giftedthom | (no subject)

::releases him and steps back, shaking his head and looking inexplicably sad::

If that's everything that matters, I'm sorry for you.

::Shakes silently for a moment. Thom's eyes grow ice-cold, strangely out of place in his flushed face. He snarls:: Don't you dare run from me.

I don't want your fucking pity.

::coldly:: Why? Does it mess up the twisted way you like to see the world? Does having someone actually care about what you feel or what happens to you spoil your perception of everyone being completely self-involved ku'reshtin who don't care for anyone but themselves? Maybe you like to think like that, but you can't hide from the truth forever.

You know, that's a very pretty speech, Cat, but no-one ever means those words. ::He points to the door::

So I'd be...obliged...if you'd take your lies, and your nice little ideals, and get them the fuck out of my room and back to your castle in the clouds, where the pack of you belong.

::quietly:: Cat, huh?

::abruptly, a blurring void is where Brennan was, and when it clears, there is a large black mountain cat instead of a man. It stalks slowly towards Thom::

'What do you know of sincerety? What do you know of anything besides your own problems, your own little world where everything is anyone's fault but yours?'

::He is between Thom and the door, and even Sleeta is beginning to look worried::

I know what I've been taught.

::moving oh-so-slowly closer, looking like he's hunting::

'Oh? And what exactly would that be?'

Lir-

'No, Sleeta.'

::a faint violet light appears at his fingertips::

There's no such thing as sorry.

'Going to use your Gift on me? I think not.'

::leaps gracefully and pushes Thom to the floor, pinning him with one paw on his chest and the other at his throat, flexing his claws::

'Very. Bad. Move.'

::Thom cries out when his oft-abused head hits the floor. He swallows, staring up at Brennan::

Bastard.

::sounding almost amused:: 'No, that would be my rujholla.'

::mockingly:: 'What's wrong, Thom? I thought you preferred people to be ku'reshtin, to hurt you, to reaffirm your belief that everyone is against you.'

::lowers his head, opening his mouth and resting his fangs against Thom's throat::

'I'd have thought you'd be used to this.'

::Thom stiffens, but he doesn't look away, or squirm.::

Vulnerability isn't a look he wears well; somehow it always looks like a challenge. Like it says --

Push me.

But what he says, softly, is:: Go on. Prove me right.

::Cat-Brennan watches him for a moment, yellow eyes calculating, then lowers his head to Thom's throat and -

- licks him::

::He flinches, a wild jerk of a motion in an attempt to move his neck away that just bangs his head on the floor again.::

::quietly:: 'Don't.'

::licks his throat again::

'You smell like power... like Cheysuli.'

::shudders and echos:: Don't.

::stares at him for a moment, then the void is there, with the eerie sensation of ghostly paws holding him down, turning into human hands as Brennan-the-human replaces Brennan-the-cat, still lying on top of Thom::

::turns his head, then, and looks away at last::

::moves one hand up to cup Thom's cheek, lightly stroking his cheekbone with his thumb::

Sshh, meijhana...

Don't touch me.

::quietly:: Is that really what you want, meijhana?

::leans down and gently kisses him::

::Thom's eyes grow impossibly large.

He can't sense any malevolence in Brennan, and that's perhaps most frightening of all.

He's never been kissed like this before.

So he shoves desperately at Brennan and squirms, trying to crawl out from beneath him.::

::moves back, sitting on his heels and biting his lip. He's not used to feeling like this, especially about another man. It's confusing::

::softly:: Shansu, meijhana.

::Sits up slowly, takes a deep breath, and wipes his mouth roughly on his sleeve. He hugs himself and gestures sharply towards the door with a swift motion of his head.

Just as softly:: Out.

Now.

::stands up gracefully::

I know you won't believe me, meijhana, but I am sorry. I shouldn't have said or done any of that. You didn't deserve that sort of anger.

::very quietly:: But I do not regret kissing you.

::with that, he leaves, Sleeta following::

(no subject)

giftedthom.livejournal.com - 2004-09-18 01:24 (UTC) - Expand