Fic: Ablution
Aug. 3rd, 2010 12:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
viceindustriousTitle: Ablution
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes 2009
Pairing: Blackwood/Coward
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing.
Summary: Coward takes a bath
Word count: 740
Notes: I wasn't sure if this should have been rated G or PG so I decided to err on the side of caution.
Henry draws the bath too hot.
The room blurs behind a warm vale of vapour. All the mirrors are draped. Coward can only see the shadow of his shape, shifting in copper, distorted on the sides of the tub.
Henry's hands stand out amidst the mist. A bead of water rolls down between his knuckles as he turns the taps, along the dark hairs that dust his fingers. His shirt is rolled up to his elbows. That's all there is. The mist obscures everything else. Dazzles the light of the many candles into one gentle halo.
Into a world of light and heat and steam, Coward draws his knees up and slides lower, slips further down into the water. The inside of the tub is polished to satin, his skin glides across it so smoothly it doesn't feel like moving at all.
Henry turns the tap again and another plume of steam, like smoke, rises from its mouth as the roar of water thunders in distant echoes about him. Coward tips his head back and lets the tide rise above his ears. The ceiling is dark, distant, a starless sky far, far above him, untouched by their light.
The stars have not been created yet. Henry could create them, but Henry's hands are busy making the waters. Henry's arms are pale on the underside, strong, sinewed.
Coward's blood has all rushed to the surface of his skin. Every part of him is flushed and pink. The heat of the water presses down on his breast, the weight of the water makes him feel sluggish and dazed. He takes a slow, deep breath and his chest expands, is buoyed up to break the surface of the water. Henry lays his hands on his torso and pushes him back down with soft, firm pressure.
His hair floats around his face as the back of his head taps gently against the bottom of the tub. There's a release in exhalation, a trail of bubbles escaping from his nose. Without air he can sink properly, lay down at peace in this hot void. There's nothing here but the constant press of Henry's palms against his chest.
It boils inside and out. Coward's lungs are lazily burning, begging quietly for air just at the edges of his awareness. It goes on forever.
Henry pulls him back into time, pulls him up again and gives him air back with his own lips. He kisses breath into Coward's mouth with lingering tenderness and the sinuous push of his tongue, hot as the water, thick as the air. The world flickers into black, spots dance in front of Coward's eyes that mimic that vague points of candle light about them.
Henry takes a cloth and draws it in small, careful circles over Coward's skin. He polishes Coward bright until he's glowing inside and out and then lifts him from the bath and takes him over to the bed.
Coward leans on Henry, his feet falling in coltish, unsteady movements. There's a cotton wool ache clouding his head and a tenor note there too, a thrumming that rushes through his ears and hums behind his eyes.
He falls backward on top of the cool, cotton bedsheets and lies there, his body a heavy gold weight around his soul. The hair on his stomach is glistening, damp, in the half light. His arms are loose beside him, palms facing up. The way his head swims when he closes his eyes makes him feel like he's drowning in steam still. Unable to capture a real breath.
Cooling water drips from his hair onto his forehead like perspiration.
"Henry," he sighs.
Henry lies down beside him on the bed and strokes his fingers down Coward's chest. They fall to the navel when Coward inhales, his stomach as slick as an otter's beneath Henry's hand. His thighs feel slippery with bathwater and part with ease. The skin there tingles in the cool air, hairs raised, quivering for sensation.
"I'm clean then?" Coward asks.
Behind them, the water in the bathtub lies placid. It is tinted a serene rose colour. There must have been a misstep in that evening's ceremony, for the girl had put up a fight when Coward had turned his blade to her throat.
It had made an awful mess.
"Yes," Henry says.
And smiles at him, an expression not in his mouth but in the softening of his eyes.
Coward exhales.
-
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes 2009
Pairing: Blackwood/Coward
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing.
Summary: Coward takes a bath
Word count: 740
Notes: I wasn't sure if this should have been rated G or PG so I decided to err on the side of caution.
Henry draws the bath too hot.
