Aberration
folder
M through R › Proposition, The
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
974
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
M through R › Proposition, The
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
974
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the movie that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Aberration
Title: Aberration
Author: RockabillySaint
Pairing: Arthur/Charlie, slight Charlie/Mikey (if you are so inclined)
Warning: M/M, incest
Summary: He could never stop Arthur.
Note: I blame this on Guy Pearce. He’s just aching to get slashed in anything he does.
________________________________________________________________
It’s just the three of them, sharing a small room where they barely have air to breath. Arthur is sitting in the corner, the rocking chair creaking beneath him as a candle flickers nearby, casting his face in an unearthly light. It dances across his skin, contorting it like he’s laughing or screaming. Charlie is sitting on the small single bed, Mikey cradled in his arms. The kid’s been crying, plagued by nightmares of the things they’ve done.
Of the things his brothers have done.
Arthur starts to hum under his breath, the tune slowly picking up volume until he’s singing softly to himself.
“Aye, but he is a gentle soul, isn’t he Charlie?” Charlie nods, running a hand through Mikey’s hair.
Arthur smiles, his stained teeth shining. “What he really needs is a nice girl. Someone to look after him.” Charlie meets Arthur’s eyes for the first time. “He has us to look after him.”
“That he does, but he needs a woman’s touch.” Then he starts to laugh, low and deep and it makes Charlie think of a sick dog. He doesn’t quite remember when the shift came about in Arthur, from being the older brother he admired to this crazed stranger. But blood is thicker than water, as they say, so he ignores what Arthur has become, and focuses all his energy on keeping Mikey safe.
Arthur cocks his head as he continues to rock in his chair, staring into Charlie’s skull like if he tries hard enough he’ll be able to see his thoughts.
“What?” Barks Charlie, cringing as Mikey surfaces to consciousness. He whispers in to his brother’s ear, tells him to go back to sleep and he does, like the good boy he is.
“My, that was a lovely sight.” Charlie glares at Arthur, gently setting Mikey down onto the bed and covering him. Mikey moans in his sleep and nestles into the pillow, burrowing into it like tick. Sighing Charlie strokes his cheek and walks over to Arthur. He stands over his brother, vibrating with anger and even with the height he still feels small. “Why do you got to be such a bastard?” He asks, voice flat. Arthur blinks and sits back, hands folded across his lap. “Don’t know what you mean brother.”
“Yes you do.” Charlie crouches between his brother’s knees, and stares up into desolate eyes.
A moment of silence between them, punctuated by Mikey’s soft breathing before Arthur bends forward, his forehead touching Charlie’s. “I love you.” He says, his voice a whisper of air and Charlie closes his eyes and inhales, the stench of sweat and dirt and blood bombarding his senses.
The back of his throat aches, like he might cry.
Arthur starts to stroke his face, rough fingers smearing the grime until his palm is resting on Charlie’s neck. “Your blood’s pumping like a scared rabbit,” He grabs Charlie’s chin so he can look him in the eye. “You’re not a rabbit, are you?” Charlie swallows, doesn’t know whether he should nod or shake his head. He does neither, and can’t stop one tear, small like a sweat drop from streaking down his face. Arthur clucks like an old nursemaid and wipes it away. “Now now, none of that.” He says, voice hoarse as he glides a finger across Charlie’s lips, making him taste the salt. Charlie licks it away as Arthur watches him, his eyes blazing, cryptic.
Memories from youth form in Charlie’s mind, of green fields and air that was always thick with rain. Of Arthur holding him under the canopy of trees, his eyes clear and shining.
He didn’t smell like death then.
Lips touch his, gentle and unreal, Arthur’s tongue hotter than the outback sun and Charlie can almost taste the ash in his mouth. He’s lowered to the floor, the sound of flies and dripping wax echoing in his ears, Arthur humming, hands fumbling open his shirt.
“You can never stop me Charlie,” whispers Arthur against his stomach, wet lips brushing skin. “Why can’t you just stop me?” Charlie doesn’t answer and keeps his eyes closed as that mouth goes lower, until he’s consumed and completely, blissfully lost.
