I was trying to do the noble sacrifice thing here, and it was hard. I’m not good at noble and I’m bad at sacrifices. I’m a hedonist with pile of vices - drinking, smoking, sex, gambling, all the big ones. But Harry was a kid, I reminded myself, not even old enough to drink yet. I was pretty sure he wasn’t actually interested in men, or that he didn’t have much experience with them at least.
I wanted very, very badly to teach him a few things. Actually, a lot of things, each kinkier than the last. The kind of list a couple could work on for years and not get through everything. I’d had fantasies about the kid, sure. He had the kind of personality that just draws you in and doesn’t let you go.
He was strong, too. I kept forgetting that, trying to pull away and getting surprised when he wouldn’t give in. He kept kissing me. His hands were roaming, shoving off my jacket. Call it whatever you want, resolve, morality, common sense, ethics - mine were chased out with arousal. I kissed back. Hell, I groped back.
He moaned and his voice cracked, and the morality ran back in. I worked harder at pulling away and actually escaped his grasp. I buttoned my jeans up again - that was a lot more difficult than it had been in the morning - and walked deliberately back from the delicious sight in front of me.
Dresden looked utterly disheveled: coat open, shirt rucked up (had I done that? I couldn’t remember), eyes half-closed and lips swollen from hungry, fierce kisses. His jeans, two sizes too big in the waist, sat low enough to show his hipbones and the faint dusting of hairs leading down from his bellybutton. He wasn’t wearing anything under the jeans. God, the kid must be trying to kill me.
He was panting, sweating, moaning - and reaching out, begging for me to come back.
“I have to go. Call me when you’re sober. Jesus.” I stumbled out the door and slammed it shut, leaving my dignity behind. I still had Harry’s keys. I locked the door from the outside. I couldn’t leave his car keys when he was like this. What if he tried to drive - to find me, or something? I made sure I’d parked legally and I locked the shitty Bug, still not sure what to do. I should just hide the keys. Then when he called, I could tell him where they were.
I wanted to take them with me, though, because then he’d have to come talk to me, in order to get them back. Petty, I know, but I’ve already said I don’t like making sacrifices. If he didn’t remember the stuff he’d done while high, no harm no foul - I’d have some extra-pretty images to fuel my fantasies for a while, but I wasn’t going to blackmail him or bring it up, or anything.
He’d already proven completely incapable of recognizing flirtation, so there wasn’t much point. If he did remember, and stuck by his guns - an outcome I doubted - then maybe we’d have a little fun. Or a lot of fun.
I could have just taken his keys. I ended up taking his car, instead, leaving it at the office building garage. I could take a train to where my car was and I’d sort everything out with Harry in the morning. Or almost everything, at least.
Sorry it took a little for me to get back to this. This was completely awesome. Poor Nick. And we thought Harry was the one with all the scars!:) Lol. Thank you for the fill.
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Fic: Whatever You Want [2/2]
(Anonymous) 2011-02-18 06:55 pm (UTC)(link)I wanted very, very badly to teach him a few things. Actually, a lot of things, each kinkier than the last. The kind of list a couple could work on for years and not get through everything. I’d had fantasies about the kid, sure. He had the kind of personality that just draws you in and doesn’t let you go.
He was strong, too. I kept forgetting that, trying to pull away and getting surprised when he wouldn’t give in. He kept kissing me. His hands were roaming, shoving off my jacket. Call it whatever you want, resolve, morality, common sense, ethics - mine were chased out with arousal. I kissed back. Hell, I groped back.
He moaned and his voice cracked, and the morality ran back in. I worked harder at pulling away and actually escaped his grasp. I buttoned my jeans up again - that was a lot more difficult than it had been in the morning - and walked deliberately back from the delicious sight in front of me.
Dresden looked utterly disheveled: coat open, shirt rucked up (had I done that? I couldn’t remember), eyes half-closed and lips swollen from hungry, fierce kisses. His jeans, two sizes too big in the waist, sat low enough to show his hipbones and the faint dusting of hairs leading down from his bellybutton. He wasn’t wearing anything under the jeans. God, the kid must be trying to kill me.
He was panting, sweating, moaning - and reaching out, begging for me to come back.
“I have to go. Call me when you’re sober. Jesus.” I stumbled out the door and slammed it shut, leaving my dignity behind. I still had Harry’s keys. I locked the door from the outside. I couldn’t leave his car keys when he was like this. What if he tried to drive - to find me, or something? I made sure I’d parked legally and I locked the shitty Bug, still not sure what to do. I should just hide the keys. Then when he called, I could tell him where they were.
I wanted to take them with me, though, because then he’d have to come talk to me, in order to get them back. Petty, I know, but I’ve already said I don’t like making sacrifices. If he didn’t remember the stuff he’d done while high, no harm no foul - I’d have some extra-pretty images to fuel my fantasies for a while, but I wasn’t going to blackmail him or bring it up, or anything.
He’d already proven completely incapable of recognizing flirtation, so there wasn’t much point. If he did remember, and stuck by his guns - an outcome I doubted - then maybe we’d have a little fun. Or a lot of fun.
I could have just taken his keys. I ended up taking his car, instead, leaving it at the office building garage. I could take a train to where my car was and I’d sort everything out with Harry in the morning. Or almost everything, at least.
OP Here
(Anonymous) 2011-02-23 03:48 am (UTC)(link)Authornon
(Anonymous) 2011-02-23 03:59 am (UTC)(link)