FIC: Lost NC-17
Nov. 2nd, 2005 06:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lobelia321Fic: Lost
Author: Lobelia
Fandom: lotrps
Pairing: Dominic / Karl
Rating: NC-17
Length: 2,420 words
Pics:
Karl: http://www.geocities.com/lobelia321/karlsceptical.jpg
Dominic: http://www.geocities.com/lobelia321/dompensive.jpg
Lost
by Lobelia
(part of my K/D epic)
-----
When Dominic comes into Karl, Karl can do nothing except hold on desperately. He has to hold onto Dominic's eyes. When he's holding onto Dominic's eyes, there's nothing else left to hold onto. Karl barely even feels anything else. He barely feels his own dick, and he barely feels Dominic's dick inside his arse. He holds onto Dominic's eyes. Dominic's eyes peel off Dominic's face. They peel off layer by layer. Each layer falls into Karl's eyes, deep and deeper, and then another layer falls into Karl' eyes, layer by layer, until Karl's head is filled with nothing but Dominic's eyes. And that's the only way he can survive.
Being fucked by Dominic is a terrible, terrible ordeal. But it is what Karl gives to Dominic. It's his final present. He wishes he could give more. He wishes he could fuck back. He wishes he could give Dominic his own pleasure. But he can't. He can only lie there, holding onto Dominic's eyes.
He knows Dominic hates it. But Dominic won't stop because they're now locked into this awful vicious circle. If Dominic stopped, Karl's heart would stand still. He's certain of it. It's not a rational thought; it's a gut conviction. It's what makes him pull Dominic into him and cling onto Dominic's shoulders. He can tell that Dominic wants to stop but daren't because Karl's so desperate to have him there.
Sex with Dominic is too much. But no sex with Dominic would be worse. No sex with Dominic would be like not having Dominic.
So they go on. And it's a passionless, terrible kind of fucking.
But that's what being fucked is. That's what being fucked has always been to Karl. He's used to this. It has the bitter metallic taste of familiarity about it.
And familiarity he can cope with. Terrible as it is, Karl can survive this.
What he hasn't counted on is coming while being fucked.
It happens when Dominic turns him around. He leans Karl against the board at the end of the bed. They're both standing up. Dominic bites the back of Karl's neck and Karl's shoulders. He grips Karl's waist and then he's in. Karl can't see Dominic's eyes. He can only see the crumpled sheets and the pillows, one on top of the other. Karl holds onto the bedboard. He wants to say, 'no, let's turn the other way'; instead, he surprises himself by moaning. Dominic's behind him and in him. Dominic's thrusting him up against the bed. Dominic reaches around to hold Karl, and Karl is actually hard, a thing that has never happened before. Karl is never hard while being fucked. Except now he is.
Now Dominic moans in turn. It seems that Karl's hard dick in Dominic's hand is making Dominic groan and moan against Karl's shoulder. Karl leans his head sideways. He still can't see Dominic's eyes but he can feel Dominic's head against his head. Their heads bang together as Dominic thrusts. Karl's not fucking back, he's not thrusting, but he is hard. He still can't feel Dominic inside him, it's as if he's numb, but he can feel Dominic's hand around his dick. Dominic's hand moving in that way it always does, completely predictable, completely dependable. And then Karl comes. It's unbelievable but he does.
Dominic comes, too. Karl can't feel Dominic come but he can hear Dominic pant, and semen trickles down Karl's leg, and Dominic says, "Karl, Karl" into Karl's ear.
There's hot come down Karl's leg. There's hot come down Karl's dick. Two hot trails trickle their way down Karl's cheeks, two runnels, like tributaries of a delta. Dominic's hand comes up to Karl's face but Karl moves his face sideways. Dominic's hand follows but Karl moves his head again. Dominic's other hand comes up. It spreads across Karl's face, it picks up the tributaries. A thumb traces their tracks from lower lashes to chin. A finger flies across Karl's distorted mouth.
Dominic comes out, turns Karl around and licks two trails from Karl's beard up to his eyes.
