Endlessly : Prelude
Edit: Simply a copy of the story on this journal for organisational purposes. I'm sick of having to look all over the place for stories.
Title: Endlessly : Prelude
Author: Problematique.
Pairing: Bells/Dom
Rating: It'll get much heavier later. This one would be ok for most. It contains very mild sexual material towards the end of the page, if it can even be called that.
Summary: I posted the seventh chapter of this story a few days back, and felt inspired to redo my story. In this intro, Dom (he's the narrator) meets Matt during a stormy night.
Feedback: Throw me anything you've got. I love it all. But good comments are loved the most :D
Warnings: If you're a total prude, then don't read this!!! Fine, actually, just read it up to the last paragraph if you are. But seriously, it's extremely mild at this point, so I give no warnings. If you were such a prude you wouldn't be reading in on this community anyway.
Disclaimers: I don't claim any of this to be true, I merely wish it were. But maybe it is true. . .but maybe it isn't. . .
Lastly, I beg you all for patience. I wrote this prelude as nicely as I possibly could, which means it's quite wordy and doesn't contain much "action" if you understand what I'm getting at. But if you hold on, I promise lots and lots of hot, rabid love :D For christ's sake, it's already starting in the prelude!
Sometimes if feels like things just run into you. At least the ones that matter. Everything else-the planned events, achieved goals and routine gifts-fly out the window when these uninvited guests crash into you. They demand your immediate attention. And when you refuse. . .when you refuse, they usurp your thoughts and seep into the tiny convolutions of your brain. They germinate, proliferate and manifest themselves in the most obvious and yet subtle of ways. That is, until you give in slowly, first unwillingly and then one day you find yourself willingly abiding by its command. Yet even with this realisation, you happily push aside your thinking and accept it.
This is the way love works.
And why should I have conformed to the positive and desirable view of love? A feeling is so artificial and wicked. What kind master would expose his subject to the misery of loving someone who is neither beautiful, kind or anything else that can amass to any value in a human being? And then, as though this unwaivering attachment weren't enough, impose a tendency to self-sacrifice-to abdicate one's possessions, values and life? I refuse. I refuse to wallow in the misery of love , when I can love what I already have, have had and know rightfully deserves it.
In that stormy night, how was I to know what it would happen?
I merely wanted a quick and painless relief from pink eye. Yes, I know, driving at night, during a storm, with pink eye was not the best choice I could have made. But I'm telling you the story as it happened so don't look at me that way. There, that's better.
The lighting flashed, momentarily lighting my entire view and vanishing within seconds. I took a tissue from the glove compartment as I stared into the rear view mirror. There was no one ahead, in back or to either side. A branch rustled against the window beside me. After I blew my nose, I drove right ahead. The darkness reigned again.
And with the next shock of lightning, I slammed the breaks. It seemed to freeze time; the light from it remained, but the sky poured just as heavily. I couldn't see anything but what seemed to be a glowing moon. As I glazed into it, I realised there were two, and further into my thought it dawned on me that I was being stupid. There couldn't have been two moons, and I was in fact staring into the strikingly beautiful eyes of a stunned human being.
My mind kept telling me to go on; he held his coat tightly around his body and had whisked his way across the rest of the street. The darkness engulfed us one more as I opened the door. I ran after him as lighting blinded me. Just as he was about to turn a corner, I desperately reached out for his shoulder. I felt myself losing balance, but luckily my hand made it. He turned around, but his eyes weren't glowing anymore; the tree above us kept the lightning away.
The look I had on my face must have been absolutely precious because he looked back at me with the most maudlin-ridden expression.
"Are you ok. . ."
Words between us were tense and superfluous. They were said and followed by the sounds of thunder and rain. When all was still, even the air seemed to make itself known. But words were answered with a nod or something as subtle as the tilt of a head.
His shirt was completely unbuttoned; too large for his small frame and missing most of the buttons. It was soft and white; clean but inefficient to protect him even as it engulfed his body down to his knees. The coat was just his size, which consequently also made it useless; it was obvious that he had not intended to expose himself to the elements. I offered him my own coat, but I quickly took it back; I didn't want him to get pink eye. And let's face it: I wasn't such a strong man myself.
I don't know why, but I felt so compelled to help him and I offered to take him home. He refused. I suggested he come with me back to my place.
He accepted.
As I closed the door behind me, I was startled by the sudden appearance of light. He'd turned on the switch.
He stared at me until I couldn't stand it and asked him about it.
"Your eyes. . ."
"Oh yeah. That, uhh, I have pink eye, and that's also why I didn't-"
My words drifted into meaninglessness as he wiped my eyes with a tissue. The sweetness and delicacy in which he did it stunned me. I allowed him to do it and then he gazed deeply into my eyes. I'd never felt so absorbed by another person as I felt with him. He was sucking my essence and composure withing seconds. The work of years, my shield, was being removed without a struggle.
I felt naked.
Except I felt my soul naked. He, on the other hand, was actually unclothed. The storm had knocked out a few power cables moments earlier, as we found out later. My infection had rendered the few clothes I'd brought useless to everyone but me. And his clothes were drenched in rain.
It was awkward to sleep that night. The only way to keep warm was the very one built into us. I tried to keep to my side of the bed as much as I possibly could, but when the cold wind crept into the sheets, I involuntarily pushed myself closer to the centre. The contour of his thin body I could clearly feel and his skin burned into mine. My back arched, wanting to be closer, as I closed my eyes and tried to resist resting my head against his. My thighs pressed tightly against each other as the warmth filled my body.
