Porn Battle Fill
My ONE and ONLY Porn fill, which is going to stay the ONE and ONLY! (unless, of course, I once again come across a prompt for an obscure fandom with a pairing I first fell in love when I was 16. Which is NOT going to happen)
Title: Want
Fandom: Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake (heeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!)
Pairing: Prince/Swan
Rating: +16
Warnings: angst like whoa! And mentions of drug-use, suicide and mental-illness. And lost of self-loathing. Which is to say, if you saw the dance and liked it enough to want to read this, you're safe.
A/N: Takes place during the Act Four. Consider it an extended scene to the hug at 1.54. If you haven't seen it, don't watch the video since it's the finale and, you know, spoilers.
Originally posted here.
Disclaimer: The Prince and the swans belong to Matthew Bourne after an original idea by Tchaikovsky.
Summary: The Prince wants to look at himself in the mirror and see the Swan look back at him through his own eyes.
Something moves out of the corner of his eyes. The Prince jerks around, but it's only some car running past outside the asylum, making the bars in the window cast dancing shadows on the wall.
A nervous, slightly hysterical laugh racks through him. There are no monsters under the bed. No swans out to get him for stealing away their leader. (then again, he could never steal him) Only old flashes from too much quaaludes and whatever else he took back in the day, too much paranoia from his broken mind and bars.
It's ironic, really. All his life looking, earning for freedom and he gets it here, in a small, claustrophobic room surrounded by bars and locks and guards. He's indeed free, now, and he has all he ever wanted: a coward's way out of his responsibilities. No one will want an ex-junkie idiot with a nervous breakdown for future king (not like they ever wanted him for king, anyway, but now they have an excuse) and this beats suicide. It's even more cowardly. It fits him better.
But that was then. Now he wants something else, something different. Now he wants to be someone else. Not someone that wasn't born a prince, like before, but someone stronger. Someone strong.
He wants to be outside. He wants to be able to walk the night with his neck held high, instead of the meek pathetic guy he is, slump and unfit, trying to desperately drown the Queen's scorn in the arms of some stupid hooker. (and wouldn't Freud have a field-day at that?)
He wants to be worthy. Not of standing at the head of a country, but of standing beside the Swan. Standing beside that beautiful creature, stronger than anything he ever met, free like he never was, strong to accept his responsibilities towards his brood. Exactly what he isn't and he wants to be worth it.
The Prince wants to look at himself in the mirror and see the Swan look back at him through his own eyes.
He takes a deep breath and rubs his face with both hands. His mind is playing tricks with him again. It's making him want what she shouldn't want, what he can't want.
His mind is playing so many tricks with him, that right now he's seeing the Swan standing on his bed, looking at him from under his eyelashes. Because surely not even he could get inside that prison masquerading as a health-care facility, right?
But the Swan is reaching for him and pulling him onto the bed and the Prince can feel the strong muscles against him and knows it's real.
'If the other swans find out…" he doesn't want to ask, but the sad smile the Swan gives him answers it anyway. If the swans find out their leader felt for him, a weak pathetic man, they will kill him, that much they know. And the Prince also knows he's too weak to defend the Swan, too much of a waste to even try to fight them.
He should tell him to leave, that he is in too much danger, that he wants him safe. But they're kissing like they're dying, now, and the Prince cradles the strong muscled back and the want and envy is making him greedy, so he doesn't say anything.
The Swan pushes him gently on the bed and starts to open the top of his hospital pyjamas. The Prince panics, because he's looking at the Swan and he saw the other swans and he knows that what lies under that thin layer of fabric is nothing like what the Swan must be used to.
'Don't…' he mutters, 'Stop, I don't want you to see how I look.'
The Swan does stop. But only for a moment so he can look him in the eyes. The next moment he's kissing every inch of exposed flesh, every inch of skin stretched over bones instead of muscle, like the Prince is the most precious thing he ever held.
He's careful with him. Careful and loving, like he's aware of just how strong he really is and the Prince is so fragile he may break under him. The Prince wants to tell him not to, that he can take whatever he has to give him, that he can be strong for this, for him. Even when the pain comes (and it does, but the Swan is there to swallow his gasps) he welcomes it, instead of wanting to hide away, like he always did.
But the Swan is looking at him and he can see such adoration in his eyes, such love like the one he searched all his life, that it almost makes to stop it, make everything go away and be left alone and caged.
Through his eyelashes he catches more and more shadows dancing on the wall and somewhere in the back of his mind he thinks that he never noticed that road outside the asylum was so busy, especially at night.
But suddenly the Swan falters. He's moving faster and erratic, hiding his face on the Prince's neck. The pain is gone, now, and the Prince holds the Swan tight in his arms, feeling the muscles moving frantic under his fingers, his own cock trapped between their bodies.
