crazyparakiss (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
crazyparakiss) wrote2010-07-19 04:20 pm
crazyparakiss) wrote2010-07-19 04:20 pm
For Lolafalola
For ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lolafalola who wrote the poem at the end of this fic. You are an awesome friend BB!
NC-17
Albus/Scorpius
Dysfunctional Albus to the max.
I wrote this in twenty minutes and have yet to edit it, so sorry if there are any horrifying mistakes. I was in an inspirational moment and had to do it all today.
I own none of the characters or rights to the poem herein
Darkness falls so heavily some nights when I close my eyes the shadows beneath the lids are lighter. Funny, I never thought anything could be more gloomy than my mind. Smoke, substantial and yet so delicate, pours from between my chapped lips. Tonight the wide spill of moonlight on the wooden floors reflect through the grey substance. My heavy lids wish for the New Moon, when the sinister gloom will return once more.
Birds chatter in the land beyond my open window, sounding gay and so alive; I hate them. Charred marks on the scarred tabletop remind me of the cigarette I left burning the previous night. One night I hope the ember catches a dry spot, and ignites taking me with it and this damned place. The knock that sounds on the door doesn’t distract me from my more sombre thoughts. “Enter.” I wonder if they can hear the self loathing in my voice.
“Thought you might like a clean set of sheets.” Her cheery voice grating on my nerves.
“Why would I?” With an empty stare I say, “I love smelling the remains of my debauchery.”
She doesn’t flush any longer, merely glowers at me as she moves to change the sheets despite my response. “God did he ever bathe?” She asks no one in particular, her reddish brown hair curling against her shoulder. I hate her as much as I envy her, especially when she hums as if changing her brother’s lust sodden sheets is the most natural thing in the world. That is Lily, precious little Lily who’s never so much as accused me of misdeeds. With her big hazel eyes she looks at me with sisterly devotion, even as I shove her roughly. Bile rises in my throat just looking at her with that delicate love she insists on projecting towards me. When her task is finished she carries the wicker basket she uses to collect dirty laundry. “I’ll just take these to the wash and have them back to you in a couple of hours.” As she exits the room I can hear her mumbling about how it will take an extra wash to rid the cotton of the beastly smell. If I could I would laugh, chortle softly, or anything to show my amusement. As it is I cannot and refuse to dwell. My ‘morning’ cigarette is in my mouth a moment after Lily’s departure.
Evening doesn’t come fast enough, there is only so much staring at nothing before the desire to move takes over, and when it finally arrives it brings friends. They stand at the mouth of the door, where Lily stands glaring death at them, and I smile in a way that is inviting. In response their own smiles appear, and I am out the door with them before Lily can call me back into the house.
It’s the usual, pubs and drugs, dancing at a disco, and sex in back alleyways. My arse is sore from all the lover’s I’ve taken, and my bollocks throb from all the times I’ve forced myself to ejaculate. The raw skin of my cock speaks of all the bodies I’ve had on top of being fucked. As dawn breaks I stumble into the house, where an angry older brother sits in an armchair. He appears to be spinning as he stalks closer. When I can see his dark brown eyes clearly I lean over and empty the contents of my stomach on his trainers.
In the bathroom, on the second floor, James holds my long fringe and whispers comforting words against the shell of my ear. His actions are pure unlike the shiver that tingles down my spine. I’m still not quite down from the high I was flying on, and if he were to take me I’d let him. Every time we wind up in this situation, I tell him so, but he just looks at my pallid face with pity. It wrenches my heart from my chest but I ignore the pain, and he runs a wet flannel across my forehead and down my cheek. It ghosts my lips, taking the sick with it when it leaves.
“Here I’ll help you to bed.” His voice is soft as he lifts me up by my underarms, making me feel small and vulnerable like a child.
I can’t say thank you, I don’t know how, and so I allow him to half carry half haul me to my room. It smells fresher and I know that Lily’s been about tidying up; if only to keep a sense of control over herself while I was gone with friends.
