Fic: "When a Man's an Empty Kettle," 1/1, Cain/DG, R.
Loved the Ugly Betty last night, and I'm not going to join the hoi-polloi and quote the TOTAL FANDOM SHOUT-OUT line in my LJ. But seriously...? Bea Arthur? BWAHAHAHA. And I severely heart Daniel, Alexis, and Gio. The latter may quite possibly have something to do with Freddie Rodriguez being WEE (because, as we all know, while I do like them Jarednormous, I also like them Ryan Weecrest-sized).
And now I present more Cain/DG fic! I just banged it out quickly before leaving for work, so it may or may not suck.
Title: When a Man's an Empty Kettle"
Author: monimala
Fandom: Tin Man
Rating/Classification: R for some sexual implications, angst, Cain/DG, post-series.
Disclaimer: Skiffy owns what L. Frank Baum's estate does not.
Summary: 650 words. Can be considered a loose sequel to A Horse of a Different Color but also stands alone. Cain grinds his teeth at night.
Cain grinds his teeth at night. During the day, too. Glitch, who he can't seem to remember to call 'Ambrose' for the life of him, takes great pleasure in pointing out that he's going to need to see the Tooth Fairy if he keeps it up. It was easier to ignore him before they pried open his head and shoved his brain back in there. They couldn't do anything about the zipper, so at least there's some part of him that still seems like the spastic tweak from before.
Before. It's his least favorite word these days. Everything is 'before.' Before Her Majesty resumed her rule. Before the witch was defeated. Before he was trapped and betrayed. Before he lost Adora. Before the princess DG took her rightful place in the royal court of the O.Z. Before she wrapped her arms around him and whispered, "Stay," and so he did, forgetting a decade of pain to sink inside her and watch the way her eyes glaze over when she comes.
He lies in bed, fists curled under the covers, and feels his molars click against each other. She's curled beside him, dark head on the pillow, wide eyes finally closed, and all he wants to do is slide out from beneath the sheets and get out of here. Back to the darkest alley in Central City or the farthest point in the woods. But he knows he can't get out of the Tower unnoticed, Tin Man or not. Even worse than running into Her Majesty or Ahamo or Az on the way in is running into them on the way out.
He hasn't had to put up with disapproving fathers and wary mothers since he and Adora were sixteen. Before DG was even born.
Not a word has been spoken about him spending nights with her. Not yet. But he knows it's only a matter of time. *"Wyatt, what are your intentions?"* He can just picture her mother's gentle voice, laced with warning… the voice that can send any man to his knees in supplication. And the worst of it is that he has no intentions. None. They're all DG's. All her hopes, her dreams. Her hands on his body and her mouth on his cock, while all he wants is nothing more than to make her happy and see her safe. Thinking farther ahead than that is too much.
And for her, for her family, he knows that's not enough.
He wasn't going to leave her alone here. He knows what alone is like, after being trapped in that suit for so many annuals. So, she whispered, "Stay," and he did.
How can he tell her that he's trapped again? That she's done it, with her big, blue eyes and her constant questions and the way she tilts her head when she's struggling to remember something? With the way she tugs him into her bedroom, away from the prying eyes of the Longcoats and her advisors, and slides his own coat from his shoulders?
The first time was the night they reclaimed the O.Z. He couldn't deny her. He didn't want to. The joy was too infectious and it had been way too long since he held a girl in his arms. He'd taken her too fast, too hard, practically imprinting the patterns in the wall into her impossibly soft skin. When he'd apologized she'd laughed against his neck, teasing, "I thought Tin Men had more stamina."
He's had ample time to prove his mettle since then.
He's just not entirely sure he's proved his worth.
And so he grinds his teeth. His molars click. He tastes enamel and dust and the past on his tongue and wishes he'd never shown some lost kid the way to the Old Road.
Before is his least favorite word these days.
Because he can hardly remember a time before he loved her.
--end--
December 7, 2007
And now I present more Cain/DG fic! I just banged it out quickly before leaving for work, so it may or may not suck.
Title: When a Man's an Empty Kettle"
Author: monimala
Fandom: Tin Man
Rating/Classification: R for some sexual implications, angst, Cain/DG, post-series.
Disclaimer: Skiffy owns what L. Frank Baum's estate does not.
Summary: 650 words. Can be considered a loose sequel to A Horse of a Different Color but also stands alone. Cain grinds his teeth at night.
Cain grinds his teeth at night. During the day, too. Glitch, who he can't seem to remember to call 'Ambrose' for the life of him, takes great pleasure in pointing out that he's going to need to see the Tooth Fairy if he keeps it up. It was easier to ignore him before they pried open his head and shoved his brain back in there. They couldn't do anything about the zipper, so at least there's some part of him that still seems like the spastic tweak from before.
Before. It's his least favorite word these days. Everything is 'before.' Before Her Majesty resumed her rule. Before the witch was defeated. Before he was trapped and betrayed. Before he lost Adora. Before the princess DG took her rightful place in the royal court of the O.Z. Before she wrapped her arms around him and whispered, "Stay," and so he did, forgetting a decade of pain to sink inside her and watch the way her eyes glaze over when she comes.
He lies in bed, fists curled under the covers, and feels his molars click against each other. She's curled beside him, dark head on the pillow, wide eyes finally closed, and all he wants to do is slide out from beneath the sheets and get out of here. Back to the darkest alley in Central City or the farthest point in the woods. But he knows he can't get out of the Tower unnoticed, Tin Man or not. Even worse than running into Her Majesty or Ahamo or Az on the way in is running into them on the way out.
He hasn't had to put up with disapproving fathers and wary mothers since he and Adora were sixteen. Before DG was even born.
Not a word has been spoken about him spending nights with her. Not yet. But he knows it's only a matter of time. *"Wyatt, what are your intentions?"* He can just picture her mother's gentle voice, laced with warning… the voice that can send any man to his knees in supplication. And the worst of it is that he has no intentions. None. They're all DG's. All her hopes, her dreams. Her hands on his body and her mouth on his cock, while all he wants is nothing more than to make her happy and see her safe. Thinking farther ahead than that is too much.
And for her, for her family, he knows that's not enough.
He wasn't going to leave her alone here. He knows what alone is like, after being trapped in that suit for so many annuals. So, she whispered, "Stay," and he did.
How can he tell her that he's trapped again? That she's done it, with her big, blue eyes and her constant questions and the way she tilts her head when she's struggling to remember something? With the way she tugs him into her bedroom, away from the prying eyes of the Longcoats and her advisors, and slides his own coat from his shoulders?
The first time was the night they reclaimed the O.Z. He couldn't deny her. He didn't want to. The joy was too infectious and it had been way too long since he held a girl in his arms. He'd taken her too fast, too hard, practically imprinting the patterns in the wall into her impossibly soft skin. When he'd apologized she'd laughed against his neck, teasing, "I thought Tin Men had more stamina."
He's had ample time to prove his mettle since then.
He's just not entirely sure he's proved his worth.
And so he grinds his teeth. His molars click. He tastes enamel and dust and the past on his tongue and wishes he'd never shown some lost kid the way to the Old Road.
Before is his least favorite word these days.
Because he can hardly remember a time before he loved her.
--end--
December 7, 2007