His orgasm hits him when the Swan gives one last push, making him groan and screw his eyes shut. But not before he sees the shadows in the wall turning into the swans.
The End
Title: Want
Fandom: Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake (heeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!)
Pairing: Prince/Swan
Rating: +16
Warnings: angst like whoa! And mentions of drug-use, suicide and mental-illness. And lost of self-loathing. Which is to say, if you saw the dance and liked it enough to want to read this, you're safe.
A/N: Takes place during the Act Four. Consider it an extended scene to the hug at 1.54. If you haven't seen it, don't watch the video since it's the finale and, you know, spoilers.
Originally posted here.
Disclaimer: The Prince and the swans belong to Matthew Bourne after an original idea by Tchaikovsky.
Summary: The Prince wants to look at himself in the mirror and see the Swan look back at him through his own eyes.
Something moves out of the corner of his eyes. The Prince jerks around, but it's only some car running past outside the asylum, making the bars in the window cast dancing shadows on the wall.
A nervous, slightly hysterical laugh racks through him. There are no monsters under the bed. No swans out to get him for stealing away their leader. (then again, he could never steal him) Only old flashes from too much quaaludes and whatever else he took back in the day, too much paranoia from his broken mind and bars.
It's ironic, really. All his life looking, earning for freedom and he gets it here, in a small, claustrophobic room surrounded by bars and locks and guards. He's indeed free, now, and he has all he ever wanted: a coward's way out of his responsibilities. No one will want an ex-junkie idiot with a nervous breakdown for future king (not like they ever wanted him for king, anyway, but now they have an excuse) and this beats suicide. It's even more cowardly. It fits him better.
But that was then. Now he wants something else, something different. Now he wants to be someone else. Not someone that wasn't born a prince, like before, but someone stronger. Someone strong.
He wants to be outside. He wants to be able to walk the night with his neck held high, instead of the meek pathetic guy he is, slump and unfit, trying to desperately drown the Queen's scorn in the arms of some stupid hooker. (and wouldn't Freud have a field-day at that?)
He wants to be worthy. Not of standing at the head of a country, but of standing beside the Swan. Standing beside that beautiful creature, stronger than anything he ever met, free like he never was, strong to accept his responsibilities towards his brood. Exactly what he isn't and he wants to be worth it.
The Prince wants to look at himself in the mirror and see the Swan look back at him through his own eyes.
He takes a deep breath and rubs his face with both hands. His mind is playing tricks with him again. It's making him want what she shouldn't want, what he can't want.
His mind is playing so many tricks with him, that right now he's seeing the Swan standing on his bed, looking at him from under his eyelashes. Because surely not even he could get inside that prison masquerading as a health-care facility, right?
But the Swan is reaching for him and pulling him onto the bed and the Prince can feel the strong muscles against him and knows it's real.
'If the other swans find out…" he doesn't want to ask, but the sad smile the Swan gives him answers it anyway. If the swans find out their leader felt for him, a weak pathetic man, they will kill him, that much they know. And the Prince also knows he's too weak to defend the Swan, too much of a waste to even try to fight them.
He should tell him to leave, that he is in too much danger, that he wants him safe. But they're kissing like they're dying, now, and the Prince cradles the strong muscled back and the want and envy is making him greedy, so he doesn't say anything.
The Swan pushes him gently on the bed and starts to open the top of his hospital pyjamas. The Prince panics, because he's looking at the Swan and he saw the other swans and he knows that what lies under that thin layer of fabric is nothing like what the Swan must be used to.
'Don't…' he mutters, 'Stop, I don't want you to see how I look.'
The Swan does stop. But only for a moment so he can look him in the eyes. The next moment he's kissing every inch of exposed flesh, every inch of skin stretched over bones instead of muscle, like the Prince is the most precious thing he ever held.
He's careful with him. Careful and loving, like he's aware of just how strong he really is and the Prince is so fragile he may break under him. The Prince wants to tell him not to, that he can take whatever he has to give him, that he can be strong for this, for him. Even when the pain comes (and it does, but the Swan is there to swallow his gasps) he welcomes it, instead of wanting to hide away, like he always did.
But the Swan is looking at him and he can see such adoration in his eyes, such love like the one he searched all his life, that it almost makes to stop it, make everything go away and be left alone and caged.
Through his eyelashes he catches more and more shadows dancing on the wall and somewhere in the back of his mind he thinks that he never noticed that road outside the asylum was so busy, especially at night.
But suddenly the Swan falters. He's moving faster and erratic, hiding his face on the Prince's neck. The pain is gone, now, and the Prince holds the Swan tight in his arms, feeling the muscles moving frantic under his fingers, his own cock trapped between their bodies.
His orgasm hits him when the Swan gives one last push, making him groan and screw his eyes shut. But not before he sees the shadows in the wall turning into the swans.
The End