One of Those Chance Collisions (Haylan)
Secondly...
This isn’t fanfic, so I’m not sure it counts for my happiness quota (I’m still planning for the next fic I post to be happy…or at the very least not depressing), but it is happy, and therefore I get to post! Enjoy!
Title: One of Those Chance Collisions
Universe: SHIELD CITY(prequel)
Possessiveness: Original fiction. Mine. *hugs it close*
Characters/Pairings: Haylan Sucasanna/Jason
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 568
Summary: Who ever thought these boys could be so sweet?
Beta Thank!: Thanks to lavinialavender for telling me it really was as sweet as I thought. Grammar-fail was, is, and shall always be mine.
Author notes: Having read other Haylan fic might be helpful. Otherwise, you can just enjoy the kissing. Your choice! :D And, as always, concrit is welcome.
It is one of those chance collisions, the kind bound to happen when two men have separate lives even when they share a bed. Jason is leaving the Madam’s office-basic inquiries about the kitchen budget-and Haylan is walking toward him. Just passing Haylan in the hallways shouldn’t be anything, shouldn’t mean anything more than a brief breeze on his face, but every time feels like the first time. Jason sees him and wants.
Haylan feels it too. He might do anything (brush Jason’s hand; slam him into a wall and drown him with his mouth) but Haylan never-unless he’s with a client-brushes past without some kind of acknowledgement.
On bad days, when Haylan’s anger rides him like a thunderstorm smothering a peak, Jason may receive nothing but a glance, wide-eyed and dangerous. But Haylan always makes it up to him. Days like that, he fucks Jason until he screams, like wringing ecstasy out of Jason’s body is the only way to quench the pain and rage. Jason can’t say that he minds.
But this is one of the strange good days. Haylan’s smiling even before he sees him, and for an unnerving second Jason doesn’t think he’s going to so much as break his stride.
Then Haylan’s one hand is in his hair, the other along his back while he brings their mouths together. Haylan kisses Jason like he’s licking sugar off the roof of his mouth and moves his hand down his hip just to trace the shape.
Then he breaks away, still smiling, and licks his lips the way another man would to catch the last crumbs of a sweet cream dessert. He meets Jason’s eyes, lets him see the happiness burning out of him and then continues on his way.
On Haylan’s good days, he’s formlessly happy, smiling, touching, almost boyish. He fucks clients as slow as they can stand and sex with Jason leaves no bruises, sensation building in Jason’s nerves, excruciatingly soft until he’s the impatient one pushing for release. The orgasms are no harder, but they seem to last forever, strung out by Haylan’s steady, maddening pressure in place of his usual force.
Jason misses the bruises, actually. Misses the marks of Haylan’s hands, a brown-red patina beneath his skin, the ghost-memory of sex with every move. But he wouldn’t give up Haylan’s happiness just for the reminder that he is owned.
This fleeting hallway kiss is nothing compared to what they have done to each other. It’s as casual as a man reaching for a handful of candies after a good meal, absent fondness and affection, and maybe Jason should be disturbed that Haylan can take him casually, can taste him and move on, when most of what they have and what they do is intense as fire, desperate as drowning.
But when Haylan is out of view, Jason leans against the wall and savors the ease with which Haylan fists his hand in Jason’s hair, tastes him, takes him. How he smiles like Jason is the sweetest candy, squint-eyed as he cannot see Jason without being blinded, feel him without being warmed. When happiness pours off of Haylan like sunlight, Jason cannot help but bask.
I’m candy, he thinks.
Even as he continues on to the storerooms-they’re clean, but no one can find a fucking thing; he’s going to fix that-he can’t stop smiling.
This isn’t fanfic, so I’m not sure it counts for my happiness quota (I’m still planning for the next fic I post to be happy…or at the very least not depressing), but it is happy, and therefore I get to post! Enjoy!
Title: One of Those Chance Collisions
Universe: SHIELD CITY(prequel)
Possessiveness: Original fiction. Mine. *hugs it close*
Characters/Pairings: Haylan Sucasanna/Jason
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 568
Summary: Who ever thought these boys could be so sweet?
Beta Thank!: Thanks to lavinialavender for telling me it really was as sweet as I thought. Grammar-fail was, is, and shall always be mine.
Author notes: Having read other Haylan fic might be helpful. Otherwise, you can just enjoy the kissing. Your choice! :D And, as always, concrit is welcome.
It is one of those chance collisions, the kind bound to happen when two men have separate lives even when they share a bed. Jason is leaving the Madam’s office-basic inquiries about the kitchen budget-and Haylan is walking toward him. Just passing Haylan in the hallways shouldn’t be anything, shouldn’t mean anything more than a brief breeze on his face, but every time feels like the first time. Jason sees him and wants.
Haylan feels it too. He might do anything (brush Jason’s hand; slam him into a wall and drown him with his mouth) but Haylan never-unless he’s with a client-brushes past without some kind of acknowledgement.
On bad days, when Haylan’s anger rides him like a thunderstorm smothering a peak, Jason may receive nothing but a glance, wide-eyed and dangerous. But Haylan always makes it up to him. Days like that, he fucks Jason until he screams, like wringing ecstasy out of Jason’s body is the only way to quench the pain and rage. Jason can’t say that he minds.
But this is one of the strange good days. Haylan’s smiling even before he sees him, and for an unnerving second Jason doesn’t think he’s going to so much as break his stride.
Then Haylan’s one hand is in his hair, the other along his back while he brings their mouths together. Haylan kisses Jason like he’s licking sugar off the roof of his mouth and moves his hand down his hip just to trace the shape.
Then he breaks away, still smiling, and licks his lips the way another man would to catch the last crumbs of a sweet cream dessert. He meets Jason’s eyes, lets him see the happiness burning out of him and then continues on his way.
On Haylan’s good days, he’s formlessly happy, smiling, touching, almost boyish. He fucks clients as slow as they can stand and sex with Jason leaves no bruises, sensation building in Jason’s nerves, excruciatingly soft until he’s the impatient one pushing for release. The orgasms are no harder, but they seem to last forever, strung out by Haylan’s steady, maddening pressure in place of his usual force.
Jason misses the bruises, actually. Misses the marks of Haylan’s hands, a brown-red patina beneath his skin, the ghost-memory of sex with every move. But he wouldn’t give up Haylan’s happiness just for the reminder that he is owned.
This fleeting hallway kiss is nothing compared to what they have done to each other. It’s as casual as a man reaching for a handful of candies after a good meal, absent fondness and affection, and maybe Jason should be disturbed that Haylan can take him casually, can taste him and move on, when most of what they have and what they do is intense as fire, desperate as drowning.
But when Haylan is out of view, Jason leans against the wall and savors the ease with which Haylan fists his hand in Jason’s hair, tastes him, takes him. How he smiles like Jason is the sweetest candy, squint-eyed as he cannot see Jason without being blinded, feel him without being warmed. When happiness pours off of Haylan like sunlight, Jason cannot help but bask.
I’m candy, he thinks.
Even as he continues on to the storerooms-they’re clean, but no one can find a fucking thing; he’s going to fix that-he can’t stop smiling.