Just To Be Touched by You
Nov. 4th, 2005 04:02 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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2minsforslashingTITLE: Just To Be Touched by You
AUTHOR: Jazzy
CHARACTERS: José Théodore & Sheldon Souray
WORD COUNT: 1037 Words
RATING: NC-17 for heavy violence, language and sex acts
DISCLAIMER: Better than mine is they're mine in my head
A/N: My beta readers were kind of freaked out by this story so this is warning that it's very violent and definitely on the darker side. It's written in José's POV.
I arrived home to a dark house, having forgotten to turn on a light but this was my house; I knew my way around. Sometimes I prefer it that way as excuse to ignore the demons that tread in and out through the strips of moonlight that slice through the windows. Enough light peppers the floor that I can find my way to the bedroom, stripping down to just my flesh until it’s patterned in the same beams that fall across the floor.
I crawled into bed and closed my eyes, staring at the back of my eyelids. I wasn’t really tired. I didn’t know if I couldn’t sleep because he wasn’t home yet or because my head spun at the exhilaration of our win. I finally feel on my game. It’s a strange feeling to be at peace with myself, if even just in this one moment. I ghost my hand over the side of the bed where Sheldon should be, rustling the sheets with my hand but barely moving them beneath my feathery touch. Where the fuck is he?
Startled awake by the thud of something crashing to the floor, I jumped out of bed hastily, not bothering to get dressed. A stream of profanities echoed through the black house and I peered out almost nervously but suddenly content that the house was still unlit.
“Théo, where the fuck are you? You couldn’t leave a fucking light on for me? Get the fuck out here,” I hear Sheldon bellow through the house, stomping around in a pattern that resembles more like stumbling than the regular thundering resonance of his heavy footsteps.
“I-- I was sleeping,” I mumble sheepishly through the sleep that had considerably deepened my voice as I wandered into the living room, observing Sheldon’s incredibly menacing form in the dimly lit spot in which he stood. His large ominous silhouette towered over me. I stared at him with huge eyes but couldn’t read his expression. His face glowed just along his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. His eyes looked sunken against what little light fell across him giving him a more threatening presence. I walked closer, barely making a sound with my feet, silently crushing the carpet beneath my toes. I didn’t want to startle him but I needed his body against mine, to have his hands drown my waiting flesh. Nervously, I stepped closer and I held out my hand with my palm facing upwards.
Sheldon yanked my wrist until I was taut to him. I stumbled a bit, tripping over my toes as his arms tightened around my biceps. I winced a little but he couldn’t see, wrinkling my face at the feel of my skin bruising under his fierce grasp. He pulled me to his chest and began to shake me, lifting me off the ground and rattling me, until my legs dangled underneath me and I felt too weak to stand. My body withdrew into itself as my muscles tensed.
“I could have been fucking hurt. What if I had tripped on your table and injured my knee? Do you think I fucking need that shit right now…”
I didn’t fight him but eyes stayed fixed on his as he shook me harder before dropping me and backhanding my face. My head whipped to the side at his violent touch. I held my breath and turned back to face Sheldon and glared. I took a tiny step towards him, once again, offering my hand.
“You can’t fucking do any shit right, José. You could have fucking killed me. Is that what you want? I fucking this,” he screamed at the top of his lungs before pushing me backwards. I stumbled over the table and collapsed to the floor, landing hard on my ass. I bounced and slid over the carpet, scalding the back of my thighs as they dragged over the fabric. I just stared up at him blankly, trying to find any words that I could find, searching English and French as he continued to yell names at me before exhausting himself.
I scooted back towards the corner when he finally gave up and I heard the door to the bedroom slam shut. I looked down at my hand, my eyes wandering over my open palm, the same one I had offered to Sheldon only a few minutes before. “Hardly inviting,” I thought as I looked over the wrinkles and lines that cascaded through it. Tiny silver dots twinkled through my vision from the smack, sparkling my living room through pain. My hands grazed over the spot on my arms where they would be bruised.
Everything burned inside of me as I closed my uninviting palm around my cock. My eyes squeezed closed and the skin around my face tightened as I slowly began to stroke myself. My mind swirled and swelled with the feeling of Sheldon touching me, the way his hands needed to shatter me. I moved faster over the length of my shaft, slamming hard whenever I reached the base when I imagined how he could break me with just one swift motion. The thought of his overpowering strength made me squeeze myself more firmly until I could barely stroke over myself. My chest heaved as I fought for air, at the idea of him shoving me flatly to my chest and stepping on me, destroying me under his weight the way that I needed to be crushed. I deserved this. God I fucking deserved this. All of this -- this is my fate. The unyielding pain around my cock was almost unbearable as I came in my hand, shuddering against the wall and collapsing into a heap on the floor.
I wrapped my arms around myself to keep from shivering. I sat in my corner fighting sleep, touching myself in a silent room graced with only two moving shadows. Every now and then I would look out from the corner of my eye and glance at Sheldon’s face watching from a crack in the door but just like always, I flashed him a quick smile. Maybe he’s come to expect it or maybe it’s the bright spot in a normally dark house.
