Sat, 08 Dec 2007 15:29:37 GMT

Kimmi, I hope you're happy. I am now writing on command. Apparently, if you give me a prompt, like magic, I will write it. Studying? What? Fuck Studying! Vive le SB/R!

Prompt: that scene where sickboy is giving that girl the pill off his tongue, how jealous would renton be
Yeah, this is something like that. Well, it was, then it turned into this.

Sick Boy/Rents

After Sick Boy lets that burd suck the pill off his tongue, and Mark meets and fucks Dianne they don’t see each other for four days. In the past, absences like this have been totally normal. When you’re eyeballs deep in heroin the only person important enough to worry about seeing is your dealer. Mates are mates are fucking useless.

Now Mark has no heroin and his mates are still bloody useless. Spud’s gone, little kitty cat locked up with the feral jungle animals. So Mark has no one to eat ice cream and wander around with. He doesn’t like to be alone with Begbie, and Sick Boy, well, Mark’s feeling conflicted about him.

Four days after that night Mark is standing at a bar, watching the crowd writhe and twist far away from him. Since Dianne he hasn’t had any luck getting anywhere near a woman. He thinks maybe they can smell the little girl on him.

Sick Boy perhaps can’t then, since he sidles up, pressing close enough for his belt buckle to dig right into Mark’s hip. His mouth is against Mark’s temple and his glass of lager is against the other side of Mark’s head, cold and perspiring.

“Hi.” The blonde purrs, like he’s not been missing for four days. Like maybe they hooked up this morning.

Mark tries to tilt his head away from the mouth and only succeeds in pressing his other ear firmer to the glass. Sick Boy follows anyway, bringing them into a theatrical looking lean.

“The fuck do ye want?”

The anger that comes is surprisingly natural. Mark hates that he had to stand alone and watch Sick Boy blatantly flirt and seduce someone else. He hates that he actually gives a shite. He feels like a total buftie. He tries to shrug off the feelings, his shoulder digging into Sick Boy’s chest.

Sick Boy steps back to look at him, eyes scanning his whole face. He seems taken aback by Mark’s hunched stance and cold eyes. This is probably something Simon has never seen before, Mark thinks. Rejection.

They end up in the alley behind the club, possibly recently vacated by hookers and Johns. Mark wants to say something, wants to yell, wants to high-tail it out of there before he and Sick Boy get into a fist fight.

Instead he just stands there as Sick Boy leans on the wall. They stare at each other. Mark knows he looks angry. Simon looks concerned, his eyes soft and searching, mouth a little open. That look is enough for Mark to let Sick Boy wrap his fist in the bottom of Mark’s t-shirt, knuckles brushing against skin.

Mark takes baby steps forward to keep his shirt from stretching as Sick Boy pulls. He has to come so close, too close. There is barely an inch between their faces. Sick Boy looks down at Mark’s mouth, and then into his eyes.

“S’okay,” he whispers, pressing his mouth to Mark’s. At first Mark presses firmly, still wanting to be angry but it doesn’t work. Sick Boy sucks on his tongue and rubs his knuckles on Mark’s belly gently. A little frisson of tender arousal coils around Mark’s spine and he melts into the dark sweetness. They kiss slowly, and for a long time until their bodies are together full length.

When they break apart to breathe Sick Boy tilts Mark’s head back with his free hand so he can press his mouth to Mark’s pulse. His lips are moist and the marks he leaves are invisible but still cause shivers.

“S’awright,” He says to Mark’s Adam’s apple. His fingers and mouth are smooth and soft and this is as close to an apology as he will ever get. Sick Boy’s other hand gives up its handful of shirt to cup Mark’s hip and shifts so he can press a firm thigh between Mark’s.

Mark whimpers at the sudden pressure and pushes against it. He always forgets what real sex is like. How maybe it’s not skag, but it’s still great. Even better is this slow grinding seduction Simon is giving him. All the swagger and sway has given in and become intense attention and want.

A thumb brushes his jaw, reminding Mark to keep his head tilted back. He can feel Simon sucking a hickey on the sharp edge of his collarbone and moans, arching into Sick Boy’s thigh.

“Saw ye wi her,” Simon says quietly, coming up for a kiss that ends in a dirty grind. Caught between moaning and chasing Simon’s mouth Mark does nothing. He watches Simon and arches into the pressure. “Nice, pretty wee gel, that one.”

So Sick Boy does know.

“Did ye fuck her?” He asks. His voice is smooth and low. Simon presses, and he is just as hard as Mark is.

“A-aye.” Mark’s voice is light, airy, stumbling. There’s a hand on his belly, riding his heaving breaths. The thumb not on his face rubs under the waistband.

“Was it good?” More fingers in his pants, idly reaching down, not touching anything yet.

“Mm—mmhm.” Oh, God, Mark cannot believe they’re doing this. Possibly the most fucked up thing in all of history, minus Mark fucking Dianne. He’s not sure he can handle where he thinks this is going.

“Oh,” Sick Boy says, hands disappearing from Mark. He looks put-off, straightening his dress shirt half a step away from Mark. In the darkness his hard-on is not apparent and Mark misses being sure it existed.

“Wha?” Mark’s brain is too scrambled for this.

Simon looks up, says, “Ah dinnae think she would be anay good.”

Mark stares at him for a few seconds, wondering why the bloody hell Sick Boy would care about that. But then it hits him, a huge train of a thought. He laughs at this new knowledge before he can stop himself.

Simon is even more displeased and he resists Mark’s pulling hands. When he’s close enough, he winds his fingers in that baby blonde hair and licks Simon’s mouth until it is moist and open, willing to swallow him up. This kiss is wet and hot, but still slow. Its ending is hardly an ending at all.

Mark pulls back just far enough to whisper, “Sorry,” not that it changes anything, before he falls back into the dark.

Kimmi, keep providing and I will write this madness and boy make-outery.

Thu, 25 Nov 2004 03:50:57 GMT

TEASER:

And their new love, it had been so good. Corey smiled with the thought of how they acted after Billy had told Corey he loved him. He could remember laying on the couch with Billy, Billy idly kissing his fingertips as they watched television. It was such a tender thing to do that Corey had spent much more time watching Billy's full lips touch his fingers, barely believing the small shocks of warmth racing around his body.

Yeah, I'm workin' as fast as I can.
Kate

Thu, 16 Oct 2003 02:58:29 GMT

Alright. Same deal as at nightanddaze. Friend's only. Add me, comment, you're on.

violent__trends is the absolute shit.

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