Karl turns his head sideways. He can't look at Dominic. He can't look at anything. He's shaking violently. The room is swaying, as if drunk. There's bile in Karl's throat. He swallows, and swallows again.
"Karl," says Dominic.
Karl grips Dominic's elbow but he can't speak. Because he's not really there. He's somewhere else, in another room, in another time. In a room where there was no Dominic to lick his cheeks and to say "Karl" in that soft, puzzled voice.
"Come back," Dominic says. "Karl, come back."
He tries. He does try to come back. But he can't open his eyes. They're squeezed tight shut, squeezing out the liquid. There's Dominic's tongue again, Dominic's breath on his face -- and then it's gone. Dominic is gone, and Karl cries out.
"I'm just getting a towel," says Dominic. "It's okay."
He speaks as if to a medical patient, as if to someone who's having an epileptic fit. Karl doesn't want to be spoken to like that. He doesn't want to stand here, shaking with shame. This is not what it's supposed to be about. This is not what it's meant to be like.
He's being wiped. Dominic is wiping him, his dick and his arse and his leg. And his face.
Dominic's voice is right next to his ear. "If you keep going like this, you'll drench the pillows. I'll have to row my way out."
Karl dares to open his eyes. Dominic's there, smiling a first-aid smile.
"Come to bed," says Dominic. "Do you want a drink or something? There's still a beer, I think. Wait. You get into bed and I'll find the beer."
Karl blinks. Karl moves to the bed like a sleepwalker. He climbs in. He sniffs, he tries to breathe evenly. He digs his fingers into his eyesockets.
"Don't do that," says Dominic. "You'll do yourself a damage, stopping the flow. Here's the beer."
The beer's not as cold as it could be. But it's frothy and bitter and makes Karl's throat stand at ease.
There's a click. The room goes dark. Dominic has turned off the light. Everything is grey. Unfamiliar shapes appear in unfamiliar places. A moon glow comes through the curtains. Karl takes another swig until the mattress dips and Dominic takes the can away from him to have a draught himself.
For several minutes, the only sound is that of the beer can being passed back and forth and the glug of Adam's apples.
"You know," says Dominic into the darkness. "We'll have to do that the other way round next time."
"No!" The can falls out of Karl's hand; Dominic catches it just in time. "No. I can't... We can't do that."
Moon. Beer. Sheets.
"Okay," says Dominic. "Then we won't."
"You hate this, don't you?" says Karl so quickly that he has to repeat it for Dominic to understand.
"You hate it," says Dominic. "But look, no. Stop." He wipes Karl's face with the towel, accidentally applies the used part and gets cold semen all over Karl's cheeks. "Shit," he giggles. "Sorry." He wipes Karl's face again. He kisses Karl's face. He whispers, "Karl."
"It's not because of you," says Karl.
"I don't hate it," says Dominic. He moves back to lean against the headboard. He rolls the can around in his hands. Karl can see the faint gleams blink on and off as they hit a moonbeam. Dominic's voice is faint but audible. "I wish I did hate it because you don't like it. But I don't. I find fucking you really, really..."
"Really what?" whispers Karl.
"Nice," says Dominic. "Good. Sexy." He takes a swig but the can's empty. Dominic's teeth go clink against the aluminium rim. Karl can hear Dominic's breath, hollow in the can's cavity.
The room is too small for the turmoil inside Karl. The window is wide open. The surf crashes in from afar. The curtains ripple. But there seems to be no air. Karl digs his fingertips into his eyes again.
Someone's touching his other hand. It's Dominic. He's trying to open Karl's fist. Karl hasn't even noticed that he was making a fist. It's such a tight fist that Karl's palm hurts where his fingers have been digging into it. Dominic pulls the fingers straight. He pulls them straight, one by one. He rubs each knuckle. He bends them backward and forward.
"I like it," Dominic says, "but we don't have to do it."
"What?" says Karl. What is Dominic saying?
"It's only sex after all," says Dominic. "It's just for fun. And if it's no fun, why bother?"
Karl's hand is tight around Dominic's. He knew it. Dominic is going to go away because Karl can't give him this one thing. Karl can't give Dominic fun sex so Dominic's not going to bother with Karl.
