Vicious/Gren fanfic
snapdragon76 invited me to cross-post it here. It was also posted to my LJ and to bebop_slash, sorry to anyone who saw it more than once.
Pairing: Vicious/Gren
Rating: MA (R)
Word Count: 992
Notes: Slash (male/male).
Brothers in Arms
There's so many different worlds
So many different suns
And we have just one world
But we live in different ones
-- Brothers in Arms, Dire Straits
Gren was eating dinner when Vicious came and tapped him on the shoulder. He shrugged, abandoned his stew, and followed him out the door.
Vicious led him through the rocks to a large crevice, then leaned back against the rocks and looked at him. This place was infamous; even Gren knew what other men used it for and why there was a stained mattress pushed into the back. But Gren had never been here with Vicious or anyone else. Though his body responded with apprehension and an excitement mixed with dread, he told himself not to jump to conclusions about what Vicious wanted.
That seemed confirmed when Vicious didn't touch him, but instead began to speak.
"You took out a couple of Titanians today," he said with the edge of a grin.
Gren nodded. He could still see the scene as if it were playing out before him right now: his hand throwing the explosives, the bodies thrashing and finally laying still. No one knew what the enemy soldiers had been doing so far from their base alone. Gren had only know from the color of their protective suits that they were not his people and he was allowed, no mandated, to kill them.
"I thought you said you were a musician and not a soldier," Vicious continued.
Gren was staring into his eyes now, looking for some hint of feeling, some idea of what he meant. What he was saying was true; Gren had been drafted like a few of the men here. And he hadn't felt any urge to kill those Titanians, or any thrill or triumph when he has succeeded. He had even wondered if there would be another world where he would be forced to account for their deaths. But there were things one didn't say to a man like Vicious.
"I'm here now. I have to do my duty, protect my comrades," he said instead.
Those were the words of Gren's commanding officer in basic training, not his own words. He had no idea how he felt, or whether it made a better world that those two men had died and he and Vicious were still alive.
"You really believe all that crap they hand us?" asked Vicious. "Honor, and your brothers in arms?"
"I have to believe something to make it through. Don't you?"
Vicious laughed and shook his head. "Do you really think that's the kind of man I am?"
Gren wasn't certain what kind of man Vicious was, beyond his cold personality and his hypnotic attraction. A part of him wanted to leave this place right now, whatever the consequences might be. But Vicious was the only one who talked to him, who knew anything about him, practically his only connection to anything human on this planet. Gren knew you didn't call a man like Vicious "friend" but he was a comrade, wasn't he?
Vicious reached out then and put his hand on Gren's neck.
"It gets some people excited. Making a kill."
Those words should only have meant they were there for the same purpose as others after all. But they made Gren shudder, because he was suddenly certain that Vicious had killed before he was a soldier and had done it with great enjoyment. He knew he could not tell Vicious the truth, that his first impulse had been to leave the enemy men standing under the ridge alone and direct the troops elsewhere. That his hand had hesitated when he went to throw the explosives and he had had to remind himself that if he didn't throw them far enough he could be injured or killed instead of the Titanians. There was a part of him that was relieved that he had successfully acted like a soldier, but another part wondered what the faces of the men had looked like and what had gone through their minds as they died.
He didn't say anything at all, just let Vicious grab him and kiss him roughly. His body reacted, and his mind did too, if only because someone who intimidated him that much actually wanted him in some way. Vicious backed him up again the stone, continuing to push Gren's mouth open with his tongue and grab his waist.
Gren told himself again that he could leave, that he could at least insist on the mattress, but he was tired and he wasn't sure he cared. If he could pretend to be a soldier, he could pretend that this was something he wanted instead of another dominance game. Did he still believe at all that Vicious was his real comrade? He wasn't certain.
Vicious's hand was rubbing the front of Gren's pants now, and he pulled his mouth off Gren's to say "Touch me."
Gren stopped thinking for a moment, just undid Vicious's pants and dropped to his knees on the stone. As he took him in his mouth, he just hoped Vicious wouldn't talk to him.
In the end he didn't, he just grabbed at Gren's hair and gasped slightly. Gren just kept working and thinking of something else. In a few minutes when it was done and he had come, Gren looked up to see him smirking.
He wondered for a moment if Vicious had ever been nervous, or vulnerable, or afraid. He was sure he must have been, somehow. But Gren was wondering if the man he knew now would have thrown explosives at his own men with the same casual ferocity he would use on the enemy.
Gren got up then, and simply turned his back and left. The last thing he wanted right now was the touch of this man behind him who was chuckling to himself as he pulled his pants up. But now at least Gren had another memory to fill up his mind, something else to think about besides the sight of two bodies lying unmoving on the ground because he had killed them.
