A/N: I know, I know! I should be at least updating "Until This is Over," but there's no A drive on the computer with the Internet, and the printer on the computer with an A drive is all defective and pissy. I have Part Two and half of Part Three on "Until" complete, but inaccessable. ::beats self in complete frustrated rage:: It's driving me (more) insane!
This is a one-shot songfic...and the third line of the song totally squicks me, because it ruins the effect and subject of the fic, but we'll pretend that the way I have it here is correct. No copyright infringement is intended! Leave alone the reclusive loner-stoner loser who lives vicariously through her feverish imagination! I won't give you a penny, unless of course you're some homeless person on the street. Then I'll buy you a sandwich and give you twenty bucks. But then why would you be on the computer reading this fanfic? Okay, I'll shut up now.
****
"What's Love Got to Do With It?" (a murder by numbers fanfic by SchizoAuthoress)
Richard tightened his grip on Justin's wrist, ignoring the pale blond's half-hearted struggles for freedom. The pulse pounding beneath the iron grasp of his fingers was erratic and excited; he couldn't help the wild thrill he felt in realizing that.
[You must understand though the touch of your hand/ Makes my pulse react/ That it's only the thrill of boy meeting boy/ Opposittes attract/ It's physical/ Only logical/ You must try to ignore that it means more than that]
"Richard, what the hell is the matter with you?" Justin demanded, ceasing in his physical attempts to get free and resorting to drawing the other boy into a contest of wit and will.
"What the hell is the matter with /you,/ Justin?" Richard retorted, eyes blazing with a predatory fever. He dragged Justin into the circle of his arms, letting his fingers dig sharply into the soft flesh of Justin's shoulders.
Justin recoiled instictively from the heat of Richard's breath as the taller, stronger teen whispered huskily, "You want this."
[What's love got to do, got to do with it/ What's love but a second hand emotion/ What's love got to do, got to do with it/ Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken]
"No..." Justin swallowed hard, never looking away from Richard's hungry eyes. To look away would be to concede defeat, to admit that he was lying.
"No?" Richard repeated, his trademark grin--cocky, derisive, seductive--tugging at his mouth as he placed his lips against Justin's jawline, tasting the faint wormwood-bitterness of that soft, warm skin.
"You want this. You're projecting your wants and desires onto me," Justin replied, fighting to keep his voice calm and level. "Not only does your obsessive-compulsive need for sex make you seek me out to fulfill that compulsion, you also assume that I must feel the same way, when in fact, I don't."
Richard growled deep in his throat, frustrated.
[It may seem to you that I'm acting confused/ When you're close to me/ If a tend to look dazed I've read it someplace/ I've got cause to be/ There's a name for it/ There's a phrase that fits/ But whatever the reason you do it for me]
"You're trying to confuse me," Richard accused, "Hiding behind a psychology text so that you can deny what you feel."
"I don't /feel/ anything for you, Richard." Justin intoned blankly. There was a sharp crack, rolling like a gunshot through the crumbling lodge, as Richard's hand connected with his cheek.
Justin's head snapped back, but Richard kept him on his feet and slammed him back into the wall.
"Liar!" Richard spat, "Hypocrite!"
[What's love got to do, got to do with it/ What's love but a second hand emotion/ What's love got to do, got to do with it/ Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken]
Justin closed his eyes, which were watering from the pain of the blow. "/You/ want this, Richard. I don't. Saying otherwise won't change it." He lifted steady fingers to his cheek, and those fingers came away stained red.
Richard's silver ring gleamed like a ruby in the firelight, painted in blood. Breathing heavily, Richard crushed his mouth over Justin's, prising open the boy's lush lips with his hot, searching tongue.
Tears of shame and frustration streamed down Justin's face; he choked down the impulse to respond to Richard's kiss, slumping against the wall in defeat.
[I've been taking on a new direction/ But I have to say/ I've been thinking about my own protection/ It scares me to feel this way]
Baffled by Justin's unresponsiveness, Richard pulled back, staring into his flushed face. His brow creased with confusion as he saw that Justin was crying.
"What's wrong?" Richard demanded, taking a step back and raking the fingers of one hand through his messy red-blond hair.
Justin lifted trembling hands to his face, rubbing away his tears with his palms. In a low, furious voice, Justin murmured, "I hate you."
Richard gazed at the trembling blond; a sharp, almost painful feeling stabbed into his heart, and the guilt practically choked him. He whispered thickly,
"Does it..." He paused, let out a nervous breath that he'd been holding, and continued, "Does it make it any better...if I love you?"
Justin glared at him. "You're going to ruin everything, Richard. What the fuck does love have to do with it?"
