Chaos and Calamity (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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rainbowfic2015-10-04 06:47 am
rootsofthestories) wrote in rainbowfic2015-10-04 06:47 am
Entry tags:
Spring Green
Name: Sebastian
Title: make it holy, make it yours
Story: Despite The Abundance (needs a tag)
Colors: Spring Green: 6. you're not innocent, I'm not innocent
Supplies/Styles: None today
Word Count: ~1020
Rating: R
Warnings: sexual content, religious themes, internalized homophobia, hinted at abuse, questionable coping
Notes: New verse thatbalsamandash and I are playing with. I'm super tired right now, so you don't get a brie summary but know that it's happier than this implies.
Words like bullets to the brain, hit him over and over again. Old hymns, Hail Mary's, verses that he'll never forget, drilled into him in almost every way but literally.
Only because his father didn't know how to hide the scars.
We are a Christ-loving family. We are a loving family. We are...
Timothy's brain peters out after that, unable to sustain the memories, the echoes fading away into nothingness. No more bullets but instead the ringing of gunshots from far away.
He shakes his head and tries to remember who he is, not who he had been. It's hard, ghosts sticking in his head like tack clinging to walls. He doesn't remember the words, he does remember the feelings.
He remembers hands on him, blood in his mouth, the taste of prayers on his tongue.
It's the same taste as fear, as bile, as knowing nothing is gonna change.
But he's not the boy at the altar. He's not the boy at his fathers feet, the boy in the shed. He's a grown up now, with a job he's fired from and a boyfriend with blood on his hands.
Everyone he knows has blood on their hands. He does too, it's only his own but it's still there, still leaves invisible stains on his fingertips, just waiting for someone to have the magic to reveal them.
He still feels prayers on his lips, feels the tightness in his chest of anticipation, of waiting for something to happen. Maybe things will be different this time, maybe He's listening. After all, Timothy is a grown up now, the grown up's prayers are the ones that are supposed to take precedence.
But maybe it's him, maybe he's not allowed to get prayers answered. Maybe, if he closes his eyes long enough, he'll wake up in Hell where he is supposed to be. It's what they say about people like him.
Dirty boys go to Hell. Dirty boys get their cocks cut off, so they might have a chance of being clean again. Dirty boys don't belong in our family
His hands shake and his mouth feels empty and all he wants to be is dirty, he wants to be fucked up and broken and disgraceful. It didn't matter anymore, there was no going back for him anyway.
Nathan is half asleep when he crawls into bed with him, takes his wrist and brings it to his mouth, teeth biting lightly at the skin. His tongue circles the flesh, and soon he's moving, taking the other man's fingers into his mouth, one by one, then two and three.
Nathan still seems a little sleep addled but he's making soft noises of want, noises that say Timothy is doing his job. He takes the fingers in deeper for a moment, then sets them free and goes back to his wrist.
Make him feel good, give him what he wants. Be a good boy for him, 'cause this is the only time you will.
His body is pressed up against Nathan's and he can feel him getting hard. He presses in further, moving against him as he sucks and bites at his wrist.
"Please," he says, his voice soft, as if to not wake someone in the next room. "Fuck me? I'll be good after, I promise, just fuck me now and I'll be good. At least i"ll try. Please?"
Nathan moves, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him in, dropping kisses to the back of his neck. "You're good," he says, a certainty in his voice that Timothy can't argue with. "You're so good."
He nods, and his mouth goes back to Nathan's wrist rather than trying to waste time with words as Nathan moves his hands up and down his side, touching him with firm hands, a silent promise that he's as good as the man says.
In his head his family is screaming, his father yelling, his mother crying. They're calling him names, saying they'll send him away. Telling him he's worthless this way, that he'll never be good enough to be their son anymore.
Nathan is pulling both their shirts off, pressing their bodies together before moving to leave kisses against his skin, biting hard enough to leave marks but not hurt. Never hurt. He doesn't hurt him unless he asks.
And he does ask.
Nathan bites harder and the screaming gets louder. He feels like his head is spinning, like his body is starting to shake even if it isn't. He takes in a breath, steadies himself and finds Nathan looking at him in concern.
"You still here?"
He swallows, nodding his head.
The kisses are gentle after that, careful, despite what Timothy had asked. Nathan is careful with him, firm but kind and now telling him what to do at every turn.
"Take off the rest of your clothes." ""Come closer." "Keep your hands where I put them." "Touch me."
It's somewhere in the middle of all that, before Nathan has pulled out the lube and started fingering him but after the bite marks on his neck, that Timothy realizes he could do this. He could trade one god in for something different.
A god that won't reject him, a god that loves him. A god that tells him he's good and takes care of him and tells him what he wants.
He would worship at this alter, he would offer up his prayers.
And no, he never says anything to him, knows it's better to keep his worship quiet. Yet when he's being fucked and his eyes are closed and he's gasping and moaning and saying "Fuck, oh god. I love you. Oh god, oh god." It's not to the god above bu the one willing to be right there with him.
It's to the god he chooses, instead of the god that was forced upon him.
When he comes, he imagines Heaven's gates. He sees them in his mind and he walks away. There's no need to go inside.
Title: make it holy, make it yours
Story: Despite The Abundance (needs a tag)
Colors: Spring Green: 6. you're not innocent, I'm not innocent
Supplies/Styles: None today
Word Count: ~1020
Rating: R
Warnings: sexual content, religious themes, internalized homophobia, hinted at abuse, questionable coping
Notes: New verse that
balsamandash and I are playing with. I'm super tired right now, so you don't get a brie summary but know that it's happier than this implies.Words like bullets to the brain, hit him over and over again. Old hymns, Hail Mary's, verses that he'll never forget, drilled into him in almost every way but literally.