The weekends are worse, when all the love and cloying feelings close in on me. With them they bring Scorpius, his halo of golden hair a breath of light. Yet I am afraid to leave this darkness and so I shrink away from him as if I’ve been burned. In truth I have been...
He looks me over, long white fingers caressing the ache away as his magic heals the wounds that were mostly self induced. The tickle of my skin melting out of its raw chaffed state has me yearning to squirm, but the cool look he gives me from behind his horned frames pauses my movements.
“How many?” His deep voice is a warming charm against my chilled skin.
I know what he’s asking but I shake my head refusing to answer. He hands me a jar of balm and doesn’t bother to explain what it’s for, we’ve done this time and again so it would be redundant. At the door of my room, he looks back, his hand on the knob, “One of these days I won’t be able to heal you.”
As he exits I whisper, “All the king’s horses and all the kings men couldn’t put Humpty together again.”
Another disco, this scene is getting old, but I stomach it and listen to the bird twittering in my ear. Her name is Alice, or Alisha, or Gertrude, or something I didn’t catch. I’ve had them all, and all of them are quite the same. My mates laugh with their dates, and the scene is too much to bear. Another circus act of fucking, bringing in a new star every ten minutes or so; that isn’t what I want tonight. In the impenetrable gloom I need something more.
The town house is the same as its neighbours, and the boring quaintness annoys me as much as it sooths. Jingle jingle goes the bell, and lights flicker softly to life as a silhouette approaches the door. He isn’t surprised, this is nothing new for either of us, and he leaves the door hanging open in silent invitation. I follow, watching the way his white t-shirt clutches his long back. The door snicks shut of its own accord, and neither of us pays it much mind.
His bedroom hasn’t changed. Not at all in these past five years, the only thing that changes is him. He has grown from boy to man. Still young, with a lot to learn, but he has come farther than me. He flops on the bed, the split in his pants opening a little and I can see his cock. Flaccid and not dark pink sitting in a nest of trimmed dark gold curls. I desire to run my tongue along the textures feeling the velvet soft flesh and the rough salty taste of his pubic hair. Eyes hooded with the desire to sleep he raises a long arm, palm out in request, “Come to bed.”
I move slowly, his command making me feel so young and unsure despite the fact I know his body so well. Probably better than my own. His hand is a raging fire and it steals the coolness from my arm, and burns through my body. It engulfs me fully when he pulls me to his solid chest. Lips brush my own, the sour taste of sleep settling on my tongue as he slips the moist muscle between my chapped lips. His grey eyes open with a glassy sheen covering them, as he says, “You taste of dysfunction.”
“I know.” I sit up, straddling his narrow hips, grinding my body down against his, “I need a prescription to make it better.”
His smirk isn’t the result of cockiness or the lusty need; Scorpius makes it a very bitter expression and I’ve never known how to take it when he looks that way. “All the medicine in the world couldn’t make you better.”
My smile feels as bitter as his words when I descend upon his mouth, trailing down to his neck. Catching him during slumber is my favourite time, he has no inhibitions when sleep fogs his mind. His shirt comes away more easily than mine but when they both kiss the ground I groan. Scorpius’ magma hot skin melting me and making me pliant for his hands. They tickle more when that is his intent. Caress and trace every nuisance of my body, his warm wet tongue follows his deft fingertips and I ignore the moans emitting from my mouth.
Nudging me with his hips I comply and budge up so that I might slip out of my trousers. He whispers for me to turn and I do, bending to reach his cock which is quickly gaining interest. Through the worn cotton fabric of his pants it expands, its shinning purplish skin stretching taut with pre come glistening from the head. I pinch it lightly, and lap up the excess moisture that leaks from the slit. It tastes of moist grass in the summer, and though not a pleasant taste it is a flavour I savour. His cock is heavy on my tongue and curves down toward my throat from this angle. It pulses lightly when I suck, and I can feel the tremor of his body beneath me. His hands tickle the hair on my thighs, and stroke palms open across my cheeks. He spreads me, and I shiver with want as his searing tongue dances around my hole. Lapping up the crack, then down barely pausing at my needy hole, over my perineum. When he reaches my bollocks I can feel his breath on the cover of hair there, and I sigh as he gently sucks one of my precious jewels into his mouth. It rolls as his tongue teases it and the pressure of him sucking harder makes me squirm from the much desired pain. He doesn’t treat the second to any attention and goes back to my hole, leaving a cooling line of saliva in his wake.