Pairing: Vicious/Gren
Rating: MA (R)
Word Count: 992
Notes: Slash (male/male).
Brothers in Arms
There's so many different worlds
So many different suns
And we have just one world
But we live in different ones
-- Brothers in Arms, Dire Straits
Gren was eating dinner when Vicious came and tapped him on the shoulder. He shrugged, abandoned his stew, and followed him out the door.
Vicious led him through the rocks to a large crevice, then leaned back against the rocks and looked at him. This place was infamous; even Gren knew what other men used it for and why there was a stained mattress pushed into the back. But Gren had never been here with Vicious or anyone else. Though his body responded with apprehension and an excitement mixed with dread, he told himself not to jump to conclusions about what Vicious wanted.
That seemed confirmed when Vicious didn't touch him, but instead began to speak.
"You took out a couple of Titanians today," he said with the edge of a grin.
Gren nodded. He could still see the scene as if it were playing out before him right now: his hand throwing the explosives, the bodies thrashing and finally laying still. No one knew what the enemy soldiers had been doing so far from their base alone. Gren had only know from the color of their protective suits that they were not his people and he was allowed, no mandated, to kill them.
"I thought you said you were a musician and not a soldier," Vicious continued.
Gren was staring into his eyes now, looking for some hint of feeling, some idea of what he meant. What he was saying was true; Gren had been drafted like a few of the men here. And he hadn't felt any urge to kill those Titanians, or any thrill or triumph when he has succeeded. He had even wondered if there would be another world where he would be forced to account for their deaths. But there were things one didn't say to a man like Vicious.
"I'm here now. I have to do my duty, protect my comrades," he said instead.
Those were the words of Gren's commanding officer in basic training, not his own words. He had no idea how he felt, or whether it made a better world that those two men had died and he and Vicious were still alive.
"You really believe all that crap they hand us?" asked Vicious. "Honor, and your brothers in arms?"
"I have to believe something to make it through. Don't you?"
Vicious laughed and shook his head. "Do you really think that's the kind of man I am?"
Gren wasn't certain what kind of man Vicious was, beyond his cold personality and his hypnotic attraction. A part of him wanted to leave this place right now, whatever the consequences might be. But Vicious was the only one who talked to him, who knew anything about him, practically his only connection to anything human on this planet. Gren knew you didn't call a man like Vicious "friend" but he was a comrade, wasn't he?
Vicious reached out then and put his hand on Gren's neck.
"It gets some people excited. Making a kill."
Those words should only have meant they were there for the same purpose as others after all. But they made Gren shudder, because he was suddenly certain that Vicious had killed before he was a soldier and had done it with great enjoyment. He knew he could not tell Vicious the truth, that his first impulse had been to leave the enemy men standing under the ridge alone and direct the troops elsewhere. That his hand had hesitated when he went to throw the explosives and he had had to remind himself that if he didn't throw them far enough he could be injured or killed instead of the Titanians. There was a part of him that was relieved that he had successfully acted like a soldier, but another part wondered what the faces of the men had looked like and what had gone through their minds as they died.
He didn't say anything at all, just let Vicious grab him and kiss him roughly. His body reacted, and his mind did too, if only because someone who intimidated him that much actually wanted him in some way. Vicious backed him up again the stone, continuing to push Gren's mouth open with his tongue and grab his waist.
Gren told himself again that he could leave, that he could at least insist on the mattress, but he was tired and he wasn't sure he cared. If he could pretend to be a soldier, he could pretend that this was something he wanted instead of another dominance game. Did he still believe at all that Vicious was his real comrade? He wasn't certain.
Vicious's hand was rubbing the front of Gren's pants now, and he pulled his mouth off Gren's to say "Touch me."
Gren stopped thinking for a moment, just undid Vicious's pants and dropped to his knees on the stone. As he took him in his mouth, he just hoped Vicious wouldn't talk to him.
In the end he didn't, he just grabbed at Gren's hair and gasped slightly. Gren just kept working and thinking of something else. In a few minutes when it was done and he had come, Gren looked up to see him smirking.
He wondered for a moment if Vicious had ever been nervous, or vulnerable, or afraid. He was sure he must have been, somehow. But Gren was wondering if the man he knew now would have thrown explosives at his own men with the same casual ferocity he would use on the enemy.
Gren got up then, and simply turned his back and left. The last thing he wanted right now was the touch of this man behind him who was chuckling to himself as he pulled his pants up. But now at least Gren had another memory to fill up his mind, something else to think about besides the sight of two bodies lying unmoving on the ground because he had killed them.