The room blurs behind a warm vale of vapour. All the mirrors are draped. Coward can only see the shadow of his shape, shifting in copper, distorted on the sides of the tub.
Henry's hands stand out amidst the mist. A bead of water rolls down between his knuckles as he turns the taps, along the dark hairs that dust his fingers. His shirt is rolled up to his elbows. That's all there is. The mist obscures everything else. Dazzles the light of the many candles into one gentle halo.
Into a world of light and heat and steam, Coward draws his knees up and slides lower, slips further down into the water. The inside of the tub is polished to satin, his skin glides across it so smoothly it doesn't feel like moving at all.
Henry turns the tap again and another plume of steam, like smoke, rises from its mouth as the roar of water thunders in distant echoes about him. Coward tips his head back and lets the tide rise above his ears. The ceiling is dark, distant, a starless sky far, far above him, untouched by their light.
The stars have not been created yet. Henry could create them, but Henry's hands are busy making the waters. Henry's arms are pale on the underside, strong, sinewed.
Coward's blood has all rushed to the surface of his skin. Every part of him is flushed and pink. The heat of the water presses down on his breast, the weight of the water makes him feel sluggish and dazed. He takes a slow, deep breath and his chest expands, is buoyed up to break the surface of the water. Henry lays his hands on his torso and pushes him back down with soft, firm pressure.
His hair floats around his face as the back of his head taps gently against the bottom of the tub. There's a release in exhalation, a trail of bubbles escaping from his nose. Without air he can sink properly, lay down at peace in this hot void. There's nothing here but the constant press of Henry's palms against his chest.
It boils inside and out. Coward's lungs are lazily burning, begging quietly for air just at the edges of his awareness. It goes on forever.
Henry pulls him back into time, pulls him up again and gives him air back with his own lips. He kisses breath into Coward's mouth with lingering tenderness and the sinuous push of his tongue, hot as the water, thick as the air. The world flickers into black, spots dance in front of Coward's eyes that mimic that vague points of candle light about them.
Henry takes a cloth and draws it in small, careful circles over Coward's skin. He polishes Coward bright until he's glowing inside and out and then lifts him from the bath and takes him over to the bed.
Coward leans on Henry, his feet falling in coltish, unsteady movements. There's a cotton wool ache clouding his head and a tenor note there too, a thrumming that rushes through his ears and hums behind his eyes.
He falls backward on top of the cool, cotton bedsheets and lies there, his body a heavy gold weight around his soul. The hair on his stomach is glistening, damp, in the half light. His arms are loose beside him, palms facing up. The way his head swims when he closes his eyes makes him feel like he's drowning in steam still. Unable to capture a real breath.
Cooling water drips from his hair onto his forehead like perspiration.
"Henry," he sighs.
Henry lies down beside him on the bed and strokes his fingers down Coward's chest. They fall to the navel when Coward inhales, his stomach as slick as an otter's beneath Henry's hand. His thighs feel slippery with bathwater and part with ease. The skin there tingles in the cool air, hairs raised, quivering for sensation.
"I'm clean then?" Coward asks.
Behind them, the water in the bathtub lies placid. It is tinted a serene rose colour. There must have been a misstep in that evening's ceremony, for the girl had put up a fight when Coward had turned his blade to her throat.
It had made an awful mess.
"Yes," Henry says.
And smiles at him, an expression not in his mouth but in the softening of his eyes.
Coward exhales.
-
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-08-03 12:21 am (UTC)I had to read it twice because I read it just after watching the bathtub-scene in Constantine and I was like "Omg, they're doing a ritual and Blackwood is going to send him to hell...No, wait..." O____o;
"The stars have not been created yet. Henry could create them, but Henry's hands are busy making the waters. Henry's arms are pale on the underside, strong, sinewed." Favourite part <3 So elegant and simple, childlike almost in tone *sighs*
no subject
Date: 2010-08-03 01:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-03 01:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-03 03:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-03 03:14 am (UTC)On a slightly less awed note, read this line:
The hair on his stomach is glistening, damp, in the half light.
