(no subject)

[nostopsinnarnia]

city_of_keys-verse introspective.
NSFW



You keep telling yourself that what you're doing is a good thing, that somehow you're protecting those you're with from a fate worse than a few unfortunate moments with you. What you're telling yourself is not a lie, or unjustified, considering the worst parts of the city make themselves home to wandering gangs who wouldn't think twice about 'honoring' the Lord of Ardor by taking their pound of flesh from an unwilling Clueless. At least one that you knew of that would hold off as long as they could, let the insanity roll over them before they'd go 'hunting'. You don't let yourself get angry that often, and while you took no pleasure in destroying each and every one of them the girl you saved was probably just as frightened of you as she'd been of the monsters that raped her.

But still you smile. You smile and you're silly because maybe if you smile enough the people around you could smile too. Once upon a time you thought being a hero was like some great adventure, and now the word just makes you frustrated. You're not a hero, you're just a glutton for punishment. You always seem to find yourself drawn to the new arrivals. It's not on purpose, never has been on purpose, but there are times when it makes you feel like the worst kind of predator.

Maybe it would be easier if they'd wanted you, but none of them had, and when it really comes down to it, kindness doesn't make an unwanted situation any less a rape. Not for the girl who cried in your arms because you weren't the man she loved, or the troll with the face of an adult but the eyes of a frightened child. When you reached over to clean your color from his face you wondered how your life came to be like this and the thought makes you sick to your stomach.

Your name is Johnen Egbert, and you're not as okay as you seem.

You've taken to seeking him out afterwards, hair still wet and skin splotchy and blue from water so hot you had no business being in. Dahved is the only one who's ever wanted you, and the only one in this cursed city that actually cares. You're not sure how much he really understands when you crush your mouth to his as if on the verge of total desperation, and you're not sure how much you really want him to understand; you don't feel pitiful, you feel pathetic.

It scares you sometimes how much you really need him. You want him to fuck you and he does. These are the times when you don't demand he take his shades off, because there's part of you that's scared of what might not be there anymore if you did. The things you've done feel so much like a betrayal it hurts, and you seek forgiveness in the way your body clutches his, how you take him in completely and breathe his name like it's the only thing that matters.

After it's all over, when you're kneeling up with your face hidden in his neck and a pail between your knees, you fight desperately to keep the mix of you inside as long as you possibly can because you're just not ready to let go yet. You're shaking from the combination of exertion and hormonal inebriation, even as purple starts to streak like ribbons along your inner thighs. It's always like this with you, and just as you feel it give way you pull him down into a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss until the rush leaves you a trembling, whimpering mess.

In the end you'll be okay. You have to be.

You don't have a choice.