Erin Ptah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ptahrrific) wrote2011-05-18 01:58 pm
ptahrrific) wrote2011-05-18 01:58 pm
Fake News: Red String
Title: Red String
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: "Stephen", Jon/Tracey, families
Disclaimer: #NotIntendedToBeAFactualStatement. The fictional characters are fictional, not mine, and used with love, not profit.
An epilogue to Green & Gray. Just enough to tie up the loose ends.
Red String
"Jon! Jon, wake up. You have to wake up!"
He doesn't want to. It's comfortable, and he's sleepy. But that's Stephen's voice, and when Stephen wants something from Jon he usually gets it, so it'll save time to just give in now.
"'Sup?" he yawns, kneading the cobwebs from his eyes.
"It's dinnertime. And your wife worked very hard on those frozen pizzas out of a box, you'd better show some appreciation. Jon, come on!"
The armchair creaks in sympathy as Jon gets up. Stephen's nearly hopping with anxiety, and Jon realizes with a start that he's not alone: the kids are hiding behind his legs, Nate clutching a Captain America action figure, Maggie's eyes wider than ever behind her new glasses.
"It's okay, guys," he says, taking their hands. "Uncle Stephen sometimes gets nervous when he doesn't need to, remember? There's nothing to worry about. I'm fine."
♦
It's been six months since the sirens pulled up to the foot of the building while Stephen cried over a body twenty floors above. Five months since he was ruled not guilty by virtue of self-defense. Four months since Jon's kids stopped waking up in the middle of the night to check that their parents hadn't disappeared again.
Liam's sister got the apartment, and almost everything else. She has a standing order that keeps Stephen away from the gravesite. His own family hasn't been in touch, except to uninvite him from things.
The first time Jon and Tracey came up to the cabin was, he later confessed, the first time he had shaved in weeks. If it weren't for the drives into town to see his therapist, he's not sure he would have showered.
This time, he greets them at the door with a grin, sporting freshly combed hair and a new cable knit sweater. He brags about his new boat, laughs as he takes them out on the water.
And if he has to leave when the kids start carving jack-o-lanterns, to lock himself upstairs and have a good cry...well, he's not doing that every day any more. It's progress.
♦
Long after the kids have been put to bed, nobody's suggested that Stephen go back to his own cabin.
He's glad. It's warm and safe on the rug before the Stewarts' (real, working) fireplace, talking about the new project Tad's working on, the movies Steve wants him to be in, the guest post he made on a (heavily-moderated) political blog that drew so much traffic it crashed their servers. He doesn't use the phrase Colbert Bump, tarnished as it was by too many awful tabloid puns, but the principle still holds.
Eventually the conversation retreats to Jon and Tracey, and Stephen lets his eyes fall closed.
His own cabin has guardians stationed everywhere: the golden statuette on the mantel and a cave troll on his bureau, a plush Steagle Colbeagle on the piano and a plastic Lady Liberty on the bathroom sink. Here, he feels safe enough to only need one.
♦
Jon doesn't say: About once a day, no matter what I'm doing, I end up thinking about how the bastard died with my name stamped in his skull. Sometimes I don't catch it until someone asks me why I'm smiling.
Stephen doesn't say: I still love him. I can't forgive him, but I don't know how to stop loving him.
Tracey doesn't say: After everything else you two have gone through, it wouldn't make much sense to draw the line here. She thinks she would, if one or both of them came to her and asked permission to spend a night together; but they don't ask.
♦
When Jon nudges him awake, Tracey's already upstairs and the fire has burnt itself out. The pewter pendant on its length of red string slips from his cardigan when he sits up.
"Didn't know you were wearing that," says Jon mildly, brushing carpet scruff off his back.
"It's a Catholic thing." Stephen wraps his fist around the medal and lets Jon guide him up the stairs. "St. Andrew. He's, um, kind of the patron saint of BDSM."
"I'm guessing that's not official."
Stephen, who's still relearning how to be teased, winces. "I'd get rid of it if you told me to."