"Here are the rules," says Dominic.
"Rules?"
"Yes, rules," says Dominic. "Well, only one rule, really."
"What rule?"
"No sex."
"No, Dominic, no." This is it. Going, going, gone.
Karl doesn't hear the fissure cracking through Dominic's voice as it says, "That's the rule. No sex."
Karl's face breaks. "No sex?" he whispers.
A wave crashes onto a rock outside. A thousand boats splinter into wreckage. The moon plummets by several fingerwidths and hangs, spinning, above the horizon.
"What did you say?" says Dominic and leans into Karl's mouth. Still, Karl's voice is so small, it barely makes it over the sound of the surf.
"Can I still come over to your place?" Karl is asking.
"Karl. You have to. Otherwise where would be the point of this rule?"
Karl's fingers are crushing the warm bones in Dominic's hand. Karl bows his head. The beer can skids across the sheets, spewing stray droplets. Dominic's other hand is in Karl's hair. Moon rolls across the walls.
"There's no rule about coming over," says Dominic. "All the rule says is 'no sex'. We can do everything else."
"Everything else?"
"Kissing, for example. Kissing's allowed. Pissing together. Sleeping. Whatever else."
"Sleeping? What are we going to do about the bed?"
Dominic's voice smiles through his reply. "Here's a story. When I was little, my mum told me a German fairy tale. It was very long and involved but at the end, the twin brother of this lost king had to share a bed with the queen, his brother's wife. Hang on." Dominic takes his hand out of Karl's hair and loosens Karl's steamroller grip. He shakes out his own fingers. He puts them back around Karl's hand, very lightly, cradling Karl's hand like a telephone receiver cradles the handset. "Anyway, the queen thinks that the twin brother is her own husband so she's very surprised when this guy puts a sword in their bed."
"A sword?"
"Yes, he takes his sword out of its scabbard, and it's sharp and double-edged, and he puts it in the middle of the bed, between them. Later, when they rescue the lost king and he gets jealous, his wife tells him about the sword, and then he knows that his twin brother and the queen didn't do anything. Didn't fuck."
"So are you saying we should put a sword in your bed?"
"Maybe you could steal one from props."
"Maybe you could."
"I hardly think," grins Dominic, "that a short stumpy sword from my end of things would make any difference."
"Yeah, we'd need a huge long one."
There are smiles in the room now. Smiles sail along moon billows. Smiles murmur along with the sea's murmurings.
It doesn't occur to Karl to question Dominic's rule. It doesn't occur to him to pry behind the bright, easy words of Dominic's rule, to ease out the chinks between the sanctions and the permits. There is too much fear in Karl's ears to hear the fear in Dominic's voice.
Karl says, "So kissing's allowed?"
Dominic doesn't answer but he lifts his face, and Karl kisses Dominic. The kiss is salty and full of beer. Karl's tongue is still trembling and Karl's face is moist but the kiss is friendly and warm.
After a while, Karl moves his hand to the back of Dominic's neck. He nestles the tips of his fingers in the groove of Dominic's nape, and he nestles the tip of his tongue in the groove above Dominic's lips. Dominic's nostrils breathe on Karl's tongue. Then Dominic sneezes because he's been tickled by Karl's moustache.
"Turn around," says Dominic. He gives Karl a gentle push and works himself into a position behind him, legs around Karl's waist, cradling Karl's legs. And still it doesn't occur to Karl why Dominic might wish to hide his face against Karl's back. "Guess what I'm drawing," says Dominic, and his voice is so calm, it's no wonder Karl trusts that voice. "It's not writing, it's a picture."
Dominic draws on Karl's back with his finger. Dominic's finger is pointed and hurried on Karl's skin.
"It's too hard," says Karl. "Pictures are too hard."
"Hang on," says Dominic and wipes the picture off with his flat hand. "Isn't it funny the way people wipe like that? It's not as if I drew anything real on your back. There, what's that?"
"That's a smiley-face," says Karl.
"Correct," says Dominic. "That was just a test. Now this one."
