It's like that Twilight Zone only not...
Jan. 3rd, 2007 01:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
momebieAaargh.
I just want some contacts. I can’t wear my glasses forever, they’re screwed up. I do not however want to pay the $100 for an eye exam with no insurance. *pouts*
No one out there has -3.75 eyes do they? Or an eye? I could start a whole contact racket by reimbursing that person for just buying a box. Then, next thing you know, there are people selling prescription eyewear in dingy alleys and dives. *dreams*
Irg. Is it five yet?
ETA-
Nobody has any drabble bunnies they'd want to donate to my cause do they? Any fandom you think I know. Or maybe one I don't. I'm sooooo bored.
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marilla82 prompted: Cain/Riff , Poison room, and teaching. Unbetaed.
Riff stood by the window in the poison room and watched Cain as he worked at cataloguing the potions and powders there. It wasn’t that the cataloguing needed to be done, Cain knew each and every substance that was kept in the house, both due to fanaticism and his need to protect Mary from anything that would happen should one go missing. (It was bad enough that trouble stalked them in the outside world; Riff knew that Cain would never forgive himself if something found a way to get at them within the walls.)
No, Cain was here because it gave him a pleasure that very little else could. And Riff stayed nearby because seeing Cain this way, quiet and thoughtful as soft and passionate fingers trailed lightly over glass bottles and left smudges on metal decanters, gave him a pleasure that little else could. He closed his eyes and shivered imperceptibly at the thought of those fingers trailing softly over him. He remembered Cain’s hand as it had landed on his shoulder earlier that day as he’d handed the towel over and turned to stalk naked to the changing area.
So much touching went on in the house, accidental and otherwise, and it was never acknowledged, it was part of being one of the family. It was the way Cain had been brought up, so close and so far away from everyone, and he never felt comfortable admitting more feeling for a person than the passing lust he looked at all those girls with. It was how Riff knew he was special to Cain, because he didn’t say anything at all.
“Riff,” Cain said softly, and Riff opened his eyes. The young master was looking at him with that quizzical eye that never turned anything loose. He always felt trapped by Cain’s gaze, and he reveled in it. “Did you learn about this when you were studying under my father?”
Cain was holding up a small vile of light yellow liquid. Riff walked around the table, eyeing it in the dim light, and stopped next to Cain where he leaned in and tried to get a closer look. It could have been any one of a number of poisons or antidotes, and Cain’s cryptic labeling system wouldn’t help him. “I can’t be sure sir, many things look like that.”
Cain made a noise in the back of his throat that would have meant disdain for anyone else. For Riff it just meant that Cain was about to teach him something, and there was nothing he loved more than being taught by Cain.
“It’s venom from a Leiurus quinquestriatus, otherwise known as a Death Stalker Scorpion.” Cain stared into the liquid, enraptured.
“Ah, a powerful neurotoxin then.”
Cain nodded and placed the vile back in its stand on the table. He turned into Riff so that his chest was touching Riff’s shoulder and the warmth from his body served as a different sort of neurotoxin as Riff ceased to think of anything other than the warmth from that chest. Cain could have asked him to do anything, to drink any of those poisons at that moment and he’d have done it.
“Riff, I want you to learn everything I know. I want you to be able to help me to the best of both of our abilities. I know you’re intelligent, I know you don’t have to be here, but you are, and because of that I’ll use you. I’ll, I’ll use you as much as you let me anyway.”
Riff nodded and allowed himself to look Cain in the eye. “Of course master Cain, anything you ask. Especially since we have young Mistress Mary Weather to look after now as well.”
“Yes, because of Mary,” Cain whispered, but he let his eyes wander and Riff took a small satisfaction in the knowledge that it wasn't Mary he was thinking of. Cain let his head droop and land on Riff’s shoulder. Riff brought his hand up instinctively and brushed the hair out of Cain’s eyes. They were touching again, and no one else would ever know, and neither of them would acknowledge it verbally. Cain let his left arm come up and rest at Riff’s waist like he had when he had been a child with open wounds and nightmares. Riff wrapped both of his arms around Cain and held him close. He placed a small kiss on his master’s forehead and Cain sighed.
“You have things to teach me too, Riff,” he murmered. But they both knew that Riff had been teaching Cain for years already. Since he had first been put in charge of the boy. He’d been teaching him to trust, and to touch and to love in a way that wasn’t completely self destructive. He’d been teaching him everything a family was supposed to teach you. And he’d continue, to the best of both of their abilities.
...
pre_raphaelite1 prompted: Peter and the lion, however I chose to interpret it. It’s not Peter Porn dear, but I hope it’s alright. :p Based loosely on roz_morgan’s Rabastan, who’s not above using his body as a tool to get whatever he wants.
Rabastan
Rabastan was pacing around the empty room and his boots made soft thudding noises on the hardwood floor that echoed through Peter’s head. The alcohol was making it harder and harder to keep the constantly moving boy in his vision and he let his eyes droop shut for a moment.
