(no subject)
And here's the second part. For Silkn1.
Title: Feint
Author: Sinewa
Fandom: VG
Pairing:C/B
Rating: PG-13
Series: Yes, this is the second part and follows some time after Fucked.
Author Notes: As with most of my writing, it makes sense to me, but if it doesn't to you, please let me know.
Disclaimer: Todd's toys, not mine. They're just too hot and angsty not to play with.
She was never quite sure when it happened, but she remembered watching him from across the room, watched him smiling and laughing with a freedom he’d never allowed himself before. She remembered thinking, He’s no longer mine.
Gathering her robe and shoes, she quietly walked to the door but paused just shy of opening it. She couldn’t resist a last look at the man that was her world.
She should have realized sooner, of course, but fool that she was, she simply hadn’t known until it was too late. That gorgeous seduction, her body’s betrayal, reason’s abandonment; she’d had nothing left of herself that wasn’t subsumed in Brian.
He proposed. She’d accepted, girlish laughter bubbling up inside of her.
Happily ever after turned out to be very short. Lipstick that wasn’t hers, clothes that reeked of sweat and semen, the sly satisfaction sparkling in his eyes. It had been a gradual change, or at least she wanted to think it was. She credited Brian with easing her transition into their new life together. And she noted that all of his liaisons were short-lived, meaningless fucks for a moment’s pleasure or career advancement.
He always returned to her.
She could live with that. Admire it even. It appealed to her vanity to be an icon of the sexual revolution, rebellious and free. A fiction she could emulate to keep up with him. The little girl who’d dreamed of white weddings slowly faded away.
And Mandy Slade became a star.
The fame, money, sex, drugs, all of it so intoxicating and there at her side was one of the most lusted after men in Britain. Mandy was his wife, his lover, his confidante...he’d chosen her. It was a gorgeous time, and even if it wasn’t perfect, it was enough.
Until he’d said those magic words, I want to meet Curt Wild.
Brian had an almost angelic innocence about him when he slept. The first light of the morning settled around him adoringly and reminded her uncomfortably that she was actually older than Brian. Silly to think about really, no one would guess looking at them together and one could hardly describe Brian as naive by any means.
But she was supposed to look after him, support him, push him toward stardom -- not simper on the sidelines because she didn’t get enough time with him.
Hating Curt was easier. He’d stolen Brian from her, seduced him with smoky eyes and raw music, usurped her place in his life, and just fit with Brian better than she ever could.
Last night. She had no idea why he’d sought her out. There’d been no outrageous party, no sexed up couples littering the floor. They’d all been too exhausted from the road, most heading off immediately to crash in their rooms. And yet he’d come to her. Not him.
Brian hadn’t said a word beyond her name, touching her softly, attentive and reverent, and so totally focused on her that she had to brush away a stray tear or three. Their last night.
She didn’t know why he’d done it. Probably never would. It was a goodbye; a beautiful, subtle, unspoken goodbye, but still he’d cut her out of his life with a gasp and a sigh. Perhaps Brian felt she deserved a better send off than his other fuck-toys.
Hating Curt was so much easier.
She brushed a hand across her eye and opened the door.
Coffee. She needed coffee. No tea. Black, strong, and bitter.
The kitchen was usually deserted anytime before noon, so to find a steaming pot of coffee already waiting brought her up short.
But who else would drink … oh.
Slowly, she opened the cabinet and pulled down a mug. The familiar soothing smell hit her as she poured. Wrapping both hands around the mug, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply before taking a sip. Better. Now she could turn around.
Oh.
Curt was standing in the far corner of the combined kitchen/living room, looking out the window and holding a steaming cup. His back was turned away from her so it was likely he hadn’t seen her yet.
She should leave. Go back to her room. Go back to Brian, sleeping peacefully.
She took a step toward Curt.
Silently she studied him, thinking on what she knew of this familiar stranger who’d waltzed into her life and made it his. Sketchy rumors and random facts were all she came up with. Boisterous and cynical one moment, quiet and invisible the next. A mystery, enticing but fleeting. Or so she’d thought. She never spent time with him, never really spoken with him. What exactly do you say to you husband’s lover?
-Brilliant shag, isn’t he?
-Fuck yeah. The way his fingers know exactly where to tease...
-And when he does that thing with his tongue--
-And licks up and around--
-And his eyes, god--
-The way they sparkle--
-Just before he comes.
-...
-Want some coffee, love?
No, she and Curt were too alike that way, possessive. They’d marked each other instantly as rivals, though she knew now it wasn’t really a contest.
Because neither of them were going to win.
Distantly she heard herself say, "He can’t love you."
He turned and looked at her. Stared really. He was utterly still and she hadn’t the faintest clue what was happening behind those grey eyes. Unnerved and unwilling to show it, she stood her ground though he seemed perfectly content to stare her down all morning. She stifled the urge to shift her feet.
Finally something in his eyes changed, the hard edge softened.
"I know," he said. Curt gave her a faint smile and turned back to the window.
It was soft and sad, his voice, and something inside her crumbled at the sound of it. I should’ve known Brian was never mine, she thought.
