(no subject)
Written for cliche_bingo
Title: Bitten
Cliché: 2nd Person Narration
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: R
Word count: 509
Beta: mischief5
Summary: Rodney POV from the Sensual Magic AU, where John is a vampire and Rodney is not.
Bitten
You sit at the table writing furiously as though the things that have happened to you can’t be put into coherent words fast enough. You’re afraid you’ll forget. You’re afraid you won’t, and pause from writing just long enough to press trembling fingers to your throat. Touching the marks helps you to believe.
He told you an incredible story and, deep in your gut, the truth of it hits home. Your eyes are drawn to the bed where he’s laying, still as death, and you think: vampire. This sensual creature wanted you and the memory of the night makes you blush. Too old for that, you think, never wanted another male until… but you’re too honest and admit that’s a lie before you finish the thought.
Your fingertips stroke over the tiny wounds and suddenly you’re reliving the moment. He was so careful with you, treating you with a gentle reverence that took your breath away. His hands cradled you and made you feel safer than you’ve felt since you were a child. It was so easy to put your trust in him and, as you arched your neck for him, you could barely keep from begging for his bite. You tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled his head down until his mouth touched against your skin.
Your cock stiffens, and you feel the heat rise higher in your cheeks, but you don’t care. You want to remember all of it.
He called you a challenge. He called you brave, even as you lay trembling in his arms. When his teeth pierced your skin it was sweet, and a fullness surged through you unlike anything you could have ever imagined. He drank from you, scant mouthfuls, then smiled down at you like you had given him the world. “Warm,” he said. And he kept repeating the word as if it held some secret meaning.
You’re fully aroused now but you’re determined to finish writing this down; you shift in your seat and write faster while you can still think.
He told you about an ancient legend. The Potential; you can barely scrawl the words out because it terrifies you. Because a part of you knows it’s true. It explains so much: why you were brighter than all the minds around you, always so impatient at the sluggish, narrow minds that couldn’t see deep enough, stretch far enough or be quick enough to keep up. How it was so frustrating to see the universe laid out in elegant design and not be able to make anyone understand. You push the fear aside as best you can and try to find consolation in your belief that all knowledge is purposeful, even damned uncomfortable knowledge.
The pencil snaps and the words glare up at you like some insane fantasy. You can’t parse out where you’re going to go from here. You have a life, you have work to do, but the idea of leaving him is unbearable.
He stirs, beckons to you, and you go to his side without hesitation.
Next Deprived
My Card
Title: Bitten
Cliché: 2nd Person Narration
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: R
Word count: 509
Beta: mischief5
Summary: Rodney POV from the Sensual Magic AU, where John is a vampire and Rodney is not.
Bitten
You sit at the table writing furiously as though the things that have happened to you can’t be put into coherent words fast enough. You’re afraid you’ll forget. You’re afraid you won’t, and pause from writing just long enough to press trembling fingers to your throat. Touching the marks helps you to believe.
He told you an incredible story and, deep in your gut, the truth of it hits home. Your eyes are drawn to the bed where he’s laying, still as death, and you think: vampire. This sensual creature wanted you and the memory of the night makes you blush. Too old for that, you think, never wanted another male until… but you’re too honest and admit that’s a lie before you finish the thought.
Your fingertips stroke over the tiny wounds and suddenly you’re reliving the moment. He was so careful with you, treating you with a gentle reverence that took your breath away. His hands cradled you and made you feel safer than you’ve felt since you were a child. It was so easy to put your trust in him and, as you arched your neck for him, you could barely keep from begging for his bite. You tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled his head down until his mouth touched against your skin.
Your cock stiffens, and you feel the heat rise higher in your cheeks, but you don’t care. You want to remember all of it.
He called you a challenge. He called you brave, even as you lay trembling in his arms. When his teeth pierced your skin it was sweet, and a fullness surged through you unlike anything you could have ever imagined. He drank from you, scant mouthfuls, then smiled down at you like you had given him the world. “Warm,” he said. And he kept repeating the word as if it held some secret meaning.
You’re fully aroused now but you’re determined to finish writing this down; you shift in your seat and write faster while you can still think.
He told you about an ancient legend. The Potential; you can barely scrawl the words out because it terrifies you. Because a part of you knows it’s true. It explains so much: why you were brighter than all the minds around you, always so impatient at the sluggish, narrow minds that couldn’t see deep enough, stretch far enough or be quick enough to keep up. How it was so frustrating to see the universe laid out in elegant design and not be able to make anyone understand. You push the fear aside as best you can and try to find consolation in your belief that all knowledge is purposeful, even damned uncomfortable knowledge.
The pencil snaps and the words glare up at you like some insane fantasy. You can’t parse out where you’re going to go from here. You have a life, you have work to do, but the idea of leaving him is unbearable.
He stirs, beckons to you, and you go to his side without hesitation.
Next Deprived
My Card