Introductory Post
Title: Manila
Pairing: John/George
Words: 500
Notes/Warning: Some language. Written for the application. Prompts: 'glowed in the moonlight', 'forsaken', and 'leave, but don't leave me.'
They remained suspended in silence, daring neither to disentangle their limbs nor to break the moment with superfluous words. It had been a sudden, rough passion. John had been almost violent in the way he had tossed George onto the bed, the way he had thrusted painfully into him. Equally, George was just as fierce, the result of which was a throbbing red welt on John's thigh. There had been no tender words, no slow teasing. It was fucking to expend frustration and stress. Fucking to feel more than just anger and fear.
George rested his chin on top of John's head, feeling their hearts beat in sync. John now let himself be caressed gently, hoping to absolve the nightmare of the past two days. The boat, the guns, the pampered first lady. He sighed, pulling away.
George opened his lips to speak, but John shook his head, wanting to imprint the soothing image in his memory. Though the windows were closed against the humid night, glass could not hinder beauty from entering. Their pale skin glowed in the moonlight; George's was nearly translucent. John laughed bitterly, his strained laughter shattering the peaceful silence.
“This fucking God-forsaken country makes me want to leave.” His voice grated harshly in George’s ears, vocal chords torn and exhausted from overuse.
He turned on his side, away from George, fixing his gaze on the sky beyond the window. Following John's stare, George licked his lips, understanding the depth of words.
“Leave.” Pausing hesitantly, he added, "But don't leave me.”
John did not respond, but merely continued to contemplate the starry night. A wave of nauseated panic passed through George’s stomach, constricting his limbs. As he lay feeling John’s body slowly relax into sleep, the atmosphere of the room became more oppressive. He was suddenly aware of how small and frail he was in this unwanted solitude. The image of being suffocated by the looming ceiling began to terrify him.
He slipped out of bed and went to the window, hoping to relieve the sick feeling. Pressing his forehead against the smooth glass, he watched the street below, his vision beveled from the tears that spilled over his eyelids. In his misery, he had not noticed John had left the bed until he was wrapped in an embrace. He turned to face John, not knowing whether to lean his head against John’s bare chest or to push him away. John pulled George tightly against him, as if he were hanging onto to life itself. Kissing his hair, John’s mouth tickled George’s ear. Although his words were nearly inaudible, George heard them clearly through need of assurance.
“I’d never leave you.”
As quickly as it had come, the nausea ebbed, chased away by John. George returned the kiss, weak with relief. Pulling away, he took John's hand and led him back to the bed, falling together.
This time they made love. Not for want of apathy or even happiness. This time it was a spiritual experience.
Pairing: John/George
Words: 500
Notes/Warning: Some language. Written for the application. Prompts: 'glowed in the moonlight', 'forsaken', and 'leave, but don't leave me.'
They remained suspended in silence, daring neither to disentangle their limbs nor to break the moment with superfluous words. It had been a sudden, rough passion. John had been almost violent in the way he had tossed George onto the bed, the way he had thrusted painfully into him. Equally, George was just as fierce, the result of which was a throbbing red welt on John's thigh. There had been no tender words, no slow teasing. It was fucking to expend frustration and stress. Fucking to feel more than just anger and fear.
George rested his chin on top of John's head, feeling their hearts beat in sync. John now let himself be caressed gently, hoping to absolve the nightmare of the past two days. The boat, the guns, the pampered first lady. He sighed, pulling away.
George opened his lips to speak, but John shook his head, wanting to imprint the soothing image in his memory. Though the windows were closed against the humid night, glass could not hinder beauty from entering. Their pale skin glowed in the moonlight; George's was nearly translucent. John laughed bitterly, his strained laughter shattering the peaceful silence.
“This fucking God-forsaken country makes me want to leave.” His voice grated harshly in George’s ears, vocal chords torn and exhausted from overuse.
He turned on his side, away from George, fixing his gaze on the sky beyond the window. Following John's stare, George licked his lips, understanding the depth of words.
“Leave.” Pausing hesitantly, he added, "But don't leave me.”
John did not respond, but merely continued to contemplate the starry night. A wave of nauseated panic passed through George’s stomach, constricting his limbs. As he lay feeling John’s body slowly relax into sleep, the atmosphere of the room became more oppressive. He was suddenly aware of how small and frail he was in this unwanted solitude. The image of being suffocated by the looming ceiling began to terrify him.
He slipped out of bed and went to the window, hoping to relieve the sick feeling. Pressing his forehead against the smooth glass, he watched the street below, his vision beveled from the tears that spilled over his eyelids. In his misery, he had not noticed John had left the bed until he was wrapped in an embrace. He turned to face John, not knowing whether to lean his head against John’s bare chest or to push him away. John pulled George tightly against him, as if he were hanging onto to life itself. Kissing his hair, John’s mouth tickled George’s ear. Although his words were nearly inaudible, George heard them clearly through need of assurance.
“I’d never leave you.”
As quickly as it had come, the nausea ebbed, chased away by John. George returned the kiss, weak with relief. Pulling away, he took John's hand and led him back to the bed, falling together.
This time they made love. Not for want of apathy or even happiness. This time it was a spiritual experience.