![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
ficlet: standards of action [Left 4 Dead 2]
this took a lot longer than it should have, i think. :|
still surprised i've been able to write *something* for 4 days in a row. baby steps, baby steps!
Title: standards of action
Fandom: Left 4 Dead 2
Pairing: Nick/Ellis
Rating: um...PG-15ish...? for language, and LOL MANGROPING.
Words: 400
Summary: In which Nick is a great big angsty emo whore and Ellis just wants to have sex. THE END.
Notes: OH MAN I'M PRETTY SURE NICK IS OOC. :sadface:
Anyway, the title comes from a line in Murakami's Norwegian Wood: "Life doesn't require ideals. It requires standards of action."
---
“Nick,” Ellis murmurs, one hand gliding over the silk covering Nick's firm thigh, the other fumbling with the buttons of his half-done shirt, “Nick...”
He feels like he should say something else, like maybe ask permission – or tell Nick how much he wants to touch him, fuck him – but the words get stuck in his throat and Ellis has never been good at talking about how he feels anyway, it's so much easier to let his hands speak for him, except -
Except Nick isn't doing anything. Not protesting – that Ellis could have understood – but not accepting, either: his lips are warm and soft but slack against Ellis' own, mouth still and unresisting as Ellis slips his tongue into that inviting heat.
Ellis pulls back, frustration and fear rising in his chest. Rejection would hurt less than this disinterest – as if Ellis' desire is something to be endured - not enjoyed, not even acknowledged. Ellis grabs Nick by the shoulders and shoves him against the saferoom wall, hard, watching for something, anything, to pass over Nick's stone-set face.
“If you,” Ellis begins, and he can't stop his voice from shaking, “if you don't want this, just tell me, but goddamn it, don't keep stringin' me on -”
Nick lifts a finger to Ellis' lips, an unexpected, gentle warning. “It's not about what I want,” he says, and Ellis wants to scream because he can feel Nick's body trembling beneath him, hot and hungry and eager, and he can't understand what the hell Nick is talking about. “I'm not...I'm not a good person, Ellis. I don't...”
“Oh, Jesus Christ, don't you dare say I'm gonna get hurt,” Ellis snarls. He presses up against Nick as hard as he can; Nick lets out a moan, low and sweet in his throat, the sound sending a shiver down Ellis' spine. He wants to hear it over and over again, wants to hear Nick's voice breaking and stuttering over Ellis' name. “I just wanna be close to you, for as long as I can. I ain't gonna ask for anything else, so why'd ya gotta be such a goddamn girl about it?”
Nick threads slender fingers through Ellis' hair, strangely hesitant at first before gripping hard and drawing Ellis' face near his own. “Alright,” he whispers against Ellis' full lips, “alright -”
The space between them closes.
still surprised i've been able to write *something* for 4 days in a row. baby steps, baby steps!
Title: standards of action
Fandom: Left 4 Dead 2
Pairing: Nick/Ellis
Rating: um...PG-15ish...? for language, and LOL MANGROPING.
Words: 400
Summary: In which Nick is a great big angsty emo whore and Ellis just wants to have sex. THE END.
Notes: OH MAN I'M PRETTY SURE NICK IS OOC. :sadface:
Anyway, the title comes from a line in Murakami's Norwegian Wood: "Life doesn't require ideals. It requires standards of action."
---
“Nick,” Ellis murmurs, one hand gliding over the silk covering Nick's firm thigh, the other fumbling with the buttons of his half-done shirt, “Nick...”
He feels like he should say something else, like maybe ask permission – or tell Nick how much he wants to touch him, fuck him – but the words get stuck in his throat and Ellis has never been good at talking about how he feels anyway, it's so much easier to let his hands speak for him, except -
Except Nick isn't doing anything. Not protesting – that Ellis could have understood – but not accepting, either: his lips are warm and soft but slack against Ellis' own, mouth still and unresisting as Ellis slips his tongue into that inviting heat.
Ellis pulls back, frustration and fear rising in his chest. Rejection would hurt less than this disinterest – as if Ellis' desire is something to be endured - not enjoyed, not even acknowledged. Ellis grabs Nick by the shoulders and shoves him against the saferoom wall, hard, watching for something, anything, to pass over Nick's stone-set face.
“If you,” Ellis begins, and he can't stop his voice from shaking, “if you don't want this, just tell me, but goddamn it, don't keep stringin' me on -”
Nick lifts a finger to Ellis' lips, an unexpected, gentle warning. “It's not about what I want,” he says, and Ellis wants to scream because he can feel Nick's body trembling beneath him, hot and hungry and eager, and he can't understand what the hell Nick is talking about. “I'm not...I'm not a good person, Ellis. I don't...”
“Oh, Jesus Christ, don't you dare say I'm gonna get hurt,” Ellis snarls. He presses up against Nick as hard as he can; Nick lets out a moan, low and sweet in his throat, the sound sending a shiver down Ellis' spine. He wants to hear it over and over again, wants to hear Nick's voice breaking and stuttering over Ellis' name. “I just wanna be close to you, for as long as I can. I ain't gonna ask for anything else, so why'd ya gotta be such a goddamn girl about it?”
Nick threads slender fingers through Ellis' hair, strangely hesitant at first before gripping hard and drawing Ellis' face near his own. “Alright,” he whispers against Ellis' full lips, “alright -”
The space between them closes.