His finger traces a curve, an acute angle, a backward curve, an angular loop. One lone dot. Dominic's finger is concentrating now. It is a careful spiral across Karl's spine.
"A fish," says Karl.
"You're good at this," says Dominic. "It's your fish. Your snapper. The one you caught."
"Can I do one?"
The mattress shakes. Their backs shift position.
Karl draws. Two humps, two lines joined at their nadir.
"A heart," says Dominic.
"Yeah," says Karl.
Outside, the Tasman Sea crashes onto the beach, as it's done since infinity.
"I want to do one," says Dominic into the ocean's roar.
A curve, a line, a dot.
"A question mark," says Karl.
Nobody says anything. The curtain blows.
"Dominic," says Karl.
"What?"
Karl turns around. He gets tangled in sheets. The beer can falls to the floor with a clang. Finally, Karl is behind Dominic again but he doesn't draw anything. He leans his cheek against Dominic's back.
"Nothing," he replies.
But it's not nothing. It's everything.
-----
A/N: My favourite Grimm's fairy tale, "The Two Brothers" (Die zwei Brüder), can be read here: http://www.ucs.mun.ca/~wbarker/fairies/grimm/060.html
Extensive notes:
This is part of my long-lost Karl/Dominic epic (some of you will remember my endless angsting about this endless tale). I was inspired to re-read by people's tigs to my post about short fic vs long fic, and the K/D epic was (is?) certainly LONG. So far, it has at least 80,000 words but they are of uneven variety. This chapter, however, passed my own meta-beta muster, after a few revisions.
Extensive Header addenda:
Style: present tense, third person, avoidance of secondary clauses
Mood: angst
Location: South Island, New Zealand, an ocean-side motel
Mood of author upon posting: conflicted uncertainty
Also: hunger, as hasn't had lunch
Note on title: I entitled this chapter 'Lost' way before I learned of the Dominic-featuring series 'Lost'. So if there's a pun it's serendipitous!
Author: Lobelia
Fandom: lotrps
Pairing: Dominic / Karl
Rating: NC-17
Length: 2,420 words
Pics:
Karl: http://www.geocities.com/lobelia321/karlsceptical.jpg
Dominic: http://www.geocities.com/lobelia321/dompensive.jpg
Lost
by Lobelia
(part of my K/D epic)
-----
When Dominic comes into Karl, Karl can do nothing except hold on desperately. He has to hold onto Dominic's eyes. When he's holding onto Dominic's eyes, there's nothing else left to hold onto. Karl barely even feels anything else. He barely feels his own dick, and he barely feels Dominic's dick inside his arse. He holds onto Dominic's eyes. Dominic's eyes peel off Dominic's face. They peel off layer by layer. Each layer falls into Karl's eyes, deep and deeper, and then another layer falls into Karl' eyes, layer by layer, until Karl's head is filled with nothing but Dominic's eyes. And that's the only way he can survive.
Being fucked by Dominic is a terrible, terrible ordeal. But it is what Karl gives to Dominic. It's his final present. He wishes he could give more. He wishes he could fuck back. He wishes he could give Dominic his own pleasure. But he can't. He can only lie there, holding onto Dominic's eyes.
He knows Dominic hates it. But Dominic won't stop because they're now locked into this awful vicious circle. If Dominic stopped, Karl's heart would stand still. He's certain of it. It's not a rational thought; it's a gut conviction. It's what makes him pull Dominic into him and cling onto Dominic's shoulders. He can tell that Dominic wants to stop but daren't because Karl's so desperate to have him there.
Sex with Dominic is too much. But no sex with Dominic would be worse. No sex with Dominic would be like not having Dominic.
So they go on. And it's a passionless, terrible kind of fucking.
But that's what being fucked is. That's what being fucked has always been to Karl. He's used to this. It has the bitter metallic taste of familiarity about it.
And familiarity he can cope with. Terrible as it is, Karl can survive this.
What he hasn't counted on is coming while being fucked.