Hating Curt was easier. But life wasn’t about easy, was it?
fin
Title: Feint
Author: Sinewa
Fandom: VG
Pairing:C/B
Rating: PG-13
Series: Yes, this is the second part and follows some time after Fucked.
Author Notes: As with most of my writing, it makes sense to me, but if it doesn't to you, please let me know.
Disclaimer: Todd's toys, not mine. They're just too hot and angsty not to play with.
She was never quite sure when it happened, but she remembered watching him from across the room, watched him smiling and laughing with a freedom he’d never allowed himself before. She remembered thinking, He’s no longer mine.
Gathering her robe and shoes, she quietly walked to the door but paused just shy of opening it. She couldn’t resist a last look at the man that was her world.
She should have realized sooner, of course, but fool that she was, she simply hadn’t known until it was too late. That gorgeous seduction, her body’s betrayal, reason’s abandonment; she’d had nothing left of herself that wasn’t subsumed in Brian.
He proposed. She’d accepted, girlish laughter bubbling up inside of her.
Happily ever after turned out to be very short. Lipstick that wasn’t hers, clothes that reeked of sweat and semen, the sly satisfaction sparkling in his eyes. It had been a gradual change, or at least she wanted to think it was. She credited Brian with easing her transition into their new life together. And she noted that all of his liaisons were short-lived, meaningless fucks for a moment’s pleasure or career advancement.
He always returned to her.
She could live with that. Admire it even. It appealed to her vanity to be an icon of the sexual revolution, rebellious and free. A fiction she could emulate to keep up with him. The little girl who’d dreamed of white weddings slowly faded away.
And Mandy Slade became a star.
The fame, money, sex, drugs, all of it so intoxicating and there at her side was one of the most lusted after men in Britain. Mandy was his wife, his lover, his confidante...he’d chosen her. It was a gorgeous time, and even if it wasn’t perfect, it was enough.
Until he’d said those magic words, I want to meet Curt Wild.
Brian had an almost angelic innocence about him when he slept. The first light of the morning settled around him adoringly and reminded her uncomfortably that she was actually older than Brian. Silly to think about really, no one would guess looking at them together and one could hardly describe Brian as naive by any means.
But she was supposed to look after him, support him, push him toward stardom -- not simper on the sidelines because she didn’t get enough time with him.
Hating Curt was easier. He’d stolen Brian from her, seduced him with smoky eyes and raw music, usurped her place in his life, and just fit with Brian better than she ever could.
Last night. She had no idea why he’d sought her out. There’d been no outrageous party, no sexed up couples littering the floor. They’d all been too exhausted from the road, most heading off immediately to crash in their rooms. And yet he’d come to her. Not him.
Brian hadn’t said a word beyond her name, touching her softly, attentive and reverent, and so totally focused on her that she had to brush away a stray tear or three. Their last night.
She didn’t know why he’d done it. Probably never would. It was a goodbye; a beautiful, subtle, unspoken goodbye, but still he’d cut her out of his life with a gasp and a sigh. Perhaps Brian felt she deserved a better send off than his other fuck-toys.
Hating Curt was so much easier.
She brushed a hand across her eye and opened the door.
Coffee. She needed coffee. No tea. Black, strong, and bitter.
The kitchen was usually deserted anytime before noon, so to find a steaming pot of coffee already waiting brought her up short.
But who else would drink … oh.
Slowly, she opened the cabinet and pulled down a mug. The familiar soothing smell hit her as she poured. Wrapping both hands around the mug, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply before taking a sip. Better. Now she could turn around.
Oh.
Curt was standing in the far corner of the combined kitchen/living room, looking out the window and holding a steaming cup. His back was turned away from her so it was likely he hadn’t seen her yet.
She should leave. Go back to her room. Go back to Brian, sleeping peacefully.
She took a step toward Curt.
Silently she studied him, thinking on what she knew of this familiar stranger who’d waltzed into her life and made it his. Sketchy rumors and random facts were all she came up with. Boisterous and cynical one moment, quiet and invisible the next. A mystery, enticing but fleeting. Or so she’d thought. She never spent time with him, never really spoken with him. What exactly do you say to you husband’s lover?
-Brilliant shag, isn’t he?
-Fuck yeah. The way his fingers know exactly where to tease...
-And when he does that thing with his tongue--
-And licks up and around--
-And his eyes, god--
-The way they sparkle--
-Just before he comes.
-...
-Want some coffee, love?
No, she and Curt were too alike that way, possessive. They’d marked each other instantly as rivals, though she knew now it wasn’t really a contest.
Because neither of them were going to win.
Distantly she heard herself say, "He can’t love you."
He turned and looked at her. Stared really. He was utterly still and she hadn’t the faintest clue what was happening behind those grey eyes. Unnerved and unwilling to show it, she stood her ground though he seemed perfectly content to stare her down all morning. She stifled the urge to shift her feet.
Finally something in his eyes changed, the hard edge softened.
"I know," he said. Curt gave her a faint smile and turned back to the window.
It was soft and sad, his voice, and something inside her crumbled at the sound of it. I should’ve known Brian was never mine, she thought.
Hating Curt was easier. But life wasn’t about easy, was it?
fin