“Delicious.” He murmurs before spreading me wide, sucking on my sensitive hole before plunging his tongue inside. Deeper and deeper it works, I can hear his inhalation and feel the warmth of his exhales against where his tongue fucks.
Pulling off of his cock I shiver, rubbing my face against the smooth wet flesh. He thrusts against my cheek, never stopping his ministrations, and I moan. “Oh god.”
With a wet pop he stops a moment and cheekily replies, “No luv, still just me.”
“Fuck you.” I bite out, only to moan right afterward as he works two fingers into me roughly.
“I will,” He murmurs with need, “I will fuck you through the mattress.”
“Promises, promises,” I whisper huskily.
He doesn’t fuck me through the mattress, more like the air as he pulls roughly on my hips. Bringing me down upon his hard prick, facing away from him, and bouncing me up and down with forceful thrusts. It’s exquisite, the agony of being nearly dry and the burning way he fills me while his fingers dance gently down my back.
I lose myself in the feel of him, his smell, the sound, taste, and the sight of his pale furry legs in the flickering light of a dying candle. Meeting him thrust for thrust I know that I will bleed from the intensity and welcome it gladly.
“Yes, yes, like that!” He chuckles and I hate that I am the one who is always so vocal here. The most he ever says is a dirty line or two before our fucking commences.
I grab myself when I feel his thrusts speeding up, in an erratic pattern I associate with being on the brink of completion. I want to come with him, and I sob that desire. He understands, like he always has, and reaches around to guide my hand. Sweat drenches us, and I feel him lick a line of it off my spine, “Come for me Albus,” He whispers into my neck.
Light blinds me as I come, and I feel him coating my insides with scalding desire as he joins me in falling off the ledge.
Breathing deeply we stay joined, and I feel him soften within me along with the dribbles of his seed slipping out my bum and cooling against his groin. He doesn’t say anything just continues to lie there. When I glance over my shoulder I see him; a lazy smile with his arm thrown over his eyes. A couple minutes later he sits up, grabbing something off his bedside table. Lighting a cigarette he takes a deep drag and exhales with a look of pure ecstasy on his face before handing the stick to me.
With a grateful nod I take it from him; my own drag settling the fire in my veins. A shiver passes through me as my body finally registers the chill of the room. He sits up and I move hurriedly off of him, wincing at the gross feel of coagulated come squelching out my arse. I watch his sleepy face as he moves under the duvet. He turns a sad smile upon me, “I’d ask you to stay but I know you’d say ‘No’.” He yawns and settles against the pillows, “Just set the ward on your way out.”
He’s never dismissed me so easily, but after four years of this who would blame him?
As I am walking out of his room his whisper sounds loudly in my ears, “If the moon was always new would you stay with me?”
I have no response. He is the calming light before the endless darkness, and then he is the light I dread to see. The one that keeps me up at night, winking and forgiving of all my flaws. I can’t sleep when the light is there watching me. Tomorrow my endless sleep begins until the moon starts to appear again, then the drugs, the sex, the parties, and all the empty meaningless scenes. Then when I reach my breaking point; I will come back here to this sanctuary where Scorpius will willingly save me once more.
“Goodnight.” I whisper as I ward the door.
lolafalola who wrote the poem at the end of this fic. You are an awesome friend BB!NC-17
Albus/Scorpius
Dysfunctional Albus to the max.
I wrote this in twenty minutes and have yet to edit it, so sorry if there are any horrifying mistakes. I was in an inspirational moment and had to do it all today.
I own none of the characters or rights to the poem herein
Darkness falls so heavily some nights when I close my eyes the shadows beneath the lids are lighter. Funny, I never thought anything could be more gloomy than my mind. Smoke, substantial and yet so delicate, pours from between my chapped lips. Tonight the wide spill of moonlight on the wooden floors reflect through the grey substance. My heavy lids wish for the New Moon, when the sinister gloom will return once more.
