An Eye for Beauty [7b/?]
Title: An Eye for Beauty [7b/?]
Author: sadeinightshade
Rating: NC-17
Primary Pairing: Linbu
Secondary Pairing(s): Vam
Minor Pairing(s): Tiny bit of Minde; Burton/Jonne; Burton/Jyrki
Summary: Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Sometimes that eye needs to be opened.
Notes: o.o; I feel bad right now.
Dedication: To elterriblefizzy, for entertaining the simple notion that Burton must be a porn star. A late night phone call can do a lot for a slasher in need.
WARNING: Non-con sex.
Disclaimer: I own no-one in this story. The premise of the story can be accredited to elterriblefizzy. The only thing that I own is the story itself and anyone that you truly don’t recognize (not sure that’ll happen, though). It is, of course, not intended to mar the reputations of any of the parties involved, so no disrespect if they ever get a hold of it. I don’t know them, can’t own them, and I make no money from any of this, so don’t sue.
----
There was yelling in the hall. A lot of yelling. One voice was too familiar for his comfort. The other made him cringe. Migé poked his head out of the room and was faced with something he thought-and certainly hoped-that he would never see.
Janne-big, bad, steadfast Janne-was all but pinned against the wall, breathing heavy, eyes narrowed. The man holding him was all too familiar aside from his expression. He was baring his teeth in a grimace of what might well have been pain. Even from afar, there was a fire in both men’s eyes that made Migé shudder. He never wished to see Burton in such a position, let alone that upset and this other man frightened him a little.
His mind very soon made the connection and realization flashed in his eyes. It was Jyrki, and he quickly attempted to claim Burton’s lips. Had Burton not managed to work his hands free to shove him away, Migé was sure that he might have succeeded, but this was always how it began. He also knew how it generally ended and the first and last time that he had attempted to stop it, he couldn’t function properly for days. Jyrki packed a punch.
Helplessness washed over him. Jyrki had that affect even on him; even from afar; even if he failed to make eye contact.
Bam could have stopped this, but he and Ville had gone off for lunch or some such thing and called it a professional meeting. They probably weren’t even aware of the problem-the events unfolding before Migé’s eyes; the two men quite physically battling for dominance, punching, clawing, pinning, and even biting. It was both frightening and fascinating. Fear and worry wracked his mind and body.
“This isn’t what Bam wanted,” he whispered to himself, drawing silently back into his room.
--
Burton was quickly being stripped down to that final barrier, the one he tried with everything he had to defend. That was his Mikko’s. That was what had developed over the time that they had been together. Jyrki knew it was there. He made it known, for he spat the boy’s name as if it were a curse. He was beyond pushing him. He went as far as to snatch Burton’s key card and he didn’t even want to know how Jyrki knew what room he was in. He had a sneaking suspicion that he had been there to see him exit his room that morning.
He was practically thrown onto his own bed, part of him struggling against Jyrki when he was pinned again and part of him giving in, excited by the entire ordeal. His eyes rolled when a leg jammed itself against his crotch, but he contained his moan, just barely. He especially loathed Jyrki when he somehow blocked his knee from his crotch. Burton would have been done with it. He would have been able to walk away, but no, it couldn’t work out that way. Then again, well…things had been going far too well. He should have known.
Oh, he should have known, even as he lashed out at Jyrki again, struggling against the man only to find his wrists pinned, held tightly enough that he was sure they would bruise. God, if Mikko walked in…
‘Mikko,’ he thought, fighting back the threat of tears. ‘Please don’t think any less of me…’
There was only ever one way that this could end and he knew that it would be painful, for he always struggled against this man, on set and off.
“Let me go,” he growled.
“Oh, you know you don’t mean that,” Jyrki chuckled against his ear.
“Like hell if I don’t,” he grunted, struggling all the harder when Jyrki settled between his legs, pressing his full weight against him, still holding onto his wrists.