It happens when Dominic turns him around. He leans Karl against the board at the end of the bed. They're both standing up. Dominic bites the back of Karl's neck and Karl's shoulders. He grips Karl's waist and then he's in. Karl can't see Dominic's eyes. He can only see the crumpled sheets and the pillows, one on top of the other. Karl holds onto the bedboard. He wants to say, 'no, let's turn the other way'; instead, he surprises himself by moaning. Dominic's behind him and in him. Dominic's thrusting him up against the bed. Dominic reaches around to hold Karl, and Karl is actually hard, a thing that has never happened before. Karl is never hard while being fucked. Except now he is.
Now Dominic moans in turn. It seems that Karl's hard dick in Dominic's hand is making Dominic groan and moan against Karl's shoulder. Karl leans his head sideways. He still can't see Dominic's eyes but he can feel Dominic's head against his head. Their heads bang together as Dominic thrusts. Karl's not fucking back, he's not thrusting, but he is hard. He still can't feel Dominic inside him, it's as if he's numb, but he can feel Dominic's hand around his dick. Dominic's hand moving in that way it always does, completely predictable, completely dependable. And then Karl comes. It's unbelievable but he does.
Dominic comes, too. Karl can't feel Dominic come but he can hear Dominic pant, and semen trickles down Karl's leg, and Dominic says, "Karl, Karl" into Karl's ear.
There's hot come down Karl's leg. There's hot come down Karl's dick. Two hot trails trickle their way down Karl's cheeks, two runnels, like tributaries of a delta. Dominic's hand comes up to Karl's face but Karl moves his face sideways. Dominic's hand follows but Karl moves his head again. Dominic's other hand comes up. It spreads across Karl's face, it picks up the tributaries. A thumb traces their tracks from lower lashes to chin. A finger flies across Karl's distorted mouth.
Dominic comes out, turns Karl around and licks two trails from Karl's beard up to his eyes.
Karl turns his head sideways. He can't look at Dominic. He can't look at anything. He's shaking violently. The room is swaying, as if drunk. There's bile in Karl's throat. He swallows, and swallows again.
"Karl," says Dominic.
Karl grips Dominic's elbow but he can't speak. Because he's not really there. He's somewhere else, in another room, in another time. In a room where there was no Dominic to lick his cheeks and to say "Karl" in that soft, puzzled voice.
"Come back," Dominic says. "Karl, come back."
He tries. He does try to come back. But he can't open his eyes. They're squeezed tight shut, squeezing out the liquid. There's Dominic's tongue again, Dominic's breath on his face -- and then it's gone. Dominic is gone, and Karl cries out.
"I'm just getting a towel," says Dominic. "It's okay."
He speaks as if to a medical patient, as if to someone who's having an epileptic fit. Karl doesn't want to be spoken to like that. He doesn't want to stand here, shaking with shame. This is not what it's supposed to be about. This is not what it's meant to be like.
He's being wiped. Dominic is wiping him, his dick and his arse and his leg. And his face.
Dominic's voice is right next to his ear. "If you keep going like this, you'll drench the pillows. I'll have to row my way out."
Karl dares to open his eyes. Dominic's there, smiling a first-aid smile.
"Come to bed," says Dominic. "Do you want a drink or something? There's still a beer, I think. Wait. You get into bed and I'll find the beer."
Karl blinks. Karl moves to the bed like a sleepwalker. He climbs in. He sniffs, he tries to breathe evenly. He digs his fingers into his eyesockets.
"Don't do that," says Dominic. "You'll do yourself a damage, stopping the flow. Here's the beer."
The beer's not as cold as it could be. But it's frothy and bitter and makes Karl's throat stand at ease.
There's a click. The room goes dark. Dominic has turned off the light. Everything is grey. Unfamiliar shapes appear in unfamiliar places. A moon glow comes through the curtains. Karl takes another swig until the mattress dips and Dominic takes the can away from him to have a draught himself.
For several minutes, the only sound is that of the beer can being passed back and forth and the glug of Adam's apples.
"You know," says Dominic into the darkness. "We'll have to do that the other way round next time."
"No!" The can falls out of Karl's hand; Dominic catches it just in time. "No. I can't... We can't do that."
Moon. Beer. Sheets.
