Fic: "Ten Percent" 1/1, TLG, Alec/Sutton, R
Title: “Ten Percent” 1/1
Author: monimala
Fandom: The Lying Game
Rating/Pairing: R, Alec/Sutton, power play, dark themes.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters and am making no profit.
Summary: 575 words. Written for Porn Battle XIII for the prompt “like father, like son.”
Sutton Mercer is a bitch. A spoiled little princess who’d rather respect Anna Wintour than her parents. She’s a terrible influence on his daughter and a horrible human being… which is an observation that, as a less than stellar individual himself, he feels completely qualified to make. Sometimes --ninety percent of the time-- Alec wishes she’d been drowned at birth. That Derek failed to dump her in the lake a few months ago infuriates him. That she just won’t go away is a constant source of annoyance. She has no purpose on God’s green earth except to waste valuable air.
And what he hates the most is that he can’t get enough of her… that he seeks her out in dark corners and empty hallways, places where zippers and buttons are just temporary roadblocks to the inevitable.
“I’m not Thayer,” Alec tells her when he has her pinned against the cheap hotel room bed, knees spread wide enough to hurt. “I’m not here to help you. I don’t give a damn about you. You can’t wrap me around your little finger.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not my father,” she snaps, curling one hand around the back of his neck while she braces herself on the mattress with the other. “I’m not going to roll over for you and do whatever you say.”
True to her word, she doesn’t. She fights him when he tries to flip her over, leaves scratches down his chest and bite marks along his collarbone. She laughs and asks for more when he slams into her without making sure she’s ready for him. Because she is ready for him, wet from the get-go, high on the forbidden.
She thinks he arranged her black market adoption. She thinks he separated her and her twin sister. She thinks he tried to kill her. And yet she arches up to meet his thrusts, locking her ankles behind his back and cursing him in the same breaths as her pleas to go harder. He did all of those things to her and more. He does a thousand other things to her behind closed doors, each one of them filthier than the last.
“Alec,” she whispers against his sweat-slick skin. “Alec, tell me the truth, but make it sound like a lie.”
Sutton Mercer is a bitch. And --to protect Thayer, to keep his idiotic, romantic of a son safe from her games-- Alec is hers.
“I don’t give a damn about you,” he repeats, his hands encircling the slender column of her throat. “I rue the day you came into my life. I wish you were dead, and I’d kill you myself if I could.”
“So do it.” Her eyes are crazy, dark with need, her soft, hungry noises begging him to apply more pressure… to take her right to the edge. “End this right now.”
He lets her go instead, kissing the soon-to-be bruises left behind by his thumbs with an insincere tenderness that makes her shudder with revulsion. “I’d rather see you in two days, in my office, wearing nothing but Ted’s stethoscope.” When he talks dirty to her it’s blackmail wrapped in seduction, poison bound with silk. “I’d rather see you suffer.”
“This isn’t suffering.” Her mouth is red and swollen, tilted more than a little bit smug. “You should know that about me by now.”
Maybe he should. But he hates her ninety percent of the time… and denies the other ten.
--end--
February 7, 2012
Author: monimala
Fandom: The Lying Game
Rating/Pairing: R, Alec/Sutton, power play, dark themes.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters and am making no profit.
Summary: 575 words. Written for Porn Battle XIII for the prompt “like father, like son.”
Sutton Mercer is a bitch. A spoiled little princess who’d rather respect Anna Wintour than her parents. She’s a terrible influence on his daughter and a horrible human being… which is an observation that, as a less than stellar individual himself, he feels completely qualified to make. Sometimes --ninety percent of the time-- Alec wishes she’d been drowned at birth. That Derek failed to dump her in the lake a few months ago infuriates him. That she just won’t go away is a constant source of annoyance. She has no purpose on God’s green earth except to waste valuable air.
And what he hates the most is that he can’t get enough of her… that he seeks her out in dark corners and empty hallways, places where zippers and buttons are just temporary roadblocks to the inevitable.
“I’m not Thayer,” Alec tells her when he has her pinned against the cheap hotel room bed, knees spread wide enough to hurt. “I’m not here to help you. I don’t give a damn about you. You can’t wrap me around your little finger.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not my father,” she snaps, curling one hand around the back of his neck while she braces herself on the mattress with the other. “I’m not going to roll over for you and do whatever you say.”
True to her word, she doesn’t. She fights him when he tries to flip her over, leaves scratches down his chest and bite marks along his collarbone. She laughs and asks for more when he slams into her without making sure she’s ready for him. Because she is ready for him, wet from the get-go, high on the forbidden.
She thinks he arranged her black market adoption. She thinks he separated her and her twin sister. She thinks he tried to kill her. And yet she arches up to meet his thrusts, locking her ankles behind his back and cursing him in the same breaths as her pleas to go harder. He did all of those things to her and more. He does a thousand other things to her behind closed doors, each one of them filthier than the last.
“Alec,” she whispers against his sweat-slick skin. “Alec, tell me the truth, but make it sound like a lie.”
Sutton Mercer is a bitch. And --to protect Thayer, to keep his idiotic, romantic of a son safe from her games-- Alec is hers.
“I don’t give a damn about you,” he repeats, his hands encircling the slender column of her throat. “I rue the day you came into my life. I wish you were dead, and I’d kill you myself if I could.”
“So do it.” Her eyes are crazy, dark with need, her soft, hungry noises begging him to apply more pressure… to take her right to the edge. “End this right now.”
He lets her go instead, kissing the soon-to-be bruises left behind by his thumbs with an insincere tenderness that makes her shudder with revulsion. “I’d rather see you in two days, in my office, wearing nothing but Ted’s stethoscope.” When he talks dirty to her it’s blackmail wrapped in seduction, poison bound with silk. “I’d rather see you suffer.”
“This isn’t suffering.” Her mouth is red and swollen, tilted more than a little bit smug. “You should know that about me by now.”
Maybe he should. But he hates her ninety percent of the time… and denies the other ten.
--end--
February 7, 2012