for you, bb, I give it up for free
SO if you haven't yet bid on me at help_japan because of my heartfelt misguided comment that I wouldn't write anyone/JDM, THINK AGAIN!
For madame_meretrix and anyone else willing to consider reading 500 words (exactly!) of Angel/JDM, because if she's crazy enough to ask, I'm crazy enough to write. :P
Nothing’s right tonight. He isn’t gonna find what he’s looking for - find something that satisfies the restless, yearning itch simmering deep beneath the surface.
“No luck, huh?”
Jeff turns towards the voice on his left.
Its owner is leaning both elbows on the bar, one hand cradled around a glass of whisky. He’s not looking at Jeff, instead staring moodily into his drink.
“Nah.”
Jeff turns back to his own drink. Might as well finish it up and call the night what it is: a dead loss. Just like the few before it, the rare times he’s given in and come here. It’s this city’s fault. Something about LA brings this out in him, makes him want things he’s unsure of.
“I know why.”
Jeff pauses, takes a long slow swallow.
“You don’t know shit about me.”
He feels movement beside him and glances over. The man’s now facing outward, his long, broad, black-clad body leaning casually back against the counter.
“I know you’re not who they think you are.” He gestures with his head to the twinks milling about the dance floor. “They all want you to take care of them. Fuck ‘em, teach ‘em shit about life. Make you their daddy.”
He raises his glass in Jeff’s direction. “They’ve no idea you’re one of them.”
Jeff doesn’t answer. He traces a finger through condensation on his glass, savoring the cold.
“You never tried it, not then,” the man says, thoughfully. “And now… it’s got to be hard. Finding someone who’ll be what you need.”
“Fuck off,” Jeff says finally. His right hand moves to his left wrist, thumbing the heavy silver links there; it’s comforting somehow. “Good job. Now fuck off.”
The guy throws back the last of his drink, pushes the glass across the counter. He shoves off the bar, turning into Jeff’s space. Jeff can smell the leather of his long black coat, the whisky on his breath when he speaks.
“Me, I never wanted to fuck my dad,” the man says. “So it’s a good thing you’re younger than me.”
Jeff snorts. “Bullshit,” he’s about to say, because c’mon, the guy’s maybe thirty, thirty-five tops - big damn forehead mostly unlined, no gray in his hair at all - but he meets the man’s eyes in that moment and. Christ. They are old. Deep and dark and implacable, fucking unsettling. The thrumming in Jeff’s blood picks up.
“I’m not making you,” the man says. “You choose. But you come with me, you know I’ll give you what you want.” He leans in, mouth against Jeff’s ear. “What you need.”
He steps back, holds Jeff’s gaze a moment longer, then stalks away, ridiculous coat swishing around him like he’s the goddamn Batman.
Jeff downs the rest of his drink.
When he picks up his jacket and follows, the dance floor lights are strobing crazily. He’s temporarily blinded; for a moment, as they walk out the mirrored door, he seems to be the only one there.
...OKAY I HAVE NO CLUE WHAT I'M DOING. I should never be allowed near either of those two.
For madame_meretrix and anyone else willing to consider reading 500 words (exactly!) of Angel/JDM, because if she's crazy enough to ask, I'm crazy enough to write. :P
Nothing’s right tonight. He isn’t gonna find what he’s looking for - find something that satisfies the restless, yearning itch simmering deep beneath the surface.
“No luck, huh?”
Jeff turns towards the voice on his left.
Its owner is leaning both elbows on the bar, one hand cradled around a glass of whisky. He’s not looking at Jeff, instead staring moodily into his drink.
“Nah.”
Jeff turns back to his own drink. Might as well finish it up and call the night what it is: a dead loss. Just like the few before it, the rare times he’s given in and come here. It’s this city’s fault. Something about LA brings this out in him, makes him want things he’s unsure of.
“I know why.”
Jeff pauses, takes a long slow swallow.
“You don’t know shit about me.”
He feels movement beside him and glances over. The man’s now facing outward, his long, broad, black-clad body leaning casually back against the counter.
“I know you’re not who they think you are.” He gestures with his head to the twinks milling about the dance floor. “They all want you to take care of them. Fuck ‘em, teach ‘em shit about life. Make you their daddy.”
He raises his glass in Jeff’s direction. “They’ve no idea you’re one of them.”
Jeff doesn’t answer. He traces a finger through condensation on his glass, savoring the cold.
“You never tried it, not then,” the man says, thoughfully. “And now… it’s got to be hard. Finding someone who’ll be what you need.”
“Fuck off,” Jeff says finally. His right hand moves to his left wrist, thumbing the heavy silver links there; it’s comforting somehow. “Good job. Now fuck off.”
The guy throws back the last of his drink, pushes the glass across the counter. He shoves off the bar, turning into Jeff’s space. Jeff can smell the leather of his long black coat, the whisky on his breath when he speaks.
“Me, I never wanted to fuck my dad,” the man says. “So it’s a good thing you’re younger than me.”
Jeff snorts. “Bullshit,” he’s about to say, because c’mon, the guy’s maybe thirty, thirty-five tops - big damn forehead mostly unlined, no gray in his hair at all - but he meets the man’s eyes in that moment and. Christ. They are old. Deep and dark and implacable, fucking unsettling. The thrumming in Jeff’s blood picks up.
“I’m not making you,” the man says. “You choose. But you come with me, you know I’ll give you what you want.” He leans in, mouth against Jeff’s ear. “What you need.”
He steps back, holds Jeff’s gaze a moment longer, then stalks away, ridiculous coat swishing around him like he’s the goddamn Batman.
Jeff downs the rest of his drink.
When he picks up his jacket and follows, the dance floor lights are strobing crazily. He’s temporarily blinded; for a moment, as they walk out the mirrored door, he seems to be the only one there.
...OKAY I HAVE NO CLUE WHAT I'M DOING. I should never be allowed near either of those two.