|Barriers by Katt
||[Aug. 19th, 2005|07:51 pm]
|||||Gasolina -- Daddy Yankee||]|
Title: - Barriers
Author: - Katt
E-mail: - firstname.lastname@example.org
Rating: - R
Feedback: - Like it or loathe it let me know
Archive: - I’d be honoured.
Disclaimer: - No infringement was intended.
Author’s Notes: - Dedicated to Whipper who asked for some Christian angst, I hope this fits the bill.
To Christian the space between them seemed like an ever-widening chasm. In reality one or two steps would’ve taken him to Sean’s side, but it wasn’t the physical barrier of the space between their beds that seemed insurmountable at the moment. Sean had put up an emotional barrier, and with every hurt, betrayed, angry look he shot in Christian’s direction, Christian could see Sean beginning to close himself off from him.
Turning his head Christian could see Sean’s back turned towards him, still and unyielding. Communicating feelings of misplaced trust, hurt pride and maybe something else. Something deeper, more primal.
It was like a shadow that lurked in Sean’s eyes sometimes. When they argued, neither willing to give ground to the other heated words becoming louder and more strident. Then Christian would glimpse something flashing in Sean’s eyes. Times when they were relaxed, mellow. Then they could laugh and joke with each other like they had when they were kids back in college, or they could merely just sit, not saying a word, just being with each other. At those times Sean would smile at him, that slightly sad, vulnerable smile of his, and Christian would see it in his eyes again, but softer, almost wistful.
Christian knew that that shadow in Sean’s eyes was mirrored in his own. All the yearning, the need, the love sometimes shining out. Times during those arguments when he wanted to shove Sean up against the wall and claim him, hard and rough and so completely it would feel as if Christian was crawling inside Sean’s skin. Moments during those mellow times when Christian wanted to lean over, fingertips caressing Sean’s face as he gently claimed his lips. Tongue asking permission to enter by slow sweeps of Sean’s lower lip. He could imagine how Sean would groan into his mouth and open up to him.
Squeezing his eyes shut, pushing down images, the desire, that was making his cock harden, Christian turned away from Sean, and tried to stop himself from listening to the other man’s soft, shallow breathing.
He’d fucked up, Christian knew that. Seventeen years ago when he’d let Julia into his bed, because he’d known that was the closest he’d ever get to having what he really wanted. He’d fucked Julia because that was the closest he’d ever get to fucking Sean. All these years when he’d lusted after her he’d only been sublimating his true desires. He’d fucked Julia because it had been as if she was just a thin flesh and bone barrier between him and Sean. Just as that whore had been earlier. When Sean had been thrusting into her vagina, and he had been screwing her ass, Christian had never felt closer to Sean. For a moment it had been as if the whore had melted away. Over her shoulder he’d stared into Sean’s eyes, his hand grasping Sean’s where it lay on her hip. Their thrusts had synchronized; Christian imagining their bodies touching, cocks hard, moving against each other.
For a moment the shadow had been in Sean’s eyes and Christian had felt his heart clench in his chest, and then it had been gone. Sean had squeezed his eyes shut, had pulled his hand out from under Christian’s, and for one awful moment the whore had transformed into Julia. Julia who linked them both together, but who was also a barrier between them.
His hand wandered down his naked body and Christian lightly stroked his fingers along his aroused penis. Feeling sensation sparking along his nerve-endings at his touch, at his thoughts, images of Sean filling his mind.
Suddenly his mind snapped back into focus, Christian pulled his hand away as if his throbbing flesh had burnt him. Guilt rushed through him. Guilt for the thoughts and feelings he was having. Guilt for the pleasure he’d been experiencing.
Trying to convince himself that he didn’t really want those things. To touch and to taste, to feel Sean’s strong, skillful hands on his body. He didn’t want those things because that would make him right. Him, Mr. Troy, the evil bastard who had taken a child’s trust and used it as a weapon. The evil bastard who’d made Christian cry in the night all the while telling him that he was being a good boy, telling him that he didn’t believe his tears because he knew that Christian wanted to be touched, to be special. If Christian gave in to his feelings for Sean it would just prove Mr. Troy right, and he’d slept with too many faceless women to prove the exact opposite to let that happen.
Christian balled his hands into fists and held them rigidly at his sides, willing his erection to subside.
Before he fell asleep though Christian couldn’t stop himself from seeing a too pale face consumed with pain and betrayal staring down at him, and he couldn’t stop himself from hearing a voice, broken and disbelieving, as it whispered,
“I loved you the most.”