Update!!!! Mates (Pt 2/2, Ch 4/6)
Title: Mates
Author: Curt Kenobi
Summary: Mark Renton and Simon Williamson have been mates forever. Sick Boy's a slick bastard, and Rents...is just Rents. Perfect set-up to a pairing.
Rating: M/NC-17 overall (nothing here: PG)
A/N: First part of Porno-era section. IT LIVES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
--------Renton: Final Hit---------
It’s been sae long since I’ve been in Edinburgh. And the way things have just come piling up - it’s like a bad drama on the telly. The Dam’s no longer my refuge - funny how that’s only happened after Sick Boy (or Simon, as the cunt’s quick to correct nowadays) came over there.
Sick Boy. Simon.
Edinburgh people - Leith people - are evidently the model for the saying “the more things change, the more they stay the same.” Simon illustrates it fuckin beautifully - to borrow fae his idea of my simplification of his under-whelming “unifying life-theory”: Simon’s still a druggie; he just takes it up a slowly-decaying nostril instead of in a putrid vein these days. Still a sick schemer -- this is porno production just the biggest of them.
And he’s still bloody got it. That…appeal about him that can put ma heart in my throat and twist my baws.
Thank fuck his current toy Nikki led me back tae Dianne.
Now Dianne, she’s different. I told her long ago half-heartedly as I was desperate for a shag that I thought she was special; little did I know that she truly would turn out to be. She’s blown me away with the woman that she is today. Her thoughtfulness, her intelligence. We’re new people, she and I. My “owl-eyes.”
Sometimes I really can’t understand myself: That secret, masochistic want for Sick Boy’s raw sexuality warring with my need of Dianne’s mature, deep intimacy.
I always knew I secretly wanted to see Simon again - our parting hadn’t been at all on the best of terms. Certainly contradictory (I had let him have his way with me in the pub bathroom that day, after Franco had chibbed Spud and been his typical psychotic fucking self, and then that night I had run with his money.) Part of me always wanted to go back to that, to our uneven relationship. To see just what he would do to me if I did come back.
That was one of the reasons I had started to go with Katrin after I felt secure enough and rebuilt myself: She looked almost like a gadge, and she exuded Simon’s callous aloofness/almost cruelty. Same hard eyes, pale hair. Simon without a knob.
Now, ten years later, ten years of rebuilding maself - the club, Luxury; the martial arts; the sobriety - ten years of becoming a new person…and suddenly all the auld has flooded back in. And here I thought maybe the Dam would hold.
Simon had been but violently pissed when he’d come round my flat in the Dam. He’d forced semi-politeness for Katrin (though it was evident that neither of the got on with the other) but the façade was dropped as soon as she was gone. And then he had tackled me, raging aboot the fuckin money. I could have easily fended him off, but I wasn’t. It wasn’t even that he had caught me off-guard; I’m well-trained and kent easily how to turn the tables on a opponent who thought they had the upperhand. No, I wasn’t fighting back ‘cos here I was, in my bathrobe, pinned to the ground, familiar hands round my neck - and while Simon’s become a bit of a fat bastard, I still can’t help that I loved the position I found myself in.
I thought I had kicked my old addictions.
Old habits die hard. So it seems, so it seems.
So here I am, in fuckin Leith, helping Simon in yet more schemes. He’s scamming and making this porno, all the while whilst wining and dining and full-on shagging this Nikki lass…. And I’m in love with Dianne….
And I jist want a farewell taste of the auld. There are final hits and final hits. I want a final hit.
And then I’ll come off of this for good. I’ll get good and far away from this fucker and his sway over me. I’ll get away with Dianne. Start again, for the final time. I’ll do just like I did last time, but I’ll get it right.
But I just need one last hit. One last time with him. Just us, as we were.
Author: Curt Kenobi
Summary: Mark Renton and Simon Williamson have been mates forever. Sick Boy's a slick bastard, and Rents...is just Rents. Perfect set-up to a pairing.
Rating: M/NC-17 overall (nothing here: PG)
A/N: First part of Porno-era section. IT LIVES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
--------Renton: Final Hit---------
It’s been sae long since I’ve been in Edinburgh. And the way things have just come piling up - it’s like a bad drama on the telly. The Dam’s no longer my refuge - funny how that’s only happened after Sick Boy (or Simon, as the cunt’s quick to correct nowadays) came over there.
Sick Boy. Simon.
Edinburgh people - Leith people - are evidently the model for the saying “the more things change, the more they stay the same.” Simon illustrates it fuckin beautifully - to borrow fae his idea of my simplification of his under-whelming “unifying life-theory”: Simon’s still a druggie; he just takes it up a slowly-decaying nostril instead of in a putrid vein these days. Still a sick schemer -- this is porno production just the biggest of them.
And he’s still bloody got it. That…appeal about him that can put ma heart in my throat and twist my baws.
Thank fuck his current toy Nikki led me back tae Dianne.
Now Dianne, she’s different. I told her long ago half-heartedly as I was desperate for a shag that I thought she was special; little did I know that she truly would turn out to be. She’s blown me away with the woman that she is today. Her thoughtfulness, her intelligence. We’re new people, she and I. My “owl-eyes.”
Sometimes I really can’t understand myself: That secret, masochistic want for Sick Boy’s raw sexuality warring with my need of Dianne’s mature, deep intimacy.
I always knew I secretly wanted to see Simon again - our parting hadn’t been at all on the best of terms. Certainly contradictory (I had let him have his way with me in the pub bathroom that day, after Franco had chibbed Spud and been his typical psychotic fucking self, and then that night I had run with his money.) Part of me always wanted to go back to that, to our uneven relationship. To see just what he would do to me if I did come back.
That was one of the reasons I had started to go with Katrin after I felt secure enough and rebuilt myself: She looked almost like a gadge, and she exuded Simon’s callous aloofness/almost cruelty. Same hard eyes, pale hair. Simon without a knob.
Now, ten years later, ten years of rebuilding maself - the club, Luxury; the martial arts; the sobriety - ten years of becoming a new person…and suddenly all the auld has flooded back in. And here I thought maybe the Dam would hold.
Simon had been but violently pissed when he’d come round my flat in the Dam. He’d forced semi-politeness for Katrin (though it was evident that neither of the got on with the other) but the façade was dropped as soon as she was gone. And then he had tackled me, raging aboot the fuckin money. I could have easily fended him off, but I wasn’t. It wasn’t even that he had caught me off-guard; I’m well-trained and kent easily how to turn the tables on a opponent who thought they had the upperhand. No, I wasn’t fighting back ‘cos here I was, in my bathrobe, pinned to the ground, familiar hands round my neck - and while Simon’s become a bit of a fat bastard, I still can’t help that I loved the position I found myself in.
I thought I had kicked my old addictions.
Old habits die hard. So it seems, so it seems.
So here I am, in fuckin Leith, helping Simon in yet more schemes. He’s scamming and making this porno, all the while whilst wining and dining and full-on shagging this Nikki lass…. And I’m in love with Dianne….
And I jist want a farewell taste of the auld. There are final hits and final hits. I want a final hit.
And then I’ll come off of this for good. I’ll get good and far away from this fucker and his sway over me. I’ll get away with Dianne. Start again, for the final time. I’ll do just like I did last time, but I’ll get it right.
But I just need one last hit. One last time with him. Just us, as we were.