"Okay," says Dominic. "Then we won't."
"You hate this, don't you?" says Karl so quickly that he has to repeat it for Dominic to understand.
"You hate it," says Dominic. "But look, no. Stop." He wipes Karl's face with the towel, accidentally applies the used part and gets cold semen all over Karl's cheeks. "Shit," he giggles. "Sorry." He wipes Karl's face again. He kisses Karl's face. He whispers, "Karl."
"It's not because of you," says Karl.
"I don't hate it," says Dominic. He moves back to lean against the headboard. He rolls the can around in his hands. Karl can see the faint gleams blink on and off as they hit a moonbeam. Dominic's voice is faint but audible. "I wish I did hate it because you don't like it. But I don't. I find fucking you really, really..."
"Really what?" whispers Karl.
"Nice," says Dominic. "Good. Sexy." He takes a swig but the can's empty. Dominic's teeth go clink against the aluminium rim. Karl can hear Dominic's breath, hollow in the can's cavity.
The room is too small for the turmoil inside Karl. The window is wide open. The surf crashes in from afar. The curtains ripple. But there seems to be no air. Karl digs his fingertips into his eyes again.
Someone's touching his other hand. It's Dominic. He's trying to open Karl's fist. Karl hasn't even noticed that he was making a fist. It's such a tight fist that Karl's palm hurts where his fingers have been digging into it. Dominic pulls the fingers straight. He pulls them straight, one by one. He rubs each knuckle. He bends them backward and forward.
"I like it," Dominic says, "but we don't have to do it."
"What?" says Karl. What is Dominic saying?
"It's only sex after all," says Dominic. "It's just for fun. And if it's no fun, why bother?"
Karl's hand is tight around Dominic's. He knew it. Dominic is going to go away because Karl can't give him this one thing. Karl can't give Dominic fun sex so Dominic's not going to bother with Karl.
"Here are the rules," says Dominic.
"Rules?"
"Yes, rules," says Dominic. "Well, only one rule, really."
"What rule?"
"No sex."
"No, Dominic, no." This is it. Going, going, gone.
Karl doesn't hear the fissure cracking through Dominic's voice as it says, "That's the rule. No sex."
Karl's face breaks. "No sex?" he whispers.
A wave crashes onto a rock outside. A thousand boats splinter into wreckage. The moon plummets by several fingerwidths and hangs, spinning, above the horizon.
"What did you say?" says Dominic and leans into Karl's mouth. Still, Karl's voice is so small, it barely makes it over the sound of the surf.
"Can I still come over to your place?" Karl is asking.
"Karl. You have to. Otherwise where would be the point of this rule?"
Karl's fingers are crushing the warm bones in Dominic's hand. Karl bows his head. The beer can skids across the sheets, spewing stray droplets. Dominic's other hand is in Karl's hair. Moon rolls across the walls.
"There's no rule about coming over," says Dominic. "All the rule says is 'no sex'. We can do everything else."
"Everything else?"
"Kissing, for example. Kissing's allowed. Pissing together. Sleeping. Whatever else."
"Sleeping? What are we going to do about the bed?"
Dominic's voice smiles through his reply. "Here's a story. When I was little, my mum told me a German fairy tale. It was very long and involved but at the end, the twin brother of this lost king had to share a bed with the queen, his brother's wife. Hang on." Dominic takes his hand out of Karl's hair and loosens Karl's steamroller grip. He shakes out his own fingers. He puts them back around Karl's hand, very lightly, cradling Karl's hand like a telephone receiver cradles the handset. "Anyway, the queen thinks that the twin brother is her own husband so she's very surprised when this guy puts a sword in their bed."
"A sword?"
"Yes, he takes his sword out of its scabbard, and it's sharp and double-edged, and he puts it in the middle of the bed, between them. Later, when they rescue the lost king and he gets jealous, his wife tells him about the sword, and then he knows that his twin brother and the queen didn't do anything. Didn't fuck."
"So are you saying we should put a sword in your bed?"
"Maybe you could steal one from props."
"Maybe you could."
"I hardly think," grins Dominic, "that a short stumpy sword from my end of things would make any difference."
