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07 September 2008 @ 06:24 pm
Fic: "Cut It Loose" // Original  
Title: Cut It Loose
Author: catalyst_roses
Rating: M
Warnings: Creepiness. Death (lolpun). Slash.
Fandom: Original
Summary: His hair is dark and his eyes are darker and he’s never seen until he wants to be.
Notes: I have no idea where this came from. Honestly. But I love it to death. I was listening to "The (After) Life of the Party" by Fall Out Boy earlier, and for some reason this line sucked me in once again: Death’s in a double bed / Singing songs that could only catch the ear of the desperate. And then I couldn’t get this image out of my head. Idk. I really, really like it. Hope you do, too. ♥



His hair is dark and his eyes are darker and he’s never seen until he wants to be.

He goes by many names (only a few of which are pronounceable by the human tongue) but the one he’s using tonight is Ezra*, because there’s nothing Death loves more than irony.

The boy across from him is thin, barely legal, and breathing heavily. He’s staring hungrily at Ezra’s full lips, and just to mess with him, Ezra licks them. Slowly.

The boy’s pupils dilate quick as anything, and suddenly Ezra has an armful of heat and shuddery breaths and gasps and--

Ezra twines a long-fingered hand through the boy’s hair and tips his head back, exposing a pale, pretty neck that just begs to be ruined. He complies and begins dropping wet kisses along the smooth expanse of skin, pausing every now and then to nip, to bring blood to the surface of that gorgeous neck, to mark him.

Lord above knows someone needs to, before this is all over.

The boy’s shudder-jerking in his arms, making small noises that could be pain and just might be pleasure, but either way it’s what Ezra wants to hear. His free hand drifts to his companion’s chest, settles over the heart, over the pulse that’s flut-flut-fluttering away like it’s going out of style (it is).

Beneath the ribs and above the heart, Ezra feels the lungs that are slowly being overworked, that will soon collapse and fail. Feels the stage four cancer that resides there, the diseased cells that even now are spreading like wildfire.

Against the boy’s neck, Ezra smiles.

Eventually they will move inside, finally making it past the door of Ezra’s apartment (the one that’s only there when he needs it to be). They might make it to the bed, or maybe only to the couch, or, hell, maybe they’ll make use of the carpeted floor.

Wherever they end up, Ezra will do his best to give this shockingly beautiful boy the greatest night of his life. He’ll make it last, maybe even make it worth something.

After all, it’s the (most) least he can do.

E.n.d.

*Ezra is the Hebrew name/word for "help," which I found ironic. So does Death. Go figure.

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