I'd been alone too long.
Title: Endlessly : Prelude
Author: Problematique.
Pairing: Bells/Dom
Rating: It'll get much heavier later. This one would be ok for most. It contains very mild sexual material towards the end of the page, if it can even be called that.
Summary: I posted the seventh chapter of this story a few days back, and felt inspired to redo my story. In this intro, Dom (he's the narrator) meets Matt during a stormy night.
Feedback: Throw me anything you've got. I love it all. But good comments are loved the most :D
Warnings: If you're a total prude, then don't read this!!! Fine, actually, just read it up to the last paragraph if you are. But seriously, it's extremely mild at this point, so I give no warnings. If you were such a prude you wouldn't be reading in on this community anyway.
Disclaimers: I don't claim any of this to be true, I merely wish it were. But maybe it is true. . .but maybe it isn't. . .
Lastly, I beg you all for patience. I wrote this prelude as nicely as I possibly could, which means it's quite wordy and doesn't contain much "action" if you understand what I'm getting at. But if you hold on, I promise lots and lots of hot, rabid love :D For christ's sake, it's already starting in the prelude!
Sometimes if feels like things just run into you. At least the ones that matter. Everything else-the planned events, achieved goals and routine gifts-fly out the window when these uninvited guests crash into you. They demand your immediate attention. And when you refuse. . .when you refuse, they usurp your thoughts and seep into the tiny convolutions of your brain. They germinate, proliferate and manifest themselves in the most obvious and yet subtle of ways. That is, until you give in slowly, first unwillingly and then one day you find yourself willingly abiding by its command. Yet even with this realisation, you happily push aside your thinking and accept it.
This is the way love works.
And why should I have conformed to the positive and desirable view of love? A feeling is so artificial and wicked. What kind master would expose his subject to the misery of loving someone who is neither beautiful, kind or anything else that can amass to any value in a human being? And then, as though this unwaivering attachment weren't enough, impose a tendency to self-sacrifice-to abdicate one's possessions, values and life? I refuse. I refuse to wallow in the misery of love , when I can love what I already have, have had and know rightfully deserves it.
In that stormy night, how was I to know what it would happen?
I merely wanted a quick and painless relief from pink eye. Yes, I know, driving at night, during a storm, with pink eye was not the best choice I could have made. But I'm telling you the story as it happened so don't look at me that way. There, that's better.
The lighting flashed, momentarily lighting my entire view and vanishing within seconds. I took a tissue from the glove compartment as I stared into the rear view mirror. There was no one ahead, in back or to either side. A branch rustled against the window beside me. After I blew my nose, I drove right ahead. The darkness reigned again.
And with the next shock of lightning, I slammed the breaks. It seemed to freeze time; the light from it remained, but the sky poured just as heavily. I couldn't see anything but what seemed to be a glowing moon. As I glazed into it, I realised there were two, and further into my thought it dawned on me that I was being stupid. There couldn't have been two moons, and I was in fact staring into the strikingly beautiful eyes of a stunned human being.
My mind kept telling me to go on; he held his coat tightly around his body and had whisked his way across the rest of the street. The darkness engulfed us one more as I opened the door. I ran after him as lighting blinded me. Just as he was about to turn a corner, I desperately reached out for his shoulder. I felt myself losing balance, but luckily my hand made it. He turned around, but his eyes weren't glowing anymore; the tree above us kept the lightning away.
The look I had on my face must have been absolutely precious because he looked back at me with the most maudlin-ridden expression.
"Are you ok. . ."
Words between us were tense and superfluous. They were said and followed by the sounds of thunder and rain. When all was still, even the air seemed to make itself known. But words were answered with a nod or something as subtle as the tilt of a head.
His shirt was completely unbuttoned; too large for his small frame and missing most of the buttons. It was soft and white; clean but inefficient to protect him even as it engulfed his body down to his knees. The coat was just his size, which consequently also made it useless; it was obvious that he had not intended to expose himself to the elements. I offered him my own coat, but I quickly took it back; I didn't want him to get pink eye. And let's face it: I wasn't such a strong man myself.
I don't know why, but I felt so compelled to help him and I offered to take him home. He refused. I suggested he come with me back to my place.
He accepted.
As I closed the door behind me, I was startled by the sudden appearance of light. He'd turned on the switch.
He stared at me until I couldn't stand it and asked him about it.
"Your eyes. . ."
"Oh yeah. That, uhh, I have pink eye, and that's also why I didn't-"
My words drifted into meaninglessness as he wiped my eyes with a tissue. The sweetness and delicacy in which he did it stunned me. I allowed him to do it and then he gazed deeply into my eyes. I'd never felt so absorbed by another person as I felt with him. He was sucking my essence and composure withing seconds. The work of years, my shield, was being removed without a struggle.
I felt naked.
Except I felt my soul naked. He, on the other hand, was actually unclothed. The storm had knocked out a few power cables moments earlier, as we found out later. My infection had rendered the few clothes I'd brought useless to everyone but me. And his clothes were drenched in rain.
It was awkward to sleep that night. The only way to keep warm was the very one built into us. I tried to keep to my side of the bed as much as I possibly could, but when the cold wind crept into the sheets, I involuntarily pushed myself closer to the centre. The contour of his thin body I could clearly feel and his skin burned into mine. My back arched, wanting to be closer, as I closed my eyes and tried to resist resting my head against his. My thighs pressed tightly against each other as the warmth filled my body.
I'd been alone too long.