kay-obsessive.livejournal.com (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/openid-profile.gif){kind=small} kay-obsessive.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} porn_battle, |
((This is...not as porny as intended.))
You can’t keep it straight anymore, the memories. Everything’s bleeding together, crossing over, and you’re losing the truth to the fabrications.
You’re a doctor, that’s real. Real enough, anyway. You always wanted to be, and you studied hard to get there, and that’s a lie you never went to school. who needs school when you can handle a knife, a real knife not that doctor crap, and you can slit a traitor’s throat fit to make bobby proud, and No, that isn’t you.
It’s all wrong, and you take it out on Topher, because it’s his fault. It has to be his fault, and besides, you know how to get to him, all his little fears. why? why do you know? he never told you and he wouldn’t include that knowledge in the imprint. You just managed to figure it out. He’s not a difficult person to understand. His fears are clear as day, and you were there when one got loose in the lab, and he just about knocked you over trying to get away, and you laughed so hard. he had always been a little annoying, but seeing him climb onto the lab bench with that panicked look was really kind of endearing, and God, you hate him so much.
You can’t even stand it anymore. You have to make him crack like you’ve cracked, so you shock him in his sleep, push him down onto the sad little cot he calls a bed, and Topher’s grinning up at you, lazy and affectionate, his hands ghosting over your legs. “thought you were going to help with my research tonight.” “you’re a genius. you can afford to fall behind schedule by a day.” “can’t argue with that.” and you lean down to kiss him, and he responds for the briefest of seconds before shoving you away, and you slap him because everything is wrong.
You don’t remember what you were saying, but you finish anyway, snap, “Why shouldn’t I love you?” He looks away, avoids your gaze, but his fingers dig into your hips as you rock against him, and he groans your name but you can’t quite hear it. his eyes flutter open to stare into yours, and the grin comes back and you laugh, “what?” “i love you,” like a secret, and you’re grinning too, tangling fingers in his hair and pulling him toward you again.
There is grief in his face, a forgotten memory, and you’re terrified you know exactly what it is. “How do I live?” you whisper.
“i’m not sure you should mess with these rossum guys, topher.”
“what’s the worst they could do to me?”