Jon stops at the door of the guest room and lifts the string over his head. Before Stephen can let go of the pendant, Jon winds the loop around his wrist and holds it in place. They're always going to be tied to each other, but not by debt. Never by debt.
"You don't owe me anything," he says. "Be who you are. Do what you love. Wear what you want. Just don't wear this guy to bed, because being a saint doesn't stop it from being a choking hazard, and I want you still here in the morning."
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: "Stephen", Jon/Tracey, families
Disclaimer: #NotIntendedToBeAFactualStatement. The fictional characters are fictional, not mine, and used with love, not profit.
An epilogue to Green & Gray. Just enough to tie up the loose ends.
Red String
"Jon! Jon, wake up. You have to wake up!"
He doesn't want to. It's comfortable, and he's sleepy. But that's Stephen's voice, and when Stephen wants something from Jon he usually gets it, so it'll save time to just give in now.
"'Sup?" he yawns, kneading the cobwebs from his eyes.
"It's dinnertime. And your wife worked very hard on those frozen pizzas out of a box, you'd better show some appreciation. Jon, come on!"
The armchair creaks in sympathy as Jon gets up. Stephen's nearly hopping with anxiety, and Jon realizes with a start that he's not alone: the kids are hiding behind his legs, Nate clutching a Captain America action figure, Maggie's eyes wider than ever behind her new glasses.
"It's okay, guys," he says, taking their hands. "Uncle Stephen sometimes gets nervous when he doesn't need to, remember? There's nothing to worry about. I'm fine."
It's been six months since the sirens pulled up to the foot of the building while Stephen cried over a body twenty floors above. Five months since he was ruled not guilty by virtue of self-defense. Four months since Jon's kids stopped waking up in the middle of the night to check that their parents hadn't disappeared again.
Liam's sister got the apartment, and almost everything else. She has a standing order that keeps Stephen away from the gravesite. His own family hasn't been in touch, except to uninvite him from things.
The first time Jon and Tracey came up to the cabin was, he later confessed, the first time he had shaved in weeks. If it weren't for the drives into town to see his therapist, he's not sure he would have showered.
This time, he greets them at the door with a grin, sporting freshly combed hair and a new cable knit sweater. He brags about his new boat, laughs as he takes them out on the water.
And if he has to leave when the kids start carving jack-o-lanterns, to lock himself upstairs and have a good cry...well, he's not doing that every day any more. It's progress.
Long after the kids have been put to bed, nobody's suggested that Stephen go back to his own cabin.
He's glad. It's warm and safe on the rug before the Stewarts' (real, working) fireplace, talking about the new project Tad's working on, the movies Steve wants him to be in, the guest post he made on a (heavily-moderated) political blog that drew so much traffic it crashed their servers. He doesn't use the phrase Colbert Bump, tarnished as it was by too many awful tabloid puns, but the principle still holds.
Eventually the conversation retreats to Jon and Tracey, and Stephen lets his eyes fall closed.
His own cabin has guardians stationed everywhere: the golden statuette on the mantel and a cave troll on his bureau, a plush Steagle Colbeagle on the piano and a plastic Lady Liberty on the bathroom sink. Here, he feels safe enough to only need one.
Jon doesn't say: About once a day, no matter what I'm doing, I end up thinking about how the bastard died with my name stamped in his skull. Sometimes I don't catch it until someone asks me why I'm smiling.
Stephen doesn't say: I still love him. I can't forgive him, but I don't know how to stop loving him.
Tracey doesn't say: After everything else you two have gone through, it wouldn't make much sense to draw the line here. She thinks she would, if one or both of them came to her and asked permission to spend a night together; but they don't ask.
When Jon nudges him awake, Tracey's already upstairs and the fire has burnt itself out. The pewter pendant on its length of red string slips from his cardigan when he sits up.
"Didn't know you were wearing that," says Jon mildly, brushing carpet scruff off his back.
"It's a Catholic thing." Stephen wraps his fist around the medal and lets Jon guide him up the stairs. "St. Andrew. He's, um, kind of the patron saint of BDSM."
"I'm guessing that's not official."
Stephen, who's still relearning how to be teased, winces. "I'd get rid of it if you told me to."
