Fic: "When You Care Enough," GH, Johnny/Kristina/Ethan, R
Title: “When You Care Enough” 1/1
Author: monimala
Fandom: GH
Rating/Pairing: R, Johnny/Ethan/Kristina, established ménage, angst.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters and am making no profit.
Summary: 475 words, written for Porn Battle XIII, with the prompt of “sheets.” They’re like a gorgeously perfect picture.
Johnny leans against the doorframe, with his sweating bottle of beer, and stares at the kids --because that’s how he thinks of them most of the time, as young and untouched by the darkness that lives inside him-- tangled up in the sheets, barely awake.
Ethan is vampire pale, all wild hair and perpetual stubble. Kristina looks like a bowl of peaches and cream; the only marks on her gorgeous skin are the ones he left: a berry-red hickey on her neck, beard burn on the insides of her thighs. Their heads are tilted together, and they’re grinning in blissful exhaustion. They’re like a gorgeously perfect picture. Like the human equivalent of the sentimental poems inside a Hallmark card.
He’s more than halfway done with his IPA, the taste nutty and bitter on his tongue and the palm of his hand going numb from the cold. They haven’t really missed him in the minutes he’s been gone… all they really need is each other. That’s all they’ve ever really needed. To admit how they feel. To finally take it to bed. To stop fighting it. Now they speak the secret language of young love, which he’s never been able to understand.
Music, he gets. Music makes sense. He hears melodies in the way Kristina keens his name when he has his mouth on her, and counts the beats when he’s buried in Ethan to the hilt. They let him play their bodies like instruments and make him feel like he’s on stage at Carnegie Hall.
They make him feel like a part of something, which is more than he deserves.
“Johnny?” Krissy lifts her head to look at him, her cute little lips in a pout and her eyebrows furrowed with concern. “Why are you all the way over there?”
“It’s where I belong,” he says, without thinking. Without filtering. It’s because he’s naked, because they strip him bare in a dozen different ways, just by being the innocents in his fucked up little world.
“Bullshit, mate.” Ethan always sounds like whiskey and sleep, even when he’s stone sober and wide awake. Like this, late at night, Johnny can hear promises wrapped around every syllable. “You belong with us.” Promises. Loyalty. Faith.
They rise from the bed and come to him like it’s choreographed. Ethan takes his beer away, kissing him softly to drink the last sip. Kristina takes his palm and presses it against her chest, curling his fingers around the soft weight of her breast. He goes hard almost instantly, leaning into them, trying to draw their warmth and sweetness into his bones.
All they really need is each other. It’s all they’ve ever really needed.
And he needs this, craves them, wants kisses that go on for hours and memories that last forever.
Deep down, he needs the illusion of hope.
Author: monimala
Fandom: GH
Rating/Pairing: R, Johnny/Ethan/Kristina, established ménage, angst.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters and am making no profit.
Summary: 475 words, written for Porn Battle XIII, with the prompt of “sheets.” They’re like a gorgeously perfect picture.
Johnny leans against the doorframe, with his sweating bottle of beer, and stares at the kids --because that’s how he thinks of them most of the time, as young and untouched by the darkness that lives inside him-- tangled up in the sheets, barely awake.
Ethan is vampire pale, all wild hair and perpetual stubble. Kristina looks like a bowl of peaches and cream; the only marks on her gorgeous skin are the ones he left: a berry-red hickey on her neck, beard burn on the insides of her thighs. Their heads are tilted together, and they’re grinning in blissful exhaustion. They’re like a gorgeously perfect picture. Like the human equivalent of the sentimental poems inside a Hallmark card.
He’s more than halfway done with his IPA, the taste nutty and bitter on his tongue and the palm of his hand going numb from the cold. They haven’t really missed him in the minutes he’s been gone… all they really need is each other. That’s all they’ve ever really needed. To admit how they feel. To finally take it to bed. To stop fighting it. Now they speak the secret language of young love, which he’s never been able to understand.
Music, he gets. Music makes sense. He hears melodies in the way Kristina keens his name when he has his mouth on her, and counts the beats when he’s buried in Ethan to the hilt. They let him play their bodies like instruments and make him feel like he’s on stage at Carnegie Hall.
They make him feel like a part of something, which is more than he deserves.
“Johnny?” Krissy lifts her head to look at him, her cute little lips in a pout and her eyebrows furrowed with concern. “Why are you all the way over there?”
“It’s where I belong,” he says, without thinking. Without filtering. It’s because he’s naked, because they strip him bare in a dozen different ways, just by being the innocents in his fucked up little world.
“Bullshit, mate.” Ethan always sounds like whiskey and sleep, even when he’s stone sober and wide awake. Like this, late at night, Johnny can hear promises wrapped around every syllable. “You belong with us.” Promises. Loyalty. Faith.
They rise from the bed and come to him like it’s choreographed. Ethan takes his beer away, kissing him softly to drink the last sip. Kristina takes his palm and presses it against her chest, curling his fingers around the soft weight of her breast. He goes hard almost instantly, leaning into them, trying to draw their warmth and sweetness into his bones.
All they really need is each other. It’s all they’ve ever really needed.
And he needs this, craves them, wants kisses that go on for hours and memories that last forever.
Deep down, he needs the illusion of hope.