UTC
Your ability to work in multiple layers of emotion is just amazing. How Alfred can be laughing along with Matthew and yet all the same, there isn't any awkward feeling of mood-whiplash, because in the background you can still sense those other emotions and thoughts. That kind of thing is tough to balance (or at least it is for me), but you make it seem so easy!
Not the OP of this request (but OP of your Serenity-verse, which I'm still completely and utterly in love with), but I'm certainly interested in seeing more. Your dynamic between Matt and Al is always such a pleasure, as is your characterization of both of them seperately.
worth - let's put it in concrete terms - giving up the monetary equivalent of eating for a day.
anonymous
April 15 2010, 05:31:17 UTC
+next day's breakfast
Since I don't have any firstborns nor the power to give the Internet.
Not the OP, but I would pay good money to see where you're taking this. Your writing is spectacular, your grip on the characters awesome - I've already rhapsodized on your Canada back on the Serenity fic - and the way you handle this delicate situation is beautiful. IMHO, you and the Bealtaine writer handle 'aftermath'-type fics the best.
Authornon, you just made my day! This is awesome and OP would most definitely like to see more :DDD
Alfred’s heart does a little victory dance in his chest when he realizes he’s letting Matthew get close enough to line up their sides and rest a nose against his shoulder.
Alfred barks a short cry as he wakes up as though startled by lightning, his body tense and his fingers clutching the covers. His eyes trace the cracked plaster in the ceiling as he forces his breathing to even out. “Don’t scream,” he whispers, his voice a low whisper, “don’t scream.”
In, out, to the rhythm of the clock on the opposite wall. Across the room, Abby shifts in her doggy-bed and sighs before settling down into squirrel-hunting dreams again. Outside, the tree-branches with their curious, brief spring blossoms carve shadowy lattice-work on the ceiling and walls, shifting with the slightest breeze or animal presence.
“A dream,” he tries to tell his body, to his fingers clenched in the coverlet and the shame hunched low and deep in his belly. “It was a dream.”
That doesn’t change anything, though. It doesn’t make shutting his eyes seem any less terrifying. It doesn’t make his body any looser, more relaxed.
And it doesn’t make his growing arousal any less confusing or shameful.
Have a nightmare, get a hard-on. Makes perfect sense, Alfred thinks at himself, his sex drive and his shame dancing around one another in a frustrating, ever-widening circle.
“Al?”
The voice is so quiet and sleepy that Alfred almost doesn’t hear it. But it’s the kindness in that voice that turns Alfred’s head to meet eyes that glow in what little light there is here. “M…Matt,” Alfred says, sighing. His body relaxes just a little as Matthew lifts a drowsing hand to brush along his cheekbone; Alfred turns his head, nuzzling into the touch.
“What’s wrong, Al?” Matt moves closer, and Alfred’s heart does a little victory dance in his chest when he realizes he’s letting Matthew get close enough to line up their sides and rest a nose against his shoulder.
“I-it’s nothing, Matt.”
“Bullshit.”
Alfred laughs at that, feeling his tension crack further. Large, jagged shards fall out and disintegrate as he presses closer, urging Matthew to toss an arm over his shoulders. “I’m Canadian, not stupid,” Matthew mumbles, which only makes Alfred laugh harder until his gut hurts too much.
“So,” Matthew says when Alfred manages to quiet down, “what’s wrong?”
Ah. Leave it to Matt to tie up those undone knots again, Alfred thinks, biting his lip. “It was just a dream,” Alfred mutters. His fingers find a stray strand of thread to tease on the comforter. “Something stupid about Ar -”
But his throat won’t let him say anymore. And now Alfred doesn’t dare look up into purple eyes, wide and bright as the moon outside.
“Alfred….”
“Look, forget it, okay?” Alfred says, rolling over and wincing at the way the fabric feels on his naked cock, a reminder that he’s turned on and sick to his stomach and okay-not okay at the same time. “I can’t even remember anything about it.” Truth. “It’s probably not important, anyway.” An utter lie.
Tick-tocks plop down into the velvet silence of the room. Alfred tries to curl in on himself and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to will sleep to come back to him. Please, he thinks, just let me sleep. Just let me close my eyes and go back to sleep.
He doesn’t jump when an arm wraps up his side, fingers splaying over Alfred’s heart. Legs line up with legs, a heartbeat drums time on his back and spine, and a soft cheek comes up to rest against his own. “I know that’s bullshit, too,” Matthew whispers in his ear, and Matthew’s smile floats up in the darkness behind Alfred’s eyelids, the gentle upturn of those lips, their softness on his cheek - both just beyond the darkness.
___
Would anon like to see more? /shy
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*throws myself at you and clings* You're my favorite author in the world and YOU'RE WRITING PART OF IT AGAIN!!!!
I feel like I won the freaking lottery =D You're my favorite person EVER.
Okay, I'm alright. Please forgive the fangirl attack, I couldn't help it.
^^ Loving this chapter so far, can't wait for more <3<3<3
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Not the OP of this request (but OP of your Serenity-verse, which I'm still completely and utterly in love with), but I'm certainly interested in seeing more. Your dynamic between Matt and Al is always such a pleasure, as is your characterization of both of them seperately.
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OT: when I saw this on the fills page at first I read it as Canada/America snooping.
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Since I don't have any firstborns nor the power to give the Internet.
Not the OP, but I would pay good money to see where you're taking this. Your writing is spectacular, your grip on the characters awesome - I've already rhapsodized on your Canada back on the Serenity fic - and the way you handle this delicate situation is beautiful. IMHO, you and the Bealtaine writer handle 'aftermath'-type fics the best.
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Alfred’s heart does a little victory dance in his chest when he realizes he’s letting Matthew get close enough to line up their sides and rest a nose against his shoulder.
Oh, Alfred, sweetheart. *wibbles*
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