"Yeah, we'd need a huge long one."
There are smiles in the room now. Smiles sail along moon billows. Smiles murmur along with the sea's murmurings.
It doesn't occur to Karl to question Dominic's rule. It doesn't occur to him to pry behind the bright, easy words of Dominic's rule, to ease out the chinks between the sanctions and the permits. There is too much fear in Karl's ears to hear the fear in Dominic's voice.
Karl says, "So kissing's allowed?"
Dominic doesn't answer but he lifts his face, and Karl kisses Dominic. The kiss is salty and full of beer. Karl's tongue is still trembling and Karl's face is moist but the kiss is friendly and warm.
After a while, Karl moves his hand to the back of Dominic's neck. He nestles the tips of his fingers in the groove of Dominic's nape, and he nestles the tip of his tongue in the groove above Dominic's lips. Dominic's nostrils breathe on Karl's tongue. Then Dominic sneezes because he's been tickled by Karl's moustache.
"Turn around," says Dominic. He gives Karl a gentle push and works himself into a position behind him, legs around Karl's waist, cradling Karl's legs. And still it doesn't occur to Karl why Dominic might wish to hide his face against Karl's back. "Guess what I'm drawing," says Dominic, and his voice is so calm, it's no wonder Karl trusts that voice. "It's not writing, it's a picture."
Dominic draws on Karl's back with his finger. Dominic's finger is pointed and hurried on Karl's skin.
"It's too hard," says Karl. "Pictures are too hard."
"Hang on," says Dominic and wipes the picture off with his flat hand. "Isn't it funny the way people wipe like that? It's not as if I drew anything real on your back. There, what's that?"
"That's a smiley-face," says Karl.
"Correct," says Dominic. "That was just a test. Now this one."
His finger traces a curve, an acute angle, a backward curve, an angular loop. One lone dot. Dominic's finger is concentrating now. It is a careful spiral across Karl's spine.
"A fish," says Karl.
"You're good at this," says Dominic. "It's your fish. Your snapper. The one you caught."
"Can I do one?"
The mattress shakes. Their backs shift position.
Karl draws. Two humps, two lines joined at their nadir.
"A heart," says Dominic.
"Yeah," says Karl.
Outside, the Tasman Sea crashes onto the beach, as it's done since infinity.
"I want to do one," says Dominic into the ocean's roar.
A curve, a line, a dot.
"A question mark," says Karl.
Nobody says anything. The curtain blows.
"Dominic," says Karl.
"What?"
Karl turns around. He gets tangled in sheets. The beer can falls to the floor with a clang. Finally, Karl is behind Dominic again but he doesn't draw anything. He leans his cheek against Dominic's back.
"Nothing," he replies.
But it's not nothing. It's everything.
-----
A/N: My favourite Grimm's fairy tale, "The Two Brothers" (Die zwei Brüder), can be read here: http://www.ucs.mun.ca/~wbarker/fairies/grimm/060.html
Extensive notes:
This is part of my long-lost Karl/Dominic epic (some of you will remember my endless angsting about this endless tale). I was inspired to re-read by people's tigs to my post about short fic vs long fic, and the K/D epic was (is?) certainly LONG. So far, it has at least 80,000 words but they are of uneven variety. This chapter, however, passed my own meta-beta muster, after a few revisions.
Extensive Header addenda:
Style: present tense, third person, avoidance of secondary clauses
Mood: angst
Location: South Island, New Zealand, an ocean-side motel
Mood of author upon posting: conflicted uncertainty
Also: hunger, as hasn't had lunch
Note on title: I entitled this chapter 'Lost' way before I learned of the Dominic-featuring series 'Lost'. So if there's a pun it's serendipitous!
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(no subject)
Date: 2005-11-03 03:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-11-03 04:28 pm (UTC)Oh, and you wrote something, too: feedback!! Oh, and i"ve just read it, how horrible. If you are rarely on LJ, let me know your phone details so we can MEET UP!!!! I shall email you mine right now so check your email! *runs off to your userpage to find your email*
Okay, I've just sent an email to your cailleachbeara account. I feel the need to share the suffering!
