Potc | Beckett/James, Beckett/Jack
Title: Rencontre
Rating: PG?
Pairing: Beckington, Speckett
originally posted here
Rencontre
A name without a face and a face without a name moulding into each other.
Just neat, insignificant letters on a death warrant. A kind and understanding stranger in a foreign city. Just a few days, darkened by the funeral of a tyrannical father who didn’t deserve tears of sorrow but got it anyway. Just a few days before returning to India to take over business, to harden into someone else. Just a few days. A face. Englishly pale. So different from the dark face of another, more fatal lover back in India. Just a few days brightened by tender caresses and gentle kisses. Rough hands. Soft lips. Hard… oh God, yes… And an all consuming feeling of temporariness. No, don’t tell me your name.
Just a few days. A stranger. A friend. A lover. And now?
A pawn.
The once loved strong, lean body now covered in dirt and the burning scent of rum that should only belong to the other. And Lord Cutler Beckett almost wishes he still owned his heart so that it could weep at the sight of the broken light in green emeralds.
Rating: PG?
Pairing: Beckington, Speckett
originally posted here
Rencontre
A name without a face and a face without a name moulding into each other.
Just neat, insignificant letters on a death warrant. A kind and understanding stranger in a foreign city. Just a few days, darkened by the funeral of a tyrannical father who didn’t deserve tears of sorrow but got it anyway. Just a few days before returning to India to take over business, to harden into someone else. Just a few days. A face. Englishly pale. So different from the dark face of another, more fatal lover back in India. Just a few days brightened by tender caresses and gentle kisses. Rough hands. Soft lips. Hard… oh God, yes… And an all consuming feeling of temporariness. No, don’t tell me your name.
Just a few days. A stranger. A friend. A lover. And now?
A pawn.
The once loved strong, lean body now covered in dirt and the burning scent of rum that should only belong to the other. And Lord Cutler Beckett almost wishes he still owned his heart so that it could weep at the sight of the broken light in green emeralds.