Originally Posted 04.28.11
Title: Crimson Darkness
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Type: drabble
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: hinted Jack/James
Summary: Sometimes pain takes away the emptiness
Splash-Splash-Splash. The blood hit the deck. It had something stunning to it. How it welled up from deep beneath the skin, raising from a mysterious well yet undiscovered, how it then crawled, slowly, slowly over marred flesh, until it then lost its grip and gracefully landed on the ground, barley visible on the dark planks but still unmistakably there.
It should hurt, he was almost sure. It should seem strange, wrong, perverse even. But he could just stare, awed, as his own blood hit the floor.
Every night they had spent together had it's own place on his arm, every night, and certainly every possible night. Every night that now was taken away from him.
The next cut was deeper. He stared at the white flesh that lay hidden beneath that dark tan. Stared as the blood slowly began to fill the void and then streamed down his arm.
By god, why didn't it hurt? Again, again and again he slashed out, barley feeling anything, yet miraculously thrilled by the blood as the pool on the deck steadily grew.
He would have thought to be sick of blood by now after having seen far to much of it throughout his life.
But his own, dark crimson, sticky and somehow forbidden .. there couldn't be enough of that.
This was the least of a sacrifice he could make him. Shed his blood for him, just like he had for him. Another cut, and it stayed clean for so long he almost started to believe he had run dry.
When the blood reached the surface it was so much he feared he would drown in it. He stared, not knowing what he felt, stared and then without conscious decision took the knife and did it again.
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Type: drabble
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: hinted Jack/James
Summary: Sometimes pain takes away the emptiness
Splash-Splash-Splash. The blood hit the deck. It had something stunning to it. How it welled up from deep beneath the skin, raising from a mysterious well yet undiscovered, how it then crawled, slowly, slowly over marred flesh, until it then lost its grip and gracefully landed on the ground, barley visible on the dark planks but still unmistakably there.
It should hurt, he was almost sure. It should seem strange, wrong, perverse even. But he could just stare, awed, as his own blood hit the floor.
Every night they had spent together had it's own place on his arm, every night, and certainly every possible night. Every night that now was taken away from him.
The next cut was deeper. He stared at the white flesh that lay hidden beneath that dark tan. Stared as the blood slowly began to fill the void and then streamed down his arm.
By god, why didn't it hurt? Again, again and again he slashed out, barley feeling anything, yet miraculously thrilled by the blood as the pool on the deck steadily grew.
He would have thought to be sick of blood by now after having seen far to much of it throughout his life.
But his own, dark crimson, sticky and somehow forbidden .. there couldn't be enough of that.
This was the least of a sacrifice he could make him. Shed his blood for him, just like he had for him. Another cut, and it stayed clean for so long he almost started to believe he had run dry.
When the blood reached the surface it was so much he feared he would drown in it. He stared, not knowing what he felt, stared and then without conscious decision took the knife and did it again.