Yet another fic
It's been forever since I posted the first installment for this. I appologize for that. A year or so of delay was not in my plans when I said I'd take longer than usual to update. Anyway, I've developed this system, in which I write 300 words a day on each one of the five stories I have going at the moment, and it seems to be working just fine. I still haven't had a chance to time it out, to know when I'll update next, but it shouldn't be horribly long.
DESIRE
A straight crush; that had to be it. The term wasn't unfamiliar to him and, though Detective Leon Orcott wouldn't admit it to anyone if his life depended on it, he'd had a few straight crushes of his own: Christopher Walken, for example, or Jude Law; Chris Cornell...Anyway, the list wasn't much longer, but long enough for him to know how it felt. A straight crush was nothing more than admiration, an attraction to someone's talent or even good looks (he was straight, not blind), that had nothing to do with sex. He did not fantasize about them, didn't have wet dreams with them, didn't accidentally think about them while jerking off...
Leon slammed his forehead to the keyboard in which he had been typing the same report for the last hour, with such bad luck on his part that his actions caused a row of endless D's to spread across the screen. He frowned when he noticed a moment later, opting to simply close the file without saving rather than taking the time to delete them. Who cared that he had just deleted half his report as well. He hadn't made any progress and wouldn't as long as he was thinking about it.
For Pete's sake, he was always thinking about it.
He tried to justify the situation in his mind. All he felt for D was, indeed, admiration; a straight crush. The difference being that he wasn't someone unreachable like an actor or a musician, hence, it seemed somehow stronger to him, more real. The Chinese man was cunning, mysterious, smarter than anyone he'd ever known and, honestly, most women would kill for his hair and skin complexion. He looked so soft and silky, so perfect and inviting...
The blond slammed his head to the edge of his desk this time, just in case. The situation was turning unbearable. Without lifting his head, Leon subtly shifted in his seat into a more 'comfortable' position. The past month had been hell for him and it had taken its toll on him. He couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't focus. He'd lost ten pounds and been suspended twice already because of it, of him. Straight crushes were just fine and dandy, he concluded, but, while what he had for D was most certainly a crush, there was absolutely nothing 'straight' about it. While he would have loved nothing more than to declare to the contrary, the somewhat moderate stir between his legs at the most innocent thought of D was more than eloquent, and even he could not deny that.
When he felt he was safe enough to get up from his seat without risking public humiliation, Leon gave up on his report and went over to the coffee machine. Caffeine would certainly not help him sleep, but it would help him clear his mind. He slid his change methodically into the slot and took a moment or two to make his selection, even when he always had his coffee black. There was comfort in the little routine, and he was in desperate need of comfort.
Now lust, he thought, and contrary to popular belief, was something one could deal with. He was not an animal; he could refrain from jumping the bones of someone he had the hots for. Lust was something that, unless you were obsessive and pathologically stalkerish, would -should- fade away when its object was not present. And, strangely enough, he thought he could have dealt with lusting over a man as effeminate as the Count. One such man in contrast to all the girls he’d wanted to screw since he was twelve certainly was nothing to worry about.
If all he felt was lust, then, why, oh, why did he miss the guy?
One month. He’d stayed clear of anywhere near china town for a whole month, hoping it would get rid of his little infatuation. For how long had everyone told him he should just let it go? Maybe, if he had listened back then, he would have caught it in time. It turned out one particularly graphic wet dream was enough to have him listen but, like some terminal disease, once the symptoms had presented themselves, it was already too late. It had been the longest, most infuriatingly troublesome month of his life.
The day before, his feet had dragged him to Chinatown of their own accord, and Leon had found himself at the Pet Shop’s doorstep without knowing what had hit him. Maybe if he had turned on his heels, if he had paid attention to that panicked voice in his mind that pleaded to just run away, maybe he’d still have some hope left. But no! He had to prove himself, didn’t he? He and his god dammed pride had to prove it was all behind him!
He hadn’t been able to sleep that night. Every time he remembered D’s face, how forlorn and lost he’d seemed, how out of character, Leon felt his heart constricting. He could deal with sleep deprivation brought on by homoerotic fantasies. After all, D hardly counted as a man to begin with, and he didn‘t just mean his effeminate manners. But worry?
He was doomed. He wasn’t only in love, and dangerously so, with another guy. It had to be him!
The detective drank the rest of his coffee with one gulp. There was no way around it, he would not be able to go on with his life if he didn’t do something about it. Maybe, just maybe, he could go over, make sure the freak was alright, and resume their quasi-relationship. If everything went back to the way it was before that fatidic month, he just might be able to go back to his beautiful, beloved and sorely missed denial-ridden Status Quo, and pretend he was 100% straight.
