Fic: "Sting," 1/1, Dallas, John Ross POV, R
Title: “Sting”
Author: monimala
Fandom: Dallas (2012)
Rating/Pairing: R for language and mild sexual content. John Ross/Elena, Christopher/Elena.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters and am making no profit.
Summary: 475. This is just a little John Ross POV piece, based on the new Dallas pilot and second episode. John Ross can’t even remember the first time he laid the honey down thick.
Notes: Cross-posted to AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/436967
John Ross can’t even remember the first time he laid the honey down thick. Maybe when he was 14, just back from one of the dozen boarding schools he was destined to get bounced from, and one of Elena’s friends dropped her panties for him out behind the stables. From up north, visiting her grandparents, she called him a cowboy… and he obliged, dripping bourbon and wild all over her freckled shoulders while he rode her hard against the barn wall.
That was when he knew that the school polish, his daddy’s slick veneer of the Texas oilman, wasn’t going to work for him. No, he was going to paint all his collars blue, jam on the black hat and tan like a ranch hand… because that could get him what he wanted just as surely as expensive suits and dental work.
The more John Ross drawled, the more Christopher learned to speak slowly and clearly, dropping every trace of Dallas from his talk, his walk, his blood. That, more than anything, is why John Ross doesn’t call him “family,” even though they’re more related than he’d like to admit. Cousins by blood, not just circumstance.
Christopher is a shining suck-up, an overachiever who speaks every language but the green of money and the gush of black gold. He was so busy holding Elena’s hand that summer that it didn’t even occur to him to go for more… they lost their virginity to each other two years later, with candles and shit after Junior Prom, and even though he’s a grown man now, the very thought of it makes John Ross sick to his stomach.
He and Elena never really made love. They laughed through most of it, breathing sex into each other’s mouths till it drove them crazy. Slow and sweaty and dirty. Like dancing in an oilfield, soaked to the skin in beautiful muck. And he realizes, now, he’s a damn fool for thinking any of that was true or deep. He was always second choice for her… when, to him, Elena isn’t a choice so much as she’s just everything, like Southfork. Something he’s always had, something he’s always felt belonged to him. Some place he can always come back to.
Of course, he’s never been faithful to her. Not by any stretch of the imagination. He’s fucked other girls from Austin to Albuquerque, kissed them up against their fancy red sports cars and sold them his soul. John Ross isn’t the paragon that Christopher is. He doesn’t love with hearts and flowers, he doesn’t honor with rings and vows. The only thing he knows how to obey is his ambition. Ambition coated in sugar and wrapped in twine.
John Ross can’t remember the first time he laid the honey down thick… but he’ll never forget the bitter of being a Ewing.
--end--
June 17, 2012
Author: monimala
Fandom: Dallas (2012)
Rating/Pairing: R for language and mild sexual content. John Ross/Elena, Christopher/Elena.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters and am making no profit.
Summary: 475. This is just a little John Ross POV piece, based on the new Dallas pilot and second episode. John Ross can’t even remember the first time he laid the honey down thick.
Notes: Cross-posted to AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/436967
John Ross can’t even remember the first time he laid the honey down thick. Maybe when he was 14, just back from one of the dozen boarding schools he was destined to get bounced from, and one of Elena’s friends dropped her panties for him out behind the stables. From up north, visiting her grandparents, she called him a cowboy… and he obliged, dripping bourbon and wild all over her freckled shoulders while he rode her hard against the barn wall.
That was when he knew that the school polish, his daddy’s slick veneer of the Texas oilman, wasn’t going to work for him. No, he was going to paint all his collars blue, jam on the black hat and tan like a ranch hand… because that could get him what he wanted just as surely as expensive suits and dental work.
The more John Ross drawled, the more Christopher learned to speak slowly and clearly, dropping every trace of Dallas from his talk, his walk, his blood. That, more than anything, is why John Ross doesn’t call him “family,” even though they’re more related than he’d like to admit. Cousins by blood, not just circumstance.
Christopher is a shining suck-up, an overachiever who speaks every language but the green of money and the gush of black gold. He was so busy holding Elena’s hand that summer that it didn’t even occur to him to go for more… they lost their virginity to each other two years later, with candles and shit after Junior Prom, and even though he’s a grown man now, the very thought of it makes John Ross sick to his stomach.
He and Elena never really made love. They laughed through most of it, breathing sex into each other’s mouths till it drove them crazy. Slow and sweaty and dirty. Like dancing in an oilfield, soaked to the skin in beautiful muck. And he realizes, now, he’s a damn fool for thinking any of that was true or deep. He was always second choice for her… when, to him, Elena isn’t a choice so much as she’s just everything, like Southfork. Something he’s always had, something he’s always felt belonged to him. Some place he can always come back to.
Of course, he’s never been faithful to her. Not by any stretch of the imagination. He’s fucked other girls from Austin to Albuquerque, kissed them up against their fancy red sports cars and sold them his soul. John Ross isn’t the paragon that Christopher is. He doesn’t love with hearts and flowers, he doesn’t honor with rings and vows. The only thing he knows how to obey is his ambition. Ambition coated in sugar and wrapped in twine.
John Ross can’t remember the first time he laid the honey down thick… but he’ll never forget the bitter of being a Ewing.
--end--
June 17, 2012