His lips were at his throat, kissing, nipping, biting, and Burton gritted his teeth in his effort not to moan. More than ever, he hated how this made him feel. Once upon a time ago, he might have enjoyed this, but over time it had just become painful, humiliating. Jyrki enjoyed hurting him. He loved making Burton scream out in pain and hold back his tears. Burton was too proud to allow Jyrki to see him cry. He wouldn’t be broken completely.
--
Jyrki was growing increasingly frustrated with Burton. There were none of the usual moans from his teasing. The struggling and cursing as he stripped the younger of his clothes seemed to double and redouble until it was replaced by a startled yelp when he smacked him hard enough that there was a great red handprint across his left cheek.
“I could kill you for that,” Burton whispered coldly.
“And how many times have you said that, Janne?” Jyrki growled. “Yet you haven’t done it yet.”
“I’m not like you.”
“No, Janne, you aren’t. You’re weak,” Jyrki groaned, a complete contrast to Burton’s cry of pain at his sudden thrust into him. “You’re not even good enough for him!”
--
Migé shuddered at that initial cry and more so at the silence that followed. Burton’s silence, interspersed with only sounds of pain. Jyrki was nothing short of degrading the man and he was struggling to resist.
Migé gritted his teeth, balled his fist against the wall for a moment and then left the room, bright-eyed and red-faced. He couldn’t listen to that anymore. It hurt him to even think of what was happening in that room.
Soon someone was approaching the room. He heard Jonne yelling. Migé’s heart nearly stopped at the look of fear on the little blonde’s face. He suddenly felt the urge to run, but his legs wouldn’t work. The most he could do was watch and listen.
--
Jonne’s heart broke at the look on Migé’s face, the teary gleam of the cameraman’s eyes. He held fast to Linde’s arm, digging in his heels to the best of his ability. It had already begun and not even he wanted Linde to see Burton in the position that he, himself, had been on several occasions. After all, the first thing that Jyrki did when he saw them was strip them of every shred of confidence they possessed.
He begged and pleaded with Linde, but the older man was also digging in his heels and dragging poor Jonne along. Jonne, who whimpered when he heard a particularly painful cry coming from that room.
--
That cry only made Linde pull harder, until Jonne was clinging painfully tightly to his arm. Soon he wrenched himself free and bolted to the room. He hastily fished out the second key card and soon he was flinging the door open.
His heart stopped. He suddenly felt ill. His hand went to his stomach. Bile rose in his throat for a moment. Tears began to sting his eyes. This wasn’t happening…
Jyrki gave him the coldest, most manic of grins, and a single tear rolled down Burton’s reddened cheek before he looked away.
Linde backed out of the room, yanking the door shut. All at once his knees gave and he found himself crumpling to the floor. All he could see was that grin and the broken look in Burton’s eyes. A sob tore itself from his throat and was echoed by one of Burton’s cries.
Someone knelt beside him and a trembling hand tugged his arm around a broad pair of shoulders. He found his other arm around a pair of slender ones and his sob-wracked body was dragged off of the floor to the room farthest from Burton’s. He didn’t want to hear anymore and neither did they. They couldn’t stand it.
--
Somehow Bam knew-he knew-that something was going wrong. Ville seemed to share that feeling. They had cut their lunch date short and rushed back to the hotel. By the time they reached their floor, Jyrki was leaving Burton’s room, sweaty and straightening himself out.
He vaguely heard the sounds of crying-sobbing-coming from Jonne’s room. Jyrki smirked at it and then at Bam and Ville before he went off to his room, no doubt to shower and change and go about his day as if nothing had happened.
“Bammie,” Ville whispered worriedly.
“I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt,” Bam breathed, shaking his head slowly. “Should’ve listened… I should’ve fucking listened…”
“Bammie, you didn’t know,” Ville assured him, though his voice was trembling.
For once in Bam’s career, he had become completely blinded and that thought alone brought tears even to his eyes. He knew that he had gotten someone hurt. He meant to use that animosity on film…but things had gotten out of hand and he knew that he had no one to blame but himself.
“I have to get Jyrki out of here… I need to put things right now.”
The catch was doing it without getting himself or anyone else hurt as well. He just hoped that he could manage it somehow.