Author: RockabillySaint
Pairing: Arthur/Charlie, slight Charlie/Mikey (if you are so inclined)
Warning: M/M, incest
Summary: He could never stop Arthur.
Note: I blame this on Guy Pearce. He’s just aching to get slashed in anything he does.
________________________________________________________________
It’s just the three of them, sharing a small room where they barely have air to breath. Arthur is sitting in the corner, the rocking chair creaking beneath him as a candle flickers nearby, casting his face in an unearthly light. It dances across his skin, contorting it like he’s laughing or screaming. Charlie is sitting on the small single bed, Mikey cradled in his arms. The kid’s been crying, plagued by nightmares of the things they’ve done.
Of the things his brothers have done.
Arthur starts to hum under his breath, the tune slowly picking up volume until he’s singing softly to himself.
“Aye, but he is a gentle soul, isn’t he Charlie?” Charlie nods, running a hand through Mikey’s hair.
Arthur smiles, his stained teeth shining. “What he really needs is a nice girl. Someone to look after him.” Charlie meets Arthur’s eyes for the first time. “He has us to look after him.”
“That he does, but he needs a woman’s touch.” Then he starts to laugh, low and deep and it makes Charlie think of a sick dog. He doesn’t quite remember when the shift came about in Arthur, from being the older brother he admired to this crazed stranger. But blood is thicker than water, as they say, so he ignores what Arthur has become, and focuses all his energy on keeping Mikey safe.
Arthur cocks his head as he continues to rock in his chair, staring into Charlie’s skull like if he tries hard enough he’ll be able to see his thoughts.
“What?” Barks Charlie, cringing as Mikey surfaces to consciousness. He whispers in to his brother’s ear, tells him to go back to sleep and he does, like the good boy he is.
“My, that was a lovely sight.” Charlie glares at Arthur, gently setting Mikey down onto the bed and covering him. Mikey moans in his sleep and nestles into the pillow, burrowing into it like tick. Sighing Charlie strokes his cheek and walks over to Arthur. He stands over his brother, vibrating with anger and even with the height he still feels small. “Why do you got to be such a bastard?” He asks, voice flat. Arthur blinks and sits back, hands folded across his lap. “Don’t know what you mean brother.”
“Yes you do.” Charlie crouches between his brother’s knees, and stares up into desolate eyes.
A moment of silence between them, punctuated by Mikey’s soft breathing before Arthur bends forward, his forehead touching Charlie’s. “I love you.” He says, his voice a whisper of air and Charlie closes his eyes and inhales, the stench of sweat and dirt and blood bombarding his senses.
The back of his throat aches, like he might cry.
Arthur starts to stroke his face, rough fingers smearing the grime until his palm is resting on Charlie’s neck. “Your blood’s pumping like a scared rabbit,” He grabs Charlie’s chin so he can look him in the eye. “You’re not a rabbit, are you?” Charlie swallows, doesn’t know whether he should nod or shake his head. He does neither, and can’t stop one tear, small like a sweat drop from streaking down his face. Arthur clucks like an old nursemaid and wipes it away. “Now now, none of that.” He says, voice hoarse as he glides a finger across Charlie’s lips, making him taste the salt. Charlie licks it away as Arthur watches him, his eyes blazing, cryptic.
Memories from youth form in Charlie’s mind, of green fields and air that was always thick with rain. Of Arthur holding him under the canopy of trees, his eyes clear and shining.
He didn’t smell like death then.
Lips touch his, gentle and unreal, Arthur’s tongue hotter than the outback sun and Charlie can almost taste the ash in his mouth. He’s lowered to the floor, the sound of flies and dripping wax echoing in his ears, Arthur humming, hands fumbling open his shirt.
“You can never stop me Charlie,” whispers Arthur against his stomach, wet lips brushing skin. “Why can’t you just stop me?” Charlie doesn’t answer and keeps his eyes closed as that mouth goes lower, until he’s consumed and completely, blissfully lost.