Birds chatter in the land beyond my open window, sounding gay and so alive; I hate them. Charred marks on the scarred tabletop remind me of the cigarette I left burning the previous night. One night I hope the ember catches a dry spot, and ignites taking me with it and this damned place. The knock that sounds on the door doesn’t distract me from my more sombre thoughts. “Enter.” I wonder if they can hear the self loathing in my voice.
“Thought you might like a clean set of sheets.” Her cheery voice grating on my nerves.
“Why would I?” With an empty stare I say, “I love smelling the remains of my debauchery.”
She doesn’t flush any longer, merely glowers at me as she moves to change the sheets despite my response. “God did he ever bathe?” She asks no one in particular, her reddish brown hair curling against her shoulder. I hate her as much as I envy her, especially when she hums as if changing her brother’s lust sodden sheets is the most natural thing in the world. That is Lily, precious little Lily who’s never so much as accused me of misdeeds. With her big hazel eyes she looks at me with sisterly devotion, even as I shove her roughly. Bile rises in my throat just looking at her with that delicate love she insists on projecting towards me. When her task is finished she carries the wicker basket she uses to collect dirty laundry. “I’ll just take these to the wash and have them back to you in a couple of hours.” As she exits the room I can hear her mumbling about how it will take an extra wash to rid the cotton of the beastly smell. If I could I would laugh, chortle softly, or anything to show my amusement. As it is I cannot and refuse to dwell. My ‘morning’ cigarette is in my mouth a moment after Lily’s departure.
Evening doesn’t come fast enough, there is only so much staring at nothing before the desire to move takes over, and when it finally arrives it brings friends. They stand at the mouth of the door, where Lily stands glaring death at them, and I smile in a way that is inviting. In response their own smiles appear, and I am out the door with them before Lily can call me back into the house.
It’s the usual, pubs and drugs, dancing at a disco, and sex in back alleyways. My arse is sore from all the lover’s I’ve taken, and my bollocks throb from all the times I’ve forced myself to ejaculate. The raw skin of my cock speaks of all the bodies I’ve had on top of being fucked. As dawn breaks I stumble into the house, where an angry older brother sits in an armchair. He appears to be spinning as he stalks closer. When I can see his dark brown eyes clearly I lean over and empty the contents of my stomach on his trainers.
In the bathroom, on the second floor, James holds my long fringe and whispers comforting words against the shell of my ear. His actions are pure unlike the shiver that tingles down my spine. I’m still not quite down from the high I was flying on, and if he were to take me I’d let him. Every time we wind up in this situation, I tell him so, but he just looks at my pallid face with pity. It wrenches my heart from my chest but I ignore the pain, and he runs a wet flannel across my forehead and down my cheek. It ghosts my lips, taking the sick with it when it leaves.
“Here I’ll help you to bed.” His voice is soft as he lifts me up by my underarms, making me feel small and vulnerable like a child.
I can’t say thank you, I don’t know how, and so I allow him to half carry half haul me to my room. It smells fresher and I know that Lily’s been about tidying up; if only to keep a sense of control over herself while I was gone with friends.
The weekends are worse, when all the love and cloying feelings close in on me. With them they bring Scorpius, his halo of golden hair a breath of light. Yet I am afraid to leave this darkness and so I shrink away from him as if I’ve been burned. In truth I have been...
He looks me over, long white fingers caressing the ache away as his magic heals the wounds that were mostly self induced. The tickle of my skin melting out of its raw chaffed state has me yearning to squirm, but the cool look he gives me from behind his horned frames pauses my movements.
“How many?” His deep voice is a warming charm against my chilled skin.
I know what he’s asking but I shake my head refusing to answer. He hands me a jar of balm and doesn’t bother to explain what it’s for, we’ve done this time and again so it would be redundant. At the door of my room, he looks back, his hand on the knob, “One of these days I won’t be able to heal you.”
As he exits I whisper, “All the king’s horses and all the kings men couldn’t put Humpty together again.”