Author: sadeinightshade
Rating: NC-17
Primary Pairing: Linbu
Secondary Pairing(s): Vam
Minor Pairing(s): Tiny bit of Minde; Burton/Jonne; Burton/Jyrki
Summary: Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Sometimes that eye needs to be opened.
Notes: o.o; I feel bad right now.
Dedication: To elterriblefizzy, for entertaining the simple notion that Burton must be a porn star. A late night phone call can do a lot for a slasher in need.
WARNING: Non-con sex.
Disclaimer: I own no-one in this story. The premise of the story can be accredited to elterriblefizzy. The only thing that I own is the story itself and anyone that you truly don’t recognize (not sure that’ll happen, though). It is, of course, not intended to mar the reputations of any of the parties involved, so no disrespect if they ever get a hold of it. I don’t know them, can’t own them, and I make no money from any of this, so don’t sue.
----
There was yelling in the hall. A lot of yelling. One voice was too familiar for his comfort. The other made him cringe. Migé poked his head out of the room and was faced with something he thought-and certainly hoped-that he would never see.
Janne-big, bad, steadfast Janne-was all but pinned against the wall, breathing heavy, eyes narrowed. The man holding him was all too familiar aside from his expression. He was baring his teeth in a grimace of what might well have been pain. Even from afar, there was a fire in both men’s eyes that made Migé shudder. He never wished to see Burton in such a position, let alone that upset and this other man frightened him a little.
His mind very soon made the connection and realization flashed in his eyes. It was Jyrki, and he quickly attempted to claim Burton’s lips. Had Burton not managed to work his hands free to shove him away, Migé was sure that he might have succeeded, but this was always how it began. He also knew how it generally ended and the first and last time that he had attempted to stop it, he couldn’t function properly for days. Jyrki packed a punch.
Helplessness washed over him. Jyrki had that affect even on him; even from afar; even if he failed to make eye contact.
Bam could have stopped this, but he and Ville had gone off for lunch or some such thing and called it a professional meeting. They probably weren’t even aware of the problem-the events unfolding before Migé’s eyes; the two men quite physically battling for dominance, punching, clawing, pinning, and even biting. It was both frightening and fascinating. Fear and worry wracked his mind and body.
“This isn’t what Bam wanted,” he whispered to himself, drawing silently back into his room.
--
Burton was quickly being stripped down to that final barrier, the one he tried with everything he had to defend. That was his Mikko’s. That was what had developed over the time that they had been together. Jyrki knew it was there. He made it known, for he spat the boy’s name as if it were a curse. He was beyond pushing him. He went as far as to snatch Burton’s key card and he didn’t even want to know how Jyrki knew what room he was in. He had a sneaking suspicion that he had been there to see him exit his room that morning.
He was practically thrown onto his own bed, part of him struggling against Jyrki when he was pinned again and part of him giving in, excited by the entire ordeal. His eyes rolled when a leg jammed itself against his crotch, but he contained his moan, just barely. He especially loathed Jyrki when he somehow blocked his knee from his crotch. Burton would have been done with it. He would have been able to walk away, but no, it couldn’t work out that way. Then again, well…things had been going far too well. He should have known.
Oh, he should have known, even as he lashed out at Jyrki again, struggling against the man only to find his wrists pinned, held tightly enough that he was sure they would bruise. God, if Mikko walked in…
‘Mikko,’ he thought, fighting back the threat of tears. ‘Please don’t think any less of me…’
There was only ever one way that this could end and he knew that it would be painful, for he always struggled against this man, on set and off.
“Let me go,” he growled.
“Oh, you know you don’t mean that,” Jyrki chuckled against his ear.
“Like hell if I don’t,” he grunted, struggling all the harder when Jyrki settled between his legs, pressing his full weight against him, still holding onto his wrists.
