Zapata
First exam tomorrow until 4:30pm and then an hour's leeway before I have to get to work. I'm strangely excited for this exam: I've studied hard, I know the material. It's all just down to the sheer discontent at writing four essays and fifteen term identifications. Blergh.
I bought myself bamboo knitting needles and a package of gorgeous, fluffy rose pink wool. And pink sunglasses. Retail therapy is probably not the best solution for this time of year.
But theleapingmuse commanded ("OMG WRITE ME SOMETHING CRACKTASTIC. These papers are eating my brain!"), and I obey:
all the things that you don't deserve (Gus/Dr. David) for theleapingmuse | 397 words | Queer as Folk - WARNING: Underage sex, character death
He is seventeen the first time he sets foot in Babylon. He's practically grown up on Liberty Avenue before they had moved to Canada, at least that's what his mums tell him. And there were always those vacations back in Pittsburgh when he was a kid, lunches at the diner, marching in stupid parades under the scorching sun, wishing it would get rained out so he could just go back to the hotel and play video games.
But Liberty Avenue during the daylight is a different world from the street it becomes after dark. The air is thick with music and laughter, the crowds swarm the sidewalk, lined up to get into clubs. Lovers of every shape and sex kiss on the street corners. Almost every alley he passes seems to be Handjob Central.
Babylon itself is dark, shadow and smoke lit only by the nauseating pulse of the neon strobe lights. Easy enough to get inside with a wink at the bouncer, who merely blinks and frowns (as if he'd seen a ghost), stepping aside.
He orders a beer and leans against the bar, letting the music pound into his ears, his throat. There are people staring at him, all around. He licks a drop from the rim of the bottle and watches one guy in particular. He looks familiar somehow, watching Gus out of the corner of his eye as he dances, shirtless and sweating. He's old. He's fucking ugly, but there's still just something. Something...
Gus knows all the words to say, the gestures, when to be bold. He's his father's son after all. Not that it takes too much work. In less than an hour, he is naked and flat on his back in the middle of the man's bedroom. A large house, surrounded by an expansive and immaculately manicured lawn. He can't shake an uneasy feeling...photographs flash across his mind, two decades of family history. David. Dr. David.
He doesn't even know why he wants this.
"You have your dad's eyes," Dave says, callused thumb stroking Gus' length teasingly. "And his fucking cocky grin."
"My dad is dead," Gus replies, silently implying the So shut up, and pulls David fully on top of him. The room is dark, shivering and large. Gus closes his eyes when David kisses him, barely daring to breathe.
I bought myself bamboo knitting needles and a package of gorgeous, fluffy rose pink wool. And pink sunglasses. Retail therapy is probably not the best solution for this time of year.
But theleapingmuse commanded ("OMG WRITE ME SOMETHING CRACKTASTIC. These papers are eating my brain!"), and I obey:
all the things that you don't deserve (Gus/Dr. David) for theleapingmuse | 397 words | Queer as Folk - WARNING: Underage sex, character death
He is seventeen the first time he sets foot in Babylon. He's practically grown up on Liberty Avenue before they had moved to Canada, at least that's what his mums tell him. And there were always those vacations back in Pittsburgh when he was a kid, lunches at the diner, marching in stupid parades under the scorching sun, wishing it would get rained out so he could just go back to the hotel and play video games.
But Liberty Avenue during the daylight is a different world from the street it becomes after dark. The air is thick with music and laughter, the crowds swarm the sidewalk, lined up to get into clubs. Lovers of every shape and sex kiss on the street corners. Almost every alley he passes seems to be Handjob Central.
Babylon itself is dark, shadow and smoke lit only by the nauseating pulse of the neon strobe lights. Easy enough to get inside with a wink at the bouncer, who merely blinks and frowns (as if he'd seen a ghost), stepping aside.
He orders a beer and leans against the bar, letting the music pound into his ears, his throat. There are people staring at him, all around. He licks a drop from the rim of the bottle and watches one guy in particular. He looks familiar somehow, watching Gus out of the corner of his eye as he dances, shirtless and sweating. He's old. He's fucking ugly, but there's still just something. Something...
Gus knows all the words to say, the gestures, when to be bold. He's his father's son after all. Not that it takes too much work. In less than an hour, he is naked and flat on his back in the middle of the man's bedroom. A large house, surrounded by an expansive and immaculately manicured lawn. He can't shake an uneasy feeling...photographs flash across his mind, two decades of family history. David. Dr. David.
He doesn't even know why he wants this.
"You have your dad's eyes," Dave says, callused thumb stroking Gus' length teasingly. "And his fucking cocky grin."
"My dad is dead," Gus replies, silently implying the So shut up, and pulls David fully on top of him. The room is dark, shivering and large. Gus closes his eyes when David kisses him, barely daring to breathe.