Another disco, this scene is getting old, but I stomach it and listen to the bird twittering in my ear. Her name is Alice, or Alisha, or Gertrude, or something I didn’t catch. I’ve had them all, and all of them are quite the same. My mates laugh with their dates, and the scene is too much to bear. Another circus act of fucking, bringing in a new star every ten minutes or so; that isn’t what I want tonight. In the impenetrable gloom I need something more.
The town house is the same as its neighbours, and the boring quaintness annoys me as much as it sooths. Jingle jingle goes the bell, and lights flicker softly to life as a silhouette approaches the door. He isn’t surprised, this is nothing new for either of us, and he leaves the door hanging open in silent invitation. I follow, watching the way his white t-shirt clutches his long back. The door snicks shut of its own accord, and neither of us pays it much mind.
His bedroom hasn’t changed. Not at all in these past five years, the only thing that changes is him. He has grown from boy to man. Still young, with a lot to learn, but he has come farther than me. He flops on the bed, the split in his pants opening a little and I can see his cock. Flaccid and not dark pink sitting in a nest of trimmed dark gold curls. I desire to run my tongue along the textures feeling the velvet soft flesh and the rough salty taste of his pubic hair. Eyes hooded with the desire to sleep he raises a long arm, palm out in request, “Come to bed.”
I move slowly, his command making me feel so young and unsure despite the fact I know his body so well. Probably better than my own. His hand is a raging fire and it steals the coolness from my arm, and burns through my body. It engulfs me fully when he pulls me to his solid chest. Lips brush my own, the sour taste of sleep settling on my tongue as he slips the moist muscle between my chapped lips. His grey eyes open with a glassy sheen covering them, as he says, “You taste of dysfunction.”
“I know.” I sit up, straddling his narrow hips, grinding my body down against his, “I need a prescription to make it better.”
His smirk isn’t the result of cockiness or the lusty need; Scorpius makes it a very bitter expression and I’ve never known how to take it when he looks that way. “All the medicine in the world couldn’t make you better.”
My smile feels as bitter as his words when I descend upon his mouth, trailing down to his neck. Catching him during slumber is my favourite time, he has no inhibitions when sleep fogs his mind. His shirt comes away more easily than mine but when they both kiss the ground I groan. Scorpius’ magma hot skin melting me and making me pliant for his hands. They tickle more when that is his intent. Caress and trace every nuisance of my body, his warm wet tongue follows his deft fingertips and I ignore the moans emitting from my mouth.
Nudging me with his hips I comply and budge up so that I might slip out of my trousers. He whispers for me to turn and I do, bending to reach his cock which is quickly gaining interest. Through the worn cotton fabric of his pants it expands, its shinning purplish skin stretching taut with pre come glistening from the head. I pinch it lightly, and lap up the excess moisture that leaks from the slit. It tastes of moist grass in the summer, and though not a pleasant taste it is a flavour I savour. His cock is heavy on my tongue and curves down toward my throat from this angle. It pulses lightly when I suck, and I can feel the tremor of his body beneath me. His hands tickle the hair on my thighs, and stroke palms open across my cheeks. He spreads me, and I shiver with want as his searing tongue dances around my hole. Lapping up the crack, then down barely pausing at my needy hole, over my perineum. When he reaches my bollocks I can feel his breath on the cover of hair there, and I sigh as he gently sucks one of my precious jewels into his mouth. It rolls as his tongue teases it and the pressure of him sucking harder makes me squirm from the much desired pain. He doesn’t treat the second to any attention and goes back to my hole, leaving a cooling line of saliva in his wake.
“Delicious.” He murmurs before spreading me wide, sucking on my sensitive hole before plunging his tongue inside. Deeper and deeper it works, I can hear his inhalation and feel the warmth of his exhales against where his tongue fucks.
Pulling off of his cock I shiver, rubbing my face against the smooth wet flesh. He thrusts against my cheek, never stopping his ministrations, and I moan. “Oh god.”
With a wet pop he stops a moment and cheekily replies, “No luv, still just me.”