His lips were at his throat, kissing, nipping, biting, and Burton gritted his teeth in his effort not to moan. More than ever, he hated how this made him feel. Once upon a time ago, he might have enjoyed this, but over time it had just become painful, humiliating. Jyrki enjoyed hurting him. He loved making Burton scream out in pain and hold back his tears. Burton was too proud to allow Jyrki to see him cry. He wouldn’t be broken completely.
--
Jyrki was growing increasingly frustrated with Burton. There were none of the usual moans from his teasing. The struggling and cursing as he stripped the younger of his clothes seemed to double and redouble until it was replaced by a startled yelp when he smacked him hard enough that there was a great red handprint across his left cheek.
“I could kill you for that,” Burton whispered coldly.
“And how many times have you said that, Janne?” Jyrki growled. “Yet you haven’t done it yet.”
“I’m not like you.”
“No, Janne, you aren’t. You’re weak,” Jyrki groaned, a complete contrast to Burton’s cry of pain at his sudden thrust into him. “You’re not even good enough for him!”
--
Migé shuddered at that initial cry and more so at the silence that followed. Burton’s silence, interspersed with only sounds of pain. Jyrki was nothing short of degrading the man and he was struggling to resist.
Migé gritted his teeth, balled his fist against the wall for a moment and then left the room, bright-eyed and red-faced. He couldn’t listen to that anymore. It hurt him to even think of what was happening in that room.
Soon someone was approaching the room. He heard Jonne yelling. Migé’s heart nearly stopped at the look of fear on the little blonde’s face. He suddenly felt the urge to run, but his legs wouldn’t work. The most he could do was watch and listen.
--
Jonne’s heart broke at the look on Migé’s face, the teary gleam of the cameraman’s eyes. He held fast to Linde’s arm, digging in his heels to the best of his ability. It had already begun and not even he wanted Linde to see Burton in the position that he, himself, had been on several occasions. After all, the first thing that Jyrki did when he saw them was strip them of every shred of confidence they possessed.
He begged and pleaded with Linde, but the older man was also digging in his heels and dragging poor Jonne along. Jonne, who whimpered when he heard a particularly painful cry coming from that room.
--
That cry only made Linde pull harder, until Jonne was clinging painfully tightly to his arm. Soon he wrenched himself free and bolted to the room. He hastily fished out the second key card and soon he was flinging the door open.
His heart stopped. He suddenly felt ill. His hand went to his stomach. Bile rose in his throat for a moment. Tears began to sting his eyes. This wasn’t happening…
Jyrki gave him the coldest, most manic of grins, and a single tear rolled down Burton’s reddened cheek before he looked away.
Linde backed out of the room, yanking the door shut. All at once his knees gave and he found himself crumpling to the floor. All he could see was that grin and the broken look in Burton’s eyes. A sob tore itself from his throat and was echoed by one of Burton’s cries.
Someone knelt beside him and a trembling hand tugged his arm around a broad pair of shoulders. He found his other arm around a pair of slender ones and his sob-wracked body was dragged off of the floor to the room farthest from Burton’s. He didn’t want to hear anymore and neither did they. They couldn’t stand it.
--
Somehow Bam knew-he knew-that something was going wrong. Ville seemed to share that feeling. They had cut their lunch date short and rushed back to the hotel. By the time they reached their floor, Jyrki was leaving Burton’s room, sweaty and straightening himself out.
He vaguely heard the sounds of crying-sobbing-coming from Jonne’s room. Jyrki smirked at it and then at Bam and Ville before he went off to his room, no doubt to shower and change and go about his day as if nothing had happened.
“Bammie,” Ville whispered worriedly.
“I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt,” Bam breathed, shaking his head slowly. “Should’ve listened… I should’ve fucking listened…”
“Bammie, you didn’t know,” Ville assured him, though his voice was trembling.
For once in Bam’s career, he had become completely blinded and that thought alone brought tears even to his eyes. He knew that he had gotten someone hurt. He meant to use that animosity on film…but things had gotten out of hand and he knew that he had no one to blame but himself.
“I have to get Jyrki out of here… I need to put things right now.”
The catch was doing it without getting himself or anyone else hurt as well. He just hoped that he could manage it somehow.