“You’re not listening!” Rabastan said, stopping short with a little stomp of his heel and a whiny lilt to his tone. Peter’s eyes snapped open again, but he wasn’t any less drunk or tired than he had been before. He was beginning to think that meeting an old school mate for a drink at the Hog’s Head wasn’t what he should have done with his day off from Order duties. He probably should have spent the 24 hours sleeping. He probably should have-
And then Rabastan’s lips were on his and he was wide awake again and leaning back away from the small boy that managed to fill up so much of his personal space. Rabastan brought his hands up and laid them on Peter’s shoulders, gripping them so hard Peter was sure he would bruise. And just as suddenly he was gone again, and leaning against the wall on the other side of the room and smirking that sly, Slytherin smirk of his, by the time Peter’s brain caught up with his tongue as it ran itself over his moist lips.
“Are we awake now?” Rabastan said, stamping his boot again for emphasis. Peter nodded slowly and looked hard at Rabastan for the first time ever. He was a very attractive boy, upturned nose, dark hair falling around wide eyes, thin…but he was still a boy and none of this explained why Peter had just been thoroughly snogged by someone he hadn’t seen in a year.
“Good,” Rabastan walked across the room and turned one of the wooden chairs backwards. He straddled it, wrapping his arms around the top rungs, holding it close to him. Peter thought that he looked scared suddenly, like he was afraid to let go of the hard wood in case he somehow slipped away. But he steeled his gaze at Peter and smiled a sweet smile and opened his sweet reptilian mouth.
“Peter,” he began, the words sliding out in a twisted coil of pleasure and pain, bearing with them all the force of a roar and all the softness of down. “Peter, where do you go when no one can get a hold of you? What do you do?” He tilted his head to the left, letting the light from the lamp catch his hair and illuminate it around his face creating a mane, a dark halo.
“Just, working,” Peter said. He felt like he was suffocating suddenly as his breath left him and he couldn’t take in any more. He felt like there was a large paw pushing the air out of his lungs. He didn’t know whether it was an attack from his fear or a reprimand from his courage.
Rabastan leaned over the chair back, shadow falling over his face. His hungry eyes gleamed. “I wonder, dear Peter, if I might be able to share a secret with you,” he said.
Peter thought for two seconds, swallowed in vain, and then slowly let his head bob up and down. An affirmative, he would take Rabastan’s secrets. And they would eat at him, and eventually swallow him whole.
...
I just want some contacts. I can’t wear my glasses forever, they’re screwed up. I do not however want to pay the $100 for an eye exam with no insurance. *pouts*
No one out there has -3.75 eyes do they? Or an eye? I could start a whole contact racket by reimbursing that person for just buying a box. Then, next thing you know, there are people selling prescription eyewear in dingy alleys and dives. *dreams*
Irg. Is it five yet?
ETA-
Nobody has any drabble bunnies they'd want to donate to my cause do they? Any fandom you think I know. Or maybe one I don't. I'm sooooo bored.
marilla82 prompted: Cain/Riff , Poison room, and teaching. Unbetaed.Riff stood by the window in the poison room and watched Cain as he worked at cataloguing the potions and powders there. It wasn’t that the cataloguing needed to be done, Cain knew each and every substance that was kept in the house, both due to fanaticism and his need to protect Mary from anything that would happen should one go missing. (It was bad enough that trouble stalked them in the outside world; Riff knew that Cain would never forgive himself if something found a way to get at them within the walls.)
No, Cain was here because it gave him a pleasure that very little else could. And Riff stayed nearby because seeing Cain this way, quiet and thoughtful as soft and passionate fingers trailed lightly over glass bottles and left smudges on metal decanters, gave him a pleasure that little else could. He closed his eyes and shivered imperceptibly at the thought of those fingers trailing softly over him. He remembered Cain’s hand as it had landed on his shoulder earlier that day as he’d handed the towel over and turned to stalk naked to the changing area.
So much touching went on in the house, accidental and otherwise, and it was never acknowledged, it was part of being one of the family. It was the way Cain had been brought up, so close and so far away from everyone, and he never felt comfortable admitting more feeling for a person than the passing lust he looked at all those girls with. It was how Riff knew he was special to Cain, because he didn’t say anything at all.
“Riff,” Cain said softly, and Riff opened his eyes. The young master was looking at him with that quizzical eye that never turned anything loose. He always felt trapped by Cain’s gaze, and he reveled in it. “Did you learn about this when you were studying under my father?”
Cain was holding up a small vile of light yellow liquid. Riff walked around the table, eyeing it in the dim light, and stopped next to Cain where he leaned in and tried to get a closer look. It could have been any one of a number of poisons or antidotes, and Cain’s cryptic labeling system wouldn’t help him. “I can’t be sure sir, many things look like that.”