We are a Christ-loving family. We are a loving family. We are...
Timothy's brain peters out after that, unable to sustain the memories, the echoes fading away into nothingness. No more bullets but instead the ringing of gunshots from far away.
He shakes his head and tries to remember who he is, not who he had been. It's hard, ghosts sticking in his head like tack clinging to walls. He doesn't remember the words, he does remember the feelings.
He remembers hands on him, blood in his mouth, the taste of prayers on his tongue.
It's the same taste as fear, as bile, as knowing nothing is gonna change.
But he's not the boy at the altar. He's not the boy at his fathers feet, the boy in the shed. He's a grown up now, with a job he's fired from and a boyfriend with blood on his hands.
Everyone he knows has blood on their hands. He does too, it's only his own but it's still there, still leaves invisible stains on his fingertips, just waiting for someone to have the magic to reveal them.
He still feels prayers on his lips, feels the tightness in his chest of anticipation, of waiting for something to happen. Maybe things will be different this time, maybe He's listening. After all, Timothy is a grown up now, the grown up's prayers are the ones that are supposed to take precedence.
But maybe it's him, maybe he's not allowed to get prayers answered. Maybe, if he closes his eyes long enough, he'll wake up in Hell where he is supposed to be. It's what they say about people like him.
His hands shake and his mouth feels empty and all he wants to be is dirty, he wants to be fucked up and broken and disgraceful. It didn't matter anymore, there was no going back for him anyway.
Nathan is half asleep when he crawls into bed with him, takes his wrist and brings it to his mouth, teeth biting lightly at the skin. His tongue circles the flesh, and soon he's moving, taking the other man's fingers into his mouth, one by one, then two and three.
Nathan still seems a little sleep addled but he's making soft noises of want, noises that say Timothy is doing his job. He takes the fingers in deeper for a moment, then sets them free and goes back to his wrist.
Make him feel good, give him what he wants. Be a good boy for him, 'cause this is the only time you will.
His body is pressed up against Nathan's and he can feel him getting hard. He presses in further, moving against him as he sucks and bites at his wrist.
"Please," he says, his voice soft, as if to not wake someone in the next room. "Fuck me? I'll be good after, I promise, just fuck me now and I'll be good. At least i"ll try. Please?"
Nathan moves, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him in, dropping kisses to the back of his neck. "You're good," he says, a certainty in his voice that Timothy can't argue with. "You're so good."
He nods, and his mouth goes back to Nathan's wrist rather than trying to waste time with words as Nathan moves his hands up and down his side, touching him with firm hands, a silent promise that he's as good as the man says.
In his head his family is screaming, his father yelling, his mother crying. They're calling him names, saying they'll send him away. Telling him he's worthless this way, that he'll never be good enough to be their son anymore.
Nathan is pulling both their shirts off, pressing their bodies together before moving to leave kisses against his skin, biting hard enough to leave marks but not hurt. Never hurt. He doesn't hurt him unless he asks.
And he does ask.
Nathan bites harder and the screaming gets louder. He feels like his head is spinning, like his body is starting to shake even if it isn't. He takes in a breath, steadies himself and finds Nathan looking at him in concern.
"You still here?"
He swallows, nodding his head.
The kisses are gentle after that, careful, despite what Timothy had asked. Nathan is careful with him, firm but kind and now telling him what to do at every turn.
"Take off the rest of your clothes." ""Come closer." "Keep your hands where I put them." "Touch me."
It's somewhere in the middle of all that, before Nathan has pulled out the lube and started fingering him but after the bite marks on his neck, that Timothy realizes he could do this. He could trade one god in for something different.
A god that won't reject him, a god that loves him. A god that tells him he's good and takes care of him and tells him what he wants.
He would worship at this alter, he would offer up his prayers.
And no, he never says anything to him, knows it's better to keep his worship quiet. Yet when he's being fucked and his eyes are closed and he's gasping and moaning and saying "Fuck, oh god. I love you. Oh god, oh god." It's not to the god above bu the one willing to be right there with him.
It's to the god he chooses, instead of the god that was forced upon him.
When he comes, he imagines Heaven's gates. He sees them in his mind and he walks away. There's no need to go inside.
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<333333 You are wonderful.
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FFFFFFFFFFFFFF
FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF
FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF
*rubs self all over story like a cat* I CLAIM THIS AS A THING I LOVE.
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bouncebouncebounce Oh yay! This is exciting and pleasing and yes. Good. I am happy you enjoy it.
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Nathan isn't BAD per se, just maybe a little questionable when you take into account things like him being a contract killer.
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....Should I aww at that? Probably not. I do it anyway.
The thing with these boys is that Timothy has no real concept of healthy relationships and Nathan is Very Aware of this and while he doesn't treat him badly or anything, he still thinks Timothy should make better life choices.
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Trent had a rather scary and abusive boyfriend. Ken is WAY SCARIER than said ex. They're also over 25 years apart in age. But... Trent's a man who knows what he wants.
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Age gaps kind of make me happy and I'm not even sure why. Like I have Neil and his partner. Neil is in his thirties. His partner is Death (well, one of them...). There's a wee bit of an age gap there. XD
August and I also have Dorian and the therapist who had about a fifteen year age gap and were so, sooooo not supposed to be together but wound up hat way nonetheless.
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It is! Like, it really is happy because the boys have each other and everything is better hwen they're togther, it's just also vaguely dodgy.
(I need to write the pretty much asexual, pan-romantic "co-worker" (in as much as contract killers have co-workers) of Nathan's at some point. She is badass and terrifying and I love her so much.)