Fic: The Usual Reward
Pairing: Askeladd/Thorfinn
Rating: R
Warnings: Yaoi. Coercive sex.
Summary: Someday, Thorfinn plans on getting what he wants.
Author's Notes: So, uh.
beanclam talked me into reading Vinland Saga, and it turned out to be amazing. I finished it in two days, dreamt about it, got a fic in my head that wouldn't leave. So now, there is fic that I feel awful for writing. Poor Thorfinn.
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The Usual Reward
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“Promise me a reward.”
He has said the words so many times in the past ten years that they have become a habit- a way of life. They fall from his tongue as though they belong there, as though they are a joke shared between friends, but the acid still drips from every syllable that Thorfinn forces between clenched teeth.
Each time they leave his mouth, the boy wonders with that small segment of his mind not steeped in murder whether the results will strip away parts that he did not know he had left to lose. Each time, Thorfinn tells himself that nothing new can work its way through the cracks in the stone that life has formed around his heart. He tells himself that nothing can be worse than what he has seen- than what he has done.
And each time, just the same, it gets worse.
“Promise me a reward,” he says, and somehow the fact that Askeladd is reaching for the belt at his waist before he gives his reply drives the blade of resentment deeper.
“The usual?” the man replies, and tips a lop-sided smile, lazy eyes laughing. There is something knowing in that face, something knowing in those eyes, and Thorfinn fights down the impulse that comes, burningly strong, to draw the knives at his belt and cut them out.
Instead he grits his teeth so hard it hurts and gives a curt nod- and then the belt is on the floor, and Askeladd’s pants pool beside it, bunched around the boots that hug his calves. “Go on, then- get started.”
Thorfinn has never done this before.
He has forgotten, as the years trickled slowly past, how to be close to anyone at all- and whatever else he has become, however near he has slipped to the monsters serving under Askeladd’s command, he has never stooped to taking pleasure by force, and he never intends to. And so when he settles in between the man’s knees, uses one hand to gingerly guide his newest assignment between his lips, it is an awkward effort, made worse because the boy can not help but notice the smirk growing wider on the face above him.
His cheeks burn as he begins to move, thoughts fierce and spiteful as he pushes too far too fast and nearly gags. There is weight on his head, and there are fingers in his hair, and there is a moment, before Thorfinn realizes how ridiculous it would sound, when the sudden impulse to drop his task and demand that the cheating whoreson not touch him is nearly overwhelming. He bites it back- along with the conviction that biting something else would be far more satisfying- and concentrates on finishing this as soon as he’s able.
When, what seems ages later, Thorfinn begins to feel a trembling in the muscles of the man’s thighs and the twining fingers become seizing claws, brambles caught in the bird’s nest of the boy’s hair, he intends to pull back. Instead, Askeladd's grip yanks him forward. Warmth explodes at the back of his throat, something wet and thick, and this time he does gag, nostrils flaring as he tries to breathe.
It is over in the space of a handful of heartbeats, but it is not soon enough, and when he draws backs and stands, he spits the last of the foul white liquid onto the ground. “Now,” Thorfinn demands, though he knows that if they fight now, his anger will be blindingly bright, thick enough to choke him. It has to be now, because he has proved himself wrong again, and already a piece of the boy that he hadn’t known was left is curling up inside him to die.
The man who killed Thorfinn’s father smirks, turns those lazy, knowing eyes his way, and rises to refasten his belt. “Whatever you want, my boy.”
-end-
Rating: R
Warnings: Yaoi. Coercive sex.
Summary: Someday, Thorfinn plans on getting what he wants.
Author's Notes: So, uh.
beanclam talked me into reading Vinland Saga, and it turned out to be amazing. I finished it in two days, dreamt about it, got a fic in my head that wouldn't leave. So now, there is fic that I feel awful for writing. Poor Thorfinn.=====
The Usual Reward
=====
“Promise me a reward.”
He has said the words so many times in the past ten years that they have become a habit- a way of life. They fall from his tongue as though they belong there, as though they are a joke shared between friends, but the acid still drips from every syllable that Thorfinn forces between clenched teeth.
Each time they leave his mouth, the boy wonders with that small segment of his mind not steeped in murder whether the results will strip away parts that he did not know he had left to lose. Each time, Thorfinn tells himself that nothing new can work its way through the cracks in the stone that life has formed around his heart. He tells himself that nothing can be worse than what he has seen- than what he has done.
And each time, just the same, it gets worse.
“Promise me a reward,” he says, and somehow the fact that Askeladd is reaching for the belt at his waist before he gives his reply drives the blade of resentment deeper.
“The usual?” the man replies, and tips a lop-sided smile, lazy eyes laughing. There is something knowing in that face, something knowing in those eyes, and Thorfinn fights down the impulse that comes, burningly strong, to draw the knives at his belt and cut them out.
Instead he grits his teeth so hard it hurts and gives a curt nod- and then the belt is on the floor, and Askeladd’s pants pool beside it, bunched around the boots that hug his calves. “Go on, then- get started.”
Thorfinn has never done this before.
He has forgotten, as the years trickled slowly past, how to be close to anyone at all- and whatever else he has become, however near he has slipped to the monsters serving under Askeladd’s command, he has never stooped to taking pleasure by force, and he never intends to. And so when he settles in between the man’s knees, uses one hand to gingerly guide his newest assignment between his lips, it is an awkward effort, made worse because the boy can not help but notice the smirk growing wider on the face above him.
His cheeks burn as he begins to move, thoughts fierce and spiteful as he pushes too far too fast and nearly gags. There is weight on his head, and there are fingers in his hair, and there is a moment, before Thorfinn realizes how ridiculous it would sound, when the sudden impulse to drop his task and demand that the cheating whoreson not touch him is nearly overwhelming. He bites it back- along with the conviction that biting something else would be far more satisfying- and concentrates on finishing this as soon as he’s able.
When, what seems ages later, Thorfinn begins to feel a trembling in the muscles of the man’s thighs and the twining fingers become seizing claws, brambles caught in the bird’s nest of the boy’s hair, he intends to pull back. Instead, Askeladd's grip yanks him forward. Warmth explodes at the back of his throat, something wet and thick, and this time he does gag, nostrils flaring as he tries to breathe.
It is over in the space of a handful of heartbeats, but it is not soon enough, and when he draws backs and stands, he spits the last of the foul white liquid onto the ground. “Now,” Thorfinn demands, though he knows that if they fight now, his anger will be blindingly bright, thick enough to choke him. It has to be now, because he has proved himself wrong again, and already a piece of the boy that he hadn’t known was left is curling up inside him to die.
The man who killed Thorfinn’s father smirks, turns those lazy, knowing eyes his way, and rises to refasten his belt. “Whatever you want, my boy.”
-end-