Title: "Elegantly Wasted" 4/?
Author: Mala
E-mail: malisita@yahoo.com
Fandom: "General Hospital"
Rating/Classification: R, AU, SnC, LoCa,
Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own them.
Summary: It's about to get even more confusing...
He traced his fingers over the pale, half-moon shaped scar that ran across her belly and she shivered, turning away from the light streaming in the windows, from his questing touch.
"A doctor cut me up a while back. You know...whore's malady...it happens ..." she murmured, absently. It was morning...time for her to conclude the night's business and go back to her room at Miss Bobbie's...possibly pick up a few bored gentlemen if neither Faith nor Gia or the likes of Samantha and Skye were back from their appointments.
"You bore a child." It was not a question but a statement. The senor pulled her against his chest, preventing her from climbing out of the bed. Apparently, like Michael, he gave no thought to propriety. To what one ought and ought not discuss with their paramours.
She closed her eyes... trying to forget...failing. "I bled...and bled...they had to cut him out of me..." She had screamed. There had not been enough laudanum to dull the pain. But, then again, when had she ever been able to dull the pain? "It didn't stop hurting until they put him in my arms."
"Where is he now?"
"Safe. Away from this life."
There was a strange note in Lorenzo's voice as he kissed the back of her neck. Sad. Regretful. "Why are you not with him?"
"I told you...I would make a horrible nun. Sister Mary Caroline taking priests in the pews of Queen of Angels? Can you see that? God would strike me dead."
He swore, quietly, in Spanish...as if her joke upset him...and when she turned in his embrace, she kissed the downward curve of his sensual lips until he forgot...until he forgot that he had bedded a common prostitute...and she forgot she was ever something more.
***
"You know...if you had simply told me what I needed to know...none of this would have been necessary." Before he could speak, explain, a hand was waved dismissively. "No...don't worry. I know you're a man of honor and you always keep your word."
Michael...a man of honor...it was a laughable thought considering how many dishonorable things he had done in his life. Was it honorable to refrain from *telling* his friend what he knew... but to allow him to use whatever means necessary to find it out for himself?
No. There was no honor in such deception.
"The bitch deserves it, Michael. I have waited far too long to have my revenge."
He jerked his head up, fist closing around the fork but too late to catch the knife... and it clattered into his eggs. "You won't call her a bitch again," he warned, softly.
In the daylight, there were no delusions of angels. In the daylight, the other man looked as dark, as cold, as the sins that coated his insides. He simply shrugged as he cut into his rare portion of steak, nodding approval at the raw, bloody, center. "As you wish."
No...not as he wished.
Michael Corinthos was the most powerful man in New Orleans... and this was most certainly not what he wanted.
He stared across the long mahogany table at a man who should have sunk to the bottom of the swamp six years ago...at a man who thought nothing of preying on women and using children as a bargaining tool.
At that moment, with his breakfast lodging in his throat and sickness brewing in his stomach, Michael fervently, silently, wished that Jason Morgan had stayed dead.
Author: Mala
E-mail: malisita@yahoo.com
Fandom: "General Hospital"
Rating/Classification: R, AU, SnC, LoCa,
Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own them.
Summary: It's about to get even more confusing...
He traced his fingers over the pale, half-moon shaped scar that ran across her belly and she shivered, turning away from the light streaming in the windows, from his questing touch.
"A doctor cut me up a while back. You know...whore's malady...it happens ..." she murmured, absently. It was morning...time for her to conclude the night's business and go back to her room at Miss Bobbie's...possibly pick up a few bored gentlemen if neither Faith nor Gia or the likes of Samantha and Skye were back from their appointments.
"You bore a child." It was not a question but a statement. The senor pulled her against his chest, preventing her from climbing out of the bed. Apparently, like Michael, he gave no thought to propriety. To what one ought and ought not discuss with their paramours.
She closed her eyes... trying to forget...failing. "I bled...and bled...they had to cut him out of me..." She had screamed. There had not been enough laudanum to dull the pain. But, then again, when had she ever been able to dull the pain? "It didn't stop hurting until they put him in my arms."
"Where is he now?"
"Safe. Away from this life."
There was a strange note in Lorenzo's voice as he kissed the back of her neck. Sad. Regretful. "Why are you not with him?"
"I told you...I would make a horrible nun. Sister Mary Caroline taking priests in the pews of Queen of Angels? Can you see that? God would strike me dead."
He swore, quietly, in Spanish...as if her joke upset him...and when she turned in his embrace, she kissed the downward curve of his sensual lips until he forgot...until he forgot that he had bedded a common prostitute...and she forgot she was ever something more.
***
"You know...if you had simply told me what I needed to know...none of this would have been necessary." Before he could speak, explain, a hand was waved dismissively. "No...don't worry. I know you're a man of honor and you always keep your word."
Michael...a man of honor...it was a laughable thought considering how many dishonorable things he had done in his life. Was it honorable to refrain from *telling* his friend what he knew... but to allow him to use whatever means necessary to find it out for himself?
No. There was no honor in such deception.
"The bitch deserves it, Michael. I have waited far too long to have my revenge."
He jerked his head up, fist closing around the fork but too late to catch the knife... and it clattered into his eggs. "You won't call her a bitch again," he warned, softly.
In the daylight, there were no delusions of angels. In the daylight, the other man looked as dark, as cold, as the sins that coated his insides. He simply shrugged as he cut into his rare portion of steak, nodding approval at the raw, bloody, center. "As you wish."
No...not as he wished.
Michael Corinthos was the most powerful man in New Orleans... and this was most certainly not what he wanted.
He stared across the long mahogany table at a man who should have sunk to the bottom of the swamp six years ago...at a man who thought nothing of preying on women and using children as a bargaining tool.
At that moment, with his breakfast lodging in his throat and sickness brewing in his stomach, Michael fervently, silently, wished that Jason Morgan had stayed dead.