[What's love got to do, got to do with it/ What's love but a sweet old fashioned notion/ What's love got to do, got to do with it/ Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken]
~~Das Ende~~
This is a one-shot songfic...and the third line of the song totally squicks me, because it ruins the effect and subject of the fic, but we'll pretend that the way I have it here is correct. No copyright infringement is intended! Leave alone the reclusive loner-stoner loser who lives vicariously through her feverish imagination! I won't give you a penny, unless of course you're some homeless person on the street. Then I'll buy you a sandwich and give you twenty bucks. But then why would you be on the computer reading this fanfic? Okay, I'll shut up now.
****
"What's Love Got to Do With It?" (a murder by numbers fanfic by SchizoAuthoress)
Richard tightened his grip on Justin's wrist, ignoring the pale blond's half-hearted struggles for freedom. The pulse pounding beneath the iron grasp of his fingers was erratic and excited; he couldn't help the wild thrill he felt in realizing that.
[You must understand though the touch of your hand/ Makes my pulse react/ That it's only the thrill of boy meeting boy/ Opposittes attract/ It's physical/ Only logical/ You must try to ignore that it means more than that]
"Richard, what the hell is the matter with you?" Justin demanded, ceasing in his physical attempts to get free and resorting to drawing the other boy into a contest of wit and will.
"What the hell is the matter with /you,/ Justin?" Richard retorted, eyes blazing with a predatory fever. He dragged Justin into the circle of his arms, letting his fingers dig sharply into the soft flesh of Justin's shoulders.
Justin recoiled instictively from the heat of Richard's breath as the taller, stronger teen whispered huskily, "You want this."
[What's love got to do, got to do with it/ What's love but a second hand emotion/ What's love got to do, got to do with it/ Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken]
"No..." Justin swallowed hard, never looking away from Richard's hungry eyes. To look away would be to concede defeat, to admit that he was lying.
"No?" Richard repeated, his trademark grin--cocky, derisive, seductive--tugging at his mouth as he placed his lips against Justin's jawline, tasting the faint wormwood-bitterness of that soft, warm skin.
"You want this. You're projecting your wants and desires onto me," Justin replied, fighting to keep his voice calm and level. "Not only does your obsessive-compulsive need for sex make you seek me out to fulfill that compulsion, you also assume that I must feel the same way, when in fact, I don't."
Richard growled deep in his throat, frustrated.
[It may seem to you that I'm acting confused/ When you're close to me/ If a tend to look dazed I've read it someplace/ I've got cause to be/ There's a name for it/ There's a phrase that fits/ But whatever the reason you do it for me]
"You're trying to confuse me," Richard accused, "Hiding behind a psychology text so that you can deny what you feel."
"I don't /feel/ anything for you, Richard." Justin intoned blankly. There was a sharp crack, rolling like a gunshot through the crumbling lodge, as Richard's hand connected with his cheek.
Justin's head snapped back, but Richard kept him on his feet and slammed him back into the wall.
"Liar!" Richard spat, "Hypocrite!"
[What's love got to do, got to do with it/ What's love but a second hand emotion/ What's love got to do, got to do with it/ Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken]
Justin closed his eyes, which were watering from the pain of the blow. "/You/ want this, Richard. I don't. Saying otherwise won't change it." He lifted steady fingers to his cheek, and those fingers came away stained red.
Richard's silver ring gleamed like a ruby in the firelight, painted in blood. Breathing heavily, Richard crushed his mouth over Justin's, prising open the boy's lush lips with his hot, searching tongue.
Tears of shame and frustration streamed down Justin's face; he choked down the impulse to respond to Richard's kiss, slumping against the wall in defeat.
[I've been taking on a new direction/ But I have to say/ I've been thinking about my own protection/ It scares me to feel this way]
Baffled by Justin's unresponsiveness, Richard pulled back, staring into his flushed face. His brow creased with confusion as he saw that Justin was crying.
"What's wrong?" Richard demanded, taking a step back and raking the fingers of one hand through his messy red-blond hair.
Justin lifted trembling hands to his face, rubbing away his tears with his palms. In a low, furious voice, Justin murmured, "I hate you."
Richard gazed at the trembling blond; a sharp, almost painful feeling stabbed into his heart, and the guilt practically choked him. He whispered thickly,
"Does it..." He paused, let out a nervous breath that he'd been holding, and continued, "Does it make it any better...if I love you?"
Justin glared at him. "You're going to ruin everything, Richard. What the fuck does love have to do with it?"
[What's love got to do, got to do with it/ What's love but a sweet old fashioned notion/ What's love got to do, got to do with it/ Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken]
~~Das Ende~~