and had to go flail because I thought of Hans in Half Light and Coward suddenly had a Scottish accent in my head.
no subject
Date: 2010-08-03 03:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-03 11:01 pm (UTC)Words can't describe how much I love this line.
no subject
Date: 2010-08-03 11:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-03 11:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-03 11:54 pm (UTC)P.S I am in love with that Ludo album. I might have had it on repeat while I was writing this...
no subject
Date: 2010-08-03 11:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-04 12:00 am (UTC)Ha! I just youtubed that. Scottish Hans is nice.
no subject
Date: 2010-08-04 12:01 am (UTC)Thanks, thanks, thanks! I'm really happy to know you enjoyed it.
no subject
Date: 2010-08-04 01:56 am (UTC)You've got me hooked from the very first line here. You're doing something I love and strive for and tend to not quite hit: lush sparsity. (ikr?) In fact, I think you normally manage to get it spot on.
And furreal, you need to get outta my head. Copper mirrors. This… ok, it's a thing of mine, and so bizarre and out there that to see it picked up even in one line … mindprobe? Plus just the general Coward takin' a bath, because I've got one of those in my wip folder as well. What. The. Heck. It's like you're downloading my unconscious and filtering it through awesome. HEY WAIT MAYBE THAT'S WHY MY FICS ARE GOING NOWHERE.
Am I strange for having visions of Constantine right here?
Coward's lungs are lazily burning, begging quietly for air just at the edges of his awareness. That. Mmmmm. Oh, oh, and then this: He kisses breath into Coward's mouth.
Behind them, the water in the bathtub lies placid. It is tinted a serene rose colour. really, from this point onward, love love and more love, because it's- it's giving us context, but unobtrusively, and it twists the almost dreamlike quality of this until this point into something more akin to nightmare, which is lovely. and it hits my "Coward looks best in bloodstains' kink (yes, it's that specific) with a freakin baseball bat. Guh. *wanders off dizzily*.
And smiles at him, an expression not in his mouth but in the softening of his eyes. BAM characterization of win right there. Right there.
no subject
Date: 2010-08-04 01:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-04 01:58 am (UTC)FUCK YES.
/drive by comment
no subject
Date: 2010-08-04 04:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-04 10:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-04 05:26 pm (UTC)Oh dear, you better post some more fic so it can evaluated for lush sparsity straight away (why no, this isn't just a very subtle way of poking you for fic at all. :P)
No! You get out of MY head first. Because...yeah, Coward, bloodstains, that's just...indeed. Maybe this isn't so much spooky synchronicity as it is plain old fashioned good taste.
Lord, brilliant, thank you for all this. Especially for the 'nightmare' comment because I was hoping a little of something like that would come through but I wasn't sure if it really would considering the ummm, prettiness? I guess, of everything else. Like it might get lost. Your insight is always great to have.
no subject
Date: 2010-08-04 05:28 pm (UTC)Me, to everyone I know: Hey, hey, have you heard of this band called Ludo? No? Right. You're going to hear them now! Links! I shall send them to you!
no subject
Date: 2010-08-04 05:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-04 05:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-05 12:42 am (UTC)Ha, I usually give up on sparsity part halfway through and just start rambling. (Not so subtle poking noted. Keep an eye out.)
Maybe we need a time share for head space. Oh, I agree. Enjoying Coward in bloodstains is very good taste. That's shared by probably 90% of fans of this pairing. Or fans of Coward. It's like Mark+slaps= collective fandom squee.
No no, I think the nightmare came through stronger because of the prettiness. Contrast? Or maybe just my thing about the prettier the nightmare, the more horrifying it is.
comments on my 'insightfullness' always crack me up.
no subject
Date: 2010-09-26 09:50 am (UTC)I have just know joined this wonderful community and would like to post something up. What I am trying to say is that, as soon as I have been on this site for awhile and posted a reasonable amount of stuff, would you mind if I added you as a friend? Since you don't know me right now I didn't think it fair to ask right out!!! But I hope that we can get to know each other!!!!! (Damn! I failed at trying to leave a short comment!!!)
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