Improv Fic #8 - "Headlong" by Severina
Word list: bright, magic, violence, cold, silence
Timeframe: Episode 101
As I told Liz, the last line of this fic may possibly be the schmoopiest thing I have ever written. I think my brain is rebelling against the late S2 angst of Gapfillerpalooza.
Also, "brevity" is my new middle name.
Headlong
By Severina
* * *
Justin tries to remember everything.
In the bed, his eyelids drooping, his limbs heavy, he refuses to let himself drift off to sleep. The silence of the loft is broken only by the little snorfling sounds that Brian makes in his sleep, his mouth open and his body limp, and Justin wants to memorize that, too. He wants to be able to recreate it all, tomorrow, next week, memories in Technicolor with surround sound. He wants to capture it all in his mind and let it fuel his dreams. He wants to let it spill like magic dust from his fingers onto his sketchpad.
Having sex was nothing like he expected it to be, and nothing like he imagined while lying in his bed at three a.m., eyes closed, hand fisting over cock, biting his lip and fearing waking his parents. Those fantasies were filled with sharp edges and clean lines right up until the actual sex part, at which point the edges got blurry and unfocused. Now he knows that sex is like a carnival ride. Like riding the Wild Mouse, fearing a sudden drop off the edge of the track but riding the rush of exhilaration just the same. It’s the bright flash of lightning in the storm. The invigorating slap of a cold winter wind after being stuck inside for far too long. A violence of passion that results in bruised lips and aching calves and the wish for more, harder, faster, now.
Justin lets his eyes slide closed and he can almost feel Brian’s mouth on his neck, on his earlobe, perfect lips parting and “I love--” and the tremor that shook Brian’s body, the slap of sweat-slicked skin and the barest brush of Brian’s fingers on his dick and Justin came then, too, shocked and breathless. He smiles as his mind fills in the rest, because sometimes perception is more valid than truth.
He can still feel Brian inside him, which is weird because he also feels hollow, like there’s an empty place inside waiting to be filled again, and it has nothing to do with sex. He thinks that maybe that spot was meant to be filled with Brian.
On my LJ. Will be on my website, shortly. Thanks to Liz for beta duties on this one.
Timeframe: Episode 101
As I told Liz, the last line of this fic may possibly be the schmoopiest thing I have ever written. I think my brain is rebelling against the late S2 angst of Gapfillerpalooza.
Also, "brevity" is my new middle name.
Headlong
By Severina
* * *
Justin tries to remember everything.
In the bed, his eyelids drooping, his limbs heavy, he refuses to let himself drift off to sleep. The silence of the loft is broken only by the little snorfling sounds that Brian makes in his sleep, his mouth open and his body limp, and Justin wants to memorize that, too. He wants to be able to recreate it all, tomorrow, next week, memories in Technicolor with surround sound. He wants to capture it all in his mind and let it fuel his dreams. He wants to let it spill like magic dust from his fingers onto his sketchpad.
Having sex was nothing like he expected it to be, and nothing like he imagined while lying in his bed at three a.m., eyes closed, hand fisting over cock, biting his lip and fearing waking his parents. Those fantasies were filled with sharp edges and clean lines right up until the actual sex part, at which point the edges got blurry and unfocused. Now he knows that sex is like a carnival ride. Like riding the Wild Mouse, fearing a sudden drop off the edge of the track but riding the rush of exhilaration just the same. It’s the bright flash of lightning in the storm. The invigorating slap of a cold winter wind after being stuck inside for far too long. A violence of passion that results in bruised lips and aching calves and the wish for more, harder, faster, now.
Justin lets his eyes slide closed and he can almost feel Brian’s mouth on his neck, on his earlobe, perfect lips parting and “I love--” and the tremor that shook Brian’s body, the slap of sweat-slicked skin and the barest brush of Brian’s fingers on his dick and Justin came then, too, shocked and breathless. He smiles as his mind fills in the rest, because sometimes perception is more valid than truth.
He can still feel Brian inside him, which is weird because he also feels hollow, like there’s an empty place inside waiting to be filled again, and it has nothing to do with sex. He thinks that maybe that spot was meant to be filled with Brian.
On my LJ. Will be on my website, shortly. Thanks to Liz for beta duties on this one.