Potc | Jack/James
Title: Illusions
Pairing: James/Jack
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I just can't get my hands off them.
originally posted here
Illusions
You always take me from behind so you can fool your mind into thinking I’m somebody else. There is no tenderness between us, no affection. We are enemies outside this filthy town and only reluctant allies in bed. We search for our lost hearts in vain and settle for the poor substitute that this is.
And in the uneven rhythm of your hard thrusts we transform reality into our hearts’ desire.
Your dark hand on my hard member pales slightly, your deep moans turn into soft gasps, the clinking of the trinkets in your dreadlocks fades away, and the marks and scars on your body disappear, giving way to one defined cut on your chest. I lose myself in the memory of shy smiles, firm handshakes and a sword that is all I ever got from the one I loved - still do. But here, this moment, he’s mine, only mine, not hers. Our movements become faster, almost painful. Nails dig into my thighs, leaving angry marks. Teeth bite hard into my neck and I’m surprised there is no blood. It hurts but at least it reminds us that we’re alive.
Am I? Alive…
My heart is furiously pounding in my chest. I suppose that means I am.
I can feel a hard heartbeat against my back, matching the rhythm of mine, and it almost spoils the mood. But I don’t get to think about it much because a last hard thrust there, just there pushes me over the edge, crying out the sweet name of a man I have loved and lost - who was never even mine. My cry lingers in the hot air around us and mingles with another name uttered in a low strained moan. A name that isn’t mine. A name that pulls me back to reality.
A dark hand rubs itself on the filthy sheet and I hear the familiar clinking sound as you pull out of me, leaving me feeling empty. I stay on the bed while you get dressed and collect your affects. I’m still trembling, fighting the urge to reach out for the sword he made me and run it through my heart. It’s getting harder every time to resist the temptation.
When you’re ready, you lean over me once more from behind - careful not to chase away the last remnants of illusion - and softly kiss the wig you always make me wear when we fuck. I can hear a low choking sound and I feel wetness running down my neck towards the pillow.
This is wrong. So wrong. It seems unnatural for you to be in pain. You’re not like me. I am used to the chains of society, the burden of who I’m supposed to be - being bound by a hopeless love was just the next step, I guess. But you… This is not who you are. You are freedom, you need to fly like the bird whose name you bear and not lie in the mud with broken wings, mourning a man you have loved and had to send to the depths of the sea.
I hate him for making you do it. For not being able to forgive you for being what you are - a free man. I hate him for believing you have betrayed him while all you did was being true to your nature. I hate him for forcing you into killing him. I know I should turn around, hold you, kiss you, force you to see me for myself, and make you open your heart for something new… for me… But I can’t. I can’t find the power in me to shake off the chains that bind me - I love them too much even if they’re slowly suffocating me.
So I don’t move until I hear you shut the door behind you and try not to think of the note I know I’ll find on the table.
“Until next month.”
Pairing: James/Jack
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I just can't get my hands off them.
originally posted here
Illusions
You always take me from behind so you can fool your mind into thinking I’m somebody else. There is no tenderness between us, no affection. We are enemies outside this filthy town and only reluctant allies in bed. We search for our lost hearts in vain and settle for the poor substitute that this is.
And in the uneven rhythm of your hard thrusts we transform reality into our hearts’ desire.
Your dark hand on my hard member pales slightly, your deep moans turn into soft gasps, the clinking of the trinkets in your dreadlocks fades away, and the marks and scars on your body disappear, giving way to one defined cut on your chest. I lose myself in the memory of shy smiles, firm handshakes and a sword that is all I ever got from the one I loved - still do. But here, this moment, he’s mine, only mine, not hers. Our movements become faster, almost painful. Nails dig into my thighs, leaving angry marks. Teeth bite hard into my neck and I’m surprised there is no blood. It hurts but at least it reminds us that we’re alive.
Am I? Alive…
My heart is furiously pounding in my chest. I suppose that means I am.
I can feel a hard heartbeat against my back, matching the rhythm of mine, and it almost spoils the mood. But I don’t get to think about it much because a last hard thrust there, just there pushes me over the edge, crying out the sweet name of a man I have loved and lost - who was never even mine. My cry lingers in the hot air around us and mingles with another name uttered in a low strained moan. A name that isn’t mine. A name that pulls me back to reality.
A dark hand rubs itself on the filthy sheet and I hear the familiar clinking sound as you pull out of me, leaving me feeling empty. I stay on the bed while you get dressed and collect your affects. I’m still trembling, fighting the urge to reach out for the sword he made me and run it through my heart. It’s getting harder every time to resist the temptation.
When you’re ready, you lean over me once more from behind - careful not to chase away the last remnants of illusion - and softly kiss the wig you always make me wear when we fuck. I can hear a low choking sound and I feel wetness running down my neck towards the pillow.
This is wrong. So wrong. It seems unnatural for you to be in pain. You’re not like me. I am used to the chains of society, the burden of who I’m supposed to be - being bound by a hopeless love was just the next step, I guess. But you… This is not who you are. You are freedom, you need to fly like the bird whose name you bear and not lie in the mud with broken wings, mourning a man you have loved and had to send to the depths of the sea.
I hate him for making you do it. For not being able to forgive you for being what you are - a free man. I hate him for believing you have betrayed him while all you did was being true to your nature. I hate him for forcing you into killing him. I know I should turn around, hold you, kiss you, force you to see me for myself, and make you open your heart for something new… for me… But I can’t. I can’t find the power in me to shake off the chains that bind me - I love them too much even if they’re slowly suffocating me.
So I don’t move until I hear you shut the door behind you and try not to think of the note I know I’ll find on the table.
“Until next month.”