(abz) temptation [scrap]
Sep. 28th, 2006 12:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
visionplaceTitle: Temptation
Fandom: Altar Boyz
Characters: Luke, Mark
Fandom: Altar Boyz
Characters: Luke, Mark
The first time it happened, the thrill of breaking the rules blinded him to the fact that it was wrong. Any repercussions that were sure to follow seemed insignificant. The warmth that flooded his body made him feel feverish, and as if the Earth had tilted on its axis. It left Luke numb and it left him wanting more.
The second time it happened, it was an accident, unplanned, the result of the inability to curb this new appetite. A week of remorse, of sideways glances, and self-reprimanding had left him certain that he would never again succumb to that temptation. His certainty lasted only one week…
The cabinet which housed the television loomed in front of him like the shadow of death. His eyes held fast to the varnished woodwork. Not at the shelf where the television resided, but rather at the space he knew sheltered the mini-bar. Luke’s hand found his mouth and began to chew at his worn thumb nail.
Rising up from his seat on the bed, he reached out with his other hand, his fingers barely brushing against the grooved edge of the door before he retracted his hand. He turned away for a moment, clenching both fists in frustration. His eyes closed and his body shifted forward until his forehead rested upon the cool surface of the wooden cabinet.
His mind raced, flashing images that made goose bumps form on his arms and legs, and a feeling he would not allow himself to acknowledge again creep back into his stomach. He squeezed his closed eyes tighter and clenched his jaw, before crouching down to open the door and pull the tab to release the lock on the small refrigerator. The cool air from inside brushed past his warm cheeks as he peered inside, grabbing a handful of the tiny bottles and recoiling quickly, sinking back onto the bed.
The clear liquid burned the back of his throat and stung at the corners of his eyes, and yet Luke set the empty bottle on the night stand beside him and reached for another and another. But the thoughts were still there. He had opened up the floodgate and now they came pouring into his mind like the liquor he kept pouring into his mouth.
A knock shattered the silence he had wrapped around himself like a blanket, and his narrowed eyes peered through the sporadic slivers of lamp light that escaped from beneath his hastily-thrown jacket. The would-be intruder knocked a second time, more softly, and Luke found himself making his way toward the door. He pulled it open cautiously, the luminosity from the hall impairing his vision briefly so that all that stood before him was a dark shadow. As his eyes readjusted themselves, the figure in front of him began to come into focus. Something within him buckled and he unintentionally staggered backwards into the room. The visitor took that as an invitation to come inside, brushing past Luke ever so slowly as he entered. His blue eyes took in the still-open mini bar and the empty bottles on the nightstand and quickly put two and two together. He turned to look at his friend who was still staggered up against the wall.
“Luke?” Mark’s voice was hushed and sweet and he crept slowly toward Luke, the way one might approach a startled horse. “Luke?” He tried again, louder this time, but just as cautious.
Luke raised his head slowly so that his eyes were looking directly into Mark’s blue ones. Mark reached out his hand as if he would cup Luke’s cheek, but when Luke turned his head away, Mark’s hand stayed frozen in midair. His brows furrowed together and he began to take a step back when Luke’s head quickly turned back to face him. Mark opened his mouth to speak, but found it difficult now that Luke’s mouth was suddenly pressed up against his own. Luke reached up to grab Mark’s still-suspended hand and brought it down with his own as he wrapped his arm around Mark’s hip, forcing Mark’s body to press into his own. … …
The second time it happened, it was an accident, unplanned, the result of the inability to curb this new appetite. A week of remorse, of sideways glances, and self-reprimanding had left him certain that he would never again succumb to that temptation. His certainty lasted only one week…
The cabinet which housed the television loomed in front of him like the shadow of death. His eyes held fast to the varnished woodwork. Not at the shelf where the television resided, but rather at the space he knew sheltered the mini-bar. Luke’s hand found his mouth and began to chew at his worn thumb nail.
Rising up from his seat on the bed, he reached out with his other hand, his fingers barely brushing against the grooved edge of the door before he retracted his hand. He turned away for a moment, clenching both fists in frustration. His eyes closed and his body shifted forward until his forehead rested upon the cool surface of the wooden cabinet.
His mind raced, flashing images that made goose bumps form on his arms and legs, and a feeling he would not allow himself to acknowledge again creep back into his stomach. He squeezed his closed eyes tighter and clenched his jaw, before crouching down to open the door and pull the tab to release the lock on the small refrigerator. The cool air from inside brushed past his warm cheeks as he peered inside, grabbing a handful of the tiny bottles and recoiling quickly, sinking back onto the bed.
The clear liquid burned the back of his throat and stung at the corners of his eyes, and yet Luke set the empty bottle on the night stand beside him and reached for another and another. But the thoughts were still there. He had opened up the floodgate and now they came pouring into his mind like the liquor he kept pouring into his mouth.
A knock shattered the silence he had wrapped around himself like a blanket, and his narrowed eyes peered through the sporadic slivers of lamp light that escaped from beneath his hastily-thrown jacket. The would-be intruder knocked a second time, more softly, and Luke found himself making his way toward the door. He pulled it open cautiously, the luminosity from the hall impairing his vision briefly so that all that stood before him was a dark shadow. As his eyes readjusted themselves, the figure in front of him began to come into focus. Something within him buckled and he unintentionally staggered backwards into the room. The visitor took that as an invitation to come inside, brushing past Luke ever so slowly as he entered. His blue eyes took in the still-open mini bar and the empty bottles on the nightstand and quickly put two and two together. He turned to look at his friend who was still staggered up against the wall.
“Luke?” Mark’s voice was hushed and sweet and he crept slowly toward Luke, the way one might approach a startled horse. “Luke?” He tried again, louder this time, but just as cautious.
Luke raised his head slowly so that his eyes were looking directly into Mark’s blue ones. Mark reached out his hand as if he would cup Luke’s cheek, but when Luke turned his head away, Mark’s hand stayed frozen in midair. His brows furrowed together and he began to take a step back when Luke’s head quickly turned back to face him. Mark opened his mouth to speak, but found it difficult now that Luke’s mouth was suddenly pressed up against his own. Luke reached up to grab Mark’s still-suspended hand and brought it down with his own as he wrapped his arm around Mark’s hip, forcing Mark’s body to press into his own. … …
- June 6, 2006
