![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Verse: Academyverse
Who: Gabriel (Pity)/Patricia (Guilt)
Prompt: Making Out
Rating: PG
Word Count: 179
Notes: So, I might have an unhealthy fascination with how dysfunctional a romance between these two are. She's at least twenty years older than him and he has memories of her being the doctor who did the experiments on him, before her change. This is probably noncanon if I ever end up writing a connected plot, because I never see them actually getting together, but I couldn't resist the temptation to write it.
It doesn't feel like love or comfort or camaraderie when they kiss. It feels dirty, leaves them both ashamed and uncomfortable.
It lingers on her lips like a lie and twists in her chest like a broken promise. She takes care not to come near him afterward, to close her mind to him; every brush leaves her stomach turning, even worse than the guilt that is her burden. She keeps her eyes to the ground for the rest of the day; the sight of his face brings back the shame.
It burns in his stomach like rage and shocks him like ice. He can't stop moving afterward, unable to burn off the restlessness no matter how much or fast he moves, unable to leave the memory of her taste and her hands on his arms behind. He talks too fast for the rest of the day, laughs too much, thinks too loud; it doesn't erase anything.
In the end, they kiss again, because maybe if they keep doing it, it will stop feeling like a punishment and start feeling like a reward.
Who: Gabriel (Pity)/Patricia (Guilt)
Prompt: Making Out
Rating: PG
Word Count: 179
Notes: So, I might have an unhealthy fascination with how dysfunctional a romance between these two are. She's at least twenty years older than him and he has memories of her being the doctor who did the experiments on him, before her change. This is probably noncanon if I ever end up writing a connected plot, because I never see them actually getting together, but I couldn't resist the temptation to write it.
It doesn't feel like love or comfort or camaraderie when they kiss. It feels dirty, leaves them both ashamed and uncomfortable.
It lingers on her lips like a lie and twists in her chest like a broken promise. She takes care not to come near him afterward, to close her mind to him; every brush leaves her stomach turning, even worse than the guilt that is her burden. She keeps her eyes to the ground for the rest of the day; the sight of his face brings back the shame.
It burns in his stomach like rage and shocks him like ice. He can't stop moving afterward, unable to burn off the restlessness no matter how much or fast he moves, unable to leave the memory of her taste and her hands on his arms behind. He talks too fast for the rest of the day, laughs too much, thinks too loud; it doesn't erase anything.
In the end, they kiss again, because maybe if they keep doing it, it will stop feeling like a punishment and start feeling like a reward.