Cain made a noise in the back of his throat that would have meant disdain for anyone else. For Riff it just meant that Cain was about to teach him something, and there was nothing he loved more than being taught by Cain.
“It’s venom from a Leiurus quinquestriatus, otherwise known as a Death Stalker Scorpion.” Cain stared into the liquid, enraptured.
“Ah, a powerful neurotoxin then.”
Cain nodded and placed the vile back in its stand on the table. He turned into Riff so that his chest was touching Riff’s shoulder and the warmth from his body served as a different sort of neurotoxin as Riff ceased to think of anything other than the warmth from that chest. Cain could have asked him to do anything, to drink any of those poisons at that moment and he’d have done it.
“Riff, I want you to learn everything I know. I want you to be able to help me to the best of both of our abilities. I know you’re intelligent, I know you don’t have to be here, but you are, and because of that I’ll use you. I’ll, I’ll use you as much as you let me anyway.”
Riff nodded and allowed himself to look Cain in the eye. “Of course master Cain, anything you ask. Especially since we have young Mistress Mary Weather to look after now as well.”
“Yes, because of Mary,” Cain whispered, but he let his eyes wander and Riff took a small satisfaction in the knowledge that it wasn't Mary he was thinking of. Cain let his head droop and land on Riff’s shoulder. Riff brought his hand up instinctively and brushed the hair out of Cain’s eyes. They were touching again, and no one else would ever know, and neither of them would acknowledge it verbally. Cain let his left arm come up and rest at Riff’s waist like he had when he had been a child with open wounds and nightmares. Riff wrapped both of his arms around Cain and held him close. He placed a small kiss on his master’s forehead and Cain sighed.
“You have things to teach me too, Riff,” he murmered. But they both knew that Riff had been teaching Cain for years already. Since he had first been put in charge of the boy. He’d been teaching him to trust, and to touch and to love in a way that wasn’t completely self destructive. He’d been teaching him everything a family was supposed to teach you. And he’d continue, to the best of both of their abilities.
...
pre_raphaelite1 prompted: Peter and the lion, however I chose to interpret it. It’s not Peter Porn dear, but I hope it’s alright. :p Based loosely on roz_morgan’s Rabastan, who’s not above using his body as a tool to get whatever he wants. Rabastan
Rabastan was pacing around the empty room and his boots made soft thudding noises on the hardwood floor that echoed through Peter’s head. The alcohol was making it harder and harder to keep the constantly moving boy in his vision and he let his eyes droop shut for a moment.
“You’re not listening!” Rabastan said, stopping short with a little stomp of his heel and a whiny lilt to his tone. Peter’s eyes snapped open again, but he wasn’t any less drunk or tired than he had been before. He was beginning to think that meeting an old school mate for a drink at the Hog’s Head wasn’t what he should have done with his day off from Order duties. He probably should have spent the 24 hours sleeping. He probably should have-
And then Rabastan’s lips were on his and he was wide awake again and leaning back away from the small boy that managed to fill up so much of his personal space. Rabastan brought his hands up and laid them on Peter’s shoulders, gripping them so hard Peter was sure he would bruise. And just as suddenly he was gone again, and leaning against the wall on the other side of the room and smirking that sly, Slytherin smirk of his, by the time Peter’s brain caught up with his tongue as it ran itself over his moist lips.
“Are we awake now?” Rabastan said, stamping his boot again for emphasis. Peter nodded slowly and looked hard at Rabastan for the first time ever. He was a very attractive boy, upturned nose, dark hair falling around wide eyes, thin…but he was still a boy and none of this explained why Peter had just been thoroughly snogged by someone he hadn’t seen in a year.
“Good,” Rabastan walked across the room and turned one of the wooden chairs backwards. He straddled it, wrapping his arms around the top rungs, holding it close to him. Peter thought that he looked scared suddenly, like he was afraid to let go of the hard wood in case he somehow slipped away. But he steeled his gaze at Peter and smiled a sweet smile and opened his sweet reptilian mouth.
“Peter,” he began, the words sliding out in a twisted coil of pleasure and pain, bearing with them all the force of a roar and all the softness of down. “Peter, where do you go when no one can get a hold of you? What do you do?” He tilted his head to the left, letting the light from the lamp catch his hair and illuminate it around his face creating a mane, a dark halo.
“Just, working,” Peter said. He felt like he was suffocating suddenly as his breath left him and he couldn’t take in any more. He felt like there was a large paw pushing the air out of his lungs. He didn’t know whether it was an attack from his fear or a reprimand from his courage.
Rabastan leaned over the chair back, shadow falling over his face. His hungry eyes gleamed. “I wonder, dear Peter, if I might be able to share a secret with you,” he said.
Peter thought for two seconds, swallowed in vain, and then slowly let his head bob up and down. An affirmative, he would take Rabastan’s secrets. And they would eat at him, and eventually swallow him whole.
...
