Never that simple

By Green

Disclaimer: These characters are Kevin Smith's and possibly the Bible's, unless I turn out to be the other last scion they are certainly not mine and I make no money from them

Warnings: Slash, not for the orthodox among us (but hey, armadillos etc), some major spoilers for the end of the film. If you haven't seen the movie let no person rest until you have…it is * very * good

Pairing: Bartleby/Loki

Rating: R (for language, sexual situations and mild violence)

Feedback: Yes please, it'll make me so happy it'll help get you to heaven * g *

Green99bottles@aol.com or review underneath

Note: This is an early fic for me, so please tell me what you think so that I can improve. If you do like this then there's some really excellent stuff out there on this fandom so keep reading, if you don't like this then ditto.

Time freezes…

Loki's head next to his, and newly human breath just touching his lips, and eyes as beautiful as they were centuries ago when all this began.

It has to stop now.

Loki looks so vulnerable without his wings, and he still seems in pain, the ragged breath smells of cheap alcohol and beneath it Bartleby can sense the thick rich musky odour of human sweat. Human. Human sweat. For removing excess heat, also produced when scared shitless…it's a cold day today. The second smell is right now even more tempting than the alcohol.

It has to stop now.

Loki's hand clasps his head just as his clasps Loki's – it's an old embrace, the memories are too much to try and organise, analyse and say how they got from back then to here. God knows, God really knows, and probably only her.

Forehead to forehead…sweet breath and warm skin, all the disgusting human traits and it's Loki and it's beautiful and it's as tempting as the apple

It has to stop, now.

Loki's heart beats louder than he thought a human's could, fast, loud and strong, and Bartelby can almost see the pulsing veins that flow through every inch of Loki's body and feed him life, human, warm, real, brief, fucked-up, screwed-over life.

And it all has to stop now.

The blood now flows hot over his arms. The eyes begin to close.

Now there is no one to stop him, he can break all the fucking rules, the hell with everything. All the forbidden fruit lie within his reach and the half-empty bottle of alcohol literally so.

So he doesn't understand why all he wants to do is press his lips to that still-warm forehead and taste the dirty human sweat that decorates it in beads.

A voice rings in his ears…

'If I had a dick I'd fuck…next best thing…kill people'

An idea flits through his mind, just, maybe, possibly, y'know, if he'd waited. Maybe tried them being human together, maybe they could have tested that theory. 'Is fucking better than killing?' He killed Loki, does that mean he wanted…

He abruptly turns from the body before him. This is ridiculous. If this sense he's feeling is loss, or maybe frustration, there is only one logical option.

Kill more people.

Maybe some more.

Why won't it stop fucking * HURTING *?