TBC
A/N: By the way, the objects of Leon's straight crushes were picked thanks to someone I know, who told me those were his straight crushes. I know for a fact this guy is very much straight, so I thought it would be a good choice for someone as Leon.
DESIRE
A straight crush; that had to be it. The term wasn't unfamiliar to him and, though Detective Leon Orcott wouldn't admit it to anyone if his life depended on it, he'd had a few straight crushes of his own: Christopher Walken, for example, or Jude Law; Chris Cornell...Anyway, the list wasn't much longer, but long enough for him to know how it felt. A straight crush was nothing more than admiration, an attraction to someone's talent or even good looks (he was straight, not blind), that had nothing to do with sex. He did not fantasize about them, didn't have wet dreams with them, didn't accidentally think about them while jerking off...
Leon slammed his forehead to the keyboard in which he had been typing the same report for the last hour, with such bad luck on his part that his actions caused a row of endless D's to spread across the screen. He frowned when he noticed a moment later, opting to simply close the file without saving rather than taking the time to delete them. Who cared that he had just deleted half his report as well. He hadn't made any progress and wouldn't as long as he was thinking about it.
For Pete's sake, he was always thinking about it.
He tried to justify the situation in his mind. All he felt for D was, indeed, admiration; a straight crush. The difference being that he wasn't someone unreachable like an actor or a musician, hence, it seemed somehow stronger to him, more real. The Chinese man was cunning, mysterious, smarter than anyone he'd ever known and, honestly, most women would kill for his hair and skin complexion. He looked so soft and silky, so perfect and inviting...
The blond slammed his head to the edge of his desk this time, just in case. The situation was turning unbearable. Without lifting his head, Leon subtly shifted in his seat into a more 'comfortable' position. The past month had been hell for him and it had taken its toll on him. He couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't focus. He'd lost ten pounds and been suspended twice already because of it, of him. Straight crushes were just fine and dandy, he concluded, but, while what he had for D was most certainly a crush, there was absolutely nothing 'straight' about it. While he would have loved nothing more than to declare to the contrary, the somewhat moderate stir between his legs at the most innocent thought of D was more than eloquent, and even he could not deny that.
When he felt he was safe enough to get up from his seat without risking public humiliation, Leon gave up on his report and went over to the coffee machine. Caffeine would certainly not help him sleep, but it would help him clear his mind. He slid his change methodically into the slot and took a moment or two to make his selection, even when he always had his coffee black. There was comfort in the little routine, and he was in desperate need of comfort.
Now lust, he thought, and contrary to popular belief, was something one could deal with. He was not an animal; he could refrain from jumping the bones of someone he had the hots for. Lust was something that, unless you were obsessive and pathologically stalkerish, would -should- fade away when its object was not present. And, strangely enough, he thought he could have dealt with lusting over a man as effeminate as the Count. One such man in contrast to all the girls he’d wanted to screw since he was twelve certainly was nothing to worry about.
If all he felt was lust, then, why, oh, why did he miss the guy?
One month. He’d stayed clear of anywhere near china town for a whole month, hoping it would get rid of his little infatuation. For how long had everyone told him he should just let it go? Maybe, if he had listened back then, he would have caught it in time. It turned out one particularly graphic wet dream was enough to have him listen but, like some terminal disease, once the symptoms had presented themselves, it was already too late. It had been the longest, most infuriatingly troublesome month of his life.
The day before, his feet had dragged him to Chinatown of their own accord, and Leon had found himself at the Pet Shop’s doorstep without knowing what had hit him. Maybe if he had turned on his heels, if he had paid attention to that panicked voice in his mind that pleaded to just run away, maybe he’d still have some hope left. But no! He had to prove himself, didn’t he? He and his god dammed pride had to prove it was all behind him!
He hadn’t been able to sleep that night. Every time he remembered D’s face, how forlorn and lost he’d seemed, how out of character, Leon felt his heart constricting. He could deal with sleep deprivation brought on by homoerotic fantasies. After all, D hardly counted as a man to begin with, and he didn‘t just mean his effeminate manners. But worry?
He was doomed. He wasn’t only in love, and dangerously so, with another guy. It had to be him!
The detective drank the rest of his coffee with one gulp. There was no way around it, he would not be able to go on with his life if he didn’t do something about it. Maybe, just maybe, he could go over, make sure the freak was alright, and resume their quasi-relationship. If everything went back to the way it was before that fatidic month, he just might be able to go back to his beautiful, beloved and sorely missed denial-ridden Status Quo, and pretend he was 100% straight.
TBC
A/N: By the way, the objects of Leon's straight crushes were picked thanks to someone I know, who told me those were his straight crushes. I know for a fact this guy is very much straight, so I thought it would be a good choice for someone as Leon.