Also, you are so sweet to be reading this and commenting and even liking! I am too immersed in this particular story (though less so than I was!) to be able to tell; I just love these characters too much but I also know that they are absurdly angsty. Both of them in their own ways. And this is somewhat over-the-top trying to be lyrical but you actually liked the weeping!
I don't know if I'll post any more of it. I once posted quite a few chapters, the most salvageable ones because I got sick of the others. But this story haunts me, maybe because I never bloody finished it. Also for personal psycho drama reasons. I would like to rewrite it all and then post it but first I want to finish the HP fic (which also haunts me!) and then there's the Desert Prince... Oh, yes, and my academic book!!!! So. I can send you the link to the chapters I posted, if you like.
I hate heads of department!!!!!
(no subject)
Date: 2005-11-03 04:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-11-03 06:33 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-11-03 10:13 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-11-04 12:21 am (UTC)But,that has to change now! I read "Lost" and it reminded me how much I love the way you write.And more Karl/Dom is a very good thing :) I looked through your other stories trying to find what this was a continuation of-w/no luck. Do you have more to share in a different location? If so I would very much like to read more of their story!
I am glad I went looking because I discovered "Different Tastes"-so good! And the adorable "Arthropods"series. It is surprising what different subjects you can learn about when you've only set out to take Boy-Sex 101 ;)
Oh,I also wanted to comment that there are quite a lot of us here who 'came late' to the party. 2003 esp.saw a lot of new LotR fans joining LJ. And,I am happy to say, there seem to be more joining the LotR fandom all the time. I always feel like I missed out on so much not having been there from the beginning.But it is always a real treat discovering the amazing authors who were there,and can take me back in time to share in the excitement.Thank you!
Umm...I've never left a comment this long before-hope it's okay.Guess I'm making up for lost time.
Thanks again for your wonderful stories!
Vi :)
(no subject)
Date: 2005-11-05 05:50 pm (UTC)It is surprising what different subjects you can learn about when you've only set out to take Boy-Sex
This is extraordinarily true!!!
I also wanted to comment that there are quite a lot of us here who 'came late' to the party.
This is extremely interesting to me. I used to consider myself as a latecomer until I got together with a whole lot of fellow-fans whom I had thought of as old-timers and it turned out they all joined like a day before I did! I came onto the wagon in January 2002 and that was just 2 or 3 weeks after the lotrips yahoo group was founded. But I knew nothing of slash!! I was clueless and delighted! And then LJ a few months later... I am strangely delighted that people are still out there reading and writing lotrips because the 'old guard' whom I started hanging out with have all more or less moved on. As have I. (Or so I keep thinking...)
I have stumbled onto established fandoms myself and read fics that are several years old and it can be lovely! Especially as you don't have to wait for WIPs to finish; they're all completed already! *g*
I've never left a comment this long before-hope it's okay.
Good lord, nothing could be sweeter! The thing I miss most if the permanent drip of feedback, now that I post so rarely. I love it when I get some! Thanks so much for taking the trouble!
(no subject)
Date: 2005-11-06 11:07 am (UTC)I discovered slash and LJ about a year ago,and finally got an acct.6 mos.ago when several of my favorite authors f-locked their stories. I've only ever had this name.
If you don't mind my saying,I think with writing like Lost,LotRips might still have a place in your heart? I,for one,hope you will be inspired to continue.
Not sure of the proper etiquette here-is it alright to e-mail you a question?
(no subject)
Date: 2005-11-06 10:42 pm (UTC)Feel free to email me all you like; it is certainly 'etiquette', as far as I know, but I'm afraid I won't be able to read your emails as I have had problems with accessing the stupid yahoo account for months now. I'm on some ancient operating system and half the time I get blank pages, depending on the ads run by yahoo mail. So I've just stopped logging on to my email. Best to do it via LJ (because I go to 'recent comments' to check) and if it's private, tell me in LJ that you will email and I will, *sigh*, brave my OS.
:-)
(no subject)
Date: 2005-11-06 11:34 pm (UTC)