AUTHOR: Jazzy
CHARACTERS: José Théodore & Sheldon Souray
WORD COUNT: 1037 Words
RATING: NC-17 for heavy violence, language and sex acts
DISCLAIMER: Better than mine is they're mine in my head
A/N: My beta readers were kind of freaked out by this story so this is warning that it's very violent and definitely on the darker side. It's written in José's POV.
I arrived home to a dark house, having forgotten to turn on a light but this was my house; I knew my way around. Sometimes I prefer it that way as excuse to ignore the demons that tread in and out through the strips of moonlight that slice through the windows. Enough light peppers the floor that I can find my way to the bedroom, stripping down to just my flesh until it’s patterned in the same beams that fall across the floor.
I crawled into bed and closed my eyes, staring at the back of my eyelids. I wasn’t really tired. I didn’t know if I couldn’t sleep because he wasn’t home yet or because my head spun at the exhilaration of our win. I finally feel on my game. It’s a strange feeling to be at peace with myself, if even just in this one moment. I ghost my hand over the side of the bed where Sheldon should be, rustling the sheets with my hand but barely moving them beneath my feathery touch. Where the fuck is he?
Startled awake by the thud of something crashing to the floor, I jumped out of bed hastily, not bothering to get dressed. A stream of profanities echoed through the black house and I peered out almost nervously but suddenly content that the house was still unlit.
“Théo, where the fuck are you? You couldn’t leave a fucking light on for me? Get the fuck out here,” I hear Sheldon bellow through the house, stomping around in a pattern that resembles more like stumbling than the regular thundering resonance of his heavy footsteps.
“I-- I was sleeping,” I mumble sheepishly through the sleep that had considerably deepened my voice as I wandered into the living room, observing Sheldon’s incredibly menacing form in the dimly lit spot in which he stood. His large ominous silhouette towered over me. I stared at him with huge eyes but couldn’t read his expression. His face glowed just along his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. His eyes looked sunken against what little light fell across him giving him a more threatening presence. I walked closer, barely making a sound with my feet, silently crushing the carpet beneath my toes. I didn’t want to startle him but I needed his body against mine, to have his hands drown my waiting flesh. Nervously, I stepped closer and I held out my hand with my palm facing upwards.
Sheldon yanked my wrist until I was taut to him. I stumbled a bit, tripping over my toes as his arms tightened around my biceps. I winced a little but he couldn’t see, wrinkling my face at the feel of my skin bruising under his fierce grasp. He pulled me to his chest and began to shake me, lifting me off the ground and rattling me, until my legs dangled underneath me and I felt too weak to stand. My body withdrew into itself as my muscles tensed.
“I could have been fucking hurt. What if I had tripped on your table and injured my knee? Do you think I fucking need that shit right now…”
I didn’t fight him but eyes stayed fixed on his as he shook me harder before dropping me and backhanding my face. My head whipped to the side at his violent touch. I held my breath and turned back to face Sheldon and glared. I took a tiny step towards him, once again, offering my hand.
“You can’t fucking do any shit right, José. You could have fucking killed me. Is that what you want? I fucking this,” he screamed at the top of his lungs before pushing me backwards. I stumbled over the table and collapsed to the floor, landing hard on my ass. I bounced and slid over the carpet, scalding the back of my thighs as they dragged over the fabric. I just stared up at him blankly, trying to find any words that I could find, searching English and French as he continued to yell names at me before exhausting himself.
I scooted back towards the corner when he finally gave up and I heard the door to the bedroom slam shut. I looked down at my hand, my eyes wandering over my open palm, the same one I had offered to Sheldon only a few minutes before. “Hardly inviting,” I thought as I looked over the wrinkles and lines that cascaded through it. Tiny silver dots twinkled through my vision from the smack, sparkling my living room through pain. My hands grazed over the spot on my arms where they would be bruised.
Everything burned inside of me as I closed my uninviting palm around my cock. My eyes squeezed closed and the skin around my face tightened as I slowly began to stroke myself. My mind swirled and swelled with the feeling of Sheldon touching me, the way his hands needed to shatter me. I moved faster over the length of my shaft, slamming hard whenever I reached the base when I imagined how he could break me with just one swift motion. The thought of his overpowering strength made me squeeze myself more firmly until I could barely stroke over myself. My chest heaved as I fought for air, at the idea of him shoving me flatly to my chest and stepping on me, destroying me under his weight the way that I needed to be crushed. I deserved this. God I fucking deserved this. All of this -- this is my fate. The unyielding pain around my cock was almost unbearable as I came in my hand, shuddering against the wall and collapsing into a heap on the floor.
I wrapped my arms around myself to keep from shivering. I sat in my corner fighting sleep, touching myself in a silent room graced with only two moving shadows. Every now and then I would look out from the corner of my eye and glance at Sheldon’s face watching from a crack in the door but just like always, I flashed him a quick smile. Maybe he’s come to expect it or maybe it’s the bright spot in a normally dark house.
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Date: 2005-11-05 08:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-05 12:13 pm (UTC)Don't worry, I think next time, I will write something a little nicer. It makes me incredibly sad to write my favourite guys so angry and hurt.