“Fuck you.” I bite out, only to moan right afterward as he works two fingers into me roughly.
“I will,” He murmurs with need, “I will fuck you through the mattress.”
“Promises, promises,” I whisper huskily.
He doesn’t fuck me through the mattress, more like the air as he pulls roughly on my hips. Bringing me down upon his hard prick, facing away from him, and bouncing me up and down with forceful thrusts. It’s exquisite, the agony of being nearly dry and the burning way he fills me while his fingers dance gently down my back.
I lose myself in the feel of him, his smell, the sound, taste, and the sight of his pale furry legs in the flickering light of a dying candle. Meeting him thrust for thrust I know that I will bleed from the intensity and welcome it gladly.
“Yes, yes, like that!” He chuckles and I hate that I am the one who is always so vocal here. The most he ever says is a dirty line or two before our fucking commences.
I grab myself when I feel his thrusts speeding up, in an erratic pattern I associate with being on the brink of completion. I want to come with him, and I sob that desire. He understands, like he always has, and reaches around to guide my hand. Sweat drenches us, and I feel him lick a line of it off my spine, “Come for me Albus,” He whispers into my neck.
Light blinds me as I come, and I feel him coating my insides with scalding desire as he joins me in falling off the ledge.
Breathing deeply we stay joined, and I feel him soften within me along with the dribbles of his seed slipping out my bum and cooling against his groin. He doesn’t say anything just continues to lie there. When I glance over my shoulder I see him; a lazy smile with his arm thrown over his eyes. A couple minutes later he sits up, grabbing something off his bedside table. Lighting a cigarette he takes a deep drag and exhales with a look of pure ecstasy on his face before handing the stick to me.
With a grateful nod I take it from him; my own drag settling the fire in my veins. A shiver passes through me as my body finally registers the chill of the room. He sits up and I move hurriedly off of him, wincing at the gross feel of coagulated come squelching out my arse. I watch his sleepy face as he moves under the duvet. He turns a sad smile upon me, “I’d ask you to stay but I know you’d say ‘No’.” He yawns and settles against the pillows, “Just set the ward on your way out.”
He’s never dismissed me so easily, but after four years of this who would blame him?
As I am walking out of his room his whisper sounds loudly in my ears, “If the moon was always new would you stay with me?”
I have no response. He is the calming light before the endless darkness, and then he is the light I dread to see. The one that keeps me up at night, winking and forgiving of all my flaws. I can’t sleep when the light is there watching me. Tomorrow my endless sleep begins until the moon starts to appear again, then the drugs, the sex, the parties, and all the empty meaningless scenes. Then when I reach my breaking point; I will come back here to this sanctuary where Scorpius will willingly save me once more.
“Goodnight.” I whisper as I ward the door.
Some friends like to party
Others give you dope
Some help you study
Others give you hope
Some you’ve known forever
Some barely at all
But the ones that are best to shit on
Are the ones that catch you when you fall
They’re kind-hearted people,
But duller than wood
“Salt of the earth”, you murmur
As their embrace feels so good.
They do more than all the king’s men.
They put you back together again.
And when they’ve healed you, making you whole.
Then it’s time to move on and find another show.
no subject
If that poem inspired you to write this, then I should become a fucking poet!
This was wonderful! The fact that you wrote it in 20 minutes speaks volumes. I couldn't have written that in 20 months! Some of these lines were great. Over all, I loved this description: His shirt comes away more easily than mine but when they both kiss the ground I groan.
Also, I'm not a big Scorpius fan, he's never done anything for me, but you had my ALL-TIME favorite kink in there and I LOVE YOU for it!
but the cool look he gives me from behind his horned frames pauses my movements.
Scorpius in glasses!!!! FTW!!! I love glasses! YAY!
Thank you!
no subject
*hugs*
I should have been using this time to finish my emo fest fic so don't rat me out lol ;P
no subject
I'm glad I'm not the only person with a glasses kink. lol.
I've read a couple of stories where Draco had to wear glasses because he was too tired to put in contacts or something and I almost wet myself. I was so happy!
no subject