Jon stops at the door of the guest room and lifts the string over his head. Before Stephen can let go of the pendant, Jon winds the loop around his wrist and holds it in place. They're always going to be tied to each other, but not by debt. Never by debt.
"You don't owe me anything," he says. "Be who you are. Do what you love. Wear what you want. Just don't wear this guy to bed, because being a saint doesn't stop it from being a choking hazard, and I want you still here in the morning."
no subject
For me the attraction of being a Dom is that you do get to be in charge of scenes ^_^; And I like the idea of having someone completely dependent on me (with the safety net that they can revert to being a self-sufficient adult if I screw up).
Heh, it's a fic about l!Stephen learning to be an appealing dom in the first place. Just as c!Stephen is a prickly control freak who secretly longs to be a sub, l!Stephen is a wishy-washy doormat who secretly longs to tie someone up and smack them around. So it's the process of him trying to learn skills like "giving orders without apologizing" and "sounding confident without adding a bunch of caveats" and "acting like he's entitled to something without having a complete liberal-guilt meltdown."
It's coming together slowly because there's not a whole lot of precedent to work from. Fics about subs are all over the map, but there's not a whole lot of fic about newbie doms, or doms who are at all insecure about their interests. I guess it ruins the fantasy-dom image that a lot of people are interested in writing about? And there's even less with subs who aren't really into the role but willing to indulge for their partner's sake; sometimes the dom is, but the sub's always either "totally into it" or "hates it, because this is a rape-fantasy fic". So in trying to write l!Stephen/Jon D/s, I'm pretty much flying blind. Here's hoping it works out somehow.
You'd have to talk to Sara about her D/sverse stuff (I'd love to see more of it too). As for that fanfic continuity...I don't have any more ideas for it ^_^; The muses, they are a fickle bunch.
no subject
For me the attraction of being a Dom is that you do get to be in charge of scenes ^_^; And I like the idea of having someone completely dependent on me (with the safety net that they can revert to being a self-sufficient adult if I screw up).
It's appealing sometimes, too. I'd worry that they wouldn't use their safe word even if they needed it.
I guess it ruins the fantasy-dom image that a lot of people are interested in writing about
Yes, I see your problem. We all want the dom to be perfectly attuned to the sub's needs and intuitive. I'm sure l!Stephen would be good at that by the way. Especially since he views Jon's submission as a gift. (Btw, I've known exactly one BDSM person in my life and he wrote every other LJ post about how grateful he was for his wife's gift of submission in going to the grocery store.)
And there's even less with subs who aren't really into the role but willing to indulge for their partner's sake; sometimes the dom is, but the sub's always either "totally into it" or "hates it, because this is a rape-fantasy fic"
Well, the problem, at least for me, is that unenthusiastic submission veers very close to rapey-ville. Especially if there is pain involved. Agreeing to be hurt when you don't like it is a really huge sacrifice.
That's one of the things I hatehatehate about Dan Savage; his insistance that you must accept aggresive and/or humiliating sex when you're dating a man.
Sara only seems to be writing original fic these days.
Awww, it's full of such possibilities! Stephen slowly getting over his fear of subbing and re-learning gender roles. Jon exploring his gender queerness. BriWi being really really hot.
His appearance on Letterman after Bin Laden was killed - Mmmmm!
no subject
L!Stephen would have that same kind of anxiety, definitely. Once he starts admitting he's into domming at all, he'll wind up overcompensating by trying to call off even vanilla sex if he doesn't think Jon looks happy enough.
The painful aspects of submission are definitely a high bar to clear (although that again makes it seem like there would be more doms than subs...and yet). But there are plenty of non-painful options to explore: light bondage, sensation play, little things like Stephen deciding what Jon wears and eats, or, you know, ordering him to go to the grocery store.
In fairness to Dan Savage, he's equal-opportunity. It doesn't matter the gender of the person; if they're hardwired to get off on degrading sex, he would still say it's part of the price of admission of dating them.
I'll put that 'verse up for grabs at the sandbox project; maybe someone will pick it up ^_^
no subject
no subject