Warning: Weird shit
Feb. 29th, 2004 12:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tammaiyaOk, so on a random impulse, I just wrote a very short, very bizarre, and... well, kind of meta piece of fic. You have been warned about the weirdness.
You know they’re not real. You can see the way that other people look straight through them; you can see the way they give you funny looks when you stare at something that isn’t really there.
You know they aren’t real, but that doesn’t stop them from tormenting you. They’re always there, the two of them, one with a mouth as sweet as chocolate and the other with a dark smirk enough to make you go weak at the knees, and they’re both as hot as sin. Hell, they are sin, and they know it.
They laugh at you, and you can hear them, but no one else understands when you yell at them to shut up. People think you’re crazy; the two that torment you, they who have no names, they think you’re hilarious.
You think they’re gorgeous, and you hate yourself for it.
The two of them are sensual, sex personified, and they can tell you agree. It sometimes seems they know everything you think, and maybe they do. You want nothing more than to be alone, some days, yet they are always there. Other days, you wish they were real, so maybe you could hit them, bruise that sweet mouth and wipe the smirk of the other’s face.
Maybe you wouldn’t hit them. Maybe you’d kiss them, or beg them.
You’ve begged them, before. Begged them to go away, but they’ve never listened to you in the past, and you doubt they ever will. You’ve begged them to stop, too. Begged them to stop when they’re tangled around each other, moaning, and you can feel yourself begin to respond.
Most of the time you don’t want them to stop. They shoot you wicked looks, the both of them, filled with lust and promise. You want to be a part of them, rather than have them be a part of your mind. You can’t, though. You can’t, so you don’t want them to fuck in front of your eyes when there’s nothing you can do about it.
At your weaker moments, you’ve given in to their teasing, found solitary release. They always laugh.
At times you can feel them, feel their breath on your neck and feel your skin tingling where they press themselves against you. It makes you shiver when their fingers trail along your arm, makes you gasp when you feel the echo of a lick along your jaw. It would send you insane, if you weren’t insane already.
You think you’re insane, anyway. Maybe you aren’t, but that’s very unlikely, and you know that.
This is God’s punishment, you think. Sodomy is a sin in the eyes of God, or so the priests always told you. If you look at another boy like that, you’ll burn in Hell. They couldn’t prove that you had sinned, but they always seemed to know when you’d been thinking bad thoughts. They’d beat you. You wondered if you really would go to Hell, one day.
You are pretty sure you’re not dead, but you can’t help but consider that maybe this is Hell. Can you go to Hell if you’re still alive? You didn’t think so, but maybe God makes an exception for naughty boys who think about touching other boys.
Those two taunt you with what you can never have, flaunt their beautiful bodies that you would give anything to be able to touch, fuck with you in the room wishing that you could have that for yourself.
You wish you were imaginary too.
Maybe you are.
You know they’re not real. You can see the way that other people look straight through them; you can see the way they give you funny looks when you stare at something that isn’t really there.
You know they aren’t real, but that doesn’t stop them from tormenting you. They’re always there, the two of them, one with a mouth as sweet as chocolate and the other with a dark smirk enough to make you go weak at the knees, and they’re both as hot as sin. Hell, they are sin, and they know it.
They laugh at you, and you can hear them, but no one else understands when you yell at them to shut up. People think you’re crazy; the two that torment you, they who have no names, they think you’re hilarious.
You think they’re gorgeous, and you hate yourself for it.
The two of them are sensual, sex personified, and they can tell you agree. It sometimes seems they know everything you think, and maybe they do. You want nothing more than to be alone, some days, yet they are always there. Other days, you wish they were real, so maybe you could hit them, bruise that sweet mouth and wipe the smirk of the other’s face.
Maybe you wouldn’t hit them. Maybe you’d kiss them, or beg them.
You’ve begged them, before. Begged them to go away, but they’ve never listened to you in the past, and you doubt they ever will. You’ve begged them to stop, too. Begged them to stop when they’re tangled around each other, moaning, and you can feel yourself begin to respond.
Most of the time you don’t want them to stop. They shoot you wicked looks, the both of them, filled with lust and promise. You want to be a part of them, rather than have them be a part of your mind. You can’t, though. You can’t, so you don’t want them to fuck in front of your eyes when there’s nothing you can do about it.
At your weaker moments, you’ve given in to their teasing, found solitary release. They always laugh.
At times you can feel them, feel their breath on your neck and feel your skin tingling where they press themselves against you. It makes you shiver when their fingers trail along your arm, makes you gasp when you feel the echo of a lick along your jaw. It would send you insane, if you weren’t insane already.
You think you’re insane, anyway. Maybe you aren’t, but that’s very unlikely, and you know that.
This is God’s punishment, you think. Sodomy is a sin in the eyes of God, or so the priests always told you. If you look at another boy like that, you’ll burn in Hell. They couldn’t prove that you had sinned, but they always seemed to know when you’d been thinking bad thoughts. They’d beat you. You wondered if you really would go to Hell, one day.
You are pretty sure you’re not dead, but you can’t help but consider that maybe this is Hell. Can you go to Hell if you’re still alive? You didn’t think so, but maybe God makes an exception for naughty boys who think about touching other boys.
Those two taunt you with what you can never have, flaunt their beautiful bodies that you would give anything to be able to touch, fuck with you in the room wishing that you could have that for yourself.
You wish you were imaginary too.
Maybe you are.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-02-28 11:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-02-29 12:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-02-29 01:43 am (UTC)^_^
no subject
Date: 2004-02-29 02:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-02 12:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-02 12:08 am (UTC)Basically, the main character is already unstable, and being brought up by the priests telling him who he is is wrong shatters his mind, which is why he suffers these delusions. They are male, because that's what he's been taught is wrong. They are always there demonstrating a sin that is the one he has been taught probably most effectively is wrong, and the temptation is torture. Er. I think I'm bullshitting again, aren't I? Oh, whatever.
no subject
Date: 2004-03-02 12:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-02 03:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-07 11:26 pm (UTC)I promise I'll write straight sex sometime.
no subject
Date: 2004-03-06 09:40 pm (UTC)The stupid kid shouldn't have told the priest, shouldn't he.