( it's a crystalized memory to ash, who can close his eyes and be transported to carpathia — to churches on fire and teenagers with american bullets in their brain, to his sweating body on a suicide sprint at three in the morning, to embry's dimples when he smiles genuinely, because he forgot he's meant to be a forlorn, melancholic prince in this fairytale of theirs. that night in particular has barbed thorns in ash, the fear as acrid a taste as the bliss of wanting him, being allowed to have him in a situation that was so poorly timed, it could only belong to the both of them. embry saying take what you're owed. embry saying i'm done running from you.
what would it be like, to actually live in that world embry gave him for a day, where embry exists wholly as his, where the lines don't blur, where he's exactly as dedicated to ash as ash is to him. instead, his cock is getting hard thinking about embry in the mud, full of holes, begging to ash to stop, to keep going, to stop. talking to hawkins fucking fuller of all people, a man ash would otherwise be tempted to work out some of his embry-based issues on, if either of them were the type to fold instead of staying stubbornly set. )
Twice, that first night.
( the curiosity of wanting to know what hawk and embry get up to is it's own sisyphean curse — he doesn't want to know, but he also wants to torture himself on the knowledge, of thinking of them together, of embry wanting someone else. he's jealous, thoroughly, through the marrow of his bones, through every blood cell, every fiber of himself. he's also hard, and it's not the worst thing he's ever gotten hard about. )
I made him kiss my boots. Before then. ( ash thinks of an email he sent a lifetime ago. i don't have to be that kind of man, if that's not what you want. i'll be any kind of man for you. it still feels true. ) On his knees, sucking the hard laces of my Army-issued pair, fresh out of the box. Good discipline for a soldier out of line.
( not one american politics would approve of, so he's told. still, it was pretty effective for him. )
He was very out of line that night. He wanted punishment. Deserved it. Begged for it, even. I was happy to oblige. Do you need some inspiration?
( it's not the shitty are you so uncreative that you need me to dominate him for you? and more the desperate, almost hopeful do you want to know what i'd do to him, if i could? do you want to know what he likes? do you want to touch something so precious to me? )
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what would it be like, to actually live in that world embry gave him for a day, where embry exists wholly as his, where the lines don't blur, where he's exactly as dedicated to ash as ash is to him. instead, his cock is getting hard thinking about embry in the mud, full of holes, begging to ash to stop, to keep going, to stop. talking to hawkins fucking fuller of all people, a man ash would otherwise be tempted to work out some of his embry-based issues on, if either of them were the type to fold instead of staying stubbornly set. )
Twice, that first night.
( the curiosity of wanting to know what hawk and embry get up to is it's own sisyphean curse — he doesn't want to know, but he also wants to torture himself on the knowledge, of thinking of them together, of embry wanting someone else. he's jealous, thoroughly, through the marrow of his bones, through every blood cell, every fiber of himself. he's also hard, and it's not the worst thing he's ever gotten hard about. )
I made him kiss my boots. Before then. ( ash thinks of an email he sent a lifetime ago. i don't have to be that kind of man, if that's not what you want. i'll be any kind of man for you. it still feels true. ) On his knees, sucking the hard laces of my Army-issued pair, fresh out of the box. Good discipline for a soldier out of line.
( not one american politics would approve of, so he's told. still, it was pretty effective for him. )
He was very out of line that night. He wanted punishment. Deserved it. Begged for it, even. I was happy to oblige. Do you need some inspiration?
( it's not the shitty are you so uncreative that you need me to dominate him for you? and more the desperate, almost hopeful do you want to know what i'd do to him, if i could? do you want to know what he likes? do you want to touch something so precious to me? )