Watchmen Kink Meme 2: Electric Boogaloo. Or not.
Alright, alright, I'm back now. Here ya go kids. (You're just lucky the other one didn't run out in the middle of my vacation grumble grumble)
Rules of the meme:
1. Anonymously post a pairing and prompt you would like to see written. Since this is a kink meme, there is supposted to be a kink involved, but normal well-written prompts should work ( Read more... )
There is no reply, just a low chuckle, a sound in the throat covering up its urgency with contempt, and Blake's hands moving to unfasten his fly. His cock sticks out unapologetically, a bald demand (no underwear, not that that's a surprise) and Adrian twists his head away to one side. It's a token struggle, a make-me-feel-helpless-I-dare-you, but Blake buries fingers in his hair and twists back like he means it, anyway.
Things are easier, like this. Blake pushing into his mouth, choking and insistent enough to force out all of his words and clevernesses. The cold floor and the pretence of force, just enough to render this acceptable, this kneeling, the obedient movements of head and hands.
Perhaps it is a kind of penance. An insurance policy against the future; instalments paid on a crime not yet committed.
Or perhaps he is simply another moneyed cliche, like the men who left their polished shoes on the Twilight Lady's doorstep after a day on the trading floor and begged punishment, a moment's abdication of responsibility, a game of freedom. Violation as relaxation. There might be a grain of truth in that.
In the end, though, Adrian suspects that it is simpler even than that. Blake takes what he wants, and asks for no other part of Adrian: no guidance, no reassurance, no kindness. Perhaps it is just that Blake does not come to him for answers.
Maybe Blake notices the wandering of his eyes, then, because he pulls out and jerks Adrian's head back, snarls, "Something on your mind, Ozy?"
"Plenty of things," he manages, and a trace of his customary hauteur sneaks in, for all that the words are barely-there, each breath he takes shallow and serrated.
"And none of us mere mortals would understand, that right?" Lip curled, grip tightening, then a shove that sends Adrian sprawled and shuddering to the floor, head spinning in the whiteout seconds long enough for Blake to pin him there, heavy and unforgiving. "Doesn't matter. Think I understand you pretty well right now."
Sometimes Adrian struggles. Today, though, it's enough to know that Blake has already bested him, once; that maybe it could happen again, that maybe, just maybe, Blake could do this to him anyway.
Reply
(He's not sure Blake's reaction would be any different if they were real. He probably shouldn't find that comforting.)
Adrian finds himself being shoved back down, then, head colliding with the floor, the impact setting off dark fireworks in his field of vision, and the world goes away for a little while, leaving only the spinning of his head (blissfully empty and cold and free) and the brief, violent respite of a moment in which he is nobody's saviour.
Blake comes with a grunt and doesn't wait around for a punchline. He certainly doesn't stop to ask Adrian whether he's okay. Adrian believes that's probably for the best.
He waits for the elevator doors to slide closed before forcing himself up off the floor and in the direction of the bathroom. He's aware of the dangers of luxuriating too long in his pretended helplessness. He allowed himself that, at first, but then he started to find himself dreaming of comfort. Of someone laying gentle hands upon his bruises, saying that things would be okay now.
(And after one particularly vivid imagining, he started back to himself with the horrible feeling that the person had had concerned eyes and ridiculous glasses. He never allowed his mind to wander in that fashion again.)
Adrian switches on the shower at full pressure, closes his eyes, and rests his head against the cool wall tiles. The rush of the water goes some way towards drowning out the things inside his head. He does his best to hold on to the feeling, thinks, for as long as he can, about nothing. Nothing at all.
Reply
Not to mention the poetry of your writing :3
Great work anon!
Reply
Reply
Okay, two favorite lines:
"Adrian thinks that perhaps he could push his fingers into the crack, peel off the outer layer of man and find something underneath that is entirely monster. He thinks that perhaps he would like that."
"(He's not sure Blake's reaction would be any different if they were real. He probably shouldn't find that comforting.)"
One of the best-characterized and best-written fics on the meme. <3 <3 <3 <3
Reply
settling into cynical irony and not admitting even to himself that he needs real comfort.
Yeah, I see that as being very him. ;) I get the impression he wouldn't necessarily see the need for comfort as a fault in other people, but he feels that he should be above it somehow.
Reply
Reply
(Thanks, glad you liked it!)
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment