From: julad <firstname.lastname@example.org>
Title: Tighten My Wire
Author/Pseudonym: julad <email@example.com>
Archive: ummm, haven't decided.
Disclaimers: Blah, Blah, Paramount. Not for profit. Not for
juveniles. Men fuck.
WARNINGS: I'm in a foul mood so watch out. Yes, that's right
children, it's nasty. Way nasty.
Summary: Speed challenge. Things are stretched to breaking
Challenge factors were -
* a malfunctioning phaser
* the title has to be a line or phrase from a song you really
* the story ends the morning after.
It's hard to do this. To drive the stakes higher every time. He
doesn't appreciate the work I put into this, the terrible balance
I must strike between ravage and relationship, devotion and
Pain doesn't quite do it for us anymore. Gross humiliation just
isn't my style. These days, it takes intricate mindfucks, days
in the creation and execution, to get that same agonised thrill
when his eyes are electric with suffering, filled to bursting
with it and I have to take it one more step, just past the edge
where he can't take it anymore, before I'm sated. My acid thirst
quenched, for a time.
He's stronger than I gave him credit for, this beautiful
creature. A weaker man would have ended it years ago, back when
blood started seeping from the lust-filled bites to his neck. He
should have run, the morning after bindings seared his wrists and
he watched in fear as I contemplated him, calculating how to make
him scream and when. After I forced him to beg for each razor
slash across his wrists, he should have slit my throat, but
instead he calmed me as I wept, needing him to believe that I
thought I'd gone too far.
Too late now, Harry. Too late for both of us. I know now,
there's nothing you can't bear and there's nothing that I can't
make you forgive and so there's nothing that will end this.
We're joined forever, tied around and around by razor wires which
cut us every time I push you too far and cut again every time I
pull you back to me.
You can't save me. Not from my past, not from abuse on the level
that only an Admiral could keep secret, not from a bizarrely
nightmarish sojourn in a ship full of traitors and fearmongers,
not from the lengthier dull reality that is bureaucratic
I can't save you. Not from the needs which define you - the need
to be perfect, to be strong, to be unbreakable, to never
disappoint, to be everything the textbook says about a fine
starfleet officer, except that everything the textbook *doesn't*
say about fine starfleet officers is kept in highly classified
files in psychiatric offices.
The need not to make a mistake, Harry, is your undoing, because
you made a mistake when you fell in love with me. And despite
the hopes I've buried so deep you barely acknowledge them
anymore, you'll never reform me, never help me, never remake me
in your textbook-perfect image because that image is a lie and I
know it. So your mistake multiplies, it grows more arms and legs
to thrash about in your dreams like we do now, in scenarios so
twisted I'm in awe of myself for constructing them.
How can I save us? I can't. You were made to suffer, my sweet,
my lover, object of my undying obsession. There's nothing in the
world which would make me bid adieu to the bitter tears in your
downcast eyes and the trembling of your lips as you part them to
beg for mercy and more. I might have had limits with other
lovers but not with you. I'll never tire of you, you'll never
send me away. We are eternal.
**************************end for now
Note - I considered this unfinished, but enough people seemed fine
with it the way it was, so I've archived it. Revision/continuation
may well occur.
And if you're interested... the song was 'Paint' by Roxette.
I've hated it from the first time I heard it. It's a really
irritating love song.